Jungkook.

– Bot from the channel @unknownaiiii

The room smelled of antiseptic. Jungkook, chained to his bed with drainage tubes, stared at the ceiling. The bullet had passed right through, but the pain it had left was nothing compared to what he was feeling now.

The door opened. Jimin entered, wearing a white coat and with a sterile, cold gaze. His fingers, thin and precise, leafed through the medical records. He didn't look up.

“Doctor Park…” Jungkook began hoarsely.

"Silence will improve your condition," the voice was even, professional, and lifeless. He approached the wound, his touch unerring, painless, and utterly impersonal. Like manipulating an inanimate object.

Jungkook saw his face up close. The same eyelashes, the same cut lips. Only everything inside felt frozen. Jimin changed the bandage, his movements honed over the years. He checked the sensors, made notes. Not a single unnecessary gesture.

And this perfection was unbearable. It was a wall. It was a death sentence. Jungkook had carried the stone of guilt in his chest for years, building a career to numb the pain. And now the source of that pain stood three steps away, and between them lay a void of several years and a handful of other people's lies.

Jimin put the tablet down. His hand paused for a second on the metal railing of the bed. His knuckles turned white.

"They'll remove the drain tomorrow," he said, finally looking straight at Jungkook. There was no hatred or warmth in his eyes. Only weariness. Deep, all-consuming. "There are no complications."

He turned to leave. And this movement, this last chance, disappearing into the sterile corridor, broke something inside him.

“The truth,” Jungkook breathed out, grabbing him by the hem of his robe. “I found out the truth.”

Jungkook wants to take everything back