the forgotten heir

Jimin stared out the window of his childhood bedroom, his eyes tracing the outline of the Min family estate. It had been years since he had been back, and yet nothing had changed. The same walls, the same polished floors, and the same feeling of suffocation that had always plagued him when he was here. This house had never felt like home to him.

The memory of his wedding day crept into his mind, uninvited. Nine years ago, he had stood in front of Min Yoongi, his hands trembling as they exchanged vows he wasn’t sure either of them believed. He remembered looking out into the crowd, seeing his parents’ stoic expressions, Yoongi’s distant gaze, and the empty chair where Min Hyun should have been sitting.

Min Hyun had left abruptly, without explanation, just days before the wedding. It had caused a stir within the family, but no one had dared to question his departure. Not even Yoongi, whose heart had always belonged to Hyun.

Jimin had known from the start that he was never Yoongi’s first choice. Everyone knew it. But they had married anyway, because that’s what families like theirs did—uphold appearances. For nine years, Jimin had played the role of the dutiful husband, quietly enduring the coldness that filled their home. Yoongi barely looked at him, let alone spoke to him unless necessary. It was as if Jimin didn’t exist.

And now, they were finally getting divorced.

A bitter laugh escaped Jimin’s lips as he turned away from the window. He had fought for this divorce, even though it meant leaving behind the life he had built with Yoongi. Not that there had ever been much of a life to begin with. He was tired of being invisible, tired of living in the shadow of his perfect elder brother, and tired of loving someone who would never love him back.

His parents had barely reacted to the news of the divorce, and why would they? Jimin had never been the son they cared about. Min Hyun was their pride and joy, the golden child who could do no wrong. Jimin had always been the quiet one, the overlooked son who never seemed to meet their expectations.

The sound of his mother’s voice calling from downstairs broke through his thoughts. It was time for the funeral.

Their father’s death had been sudden. A heart attack, the doctors had said. Jimin hadn’t even had the chance to say goodbye. Now, as the family gathered for the funeral, the Min household was buzzing with quiet tension. Everyone was waiting for the return of Min Hyun, who had been out of the country for years. He hadn’t come back for Jimin’s wedding. He hadn’t come back when Yoongi and Jimin announced their separation. But he had come back now, for their father.

Jimin wondered what his brother would be like after all these years. Would he still be the same person who had been Yoongi’s first love? The same person who had always been the center of attention, effortlessly charming everyone around him?

Jimin sighed, straightening his tie in the mirror. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered anymore. Once the funeral was over, he could go back to his life—alone, but finally free.

The funeral was a somber affair, as expected. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the rows of mourners dressed in black. Jimin stood off to the side, away from the main group, his hands clasped in front of him as the priest spoke in monotone.

And then, Min Hyun arrived.

Jimin watched as his brother stepped out of the sleek black car that had pulled up just moments before. The crowd seemed to part as Hyun made his way toward their father’s casket, his presence commanding attention as it always had. He looked older, more refined, but still carried that same air of confidence that had always made people gravitate toward him.

Jimin’s heart clenched in his chest as he saw Yoongi’s reaction. The cold, emotionless mask Yoongi had worn for years cracked the moment Hyun appeared. Yoongi’s eyes followed Hyun’s every move, a flicker of something—pain? longing?—crossing his features before he quickly schooled his expression back into indifference.

It was as if Jimin wasn’t even there.

After the service, Jimin lingered near the exit of the cemetery, waiting for the crowd to thin out. He didn’t want to deal with the whispered condolences or the sidelong glances from relatives who barely remembered his name. As he stood there, lost in thought, a voice broke through his reverie.

“Jimin.”

He turned to find Min Hyun standing a few feet away, his hands in his pockets, looking at Jimin with an unreadable expression.

“It’s been a long time,” Hyun said, his voice smooth but lacking warmth.

Jimin nodded, his throat tight. “Yes, it has.”

There was a beat of silence before Hyun spoke again. “I heard about the divorce.”

Jimin flinched inwardly. Of course, Hyun knew. He always knew everything. “It was for the best,” Jimin replied quietly.

Hyun’s gaze shifted toward Yoongi, who was speaking with some relatives nearby. “Does he know how much you suffered?” Hyun asked, his tone almost curious.

Jimin swallowed hard, his pulse quickening. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Hyun looked back at Jimin, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Doesn’t it?”

Before Jimin could respond, a sudden, sharp sound cut through the air. It took a moment for Jimin to register what it was—gunshots. Panic erupted around them as mourners began to scream and scatter, the once peaceful funeral now descending into chaos.

Jimin’s body went rigid, his mind struggling to process what was happening. He watched as Yoongi instinctively moved to shield Hyun, pulling him to the ground behind a nearby gravestone. Around him, families clung to each other, seeking protection from the unknown threat.

And Jimin… Jimin was alone.

Time seemed to slow as Jimin stood frozen in place, his eyes wide with shock as the chaos unfolded around him. People were running, ducking for cover, shielding their loved ones. But no one came for him.

Not Yoongi, not his mother, not even his brother. They were all too busy protecting each other, too wrapped up in their own fear and panic to notice the lone figure standing amidst the storm of bullets.

And then, in the distance, Jimin saw him.

A dark figure, moving swiftly through the crowd, wearing a bulletproof jacket. His sharp eyes were locked on Jimin, determination etched into his every step. Jimin barely had time to register who it was before the pain hit him.

The force of the bullet slammed into Jimin’s side, knocking him off his feet. He gasped, his hand instinctively going to the wound as blood began to seep through his clothes. The world around him blurred, the sounds of screaming and gunfire fading into a distant hum.

Through the haze, he felt strong arms wrap around him, lifting him from the ground. Jimin blinked up at the figure holding him, his vision swimming. It was Jungkook—Jeon Jungkook, a man he barely knew, yet who was now cradling him as if he were the most precious thing in the world.

“Stay with me,” Jungkook’s voice was urgent, his eyes filled with fear and something else—something Jimin had never seen directed at him before.

But it was too late. The darkness was closing in, and Jimin’s body felt heavy, too heavy to fight.

“I’m… sorry,” Jimin whispered, his voice barely audible.

“No,” Jungkook growled, his grip tightening on Jimin as he ran toward safety. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Just stay with me.”

Jimin’s eyes fluttered closed, his body going limp in Jungkook’s arms. The last thing he heard before everything went dark was Jungkook’s voice, desperate and pleading.

“Don’t leave me, Jimin. Please.”

The world was quiet when Jimin awoke. There was no pain, no chaos, just the steady beeping of a heart monitor and the soft hum of hospital machinery. He blinked slowly, his mind groggy as he tried to piece together what had happened.

The funeral. The gunshots. The pain.

And Jungkook.

Jimin turned his head slightly, wincing at the dull ache in his side. Jungkook was sitting beside his bed, his head resting in his hands, eyes closed. He looked exhausted, dark circles under his eyes, his clothes rumpled from what looked like days of sleeplessness.

As if sensing Jimin’s gaze, Jungkook stirred. His eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, there was a flicker of disbelief before they softened with relief.

“Jimin,” Jungkook breathed, his voice thick with emotion. He quickly leaned forward, his hand reaching out to grasp Jimin’s gently. “You’re awake. Thank god.”

Jimin tried to speak, but his throat was dry, and all that came out was a rasp. Jungkook immediately reached for a glass of water on the bedside table, bringing it to Jimin’s lips with careful hands. As Jimin sipped, he couldn’t help but stare at Jungkook. Why had Jungkook saved him? Why had he been the one to run through the chaos to protect someone he barely knew?

“Why…?” Jimin managed to croak, his voice weak but laced with the confusion he felt deep in his bones. “Why did you save me?”

Jungkook’s expression tightened, his hand still holding Jimin’s as though afraid to let go. “Because,” he began, his voice firm but laced with an undercurrent of vulnerability, “you deserved to be saved.”

Jimin blinked, his heart fluttering at the sincerity in Jungkook’s voice. He had spent his entire life feeling invisible, overlooked, and unloved, but here was Jungkook, a man who had risked his own life to protect him—when no one else had.

“You were alone,” Jungkook continued, his thumb absentmindedly brushing the back of Jimin’s hand. “I couldn’t stand the thought of you being hurt, of you being left behind like that. No one should ever feel like they don’t matter.”

Jimin’s chest tightened at Jungkook’s words. It was as if he had spoken directly to the pain Jimin had carried for so long—the years of neglect, the feeling of being second best, the weight of a loveless marriage.

Tears welled up in Jimin’s eyes, and before he could stop them, they spilled over, trailing down his cheeks silently. Jungkook’s eyes softened, and without hesitation, he reached out to wipe them away with gentle fingers.

“You’re not alone anymore, Jimin,” Jungkook whispered, his voice tender and filled with a promise. “I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere

The days that followed were filled with slow recovery, both physically and emotionally. Jimin stayed in the hospital for several weeks, his body healing from the gunshot wound while his heart began to unravel the years of hurt he had endured.

Jungkook visited him every day, staying by his side through the long, quiet hours. He didn’t push Jimin to talk, but he was always there—bringing food, keeping him company, and most of all, offering a quiet, steady presence that Jimin had never known before.

It was strange at first, having someone care for him so deeply. Jimin wasn’t used to it. He wasn’t used to being the center of someone’s attention in a way that wasn’t critical or dismissive. But with Jungkook, it was different. Jungkook’s kindness wasn’t conditional; it wasn’t laced with the expectations Jimin had grown up with. It was just… pure.

And slowly, Jimin found himself opening up.

One evening, as the sun set outside his hospital window, Jimin finally spoke the words he had been holding inside for years.

“I always felt like I was invisible,” he whispered, his eyes focused on the fading light outside. “My family… they always favored Hyun. I was never enough for them. Not for my parents. Not for Yoongi.” His voice wavered, but he pressed on. “Even when I married Yoongi, I knew he didn’t love me. He loved my brother. He probably still does. I was just… there.”

Jungkook listened in silence, his heart breaking with every word Jimin spoke. He had known, on some level, that Jimin had suffered in his marriage, but hearing it from Jimin’s own mouth was different. It was raw, and it made Jungkook’s protective instincts surge to the forefront.

“You were more than just ‘there,’ Jimin,” Jungkook said softly, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “You matter. You always have. They were too blind to see it, but that’s on them. Not you.”

Jimin’s lip trembled, and he turned to Jungkook, his eyes filled with vulnerability. “Why do you care so much? You barely know me…”

Jungkook’s gaze softened, and he reached out to gently cradle Jimin’s face in his hands. “Maybe I don’t know everything about you, but I know enough. I know you deserve to be loved, to be cared for. And I want to be the one to give that to you, if you’ll let me.”

Jimin’s breath hitched, his heart swelling with emotions he hadn’t felt in years. Jungkook’s words wrapped around him like a warm embrace, and for the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to hope—to believe that maybe, just maybe, he could have the happiness he had always longed for.

Months later, Jimin stood on the balcony of his new apartment, the cool breeze ruffling his hair as he gazed out at the city skyline. The night was quiet, peaceful, and filled with a sense of possibility that Jimin hadn’t felt in a long time.

Beside him, Jungkook leaned against the railing, his arm casually draped around Jimin’s waist. The two of them had built something new together—something real. Jungkook had stayed true to his word, and day by day, Jimin had begun to heal. It wasn’t easy, and there were still moments when the weight of his past threatened to pull him under, but with Jungkook by his side, Jimin knew he could face it.

Their relationship had blossomed slowly, carefully, as they both navigated the wounds of their pasts. But it was beautiful, and Jimin found himself falling in love with the gentle way Jungkook cared for him, the way he made Jimin feel seen, wanted, and cherished.

Jungkook pressed a soft kiss to Jimin’s temple, breaking him out of his thoughts. “What are you thinking about?”

Jimin smiled, leaning into the warmth of Jungkook’s embrace. “Just about how far we’ve come,” he murmured, his voice soft but filled with contentment.

Jungkook hummed, tightening his grip around Jimin. “We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?”

Jimin nodded, his heart swelling with gratitude and love. He had never imagined that after everything he had been through, he would find someone like Jungkook—someone who saw him for who he was and loved him unconditionally.

As they stood there, wrapped in the quiet comfort of each other’s presence, Jimin knew that he had finally found his place. He wasn’t invisible anymore. He wasn’t second best.

He was loved. He was cherished. And most importantly, he was free.

The past no longer had a hold on him. He had Jungkook now, and together, they were building a future filled with the kind of love Jimin had always dreamed of.

And for the first time in a long time, Jimin felt truly at peace.

A year had passed since that fateful day at the funeral. The scars of the past still lingered, but Jimin had found happiness in ways he hadn’t believed possible. He had finalized his divorce with Yoongi, and although there was still a lot of healing to do, he had made peace with the past.

Jungkook had become more than just a protector. He had become Jimin’s anchor, his lover, and his best friend. Together, they navigated life’s challenges, and with each passing day, their bond grew stronger.

As they stood together, watching the sunset from the balcony of their shared home, Jimin felt a sense of completeness wash over him. He turned to Jungkook, his heart swelling with affection.

“Thank you,” Jimin whispered.

Jungkook tilted his head, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “For what?”

“For saving me,” Jimin replied softly, his voice filled with emotion. “In more ways than one.”

Jungkook’s expression softened, and he leaned down to press a tender kiss to Jimin’s lips. “You saved yourself, Jimin. I was just lucky enough to be there when you realized it.”

Jimin smiled against Jungkook’s lips, his heart full. For the first time in his life, he felt truly loved, truly seen. And with Jungkook by his side, he knew that the future was theirs to shape.

Together, they had built something beautiful. And together, they would continue to grow, to love, and to live.