2 - Felt like a burden

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The sun had dipped low, casting long shadows across the quiet neighborhood. A soft orange glow lingered along the skyline, bathing the streets in honeyed light. Taehyung walked slowly down the cracked sidewalk, a small convenience store bag dangling loosely from one hand. The corner of a triangular kimbap poked out, along with a bottle of strawberry milk that was already slick with condensation.

His friend, who had accompanied him halfway from school, had turned off two blocks earlier with a lazy wave. “See you tomorrow, Taehyung!” he’d called, earbuds already in place as he disappeared around the corner.

Now, Taehyung was alone with the gentle hush of evening—faint chirps of cicadas in the trees, the occasional bark of a dog, and the distant honk of a car heading somewhere far more exciting than his destination.

When he reached the modest house tucked behind a low fence, he pushed open the familiar rusted gate. It creaked slightly, like always. This was the home he’d lived in since he was ten—his aunt’s house. The scent of dinner floated through the air as he stepped onto the porch, something savory, warm, and unmistakably home.

The front door creaked open before he could knock.

“Tae-hyung!” came the delighted squeal of his young cousin as she sprinted down the hallway, socked feet slipping slightly on the wooden floor. She collided with him at the waist, wrapping her small arms around his middle. A dusting of flour smudged one cheek, and her hair was tied up in a lopsided ponytail.

He chuckled, ruffling her head gently. “I got you something,” he said, fishing into the bag. “Strawberry milk.”

Her eyes widened, hands flapping excitedly. “Really?! Yay!” She snatched it up and bolted for the kitchen. “Mommy! Tae hyungie got me milk!”

A moment later, his aunt appeared in the doorway, drying her hands on a kitchen towel. She looked tired but smiled when she saw him.

“You shouldn’t spend your money on little things like that,” she chided gently, but her tone was more affectionate than stern. “Come eat. Dinner’s almost ready.”

He offered a small nod and a smile, slipping off his shoes without a word.

That night, the house was quiet. The dishes had been washed, his cousin was asleep with her favorite stuffed bunny tucked under one arm, and the soft hum of the fridge echoed faintly from the kitchen.

Taehyung moved quietly down the hallway, headed for a glass of water, when he caught the low murmur of voices through a cracked bedroom door.

His uncle’s voice was quiet but laced with tension. “...and Taehyung’s tuition? How long can we keep this up, Hyejin? Jinie’s fees from London already drain us every month. I just don’t want the boy to feel he has to drop out because of us…”

Taehyung froze.

For a moment, the hallway felt too still, too close. He took a step back instinctively, the hardwood cold against his bare feet. He didn’t need to hear any more. Slowly, he turned and padded back to his room, the glass of water forgotten.

Inside, he sat on the edge of his bed, the mattress sagging slightly beneath him. He leaned back until his head met the cool wall, eyes fixed on the ceiling above.

The words echoed in his head.

“Drop out because of us.”

He’d always known—deep down—that he was an added weight. Never said out loud, but carried in small gestures. The too-kind smiles. The extra spoonfuls of food passed his way. The way his uncle always paused just a little too long when looking at bills.

He was loved, yes. But he was also... an expense.

His fingers curled around the blanket beneath him.

I can’t keep doing this to them, he thought bitterly. They’ve done so much. Taken me in, raised me like their own. I’m not even really their responsibility anymore.

He’d applied for the dorms over and over again, hoping to earn even a tiny bit of independence. But the waiting list was always full, and rejection emails had piled up like fallen leaves.

His gaze drifted toward the corner where his cousin’s drawing of the family hung on the wall—stick figures holding hands, labeled in crooked letters: Mommy, Daddy, Me, and Tae-hyung.

He exhaled, a small smile tugging at his lips despite the ache in his chest.

The strawberry milk was probably already half-empty, her happy squeals still echoing in his mind.

Even if he felt like a burden... they never made him feel like one.

And somehow, that made it hurt worse.

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Is this story going good? Or should I write it in Chat story style? Tell me guysssss!!!!

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