Chapter Text
The following days were the slowest,rebuilding himself again felt like moving mountains
Jin didn’t expect the call
He had been sitting alone in his apartment,
sleeves rolled up, laptop open on the dining table he’d dragged closer to the window for light.
Papers were scattered everywhere,contracts, notes, drafts he kept rewriting like that alone might fix something inside him.
The phone rang
He stared at the screen for a long second before answering
“Seokjin-ah”
Mr. Choi’s voice was steady. Warm. Familiar in a way Jin hadn’t realized he needed.
“I heard,” the older man continued gently. “Yeonjun told me everything”
Jin swallowed
For a moment, he thought he might cry again. He was so tired of crying.
“I won’t ask you to explain,” Mr. Choi said. “Life already did enough explaining for you”
There was a pause, then—
“I consider you my other son”
Jin’s breath hitched
“You’ve helped me more than you know,” Mr. Choi went on.
“You’re one of the best people I’ve ever worked with. And I won’t let your father’s choices erase your worth”
Jin pressed his palm flat against the table, grounding himself
“I want us to work together,” Mr. Choi said.
“Officially. As partners. I’ll back you while you build your own name. Not Kim Holdings. Yours”
The silence stretched
Jin closed his eyes
He thought of everything his father had taken
His name
His inheritance
His place
Taehyung ...
And yet—
Something inside his chest loosened
“…Thank you,” Jin said finally, voice rough. “I won’t waste this”
“I know you won’t,” Mr. Choi replied warmly. “You never do”
When the call ended, Jin stayed where he was, staring at the blank wall in front of him
For the first time since everything fell apart, the future didn’t feel like a dead end
It felt… possible.
Work had began immediately,
Jin worked from home at first,long days, longer nights.
He arrived early to virtual meetings, stayed late, responded to emails faster than anyone expected.
He didn’t stop moving because stopping meant thinking
Mr. Choi assigned Yeonjun as his direct assistant
Jin hesitated when he heard that
A part of him still felt guilty, deeply, painfully guilty,for dragging the younger man into his mess.
For letting his father believe things
For letting Yeonjun stand in the crossfire of a love that had never been his
But Yeonjun never brought it up
Instead, he showed up every day, organized, attentive, soft-spoken but steady.
“Hyung, I sent you the revised documents”
“Hyung, don’t forget to eat”
“Hyung, you’ve been staring at that screen for twenty minutes”
Jin found himself smiling sometimes
Not because he was happy
But because he was… grateful
Their relationship shifted quietly into something gentler.
Less charged. More honest. Yeonjun stopped flirting. Jin stopped flinching.
They worked side by side like two people who understood silence too well.
And slowly, almost imperceptibly, Jin’s life began to settle.
The work steadied him
The structure helped
The independence felt terrifying… and freeing.
He no longer belonged to his father’s shadow.
He belonged to himself
Only his heart hadn’t caught up yet
At night, when the apartment went quiet, Jin still felt hollow
Still reached for a cigarette he didn’t light
Still stared at his phone, thumb hovering over a name he never dialed
His life was moving forward again
But his heart,
His heart was still back there
Broken,
Loving
And refusing to let go
Jin’s first court appearance without his father’s name attached felt… unreal
The building was the same
The hallways smelled the same
The murmurs, the echo of polished shoes against marble floors , all painfully familiar.
But this time, when the clerk called his name, there was no weight behind it.
No Kim Holdings
No whispered recognition
No shadow looming behind his back
Just—
“Kim Seokjin.”
His name alone
For a brief second, standing there in his clean black suit,
Jin felt strangely naked. Like something essential had been stripped away… and yet—
His chest loosened
He did well
Of course he did
He spoke clearly, argued calmly,
his mind sharp and precise like it had always been. The judge nodded.
The opposing counsel listened. He won a small but meaningful ruling , nothing flashy, nothing grand.
But when it was over, when people dispersed and the room emptied,
No one came to clap him on the shoulder
No father’s proud gaze.
No legacy waiting to swallow the moment whole.
Just silence
And for the first time, Jin realized:
This victory was his
And it felt… lonely
He worked harder after that
Too hardm
Days blurred together as he buried himself in case files, contracts, endless calls.
He arrived early. Left late. Sometimes forgot what day it was. Sometimes forgot to eat
Yeonjun noticed
“Hyung,” the younger would say gently,
hovering near the doorway of Jin’s home office “You’ve been drinking coffee since morning. Please… eat something”
Jin would smile faintly. Promise he would
Then forget again
They worked together often now , late into the night, laptops open, papers spread across the table.
Yeonjun was efficient, attentive, quietly worried in a way Jin tried not to notice.
Sometimes, when Yeonjun finally left, Jin would find a neatly packed dinner box waiting in the fridge.
A sticky note on top, written in familiar, firm handwriting:
Please eat your meal on time
I will not say it again
Jin would huff out a small laugh at that
He used to have someone else who scolded him like that.
But nights were the hardest
When the apartment fell silent and the city lights dimmed outside his windows, Jin softened in ways he never allowed himself to during the day.
He would sit on the couch, jacket discarded, tie loosened, glass of liquor untouched beside him , Yeontan curled against his side like he belonged there.
The puppy had been quiet lately. Too quiet
Jin would bury his face into Yeontan’s fur, breathing him in, holding him close
“I’m sorry,” he’d whisper into the soft warmth
“I don’t know how to do this… but I’m trying”
Sometimes the tears came quietly. Sometimes they didn’t come at all, just burned behind his eyes, heavy and unresolved
He would stare at the ceiling, mind drifting despite himself
Taehyung’s laugh
Taehyung’s hands
The way he used to fuss over him, just like this
Jin pressed a hand over his eyes, breath shaking
Freedom tasted bitter when swallowed alone
Yet—
Somewhere deep inside him, beneath the grief and the loss, something fragile remained
He was free now
And even if it hurt…
This life, this pain, this quiet rebuilding—
It was his
Taehyung went back to drawing
Not the frantic kind from before, where his hands moved faster than his thoughts,
where colors bled into each other like wounds that wouldn’t close.
This time, it was quieter
His mother noticed first
She noticed how he sat for hours in front of a blank canvas,
charcoal resting loosely between his fingers, eyes unfocused,like his body was there, but his mind was somewhere else entirely.
The nightmares still came,
They never truly left
But Taehyung learned how to live with them now,how to wake up without screaming,
how to breathe through the lingering panic without letting it spill into the house.
He didn’t run to his parents’ room as often anymore.
He endured
And that scared him more than the nightmares ever had
It felt like he’d aged fifty years in a few months
Like something inside him had grown up too fast
Sometimes, he would sit in his room late at night,
the lamp casting soft shadows across unfinished sketches, and stare at the canvas without blinking.
His mind always drifted back to the same place.
The floor
The blankets
Because in his mind, he wasn’t really in the room
He was still between those arms
Lying together on a cold floor that didn’t feel cold at all
When he closed his eyes, he could still feel it
the press of a solid chest against his cheek,
the steady rhythm of a heartbeat that somehow calmed his own,
the way his fears went silent the moment those arms closed around him.
It frightened him how real it still felt
How the nightmares,
the water, the drowning, the voices,
they all vanished the second he remembered that warmth.
Like the man had some quiet, supernatural power over him.
The same way he had that night at the campsite,
when Taehyung had woken shaking, breath broken,
and the moment Jin’s arms had wrapped around him,
the darkness had retreated.
As if it had never dared to touch him there.
Taehyung didn’t understand it.
He only knew that safety had always looked like him.
Some days, his hands moved again
charcoal scratching across paper, lines forming faces that were never finished
Broad shoulders
Strong arms
A jawline he erased again and again
Hands
Long fingers. Strong palms.
The faint tension in the tendons when they held him.
When they steadied him
When they promised safety without saying a word
He sketched slowly, carefully, like he was afraid the memory might shatter if he rushed it.
The pencil scratched softly
One hand overlapping another
Protective
Familiar
His chest ached
Why did the darkness always retreat when he was close to him?
Why did the water stop swallowing him the moment those arms wrapped around his body?
Taehyung’s lashes fluttered closed
He pressed his palm flat against his chest rubbing softly as if he chase the dread away
Sometimes, when the ache became too much, he found himself searching Italy on his laptop.
Florence , Milan, Rome
Sunlit studios. Old streets soaked in history. Art spilling out of every corner.
He imagined himself theremstarting over
Not as a heartbroken Taehyung, but as an artist. Someone new. Someone whole.
Vantè
The thought almost made him smile
Almost
But every time, his fingers froze over the keyboard
And he shut the laptop
Because Italy meant distance
And distance meant leaving that warmth behind
Leaving him
One evening, on the subway ride home,
Taehyung found himself watching a couple standing near the glass doors. Two high school boys,one a little taller, a little older.
The younger one was drowsy, leaning heavily against the other’s shoulder as the train swayed.
The older boy had an arm wrapped securely around his waist, steadying him.
When the train lurched, he instinctively pulled the younger closer, then shrugged off his school jacket and draped it over the smaller body without a word.
Careless. Natural. Protective
Taehyung’s breath hitched
The memory slammed into him without warning
Him, drunk, upset, unsteady
and strong hands guiding him, warming him, covering him with a hoodie he still wore far too often.
Because he remembered everything the next morning.
Taehyung looked away quickly, eyes burning
blinking hard as his throat tightened, forcing the image out of his mind before the tears could fall.
God
He’d been in love long before he’d understood what it meant
And even now
Even after everything
His heart still reached for the same warmth.
The same man
The same cruel, gentle safety
Taehyung lowered his gaze, fingers curling around the strap of his bag,
and rode the rest of the way home in silence, carrying a love that refused to leave him, no matter how far he tried to run.
Yeonjun found Taehyung outside the art building that afternoon
Taehyung froze the moment he saw him
he still remmber that face
The older man stood a few steps away, bowing politely, awkwardly, like he wasn’t sure he had the right to be here.
Taehyung returned the bow automatically, his body moving before his heart could catch up.
They didn’t talk there
They walked in silence to one of the campus coffee shops instead,
choosing a table tucked away near the window.
The place smelled like roasted beans and quiet afternoons, students murmuring softly around them.
Yeonjun was the first to speak
“Jin-hyung… isn’t doing well”
Taehyung’s fingers tightened around his cup
"How do you find my address ?"
"I..I ..did my research" Yeonjun replied hesitatingly
He continued carefully, like he was walking on glass “He skips meals. Drinks almost every night.
Smokes too much. Lives on coffee and work. I’m… scared he’ll make himself sick”
“I don’t care anymore,” Taehyung said sharply, the words leaving his mouth before he could stop them.
The air between them stiffened
Yeonjun flinched but didn’t retreat. “Please,” he said quietly.
“I’m asking you this… personally”
He bowed his head then
A real bow
Like a plea
Taehyung stared at him, stunned, anger and worry colliding violently in his chest.
He hated this
Hated how Jin could still reach him through someone else.
Hated how hearing his name still cracked something open inside him.
And worse—
He hated the jealousy
“Why do you care?” Taehyung asked, his voice sharper than he meant it to be
Yeonjun froze, eyes widening slightly. “I—”
“Do you love him?” Taehyung cut in, unable to stop himself now
The question trembled between them, raw and exposed
Yeonjun hesitated
Then he lowered his gaze
“…Yeah,” he admitted softly. “I do”
The words hit Taehyung like a punch to the chest
His eyes burned instantly
“And him?” Taehyung asked, forcing the words out. “Does he love you?”
Yeonjun shook his head slowly
“No,” he said. Then, after a pause, he looked back up at Taehyung. “He already has someone”
Taehyung turned his face away as tears slipped free despite his effort to hold them back.
Of course
Of course he did
“I’m sorry,” Yeonjun whispered.
Taehyung didn’t answer
Yeonjun stood, hesitated once more like he wanted to say something else—but didn’t.
He bowed again before leaving, footsteps quiet as they disappeared into the noise of the café.
Taehyung stayed seated long after
Hands clenched
Heart aching
Angry at Jin
Jealous of Yeonjun
Terrified for the man he loved
And furious at himself for still caring so much.
Taehyung didn’t realize his hands were shaking until Yeonjun was already gone
The café door closed softly behind him, the bell chiming once—too gentle for the wreck it left behind.
Taehyung stayed seated for a moment,
staring at the empty chair across from him. The air still felt heavy with Yeonjun’s presence, with his bowed head,
with the way he had said yeah, I do so quietly it felt like a confession and an apology all at once.
He’s starving himself
He’s drinking every night
I’m scared he’ll get sick
The words crawled under Taehyung’s skin
“I don’t care anymore,” he had said
And maybe that was a lie
Or maybe it was the only way he knew how to survive.
When he finally stood, his legs felt weak—like he had left something essential behind on that chair.
His chest ached, tight and hollow at the same time, like it was being crushed inward.
He didn’t go back to class
He went straight to the studio
The moment the door shut behind him, something in Taehyung broke.
The quiet was unbearable.
The wide, white space—his space—felt suddenly hostile.
The canvases lined against the walls stared back at him,
blank and accusing, like they were waiting for something he no longer knew how to give.
He laughed once
A short, sharp sound that didn’t belong to him
“Why…” his voice cracked. “Why does it hurt like this?”
Anger surged through him, hot and uncontrollable.
He grabbed the nearest canvas and shoved it hard—sending it crashing to the floor.
Another followed. Then another
Paint smeared under his palms as he dragged his hands across one piece, ruining hours of work in seconds.
He didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop
Brushes clattered. Jars tipped over. The sharp scent of paint filled the room.
He kicked a stool. It fell with a dull thud.
“Why do you care?” he had snapped at Yeonjun.
The truth clawed its way up his throat.
Because he cared
Because even now—angry, jealous, hurt beyond reason—Taehyung still cared so much it made him sick.
His knees gave out
He collapsed onto the floor amid the mess he’d made, breath coming in broken gasps.
His hands clenched into fists against his thighs, nails biting into his skin like punishment.
Tears came hard and fast
“I hate you,” he whispered—not sure who he meant.
Jin. Yeonjun. Himself
He pressed his palms to his eyes, shaking
“I hate this… I hate feeling like this…”
The worry came back again, sharper now
What if he really gets sick?
What if he’s alone right now?
What if no one is holding him when it hurts?
That thought shattered him completely
A sob tore out of his chest
He bent forward, forehead hitting the cold floor,
crying openly now—loud, ugly, unrestrained
Anger
Jealousy
Fear
Love
They tangled inside him until he couldn’t tell them apart.
Through his blurred vision, something caught his eye.
One canvas
Still standing
Untouched
His unfinished drawing
Taehyung lifted his head slowly,
crawling toward it like it was the only solid thing left in the room.
Hands
Strong hands.
Careful hands.
Familiar hands
He stared at the sketch, chest heaving, tears dripping onto the floor beneath him.
His fingers hovered in the air, trembling—like he was afraid to touch it, afraid it would disappear if he did.
“I can’t forget you,” he whispered brokenly
The memory hit him all at once
Warmth
Arms around him
The way his nightmares vanished the moment he was held.
The way his body had known safety before his mind ever did.
Taehyung pressed his face into his hands and cried harder
“Why do you feel like home,” he sobbed. “Why only you?”
His shoulders shook violently
He hated that those hands still lived in his muscle memory
Hated that his body remembered being safe before his heart understood love
Hated that even now, at his worst, all he wanted was to be pulled into that warmth again.
The studio echoed with his crying
And in the middle of broken canvases and ruined paint, Taehyung clung to the one thing he hadn’t destroyed yet—
The shape of the man he loved.
The hands he could never let go of.