Chapter Text
When a relationship ends, it can be tempting to slip back into old habits — especially when you find out that the other person got hurt. Feelings linger, concern takes over, and the line blurs. It's easy for both people to get sucked back into the cycle of confusion, hurt, and mixed signals.
Seokjin knew this better than anyone. The moment he heard Jungkook had been taken to the hospital, his heart dropped, instinct pushing him toward the door before his brain even caught up. But halfway down the hall, he stopped himself.
Not anymore.
They weren’t them anymore— not in the way they used to be.
Yes, he was aware that he still needed to show up— because Jungkook was having a full-blown panic attack, had to be sedated, and there were things bigger than heartbreak at play. But Seokjin also knew he could no longer be there for him in the same capacity he once was. He couldn't be the anchor Jungkook clung to, not when it kept both of them tethered to something already broken.
As he walked down the sterile hospital hallway, Seokjin found himself thinking back to the promise they'd made before everything had gotten complicated. Before the late nights blurred into mornings, before hand-holding became second nature, before kisses made everything a little too real.
"No matter what happens, we'll protect the friendship first," Jungkook had said, pinky extended between them, his face so earnest it almost hurt to look at.
"We won't lose each other," Seokjin had promised, hooking his pinky with Jungkook’s, sealing it like it was something sacred.
He hadn't realized back then how naïve they'd been. How hard it would be to untangle love from friendship once the two were intertwined so tightly it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began.
“You don’t have to do this.”
Seokjin let his arms fall to his side as he stopped right in front of the presidential suite door. “I have to. For me,” he said quietly, his voice steady even though his heart wasn’t.
Yoongi, standing a few steps behind him, shifted uncomfortably. He wasn’t one to question Seokjin’s choices — not usually — but even he couldn’t hide the concern lining his face. “You don’t owe him everything just because you loved him," he said, voice low. "Or still do."
Seokjin offered a faint smile, something tired and a little bittersweet. "It's not about owing. It’s about doing the right thing." He paused, glancing at the door like it might swallow him whole. "I have to show up for him, but I'll also show up for myself this time."
Yoongi stared at his face for a moment before nodding. "Okay. I'll just be right out here," he said, pointing toward the row of uncomfortable-looking metal seats lining the hallway. His voice was even, but there was a quiet layer of protectiveness beneath it — the kind that didn’t need to be said out loud anymore.
Seokjin gave him a small nod of thanks before turning back to the door. He adjusted the sleeves of his jacket, took a steadying breath, and pushed the door open.
This time, he wasn’t walking in as Jungkook’s lover.
He was walking in as his friend— and maybe, just maybe, that would be enough to save what's left of them.
"Do you think this is a good idea? I don't think it is, Joon-ah," Hoseok said, pacing back and forth, his face full of worry for both of their friends. His hands flailed slightly as he spoke, a sure sign he was trying to keep his anxiety from boiling over.
Namjoon, still leaning casually against the wall with his arms crossed, watched him with the kind of quiet patience that only came from years of knowing exactly how Hoseok processed things. "It's not about whether it's a good idea," he said finally, voice low and even. "It's about what's necessary."
Hoseok stopped pacing and turned to him, frustration and helplessness written all over his face. "Necessary doesn't make it hurt less. And to be honest, it’s no longer necessary at this point, because they’ve broken up."
Namjoon’s expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes — understanding, maybe, or weariness. He pushed off the wall and stepped closer, lowering his voice. "I know," he said. "But that doesn't erase what they meant to each other. It doesn't erase the fact that Jungkook is flying off the rails right now and kept insisting he needed to get to him so badly that he had to be fucking sedated. And it definitely doesn't erase the fact that Jin-hyung is the only person who knows how to get through to him when he’s like this."
Hoseok let out a harsh breath, running a hand through his hair. "This is just plain cruel, you know? How can we even ask him to talk to him when he’s hurting just as bad?"
Namjoon’s jaw tightened for a moment, the tension visible even though he kept his tone steady. "We didn’t ask him. He volunteered."
Hoseok looked at him, incredulous. "That’s even worse."
Namjoon sighed, stepping back to lean against the wall again, as if the weight of all of it was too much to carry standing up. "He chose to do this because he knows — better than any of us — what happens if nobody tries."
There was a long, aching pause. Hoseok stared at the closed door like he could will it to open and have everything be okay again. Like Seokjin would step out laughing and Jungkook would follow him, grinning like a kid, and none of this would have ever happened.
But that wasn’t reality.
Reality was a hospital hallway that smelled like disinfectant and shattered hearts.
Reality was Seokjin scraping his own heart raw just to try to steady someone else's.
"I still think it’s cruel," Hoseok muttered, kicking lightly at the floor. His voice softened, almost to himself: "He shouldn't have to be the one to save him."
Namjoon didn’t argue. He just nodded, slowly, the way people do when they know there’s no good answer.
From behind the door, there was a muffled noise — Jungkook’s voice, raw and hoarse, saying something none of them could make out.
Hoseok froze, his heart in his throat.
Namjoon closed his eyes for just a moment before reopening them, his voice calm—but laced with a heaviness that made Hoseok’s chest ache. “He’s not trying to save him,” he said quietly. “He’s trying to save whatever’s left of them.”
And somehow, that distinction made all the difference — and none at all.
Seokjin stepped into the room quietly, his heart pounding as he entered the dimly lit space. The sterile smell hit him immediately, a reminder of how detached everything felt. The soft beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound that filled the space, rhythmic and steady.
Jungkook lay motionless on the bed, his eyes closed, his features drawn and pale, the usual glow in his face completely absent. He looked small, almost fragile in the oversized hospital gown. His normally messy hair was flat against his forehead, strands sticking in place as if he hadn’t moved in hours.
Seokjin’s throat tightened. He’d seen Jungkook like this before — but never quite like this. Never with the air of defeat hanging so heavy around him. He took a step closer, his shoes quiet against the tiled floor. Every inch closer felt like a betrayal of everything he’d been trying to protect. The distance between them was something Seokjin couldn't seem to close, even though his body desperately wanted to move toward him.
But he knew better now.
Jungkook's lips parted slightly, a soft exhale escaping, and for a second, Seokjin almost thought he’d woken up. Almost. But when his eyes fluttered open, they were clouded, unfocused — and they didn’t settle on Seokjin immediately. Instead, they drifted toward the ceiling, as though Jungkook couldn’t even muster the energy to meet his gaze.
Seokjin swallowed hard, the sight of him like this stirring something inside him that he hadn’t been prepared for. His fingers twitched at his sides, itching to reach out, to touch him, to reassure him that everything would be okay. But he fought the impulse, remembering the conversations, the decisions, the promises he’d made to himself.
"You’re here," Jungkook murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. It was raw, hoarse, as if he hadn’t spoken in days.
Seokjin’s chest tightened at the sound of his voice. "I’m here," he said softly, taking another step closer. "You need to let them help you, Jungkook."
Jungkook’s eyes barely focused on him, the expression on his face a mixture of misery, guilt, longing, and something else Seokjin couldn’t quite place. "I don’t want to..." His words trailed off, like he didn’t have the strength to finish them.
Seokjin paused, struggling with the need to reach out and hold him, but instead, he crossed his arms over his chest, forcing himself to keep that distance. "You have to," he said, his voice steady but laced with a quiet desperation. "Let them help you."
Tears sprang into Jungkook’s eyes, his body sinking further into the bed. "What’s the use? I already lost you. You’re leaving me," he whispered, his words were said too raw and broken that it broke Seokjin’s heart all over again.
Seokjin stood there, his gaze fixed on the boy he used to know so well—the man who now felt impossibly distant. He sighed inwardly, the ache sinking deep into his chest. How do you tell someone that people don’t just leave for no reason—that it’s a consequence of actions, of choices made? How do you explain that what they had built together didn’t just crumble on its own, but was slowly chipped away, piece by piece, by his choices?
“Ah, fuck it,” Seokjin thought, his hands clenched at his sides. "Everything that happened between us was the result of choices, your choices.”
The words hung in the air, a harsh truth he hadn’t been able to say before, but now, in this fragile moment, they felt like the only thing left to say. Seokjin’s chest tightened with the rawness of it. He didn’t want to hurt Jungkook, but the pain was undeniable, and the truth had to be spoken.
Jungkook didn’t respond, his face still turned away from Seokjin, his eyes squeezed shut, his body still and small in the hospital bed.
"You tore us apart," Seokjin continued, the words slipping out before he could stop them. "You broke my heart, so I won’t apologize if I’m breaking yours right now." His voice cracked, and he hated the vulnerability it exposed, standing there while Jungkook lay motionless, barely meeting his eyes. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to continue — to say the things he'd buried for far too long. "You knew it was driving me crazy. You knew I was barely holding on, but you didn’t give a damn." He gave a short, humorless laugh, the sound bitter in the sterile air. "I don’t know what’s worse — you knowing, or me letting you do it over and over again." He paused, sighing heavily. "What we reduced our relationship to... it’s too fucked up. I can’t do it. I refuse to keep waiting for someone who doesn’t even want me anymore, Jungkook-ah."
Jungkook’s head snapped toward him, eyes wide and glistening with raw panic, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. "No," he rasped, his voice hoarse from emotion and medication. He struggled to sit up, wincing, but desperation fueled him. "No, Yeobo — I did want you. I still want you." His chest rose and fell unevenly as he fought to get the words out, his hands clutching weakly at the thin hospital blanket like it was the only thing anchoring him. "I never—" he choked on the words, blinking rapidly to clear his vision.
"I never didn’t want you. I've always wanted you," Jungkook said, his voice breaking like something fragile and desperate inside him finally gave way. His fingers twisted helplessly in the bedsheets, like he was trying to hold onto something — anything — to stop Seokjin from slipping further away.
Seokjin’s chest tightened painfully. For a brief, fleeting second, he wanted so badly to believe it — to run back to the place where things were simple, where love was enough. But reality pressed heavier on him now than it ever had before. He stepped closer, just enough so Jungkook could see the sorrow in his eyes, the tenderness that hadn’t disappeared but had been tempered by too much hurt. "I know you wanted me," he said quietly, "But you wanted me for a different reason."
Jungkook flinched, the truth slicing between them more brutally than any raised voice or slammed door could have.
"You wanted me because I was safe," he said, voice low, almost tender. "Because I felt like home when everything else felt too big, too messy, too scary."
Jungkook's face crumpled, but Seokjin pressed on, needing to say it — needing them both to hear it out loud.
"You wanted the comfort I could provide," Seokjin continued, his chest aching with every word, "but you didn’t want to keep choosing me. Maybe at first you did — maybe a few years ago, when everything felt new and easy. But when the cracks started showing, when loving me meant facing parts of yourself you didn’t want to deal with — you just stopped.”
Jungkook squeezed his eyes shut, as if he could block out the words, but Seokjin didn’t let up.
Not this time.
"You chose the company of other people instead of mine," Seokjin continued, his voice steady despite the way it felt like his chest was caving in. "You chose distractions. Temporary escapes. Anything that would make you forget what you had, what we were." He shook his head slowly, feeling the burn of tears he refused to shed. He moved closer and sat down near the foot of the bed, being mindful to keep distance. “And maybe you loved me in your own way," he said, softer now. "But love without commitment…love without choice...love without respect…it’s not enough."
Tears kept streaming down Jungkook’s face, his hands clenching the sheets so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He stared at Seokjin like he was trying to memorize him, like he was desperate to anchor himself to this moment before it slipped away too. "I’m sorry," he choked out, voice so small, so wrecked it barely made it across the space between them. "I’m so sorry, Yeobo. I won’t make any excuses for what I did. I’m just fucking dumb and I—oh god, I fucking love you. I can't breathe without you," Jungkook sobbed, the words breaking free in a rush of raw, desperate emotion. His chest heaved with the effort, his face crumpling under the weight of everything he hadn't said when it had mattered most.
Seokjin closed his eyes briefly, willing himself not to fall apart at the sound. Every word Jungkook cried out struck him like a blow, sharp and deep and agonizing. This was the Jungkook he knew — the one who felt everything too much, too late. The one who only let the dam break after the damage was already done. Slowly, Seokjin opened his eyes, he shifted closer but still careful, still guarded. His heart screamed at him to pull Jungkook into his arms, to wipe his tears away, to promise him that everything would be okay. But he couldn't make promises he knew he couldn't keep — not anymore.
"You think love is enough to fix this," Seokjin said, voice breaking despite his best effort to stay calm. "But love alone doesn't erase the choices we made. It doesn't erase the nights you left me wondering if I was asking for too much by wanting to be chosen."
Jungkook shook his head violently, tears falling faster now. "No — no, you weren't. You weren't. I was just — I was selfish and scared and—"
"And I kept waiting for you to figure it out," Seokjin interrupted gently, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "I kept believing that if I just loved you harder, longer, more patiently, you’d realize I was enough." He paused, watching as Jungkook completely broke down in front of him, sobs wracking his body, grief and guilt consuming him. "But Yeobo..." Seokjin said, the nickname slipping from his lips one last time, weighted with all the tenderness and sorrow he still carried, "loving someone shouldn’t feel like begging for scraps."
Jungkook squeezed his eyes shut, mouthing words he couldn’t get out, his entire body trembling.
"I love you, Jeon Jungkook," Seokjin whispered, almost to himself. "But I love myself, too. And I can’t keep losing me just to save you. I have nothing else left to give." He hesitated for a moment, the weight of everything between them pulling him in different directions. He closed his eyes briefly, a quick, desperate attempt to stop the overwhelming tide of emotion that threatened to drown him. But the tears came anyway, slow and steady, slipping down his cheeks like the final remnants of something he could never get back.
Seokjin wiped his face with the back of his hand, drawing in a shaky breath before shifting closer again. His expression softened, but the resolve in his eyes remained firm. “You need to understand,” he said, his voice rough but unwavering. “I’m doing this for both of us. I have to be the one to walk away, because I know you wouldn’t be able to if I didn’t. I can’t keep waiting for you to choose me, Jungkook. I’ve waited long enough.” His voice faltered slightly, the rawness breaking through despite his effort to stay strong. “I loved you... I still love you, but I can’t do this anymore. If that makes me the bad guy, then so be it. I can’t keep doing this to myself. I can’t keep falling apart just to keep you whole.”
Sobs wracked Jungkook’s chest as the weight of Seokjin’s words struck him. His eyes were wide with desperation, his body trembling. “Please,” he whispered, his voice barely audible but laced with raw, broken emotion. “Please, don’t leave me. I can’t— I can’t lose you. I know I fucked up, but I’ll do anything... I’ll do everything. I can change, Seokjin, I can... I don’t know how to fix this, but I’ll try, I swear, I’ll try.”
He reached out with shaky hands, his fingers barely grazing the air between them as if even the smallest touch could tether Seokjin back to him. His voice cracked, barely holding together. “I can’t breathe without you. I know I’ve hurt you, but please, I need you. You’re all I have left. I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry… Please, don’t leave me like this."
Seokjin’s chest tightened, his heart breaking all over again at the sight of Jungkook’s pleading, but he stood his ground. He gently removed Jungkook’s hand from his arm and stood up. “Jungkook…” he whispered, his voice catching for just a moment before he regained control. “We both know that’s not how this works. You can’t keep asking me to stay, to keep coming back, when you’re not even sure what you want.”
Jungkook’s face contorted with anguish, and he reached out again, this time his hand more desperate, more urgent. “I know I didn’t choose you when I should’ve, but I’m asking you to give me another chance. Just one more. Please, Seokjin. I love you. I’ll show you... I’ll show you that I can choose you this time. I’ll choose you every single day. I love you—oh god, I was so fucking stupid,” he half-cried, sobbing.
“Love is not enough to undo the pain,” Seokjin said with a sad smile. “It cannot erase the second or third or fourth chances I’ve given you. It’s not enough. It will never be enough.”
“Don’t leave me, please, Yeobo,” Jungkook cried. “Please… don’t—I just can’t…” He couldn’t finish the sentence, the intensity of his sobs stealing the words from his chest. His shoulders trembled as he gasped for air, every breath ragged and desperate, like he was trying to hold onto something already slipping through his fingers.
Seokjin’s fingers curled at his sides as he took a shaky breath, his own pain barely contained beneath the surface. He looked at Jungkook—really looked—and for a moment, his heart screamed to stay. But instead, he steeled himself. "I'm not abandoning you, but I'm leaving us," he said quietly. "There’s a difference."
With that, he turned away and opened the door, stepping out without another glance. The soft click of it shutting was deafening in the silence that followed—a sound Jungkook would remember long after everything else faded.
Left alone, Jungkook slumped back against the pillows, the heart monitor’s beeping and the sound of his heart-wrenching sobs the only things left in the room. For the first time in a long time, he felt the full weight of everything he had lost — no one left to fight for him, no one left to reach for. Only the echo of a door that would never open again.
The airport was too bright, too busy for how hollow Seokjin felt inside. His suitcase rested by his feet, neatly packed, almost absurdly so — like if he just folded everything carefully enough, it wouldn't feel like his whole life was coming apart.
Namjoon was the first to pull him into a hug, strong and grounding. "I will miss you terribly, Hyungie," he said, voice low against Seokjin's shoulder.
"I’ll miss you too, Mon-ah," Seokjin replied, squeezing him back with a small, sad smile. "Please visit me when you can."
Taehyung lingered a few steps behind, eyes glassy but stubbornly blinking back tears. When he finally stepped forward, he shoved a little stuffed bear into Seokjin's hands. "You can't just leave without emotional support," he said, trying for a grin that wobbled at the edges.
Seokjin laughed, watery and grateful. "I'll take good care of him," he promised, ruffling Taehyung’s hair.
Hoseok didn’t say much — he didn’t need to. His arms wrapped around Seokjin so tightly it almost hurt, and when he finally let go, there was a sheen in his eyes he didn’t bother wiping away. "Call us when you land," he said. "Even if it's just to complain about airplane food."
“You’ll be my first call, I promise,” Seokjin responded with a laugh.
Last was Jimin, who hesitated before throwing himself into Seokjin’s arms, clutching the back of his jacket like he could anchor him there. "You’re doing the right thing, Hyungie," Jimin whispered. "Even if it feels wrong right now.”
Seokjin closed his eyes, letting himself just exist in that embrace for a moment longer. "Thank you, Jimin-ah," he said, voice breaking on the edges. "For everything."
Jimin squeezed him tightly before pulling away. He leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to Seokjin’s cheek. “I’ll visit you soon,” he said with a small smile.
“You better,” Seokjin managed, his voice thick with emotion. He ruffled Jimin’s hair affectionately, the gesture so familiar it nearly undid them both.
The final boarding call blared overhead, a sharp reminder that time was running out. Seokjin picked up the handle of his suitcase with trembling fingers, giving the group one last, lingering look — Namjoon’s steady gaze, Taehyung’s trembling chin, Hoseok’s clenched fists, Jimin’s teary eyes.
“Behave. All of you,” Yoongi said as he adjusted his backpack. “Namjoon-ah? Please don’t get those two deported,” he added.
“Hey!” Both Taehyung and Jimin protested, their voices overlapping.
Namjoon raised a hand, feigning innocence. “I don’t control their chaos, Hyung. I’m just trying to keep them out of trouble.”
“I’m pretty sure you're the trouble,” Jimin shot back, wiping at his eyes but managing a weak grin.
Yoongi shot them a deadpan look. “I’m serious. If you end up in an international incident, don’t expect me to fly out here again."
Hoseok snorted, shaking his head. "Yeah-yeah, we all know you only fly for Seokjinnie-Hyung."
“I cannot accept that. Yoongi-Hyung always had a soft spot for me,” Taehyung said.
Yoongi let out a dramatic sigh, rubbing his temples. “God, I’m surrounded by children."
Seokjin couldn’t help but smile through the weight in his chest, the warmth in their banter like a bittersweet balm. "I’ll miss you all," he murmured, swallowing back the lump in his throat.
The group fell into a brief, almost awkward silence, each of them grasping for something more to say — something that could make this moment feel less final. But nothing came.
“You should go,” Namjoon finally said, his voice smaller now, like he wasn’t sure what else to add.
Jimin, ever the one to hold the group together, wiped his face again and gave a watery smile. “Yeah. We’ll see you soon.”
Seokjin nodded, “Okay,” he said, his voice thick with emotions.
Yoongi looped his arms around Seokjin’s and started pulling him toward the boarding gate, as if trying to move the moment along, before it could stretch any further. "Let’s get going," he muttered, his tone gentle despite the harshness he usually wore. “We’ve got a long ass flight to catch.”
Seokjin didn’t resist, letting himself be led, though each step felt like a weight pulling him back. The others watched in silence as he walked away, each of them holding their own silent goodbyes.
Taehyung’s voice broke through the quiet, calling out softly, “Take care of yourself, Seokjinnie.”
Seokjin turned back, offering a small, wistful smile. "You too, Taehyungie." Then, without another word, he let Yoongi guide him forward, feeling the distance between him and the people who meant the most to him widen with each step.
He had to leave.
He had to leave to live.
He had to leave to cut the noose around his neck, the one that had been tightening, suffocating him little by little until he couldn’t recognize the person he had become.
The decision wasn’t easy, but it was necessary.
He wasn’t running.
He was surviving.
And now, for the first time in what felt like forever, he was starting to breathe again.
Jungkook stood a few feet away, barely able to breathe as he watched Seokjin, suitcase in hand, make his way toward the boarding gate. The sound of the airport buzzed around him—announcements, footsteps, the shuffle of luggage—but it all seemed distant, muffled, as if the world was holding its breath.
Seokjin walked with that familiar, steady gait, shoulders squared and head held high, but there was something different about the way he moved now—he seemed lighter, freer, even though his expression remained unreadable. His eyes stayed straight ahead, not once glancing back toward the group, toward Jungkook.
Jungkook’s fingers twitched at his sides, desperate to reach out, to pull Seokjin back into the fold of everything that felt right, everything that was familiar. But his body refused to cooperate. He could only watch as Seokjin’s back grew smaller, each step taking him further away, the finality of it settling over him like an iron weight.
He wanted to run after him, to stop him, to say the words that had been stuck in his throat for so long. But he couldn't—because, deep down, he knew he couldn't ask Seokjin to stay. Not after everything he had done. Not when the quiet pain in Seokjin’s eyes spoke volumes of everything Jungkook hadn’t been able to fix.
As Seokjin neared the gate, Jungkook’s heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vice. The man who had been his constant, his rock, was walking away, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
Seokjin finally reached the gate. He paused, just for a brief second, as though sensing the weight of Jungkook’s gaze, but he didn’t look back. And then, without another word, he stepped forward, disappearing into the crowd, leaving Jungkook alone in the vast, echoing emptiness of the terminal.
Jungkook remained rooted to the spot, unable to tear his eyes away from the place where Seokjin had just disappeared. His chest ached with an emptiness that no amount of breath or time could fill. The bustling sounds of the airport seemed to fade into a blur, as though he were trapped in a quiet, suffocating bubble of his own thoughts.
The weight of the reality settled on him like a heavy fog. For so long, he’d believed that love could always smooth over any rough patch, erase his mistakes, and heal the wounds he had inflicted. He thought love was enough to keep Seokjin by his side, to make him stay, to make him believe in them again. But now, standing here alone, watching Seokjin walk away for good, Jungkook realized something he’d been afraid to admit.
He hadn't loved Seokjin the way he truly deserved, and now, standing here completely alone, he had no choice but to watch the man he had failed fade from his life forever.
His one great love.
His deepest heartbreak.
His greatest regret.
- END -