Sneaking out no longer felt thrilling.
It felt necessary.
Jungkook moved through the sleeping Jeon estate like a shadow, steps careful on the polished wooden floors. His heart pounded—not from fear of being caught, but from the quiet certainty that if he stayed, something inside him would break beyond repair.
"Going somewhere again?"
He stopped.
Yoongi stood at the corner of the corridor, arms folded, expression unreadable.
Jungkook exhaled slowly. "You already know the answer."
Yoongi sighed, rubbing his temple. "You're getting reckless."
"I'm getting desperate," Jungkook replied softly.
Yoongi studied him for a long moment. "You know what they'll do if they find out."
"Yes," Jungkook said. "And I know what I'll become if I don't go."
Silence fell between them.
Finally, Yoongi stepped aside. "I'll tell them you're studying calligraphy. Again."
Jungkook hesitated. "Why are you helping me?"
Yoongi's voice was low. "Because I've seen what happens when a clan mistakes control for protection."
Then, quieter: "And because you're not weak, Jungkook. You're just being crushed."
Jungkook bowed deeply. "Thank you… truly."
"Be careful," Yoongi added. "Fate has been watching you closely lately."
Jungkook didn't understand what he meant—but the words lingered.
That day, Jungkook brought his drawing materials with him.
Brushes. Ink. Paper.
They gathered far from the estates, near a quiet clearing where the wind carried the scent of grass and earth. It was a place untouched by clan politics—a place where they could pretend to just be young men again.
"Why the art supplies?" Hoseok asked, curious.
Jungkook shrugged. "I felt like… I needed to."
Taehyung sat beneath a tree, sunlight filtering through the leaves and casting soft shadows across his face. He wasn't posing. He was just there—calm, steady, real.
Jungkook's hand moved before his mind caught up.
Lines formed. Gentle. Confident.
His brush didn't hesitate.
Jimin leaned over and froze. "Jungkook…"
Namjoon frowned. "That's… incredible."
Taehyung looked over—and went still.
It was him.
Perfectly.
Not just his face, but his presence. The quiet strength. The familiarity. The affection in the lines themselves.
Jungkook stared at the drawing, breath caught in his throat.
"This… This was on my Grandma's" his thoughts
A sharp pain exploded in his head.
He dropped the brush, clutching his temple as his vision blurred.
"No— not again—" he gasped.
The world twisted.
And then—
Blood.
A courtyard.
Jeon elders standing in a semicircle, faces cold, unmoved.
A sword raised.
Someone stood in front of him—back facing Jungkook.
Protecting him.
"Please," Jungkook heard himself cry. "Stop—!"
The blade fell.
Blood splattered across the stone.
The body collapsed.
Jungkook screamed.
He couldn't see the face.
Only the way the person fell.
Only the feeling—
devastating familiarity.
Love. Loyalty. Sacrifice.
And then—
"Jungkook!"
He gasped awake, collapsing forward as Taehyung caught him before he hit the ground.
"Hey—look at me," Taehyung said urgently, gripping his shoulders. "You're here. You're safe."
Jungkook's hands trembled. "I… I saw something."
The others watched in silence, fear etched into their faces.
"A future," Jungkook whispered. "Someone… died. They were killed… because of me."
Taehyung stiffened. "Jungkook—"
"I don't know who it was," Jungkook continued, tears slipping down his cheeks. "But it felt wrong. Like it wasn't supposed to happen."
He looked down—
At the drawing.
Taehyung's breath caught.
"…That drawing," Taehyung said slowly. "Where did you learn to draw me like that?"
Jungkook swallowed hard.
"I've seen it before," he whispered. "In another life. In another time."
The wind rustled the trees.
Fate shifted.
And somewhere unseen, the future sharpened its blade.
Because some drawings are not memories—
they are warnings.