Chapter 3 : “Fault Lines”

The apartment was too quiet when Jungkook stepped inside.

Eunha’s hand was still in his, small and warm, but her grip had loosened. Her head tilted against his arm, exhaustion beginning to win over her anxious panic.

“Dad.. can I watch cartoons?” she asked softly.

“Not right now,” Jungkook murmured, brushing her hair back. “Let’s get you changed first.”

She nodded without arguing, a sign more worrying than anything.

He helped her out of her shoes, lifted her onto her little bed, and tucked her in with the same rabbit she’d brought to the hospital. She yawned once, then crawled under the blanket on her own, something she didn’t usually do.

“Stay?” she whispered, eyes glassy with sleep.

Jungkook sat on the edge of her bed and smoothed her hair until her breathing evened out. She clung to two of his fingers until the very last moment before drifting off.

Only then did he let out a breath that shook.

A long, heavy one.

He stayed there for minutes, maybe more, staring at her tiny face, the soft rise and fall of her chest, the fragile trust she put in him without question.

And he hated himself for the fear that still gnawed at him.

Fear that he was failing her. Fear that he was not enough. Fear that one day, she’d look at him and see the hollowness he tried so damn hard to hide.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead and stood slowly.

The moment he closed her door behind him, the apartment felt like it cracked open, the silence flooding out, swallowing him whole.

His hands trembled.

He curled them into fists until they stilled.

The kitchen light flickered when he turned it on. The hum of the refrigerator was too loud. The clock on the wall clicked like it was judging him.

A message buzzed on his phone.

From Namjoon.

“Are you okay?”

Jungkook stared at the screen and typed back:

“Fine.”

He deleted it.

Typed again.

“I’ll be back tomorrow morning. Tell Taehyung thanks for helping.”

He deleted that too.

And finally sent nothing.

He didn’t know why the thought of sending Taehyung a simple thank-you made something tighten in his chest.

Or maybe he did.

And he didn’t want to deal with that tonight.

He poured himself a glass of water, but his hand shook halfway to his lips and the glass clinked against his teeth.

“Shit..” he whispered, setting it down with a shaky exhale.

He braced both palms on the counter, leaning forward as if the weight in his chest might crush him otherwise.

He heard Eunha’s voice in his head, small, scared:

I missed you. And it felt scary.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

He remembered being seven. He remembered feeling that same emptiness. He remembered crying into his pillow in a house full of people who never heard a thing.

He never wanted that for her. Never wanted her to know that kind of loneliness.

And yet.. today, she did.

His phone buzzed again.

Not Namjoon.

Taehyung.

Jungkook’s stomach flipped.

He hesitated before picking it up.

Taehyung: Did she get home alright?

Jungkook’s thumb hovered over the keyboard.

He typed:

“Yes.”

Then he paused.

Typed again.

“Thanks.”

Deleted it.

Typed:

“You didn’t have to ask.”

Deleted that too.

Finally, he replied with the bare minimum:

“She’s fine.”

He set the phone down as if it burned.

But it buzzed almost instantly.

Taehyung: And you?

Jungkook froze.

Everything in him tensed.

He wasn’t used to people asking about him. Not like that. Not with sincerity that wasn’t sharp or pitying, but gentle, almost dangerous.

His chest tightened painfully.

He typed, hands unsteady:

“I don’t know.”

He stared at those words.

Raw. Too honest. Too exposed.

He erased every letter.

And replaced it with:

“I’m fine.”

He sent it before he could second-guess himself.

Taehyung didn’t reply.

The quiet should have soothed him.

Instead it pressed down like a weight.

He let out a frustrated breath and ran a hand through his hair.

Why did Taehyung’s simple concern felt.. invasive?

No, not invasive.

Too close.

Too good.

Too dangerous.

Jungkook pressed his palms to his eyes, as if willing his thoughts to shut up, but then..

A small, frightened sound came from down the hallway.

Jungkook’s heart dropped.

He was at Eunha’s door in seconds.

He pushed it open, and found her sitting upright, tears streaking down her cheeks, rabbit clutched painfully tight.

“Eunha?” he breathed, rushing to her side. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“I-I dreamt you left,” she hiccuped, arms reaching for him. “You didn’t come back.”

Jungkook felt something inside him shatter.

He gathered her into his arms immediately, holding her against his chest.

“I’m here,” he whispered into her hair. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“But you’re always tired,” she sobbed. “And sad.”

His breath caught painfully.

She felt that? She saw that?

He held her tighter, eyes burning.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“No,” she cried, shaking her head. “I don’t want sorry.. I just want you.”

The words repeated like an echo of earlier.

And they hit harder this time.

Jungkook pressed a kiss to her forehead again and again until her breathing steadied. He sat with her until she fell asleep on his chest, clinging to his shirt like a lifeline.

His phone buzzed softly on the nightstand.

A new message.

Taehyung again.

Taehyung: If you ever need someone to talk to.. I won’t judge.

Jungkook stared at it.

The words were simple. But they hit exactly where he was breaking.

He swallowed hard.

Locked the phone.

And whispered into the darkness, almost ashamed of the truth forming in his chest:

“I don’t know how to need someone.”

But tonight..

for the first time in years..