UNLOVED ( undergoing editing + rewriting )

chapter two : hatred

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hate

heɪt/

verb

feel intense dislike for someone or something

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Age:12

Jungkook harbored a profound resentment toward Taehyung, a sentiment he was absolutely sure of, and he had been this way for as long as he could remember. Taehyung, his older brother, had always been the favored one, a fact that stung Jungkook to his very core. The love, care, and attention of their father and their other siblings always gravitated towards Taehyung, leaving Jungkook feeling perpetually overlooked.

"Stay away," Though his voice seemed more stoic than normal -- perhaps he was ovethinking?  Jimin quietly mumbled to Jungkook as he made an attempt to connect with his brothers, albeit fruitlessly. Lowering his gaze, he turned and headed toward Jin, the eldest.  He was trying, against all odds, to establish connections with his other brothers, to be more than just the youngest. But it was an uphill battle, and his efforts were often in vain. As he approached Jin, the eldest among them, Jungkook had every intention of engaging with him. Yet, what he saw crushed his heart. Jin's eyes, a blend of old and new tears, glistened, and he was tenderly cradling Taehyung's head. Jungkook was once again pushed to the sidelines, the pain of exclusion becoming unbearable. He retreated hastily, fleeing from the hospital room, and all the while, a single thought tormented his mind – it was his fault.

The notion persisted that it was his presence that caused Taehyung's suffering. Jungkook couldn't help but wonder if life would be simpler for his family if he had never existed. This idea loomed in his thoughts, an inescapable burden he carried, yet he couldn't fathom why. He was, after all, the youngest among his siblings. Why couldn't someone offer him a reassuring embrace, telling him it was okay to cry, that it was natural to feel scared, and that he didn't have to endure the isolation alone? why?  However, there was no such someone in his life, no one to offer him solace, and no one to reassure him. Jungkook was left to grapple with these emotions in solitude, which was becoming an all-too-familiar companion.

When he opened his eyes the following morning, he awoke alone, as he always did. Jungkook had grown accustomed to waking up alone, and this solitude was nothing new for the twelve-year-old boy. As he descended the staircase, the house seemed to envelop him in silence. He knew that his brothers were with Taehyung, and his father was absorbed in his work, leaving Jungkook to navigate the vast, empty house all by himself. A whimper seemed to have escaped his lips, the sound of loneliness echoing in the cavernous space. he despised being alone, but it seemed that he had no other choice. Preparing a simple bowl of cereal, he ate it slowly, his tears falling unnoticed. None of his brothers had ever seen him cry. In their eyes, Jungkook was an unshakable figure – cold, strong, fearless, and impervious to sorrow who would not shed a tear or be daunted by anything. Their most profound misunderstanding was their belief that he preferred solitude, when in reality, he loathed it. The mere thought of being alone sent shivers down his spine.

"Mom," he'd finally choked out through his stinging tears, reminiscing about the time his mother passed away when he was just four years old. He vividly remembered how she had kissed everyone's forehead, but when it came to him, she had ceased to breathe. It was as though his request for an extra kiss had cost his mother her life. He couldn't help but blame himself for her death, convinced that his desire for more love had led to her premature departure. He couldn't help but believe that it was his fault, that he had yearned for more love when she had already showered him with an abundance of it. how selfish was he?

"If I hadn't asked for more love," he mumbled to himself, his eyes now bloodshot and tears flowing uncontrollably. Wiping away his tears rather roughly, he placed the empty cereal bowl in the sink and prepared himself for the day ahead. His daily routine had become an unending cycle of isolation. He woke up alone, walked to school alone, returned home alone, ate alone, and cried alone. This had been his routine for the past month. All his brothers were preoccupied with taking care of Taehyung. They had even neglected their schoolwork for an entire month in their devotion to him.

Jungkook's heart ached as he couldn't fathom why his father scarcely spoke to him. He reasoned that his father must be preoccupied with work, which, indeed, he was. However, his father always found time to visit Taehyung and engage in heartfelt conversations with his other sons, but why not with him? Did he not matter?

"I hate you," Jungkook whispered, his voice quivering, as he glared at a picture of Taehyung, tears streaming down his face. He couldn't be blamed for his resentment. He was only twelve years old, and for eight long years, he had lived without experiencing the warmth of affection.

"I hate you," Jungkook whispered, his voice quivering, as he locked his gaze on a framed photograph of Taehyung, which seemed to taunt him from its perch on the wall. The tears flowed freely down his face, tracing a path along the contours of his young cheeks. It was a visceral outpouring of the emotions that had been building within him, an overwhelming sensation of loneliness, jealousy, and deep-seated resentment. He couldn't be blamed for his resentment. He was only twelve years old, and for eight long years, he had lived without experiencing the warmth of affection. could he? It was a void that had slowly eaten away at his heart, leaving an indelible mark on his young soul.

Jungkook's isolation had been a silent, persistent companion throughout his formative years, a shroud of emotional coldness that he had no choice but to wrap around himself. The innocence of childhood had been stolen from him, replaced by the heavy burden of feeling like an outcast within his own family. In those quiet moments when the world seemed asleep, Jungkook would revisit the memories of his early childhood, the times when his laughter was genuine and carefree. would he feel free if he were not to be here anymore? would he?

The joy of a mother's embrace he had once taken for granted. But as the years passed, the memories had grown distant, a reminder of a happiness that had slipped through his fingers, he wonders if he his memories would slowly blur away his mother's smile filled with warmth and so, as the tears streamed down his face and he uttered those words with a voice that trembled with both anger and sorrow, Jungkook's resentment was not merely about Taehyung. It was about the emotional chasm that had widened between him and his family. further and further and he's drowning midst it.