Chapter 5: The Seed of Resentment

As the weeks melted into months, the atmosphere inside the Jeon household shifted drastically. The house was no longer centered around Jungkook's milestones or his playful antics; instead, everything revolved around the delicate, fragile emotional state of Kim Taehyung.

Taehyung remained entirely shut down. He ate only when food was placed directly in front of him, spoke only when spoken to, and spent hours staring out the window. His grief was a quiet, suffocating fog that filled every room.

Because of this, Jungkook’s parents poured every ounce of their energy, patience, and love into Taehyung. They were desperate to see the bright, laughing boy they used to know.

But to five-year-old Jungkook, who was still too young to understand the psychological weight of trauma, the world had suddenly flipped upside down.

It was a chilly Saturday evening. Jungkook had spent the entire afternoon at preschool drawing a picture. It was a colorful, messy crayon drawing of his family—his mom, his dad, himself, and Taehyung, all holding hands under a big yellow sun. He had run all the way home from the school bus, clutching the paper tightly in his chubby hands, eager to show his parents.

"Mom! Dad! Look what I made!" Jungkook burst through the front door, his face flushed with excitement.

"Shh, Jungkook, please, keep your voice down," his mother interrupted immediately, rushing out of the kitchen with a finger pressed to her lips. She looked stressed, dark circles bruising the skin under her eyes. "Taehyung just finally fell asleep after a terrible nightmare. We can't wake him up."

Jungkook’s small smile faltered. He lowered his drawing slightly. "But Mom, look, I drew—"

"Later, Kookoo, okay? Go play quietly in the living room," she whispered hurriedly, giving him a distracted pat on the head before heading upstairs with a warm bowl of soup for Taehyung.

Jungkook stood in the hallway, his little chest tightening. He walked into the living room, where his father was sitting at the table, surrounded by stacks of legal adoption papers and financial documents.

"Dad?" Jungkook mumbled, tugging on his father’s sleeve. "Can you look?"

Mr. Jeon didn't lift his eyes from the paperwork. He was rubbing his temples, sighing deeply. "Not right now, Jungkook. I'm trying to figure out Taehyung's new schooling and insurance. Go to your room, buddy."

Slowly, Jungkook dropped his hands to his sides. He looked down at the bright crayon drawing. He had worked so hard on it.

He walked up the stairs, his small feet feeling heavy. When he reached the bedroom, he saw Taehyung sleeping under the covers, his face pale and strained even in sleep. His mother was sitting on the edge of Taehyung's bed, gently stroking the older boy’s hair with a look of pure, agonizing devotion—a look she used to give only to Jungkook.

A sharp, painful burning sensation flared up in Jungkook’s throat. He felt a hot surge of jealousy and anger that he didn't know how to express.

It’s always Taehyung, the little boy thought, his lower lip trembling as tears of frustration finally spilled over his eyes. Taehyung took my room. He took my parents. He won't even play with me anymore, but everyone loves him more than me.

Jungkook crinkled the drawing in his fist, crushing the paper into a tight ball, and threw it into the trash can by his desk. He climbed into his own bed, pulling the covers completely over his head.

He didn't hate Taehyung yet, but the pure, unconditional adoration he once had for his Tae-hyungie had officially fractured. In its place, a bitter, stubborn wall was beginning to rise.

Thankyou for reading 😘

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