🔴On hold because of a lack of response. I'll restart updates, maybe in June or July.🔴
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In the shadow of life's trials, orphaned Jungkook, falsely accused of murder, faces abandonment from friends and dwindling self-resp...
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The room had been shrouded in silence for the past three hours as Jungkook slumbered, cocooned in the embrace of Sunday evening. For him, Sundays were a cherished sanctuary, a respite that allowed him to shed the weariness of six long days.
As he stirred, stretching his body, Jungkook's eyes fluttered open, meeting the veil of darkness that cloaked his surroundings. His fingers groped for his phone on the nightstand, its cold screen illuminating the time: 8 o'clock in the night.
An audible growl emanated from his stomach, a reminder that he had last eaten at 2 p.m. With languid movements, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and rose. His attire was simple: a white t-shirt and a black half-pyjama.
He used the washroom, and a gnawing hunger drove him to the kitchen, where the dim light cast long shadows across the floor. His culinary ambitions were modest tonight; a pan sizzled to life as he set water to boil, a packet of noodles ready for their transformation.
Yet, in the quiet of his apartment, a melancholic fatigue descended upon him. It was a weariness that ran deeper than physical exhaustion—a weariness of a life spent alone.
The darkness seemed to envelop him, and the stillness felt oppressive. There was no one to greet him, no one to engage in casual conversation.
The memories resurfaced, as they often did when he was alone.
Jungkook's life had begun in abandonment, as a tiny soul left at the gates of an orphanage, according to the aged caretaker who'd watched him grow into a young man.
Jungkook had been alone from the very start.
mention of child sexual abuse ⚠️🔴
The years in the orphanage had been a mixed tapestry of human encounters—the well-meaning teachers, the overworked caretakers, and the occasional guests, not all of whom had been kind. It was a world where his voice often went unheard, where there was no one to shield him when inappropriate touches violated his innocence, when he was but a fragile 10 or 12-year-old.
🟢🟢 it's ended 🟢🟢
Now, standing in his dimly lit kitchen, the weight of solitude pressed upon him like a leaden shroud. In the quietude, Jungkook confronted the echoes of his past, longing for the warmth of companionship and silently yearning for someone to hear his voice and rescue him from the silence that had marked his life for far too long.
The rhythmic hiss of gas escaping the stove filled Jungkook's quiet apartment, a soothing backdrop to his solitary Sunday evening.
Jungkook's burrow furrowed as there was a loud bang on his door.
Except for the occasional visit from the apartment's owners or friends seeking help with assignments, Jungkook's evenings remained undisturbed.
Jungkook's heart skipped a beat, and he moved slowly towards the door, an uneasy feeling creeping over him. The flame beneath the pot diminished, casting an uncertain light in the kitchen.
