Taehyung was once the bright light in every room-the boy who's laughs had the power to light up another's world, who spread positivity and warmth to everyone around him. He was the friend you could count on, the one who never let anything dull his s...
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POV:
The night sky loomed heavy, the air thick with the weight of unshed tears. Jungkook sat hunched on the railing of the old bridge, the cold metal biting into his hands. The river below mirrored the dark void inside him, the gentle lapping of water a cruel echo of the silence Taehyung had left behind.
The soju bottle dangled precariously from his fingertips, half-empty, a companion to his shattered heart. Each swig felt like a hollow comfort, burning his throat but numbing nothing. His hoodie was soaked with mist, his bucket hat shielding eyes too swollen from nights spent drowning in his own regrets.
The bridge was more than just a structure. It was the place where everything had begun—two little boys, barely toddlers, meeting for the first time. Taehyung had been the first to smile, the first to offer a hand, the first to laugh when Jungkook, too shy, had stumbled over his own name. Those memories, once warm, now felt like ghosts taunting him.
“Why didn’t I—” His voice broke, the words suffocating in his throat. “Why didn’t I protect you?”
He wiped a tear with the back of his hand, but more followed, hot and relentless. His sobs echoed in the empty night, raw and unrestrained. The pain was a constant, a gnawing ache that hollowed him out from the inside. He had thought he’d known guilt before, but this... this was something else.
The buzz of his phone was jarring, slicing through his thoughts. His trembling fingers fumbled as he pulled it from his pocket, the screen blurring through his tears.
“Taehyung’s leaving for the U.S. in an hour.”
The words hit him like a physical blow. The soju bottle slipped from his hand, shattering on the pavement, but he didn’t notice. The world tilted, his breath catching in his chest.
“No... no, no, no.” He clutched the phone, his knuckles white. The screen dimmed, but the message burned into his mind, each word a dagger. Taehyung was leaving. Leaving him. Leaving everything.
Jungkook stumbled, his heart pounding in his ears. Panic clawed at him, raw and desperate. He didn’t remember grabbing his mask, his cap, or his sunglasses. He barely felt his legs move as he ran to his bike, the engine roaring to life. The streets blurred around him, the wind slicing through his hoodie.
“Please, don’t go. Please... wait for me.”
---
Jimin’s apartment loomed ahead, but as he skidded to a stop, his heart sank. The lights were off. The silence screamed at him. Taehyung was gone. Jungkook’s hands gripped the handlebars so tightly they shook.
“Dammit!” he roared, his voice raw, his vision blurring. He slammed his fist against the bike, the metal groaning under the force. There was no time.
The airport. He had to make it. He had to see Taehyung one last time.
---
The airport was chaos—a blur of faces, noise, and lights. Jungkook shoved through the crowd, breathless, his heart pounding in his chest like a war drum. His cap was low, his mask in place, but nothing could hide the desperation in his eyes.
