Heavy snow | Taekook | ??

The night was still and heavy, the wind howling softly through the snow-covered streets. Taehyung and Ba Reum sat on the icy doorstep of Taehyung’s house, the cold seeping through their clothes as they stared ahead at nothing in particular. The sound of waves crashing against the shore echoed in the distance, a somber melody to match the tension in the air.

Ba Reum took a shaky breath, his fingers trembling as he clasped them together. “Jungkook’s been… like this for a long time,” he began, his voice low and strained. “It started when he was just a kid. He drank here and there, used drugs occasionally. It wasn’t severe back then—just enough to numb whatever he was feeling.”

Taehyung sat silently, his face pale and unreadable, his breath visible in the freezing air.

“When he came to Korea and we started working in the music industry together,” Ba Reum continued, “he found a purpose. He loved the work, loved being busy. But the industry… it’s brutal. The lights, the pressure, the endless chaos—it got to him. He started drinking more, using more. It spiraled fast.”

Ba Reum swallowed hard, his voice catching. “He became an addict. He hid it well at first, but it wasn’t long before it started affecting him. His health declined. He’d vomit blood some mornings, and eventually, the doctors said his lungs were failing.”

Taehyung’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t speak. His eyes stayed fixed on the snowy ground, his chest rising and falling unevenly.

“I didn’t tell his parents,” Ba Reum confessed, his voice thick with regret. “I should have, but I thought it was better not to edge him. I convinced him to take a break, to go to rehab. He fought me on it, but eventually, he agreed. He spent six months in rehab. When he came out, he decided to leave everything behind—came here to Gangneung to start over.”

The waves crashed louder in the distance, their rhythm matching the turmoil in Taehyung’s mind.

“He called me some weeks after he came here,” Ba Reum continued, his voice softening. “He talked about you—about how he wanted me to produce something for you. But then came that night in Seoul. The karaoke night. You two fought, and he left disappeared.”

Taehyung clenched his fists, his knuckles white against the cold.

“At first, I looked for him,” Ba Reum admitted. “I searched just like you and everyone did. But then, weeks later, he called me. He had a new number. He was staying at a church. He helped out there, ate there. The priest—he’s a doctor—was treating him. But Jungkook…” Ba Reum’s voice broke, and he looked away. “He never stopped drinking. Never stopped taking drugs.”

Taehyung’s breath hitched, his throat tightening painfully.

“He called me,” Ba Reum whispered, his tone full of sorrow. “Not because he wanted me to bring him back, but because he wanted me to make sure you were okay. He said he wanted you to find a new reason to live, that he didn’t want you to be in a miserable state, he was aware very well that he was your reasom to live, but he couldn't take your insult. I know it was fake, just to push him away, but still...”

Tears burned Taehyung’s eyes, but he blinked them away, his chest heavy with an ache that threatened to crush him.

“Day after day,” Ba Reum continued, “he kept slipping further. He drank more, used more. His health got worse. The priest did what he could, but Jungkook… he wouldn’t stop. And then today…” Ba Reum paused, his voice trembling. “He went missing. The priest and I looked everywhere, but we couldn’t find him. And then you called me.”

Taehyung’s heart sank, the memory of Jungkook’s fragile, broken state flashing in his mind.

“You told me you found him here, in Gangneung. Drunk. Miserable.” Ba Reum’s voice cracked, and he buried his face in his hands. “And I knew you would discover me knowing his place all over the years.”