#i wish someone could diagnose me my sexuality

[igwb]

Blue & Grey.

"where is my angel? the end of a tiring day, someone come and save me, please."

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader (depressed!jk x editor!oc)

genre: established relationship au, angst

summary: when you met jeon jungkook, he never hid his depression from you. he wore it like a shadow, heavy and constant, and somehow, you felt the need to help him, to take on his burdens as if they were your own. but in the process, you realized something. love isn’t a miracle—it can’t magically erase someone’s pain. you wished that it could, but the truth was, the only one who could truly heal him was himself.

word count: 24K (one shot)

warnings: angst, fem!reader, fight against depression, mentions of; self-harm, self-degrading, suicide talk, bad mental health, blood, jungkook is suffering, having to see your loved one struggling, mentions of; sexual contents (no actual smut!), road to learn how to love yourself & mesuring the importance of your own life♡

playlist: i always wanna die (sometimes), uncomfortable, heavy, shot glass of tears and blue & grey

Neither you nor Jungkook can pinpoint exactly when or why it happened. However, you remember vividly the moment he revealed his feelings to you, about the demons he’s been struggling with since childhood.

At that time, you were both in university, and your relationship was still new. For you, it wasn’t anything too serious—just the warmth he offered. His head rested in your lap as you ran your fingers through his soft, dark hair, and that’s when he opened up.

“I’ve been diagnosed with depression for four years,” he said. Your hand froze, and your eyes widened. It wasn’t at all what you were expecting. The night had been going so well—you were laughing, kissing, and slowly exploring each other’s bodies without any rush.

At first, you didn’t know how to respond or what he expected from you. You’d never been in this position before. Of course, you’d heard of depression, and as a literature student, you’d read about it—it was a recurring theme for many authors.

But reading about it didn’t mean you truly understood it, especially now that it felt so real. So close.

When Jungkook felt your hand freeze, he immediately sat up and looked at you with wide, chocolate eyes. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said softly, a hesitant smile tugging at his lips.

You couldn’t meet his gaze. Instead, you focused on the tiny mole beneath his lip, because if you looked into his eyes now, you were certain you would burst into tears. You’d always been a romantic, always searching for beauty even in the most difficult moments, and always absorbing the weight of emotions when someone close to you seemed so vulnerable.

“I—” you began, your breath catching in your throat. “It’s not like that, it’s just—”

Jungkook let out a soft chuckle and gently tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. He felt the need to see your face, to make sure you weren’t hiding behind your hair as if you didn’t know him anymore. He hadn’t meant to scare you, not at all. He just wanted to confess because he felt safe enough with you to do so.

“I really like you,” he began, his voice soft and sincere. “And I feel like this is something I wanted you to know before I ask you out for real,” he confessed, his gaze drifting to anything but you, a shy smile playing on his lips.

Your cheeks flushed at his sudden confession, and you couldn’t fight the smile that spread across your face. Maybe Jungkook wasn’t just some fleeting warmth you sought on some days and not others. Maybe he meant something more, because you could already feel your heart stuttering in your chest.

“It won’t change anything then,” you said softly, finally meeting his deep, boba-like eyes.

Maybe you should’ve learned more before diving headfirst into what Jungkook had implied.

Maybe you should’ve taken the time to understand depression, to go beyond what you found on the internet or the romanticized portrayals in the books you read.

Because now, standing in front of it, you didn’t know what to say or do. Your mind felt completely blank, and in that moment, you felt like the most useless person alive. There you were, watching your boyfriend of seven months—someone you cared deeply for—slapping himself roughly across the chest. His sobs echoed through the dorm room, his hair tangled from the way he had been pulling at it before you arrived. His face was flushed, red from the tears and the screams, and you had no idea how to help him.

“Kook,” you said softly, unsure if he even heard you over the intensity of his sobs. “Baby—” you repeated, trying again as you knelt in front of him, but he immediately shoved you away, shouting for you to leave him alone.

It had been two weeks since he started acting differently. In the beginning, your relationship had been perfect. He was nothing but caring, gentle, and loving. After that night at your apartment, he hadn’t talked about his depression because, honestly, he was feeling good—he felt like he was in a better place.

But he had been fighting this battle for four years, and even longer before the diagnosis. If he thought that life could be like one of those romance novels you loved, that somehow, with a miracle—you, his demons, and the dark thoughts would just disappear, he was wrong. So deeply wrong.

Because now, here he was��sitting on the cold tiles of his bathroom, his chest bare and exposed, falling apart in front of the one person he wanted to protect from his pain.

From an outside perspective, Jungkook might seem terrifying right now. Violent, even. His eyes were dark, wild, as if he were ready to lash out at anything that dared to come too close.

But for you? For you, he was the guy you fell in love with. He was the guy who held your hand while walking, always choosing the side closest to the road to protect you. He was the guy who brought you chocolate every month on the date you officially became a couple. Because he said your anniversary shouldn’t be just once a year—it should be celebrated every month, because he was so grateful to have you in his life as his girlfriend, even after just seven months together.

He was the boy you held at night when his body tensed in his sleep, as if haunted by nightmares he never spoke about. And in the morning, you pretended not to notice the dried tears on his cheeks, too afraid of the truth—afraid that when the time came, you wouldn’t be ready to face it.

But the time had come. And you had to be there. Right now.

“Come on, Kook,” you murmured, reaching for him again. You shifted, setting your bag on the cold floor so you could use both hands to hold him. “I’m here.”

His mind was a blur, his ears suffocated by the voices screaming at him—telling him he was broken, unlovable, incapable of love. That he was everything and nothing. That he didn’t deserve happiness.

And worst of all, they told him he would hurt you.

He couldn’t bear it. Couldn’t pretend he was okay while those words poisoned his thoughts. That’s why he ran to the shower, hoping the water would wash them away. But it did nothing.

And then suddenly, you were there. Crawling in front of him, your shaky hands settling on his bare shoulders, whispering in that soft voice only you had, telling him you were there.

And the voices stopped.

Because he heard three words. A raw confession. Vulnerable. A moment that would be etched into his memory forever.

“I love you, Jungkook,” you sobbed, holding him tighter, as if letting go wasn’t even an option.

Since that day, you never wanted to be far from him again. The sight of him breaking down had shattered your heart, and some nights, when you were alone in your apartment while Jungkook was in his, his sobs still echoed in your mind.

You even found yourself wandering through the medical university’s library, pacing between shelves, searching for anything that could help you understand him—help him better.

You left with five different books on depression, mental health, and other topics that felt too overwhelming to even think about.

It had been a month since Jungkook’s first outburst, yet somehow, you still felt like you hadn’t done anything to truly help him. And you hated that feeling. The next time it happened, you wanted to be ready. You wanted to do things right.

When you saw him approaching, his eyes immediately found yours as he pulled out one of his AirPods. He almost ran to you, a playful, childish smile on his lips—the one you fell in love with. The one that made him look like a soft bunny you just wanted to kiss.

But suddenly, the weight in your arms felt unbearable. You were scared to admit why you were really there, scared that he’d feel like some kind of psychological case you were trying to study. Guilt crept in as you clutched the books tightly against your chest, hoping he wouldn’t notice the bold black letters on the cover: How to Understand Depression?

“Baby,” he murmured, wrapping an arm around your side carefully so he wouldn’t crush the books you were holding. So considerate. “What are you doing here?” His gaze flickered to the medical building behind you, curiosity lacing his tone.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming,” he added, raising his eyebrows in a way that made him look so silly—yet so adorable that you swore your heart might burst.

It wasn’t unusual for you to visit him at his faculty whenever you had a break, but it was unusual for you to show up unannounced.

“Surprise—” you offered weakly, forcing a semblance of a smile.

He didn’t question your odd behavior, but when he tried to peek at the books in your arms, he immediately held his hands out.

“They must be heavy, give them to me,” he said without hesitation. You instantly refused, tightening your grip. “Why not?” he scoffed, frowning.

“I’m an independent woman, I can handle it,” you blurted, quickly finding the perfect excuse to ease the tension.

Jungkook narrowed his eyes but let it slide, falling into step beside you. After a moment of silence—filled with him insisting on walking you to your faculty—he finally asked,

“What are you reading that made you go all the way to the medical library?” His voice was casual, but you could hear the underlying curiosity.

He walked a little behind you, clearly annoyed that both your hands were full—because it meant he couldn’t hold yours.

“Some… stuff,” you muttered, swallowing hard, your throat tightening around the words you couldn’t bring yourself to say—depression, mental health, coping mechanisms. Anything would have been better than the lie that left your lips next.

“I have to write a poem,” you added hastily, grimacing at how terrible it sounded. “And I thought… medical stuff could help.”

Jungkook’s brows lifted in amusement. “You could’ve just asked me,” he said, his hands settling on your shoulders as he pulled you closer. If he couldn’t hold your hand, he’d at least keep you near somehow. “Your wonderful boyfriend studies psychology, and you didn’t think to ask him?”

His smirk was dangerous—the kind where the right side of his lips lifted just slightly more than the left. The kind that made you feel like if you looked at him too long, you’d spill the entire truth.

“Didn’t want to bother you,” you mumbled, eyes dropping to the ground.

A terrible decision.

Because the moment you did, a cyclist came speeding toward you. You barely registered the rush of wind before you stumbled back, losing your footing. The books tumbled to the ground, and you followed right after them, landing hard on the pavement.

“Hey!” Jungkook’s voice was sharp as he immediately knelt beside you, glaring after the cyclist. “Watch where you’re going, idiot!” His tone was filled with irritation, muttering curses under his breath. “Stupid guy…”

But then his attention snapped back to you. His gaze softened as he saw you wince, your hand gripping your shoulder.

“Are you okay?” he asked, concern lacing his voice. “I swear, if I see that guy again—”

He stopped mid-sentence. His eyes flickered downward, locking onto one of the fallen books.

And that’s when he saw it.

The bold, black title staring back at him.

A strange chuckle escaped Jungkook’s lips, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes—like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“What is that?” he asked, his voice eerily calm as he pointed at the books scattered across the pavement.

Panic surged through you. Without thinking, you rushed to gather them back into your arms, clutching them tightly against your chest.

“Nothing,” you blurted out, suddenly deciding that the slight pain in your shoulder wasn’t worth acknowledging anymore.

Jungkook sighed, saying your name in that warning tone—the one that made your heart clench. His soft eyes searched yours, silently pleading with you not to lie to him.

“Are you sure it’s nothing?” he asked, his voice quieter now. “And not you… trying to study my terrible condition?”

You dropped your head in defeat, your gaze landing on one of the books—The Five Stages of Depression.

One of them was anger.

And that was the last thing you wanted Jungkook to feel toward you.

“Jungkook—” you started, ready to fall to your knees and beg him to forget about it, to tell him you were sorry for being intrusive. But before you could even utter another word, he pulled you into his arms, his embrace firm, his head burying into your shoulder. His soft hair tickled your neck, and you felt the warmth of him seep into you.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice raw, almost fragile. “But I don’t want you to overthink this. You being here is enough.”

His warm breath ghosted over your skin before he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. Then, he pulled back slightly, his fingers tilting your chin up, his eyes serious now.

“Or,” he said more firmly, “you could just ask me—instead of reading stupid stuff like that.”

You couldn’t admit you were scared—because admitting it would mean acknowledging that, in that moment, Jungkook had scared you. And you never wanted him to think he was capable of hurting you in any way.

So you just nodded, offering him a small, reassuring smile.

“I will,” you murmured.

One day.

One day, when the thought of your boyfriend shifting between light and dark no longer unsettled you. When you finally accepted that this was just a part of him—something you had to learn to hold without letting it slip through your fingers. Something you had to handle on your own.

Jungkook could pinpoint the exact moment he fell in love with you. It happened long before you even acknowledged his existence.

There was something about you that drew people in—he could see it in the way boys looked at you, admiration laced in their gaze, and in the way girls gravitated toward you, eager to talk, to compliment, to be near you.

For someone like Jungkook, who had spent most of his life blending into the shadows, erasing himself so others wouldn’t notice the weight he carried, it was impossible not to be drawn to someone like you—someone who seemed to shine effortlessly. Someone who had light in places he never thought to look for in himself.

And yet, it was ridiculous how the moment he truly fell for you wasn’t during some grand event or breathtaking scene—it was on an ordinary day. A simple moment.

You had come to the medical faculty, apparently looking for a friend. The sun hit your face at just the right angle, making your round brown eyes squint slightly against the light. And for a second, Jungkook could swear it wasn’t just the sun making you glow—it was you.

He watched as you wandered through the campus, searching desperately for whatever—or whoever—you were looking for. And he just stood there, too shy, too caught up in his own darkness to even think about stepping into your light.

He swore he wasn’t some creep, but it was almost pitiful how consumed he had become by thoughts of you since that day. It wasn’t just a passing attraction—it was something deeper. He learned that you were often on campus, meeting friends, and all he could do was watch from afar, unable to tear his gaze away as you smiled. Your white teeth gleamed, and your laughter rang out, deep and genuine. Your entire being seemed to radiate pure happiness.

And there he was, stuck in the shadows, unable to even imagine what it would feel like to be a part of that world you lived in.

Jungkook could only dream about it—about you.

And yet, somehow, your paths crossed.

Jungkook sat quietly, as usual, engrossed in a psychology book that made him chuckle under his breath. Sometimes he thought he was a masochist for choosing a major like that, especially when he couldn’t even fully understand himself. But there was something about it—the need to understand why he was the way he was—that drew him in.

He was reading when he heard the familiar sound of giggles nearby—one of them unmistakably yours, and the other from someone he didn’t care enough to acknowledge. He glanced to his left and saw you, standing with one of your friend. The girl—who wasn’t you—immediately turned away, her cheeks flushed, playfully nudging you before disappearing.

Before he could even process what was happening, you were standing right in front of him. He instinctively started to close his book, preparing for his usual retreat, but then you spoke, and he froze.

“Jeon Jungkook, right?”

It was the first time he had ever heard your voice up close, and in that moment, he realized he had been right all along—it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.

He didn’t even ask how or why you knew his name; before he could, you answered for him.

“My friend over there,” you said, pointing to the girl who was now hiding her face behind her hands, “really likes you.”

Jungkook’s heart dropped straight into his shoes. It wasn’t what he had hoped for—not even close.

You looked at him with a playful smile on your plump lips, your eyes locked onto his as you batted your long eyelashes.

Jungkook knew he wasn’t always the best at handling things delicately, and before he could even think, he blurted out, “Not me.”

Your smile immediately faded, and you raised your brows at him, clearly taken aback by his bluntness.

Later, you’d admit to him that you didn’t even know how your friend could like someone like him when your first impression of him had been so off-putting.

But right now, Jungkook found himself asking the same thing. How could someone like you—someone so full of light and warmth—ever care for someone like him?

Jungkook watched you from afar as you spoke with some of your colleagues about the book that had just been released, and how you were the one editing it for the first time. They congratulated you, hugged you, and the sight warmed his heart. It had been a long time since he had seen you smile that genuinely.

Not because he was the one who caused it, but because it was simple colleagues—literal strangers to Jungkook, people he didn’t even know the names of—who made you smile like that. People you’d met only five months ago when you found your job at the editing firm.

And it stung. Not even your boyfriend of five years could make you smile that way anymore.

Jungkook set the champagne glass on the table as he saw you walking toward him. The moment you were no longer surrounded by your colleagues, your smile faded, and he couldn’t help but notice the distance between you.

He reached out his hands, asking if you were ready to leave. You nodded without a word, walking in front of him, ignoring his hand completely.

You entered the car silently, letting Jungkook settle into the driver’s seat. He started the car without saying anything, and the silence between you two was deafening.

It had been like this for a couple of years now—everything you did had become mechanical. It wasn’t the same as it had been before, and both of you were aware that this shift was expected after so many years together, living in the same space and spending every day side by side.

But it hurt. It hurt so much because you could see it—the way Jungkook had slowly sunk deeper into his own dark thoughts, day by day. And you couldn’t reach him anymore. He wasn’t pushing you away on purpose; it wasn’t that he didn’t want things to improve—it was that he simply didn’t have the strength to fight for it anymore.

And it was breaking you, because you knew him. You saw how he was disappearing, and you could do nothing to pull him back.

It all started two years ago when Jungkook decided to drop his psychology studies. You tried to convince him not to, but he was determined, as he always was. He just wanted to let everything go, except for you—somehow, you were the one thing he held onto.

Then, it was the way he started falling asleep at odd hours, like 5 AM, and waking up only at 2 PM, as if the world had no place for him.

And the most noticeable change—he stopped leaving the house. He just stayed there, letting the days slip by, waiting for time to pass him by without any real intention.

You knew it was bad again, but this time, it was worse. He wasn’t even trying anymore. He had given up, and you felt it in every quiet moment between you.

It almost felt like a miracle that he agreed to come to the small party your colleagues had thrown for you. But he came, even though you could tell his heart wasn’t really there. You could feel it in the way he distanced himself, sinking into the background, staying silent and observing from a distance. He wasn’t participating, just existing in the space, a shadow of the person he used to be when he’d engage and enjoy those moments with you. The gap between you both grew with every passing minute, and you could feel the distance pulling at your chest.

“Jungkook,” you said softly, your voice heavy as you stared out the window at the passing scenery. “What if you start therapy again?”

He gripped the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles going white at the suggestion. He didn’t like it, but he couldn’t bring himself to be angry with you for trying.

“I’m scared,” he muttered, his gaze fixed on the road ahead, his voice flat. “It’s always the same shit over and over again. I’m done fighting.”

Hearing those words felt like a blow to your chest. It was the first time the truth between you both had been laid bare, no beating around the bush anymore. It should’ve been said long ago, but you never had the strength to bring it up, and he… he didn’t have the strength for anything anymore. The weight of his words broke you in a way you didn’t expect.

Over the five years you spent with Jungkook, you slowly learned how to navigate his world. You became attuned to when you could step into his thoughts and when it was better to hold back. You discovered the delicate art of helping him through his darkest moments, though it never made it easier. Every time he suffered, every time the world seemed to crush him, the images of him hurting himself lingered in your mind, haunting you like scars that wouldn’t fade.

But what once terrified you, no longer did. You’d learned how to steel yourself when it all came crashing down. When the despair crept in, you stood firm, your posture a silent promise to him that you wouldn’t waver. You’d keep your chin up, your voice steady, and you’d be the one to remind him that you were there—that you weren’t going anywhere. You would repeat it like a mantra: The voices in your head aren’t true. You’re not broken. You’re wonderful. You’re worthy of love. You’d hold him through the pain, speaking the truth of how deeply you loved him, of how glad you were to have him in your life.

And somehow, after those words, things would get better. For a while, at least. For a few weeks, you’d see a glimpse of the Jungkook you loved, the one who smiled without a weight in his eyes. But it always came back. The darkness would return, the cycle would repeat, and you would find yourself standing tall once more, trying to carry him through it again.

It was a dark, endless loop he had thrown himself into each day, a loop that had become so familiar he no longer fought it as he once did. At first, you fought with him, trying to help him escape the suffocating grasp of his thoughts, but as time went on, you found yourself fighting for both of you. He had stopped trying, worn down by the years of battling with something he felt would be a part of him forever.

For Jungkook, it started at thirteen. He didn’t know why it began, but he couldn’t remember a time when the thoughts hadn’t been there. In the beginning, it was small—denying himself food, punishing his body just to feel something, anything, that would distract him from the noise in his head. As he grew older, the need to escape deepened. He would lock himself in his room, choking himself, holding his breath until the world blurred and the silence in his head was enough to make him forget—if only for a few moments—what was clawing at him. Afterward, he would slip out to join his family for dinner, pretending everything was normal, pretending he wasn’t just on the verge of losing himself entirely.

Then came the sharp objects. He had never meant for it to get so far, but it was like the sharpness against his skin provided a release, a temporary relief from the pressure. And soon, it was a constant cycle, one he couldn’t break free from. The loop tightened around him, and he found himself circling through the same actions, day in and day out, unable to stop. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, it was that he didn’t know how to anymore.

Jungkook had never felt at peace like this before, not in the way he did when he met you. At first, it was as if your light was something he could hold onto, something he could follow with an innocent smile that hid the darkness he had carried for years. It was a brief reprieve, a fleeting illusion that maybe, just maybe, he could escape the spiral that had consumed him for so long. But the peace was always temporary. The thoughts—of dying, of hurting himself—always found their way back, lurking in the shadows just when he thought they were gone.

Your suggestion pulled him from his thoughts, your voice soft, yet hopeful as you looked at him. “What if we go there together?” You asked, your gaze meeting his. You had noticed his hand resting on the gear shift, your fingers brushing over his, and you offered him a way out, a way to face this together.

He hesitated, biting the inside of his cheek as he thought over your words. Therapy had always been something he did alone. He’d been going since he was sixteen, ever since his parents found him unconscious in their bathroom, blood staining his arms from a wound too deep for him to remember. They had been terrified, worried enough to send him to a therapist. Since then, he’d kept it to himself, thinking that no one could understand the things that ran through his mind. Not anyone, at least, who wasn’t a professional.

But with you… you made him feel safe in a way no one else ever had. He felt comfortable with you, like maybe—just maybe—he could open up, share the darkness that still clung to him.

“I—” His voice faltered for a moment as he squeezed your hand around the gear shift. “I don’t want you to be hurt by what you might hear,” he admitted softly, his voice tinged with uncertainty. The last thing he wanted was to drag you into his mind, to expose you to the pain he carried.

You had never pushed him about his therapy sessions. He’d always told you that it wasn’t worth talking about, that right now, all he wanted was to be with you. The intimacy you shared, the quiet moments together, had been enough for you to respect his space, to let the subject fade away when you were lost in each other. A kiss on your lips, making love to you—it was all enough to make you forget about the weight that hung over him.

But now, as you sat in the car, waiting for him to answer, you realized that maybe it was time for you to step into the shadows with him, not as someone who could fix him, but as someone who could walk beside him through it all.

Jungkook kept his eyes on the road, his fingers gripping the steering wheel tightly, but his mind was elsewhere. He could feel your gaze on him, could sense the vulnerability in your voice, yet he still couldn’t bring himself to meet your eyes. The weight of your words hung in the air, and despite the walls he had built around himself, there was a crack, a small but noticeable shift inside him.

“I have to,” you reassured him, your voice soft but firm, your eyes never leaving his profile. “I know that those thoughts do not define the man I’m in love with. It won’t hurt me, Jungkook.”

The words settled into his chest, lingering there, something tender and almost fragile stirring in him. His heart skipped, and for the briefest moment, he allowed himself to believe it. He stole a subtle glance at you, the gentle curve of your lips, the sincerity in your eyes, and a soft smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Your words always had a way of reaching him, cutting through the armor he’d built around himself.

Sometimes, he couldn’t understand why you were still here with him, why you stayed when you could have someone else. Someone who could give you more than the broken, bruised version of him.

But you were here. You were still here. And when you whispered those words, so simple yet so profound, it was as though you were offering him a lifeline.

“I love you, Kook,” you said, your voice cracking just a little as your eyes watered. It made his heart tighten, a pang of guilt and gratitude flooding him. You’d always been sensitive when it came to your feelings for him. It reminded him of the first time you had told him you loved him—when he was at his lowest, when everything felt like it was slipping away.

“And I want you to let me truly in,” you continued, your voice quieter now, but no less determined.

He could feel the weight of your love in those words, the unwavering support you were offering him. He wanted to tell you everything, to open up, to let you in fully, but the fear—of burdening you, of dragging you into his darkness—held him back.

But you were already there, weren’t you? You had been all along.

With a deep breath, Jungkook reached over, his hand gently finding yours, the warmth of your skin grounding him. He squeezed your hand softly, as though trying to convey everything he couldn’t say. Maybe it wasn’t the grand confession he thought he needed, but it was the beginning of something. Something that might take time, something that might hurt, but something worth fighting for.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You turned your hand in his, intertwining your fingers, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Jungkook allowed himself to feel just a little bit of peace.

You tried to convince yourself you were ready for this moment, that hearing whatever Jungkook would say in that room wouldn’t break you, but deep down, you knew the truth. You weren’t.

You took the whole day off, determined to be there for him, to support him in a way you hoped would help. Jungkook told you not to, insisted you didn’t have to come, but you couldn’t let him face it alone. With a soft smile, he kissed your cheek, and that was enough to make you feel like everything would be okay.

Walking through the long, sterile corridor, you felt the heaviness of the walls closing in on you. Everything was white—too white, too clean, too impersonal. Jungkook seemed almost at ease in this space, his steps unhurried as if this place, these cold rooms, had been a part of him for years. And that thought tore at you. He had been coming here for so long, battling his demons alone, trying to make sense of a world that felt too harsh to belong to. You wanted to stop his pain. You wanted to erase it completely, to make it go away, but all you could do was follow him, offering the only comfort you had: your presence.

In the waiting room, you clung to Jungkook’s hand, your fingers interlaced tightly. You read everything on the walls to distract yourself from the sinking feeling in your chest. Messages about caring for your loved ones, numbers to call if the thoughts became overwhelming, tips to prevent the darkest moments from swallowing you whole. But nothing held your gaze like one particular poster.

Every life is precious, even yours.

The words were bold, bright, and so painfully raw. Right beside it was a suicide hotline number, and you could feel your heart freeze. The thought of losing him—of losing Jungkook—was unbearable. The idea that this number was a lifeline for someone who might not be able to see the worth in themselves was too much to bear.

You squeezed Jungkook’s hand tighter, trying to ground yourself, but it didn’t help. Your throat tightened, and the lump in your chest felt like it was suffocating you. You didn’t want to think about it. You didn’t want to imagine a world where he wasn’t in it. But the truth was, you couldn’t keep ignoring the fact that he had been on the edge for so long. And the fear of him slipping away from you gnawed at your insides.

Jungkook must have known exactly where your mind had gone, because without a word, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your hair. You felt his warmth, his love, and it was both a comfort and a torment. He was here, right here with you, but you were scared—scared of what he might say in that room, scared of what might happen after.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice soft, yet full of meaning. It was simple, but it was everything.

And in that moment, you realized that despite all the fears, all the doubts, and all the pain, you were willing to face this—whatever it was—together. You were ready to hear him. Ready to be there for him, even if it meant facing the parts of him that terrified you the most. Because you loved him, and in the end, that was enough to hold on to.

You had never imagined this moment would feel so heavy. Everything about the room felt foreign—the warmth, the soft lighting, the gentle atmosphere. Dr. Kim’s office was nothing like the sterile, clinical space you had envisioned for a therapy session. There were no white coats, no cold stares, no judgements. He wore simple, comfortable clothes and smiled with kindness that seemed to erase any tension in the air. His eyes, warm and welcoming, never once made you feel out of place.

Dr. Kim had greeted you with genuine interest, his voice filled with warmth as he asked, “Are you the one Jungkook always speaks about?”

You smiled nervously, a little surprised by his openness. Jungkook had spoken about you to him? He’d told his therapist how much he appreciated you, how grateful he was for you. Dr. Kim even told you about the photos Jungkook had shared, and in that moment, you felt like maybe you were the one who didn’t deserve the love he so freely gave.

The session began smoothly, with Dr. Kim and Jungkook discussing everything from his current emotional state to his recent activities. There were small, easy conversations at first—how his days were going, what made him feel good or bad, how he was coping with his darker thoughts. But then, suddenly, the conversation shifted. Dr. Kim asked a question that seemed so simple but carried so much weight.

“Have you tried anything to hurt yourself? To…,” Dr. Kim hesitated, noticing the sudden tightness in your body, before continuing with a softer tone, “To kill yourself?”

Your breath hitched in your throat, and everything inside you went cold. The room seemed to shrink, the air thick and heavy. You weren’t prepared for this. You hadn’t expected the conversation to go in this direction so suddenly, and the words felt like a punch to your gut. You squeezed Jungkook’s hand under the table, your fingers interlocked tightly with his, a silent plea for him to be okay.

You looked at him, hoping, praying that he would say something to reassure you, to make this feel less real. But as your eyes met his, your heart sank. His gaze was soft, almost distant, as if he was ashamed of what was about to be said. His hair fell into his eyes, and he didn’t meet your gaze for long. He was already retreating into himself.

You felt your pulse race in your ears. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t focus.

“Yeah,” Jungkook’s voice was soft, barely above a whisper. But those two syllables felt like the heaviest weight. His words hung in the air, suffocating you.

Everything seemed to freeze around you. The realization of what he had just said hit you with a force you weren’t prepared for. He had tried—he had tried to end it all. The thought of it, of him hurting himself, overwhelmed you completely.

You held on to his hand tighter, as if that physical connection could keep both of you grounded in the moment. You wanted to speak, to scream, to ask why, to fix it, but your throat was tight, your words caught somewhere between your chest and your lips.

You never wanted to hear those words. Not from him. Not from the love of your life. The person who you thought was just… so much more than his pain.

But you couldn’t look away. Because he was still here, with you, trying, and that was enough.

Even if it hurt more than anything.

You couldn’t forgive yourself for not seeing it sooner. He admitted he had tried two weeks ago, and the realization hit you like a wave. It had been so close, yet you hadn’t noticed a thing. You felt a deep, bitter sting of guilt, wanting to slap yourself for being so blind—so naïve about his struggles.

Your boyfriend had tried to take his own life, in your shared apartment, probably in your bedroom or the bathroom. Dr. Kim asked him how and why, his questions clinical but jarring. You hated how necessary they were, even if it was part of the process. They felt like a violation, a raw intrusion into a pain you hadn’t even fully understood.

Jungkook hesitated, unsure if he should say more, especially seeing how still you were, your face pale, and your eyes wide in disbelief. He couldn’t feel your breath beside him, just the tension in the air, thick and suffocating.

“Are you okay?” he asked gently, his voice quiet and concerned as his hand found its way to your knee.

The question nearly broke you. How could he ask if you were okay? You were the one sitting there, shattered, while he was the one who had tried to end everything. His tenderness towards you, so selfless, made the weight of it all feel even heavier. You wished he could see how much he was worth, how much he deserved to love himself the way you loved him.

Tears began to pour down your cheeks, and you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, feeling the overwhelming pain rise in your chest. You reached for him, pulling him into you, desperate to hold him, to somehow fix everything.

“I just wish you would’ve told me,” you whispered into his neck, your words a jumbled mess as your sobs came quicker, harder. But through it all, Jungkook heard every word, felt every ounce of your pain as you clung to him.

Jungkook felt his chest tighten as you wept in front of him. His heart shattered into pieces, each of your sobs echoing in his mind, louder than any words he could say. He had never wanted to see you like this—broken, distressed, helpless—and yet, here you were, crying because of him, because of something he thought he could keep hidden.

His hand moved from your knee to the back of your head, gently pulling you closer into his chest, his heartbeat racing with every tremor of your body. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, as if he could somehow absorb your pain, even though he knew he couldn’t. Not completely.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “I didn’t want you to find out like this…”

But the words were too late. You were already drowning in the realization of it all, and the weight of the secret he had been carrying was now too heavy to ignore. You wanted to scream at him, to shake him, to make him understand how much you would have fought for him. How you would’ve done anything to help him, to take the burden from his shoulders. But you couldn’t, and it made everything worse.

“I just… I just don’t understand,” you cried, lifting your face to meet his, your voice strained with confusion and anguish. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you try to do it alone?”

Jungkook couldn’t meet your gaze. He looked down at his lap, as if trying to shrink into himself. He couldn’t stand the thought of you seeing him like this, so vulnerable and broken. He didn’t want you to see the ugly parts of him, the darkness that he could never escape.

“I thought… I thought it would be easier for you if I kept it to myself,” he said quietly. “I didn’t want you to worry. I didn’t want to burden you.”

You shook your head, pulling away slightly, but still holding on to him, your grip desperate as if afraid he might slip away. “Jungkook, you are my burden. But you’re also my love. My life. You’re everything to me. You’re never a burden. I want to help you, not carry this alone… but I can’t do that if you don’t let me in.”

Your voice cracked, and the words you had been too scared to say for so long finally came pouring out. You had always been there for him, always done your best to be the strong one when he needed it, but now, in the middle of this storm, you needed him to let you be strong for both of you.

“I love you,” you whispered, tears still flowing freely. “Please, let me help you. Let me carry this with you.”

Jungkook felt a knot tighten in his throat as he looked down at you. His eyes were filled with guilt, shame, and love all at once. How could he let you love him when he could barely love himself?

But the tenderness in your eyes, the desperate need for him to trust you, finally broke through the wall he had built so high around his heart. His fingers traced the back of your hand, intertwining with yours, his touch barely a whisper against your skin.

“I’m so sorry,” he said again, his voice trembling as he pulled you back to his chest. “I never wanted to hurt you. I just… I don’t know how to handle this sometimes.”

You wrapped your arms around him, not wanting to let go, not wanting to lose him to the dark thoughts that had controlled his life for so long.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered into his chest. “I’m here. Always.”

Dr. Kim watched the interaction between you and Jungkook with a scrutinizing gaze, his heart filled with a mixture of admiration and caution. He couldn’t deny that it was a beautiful thing to witness—how you cared for him, how you were there for him in a way that seemed unwavering. It was clear to him that Jungkook had found someone truly special, someone willing to help him pick up the broken pieces that had been there long before you came into his life. The way you loved him, with such purity and patience, felt almost like a dream—an idealized version of what healing could look like.

But Dr. Kim was a professional. He had seen enough cases over the years to know that hope could be a dangerous thing. He couldn’t allow himself to be swept up by the tender scene unfolding in front of him, no matter how deeply it touched him. He had learned long ago that love wasn’t always enough to heal the deepest scars, and that sometimes, when one person relied too much on another to save them, it could lead to devastation.

What worried Dr. Kim, what unsettled him deeply, was the certainty in your voice, in the way you held onto Jungkook like he was your lifeline. He couldn’t help but be terrified that, someday, that light you carried so brightly would be too blinding for Jungkook, making him believe that he was fine, that he was whole, when in reality, the darkness inside him was still there, waiting to resurface.

He had known Jungkook for years—since he was sixteen. Dr. Kim had watched him grow, slowly spiraling deeper into himself, becoming more fragile and withdrawn with each passing year. Jungkook was sensitive, vulnerable, and far more complicated than anyone could see on the surface. His lifeline had become you, but Dr. Kim feared that the way Jungkook’s world revolved around you could become an unhealthy attachment, one that wouldn’t allow him to truly heal.

In the end, Jungkook wouldn’t be able to fully heal if he didn’t learn to love himself first. His life couldn’t continue to revolve around someone else, not in this way. He needed to find the strength within himself to stand on his own before he could fully give his love to anyone else. Dr. Kim couldn’t shake the fear that if this lifeline—this beautiful bond between you and Jungkook—wasn’t grounded in something stronger, something more stable, it could break. And when it did, he feared Jungkook might never open his eyes again.

Jungkook seemed to be doing okay, or at least that’s what you wanted to believe. But who were you to be so certain when you hadn’t even seen the moment he tried to take his own life? You couldn’t ignore the lingering doubt that perhaps you didn’t really know the full extent of his struggles, no matter how hard you tried to be there for him.

Still, those two months after the therapy sessions felt like a fresh start—like the beginning of your relationship all over again. There was something tender about it, as if you both were learning each other anew, slowly rediscovering what it meant to be together.

If Jungkook felt that you were being too suffocating, too invasive, he didn’t say anything. The silence between you both seemed more comfortable now, but it also felt like there was an unspoken understanding. He didn’t push you away, not like before. Maybe it was because he missed you, needed you more than ever, especially since you had been working a lot lately. Even when you mentioned taking some months off to focus on what truly mattered, he didn’t argue. He simply accepted it.

You told him about all the things you wanted to do during your time together, and as you spoke, he didn’t always catch every word. But that didn’t matter, because what he remembered most was how safe and content he felt in those moments, with his arms around your naked body and your fingers drawing invisible hearts on his bare chest as you spoke.

You talked about getting a dog, going on a trip to the mountains, doing body painting, sleeping under the stars—things that felt so simple, so hopeful, so full of life. And as you spoke, you could tell he was slipping into sleep, his breath steady and warm against your skin. But what he didn’t hear—what he had fallen asleep before you could finish telling him—was that you also dreamed of getting married.

In July, you both went to a shelter, your hands tightly intertwined as you walked through the rows of cages. The day felt full of hope, like it was the start of something simple but profound. When you left, you had a small Doberman by your side, its leash firmly held in Jungkook’s hand, the other still wrapped around yours.

Jungkook was surprisingly taken with the little puppy, his eyes lighting up as he playfully interacted with the dog. It was impossible not to smile at how genuine his excitement was, so pure and unguarded. He was practically glowing with joy, and you couldn’t help but let him choose the name for the dog. He was so animated, so childlike in the best way, that it felt like a moment worth letting him have.

After some back and forth, you both quickly agreed on the name: Bam. It felt right, fitting for the little guy. Jungkook explained it with a little chuckle, saying that the name was a reflection of what he wanted to escape—night, darkness, all the things that haunted him. He said that if something as pure and innocent as this dog could carry such a name, then maybe he could start seeing his own struggles differently. Perhaps he could find a way to paint them with something a little softer, a little cuter, just like the brown Doberman that was now bouncing happily at his feet.

And so, Bam it was. The name wasn’t just a label for the dog; it was Jungkook’s small, hopeful way of reclaiming the darkness. A step forward in the way he was learning to face his own battles.

You watched them both from your spot in the garden, the book you had started reading now forgotten in your lap. The sight before you—Jungkook sitting on the grass with Bam, laughing as the puppy showered him with affection—was far more captivating than any story in your book. The reality was better than anything you could’ve imagined, and it made your heart swell in ways you hadn’t expected.

“Are you really planning on teaching him tricks?” you asked, a playful smile tugging at your lips. Jungkook was on his bottom, his hands full of puppy fur as Bam licked his face. The dog was way more affectionate with Jungkook than with you, but you couldn’t blame him. You were just as smitten by those big round eyes, eyes that seemed to hold the whole universe in them.

Lately, you had been seeing those stars in Jungkook’s eyes more often than before. They made your heart ache with a love so deep, it felt as if it might overflow. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you quickly wiped them away, not wanting to ruin the moment.

“I know he can do it,” Jungkook said confidently, turning his attention back to Bam. “Bam! Pow!” He pointed his finger in a playful gun gesture, trying to get the puppy to follow along.

You couldn’t help but smile as you stood up, walking over to them. Gently, you patted Bam’s head, your hand lingering on his soft fur for a moment. “Maybe you could start with the basics first,” you suggested lightly. “Like, ‘sit down’?”

Jungkook shook his head, laughing. “Too boring,” he said, his voice filled with determination. “I want my son to be a smart boy.” He pointed again, shouting “Pow! Pow! Pow!” over and over, but Bam was far too excited, wagging his tail and bouncing around, clearly too distracted to learn any trick.

“If your son is anything like his dad,” you teased with a grin, “then he’ll definitely be very stubborn.” You leaned down to kiss him softly on the lips, then quickly pulled away, running off before he had a chance to catch you.

“Hey! Wait up!” Jungkook called after you, laughing as he scrambled to get to his feet. Bam, of course, was right behind him, barking happily as they both chased after you.

It didn’t take long before Jungkook caught up to you, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you close to his chest. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his slender waist, the proximity so comforting, your heart racing as Bam’s playful licks tickled your feet. But honestly, the whole situation was just a perfect excuse for you to be as close to him as possible.

“He’s truly like his father,” Jungkook chuckled softly, shifting his grip on your legs so you could lift your feet higher to keep them out of Bam’s reach. The playful gesture had you both laughing.

“You’re disgusting,” you teased with a mock glare, squirming a little in his hold. “I’m never letting you near my feet. It’s a Bam privilege.” You glanced up at him, your head settling comfortably on his shoulder as you let out a small, content sigh.

Jungkook’s chest rumbled with a low chuckle. “How I wish I was Bam right now,” he whispered, his voice full of affection and admiration. The thought of being the one to receive all your love, to be the one you held so close, made him feel like the luckiest man alive.

As your laughter echoed softly against his chest, he thought to himself that if being alive was like this—wrapped in warmth and love with you—he’d be ready to live not one but three lifetimes. One for each moment shared with you, one for every moment of joy, of feeling alive, of building a future together. With you. Always with you.

“You know,” his voice dropped an octave lower as he pressed a soft kiss to the side of your head, his lips lingering just a little longer than necessary. “I remember that night you said you wanted to try body painting.”

Your face immediately heated up as you hid it against his shoulder, a quiet groan of embarrassment escaping you. “I really thought you were sleeping that night,” you mumbled, a shy smile still tugging at your lips.

Jungkook chuckled, shifting slightly so he could look at you better. “I hear everything you say, you know that,” he teased, his fingers tracing mindless patterns on your back.

He laid you down carefully on the soft grass, his gaze never once leaving yours. The sight of you beneath him, surrounded by wildflowers and bathed in the warm golden light of the late afternoon, made his heart stutter. If there was such a thing as heaven, he was convinced nothing could come close to this moment right now.

Bam wiggled his tail excitedly near you, trying to nuzzle into your side, but Jungkook held up a warning finger. “Bam, not now,” he said, furrowing his brows.

The serious expression on his face made you burst into laughter. His round cheeks puffed out, lips slightly pursed, and big doe eyes attempting to look stern—it was the most adorable thing you’d ever seen.

“Look at you, ditching your son like that,” you teased, rolling your eyes before cooing at Bam, scratching gently behind his ears. “You have a terrible father, right?”

Jungkook opened his mouth to protest, but the words never came. Instead, he just stared at you—his mind drifting elsewhere, to places he never used to allow himself to go.

Father.

The word had never been something he imagined for himself. It never felt like a possibility, not when he spent so long unable to picture any future at all. But now, watching you with Bam, your touch so gentle, your voice so full of love—it didn’t seem like such an impossible thought. The idea of something made from the both of you, something so pure and full of love, was oddly comforting.

But would he even be enough?

Before his thoughts could spiral too deep, he leaned in, pressing his lips to the curve of your neck. He felt the way your breath hitched, your body instinctively arching under him when he found that soft spot behind your ear.

“You said you—” Your voice broke off, a sharp inhale replacing your words as Jungkook rolled his hips into yours, his hands firm on your waist.

The sensation sent a shiver down your spine, your fingers tangling into his hair as you pulled him closer, losing yourself in the warmth of his touch.

It had been a long time since you’d felt him this close, since his unpredictable sleeping schedule always kept you apart, since exhaustion weighed down on him so heavily that he barely had the energy to do anything but rest. And you never blamed him for it. You never needed physical intimacy to feel close to him. But now that he was here, fully present with you, touching you, holding you, loving you—it made you feel just like the first time.

That first time had been messy, full of nervous laughter and whispered reassurances, both of you scared of doing something wrong. But even in its clumsiness, it was perfect. Because it was him. Because it was love. And love, no matter how imperfect, was the most beautiful thing you had ever known.

That day, he made love to you with a tenderness that left you breathless, his gaze locked onto yours like he was afraid to look away, afraid you’d slip through his fingers if he did. The only time he closed his eyes was when he got lost in the overwhelming pleasure, his lips parting to release quiet, breathless moans.

Between whispered confessions of love and gratitude, he moved against you with growing desperation—his thrusts deepening, his hands gripping you tighter, as if trying to merge himself with you completely. As if he could disappear inside you, drown in your warmth, and become something whole. One soul. One body. One mind—only yours. Because his own still felt like a dangerous place to be.

He wasn’t sure if he was truly getting better. Some days, he felt stable. Other days, he felt like he was standing on the edge of a crumbling cliff, barely holding on. But with you beneath him, surrounding him, whispering his name like a prayer, he let himself believe—just for a moment—that he was safe.

But if he ever voiced his thoughts out loud—the desperate wish to erase himself, to exist only as a shadow behind your bright light—you would be quick to shake your head, a stubborn crease forming between your brows. Because your love would never be complete without him. Without his pain, his dark thoughts, his flaws, and the jagged edges of his soul.

You had never loved him in pieces. You had always loved him whole.

You may not have done body painting the way you originally imagined—the playful strokes of color across each other’s skin, the laughter, the mess—but in a way, that night became its own kind of art.

The way he kissed your body like it was a canvas, the way your nails traced over his back—not deep enough to hurt, but just enough to leave something of yourself on him, something softer than the scars he had given himself. Marks of love, not pain. It was as if, little by little, you were painting over something broken, turning a dark stain into something beautiful—not by covering it, but by making it a part of the masterpiece.

And when he finally released himself inside you, trembling against you, it felt just like the first stroke of a brush on a blank canvas—a moment of pure creation, something intimate, something new.

It wasn’t the body painting you had planned.

It was something much better.

When Jungkook felt your breath even out against his chest and your body relax completely, he knew you had fallen asleep. Moving carefully, he slipped out of bed, making sure not to disturb you. You looked so peaceful, and he didn’t want to take that away.

Standing beside the bed, he let his eyes linger on you—your body sprawled across the sheets, hair still slightly damp from the shower, strands sticking to your cheek. You were wrapped in one of his old shirts, the same one he had given you back when you were still in university. You had never stopped wearing it.

The sight of you like this did something to his heart—something deep, overwhelming, and impossible to put into words. He wished he could carve this moment into his memory, etch it into his skin, so that even when he closed his eyes, you would still be there. And if they were ever to close forever, he thinks he would be okay if this was the last thing he saw.

Yet, beneath the warmth in his chest, something unsettling lurked—a weight, an ache, a feeling he couldn’t quite name.

He quietly stepped out of the room, careful not to make a sound, and slipped into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

Jungkook watches his own reflection, his breath unsteady, his fingers gripping the edge of the sink as if it’s the only thing keeping him from collapsing. Just moments ago, he had felt weightless—like he was floating, lifted by you, by your love, by the warmth of your body pressed against his. But now, staring at himself under the harsh bathroom light, he feels like he’s sinking.

His feet are stuck in the mud, his knees buried deeper and deeper, as if the very earth beneath him is swallowing him whole.

The contrast is suffocating.

He blinks at his own reflection, at the tired eyes, the shadows beneath them, the slight redness at the tips of his ears from the heat of your shared moment. He should still feel warm. He should still feel safe. But instead, that old, familiar heaviness presses down on him, curling around his chest, whispering things he doesn’t want to hear.

It’s never enough. You’re never enough. She deserves better.

Jungkook clenches his jaw, shaking his head as if he can physically reject the thoughts. He grips the sink tighter, his knuckles turning white. His heart is still racing from being with you, but now it’s for a different reason.

The high never lasts.

He knows this feeling too well—the way joy is something temporary, something borrowed, and how reality always comes crashing down eventually. How no matter how much love you pour into him, it can’t stop the way his mind works, the way it twists things, turns them into something painful.

His breathing grows uneven, and for a second, he considers waking you up—because you always know what to say, because your voice is the only thing that cuts through the noise.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he sinks to the floor, his back against the cold bathroom tiles, and exhales shakily. He doesn’t want to wake you. He doesn’t want you to see him like this.

Not again.

When his eyes met his reflection again, he couldn’t stand the sight. He felt like a stranger in his own skin, as if it didn’t belong to him but to the demons wrapping themselves around his organs, his mind, his muscles—suffocating him. He felt ugly. Disgusting.

His hand lifted to his cheek. He had never liked them—too round, too soft. The only time he tolerated them was when you kissed them or pinched them playfully, adoring them in a way he could never understand. His fingers pressed against them now, as if he could tear them away, reshape them into something else.

Then, his fingers traced over his lips. He hated them too. Hated the words that came from them, hated how they always failed him. He could never seem to say what he truly wanted, never find the right way to express what was clawing at his chest.

His touch traveled to his eyes, and the urge to dig his nails into them, to rip them out, crept up his spine. He despised the way they always looked so full of pain, so childlike, so weak. The thought made him snap. He slapped himself—hard—wishing he could wake up as someone else. Anyone else. Someone stronger, someone more put together, someone worthy of your love.

Because how could you love him when all he saw in himself was filth? How could you look at him with such warmth when the voices in his head screamed that he was unworthy?

The only time he ever felt beautiful was when he saw his reflection in your wide, adoring eyes. The version of him that lived there always seemed better than the one staring back at him now.

He slaps himself again. And again. Until his cheeks burn red, until his breathing turns ragged, until his eyes fall onto something else he despises—his body.

His scars.

They run across his arms, his stomach, his thighs—everywhere. A map of every moment he tried to escape, every time he sought relief through pain. When you truly want to disappear, you find every inch of your body willing to suffer.

Even now, the ghost of your lips lingers on those scars, reminders of the way you tried to love them away. But tonight, even that isn’t enough.

His fingers claw at his arms, nails digging into the flesh, desperate to tear it away—this skin, this body, this evidence of all the times he failed to leave.

He scratches and scratches, until the pain dulls, until it isn’t enough anymore. He needs something more—something deeper, something that cuts through the noise in his head.

And then, his mind goes blank.

That’s when the demons take over. When his body moves without him, when he becomes a passenger in his own skin.

He looks at himself again.

His eyes seem darker, less round, less soft. His chest appears broader, his scars less like wounds and more like the marks of someone who has survived. The voice in his head purrs, telling him he looks better like this—stronger when he surrenders to them.

He teeters between disgust and admiration, caught between fear of the reflection and the temptation to let it consume him.

“Fuck!”

The scream rips from his throat as his fist slams into the mirror, shattering his own image, breaking his skin. Blood drips from his knuckles, seeping into the cracks of the fractured glass.

In a daze, he crawls toward the shards of broken glass scattered across the floor. His fingers tremble as they close around a jagged piece, gripping it so tightly that it bites into his palm, splitting skin, drawing blood. The sharp sting barely registers—almost welcome, almost grounding.

Against the door, he hears Bam barking. The puppy isn’t stupid; he knows something is wrong. He can sense the suffocating weight in the air, the darkness creeping in. Whatever is happening inside that bathroom—it isn’t good.

It’s Bam’s desperate barking that wakes you.

Your eyes flutter open, and immediately, you feel it—the cold emptiness beside you, the absence of his warmth. Your heart lurches. Sleep is forgotten as you throw off the covers and rush toward the sound, toward Bam, who stands anxiously in front of the locked bathroom door.

You try to open it, but it won’t budge. Your breath catches as you press your ear against the wood, straining to hear.

Then it hits you—his ragged sobs, his muffled shouts, the agony spilling from him in broken cries.

Your heart shatters into a thousand pieces.

He’s lost to the voices again.

“Jungkook?” You call again, your voice fragile, barely audible, but laced with desperation. The fear that you might do something wrong, say the wrong thing, sends a tremor through you. You can’t bear the thought of losing him, not like this. “Kook, it’s me, can you open the door, please?” You bang your fist against it, your heart thundering in your chest.

On the other side, Jungkook can’t hear you. The voices—so loud, so demanding—drown everything else out. His mind is a chaotic storm, each voice fighting against the others, battling for control. The noise is deafening, unbearable. His hands, trembling, press against his ears, trying to block out the sounds, the pain, but it’s no use.

He slaps his hands against his ears, but it only intensifies the agony. A piercing, shrill sound claws its way through his skull, making his head throb with such force that he collapses onto the floor. The broken glass beneath him cuts into his skin, but he doesn’t feel it. The pain is a distant echo, overwhelmed by the torment inside his mind.

Frantically, you glance around, your mind racing, trying to find anything that could help you get inside. Your hands tremble as you search the hallway. You spot the spare key to the bathroom, hidden on the shelf above the coat rack. It’s meant for emergencies, but never did you imagine you’d be using it for something like this.

You rush over and grab the key, your pulse racing, a desperate need to get to him consuming every part of you. You push the key into the lock, but your hands are shaking so violently it takes a couple of tries before the door finally clicks open.

With a deep breath, you push the door open, your heart in your throat. The sight that greets you makes your breath catch—Jungkook, collapsed on the floor, surrounded by shards of broken glass, his hands bloodied, his body shaking uncontrollably. He’s not aware of you yet. His eyes are wide, but lost in the chaos of his mind.

You ignored the sharp sting of the glass cutting into your feet, your focus entirely on him—on Jungkook. His cries echoed in the room, and the sight of him trembling, lost in his own chaos, tore you apart. You reached out to him, your hands trembling but determined as you cupped his face, making him look at you.

“Jungkook!” You rush to him—ignoring the sharp sting of the glass cutting into your feet, your focus entirely on him—kneeling beside him, your hands trembling as you gently try to lift him up, wiping away the glass from his skin. You speak his name again, louder this time, your voice full of panic but laced with love. “Please, Kook, I’m here. I’m here. Look at me.”

Your heart breaks seeing him like this, seeing the darkness that still clings to him. You hold him, your arms around him, whispering over and over again, trying to bring him back, trying to remind him that he’s not alone.

You pressed your forehead against his, your hands gently moving to cradle him, holding him as if you could protect him from all the pain and demons that still haunted him. He didn’t react at first, his body still shaking violently, his eyes distant as he clung to his own broken thoughts. But you held on, refusing to let go, even as the blood from your feet mixed with the tears that streamed down your face.

“I love you, Jungkook. I love you, please… let me help you,” you murmured through the pain, trying to hold him steady, trying to remind him of the love that surrounded him, that always surrounded him. The love that was still strong, even through all of this.

After what felt like an eternity, sitting together amidst the broken glass, Jungkook slowly came to his senses, his head pressed into your chest. You held him tightly, your fingers gently running through his hair, brushing away the tears from his cheeks.

“My baby,” you whispered, your chin resting on the top of his head. “If only I could take all your pain away.” Your own eyes brimmed with tears, and they fell silently onto his hair as you buried your face into it, trying to hide the ache in your chest.

The sound of your sobs mixed together as you felt his hand slide to your waist, his body inching closer to yours, as if he needed to be even nearer.

“Why are you staying?” His voice cracked, hoarse from the weight of his sobs, barely audible—but you heard him. You always would.

“Because I don’t think I could breathe without you,” you replied, your voice steady and certain, no doubt in your words. You cupped his face gently, gazing into his eyes. The sight hurt you, but it was still your Jungkook. The love of your life. “And because I love you so much that I can’t imagine a world without you in it,” you continued, brushing your thumbs over his eyes, pushing his hair back so you could see them clearly. “And because you are worthy of everything I can give, I would give you my whole life without hesitation, Jungkook.”

Jungkook’s body shudders against you as your words settle into the quiet space between you. He inhales shakily, and despite the rawness of his emotion, there’s a sense of calm that begins to settle over him just from the warmth of your presence, the sincerity of your love.

“I don’t deserve that…” he whispers, his voice a broken whisper that only you can hear. His hand reaches for yours, gripping it like he’s afraid you might slip away.

“Jungkook, don’t say that,” you reply softly, cupping his face in both hands, forcing him to look at you. His eyes are still red, still full of pain, but now they search yours desperately, like he’s trying to find something—anything—to hold on to. “You are worth everything, all the love in the world. You’ve always been. I don’t care about the scars, the pain. You’re worth every single thing, Jungkook.”

You lean in, pressing your forehead against his, your breaths mingling as you share the silent comfort of the moment. “We’ll get through this, together,” you murmur.

“But how long? What if I never get better?” he whispered into your shoulder, his voice breaking with uncertainty. “I won’t blame you if you decide—”

You tightened your arms around his back, cutting him off. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Jeon,” you murmured, a soft smile tugging at your lips despite the heavy, suffocating weight of the atmosphere. You wanted to ease his pain, if only a little. “One day, you’ll see yourself the way I see you. One day, you’ll love yourself as much as you love me. I’ll make sure of it.”

Carefully, you helped him up, your body pressing against the shards of glass, the pain digging into your thighs and bottom as blood began to trickle out, but you ignored it. His well-being was all that mattered now.

“But you have to trust me, okay? Whatever I decide, it’s for your own good.” Your voice wavered as you spoke, though you tried to keep it steady, like you had everything under control. But deep down, there was a thought buried in your chest, one that you had locked away and refused to let surface—something you weren’t sure you could ever say aloud. But what if that was the answer? What if that was what Jungkook needed? The catalyst that would finally push him toward healing, to love himself without needing to love you first?

What if your light was preventing him from finding his own?

If that were the case, you wouldn’t let it continue, even if it meant letting him go.

When you saw Dr. Kim again, you weren’t with Jungkook. You gripped your bag tighter, steeling yourself before you could chicken out and run away. Your eyes fixed on the damn poster on the wall.

Every life is precious, even yours.

Why couldn’t Jungkook see that? If only you could show him.

“Mr. Jeon, it’s your—” Dr. Kim’s voice faltered when he saw not the man he was expecting, but you. His expression shifted from surprise to something softer, more understanding. He didn’t question why it was you standing there instead of Jungkook, just opened the door and gestured for you to enter.

“Come in,” he said gently, his voice welcoming.

You sat down in the chair, unsure of why you were there in the first place. Just that morning, you’d told Jungkook you wouldn’t be long, lying through your teeth when you said you needed to go to work to verify some things. You had kissed his cheek, told him to keep sleeping, and assured him you were fine on your own when he asked if he should come with you.

“I’m guessing you want to talk about Jungkook, right?” Dr. Kim asked, twirling his pen between his fingers, his tone calm and patient.

You nodded quickly, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. His eyes softened, a small understanding smile forming on his lips, dimples appearing as his expression turned empathetic. “How is he?”

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat thickening before you spoke. “Bad,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. You knew there was no point in lying about his condition now. “Yesterday night he had an outburst.”

You went on to explain everything that had happened, the broken glass, his sobs, and the overwhelming pain he was carrying. Dr. Kim listened intently, writing everything down in his notebook without interrupting.

Dr. Kim’s gaze didn’t waver. His eyes were steady and gentle, yet intense, as if he was pulling something from deep within you that you hadn’t even realized was there.

“And how are you?” he repeated, his voice steady but carrying a weight that made your heart skip a beat. His hands were crossed on the desk, but his presence felt much larger, almost like he was trying to see into the very core of you. It made you feel exposed, vulnerable.

“I—” you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, suddenly unsure how to answer. How were you? It felt like such a loaded question, one that you didn’t know how to untangle. What you did know for sure was that you wanted Jungkook to get better, and you were willing to do anything to help him with that. “I’m trying to hold on, but it’s nothing compared to Jung—”

Before you could finish, Dr. Kim cut you off gently but firmly, “No. I’m not asking about Jungkook right now. I’m asking about you.”

Your eyes drifted, avoiding his gaze for a moment as you fumbled with your thoughts. He noticed your discomfort, and with a small sigh, he leaned forward slightly, his voice softening as he tried to clarify his question. “You know that when you spend many years with someone suffering from depression, you don’t realize how it can get under your skin too. You might start carrying some of their weight without even noticing.”

You felt a knot form in your stomach as his words hung in the air. It was like a sudden revelation that you hadn’t fully considered. Could it be? Were you carrying the burden too?

“I don’t see Jungkook as a burden,” you assert, your voice firm, “I want to help him because I love him so much.”

Dr. Kim watched your expression soften as you spoke about Jungkook. Without even realizing it, and without him prompting you further, you began to recount the story of how you first met him, how he asked you out, and the journey that followed. You shared how he never kept his depression hidden from you, and how, despite the pain, it made you love him even more deeply.

The therapist gave a small smile as he listened, but the curiosity in his eyes didn’t fade. He leaned in slightly, his tone gentle but probing. “So, why are you here today? What made you feel the need to come and talk to me?”

He dug deeper, not leaving any stone unturned, until you could feel the weight of his question pressing on your chest, forcing the truth to finally come out.

You paused, your thoughts swirling for a moment as Dr. Kim’s question lingered in the air. It wasn’t easy to put into words what had brought you here. You’d been focused on Jungkook for so long, trying to be strong for him, trying to help him heal, but now, in this room, with Dr. Kim’s calm but piercing eyes on you, the weight of your own feelings became undeniable.

You shifted in your seat, feeling the weight of your words before they even left your mouth. “I’m scared that I’m suffocating him, like maybe he’ll never truly see his own worth because he’s too focused on loving me,” you confessed quickly, wanting to get the burden off your chest.

“And I’m scared that I can’t help him the way I think I can. I don’t know how much longer I can pretend that I’m not constantly on edge, holding my breath, waiting for the next thing. When he has those episodes, it feels like I’m losing him, and when he’s better, I try to be strong for him, but… it’s getting harder. I’m scared, Dr. Kim.”

You took a shaky breath, your heart heavy as you finally admitted what you had been too afraid to say. “I don’t think I can be the one to save him. I think it’s something only he can do.”

Dr. Kim nodded slowly, giving you the space to let the emotions flow. He could see the depth of your care for Jungkook. “I’m glad you’re aware of it,” he said softly, his voice reassuring. “It shows how much you love him, and that’s what matters. Jungkook is lucky to have someone like you.”

You buried your face in your hands, overwhelmed with the weight of it all. “But I—” you choked on the words, the sobs breaking free before you could finish your sentence, “I don’t want him to think I’m abandoning him. But why does it feel like it?”

The sight of you in so much pain tugged at Dr. Kim’s heart. Even though he had witnessed similar situations countless times, it didn’t make it any less heartbreaking. He took a deep breath, his tone gentle as he handed you a tissue, his eyes filled with empathy. You took it with a grateful smile, trying to regain some composure.

“If anything,” he said, his voice steady and calm, “you’re not abandoning Jungkook if you want him to focus on himself first. It might feel like you’re stepping back, but that’s what he needs right now—space to heal on his own.”

He paused for a moment, ensuring you understood, and then continued. “Jungkook has always struggled with his self-worth. He’s never truly learned to like himself. That’s the root of his pain. He’s projected the love he couldn’t give himself onto others, and that’s where the cycle of self-doubt and self-destruction comes from.”

Dr. Kim then went into the medical side of things, explaining Jungkook’s depression and self-destructive tendencies with more technical terms, while making sure you understood it clearly.

“He has what we call dysthymia, which is a long-term, chronic form of depression that causes persistent low mood. It’s not always obvious to others because he’s learned to mask it, but it takes a serious toll over time. His tendency to push people away or retreat into himself when he’s struggling comes from a place of deep insecurity. Jungkook’s also dealing with self-destructive tendencies, which means he might turn his pain inward, sometimes even in harmful ways, as a way to cope with the emotional turmoil he feels.”

He looked at you, his eyes softening. “But this isn’t about you not being enough for him. It’s about Jungkook learning to feel worthy of love, and that’s something only he can work on, no matter how much you wish you could fix it for him.”

The weight of Dr. Kim’s words hung heavily in the air, and despite your best efforts to absorb everything, your chest tightened with the painful realization that Jungkook’s journey to healing was something only he could walk alone. You thought about how much you longed to comfort him, to hold him, to take away his pain, but now you knew the truth—no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t be the one to fix it for him. Not unless he found a way to heal himself first.

A soft ache blossomed in your heart as you thought about how desperately you wanted to run home to him, wrap him in your arms, and just hold him tight, feeling his heartbeat against yours. But deep down, you knew that no amount of physical closeness could change what needed to happen inside him. You had told him countless times that he was worthy of love, but he had to believe it for himself. If he didn’t, those words would remain just that—words—falling on ears that couldn’t yet hear them.

“Jungkook needs to find a way to love himself,” Dr. Kim’s voice cut through your thoughts, bringing you back to the present. “Before he can truly give love to someone else, he has to learn how to give it to himself first. He needs to find what makes his heart beat when you’re not there, and learn to be okay on his own, so he doesn’t rely on others to fill that void.”

The pain was still there, the ache in your chest growing stronger as you thought about letting go of him, even if just for a while, to give him the space to heal. It felt like a cruel paradox. You loved him more than anything, but you knew that if you didn’t let him go, he’d never be able to fully heal. And the more you thought about it, the more you realized that you wanted him to be happy, even if it meant not being by his side through every step.

Dr. Kim’s words seemed to settle into the deepest parts of you. “I don’t want to pressure you into anything,” he continued gently, sensing the internal struggle in your silence. “But Jungkook needs to focus on himself first, before he can fully give himself to you. He can’t truly love you if he doesn’t love himself.”

You nodded slowly, trying to let the words sink in, feeling the weight of them. It was hard, but you knew deep down that you couldn’t force him to heal. As much as you wanted to be his everything, you couldn’t be the one to save him. He needed to save himself.

Even if it meant letting him go. Even if it meant stepping back and allowing him to find himself before you could truly be together the way you both deserved.

Your heart ached at the thought of it, but you knew this was the only way forward, for both of you. Jungkook needed to find peace within himself, and you had to learn to give him the space to do that, no matter how much it hurt.

“And if you’re worried about him,” he continued softly, his hand resting gently on yours, “I’ll make sure to be there for him—not just as a therapist, but as a friend. You’re strong. Not everyone could make the decision you’ve made. To give up something you love for the sake of the other’s well-being… that’s a kind of strength not many possess.”

His words seemed to linger in the air, and for a brief moment, you almost felt like you weren’t alone in this, that someone else understood the weight of what you were going through. It didn’t completely erase the pain, but it gave you the reassurance you didn’t know you needed.

“When the time is right, you and Jungkook can find happiness again. I promise you that,” Dr. Kim added, his voice steady and sincere.

You nodded, the tears that had been threatening to fall slowly subsiding, though a faint, fragile hope flickered within you. Maybe things weren’t as broken as you thought. Maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance for everything to be okay again. A small part of you believed it—believed that, despite the hurt, there was a path forward. And even if it was a long road ahead, you knew now that you wouldn’t have to walk it alone.

Talking to Jungkook about the decision you felt was best for both of you was one of the hardest things you’d ever done.

Tears streamed down both of your faces as he clung to you, whispering that he couldn’t bear the thought of you leaving, that he loved you more than anything. You whispered the same in return, trying to be strong, though inside, you were just as shattered as he was.

“Promise me you’ll wait for me,” he whispered into your shoulder, his warm breath brushing against your neck, his tears soaking into your skin.

Without a second of hesitation, you nodded fiercely. “I promise, I’ll wait for you, no matter how long it takes,” you said, taking his face into your hands, making sure he could see your sincerity. “I don’t want to love anyone else. You’re the one I want. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Jungkook.” Your eyes locked onto his, willing him to believe every word.

Jungkook didn’t need any more reassurance. The way you held him, the way you looked at him, told him everything he needed to know. But still, he asked, “And promise me, if I can’t heal, you’ll be happy too.”

That was a promise you couldn’t make. The thought of a world without Jungkook was unimaginable to you. You couldn’t even remember who you were before him; every part of your life had become intertwined with his.

“Baby,” he whispered, lowering his head so he could look into your eyes, his hands gently gripping your cheeks. “Please, I need you to say you’ll be happy,” he pleaded, his forehead resting against yours. “Use your words.”

As much as it hurt, as much as it tore you apart to even think about it, you managed to say, “I will be happy, Kook. I promise.”

Jungkook’s grip on your cheeks tightened, as if he was trying to hold onto this moment, to the love and the promise you made. His eyes searched yours, his expression softening as he processed your words, and though you could see the vulnerability and pain in them, there was something else too—trust.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking as more tears fell. “I just don’t want to lose you.”

The rawness of his emotions tore at your heart, but you did your best to comfort him, your hands caressing his face as you held him tightly. You felt his pain, his fear of losing you, and yet, you also understood the importance of this space. This was something he needed to do for himself, even if it broke your heart to say goodbye, even for a little while.

“I know, Kook,” you murmured, your voice trembling. “I don’t want to lose you either, but I need you to heal. I need you to find yourself again… and when you’re ready, we’ll be together.”

Jungkook pressed his forehead against yours, his breath shaky as he whispered, “I’ll never stop loving you. No matter what.”

And in that moment, you believed him. As much as it hurt to part ways, you both knew that love couldn’t just fix everything. It couldn’t heal wounds that were deeper than either of you could touch, but it could be the foundation to help rebuild. You knew that no matter what happened next, your love for each other would always be there, even if you had to find it again in different ways, at different times.

You both decided that you would be the one to leave the apartment. It felt right, especially because you didn’t want to shake Jungkook up any more than he already was. You couldn’t bear the thought of telling him to leave his own home.

You also agreed that Bam would stay with him. It never crossed your mind that you would take the dog from him. Bam had always been more attached to Jungkook than to you, and Jungkook loved him so much. Taking him away would’ve been selfish, and you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. That small happiness was something you couldn’t take from him.

As you packed your things, Jungkook helped, always asking if you were sure you had everything. There were no angry words, no shouting—just understanding. That’s what your relationship with him had always been, and in some ways, it made leaving feel just a little bit easier.

But as you stood there, packing up your life, you had no idea where you would go next. Where would you live for the next month, year, or even longer? It felt like you were being thrown back into independence again, but this time, it was different.

“Wait!” he shouted from the hallway just as you were about to turn around. You froze, heart racing.

“I love you,” he said, his voice raw from all the emotions that had been building up.

He stepped closer, and without a word, he cupped your face in his hands, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. The kiss started soft, tentative, but soon deepened, passion overtaking both of you. Your tongues tangled, your teeth clashing as you both fought to hold on to each other, not wanting to let go.

You had no idea how you’d live without him. You’d never imagined this moment, and you weren’t sure you were ready to face it. But maybe, deep down, you knew it was what was best for both of you. You’d lost yourself in the process of trying to save him, and now, perhaps, it was time to find yourself again.

For both your sakes, maybe it was for the best.

Jungkook wouldn’t lie, the first five months without you had been nothing but tears, therapy sessions, and him pouring his heart out to Bam, as if the dog could somehow respond with the answers he desperately needed.

But the dog, in his own silent way, seemed to understand. Bam would always settle close to him, resting his head on Jungkook’s lap or licking his face gently, offering what little comfort he could. Jungkook would laugh every time Bam did it, the sound bittersweet. He couldn’t help but remember how you used to say it was gross, but now, in the absence of your teasing, he welcomed it, even if just for the comfort it gave him in that moment.

Honestly, Jungkook hadn’t made much progress. If anything, he felt like he was regressing. He thought about calling you often, his thumbs hovering over your number, knowing that you’d pick up right away. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it, not like this. He knew that if he reached out, it would only make things worse, so he told himself he’d wait until he was fully healed, ready to love you again, even though a part of him knew he’d never stopped.

“What about finding something to do?” Namjoon suggested, breaking the silence in the apartment as he sat on the sofa. Over the past five months, Dr. Kim had become more than just a therapist to Jungkook. He had slowly, but surely, become his friend—his only one. And though it didn’t fill the hole in Jungkook’s chest, it did ease his loneliness, just a little.

Jungkook thought about it for a moment, his mind heavy with uncertainty. It had been so long since he did anything other than wait for the days to pass, simply surviving. Since he dropped out of university, he’d felt lost, not knowing what he was supposed to do. If it wasn’t you, then what? Maybe Bam could fill that emptiness, but even that felt uncertain.

His eyes wandered to his dog, who was nestled beside him, gently purring as Jungkook absentmindedly ran his hand through his fur. And suddenly, Namjoon’s voice cut through the silence.

“What about working in that shelter?”

Namjoon shifted on the sofa, his excitement bubbling over like he’d just stumbled upon the solution to everything. Jungkook looked up, and for the first time in a long while, his eyes sparkled. Something about the idea clicked—maybe it was because it involved something tangible, something he could care for without feeling lost in his own head.

He hadn’t realized it until that moment, but it felt like a possibility, a way forward.

“Yeah… Yeah, I could try that,” Jungkook murmured, his voice gaining strength. For the first time in a while, it felt like he was stepping towards something instead of just existing. Maybe this could be the beginning of figuring things out.

The next morning, Jungkook took a little extra time to prepare himself. The usual dark hoodie he’d worn so often lately felt too familiar, too comfortable in a way that made him feel stagnant, stuck in his own thoughts. He switched it for something a bit more presentable—a white shirt you’d bought him for his birthday, paired with some jeans. You used to tell him how handsome he looked when he wore that, and for a moment, the memory of you saying those words made his chest tighten. He could almost feel your arms around him again, the way you straddled him that night after the restaurant, kissing him like you meant every word.

That birthday had been the best one of his life, and the memory of it brought a bittersweet warmth. But he pushed those thoughts aside, not wanting to get lost in them now. He couldn’t afford to get distracted, not today.

He knelt in front of Bam, scratching behind his ears as the dog lay at his feet. “Daddy will leave for a bit,” he murmured softly, his fingers stilling when Bam rolled onto his back, showing his stomach. Jungkook couldn’t help himself; he leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on Bam’s belly. “Be a good boy,” he whispered before standing up, taking a deep breath. He was about to leave the apartment, the first step towards something new, something unknown, but maybe, just maybe, it could be the beginning of healing.

With a final glance at the apartment, Jungkook stepped outside, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders, but with a tiny spark of hope in his heart.

The moment Jungkook stepped out of the house, he couldn’t remember the last time he had done anything outside of his routine—whether it was running errands or heading to his usual therapy sessions with Namjoon. It all felt foreign, but as soon as the sun began kissing his golden skin, a warmth spread through him. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the sunlight wash over him, and for the first time in a while, he felt something close to peace.

He walked steadily towards the shelter, his heart picking up pace with every step. Each one brought him closer to something he wasn’t quite sure about yet, but there was a strange pull, a feeling that maybe this was the right thing to do.

It wasn’t long before he saw the sign: Hope Shelter. It was a small, humble building, but something about it felt right. As he pushed open the door, the soft jingle of a bell echoed in the room, signaling his arrival.

Almost immediately, a familiar face appeared. The boy he had met when Bam first came into his life—his energetic smile wide on his heart-shaped lips.

“Hi!” the boy greeted with a sing-song voice, quickly wiping his hands on his jeans. His eyes locked onto Jungkook, and it took only a second for recognition to hit.

“Wait—” he paused, holding up his finger as if trying to place where he had seen him before. “Bam, isn’t it? The cute Doberman?”

Jungkook’s heart did a small leap at the mention of Bam’s name. He nodded quickly, feeling the tension in his chest start to ease. “Yeah, Bam. That’s my dog,” he said, his voice a little lighter now. The familiar name had broken through the knot of anxiety inside him, making it easier to breathe.

Hoseok’s face twisted with concern, his eyes widening. “Wait— is he okay?” he asked, and Jungkook quickly reassured him that Bam was perfectly fine, his tail wagging happily at home.

“Oh, thank god,” Hoseok sighed in relief. “I was a little worried there.” He paused for a beat, his tone shifting into something more casual. “I’m Hoseok, by the way. I think I forgot to mention my name when you came with your girlfriend.”

Jungkook’s eyes dropped to the floor at the mention of you, the weight of the words hitting him in a way he wasn’t prepared for. His chest tightened, but before he could get lost in the sea of thoughts that suddenly flooded him, Hoseok continued talking.

“Anyway, why’d you come by today? You look like you have something on your mind,” Hoseok asked, his voice kind but direct.

Jungkook hesitated for a second, but something about the easygoing way Hoseok spoke made it easier to open up. “I… I wanted to work here,” he said before he could second-guess himself. “I think I can help.”

Hoseok’s eyes went wide, and his mouth formed a surprised ‘o’. “For real?” he said, a grin quickly spreading across his face. “Wow, it’s like you’re some kind of miracle! I could really use a hand around here,” he added, before stopping himself with a chuckle. “Especially some strong hands.”

The light-heartedness in Hoseok’s voice made Jungkook smile. He hadn’t expected this interaction to be so easy, so natural. It felt good, like he could finally exhale, the weight of the past few months loosening its grip on him just a little bit. The thought of working here, doing something with purpose, felt like a step in the right direction.

“Thanks,” Jungkook said softly, a bit more at ease now. “I think I could do it.”

Hoseok showed Jungkook around the shelter, explaining everything with patience and enthusiasm. He made sure to cover every detail, from feeding schedules to cleaning routines, and Jungkook couldn’t help but notice how easy it was to talk to him. There was something about Hoseok’s energy—he was genuine and approachable, never rushing, always making sure Jungkook understood what he needed to know.

At one point, Hoseok casually mentioned that there were two people working there. “My former assistant left a few months ago,” Hoseok said with a smile, “He followed his dream of becoming a guitarist. Pretty cool, right?” Jungkook didn’t ask too many questions about that. He didn’t want to pry into someone else’s life, especially not when it came to personal decisions. But the fact that Hoseok was willing to share a little bit made Jungkook feel more comfortable, like maybe he wasn’t just an outsider here.

After some time, the conversation shifted to something Jungkook didn’t expect: dogs and their tricks. Hoseok mentioned how much he enjoyed teaching dogs new tricks, and it sparked something in Jungkook. He hesitated for a second before admitting, “I’ve tried to teach Bam some tricks, but… I don’t know. He never really seems to get them.”

Hoseok laughed, a soft and comforting sound, before jumping into teaching mode. “It’s all about patience and knowing how each dog learns. Bam’s a smart dog, I bet you just need to find the right way to communicate with him.” He explained a few simple techniques and gave Jungkook advice on how to approach training. It felt like a small step in the right direction, not just for Bam, but for Jungkook himself.

And then, out of nowhere, the conversation shifted again—this time to you.

“So,” Hoseok started, almost as if he was tiptoeing around the subject, “How’s your girlfriend doing? She still helping you with Bam, or…?”

Jungkook froze for a moment. The mention of you caught him off guard, like a sudden shift in the air. He wasn’t expecting to talk about you, not yet, not in this setting. His stomach tightened, but he didn’t want to seem too distant or closed off, so he forced a small, neutral smile.

“She’s… doing good,” Jungkook replied, though his voice sounded a little more distant than he intended. “We’re not… together anymore.” He caught Hoseok’s eye, not sure how the other man would react.

Hoseok, ever the easygoing presence, didn’t press further. He just gave Jungkook a small, understanding nod, as if he could see the weight of the words without needing an explanation. “It’s tough, man. Breakups suck, but sometimes, it’s what’s best for both people.”

Jungkook let out a slow breath, feeling a little lighter somehow. It was strange, talking about you like this, but it also felt good to say it aloud, to let someone else know what he was going through.

He was about to open his mouth, to argue that it wasn’t exactly a breakup like most people would think, that it wasn’t as simple as that, but something in him told him to keep it in. Maybe, it wasn’t the right time to go into all of that. It felt like it was a conversation for another day, another moment when he wasn’t still sorting out his feelings.

Seeing the way Jungkook’s gaze dropped again, Hoseok quickly tried to shift the atmosphere. “Hey,” he said, a light tone in his voice, “Maybe next time you bring Bam here, we could work together on those tricks you want him to learn? I bet he’s got it in him. Plus, I think a little extra practice might help you too.”

Jungkook felt a small, grateful smile tug at his lips. It wasn’t much, but Hoseok’s attempt to lighten the mood worked. The conversation shifted, the air feeling a little easier to breathe. It was like a fresh start for him, a new focus on something simple, something manageable.

“Yeah,” Jungkook said, nodding slowly, “That sounds like a good idea. Maybe Bam will listen to you more than me.”

Hoseok chuckled, a bright, genuine laugh. “I doubt it. But we’ll see,” he said, giving Jungkook an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

For the first time in a long while, Jungkook didn’t feel the weight of his past dragging him down. Maybe this was just what he needed—a small step forward, one trick at a time.

Jungkook settled into the rhythm of the shelter quickly. It had been a month since he started working there, and for the first time in a long while, he found himself genuinely enjoying his days. He wasn’t great with words or socializing with people, but with the dogs, it was different. They didn’t need much from him—just patience, love, and consistency. Those were things he could give without hesitation, and they responded in kind.

Bam, his loyal dog, also adapted slowly but surely. At first, Bam stayed close to him, too shy to socialize with the other dogs, but as the days passed, he began to trust the others. He became more playful, even learning some new tricks. Jungkook smiled as he watched Bam roll over on command.

“Bam!” he called, holding his hands out in the shape of a gun, and said with a grin, “Pow! Pow! Pow!” His fingers mimicked gunshots, and Bam immediately rolled onto his back, playing dead as if he’d been shot.

Jungkook laughed softly, bending down to pet Bam’s soft fur. “We will have to show mommy that you finally learned it,” he murmured, his lips curling into a deep, fond smile. His heart ached a little as he said it, the familiar words slipping out without thought. He knew, deep down, he would always want to share these moments with you.

Hoseok, who had been observing from a distance, saw the exchange and didn’t ask any questions. He understood now, after a month of working closely with Jungkook, that despite everything, Jungkook spoke about you often. It was clear that whatever had happened between the two of you, it wasn’t the end. Hoseok could tell that there was still so much love there, even if Jungkook wasn’t ready to admit it.

So, Hoseok just smiled. There was no rush, no pressure to fix anything. He had learned that sometimes people just needed time to figure things out, and maybe, just maybe, this shelter, these dogs, and the bond between Jungkook and Bam were the first steps on his path toward healing.

Jungkook had learned a lot about himself—things he never even thought to explore before. One of those discoveries was his surprising talent for painting.

“What does it represent?” Kim Taehyung asked, tilting his head as he studied the canvas in front of them. His boxy grin was ever-present, but his eyes held genuine curiosity.

Jungkook met Taehyung at the shelter a few months ago. The guy had been looking for a Pomeranian, and Jungkook introduced him to Yeontan. That day, Taehyung found not only his “dream dog,” as he excitedly called him, but also two unexpected friendships.

The bond between Jungkook, Taehyung, and Hoseok had formed naturally. At first, it revolved around their shared love for dogs, but soon, their conversations stretched beyond that. They talked about everything—music, movies, life. Jungkook never really knew what it felt like to have friends, not like this. Of course, Namjoon was close to him, but their relationship was different. Namjoon knew him too well—sometimes better than Jungkook knew himself. He knew about the depression, the struggles, the darkest parts of him.

But Taehyung and Hoseok didn’t. If they noticed his scars, they never said anything. Maybe they assumed it was something he had struggled with but was overcoming. And in a way, they were right.

Because Jungkook was healing. He realized it when he counted the days—two months since he last hurt himself. Two months clean. It was a long time. It meant he was getting closer. Closer to healing, closer to loving himself, closer to you.

It had been seven months now since he last saw you. Of course, he still thought about you every day. But it wasn’t painful anymore. It wasn’t an aching wound—more like a quiet presence, something that gave him strength rather than pulling him under. He didn’t feel the overwhelming urge to reach for you anymore.

Not yet.

Because he knew he wasn’t fully ready. But one day, when the time was right—he would be.

Jungkook tilted his head, studying his painting as if shifting his perspective might help him understand what his hands had created. He rarely painted with intention—his heart spoke louder than his mind when he held a brush. Sometimes, that meant beauty. Other times, it meant something much darker.

Like this one.

Before him stood a black shadow, its form ambiguous but undeniably human. The face, if it could even be called that, had a wide-open mouth, round eyes, a soft nose, and puffed cheeks. The more Jungkook stared, the more it began to resemble… himself. The shadow looked like it was screaming, dark tendrils spilling from its mouth, like it was vomiting out something toxic. It was abstract, eerie, yet painfully familiar.

It was exactly how he felt.

Taehyung, who had been watching quietly, placed a steady hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. He didn’t ask for an explanation anymore. As a professional painter himself, he knew that sometimes art didn’t need words. And if it did, those words belonged to the artist alone.

So he didn’t press.

“You’re really talented at that,” Taehyung said simply before refocusing on his own painting.

Jungkook didn’t respond, just hummed in acknowledgment as he continued adding strokes to his canvas. While they painted, they shared bits and pieces about themselves—small things, nothing too deep. Jungkook preferred it that way. He listened more than he spoke, occasionally answering or adding a comment, but never giving too much away. It felt good, light, easy.

Still, he couldn’t help but wonder—how had he found the courage to tell you about his depression so quickly? There must have been something about you, something that made him feel safe enough to spill the parts of himself he usually kept hidden. And when he really thought about it, he almost couldn’t believe he had done that. He had handed you his darkness and somehow still wished you would love him despite it.

And you did.

That was something Jungkook still couldn’t quite understand. Because if the roles had been reversed—if he had been the one hearing all of that from someone else—he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t have been afraid.

After saying goodbye to Taehyung and his small dog, Jungkook left, already looking forward to their next meet-up. It made him smile—he was filling his days with things that gave him purpose. His work at the shelter with Hoseok, his painting sessions with Taehyung, and now, his weekly meetings with Namjoon.

It felt strange, in a good way. For someone who once spent his days just waiting for them to end, waiting to get closer to nothingness, he now had things to look forward to. And that realization made him smile.

He didn’t even think of these meetings as therapy sessions anymore. At some point, they had shifted from Namjoon’s office to more casual settings—sometimes a walk in the park, sometimes at Jungkook’s home, and today, a coffee shop.

As he walked in, he spotted Namjoon right away, sitting by a booth with a cup in front of him. His dimples showed as he smiled, watching Jungkook over the rim of his glasses.

“Your banana milk is on the way,” Namjoon said as Jungkook settled into his seat. Jungkook thanked him, a small warmth spreading in his chest. There was something comforting in the fact that people around him knew his preferences—what he liked, what he didn’t. It made him feel seen, like he was no longer just drifting through life. He was someone with his own tastes, his own choices, slowly shaping the world around him rather than just moving through it.

“So, how was your day?” Namjoon asked, his dimples showing as he smiled. Just seeing Jungkook sitting across from him, breathing and present, was enough to fill him with quiet relief. He had known him since he was sixteen, had watched him struggle, fall, and fight his way back up. To see him getting better, little by little, made Namjoon’s chest feel lighter.

“It was good. I spent time with Taehyung—we painted,” Jungkook said before lowering his gaze as the waiter placed his banana milkshake in front of him. He stirred it absentmindedly before continuing, “I painted something kind of dark… but it felt good, you know?”

Namjoon nodded, stirring his coffee as he listened. “That’s the thing about art,” he said. “It doesn’t always have to be pretty to be meaningful. Sometimes, the darkest things we create are the ones that help us the most.”

Jungkook hummed, taking a sip of his banana milkshake. It was sweet, familiar. He felt the corners of his lips twitch up slightly. “Yeah… It was weird. I didn’t even know what I was painting until I was almost done. But when I looked at it, I just… understood.”

Namjoon smiled knowingly. “That’s progress, Jungkook.”

Jungkook tilted his head, his brows furrowing slightly. “How?”

“Because you’re expressing instead of suppressing,” Namjoon said simply, setting his cup down. “Before, you used to bottle things up until they consumed you. Now, you’re letting them out—through work, through painting, through friendships. You’re finding outlets instead of drowning in them.”

Jungkook let the words sink in, stirring his drink absentmindedly. He hadn’t thought of it like that, but Namjoon was right. He was living now, not just existing.

After an hour of conversation—mostly about his feelings, but also lighter topics—Jungkook left the café, feeling the pull to return home to Bam. Socializing was still something he was getting used to, and he found that he needed time to himself afterward. But unlike before, being alone with his thoughts didn’t scare him as much anymore.

Namjoon watched him go, a small smile on his lips as he pulled out his phone and quickly dialed your number. The moment you answered, he spoke.

“Hey,” he greeted softly.

At the sound of his voice, you exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“I just saw him. He’s doing good,” Namjoon reassured you, smiling at the way he could practically hear your relief through the phone.

Because what Jungkook didn’t know was that Namjoon wasn’t just close to him—he had also grown close to you. Before you left, you had insisted on getting updates about Jungkook, checking in on him even from a distance. At first, Namjoon wasn’t sure if it was the right thing for you, but after seeing how much it mattered to you—after hearing you beg—he couldn’t bring himself to say no.

You thanked Namjoon before saying goodbye, finally releasing the breath you had been holding. A small smile crept onto your lips. Even if you didn’t know the details of Jungkook’s progress—how he was healing or what had changed—just hearing from Namjoon that he was doing well was enough for now. You didn’t need explanations yet. You would hear it all from Jungkook when the time was right, when he was ready to tell you himself. And more than anything, you wanted to hear his voice as he shared everything he had discovered while you were apart.

You were preparing yourself for whatever came next—if you ever saw Jungkook again. Because as much as you longed for that moment, a small, nagging fear remained. What if, once he truly learned to love himself, he no longer felt the need to love you? And as much as you wanted him to reach that place of healing, the thought of him moving on from you made your stomach twist.

Then there was another fear, one more grounded in reality—what if, in his journey of healing, he met someone else? What if he found a girl or a boy who fit into his new life, someone who didn’t remind him of his darkest days? What if you became nothing more than a distant memory, a part of his past he no longer needed?

And yet, strangely, you felt ready to accept that possibility. Because if Jungkook was happy—whether it was with you or without you—you knew you could never be angry. You had loved him enough to let him go, and if this was what he needed to heal, then you would find a way to be at peace with it too.

Jungkook didn’t expect to face his depression again—not like this. It wasn’t triggered by his own reflection in the mirror or by the weight of his past pressing down on him. No, this time, it came from someone else.

A man walked into the shelter, his dark hair falling over his forehead, sharp cat-like eyes scanning the room. He carried a guitar case slung over his shoulder and asked for Hoseok. Jungkook could tell immediately—this must have been the former assistant, the one who had left to chase his dreams. There was a familiarity in the way he moved, like he had never really left.

But Jungkook’s attention wasn’t on his face or the way he spoke. It was on his arms. The faint but unmistakable scars running along his skin. Scars just like Jungkook’s.

For a moment, he forgot how to breathe. He had always known there were others like him, others who carried the same marks of pain, but he had never met one. Never seen someone else wearing their past the way he did.

“He—” Jungkook started, his voice slightly shaky as he forced himself to look away. He didn’t want to seem intrusive. He knew how it felt to have people stare like you were something broken, something they didn’t understand. He didn’t want to make this guy feel that way. “He isn’t here right now. Can I get your name so I can let him know you stopped by?”

He reached for a pen, quickly scribbling the name down, but in the process, his sleeve shifted, just enough for his own scars to peek through. The man’s sharp eyes caught it immediately.

Jungkook froze. Their gazes met.

For a second, he felt exposed. Vulnerable. But then, instead of pity or shock, the man simply smiled—a quiet, knowing smile. A smile of understanding.

“Min Yoongi,” he said.

And just like that, another friendship was born. One built on shared hardships. On survival. On the quiet, unspoken understanding of two people who had made it through the darkness.

Min Yoongi fit into their little group with ease. He already knew Hoseok, so getting to know Taehyung and Jungkook wasn’t difficult. But with Jungkook, it was different. It wasn’t just about introductions or casual conversations—it was like they already understood each other without needing to say much.

Jungkook admired Yoongi. He carried himself with confidence, never hiding his scars, wearing short sleeves like they were nothing. Jungkook, on the other hand, was still learning to accept his own. He was starting to love them, to see them as proof of his survival, but he still kept them hidden beneath baggy clothes and long sleeves.

“You’ll get there,” Yoongi said, casually sipping his drink.

Hoseok and Taehyung had left them alone at the table, off at the bar ordering another round. It hadn’t been easy for Jungkook to agree to come here tonight, but Hoseok had insisted—pouty lips, pleading eyes, impossible to refuse. Jungkook still wasn’t sure how he felt about bars. The last time he had been in one, it was with you. He had been anxious, uncomfortable, but you had held his hand the entire time, grounding him. Making it lighter.

Now, he realized with a small smile, he didn’t need your hand.

He finally turned to Yoongi, meeting his steady gaze.

“It took me years before I could show them,” Yoongi admitted, swirling the whiskey in his glass.

It was the first time they had ever talked about it. Their scars. Their past. The silent war they had both fought.

Jungkook nodded, his fingers tightening around his glass, but his eyes softened. He understood. He knew that his time would come, just like Yoongi’s had. It wouldn’t happen overnight, but he had enough hope now to be patient, to wait for the day when he could let go of the shame and embrace what made him who he was.

Jungkook kept track of the days, and today marked one year since he last saw you. He never thought he’d make it this far, but now, a year later, he was proud of how far he’d come. He was better, and with each passing day, he felt himself getting closer to you again.

There were moments when doubts crept in, when he wondered if you’d even want him in your life after everything he’d put you through. But you promised. What he knew for certain, though, was that he still wanted you in his life. He dreamed of the day he’d see you again. He wondered if your hair was still the same, if you still wore that floral perfume, if you still loved fried chicken, and if you were still obsessed with books. He hoped, more than anything, that you were still that same smiling girl he fell in love with.

He was beginning to drift into those thoughts again when a sharp punch to his face snapped him back to reality. “Yah!” a voice shouted. “Jeon, you were daydreaming again,” said the boy with the blonde hair, grinning at him.

Jungkook shook off the daze, now fully aware of his surroundings. He was at the gym, a place he frequented often, having developed a newfound love for boxing and sports.

“Sorry, Jimin,” he muttered, holding his gloves up to his face, ready to get back into it.

It was Namjoon who had introduced him to boxing, suggesting it as a way to channel his anger into something productive. With a little courage, Jungkook had given it a try—and now, it was one of the things that helped him keep going.

Jimin took off his gloves and walked over to the bench, dropping onto it with a loud sigh. Jungkook followed, grabbing his water bottle and taking a long sip.

“What had you so distracted?” Jimin asked, a teasing grin playing on his lips—one that could probably make anyone spill their secrets.

“Nothing,” Jungkook replied, a small smile tugging at his lips. He had been thinking about you, and that reaction felt natural.

Jimin raised his eyebrows playfully. “Is it a girl?”

Jungkook scoffed, punching Jimin’s shoulder lightly before shaking his head, trying to hide the way his cheeks were heating up.

“Shit, I didn’t know you were in love,” Jimin laughed. “I shouldn’t have told my friend you were available.”

Jungkook turned to him, eyes wide. “What?”

“A friend of mine asked for your number,” Jimin explained with a dramatic roll of his eyes. “She said you were the hottest guy she’s ever seen.”

Jungkook felt his heart clench at that. He never thought of himself as someone who could attract that kind of attention. He never saw himself as “hot” or particularly handsome. The only time he ever felt beautiful was when you told him so. But now, knowing that someone else could be drawn to him, his heart pounded louder than he expected.

“I doubt that,” Jungkook said, trying to brush it off, though the confession had shaken him more than he expected. He hadn’t meant for it to affect him, but it did. And it felt wrong. Because he was still waiting for you—because he was going to be there for you. The thought of someone else making his heart react like this felt like a betrayal.

“No, for real,” Jimin insisted, turning his body toward him. “You just have that kind of look that draws people in.” He whistled playfully, flashing a teasing grin. He was like that—lighthearted, fun. Jungkook was always laughing with him when they weren’t throwing punches at each other. “So? What do you say?”

Jungkook bit the inside of his cheek. He had no idea how to answer that. He didn’t think he could ever give his trust to another girl—to open up, to give himself, his body, and everything that came with it.

“I can’t,” he admitted, staring at his fingers.

“Why not?”

“I have someone,” Jungkook said, then immediately regretted how it sounded. “Well—I mean, not right now, not here, but…” He sighed, struggling to explain the situation without sounding like a madman waiting for someone who might never come back. Without diving into everything that had led him to this moment.

Jimin clapped a hand on his shoulder, his expression softer now. “It’s okay. There’s someone else. I get it.” Then, with a knowing smile, he put his gloves back on, signaling that the conversation was over.

But the thought kept circling in Jungkook’s mind all day. Even as he wandered through the grocery store, scanning the shelves, his mind was elsewhere.

Because now, for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t sure what would happen between the two of you.

What if you didn’t want him anymore? What if you had found someone else?

The thought made his chest ache. His grip tightened around the basket handle. He had spent so much time healing, convincing himself that when the time was right, he’d find his way back to you. But what if you had already moved on?

If only he could have some kind of sign. Some news about you. Something to hold onto.

And that’s when he heard it—your giggles.

His favorite sound. The one he could recognize anywhere, the one that used to make his world feel lighter.

But it wasn’t just your laugh. It was that loud, terrible, over-the-top laughter that followed. A man’s laugh. One that was far too comfortable, too close.

Jungkook hated it.

Because what could he—whoever he was—have said to make you laugh like that? The kind of laugh that made your eyes crinkle, the kind that used to be his to hear.

His first instinct was to turn around, to leave before you could see him. To run.

But then—

“Jungkook?”

His feet stopped dead in their tracks, his body frozen like a deer caught in headlights.

And when he finally turned, his gaze didn’t land on you.

It landed on him.

The man standing beside you.

Same height as Jungkook. Same dark hair. But somehow, he seemed… better. His features were sharper, his posture effortless, his presence so at ease beside you.

Jungkook had never felt this small before. And it wasn’t because the man had broader shoulders or a stronger stance.

It was because—

He had you.

“Jungkook?”

The guy said his name like he was tasting it, like he recognized it but wasn’t quite sure yet. Then, realization flickered across his face.

“Wait, the Jung—”

Before he could finish, you shoved your basket into his hands so fast he barely had time to react. And then you were running.

Straight to Jungkook.

He barely had time to process before your arms wrapped tightly around his waist, your face buried against his chest. He felt the warmth of your body, the familiar way you fit against him.

And he knew that with your ear pressed right there against his chest, you could hear how fast his heart was racing.

But Jungkook’s eyes weren’t on you.

They were still on him. The other man. The one who had been standing next to you just seconds ago.

He was watching the scene unfold, but strangely, he didn’t seem all that surprised. Not angry. Not even uncomfortable. Just… there. Observing.

And that only made Jungkook’s stomach churn harder.

Because if that guy was your boyfriend—if you were his—then he was a terrible one.

Because if it were Jungkook, if he had you, if he loved you the way he still did—he could never just stand there and watch while you ran into another man’s arms like this.

His hands hesitated before they found their way into your hair, fingers gently pressing against the back of your head. His body was still frozen, his mind scrambling to catch up.

But one thing was clear.

He had missed you. More than he even knew was possible.

Jungkook’s mouth worked faster than his brain. “Your boyfriend is watching.”

The second the words left him, he wanted to slap himself because you immediately pulled back to look at him, confusion flashing across your face before you burst into giggles. That same sound he knew by heart, the one that had haunted him for months.

“My what?” You turned, pointing at the guy who was now laughing too—the same obnoxiously loud laugh Jungkook had heard from the other aisle. “Seokjin? He isn’t my boyfriend.”

Jungkook let out a breath he didn’t even realize he had been holding. And without thinking, his hands found your arms again, tugging you back into him.

This time, he didn’t hesitate. He hugged you properly, arms wrapping tightly around your frame, holding you like he’d never let go.

“Fuck, you scared me,” he murmured into your hair, eyes squeezing shut as he breathed you in.

There was so much to say. So many things left unsaid. So much time lost between you. But none of it mattered right now.

Because he was here. And so were you.

You didn’t want to think about the past, about the pain or the time apart—not when he was this close, not when he felt so different.

You leaned back slightly, taking him in properly for the first time. His hair was longer now, curling slightly at the ends. His chest looked broader, stronger. But what caught your attention the most were his arms.

Bare.

Out for the whole world to see. Not hidden behind layers of clothing. Not hidden at all.

Your fingers reached out before you could stop them, tracing the muscle of his forearm, the skin that had once been covered in sleeves no matter the season.

“I promise I was waiting for you,” you whispered, voice barely audible.

Jungkook swallowed hard, his grip tightening around you, as if grounding himself.

“Me too.”

You left the grocery store together, Seokjin trailing behind—his arms full of shopping bags, huffing dramatically about being ignored. But you barely noticed.

Jungkook was right beside you. That was all that mattered.

As you walked, he learned more about Seokjin—the man he had been so quick to despise in the span of a few minutes. He was your roommate, your colleague. The one who had taken you in when you left. The one who made sure you were okay.

Jungkook immediately bowed to him in gratitude, his chest tight with something unspoken. Because you were safe, and it was thanks to him. He almost felt bad for wanting to punch the guy’s too-perfect face. Almost.

Still, he couldn’t believe this was real. That you were here, walking beside him, chatting like no time had passed at all.

You mostly talked about lighthearted things—Seokjin’s habit of screaming too loud while playing video games, how you had to bang on his door at night to make him shut up.

Jungkook listened as you and Seokjin bickered over who was actually the loudest, letting the familiar sound of your laughter sink into his bones.

And finally, he let himself look at you properly.

All the questions that had haunted him for months—answered in an instant.

Your hair was different. Lighter. And longer too—a quiet reminder of the time you had spent apart. Your cheeks were rounder, fuller. You looked healthy. Happy.

And as the sunlight hit your face just right, illuminating your bright, shining eyes—Jungkook felt something shift.

Because he remembered the exact moment he had fallen in love with you.

And somehow, standing beside you now…

It felt just the same.

You weren’t sure how long you spent getting ready. It had been a while since you took this much time to make yourself look pretty.

Finding the perfect outfit wasn’t easy either. You kept changing, staring at yourself in the mirror, second-guessing every little detail. And maybe you were more anxious than you thought you’d be.

Because tonight, you were meeting Jungkook. And your heart hadn’t stopped racing since the moment you said yes.

“Is this a date, or just an excuse to see your dog?” Seokjin asked, lounging on your bed, watching you pace around the room.

It had been two weeks now of him laughing at you, teasing you endlessly about Jungkook. Ever since the grocery store, you hadn’t stopped talking about him.

You shot him a glare, smacking his shoulder as you crouched to put on your heels.

“I really do miss my dog,” you huffed, even as you swapped your sneakers for heels at the last second. Because heels made it feel like a date, didn’t they?

Technically, neither of you had called it a date. Jungkook had just texted: hi! bam wants to show you the tricks he learned! :) And how could you not say yes?

You had jumped on the opportunity, replying almost immediately that you couldn’t wait to see Bam. (And Jungkook too. But you hadn’t told him that part.)

Seokjin raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. “The dog or the owner?”

You glared at him. And yet, you didn’t answer.

Seokjin sprawled out on your bed like he owned the place—well, technically, he did. But still, it was your bed.

“I can’t wait for you to finally go back to your loverboy,” he said, smirking devilishly to himself.

You huffed, throwing a t-shirt at his face. “Shut up and close your eyes, I’m changing again.”

“Again?” he groaned but obeyed, covering his face with a dramatic sigh.

You turned back to your wardrobe, sifting through your options with a frown. “Maybe nothing will happen,” you murmured, more to yourself than to him. “Maybe he doesn’t want me anymore.”

Seokjin let out a sharp laugh. “Uh, he was literally glaring at me at the grocery store the other day.”

You told him he could open his eyes, and when he saw what you had settled on—a plain white tee—he scoffed.

“For real? After all that? Just a boring white shirt?”

You sighed, sitting down beside him on the bed. “I don’t want to get my hopes up. I just… I want to play it safe. And I don’t want to pressure him into anything either.”

For once, Seokjin didn’t have a joke ready. Instead, he nudged your shoulder.

“You’re overthinking,” he said simply. “Just go see him.”

As you knocked on the door that was once your home, you clutched your bag tighter against your side. When Jungkook didn’t answer right away, you seriously considered running away and sending a terrible last-minute excuse about why you couldn’t make it.

But just as you were about to turn, the door swung open.

Jungkook stood there, breath slightly uneven, his hair messily tousled. His shirt was buttoned all wrong, and the sight made you chuckle.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed out, only to be shoved aside by a blur of brown fur as Bam bolted toward you.

You barely had time to react before the large dog was on you, his tail wagging excitedly as you crouched down to pet him.

“That little traitor,” Jungkook grumbled, crossing his arms as he pointed at Bam, who was soaking up all your affection. “He threw up at the last minute, and I had to clean up everything. Because of him, I didn’t have—”

“Kook,” you interrupted with a smile, looking up at him from your spot on the floor. “It’s okay.” Then, turning your attention back to the dog, you cooed, “You gave Dad a hard time, Bam?”

Your voice was soft, affectionate—the kind only Bam was lucky enough to receive. And for some ridiculous reason, Jungkook felt jealous of his own dog.

“He was probably excited to see you,” Jungkook murmured, more to himself than to the dog.

“I’m sure he was,” you replied with a playful smile, rising to your feet. “I was, too.”

Jungkook’s cheeks flushed a little, and he stepped aside, holding the door open wider for you to enter. His gaze lingered on you as you walked in slowly, taking in the apartment. It felt so right to have you back there, even after all this time. You’d always belonged in this space with him.

Although the place had changed, Jungkook had felt the need to make a fresh start, switching out the furniture and changing things up so he wouldn’t associate it all with the past. Still, a part of him worried you might not like all the changes.

“You did a great job,” you commented, sitting down on the new dark leather couch and gently bouncing on it as if testing its comfort. “I didn’t know you had an eye for interior design.”

Jungkook smiled softly, though there was something more behind his expression. “Yeah, I guess… I had a lot of help. A friend of mine gave me a hand with it, even though his taste can be a little… unconventional. But it worked out.” He talked about how Taehyung helped him pick out the new furniture for the apartment.

At the mention of his friend, a small smile tugged at your lips. It was the first time Jungkook had spoken about anyone close to him, and hearing him mention Taehyung made you curious. You suddenly wanted to know more about his life, how much he had changed, how his world had shifted while you’d been apart. The little glimpses Namjoon gave you were just the beginning, and you wanted the whole story now.

You laughed as Bam jumped onto you, nearly knocking you back into the couch. You scratched behind his ears, and then turned to Jungkook with a playful glint in your eye. “So, this friend of yours. How did you meet him?”

Jungkook hadn’t expected you to dive right into that, but he didn’t mind. The quicker he told you about everything—from his work at the shelter to his new friends and hobbies—the quicker you’d understand the changes in his life. And maybe, just maybe, he could be yours again. If you still wanted that.

“We met at the shelter a while ago,” he began, sitting down on the couch as Bam quickly shifted from you to him. Some things never changed—Bam still preferred his dad. “He’s kind of… quirky sometimes, but he’s a good guy, you know?” Jungkook smiled at Bam, scratching his head absentmindedly.

“Oh yeah,” he continues, “You remember the shelter we got Bam from?”

You nodded immediately. Of course, you remembered—Jungkook had been smiling so brightly that day, something you didn’t see often, so it stuck with you.

Jungkook’s smile widened, and you couldn’t help but smile back. “Yeah, well, I actually work there now. It’s pretty cool,” he continued, his tone casual but there was a warmth in his voice. “Bam comes with me most days.”

Seeing the smile on his face as he talked about his job, how much he enjoyed it because it allowed him to avoid too much socializing, you felt relieved that you had let him take Bam. He clearly thrived in the environment, and it was good to see him happy.

He continued talking, sharing more about his friends and how they had helped him discover what he truly liked and didn’t like. He seemed genuinely happy to have a group of people who cared about him. It made your heart lighter knowing he wasn’t alone anymore.

Then he mentioned his new hobby of hitting the gym, and you couldn’t help but laugh as he showed off some boxing moves he’d learned. You had to admit, he was impressive. You tried to calm your heart as it raced, especially when he casually said you should try boxing with him next time. Next time—that meant he still wanted to see you, and for a moment, everything else faded.

After a long, quiet minute of exchanging shy glances and soft smiles, you finally found the courage to ask, “How are you feeling now?”

At that, Jungkook froze for a moment, clearly thrown off guard by the question. But you knew it was one that needed to be asked, and he knew it too.

“Let’s just say… I want to keep doing what I’m doing,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips.

And in that simple answer, everything was clear. He wanted to continue, to keep living, to keep moving forward. He was happy with where he was now, and that was all you needed to know.

The night unfolded just as you had hoped—laughter, playful teasing, and those light touches that both of you were too shy to take further. Your hands brushed against each other, and yet, it was enough to send your heart racing. Every moment felt like it was building towards something, something you couldn’t wait for.

But you both knew it was important to take things slow. There was no need to rush. Step by step, you’d rebuild what was once lost. You were certain of one thing now—you would be together again, and it would happen soon enough.

As you walked back to your home, a sudden realization hit you, making you gasp. You had completely forgotten about the one thing Jungkook had promised to show you—what Bam had learned.

You smiled to yourself, shaking your head a little. You were so caught up in the moment, that you hadn’t even thought about it.

“Come on, punch!” Jungkook commands, holding his hands out in front of you. After a month of seeing each other, you finally agreed to join him for one of his boxing sessions. Now, here you are, gloves on, feeling a little silly as you throw punches into his palms.

“Yeah,” he nods, clearly proud of how well you’re doing. “Just like that,” he encourages, and you can’t help but laugh because you’re so happy to be there with him, doing something he loves.

“Don’t lose focus!” he calls out, his brow furrowed in concentration, and you burst out laughing. “Bab—” he catches himself mid-sentence, quickly swallowing his words. “I mean—don’t laugh! I’m trying here,” he says, looking at you as you collapse onto the floor, exhausted from his rigorous training.

“I know,” you whine, pulling off your gloves. “You’re a great teacher, it’s just… you’re so cute,” you admit with a soft smile.

“How am I cute?” he asks, genuinely confused, sitting cross-legged beside you. “That’s because you still haven’t seen me throw punches and dodge them—I look really cool doing it, you know?” he says with a playful raise of his eyebrows.

You turn your head to him, letting your eyes roam over his face. He looked so beautiful, more than you remembered. You had always thought Jungkook was the most handsome man you knew, but seeing him so happy made him even more stunning. In that moment, you wished time would freeze so you could stay like this forever.

But Jungkook had other plans. He quickly stood up and held his hand out to you.

“It’s not over, come on, stand up,” he said, his voice full of determination.

You shake your head, whining because it had been two hours of non-stop training, and you definitely didn’t have his stamina.

“Please, wait a second, The Rock,” you groan, closing your eyes, exhausted.

Jungkook finally dropped his teacher mode, chuckling at your words. His laughter rang out, and it was so perfect to your ears, you couldn’t help but smile.

And so, it went on like that for a month—the two of you rediscovering each other, starting fresh, but with the comfort of old memories woven into the new ones. The feelings had never really gone away, they had always been there, simmering just beneath the surface, so undeniable and raw that neither of you needed to say a word. Jungkook felt it too, the unspoken connection between you, as if time had paused and everything was falling back into place without effort.

Jungkook couldn’t shake the feeling of selfishness creeping in, a longing that deepened with every passing day. He wanted you, completely—your presence, your touch, your love. He wanted you to come back home, to him and to Bam, to kiss you, to hold your hand, to just be by your side, always. And in that moment, he knew it was time. He wanted to ask you out.

The timing might not have been perfect, but watching you talk to his friends—whom you’d just met tonight, but somehow fit in like you’d known them forever—he couldn’t help but feel a warmth spreading through him. His heart lightened, and without thinking, he reached for your hand under the table, his fingers brushing yours gently. You didn’t say anything, just accepted it, and in that simple, unspoken exchange, he knew you felt the same.

As you both walked to your home, hand in hand, it felt like the world had stopped. Jungkook hadn’t let go of your hand since he took it, and the weight of the moment felt like something precious. Finally, with a nervous but hopeful tone, he asked, “I don’t want to be pushy, but… when will you come back home?”

You smiled, trying to hide the grin spreading across your face, and turned your head away slightly. “I was waiting for you to ask,” you said softly. “You know I will always wait for you.”

Jungkook froze in his tracks, and you stopped with him, turning to face him. His hands found both of yours again, pulling them gently to his chest. “I’m ready,” he whispered your name, his voice low and full of sincerity. “I want you back.”

Looking into his eyes, those doe eyes full of vulnerability and love, you nodded eagerly, feeling your heart race. And before you could say anything else, his lips were on yours—soft, then urgent, then full of passion. His hands found the back of your neck, pulling you closer until it felt like you were melting together.

But with two hearts and two minds. Not just yours, because now Jungkook didn’t feel the need to hide himself anymore.

He wanted to be beside you, walk with you, live with you—not just through you, but as equals, as two people who had found their way back to each other.

an: hiii!! tysm for reading, it really means a lot to me and pls dont hesitate to let me know what you think! :) and always remember that you are loved, no matter what ♡ take care xx

[lochyratliffs]

for god’s sake can someone overexplain me “worship me but not worship me” dialogue? Was I the only one who found it too bizarre? Even more bizarre than “pleaser” explanation? Has Saxon understood the task of reinforcing boundaries idk why he still wants the “right kind of worship” to continue. Idk idk what do you foresee happening… they never talk properly again, Saxon uses better boundaries, Lochy completely retracts. Because there’s no way -worship me but don’t worship me- sounds like a good closure statement. If I were Lochlan I would have been highly confused, is Saxon putting the blame on him? But from his reactions it felt like he is the one feeling responsible and guilty.

YESS anon i also have questions!!! i'm opening this up to the floor so anyone with opinions please hop on here and help us out. this is just my read and i haven't gotten back to the last episode in my re-watch yet so i definitely need a refresh.

the way i see it... neither of them are being honest in that conversation. there is something far deeper happening between them in the subtext of that conversation, as evidenced in saxon pleading with loch to drop it, but then being unable to keep himself from looking to loch when timothy brings up the trauma in their family later.

saxon's only wish in the part of that conversation that happens out loud is to never think about it again, but there's a lot more happening in the part of the conversation that remains silent. saxon ABSOLUTELY HAS NOT come to understand the importance of boundaries-- he's experienced this thing that shook him to his core, and he's trying to go back to feeling good rather than trying to learn anything from the experience. we can assume based on this reaction that this has always been his MO -- deny, deny, repress, the episode is literally called "denials" and the saxloch storyline is in primary focus there.

you pointing out "the right kind of worship" is, i think, exactly what mike white was intending. there's a lot of viewers who watched this, wanting an easy out to stop thinking about it, who took loch's explanation as truth so they could move on. oh, this teenager is such a freak. oh, he's gay and his brother was naked and there. oh, he's a sex offender. meanwhile, they're in a batshit insane family dynamic where they have been (dare i say) groomed by their parents to genuinely believe they're better than anyone else who has ever lived.

so, we have point one: saxon has serious narcissistic tendencies. as the first-born son of an insanely wealthy white family, he's been raised to believe in his inherent superiority, regardless of what life tells him. he gets rejected by four women in the span of a minute? that's fine, he's better than them anyway. lochy finds it funny. saxon's sense of self remains in place. meanwhile, lochlan has lived his life in a love vaccuum as the youngest child and second boy (thank you rancidhomo for making me think about this) so he's looking for anything that will make his family, the people he's been told his entire life are the only real thing, love him. and that's his primary driving force. dad loves piper more than him and mom loves saxon more than him. who loves lochy?

so for their entire lives, saxon demands adoration, lochlan sees this as a way to be loved, and so lochlan delivers that adoration to saxon. if you want to get into the details, you can google "narcissistic supply" and think about how that applies to their relationship. i don't truly believe saxon is a diagnosable narcissist, but he definitely has those tendencies, like loch says, as does the rest of the family.

so that's their pattern, and when lochlan turns 18, it becomes sexual because saxon is sexual and saxon makes the decisions for him. i do think we're meant to assume that piper has a similar (but not sexual) relationship with lochlan, and that the way that saxloch develops over the week in thailand is because piper is distracted by the monastery. that's the root of saxon's jealousy/bitter comments about piper, because they've been playing tug of war with lochy ever since he was born.

speaking about closure, the theme of the season is a lack of closure. it's completely intentional that nothing really got resolved. we know this because mike white designed the season around the words the monk says at the beginning of the final episode:

“Our solutions are temporary—they are a quick fix, they create more anxiety, more suffering. There is no resolution to life’s question. It is easier to be patient once we finally accept there is no resolution.”

so, when we're talking about saxon and lochlan, sax chooses the quick fix, the temporary solution that causes more anxiety: he tells lochlan that he doesn't want to change anything about their relationship that led to the handjob, but he never wants to speak about it again. lochlan, please keep looking to me to make your decisions. please keep allowing me to strut, naked, around you. please let me feel superior to our sister by choosing me, always, over anything. this is saxon shoving responsibility off onto lochlan, because if he acknowledges his role in what happened, his sense of self will shatter completely.

what's kind of interesting is that while neither of them are being honest about their intentions or what led them to this point, they're, weirdly, being as honest about their roles in the family as they ever are? saxon admitting he sees and wants lochlan's worship, lochlan admitting he wants to please everyone at his own cost. and then, because acknowledging the truth of the Great Lie of the Ratliff Family ruins everything, they never speak again on screen. life has no resolution.

[cherryssodapop]

I agree with everything that you wrote. I've been saying this (what you said about Billy using hypersexuality as a coping mechanism for loneliness etc) for months but I felt like most people didn't care enough to listen. It's fine if they disagree, really it's okay. But I wish people weren't so quick to judge and attack others anytime they see that someone doesn't share their views on everything. I 100% agree with you.

Also, yes about the random diagnosing - I totally feel you. 100%. There is a difference between saying you're seeing some patterns in his behavior that could indicate a mental disorder, and outwardly saying that Billy has got x or y disorder and fighting people who disagree. Like I personally think Billy could have Depression / Anxiety PTSD and / or Borderline Personality Disorder because he shows many symptoms I'm personally extremely familiar with, (also as a med school student I also study psychology and psychiatry disorders as part of my curriculum) so I'm speaking from experience BUT I cannot diagnose him or make it into a headcanon. Like that's just not how it works. (If you're wondering why I'm thinking PTSD / Borderline Personality, here are some of the the boxes that Billy ticks that could potentially indicate he may have them : attachment and abandonment issues, reckless and impulsive behavior that often end up in him hurting himself like drinking too much (remember Tina's party, hypersexuality, constant sexual encounters to numb out pain etc), volatile behavior, extreme sensitivity, striking mood swings etc. But again, we do NOT have any confirmation from Dacre so we can't outwardly diagnose him. You're right about this. I've also seen people diagnose him with for example Autism and I'm like : how ? where ? when ? Also people can't seem to differentiate between the actor's performance and personal life and the fictional character they play : just because Dacre has OCD doesn't mean Billy automatically has it. Now, the thing with mental disorders is that they often go hand in hand together, it's called comorbidity. Like for example most people who suffer from PTSD also have generalized anxiety as well that in most cases autmatically comes with it. So if the show or Dacre ever confirms that Billy has PTSD or Borderline PD, well it would be very, like very safe to assume he most likely would also have Anxiety / Depression as well. But here is the thing : we don't have that information. We don't. So we can't just force people to agree with us on it. Especially when the diagnosis seems very random, like for Autism or Dyslexia for example (yeah I've seen people diagnose him with dyslexia and I was genuinely confused because that's literally so random and we have absolutely ZERO cues that could indicate that. Like Anxiety seems pretty safe to assume, it's very obvious that Billy has some anxeity disorder of some sort (based on my personal, first-hand experience and academical knoweledge of this) because we've got many cues indicating that all throughout the show. But Autism ? Dyslexia ? Dyscalculia, Tourette Syndrom ??? Where do these come from lol ?

As for k*ren yes I know that Nancy, Mike and Holly still need a mother, but I often forget that Mike and Nancy have her as a mother because she's rarely around lol. I mean, the rare times she shows up on screen are to either tell Joyce where Mike could be (and she's wrong most of the time lol) or to prey on a teenager. Like I remember being shocked that she asked Billy to tell Mike to go back home when it was probably way past midnight. Like she didn't know where Mike was in the middle of the night and was seemingly very unbothered by it. I'm not from the US and people have told me that children in the 80s in the US had much more freedom than kids born after that period in other countries, and and that it was common for them to go around on their own outside for hours, but I don't think it was to the point of letting your 13 year old kid outside in the middle of the night God Knows where doing God Knows what while you're running a pink bath for yourself. Now, I'm also realistic, I perfectly understand that even that would absolutely not justify Nancy, Mike and Holly becoming mother-less. It would traumatize them a lot, especially Holly. And no one wants that. I honestly feel so bad for the three of them. Their mother sucks, and that's an undertstatment. I just wish Billy got some justice. He deserves it. Jail for k*ren would work but I don't know if her preying on Billy would have been criminalized in the 80s in Indiana.

As for the shippers, I also want to add something in case my last anon wasn't clear anough : I absolutely NOT bashing all harringrove shippers. I'm NOT putting them all in the same box. I know that, just like in any community out there, there are nice people and shitty people. You're 100% allowed to indulge in your art, fandom, ideas and share them with people. 100%. I know I've already said it many times but I'm gonna say it again just in case : I'm not talking about the lovely, sweet cuties shippers at all. I know many of them and they're absolute sweethearts. I'm specifically talking about the shitty horrible ones who send d*ath / r*ape threats and make posts that get hundreds of likes publicly insulting others (calling us "clowns", "weed smokers", "weirdos" etc) and / or acting superior to them WHILE still not having the balls to actually explicitly say which post or person they're refering to so they can always deny it when someone asks if they're talking about theirs / them, but still providing enough, although vague, yet precise information on who they're publicly bashing. F*cking cowards. That's the most pathetic attempt at manipulation I've ever seen. Seriously. (Funny how they're also the ones you will see make long ass comments about how to identify gaslighting tactics and "defend" fictional characters who are abuse victims... Unless their coping mechanism like hypersexuality doesn't fit with the narrative they want to push so all of the sudden "it's not trauma related at all" and "trauma shaped his personal life" turns into "trauma actually didn't affect his relationships, his hypersexuality is faked because he's in the closet, thats' all."). Cherry picking at its finest lol.

Again, what you wrote was very well articulated and greatly worded. I think it's super sad that people treat others like shit because of a fictional character. Like. That's so sad. Anyways, Again, I hope every nice soul on here, regardless of who you ship Billy with, can still manage to have fun on here.

-🌊🌓🏔️

hi,

Yes you are very correct. I deleted the post because i began getting hate flooded and labelled “homophobic” which, again, ridiculous because (since it seems i have no choice i have to talk abt it, on my writing blog of all places smfh…) i am bisexual. I am very much a part of my community, I have no reason to bash men loving men even in the fictional world that is absolutely preposterous. I don’t need to prove my sexual identity to anyone. no matter what you think is correct or not.

The fact that I am able to create arguments (in the literary sense) using my critical thinking skills (something a lot of you lack it seems) has nothing to do with my views on the lgbt community (which is obviously redundant cause…duh).

I’m an actor. I’m trained to do this stuff. Character work. Analyzing things like this is what I do for a living. So do not come here and patronize me because i very much know what i’m doing and what i’m talking about.

Everything I talk about in terms of Billy is based off fact (not legitimate fact, fact in storytelling, if that makes sense)Facts provided by the people who wrote the character and it’s story (the duffer brothers) and the person who brought him to life (dacre). Billy not being gay? That is a fact. It’s inarguable. It’s confirmed by both parties. Why would i listen to someone who is most probably chronically online going around sending death threats to people because they don’t agree with them. The reason why i keep bringing this up is because these people treat their opinions as if it is canon and because of this they feel entitled to tell people to kill themselves because of this unfortunate delusion.

Fanfiction and AUs are a different category all together. Never once have I ridiculed people who write Harringrove from this approach, as a matter of fact I encourage it. Because I will always encourage people to allow themselves to create and do what feels good to them. You’re not hurting anyone, you’re engaging in your own interests. You have that every right.

Anon, none of this was directed towards you at all, but because your ask sparked this debate I felt the need to state this^^. That being said this is the last time I am discussing harringrove on this blog. it’s clear this topic attracts toxicity on my blog and I want to write about Billy and talk about my shifting journey in peace.

Anon please don’t take this as you not being free to discuss what you want on my blog, this goes to everyone who wants to engage with me, but I would ask to let this matter rest and let’s move on to lighter topics.

Thank you to anyone who read this and thank you for understanding.

-Cherry 🍒💋

[youngdragon463]

Hello and Welcome.

I am Youngdragon463 but you all may refer to me by, Akatosh, A, Aka(pronounced Ack-uh), or simply Dragon.

Pronouns: He/Him

Sexuality: Grayromantic/Graysexual 🟩🟫⬜️🟫🟩 | 🟪🟫⬜️🟫🟪 Meaning I feel little to no attraction but some is still there

Flavors of Neurospicy: ADHD(Diagnosed), Autism(Peer Reviewed)

Things I like: Asian food(Very low spice), Art, games(so so many games) ex: Skyrim, Minecraft, Fallout, Doom, Warframe, COTL, Sonic, DBXV2, BG3, any so many more. Anime(Again so many) Dragon Ball, Naruto, One Piece, Tensura, BNHA, ect.

Things I don't like: Pickles, People being rude, Idk Get back to me.

My FAVES:

Anime: TENSURA MY BELOVED

Video Game: We like to Mine and Craft (Java Modded)

Table Top: Dungeons And Dragons I wish I could play it more

Non Dessert Food: Ramen

Dessert: FLAN

Color: #1682FF a very specific shade of Azure

Ask me about others I literally have no qualms about being asked questions although please don't expect me to respond fast I don't check this site very often.

All right now to the complex OC section...

I have created a semi vast world for my OCs to exist in. This has been nearly 13 years of continuous daydreaming so far and many ideas are scrapped or reassigned so bear with me.

I am the creator In the world I "speak" to the creations sometimes through a vessel, this vessel is modeled after my primary OC Akatosh Kariiv pronounced (Ack-uh-tosh KAR-RLeev | you kinda blend the L and R together) (Ill talk about him in a later post(Someone pls remind me)) ANYWAYS I this vessel is also referred to as Akatosh but if confusion arises on which is which I will refer to it as Divine Vessel Akatosh or DV!Akatosh if the need arises but in casual convo just Akatosh, A, or Aka is fine. So this character will not interact with the main world instead he gives orders to the two primary "Deities" in the world who are brothers, Fate and Eternity. Fate is the storyteller the one who talks the most and will look for any story they can get, while also acting as an indifferent intermediary to keep things interesting, but fate can be denied if a strong will occurs but they can overwrite this overwritten for plot convenience but permission from the DV is required. Keep in mind this is just for some meta fun so try not to think to hard about it. Next is his brother Eternity which is the more chilled out mature one of the two, he is responsible for keeping physics/world laws in place and keeping the ones who can bend them from breaking everything. They are all powerful but answer directly to DV!Akatosh. This whole segment was made so people don't confuse me with my OC.

Again feel free to ask questions but this is about as spoilery as I'm going to get because hopefully I can make this a book/comic/animated/whatever form of media I decide to do series eventually.

[muzzleoleum]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁ִ ࣪𖤐My Enclosure࣪𖤐ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁ִ

Hello :) For the sake of this blog you can call me Bones or Carrion, or honestly anything that's just what i could come up with. This is my Non-Human blog and there will be more info under the cut :)

As I said this is my non-human blog!! However I will be posting more than just non-human related things. Please don't refer to me as human, and I use he/him pronouns :). I also have a partner!! My DMs are also open if you would like to chat!! (18+ only though for dms thank you :))

My non-human identities are as followed:

࣪𖤐 Lycanthrope

࣪𖤐 Werecreature

࣪𖤐 Wolf

࣪𖤐 Dogkin

࣪𖤐 Irish wolfhound Therian :)

tagging system (in the works)

#rambling inside the enclosure (my personal ramlbling tag)

#bloody fangs (nsfw tag MINORS BLOCK THIS NOW)

#clawing at paper (drawings or other art)

I do not wish to debate any kind of identities whether that is my own or someone else's, my time can be spent worrying on other things and i'd rather not waste my energy on discourse.

I am diagnosed with autism, OCD, c-PTSD, Prolonged psychosis and manic and depressive episodes, and other symptoms like dissociation and derealization that don't fit into a disorder. I am suspected to have schizoaffective by my therapist and psychiatrist, but we have not gone through the diagnostic process. I am also recovered from anorexia, do not interact if you are pro ED or sh, or if you are anti recovery. With all that said, I will talk about my experiences, and I will sometimes need extra clarification or tone tags, I might not always be articulate but I will try my best :)).

I am also physically disabled. I have been disabled my whole life, most of my family is disabled, so any ableism will either be called out or blocked.

Uh more about me, I was doner conceived (egg), and I am very very passionate about doner conceived rights for everyone, and I probably will talk a bit about that. I have a lot of weird genetic and like other shit that i don't really want to get into but that's something about me. I'm very queer, I'm trans, I am taken by my lovely partner <3 I love posting about them and stuff like that. I love to draw, even if i'm not super consistent with it. I love painting as well. I love punk music, and folk music a lot. I go to a lot of local shows in my area, and i love my community. I love cowboys and cowboy culture considering that a whole part of my family are modern day cowboys (ranchers and rodeo cowboys, plus some livestock farming). I'm very into wolf conservation and ecology, as well as studying wolf behavior and social patterns, and pack systems ect. I will probably be going back to the wolf sanctuary I visited last fall but i've been meaning to find one close to where i live where i can volunteer. I also have a lot of strong opinions about a lot of different things.

I will post about my opinion on things, my personal experiences, Mood boards, Cute wolf and other animal photos, and probably other random stuff too.

My DNI is not suuuper strict, Just absolutely no bigotry, No racism, Queerphobia, Islamophobia, Intersexism, anti-semitism, pro israel, ect. I am pro Palestine and I am pro Palestinian resistance and liberation always. Any bigotry or dog whistles will be blocked. I also don't want people coming on here with anything like "humans deserve to die" or "humans are the cause of everything bad so they deserve to cease to exist" Yall that so quickly turns bigoted and I will not stand for that, I will not allow stuff like that that can so quickly become eugenics or other beliefs like that to fester on my page.

Please don't flirt with me even as a joke, or make sexual jokes or comments to me personally, it makes me incredibly uncomfortable.

With that as well, Minors can like and repost things, I do not want any minors messaging me, it makes me uncomfortable, While this blog is not an nsfw blog, I will curse and I will talk about things that are more mature in nature things like my experiences with trauma and mental health, and other things that might not be the most appropriate for a minor to look at in detail, Please keep yourself safe, and don't follow if you are only looking for cute wolf content, because i might post some cute wolf photos but i'm also an individual who talks about my own personal experiences and other shit.

I will block if I feel necessary, it might not be anything personal to you.

Thank you and I hope you enjoy the blog :)

[healingtots]

Little looking for caregiver!

Name: Cali

Gender: Genderfluid (Fem Presenting)

Pronouns: She/Her/They/Them/He/Him (Any is okay though)

Big age: 26

Little age: About 1-8

Seeking age range: 18+ (Preferably someone 24+)

Role(s): Flip; Age/Pet regressor, Age dreamer, and Caregiver

Sexuality: Demi-Pans

Romantic or platonic: Platonic

Poly or mono: Mono

About big me: I do work but it is more so when I can. I work in the spiritual/religious field. I love connecting with nature and will gladly walk outside barefooted. I am very caring and empathetic but may not always appear as so since I grew up and was raised more masculine or at least as a tomboy and was always told that the opposite is a weakness. I am also a bibliophile and my hobbies include meditation, yoga, journaling, gaming, making collages, and of course reading.

About little me: I love all things cute and small! I love love animals and would take in any stray I see if I could. I collect stuffed animals and recently started collecting adult pacifiers, and Calico critters. I find coloring calming but it tends to make me a bit sleepy if too calm. I love listening to disney music or lofi when smol. I tend to game more often when in my headspace and love hiding. I love love love wooden toys, blocks, legos, coloring, painting, and dolls! My latest hyperfixation is Monster High and Bratz it seems. I go through times when I easily slip into my regression and other times I find it really difficult. My regression isn't always voluntary or verbal.

Looking for? Someone who is caring, gentle, patient, and understanding. Must also be on EST and be okay with giving and helping with bed times.. Otherwise I will run on little to no sleep because I lose track of time often. Someone who is interactive and has experience with communicating with someone who may have a hard time expressing emotions or thoughts. Someone who will be okay with calls eventually and who will take their time to get to know me and actually build a connection.

Dms status: Open

Other: I am diagnosed with MDD, anxiety and panic disorder, as well as c-ptsd. Due to my fear and trauma with psychologists, therapists, and evaluations.. I may not go back to get a more proper or "updated" diagnosis but I personally identify as Audhd. I would like to get properly diagnosed but due to numerous reasons that may not be fully possible for me. Anything else... Feel free to ask! I also love getting to know new people funny enough so do tell me about yourself!

Also if you wish to message me I ask that you don't send dull or one worded messages please. This makes me HIGHLY uncomfortable and a lot of the time I am not sure how to respond. I may not always respond on here very quickly but you can always find me on my IG @nurturing_carer.

[p0th]

ik im probably rlly late to the party but what is objectum, like is it a role play thing, is it a coping thing? I need someone to explain it to me like im 5 bc i genuinely just don't understand what it is lol

So the literal definition of being objectum is someone who's attracted to inanimate objects, whether that be platonic, romantic, sexual, or somethin else. However, looking at it with only its literal definition doesn't really account for the intricacies that such a label brings.

I just want to point out that while some people see objects as alive (the label for that being POSIC), others dont. Animism is also a similar term for where people percieve inanimate things as having souls. Personally, I dont see my object as alive, but do sometimes use gendered terms to describe them and feel comforted by their presence. People can also be objectum and be attracted to actual people too.

Being objectum is also more common in autistic people. Object personafication is a common trait seen in autism and other disorders and i can see how that can lead people to being objectum. Though I have never been formally diagnosed with anything, i am probably neurodivergent & maybe that has a part in me identifying as objectum idk!! Theres a study on autism in objectum ppl here if u want to glance over it: https://www.nature.com/articles/s41598-019-56449-0

For me, I started using the objectum label coincidentally around the time I started finally figuring out that i was aroace and not attracted to real people. I realized that the love I feel for my friends is equivalent to the love I feel for my hobbies and interests which was also the same love i felt towards certain objects. I drew this out cuz i think its a lil confusing how im saying it LOL. Theres also a thing called "conceptum" which is the attraction to concepts which I think i actually fall more into, but I just go by objectum because it is more general.

You know how people will swear they have this great relationship with nature? How they feel so so connected to plants and how they love watching the ocean and how they wish they could live outside forever because the forest is a part of their flesh and blood? How they feel more alive feeling the earths fresh air and how nature teaches them things they never even knew about themselves? okay, so, why is this normal to say but once u turn it around into something that’s an object it is insane talk!! I feel like there's this interesting dynamic where its okay to be super attached to nature but kinda weird to be super attached to inanimate things but i think i am rambling & getting off topic!!!

Personally, I dont really have objects that im attracted to in the same way I would be attracted to a human. It is very broad for me. Others though, have certain objects that they really like and thats fine. For me, going by that label just makes me comfortable even if i dont fit into the literal definition. I like computers in general, not just my own personal computer. Objectum for me is just another way to say that my love for inanimate things can be just as great as my love for animate things. Theres just so much complexity and nuance in it that it is hard to describe unless you've experienced it yourself.

As for it being a coping thing, I've heard some people say its a result of not being able to trust people due to past trauma, but i dont believe that's necessarily true for the majority of people and not too good to generalize. Ive grown up surronded by friends and in a loving environment and am able to maintain relationships with living people, but also use the label of objectum because it makes me comfortable.

I can very much see how someone can look at someone saying theyre attracted to objects and just cringe a little bit and thats okay LOL. At this point, I have been exposed to so many concepts -being online so much and surrounded by so many diverse people- that i just dont even pay it mind. But, I know a lot of people have literally never heard of this label before and are just weirded out by it. I think honestly people need to think about the limitless potential a relationship can be when in the hands of such a complex being as a human. At the end of the day though, it doesn't hurt anyone but its also okay to be a lil unsure of it as an outsider. Just be kind to others!!

Im sorry if this is a bit of word vomit, if u cant tell i got a lil too into it & my thoughts tend to be rlly scattered LOL. thank u 4 the ask & plz let me know if u need any clarity on anythin cuz i know i am very hard to follow at times !!!

[tussive]

Okay so I was thinking about it this morning. Usually when asked things about like my sexuality, how I identify, etc, I just give a nothing answer because I don't think it really matters and also I have explained all of this before and I feel like when you talk about it excessively, it's really annoying. But actually thinking about it, it probably has been a few years since I did go into any detail about it and I have gained a lot of new followers in that time and it's not really reasonable to expect that anyone would go through my blog and read like old posts like that. And I've been getting more and more asks about this stuff, which I'm kind of thinking may just be one person? But I'm not sure. Anyway, here's like just basic information about me. I'm putting it under a cut so you it's easy to ignore if you already know this shit or if you just don't care, which honestly you shouldn't, but whatever.

I am white. I don't know my family very well, but I believe I'm like Italian on my father's side and like Swedish and Dutch on my mother's side.

I am male. I don't particularly identify as any gender, if I'm being honest, but I feel like even terms like agender kind of carry connotations that I don't like so I might as well just keep it basic and just say male. When I was younger I did experience gender dysphoria and thought maybe that I was trans, but I don't really remember what exactly happened but one day I just kind of like, really internalized like, "Oh wait this shit is all just made up and does not matter. I can just do whatever." and it totally went away. I don't think I've felt dysphoric about my gender once since then. Do I still wish that I looked different than I do? Sure, of course. But I think that's like just a normal human experience. It's not something that upsets me really.

I am bisexual. I am attracted to people regardless of gender, however I've never met like a man who I felt romantic feelings towards. So I guess if you wanted to over identify things, I'd be like what, heteroromantic and bisexual?

I'm not asexual. And I know what I'm about to explain is something that someone could say like, "Hey that sounds like grey asexuality" or something and other people have tried to tell me that I'm like demisexual before and I just don't think those terms are really useful or necessary in any way. If they help you or you like them, by all means use them, I'm not trying to say nobody can use them. I just think they're dumb personally. I just think I have a low sex drive and tend to think that sex is kind of gross. Also I am very bad with like people being in my personal space so like I am generally uncomfortable with the idea unless it's something that I really am comfortable with.

I don't generally date or anything. I have had relationships in the past. I wouldn't be opposed to being with someone again in the future, but it's like. I just hate the idea of like, casually dating someone. That doesn't really interest me at all. I've always been friend with people I've dated first and so we got to know each other over time and then decided to date, which I would definitely prefer. I'm not interested in something casual, if I'm dating someone then the intent would always be for the relationship to last the rest of my life.

I'm diagnosed with MDD, GAD, Persistant Depressive Disorder, Panic Disorder, ADHD (Inattentive) and Schizoid Personality Disorder.

I don't know. I feel like I've covered everything people have asked me about that I've never really answered.

Also, I'm sorry. I feel like this is an annoying post lmao. Also going to tag this answers so in the future if someone asks I can just tell them to look at this tag instead of insulting them lmao.

[theansweris-a]

Ok I think I feel safe enough to be here again

The reason I went dark is bc I had a serious conversation with my mom, and immediately after I felt extremely paranoid that she would look into me on the internet. I’ve been lurking, but I have made a conscious effort not to interact with posts.

I prefer to keep my feed relatively light aside from the occasional awareness post so I won’t go into the gory details about my situation. But I will provide some updates under the cut as to how I’m doing for those interested. For everyone else, my mental and physical health is declining and I am scared shitless of what’s happening out there. Nonetheless I persist. I think that’s worth something.

Oh, and because I want my stance to be loud and clear above the cut: I stand with Palestine and Ukraine, BIPOC, LGBTQIA2+ folk, disabled folk, women folk, and homeless folk. (And if any that bothers you the block button is free to use <3)

I love you all so, so much. Holding onto hope is so hard right now. I get it. That’s why I want my blog to be a place where people can find hope. You are welcome here. You are safe here. It isn’t much I know, but I hope having one little spot on the internet where everything can be okay means something to someone.

I am officially unemployed as of a few days ago. I’ve been out of work due to chronic pain issues and having two falls at work. I have had extremely limited income, and now I do not have any (This is why I can’t donate and don’t reblog most donation posts btw). We’re working towards getting a diagnosis and setting up a treatment plan. Potentially getting me on disability if we can. The process of getting diagnosed sure has been. However I am back in physical therapy so that’s a positive?

There’s also the Q of the eQuation. As well as coming to terms with my chronic pain situation, I have been trying to figure myself out. I’m fairly confident in my sexuality but my gender has eluded me for a very long time. I know what I’m for sure not. I do not know what I for sure am. And unfortunately my extremely trans friendly work is where I had the chance to explore that through social transition. So back to introspection for me.

My dog, cat, and crabs are still thriving though which is all I can ask for. I’ve been working on game development since I’ve been off work, though admittedly it’s kind of hard to focus. I’m in a tough spot where I don’t really have the capability to resist what’s happening in any way. Except for one: my art. So that’s what I’m going to focus on.

I really wish there was more I could do in terms of activism. But since I’m limited elsewhere I’m going to continue creating art that disturbs the comfortable and comforts the disturbed. I’m also going to continue being empathetic and kind towards the people and animals around me. And most relevant to here, I’m going to keep my feed filled with lighthearted content and hopeful news because I know that’s what I need right now. I do not in any way mean to trivialize the suffering people are going through by not acknowledging it. I simply want to offer those who ARE suffering a place of refuge, a fun environment with good news and positivity. There isn’t a lot that my little queer disabled ass is able to do, so I’m doing what I can.

[bobafett51]

TW: Assault and mental Health

Dealing with and identifying abusers as somebody with Autism is so difficult. And it's a lesson I keep getting reminded of constantly.

I'm so tired. I have been so tired, my whole life. I spent my whole life dissociating without even realizing until a couple months ago. Before I was diagnosed with Autism, nearly every time I had a meltdown or shutdown I would respond by dissociating. Every time something would trigger a past trauma that I was unable to identify I would just simply disassociate. And because I pushed myself so hard every day, and because there were so many things in the past that have traumatized me, I would disassociate almost every day. Disassociation became the norm for me. So much so that I have a hard time remembering that it is not normal.

Building on this, like everyone with Autism can attest to, life is very uncomfortable for me. The world was not build for us in mind, so nearly all the world makes us uncomfortable. What is really hard is identifying a normal level of uncomfortable I have to learn to cope with is (like there being multiple conversations in the same room) and a bad level of uncomfortable (like a "friend" constantly groping me unwantedly).

I had a "friend" who kept groping me, putting his hand under my shirt and feeling my muscles, grabbing my ass, moving his hands around my crotch area, and grabbing my arms. And every time he did it I would dissociate and I would get triggered as memories of past sexual traumas would flood into my brain. But because I'm so used to dissociation, being uncomfortable, and getting triggered I did not realize that this was a bad level of uncomfortable. It was not until this "friend" assaulted another one of my other friends that I realized my "friend's" behavior was so wrong. And I am just so frustrated that it still takes so much for me to realize when someone else's behavior is so out of line. I have a "friend" who constantly sexually assaulted me and the part I am most frustrated about is how long it took me to realize it. That is just so fucked up to me and it just makes me even more frustrated.

But it's partly because this kind of stuff happens to me all of the time. Almost twice a month, someone is groping me, definitionally assaulting me. It just makes me wonder if I'm the one doing something wrong? Is there something wrong with me? Like is there something about me that makes people want to do that to me? Do I accidentally communicate that I want people to touch me? I get that I'm muscular, that I'm attractive, but like does this happen to other men? Why can't I go out without someone grabbing my ass or my crotch or shoving my hand in a sexual area?

I will heal from this. This is far from the worst thing I have gone through. And honestly, I identified this abuse faster than my prior ones. It's just so frustrating seeing how much more growth I have to do. How much more I have to learn. I usually love the opportunity and knowledge that I have more room to grow and more stuff to learn. But when it comes to this, I just wish I didn't have any more growth to do. I wish I could just identify abusers quicker, I could have avoided so much pain and trauma if I could.

At times like this I have to keep in mind that I will be healed and forgiven. James 5:15. It will work out. My next post will be about a moment of sexual healing to counteract this one.

[muskmelon-enjoyer-199x]

self portrait except it's 2013 and they're making me take antipsychotics for being trans

unpleasantries under the cut

something I don't talk about a lot is that I used to enjoy singing when I was younger. I didn't really talk about it then because I already got enough shit. I don't really talk about it now because I don't really like singing anymore. Anytime I try to sing along with something now, i just get sad. even if I plug my ears, I can still feel it in my throat.

Sometimes I wonder if things would have been different if my parents had actually given a shit. The difference between photos of me at 15 and 18 is so stark. They could have done something.

I haven't told them (and I probably won't), but I kind of hate them. It feels stupid sometimes, because I didn't get disowned. They didn't leave me out in the cold when it came to finances or housing. They actually want to see me sometimes, and they say they're proud of my accomplishments.

I guess the problem is that they have never been able to support me emotionally. I tell them something is wrong, and they tell me it isn't. I tell them something horrible is happening to me, and they tell me it's not that bad. I tell them somebody did something horrible to me and now I have weird recurring nightmares, and they tell me to get over it already. I almost died of something that wasn't my fault, and they were mad at me for it.

Being around them usually just feels like being around strangers nowadays. I feel bad saying that, but it's true. I wish they would just apologize so I could have some closure about what happened and get on with trying to maintain what remains of our relationship.

I posted something else about conversion therapy before, but I freaked out and deleted it.

It was about how negligent and malicious misdiagnosis are used to medicate the trans out of kids in places where outright conversion therapy is banned. They basically zombify you on tranquilizers ("mood stabilizers," "antipsychotics") that legit break your brain. It really sucks.

You end up a twitching mess with long-term sleep problems, sexual dysfunction, and trouble organizing your thoughts. Then, once the damage is done, everybody pretends that you actually were insane the whole time. If you complain or struggle in life, they just write you off as a diagnosed headcase.

It's so frustrating. I feel like I drift between being sad and angry all the time now. I watch shows I like, and they make me sad. I just think about various bad things that have happened all the time. Everything reminds me of them. I can't go a day without thinking about at least one of them. When it happens, my heart starts pounding and sometimes I hyperventilate.

I don't really like being around other people usually. I don't feel like we are the same species most of the time.

I keep feeling like im watching my day go by from inside my eyes. When I look at my hands, it's like looking at someone else's hands. Sometimes I look in the mirror and it feels like I'm looking at someone else. I've watched my reflection for hours before, trying to make it feel like me the way I rationally know it's me.

I cry in my car after work a lot. It's hard to hold it in when I'm there. Idk. It's like I can't usually cry at appropriate times anymore, or when I feel like I want to cry. It only happens occasionally, and never at an appropriate time. It just comes out of nowhere, because of a song or something dumb like that.

crybaby bullshit. Sorry. I was a crybaby before lil peep got it inked on his face

[jasper-unofficial]

any hcs for khabkluen that u would like to share/haven’t before?? :o

oh, you certainly know what to ask me 😌 thank you so so much for sending him in!

choose a character and ask about my headcanons here, if you like

🏳️‍🌈 a sexuality headcanon

bi.

🏳️‍⚧️ a gender headcanon

as a good chunk of autistics, i feel like he is a bit lax with gender. i don't know if he specifically identifies with anything other than being a guy, but if you ask him, he'd probably shrug and say "i'm just me" or something gjkdfgjkfdljgl

🧸 a headcanon about their childhood

i think he was diagnosed as autistic pretty early on, but - although his mom tried her best to support him and let him be himself - he ended up learning how to mask when he was quite young as well. so i think a lot of his childhood was spent as this supposedly picture-perfect, "pleasure to have in class" kid, who everyone talked to, but no one was really friends with necessarily. he knew how to "behave", but not necessarily how to talk to people, a lot of his masking was focused on not stimming, sitting "properly", and other more physical, instantly noticeable things. and that did, of course, turn into meltdowns and shutdowns that were particularly bad.

👻 a headcanon about what scares them

psychologically, overstepping boundaries. he is absolutely terrified of misinterpreting a situation and saying or doing something wrong.

👽 a headcanon about a weird quirk of theirs

he is definitely very particular about things. everything in his apartment has a specific place for it and should not be moved. truly, if you put bowls on the left and plates on the right of the shelf, when he's always had bowls on the right and plates on the left, he will switch them back and probably glare at you.

🦾 a disability headcanon

autism, obviously.

💝 a headcanon about their love language

acts of service, often silent ones, which benefit the person but sometimes aren't even immediately apparent. and physical touch, all the cuddles and kisses and casual affection for him, please!

🫂 a friendship headcanon

noel and he are very close and will be best friends for the rest of their lives. generally, khluen doesn't have the easiest time making friends, so this friendship in particular, with someone who truly understands and loves and respects him, is very special.

💔 an angsty headcanon

it takes many years for him to break up with daoneua, generally rethink his social circle, and start going to therapy, so he really only finds his self-worth and starts loving himself probably like a decade after the os2 simm episodes.

🪢 a headcanon about their family

he really is very close to his mom and, apart from noel, she is the first person he goes to, when it feels like the entire world is against him.

📓 a headcanon about their hobbies

he really loves reading. especially romance and fantasy.

👗 a headcanon about their clothes

fashion is really not his thing. he could not care less what he's wearing, as long as it looks presentable.

🔪 A headcanon relating to fighting/violence

he has this very strong sense of justice and does embrace violence as a way of fighting for it, so he will throw a punch, if he finds it necessary, for sure.

🌟 a headcanon about their desires/wishes

he just really wants to be loved, even more than to be understood, which is why he often ends up surrounded by people, who say that they love him, but do not understand him and are not willing to understand him at all.

🍫 a headcanon about food

he has three breakfast options, three lunch options, and three dinner options on rotation. they are the same ones he's had for years. the only two things he can drink are cold water and guava juice. if he does not have any guava juice during the day, it is game over for absolutely everyone.

💄 an appearance headcanon

he stops dyeing his hair brown after breaking up with daoneua.

🖕 a headcanon relating to anger

i'd say he's quite friendly with anger. it is a feeling he doesn't feel often, but when it's appropriate, it's appropriate, ykwim. much like sadness is seen as a negative but not "bad" feeling - the same way khluen does not see anger as a "bad" feeling, like many people do.

😺 an animal related headcanon

he really loves cats. he eventually gets two.

😭 a headcanon about the worst thing that happened to them

i don't know if i would necessarily pinpoint one specific moment, but just generally the people he ended up surrounded by, his social circle. most of it, anyway.

😶 a random headcanon!

after finishing uni, he works remotely from home and has a flexible work-schedule.

[symptoms-syndrome]

Ugh reading my old psych reports is always such a mixed bag. I don't rly know why I do it.

My most recent psych report is mostly just about autism. And it's fine. Says all the normal stuff about autism. Struggles with "reciprocal social interaction," also apparently they said I have a "very restricted affect," which is interesting. It's not something I'm aware of. I know that I do TRY and make faces sometimes to convey how I feel but that's very much a conscious effort. It said I have "low imaginative play" or something like that which I'm not sure what they mean by that. I know what it means for kids but not for adults.

But it also includes some background info from my previous psych tests, ones that were done somewhat punitively in middle and high school. It says I struggle to make relationships with others. I'm "paranoid and oppositional with those around [me]," "intense and volatile," and that I "place [my] needs before others, while simultaneously relying on positive feedback from those around [me] to feel good about [my]self."

On one hand, I know that that testing was obviously biased against me in the first place. I was also in a really, really hard spot. Plus, obviously, I don't have a full memory of what I was like to confirm or deny any of that. But on the other. What if they're right? They're the professionals. What if I'm so self obsessed I don't even see my own shortcomings? What if all that psychobabble is why I can't make friends like I want to? It's hard to fix something I don't even see. I wish someone could point out exactly what I'm doing wrong. I did wrong bad things a lot as a kid without knowing. People told me all the time that what I was doing was wrong or bad and it always took me by surprise because I didn't know.

I really, really wanted to make friends my whole life. I never really understood why I couldn't. It feels like I need to investigate, dig into what those professionals saw in me and eliminate it. Like digging out a bullet from a wound. How am I supposed to be a better person if I don't confront my flaws?

I also feel like I'm so, so buried under all the diagnoses I've gotten over my years in psych. BPD NPD OCD ODD PTSD MDD GAD all these fucking acronyms and labels all before I was even an adult!!! How am I supposed to know who I am when who I am has always been defined by a DSM code. I've always been a disorder or a sickness. My therapist says most of those diagnoses are bullshit, either just in general or for me specifically. Which, and I know I'm a biased party, but I agree with.

I want to be a good person so, so bad. I don't know why people don't think I am one. I feel like I need to try harder. There's something rotten inside me and I need to find it and get rid of it. But I can't find it. I'm trying my very very best but still can't manage to be a person who's okay for other people to be around and I don't know why.

TW for CSA stuff under the cut.

It also notes in both previous tests that I was "very sexual" and "had sexual relationships with classmates and adults." It says that I reported "it's what my brain did and I didn't like it" and that "I didn't know how to stop."

That makes me sad. I don't remember explicitly any of that, but the idea makes me sad.

It really is one of the ways I try to connect with others. It's the way my brain feels like it's wired. It's got very clear rules, it feels like. It's a clear exchange. And like. I don't know. It's something I know I can offer that people will want to take. "They want to have sex with me" is sort of my default...I don't know. Instinct when someone shows interest in me. I know it isn't true all the time. I just feel like sometimes it's all I can give. My other interests and everything is sort of secondary. Like...people will listen to me talk about Sonic or let me be weird or will hang out with me if I give them sex.

I hated hated hated being called sexual or a pervert or anything like that in school but it was also like. The thing that everyone defaulted to when talking about me. Even friends made jokes about it that I hated. I was always the sexual one. And at the time I didn't really know why, because I didn't feel like I was very sexual. Now I know that it was mostly dissociative barriers.

It just makes me sad, also, because like. Isn't that one of the big red flags for CSA? Why didn't anyone do anything about it other than punish me? Why was a child being punished for being sexual when they should have been...I don't know. Helped? It was clearly an issue that was fairly obvious. I don't know why I was punished for things I just didn't understand.

And now I'm all messed up about it. I don't know how to have close relationships because my brain just puts sex as a major factor so if people don't want to have sex with me...I don't know what they want.

[groovytimes]

The year 2023 was interesting, chill, but ultimately, a bittersweet one.

I started the year hopeful, with new opportunities (writing gig), new people, and even though I was still riddled with anxiety, I pushed through it and tried to go out of my way. It didn't really work: I've quit a stressful job, kept getting my submissions rejected (so used to it I don't fear them, I expect them), and got ghosted by someone I was genuinely interested in (I don't get my interest piqued a lot when it comes to men...). But I've also crossed paths with some of the kindest and creative people, and I treasure my time I spent with them. But, I also found out this week I am at risk at losing another job. Honestly, right now, I'm quite nervous, and a little disappointed.

Then there was the dating app. I have to admit, although I had no intention of going on a date with any of them, and never responded to any advances, it was kind of thrilling to see that there are people out there who would want to if given the chance. I've gone all my life feeling unattractive, and even though most of them are after only one thing, it was kinda fascinating to see that I was considered a candidate! I've always been comfortable in my sexuality, and although I'm ending the year as I began (single!), I have never felt more sexually empowered. But, that is not something I'm willing to share with just anyone, and I like having that control.

But, the saddest thing to happen literally just a month ago, someone -who I wasn't keen to be close to, but who I should have been- I have known for a while has been diagnosed with lung cancer and a brain tumor. It's still a shock, and her prognosis doesn't look good. Most likely this will be her last Christmas and New Years (her favorite time of the year), and it's just not fair. She's always been kind, eccentric, and doesn't deserve what is happening to her (I have known worse people...). It's been horrifying watching and learning about her condition day by day, and it's just a painful reminder at how short life is and how quickly it can turn around for the worse. Not like I needed reminding, but it reaffirmed my conscience that through all my shortcomings, I am still trying not to let it pass me by. I am still failing, I am still being rejected, but I am still alive. It could get worse, or better, and as long as the power that be allows me to, I hope to stick around and find out.

My sister has arrived, with drinks, and I am ready to see the back of this year. I am wishing whoever took the time to read this a Happy New Year. It looks pretty hopeless out there, but I am rooting for you. ✌🏽

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

seeking advice and resources… this is TW (involves a coat hanger and a childhood coochie) all I really remember about my childhood is being extremely aroused and fascinated by sex, by age 10 I was already actively speaking out that I wanted to have sex with others my age or really anyone and I can't remember a time when I didn't feel that way, I remember age 2 and up and even as a toddler I was very sexualized and felt a strong urge to kiss all the boys in preschool and it went on into elementary school and middle and high and so on into adulthood where as a teenager i ended up having a sex addiction that was diagnosed by a professional in the medical field so what i really need some advice on and resources of is why can i remember age 2 and up so vividly but i can't remember anything from under age 2? and also i moved at age 2 from a big city to a small town. and when i was a child i was so curious about sex that i actually took my own virginity by using a coat hanger because i didn't know what i was doing but all i knew is that it felt good but weird but in a pleasurable kind of way. i was around 7 or 8 when i did the coat hanger. i knew it took my card because there was so much blood. and i hid it by cleaning it and throwing it away after breaking it. also i am a millennial and i am diagnosed with ptsd and depression and anxiety and adhd so I'm sorry in advance for this adhd styled submission. i hope someone can provide resources online or a book suggestion or anything. also id love for my mom to understand what ptsd is and how it affects me, i live with her and she has to sort of help take care of me but she doesn't understand what ptsd is idk if there's a book out there for "helping moms understand their millennial offsprings PTSD struggles" and i do see a therapist for talk therapy but it doesn't always help like it should. and again I'm sorry for this longness. if you can re-write my submission and make it less TW or more easy to understand then please do so. i just really don't know what else to do.

Hi anon,

Please know that there is no need to apologize for this ask at all, it's not long and it's easy to understand. While to some degree sexual exploration is developmentally appropriate, it's a bit concerning that you were extremely fascinated by sex, and this can potentially be a sign of hypersexuality from sexual trauma. This article explains what is and isn't developmentally appropriate sexual behavior.

I'm not a medical professional, but while bleeding can be a sign of a broken hymen, that usually indicates that the hymen is in some way malformed, as many people tend to not bleed when their virginity is taken. This article says that the bleeding and pain some people experience [...] comes from stretching or tearing the tissue. The shape and size of a coat hanger could certainly cause bleeding.

It's also important to remember that virginity and the hymen are not inherently related. Not only can your hymen break from nonsexual activities like riding a bike, but the concept of virginity is culturally subjective and has different definitions depending on who you ask. So while it's okay to say you took your own virginity, just know that you can reclaim it if you wish.

The Body Keeps The Score is a great book about PTSD and how it manifests. Here's an article with a list of other related books you could look into. If anyone has any other recommendations, feel free to add on.

I hope I could help and please let us know if you need anything.

-Bun

[recoverychronicles]

Post;

I don’t know if anybody will end up reading any of what i write, if anybody will care about what i write, i guess the only things that matters is how i feel about typing all this out.

If you’re someone that is going through what i did, you’ve recently survived/recovered/got out, i hope you connect with something I’m saying, and maybe you feel less alone. I wish that along my own journey i had someone that cared or i connected to. I felt alone, and everyone that knew about my abuse aided him in gaslighting me, in my eyes that makes them almost as bad as him.

Id say, now 2 years on and sober, I’m doing okay.

2 years sober. Of a slowly inclining addiction. I actually beat it, i came out stronger, i came out the winner.

I don’t have the temptation of using, I don’t have the urge to “just once” have a hit. I get scared taking Panadol for fucks sake. My Endo surgery was a real test to my pain killer addiction, but i came out of that without a bump. I even went to a music festival with them, and yeah I had the thought that i could take some codeine, but I didn’t, i had no need for it. I was too amped up on caffeine.

I don’t have the temptation to smoke weed anymore, I can’t even stand the smell of it anymore.

Sometimes, i wanna do a cap at a concert or a music festival, purely just for the vibes. To be able to experience that in the state of mind MD gives you. However, i can go to kick ons at someone’s house, and rack up lines for others and not even have the temptation to ask for a line, to ask for a bump. I just don’t care for it in that way anymore.

Cocaine. My worst enemy. It’s the one thing I wouldn’t be able to say no to. Every death that has happened to the family in the past year, every terminal illness someone has been diagnosed with, all I’ve wanted to do is buy a bag and get high. All I’ve wanted to do is cope in the best way i know how, with drugs. I know that my god mother would be disappointed in herself, my grandma would be disappointed in in herself, my god father would be disappointed in himself, if i were to react to what happened to them in that way.

I get sad sometimes thinking that i ruined casual drug usage for myself by getting addicted, but some people aren’t built to take it easy on drugs, addiction is an illness, and there isn’t a cure for it. I know that drugs weren’t good for my mental health, hence why i begged him to stop doing them with me, but he wasn’t ready to accept we were both toxic on them and during the come down.

I have officially broken up with drugs.

I have my days where the sexual abuse still gets to me. I think on the other end of the spectrum, i have begun to over sexualise myself, because i was seen as an object for so long, that all i can see myself as. I don’t understand why someone would like me for reasons outside of a sexual nature, that’s something i still have to work on. People prove it to me everyday that that’s not all they are after when maintaining a friendship with me, but the sickness in the back of my mind wont let it go.

I still jump at loud noises, i still snap when something is triggering, i still get shaken up when something reminds me of that time in my life.

I feel i am at a comfortable stage in my healing that this is the right outlet for me. I have done a lot of work and healing to get to where i am today. 2 and a half years ago I wasn’t allowed to work, and now i maintain 2 jobs, where the people like me. I celebrated 2 years sober in August, with the evanescence concert in my state. I have amazing friends who look after me, and cherish me for who i am. They acknowledge that i am sober, and look after me in that regard, they respect me as woman and as a survivor.

It does get better, even if it doesn’t feel like it in the stage that you are in. I promise.