STAY

The scream tore through the sterile silence of the psychiatric ward like shattered glass.

"Get off me!! Don’t touch me—please, please no!!"

Room 207 was in chaos.

Taehyung was thrashing violently, his body slick with sweat, eyes wild with fear. He’d torn the IV line out of his arm, blood trailing along the floor tiles. Two male nurses struggled to hold him down as he screamed, kicked, and cried—his voice raw and broken.

“Sedation! Restraints, now!”

“Don’t lock me there again—please don’t—I didn’t say anything I promise—hyung please—Jungkook—!”

The name slipped from his lips like a desperate prayer.

Jungkook, who had just entered the corridor, froze at the sound.

No.

Not again.

Not his Taehyung.

“Let me through!” he barked, throwing off his white coat as he sprinted down the hall.

“But sir—Dr. Jeon—he’s in the middle of a psychotic—”

“I SAID LET ME THROUGH!”

He pushed past the staff, heart pounding like a war drum in his chest.

Taehyung was strapped to the bed now—leather restraints tight around his wrists and ankles. He was sobbing, his voice hoarse. His head turned rapidly, panic written all over his face as he thrashed against the belts.

“NO! Don’t put me in the dark again—I didn’t talk about them—please don’t punish me! I miss Koo—I want my Koo!”

That was it.

Jungkook nearly lost it.

He stormed into the room, eyes flashing with fury and agony. “Unstrap him. Now.”

“But sir—”

“I SAID NOW!!”

The staff hesitated—then, seeing the fire in his eyes, they obeyed. Quickly. Quietly.

Jungkook climbed onto the bed and gathered Taehyung in his arms the second he was free. Taehyung screamed again—but this time his fists hit Jungkook’s chest.

Taehyung looked at Jungkook as if he's not real.

“You left me!” he sobbed. “You didn’t come! They hurt me and you didn’t come!”

“I’m here , love” Jungkook whispered shakily, holding him tighter. “I didn’t know, angel. I would’ve burned the whole world if I knew. I’m so, so sorry...”

Taehyung’s nails scratched his neck as he panicked again, eyes darting around the room. “They're watching—your parents—they said you’d never come for me—THEY SAID—”

“They’re gone, Tae.” Jungkook cupped his face gently, forcing Taehyung to look at him. “They’ll never touch you again. I made sure of it. You’re safe. I swear on my life.”

“But I’m broken…”

“No, baby. You’re healing. You’re fighting. You’re so strong.”

Taehyung’s trembling hands clutched his shirt tightly, sobs starting to soften into hiccups. Jungkook rocked him back and forth on the hospital bed, whispering over and over:

“You’re mine. You’re safe. You’re loved.”

The entire ward outside had fallen silent, watching the way the cold, distant psychiatrist had fallen to his knees, crying with his patient—his husband—like he couldn’t breathe without him.

___________________________

Weeks Later...

Taehyung sat on a bench in the hospital garden, beneath a tree, sketching again—his pencil moving gently across the page.

The past few weeks had been a blur of therapy, medication, and moments of small victories. His episodes had lessened, but the shadows still lingered in the corners of his mind. Still, there was one thing that remained constant—Jungkook.

Jungkook, who never left his side. Jungkook, who held him through his darkest hours. Jungkook, who loved him with a quiet, fierce devotion that Taehyung had never imagined he deserved.

A soft breeze ruffled Taehyung’s hair as Jungkook approached. The way Taehyung’s heart skipped at the sight of him had not changed. Neither had the warmth in his chest whenever Jungkook smiled at him.

“Hey, angel,” Jungkook greeted, crouching down beside the bench. He gently brushed a lock of hair from Taehyung’s face, his touch soft and tender.

Taehyung smiled faintly, glancing at the sketchbook in his hands. “I’m trying to draw the sky… like you always said we’d fly to the stars together.”

Jungkook’s breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, he was speechless. His eyes softened as he sat next to Taehyung, resting his hand on the back of his neck. "We will, Tae. I promise."

There was a long silence between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that spoke volumes, filled with the unspoken bond that had only grown stronger in the past few weeks.

Taehyung closed his sketchbook and turned to face Jungkook. His eyes were still full of uncertainty, but there was a spark of something more—something hopeful.

“Am I getting better, Koo?” he asked, his voice small, as though afraid to hope.

Jungkook cupped his face, his thumb brushing the soft skin of Taehyung’s cheek. “You are,” he whispered. “Every day. You’re fighting, and that’s all I could ever ask for. I know it’s hard, but you don’t have to go through it alone. I’ll always be here.”

Taehyung’s eyes filled with tears. He couldn’t hold them back any longer. He had been carrying so much for so long—the trauma, the fear, everything. But now, in this moment, he allowed himself to break. The tears fell freely, but Jungkook didn’t let go. He just pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around him tightly.

“You don’t have to carry it anymore,” Jungkook whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m here. I’ll carry it for you. Always.”

Taehyung buried his face in Jungkook’s chest, letting the weight of everything he’d endured over the years fall away, piece by piece. And as Jungkook held him, he finally felt like he was home.

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