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The emotional exhaustion from the earlier confrontation with Jungkook, combined with the tears and the stress of recent events, eventually takes its toll on you. Without realizing it, you succumb to a fitful sleep, your sobs gradually fading into the quiet rhythms of slumber. When you awake, it's to a house shrouded in darkness, the silence echoing the emptiness within.

Your face feels slightly swollen, a physical testament to the emotional trauma you've endured. You navigate through the pitch darkness, feeling the void of Jungkook's absence in the house. You decide to take a shower, allowing the warm water to run over you, hoping it might wash away some of the day's pain.

Afterwards, wrapped in the comfort of a towel, you sit with your laptop, immersing yourself in work. It's a distraction, a way to anchor yourself to a semblance of normalcy amidst the chaos of your current life.

Hours pass in this way, the night deepening around you. Then, the sound of your hasty typing on your keyboard is interrupted by the keys jingling, followed by the door opening. I

It's Jungkook. You just know it's him. You hate to look up at him but something about his image on your peripheral vision makes you turn your head up to him. Your heart skips a beat at the sight of him — his face is bruised and bleeding, his body language betraying a slight limp, and he appears tipsy. The anger and hurt you harbored against him momentarily fade, replaced by concern at his battered state. You throw your laptop on the couch and stand up, still soaking his condition in.

As you rush to him, your initial instinct is to ask if he is okay is been cut off, "Jungkook—", you catch yourself. You remember the emotional distance you decided to maintain, the stoic attitude you adopted as a shield against further hurt. Yet, despite your resolve, your actions betray your concern.

As he looks at you, trying to support his figure by leaning on the wall, he tries to take in a few healing breaths. You then decide to take his hand, helping him into the house, your touch gentle yet reserved.

You guide him to the dining table, where he leans heavily, a silent acknowledgment of his need for support. Glancing at him one more time, moving away, you fetch a wet cloth, determined to clean his wounds without a word, maintaining the barrier you've built around your emotions.

As you begin to clean the cuts and bruises, Jungkook attempts to take the cloth, insisting on tending to himself. But you swat his hand away, a silent declaration of your intent to help despite the emotional distance. Every new wound you discover — especially the torn knuckles on his right hand — sends a pang through your heart. He's hurt, and despite everything, you can't help but feel empathy, a connection that still lingers despite your efforts to suppress it.

Jungkook watches you, he follows your eyes as they move around examining his wounds, and a mix of gratitude and something deeper settles in his gaze. He's hoping for you to break the silence, to express the emotions that are clearly bubbling under the surface. But you remain silent, focusing on the task at hand, not once meeting his eyes.

The tension in the room is palpable, a dance of complex emotions playing out in silence. Your actions, while caring, are efficient, a wall still firmly in place around your heart. Jungkook's presence, injured and vulnerable, is a stark contrast to the distance you're trying to maintain.

In this silent exchange, so much is communicated. Jungkook's physical state is a visual representation of the dangers and struggles he faces, while your meticulous care for his wounds speaks of an underlying concern that you're not yet ready to vocalize.

After a while, Jungkook breaks the silence, his voice is a tentative intrusion into the emotionally charged atmosphere. "I got in a fight," he begins, his words tentative, almost cautious.

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