"In the end, family is not just who we are born with, but who we choose to forgive and embrace despite the storms that have passed."
-Vespera

Namjoon stood outside the imposing gray walls of the correctional facility, the chill of the morning seeping into his bones despite the warm sunlight filtering through the clouds. It had been days since the chaos, the heart-stopping moments of confronting his brother’s madness and the aftermath of the hospital scene. Now, standing at the threshold of this place, memories of shared childhood laughter and fights came flooding back—the echoes of simpler times. But those days felt so far away now, buried under layers of misunderstanding, pain, and choices that led them here.

Namjoon inhaled deeply, trying to steady the tremor in his chest. He was nervous, not knowing what awaited him beyond those cold, sterile walls. What would Taejoon say? Would he show remorse, or would this be another face-off filled with anger and denial? With a final breath, he pushed the heavy metal door open and walked inside, the clang reverberating through the hall like a warning bell.

The guard led him down the dimly lit corridor, the air tinged with disinfectant and the faint hum of murmured conversations. Namjoon’s heart thudded as they approached the cell. There he was—Taejoon, sitting hunched over on a bench, head bowed, hands clasped tightly together. The moment felt suspended, as if time itself paused to witness this reunion.

“Taejoon,” Namjoon said, his voice low but steady.

Taejoon’s head snapped up, his eyes widening with a mix of disbelief and fear. For a moment, they stared at each other, silent, the air thick with unspoken words. Then, without warning, Taejoon’s face crumpled, and he lurched forward, grabbing Namjoon’s arms through the bars. Tears streaked down his cheeks, and his voice, ragged with emotion, trembled as he spoke.

“Hyung… I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” Taejoon sobbed, his fingers digging into Namjoon’s arms as if afraid he might vanish. “I’ve been such a fool. I hated you for things that weren’t even true… I hurt you… I hurt YN…”

Namjoon’s eyes stung with unshed tears, but he remained steady. He reached through the bars, placing a comforting hand on Taejoon’s shoulder. “Taejoon, I’m here now. Let’s talk. Tell me everything.”
Taejoon’s grip loosened, and he sank to the floor, the weight of his guilt pressing down on him like a tangible force. Namjoon sat down across from him, their eyes meeting at the same level for the first time in years. The younger twin’s eyes were bloodshot, the dark circles beneath them evidence of countless sleepless nights. He took a shaky breath before speaking, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I always felt like I was living in your shadow, Hyung,” Taejoon began, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. “Everyone saw you as the perfect son—smart, strong, kind. And me? I was always the reckless one, the troublemaker. Even when we were kids, I wanted to outshine you, prove I was worth something.”

Namjoon’s jaw tightened, memories of their childhood arguments and competitions surfacing. He’d never realized how deep Taejoon’s resentment ran.

“Do you remember the time we were ten,” Taejoon continued, a far-off look in his eyes, “and I pushed you out of the tree because you reached the top before me? You broke your arm, and I told Mom it was an accident, but it wasn’t. I wanted to hurt you, just to see if it would make me feel better.”

Namjoon swallowed hard, recalling that day. He had forgotten the pain of the fall, but now he could see the anguish behind Taejoon’s actions.

“But no matter what I did,” Taejoon said, his voice breaking, “you never hated me. You never stopped caring. Even when they sent me to that place—the rehab center—I thought you were glad to be rid of me. But then I heard the rumors… what people said about our family. They called us monsters because of me, and I realized that you bore that burden too.”

Tears slipped down Namjoon’s face as he listened. The memories of the whispered taunts at school, the sideways glances, the murmured accusations—“Killer’s brother,” “Stay away from him,” “that family’s cursed”—came rushing back. He had spent years defending Taejoon, refusing to give up on him even when everyone else did.

“Taejoon, I never blamed you,” Namjoon said softly, his voice shaking. “I was angry, yes. I was hurt. But I never wanted you gone. I’ve always loved you, even when you couldn’t see it.”

Taejoon looked up, eyes brimming with regret. “They treated me like I was nothing at that place, Hyung. Like I was an animal. The staff would sneer at me, call me names, lock me in isolation for days. I felt abandoned, broken. And when I escaped… I didn’t know how to come back to you. All I knew was my anger, my need to make you suffer like I did.”

The confession hung heavy in the air. Namjoon reached out, this time slipping his hand through the bars to grasp Taejoon’s trembling fingers.

"You don’t need to carry this alone anymore, Tae,” he said, his voice firm yet tender. “You’re my brother, and I’ll always be here for you. But you have to let go of the anger. We can’t go back and change what’s done, but we can start over.”

Taejoon’s shoulders shook as he cried, a deep, wrenching sob that seemed to purge years of pain and hatred.

“Can we really, Hyung? Can we ever fix this?”

Namjoon nodded, a small, hopeful smile breaking through the sorrow on his face. “We can try, Tae. One step at a time.”

For the first time in years, the weight between them seemed to lift, if only slightly. It was the beginning of something fragile but real—a bridge between broken hearts. Taejoon gripped Namjoon’s hand tightly, a silent promise shared between brothers who had lost their way but found each other again in the unlikeliest of places.

The meeting had been a rollercoaster—the kind that yanks you back and forth between joy and pain. Taejoon had opened up again, his voice choked with remorse as he recounted tales of jealousy and resentment that had plagued him since childhood. “Hyung, do you remember that time when you won the school competition and everyone was cheering for you?” Taejoon’s eyes glistened with tears as he spoke. “I was so angry because I thought you took the spotlight that should’ve been mine. I never knew… I never knew that you were always rooting for me from the sidelines.”

Namjoon’s chest tightened as the memories came flooding back. He had never imagined that those small moments, so inconsequential to him at the time, had sowed seeds of bitterness in his brother’s heart. “Tae,” Namjoon whispered, fighting back his own tears, “you were always talented, always brilliant in your own way. I wished nothing but the best for you.”

Taejoon’s face crumpled, and he fell into Namjoon’s embrace, his body trembling. The cold cell felt momentarily warmer as they clung to each other, not as adversaries but as brothers—connected by blood, divided by pain, and now, finally, mending the cracks. “I’m so sorry,” Taejoon sobbed, “for everything. The hatred, the chaos—I see it all now. You never deserved any of it.”

Namjoon stroked Taejoon’s back, letting out a shuddering breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “It’s over now,” he said softly. “We can start again. We have to move forward, together.”

Their conversation wove through the past and the present, shedding light on moments that had once seemed like shadows. Taejoon recounted the harshness of the rehabilitation center, the cold looks and whispered words that had followed him like a dark cloud. “I was treated like a monster, hyung. The staff… the other patients everyone looked at me like I was beyond saving. But deep down, I was just lost, not evil,” Taejoon confessed, his voice breaking.

Namjoon’s jaw clenched as he listened, each word cutting into him. The guilt of not knowing, of not doing enough, weighed heavily on his heart. “I should have found a way to reach you, Tae. I should’ve tried harder.”

“No, hyung,” Taejoon interrupted, wiping his tear-streaked face with the back of his hand. “It wasn’t your fault. I pushed you away. I let my mind twist reality until you became the villain in my story. But now I see the truth.” He looked up, eyes swollen but resolute. “Please, come visit me. Even if it’s just once a week. And bring YN. I promise, I’ll behave. I just… I need to feel like I still have family. That I’m not alone.”

Namjoon managed a small, weary smile. “Of course, Tae. I’ll come, and YN will too. You’re not alone. We’re family, and we’ll get through this.”

As Namjoon turned to leave, a glimmer of hope sparked in Taejoon’s eyes, a fragile thing that reminded Namjoon of the boy Taejoon used to be. The boy who looked up to his older brother with admiration, before life twisted them into adversaries.

The drive back home was heavy, the air in the car saturated with the remnants of their conversation. Namjoon’s mind replayed Taejoon’s tearful apology, the way his voice had trembled as he spoke about loneliness and regret. He pulled into the driveway and shut off the engine, resting his head against the steering wheel for a moment. He needed to ground himself before stepping inside.

When he finally entered the house, YN was waiting for him in the living room, a soft smile curving her lips. Her eyes lit up as she saw him, but that smile faltered when she noticed the redness around his eyes. “Namjoon, are you okay?” she asked, standing up and walking over to him.

Before he could say anything, he pulled her into a tight embrace, burying his face in her hair. The warmth of her body, the steady rhythm of her heartbeat—it anchored him, reminded him that there was still light in his life. YN wrapped her arms around him, sensing the storm raging inside. “Talk to me,” she whispered.

Namjoon pulled back slightly, just enough to meet her concerned gaze. “He’s sorry, YN,” he said, voice cracking under the weight of emotion. “Taejoon’s sorry for everything. He was crying, apologizing… he’s not the same anymore.”

Tears welled up in Namjoon’s eyes, and before he could stop them, they spilled down his cheeks. YN reached up, brushing them away with gentle fingers. “It’s okay, Namjoon. Let it out.”

And he did. The dam broke, and Namjoon sobbed, years of tension and heartache spilling out. YN held him through it, her own eyes misty as she shared his pain. “He asked if we could visit him every week,” Namjoon managed between breaths. “He wants to see us. He wants to feel like he still has a family.”

YN smiled through her tears, nodding. “Of course we will. He’s part of us, Namjoon. He’s your brother, and we’ll be there for him.”

Namjoon’s sobs subsided, replaced by a feeling of profound gratitude. He cupped YN’s face and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her lips. “Thank you,” he whispered against her mouth. “Thank you for being my strength.”

They stayed like that for a while, holding each other as the shadows of the past gave way to a hopeful future. The pain of the past weeks had left its mark, but it also paved the way for a new chapter—one where they could all heal together, one step at a time.

To be continued