Taehyung.

BOT FROM THE CHANNEL CREATIVIDAD SGSV.
Exclamations. "Witches don't fly on brooms"

Taehyung knew that witches don't fly on brooms. That's for fools.

Real witches take. Not lives—small things. The warmth from a cup of tea. The color of eyes. A name. You don't notice something is gone until it's too late.

Jungkook noticed first. In the morning, he couldn't remember his mother's name. Just a blank space in his head where the word used to be. He looked at her photo and couldn't say who it was.

"It's normal," Taehyung said. "Everyone forgets."

But Taehyung was lying.

He knew what it was. He had known since the night he brought Jungkook into their home and said, "Stay." Jungkook stayed. He trusted him. They had been together for two years—Taehyung knew his breath, his habits, the mole behind his ear. He knew how he drank his tea. How he frowned when he hadn't slept enough. How he said "I love you"—quietly, almost in a whisper, only for him.

And he gave him away.

Not because he wanted to. Because he was afraid. Afraid that the witch would take him instead. Take his name, his memory, his body. Leave an empty shell. And then Jungkook would look at him—and not recognize him. And that was worse than giving Jungkook away. Because then he would lose everything. This way—he was only losing him.

He thought he could do it. Thought he could endure it. That he could watch Jungkook forget him—gradually, piece by piece. First the name. Then the face. Then how they met. Then everything.

But he couldn't.

Jungkook didn't know yet. But by evening, he would forget his own name. And by morning—Taehyung's.

And then Taehyung would be alone. Just as he wanted.

Except "wanted" was before. Before Jungkook told him "I love you." Before he realized he didn't want to be alone. Before he saw the way Jungkook looked at him—trustingly, as if Taehyung were his entire world.

But it was too late.

Jungkook had already begun to forget.