The infirmary was silent except for the steady beeping of the heart monitor.
Dr. Kim Taehyung sat in the corner, elbows on his knees, his eyes fixed on the boy lying motionless on the bed.
The child’s skin was pale, too pale, with shadows beneath his eyes. His wrist was bandaged, the faint red still visible beneath the gauze. His chest rose and fell shallowly, each breath fragile, as if even breathing cost him strength.
Taehyung’s throat tightened. He had seen patients collapse before. He had seen desperation, trauma, even violence. But never this—a child who didn’t fight, didn’t scream, didn’t resist. Just surrendered to the weight of his pain until his body failed.
Seokjin’s words from the week before echoed in his head. Most of the staff think he’ll never recover. They think he’s too far gone.
Taehyung pressed a hand against his face, trying to block the thought. But it clung to him like smoke.
Hours passed. Nurses came and went. Taehyung stayed. He couldn’t bring himself to leave, not when the boy looked so breakable, as though one more push would shatter him completely.
It was nearly midnight when he finally forced himself home.
---
The apartment was dark except for the warm glow of a lamp in the living room. Taehyung tossed his bag onto the couch and sank into it, running both hands through his hair. His chest felt tight, his mind replaying the image of the boy’s trembling hands, the shard of glass, the collapse.
He didn’t hear the bedroom door open until soft footsteps padded across the floor.
“Taehyung-ah?”
He looked up. Jungkook stood there, dressed in loose sweatpants and a t-shirt, hair mussed from sleep, eyes heavy with worry.
“You’re late again,” Jungkook said gently, sitting down beside him. “And you look… exhausted.”
Taehyung didn’t answer at first. His gaze was far away, still in the sterile room with the broken child. Finally, his voice cracked through the silence.
“He tried to end it tonight.”
Jungkook’s eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t speak—just placed a steady hand on Taehyung’s back.
Taehyung let out a shuddering breath. “He’s only fourteen, Jungkook. Fourteen. And he doesn’t even fight anymore. He didn’t stop because he wanted to live. He stopped because his body gave out.” His voice trembled, the weight of helplessness pressing down. “How do you save someone who doesn’t want saving?”
Jungkook stayed quiet for a moment, his jaw tightening the way it always did when cases at work got under his skin. Finally, he spoke softly:
“You know… I see kids like him too. Not in hospitals, but in courtrooms. Children with no voices, no one to speak for them. They sit there while lawyers argue their fate, while judges stamp papers that decide their lives.” His hand squeezed Taehyung’s shoulder gently. “They look just like him. Silent. Lost. Already punished for things they never chose.”
Taehyung turned his head, watching Jungkook’s profile. Even now, even at home, Jungkook carried the weight of every case.
“You fight for them in your way,” Jungkook continued, his voice firmer now. “And I fight for them in mine. That’s why you can’t give up, Tae. Because if we stop… who else will stand for them?”
Taehyung’s eyes burned. He leaned into Jungkook’s embrace, the steady rhythm of his husband’s heartbeat grounding him. For a moment, the crushing helplessness eased—not gone, but lighter.
And in that fragile quiet, he made a silent promise.
He would not abandon that boy to his silence. Not tomorrow. Not ever.
Thank you for reading 🙏
