Had a crush. Barely anything. It'll go away soon enough. Each small remark sears like the flicker of sparks against the skin, both barely there and too much all at once. And it's a funny thing, Jungkook thinks. Because if there's one thing Jungkook can generally say for himself, it's that he can withstand a lot. It's not quite a virtue that he can be proud of, but it's something that helps him get through the day to day — no matter how many blows fall against his skin, no matter how many times his father scolds him, no matter how many times the teacher's folder comes down against his forehead, Jungkook will continue to stand and he'll be fine.
He's been through the worst kind of loss and come through, if not exactly stronger, then certainly with thicker skin.
But the one thing he hasn't built any sort of defense against is hurting other people. It's easier for everything to be directed at him. To tread haphazardly over someone else's heart is another matter entirely. The dawning horror when Yoongi had first witnessed the bruises speckled over Jungkook's back. The way Hoseok's hands shake in his own.
In moments like these, Jungkook finds himself wondering if things would be better without him around. If his absence would have everything else falling neatly into place. No more cold anger in his household. No need for his brothers to come and shield him.
(But the thought exercise is pointless, because even in the darkest of hours, Jungkook knows that he cannot leave.)
"You don't have to say that it was barely anything, hyung," Jungkook says, feeling clumsy once he's found his voice. He can't stop staring at their hands. His face feels too warm. "I'm sorry that I never realized."
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He's been through the worst kind of loss and come through, if not exactly stronger, then certainly with thicker skin.
But the one thing he hasn't built any sort of defense against is hurting other people. It's easier for everything to be directed at him. To tread haphazardly over someone else's heart is another matter entirely. The dawning horror when Yoongi had first witnessed the bruises speckled over Jungkook's back. The way Hoseok's hands shake in his own.
In moments like these, Jungkook finds himself wondering if things would be better without him around. If his absence would have everything else falling neatly into place. No more cold anger in his household. No need for his brothers to come and shield him.
(But the thought exercise is pointless, because even in the darkest of hours, Jungkook knows that he cannot leave.)
"You don't have to say that it was barely anything, hyung," Jungkook says, feeling clumsy once he's found his voice. He can't stop staring at their hands. His face feels too warm. "I'm sorry that I never realized."