The visitor’s room was a sterile, glass-walled prison within a prison, its transparency a mocking illusion of openness. The walls, smudged with faint traces of fingerprints and time, gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lights that buzzed faintly overhead, casting a sickly pallor over everything. The air was heavy, thick with the antiseptic scent of hospital corridors and the undercurrent of despair that clung to places like this. The linoleum floor was scuffed and cold, reflecting the light in dull, uneven patches. Outside, the world continued—doctors in white coats, guards with stern faces, the distant hum of machinery—but inside this glass cage, time seemed to hold its breath.

Jungkook stepped through the door, his heavy boots thudding against the floor, the sound swallowed by the oppressive silence. His dark eyes scanned the room, and there she was—Y/N, standing in the center, her figure small but resolute, her presence a beacon in the sterile gloom. Her hair caught the light, framing her face in soft waves, but her eyes were what stopped him cold. They were wide, shimmering with unshed tears, a storm of emotions swirling within them—fear, guilt, longing, and an unshakable love that made Jungkook’s chest tighten painfully.

“Y/N,” he breathed, his voice rough, raw, like it had been torn from the deepest part of him. He crossed the room in two long strides, his body moving on instinct, driven by a need he couldn’t name. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her into a desperate, bruising embrace, as if he could meld her into himself and keep her there forever. His face buried in the crook of her neck, and he inhaled her scent—warm, familiar, like home. His lips pressed against her skin, fervent kisses trailing along her neck, each one a silent confession, a plea for forgiveness, a vow he couldn’t voice. “I’m sorry,” he murmured against her, his voice trembling, barely audible. “I’m so sorry.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, a sob breaking free as she melted into him, her arms wrapping around his shoulders, fingers digging into the fabric of his worn shirt. Tears spilled down her cheeks, hot and unrelenting, soaking into his collar as she clung to him. “Jungkook,” she choked out, her voice shattering the quiet. “Why? Why didn’t you tell me? About your past, your mother, your… your trauma?” Her words were sharp, jagged with pain, each one cutting deeper as she pulled back just enough to meet his gaze. “Why did you hide it from me?”

Jungkook’s heart lurched, the weight of her question pressing down on him like a physical force. His knees buckled, and he sank to the floor, his hands clutching her waist as if she were the only thing tethering him to reality. His forehead rested against her stomach, his body trembling as sobs tore through him, raw and unfiltered, exposing the cracks in the armor he’d worn for so long. “I was afraid,” he admitted, his voice barely a whisper, thick with shame and fear. “I was so fucking afraid, Y/N. Everyone left me—my mother, my family, everyone. I thought… I thought if you knew how broken I was, you’d leave too. I couldn’t lose you. I couldn’t.”

Y/N’s heart shattered at the sight of him—this man, so strong, so fierce, reduced to a trembling figure on his knees, baring his soul in a way she’d never seen. Her own tears fell faster, and she dropped to the floor, her knees hitting the cold linoleum as she cupped his face in her hands. His skin was warm under her palms, but his eyes—red, puffy, glistening with tears—were what broke her. They were the eyes of a boy, not the man the world feared, and the vulnerability in them made her chest ache with a love so fierce it hurt.

“Jungkook,” she whispered, her voice trembling but resolute, “I never doubted you. Not your love, not your heart. You’re my first, my last, my everything.” Her thumbs brushed away the tears on his cheeks, her touch gentle but firm. “I’m the one who messed up. I tried to move on with Taehyung, and I hate myself for it. But I couldn’t, Jungkook. My heart was always yours. It’s always been you.”

Jungkook’s breath shuddered, his hands tightening on her waist as he leaned into her touch, chasing the warmth of her hands like a drowning man reaching for air. “No,” he rasped, shaking his head, his voice thick with self-loathing. “It’s my fault. I should’ve trusted you. I should’ve told you about the nightmares, the pain, the things I’ve carried since I was a kid. I thought hiding it would keep you close, but I pushed you away instead. I fucked it all up.”

Y/N shook her head fiercely, her tears falling onto his hands as she leaned forward, pressing soft, urgent kisses to his lips, his cheeks, his forehead. Each kiss was a promise, a reassurance, a vow. “I’m here now, Kookie,” she murmured against his skin, her voice a soothing balm. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise you, I’ll get you out of here. Trust me, baby. I’m not leaving you.”

Jungkook’s eyes flickered with a fragile hope, a spark igniting in the depths of his despair. He pulled her closer, his arms wrapping around her tightly, as if he could anchor himself to her forever. “I won’t let you go, angel,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, cracking under the weight of his love. “Never again. You’re mine.”

“I know, Kookie,” Y/N cooed, her fingers threading through his dark hair, soothing him as she rubbed gentle circles on his back. “I know. I’m here.” She pulled back slightly, her eyes scanning his face with concern. His features were gaunt, the shadows under his eyes deeper than she remembered, a testament to the toll this place had taken. “Have you eaten anything?” she asked, her voice soft but laced with worry.

Jungkook shook his head, his gaze dropping to the floor, almost ashamed. Y/N sighed, her heart aching at how hollow he looked, how the weight of his pain had carved itself into his body. “Okay, okay,” she said gently, reaching for the small tiffin box she’d brought, placed on the floor behind her. “Look, I brought your favorite—kimbap and bulgogi. You need to eat, Kookie.”

His eyes lit up, just a flicker, as she opened the box, revealing neatly packed rolls of kimbap and tender strips of bulgogi, their savory aroma cutting through the sterile air. But he didn’t let go of her, his hands still clinging to her waist, as if afraid she’d vanish if he released her. “It’s okay, Kookie,” she murmured, her voice a gentle lullaby. “I’m right here. Now open your mouth, baby. Eat.”

Jungkook obeyed, his lips parting as she fed him a piece of kimbap, her fingers brushing against his mouth. He chewed slowly, his eyes never leaving hers, drinking in her presence like it was the only thing keeping him alive. She spoke softly, her voice a steady stream of comfort—telling him about her day, the stray cat she’d seen on her way, the way the sky looked at dusk—anything to fill the silence with her voice, to remind him she was real, that she was there.

Outside the glass walls, the world watched in hushed reverence. Jin stood with Mr. Choi and the doctors, his broad shoulders tense, his eyes red-rimmed as he fought back tears. He’d always known Jungkook was strong, unyielding, a force of nature that nothing could break. But seeing him like this—on his knees, clinging to Y/N, his heart laid bare—shattered something in Jin. Mr. Choi, usually stoic, had tears glistening in his eyes, his hands clasped tightly in front of him. He’d never imagined Jungkook, the boy he’d watched grow into a man, could hold so much pain inside.

The doctors exchanged glances, their faces a mix of awe and disbelief. For seven days, Jungkook had been a wall—unyielding, defiant, refusing their help, their words, their attempts to reach him. Yet here he was, pliant and open, eating from Y/N’s hand, hanging on her every word like a lifeline. It was a miracle, one they couldn’t explain.

Jin’s voice was steady, but it carried the weight of his resolve as he turned to the doctors. “I’ll take him as soon as I can,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Let Y/N stay with him as long as possible. Mr. Choi, stay close to them. I’ll handle the office from now on.”

“Yes, sir,” Mr. Choi replied, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll make sure Miss Y/N gets back safely.”

The group dispersed, their footsteps fading down the corridor, leaving the glass room behind. Inside, the world shrank to just Y/N and Jungkook, their love a blazing fire in the cold, sterile space.

---

**Time Skip: Y/N and Jungkook’s POV**

The room was quiet now, save for the soft rustle of Y/N’s fingers carding through Jungkook’s dark hair. He lay across the bench, his head resting in her lap, his body curled toward her like a child seeking solace. One of his hands clutched hers, pressed against his chest, where she could feel the steady thump of his heartbeat, strong and sure beneath her palm. His eyes were closed, his breathing even, a rare peace settling over his features as he slept, his face soft and unguarded in a way Y/N hadn’t seen in years.

She gazed down at him, her heart swelling with a love so fierce it felt like it might consume her. She traced the lines of his face with her eyes—the sharp angle of his jaw, the soft curve of his lips, the faint scar above his eyebrow that she’d always wanted to ask about but never had. Who could have imagined this man, so strong, so dangerous, could be this fragile? Yet, in this moment, he was simply Jungkook—her Jungkook, the boy who’d loved her with every piece of his broken heart, who’d never looked at another because to him, she was everything.

Her mind drifted to the years apart, the mistakes she’d made, the fleeting attempt to love Taehyung. Guilt gnawed at her, but it was overshadowed by the truth that her heart had always belonged to Jungkook. He was different—loyal, devoted, the man she’d always craved, even when she’d tried to run from it. His trust, his faith in her, had brought her back to him, and now, seeing him like this, she knew she’d never leave again.

Leaning down, she pressed a tender kiss to his forehead, her lips lingering against his warm skin. “I love you, my Kookie,” she whispered, her voice soft but fierce with promise. “No matter what, I’m not leaving you. I’ll help you heal. I’ll be your safe place, your home, your everything.”

Jungkook stirred slightly, his grip on her hand tightening, as if even in sleep, he heard her, felt her. A faint smile curved his lips, and Y/N’s heart swelled, her fingers resuming their gentle path through his hair. In this cold, glass-walled room, surrounded by pain and uncertainty, their love burned brighter, stronger, an unbreakable tether that would carry them through whatever came next. She would fight for him, for them, with every breath she had. And as she watched him sleep, peaceful in her arms, she knew he’d do the same for her.

30 minutes later

The glass-walled visitor’s room was bathed in the same harsh fluorescent glow, but the air felt softer now, warmed by the lingering presence of Y/N and Jungkook’s shared vulnerability. Jungkook lay across the bench, his head still resting in Y/N’s lap, his breathing steady and calm, a stark contrast to the storm that had raged within him earlier. Y/N’s fingers wove gently through his dark hair, her touch a quiet anchor in the sterile silence. The faint hum of the hospital beyond the glass walls was distant, irrelevant, as if the world outside had faded to a mere echo. For the past thirty minutes, Jungkook had slept, his face peaceful, the lines of tension smoothed away, his hand still clutching hers against his chest.

Y/N glanced at the small clock on the wall, its hands ticking mercilessly forward. Her heart sank as she realized her time was nearly up. The doctors had been generous, granting her six hours with Jungkook—an exception made because of his unique case, because of the way her presence seemed to unravel the walls he’d built around himself. But now, the moment she dreaded loomed closer. She had to leave.

“Kookie,” she whispered softly, her fingers pausing in his hair. “Baby, wake up.”

Jungkook stirred, his eyes fluttering open, heavy with sleep but instantly locking onto hers. The warmth in his gaze shifted to alarm as he registered the shift in her tone. He sat up slowly, his hand tightening around hers, his brows furrowing. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice low, edged with a creeping panic.

Y/N swallowed, her throat tight. “I have to go soon, Kookie,” she said gently, her voice steady despite the ache in her chest. “They only gave me a few hours, and… it’s time.”

Jungkook’s face fell, his eyes widening with a childlike desperation that made her heart twist. “No,” he said quickly, his voice rising, tinged with a whine that was so unlike the man the world knew. “No, you can’t leave. Not yet. Y/N, please.” He shifted closer, his hands gripping her arms, his fingers trembling. “You just got here. You can’t go.”

“Kookie, listen to me,” Y/N said, her voice calm but firm, her hands cupping his face to ground him. “I’m coming back tomorrow. I promise. I’ll bring more of your favorite food—kimbap, bulgogi, maybe some tteokbokki too. And I’m going to talk to the doctors, okay? I’m going to make sure we get you out of here. But I have to go now. Just for a little while.”

Jungkook shook his head, his lips pressing into a stubborn line, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I don’t want you to go,” he mumbled, his voice small, almost petulant. “What if… what if you don’t come back? What if something happens?” His grip tightened, his breath hitching as the familiar panic clawed at him, the fear of abandonment that had haunted him since childhood.

Y/N’s heart ached, but she kept her voice steady, soothing. “Kookie, look at me,” she said, tilting his chin up so their eyes met. “I’m not leaving you. Not ever. I’ll be back tomorrow, and every day after that until you’re out of here. You’re not alone anymore. I’m with you, okay? Always.”

His eyes searched hers, desperate for reassurance, and slowly, the tension in his shoulders eased, though his hands still clung to her. “Promise?” he whispered, his voice barely audible, raw with vulnerability.

“I promise,” Y/N said, her voice fierce with conviction. She leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, then his cheek, her lips lingering as if to seal the vow. “I love you, Jungkook. Nothing’s going to keep me away.”

A few minutes earlier, a doctor had entered the room, a tray of medication in hand. Jungkook, who had spent the past week snarling at anyone who tried to approach him with pills or needles, had taken the medicine from Y/N without a single protest. She’d handed him the small cup of pills, her voice gentle but firm, and he’d swallowed them like they were his favorite candy, his eyes never leaving her face. The doctor had watched in stunned silence, scribbling notes, clearly amazed at the transformation Y/N’s presence had wrought.

Now, as Y/N stood to leave, Jungkook’s hands tightened around her waist again, pulling her back down. “Don’t go,” he pleaded, his voice breaking. “Please, Y/N. Just… stay a little longer.”

“Kookie,” she said softly, kneeling in front of him, her hands resting on his knees. “I don’t want to leave either. But I have to, just for now. I’ll be back before you know it. And we’re going to get through this together, okay? You’re so strong, and I’m so proud of you.”

Jungkook’s lip trembled, but he nodded, his hands reluctantly loosening their grip. “Okay,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “But… come back soon, angel.”

“I will,” she promised, her eyes stinging with tears she refused to let fall. She stood, helping him to his feet, and pulled him into one last embrace. Their lips met in a passionate, desperate kiss, a collision of love and longing that made the world outside the glass walls fade away. Jungkook poured everything into it—his fear, his hope, his unwavering devotion—his hands cradling her face like she was something precious he’d never let go.

“I’ll do anything,” he murmured against her lips, his voice fierce with determination. “Any treatment, any therapy, anything they want. I’ll do it all, Y/N. I want to get better. I want to spend my life with you. No matter how hard it is, I’ll fight for it. For you.”

Y/N’s heart swelled, her hands tightening on his shirt as she pulled back to look at him. “You’re not alone in this, Kookie,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “I’m with you. We’ll fight this together, and we’ll win. I know we will.”

The door to the room opened, and Mr. Choi stepped inside, his expression somber but respectful. He cleared his throat, his eyes flickering between Jungkook and Y/N. “Miss Y/N, it’s time,” he said quietly, then turned to Jungkook, his voice softer. “Jungkook, I… I’m sorry. For everything. I should’ve done more to help you.”

Jungkook’s jaw tightened, but Y/N squeezed his hand, her eyes pleading. “Kookie, he’s trying. Please,” she whispered. “For me.”

Jungkook’s gaze softened, and he nodded, his voice low but steady. “It’s okay, Mr. Choi. I forgive you.” His eyes flicked to Y/N, a small smile tugging at his lips. “But you better take care of her with your life. Bring her back tomorrow.”

Mr. Choi nodded solemnly, his eyes glistening with gratitude. “I will, Jungkook. I swear it. She’ll be safe, and I’ll bring her back tomorrow.”

He stepped outside, giving them a moment of privacy. Jungkook pulled Y/N into another kiss, this one softer but no less intense, a promise sealed in the warmth of their shared breath. “I love you, angel,” he whispered, his forehead resting against hers.

“I love you too, Kookie,” Y/N replied, her voice a gentle vow. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

With a final, lingering touch, Y/N stepped back, her heart heavy as she walked toward the door. Jungkook watched her go, his chest aching but steadied by her promise. As the door closed behind her, the glass walls seemed to close in, but the warmth of her presence lingered, a lifeline he clung to.

---

Jungkook returned to his cell, the heavy clang of the door echoing in the dim corridor. The air was colder here, the flickering fluorescent lights casting jagged shadows across the cracked concrete walls. Jimin was still there, sprawled across his bunk, his head tilted back against the wall, eyes closed in what looked like peaceful sleep. The fidget spinner lay still in his hand, its silver blades catching the faint light.

Jungkook sank onto his own bunk, the creak of the metal frame loud in the silence. He lay back, staring at the ceiling, his mind replaying every moment with Y/N—her touch, her voice, her promise. His heart felt fuller than it had in years, but the ache of her absence was a sharp edge against it. Still, he closed his eyes, her face vivid in his mind. “I’ll do this for you, angel,” he whispered to the empty cell, his voice soft but resolute. “No matter what it takes, I’ll get back to you.”

Outside, Y/N walked down the corridor with Mr. Choi, her steps heavy but her heart resolute. The doctors had been clear—Jungkook’s progress today, his willingness to take his medication, to open up, to eat, was because of her. They were optimistic, convinced that with her by his side, he could heal. And Y/N knew, deep in her bones, that she would be there every step of the way. For Jungkook, for their love, she would fight until he was free, until they could build the life they both deserved.

As she stepped into the cold evening air, the weight of the day settled over her, but so did a fierce

determination. Tomorrow, she'll be back. And every day after that, until Jungkook was whole again.

To be continued..