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⚠ Disclaimer

• This story contains mature themes,

• including 18+ content,

• strong language,

• emotional intensity, and

• mpreg (male pregnancy).

• This is purely a fictional story created from imagination.

• It is not related to the real lives or personalities of the members.

• Reader discretion is advised. If you are uncomfortable with mature or adult content, please do not continue reading.

• All characters are portrayed as adults in this story.

• The emotional conflicts, • toxic behavior, and • dramatic scenes are part of the fictional plot and are not meant to promote harmful actions.

• Please read responsibly and respect the boundaries of fiction.

Thank you for your support and love 💜

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The iron gates of the high school swung open, marking the end of a two-month summer that had felt both like an eternity and a fleeting dream.

Usually, the heat of the morning was unbearable, but today, a soft, warm breeze brushed against Hoseok’s cheeks as if the world itself was trying to calm his racing heart. The campus was alive—louder than he had ever remembered. It was a chaotic symphony of nervous whispers from the freshmen, the booming laughter of seniors reunited after the break, and the heavy thud of sneakers against the pavement.

Standing just a few feet away from the entrance, Hoseok stopped. He looked up, his eyes tracing the bold, blue letters etched onto the white facade: S C H O O L.

His fingers tightened around the worn strap of his backpack, his knuckles turning slightly white. He could feel his pulse thrumming in his fingertips. This wasn't just another year; it was the first day of 11th grade. After finishing 10th grade at his old school, he had chosen this place for a fresh start—a new chapter where nobody knew his name or his past.

A small, nervous smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. For the first time in a long time, hope flickered in his chest like a small flame.

Students rushed past him, their shoulders brushing against his as they hurried to find their new classrooms, but Hoseok stayed still for one more second. He took a deep, steadying breath, filling his lungs with the scent of fresh morning air and the faint smell of floor wax drifting from the hallways.

With a final adjustment of his bag, he stepped into the shadows of the building, eyes wide and searching for his classroom. He was walking toward his future with a heart full of dreams—completely unaware that the boy who would soon become his greatest nightmare was already waiting somewhere inside those walls.

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The hallway smelled like a sterile mix of fresh paint and the lingering scent of old memories. Under the harsh flicker of the white fluorescent lights, rows of bright red lockers stretched like endless soldiers against the walls.

The new boy felt small as he walked, his sneakers squeaking softly on the polished floor. New school. New beginning. He repeated the words in his head like a prayer, hoping that if he said them enough, they would finally come true.

He scanned the numbers, his breath hitching slightly until he found it-his locker, tucked away near the end of the corridor.

He whispered to himself, a tiny spark of excitement blooming in his chest. He carefully slid his books onto the shelf, arranging them with a neatness that calmed his nerves.

But the peace didn't last.

SLAM!

The heavy metal door didn't just close; it was a violent crash that caught the boy's fingers in the frame.

A sharp, jagged cry tore from his throat. He clutched his hand to his chest as a white-hot pulse of pain radiated up his arm. Slowly, a thin trail of crimson blood began to trickle down his skin, staining the pristine floor.

Through the haze of pain, a pair of heavy, expensive boots stepped into his line of sight.

A voice cut through the air. It was cold, mocking, and lacked even a drop of remorse.

The new boy looked up, his vision blurred by the hot tears stinging his eyes. There stood a boy with sharp features and eyes that looked like they hadn't seen warmth in years.

The boy managed to stammer, his voice trembling with the shock of the injury.

The other boy didn't flinch. He just smirked, a cruel twist of his lips.

Frustration bubbled up through the new boy's fear.

He snapped, the words out of his mouth before he could stop them.

The atmosphere shifted instantly. The air grew heavy, suffocating.

The other boy's eyes darkened into something dangerous.

Before the new one could blink, a hand gripped his shoulder and shoved him violently. His back hit the lockers before he tumbled to the hard floor, the impact echoing through the now-silent hallway.

A crowd had begun to form. He could hear the whispers spreading like a virus through the ranks of students.

The new one heard it all. Every cruel word felt like a fresh bruise, but he forced himself to stay still. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing him break.

The bully suddenly called out. His voice loud enough to cut through the murmurs.

The new boy-blinked. He seemed genuinely caught off guard by the question.

Hoseok answered his own silence, trying to regain some dignity even as he sat on the floor.

The bully tilted his head, looking at him like a specimen under a microscope.

The bully's jaw tightened. The disrespect was clearly something he wasn't used to. He stepped forward, his hand raising as if to strike-

A calm, firm voice sliced through the tension. Two polished shoes appeared behind Yoongi.

The newcomer asked. He stood there with an aura of quiet authority that seemed to be the only thing capable of holding Yoongi back.

Yoongi laughed softly, a sound that sent chills down Hoseok's spine.

Hoseok's heart plummeted.

Jin ignored the threat and knelt down, helping Hoseok up with a gentle hand. His expression softened into pure concern when he saw the blood still dripping from Hoseok's fingers.

Hoseok looked at the kind face in front of him and felt a lump form in his throat.

Jin looked at him carefully, his eyes lingering on Hoseok's face.

Despite Hoseok's soft attempts to stay, Jin supported him, leading him away from the crowd. Behind them, the whispers started up again, but Min Yoongi remained standing by the red lockers.

His smirk had vanished. He watched them walk away, and for the first time in his life, a strange, uncomfortable stir moved in his chest-something he couldn't quite name.

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School infirmary

The school infirmary was a sanctuary of white walls and the sharp, clean scent of antiseptic. It was oddly comforting, a stark contrast to the cold, suffocating atmosphere of the hallway.

Jin guided Hoseok to the edge of a pristine hospital bed, his touch careful as if Hoseok might shatter.

As the door clicked shut, Hoseok slumped his shoulders. He looked down at his hand, where the blood had begun to dry in dark, jagged streaks. The physical sting was there, but the ache in his chest was heavier. It was the humilation of being shoved, the echo of the whispers, and the haunting realization that in a hallway full of people, only one person had reached out.

The door creaked open again.

Jin returned, but he wasn’t alone. Behind him stepped a tall man draped in a crisp white coat. He moved with a calm, effortless grace that made him look less like a student and more like a seasoned professional, despite his youthful face.

Hoseok looked up, and for a moment, time seemed to slow. Their eyes met—Hoseok’s filled with lingering shock, and the doctor’s reflecting a deep, steady kindness. The doctor offered a soft, reassuring smile, and without thinking, Hoseok found himself smiling back.

Jin’s jaw practically hit the floor.

Both Hoseok and the doctor blinked, completely caught off guard.

Jin pointed dramatically at their faces, his finger trembling with excitement.

Hoseok froze, his heart skipping a beat. Namjoon—the doctor—paused, looking at Hoseok with renewed curiosity. Then, as if sharing a secret joke, they both smiled again at the same time.

Hoseok let out a small, awkward laugh, the tension finally breaking—until a sharp hiss escaped his teeth.

Namjoon had leaned in, gently pressing a cool, disinfectant-soaked swab against the wound.

His voice was like velvet—nothing like the jagged, razor-sharp tone Yoongi had used. Hoseok watched in silence as Namjoon’s long, steady fingers worked with expert precision, cleaning the grime away and wrapping a clean white bandage around his palm.

Namjoon looked up and smiled, though this time it was tinged with something more serious.

He hesitated for a moment, his expression softening into one of pity.

The weight of the warning settled into the room, cold and heavy. Hoseok swallowed hard, looking from the kind doctor to the protective Jin.

Namjoon chuckled, a warm sound that filled the small room. He glanced at Jin, whose face was already turning a brilliant shade of crimson.

Namjoon said casually, as if he were commenting on the weather.

Jin let out a tiny, high-pitched squeak and tried to hide his burning face behind Namjoon’s broad shoulder.

Hoseok stared at them, a mixture of shock and wonder washing over him. A doctor. A boyfriend. A hyung. They said it all so normally, with so much love and ease. It felt... safe. It felt like a world away from the violence of the red lockers.

For the next half hour, the three of them talked. Laughter replaced the sterile silence of the infirmary, and for the first time since he had stepped through the school gates that morning, the fear in Hoseok’s gut started to fade.

Maybe, he thought, he wasn't going to have to face Min Yoongi entirely alone.

Hoseok didn’t see Yoongi for the rest of the day.

In a way, it felt like a blessing—a temporary reprieve from the storm. But fear is a patient thing; it doesn’t vanish just because someone is out of sight. It lingers in the shadows, waiting for the sun to go down.

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When Hoseok finally reached home, the silence of the house felt heavier than the noise of the school. He slipped off his shoes by the door, moving like a ghost.

His aunt’s voice sliced through the air from the living room. She didn’t look up from whatever she was doing. She didn't ask how his first day went.

He walked toward his room with his head down, carefully tucking his bandaged hand deep into the fabric of his sleeve. He knew the rules of this house all too well. If she saw the injury, she would ask. And if she asked, she wouldn't offer comfort—she would offer blame. In her eyes, Hoseok was always the problem. Too quiet, too sensitive, too much of a burden.

The warm, familiar voice of his younger brother drifted from the kitchen. Hoseok took a breath, forced the corners of his lips upward into a mask of cheerfulness, and stepped inside.

Hoseok froze, his heart hammering against his ribs.

His brother frowned, his eyes searching Hoseok’s face for a long, agonizing second.

The simple, genuine concern in his brother's voice nearly shattered Hoseok’s composure. He wanted to tell the truth. He wanted to cry and say that a boy named Min Yoongi had crushed his hand and his spirit in a single afternoon. But if he spoke, his brother would go to the school. His Brother would feel guilty. There would be more trouble.

And Hoseok couldn't let the darkness of the red lockers follow him into the only place that felt even remotely like home.

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That night, sleep felt like a distant luxury. He lay staring at the ceiling, the shadows of the room morphing into the shape of red lockers. He could still hear the metallic slam. He could still see the way the light caught the sharpness in Yoongi's eyes—eyes that looked powerful enough to crush anything they landed on.

He rolled onto his side, squeezing his eyes shut as a single tear escaped.

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The morning came anyway, gray and unforgiving.

The routine was a blur. Buttoning the shirt. Tightening the tie. Pulling the sleeve down just an inch further to ensure the white bandage remained a secret.

He looked at his reflection in the mirror. He looked pale, his eyes rimmed with exhaustion, but there was a flicker of something else there. Resilience.

He stepped out of the house and back toward the lion’s den, unaware that today, the rules of the game were about to change.

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School - Luch break

The lunch bell rang, a shrill, piercing sound that signaled the start of a nightmare rather than a break.

Hoseok walked into the cafeteria, his friend by his side, but he felt entirely alone. He kept his head down, chin tucked against his chest, his fingers nervously picking at the fraying edge of his sleeve. He had always hated crowded places, but today, the cafeteria felt like an arena.

Too many eyes. Too many whispers.

They had just picked up their trays, the scent of school food making Hoseok’s stomach churn with nerves, when a wall of students blocked their path.

The group erupted into soft, intentional laughter—the kind of laughter meant to be heard.

Hoseok’s knuckles turned white as he gripped his tray. They weren't even pretending to be subtle. They were dissecting him while he stood right in front of them, waiting for him to snap, waiting for a reaction they could mock.

Each whisper felt like a physical blow. His throat burned with the effort of holding back the sob that was clawing its way up. He refused to give them the satisfaction. He wouldn't let a single tear fall in this room.

Without a word, Hoseok turned. He walked past the laughing group, straight to the trash can, and dumped his untouched lunch into the bin.

But Hoseok didn't stop. He couldn't. He walked out of the cafeteria, his vision blurring as he fled down the hallway toward the only place he could be alone.

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School - Bathroom

The bathroom was a sanctuary of cold tiles and silence. The air was damp and smelled of bleach, but it was better than the suffocating atmosphere of the lunchroom.

The moment the door swung shut, Hoseok broke.

He leaned over the sink, the sound of running water masking the jagged, broken sobs that finally escaped him. Tears streamed down his cheeks, hot and fast.

He had come here for a fresh start, a chance to be someone new. Instead, he had become a ghost story—the boy that Min Yoongi had chosen to destroy.

After several minutes, he forced himself to breathe. In. Out. He splashed freezing water onto his face until the stinging redness faded into a pale mask. He patted his cheeks dry with his handkerchief, staring at his reflection with a forced resolve.

He turned toward the door, reaching for the handle, desperate to get back to class where it was safe.

But he never made it to the handle.

A strong, calloused hand suddenly clamped around his wrist with the force of a vice. Hoseok let out a sharp, choked gasp, his heart leaping into his throat. Before he could even scream, he was yanked backward.

SLAM.

The bathroom door was kicked shut, the sound echoing like a gunshot against the tiles. Hoseok’s back hit the cold wall with a thud that knocked the air from his lungs. He squeezed his eyes shut, his chest heaving with terror, his pulse drumming a frantic rhythm in his ears.

He didn't need to open his eyes to know who was standing there. He could feel the cold, dark energy radiating off the person pinning him to the wall.

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(A/N: If you want to read this like Wattpad style, i published in Wattpad too. This is available in YouTube too.)

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School - Bathroom

The school bathroom was far too quiet.

Under the unforgiving glare of the overhead lights, the space felt clinical—almost haunted. Two stalls stood side by side, their dark gray partitions casting long, sharp shadows across the pale floor. It was a place of silence, a place meant for hiding, but for Hoseok, it had become a trap.

The door had slammed shut with a finality that made his teeth rattle. He kept his eyes squeezed shut, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs as he felt the presence of someone standing inches away.

The voice was a low, husky drawl. It was calm, yet it carried a weight that made the air in the room feel thin.

Slowly, his eyelashes fluttering with terror, Hoseok obeyed. The moment his vision cleared, his blood turned to ice.

Min Yoongi.

He was standing right there, his dark silhouette cutting through the bright light. He was too close—close enough that Hoseok could smell the faint, sharp scent of his cologne mixed with the lingering cold of the hallways.

Yoongi asked softly, tilting his head like a predator watching its prey. A slow, dangerous smirk spread across his face.

Hoseok’s hands clenched into trembling fists at his sides. A volatile mix of white-hot anger and paralyzing fear clashed in his chest, making it hard to breathe.

He tried to sound brave, but his voice cracked, betraying the panic rising in his throat.

Yoongi didn't back away. Instead, he stepped even closer, invading Hoseok’s personal space until there was nowhere left to go. His eyes were darker than they had been yesterday—hungrier, filled with a flickering intensity that made Hoseok’s skin crawl.

Seeing that look made Hoseok’s body go into overdrive. His palms grew slick with sweat, and a wave of heat washed over him, making his vision swim.

Yoongi’s gaze dragged slowly, almost lazily, over Hoseok’s face.

He murmured, his voice dropping to a vibration that Hoseok felt in his bones,

Hoseok swallowed hard, his breath hitching. Before he could even think of a way to escape—

Yoongi moved.

It wasn't a soft touch or a gentle approach. Yoongi crashed his lips against Hoseok’s in a way that was forceful and claiming. Hoseok’s eyes widened in sheer shock, his mind momentarily blanking out. He tried to shove Yoongi away, to regain his footing, but Yoongi was faster. He caught both of Hoseok’s wrists in a grip of iron, pinning them firmly against the cold, hard tiles of the wall.

The word was muffled, broken. Yoongi was too strong, overpowering him with a desperate kind of energy that left Hoseok feeling small and utterly helpless. Tears pricked at his eyes, blurring the harsh lights above. He just wanted to breathe. He just wanted to run.

CREAK.

The sound of the main bathroom door opening sliced through the tension like a knife.

Yoongi stiffened instantly. In that split second of distraction, his grip loosened just enough. Using every ounce of strength he had left, Hoseok shoved him back. He didn't wait to see Yoongi's reaction. He didn't look back at the shadow by the stalls.

He ran.

He burst through the door and into the hallway, his lungs burning as he fled the suffocating air of the bathroom.

Inside, Yoongi stood frozen, staring at the door as it swung shut. His breathing was ragged, his jaw locked tight.

He dragged a hand violently through his hair, a storm of frustration burning in his gut. It wasn't just anger at being interrupted. It was something deeper—something unfamiliar and terrifying that he didn't want to understand.

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School – 4:30 PM

The school day was finally bleeding into the evening. The once-crowded hallways were thinning out, the air filled with the rhythmic thud-slam of lockers and the fading echoes of laughter. Outside, the sun had begun its slow descent, pouring a deep, honey-like orange glow through the windows. It turned the red lockers into long, burning silhouettes against the floor.

Hoseok stood alone in the quiet. He felt like a ghost in his own life, his body aching, his mind exhausted.

But the universe wasn't finished with him yet.

BOOM.

The sound of metal hitting metal exploded through the corridor, shattering the peace. Students nearby froze, their gasps hanging in the still air.

Before Hoseok could even blink, a hand caught the front of his collar. He was hoisted upward and slammed back against the lockers with a force that made his vision blur. The metal doors rattled violently, a jagged, screeching sound that felt like it was coming from inside his own head.

Pain lanced through his spine. Then came another shove. Another hit.

Yoongi’s fist connected with his shoulder, then his stomach, the air rushing out of Hoseok’s lungs in a silent gasp. He stumbled, his legs giving way until he collapsed onto the hard, cold floor.

But Hoseok didn't beg. He didn't scream for help. He just... broke.

Silent, hot tears carved paths through the dust on his cheeks as Yoongi loomed over him, pinning him down against the tiles. A punch landed on his cheek, then another. The world began to spin in shades of orange and red.

Yoongi said. His voice was terrifyingly flat. There was no heat in it, no anger—just a cold, hollow void.

Hoseok looked up, his eyes glassy. He didn't look at Yoongi with hatred or even defiance. He looked at him with a raw, exposed pain that seemed to strip away every layer of Yoongi’s armor.

That look made something in Yoongi snap.

Yoongi growled, his jaw tightening so hard it looked like it might break.

Hoseok stayed silent. He didn't defend himself; he didn't even lift a hand to shield his face. He simply accepted the cruelty, and somehow, that passive surrender was more painful to Yoongi than a strike would have been.

Suddenly—

A desperate, high-pitched scream tore through the hallway. Footsteps thundered toward them, frantic and fast.

Yoongi froze. Before he could react, a figure crashed into him, shoving him away with a burst of adrenaline-fueled strength. Yoongi stumbled back, his eyes wide with surprise.

Hoseok’s younger brother dropped to his knees instantly, his face a mask of horror.

Yoongi’s eyes darkened as he regained his balance. He stepped forward again, his fist clenched and ready to strike—but he stopped dead.

Even while shaking, even while covered in bruises and tears, Hoseok had dragged himself up. He stepped firmly in front of Jungkook, shielding his little brother with his own broken body. He was trembling, but he didn't move.

Yoongi stared. His eyes flickered between the two brothers—the protector and the protected. Something shifted in his expression, a flicker of something that looked almost like regret before it was masked by his usual coldness. Without a word, he turned on his heel and walked away, his shadow stretching long and dark behind him.

The corridor fell into a deafening silence.

Hoseok turned slowly towards his brother, his breath coming in ragged hitches.

Hoseok forced a small, trembling smile. It was the saddest thing Jungkook had ever seen.

Hoseok nodded slowly, the mention of his aunt bringing a different kind of ache to his chest.

Reachng out with a shaky hand, he wiped the tears from his brother's face, ignoring the fact that his own were still falling.

He stood up carefully, wincing as his muscles protested. Jungkook stepped under his arm, supporting his weight, and together they began the long walk down the orange-soaked hallway.

The evening sun followed them like a spotlight, casting their shadows far ahead. Behind them, the red lockers stood as silent witnesses to the blood and the tears.

And outside, hidden in the shadows of the school gates, Yoongi stood alone. His fists were still clenched, his breathing uneven. Because the truth was finally starting to claw its way to the surface—

He didn't hate Hoseok. And that realization was the most terrifying thing he had ever felt.

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Yoongi’s Room – 6:00 PM

Min Yoongi’s bedroom was a masterclass in forced peace.

Soft evening light filtered through the heavy, dark blue curtains, casting long, somber shadows against the white shiplap walls. Every corner of the room spoke of a life that was supposed to be orderly. His bed was neatly made, the dark gray headboard standing tall against the blue comforter. A single white plaid pillow sat in the center—a touch of softness that felt like it didn't belong in the cold chaos of his world.

At the foot of the bed, a light gray ottoman held a loosely folded throw, with a dark beanie tossed over it carelessly. A soccer ball sat abandoned on the patterned rug, and his black acoustic guitar leaned against a white dresser, its strings silent and untouched.

Everything looked peaceful. But the air was thick, charged with a tension that felt like a storm about to break.

Yoongi sat on the edge of the mattress, his jaw locked tight. His eyes were glued to his phone, his thumb scrolling mindlessly, desperate for a distraction from the memory of Hoseok’s broken gaze.

The door creaked open.

It was Jin. He didn't come in all the way; he stood by the dresser, arms crossed over his chest, disappointment radiating off him in waves.

Jin said, his voice firm but laced with a tired kind of hurt.

Yoongi didn't move. He didn't even blink. He continued to scroll, treating Jin’s presence like nothing more than background noise.

Jin’s patience finally snapped.

He marched across the room, snatched the phone out of Yoongi’s hand, and tossed it onto the bed.

Yoongi’s voice dropped, a low, dangerous warning.

Jin’s voice cracked, the sound of a brother who was running out of ways to save someone who didn't want to be saved.

Yoongi stood up slowly, his shadow looming large against the wall. Jin kept talking—offering advice, giving warnings, pleading for the brother he used to know to come back. Every word felt like a physical weight pressing down on Yoongi’s chest. His irritation flared into a white-hot anger, his hands curling into trembling fists at his sides.

Finally, he snapped.

Yoongi hissed, the coldness in his voice slicing through Jin’s words.

Jin froze, the silence that followed feeling louder than the shouting.

Yoongi continued, his eyes sharp and unforgiving.

The words hung heavy in the air, jagged and sharp. Jin’s eyes widened, a flicker of pure shock crossing his face before it was replaced by a deep, hollow ache.

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Yoongi's Bedroom

Jin's voice trembled, the words barely escaping his throat as tears began to slip freely down his cheeks.

The room, once a sanctuary of soft evening light, suddenly felt smaller. Suffocating. The air grew heavy with the weight of things unsaid and years of growing distance.

The sight of his older brother—the one person who had always stood by him—falling apart caused Yoongi’s anger to falter. A cold spike of panic shot through his chest, replacing the white-hot rage.

Yoongi reached out instinctively, his fingers brushing the air toward Jin’s hand, desperate to take the words back. But Jin recoiled, pulling his hand away as if Yoongi’s touch had burned him.

That single, quiet word hurt more than any shout could have. It was the sound of a door unlocking.

Yoongi froze, his hand hanging uselessly in the air. Jin stepped back, shaking his head slowly as the tears fell without control, his face a mask of pure, raw hurt.

The silence that followed was deafening. The words sliced through Yoongi’s chest like a serrated blade, leaving a wound that he knew wouldn't heal. Jin didn’t wait for a response. He turned and walked toward the door, his shoulders trembling with the force of his grief.

But Jin didn't turn back. The door clicked shut, and the sound echoed through the quiet room like a gavel bringing a sentence down.

Yoongi stood there, his breath coming in ragged, shallow hitches. His chest felt tight—so tight he thought his heart might actually stop.

The silence of the room became an enemy. Suddenly, he grabbed the lamp from the nightstand and hurled it across the room. It shattered against the shiplap wall, a spray of glass mirroring the state of his mind. He kicked the soccer ball violently, sending it thudding against the dresser, and shoved the chair until it toppled over.

He reached for the black acoustic guitar, ready to smash it too, but his fingers stopped just an inch from the wood. He stared at it, his hands shaking so violently he had to pull them away.

He couldn't understand why Hoseok’s tear-filled eyes continued to haunt the back of his mind, or why the echo of Jin’s disappointed voice felt more painful than any physical blow.

Yoongi sank onto the edge of the bed, dragging his hands down his face until his skin stung. For the first time in his life, he didn't feel powerful. He didn't feel feared.

He just felt alone.

And no matter how hard he tried to blink it away, the image of a boy with dimples and bruises remained burned into his thoughts, refusing to disappear.

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Namjoon’s House – Evening

The hallway was warm and quiet. Soft yellow lights reflected against the tiled floor, stretching across the beige runner rug that led to the wooden front door with its frosted glass panel. A wooden coat rack stood on the left wall, a black jacket hanging neatly. Below it, a narrow console table held a simple white vase, and two stainless-steel dog bowls rested on a small mat beside it. On the right, the wooden staircase curved upward with black railings, and a cushioned bench sat beneath it with wicker baskets tucked carefully underneath. An oval mirror reflected the soft glow of the lights.

It felt safe. Peaceful. A home.

Knock. Knock.

Namjoon walked toward the door, confused. He wasn’t expecting anyone. He opened it and froze.

Jin stood there—eyes red, cheeks wet, lips trembling. Before Namjoon could ask anything, Jin stepped forward and buried himself into Namjoon’s chest. He was shaking. Namjoon’s heart dropped instantly.

Jin whispered against his chest.

Jin suddenly pulled away from the hug, eyes flashing with hurt.

Tears fell again as he repeated Yoongi’s words. Namjoon’s expression changed. Shock flickered across his face—but only for a second. Then understanding. He knew Yoongi’s temper. He knew his pride. He knew the way he lashed out when he felt cornered. Namjoon stepped forward and pulled Jin into another hug, tighter this time.

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Namjoon’s Bedroom

The room was a sanctuary of stillness. The serene atmosphere was grounded by white shiplap walls and steady dark blue curtains. Namjoon sat on the edge of the large bed, the deep blue comforter and gray upholstered headboard providing a soft backdrop to the heavy silence.

Gently, Namjoon pulled Jin down with him. Jin didn't resist; he laid his head on Namjoon’s chest, seeking the comfort of a steady presence. Namjoon wrapped his arms around him protectively, his fingers moving in soft, rhythmic strokes through Jin’s hair. Slowly, the predictable rhythm of Namjoon’s heartbeat worked to steady Jin’s ragged, exhausted breathing.

A faint smile touched Namjoon’s lips. He leaned down, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to the top of Jin’s head. In response, Jin shifted slightly closer, his eyes remaining closed as he held tightly onto Namjoon’s shirt.

Namjoon stared up at the ceiling, his thoughts quiet but firm:

He continued to hold Jin with extreme care, as if the elder might break under the slightest pressure. Because somewhere else in the city, Yoongi was standing alone in a room full of broken things.

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Hoseok’s Bedroom — Night

The room was dark, the only light provided by a thin line of moonlight slipping through the curtains to fall across the edge of the bed. Hoseok lay on his back, eyes fixed on the ceiling as the physical reminders of the day persisted; his cheek remained slightly swollen, and his lip continued to sting. Every time he closed his eyes, the day's most painful images resurfaced: the red lockers, the piercing coldness in Yoongi’s eyes, and the sound of Jungkook’s terrified voice.

He turned onto his side, pulling the blanket tight around himself for a sense of security. The house was completely silent; the light in his aunt’s room had already been extinguished, and Jungkook was likely already asleep. Despite the quiet, sleep remained elusive as a heavy sensation settled in Hoseok's chest.

His fingers tightened around the edge of his pillow as he grappled with his own nature. He questioned why he couldn't be stronger and why he remained kind even to those who caused him pain. A single tear fell onto the pillow, which he wiped away in frustration. He wondered if a stronger version of himself would be viewed differently by someone like Yoongi.

Eventually, the sheer exhaustion from a day spent pretending and surviving began to pull him under. As sleep finally claimed him, one lingering, soft thought remained:

With that silent question, Hoseok finally fell asleep.

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Yoongi’s Bedroom — Midnight

The room was a mess, the air still heavy with the remnants of explosive anger. The broken lamp lay on its side, and the chair remained overturned where it had been cast aside. Yoongi sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, staring blankly at the floor in the oppressive silence of the house.

As he leaned back against the headboard and closed his eyes, his mind became a battlefield of guilt and resentment. He was haunted by the thought that Jin would no longer speak to him, a realization that made his chest tighten painfully.

He thought, dragging a hand through his hair,

Yet, a darker thought followed, shifting the blame onto Hoseok and causing his jaw to clench with a nameless, turbulent emotion.

Just as exhaustion began to pull him under, he felt a warm, gentle hand on his shoulder. His eyes snapped open to find Jin standing there, his expression soft and free of anger or disappointment.

Without hesitation, Yoongi reached out and pulled Jin into a desperate, tight hug, his voice cracking with emotion.

His shoulders shook as he clung to the only person who truly understood him.

Jin wrapped his arms around him, rubbing his back in slow, soothing circles.

Yoongi nodded against his chest, promising to change.

The weight of the day finally overcame him; Yoongi’s body went heavy as he drifted into a deep sleep, snoring lightly against Jin. With a sigh of relief, Jin carefully adjusted him and pulled the blanket over his sleeping form. Yoongi stirred slightly, murmuring.

Jin smiled softly, brushing the hair from Yoongi's forehead and pressing a gentle kiss there.

He stood there for a long moment, remembering Namjoon's unwavering belief in Yoongi. Stepping aside quietly, he sent a quick message to Namjoon:

The response was almost immediate:

📱💌Namjoon: That means he cares. Give him time.

Looking back at his sleeping brother, Jin felt his lingering anger soften. No matter how many walls Yoongi built or how much he pushed people away, he was still his little brother—and Jin wasn't ready to give up on him yet.

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NEXT DAY SCHOOL

School Restroom – Interval Break

The interval bell had just rung, but the usual lively chatter of the hallway felt distant inside the sterile, peach-tiled restroom. Hoseok stood at one of the long rows of white sinks, the sound of running water filling the quiet space as he leaned over to wash his hands.

Suddenly, the peacefulness was shattered.

A violent force slammed into Hoseok’s side, pushing him away from the sink with such strength that he staggered against the wall. Before he could recover, a flurry of blows rained down on him. Hoseok grunted in pain, doubling over as he tried to shield his face, but the attacker didn't stop.

A hand reached out and gripped Hoseok’s collar, yanking him upward until he was face-to-face with his tormentor.

Yoongi hissed, his eyes dark with a volatile mix of misplaced guilt and redirected rage.

Hoseok’s breath hitched as he reached up, his hand pressing against his head where it had struck the wall. He could feel the warmth of blood starting to seep through his fingers.

Slap!

The sound echoed off the tiled walls. Hoseok’s head snapped to the side.

Yoongi growled, leaning in closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous, low thread.

With a final, disdainful shove, Yoongi released Hoseok’s collar and turned on his heel. He walked out of the restroom without looking back, leaving the heavy door to swing shut behind him.

Hoseok remained slumped against the wall for a long moment. To any observer, it would have seemed as though he didn't even feel the pain. He didn't cry. He didn't scream. Instead, he slowly pushed himself away from the tiles, his movements eerily calm.

With one hand still pressed against the wound on his head, he walked out into the hallway. His face was a mask of absolute void—no anger, no sadness, just a hollow, chilling lack of emotion. As he passed through the crowded corridor, students moved aside, their voices dropping into hushed, cruel mutters as they watched the blood trickle down his temple.

Hoseok didn't look at a single one of them. He just kept walking.

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School Infirmary – Afternoon

The infirmary was a sterile world of white walls and pale blue linens. Namjoon worked in a focused silence, carefully cleaning the wound on Hoseok’s temple. Hoseok sat on the edge of the medical bed, his gaze fixed on a point on the floor.

Namjoon paused, his eyes lingering on the specific shape of the bruise—a mark that didn't match a simple fall. He knew the truth. He had seen the way Yoongi had been acting, the volatile energy he carried. But seeing the fragile state of the boy in front of him, he chose not to push.

Namjoon said softly, taping a clean bandage over the cut.

The heavy infirmary door swung open suddenly, hitting the stopper with a sharp clack.

Jungkook panted, his face pale and his hands shaking with nervous energy.

Jungkook stammered, his ears turning red with embarrassment as he stepped further into the room.

Once the door clicked shut behind Namjoon, the heavy silence returned, broken only by the hum of the medical equipment. Jungkook scrambled onto the stool next to the bed.

Hoseok didn't answer with words. Instead, he lunged forward, throwing his arms around Jungkook and burying his face in the younger boy's shoulder. The dam finally broke.

Jungkook held him back, his small hands gripping Hoseok’s blazer. His own eyes filled with a dark, protective fire.

Hoseok pulled back, his face streaked with tears, but his eyes were different now—sharper, colder.

Hoseok wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, a new, bitter resolve hardening his features.

The promise of retribution was now deeply embedded in Hoseok’s mind. He would endure the shadows for now, even as Yoongi continued to push, strike, and bully him day by day, unaware that the person he was breaking was slowly becoming his greatest threat.

.

Just like that school life ended with lots of emotions.

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The College Years

Hoseok had made a choice that no one—not even Jungkook—could fully understand. When the college acceptance letters arrived, he didn't choose the school furthest away from his pain. He followed the shadow. He enrolled in the same university as Min Yoongi.

He told himself it was for the revenge. To keep his enemy close. To wait for the perfect moment to strike when Yoongi finally lowered his guard.

But college was just a larger arena for Yoongi’s cruelty. The bullying didn't stop; it evolved. It became more calculated, more public, and more isolating. In the crowded lecture halls and the sprawling campus quads, Yoongi remained the predator, and Hoseok remained the silent, enduring prey.

Hoseok put up with it all. Every shove in the library, every mocking comment during group projects, every time Yoongi made sure Hoseok felt small in front of his new peers.

Hoseok would whisper to his reflection in the dorm mirrors, his eyes colder and more tired than they had ever been.

The Final Semester

Months turned into years. The seasons bled into one another—the cherry blossoms of freshman spring giving way to the harsh, gray winters of senior year.

Hoseok sat on a stone bench overlooking the campus lake, the cold wind biting at his cheeks. He was days away from graduation. He looked down at his hands—scarred from years of clenching them into fists he never used.

For the first time, a terrifying thought took root in his mind.

He had spent 2 years of high school and four years of college—nearly a decade of his youth—waiting for a revenge that never came. He had stayed in the line of fire, hoping to catch the bullet and throw it back, but he had only succeeded in being hit over and over again.

He looked across the quad and saw Yoongi. Yoongi was laughing with a group of people, looking powerful, untouched, and utterly unaware of the soul-crushing weight Hoseok had been carrying.

The realization hit Hoseok harder than any punch ever had. College was over. Their time together was ending. And Yoongi was walking away a winner, while Hoseok was walking away a ghost.

He hadn't gotten revenge. He had only given Yoongi six years of his life.

As the sun set on his final day as a student, Hoseok didn't feel anger anymore. He just felt empty. The fire of revenge that Jungkook had ignited in the infirmary all those years ago had finally flickered out, leaving nothing but cold, gray ash.

Graduation day arrived. They crossed the stage. They received their diplomas.

And just like that… college life was over.

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