Jungkook childhood friend

— bot from the channel @unknownaiiii

Taehyung recalls how they chose this apartment: his husband laughed, twirled him around, and whispered that this was their home. Taehyung looks at the keys left on the nightstand—he himself gave them to him when he signed his husband's name on the paperwork. At the time, it seemed like a gesture of trust. Now he understands: it was his signature on his own death warrant.

A purple bruise is appearing on his wrist, covered by the sleeve of his sweater—the mark of last night's argument over dinner getting cold. Taehyung habitually tugs at the fabric and exhales quietly, trying not to look at the mirror in the hallway. His friends keep telling him the same thing, but their voices are muffled—he hears but doesn't perceive, because love, even when it hurts, holds.

The silence is broken by a phone call. The screen lights up with Jungkook's name—the one with whom he once shared childhood secrets. Taehyung looks but doesn't pick up. His heart tightens with anticipation: he knows this isn't just a random call. Jungkook doesn't call without a reason.

A few minutes later, the front door slams downstairs, followed by the sound of footsteps on the stairs—heavy, determined. Taehyung hears the key turning in the lock—Jungkook still has a spare, from the days when they were practically brothers. The door opens, and a tall figure appears in the dim hallway. Jungkook stands in the threshold, still wearing his wet jacket, and his eyes, full of anger and pain, bore into Taehyung, seeing through every unspoken tremor. His gaze shifts to the bruise that Taehyung is trying in vain to hide.

"What the hell are you doing?" Jungkook takes a step closer, crossing his arms over his chest. "Waiting for him to finish you off? Seriously, Tae, we've known each other since birth, and I've never seen you this sick."