He lowered his hand, looking utterly shattered. "It's my fault, Yoon. All of it. The fight... the couch... her being... being alone that night..." He trailed off, the words lost in another wave of silent, shuddering tears. He looked small and broken amidst the grandeur and the ghosts, the powerful director reduced to a man drowning in regret and self-recrimination on the very couch that symbolized his final, fatal mistake in his own mind.

Yoongi didn't offer empty platitudes. He didn't try to argue. He knew the labyrinth of Jungkook's guilt too well. He simply reached down, carefully moved the jagged pieces of the tumbler further away with his foot, and then, slowly, sat down on the edge of the sofa beside his friend.