A world-weary soul was seated on a leather chair, surrounded by exquisite pieces of art adorning the walls of the sophisticated, average-sized store.

Taehyung’s deep-set eyes, steeped in a cesspool of languor and ringed with red, stared at the blank page on the computer’s screen for a while now. All they could see was Jungkook’s gorgeous face — the same image that was embedded in his head. He ached with a need to draw him and all of their memories. But he restricted his urge until he would be in the privacy of his apartment again.

It was torture, just like he had thought. Being away from him. He lacked zest to do anything, though he couldn’t keep his store closed for another day. His savings had already been reduced greatly by his costly trip to Jeju Island, and they were about to be depleted by the bills he had to settle.

He was broke and broken, and his will to triumph over that wrenching combination was scant.

He couldn’t blame him or be mad at him. Taehyung asked for it. He told him, “Be a mistake. Break my heart. Don’t fall for me,” and Jungkook did all three. Maybe he said this because deep down he believed Jungkook would return his feelings eventually. At that moment, he truly didn’t care about the consequences — didn’t care about anything else than feeling every inch of him to the core.

And there he was, Taehyung, who did everything right his whole life, only had two dull relationships in the past, and never had his heart broken, drowned in his self-made ocean of misery and devastation.

Of course, he regretted his behavior at the final moment of their separation. He had the chance to kiss him one more time, hold him, feel him, but he was so overcome with pained fury he couldn’t think sanely. That sickening emotion still vibrated tamely beneath his skin. In fact, he was just a being with a forest of conflicting, tempestuous feelings that kept forming eddies inside him and spiked with every unbind memory of Jungkook.

It was just the first day without him. Forgetting him gradually with the passage of time seemed unattainable to happen. And, to be honest, he didn’t want to. Even if it hurt more than he could handle, he didn’t want to forget Jungkook and all of their memories. No, he wanted to meet him again and create new ones.

  
The first set of customers captured his wandering mind and gifted a tinge of brightness in his haggard features. He welcomed them and let them browse the collection of paintings, souvenirs, and shirts with stamps and drawings he had created.

And his day carried on like this; he smiled his wretchedness away at the presence of customers and sank in it throughout when he was left alone until Seo Hyang came for his afternoon shift.

Seo Hyang was his employee since he opened the store two years ago, and he became a very good friend of his rather quickly. The twenty-four-year-old man was bubbly and cheery and always enlivened Taehyung’s sulky mood when he was insecure, troubled about money, or just gloomy about anything.

It was impossible to mask his agony from him. Taehyung was quite vibrant himself usually, and Seo Hyang picked up on his distress at first glance. The customers that kept coming prevented Taehyung from explaining the reason of his state, and he instead promised to him they would go for drinks sometime soon to tell him everything.

He wouldn’t share any details about Jungkook, of course, but the thought of talking about the wringing ache in his heart with that cordial man seemed a notch soothing.

🥀

Jungkook felt numb. As if every emotion was crushed from him and only gut-wrenching apathy remained.

An unbearable pounding girdled his head since the moment he woke up from all the alcohol he guzzled yesterday, and it only diminished a fraction when he dragged his soulless form out of his nest of misery to take a shower.

Taehyung’s absence was torturous. The room, the hallways, the bathroom, the whole damn hostel was a cruel reminder of him. Especially that room. He kept facing Taehyung’s bed while he lay there. He often closed his eyes as they randomly filled with unconscious tears, then for a moment he had the illusion that Taehyung would appear lying in his bed when he would open them. And every time he encountered his empty bed, his heart twisted a bit more.

He stayed there, encircled by the wreckage of the heaven he experienced with Taehyung. With a sudden recollection, he rolled onto his back and reached between the mattress and the wooden hedge of the bed. He slithered a piece of paper out and unfolded it. He shifted to his side again as he gazed at the sketch of his masked face. A volley of memories rushed in right away, almost dislodging his heart from the violent torsion it gave.

God, he was a wreck. Ruined wholeheartedly. Ruined for anyone else. Just staring at the sketch Taehyung had made absently that day was enough to crest his suffering until it bubbled over and leaked out of his eyes in a mild trickle. He told himself he wouldn’t cry again. It was a restriction he couldn’t follow, he soon realized.

How had he gotten there? Crying over a man. Hurting so much. Wanting to give up and fuck up everything just to be with him. It was insane. But that was his life now, apparently. The king of the underworld had become a little wounded lamb that shed tears against his will.

The Jungkook from five months ago would beat this Jungkook to a pulp without a second thought.

  
At some point, he pushed himself to a sitting position and took hold of his big button type phone to call his father. He had to return to Seoul. He couldn’t stand that kind of pain, no matter how much he tried to convince himself it was okay or that it would get better.

There was no getting better in a hell like this.

“Yes?”

“Dad. How are you?”

Hyun Joon grimaced at his frail, croaky voice. “I’m good, but you don’t sound that well.”

“Don’t worry. I’m fine. I wanted to ask... if we can come back now. There’s no point being here. We found Ji Hoo, and he only came here for me. We still don’t know where his father is.”

“You’re right, son. But hiding there is safer. The police still monitor our family in case you show up. It’ll be too hard to hide you here.”

A new doom got lodged in his chest at the predicted words. He really had to live without Taehyung. How could he fucking do this? “Okay. Is the business going well?”

“Yes, everything is fine. I have to leave now, so we’ll talk another time, hmm?”

“Yeah, okay. Bye.”

“Bye, son.”

Jungkook’s hand collapsed to his side. He remained unmoving, staring hazily at the air. He slipped the phone back into its place and lay on his side.

Throughout the day, he kept falling in and out of sleep with the drawing beside him under his palm, as if cradling it. It was hours later when he climbed down from his bed again and slouched towards the storage room.

He entered and shed his mask, then joined his hyungs, who were already seated at the table, observing him.

“Hey, Kook,” Seokjin uttered with a slight smile. “I know you haven’t eaten anything all day, so please eat now. I got you japchae.” He pushed the bowl closer, tentative.

Jungkook’s red-rimmed eyes dipped down to the item. Although he had no appetite, he felt too weak to stay unfed the whole day. He removed the plastic wrap and grabbed his chopsticks. He stirred the food, each move listless, just like it was in everything he did.

“Are you feeling better?” Namjoon asked.

Jungkook ate his first bite and took his time to chew and swallow the food. “No.”

“You will with time,” Seokjin reassured.

Jungkook paused at the sound of these words. “Bullshit,” he muttered and devoured another bite. His attention shifted to Yoongi, who hadn’t said a word and kept his eyes glued to the beer in his hand. “How are you?”

Yoongi peeked at him to ascertain that the question was aimed at him. “Like shit. Jimin called me twice. And he still texts me random things. How am I supposed to forget him?”

“Well, Taehyung doesn’t try to get in contact with me, and I still can’t forget him. It sucks either way.” Feeling a tad stronger after his third bite, Jungkook placed his chopsticks down for now. “Namjoon hyung. What you said yesterday. That I can meet him sometimes after all this. I can’t. Because it’s still dangerous for him.”

A veil of gloom embraced Namjoon’s features as he gazed at him. “Yes. Sorry, Kook. I wanted to comfort you a bit.”

Jungkook reached for a beer and slunk lower into his seat. “I called my father. Asked him if we can return to Seoul since there’s no point being here. He said it’s safer to hide here.”

“He’s right,” Seokjin said. “The search they did here was a formality. But in Seoul, it’s more intense. The police are going to our businesses every other day to ask about you.”

Jungkook sipped his beer and expelled a breath. “Yeah. My father said they’re still monitoring our family.”

“Let’s have patience, hmm?” Namjoon said. “Everything will be just fine.”

Would everything really be just fine? With the ever-present hurtful grasp on Jungkook’s heart since the moment Taehyung left, it didn’t seem like it would.

🥀

In the privacy of his apartment, Taehyung drew sketch after sketch of Jungkook’s stunning face and body. The image of him remedied his heartbreak one moment, then it fermented it since he couldn’t see him anymore.

His phone that started ringing sucked his eyes to its screen, and he picked it up from the desk. He regarded the name for a stretch and accepted the call with a subdued sigh. “Hello, mother.”

“Hi, baby. How are you?”

“I’m okay. You?”

“Me too. Have you eaten dinner?”

Although it was already after nine, the thought of eating didn’t occur to him at all. “No.”

“Good. Come here to eat with us. We missed you.”

A muted, bitter huff fell from his lips. “You mean you missed me.”

Hee Jin maintained her silence as she cast a subtle glance at Mi Sung, who was sitting on the couch. She trod back to the kitchen to check the food. “Yes, I missed you. So come here.”

“Okay, I’ll be there in a bit. Bye.”

“Bye, son.”

Taehyung pushed himself to his feet to get ready. His parents’ lavish house was just ten minutes away, and he was soon on his way there with his car.

He waited outside of the gate to open for him, and he drove further inside to park the car next to the other four vehicles his parents owned. He walked along the granite path that led to the entrance, eyes absorbing the greenery and freshly planted flowers in the garden.

The door was already open, and he was greeted by his mother, who invited him into her hug right away.

They had fought countless times in the past because of the life Taehyung chose for himself, but she always gave him love despite it.

Taehyung caressed her back and withdrew. The smile he wore was small and mirthless by the ravaging agony swimming across his insides, and Hee Jin seemed to notice.

“Whats wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m just tired.” He closed the door and set a hand on his back to lead her inside. He took in the empty, spacious living room with a slight frown. “Where is father?”

“In his office. The food is almost ready.”

“I’ll go greet him.”

“Okay.” Hee Jin patted his head and retreated to the kitchen.

Taehyung trudged across the living room and turned left into the hallway. A few seconds later, he was standing in front of the double sliding door, and he raised his fist. A muffled voice impeded him from knocking, and he leaned closer, placing his ear to the door.

“Yes, yes, don’t worry. What time will Dong Myun be at the spot on Sunday?”

Taehyung’s brows pulled together. He remembered seeing a phone on the coffee table in the living room, so that could only mean his father had another one, which he hadn’t seen before.

“Five big ones, right?”

Taehyung’s already baffled face twisted even more. What the fuck does this mean?

“Okay. Thank you, Kang Soo-ya. I hope to see you soon.”

From narrowed, Taehyung’s eyes expanded with surprise and dread. Kang Soo? Han Kang Soo? Oh my God. He forced his internal consternation to quieten and hurried away from there. His heart raged in its cage, and he threw a hand over his chest, as if wanting to soothe it. Is it really... the same Kang Soo? How? How can he know a scumbag like him?

Everything he thought he knew about his father seemed to crack before his eyes. But, although he struggled, he composed himself enough as he stepped into the kitchen.

“Did you greet him?” Hee Jin asked as she placed the last plate on the table.

“No. Um, I changed my mind. I didn’t want to bother him.”

“Oh. He’ll join us when he’s ready, anyway. Let’s sit.”

Taehyung sank into the chair. He extended his hand to get a hold of his glass of water, and only then he comprehended its quivering. He gulped down half of it and held his hands together, telling himself to calm the fuck down.

“Taehyung.”

The voice of his father brought a new tension to his muscles, downcast eyes flitting left and right. “Hello.” He bowed his head in a greeting.

Mi Sung took his seat across from him. “I haven’t seen you in a year.”

“Yes. I think... neither of us tried enough to meet.”

“True. So how’s life going?”

Taehyung’s gaze passed over his face. Catching him filling his glass with soju, he allowed himself to regard him since he wasn’t looking at him. He hadn’t changed at all. He still wore that neutral expression like a jewelry, he noted. “Good. How about you? Are you still working all day?”

“Yes. That’s the life of a surgeon.”

“What about you, mother?”

“My schedule isn’t that demanding since I’m a nurse in a private clinic. But it’s still tiring.”

Taehyung had recognized the weariness in his mother’s eyes in a single glance when he met her. “Thank you for preparing all this for us. You should ask Na Min-ssi for help more so you can rest when you have time.”

“It’s okay. I want to cook for you when I can. Eat, baby.” She directed a loving smile at him, which brightened when Taehyung returned it.

The dinner had an awkward notion spiraling in the atmosphere, just like every time Taehyung and Mi Sung were in the same room. Taehyung never felt close to him, and the gap between them only deepened after the bizarre phone call he overheard.

He heard him often say the name Kang Soo on the phone when he lived there. His father was well known and had numerous acquaintances and friends who were elites like him, so he thought Kang Soo was just one of them. If he really were the Han Kang Soo Jungkook told him about, it meant his father was involved in some shady things that didn’t match his image in the slightest.

He had to find out more. And it wasn’t just about Jungkook. He had to know if his father truly associated with the underworld and why.

───⭒───༺🎭༻───⭒───

Filler chapter to keep the plot going. Another update is coming in a few hours 💜