withdrawal

Jungkook never imagined a world without Taehyung.

One day Taehyung was there.

The next, he was gone.

No goodbye.

No explanation.

No warning.

Just a phone call in the middle of the night.

A voice Jungkook didn't recognize.

"Kim Taehyung is dead."

The words didn't make sense.

Jungkook laughed at first.

A cold, nervous laugh.

Because people didn't just disappear.

Taehyung couldn't disappear.

Not him.

Not the person who had become his entire world.

"There must be a mistake," Jungkook whispered.

But there wasn't.

Hours later, he found himself standing in a silent room, staring at a photograph of Taehyung.

The smile he loved so much.

The eyes that had taught him how to live again.

Gone.

Just gone.

The funeral passed like a nightmare.

People spoke around him.

Offered condolences.

Cried.

Jungkook heard none of it.

He only looked at Taehyung's picture.

Waiting for him to walk through the door and tell everyone this was some terrible misunderstanding.

But Taehyung never came.

Days became weeks.

Weeks became months.

Jungkook stopped answering calls.

Stopped leaving the apartment.

Stopped caring about anything.

Every corner of his home carried Taehyung's memory.

A forgotten book on the shelf.

A coffee mug.

A jacket hanging near the door.

Ghosts.

Everywhere.

At night he reached for the empty side of the bed.

Every morning he woke up hoping it had all been a dream.

It never was.

His chest felt hollow.

As if someone had reached inside and taken something vital.

Food lost its taste.

Music became noise.

Sunlight felt meaningless.

The old cravings returned.

Not because he wanted cigarettes.

Not because he wanted alcohol.

Not because he wanted drugs.

He wanted silence.

Anything that could numb the pain.

Because grief felt worse than every addiction he had ever fought.

One rainy evening, Jungkook sat alone in Taehyung's apartment.

The place had remained untouched since his death.

Dust gathered on the furniture.

The air smelled faintly of old books and memories.

Then he noticed something strange.

A small wooden box hidden beneath Taehyung's desk.

Locked.

Jungkook frowned.

He had never seen it before.

Inside one of Taehyung's drawers, he found a key.

His hands trembled as he opened the box.

Inside were documents.

Photographs.

A passport.

And several newspaper clippings.

Jungkook's heartbeat quickened.

The articles all had one thing in common.

Deaths.

Mysterious deaths.

Names circled in red ink.

Dates marked carefully.

And on the very last page, written in Taehyung's handwriting, were words that made Jungkook freeze.

"If you're reading this, then I'm probably dead."

The room suddenly felt colder.

Jungkook stared at the sentence.

His hands shook.

What was Taehyung hiding?

Why had he expected to die?

And who were the people in these photographs?

For the first time since Taehyung's death, grief wasn't the only thing inside him.

Now there was something else.

Fear.

And a question he couldn't ignore.

Had Taehyung really died by accident?

Or had someone killed him?

Jungkook slowly picked up the letter.

Outside, thunder echoed across the city.

And somewhere in the darkness, a secret that had buried Taehyung was waiting to be uncovered

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