[**Title: Burnt Petals**]
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[[ P A R T - 1 ]]
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The sky above Daegu held a peculiar hue that evening, as if it remembered what the boy beneath it had lost.
(**Chapter One: The Boy with the Mask**)
The small convenience store stood like a quiet companion on the corner of a dusty road, tucked between faded buildings and fading hopes. Inside, 18-year-old Kim Taehyung arranged bottles and stocked snacks with a gentle grace. His face was half-hidden behind a black mask, the kind people wore for dust or fashion. But for Taehyung, it was armor.
The burn scars on his left cheek and neck were the remnants of a fire he couldn't forget — the fire that took his parents when he was just twelve. He had tried to save them. He still remembered the scream that tore through his throat as the flames licked his skin.
His uncle, Kim Daejun, took him in without complaint. Raised him with quiet love until his death just two years ago. Now, Taehyung ran this store alone. He had given up dreams — college, singing — all buried beneath duty and the weight of misfortune. The world didn’t owe him kindness, but he found light in small things: the chirp of birds, the softness of an old lullaby, the smile of a kind customer.
But the taunts remained — sharp and shameless.
“He hides his face like a criminal,” someone would whisper.
“No wonder he never went back to school. Who’d want to look at that every day?” another would chuckle.
Yet others were kind. Old Mrs. Choi, who always left a tip. Little Haneul, who said Taehyung’s humming made the candy sweeter.
Taehyung never stopped hoping — not fully. His voice, a gift he protected more than his scars, was his last untouched treasure.
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(**Chapter Two: The Man Who Heard the Song**)
Jungkook arrived in Daegu in early spring — an engineer with tired eyes and worn boots. He didn’t believe in fate. He believed in cement, foundations, steel. The construction project near the hills was demanding, and he often returned late. One night, while walking back from the site, he heard it.
A voice — soft, sorrowful, rich with longing.
He stopped in his tracks. Behind the convenience store, someone was singing. The song curled into the night air like incense. And then, through the sliver between trees, he saw a pair of eyes — brown, deep, and unbearably beautiful.
“Who… are you?” he murmured, like a prayer.
He walked past that store every night after that. Sometimes the voice returned. Sometimes silence answered. But the memory of it haunted him. Jungkook imagined the boy — beautiful, pure, his voice like velvet.
He asked around. Some scoffed. “That’s Taehyung. Mask boy. You won’t want to know.”
But others offered kindness. “His parents died saving him. He’s a good soul. Just… scarred.”
Jungkook thought about it for days. Then decided.
He wanted to marry him.
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(**Chapter Three: The Masked Wedding**)
Jungkook arrived at Taehyung’s door with a few neighbors — unknowingly, the ones who pitied Taehyung to his face but mocked him behind closed doors.
“I want to offer you a good life,” Jungkook said with soft determination. “I… want to marry you.”
Taehyung hesitated. His fingers clutched the mask. “Why?” he whispered.
“Because you deserve happiness,” Jungkook replied. “Let me give that to you.”
Surrounded by false smiles and decades of disappointment, Taehyung nodded. Just once.
The wedding was rushed. Taehyung wore white. Jungkook's heart raced — until the moment he saw beneath the mask.
A single breath escaped him. His smile vanished. Shock turned to betrayal.
“You… tricked me,” Jungkook whispered. “You’re not the person I thought you were.”
The crowd murmured. Whispers of cruelty. Taehyung stood silent, shivering.
But Jungkook couldn't flee — not with Daegu eyes watching. Not with the promise he had made to his late parents:
*Never run. Face it. Solve it.*
So he cried instead. Bitter tears, angry ones. And married Taehyung with shaking hands.
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(**Chapter Four: The Night of Real Lies**)
That night, Taehyung didn’t enter their bedroom. Instead, he called Jungkook to the convenience store.
He wore a different mask — the same he used when singing. The one Jungkook had fallen in love with.
“I know you hate me now,” he said gently, standing among shelves and flickering lights. “But please… learn to love the person I really am. Your husband.”
Jungkook stared. His eyes widened. “You…”
He stepped forward, grabbing Taehyung by the wrist. “Don’t ever try to leave me. I don’t care if you lied. I won’t let you go.”
“Jungkook… you don’t understand. I’m—”
“I don’t want to understand!” Jungkook shouted, his voice cracking. “I love you. That voice… those eyes… they’re mine.”
And Taehyung, helplessly and foolishly, agreed. Still masked. Still afraid.
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(**Chapter Five: When Trust Shatters**)
Weeks passed. One day, at a local carnival, Taehyung won a lottery — one million won. Joy filled his tired heart. He ran to tell Jungkook.
But Jungkook's eyes narrowed. "So that’s why you married me?"
“No!” Taehyung begged. “I didn’t even know—!”
“Liar!” Jungkook snapped. “You were waiting for this moment, weren’t you?”
He dragged Taehyung into his truck, drove to the remains of Taehyung’s old home, and left him there, sobbing in the dust.
“I never want to see your face again.”
And he drove away, deaf to Taehyung’s cries.
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(**Chapter Six: Truth in Ruins**)
Weeks passed. Then one evening, a fight broke out between two gangs near the construction site. Jungkook, heading back, heard a voice singing — cracked, soft, full of pain.
That voice.
He ran toward the store. And saw him. Taehyung.
Jungkook's heart clenched. His chest ached.
Then — a brick flew, shattering the signboard. Without thinking, Jungkook pulled Taehyung inside. Protected him with his body. Locked the door.
And turned.
Taehyung’s mask had fallen. His eyes were wet.
“You… It was always you,” Jungkook whispered, trembling.
“Yes,” Taehyung whispered. “But you never saw.”
Jungkook cupped his scarred face, tears running freely now.
“I’m so sorry. I was blind. I hurt you—”
“You did,” Taehyung nodded slowly. “But maybe I hurt myself too. Believing love could be built on lies… even soft ones.”
“I want to start again. Please. Let me learn you.”
Taehyung didn’t answer right away.
But his voice rose — a song. A broken, healing song that filled the small store with something holy.
Jungkook closed his eyes, held him close.
And this time, he saw beauty — real, raw, and everlasting.
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[[ P A R T - 2 ]]
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(**Chapter Seven: The Unopened Suitcase**)
The train moved through the night like a distant lullaby, carrying them toward the southern coast. Jungkook sat beside Taehyung in silence, eyes flickering to the suitcase at his feet — the one Taehyung packed himself, carefully, with clothes and memories Jungkook never noticed before.
Neither of them spoke.
The silence was not cold… just uncertain. Like standing in a shallow sea unsure if a wave would knock them down or lift them.
At the small seaside lodge, Jungkook hesitated before unlocking the door.
Taehyung stepped in first, then turned.
“You don’t have to do this.”
Jungkook swallowed. “I know.”
He placed the key on the table and walked to the window. The sea roared like it was angry for them both.
“I used to imagine our honeymoon would be peaceful,” Taehyung said quietly. “When I was younger… I thought the man I marry would take me somewhere far, kiss my forehead, and call me beautiful.”
Jungkook didn’t look at him. “I didn’t deserve to hear your dreams.”
“No,” Taehyung replied softly. “You didn’t.”
They slept in separate beds that night. But both watched the ceiling until dawn.
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(**Chapter Eight: Jungkook’s POV – The Weight of the Mask**)
I thought I had known pain.
I’ve seen people lose jobs. I’ve had friends cheat, promises break, bridges burn. But nothing — nothing — prepared me for the moment I realized I had loved a voice but not the soul behind it.
Taehyung was always gentle. Even when I was cruel. Even when I avoided his gaze, afraid I’d see shame reflected in his eyes.
But he never gave me shame.
He gave me silence. Then a smile. Then, for a moment, forgiveness — in the form of a song, sung behind closed doors while he thought I wasn’t listening.
What kind of man am I?
I kissed a stranger and threatened him to stay — and he stayed because he *wasn’t* a stranger.
The truth is: I didn’t fall in love with Taehyung’s beauty. I fell in love with my illusion. And when the mask came off, I mourned the illusion instead of embracing the truth.
But that ends now.
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(**Chapter Nine: Taehyung’s POV – The Scar That Speaks**)
He looked at me today.
Not glanced. Not peeked from the corner of his guilt. He *looked.*
And I didn’t flinch.
For years, I thought I had made peace with the fire. But Jungkook’s rejection reminded me — scars don’t just form on skin. They linger in words unspoken. They sting when someone you love… pauses.
But I saw his tears. He didn’t cry for my face. He cried for his blindness.
And maybe that’s why I sang again last night — quietly, barefoot on cold tiles, while folding the bedsheets.
It was for me, not him. But he heard.
And that’s when I knew — maybe I hadn’t lost all of him.
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(**Chapter Ten: The Night the Sea Held Them**)
The fourth night of the trip, the rain came.
Soft at first, then furious.
They had just returned from a walk where neither said much, but Jungkook kept holding the umbrella slightly tilted toward Taehyung.
Back inside, Taehyung sat beside the window, knees drawn up, watching droplets trail down the glass.
Jungkook stood behind him. “Do you… want to talk?”
Taehyung shrugged. “Words feel heavy. Even when they’re light.”
Jungkook knelt beside him. “Then let me give you silence. Just mine.”
Taehyung turned.
“You hurt me.”
“I know.”
“You frightened me.”
“I hate myself for it.”
“I almost stopped singing.”
Jungkook reached for his hand. “Please… don’t ever stop. Even if I’m not there to hear it.”
Taehyung’s voice cracked. “Why did you come back?”
“Because I realized,” Jungkook said, eyes brimming, “that you were never hiding from me. I was hiding from you.”
Silence.
Then a soft sob escaped Taehyung’s lips, and he crumpled into Jungkook’s chest. They stayed there, two broken hearts in a storm, trying to fit the pieces together without a map.
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(**Chapter Eleven: The Wedding Night, Rewritten**)
They didn’t make love that night.
They undressed — slowly — not out of lust, but to let the scars breathe.
Jungkook kissed every burn. Not to erase it. But to honor it.
Taehyung wept into the pillow, not because he was hurt — but because he was healing.
And for the first time since that fire, he slept without the mask.
In the morning, the sun rose through lace curtains, casting light over them both.
Taehyung whispered, “You finally see me.”
Jungkook replied, “I was always blind until now.”
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(**Chapter Twelve: When Love Becomes Ordinary**)
They returned to Daegu after ten days.
People still whispered. But Jungkook held Taehyung’s hand tighter now. He helped at the store. He repaired the broken signboard. He brought back Taehyung’s lost guitar from the pawn shop.
One afternoon, a little girl asked:
“Ajusshi, why does your face look like crumbled paper?”
Taehyung knelt and smiled. “Because fire kissed me once. But I kissed life back.”
The girl giggled.
Behind them, Jungkook watched his husband with pride — knowing he had almost let something this beautiful slip away.
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[[ P A R T - 3 ]]
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(**Chapter Thirteen: His Song, My Sky**)
It began with a guitar.
Second-hand. Slightly out of tune. A gift from Jungkook on Taehyung’s 23rd birthday, wrapped in newspaper and a ribbon that clearly came from a bouquet of construction-site flowers.
“I don’t have much,” Jungkook had said shyly, “but I thought maybe… if you want to sing again…”
Taehyung had stared at it, blinking.
Then he whispered, “You remembered.”
Jungkook only smiled. “I never forgot.”
And so the music returned — not grand, not glamorous. But it began. A song here. A tune there. Sometimes in front of the store, while arranging fruit baskets. Sometimes at night, on the rooftop under broken fairy lights.
The first time someone left a tip in his guitar case, Taehyung looked around, bewildered.
The second time, he smiled.
By the fifth, he cried.
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(**Chapter Fourteen: Lovers in the Rain Again**)
Their love wasn’t perfect.
Jungkook snored. Taehyung left lights on. Jungkook liked spicy food; Taehyung preferred sweet.
Jungkook struggled with nightmares — memories of shouting voices, of pushing Taehyung away, of the brick almost hitting his love’s head that night.
Taehyung had bouts of doubt — whispering in the dark, “Would you still love me if the world told you not to?”
But they never let go. Even when they argued, they stayed in the same room. Even when silence took over, their fingers remained loosely entwined.
One rainy evening, Jungkook rushed from the site to the square where Taehyung was performing.
Taehyung stood under a plastic tarp, guitar in hand, soaked to his bones, eyes closed as he sang a soft folk melody.
Jungkook stood among the crowd — drenched, breathless.
A man behind him muttered, “Lucky guy, to have a husband who loves like that.”
Jungkook turned, smile unfading. “No. *I’m* the lucky one.”
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(**Chapter Fifteen: The Town That Listened**)
Daegu was a city of murmurs — always had been.
But even Daegu changed.
Mrs. Park, once the queen of gossip, now brought orange juice to the store on performance days.
The boy who once called Taehyung ‘Ghostface’ now filmed his songs and uploaded them online with hashtags like #VoiceOfDaegu and #HealingSinger.
A teacher invited him to sing at the local school for Burn Survivors Day. Taehyung hesitated.
“What if they see me and feel scared?”
Jungkook squeezed his hand. “What if they see you and feel brave?”
He sang.
They clapped.
A little boy came up and asked, “Can I be like you when I grow up?”
Taehyung’s voice broke when he said, “You can be better.”
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(**Chapter Sixteen: Home in the Smallest Things**)
They made a ritual of mundane things.
Jungkook brewed tea every morning — chamomile for Taehyung, green for himself.
Taehyung sang while folding laundry, humming Jungkook’s name into the melody.
They danced in the kitchen — badly, often stepping on each other’s toes.
They fought over silly things like whether cats or dogs were better (the stray dog Taehyung adopted won that argument).
On winter nights, Taehyung warmed Jungkook’s hands with his own, repeating, *“Even burn scars give warmth.”*
Jungkook once whispered during sleep, “You saved me… from myself.”
Taehyung replied, “We both learned to love fire, didn’t we?”
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(**Chapter Seventeen: The Stage and the Stand**)
Taehyung’s popularity grew — slowly, sweetly.
Not as a K-pop idol. But as the **"streetlight voice"** of Daegu.
He was invited to radio shows. Charity concerts. Community halls.
Sometimes, journalists asked if he’d consider surgery for cosmetic repair.
He’d just smile and say, “Why fix what sings so well?”
Jungkook, always backstage, always clapping first, sometimes wiping a tear before it fell.
People noticed.
Not just his talent, but the man who stood beside him — the husband who never let go.
Passersby often whispered with envy,
“Wish someone looked at me like Jungkook looks at him.”
“Must be nice, to be loved like that…”
But it wasn’t luck. It was built.
Brick by brick. Song by song. Forgiveness by forgiveness.
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(**Chapter Eighteen: Imperfectly Perfect**)
On their seventh anniversary, they held a small concert outside their store. Lanterns swayed. A bench was painted with the words *“Love grew here.”*
As Taehyung sang a new song — raw, poetic, full of the past — Jungkook watched like it was the first time.
When the song ended, Taehyung turned and said into the mic, voice trembling:
“He never asked me to be beautiful. But he helped me feel it anyway.”
Jungkook walked onto the makeshift stage, held the mic too.
“I never gave him a palace. But he turned my heart into one.”
The crowd laughed. Cried.
And Daegu… finally clapped.
Not out of pity.
But out of respect.
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((**Epilogue: After the Storm**))
Years later, people still remembered them.
The singer with the voice of honey and scars.
The engineer who built roads by day, and a home by heart.
They weren’t perfect.
But they were real.
Their love wasn’t a fairytale.
It was a melody — sometimes off-key, sometimes glorious.
And always, always unforgettable.
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[[ T H E - E N D ]]
[A/N: I TRIED TO MAKE A SWEET & SOFT ENDING. HOPE, IT'S STILL LIKABLE!♡]
