Jimin, open the damn door please, listen to me for once.

NO! Jungkook leave!

—---------------------------------

Jungkook's heart pounded violently against his ribs as he sprinted toward Jimin's apartment. His lungs burned, but he didn't stop—not when the weight of what had happened with Venom still clung to him, Days had passed convincing and finally he got her approval to leave the mansion, and now he ran as fast as he could, he didn't stop once, not when the thought of Jimin shutting him out twisted his insides like a blade.

But the moment he reached the door, his worst nightmare took shape.

Jimin hated him.

Jimin didn't want to see him.

Didn't want to hear him.

Jungkook's fists crashed against the door, his knuckles burning from the impact, but he didn't care. "Jimin, open the damn door!"

From the other side, a choked voice shot back. "I said leave! I don't want to talk to you!"

Jungkook stilled for half a second, his breath ragged, before slamming his palms against the wood. "I'm not fucking leaving! Open this door before I break it down, Park Jimin!"

A muffled sob. A sharp intake of breath. But the door never budged.

He clenched his jaw, pressing his forehead against the wood as frustration coiled in his stomach. He could hear the quiet rustle on the other side, the way Jimin's body was likely pressed against the door, keeping it shut with sheer force.

He's holding it closed. Jungkook's fists curled. "Jimin—please." His voice broke, barely above a whisper. "Don't shut me out."

Silence.

Then—"Fuck you."

Jungkook's patience snapped.

With a sharp growl, he kicked the door, hard enough to rattle the frame. "Goddamn it, Jimin! Let me in! Let me fix this!"

But he wouldn't yield. His breathing was erratic, each inhale sharp and heavy as he shoved harder against the door. His hands trembled as they pushed back, his knuckles white from the pressure. His eyes, bloodshot and hollow, stared at nothing—at the darkness swallowing his apartment, at the void in his chest that Jungkook had somehow carved deeper.

He can't do this. He can't let Jungkook break him again.

Jungkook slammed his palm against the door one last time before exhaling harshly, dragging a hand through his already disheveled hair. He turned on his heels, pacing furiously in front of the entrance like a caged animal.

Then, without another word, he spun around and stormed down the stairs, taking them three at a time, his chest heaving.

Jimin clenched his eyes shut, pressing his back harder against the door as he listened to the echo of Jungkook's footsteps fade into the night.

And for the first time in hours, the apartment was silent. But inside, Jimin's world was still screaming.

He gnawed at the inside of his cheek, his mind racing, his pulse a steady drum of determination. His eyes flickered up the side of the building, mapping out his route in seconds. Without hesitation, he sprinted forward, muscles coiling before he leaped—fingers curling around the thick steel pipe lining the outer wall.

Years of training made his movements seamless, instincts sharper than a blade. Second only to Venom in combat, together they were untouchable. If anyone could scale this building without a hitch, it was him.

With practiced moves, he swung from pipe to pipe, gripping the cold metal like second nature. The city's dim glow barely illuminated the path as he climbed, breath steady, body moving in perfect control. Within moments, he reached his target—the kitchen window of Jimin's apartment.

His elbow bent then shot forward.

CRASH.

The glass shattered instantly, shards scattering onto the floor. Jimin, who had just retreated from the front door after convincing himself Jungkook was gone, was halfway to his bedroom when the sharp crack split through the silence.

His steps faltered. His breath hitched. And, he turned.

The shadows in the kitchen moved. A figure emerged, slipping through the broken window with fluid ease.

Jungkook.

Jimin's blood ran cold before rage overtook him. His jaw clenched, fists tightening at his sides as the reality of the situation hit him—Jungkook just broke into his house.

Without a word, he spun on his heel, intending to walk away, to put as much distance between them as possible.

But he didn't get far.

A hand—strong, unyielding—clamped onto his arm.

Jimin barely had time to react before Jungkook yanked him back with force, spinning him around until they were face-to-face.

"Jimin, fucking listen to me, will you?" His grip shifted, fingers digging into Jimin's shoulders, holding him still. His voice was raw, desperate—filled with something unspoken, something breaking at the seams.

The latter's glare burned like fire. "Let. Me. Go."

But Jungkook didn't. He couldn't. Not until Jimin listened. Not until he understood. Jungkook saw... Blood-red swollen eyes, disheveled hairs, tear-stained cheeks. It exposed how Jimin had been crying for endless hours.

"Jimin—"

"Fuck off!" His voice ripped through the air like a blade, sharp and venomous. Without hesitation, he shoved Jungkook's hands off him as if his very touch burned.

Spinning on his heel, he stormed away. But again, he was yanked back. This time, Jimin didn't hesitate. His fist curled tight—knuckles turning white—before he swung with full force.

Crack.

The punch landed clean against Jungkook's jaw, snapping his head to the side. The sheer force of it sent a ripple of pain through his skull, making him stagger back a step. But he didn't let go. Didn't even think of letting go.

Instead, with a growl of frustration, Jungkook lunged—slamming Jimin against the wall. The impact sent a picture frame crashing to the floor, but neither of them cared.

Jungkook's grip was unforgiving as he seized Jimin's wrists, pinning them above his head with one hand. His other hand found Jimin's throat, fingers curling around the smooth skin, tightening just enough to make the elder's breath hitch. The latter let out a choked growl, his chest heaving against the former's. His glare burned hotter than fire, but Jungkook met it with equal ferocity.

"Fucking let me go, Jungkook."

"No." Jungkook's voice was firm, unshaken. He pressed in closer, their breaths mingling, leaving no space—no escape. "Not before you listen to me."

Their gazes locked in a brutal battle of will. Neither backed down. Neither surrendered.

It was war—one where they would either diffuse into each other's soul or destroy each other. The former's jaw clenched, fury swirling in his darkened eyes. "I won't let you feed me half-truths or pretty lies."

Jungkook's hold only tightened. "I wouldn't do that to you. That's why I am here to clear it out" But then— Jimin's next words landed like a dagger, sinking deep, twisting.

"I don't want to hear a single word from someone who slaughters humanity like a merciless demon."

Jungkook stiffened. His breath hitched. And for the first time in this relentless battle, his resolve wavered. Because Jimin wasn't just angry. He was disappointed. He had already decided what Jungkook was.

And that realization broke him more than any punch ever could.

"I... Jimin, you don't understand—"

"No, Jungkook. I understand perfectly."

His voice was cold—cutting like a blade honed to perfection. He stepped forward, eyes burning with something far worse than anger. Disgust.

"Do you even realize what you were doing? What you still are doing?" His laugh was bitter, hollow, like shattered glass underfoot. "You fucking kept me in the dark, and now you show up with your pathetic excuses, expecting me to just... understand?"

The former took a sharp breath, his chest tightening. "Jimin, please—just let me explain—"

"Explain what, Jungkook?" He cut him off with a sharp glare. "Explain why I should forgive you? Why I should pretend it's okay that your hands—the same ones that touched me—are the same hands that have taken innocent lives?"

Jungkook flinched. It was one thing to feel the weight of his own sins—it was another to hear them spoken out loud by the only person who mattered.

"Jimin, I—"

"Do you even realize what the hell you're involved in?" The latter snapped, his voice rising. "Do you even care? You came here thinking you could justify it? That I'd just listen to you explain why it's okay to kill people over deals and power struggles?"

Jungkook's breath hitched. "I know I'm wrong, but at least let me—"

"Do you even know what a life is worth, Jungkook?" Jimin seethed. "Do you even stop to think about how many children become orphans? How many people lose the ones they love? Every single day, people like you take and take and take, leaving nothing but blood and devastation behind."

Jungkook's fists clenched. Because every single word Jimin spoke was true. But Jimin didn't know the whole truth.

And so, for the first time in this fight, Jungkook snapped. "AND YOU THINK I EVER FUCKING WANTED THIS, JIMIN?" His voice came like a roar, raw and aching as it tore through the air between them. "DO YOU THINK I HAD A CHOICE? THAT I WANTED TO BE A PART OF THIS FUCKING NIGHTMARE?"

Jimin flinched—just slightly. But Jungkook wasn't done. His breath was ragged, chest rising and falling, his hands shaking as he gritted his teeth. "I don't even know if I ever had a mother or father." His voice cracked, but he pushed forward. "I don't remember if anyone ever held me, or if anyone ever told me I was loved. Do you have any idea what that's like, Jimin? To wake up every day knowing that the only thing keeping you alive is your ability to pull the fucking trigger before someone else does?"

Jimin remained silent. But his eyes—his damn eyes—were still so cold. So unforgiving. And it shattered Jungkook. Because Jimin didn't understand. He never could.

"You—" Jungkook let out a hollow, bitter chuckle. "You live every day looking forward to the next. You get to have a future filled with happiness, with love, with fucking normalcy. And me?"

His voice wavered, but his gaze burned. "I can't even fucking sleep at night, Jimin. I lie awake dreading that the next minute might be my last. That I might never see you again—the only streak of light in my goddamn miserable existence."

The confession hung in the air between them, thick, suffocating. Jungkook was heaving, chest heavy with years of unsaid words.

Jimin stared.

Unmoving.

Unflinching.

And then—

"But none of that is an excuse, Jungkook."

His breath hitched. Jimin's voice was quiet, but it cut deeper than any bullet. "I don't care how broken your past is. I don't care how much you suffered." His gaze was unwavering, his lips pressing into a firm line. "Because suffering doesn't justify inflicting suffering onto others."

Jungkook swallowed hard, his throat burning. Jimin exhaled shakily, stepping back. His once warm, loving gaze was now cold and distant. And that hurt more than anything.

He let out a bitter laugh, his voice laced with nothing but venom. "I never thought the people I loved the most would turn out to be like this..." He exhaled sharply, his eyes burning with betrayal as he pushed Jungkook's loosened hands off of him. Then, without hesitation, he shoved Jungkook back—hard—pinning him against the wall.

The former barely had a second to react before Jimin's hands wrapped around his throat. Tight. Unforgiving. "You take orders from that devil, huh?" Jimin hissed, his grip tightening with every passing second. "What was her name again? Ji Ahn? Oh no, wait—Venom, right?"

Jungkook's jaw clenched, his breathing heavy. "Jimin, don't—"

"Don't what?" He scoffed, his eyes ablaze. "Don't speak the truth? Don't say the words you don't want to hear?" His grip tightened further, his fingers pressing against Jungkook's throat with just enough force to make his pulse quicken. "She a lie too! Just like you!"

Jungkook's hands instinctively moved to pry the other's away, but he didn't fight back.

"Jimin..." His voice came out strained, "Don't say things you'll regret later."

The latter let out a dry, humorless laugh. "Or what?" His voice dropped into a dangerous whisper, his face so close that Jungkook could feel the heat of his breath. "What will you do? Or better yet... what will she do?" His lips curled into a sneer. "Kill me too?"

Jungkook's stomach twisted. "We would never, Jimin—she loves—"

"Loves?" The blonde head spat the word like poison. "Oh, don't make me fucking laugh. Isn't that your job? Hers too? To kill, to destroy, to ruin lives?" His eyes gleamed with something beyond rage—disgust. "I was so blind. So fucking blind to love people like you—such disgusting demons."

Jungkook swallowed hard. "Jimin, don't—"

"Do you even have the slightest idea how hard I fight to save lives?" Jimin's voice cracked, his hands trembling. "Do you know what it feels like to hold someone's life in your hands and still lose them? To come home after a shift at the hospital, only to find out that someone I could have saved got shot—some innocent person who was just at the wrong place, at the wrong fucking time—because of people like you?"

Jimin was shaking now, fresh tears rolling down his already tear-streaked face. His breaths were shallow, ragged, aching.

Jungkook clenched his jaw. "We don't kill innocent people—"

"ENOUGH LIES, JUNGKOOK!"

Jimin's roar filled the room, his voice breaking under the weight of raw pain. "ENOUGH OF YOUR SHIT!"

With one final shove, he slammed Jungkook back against the wall so hard that the frame rattled. Then he staggered back, his fingers threading through his hair, his chest rising and falling like he couldn't get enough air.

"Get out." His voice was lower this time, but just as sharp.

Jungkook took a hesitant step forward. "Jimin—"

"I SAID GET THE FUCK OUT, JUNGKOOK!"

The scream rang in his ears like a gunshot. For a moment, he didn't move. He only watched as Jimin stood there—shattered, furious, exhausted. And then, he realized. There was no use in trying to explain anything now.

Not when Jimin was drowning in rage. Not when he was looking at Jungkook like he was the worst thing that had ever happened to him. A heavy silence fell between them before Jungkook finally stepped back. His hands curled into fists at his sides. His throat burned with everything he wanted to say, but couldn't.

So instead—he turned around. And with a heart heavier than it had ever been before, he walked away.

Out of the hall.

Out of the door.

Out of Jimin's life.

For now.

Why did he have to be a part of what killed my family?

Jimin curled into himself, his arms wrapping tightly around his trembling frame as vicious sobs wracked his body. The weight of it all crashed over him, suffocating, unbearable.

And now... it all made sense.

The rage, the hatred, the raw betrayal coursing through his veins—it wasn't just about what Jungkook had done. It was about what he was a part of.

The same darkness.

The same bloodstained hands.

The very thing that had stolen everything from him.

Jungkook had always believed Jimin lived an angelic life, untouched by misery. But he had no idea.

No idea what Jimin had endured. No idea how cruel the world had been to him when he was just a child. The police had kept the truth from him for years. But he found out anyway.

Flashback~

A fourteen-year-old Jimin sat hunched on the cold, hard bench of the police station, his knees drawn tightly to his chest. His small frame trembled violently—from exhaustion, from grief, from the unforgiving chill in the air.

Tears fell relentlessly, dampening the crumpled family photo clenched in his fist. Their faces—his mother's warm smile, his father's strong gaze—began to blur as the paper soaked up his sorrow.

How cruel.

How unfair.

Why?

He hadn't moved from that bench for days.

"Kid, go home."

Jimin barely acknowledged the janitor's rough voice as the man mopped the floor near his feet.

"They have nothing more to tell you."

Jimin didn't respond. He just pressed his forehead harder against his knees, muffling his soft, broken sobs.

"Come on now, boy. Get up."

The janitor grabbed the back of Jimin's hoodie and yanked him up, forcing him off the bench. Jimin stumbled but didn't resist—just stood there, dazed, staring at the man with tear-filled eyes.

But the janitor didn't even look at him.

No sympathy. No kindness.

Just indifference.

Like Jimin's suffering meant nothing.

His body felt weak, his legs unsteady as he dragged himself out of the waiting area, his steps slow and lifeless.

But then—

"That boy... Park Jimin. Is he still here?"

Jimin's breath hitched hearing his name. He stopped walking. Carefully, he peeked around the corner, his heart pounding as he spotted three police officers gathered in a circle, sipping coffee. They were talking about him.

"I think he's still here..." one of them muttered. He was fat and careless, shoving a burger into his mouth as he spoke. "Poor soul. Lost his whole family in a single day."

Jimin's fingers dug into his palms.

His whole family.

"The KNIGHTS are nasty, man. That's why I don't take these mafia cases, but..." The officer let out a greasy chuckle, wiping ketchup off his face. "They pay damn good."

Jimin's entire world collapsed. His back hit the wall behind him. His legs gave out. His stomach twisted violently, nausea crawling up his throat as his mind screamed at him to make sense of what he just heard.

The KNIGHTS. Who were they? Why did they kill his parents?

Was it a mistake? Or... were his parents involved in something?

"Are you crazy? Stop talking so loudly, you'll lose your head" another officer hissed, smacking the fat one on the back of his head.

"Yeah, yeah. You're right." The fat officer downed the last of his coffee, burping as he wiped his mouth. "Let's get outta here before that brat comes crying again. I still don't get why chief hasn't locked him in for wasting our time"

The three of them walked away, completely unaware that the broken little boy had just shattered even further. Jimin stayed there—frozen, suffocating, drowning. Until he crashed to the floor, his small hands clawing at his own chest, desperate to stop the unbearable ache spreading through his body.

That night, his world had ended.

End of Flashback~

Too many questions.

No answers.

And now... Jungkook was part of it.

How cruel could fate be?

Jimin sobbed until his body could no longer take it. Until the world around him blurred into nothing. Until his exhausted body finally gave in, and he passed out—cold, lifeless—on the floor.