Chapter 1: Prologue: Chapter 00
Chapter Text
"Let me put it this way: this is going to be the biggest party I’ve ever thrown in my life. On a scale from one to ten, it's going to be a twenty," Hoseok leaned over the table, grinning so wide that even if the message had been I killed someone, his friends would still believe it was good news.
He was known for his parties—especially birthday ones. Ever since starting college, he’d made it his mission to be remembered, no matter what. The black-haired boy with gray streaks took the whole event organizer thing more seriously than his own exams. Most of his social life was built around that.
And this time, he had outdone himself.
"All your beginning-of-the-semester parties, end-of-the-semester parties, birthdays, Valentine’s, Halloween, and Christmas parties are your ‘biggest party you’ve ever thrown in your life’," Jin rolled his eyes with a smile, making exaggerated air quotes as he listed each event one by one.
"I still haven’t recovered from the one at the start of this semester..." Jimin rubbed his neck. He had done a lot of things. Too many things. Truly embarrassing things that had stained his reputation. He had promised himself never to drink in industrial quantities again—amounts that had only made him throw up and left him with memory gaps. In general, he should really stop mixing drinks like a human cocktail shaker.
"Even if you threw the party under a bridge, I’d still show up," Taehyung said with a nod of approval.
"See? That’s the attitude I’m looking for!" Hoseok pointed at him triumphantly—Taehyung had definitely just won the award for best response.
The blonde leaned back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, his lips curling into a mischievous smile.
"It’s just… I couldn’t seal the deal with the last girl, so my reasons are purely selfish. I’m on a losing streak," he added, pressing his lips together and nodding in resignation.
"Define ‘losing streak," Jimin said, squinting at him.
"I haven't been with a hot girl in ages," Taehyung confessed, almost whining.
"And ages means...?"
"Mhm... three weeks?"
"I hate you." Jimin threw an empty candy wrapper at him, hitting him square in the forehead.
Taehyung clicked his tongue and rubbed the spot, utterly offended.
"Unnecessary violence."
"Shut up, you deserved it," Jimin huffed, crossing his arms.
The four of them were sitting at a table near the Arts and Humanities building, their department. The campus was colorful and full of life—not just because they were all artsy and had decorated the place with exhibits and installations, but also because there was an abundance of well-maintained greenery that made everything feel fresh.
Yeoreum University was known for its vast green spaces and commitment to renewable energy, always looking toward the future. And of course, it was a private school—you needed serious money and the right connections to get in.
"Wait, since when you haven’t?" Jin teased the shorter one, noticing he was now pouting at Taehyung.
"I haven't had any action since last year... like, October," the brown-haired boy admitted shyly. "No girls, no guys. At this point, I swear I’m about to become a virgin again," he added, his tone turning more serious, clearly frustrated with himself.
Jin let out a low whistle, impressed.
"Do you have to renew your license after a certain period of inactivity?"
"Yes! And I’m already in the damn trial period," Jimin groaned, placing a hand to his forehead and shaking his head.
"But if you are the one who, literally speaking, the one who flirts the most. I don’t get it," Hoseok said, genuinely confused.
"It’s just that I need a connection, some… how do I put it? Feelings. A little affection, dedication, tenderness… a dose of appreciation..." Jimin started speaking like he was in a romantic movie, and everyone knew that kind of thing was so not him.
But he was being so sincere that they almost believed him. Almost.
"You say that while you're leaving with someone you just met ten minutes before you fucked them at the nearest motel?" Taehyung turned to him with a deadly stare.
"Shut up, Tae! They were hot, okay?" Jimin shrugged, flashing a mischievous yet innocent smile. He looked like a kid caught red-handed. "I am in a dry spell. I wish I had had sex three weeks ago."
"Oh, please. You hook up more than the rest of us combined," Hoseok said again as he sat down in the last available chair, after Taehyung and Jin moved their bags that had been blocking the seat.
"And yet here I am: in a drought."
"Dramatic."
"Realistic."
"You two disgust me," Hoseok grimaced. "You only think with your penis, or with your ass, I don't know what you prefer more, Jimin."
"Depends on the day, obviously." Jimin bit his lip with a grin.
Jimin pretended to be innocent, or at least that’s what Taehyung believed—he knew him like the back of his hand. Everyone knew the guy had countless bedroom stories and wasn’t shy about any of them.
The brown-haired boy was gorgeous, charming, and attractive to not just girls but guys too. And being openly bisexual only added to the package. He had an unlimited catalog of people he could “connect” with at will, and he never missed a chance. One of his tricks, though, was acting like he had no idea what was going on. And the little bastard made it work.
"Focus, team!" Hoseok clapped his hands loudly, cutting off the small back-and-forth between Jimin and Taehyung to regain their attention. "Do you know why this party will be the biggest of all?"
"Why? What did you do?" Jin asked, intrigued.
"I rented out an entire nightclub in Itaewon. It's called Gyeoul," Hoseok said the name with such seriousness that Taehyung thought he sounded almost mysterious, like he was revealing the location where they, as explorers, would find the lost ark—or a treasure worth millions. Taehyung could be oddly specific.
Everyone fell silent, eyes wide. They couldn’t believe what they had just heard. Every party so far had either been at Hoseok’s house or in decently sized event halls, but this club wasn’t just one of the most famous—it was also massive and luxurious.
Taehyung had been there once, and he remembered thinking that if he broke a glass by accident, he’d be in debt for life. Even the entrance fee was offensively expensive, like a filter to keep out anyone earning minimum wage from ruining the exclusive vibe with the scent of poverty. And Taehyung wasn’t poor, but even he thought it was absurd. That said a lot.
"Wait, I think I didn’t hear you right, let me just..." The blonde started tapping his ear as if trying to 'unclog' it, like it was full of water.
"You did what?" Jin exclaimed, jaw practically on the floor. "And how much did that cost you, exactly?"
"A good amount of money... but that’s what I work for, isn’t it? It’s my birthday, I can’t just throw it anywhere," Hoseok smiled casually.
"Man, some people work to survive, and you work to turn any excuse to drink into reality," Jimin shot him a skeptical look.
"Perks of having wealthy parents," Hoseok shrugged indifferently. "They work so I can survive until I graduate... master's degree included. So I manage my money however I want until then."
"Now I hate you," Jin sighed, fully envious as he glanced at the other two with resignation.
"Welcome to the list of people who hate me for being blessed and fortunate," Hoseok replied, and after a brief pause, he leaned forward with a confident grin. "So? You’re coming?"
"Absolutely," said Jin without hesitation. "It’s a done deal."
"I wouldn’t miss it even if someone paid me," Jimin added, fully committed.
"I already said I’d go even if it were under a bridge," Taehyung chimed in with a smile and a shrug.
Satisfied, Hoseok stood from the table. Taehyung noticed how the guy looked even happier than before, and a warmth spread through his chest. He loved seeing his friends happy.
"Perfect! I’ll give you the details later," he said cheerfully as he began to walk away—then stopped abruptly. "Oh, almost forgot—I have people to introduce you to, so dress nicely and have a winning attitude."
With that, he vanished into the crowd. Taehyung watched him go, then turned to the others.
"Does he expect me to wear a tuxedo to a college party?" he muttered.
"Don’t rule it out," Jin sighed. "With Hoseok, anything is possible."
Jimin ran a dramatic hand through his hair.
"If he guaranteed someone would end my dry spell, I’d even wear a tie."
"Yeah, right," Taehyung scoffed. "All you need to break your dry spell is to step outside and say ‘hi.’"
"Here’s a spoiler, Jimin," Jin said. "Minimum of eight people would approach you—four girls, four guys."
"They’re right," the brunette replied with a mischievous grin. "But the fun part is making it seem hard."
──── ∗ ⋅✧⋅ ∗ ────
When Hoseok arrived at university, he did so with the firm conviction of conquering the world—or at least, that had been the plan for as long as he could remember. Studying Performing Arts and Music Studies at the prestigious Yeoreum University wasn’t exactly the path for someone who enjoyed a low profile, solitude, or peace and quiet. It definitely wasn’t for someone who liked discretion or anonymity. If there was a spotlight on, Hoseok was under it.
That was how, in one of his very first dance classes, he met Jimin, who—with his angelic face and his smile that screamed I’m about to get into trouble and you can’t stop me—fit perfectly with him. Jimin was also studying Performing Arts, and of course, it didn’t take long before he introduced him to his group of friends, which at the time consisted of exactly one person: Taehyung.
Calling it a 'group' was an act of generosity—an exaggeration, really. But Taehyung, who was a Audiovisual Creation student and Jimin’s childhood friend, didn’t seem particularly interested in expanding it. The blonde had the air of someone who’d already seen and understood everything the world had to offer… except why Hoseok talked so damn much. But the chemistry between the three of them was immediate, and before anyone could really process it, they were already inseparable.
Then came Jin. Well, technically, Jin summoned them into his life. Still in his early semesters of Art History and Literature, the eldest needed people for a video project he had to do for a class. On a professor’s recommendation, he recruited Jimin and Hoseok, who already had a reputation for being good at what they did. What he hadn’t expected was Jimin insisting that the project couldn’t happen without Taehyung. And that wasn’t a suggestion.
At first, Jin assumed Jimin’s insistence on including Taehyung was just a case of friendly nepotism, but he quickly realized that Taehyung had more stage presence than an entire experimental theater troupe. He had been in the drama club all through high school, though he’d eventually decided he preferred being behind the camera rather than in front of it.
What was supposed to be just a one-time favor to help the guy with his assignment turned into something more. Sure, the project was a success, but the more important outcome was that Jin ended up being officially adopted by two extroverts and their very protective watchdog.
College bore witness to how this quartet became unbreakable. No one wanted to imagine one without the others—though none of them would ever say that out loud because it sounded way too sentimental and they’d rather die than admit it. Still, the truth was obvious: they functioned like a well-synced organism, and if one was missing, the other three noticed immediately. Jin, who at first thought being the fourth member of a trio would be awkward, soon discovered he couldn’t have found a better place to belong.
Of course, that was only the story of Hoseok with Taehyung, Jimin, and Jin. Because if there was one thing that defined the guy with the gray streaks in his hair, it was his supernatural ability to make friends. If anyone had the formula for being universally liked, it was Hoseok. Naturally, his social circle wasn’t limited to just Jimin, Taehyung, and Jin.
While he was strengthening that friendship, he was also building another group—one that shared something else: Music Studies, his second major. There, he met Jungkook, Namjoon, and Yoongi, classmates and partners in countless rehearsals, exams, and projects. From day one, the three of them had been inseparable—loyal to the core and with a dynamic all their own.
Jungkook was the heart of the group in terms of performance, always striving to be the best at everything he did. Namjoon always had his head full of brilliant ideas for any kind of project. And then there was Yoongi, who seemed to live on a higher plane of existence and only came down to Earth when he had something important to say.
Or something like that.
Because, from an outsider’s perspective, Jungkook was just a hypercompetitive lunatic who couldn’t accept defeat—not even in rock-paper-scissors. Namjoon was the insufferable one who thought he was a philanthropist but really just had a messiah complex about saving contemporary art. And Yoongi was the grumpy recluse who couldn’t stand anyone talking to him unless they were part of his group of idiots.
The funny thing was, even though Hoseok talked about his different friend groups like they were all part of one big happy family, in practice, those two worlds had never actually crossed paths. At parties, each group stuck to their own. They all knew the others existed, of course—Hoseok never shut up about anyone—but they’d barely exchanged more than a casual 'excuse me.'
And that delicate balance in Hoseok’s universe had remained intact… until now.
──── ∗ ⋅✧⋅ ∗ ────
The sound of his footsteps echoed down the hallway of the Arts department as Hoseok made his way to their usual room, where he knew his three friends would be. It was one of the production studios, complete with a recording booth and everything, but they rented it out even when their work had nothing to do with it—sometimes they didn’t even have a shared project, they just booked it anyway, like today. Hoseok opened the door with a smile already tugging at his lips.
As expected, not much had changed since the last time he’d walked in: Jungkook was in the corner tuning his electric guitar, brows furrowed and a strand of hair falling over his eyes, giving him the look of a tortured rockstar. Namjoon was standing in the center of the room, a sheet of music in one hand while scribbling furiously in a notebook with the other. And Yoongi was sprawled on the couch at the back, a notebook resting on his knees and an expression so calm that anyone would think he was seconds away from falling asleep.
"Good morning, my misunderstood geniuses!" Hoseok announced, dropping his backpack on a nearby chair and stretching as if he’d just run a marathon.
"Good morning, Hobi," Namjoon replied with a smile, glancing at him for a second before returning to the page.
"You’re late, Jung," Yoongi muttered without lifting his eyes from his notebook, though the faint curve on his lips gave him away—he was teasing more than complaining. He liked seeing Hoseok show up.
"It’s our free period, hyung," Hoseok said with a grin as he plopped into a different chair. "No schedules to follow." Then he looked at Jungkook, who was still lost in his own world. "Are you gonna say hi or keep being rude and ignore your hyung?" he pouted.
Jungkook glanced up just to raise an eyebrow. "I’m tuning, hyung. I don’t want you complaining later that my guitar sounds like an angry cat."
"When have I ever said that?" Hoseok asked, pretending to be offended.
"Last week. When we did that improv thing and I broke a string mid-solo," Jungkook reminded him, now with a crooked smile.
"Oh, right," Hoseok admitted, laughing even harder. "That was amazing."
"Are you here to mock us or do you actually have something interesting?" Namjoon cut in, closing his notebook and setting the sheet music aside. He focused on Hoseok with curiosity.
"I’ve got the best news!" Hoseok declared, practically glowing with excitement.
Jungkook looked up, his eyes lighting up with hope.
"Are you getting me an electric drum kit for my birthday?" he asked, grinning from ear to ear like a kid promised ice cream.
"Are they opening a pre-production course so we don’t have to deal with so many useless classmates?" Namjoon muttered with a very obvious grimace.
"Are they canceling afternoon classes so I can go home early?" Yoongi chimed in, finally getting off the couch to stretch and settle into a nearby chair. "Rush hour today is hell."
Hoseok pouted, crossing his arms. "None of those wishes have anything to do with me."
"We’re messing with you, Hobi," Namjoon said with a smile. "Relax."
"What’s the good news, hyung?" Jungkook placed his guitar back on its stand and leaned over the table between them, giving Hoseok his full attention. His eyes were all puppy-like, which was hilarious considering the tough guy image he always tried to pull off with his tattoos.
"Is it about your birthday?" Yoongi asked curiously, making Hoseok nod enthusiastically.
"Exactly, my dear Yoongi-hyung. Saturday, February eighteenth, is my birthday, and as tradition demands, I’ve organized a—"
"A party!" Jungkook interrupted, groaning dramatically in delight. "I need one of your parties, hyung. I broke up with Soojin last week because she wanted something serious, and, you know, I’m not about that life right now. This is the perfect time to find someone new!"
"You’re such a jerk," Yoongi wrinkled his nose and gave him a disapproving glare.
"What? It’s also to celebrate him!" Jungkook defended himself, trying to sound innocent—but failing miserably.
"Sure, play the good guy," Yoongi grabbed a crumpled piece of paper in front of him and expertly tossed it straight into Jungkook’s eye. The younger let out a yelp that was far from manly.
"Hyung!" Jungkook rubbed his eye, which was now slightly red. "What happened to peace and love?"
"At least have the decency to mourn or something," Yoongi grumbled, crossing his arms.
"What’s the point of that?" Jungkook muttered. "Besides, I know from very good sources that two days after we broke up, Soojin slid into Jaebeom’s DMs. Why should I be the one mourning?"
Hoseok chuckled and shook his head.
"This isn’t just a party. It’s the party. A place full of opportunities... and free drinks," he wiggled his eyebrows, making Namjoon smile.
"Where’s it gonna be?" Namjoon asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. Now that the words free drinks were on the table, he was suddenly very interested—he had to watch his budget, after all.
"I rented a venue called Gyeoul."
"Gyeoul? That club near Itaewon Station, exit 2?" Jungkook asked, sounding incredulous as he continued to rub his eye.
"Yeah."
"The one with the winter aesthetic? Silver, blue, and white decor? LED lights that mimic northern lights? Glass bars that look like ice?"
"Uh-huh."
"The one with three floors? Main room plays EDM and K-pop remixes, second room for hip-hop and Latin music, and a covered rooftop terrace that looks like an igloo with a view of Namsan Tower?"
"That’s the one."
"That was weirdly specific, Jungkook," Namjoon looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "You seem very well-informed."
"How the hell did you get that place?" Yoongi leaned forward, genuinely impressed.
"I have my contacts," Hoseok said, inspecting his nails with exaggerated indifference.
"Translation: you spent your entire monthly budget," Namjoon laughed, leaning back in his chair.
"Monthly? I get weekly deposits, and I get more if I ask for it. As long as I keep my grades up, my parents won’t let me starve."
Namjoon sighed, pressing a hand to his chest.
"I’m jealous of you."
"Doesn’t matter how much it cost me. What matters is that it’s going to be the biggest thing I’ve ever done. So now the big question is... are you coming or not?"
"Hyung, do I look like the kind of person who would skip a party with an open bar?" Jungkook asked as if the mere suggestion was offensive. "I need to drink. It’s not an option, it’s a necessity."
"You’re an alcoholic," Namjoon said, then used the exact same paper ball Yoongi had weaponized earlier to hit Jungkook in the other eye.
"Ouch! Stop throwing paper projectiles at me!"
"You better have a decent dress code this time," Yoongi said, ignoring the fact that Jungkook was now tearing pages from his notebook to make his own paper arsenal. "We don’t want a repeat of last year."
"That wasn’t a mistake!" Hoseok protested. "The theme was tropical! There was even a pool!"
"There’s no excuse for pairing flip-flops with a horribly inaccurate and—frankly—offensive Hawaiian outfit," Yoongi shot back.
"Or for putting actual coconuts as table decorations," Namjoon added.
"They were thematic!" Hoseok frowned.
"They were real coconuts, and half of them fell off the tables," Namjoon complained. "One of them landed on my foot!"
"That’s on you for having zero reflexes."
"I had a great time. Some girls showed up in seriously revealing swimsuits..." Jungkook grinned, biting his lower lip like the absolute pervert he was. He was clearly revisiting those precious memories—he’d been single and in high demand that day. He could literally say women rained down on him, since he’d jumped into the pool and, right after, several girls in tiny bikinis had followed him in.
And just for the record, Jungkook now had at least fifteen new paper weapons in his hands.
"What did I say? He’s a filthy, nasty, depraved, disgusting pig—ow!" Yoongi was cut off by a paper ball ambush. All three of them—though Hoseok had done absolutely nothing—were victims.
Hoseok grabbed his backpack and, letting out some highly unmanly screams, used it as a shield while also lifting his feet just in case he needed to defend himself further. Namjoon tried to catch a few of the paper balls midair to throw them back, but his hand-eye coordination wasn’t exactly elite. Yoongi, meanwhile, accepted his fate with a dramatic sigh, simply closing his eyes tightly as the paper hit him.
Who would've thought paper balls could actually hurt?
When the storm was over, Jungkook puffed out his chest proudly. Obviously, he needed to win the battle and have the last word.
"If you start attacking me, you better be ready for me to come out victorious."
"Yeah… we kinda walked into that one," Namjoon muttered as he plucked one ball out of his hair.
"You are so dramatic," Yoongi muttered while gathering all the crumpled pages—there was no way he’d leave the room messy. "Someone throws a grain of sand at you, and you retaliate by dumping the whole damn beach on them." He clicked his tongue in disapproval. "And look at your poor notebook, now is thin as hell. You wasted all that paper and contributed to pollution. Are you proud of yourself?"
"Yes," Jungkook replied, in a tone that was practically childlike.
"You’re impossible."
"And why did you attack me too?! I didn’t even do anything!" Hoseok exclaimed with a laugh, helping hand Yoongi the paper from his side of the table.
"You see, Hobi-hyung, in war... there are always sacrifices..."
Hoseok couldn’t stop laughing, but his expression soon softened. A few moments later, the room was completely clean. And despite Jungkook’s complaints, Yoongi shoved all the paper balls into the tattooed boy’s bag.
"Alright, I promise this time it’ll be different."
"It better be, Hobi. You don’t rent a place like Gyeoul every day," Namjoon said as Jungkook was already checking his calendar on his phone.
"I can already picture myself dancing till three in the morning," Jungkook said, grinning wide as he looked at the number of days left until he could finally unwind. "And if I’m lucky, with my next conquest."
"And I’ll be watching you make a fool of yourself, as always," Yoongi said with a shake of his head, though there was amusement in his voice. "I know you’re gonna say no, but... is there anything we can do to help?" he asked the grey-haired boy, fully aware of the answer.
Hoseok immediately shook his head with a sheepish smile.
"No offense, Yoongi-hyung, but if I had to plan a party with someone, it wouldn’t be you."
"Touché."
Hoseok laughed and stood up, arms spreading dramatically.
"Get ready, boys."
And with that, he walked out of the studio, bag slung over his shoulder, his radiant smile lighting up the hallway. His friends followed after him, lagging a little behind, still laughing and tossing around comments filled with anticipation.
He had another class after this, of course, but Hoseok decided that academic punctuality could wait. There was something more important to do: send out the digital invitations to his party. Even though the entrance was technically open, there were certain people whose presence was absolutely essential. They’d be the perfect messengers to spread the word and make sure the entire campus knew about the event of the year.
However, as he walked toward the cafeteria with his phone in hand, the excitement started to mix with something else. Something that sat a little heavy in his chest. Let’s call it a brief dose of realism.
Hoseok had a plan. That Saturday, he wanted to do something he’d been dreaming about for a while—bring his six favorite people together. He was tired of splitting his time between them, trying to give both groups equal attention, when he could simply turn all seven of them into one solid group.
There was just one tiny issue.
There were certain… biases? Hoseok wasn’t even sure what to call it, but for example, the music guys had this not-so-subtle tendency to stereotype people. Jin, for instance, was usually the target of remarks like, "He must be super boring if he studies Art History and Literature. Probably lives locked in a library smelling like old books." Because apparently, reading more than one book a month automatically made you an academic mummy.
And not that the others were any better. Jimin had a very clear stance: "Musicians are all the same—except you, Hobi, of course. They all think they’re untouchable rockstars, even if all they can play is Wonderwall on the guitar." That opinion, obviously, came from a traumatic experience involving a particularly obnoxious bassist who shattered his heart in under a week. Since then, the poor boy believed anyone who used a metronome had sold their soul to the devil.
It’s the same logic people use when they say stuff like, "Don’t date med students, they’ll cheat on you," or "engineers are total girl-repellents." Like, sure, a lot of them might be that way. Yes, some musicians act like they’re God’s gift to Earth, and a good number of literature nerds can be complete snobs—but why was it okay to generalize?
So yeah, there were some barriers. Hoseok could ignore them if he wanted to, but the sensible part of his brain knew that trying to merge those two worlds was like stepping into a minefield. And it didn’t help that Taehyung, Jimin, and Jungkook were jealous little brats. Sure, they covered it up with jokes and drama, but Hoseok knew the rivalry for his attention wasn’t just innocent fun.
And speaking of Taehyung and Jungkook... well, they were a whole other story. Those two together were like mixing tequila and fireworks: exciting, unpredictable, and dangerously explosive. Both were competitive, short-tempered, and had a special talent for turning even the most trivial interactions into a showdown straight out of a Wild West movie.
But... what if it worked? What if he pulled off the impossible? Hoseok had a crystal-clear vision: a party where his two favorite groups dropped the drama, got drunk together, and—who knows—ended the night belting 'Bohemian Rhapsody' with their arms around each other.
So, with a bit of optimism and a generous pinch of delusion, Hoseok typed his first invitation message:
"This Saturday, Gyeoul, 9:00 p.m. Free drinks, good music, and guaranteed fun. If you don’t show up, I’ll never talk to you again and you’ll not only miss the biggest event of the year, but also the privilege of ever being invited to one of my parties again."
Because if there was one thing Hoseok knew, it was that in this life, almost anything could be solved with alcohol. Right?
He was going to do everything in his power to make them all get along.
Chapter Text
"You're kind of struggling a bit, huh?"
"Is it too much?"
"Repeat your plan to me."
Taehyung squinted at Jin, pure disbelief in his eyes. They were sitting at one of the many cafés on campus, occupying a table by the window. Jin, coffee in hand, cleared his throat.
"Alright, listen carefully because I’m not repeating myself," Jin said, leaning his elbows on the table and clasping his hands together like a movie villain. "First, I spot her. I locate her exact position in the club. Knowing where she is is key so everything can unfold naturally."
"Naturally? You haven’t even finished two sentences and you already sound like a stalker."
Jin ignored him.
"Second, I make sure there’s enough space around her for my entrance to have impact. I don’t want to be competing with a damn army of admirers. I need visibility."
"Jin-hyung, you’re not a painting in a gallery."
"Exactly why I need strategy. Now comes the third phase: the walk. Not just any walk. The walk." Jin, still seated, began mimicking how he’d move, and Taehyung genuinely wanted to bury his face in the nearest potted plant. "Firm steps, but relaxed. Confident, but effortless. Like fate guided me to her without me even trying."
"So basically, like an NPC that just got assigned a side quest."
"Don’t speak. When I’m close enough, I make eye contact. One second. Two seconds. Then I look away, leave her wondering." Jin even demonstrated the exact look he’d give. Taehyung thought it was lucky the guy was handsome—pulling that off without good looks was enough reason to be socially exiled for life and would be enough for Taehyung to make his life a living hell.
"Wondering what, exactly?"
"Wondering if I was really looking at her, or if she just happened to catch a glimpse of my naturally magnetic aura."
"You’re really going to count the exact seconds you look at her?"
"I’ll count out loud if I have to."
Taehyung exhaled through his nose.
"God, give me strength."
"Fourth phase: positioning. That’s when logistics come in. I settle into a strategic location—close enough to be seen, but not too close to look desperate. I lean casually against the bar, order a sophisticated drink—something that says this man has refined taste—and I wait." Jin's hands went to the table and he put them pretending to be people to show Taehyung where he and the girl he unfortunately had in mind will be standing.
"Okay, but what if she doesn’t even notice you?"
"That’s what the fifth phase is for." Jin grinned wickedly. "The orchestrated coincidence."
"You can’t be serious."
"I make use of any opportunity for a perfectly 'accidental' interaction. Maybe we’re both at the bar at the same time, and the bartender hands me my drink just as she’s ordering hers. Or we bump into each other on the dance floor. If needed, I pretend someone pushed me into her—a light touch on the arm. Just enough to get her attention without being invasive."
"Are you gonna hire someone to push you at the right moment?"
"Of course not. Worst case, you give me a little push—gently, because I swear to God, if you shove me too hard, I’ll punch you back." Jin shot him a warning look, fully aware of what Taehyung was capable of.
"Amazing. We’re witnessing history. The first person to develop a full-on field study just to say hello to someone," the blond scoffed.
"It’s called art, Taehyung."
Taehyung rubbed his face with both hands, trying to mentally process everything he’d just heard.
"Sometimes I wonder how humanity has made it this far with people like you walking around."
"Because of people like me, exactly."
"No, hyung. People like you are why social media was invented—because you’re incapable of having a normal interaction in public," Taehyung muttered, poking his shoulder.
Jin adjusted in his seat, completely ignoring the jab.
"And the sixth and final phase is simple: conversation. A witty comment, a subtle reference that shows I’ve got brains, humor, and a smooth voice. That’s it."
"That’s it? The girl just melts into your arms after six phases?"
"Not instantly. I’m not delusional, Taehyung. But I leave enough of an impression for her to remember me," Jin said with absolute conviction.
There was a pause.
"Hyung."
"What?"
"You’re handsome, you’ve got charisma, you’re funny... you could literally just go talk to her," Taehyung mumbled, genuinely baffled by the need for such an elaborate plan.
It was just Joohyun! not a bomb waiting to explode. Sure, girls could be unpredictable and figuring them out was a pain in the ass sometimes, but even they preferred a guy who just took action over one who did nothing because he was overthinking.
"And sound like every other dude in the place? You want me to stoop that low?"
"I give up," Taehyung said, resting his forehead against the table while Jin sipped his coffee with a smug smile.
"The art of seduction isn’t for everyone, Tae. But one day, when you’re ready, I, Kim Seokjin, will guide you through its secrets."
Taehyung slowly lifted his head just enough to glare at him.
"I’d rather die."
Jin sighed, shaking his head.
"Kids these days don’t appreciate real tactics."
"Dude, you’re twenty-five."
"Exactly why I’m wiser than you. You’re only twenty-two."
"That’s literally a three-year difference."
"It’s enough."
Taehyung fell silent for a second, then fully straightened up and let his head fall back, releasing a low, tired laugh.
"I can’t wait to see this whole thing crash and burn. You read too much for your major, and now you think you're an expert on women. But watch, Joohyun’s gonna slip through your fingers again," he said, grinning wickedly at him.
"Ha! Just wait and see."
With that, Jin finished his coffee with an air of triumph, convinced that his master plan was guaranteed to succeed. Taehyung, for his part, saw only two possible outcomes: either Jin would make a complete fool of himself, or—by some miracle—his ridiculous delusion of grandeur would actually pay off. Either way, it was going to be pure entertainment.
"I can’t wait to watch you try."
"Oh yeah? Then tell me, Mr. Know-It-All, how exactly are you planning to break your dry spell?" Jin pointed at him accusingly. "Three weeks, Taehyung. That’s basically a spiritual retreat by your standards."
Taehyung chuckled under his breath and leaned back with his arms crossed.
"Everything’s under control, hyung."
"Is that so? Enlighten me with your brilliant plan."
"Simple," Taehyung shrugged and flashed a confident smirk. "I look amazing. I find someone who’s my type. I make a move."
Jin stared at him like he’d just claimed to cure cancer with aspirin.
"That’s it?"
"That’s it."
"That's your whole strategy?" Jin not only spoke slowly but blinked just as slowly, like maybe if he talked to Taehyung like he was stupid, the message would finally get through.
"Hyung, it’s me. I don’t need to jump through hoops to get attention."
Jin clicked his tongue and waved a hand.
"No, no, no. That sounds way too vague, way too risky. You need a clear route. For example, what happens if there’s no one at the party who’s your type?" he hissed, tapping his index finger hard against the table.
"I adapt," Taehyung replied with a simple smile.
"What if you don’t get the chance to approach anyone?" the older raised an eyebrow.
"I create the opportunity," Taehyung shrugged.
"And what if you get rejected?"
Taehyung blinked, like the question was so absurd it hadn't even crossed his mind.
"I don’t get rejected," he said, frowning when Jin let out an utterly skeptical laugh.
"Sure you don’t."
"It’s not arrogance, it’s statistics," Taehyung replied, but Jin shook his head, still unconvinced.
"Okay, let’s say, by some weird planetary misalignment, you do get rejected. What then?"
"Nothing. I move on to someone else."
"Taehyung!"
"What? It’s really that simple, hyung," the blond muttered. "There’ll be hundreds of girls. Do you need me to remind you where we’re going?"
"I can’t with you," Jin groaned, rubbing his temples like he was in pain.
"You overcomplicate everything. I just trust my instincts."
"That’s not instinct, that’s unchecked ego."
"I can’t help being blessed."
Jin rolled his eyes, but Taehyung just smiled with that cocky confidence that bordered on shameless. He knew what he had and how easily things worked in his favor. No need for a six-phase plan or pretending things were accidental. He just had to be himself.
Taehyung took a sip of his hot chocolate and instantly winced. It had gone cold while he’d been talking to Jin. He hated drinking things cold that were meant to be hot—it felt like the flavor was gone.
"Learn from me, hyung. Life’s simpler when you accept the inevitable."
"My head hurts," Jin whined dramatically.
"Because you overthink everything."
"And you don’t think enough."
"That’s why I look younger than you did at my age."
"Go to hell."
Taehyung burst into that mischievous laugh of his and stretched in his chair.
"Just wait and see, hyung. While you’re out there counting steps in your flirting choreography, I’ll already be reaping the rewards," he mumbled, biting his lip and wiggling his eyebrows up and down.
"Ugh."
Taehyung suddenly caught a familiar scent behind him and turned his head. Jimin had just stepped into the café when he felt two pairs of eyes lock on him so intensely that it gave him chills. The cologne he was wearing was a Christmas gift from Taehyung—that’s why the blond recognized it immediately. He was the kind of person who could identify the people he loved just by their scent.
"Jimin!" Jin exclaimed, slapping his palm on the table like he’d just spotted a key witness arriving in court.
"Quick, before he escapes," Taehyung added, straightening up and getting to his feet.
Jimin blinked, confused, and barely had time to open his mouth before his best friend grabbed him and pulled him down into the seat with them.
"God, what is it now? Can’t I get a coffee in peace?"
"I want you to tell Jin-hyung that he’s overthinking this whole picking-up-a-girl thing," Taehyung said bluntly.
"And I want you to tell Taehyung he needs an actual plan if he wants to land anything," Jin cut in.
"Joohyun?" Jimin asked, already tired, looking between them.
"It's always her," Taehyung confirmed with a nod.
"Hyung, you haven’t managed to get near her in two semesters. What makes you think your plans are working if you’ve never even talked to her directly?" Jimin said, stealing Taehyung’s drink and taking a sip.
"Why are you taking his side?" Jin asked indignantly. "At least have the decency to share your own methods, Jimin."
Jimin looked at him in silence for a couple of seconds. Then he frowned.
"My what?"
"Your method!" Jin insisted, leaning in as if Jimin held the secret to the universe. "Your strategy!"
The brunette looked from Taehyung to Jin, then back to Taehyung, then to the nearly empty drink he’d shamelessly stolen, wondering if he’d gotten enough sleep to deal with this.
"Are you two okay?"
"Don’t dodge it," Taehyung pointed a finger at him. "You have to help him. Look at him. If I told you the steps he came up with just to approach her at the party, you’d either want to die or kill him. One of the two."
"But I don’t actually do much," Jimin sighed, slumping back in the chair.
"Impossible!" Jin cried out.
Jimin shook his head, a little smile tugging at his plush lips.
"No, seriously. I just let it happen. I almost never make the first move. People usually come to me, already knowing what they want."
Jin and Taehyung exchanged a look, utterly baffled.
"Wait, wait, wait..." Jin held up a hand like he was trying to pause reality. "You’re telling me you have no plan?"
"Nope."
"You don’t scope out the room, identify targets, prep an approach?"
"Nope."
"You don’t even make eye contact first?" Taehyung jumped in, now genuinely offended. I mean, he always had to make the first move. Sure, he didn’t overthink it like Jin, but he still had to do something to make things happen. He was just a simple mortal.
"Nope."
"Then what do you do?" they both asked in unison.
Jimin smiled, took one last sip of Taehyung’s now-cold chocolate, and shrugged.
"I already told you. Not much. Almost nothing."
Jin dropped his head onto the table with a groan of despair.
"Okay, explain," Taehyung said, arms crossed. "What do you mean ‘nothing’? I know you love pretending you don’t know how any of this works, but even if you're in a dry spell, you always have options. You like acting clueless," he continued. "But that has to start somewhere. I don’t know, maybe batting your lashes or shaking your ass—something."
Jimin just shrugged again, fully entertained by their frustration.
"It just happens. I’m there. People come up to me. That’s it."
"It cannot be that simple," Jin whined.
"It is."
"But..." Taehyung frowned, trying to process. "What if no one comes up to you? I create opportunities—what do you do?"
"Someone always comes up to me."
"You shameless bastard," Jin said, lifting his head to glare at him.
"Hyung, it’s not my fault people want me," Jimin said, putting on an expression of absolute innocence.
"Not even a little effort?" Taehyung insisted, still in denial. "Have you never had to actually do something to attract someone?"
Jimin tilted his head and pretended to think about it, though it was painfully obvious he was just doing it to make them suffer.
"Well..."
"Aha!" Jin leaned forward.
"Sometimes I pretend I don’t notice when someone’s flirting with me."
"That works?" Jin asked, almost offended.
"A lot."
"So you're telling me you act all innocent and that just reels them in?"
Jimin nodded with the most satisfied grin on his face.
"People love fake innocence, hyung."
"You're a criminal," Jin muttered, looking at him somewhere between awe and horror.
"I'm just using my resources. I like it when people are direct, when they tell me exactly what they want from me," the brunette said, shrugging. "It even works with girls. I've almost never made the first move with a girl. If I do, it means I really like her—like I can’t even wait for her to notice me and fall head over heels for my charms."
Taehyung shook his head and pointed at him.
"You’re worse than me. I may not have a drawn-out strategy like Jin-hyung, but I do something."
Jimin laughed and didn’t even try to deny it.
"It’s official. There’s no hope for this generation," Jin said, staring out the window with a tone of nostalgic defeat. Taehyung just laughed at him while Jimin patted his back with amusement.
"Don’t overthink it, hyung. Just... let it happen. I’m with Tae on this one."
Jin let out a strangled groan, and both Jimin and Taehyung laughed in unison. A few minutes later, Jimin stood from the table to order two more coffees and a hot chocolate. He came back with the drinks on a tray.
"So, what are you guys going to wear?" Jimin asked as he sat back down and started passing out the cups. For Jin, an Americano with no added sugar; for himself, a lactose-free latte; and for Taehyung, the one drink that wasn’t coffee. The blond wasn’t quite sure why, but aside from disliking the taste, coffee made him sleepy instead of waking him up.
"Not the manliest question I’ve ever heard," Taehyung teased, quickly claiming his hot chocolate. This time, he wasn't letting it get cold.
Jin narrowed his eyes at him.
"Excuse me, Mr. Alpha Male, are questions gendered now?"
"I’m just saying maybe we should focus on practical details instead of talking about a sleepover."
"Oh, that’s a great idea," Jimin chimed in, suddenly excited. "You guys could come to my place, we get ready there, then head to the party together. And if you want to stay over, that’s fine too—just don’t puke on anything."
Taehyung stared at him in disbelief.
"What are we? Girls?"
"Say that again and I’ll shove a shoe in your mouth," Jimin warned, pointing at him with a serious expression.
"Stop with the fragile masculinity, Taehyung," Jin said, crossing his arms in disapproval.
"Fragile? Just because I questioned getting ready at another guy’s house?"
"Yes," Jin and Jimin said at the same time. "There’s nothing wrong with getting ready together," Jimin continued. "Plus, it’s efficient. If you forget something, you can borrow it. If you spill something, you can change quickly. If Jin falls asleep after showering, we wake him up before he runs late or sleeps through it."
Jin sighed with mock resignation.
"I hate when you make sense."
Taehyung scoffed and looked away.
"I definitely don't have fragile masculinity, I just find the way you two talk funny and I like to tease you."
"Oh sure, you’re messing with us," Jimin repeated with a glare. "That’s exactly how men end up at thirty still wearing the same shirt from five years ago because ‘it still holds up.’"
"Confirmed," Jin added. "My dad’s brother is already there."
"Whatever. I’ll go," Taehyung gave in, rolling his eyes as he took another sip of his drink. "For you guys. It’s not like I want to."
"I knew you'd come around," Jimin said with a smug smile.
Before they could keep arguing about what truly defined manliness, someone rushed past their table, arms loaded with what had to be at least twenty kilos of papers, folders, and books.
"Hyung!" Jimin called, raising a hand.
Hoseok managed to stop without dropping everything and barely turned his head. Taehyung didn’t need to ask to know what was happening—his hyung had clearly let his assignments pile up, and now he was suffering the consequences of prioritizing party planning over schoolwork.
"What’s up? I don’t have much time, guys."
"Is there a dress code for the party?" Jimin asked. Hoseok’s face instantly reflected the feeling of a man whose time was being thoroughly wasted.
"Not really. Whatever you're comfortable in—just no nudity."
"So Taehyung can’t go in his underwear?" Jin joked.
"Damn, there go my plans," Taehyung groaned.
Hoseok just clicked his tongue and readjusted the weight of his load.
"I really gotta run. I’ll see you guys later, alright?"
Jin stopped him before he could leave.
"Wait, wait. We were just talking about our flirting strategies. What’s yours?"
"Jin-hyung, do you really think that between organizing the party, managing the guests, handling the finances, keeping track of everything I’m spending, and also trying to survive university—which always piles up because I’m organizing things—I have time to think about getting laid?"
The three of them went completely silent.
"Guys, I love you, but I really have to go," Hoseok said quickly, and practically sprinted away. Jin watched him go, then sighed and crossed his arms.
"We’ve tried to help him, but he always refuses."
"His priorities are insane. Should we at least try helping him out with this?" Taehyung suggested, raising an eyebrow.
"Help him get a girl?" Jimin asked, intrigued.
"Exactly," Jin said with determination. "If he won’t let us help with the party, the least we can do is help him get laid on his birthday."
The boys looked at each other and nodded. The three of them touched their heads, it was something they used to do when they had an idea and 'connected'. They were weird.
And that's what the people in the cafeteria thought, as they had been watching them for a while shout, fight, insult each other and then perform a strange ritual.
──── ∗ ⋅✧⋅ ∗ ────
Saturday arrived faster than expected, and with it came the overwhelming feeling that they had a thousand things to do and not nearly enough time to do them.
Jungkook, Namjoon, and Yoongi were at the latter’s house, in his studio, practicing for a project for one of their classes—specifically, their composition course. They had to create a piece from scratch as a group, without using sound simulators. Everything had to be original. The room was filled with audio equipment, instruments, and a couple of half-finished cups of coffee, clear evidence that they’d been there for a while.
"It’d be easier if Hoseok were here," Namjoon muttered as he flipped through some notes in his notebook. "But of course, he’s busy with his birthday stuff."
"Which is fair," Yoongi said, swiveling slightly in his producer chair. "Today’s his big day. We only agreed to rehearse today because we’re heading to the party together later tonight."
"I already wished him a happy birthday and I’ve got his gift ready," Jungkook added, not even looking up from the guitar strings he was tuning for what felt like the thousandth time that day. He couldn’t understand why they kept slipping out of tune so easily. "That’s enough, right?"
Yoongi scoffed. "Yeah, yeah. Best friend of the year."
The conversation drifted for a few more minutes until Jungkook, almost offhandedly, dropped:
"Oh, Soojin texted me earlier asking if I was going to the party."
Namjoon immediately lifted his head, intrigued, while Yoongi just frowned at him.
"And what did you say?" Namjoon asked.
"I replied with something nice, obviously," Jungkook said with the most falsely innocent tone they had ever heard. "Something like, ‘Oh, I didn’t know you cared about what I was doing, considering it only took you two days to start flirting with Jaebeom.’"
A beat of silence followed.
"Oh my god..." Yoongi sighed, dragging a hand down his face in exasperation. "Can you ever take the peaceful route? You are so petty."
"Come on, hyung. Do you seriously think she deserved a better answer?" Jungkook shrugged, completely unrepentant.
"Not answering and blocking her was also an option," Yoongi pointed out.
"Well, yeah... but..." Namjoon interjected, "If you were in his shoes, hyung, you probably would’ve done something even worse."
Yoongi opened his mouth to argue... then stopped.
"You might be right," he admitted. "Still, we’ve got to raise the kid properly."
Jungkook rolled his eyes, ignoring the nickname. He was used to it. Even though the three of them were in the same semester, he was a few years younger. He’d been an advanced student in high school, allowing him to graduate early and start university as a teenager. Sometimes, that meant Namjoon and Yoongi acted like his older brothers, offering unsolicited advice and scolding him for his remarks or behavior.
Luckily, he never listened to them.
"Anyway, it’s not like I care about Soojin anymore," Jungkook continued, shrugging again.
Namjoon stretched in his chair, snapping his notebook shut.
"Alright, setting aside Jungkook’s unresolved emotional trauma... what’s the plan for tonight?"
"I’ve got it all figured out," the tattooed one said, leaning his head back against the wall. "I’m going to find a girl and have a good time. Something casual. No complications."
"And this has absolutely nothing to do with Soojin?" Yoongi raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical, which earned a click of the tongue from Jungkook.
"Not at all. But if she happens to see I’ve moved on... well, collateral damage."
"Please. You’re like a kid whose favorite stuffed animal got taken away," Yoongi muttered without even looking at him. Namjoon laughed out loud, and Jungkook threw a pillow at him. Yoongi caught it effortlessly and didn’t even bother throwing it back. "You’re still giving her some of your attention, even if you don’t want to admit it. That’s just how you are with people you care about."
"Man, it’s not about attention," Jungkook protested. "It’s about justice."
"Yeah, yeah," Yoongi nodded, his tone dry and mocking. "Justice. Jeon Jungkook’s holy crusade against toxic exes. And don’t call me ‘man.’ I’m your hyung, you disrespectful little punk."
Jungkook frowned. "When did I say she was toxic?"
"You didn’t. But considering you’ve been bringing her up all month like you’re waiting for us to grab pitchforks and set her house on fire, I think it’s a safe assumption," Namjoon said, and Jungkook shot him a betrayed look.
"Whose side are you on?"
"The side of logic," Namjoon replied. "And as much as I hate to admit it, Yoongi-hyung’s right."
Yoongi placed a hand over his heart.
"A historic moment."
"Shut up," Namjoon muttered before turning back to Jungkook. "Look, do whatever you want tonight. Just stop pretending it has nothing to do with Soojin when it clearly does."
"Whatever you say, hyung," Jungkook said with a shrug, basically telling him to shut up. Namjoon sighed in defeat. "And what about you guys?" Jungkook asked, changing the subject. "You’re not seriously planning to stand around like mummies, right? What are you going to do?"
"Drink just enough to tolerate people, but not so much that I regret anything tomorrow," Yoongi replied casually.
"Same," Namjoon agreed, then paused. "Especially since I’ll have to keep an eye on you, since you will do something."
"Why do you guys always expect the worst from me?" Jungkook complained.
"Because you always give us reasons to," Yoongi shot back.
"So..." Jungkook leaned back on the couch with a smug grin. "Are you two going to stand in a corner like grumpy old men, or are you at least going to try to have fun?"
"We always have fun," Yoongi replied with mock offense.
"If by fun you mean drinking in silence and judging people with your eyes, then yeah, you guys are the literal definition of a good time," Jungkook said.
"Hey, there’s nothing more entertaining than watching the circus without having to be the clown," Yoongi said calmly.
"Besides," Namjoon added, resting his elbows on the table, "we can always count on you to be the main attraction."
Jungkook gave him an offended look.
"Again, why do you always expect the worst from me?"
"Oh, please," Yoongi scoffed. "Let’s review the last three parties we’ve gone to. At the first one, you almost got into a fight with a guy because he breathed too close to you."
"He was in my personal space," Jungkook argued.
"At the second, you ended up serenading a stranger after ten drinks because, and I quote, ‘she didn’t know she needed to hear my voice until now,’" Yoongi continued.
"Okay, but it worked."
"And the last one..." Yoongi paused dramatically. "Well, we all know how that ended."
"It was a miscalculation."
Namjoon snorted.
"You fell down the stairs trying to do a damn parkour stunt."
"It seemed like a good idea at the time!"
"The point is, we don’t have to do much to make parties interesting when we’ve got you," Yoongi said, shaking his head.
Jungkook crossed his arms. "Ungrateful bastards."
"We say it with love," Namjoon replied with a smug grin.
"Yeah, sure," Jungkook muttered. "Well, get ready, because tonight is my night. I swear it’s going to be legendary."
"Legendary as in ‘you’ll end up blacklisted from another frat house,’ or legendary as in ‘we’ll wake you up in the morning with a hangover and an existential crisis’?" Yoongi asked, deadpan.
"You guys have so little faith in me. And you call yourselves my friends?" Jungkook pouted, and Namjoon sighed.
"You know, sometimes I worry about your future."
"Don’t," Jungkook said, smiling with all the confidence in the world. "I worry just enough to get by, and so far, it’s worked out for me."
Yoongi patted him on the shoulder.
"Sure, champ. You keep telling yourself that."
"You want me to make a list of every time your terrible decisions have led you to do something embarrassing?" Jungkook shot him a sharp look. "Because I can."
"That wouldn’t be fair to you. You’d lose. My list is way shorter than yours," Yoongi replied simply.
"God, you two are disgusting," Namjoon said.
"If you hate us so much, why are you still here?" Jungkook asked.
"Because, unfortunately, I love you idiots."
Yoongi pulled a face.
"Gross."
"I know," Namjoon nodded seriously. "I’m never saying it again."
Jungkook shook his head with a smile, a comfortable warmth blooming in his chest. Yeah, they gave each other shit constantly, but at the end of the day, they were his people.
──── ∗ ⋅✧⋅ ∗ ────
Taehyung was leaning against the hallway wall in Jimin’s house, arms crossed, staring at the chaos in front of him with an expression of mild disapproval.
"Jimin, what the hell are you doing?"
"Looking for my fucking keys, what do you think I’m doing, dumbass?" Jimin snapped, half his body inside the entryway cabinet. "Does it look like I’m playing soccer?"
"Someone’s in a mood."
"Keep talking and I’ll smash a vase into your face."
From across the house, Jin—halfway inside a closet—shouted,
"If I were Jimin, where would I hide something important?!"
"I didn’t hide them!" Jimin groaned, standing up in frustration. "They just disappeared!"
"Maybe the keys are running away," Taehyung said sarcastically. "They can’t stand the idea of another day locked up with you."
Jimin shot him a deadly look while running a hand through his chestnut hair in frustration—though, to the universe’s dismay, he somehow managed to look even more ridiculously attractive doing it.
Because yes, Jimin was that kind of person. The kind who could be on the verge of a breakdown because an Uber had been honking outside for five minutes, and still look like a goddamn magazine cover model.
That night, his outfit was designed for maximum destruction: a semi-sheer ivory blouse hanging loosely over his torso, a few buttons undone to reveal just enough skin and the sharp lines of his collarbones. The fabric clung just enough to hint at the shape of his waist, and the golden rings on his fingers gleamed under the house lights every time he moved his hands in frustration. A couple of delicate necklaces adorned his neck, and the tight black pants—snug in exactly the right places—completed the look with lethal precision.
Jin, on the other hand, was the definition of sophistication with a rebellious edge. He wore a crisp white dress shirt tucked neatly into tailored black pants and a belt, but the formal vibe ended there. He had rolled up the sleeves to his forearms and left the top buttons undone, revealing just enough skin to suggest without showing. His shoes were classy enough to say "I’ve got style," but casual enough to add a laid-back flair. Yes, he was attractive. Very attractive. And he knew it.
And then, there was Taehyung.
He wore a dark varsity jacket with leather accents, giving him a 90s hip-hop star vibe. Underneath, a simple neutral-toned t-shirt that hugged his figure just enough to hint without trying. His jeans were slightly loose but well-structured, artfully distressed to look casual without seeming sloppy. He also wore gold rings on his fingers, which of course were real gold and not just spray-painted metal. And on his feet, a pair of ridiculously expensive sneakers—the kind that made people stop and stare in the street.
"Why don’t you use a giant keychain or something?" Jin asked as he rejoined the others, empty-handed and clearly annoyed. "With your level of ADHD, you should have them hanging around your neck with a damn sign that says, ‘THESE ARE MY KEYS.’"
"If you’ve got a better idea, say it instead of whining," Jimin snapped, digging through the couch cushions.
"I do have a better idea," Jin said. "Don’t forget where you put them. It’s simple, but I think it could work."
Jimin was about to throw something back at him when, in a twist of fate, he turned his head and spotted something shiny on the table right next to Taehyung.
The keys.
The silence that followed was deadly.
Jimin closed his eyes slowly.
"Taehyung."
"Yeah?"
"Have you been looking at the keys this whole time?"
"Yup."
"And you didn’t say anything?!" Jin gasped, utterly offended.
Taehyung shrugged, fiddling with the golden rings on his fingers.
"You didn’t ask."
The sound Jimin made could’ve easily been confused with the Uber’s horn outside.
"You’re such a piece of shit."
"You’re welcome."
"The worst thing is that I can't even be angry because we don't have time and we're already late," Jin muttered, running a hand down his face.
"That’s correct," Taehyung said proudly.
Jimin grabbed the keys with a resigned sigh, and with no time left to argue, the three of them rushed out of the house.
The Uber was still there, the driver leaning on the horn like he was trying to summon the dead.
"We’re coming!" Jimin shouted, throwing up his hands.
"Don’t try to calm him down when he’s been waiting for, like, an hour!" Jin complained as they ran down the stairs two at a time.
"It hasn’t been that long..."
"Jimin, the Uber driver probably wrote his will by now."
They shoved themselves into the car, pushing and muttering. The driver shot them a look of pure irritation—maybe even quiet resignation—but finally pulled away from the curb.
──── ∗ ⋅✧⋅ ∗ ────
Jungkook wasn’t the kind of guy who left things to chance.
Sure, he liked the adrenaline of diving in headfirst and the thrill of the unknown, but he did his homework.
He’d heard about the place from rumors, stories, and a few photos on social media that looked like scenes straight out of one of those movies where the lead goes on a date with her billionaire or mafia boyfriend. Before coming, he’d done his research—checked out the Instagram page, watched TikToks, even read some reviews.
And still, none of it did justice to what he now had in front of his eyes.
This wasn’t just a club—it was an experience.
From the outside, it looked like a renovated warehouse with lights pulsing across the dark façade, mimicking something close to northern lights. But once they crossed the threshold, it was an entirely different world. The music thumped through the floor like a steady heartbeat, the lights moved in sync with the beat, reflecting off every shiny surface and the bodies already swaying to the rhythm of the night. The backlit bar sparkled with bottles in every color, and on the third level, balconies and private tables offered a panoramic view of the dance floor. Everything was decorated with a winter theme.
Jungkook let out a low whistle.
“Shit.”
“Now I get why Hoseok picked this place,” Namjoon commented, stuffing his hands in his pockets.
“He obviously did it thinking of me,” Jungkook said, his usual arrogant tone sliding easily into place. “If there’s anywhere I can make a statement, it’s here.”
Yoongi wrinkled his nose in disgust, still staring at him like he was offended.
“‘Make a statement’? What are you, a dog marking his territory?”
“Says the guy who’s two chains away from looking like a Russian mobster.”
Yoongi shrugged, unbothered.
“And still classier than you.”
“How much are you planning to criticize me tonight?” Jungkook rolled his eyes.
“I don’t know. How long are we staying?”
Namjoon chuckled and nudged Jungkook’s shoulder with his own.
“Come on, let’s try to look like civilized people.”
“Hard to do with this guy looking like he just stepped out of a gang,” Jungkook muttered, eyeing Yoongi up and down.
“Jungkook,” Namjoon warned, and he shut up—though not without a dramatic sigh—then followed him and Yoongi inside.
Hoseok was waiting at the entrance, beaming as soon as he spotted them. He opened his arms wide.
“My boys!”
They greeted him one by one with quick hugs and friendly slaps on the back.
“Happy birthday, Hobi,” Namjoon said with a warm smile.
“Thanks, thanks,” Hoseok beamed, then gave them a once-over. “Damn, you guys look good.”
Jungkook smiled with that natural touch of self-satisfaction he wore so well.
And for good reason.
He hadn’t come to play tonight.
He wore a fitted black leather jacket over a tight black t-shirt that clung to his torso, showing off his well-toned frame. Thick silver chains hung around his neck, complementing the earrings in both ears and the piercings in his brow and lip. His dark jeans hugged just enough without being uncomfortable, and the black boots on his feet added a rough edge that said he was ready for anything. With tattoos peeking out from his shirt collar and the edges of his sleeves, he was the very picture of dangerous but tempting.
Namjoon, in contrast, had a more laid-back vibe, but with that effortless drip that made anything look good on him. His black cap gave him a casual, mysterious edge, and his oversized white shirt fell perfectly over his frame. A denim jacket added a chill touch, and a long necklace with a dangling pendant rested over his chest, tying the whole look together.
Yoongi, on the other hand, was dressed entirely in black. From the oversized hoodie with metallic details to the loose-fit pants that landed precisely over a pair of thick-soled shoes—which, very intentionally, gave him a few extra inches of height. His chains glinted subtly under the lights.
And Hoseok? He always had his own style. He wore light-wash wide-leg jeans and a simple black tee, layered with a pale long-sleeve shirt that stood out against his skin. But the real charm was in the details: the shirt was covered in tiny pins across the chest, small accents that reflected his vibrant personality. His rings sparkled under the lights, and several chunky necklaces sat against his collarbone. In the breast pocket of his shirt, his black sunglasses rested—ready to complete the look when needed.
Jungkook nodded in approval. “You’re right, we do look good. But so do you.”
“Obviously,” Hoseok laughed. “Alright, make yourselves at home. There’s a table reserved for you guys upstairs—third floor, left side of the main balcony. Go on up, I’ve gotta stick around here a little longer to welcome more guests.”
They thanked him and headed deeper into the club.
The place was already alive: music wrapped around them, disco lights flashed in bursts of electric color, and the dance floor was filling fast with bodies in motion.
They climbed the stairs to the third level, walking through halls lit by neon strips until they found their table—where Jungkook immediately stopped and raised an eyebrow.
“Damn, are we expecting company?”
The table was ridiculously large for just the three of them. It could easily fit ten people without feeling crowded.
“Hoseok overestimated us,” Namjoon said, crossing his arms.
Jungkook grinned as he dropped onto the center seat, one arm draped casually along the back of the couch. A wide, low table sat in the middle for drinks.
“Well, it’s never a bad idea to have space for… special guests.”
Namjoon snorted and Yoongi shook his head.
“You’re impossible.”
──── ∗ ⋅✧⋅ ∗ ────
“I’m telling you, it makes no sense.”
“What do you mean it doesn’t?! Of course it does!”
“No, Jimin, you’re wrong.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“And you’re in denial.”
“Oh my God, will you two shut up already?!” Jin’s voice exploded in the car. He’d finally reached his limit.
Taehyung and Jimin had been locked in a heated—and ridiculous—argument over who the real villain was in the show they were watching together while getting ready. They fell silent for a beat after their hyung’s outburst. Then Jimin crossed his arms with an offended huff, and Taehyung clicked his tongue with smug superiority.
“I’m still right.”
“Sir, please let me out right here,” Jin said dramatically, turning to the Uber driver in desperation. “I’d rather walk than listen to this for one more second.”
When they finally arrived at the club, Jin paid quickly and, before getting out, handed the driver a little extra.
“For putting up with them.”
The man accepted the tip with a sympathetic smile as Jin practically shoved the door open. Jimin and Taehyung followed behind him, still shooting each other petty glares.
Taehyung let out a breath as he looked up at the place. It looked impressive—just like he remembered.
Neon lights flickered against the dark façade, the music thumped hard enough to be felt in his chest even from outside, and the line to get in stretched down the sidewalk. From the street, he could see the third-floor terrace, where some people leaned against the railing, chatting and taking in the city lights.
But his eyes stopped on one person in particular.
There was a guy facing away from him, resting his forearms on the railing with a confident slouch. He wore a leather jacket that caught the light just enough to gleam, its zippers and metallic details enhancing that tough-guy image. Chains glinted around his neck whenever he turned his head, and the dark jeans and boots completed the look.
Taehyung didn’t know exactly what made him keep looking—but he did.
And then, just a second later, the guy moved and disappeared back inside the club.
Taehyung blinked and shook his head, snapping out of it when he heard his name.
"Taehyung! Jin-hyung! Jimin!" Hoseok was calling to them from the entrance, arms wide open and his smile as radiant as ever.
"My favorite birthday boy!" Jimin shouted, running toward him with open arms.
Hoseok caught him in a tight hug, laughing as Jimin clung to him like a koala.
"Happy birthday, Hobi," Jin said with a smile, patting his shoulder.
"Happy birthday, hyung," Taehyung added, giving him a quick hug.
"Thanks, thanks!" Hoseok replied, still full of excitement. "Come on, I don’t have to stay out here greeting people anymore. I want to enjoy my party."
"Do we not have to wait in line like the rest?" Taehyung asked, nodding toward the crowd that snaked down the sidewalk.
"Are you kidding? Of course not. You guys are VIP with early access."
They walked in together, and the atmosphere swallowed them whole. The club was at its peak—lights in constant motion, music loud enough to be immersive but not overwhelming, and the place was already so packed they had to cling to one another just to stay together.
As they climbed the stairs to the third floor, Hoseok turned to them with a mischievous smile.
"Oh, right—remember I said I wanted to introduce you to some people?"
"Yeah," Jin replied curiously.
"Well, here are the first ones." Hoseok gestured toward a spacious table, and Taehyung followed his hand.
The first thing he saw was him.
It was the guy he’d seen on the terrace earlier—he was almost sure, recognizing parts of his outfit.
Taehyung swallowed involuntarily. Of course.
Now that he had him in full view, in better light, he could take in the details. The piercing on his brow and lip, the tattoos peeking out from under the slightly open collar of his shirt and around his wrist, the way that leather jacket clung to him like it had been custom-made.
He looked intimidating—but in an annoying way.
The kind of intimidating that shouldn't affect you, but it did anyway.
"Guys, this is Namjoon, Yoongi-hyung, and Jungkook," Hoseok said with enthusiasm. "And these are Taehyung, Jin-hyung, and Jimin."
They exchanged greetings, smiles, and handshakes.
"Come on, take a seat," Hoseok offered.
The table was round and low, with a large semi-circular couch wrapped around it. By some cruel twist of fate, Taehyung ended up sitting right next to Jungkook.
Jake Peralta’s voice echoed in his head: Cool, cool, cool, cool, cool.
To make things even worse, they were right in the middle of the group: to his right were Jimin and Jin, and to his left—Jungkook, followed by Namjoon, Yoongi, and Hoseok.
Uncomfortable? A little.
Annoyed that this was the first time they were speaking and the vibe was already weird? Possibly.
Endlessly haunted by the fact that, just a few minutes earlier, he’d been unknowingly staring at Jungkook from outside?... Yeah, he wasn’t ready to unpack that.
And just like that, Jungkook’s grand plans of filling the couch with girls were officially ruined.
Jungkook eyed the newcomers with a slightly raised eyebrow, biting the inside of his lip and toying with his piercing.
It wasn’t like he had some grand strategy for the night, but honestly, when Hoseok had mentioned he’d be introducing them to some people, this wasn’t what he’d pictured. He’d expected something more... visually appealing, for his own entertainment. Instead, he now had three more dudes taking up space at his table.
He sighed and gave them a quick once-over.
Jin looked like the confident, experienced type—the kind of guy who spoke with a superiority complex hidden behind jokes. Jimin had the vibe of a popular kid, all easy smiles and charmingly annoying energy.
And then there was him.
Taehyung.
Jungkook couldn’t help but stare a bit longer than necessary. Up close, he was even more attractive than he had seemed from afar—and that was already saying a lot.
Not to throw shade at his friends, but in their group, Jungkook was usually the one who drew the most attention without trying. Yoongi, Hoseok, and Namjoon weren’t exactly the flashy type. Sure, if they wanted to, they could easily steal the spotlight—but in places like this, the scale typically tipped in Jungkook’s favor.
Now, though, it felt like that attention was being... shared.
Because Taehyung had that same magnetic aura. That same presence. The kind that just demanded to be noticed.
From the moment he saw him walking in beside Hoseok, Jungkook’s eyes had gone straight to him. And that was annoyingly compelling.
Jungkook exhaled sharply through his nose and rolled his shoulders, as if that would shake the thought away.
There was a momentary silence. Understandably so—this was the first time all seven of them were together, and finding common ground beyond basic small talk was a challenge. Hoseok clearly tried to take the lead in conversation, but the environment wasn’t helping. They had to raise their voices just to be heard, and the low lighting made it feel like trying to hold eye contact with shadows.
"So, how long have you been in university, Taehyung?" Namjoon asked, trying to keep things going.
"I'm in my final year," Taehyung replied, raising his voice just enough to carry over the music. His deep voice made the hair on the back of Jungkook’s neck stand up.
"What are you studying?" Yoongi asked.
"Audiovisual Creation."
Jungkook leaned forward a little, resting his arms on his knees.
"Is that like film or what?"
Taehyung looked at him with a slight curve to his lips, the kind of expression that said his brain was weighing whether to respond politely or sarcastically to such an obnoxious tone.
"Yeah, something like that. It also includes photography, production, directing... lots of things."
Jungkook nodded with pursed lips, feigning interest.
"Oh. So you know how to record videos and take pretty pictures. How useful."
"And what do you study?" Taehyung squinted at him.
"Music Studies."
"How useful," Taehyung echoed, his tone perfectly balanced between mockery and fake admiration.
Jungkook smirked.
Well. At least he didn’t keep quiet.
Namjoon looked at both of them for a moment, then simply turned his head to focus on another conversation with Jimin and Jin. He’d decided it was best to leave them in their own little tug-of-war world. Technically, sure—Jungkook made music and Taehyung made music videos, so in theory, they should complement each other. But judging by the tone of their exchange... that wasn’t the vibe.
The conversation around the table gradually started to flow, though the subtle tension between Taehyung and Jungkook was impossible to ignore for anyone paying attention. Their eyes clashed now and then, laced with an unspoken "what’s your deal?" kind of energy.
It was almost like a silent standoff—but not a hostile one. Hoseok had predicted this. He knew there was a big chance they might clash for being a little too similar. Maybe he shouldn’t have let them sit together.
Or maybe he should.
After a while, each of them had their own drinks on the table, plus a stronger bottle chilling in a bucket of ice in the center, meant for taking shots. Then Hoseok’s phone vibrated.
"Oh, I’ll be right back," he announced suddenly, standing up with renewed enthusiasm. "The last people I wanted to introduce just arrived."
And just like that, he disappeared with all the energy in the world.
Jungkook let out a huff and leaned his elbow against the backrest of the couch, glancing at the other five left at the table.
"Well. Looks like it’s just us now."
"Incredible observation skills, Jungkook," Yoongi said, sipping his drink with total calm.
"Thanks. I try really hard."
"How many drinks do you need to become tolerable?" Jin asked Jungkook with a mocking smile.
"I’m not the problem," Jungkook replied, slouching deeper into the couch with a lazy grin. "Maybe you need to drink more so you stop taking life so seriously."
"I don’t want to wake up with a hangover, thank you."
"Scared?"
"No—smart."
"I don’t know, hyung," Jimin chuckled. "I think Jungkook’s just saying you need a little more party spirit."
"My party spirit is perfectly intact, thank you. It just expresses itself differently than you kids'," Jin said, lifting his glass with dignity.
Taehyung crossed his arms, flashing a crooked smile.
"I’d like to see that, hyung."
"Oh, and what about you, brat?" Jin shot him a sideways look.
Jungkook watched the exchange with a half-smile.
For some reason, seeing Taehyung interact with Jin and Jimin made it even more obvious how effortlessly he could blend into any group dynamic.
Which, honestly, kind of pissed him off.
Jungkook wasn’t about to admit it, but having someone in the group who exuded the same kind of effortless charisma as he did was a little... unsettling.
Still. If there was one thing Jungkook did enjoy, it was a good challenge.
The atmosphere around the table had loosened up quite a bit. Between jokes and laughter, the initial tension seemed to be dissipating. Seemed. Because, let’s be real—the Taehyung-Jungkook friction was still alive and well.
"So, Jin-hyung," Taehyung said, tilting his head with a lazy smile. "When does phase one of your master seduction plan begin?"
"I’d have to see the target first, don’t you think?" Jin replied, taking a dignified sip from his drink.
"What target?" Yoongi asked, squinting with curiosity.
"There’s this girl he’s been into for like two semesters, but he hasn’t done anything about it because he’s an idiot," Jimin said, clearly mocking him.
Jin placed a hand on his chest, offended.
"Sorry for being a gentleman and not a desperate dog."
"It’s not about being desperate, Jin-hyung," Taehyung said thoughtfully. "It’s that you overthink everything, and that makes you miss your shot."
"That’s not true!"
"It’s so true," Jimin insisted, patting his back. "You see her in the library, and instead of talking to her, you start building this master plan in your head, and by the time you’ve figured it out, she’s already gone."
Yoongi and Jungkook exchanged a look before nodding at the same time.
"He’s like Namjoon," Yoongi commented.
"Exactly," Jungkook added. "He knows exactly how to create a beautiful song about love, but when it comes to practice... he's very shy."
The silver-haired man scoffed and crossed his arms.
"Why am I suddenly the target of all the jokes?"
"Do you really want us to answer that?" Jungkook asked with a smirk.
"No."
The conversation carried on with a relaxed, light-hearted tone. The chemistry between them was gradually building, creating a dynamic where everyone seemed to fit in their own way.
Until Hoseok returned—trailing behind him, three girls appeared.
"Guys!" he exclaimed enthusiastically, gesturing for the people behind him to come closer. "Let me introduce you to Mina, Momo, and Sana."
First came Mina.
Her face was refined, with soft, symmetrical features that gave her a natural elegance. Her long black hair flowed like silk over her shoulders, framing her flawless skin. There was something serene in her gaze, a calmness that made it feel like she carefully analyzed everything before speaking. She dressed with effortless grace, wearing a dark-toned fitted dress that accentuated her quiet and distinguished presence.
Then there was Momo.
Unlike Mina, her presence was more vibrant, full of energy. Her long blonde hair and bangs gave her a youthful, dynamic air. Her features were expressive, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Her style was urban and sporty—a pair of leather pants and a snug crop top, accessorized with bold touches that gave her an undeniably daring vibe.
And finally... Sana. It was instant.
Jungkook and Taehyung noticed her at the same time.
Because really, how could they not?
There was something about her that effortlessly drew the eye—something beyond her obvious beauty.
Her chestnut hair fell in soft waves that framed her angelic face, catching the light with a warm shimmer. Her skin was flawless, glowing in a way that made it seem like she'd never had a bad day in her life. Her eyes were wide and expressive, carrying a sparkle that was both playful and irresistibly charming.
And then there was her smile—bright and teasing, the kind of smile that lit up a room no matter how dim the lights were.
She wore a delicate, fitted top with subtle details that highlighted her figure effortlessly, paired with a short skirt that showcased her long, toned legs. She looked feminine, confident, and above all—utterly captivating.
Taehyung blinked, feeling for the first time that night like someone had stolen the air from his lungs. Jungkook felt the same. They both stared at her, almost entranced.
"Girls, make yourselves comfortable," Hoseok said to his friends.
He took a seat next to Yoongi while Mina and Momo settled beside Jin. Sana, however, stayed standing for a few seconds, surveying the now limited space on the couch.
And then, almost reflexively, Jungkook and Taehyung moved at the exact same time.
They each scooted aside so quickly and with such determination that the impact was immediate. Taehyung shoved Jimin. Jungkook shoved Namjoon.
Both made room, creating a sizable empty spot right in the center of the couch, completely ignoring the complaints of those they’d pushed.
The entire group noticed the ridiculous synchronization of their movements. Jimin raised a brow at them while readjusting his seat. And amidst all of that, Taehyung and Jungkook turned to look at each other.
Or rather—face each other. Their gazes clashed like they were measuring strength in a duel.
Taehyung clenched his jaw. Jungkook pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek.
No words were exchanged—just tension and sparks thick in the air between them. You could practically see how their eyes wanted to set each other on fire.
And then, completely oblivious to everything that had just happened, Sana smiled sweetly.
"Oh, thank you!"
With perfect ease, she sat right between the two of them. The sweet scent of her perfume instantly wrapped around them. Jungkook felt his heart beat a little harder. Taehyung had to remind himself to breathe, because she had genuinely knocked the air out of him.
And in their minds, even if neither said a word aloud… they declared war.
Because Sana would be theirs.
Notes:
I have this story uploaded on Wattpad as well, but only in Spanish. And even there I have a chapter dedicated to the visuals first, where you could see how each one looks physically, if you are interested, although of course, it is in Spanish. If you want to read it, I'm with the user "freakinavi" on wattpad.
Thanks for reading!
And if you have any doubts, Joohyun is the real name of Irene from Red Velvet, I will try to always use the real names of the artists that appear as characters. Jaebum on the other hand is Jay B from GOT7 and Soojin (although perhaps many already know) is the former member of (G)I-DLE. If a character appears who is usually known more by their stage name, I will leave who they are here.
And if there are any doubts about sexualities, currently, what they themselves believe and know is that they are all heterosexual except Jimin, Yoongi and Momo, with Jimin and Momo being bisexual and Yoongi pansexual. These may or may not change in the future (obviously Jungkook and Taehyung will be discovered in the future, for example).
Chapter Text
"Let go," Taehyung muttered, not looking at him.
"You let go," Jungkook snapped back through clenched teeth.
It might've looked like a ridiculous scene—and it was—but in their minds, this was life or death. It wasn’t just about a glass, no. It was about principle. A battle of dominance.
And neither of them was willing to back down.
Hoseok, ever the thoughtful host, was making sure everyone had a drink in their hand, insisting they enjoy themselves. And just as Sana leaned over the table to grab a shot, Taehyung and Jungkook nearly killed each other trying to reach it first.
Their hands collided over the glass, and for a split second, they froze. Then came a subtle tug-of-war.
Taehyung, with a smug smile, tilted his head and pulled the glass ever so slightly to his side. Jungkook, whose patience was already hanging by a thread, tightened his grip and yanked it back.
The birthday boy and Namjoon watched the scene unfold, unsure of what to do. On one hand, it was hilarious that they were competing over who got to hand Sana a drink. On the other, it was clearly escalating—and that was concerning. Especially for Hoseok, who knew them both too well.
So he stepped in, snatching the glass from between them, lifting it up, and finally handing it to Sana. Jungkook gave him puppy-dog eyes while Taehyung pouted a little when their coveted prize was stolen.
"Here you go, Sana. Just ignore these children," Hoseok said with an awkward smile.
"It’s nothing, actually it’s quite entertaining. You’re both very gentlemanly," she replied with a little laugh.
Her words hit harder than they should have, because suddenly both of them were sitting straighter, puffing out their chests in pride. But then they realized the compliment wasn’t aimed at just one of them, and their heads turned—locking eyes once again with the very clear mutual intention of mentally murdering each other.
Jungkook rested his arm on the back of the couch so he could see Taehyung behind Sana, throwing him a look full of disbelief, silently asking, "Seriously?" Taehyung took a sip from his drink like nothing had happened. He was really playing the indifferent card, trying to make it crystal clear to the tattooed boy that he wasn’t even worth his attention—and that only irritated Jungkook more. Because nothing got under his skin like being ignored.
Namjoon sighed and took a long sip from his drink.
"Do you want me to get you another glass to fight over?" he asked, clearly annoyed. Hoseok burst into laughter.
"I don’t know what you’re talking about," Taehyung replied with a shrug.
"Oh, shut up," Jungkook growled, glaring at him.
"You were the one who grabbed the glass when I was already there."
"And who says the first one to grab it gets to keep it?"
"Isn’t it obvious, dumbass?"
"You want to settle this outside, little prince?"
"Say the word and I’ll be waiting on the fucking sidewalk, idiot."
"Enough!" Hoseok raised his voice when he saw poor Sana shrinking into herself as the two idiots leaned dangerously closer behind her. "For God’s sake, can you behave? At least try to have some decency in front of the girls."
"Sorry," they both muttered in unison.
The atmosphere was already too heated to handle the testosterone levels building between those two. The music blasted through the club, lights flashed in every color imaginable, and the crowd got lost in a swirl of dancing bodies, shared drinks, and stolen kisses without a hint of shame.
At their table, half-empty bottles and scattered glasses made it clear everyone was already getting lit.
Jimin, of course, had vanished the moment a tall, muscular guy with definite athlete energy approached him to dance. The guy introduced himself as Hyunwoo—Taehyung had seen him around the engineering department a few times, so he figured he must be studying something related. Jimin didn’t hesitate for even a second, and Taehyung confirmed that all that talk earlier about 'connections' had been total bullshit.
Meanwhile, Jin and Yoongi had taken off on what Jin had very seriously called a hoe lap—which, in simpler terms, meant a full sweep of the club in search of someone interesting. Ever since Jin explained his grand and structured plan to win over Joohyun, the musician had decided he needed to see it in action, so he tagged along to help track her down.
That left the table with Hoseok, Namjoon, the girls, and, of course, the two most competitive idiots in the club.
"I can’t believe Jimin ditched us so fast," Mina said, rolling her eyes in amusement as she sipped her drink.
"Can’t believe it?" Momo laughed in disbelief. "If a guy with arms like that asked me to dance, I’d vanish too, honey."
"Fair point," Mina nodded, raising her glass and eyeing Hoseok, who shifted in his seat and cleared his throat while glancing at the blonde. "Jimin knows how to prioritize."
"Not to be rude, but at least he’s dancing," Sana said, glancing around and realizing everyone else was still at the table. "What’s up? Nobody feels like moving?"
"I’m warming up," Namjoon replied with a shrug. "Not much of a dancer, so I need a few more drinks before I loosen up."
"I’m scoping the scene," Hoseok added with a sly smile. "Or more like making sure nothing blows up and ruins my birthday." His tone turned sharp at the end.
Both Jungkook and Taehyung looked away. They knew that last part was directed at them, and now they both felt a bit ashamed in front of their hyung.
"What about you, Taehyung?" Sana asked suddenly, leaning toward him with interest. "Do you like to dance?"
"Oh, don’t underestimate him," Hoseok cut in before he could reply. "Taehyung’s an amazing dancer."
"Yeah, sure," Jungkook interrupted, rolling his eyes. "About to believe that."
Taehyung wanted to glare at him, but since Sana was talking just to him, he decided to use it to his advantage. So he flashed her a flirty smile without even glancing at the tattooed boy.
"Of course, I love dancing. I can dance to anything, especially if I’m with someone. Do you like dancing? Want to try?" he asked, extending a hand toward her in invitation.
She smiled back, but before she could answer, Jungkook cut in—not about to let him win that easily.
"I can dance too, if you’re curious," he said, grabbing her attention. "Taehyung’s not that impressive."
"You haven’t even seen me," Taehyung scoffed, rolling his eyes.
"I don’t need to. Just look at you."
Once again, they started to lean in toward each other, and although Sana was kind of amused by it all, she decided she’d had enough of the toxic masculinity for now. Without giving them the chance to escalate it further, she placed her glass on the table and stood up.
"I’m going to the bathroom," she announced, adjusting her skirt slightly. "Coming?"
Momo and Mina didn’t take long to follow her, leaving the table noticeably lighter.
The moment the last strand of Sana’s hair vanished into the crowd, Jungkook leaned in toward Taehyung.
"Listen, little prince," Jungkook said in a low, firm voice. "If you think you stand a fucking chance, you're in for a big disappointment."
Taehyung raised an eyebrow and leaned in closer. What made him think he could call him little prince? Who the hell did he think he was?
"Oh yeah?" he whispered with the faintest hint of a smile. "Funny. I was thinking the same about you."
"You think you're so clever, huh?" Jungkook clenched his jaw.
"It’s not that I think I am, Jungkook. I am."
Jungkook's stare hardened.
"Let’s see how far that slick mouth gets you when she’s in my arms."
"Oh, Jungkook. That’s adorable. You really think she’ll even look at you with me around?" Taehyung smiled sweetly, his voice soft, like he was talking to a toddler. Jungkook's eyes lit with fire.
He straightened up, leaning in to close the distance and use his height as intimidation. But Taehyung didn’t flinch. On the contrary—he moved even closer, bringing his face to Jungkook’s until only inches separated them.
"I’m going to enjoy humiliating you," Jungkook murmured, his voice low and laced with threat.
"And I’m going to enjoy watching you fail," Taehyung said, holding his gaze steadily. Jungkook might’ve been taller, but that didn’t make him stronger. "Just do me a favor and make it interesting. I’d hate to get bored."
"Okay, that’s enough," Hoseok interrupted, suddenly stepping between them and pushing them both by the shoulders. "Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you?"
"Yeah, what’s next? Whipping your dicks out to see who’s got the biggest?" Namjoon added with an exasperated tone.
Both of them sat back with a jolt, but neither looked away.
"Jesus Christ, you’re like wild animals," Hoseok muttered, shaking his head.
Taehyung and Jungkook didn’t even bother responding. But in their heads, one thing was certain: there was no way the other guy had a bigger dick.
"Get out of my sight, now," Hoseok ordered, noticing they were both balling their fists at this point. They froze, each waiting for the other to move first—as if whoever backed down first lost the war. But Hoseok raised an eyebrow, and his expression made it clear he wasn’t in the mood for any of their bullshit. "I don’t want anything worse happening. Go cool off. I don’t want to see either of you here when Sana gets back."
And even if they didn’t want to admit it, neither of them wanted to ruin Hoseok’s birthday.
So, after one final, seething stare, they headed in opposite directions.
Jungkook stepped out onto the terrace, letting the cool air hit his face, trying to ease the burn of rage still boiling in his chest. Taehyung, meanwhile, made his way to the bar. He needed something stronger. Something to make him forget—if only for a moment—how disgusted he felt by Jungkook.
While he waited for his drink, his gaze drifted toward the dance floor and landed on Jimin.
The little bastard was fully in the moment, moving with effortless grace against Hyunwoo’s body—his hands firm and confident, clearly enjoying every inch of contact. Jimin tilted his head back with a flirty smile, and the moment he spotted Taehyung, he raised a hand in greeting.
And not only that—he started walking toward him, dragging Hyunwoo along without letting go.
"Tae!" he called out, his voice slightly breathless from dancing. "Why do you look like you’re about to murder someone?"
"Take a wild guess," Taehyung huffed, crossing his arms.
"Jungkook again?" Jimin narrowed his eyes.
"Jungkook again."
"What happened now? Last I saw, you asked Sana something and he cut in before she could answer with another question," Jimin said, tilting his head. "After that, I left."
"The idiot thinks he’s so fucking clever."
"Well, technically, so do you," Jimin teased, but when he saw Taehyung’s expression, he raised both hands in peace. "Alright, alright—what’d he do?"
Taehyung sighed. The bartender tapped him on the shoulder and handed him the drink he ordered. He nodded in thanks, took a sip, and then started talking.
"First, I was trying to hand Sana her drink, and the asshole got in the way. We ended up tugging at it like fucking children," he said bitterly. "And as soon as she went to the bathroom, he took the chance to come over and play alpha male with me."
"What do you mean?" Jimin arched a brow.
"He leaned in and literally threatened me with that deep voice and that 'stay out of my way' tone."
"Ugh. Gross," Jimin grimaced.
"Exactly. So obviously, I wasn’t going to just sit there and take it," Taehyung continued, leaning an elbow on the bar and turning toward his friend. "I leaned in even closer and made it very clear I’m not scared of his wannabe tough guy attitude."
"I like it, I like it. Go on," Jimin said with a grin, motioning with his hand for him to keep going.
"We traded insults until Hobi-hyung kicked us out."
Jimin burst out laughing.
"He kicked you out?"
"He told us to go cool off in opposite directions because he didn’t want to see us when Sana came back."
"You two are such children," Jimin shook his head.
"I wasn’t the one who started it," Taehyung snorted.
"Oh, sure. Because you never provoke anyone," Jimin said sarcastically.
"I’m the definition of self-control," Taehyung replied, placing a hand over his chest.
The brunette rolled his eyes, glancing briefly at Hyunwoo with a calm smile before turning his gaze back to his best friend.
"Look, whatever the case, you can’t let that guy get under your skin."
"He doesn’t," Taehyung lied.
Jimin gave him a knowing look.
"Oh, please. You’re boiling with rage, and that’s exactly what he wants."
"So what do you want me to do? Just stay quiet and let him think he can do whatever the hell he wants? Or worse—let him walk away with the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen?"
"No. I want you to play smart," Jimin said, grabbing both of Taehyung’s shoulders. "Jungkook’s a bull. He charges head-on with brute force. But you, you’re a fox. You’re smarter, more strategic. You don’t need to beat him with strength. You beat him with your brain."
He gave his arm a light tap for emphasis.
Taehyung smirked to the side.
"Sometimes you’re useful."
"I’m always useful. But just one tiny thing," Jimin added, licking his lips and bringing a finger to his chin. "I thought your ideal type was ‘90s Shalom Harlow... Sana doesn’t really give off those vibes."
"Jimin, Shalom is a goddess. Don’t compare," Taehyung said, pointing at him. "Besides, that’s just a type. I’m perfectly capable of being attracted to girls even if they don’t match the imaginary prototype I have in my head. Sana is gorgeous—she’s beautiful. She’s literally the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen in real life, and she doesn’t need to be like Shalom for me to like her. She’s got... something. I find her insanely attractive. There’s just something about her presence that draws me in. It’s an instinctive reaction, I guess."
At that moment, Hyunwoo—who had been waiting patiently—leaned in and whispered something into Jimin’s ear. Taehyung saw his hands trail up from the brunette’s waist to his chest, shamelessly caressing the skin along the way. Jimin smiled immediately.
"I'm going to the bathroom," he announced without even pretending to hide it, making Taehyung raise an eyebrow.
"You're not going to pee."
"Of course not," Jimin said, winking at him.
"Go tend to your needs and stop making me imagine shit I really don’t want to picture," Taehyung sighed, running a hand down his face. Jimin laughed before disappearing into the crowd, Hyunwoo close behind.
Taehyung shook his head and leaned back against the bar, staring straight ahead, determined to stay there a little longer. But, as if the universe had it out for him, Jungkook showed up beside him.
The younger man rested an arm on the bar and gave the bartender a serious look.
"The strongest thing you’ve got."
Taehyung rolled his eyes.
"What? Couldn’t breathe enough on the terrace?" he said sarcastically, earning a side glance from Jungkook.
"And you? Is the alcohol helping you accept your inevitable defeat?"
"Defeat?" Taehyung let out a fake laugh. "Funny you mention that. So far, you’re the one looking completely fucking frustrated."
"That’s only because you haven’t seen what I’m capable of," Jungkook replied, sounding more and more desperate. He took the glass the bartender served him and practically downed it in one gulp.
"If being an asshole is what you’re referring to, believe me, you’ve already provided plenty of evidence."
Jungkook’s eyes flared with warning, but Taehyung only smirked, satisfied with the small victory. Just as the younger man was about to retort, his gaze drifted past Taehyung, and his expression changed instantly. The shift was obvious.
His shoulders tensed, his lips parted slightly, and his eyes locked on someone in the crowd. Jungkook had definitely spotted someone—and from the way his whole face hardened, it wasn’t just anyone.
"What the fuck...?" Jungkook muttered, eyes fixed on the scene.
Taehyung turned slightly to follow his gaze. He saw a very pretty girl, full lips painted a bold red, long black hair cascading in soft waves, and a sensual beauty mark under her right eye. She was wearing something fit for a rave, revealing her arms and showing off delicate tattoos.
She was being cornered at the bar by a guy with slightly long hair, a sharp jawline, and two piercings—a nostril and an anti-eyebrow. They were just inches apart, shamelessly smiling at each other, their eyes flicking between lips and gaze.
Oh, wait. Taehyung knew those piercings.
"Jae?" he said, and the guy turned around, smiling instantly when he recognized him.
"Taehyung!" He stepped away from the girl and immediately exchanged greetings with the blond. From behind, Jungkook watched the whole thing with a deep frown. He’d completely forgotten that his ex—well, not-ex—might show up tonight. But what he hadn’t expected was for Taehyung to know his new replacement.
"Didn’t expect to see you here," Taehyung said with a smile. Jaebeom also studied Audiovisual Creation, and they’d worked on several projects together. They weren’t best friends, but they got along well.
"She invited me, and once I saw the venue, I couldn’t miss it," he grinned, drawing the blond’s attention to the girl. Taehyung raised a playful eyebrow.
"Your girlfriend?" he asked suggestively. "She’s cute."
"Yeah, something like that. Let’s say yes," Jaebeom looked at her sweetly. "Soojin, this is Taehyung. We’re in the same program."
Before he could elaborate, another voice cut into the conversation.
"Girlfriend?" That made all three turn around. Ah, Taehyung had forgotten that one was still there. "That’s interesting."
"Hey, rabid dog," Taehyung said, addressing Jungkook. "You know them?"
"Her? Of course I know her," Jungkook snapped. The girl flinched when she saw him, immediately looking away. "We broke up recently. And on top of that, she texted me this morning."
Taehyung made a playful grimace and turned to look at the girl, who now shot Jaebeom an apologetic glance.
"That’s Jungkook?" Jaebeom asked tensely. "Why did you text him this morning?"
"I—well..." she fumbled, trying to explain, but the words wouldn’t come.
"I’ll spare you the effort," Jungkook cut in coldly. "She asked if I was coming. She wanted to see me."
The girl’s discomfort only grew. Jaebeom exhaled slowly, trying to keep his expression in check.
"Is that true?"
"It wasn’t meant in a bad way," she said quickly. "I was just... curious."
"Curious?" Jaebeom let out a bitter laugh.
"Jae, seriously..."
"Forget it, whatever," he snapped, shaking his head before taking a sip of his drink. He immediately distanced himself from her.
Taehyung, for his part, watched everything with amusement. Other people’s drama was quality entertainment. But Jungkook clearly didn’t feel the same. His expression was full of irritation, his whole body radiating frustration. He was itching to say something worse. He was impulsive, but more action-driven than verbal, so he kept himself in check—barely. Soojin was clearly getting under his skin, and it was making it harder for him to stay grounded.
And then, without warning, he turned and walked away from the bar.
Taehyung blinked, surprised by the reaction, then, without overthinking, followed after him.
"Where are you going, Mr. Jealousy Number One?" he teased, trailing his firm pace through the crowd. Jungkook didn’t answer, heading straight for the dance floor with a stormy look on his face. Taehyung picked up the pace, raising an eyebrow. "Seriously, what the hell is your problem?"
Nothing. Not a single damn word.
Until, fed up with being ignored, Taehyung grabbed his shoulder firmly and forced him to turn around. Jungkook shoved him off.
"What the fuck do you want?!" he snapped, and Taehyung crossed his arms.
"I want to know what the hell is wrong with you."
"Nothing," Jungkook huffed, clearly irritated.
"Oh, sure. You definitely look calm and relaxed right now."
"Leave me the fuck alone," Jungkook growled, jaw tight.
"No," Taehyung replied plainly.
The tattooed man gave him a hard look, picturing how satisfying it would be to shut him up with a punch just for being so goddamn persistent.
"You’re a fucking pain in the ass."
"And you’re a fucking mule." They stood in tense silence, music pounding around them, eyes locked in a silent battle to see who would break first. Finally, Taehyung sighed and let his shoulders relax a little—he’d try a softer approach. "Look, I’m just trying to be nice. I saw your face when you saw Soojin. It got to you."
"Didn’t get to me at all," Jungkook muttered, looking away. Taehyung rolled his eyes. "I don't have to explain myself to you either, so do me a favor and stop being insufferable."
"Please. You were seconds away from launching yourself at them."
"Don't exaggerate."
"Listen, if you’re not over her, you shouldn’t be going after another girl."
Jungkook turned to look at him again, eyes sharp.
"You’re saying that because you want Sana for yourself?"
"No, I’m saying it because it’s not fair to her."
"That’s none of your fucking business," Jungkook said with a dry laugh.
"No, but Sana doesn’t deserve to be your rebound just because it still burns to see your ex with someone else."
"It’s not about that! And she’s not my ex."
"Then what is she?" Taehyung shot back, raising his voice. "And if she’s not your ex, that’s even worse. You’re hung up over a damn ass."
"I just got pissed off, alright?" Jungkook took a deep breath and clenched his fists, visibly irritated by having this conversation with him. "It bothers me that Soojin pulls shit like that. Jaebeom doesn’t even know what he’s getting into." He was counting to a hundred in his head, trying to calm his nerves, but it wasn’t working. "Leave me alone." With that, he turned his back. "I’m not hung up on her. I’m over it. I just hate the hypocrisy." Jungkook began walking away, quickly disappearing into the crowd.
Taehyung watched him go and let out an annoyed scoff when, along the way, the dark-haired boy ran into an all-smiles Sana and asked her to dance. Taehyung didn’t make it in time to stop it, so Jungkook gave him a smug look as they passed by.
Jungkook thought what Taehyung said was complete bullshit. He wasn’t using Sana to get over Soojin—he really had moved on. He just hated feeling replaceable.
Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything. Maybe he should’ve just walked away. But the guy was extremely impulsive. It was something he knew he needed to work on. And now, he’d only given Taehyung more reasons to make a move on Sana. Because no matter how hard he denied it, he did look like a guy still hung up on his ex.
Even though she wasn’t really his ex.
The track playing was “Oh x3” by Jay Park featuring DUT2. It was relatively new, so Jungkook didn’t know the lyrics completely, but he was well aware of the vibe. He knew the rhythm. He knew exactly how to move.
As they reached the dance floor, Jungkook flashed Sana a flirtatious smile and spun her around, making her smile back. He pulled her closer in one fluid motion, his fingers barely grazing her waist as the music pulsed around them.
The beat was a seductive blend of R&B and hip-hop, a smooth groove that Jungkook used to his advantage. He moved with ease, sliding into every beat with precision, shoulders loose, head tilted slightly as he let the rhythm roll through his torso in subtle shifts. Sana matched his energy effortlessly, dancing naturally, falling into his rhythm without hesitation. Her smile was playful, flirty, and Jungkook kept his eyes on her, tuned into every movement.
As the track softened slightly, Jungkook leaned in, closing the distance between them. His hands settled on her hips, guiding her with a touch that was both gentle and firm. Sana didn’t pull away—in fact, she let him lead her, moving in sync with the sensual cadence of the melody. It felt good to dance with her.
But then, a light shove made Sana lose her balance for a second.
Jungkook frowned and looked around. Nearby, Soojin was dancing with her friends, her body flowing confidently to the beat. She hadn’t even looked their way, but Jungkook felt a flicker of suspicion.
He didn’t say anything.
The music picked up again, and he turned his attention back to Sana.
"You okay?" he murmured, taking her arms gently and giving them a quick look-over.
"Yeah," she replied with a smile. "Someone bumped into me, but it was nothing."
He nodded but stayed alert.
They kept dancing. Sana moved with practiced ease, and Jungkook followed effortlessly, their bodies fitting together like two pieces of the same rhythm. But then, another shove—this time stronger—interrupted the moment.
Jungkook clenched his jaw and looked straight at Soojin.
She was still dancing with her friends, but this time, she caught his stare and gave him an innocent little smile, as if she had no clue what was going on. Jungkook inhaled sharply, forcing himself to stay calm.
He wasn’t going to cause another scene. Not in front of Sana.
He turned back to her and gave her a reassuring smile, ignoring the growing tension coiling in his chest. But when Soojin pushed her a third time, hard enough that Sana nearly stumbled—someone else stepped in before Jungkook could react.
"You know what?" a familiar voice said, sliding between Soojin and Sana. "I think I’ll dance with her instead."
There he was, Taehyung.
Jungkook stood still, watching as the blond turned his back to Soojin without even sparing her a glance, focusing all his attention on Sana with that charming smile of his.
"Care to dance?"
Sana blinked, a little surprised, but after a quick look at Jungkook, then Soojin, she nodded with a smile.
"Sure."
Before leading her away, Taehyung leaned slightly toward Jungkook.
"Control your ex," he whispered. "I don’t want Sana to feel uncomfortable."
Jungkook stared at him as the blond walked off with Sana, guiding her to another part of the dance floor with infuriating ease. He scoffed, licking his lips in frustration.
Finally, he turned his gaze back to Soojin.
"What the hell do you think you’re doing?" he asked, planting both fists on his hips.
"Are you talking to me?" she replied, turning around and placing her hands behind her back, intentionally puffing her chest.
"Who else would I be talking to?" Jungkook snapped, stunned by her nerve. "Or are you gonna tell me it was an accident?"
"Oh, please," Soojin scoffed. "There’s a ton of people here. It’s totally normal to bump into someone." She looked away, clearly annoyed. "She’s pretty. What’s her name? How long before you get bored and run because you’re terrified of commitment?"
Jungkook’s mouth dropped open slightly, stunned by her audacity.
"Relax. She’s not you," he said, nearly spitting the words. "Where’d you leave Jaebeom? Or did you already scare him off by demanding all his passwords and making him delete even his cousin’s number from his phone?"
"Funny," she said, wrinkling her nose. "But he wasn't you, so don’t project. He didn’t give me reasons to doubt him."
"Didn’t?"
"Yeah, because thanks to someone, he broke things off with me." She flipped her hair. "So I thought I’d return the favor and mess with your little sweetheart—but looks like someone beat me to it."
Soojin looked past Jungkook, and he followed her gaze. When he saw what she was referring to, he clenched his jaw, tongue pressing into his cheek.
To the rhythm of “Missed Call,” Taehyung and Sana were dancing. Sana had her back to him, grinding lightly against him, while the blond smiled flirtatiously, one hand on her waist, guiding her movements. One of Sana’s hands was resting on Taehyung’s, and the other… was on his face, softly caressing his cheek.
They were moving slowly to the rhythm of the music, and as if life itself was hell-bent on messing with him, the lights passed right over their heads, making Taehyung’s hair glow and shimmer like it had been staged. They looked like the fucking center of attention, and the fact that they were both painfully attractive didn’t make things any better.
This had to be a cruel joke—but honestly, he kind of deserved it for putting Sana in a situation where Soojin was bothering her.
He tore his gaze away and turned back to the girl in front of him.
"As you can see, Sana's a great girl, and I’m not the only one interested in her," he said, trying to come up with the best excuse possible. "She’s worth it. Now, if you’ll excuse me..."
He knew he sounded stupid, but what else could he do?
He gathered what little dignity he had left and walked away, heading back to the table. Yoongi, Jin, and Namjoon were there. He dropped into his seat with a heavy sigh. Yoongi must’ve read his mind, because without saying a word, he handed him a shot of vodka.
"You drunk already, or do you always look this stupid?" Yoongi asked, passing him the glass.
"Shut up," he muttered, taking the shot and downing it in one go. "I’m not drunk." Which was true. He didn’t feel wasted, maybe just a bit buzzed. His face felt hot, but he could still talk fine and think even better. "Where’s everyone else?"
"Mina went off to dance with some guy. Jisung, remember him? That kid a couple semesters below us who once asked for tutoring?" Namjoon replied, and Jungkook nodded. "Well, him. Jimin’s still missing. Hoseok and Momo, they’re..."
"Making out," Jin cut in, interrupting Namjoon.
"What?" said Yoongi, and Jin pointed to a spot near the stairs. All three of them turned to look, and they could hardly believe their eyes.
"Well, well," Namjoon clapped slowly. "He swore just earlier he didn’t like her when I asked!"
Momo was leaning against the wall, and Hoseok stood in front of her. She had both hands on his face to keep him close, while he braced one arm against the wall and wrapped the other tightly around her waist, pressing her against him with zero space between.
"Great. I didn’t get to see Joohyun, and now the whole plan I had to help Hoseok get with someone was a complete waste," Jin nearly whimpered. They watched as the two pulled apart, giggling. Hoseok leaned in to whisper something in Momo’s ear, then took her hand and quickly led her down the stairs. "And the hypocrite told me I’m the one who thinks with his dick."
Jungkook was jealous. He wanted that. Everything Hoseok was getting with Momo in that moment—Jungkook wanted with Sana. But...
"Wasn’t Sana with you?" Namjoon asked.
The younger didn’t answer, just nodded toward the dance floor, where Taehyung and Sana were currently stealing everyone’s attention.
"What? You already lost her?"
"Yoongi-hyung!" Namjoon definitely needed to teach the shorter one about tact.
"No, I didn’t lose her," Jungkook replied bluntly. "I’m just taking a break for... hydration."
"Vodka hydrates you?" Yoongi deadpanned.
"Do you annoy me on purpose, Yoongi-hyung?"
But he had a point. If he kept sitting there like some spectator with his ass glued to the couch, Taehyung was going to steal his chance. And Jungkook hated losing.
Without another word, he stood up with determination, grabbed the vodka bottle, and drank straight from it for at least five seconds before slamming it down on the table. He shook his head and marched toward the dance floor with a clear goal in mind.
Namjoon, Jin, and Yoongi watched him go and exchanged resigned looks.
"Should we stop him?" Jin asked, sounding a bit worried.
"He’s a grown-ass man. Let him do whatever the hell he wants," Yoongi mumbled, pouring himself another shot.
"So... you didn’t find Joohyun?" Namjoon asked Jin, picking up their earlier conversation.
"We looked for her for a while," Yoongi said. "Maybe she didn’t show."
"But she posted on Instagram wearing an outfit clearly not made for eating burgers or whatever," Jin complained. "Besides, who wouldn’t want to be here?"
They didn’t get to respond, because someone dropped heavily into the seat beside them. Jimin—cheeks flushed, hair damp with sweat, and lips plumper than usual—sat down with a thud. He looked in a great mood, if not a bit questionably sober.
Jin leaned toward him and wrinkled his nose as he sniffed.
"You smell like sex."
"That’s because I just ended my dry spell," Jimin said, biting his lip.
"I can see that from here," Yoongi added, pointing at his own neck. "You’ve got a hickey right there."
"Oops."
Namjoon poured him some water, which the brunet gratefully accepted and drank half in one go.
"You guys staying here all night?" he slurred slightly. "Are you boring or what?"
"Jimin, it’s barely midnight, we’ve got time," Jin said, taking the cup back before he spilled it. "And besides, I haven’t seen Joohyun, and—"
"Joohyun? She’s around there," Jimin said, pointing. Jin almost blew his head off when he turned around and sure enough, coming up the stairs was the aforementioned girl.
"Oh, God," Jin breathed. "She looks amazing."
"Then go talk to her. Be a man," Jimin pushed him lightly.
"Uh, no. I need to move to step two of my plan, I have to—"
The younger pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him.
"No more plans. Just go."
"But—"
"Do I have to do everything myself?" Jimin got up, a bit wobbly, then turned to the other two. "Are you guys single?" They nodded. "What are you into?"
"Namjoon’s straight, I’m pan," Yoongi replied simply. "Why?"
Jimin squinted, evaluating them, then nodded.
"I’ve got enough info to work with."
He fixed his hair and headed toward Joohyun first. Jin tried to stop him—he practically dove across the couch to grab his leg or something—but the younger slipped away. Thankfully, despite being drunk, Jimin knew how to act sober when it counted.
"I’m gonna kill him."
A few minutes later, Jimin reappeared with Joohyun and two others, a girl and a guy. The girl had short, straight hair, wore a black Y2K-style strapless top and low-rise jeans. The guy had black nail polish, a sheer knit shirt over a white tank, and wide-leg jeans.
"Jin-hyung, this is Joohyun," Jimin said, like Jin didn’t already know. "She told me she likes poetry, so maybe you’ll have a lot to talk about."
The girl sat next to him, smiling. Instinctively, Jin edged away, but realizing he looked pathetic, he forced himself to relax.
"Jimin said you study Art History and Literature—that’s my dream major," she told him. Jin nearly fainted, but managed to keep it together. "I couldn’t study it, I have to finish law school to follow in my parents’ footsteps, but I love reading poetry. Do you have any recommendations?"
Jin cleared his throat and, doing his best to sound both intellectual and charismatic, began listing his personal favorites. The girl looked absolutely delighted.
"Guys, this is Jihyo and Minghao," Jimin said as he helped the girl take a seat next to Namjoon and the guy next to Yoongi. "They looked so lonely—I figured they needed company at the VIP table." He bit his lip with a cheeky smile as he looked at them, but after a few seconds of silence, he noticed their serious expressions. "What are you waiting for? Pour them a drink!"
Yoongi and Namjoon rushed to follow the command, and little by little, the conversation started to flow naturally. Jimin watched them with pride—he could officially claim another victory.
He turned around, looking for something else to entertain himself with, but ran right into Mina and Sana.
"Oh, hey girls," he greeted with a smile. "Have you seen Taehyung?"
Sana looked a bit uncomfortable with the question, but she still answered.
"Outside."
"Outside? What do you mean, outside?"
"With Jungkook."
Oh.
The alcohol drained from Jimin’s system in an instant.
Notes:
I'm trying to be very active lately, on Tiktok I'm mostly posting some edits of not only this fanfic, if you want you can follow me there to enjoy them, I appear as @freakynavi I hope you like the update!
As usual, for those who may not know Hyunwoo is Shownu from Monsta X and Minghao is The8 from Seventeen.
Chapter Text
Notes:
Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this update.
I love reading comments, it makes me happy, I feel like someone actually reads this story, don't be shy! Comment whatever you want.
If you haven't noticed, the nickname "little prince" is precisely because of the novel by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, where the little prince is described as being blond like Taehyung.
Oh, and the Jisung that is mentioned briefly here (the one dancing with Mina) is Han from Stray Kids, in case anyone confuses him with the one from NCT or something.
*I'm not sure if it's an expression in English too, but at least in Spanish "milk sisters" (hermanas de leche) is a term used to refer to two girls who slept with the same man, milk refers to, you know, semen.
Thanks again! Kisses.
Chapter 5: Chapter 04
Chapter Text
"Hobi, explain something to me," Jin said, speaking through a mouthful of chips from one of the high stools in the kitchen. "Why the hell hadn’t you introduced us before?"
It was a quiet afternoon at Hoseok’s apartment—or at least it would have been, if it weren’t for the grunting and cursing coming from the living room loud enough for the neighbors to possibly file a noise complaint with management. But at this point, they were all used to it—and that said a lot. Namjoon, Yoongi, Jin, Jimin, and Hoseok were scattered between the kitchen and dining area, while the other two were camped in the living room.
Namjoon and Yoongi sat tucked into a corner with their laptops, focused on who-knows-what. Jimin was flipping through a magazine with feigned disinterest, and Hoseok stood with his arms crossed, observing the chaos like a proud father. His dream of merging his two closest friend groups had finally come true. Well, sort of.
"Sorry, hyung," Hoseok replied with a sheepish smile. "I just... was worried you wouldn’t get along."
"Why would you think we wouldn’t get along?" Namjoon asked, glancing up from his laptop.
Hoseok didn’t answer right away. Instead, he simply tilted his head toward the living room, where Jungkook and Taehyung were locked in what had to be the most intense game of Mario Kart ever played. It was like life or death.
"You cut me off! That was cheating!" Jungkook yelled, leaning forward with a murderous look on his face. The familiar sound that signaled the end of the race rang through the apartment, and that was the last straw for the black-haired boy, who completely lost it.
"You’re such a crybaby. Seriously, like a little kid. Learn how to lose," Taehyung said with a smirk, eyes glued to the screen as his character—Link—danced victoriously across the finish line. His nonchalant tone only made Jungkook angrier. The guy was infuriating. "I beat you and your retarded monkey fair and square."
"I’m going to crush you in the next round, you idiot! Stop messing with my Donkey Kong!"
"Only if you can catch me," Taehyung tilted his head, his confidence unwavering. There was no way this man’s ego would take a hit anytime soon. "And of all the characters you could’ve picked, you chose that one? The dumbest one? His name literally means 'stupid donkey.'"
"I’m gonna crush you in real life if you don’t shut up, dumbass."
Jin watched the scene unfold with a deep frown.
"Why are they taking a video game this seriously?"
"It’s not the game," Jimin chimed in, slapping the magazine shut with a sharp thud. "It’s the ego. Two immature men full of radioactive testosterone. And the fact that they’re both chasing after the same girl? That just makes it personal."
"Jungkook’s been talking to Sana every day. He’s pretty invested," Yoongi added with a low chuckle, still not looking up from his laptop. He spoke loud enough for those in the living room to hear him. Lately, watching the two of them bicker had become his favorite form of entertainment. They were like squabbling kids, and Yoongi absolutely loved it.
Jungkook puffed out his chest and grinned proudly when he heard his hyung. The smugness didn’t go unnoticed by the blond, whose forehead immediately creased with annoyance.
"Well, that’s normal. If you want something, you have to be consistent," Jungkook said with a lofty tone.
"Oh, really?" Jimin turned to look at him. "Because Taehyung talks to her every day too. I’ve heard he’s even taken her out. You know, on things that could be considered dates."
Jungkook blinked. "What?"
"Oh, you didn’t know?" Jimin continued, feigning innocence. "Yeah, Tae doesn’t waste time just texting."
"That’s true. I make sure we really get to know each other," Taehyung said, still staring at the screen with that insufferable smug grin on his face. Jimin had his back as always—and he loved him for it.
In reality, though, Jimin and Yoongi were both just having the time of their lives watching these two lose their shit, and if they could throw more fuel on the fire, they absolutely would.
"She loves hanging out with me. I take her around Seoul and she always has an amazing time," Taehyung added with a shrug.
"Are you serious?" Jungkook dropped the controller for a second and stared at him in disbelief.
"Does that bother you?" Taehyung raised a brow, clearly enjoying the reaction. Jungkook clenched his jaw, grabbing the controller again with so much force he might’ve needed to buy Hoseok a new one if it snapped. He exhaled slowly. No—he had to play smart.
"Not at all. But tell me something... does she use her phone a lot when she’s out with you?"
"What are you talking about?" This time, it was Taehyung who tensed up.
"She does, doesn’t she? Sometimes even answers calls," Jungkook grinned wickedly. "I’m guessing you haven’t noticed she’s always talking to me during those so-called dates of yours. And she’s never mentioned going out with you, not once. So maybe you’re not as important to her as you think."
The tension was so thick, it spread even to those who weren’t paying attention before. The two of them were staring directly at each other, and it was honestly a miracle that death by eye contact wasn’t a real thing. Because if it were, everyone in that apartment would’ve already been vaporized.
"Hobi," Namjoon muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Is Sana going to do anything about this?"
"Not sure she even takes them seriously," Hoseok said with a smug smile, loud enough for everyone to hear—except the two annoying manchildren.
"Maybe she won’t have to choose," Yoongi added calmly. "Maybe they’re both just wasting their time."
"One more race," Jungkook said, selecting the next map.
"Thought the same thing," Taehyung whispered, positioning himself for another round of destruction.
The engines roared on the screen as the countdown began. Seconds later, the race started, and the two immediately began bumping shoulders like kids on a playground.
"So how did you meet them, Hobi?" Jin asked curiously.
"Yeah, you never really told us that part," Jimin added, nodding with interest. He tossed the magazine aside and reached for the bowl of chips Jin had claimed earlier. A small struggle broke out, but Jimin won, sticking his tongue out at his hyung like a five-year-old. Jin decided he couldn’t criticize Jungkook and Taehyung for being immature when he was literally the same.
"It was a few years ago, when I did my exchange program in Japan," Hoseok began. "I spent a whole year there for a school program, and during that time, I joined a local dance studio. The dance scene in Japan is insane—super demanding, but also super creative."
"And that’s where you met the girls?" Jin asked.
"Yeah, although it was Momo who talked to me first. I was the only Korean in the class, and I was used to people being kind of reserved around me at first, thinking I didn’t speak Japanese or whatever," he said animatedly. "But she walked right up to me and started asking questions about Korea in her super basic awkward Korean, and also about my dance style. And before I knew it, I was part of their group of friends. We used to talk in this weird broken Korean-Japanese mix. It was a mess."
"I'm not surprised. You can worm your way into any group with ridiculous ease," Yoongi said with a faint smile.
"It's a natural talent," Hoseok chuckled softly. "Anyway, after I came back to Korea, we stayed in touch. Momo's super adventurous, so she started visiting pretty often and would always let me know when she was in Seoul. Over time, she brought Sana and Mina along, and, well... now they're considering staying longer since they’re looking into signing a contract as trainees."
"And that’s why they’re still unsure if they’ll stay, right?" Namjoon asked. "They might not land the deal."
"Exactly," Hoseok nodded. "They haven’t said which company, but it’s supposedly a big one."
"Is that why they hired us to shoot a dance video?" Jimin asked, raising an eyebrow. Hoseok beamed with pride.
"Yeah, it’s for the audition. They needed backup dancers. Obviously, I was going to be in it, but they also asked me for recommendations, so I told them you were perfect for it."
"Of course I am," Jimin said, puffing out his chest proudly. "Who else is in?"
"Lee Minho."
"Oh, that guy’s good," Jimin said with genuine surprise. "He took some of the same classes as us. He’s got amazing stage presence."
"I know," Hoseok agreed. "I think the video’s going to turn out great. The only thing is... the direction."
"Why?" Yoongi tilted his head.
Hoseok hesitated for a moment before answering, his eyes drifting toward the living room where Taehyung and Jungkook were still elbowing each other in their intense Mario Kart deathmatch.
"Well... in my infinite innocence, I recommended Taehyung."
There was a beat of silence before Jimin burst out laughing.
"You didn’t. You seriously recommended Taehyung without thinking about Jungkook?"
"They didn’t know each other back then!" Hoseok lifted his hands defensively. "Tae’s really good at visual direction, and he’s done projects like this before. It just made sense."
"You know Jungkook’s going to have a meltdown when he finds out, right?" Jin said, amused.
"I haven’t told him yet," Hoseok admitted with a wince as he glanced again at the living room. "But the girls should be arriving any moment to talk to Taehyung and ask for his help."
"Perfect," Jimin said, crossing his arms with a mischievous smile. "This is going to be fun."
About half an hour passed. In that time, Jungkook and Taehyung had finally stopped playing Mario Kart because, once again, Taehyung had crushed him. Frustrated and burning with the need to redeem himself—or rather, because he hated losing to the blond—Jungkook switched to a different game without even asking.
Now they were locked in a Mortal Kombat 11 match, a game Jungkook felt absolutely confident in.
And it showed.
"Yes!" Jungkook exclaimed with a wicked grin as his Kitana landed a brutal combo that left Taehyung’s Scorpion hanging by a thread.
"Son of a..." Taehyung muttered through clenched teeth, gripping the controller in frustration.
The game moved fast, and while the blond tried to make a comeback, Jungkook showed no mercy. The sound of a Fatality echoed in the room as his character performed a wildly graphic finishing move.
"I won! I crushed you like a bug, dumbass!" Jungkook crowed, pointing his controller at him.
Taehyung clenched his jaw. What if—purely by accident—his controller slipped and ended up lodged in Jungkook’s trachea? Totally accidental. Very casual.
Right then, the doorbell rang. Hoseok got up from the table without rushing, leaving the conversation with the others behind. Calmly, he walked over and opened the door to find Sana, Mina, and Momo standing outside.
"Hey!" he greeted them with a wide smile.
"Hobi!" Sana greeted cheerfully, immediately stepping in and wrapping him in a quick hug. Mina smiled and gave his arm a friendly pat before following her in, but Momo lingered at the doorway for a second longer.
"Hi..." she said with a small smile.
"Hey," Hoseok replied, scratching the back of his neck.
"You planning to let me in, or are you just going to leave me standing here?" she teased.
"Oh—right, yeah, come in," Hoseok said quickly, stepping aside.
Jin raised an eyebrow with amusement. No one had said a word, but everyone knew what had happened between those two at the party—how they’d practically devoured each other in front of everyone before disappearing for a couple hours. They were just waiting for Hoseok to bring it up himself when he was ready.
As soon as Jungkook and Taehyung heard Sana’s voice, their heads snapped toward the entryway at the exact same time. In a blink, they paused the game and practically flew toward the door—crashing into each other on the way.
"Sana, hey," Taehyung said, just barely managing to get ahead.
"Sana!" Jungkook bumped him with his shoulder and hurried to greet her first, placing a light kiss on her cheek. "What a surprise to see you here."
Taehyung shot him a glare sharp enough to kill.
"I was going to say that."
"You took too long."
"Looks like you guys were in the middle of something," Sana said with a laugh, glancing toward the gaming setup in the living room.
"Not at all," Jungkook replied quickly, throwing Taehyung a smug look. "Just some silly game. I wasn’t even trying."
"That explains why you lost so many times earlier," Taehyung shot back. His tone worked like a charm, and Jungkook rolled his eyes. "So, what brings you here?"
"We came to talk to you, Tae," Mina said with a smile.
Taehyung blinked, then grinned in satisfaction. "Me?"
"Why him?" Jungkook frowned immediately.
"Don’t be envious," Taehyung gave him a mocking glance before turning to the girls. "What’s this about?"
"We need to shoot a video for a really important audition," Sana started. "And we want you to direct and edit it."
"Interesting. Go on," Taehyung crossed his arms, the smirk growing wider on his lips.
The girls began explaining the concept. They wanted several takes with wardrobe changes, and the innovative idea was to film in a pedestrian crosswalk, dancing while the traffic lights were red.
"Every time the light turns red, we run in, change the setup, and perform for about a minute and a half," Momo explained.
"And just before it turns green again, we clear the street and reset. We’re planning to do this at least five times with different songs," Mina added. "Assuming we get everything perfect, which never really happens, so we’ll need multiple takes."
Taehyung nodded slowly as he processed the idea, then smiled with genuine excitement.
"This is brilliant. Of course I’ll do it. I’d do it for free."
"You don’t have to—we’re going to pay you," Sana replied, but Taehyung waved it off.
"Nah, forget it. I’ll do it anyway."
"Such a gentleman," Jin muttered from the kitchen with a mocking smile.
Meanwhile, Jungkook watched the scene with growing suspicion. This whole thing felt like a conspiracy against him.
"I can help too," he blurted out suddenly. The girls exchanged glances.
"With what?" Mina asked, curious.
"I can be a backup dancer. You mentioned needing some, right? I mean, I don’t study any of this formally, but I can move."
"Sorry, Jungkook," Sana said with an apologetic look. "We’re already full. It’s just the three of us and three backup dancers."
Jungkook frowned. "What guys?"
"Hoseok, Jimin, and Minho," Momo replied casually.
That was all it took for both Taehyung and Jungkook to ask at the same time:
"Who's Minho?"
"A dancer Hoseok recommended," Sana answered immediately, clearly amused by their reactions. Jungkook narrowed his eyes, and Taehyung looked away, but neither of them said anything else about it.
"Well, I can help with the set. I'm strong," Jungkook offered, puffing out his chest.
"The backup dancers will handle that," Mina replied. "The fewer people in the street, the better."
"I could..."
"That's not necessary," Sana said with a sweet smile. She even reached out and took Jungkook's hand as a gentle way of turning him down. "But thank you for offering."
Jungkook pressed his lips together, looking like a kid who’d just been told he couldn’t ride the rollercoaster. Still, deep down, he was secretly thrilled that Sana had touched his hand.
"If you need anything... let me know," he said at last, resigned. Taehyung smiled smugly and gave him a light pat on the shoulder.
"Maybe next time, Jungkookie."
Jungkook shot him a murderous glare but didn’t reply. He hated that nickname when it came out of the older's mouth. He said it with such mockery that Jungkook had to fight the urge to punch him right there. But obviously, he wasn’t going to—how embarrassing would it be for Sana to see him lose it like that?
──── ∗ ⋅✧⋅ ∗ ────
He tried to convince himself it was just work. Strictly professional. But Jungkook wasn’t so sure anymore.
Taehyung had suggested recording the girls during rehearsals as a way to review the footage later, see what could be improved. He even mentioned that maybe, one day, all that material could be used for a documentary or something.
As a result, Taehyung was spending up to three hours a day—sometimes more—with Sana.
That alone had Jungkook ready to lose it. Especially because Sana had already turned him down twice when he asked her out, saying she had rehearsal. It didn’t seem fair. They’d agreed not to sabotage each other directly, but Jungkook was a second away from smashing that camera. Or Taehyung’s face. That’d work too. At least then he wouldn’t have to see that insufferable smile every time he walked by with the girls toward the practice room.
What’s worse was knowing that Taehyung and Sana had already gone out before. He didn’t know where or what they did—other than some city tours—but it still gave Taehyung an edge. They used to chat, sometimes he even called her, she always answered, and they even spoke in Japanese since the dark-haired knew the language perfectly, which delighted her. However, texting was one thing, going out together was another, and now they've added the fact that they work together.
Didn’t he have assignments? Other things to do? It was unbearable.
So, Jungkook came up with a plan—a flawless one she wouldn’t be able to say no to. Something simple, considerate, and timed perfectly. It was starting to feel like something Jin would do—elaborate and borderline dramatic—but who could blame him? He was desperate.
That day, rehearsal would probably wrap up around five or six in the evening. Sana would be tired, craving something cool to drink and ready to head home. That’s where he’d come in. He’d wait outside the practice room, casually invite her to grab a drink, and offer to take her back to the apartment she was renting with the other two girls. A simple date, tailored to what she needed.
There was no way it would fail.
Jungkook leaned against the hallway wall, arms crossed, face calm. The wait didn’t feel long at all. Everything was mapped out. He had everything planned, and if he had learned anything from Jin in the days he had known him, it was that the key to success was patience. Every so often, he checked the time on his phone, figuring the rehearsal must be ending soon.
Five more minutes.
The hallway was quiet, save for the occasional distant murmur from other people at the academy. Then, the practice room door opened. Mina and Momo came out first, chatting excitedly about something he didn’t catch. And then, to his annoyance, Taehyung walked out—right beside Sana.
A flash of irritation hit Jungkook, though his face remained impassive. Taehyung strolled out casually, holding the door open with one hand while Sana passed through. In his other hand—decked out with rings—was his camera, and he gripped it with practiced ease. If Jungkook had to carry something that expensive, his hands would be shaking.
"You sure you’re okay?" Taehyung asked with a soft tone and a lopsided smile.
"I’m fine, Tae," Sana laughed, brushing a hand over her neck. "Just a little sore, but that’s normal."
"You should let me give you a shoulder massage. I’m an expert."
"Oh really?" she raised an eyebrow, voice dripping with playful challenge.
"Ask Jimin if you don’t believe me," he replied with absolute confidence.
Sana shook her head, still smiling. "I’ll think about it, but I’m definitely not the kind of person who says no to a free massage."
"Take your time, gorgeous."
Jungkook had to fight the urge to roll his eyes so hard they’d get stuck in the back of his skull.
Annoying.
But as much as he hated it, he couldn’t stop looking at him. It was fucking hard not to. The aura he carried was unbearable. Threatening.
His blond hair was tousled, like someone had run their fingers through it. The sleeveless shirt he wore showed off his subtly defined arms, and his skin glistened with a faint sheen of sweat, the inevitable result of practicing in a stuffy studio.
But the worst part—the truly infuriating part—was how effortless he made it all look. The way he moved, spoke, smiled like he had everything under control. Like there was no competition. Like he’d already won.
Not today, Kim Taehyung.
When the group finally noticed Jungkook standing there, Sana was the first to react.
"Jungkook!" she called out with a bright smile. "What are you doing here?"
Momo and Mina glanced over at him too, curious. But Taehyung was the one who spoke next, and his tone made it crystal clear how little he liked seeing Jungkook there.
"Yeah, what are you doing here?" he asked, voice rougher, eyes narrowed.
Jungkook gave him a quick glance before turning his full attention to Sana.
"I was actually waiting for you," he said with his best smile.
"For me?" she tilted her head, intrigued.
"Yeah. I know rehearsals have been tough and you’re probably exhausted, so I thought I’d invite you out for something refreshing. Something chill, before you head back and get some rest," he said, never looking away from her. "I'll take you back to your apartment, so you don't have to worry about anything—just be cute."
Sana blinked, surprised—and a little flustered—by his offer, but her expression quickly brightened.
"Oh, that sounds great. I’d love to!"
"Wait, wait, wait!" Taehyung cut in, stretching his arms between them. "Sana, you haven’t even seen today’s footage."
"We can watch it later," she replied calmly.
"But there are things you need to review, like that part in the second song where—"
"Taehyung," she placed a hand on his arm with a kind smile. "It’ll be fine."
The blond exhaled sharply through his nose, clearly annoyed. Jungkook crossed his arms, enjoying the situation more than he probably should have.
Momo and Mina exchanged a look before stepping in.
"Tae, would you come with us to check the footage?" Momo asked sweetly.
"Yeah, we want to see how everything's looking so far," Mina added. Taehyung scowled at Jungkook, but there was no escape.
"Let’s go, then," he grumbled, shooting Jungkook a side glance full of irritation. Jungkook simply smiled, because this time, he had the upper hand.
A few minutes later, Jungkook was walking next to Sana, carrying not only his own backpack but hers too, as if they weighed nothing. Well, hers definitely weighed something. Suspiciously more than his, in fact. What the hell did she have in there? Bricks? A pair of kettlebells? Not that he was complaining, of course. He had to look like the kind of guy who was considerate and dependable—without coming off as desperate.
Still, Sana eyed him with a raised brow, clearly amused.
"You didn’t have to carry it, you know?"
"I know. But this way your back survives rehearsal tomorrow. Getting tortured by Taehyung for three hours a day is enough."
The comment worked. She rolled her eyes and let out a small laugh.
"Rehearsal’s not that bad. It’s just... normal."
"Not that bad? Please. I heard Momo say you were too sore to even sit yesterday," Jungkook said, raising his eyebrows. "And you think that’s normal?"
"Nothing a hot bath won’t fix," Sana sighed, staring off into the distance. "I’m strong. I’m made of steel."
"Yeah, sure," Jungkook replied, giving her a skeptical look. "So if I kicked your calf right now, it wouldn’t hurt? Because of the steel?"
"If you kick me, you’ll be the one hurting," she shot back, narrowing her eyes.
Jungkook grinned, but barely had time to react before Sana elbowed him lightly in the side. It wasn’t hard, but enough to make him stumble a bit.
"Hey!" he exclaimed, pretending to be offended as he regained balance.
"That’s for you to learn."
"Learn what?"
"That you shouldn’t threaten me with kicks, for starters."
"Are you always this aggressive, or just with me?" Jungkook shook his head, amused.
Sana tapped a finger to her chin like she was thinking about it.
"Just with you. But consider it an honor."
Jungkook laughed. To him, Sana was adorable without even trying. She acted tough, but all he wanted was to protect her. Especially from that walking demon named Taehyung. He hoped Sana’s judgment hadn’t been clouded by that innocent-looking face, because behind that weird square smile was a villain. God, he was so irritating.
Since meeting him, Jungkook had been angry more times than in his entire life. It was honestly incredible how one person could push him to the edge so easily.
"I haven’t seen Hobi-hyung, Jimin-hyung, or that Minho guy practicing," Jungkook commented. He’d learned that they wouldn’t just be backup dancers standing in the background to make the girls shine—they’d actually be dancing with them, touching them and all that. Momo would dance with Hoseok, Mina with Jimin, and Sana with that guy he hadn’t even met yet and already hated.
"Oh, we’ve practiced together, but mostly they rehearse on their own when they have free time, and we do group practice every now and then," Sana replied cheerfully. "They’re still in school—we’re not—so we rehearse every day."
"But I see Taehyung there every day too. Doesn’t he go to school?"
"You always find a way to bring up Tae, don’t you?" Sana laughed, but Jungkook didn’t have a comeback. "He’s not with us every single day. He misses rehearsals too because of classes, it’s just that, coincidentally, whenever you’re around, he is too. Plus, it’s not like he’s only with us—he spends time with the guys too."
"Oh, really?"
"Yeah, and he gives a lot of feedback," she continued. "Did you know he’s a great dancer? He’s been in dance classes his whole life because he was a theatre kid. He’s super confident on stage." Jungkook now couldn’t stop picturing Taehyung in some theatrical costume. He must have looked ridiculous. He could’ve even dressed as a prince, and then, yeah—he’d be the perfect little prince in the flesh. "The only thing is, Tae doesn’t seem to like Minho."
"He doesn’t?" Jungkook asked, genuinely curious. "Why not?"
"No clue, but he definitely doesn’t," Sana said with a little pout. "They fight a lot. Honestly, it’s kind of funny to watch. ‘The turn was on three, not four, dumbass.’ ‘I can count, Taehyung.’ ‘Doesn’t seem like it. Go back to kindergarten.’" She dropped her voice to mimic both guys.
Jungkook didn’t know how to feel about finding out he wasn’t the only one on the receiving end of Taehyung’s biting attitude. But he tried to ignore that nagging irritation. The enemy of your enemy is your friend... or something like that? Wait—who was he supposed to be friends with, if both of them were the enemy?
Okay, fine—he didn’t know Minho’s intentions yet, but if Taehyung didn’t like him... there had to be a reason, right? He needed to keep an eye on Minho.
"So, how’s Seoul treating you? Are you settling in okay?" he asked, trying to change the subject as he shook off his thoughts.
"It’s a lot like Tokyo," she replied. "Taehyung has taken us to some iconic places, we have seen a lot."
Us? We? Plural? Jungkook couldn’t help but smile, because that meant Taehyung had straight-up lied to him. Made him believe he was going out alone with Sana, when in reality, he’d been bringing Momo and Mina along too. Which meant... he was winning!
"But I’ve noticed Koreans are a little more... intense," she went on.
"Intense how?"
"I don’t know. In everything," Sana shrugged. "In work, the way they talk, how they socialize... how they flirt."
"Oh, so you’ve noticed how we flirt?" Jungkook said playfully, which made Sana giggle.
"Well, a few people have tried to flirt with me."
"Who? Give me names," Jungkook stopped walking for a second, prompting her to stop too. She burst out laughing and lightly smacked his arm.
"Why do you want to know?"
"I need to evaluate my competition."
"Competition? Jungkook!" she exclaimed, adorably covering her face with her hand. He could see her eyes crinkling as she smiled behind it. And, damn… he loved that. In a way that made his brain slow down, his pulse stutter—she was just so damn pretty. He forced himself to keep a straight face, to play it cool, but he was already feeling like an idiot.
The rest of the walk to the parking lot was filled with light conversation, with Sana making sure there weren’t any awkward silences—something Jungkook appreciated. By the time they got there, he didn’t miss the chance to rush ahead and open the passenger door for her.
Sana rolled her eyes, but smiled as she climbed into the car. Jungkook walked around and got into the driver’s seat after tossing both their bags into the back of the vehicle.
"Got anywhere in mind?" Sana asked, adjusting her seatbelt. Jungkook turned to her with a half-smile.
"Let me ask you something first."
"Go ahead."
"Do you like fruit?"
"Who doesn’t?" Sana raised a brow.
"What’s your favorite fruit?"
"Peach." She didn’t even hesitate.
"Perfect. I know exactly where we’re going."
──── ∗ ⋅✧⋅ ∗ ────
"Uh... Taehyung," Jimin said, but didn’t get a reply. "You’re going to wear a hole in the floor if you keep pacing like that."
The blond was in the middle of Jimin’s living room—his best friend’s home had become his safe space whenever he had a full-blown crisis. Taehyung was pacing back and forth, forcing himself to keep his hands away from his mouth, since the stress made him want to bite his nails. And he refused to let Jeon Jungkook ruin his pretty hands!
"They’re on a date."
"Technically, he didn’t ask ‘Do you want to go on a date with me?’ so... is it really a date?" Jimin replied. Taehyung turned to him with a deadly serious look. "Okay, yeah. Yeah, it’s a date. But so what? You spend like fifteen hours a week with her—he hasn’t had any of that. Besides, didn’t you say you and Sana went out too?"
"Are you saying I should just hand her over to him because I spend more time with her?" Taehyung stopped pacing and grabbed Jimin by the shoulders. "Are you saying I should feel empathy for my rival and go ‘Aw, poor guy, sure, go spend time with her so we’re even’?"
"That’s not what I said, psycho," Jimin scoffed. "I’m just saying it makes sense that he’d want to do something like that. You know he’s into her too, and you’ve had her most of the time."
"But the thing is..." Taehyung practically pouted. "It’s not like we’re spending time together. I mean... she’s focused on dancing, she’s super professional—and so am I! My job is to record them. I’m working with her and with you guys. We don’t have one-on-one moments, and we rarely talk about anything outside the video. And... well..."
"What?"
"There might have been a teeny-tiny, harmless little white lie I told just to mess with Jungkook," Taehyung admitted, looking away with embarrassment and biting his lip.
"What did you say?" Jimin asked, suspicious.
"I might’ve said I went on dates with her but... I actually didn’t," Taehyung said, and Jimin blinked in disbelief before putting a hand on his forehead. "Okay, yeah, I did go out with her—but I also went out with the girls to show them around Seoul. And yeah, it did help me get closer to her and spend time together, but we were never really alone, alone."
"Oh, that’s a whole other thing," Jimin sighed. "Why didn’t you just invite her out earlier, like Jungkook did? A real date?"
"I tried to do it before but she herself suggested that we take Mina and Momo because it is clearly a logical thing to do, I mean, it made sense. I couldn’t say no to those excited little eyes. And now she’s always saying she’s tired and just wants to go back to the apartment. How am I supposed to interpret that?"
"That she doesn’t want someone annoying pushing her into a date?"
"Yeah, something like that."
Taehyung collapsed onto the couch and hugged one of the throw pillows tightly. All he could think about was Jungkook and the date he was having with Sana—the date he should’ve had. What were they doing? Where had he taken her? Would he try to find excuses to touch her, like brushing hands when they both reached for something, or would he just boldly hold her hand? Because Jungkook looked like the type to be bold.
"He’s such a tactless bastard... that’s what he is…" Taehyung muttered, scrunching his nose.
Jimin sat down next to him and ran a gentle hand through the blond’s hair.
"What have we said about overthinking?"
"That I shouldn’t do it because it’ll give me wrinkles and early baldness?" Taehyung looked up at him with wide, dramatic eyes.
"Uh, yeah, but no." Jimin grimaced. "That it only eats you alive and steals your peace, Tae-Tae."
"I was too slow, Jimin," Taehyung mumbled into the pillow. "What if after this date Sana actually starts to like him? Jungkook’s handsome, flirty, funny. If he pulls all his tricks, any girl would fall for him."
"Well... yeah, he is attractive," Jimin admitted. "But so are you. I don’t get what’s happening to you—normally, you’re the most confident person I know."
Taehyung slowly lifted his head. Jimin was right. This wasn’t him. Kim Taehyung wasn’t insecure. Kim Taehyung was the center of attention—without even trying. He had that magnetic energy that drew people to him. This version of him right now? That wasn’t it.
He was attractive. Very much so. He was also flirty, funny, smart—the kind of person who pulled strings and moved pieces. He was confident, had a self-esteem that no one could shake.
Without another word, Taehyung reached for his phone and unlocked it.
"What are you doing?" Jimin asked, noticing the sudden shift in his friend’s demeanor.
"I’m going to ruin Jeon’s date."
Chapter 6: Chapter 05
Chapter Text
"Listen to me, Jimin. What I’m about to do is pure madness—it’s borderline psychotic and probably crosses every moral line."
Taehyung looked at him with wide eyes. Jimin was starting to believe the blond had truly lost it. If anyone asked, yeah—he was scared. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen him this invested in a girl before. In fact, he was beginning to wonder if this whole meltdown was even about Sana... or if it had more to do with the fact that, for the first time, Taehyung actually felt threatened by someone.
"I don’t like this," Jimin declared, crossing his arms. "You sound like a movie villain."
"I know," Taehyung nodded solemnly. "And yet, I still need you to hear me out."
"How the fuck are you even going to know where they are, Taehyung?" Jimin asked, exasperated.
"I’m not proud of it, but I have the perfect plan," the blond replied, then frowned to himself. "No way. I’m starting to sound like Jin-hyung!"
"That’s disturbing for so many reasons. Just talk already—you’re making me nervous."
Taehyung sighed and approached his friend slowly.
"Mina showed me that the three of them use a location-sharing app," he began in a low voice, but Jimin already looked alarmed. "You know, because they’re in a huge city they don’t know their way around."
"No way..." Jimin brought his hands to his mouth. "Are you going to steal Mina’s or Momo’s phone to check where she is and follow her?"
"What? No!"
"Oh my god!" Jimin all but shouted, horrified after a moment. "Don’t tell me you’ve already got Sana on a fucking GPS tracker!"
"It’s not that bad!" Taehyung protested, looking at him like he’d grown a third head. "Why would you think I’m that much of a psycho?"
"Do you want the honest answer or the one that won’t hurt your feelings?"
"I’m offended that you’re assuming the worst of me!"
"You literally pitched it that way!"
Okay... maybe he had a point.
"The thing is," Taehyung continued with a long sigh, licking his lips, "I told her it’d be good if I had the app too, because sometimes Jin-hyung disappears for hours and it’d be helpful to know if he’s at home or, you know, dying in a hospital somewhere."
"Yeah, that bastard has scared the hell out of me more than once..."
"So, she recommended the app and said that if I needed help setting it up or anything, I could ask her." Taehyung smiled proudly. "And that’s how I’m going to find out where they are."
"I don’t get it."
"Jimin, focus!"
"I swear I am paying attention, but I don’t get how asking her for help setting up the app tells you where Sana and Jungkook are!"
The blond exhaled slowly. He was his friend—his best friend, in fact. He couldn’t kill him. Patience. Patience.
"I’ll ask her how to add people or something. She’ll send me a screenshot with a giant circle around whatever button I’m supposed to click," he explained slowly, carefully thinking out each word. "And I know that button is right on the main screen, showing the map. So when Mina sends me the picture..." Taehyung waved his hands dramatically, encouraging Jimin to finish the sentence.
"...You’ll see the map with her location on it in the screenshot," Jimin said, grinning—then his smile fell. "Uh-huh. And what if it shows her on a random road because they haven’t reached the actual place yet?"
"I’ll wait ten minutes and then ask her something else that requires another screenshot of the main screen."
They stared at each other in silence for a few seconds, completely expressionless, until Jimin stepped forward and grabbed his head.
"Kim Taehyung, you’re a genius. An evil genius, but a genius," Jimin nodded, impressed. "I told you, you had to be a fox. You get what I mean?"
"Thank you, thank you," Taehyung replied with a mock bow.
"But another thing," Jimin interrupted, narrowing his eyes. "What exactly are you gonna do? I mean, are you just gonna show up like ‘wow, what a coincidence!’?"
"No, that’d be way too obvious."
"Right. Of course. Obviously."
They paused again.
"I’m gonna show up with you and say ‘wow, what a coincidence!’"
"...Huh?" Jimin blinked, his expression blank. Taehyung’s innocent smile was in complete contrast with his evil intentions. Jimin stared at him in disbelief. "Taehyung, why the hell are you dragging me into this?"
"That’s exactly why. Because I shouldn’t. Jungkook won’t think I did it on purpose if I show up with you. He’ll think it’s actually a coincidence, just friends hanging out." Taehyung shrugged. "We made that dumb deal not to sabotage or interfere with each other when it comes to Sana, but if it’s a coincidence, and Sana sees me and wants me to stay, I’m not breaking any rule."
"You are a little shit," Jimin said, smiling in resignation.
"I know."
He grabbed his phone and quickly opened his chat with Mina. They didn’t really talk much—he mostly just sent her pictures he’d taken of them during rehearsals. With all the hypocrisy in the world, he typed:
Mina (Sana’s friend)
>>Heeey, Mina, how are you?
It only took a few seconds before his phone buzzed. Taehyung raised his eyebrows. That was faster than expected.
Just got back to the apartment with Momo, what about you?<<
Not to be rude, but you almost never text me. Did something happen?<<
Taehyung smiled. How sweet. It almost made him feel guilty. Almost. He was too committed to his evil plan to feel anything else now.
>>Nothing bad, don’t worry.
>>I finally convinced the guys to download that location app you showed me, remember?
Yeah yeah, do you need help with it?<<
>>Yup. How do I add people?
Oh, it’s super easy. There’s a little person icon with a + on it.<<
>>I honestly can’t find it...
Hold on, I’ll send you a screenshot.<<
[photo]<<
There.<<
Taehyung looked at the image with satisfaction.
>>Ah, of course! Makes total sense. Thank you so much, Mina!
No problem, Taehyuuung~<<
He felt a little bad for using sweet Mina for his evil plans. But hey—all’s fair in war, right? Plus, he wouldn’t need to text her again. Because in the screenshot she sent, it clearly showed that Sana was at Mecenatpolis Mall, and just to make things even better, the bottom of the image showed she’d been there for about twenty minutes already.
"Jimin, you and I are going for a little drive," Taehyung said with a devilish smirk, licking his lips. He stood up, grabbed his car keys from the table, and headed toward the front door.
"You’re the actual devil," Jimin muttered, grabbing his house keys and following him out.
──── ∗ ⋅✧⋅ ∗ ────
Jimin and Taehyung were crouched behind some decorative plants, hiding in the shadows like a pair of wannabe spies. Very stupid wannabe spies, if Jimin were to give his honest opinion.
Just a few meters away—seated at a table of a juice, soda, smoothie, and every-fruit-drink-imaginable spot—were Sana and Jungkook. The girl laughed naturally while Jungkook talked with enthusiasm, gesturing with his hands like he was telling the most fascinating story in the world.
However, Jimin’s eyes kept drifting from the cheerful non-couple to something that was… slightly more distracting.
"What are you doing?" he whispered, frowning as he glanced at Taehyung.
"What do you mean, what am I doing?" Taehyung whispered back, eyes still glued to his target. "I’m hiding so I can spy on them. Weren’t you with me five minutes ago when I said, ‘let’s crouch here to spy on them’? I thought that was pretty clear."
"No, I mean, yes, but... why the hell do you have your coat over your head like the Virgin Mary?"
Jimin stared at him in disbelief. Sometimes understanding Taehyung’s brain was a Herculean task. The blond had draped his green coat over his head and shoulders in a way that, indeed, made him look like a ridiculous version of a religious figure.
"That’s a completely different question, Jimin," Taehyung shot him an indignant look for a few seconds before turning his attention back to Jungkook and Sana.
"Just answer, idiot."
"Obviously, it’s so I don’t get recognized. It’s a disguise."
Jimin scanned him up and down and squinted.
"I can see your whole face."
"Not when I do this," Taehyung grabbed one corner of the coat and pulled it down over his face, leaving only his eyes visible. "See?"
"Taehyung, I swear you are the least discreet human being on this planet," Jimin groaned, running a hand down his face in utter despair. "If Jungkook so much as glances slightly upward, he’s gonna see you with a damn coat on your head and think you’ve lost your damn mind."
"That sounds like a problem for future Taehyung."
"Why are you ‘hiding’ if you’re just going to go interrupt them anyway?"
"I’m waiting for the right moment," Taehyung whispered seriously, his eyes never leaving the scene before him. "I have to make my entrance at the perfect time."
"And when exactly is this ‘perfect’ time?" Jimin scoffed.
"There are a few things that could trigger it. Like maybe when Jungkook tries to pull that lame arm stretch move—you know, the one where he wraps his stupidly strong tattooed arm around her. Girls love that move," Taehyung said casually, earning a look of mild disgust from Jimin.
"That’s so incredibly cliché. Girls do not love that."
"Who cares if it’s cliché? And it works."
"No, it doesn’t."
"What do you know?"
Jimin gave him a flat look.
"Uh, I’m bisexual. I date girls too. Did you forget?"
"Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you know everything about what girls like."
"Tell me you did not just say I don’t know what girls like when I’ve dated more girls than you ever have in your life," Jimin snapped, glaring at him.
"What?" Taehyung turned to face him, momentarily forgetting about Jungkook and Sana. "There’s no way you’ve dated more girls than me." Jimin didn’t respond, just raised his eyebrows and pressed his lips together. "Well, maybe a couple more or something, but who cares? That’s not the point. The point is I’m waiting for that bastard to do something." He turned back toward his target, and Jimin sighed, shaking his head. He had officially become Seokjin.
"You watched Big Time Rush as a kid, didn’t you?"
"Yeah. How’d you know?"
Jimin pointed at the green coat draped over his head.
"‘Tree Hat’?" Jimin asked. Taehyung’s eyes lit up instantly and he nodded enthusiastically.
"I was trying to copy it! I should totally get one of those! Do you think they sell them on Amazon?"
"Oh, my..."
But before he could rant about how much he loved the show and how deeply he identified with James for being charming and Logan for being smart, he saw the dark-haired boy move.
"Wait, there it is. You’re so predictable, Jeon."
Jimin followed his gaze—and sure enough, Jungkook was doing exactly what Taehyung had predicted.
The guy stretched with a fake yawn, but his eyes betrayed him. He was calculating the space between him and Sana, waiting for the perfect opportunity to drape his arm around her shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"God, that’s so basic," Jimin whispered, equally horrified and amazed that his best friend had been right.
"Told you," Taehyung said smugly.
And with no further warning, he whipped the coat off his head and stepped out of their hiding spot. Jimin followed behind him after letting out a long-suffering sigh. He hadn’t wanted to get involved in any of this. But here he was. That’s what he got for making him his best friend.
They hurried over and tried to walk casually. Jimin was a Performing Arts major—he definitely knew how to act. And Taehyung had been in theater all his life. So the whole performance was a resounding success. Anyone unaware of the situation would have never guessed it was all planned and rehearsed.
"What a coincidence!" Taehyung sang out once they were close, tying the coat loosely around his shoulders. Jungkook’s arm—halfway through its journey toward Sana’s shoulders—froze in midair. His muscles tensed, and with visible frustration, he had to slowly return his arm to its place like nothing had happened.
Taehyung saw the exact moment their expressions changed. Sana’s mouth opened in surprise, her face lighting up with delight. Jungkook, on the other hand, squinted in disbelief, clearly trying to suppress a violent outburst.
"What are you doing here, Kim?" Jungkook muttered through gritted teeth, his fists visibly clenching on the table.
"Can’t I just come to the mall with my best friend?" Taehyung asked innocently. Jungkook wasn’t buying it. Not even a little.
"Funny, this particular mall is pretty far from where you live," Jungkook said sarcastically, tilting his head and blinking slowly. "Also not exactly close to the university either."
"Am I banned from going to malls that aren’t right next to my house or collage now?" the blond protested. "Not that I owe you an explanation, but since you’re so interested in my life..."
"Uh-huh," Jungkook replied with heavy sarcasm.
"Jimin is obsessed with the ramen place on the second floor," Taehyung said, placing a hand on Jimin’s shoulder. "And I think you know that the malls near campus or near my place don’t have that chain."
"Mhm," Jungkook said again, nodding dramatically with fake understanding.
"I’m going to treat Minnie to something nice for all his hard work on Sana’s project, so it’s just a huge coincidence that we happened to come to this mall," he added with a childlike grin. Jungkook glanced at Jimin, trying to determine whether it was true. He looked perfectly normal. "Isn’t that right?"
"Yeah, I really do love that chain. I was rehearsing by myself today and my body is wrecked," Jimin said, rubbing his neck with a wince. If he was lying, Jungkook couldn’t tell. Was it actually just a coincidence? "Tae was kind enough to offer and treat me so I could unwind."
"Ow, Jimin," Sana said with a pout. "I’ve told you, you don’t have to push yourself so hard."
"I just don’t want to screw it up and ruin something that’s so important to you guys, so I have to be strict with myself," Jimin replied, sounding pretty down and insecure.
"Don’t say that, come here." Sana moved the empty chair beside her a little away from the table, leaving space for him to sit. "Sit down, both of you."
Jungkook stared at her wide-eyed and began shaking his head frantically, as if he could telepathically convince her to change her mind.
It didn’t work.
Before he could do anything to stop them, the two intruders were already settling in at the table. Taehyung ended up sitting across from Sana, and Jimin across from him. Jungkook wanted to drop dead on the spot.
"I don’t want you to push yourself so much and end up injured because of us, Jimin," the girl said gently.
"I swear I’m fine, Sana, don’t worry." Jimin gave her a sincere smile.
"Do you guys want something to drink? They’re delicious," she offered, pointing to her cup enthusiastically. "This one’s peach and orange, you want a taste? Jungkook’s got banana milk."
Jimin politely declined, but of course, Taehyung didn’t miss the opportunity.
"Oh, yes!" he exclaimed as he leaned over the table and grabbed Sana’s cup without the slightest hint of shame. Jungkook nearly kicked him under the table when he saw him drink straight from the straw she had used.
The audacity.
The absolute audacity.
But Sana didn't even react badly, there were no gestures of disgust or a hint of discomfort on her face. Jungkook felt his eye twitch at the thought of that indirect kiss. It was childish—he knew it was—but it still pissed him off.
"Whoa! That’s so good!" Taehyung covered his mouth as he swallowed. "Let me try yours, Jungkookie."
"Get your own drink," Jungkook snapped, pulling his cup away from Taehyung’s greedy hands. "And don’t call me ‘Jungkookie’." The black-haired hated when Taehyung spoke to him like he was younger or pointed out the age difference. He didn’t even call him 'hyung' because, frankly, Jungkook didn’t think he deserved that kind of respect.
"You’re right," Taehyung said casually. Immediately, Jungkook regretted speaking. That smile never meant anything good. "I’ll get my own drink. Want something too, Jiminnie?"
"With this heat? Hell yeah."
Taehyung raised his hand to wave over the waiter, who spotted them and started walking their way.
"Oh, wait," Taehyung said with feigned innocence before the waiter reached them. "We’re not interrupting anything, are we?"
Jungkook was about to shout a loud and furious 'yes'—but someone beat him to it.
"Not at all, Tae," Sana said with a sweet smile. Jungkook felt his soul leave his body. "Don’t worry."
"This wasn’t a date or anything, right?" Jimin asked. Sana’s eyes went wide and she quickly waved her hands.
"No, no, of course not. A date? No way," she said in a rush, clearly nervous and slightly blushing. "How would this be a date? It’s not like that. Jungkook just invited me because I looked tired."
"Perfect, then." Taehyung smiled wide, and right then, the waiter arrived, so he turned his attention to him. "Hi! Could we please get… strawberry soda with Breton, and… you want something with mango, Jimin?"
"Yeah, what do you have with mango?"
But Jungkook wasn’t listening anymore. It wasn’t a date?
Sana didn’t think this was a date?
The waiter finished taking their order and left with a slight bow.
"Jimin, about your muscle fatigue—I told you we could all do group stretching sessions," Sana said in a soft tone. "It’d help relieve some of that tension. I know Hobi’s been super stiff lately too."
"That’s a good idea," Taehyung chimed in. Jungkook noticed he only looked at Sana and Jimin when he spoke. "I could help you too, if you want."
Jungkook scoffed, resting his elbow on the table, jaw tight.
"I didn’t know you were a stretching expert, Taehyung."
"I am," he replied without even glancing at him, which made Jungkook grind his teeth.
"Oh, really? And where’d you learn that?" Jungkook tried again.
"In contemporary dance," he answered casually, finally looking at Jungkook—but with zero interest. "I guess you didn’t know that."
"You dance that? I knew you did theater, but not contemporary dance," Sana said, tilting her head in surprise.
"Yeah, I studied it for two years back in high school," he explained with a smile that clashed completely with how serious he’d sounded just five seconds ago. That smug little liar. "We had physical expression classes through the theater program too, so I got used to intense stretching."
"That’s amazing! I love contemporary dance—it has so much freedom of expression," Sana smiled brightly.
"Right?" Taehyung leaned on the table, half-smiling. "It’s really different from commercial or hip-hop dancing. It has a whole other vibe—more abstract."
"Totally. The connection to your body is something else," Jimin added. "I still study contemporary. I’d say it’s one of my favorites. Taehyung and I took classes together in high school."
Jungkook felt a flicker of irritation watching Taehyung effortlessly capture both of their attention. Time to strike back.
"Wow, impressive," he muttered with a sharp tone. "Didn’t know you were a failed dancer, Taehyung."
"I’m not," Taehyung replied effortlessly. "But thanks for taking an interest in my backstory, Jungkookie."
His ears were burning. "I told you not to call me that."
"Oh, Sana, what did you think of the new choreography? The one they had to change?" Taehyung asked gently.
"I loved it," she answered with genuine enthusiasm. "It’s harder, but it has such amazing energy."
"That’s thanks to you guys," Jimin chimed in. "The team’s talent really brings it to life."
"Speak for yourself too, Jimin," Sana smiled, lightly punching his arm. "You’re amazing."
That idiot was ruining his date, acting like a clown and, worst of all…
He was ignoring him.
On purpose.
Jungkook’s grip on his banana milk tightened.
"Oh, by the way, Taehyung," he said with a fake innocent tone, "shouldn’t you be busy with the project for the girls? Coming up with ideas or whatever? Or are you bored of playing director now?"
"Playing? Nah. I just know how to manage my time. Don’t you?" Taehyung smiled without even looking up from the phone he’d grabbed a few seconds ago. Apparently, whatever he was reading was far more interesting than Jungkook.
"That must be a tough major, huh? I imagine the projects take a ton of work."
"A ton," Taehyung sighed, finally lifting his gaze from the screen to answer Sana. "But it’s fun. It’s amazing to see an idea come to life."
"Have you directed anything?" she asked, clearly curious.
"Yeah, a few short films. Right now I’m working on my final project. Still in pre-production, though."
Jungkook had had enough.
Not only was Taehyung stealing Sana's attention with his effortless and easy conversation, but he was blatantly ignoring him. He didn't even react to her provocations.
"What’s it about?" Jimin asked with genuine interest. "You haven’t told me anything."
"It’s a mystery story," Taehyung said, toying with the rings on his fingers—still acting like Jungkook didn’t exist. "Something psychological, with an artistic twist."
"Any directors you’re drawing inspiration from?" Sana asked, completely captivated. "I know a few, but maybe you could recommend someone new."
"Yeah, I really like Park Chan-wook. The way he builds tension is incredible."
Jungkook tapped his knuckles lightly against the table.
"How deep," he muttered sarcastically. "And doesn’t it get frustrating when no one gets your ‘artistic vision’ because it’s convoluted and makes no sense?"
"Mhm, not really. People with taste usually get it," Taehyung glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, then smiled.Jungkook almost choked on his juice. Jimin barely held back a laugh, and Sana quickly brought a hand to her mouth to hide her grin. "Oh, look, our drinks are here," Taehyung said with absolute calm as the waiter arrived. He grabbed both beverages and set Jimin’s in front of him.
Jungkook leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed, unable to hide his sour mood. He hated him. He hated how Taehyung moved around so confidently, how easily he slipped into conversations like he’d been there from the beginning. He hated that Sana smiled at him with the same warmth she gave Jungkook.
But most of all, he hated being ignored.
And that was exactly what Taehyung was doing.
The conversation carried on smoothly for a few more minutes. Sana and Jimin chatted animatedly about the choreography, and Taehyung followed along with interest, chiming in every now and then. Jungkook, on the other hand, had barely opened his mouth, too busy battling his growing frustration.
Nothing was going the way he wanted.
His so-called 'date' with Sana had gone to hell. Not just because they now had unwanted company, but because he hadn’t even had a chance to connect with her without being interrupted. Taehyung had stolen all her attention, and she didn’t seem the least bit bothered by it.
Jungkook was about to lose it when Sana glanced at her phone and sighed softly.
"Oh, it’s late," she said, sounding a little surprised. "I should get going."
"Yeah, me too," Jimin nodded right away. "Plus, my body’s already yelling at me for what I put it through today. If you want, we can leave together, Sana."
"Oh, yes!" she clapped her hands. "Your place and my apartment are pretty close."
"No, wait," Jungkook cut in quickly. "I’ll drive you."
Sana smiled kindly at him but shook her head.
"Oh, don’t worry, Jungkook. You don’t have to go out of your way just for me."
"It’s not a bother. I told you I’d take you."
"I know, but it’s really not necessary," she said gently. "Jimin and I can go together, and besides, he needs to rest too."
Jungkook felt his stomach drop.
None of this was how it was supposed to go.
"Then it’s settled," Jimin said with a smile. "Let’s go, Sana."
She nodded, grabbing her bag. At the very least, Jungkook should’ve insisted on putting their bags in his car earlier—that way, he’d have an excuse to walk her out. He watched them get up, feeling more and more helpless by the second.
It was official. The date was a disaster.
And there was no one else to blame but Taehyung.
But just before Sana and Jimin could say goodbye, something clicked in Jungkook’s mind. A strange feeling. Something wasn’t adding up. He frowned and played his last card.
"Hey," he said, looking directly at Taehyung. "What about the food?"
Taehyung raised an eyebrow.
"What?"
"You guys came here to eat ramen, didn’t you?" Jungkook crossed his arms, his tone sharp now. "So why are you leaving without eating?"
A brief silence followed.
Jimin and Sana exchanged looks. But Jungkook wasn’t looking at them. He only had eyes for Taehyung. The blond licked his lips and smiled, as nonchalant as ever.
"Oh, didn’t I say that already?" he shrugged with perfect ease. "Jimin and I already ate. We were just killing time before heading out."
But Jungkook saw it—that flicker in his eyes, the tiniest quiver in his smile.
And he understood. Because no, he hadn’t said that. In fact, everything they’d mentioned was that they were going to eat—not that they already had.
Son of a bitch.
So it hadn’t been a coincidence. That bastard had done it on purpose. Jungkook narrowed his eyes but swallowed his rage for the moment.
"I see," was all he said, feigning disinterest.
"Well, we’re off," Sana said, oblivious to the tension. "Thanks for the company."
Jungkook managed to smile at her.
"See you."
She waved as she walked off with Jimin, chatting casually as they left. As soon as they were out of sight, Jungkook turned slowly to face Taehyung.
"You fucking miserable bastard."
Taehyung looked up with a mock-confused expression.
"Mhm?"
"You lied," Jungkook leaned over the table, fists clenched tight.
"About what?"
"About everything."
"I don’t know what you mean," Taehyung tilted his head, his lazy smile still in place.
"First, you said it was a coincidence you were here with Jimin to eat, but you never ate," Jungkook said through gritted teeth.
"Maybe I just didn’t mention I’d already treated him."
"No, you didn’t," Jungkook pointed a finger at him. "You said 'I’m going to treat him'—that’s future tense, not past."
"Oops. Must’ve misspoken," Taehyung shifted in his seat, resting his chin on his hand. Jungkook felt a shiver of rage crawl up his spine.
"So you did it on purpose?" Jungkook asked, holding his gaze. "We said we wouldn’t sabotage each other," he growled.
"I didn’t," Taehyung finally smiled.
"Yes, you did!"
"No, I didn’t," he repeated calmly. "I just… took advantage of the opportunity."
"And that’s not all," Jungkook snapped. "You also lied about going on a date with her. Isn’t that pathetic? That you had to make it up just to rile me up, when in reality, her friends were there too."
"I did go out with her, and I never lied. I never once said it was just the two of us," the blond said coolly, twisting the rings on his fingers—rings Jungkook now found irritating and outright ugly. "I said we went out, and that she had a good time. Which is exactly what happened. If Jimin spun it like it was something else, that’s not my problem. And since it pissed you off so much, I didn’t feel like correcting it. I wanted to watch you squirm."
"You’re such an asshole," Jungkook felt his blood boil.
"Mhm, maybe," Taehyung shrugged. "But you’d do it too if you had the chance."
Jungkook didn’t answer.
Because before, he might not have. But now—knowing just how underhanded that bastard could be—he absolutely would.
──── ∗ ⋅✧⋅ ∗ ────
"I’m gonna kill him. I swear to God, I’m gonna do it."
Jungkook huffed furiously as he dropped onto the black leather couch in Yoongi’s studio. His leg bounced nonstop, jaw clenched, brow so tightly furrowed it looked like he was trying to drill a hole into the floor with his eyes.
The moment Taehyung disappeared from sight, Jungkook had driven straight to Yoongi’s place.
The older, however, didn’t even flinch. He was hunched over the soundboard, carefully adjusting knobs and sliders with unbothered patience. He only gave Jungkook a fleeting glance before returning to his work.
"Taehyung again?" he asked, not even trying to hide his annoyance.
"Who else would it be?!" Jungkook exploded, throwing his arms up. "He’s a bastard, hyung. A fucking bastard."
Yoongi pressed a button, and the track playing through the monitors came to a halt.
"What did he do now?" he asked, finally spinning around in his chair to give Jungkook his full attention.
Jungkook let his head fall back, staring at the ceiling in exasperation.
"He sabotaged me. He said he wouldn’t, but he did. We agreed not to, but he still did it. I don’t even know how, but he found a way. I don’t know how he knew we were there," he spat angrily. "He showed up out of nowhere with Jimin—because of course he always has to be with Jimin—and he barged into my date with Sana. And not only that, but he actually managed to get her to leave with Jimin at the end."
"Mhm…" Yoongi leaned his head on his hand, looking at him with a half-smile. "Sounds like he beat you."
Jungkook glared at him.
"He did not beat me!" he protested, clearly offended. "But God, hyung, he’s unbearable. That damn smile of his, his condescending tone, the way he talks like every word he says is pure genius... it makes me want to rip my ears off!"
"Uh-huh," Yoongi nodded, clearly not buying the drama entirely.
"And on top of that, he’s got that face like, ‘Look at me, I’m the hottest guy around and I get whatever I want,’ when he’s actually just a lucky bastard," Jungkook continued, scrunching his nose as Taehyung’s image flashed in his head. "You know what else I hate? That stupid mole on his nose. It pisses me off. It's so... so annoying. Actually, I hate all his moles. The one under his eye, the one on his cheek, the one on his lips. Ugh, I’d love to punch that damn mole off his face."
"Go on."
"Speaking of his mouth, he’s got this square smile. It’s weird. I don’t trust it at all. It might look sweet and innocent but nope!" Jungkook nearly shouted, pointing a stern finger at Yoongi. "Don’t ever trust that smile, hyung. Rookie mistake."
"Got it."
"And his hair," Jungkook flailed his arms, absolutely exasperated. "Why the hell does he look good with literally any hairstyle? It’s not fair. Not fair at all. How does he even do that?"
Yoongi bit his lip, clearly holding back a laugh.
"Us mere mortals have to do a hundred things to make our hair look decent. And even though his is dyed, it still looks natural and girls love it! It’s awful! It’s completely unfair to the rest of us. He should be locked up and punished for that," Jungkook was now smacking his palm with his index finger. "He steals everyone’s attention—especially Sana’s. That’s the attention I deserve. I’m attractive too, aren’t I? So why is it that the second he walks into a room, everyone turns to look at him? Don't you find it curious how indifferent a person is to you until you realize they exist and are now a completely unbearable thorn in your side with a ridiculous face?"
"Oh, for sure."
"He is ridiculous. His face is ridiculous. His outfits are ridiculous. He’s always wearing some super expensive thing just to show off that he’s got money," Jungkook ranted. "And his stupid deep voice, and those damn rings like he’s some mysterious prince or something. You’re not a prince, Taehyung, you’re a dumbass. Or, well, maybe you are a prince—the prince of idiots. And soon you’ll be crowned king of the idiots," he muttered under his breath now, staring at his shoes like Taehyung was right there in front of him. "You’re like the little prince. Blond and from another planet. Childish and immature! You’re gonna end up all alone and your only companion will be a shitty flower that’s not even worth anything!"
Yoongi slowly nodded, lips pressed together as he crossed his arms.
"So you hate his mole, his hair, his face, and his voice."
"Yes."
"You also hate the way he dresses."
"Absolutely."
"And the rings. And the fact that you didn’t even notice he existed before, but now it’s like he’s constantly following you around."
"Yes, yes."
"And that he looks good with literally any hairstyle, because that’s, oh so very unfair."
"Exactly!"
Yoongi locked eyes with him, amusement dancing in his gaze.
"So... do you hate him or have you been studying him for a final exam?"
Jungkook opened his mouth, but no words came out. A wave of heat crawled up his neck.
"I... I just... Shut up! You have to study your enemy to know how to attack!" he shot back quickly.
Yoongi let out a dry snort and turned back toward the console.
"Alright, alright. Time to channel that rage."
"What?"
"Get up," Yoongi ordered, not giving him a chance to argue. "You’re gonna play."
"I’m not in the mood."
"I don’t care," Yoongi pressed a few buttons, then nodded toward the recording booth. "Didn’t you say you couldn’t nail the difficult sequence in that electric guitar melody? It’s now or never."
Jungkook huffed, but grabbed the guitar Yoongi kept in the studio—resting neatly in its stand—and stepped into the booth, slipping on the headphones. Through the glass, he saw Yoongi signaling instructions with a hand gesture.
"Think of something that pisses you off. Something that really gets under your skin," Yoongi said through the mic. "Something that makes you wanna destroy this."
Jungkook closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
Of course, inevitably, he thought of Taehyung—because that was literally the thing that was driving him the most insane.
He thought of his laugh, those infuriating moles, the way he licked his lips when he was deep in thought, how he leaned in close to Sana to whisper something, how he always held cups with his fingers slightly spread like he was some noble sipping fine wine. He thought of his face, his unbearable personality. He thought of the way he ignored him, like Jungkook wasn’t even worth his attention.
He inhaled deeply.
His fingertips brushed over the strings with precision. His left hand gripped the neck tightly, pressing the frets with control, feeling the pressure of each note beneath his skin. His right hand, pick between his fingers, hovered just above the strings, ready to strike.
Then he hit the first note.
The sound exploded from the amp like a roar. It was a sharp, vibrating chord—almost violent—that shook the studio like thunder. Jungkook didn’t stop. His fingers flew with fury, playing each note with unrelenting speed.
The difficult sequence that had frustrated him so many times unfolded before him in a way that had so far gone well. He needed it for a project and he had felt useless because they were delaying it because of him.
His wrist moved with speed and absolute control, switching from hard strums to crisp picking. The pick snapped against the strings, pulling out a raw, gritty sound—that was exactly what he’d been aiming for. It always came out wrong before; he’d mess up or it wouldn’t have the texture he wanted.
The distortion growled with every hit, amplifying his frustration, his anger, his damn hatred for Kim Taehyung.
Dark strands of hair fell over his eyes as he tilted his head, completely lost in the music. His fingers burned slightly, but he didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was the sound. The guitar’s neck trembled under his grip, but he held tighter, wringing every note out of it.
The final bend rose like a stifled scream and then... the echo of the last note rang through the studio, bouncing off the walls before fading slowly into the perfect acoustics of the room.
Jungkook opened his eyes, chest rising and falling heavily. He looked up and saw Yoongi smiling in satisfaction from the other side of the glass.
"You did it," the older man announced, pressing a button so his voice carried into the booth.
Jungkook yanked off the headphones with a low growl.
"I hate when you’re right."
"You gave me the ammo yourself," Yoongi chuckled softly. "How do you feel?"
"Better," Jungkook said with a nod, finally smiling.
He supposed he had to thank Taehyung for one thing, at least.
Chapter 7: Chapter 06
Chapter Text
"You've got to be kidding me. There's no way I'm finishing this by Friday."
Jungkook crumpled the sheet between his fingers, frustrated, feeling like every line of that Advanced Solfège and Ear Training assignment was a personal attack. Walking alongside Hoseok usually helped him relax, but right now, not even the warm afternoon sun or the light, fresh breeze could ease his stress.
"It’s not that bad if you break it down," Hoseok replied, snatching the paper from his hands to make his point. "The first part is just harmonic progression analysis—we can do it together tomorrow in the study room."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say," Jungkook muttered, clearly unconvinced. His frown deepened as he glanced at the sheet again. "But the second part is transcribing a piece by ear. A whole piece, hyung. Who the hell has the time or patience for that?"
"I don't know, maybe someone who studies music like us, don't you think?" Hoseok replied with an obvious tone.
"Music, sure. Not aural torture," Jungkook scoffed. He loved music, but he hated all the theory stuff. It just wasn’t for him. He was more into hands-on and practical learning.
The background noise of campus life blended with their conversation—murmurs of students chatting in small groups, bursts of laughter, and the occasional strum of a guitar coming from one of the benches scattered around the Arts and Humanities faculty.
Jungkook ran a hand through his hair, leaving a defiant strand sticking out, which Hoseok immediately smoothed down without thinking.
"By the way, what’s going on with Momo?" he asked suddenly. The question had been eating at him for a while, and it seemed like no one was going to bring it up. But Jungkook wasn’t exactly the patient type, so the whole 'waiting until he is ready' thing wasn’t for him.
"Why do you ask?" Hoseok raised a brow.
"Oh come on, Hobi-hyung, don’t play dumb," Jungkook shot back quickly. "Everyone’s waiting for you to make the first move and talk about it, but I can’t hold it in anymore," he practically whined. "We saw you at your party—I saw it with my own eyes, along with Jin-hyung, Namjoon-hyung, and Yoongi-hyung. And the way you were all over Momo... I’m honestly kind of jealous."
Hoseok burst out laughing so hard he had to hold onto Jungkook’s arm for support. He already knew they’d all noticed—he’d just wanted to see how long they’d keep pretending they hadn’t. They were terrible actors anyway.
"It’s nothing complicated... or, well, yeah. I like her, she likes me, but for now we’re just friends who... do stuff."
"What a definition," Jungkook rolled his eyes, amused. "So mature."
"Unfortunately, it’s the truth," Hoseok smiled. "Momo doesn’t want a long-distance relationship, and neither do I. So we’re kind of on pause until we see what happens with the audition. If they make it and decide to stay in Korea, then we’ll figure things out. For now, we enjoy spending time together and doing things together, but without commitment and without exclusivity, for fear that one day she will leave and we will be left heartbroken."
"Oh... so that’s what it is."
"Exactly. I’ve liked her ever since I first met her in Japan years ago, but nothing ever really happened," Hoseok looked down at the ground, smiling with a hint of embarrassment. "We grew up. She’d come visit me or I’d visit her, we’d always end up kissing, and then we’d have to part ways again. And if it hurt that much without being in a relationship, imagine how much worse it would’ve been if we were. So we never made it official."
"But you had a girlfriend a while ago. That girl... Wheein? I think. What happened with that? If you liked Momo this whole time."
"Yeah, well, about that..." Hoseok winced. "That was one of my attempts to get over her after watching Momo leave for the third time. But clearly, it didn’t work out—so we broke up after six months. Momo knows about Wheein. In fact, she also dated a Japanese guy named Yuta around that time, and that didn’t work out either."
"So no hard feelings there?"
"None at all," the older one smiled. "So this kind of feels like our last chance... or we just give up for good. This is the first time she’s stayed for this long, so we’re making the most of it while we can. It could be our goodbye, or it could be the beginning of something real," Hoseok shrugged, his gaze hopeful as he looked ahead. "I don’t think it’ll hurt as much this time, because at least we’re sure of one thing—we’ll know we tried everything. Sometimes things just don’t work out. It’s not what fate had in mind. You can’t force it or try to patch it together with spit and tape."
Jungkook nodded slowly, not replying right away. It made sense—of course it did. It sounded like the most reasonable approach. If things didn’t work out, they’d move on with their lives. And if things did work out, then maybe they could really try.
Should he do the same with Sana?
The thought hit him out of nowhere, and it made him frown. Logically speaking, he wasn’t a fan of long-distance relationships either. He was still in university, his schedule was packed, and it would be hard to keep something going if Sana ended up going back to Japan. Waiting to see what happened with the audition sounded reasonable.
But then an image crossed his mind without permission: Taehyung. That guy was a cheater, a conniving little shit—like a damn fox. If Jungkook backed off, of course Taehyung would use that time to get ahead, to take the lead, to make his move on Sana while Jungkook sat around like an idiot.
No way. Not happening.
Jungkook clenched his jaw, tightening his grip on the strap of his backpack as a warm flush crept up his spine. He wasn’t going to sit still and let Taehyung use the uncertainty to knock him out of the game. Like it or not, the competition was still on.
"Changing the subject," Hoseok said, snapping him out of his thoughts, "I feel like I barely see you these days. It’s making me sad."
"You’re the busy one," Jungkook replied with a half-smile. "With your rehearsals, double major classes, and... things with Momo."
Hoseok rolled his eyes, amused.
"That’s exactly why you should come to today’s group practice. It’ll be Jimin, Minho, Sana, Mina, Momo and me. You can watch us dance and really see the choreos properly. I don’t think you’ve seen us all rehearse together yet, right?"
"Right, I want to go," Jungkook answered confidently. It was the perfect chance to spend time with Sana and maybe get back at Taehyung by stealing the spotlight for once—and maybe sabotaging him too. "I’ve seen bits and pieces, but never the full thing. You’re almost ready to shoot, aren’t you?"
"Yeah, the filming’s supposed to happen in two weeks. Taehyung already organized everything."
"Isn’t that Yoongi’s birthday week?" Jungkook made a confused face. "March ninth—it falls on a Thursday, if I’m not wrong."
"Yeah, it’s during his birthday week. I’m actually planning something for him," Hoseok said, excited at first, but then his expression dimmed. "I don’t think I’ll be able to do anything on the exact day though. It’s Thursday, and between university and everything going on with the girls..."
"What are you thinking of doing?"
"I’ve got a couple ideas, but I don’t wanna jinx it."
As they walked past a vending machine, Jungkook stopped in front of it, slid in a few coins, and pressed the button for peach-flavored water. The sound of the bottle dropping into the compartment below was oddly satisfying.
"You like that flavored water? I’ve never seen you drink it before," Hoseok asked, watching him with curiosity.
"It’s not for me. It’s for Sana."
"How thoughtful," Hoseok teased with a smirk as Jungkook grabbed the bottle and shoved it into his backpack without a second thought.
As they continued walking, Jungkook knew Taehyung would be there. He’d initially thought about sabotaging him somehow, but a part of him still hoped Taehyung wouldn’t show up. He wasn’t ready to face him after what happened. He felt like he might literally jump him. He wanted to punch him. But another part of him did want him to be there—so he could make him pay for it.
Their footsteps echoed as they entered the spacious practice room. The place was spotless, with mirrors lining the longest wall and polished wooden floors. On one end, the speakers and sound console were set up and ready. On the other, a pile of towels signaled that this was going to be no light rehearsal.
Jungkook dropped his backpack in a corner and glanced around before turning to Hoseok. The dancer flicked the lights on, and Jungkook winced, momentarily blinded by the harsh white glow—he hated those lights, always reminded him of a hospital.
"Hey..." Jungkook said, a bit confused. "How the hell are they allowed to use this room if they don’t even study here?"
Hoseok, eyes glued to his phone, replied without looking up.
"I book it under my name."
"…That sounds illegal."
"Not really. Or well, maybe a little," Hoseok replied casually. "The only thing that matters is that someone makes a reservation; it doesn't really matter who uses it. No one is going to come to take attendance or check IDs."
Technically, he had a point. Jungkook didn’t think the university actually cared whether the person using the space was the one who booked it. And honestly, who would even question it?
A few moments later, the door opened and a shorter guy stepped inside. Jungkook watched him drop his bag and greet Hoseok with a casual fist bump.
At first glance, the guy had presence. Confident posture, naturally charming expression, and a lean build that made it obvious he had strong control over his body. Jungkook narrowed his eyes, sizing up the newcomer before asking the obvious question.
"You are...?"
The guy turned to him with a friendly smile.
"Lee Minho," he answered, already beginning his own set of stretches. "I’m one of the backup dancers for Sana, Mina, and Momo."
Ah.
He was the one dancing with Sana in a few parts of the choreo. Jungkook had planned to analyze him more thoroughly after learning about his involvement, but now that he saw him... he just couldn’t bring himself to care.
There was no sense of threat. No spark of rivalry. At least, that’s what he thought at the time.
Sure, the guy had charisma, but he wasn’t trying to steal the spotlight. He didn’t even seem particularly interested in anything except dancing, and Jungkook picked up on that within the first thirty seconds—enough to bore him. He’d been alert in case any new competitors entered the picture, but Minho didn’t give off the kind of vibe that made him worth worrying about. Not like Taehyung.
So while Jungkook would keep an eye on Minho, truthfully, he didn’t see the point in wasting much energy on it.
A few minutes later, the door opened again and female voices filled the room. Mina, Sana, and Momo entered together, laughing and full of energy. Jungkook straightened his posture immediately.
"Hey!" he greeted with a smile, walking over.
"Jungkook, you came," Sana said, clearly surprised. She seemed happy to see him there, which only made him happier.
"I didn’t want to miss this. I’ve never had the chance to watch you all rehearse together," he replied confidently. Then, without missing a beat, he pulled the peach-flavored water bottle from his backpack and held it out to her. "I brought you this."
"Oh! How thoughtful. Thanks, Jungkook," Sana replied, her eyes lighting up warmly.
Jungkook smiled as she took the bottle and opened it right away. Mission accomplished. Jungkook—1, Taehyung—0.
Momo nudged Mina playfully, who looked at the scene with an amused expression. Hoseok, still setting up the speaker, glanced over and smiled with subtle pride before passing by Jungkook on his way to Momo.
"You’re a romantic at heart, Jungkook."
"Shut up, hyung," Jungkook muttered without looking at him.
They chatted for a few minutes until the door opened again. This time, Jimin walked in with Taehyung by his side. The moment Jungkook saw him, his smile vanished and was replaced by a deep scowl. He was not happy to see him. A surge of anger hit him, and he had to hold himself back from lunging at him then and there over what had happened on their outing. His good mood evaporated in a split second. Why did Taehyung always have to show up just when he was about to take the lead?
And as if seeing him wasn’t bad enough, it was what he brought with him that pissed Jungkook off even more. Taehyung carried a couple of bags filled with water bottles, which he casually dropped onto a nearby bench before stretching a bit.
"Brought water for everyone," he announced in that calm tone of his. "Don’t want anyone passing out mid-practice."
"That’s really sweet of you, Taehyung," Sana said with a smile.
Jungkook had to physically stop himself from scoffing because no, it wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t kindness—it was just Taehyung trying to look good in front of everyone, as always.
Unable to help himself, he crossed his arms and looked at him suspiciously.
"And what are you doing here?"
"Did you forget I’m filming?" Taehyung replied calmly, locking eyes with him.
"Oh." Shit. Right.
For a second, Jungkook had completely forgotten that tiny little detail, and now he looked like an idiot. He hadn’t even noticed the portable video camera hanging around Taehyung’s neck.
"And you?" Taehyung asked suddenly, tilting his head slightly. "What are you doing here?"
"Thought it’d be interesting to watch," Jungkook shrugged, trying to sound casual.
Taehyung studied him for a second, like he was waiting for something else.
"Uh-huh."
And just like that, he turned away, focusing on Jimin and his camera, adjusting the settings without saying another word. What’s Taehyung’s deal? Why ignore him like that? He was rude, ill-mannered, spoiled, discourteous, disrespectful, ugh! He drove Jungkook insane.
He tried to refocus on Sana. She was glowing as she stretched with the others. They were helping each other—holding ankles, backs, whatever was needed. Her light brown hair was tied up in a messy bun and she wore light-colored workout clothes. Her crop top left her stomach exposed, and Jungkook immediately felt flustered and borderline pervy for looking at her like that, so he quickly averted his gaze, face heating up.
Which was strange, considering his usual behavior, but for some reason, seeing Sana like that made Jungkook nervous. He had always been fairly confident, flirtatious even, and he usually took every opportunity to sneak a glance—like the shameless pervert he was—something that had earned him more than a few scoldings from Yoongi. But now, ogling sweet, lovely Sana felt... wrong. Immoral, even.
Unintentionally, his gaze shifted to Taehyung. The moment he finished mounting the camera on its stand, he started adjusting the angles with almost obsessive precision. He moved around the space, checking the framing from different points, tweaking the lighting, and marking the boundaries of the filming area with tape on the floor. He wasn’t messing around.
The way he moved, full of confidence and focus, made it impossible for Jungkook to look away.
It was strange.
Taehyung always gave off the vibe of someone careless, like nothing really mattered to him, as if he didn’t take anything seriously. He even gave the impression he actively believed the world revolved around him—because, let’s be honest, he was unbelievably egocentric. But apparently, when it came to work, he became a completely different person.
No flirtatious smiles, no idle chatter, not even a glance in Sana’s direction. Everything he did was technical: measuring, calculating, adjusting. When he finally seemed satisfied with the result, he took a step back, crossed his arms, and nodded to himself.
"Perfect," he muttered before turning toward the group. "We’re ready whenever you are."
As he turned around, his eyes met Jungkook’s, who instantly felt embarrassed that he’d been caught staring. Taehyung flinched.
"Jesus, Jungkook, you scared the hell out of me! I forgot you were even here and then suddenly your ugly face is right in mine—don’t do that again," he said, placing a hand over his heart. "Anyway, what are you doing? Why are you standing there like an idiot in the middle of my way?"
"I’m not standing like an idiot," Jungkook protested.
"Well, that’s what it looks like to me. Maybe this is new information for you or whatever, but you’re a nuisance. Someone had to tell you," Taehyung said with an exaggerated pout.
"Taehyung!" Hoseok scolded. "Be nice."
"Ugh, fine," Taehyung grumbled under his breath. "Mhm, there." He pointed toward a chair shoved into the corner. "Go sit there. Don’t touch anything. You look much better when you’re quiet. Don’t say anything, don’t interrupt the recording, and don’t make noise. Statue, got it?"
Jungkook was definitely about to start a fight over being treated like a misbehaving child, but nothing came out of his mouth—because Taehyung cut off his protest by placing a finger over his lips the second he saw Jungkook frown and open his mouth. Jungkook froze, only moving again when the blond gave him two light pats on the cheek.
With an exasperated huff, he finally walked over and slumped down in the isolated chair. He looked like he’d been sent to time-out.
Fine. He’d use this time to think of ways to crush him into oblivion.
The dancers stood up after finishing their stretches. Hoseok gave Taehyung a thumbs-up, and Jungkook watched him start the recording and tap the speaker to begin the music.
The moment the music started, the entire energy in the room shifted. The first song was MOVE by Taemin.
The first beat pulsed through the speakers, and the bodies moved in sync, feet sliding across the polished floor. The girls hit each wave with subtle rolls, hips gliding in the air like silk, while the backup dancers framed the performance with fluid steps that never outshone, only enhanced. The sensuality of the choreography wasn’t blatant or overdone—it was controlled, elegant. The moves stayed faithful to Taemin’s original, but somehow, when the girls danced it, it felt entirely their own.
Jungkook watched intently, his eyes clearly following Sana. She stood in the center this time. Her hair, which had come loose, fell over one shoulder with each motion of her head, as if it were part of the choreography itself.
But his focus was broken by something happening to his left. Taehyung—eyes fixed on the formation, camera locked on the dancers—was moving. It was barely noticeable, but there it was. A subtle shift of weight in his feet, a faint sway of his shoulders to the beat. It wasn’t conscious—just instinct. He clearly knew the choreo too.
Then the mood changed drastically as Buttons by the Pussycat Dolls began to play. If the sensuality before had been subtle, now it was shameless. The girls moved forward in a tight line, confidence radiating from every hip roll and measured step. Their expressions shifted, movements became bigger. Hands glided over their own bodies with deliberate flair, and there was a forward lean of the torso that screamed attitude. The backup dancers mirrored their energy, moving around them, supporting and accentuating the choreography. And even though Jungkook didn’t exactly love it, the closeness between them was palpable. The boys touched the girls—just lightly. A hand on a waist, a brush along the leg. The girls danced as if they were seducing, and the guys responded in kind.
Once again, Jungkook couldn’t take his eyes off Sana. She was absolutely stunning. He didn’t want to discredit Momo or Mina, but to him, no one compared. She was incredible—dancing so provocatively, so...
Jungkook felt the heat crawl up the back of his neck and looked away to collect himself, flustered by how good she looked. But without meaning to, he found himself looking straight at Taehyung again.
This time, he noticed the blond subtly marking the steps with his fingers on the camera. Like he was dancing with his hands.
The atmosphere shifted once more as Survivor by Destiny’s Child began to play. He forced himself to stop looking at the blond. Enough with the seduction—now it was power. The steps became sharper, feet stomping in sync with each accented beat. Arms extended in bold gestures, torsos dipped and lifted in controlled rebounds. Sweat began to form on foreheads, but their energy never faltered. When the drop hit, all three of them snapped into a hip break in unison, followed by a quick spin that placed them in a new formation.
After the first chorus ended, the music shifted again. Each transition between songs was seamless—someone had clearly edited them so the beats aligned perfectly. It was deeply satisfying to listen to.
The next song was Power by Little Mix. The choreography exploded with unapologetic confidence. It was a full-on anthem of female empowerment, and the guys faded into the background, there solely to highlight the girls. Jungkook appreciated that. And he appreciated even more that Minho kept his hands off Sana from then on.
And finally, everything exploded with Let’s Get It Started by the Black Eyed Peas. Jungkook loved that song, so he tried to sing along under his breath, careful not to make a sound. He was doing his homework—studying the movements closely—because the boy had a good memory and would love to learn the choreography. The music felt like a release, and the routine stopped being a showcase of technical skill and became pure, uninhibited fun. Laughter slipped between the moves. The steps grew more dynamic, the backup dancers interacted with the girls more freely—crossing paths, high-fiving as they passed one another. At one point, Momo made a 'come here' gesture to Hoseok before dragging him into a fast-paced, improvised sequence of steps, making him laugh as he tried to keep up. The other girls followed suit with their partners until they all synced back into formation.
Jungkook was fascinated—even excited. Truthfully, they were doing an amazing job.
His gaze betrayed him again when it drifted to Taehyung for a second. The blond had loosened up a little. That was the effect of this song—it made you want to move. Even Jungkook had started subtly mimicking the choreo from his chair.
The number ended in a strong final pose. Taehyung paused the recording and clapped, a smile on his face.
"That take wasn’t bad at all," he said. But Jungkook couldn’t stop thinking about the way Taehyung had been dancing. He remembered him saying he used to take dance classes and had been in the drama club with Jimin all throughout school. So why had he chosen to go behind the camera when he was clearly so passionate? "But as always, Minho, you messed up Buttons again," Taehyung added.
"Huh? What did I do?" the guy asked, confused, wiping his forehead with a towel.
"Sana, may I?" She was sitting on the floor with the flavored water bottle Jungkook had given her. She looked up at Taehyung as he offered her a hand. She took it. "In the part that goes, 'I’m a sexy mama, who knows just how to get what I wanna'..." Taehyung sang in his deep voice.
Jungkook felt his skin prickle. He hadn’t expected that tone. And even though it had only been a few seconds, it was smooth and melodic. He figured Taehyung probably knew how to sing from all the musicals in theater, but still—he hadn’t expected that voice. Sure, Taehyung’s speaking voice was deep, but hearing someone sing was a whole different experience.
He shook his head, forcing his eyes to focus again.
"...This is what you’re doing." He took Sana by the waist, pulling her close—leaving only a few centimeters between them. Jungkook could see Taehyung’s eyes trail over her face with admiration, then his torso dipped in a slow, intentional motion until he was looking up at her from the side. Sana took hold of his nape, giving him a full-on seductive gaze. Jungkook stopped breathing entirely and jumped to his feet. "And so, class," Taehyung said as he stepped away and looked around, "what’s wrong with that?"
"You made it too marked. It’s supposed to be a soft move," Minho sighed.
"Oh, great. So if you know that, why don’t you do it that way from the start?" Taehyung snapped, and Minho rolled his eyes. "It goes like this. Watch." Taehyung reached for Sana’s waist again—but was interrupted by Jungkook, who cleared his throat loudly.
Everyone turned to look at him.
"Uh, why don’t you have Minho do the move since he’s the one who needs to learn it?" His voice didn’t come out as firm as he wanted. "I mean… right?"
Taehyung let go of Sana’s waist and sighed, rolling his eyes before signaling for Minho to step forward.
Even though Jungkook didn’t like that guy touching her either, he preferred it over having Taehyung do it.
Minho repeated the movement correctly and looked to Taehyung for approval. When Taehyung gave him a slight nod—face serious—Minho smiled, proud.
"You think you’re the director or something?" Jungkook muttered as he walked over to his side. Taehyung gave him a look so cold that it made Jungkook take a small step back. Just a small one.
"I am the director, Jungkook. That’s the whole point," he replied, as if it were obvious.
"Oh."
"Yeah. Oh."
Jungkook had forgotten that little detail again, and now he felt like an idiot for the second time that day. Luckily, he’d only said it to Taehyung in a low voice, so no one else heard how stupid he sounded.
"Well, even if you are the director, that doesn’t mean you have to touch Sana like that."
"I was just showing Minho how to do the move properly," he defended.
"Don’t play dumb."
"You’ve been really annoying lately," Taehyung muttered, rolling his eyes. "Let’s take it from the top!"
He clapped his hands, and just like that, everyone dropped what they were doing and got back into position.
Of course he was being annoying—Taehyung was the one driving him insane! He couldn’t be blamed for that! He’d ruined his date! Of course he was pissed! And he hated how Taehyung was acting so indifferent about it!
The rehearsal continued without pause. The group repeated certain sections, refining the movements, syncing entrances and exits, making sure every gesture hit with just the right intensity.
Jungkook, who at first had been watching attentively, started to get bored of just sitting there. And if there was one thing that could drag him out of boredom, it was annoying Taehyung. Maybe he could finally get a reaction out of him—maybe even get some revenge. He was being such a pain in the ass.
Every time Taehyung passed by, Jungkook muttered comments under his breath—barely audible, but irritating and sharp enough to be hard to ignore. Normally, Taehyung would’ve replied.
But not today. Today, Taehyung didn’t even turn his head. Jungkook persisted, even exaggerating the tone of his voice at times—but still nothing. It was as if he didn’t exist.
Except he did have enough energy to argue with Minho.
"No, I already told you that turn needs to be tighter," Taehyung snapped, arms crossed after pausing the music due to the mistake. "If you open it that much, you end up out of frame. That’s the second time I’ve told you."
"I am keeping it tight," Minho argued, exasperated. "I’m literally doing it."
"Not enough."
"It’s just one step off."
"It’s enough to ruin the shot, dumbass," Taehyung said, moving next to the tape he’d placed on the floor. "See this? It’s called tape. It marks how far your clumsy little feet are allowed to go. I put it there just for you. Can you stop screwing it up? Thank you so much."
Minho rolled his eyes, and while he didn’t argue further, Jungkook noticed he looked visibly annoyed—and Taehyung didn’t care in the slightest.
The rehearsal went on for a while longer until Taehyung checked the camera and announced:
"Ten-minute break."
Everyone’s bodies relaxed immediately. Momo and Mina collapsed onto the floor, Sana walked over to grab her water bottle, and Hoseok stretched his arms above his head until his back cracked.
Jungkook saw his chance. With firm steps, he walked up to Taehyung, stopping right at his side.
"Are you ignoring me on purpose, or did you just lose your ability to hear?"
"Oh, you. You're still here," Taehyung said without even glancing at him.
"Oh, so you are doing it on purpose."
Taehyung’s indifference was worse than any sarcastic remark he could’ve thrown at him. Damn egocentric who thinks he's the fucking center of the world.
"What, I’m not worthy of your attention now?"
"Your words, not mine," the blond replied with a shrug.
"Why are you always such a fucking asshole?" Jungkook clenched his fists.
"Sounds like someone’s projecting," Taehyung said calmly. "I’m not doing anything."
"Yeah, right. You think you’re so fucking special?" he muttered through gritted teeth. "Get off your damn high horse, Kim. I still want to rip your throat out for what you did to me, so I suggest you treat me better."
"Oof, you kid are so aggressive. You have anger and behavior issues, I think," Taehyung teased, a half-smile playing on his lips. "I mean, for all the drama you make because I'm not playing your immature little game."
A wave of rage surged through Jungkook, but before he could retaliate, Hoseok appeared with a smile.
"Hey, why don’t you two try doing the choreography together?"
"What?" Jungkook turned to look at him.
"Just for fun," Hoseok insisted. "We talked about it with the girls. It’s a good chance to get you moving instead of just sitting there, Jungkook."
"I’m in," Taehyung said without hesitation. Jungkook was about to decline, but the blond’s quick response left him with no time to argue. That automatic confidence got under his skin. Was he that sure of himself?
Jungkook crossed his arms, eyeing Taehyung with suspicion.
"Mmh, I don’t know if it’s worth it. I don’t even know the choreography."
"What, you scared of looking stupid?" Taehyung said with a mischievous grin as he emptied his pockets onto the nearest table. "Just follow my lead."
Well, Jungkook was the most competitive human on the planet, and Taehyung had just pressed every button necessary to get him to bite. He clicked his tongue in annoyance.
Taehyung walked to the center of the room with absolute confidence, not hesitating for a second. Jungkook couldn’t let that slide. He was going to prove that even without knowing the choreography, he was definitely better than Taehyung. Without a doubt. He was going to humiliate him—and this was only the first phase of his revenge.
The black-haired took position slightly behind Taehyung, eyes locked on his back. If he wanted to follow properly, he’d have to study every one of his movements in real time.
"Alright, boys. Don’t hold back," Hoseok said with a grin as he pulled out his phone and searched for the song in the playlist. The others gathered around with clear anticipation.
"Let’s go, guys!" Sana cheered excitedly.
"Don’t disappoint us," Mina added with a laugh.
"Ready?" Hoseok asked as he looked at both of them through the mirror.
Taehyung nodded with full confidence.
Jungkook swallowed hard. He wasn’t ready, but he couldn’t back down now.
The beat dropped and Taehyung moved instantly. The first beat carried his foot forward with effortless grace, his torso tilting just enough to let the rhythm lead his body. Every move was precise—his shoulders dropped in sync with the bass, his arms falling perfectly into place. He really knew the male choreography.
Jungkook followed as best he could, feeling his body loosen up as he repeated the steps. He wasn’t used to this, but the rhythm wasn’t foreign—it wasn’t as hard as he’d imagined. His body responded instinctively. When Taehyung spun, tilting his head just at the right moment, Jungkook mirrored the motion without hesitation, making sure not to fall behind.
And surprisingly, he wasn’t doing badly. For someone untrained, his moves were clean, fluid—almost like he’d rehearsed the choreo before.
The others, watching them move in sync, started getting excited.
"Look at that!" Jimin shouted. "They’re killing it!"
The pace picked up, and instead of tiring out, Jungkook felt his body adapt. Taehyung led with pinpoint accuracy, making everything seem effortless. And Jungkook, absorbing every cue, followed along with barely a second of delay. The routine ended on a sharp beat. Both of them froze in place, catching their breath.
One beat of silence… and then, an explosion of applause.
"That was amazing!" Hoseok laughed, clapping enthusiastically.
"If we ever need two more dancers, I’m keeping you guys in mind," Momo added.
"You two dance really well together," Sana said with a smile. "Jungkook, you’ve got natural talent. It’s your first time doing this and look at you. You should think about taking some classes—you’d go far."
Jungkook lifted his head with pride. Clearly, he’d nailed it. And then, Taehyung looked at him.
"Not bad," he said casually, in a neutral tone, like it wasn’t a big deal. Jungkook blinked, surprised.
A compliment? From Taehyung?
He didn’t know whether to laugh or ask if he was feeling okay. Though… it did make his anger drop from a hundred to maybe ninety percent.
"Mhm. You too, I guess."
"Obviously I did well. I’ve been doing this since the beginning," Taehyung replied with a smug look. "And don’t let the compliment go to your head. I just said you’re not a complete disaster. That’s literally the bare minimum, dumbass."
"Back to being the same annoying asshole, huh?"
Taehyung didn’t flinch, but Jungkook felt oddly satisfied.
At least he wasn’t ignoring him anymore.
"I’m hungry…" Sana complained a few minutes later, breaking the quiet murmur of conversations in the room.
After Jungkook and Taehyung’s little show, the girls had been reviewing the rehearsal video while the guys chatted to kill time during the break. But the moment she said that, Jungkook looked up immediately.
"I didn’t bring anything to snack on…" Sana pouted.
Before she could say another word, Taehyung moved in a heartbeat.
"I’ll go get you something," he offered casually, pushing off the wall he was leaning on.
"No, I’ll go," Jungkook interrupted before he could take a step. Taehyung turned his head slowly, giving him a sharp look.
"I said I’d go first."
"And I don’t give a damn," Jungkook crossed his arms. "I’m faster."
"It’s not about speed. It’s about who had the idea first."
"It’s about who’ll do it better, and that’s me."
"And how exactly do you buy better?"
"By choosing a better snack than whatever trash you would’ve picked. So, what really matters?"
"Saying it first still matters more."
"No, it’s doing it better."
"Saying it first."
"Doing it better."
"Saying it first."
"Doing it better."
"Guys…" Sana raised her voice, trying to hide her smile. "Why don’t you both go?"
Taehyung and Jungkook went quiet. They looked at each other, then shrugged.
"Fine."
"Fine."
They pretended to be indifferent for a second. It lasted exactly one.
Because the next second, they both bolted—shoving each other multiple times, including an awkward moment where they tried to squeeze through the door at the same time and got stuck, embarrassingly tangled, until Jungkook slipped through and took the lead.
"You fucking idiot!" they heard Taehyung shout behind him.
"Don’t kill each other!" Hoseok yelled after them, though he wasn’t sure if they even heard him.
Once the sound of their rushed footsteps faded down the hallway, Jimin turned to Sana with a raised eyebrow.
"Tell me you know what’s going on here."
Sana sighed, letting herself fall to the floor and pulling knees legs up.
"Yeah, I know..." she mumbled.
"And?"
"And I don’t really know what to do about it."
""You’ve got to be kidding me," Jimin snapped. Momo and Mina, who were listening in, exchanged looks.
"It’s complicated," Sana continued, still not lifting her head. "I don’t even know if I’m going to stay here."
"Well, for what it’s worth, you’ve been pretty clear about the fact that those hangouts with them aren’t dates," Mina said, sitting down beside her.
"I try," Sana murmured, biting her lip. "And whenever there’s a chance for things to turn romantic, I try to steer it away. But I also don’t want to flat-out say ‘I’m not interested’ when I don’t even know exactly how I feel."
"So..." Hoseok looked at her intently. "Do you like both of them?"
"I don’t know."
"Oh, come on," Jimin rolled his eyes. "Why do guys always fall for the indecisive ones?"
"I mean, I am attracted to both of them. Liking someone and being attracted aren’t the same thing. I’m not stupid—both of them are insanely hot and have their strengths," Sana whined. "I don’t want to screw it up. I want to figure out what I really feel first."
"Still, I don’t think it’s right to give them both hope if you don’t know whether you’re staying," Jimin said, frowning. "Why don't you wait for the results and then tell them to try to court you? If by that point you don't like one more than the other."
"I don’t think I’m really giving them hope. And... I kind of like the attention they give me. It makes me feel valued. I just want to see who cares more," Sana shrugged. "And honestly, I don’t think they’re going to stop. It works in my favor if they keep this up—it helps me figure out who I’m actually into. If they stop, I won’t know. And maybe they’ll lose interest, and something that could’ve been beautiful just fades away."
Jimin didn’t seem fully convinced by that argument, but he didn’t say anything. He’d talk to Taehyung about it later.
"Well, waiting might not be such a bad idea, especially since we don’t know if we’re even passing the audition," Mina said, pressing her lips together.
"Yeah," Momo agreed, throwing a quick glance at Hoseok. "If you pick one before knowing, you might end up having to split later and it’d hurt. I guess letting things continue could help you figure out which one you actually like."
"And meanwhile I have to put up with Taehyung hating the fact that I dance with you," Minho cut in. Everyone turned to look at him, like they’d forgotten he was even there. "I’ve tried telling him I’m gay and that I have a boyfriend, but it’s like he doesn’t hear me and just keeps scolding me... he’s so unbearable!"
"You have a boyfriend?" Momo asked, surprised. "We didn’t know that."
"Because none of your conversations ever include me. Yeah, I get it—I’m the outsider. But I am here, and I hear all your daily crises," Minho huffed.
"Sorry," they all said at once, in a clumsy, overlapping chorus.
"I'm sorry for treating you like some extra or something," Jimin added, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Who’s your boyfriend? Do we know him?"
"Oh, uhm... I don’t think so. He goes to a different university," Minho replied, a little nervous from all the attention. "We went to high school together, and after we graduated, we went to separate colleges. He’s studying graphic design. Uh, and his name is Jeongin."
That kicked off a conversation about boyfriends, past experiences, and who had dated who before. Jimin, just like Jungkook had earlier, asked Hoseok in front of everyone about Momo. Realizing they couldn’t hide it anymore, he told them the same thing he’d told Jungkook: they were kind of seeing each other, but hadn’t made it official because of the long-distance issue. Jimin seemed satisfied with that.
They also talked about how Yoongi and Minghao had spent a night together, but it had been purely casual, and as far as anyone knew, there hadn’t been any repeats. On the other hand, Namjoon and Jihyo were hanging out now and then—something was happening there, even though Namjoon was scared of moving too fast. And then there was Jin, with his weird, ridiculous plans, stuck in his damn 'phase one', which apparently consisted of being just friends with Joohyun, building trust, learning everything about her, and then moving on to 'phase two', which was wooing her.
Hoseok and Jimin had tried not to tear their hair out when they first heard about it. Jimin especially had told Jin he was only reinforcing that awful saying about how male friends don’t exist, only patient men waiting for their chance. Jimin hated that phrase—it lumped him in with guys who couldn’t handle the tiniest bit of female affection without falling in love. Jin just called him dramatic and insisted he wasn’t going to confess to Joohyun.
They tried including Minho in the conversation more, but he quickly felt overwhelmed by the sheer number of names he didn’t recognize. So, he excused himself and stepped out to call his precious boyfriend.
"Well, setting aside Jin’s trust issues..." Jimin said with a playful smile, crossing his legs as he leaned back on his hands. "What are we doing for Yoongi’s birthday? We’ve got like two weeks left. And yours too, Mina. It’s on the twenty..."
"Twenty-fourth, Jiminnie," she smiled, finishing his sentence. "Yoongi doesn’t want anything big, right?" she asked, turning toward Hoseok. "That’s what he said, anyway."
"As long as he’s with the people he trusts, he’s happy," Hoseok replied, stretching his legs out in front of him. "But we should do something different this year."
"Different how?" Sana asked, curious. Hoseok debated whether to say it or not, but in the end, he went for it.
"I was thinking about renting a quiet place, somewhere that breaks the routine. But don’t get too excited yet—I always feel like I jinx things when I talk about them too soon."
"That sounds amazing," Momo said, her eyes lighting up. "When would it be?"
"It’d have to be at the end of the month, which would land right around your birthday, Mina."
"Why so long after?" Jimin asked, frowning. "His birthday’s on the ninth, I think?"
"Because we’ll be busy filming the audition video that week," Hoseok said with a shrug. "Remember? Taehyung already booked the university equipment for Yoongi’s birthday week. That’s our only chance to record. Then Taehyung will go full editor mode, and we have to submit the video before March 17th."
"Right..." Mina murmured. "We’ve got less time than I thought." Her voice sounded nervous.
"But it’ll be worth it. Taehyung’s making sure you guys have top-tier material—and that could make all the difference in the audition. And I swear, he’s a total pro when it comes to editing," Hoseok tried to reassure them.
"Yeah, yeah… I know," Sana smiled, looking a little more excited. "I just hope what we submit is enough."
"It will be," Hoseok said confidently. "But back to the place idea, the plan is to relax, cook together, have a few drinks... and see Yoongi and Mina happy, which is what really matters. But before I screw this up—do you want it to be just your celebration, or would you be okay with sharing it with Yoongi that weekend?"
"Mina doesn’t like birthdays," Sana said with a slight pout.
"Yeah... well, celebrating it with Yoongi doesn’t sound bad," she shrugged.
"You sure? Because for as long as I’ve known you, you’ve actively told us to treat your birthday like a normal day and not say a word about it," Momo added with a little scowl. "It stresses me out."
"I don’t like celebrating it, but if I’m not the only one being celebrated, maybe I can handle it. But no surprises!" Mina declared with conviction. Her two friends clapped excitedly, thrilled that after like ten years, their friend had finally agreed to a celebration.
"I’m going to start looking at some options," Hoseok said with a smile. "But it has to be somewhere spacious—there’s a lot of us."
"And a jacuzzi," Jimin added.
"What do you even need a jacuzzi for?" Mina asked. "It’ll be way too hot by then."
"Why not?"
Everyone laughed again, but quickly quieted down when they heard voices coming from the hallway. Very loud voices. Hard to ignore voices.
"Here come the idiots," Minho said as he walked quickly into the room, looking exhausted.
"You’re a tasteless moron," Taehyung snapped, glaring at whatever Jungkook was holding in his hands.
"And you’re a pretentious snob," Jungkook shot back with disdain.
"A baguette with ham and cheese? Really? That’s the best you could come up with?"
"It’s actual food, not that soulless crap you brought!" Jungkook pointed accusingly at the fancy bag Taehyung was carrying.
"Excuse you? This is a honey loaf with caramelized almonds—it’s a delicacy."
"Who the hell gets full on that, dumbass?"
Taehyung let out a deep sigh, adjusting his grip on the paper bag that held his chosen snack. In his mind, Jungkook didn’t exist. In fact, Jungkook hadn’t existed since the shopping mall incident. He’d decided that ignoring him was the best way to mess with him. And it worked... for a while.
Because of course, Jungkook was a walking, talking pain in the ass. And worst of all, he stood out. It wasn’t easy to ignore him when he drew attention wherever the hell he went. Taehyung could be many things, but blind wasn’t one of them. Even when the guy was sitting in some damn corner, it was enough to keep half of Taehyung’s senses on high alert, like he couldn’t get a single second of peace.
Jungkook was like a mosquito buzzing in his ear just when he was about to fall asleep. No matter how many times he swatted him away, he kept coming back with a classical music recital in stereo.
The real problem was that ignoring him ended up draining more energy than it was worth. Jungkook was like a toddler tapping his shoulder a thousand times for attention, just waiting for a reaction. And of course, Taehyung wasn’t made of stone. He got fed up. The effort wasn’t worth it anymore. He couldn’t keep pretending Jungkook didn’t exist. He’d die.
So here he was, standing in the hallway, caught up in a ridiculous argument over a damn snack.
"I don’t know how you can look at that and think it’s a decent snack," Jungkook scoffed, rolling his eyes.
"And I don’t know how you can be so painfully basic about everything."
"Go fuck yourself."
"After you, gladly."
They reached the door of the room and threw one last hateful glance at each other before shoving it open at the same time.
"Sana!" they both called out in unison, rushing toward her like they were about to fight a duel of honor.
Sana frowned for a moment, but then smiled in amusement when she saw how dedicated they were to their absurd competition. Her eyes drifted down to the food in their hands, and without hesitation, she took both.
"Thanks," she said genuinely, sitting down on the floor and opening each bag. She focused on her food, savoring every bite while Jungkook and Taehyung sat down on either side of her.
But of course, they couldn’t just sit still.
"You don’t have to eat that tasteless bread, Sana," Jungkook said sweetly, casting a pitiful look at the honey loaf in her hands. "It probably won’t even fill you up."
Sana didn’t even get a chance to reply before Taehyung let out a dry laugh and rolled his eyes.
"Right, because a dry-ass sandwich is the pinnacle of fine dining," he mocked, shooting a critical glance at Jungkook’s sandwich. "Just don’t choke on how dry it is, Sana."
"At least mine’s not drowning in sugar like yours. I don’t know how you eat that without going into a diabetic coma," Jungkook huffed, sitting up straighter.
"Not all of us have the palate of a ten-year-old whose culinary experience begins and ends with hamburgers and instant ramen," Taehyung said coolly, though the jab was crystal clear. Then he added with a smug smirk, "And you really need to be consistent. You say it’s bland, but also that it’s covered in sugar? Do you even think before you argue?"
"Excuse me?" Jungkook said, utterly scandalized, like a cat with its fur on end.
"You heard me," Taehyung replied, locking eyes with him calmly.
"Oh, sorry, I must’ve misheard you over the sound of your pretentious bullshit," Jungkook spat, squinting at him with a glare.
"That’s strange—did your ears get blocked by all that ego you’re carrying?"
Jungkook let out a sarcastic laugh.
"I’d rather have an ego than be a classless brute."
"You? Class?" Taehyung looked him up and down and let out a mocking laugh. "You look like a grandpa with your ridiculous taste."
"At least I have taste, you damn caveman!" Jungkook leaned toward him, pointing a finger at his chest.
"Caveman?!" Taehyung blinked, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. "Listen, you motherfu—"
"BREAK TIME’S OVER!" Hoseok’s firm voice rang out through the room, slicing the argument in half. Both boys turned to him with frozen expressions, caught mid-childish fight. Then the older one’s face changed as he gave them the most angelic, fake smile they’d ever seen. "Let’s go. Back to work. We’re running out of time."
Taehyung and Jungkook stayed silent for a few seconds before scoffing and getting up with obvious irritation.
"Men," Momo muttered, shaking her head as she stood. She glanced at her friend, but Sana didn’t seem tired of the childish bickering between the two boys.
A few minutes later, practice resumed exactly as Hoseok had ordered. Music echoed off the walls, bodies moved, and gradually, the heat from the physical effort began to settle in. Taehyung noticed it when the fabric of his shirt started to cling to his back and beads of sweat trickled down his temple. He wasn’t the only one—Jimin ran a hand down his neck, and Hoseok tugged at his shirt to cool off.
It was common for the rehearsal room to heat up from the dancers’ body heat and sweat, even affecting those who weren’t actively dancing. Like him. And... what the hell was Jeon doing?
In one swift motion, Jungkook grabbed the hem of the loose shirt he wore over his tank top and yanked it off. The garment ended up slung over his shoulder, but what really mattered was what he’d exposed: the black sleeveless shirt underneath clung to every line of his arms, shoulders, and collarbone. His biceps flexed as he adjusted it around his torso, and the sheen of sweat on his skin only made him look even more...
He refused to finish that thought. Taehyung yanked his gaze away forcefully, as if the image had deeply offended him.
So unnecessary.
So pretentious.
So ridiculous.
Who the hell took off their clothes in rehearsal just because it was a little hot? Everyone else was just as warm, and no one was stripping down in the middle of the room. But of course, Jungkook had to draw attention. And worse, he had to do it that way—like he was clearly trying to prove something. The kid was desperate. Or at least, that’s what Taehyung told himself.
"Ugh, it’s definitely hot in here," Jungkook commented, waving his shirt in the air like a fan. His tone was casual, but his eyes went straight to Sana. And she... wasn’t even trying to hide she was looking. She was even blushing.
Well, not just her. No one was blind. Jimin, Mina, and even Minho let their eyes linger on him a little longer than they probably should have. The only ones who didn’t seem drawn to him like moths to a flame were Momo, Hoseok, and... obviously himself.
Taehyung rolled his eyes. Of course. He had to pull that obscene stunt for her. He wanted to impress her with his big muscles and that tattooed arm gleaming in high definition.
The blond wiped his forehead with the hem of his shirt—which he had to lift—trying to ignore what he’d just witnessed, but his eyes drifted back to Jungkook’s silhouette.
The shameless brat was still there, acting like he was God’s gift to Earth. Ugh.
"What the actual fuck was that even for," he muttered suddenly, crossing his arms and glaring at him. "Do you think you’re a stripper or something? Should we start stuffing bills down your pants or what?"
Jungkook turned to him with an expression of pure amusement. He took his time answering, raising an eyebrow as he ran a hand through his hair.
"Why? Is it getting to you, Tae?" he asked with a mocking tilt of his head. "Distracting you or what?"
Taehyung felt a spike of irritation, disgust, and clearly—repulsion.
"Don’t fuck with me," he snapped, turning his face away with a look of utter annoyance. "It’s just pathetic watching you be this desperate."
"Sure it is," Jungkook replied with a smirk. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."
"Go fuck yourself, you third-rate exhibitionist."
Jungkook’s smile only grew, pleased to have provoked a reaction. And the worst part was that he had succeeded. Taehyung couldn’t stop glancing at him out of the corner of his eye—every time he moved, every time his muscles flexed doing even the smallest thing, every time the light from the room hit him at just the right angle to highlight his shape.
It felt like the temperature in the room had suddenly skyrocketed. Was he getting a fever or something?
Not that he cared. Not that it bothered him or affected him in any way. But honestly, it was just a total offense to the aesthetic of rehearsal. Yeah, that was it. A visual disaster.
And maybe... maybe he should start going to the gym.
Chapter 8: Chapter 07
Chapter Text
Chapter 9: Chapter 08
Chapter Text
"I'm going to dump the popcorn on your head if you don't stop staring at me," the blond said, still keeping his eyes fixed on the microwave, arms crossed and a look of absolute indifference on his face.
He wanted to act like the most insufferable person on the planet wasn’t standing silently in the middle of the kitchen watching him like some fucking weirdo. He really, really did. Too bad for him, there was Jungkook, being his usual annoying self.
"I'm not staring," Jungkook lied.
The blond raised an eyebrow without even bothering to turn his head.
"If you're going to lie, at least put some effort into it."
Jungkook looked away, scratching the back of his neck with his free hand—his other still holding a beer. He hadn’t really thought about how to start this conversation. In fact, he hadn’t planned on having it at all. He’d just seen Taehyung alone in the kitchen, and somehow his legs had dragged him there without checking in with his brain first. Now he was stuck standing there, feeling kind of ridiculous and deeply uncomfortable.
The microwave screen showed there were still two minutes left for the popcorn to be ready. Plenty of time for Jungkook to say something. Or better said, to say something stupid.
"I... uh... about the elevator..." he muttered, having absolutely no fucking idea how to end that sentence. The blond didn’t move, but the slight tension in his jaw made it obvious that he wasn’t thrilled about the topic. Jungkook swallowed and kept talking, because he was already knee-deep in this and needed to man up and finish what he started. "I didn’t mean to be a jerk," he admitted, which earned him a dry laugh from the blond.
"And since when has that ever stopped you?"
"I mean, I was, but it wasn’t on purpose. I didn’t know that..."
"No." The blond still hadn’t looked at him, but his tone had shifted from indifferent to cold and sharp. "Let’s not talk about it," he said flatly. "I don’t want to remember what happened in there."
"It’s not like it was the worst moment of your life," Jungkook muttered, frowning and emphasizing the word 'worst' with a small hand gesture.
"For me, it kind of was, considering you were there." The blond finally turned his head and looked at him for the first time since their so-called conversation started.
The dark-haired boy felt a sharp sting of guilt in his chest, sudden and irritating. He had no idea what to say, so instead of staying silent like a normal person, he blurted out something even dumber:
"But you still got in with me. That means you felt safe, right? You held on to me and..."
He couldn’t finish the sentence, because the second he saw the blond’s look, he knew he had fucked up.
"What did you say?" the other asked, voice dangerously calm.
"N-Nothing."
"No, say it again. Come on." He leaned in slightly. "Say it to my face."
"Forget it, Taehyung."
"No, no, please, tell me again how I felt safe with you. I love listening to bullshit."
Jungkook let out a nervous laugh.
"I was just going to say you held on to me asking for help, it's not that big a deal."
The blond’s jaw clenched, and Jungkook swore he saw a twitch in his left eye.
"Shut up."
"Why? It’s an important detail. I feel guilty because..."
"Shut up."
"...I acted like a fucking idiot who didn’t know how to help you and..."
"Jeon Jungkook, if you keep talking, I swear—"
"...And if you had died, I would’ve ended up in jail since people would clearly think I had a motive and then—"
"Shut the fuck up!"
The microwave beeped at that very moment, signaling the end of the cycle. The blond was staring at him with a deadly combination of embarrassment and fury. His ears were red, his breathing was a bit fast, and his face screamed he'd rather vanish into thin air than be here right now.
"Listen, Jeon," the blond said, grabbing the hot bag from the microwave without looking at him. "I don't care what you think of me, but don’t tell anyone else, got it?" Jungkook opened his mouth, but the blond kept going. "Especially not Sana. I don’t like people knowing my weaknesses. It’s the one thing about me that’s like this and it affects me. Can you, for once, be a conscious human being and not such an asshole, and just do me this one fucking favor?"
"What?" the younger frowned.
"Let’s pretend it didn’t happen. I don’t need your pity or your apologies. Let’s keep things as they’ve always been: you hate me, I hate you. End of story. Is that really so hard for you to understand?"
He froze. That’s what he wanted? The blond glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, waiting for a response. Jungkook sighed and raised his hands in surrender. He didn’t really think it was a weakness, but… whatever.
"Fine."
"Perfect, then." The blond finally opened the bag of popcorn and poured it into a bowl he found in Hoseok’s cupboards.
The smell of hot popcorn filled the kitchen, but Jungkook barely registered it, still processing the way the blond had completely shut him down in his attempt to… what, apologize? Talk? He wasn’t even sure what he’d wanted from that conversation anymore, but it was dead and buried now.
The blond left the kitchen without saying another word, lightly bumping his shoulder on the way out. Jungkook blinked in surprise, but didn’t comment. He simply followed him back into the living room, where the rest of the group was in the middle of a heated argument over which movie to watch.
Hoseok, Namjoon, and Yoongi were sitting on the floor among a mess of pillows, each holding a beer. Jin had claimed the armchair as his personal throne, while the brunette was sprawled out on the couch, with two empty spaces beside him. Everyone had bottles of beer within reach, and even though the conversation sounded cheerful, Jungkook quickly realized it was an all-out war.
"Action," Hoseok declared with absolute certainty.
"Comedy," Jimin countered.
"Drama," Jin chimed in.
All three glared at each other.
"You’re an old man, Jin-hyung. No one wants to watch a drama at this hour," Hoseok scoffed.
"Better than a movie where things just blow up and there’s no plot," Jin shot back, giving him a challenging look.
"Action cinema has art and purpose!" Hoseok shouted, offended.
"It’s made for people with attention issues."
"And you just want a drama because you’re a hopeless romantic."
"Well, you only want action because if you don’t get adrenaline, you die, Hoseok-hyung," the brunette interjected.
"You don’t get to talk, you want comedy because you have the sense of humor of a five-year-old, Jimin."
Namjoon and Yoongi were watching the argument with slight alarm. Eventually, Hoseok turned toward them.
"What about you two? Help break the tie."
Namjoon hesitated for a second, then said cautiously:
"Drama."
"You betrayed me?" Hoseok looked at him like he’d just spit in his face.
"I just gave an answer, don’t take it personally..."
"You stabbed me in the back."
"Oh, please," Jin said with a victorious grin. "Well done, Namjoon."
"And you, Yoongi-hyung?" Hoseok asked, hoping to salvage his dignity.
"Action," Yoongi shrugged.
Hoseok threw his arms up in the air.
"Now we’re talking!"
Jin scoffed and turned to look at Taehyung and Jungkook—the only ones left to vote.
"And you two?"
The blond, holding the bowl of popcorn in one hand, dropped down on the couch beside Jimin without much thought.
"I don’t care."
Jungkook watched as he leaned slightly toward Jimin, just enough so that his body seemed tilted more in his direction than toward the empty seat on the other side.
He wanted comedy. That’s what he watched most often with his friends, what he usually put on when he didn’t know what to choose. But besides the fact that it would end in another tie, saying that would hand Jimin a small victory, and for some reason—for a reason he didn’t want to stop and analyze—he didn’t want that to happen.
So, without thinking too much, he blurted out:
"Action."
"Yes! Suck my balls, Jin-hyung and Jimin!" Hoseok cheered, flipping them off with a triumphant grin.
"Enjoy your plotless movie," Jin rolled his eyes and took a sip of his beer with absolute dignity.
"If there are explosions, there’s a plot," Hoseok replied while already browsing through the action movies. Jungkook headed for the couch and sat in the only available spot: next to Taehyung.
To his surprise—or maybe not—Taehyung, without even looking at him, slid a bit closer to Jimin, making sure there was no contact between them.
He didn’t say anything, just focused on getting comfortable with the bottle in his hand while Hoseok scrolled through the movie options. But Jungkook couldn’t help but notice that Taehyung, who minutes ago had been on the verge of exploding, now seemed more relaxed near Jimin.
──── ∗ ⋅✧⋅ ∗ ────
The early morning wrapped around them with a blanket of heaviness and exhaustion. After devouring absurd amounts of junk food and watching three movies—two action and one drama that Hoseok had agreed to only because they promised it wouldn’t be shit—the group finally started to disband.
Yoongi, Namjoon, and Jin would be staying at Hoseok’s apartment, while Taehyung, Jimin, and Jungkook were getting ready to head back to their own places. They said their goodbyes at the door with sleepy murmurs and farewell pats before heading to the elevator.
Jungkook walked behind the other two, his motorcycle helmet dangling from one hand and his keys in the other, when a thought crossed his mind.
Would Taehyung be okay in the elevator?
The question hit him suddenly, the memory of those minutes of absolute panic inside that metal box rushing back. His first instinct was to open his mouth, say something like, 'hey, what if we take the stairs?' and try to make it sound casual—maybe using the excuse of walking off all that food. But he didn’t say anything, because his eyes dropped to Taehyung’s left hand.
The blond was gripping Jimin’s hand tightly.
So Jungkook shut his mouth.
The elevator arrived. Taehyung let out a soft sigh and stepped in without a word, still clinging to Jimin. Jungkook followed without thinking—because it wasn’t like he had much of a choice—and they stood in a line inside: he was on the right, Taehyung in the middle, and Jimin on the left.
The machine started to move, and Jungkook kept his eyes forward, but he still sensed the faint tension beside him.
Taehyung had his eyes tightly shut. He wasn’t visibly shaking, but the hand not held by Jimin was fidgeting, clearly trying to find something to cling to. His fingers flexed and curled into light fists, and Jungkook knew he was trying to control his breathing.
On instinct, Jungkook switched the helmet to his hand farthest from Taehyung and slowly lowered the other. He had no idea what the hell he was doing—just that his body moved before his brain could stop it for the second time that day.
He hesitated for a few seconds, glancing at Taehyung’s restless fingers. Should he…?
It wasn’t like he was going to die if Jungkook touched him, right? Okay, well, maybe. Very possible. Extremely possible. But… even if it might be the worst decision of his life, his hand extended just slightly, fingers open, mere inches from brushing against him.
And then the elevator jolted to a stop with a harsh mechanical sound, and the doors opened.
Jungkook froze.
Jimin and Taehyung stepped out quickly, and Jungkook stayed behind for a second, completely still.
Had he really tried to take his hand? His stomach twisted at the realization.
No—what the fuck?
He ran his tongue across his teeth as he stepped out of the elevator behind them, silently scolding himself for even considering it. What the hell was he thinking? Were they friends now or something? No, not even close. That asshole was still his rival and he hated him—the same guy who pissed him off and made his blood boil, the same guy who got under his skin with that smug attitude and infuriating smile, the same guy who kept ruining his moments with the girl of his dreams.
He wasn’t about to forget all that just because he saw him trembling in an elevator.
He walked with heavy steps toward his motorcycle, shaking any dumb thoughts out of his head. He looked up and saw Taehyung by his car, Jimin still at his side.
"If you need anything, call me," Jimin said with a warm smile. "I’ll be there in a heartbeat, you know that."
The younger one rolled his eyes.
Jesus Christ, how cheesy.
It wasn’t like he didn’t have close friends. Namjoon, Yoongi, and Hoseok were his people, his trusted circle, but not in a million years would they be caught saying stuff like that. They weren’t that kind of affectionate. And seeing it between Taehyung and Jimin stirred something in his chest that he didn’t want to examine.
Jimin hugged Taehyung, draping his arms around his shoulders with total ease.
Jungkook felt even more annoyed.
Not that he cared. But if he did care—which he absolutely didn’t, seriously—he’d look even dumber for it. Jimin pulled away from Taehyung and turned toward him. He gave a small nod, not as warm as the one he’d given Taehyung, and then walked off toward his own car, parked a little farther away. Jungkook stood in place, hesitating for a second about whether he should say something, but before he could make up his mind, Taehyung looked at him and muttered:
"Later, rabid dog."
He opened his car door, got in, and started the engine without another glance. Jungkook stayed there for a few more seconds, watching the taillights of the car disappear toward the parking lot exit, with Jimin’s car following close behind.
He let out a low huff, adjusting his jacket.
Maybe it was better this way.
He put on his helmet, started his bike, and sped off, heading toward his own apartment.
──── ∗ ⋅✧⋅ ∗ ────
Monday came faster than Taehyung would have liked.
He was sitting on a bench just outside the rehearsal room where Hoseok, Jimin, and Minho were practicing. He was supposed to be inside, but he needed some air. The music leaked faintly through the door, but his mind was elsewhere.
His attention was fully on his phone screen, the calendar open, and pure exhaustion painted on his face. He scrolled through the week with one finger, staring in growing despair at the packed schedule ahead of him.
The following week was even worse—there wasn’t a single free slot. He had the recordings with Sana, Mina, and Momo, and he needed to sort everything out before then. Wardrobe, location, set design… at least he was grateful he’d already arranged the filming equipment; he had reserved the university’s communications lab—the professional cameras, the lights, the reflectors, everything was his for the next week.
Maybe if he moved that meeting to Thursday morning and postponed editing his narration project to the weekend, he could squeeze in a couple extra hours of sleep… although, honestly, that sounded more like a fantasy than an actual solution.
He sighed, holding his phone in his right hand and a cup of hot tea in the left—his only source of comfort at the moment. He brought the rim of the cup to his lips, feeling the steam warm his face before taking a sip.
That was when he caught the scent of Jungkook’s cologne. He rolled his eyes and didn’t even bother looking up. He didn’t have the energy to deal with him.
After Friday, all he wanted was to bury himself in his schedule and forget he ever had that stupid panic attack in front of him. He hated having attacks in public, and even though it wasn’t like it had happened in the middle of a crowd, the mere idea that Jungkook had seen him like that made his teeth grind.
Him and his stupid phobia. Him and stupid Jungkook.
"Taehyung," called the black-haired one. The blond ignored him completely, swiping his finger across the screen, pretending to reorganize his week rather than accept his fate. "Taehyung," he called again, but the older one just gave him a brief glance before turning his attention back to his phone. "Ignoring me again?" Jungkook said with a dry tone.
"Breathing again?" Taehyung shot back in a neutral voice.
Jungkook’s frustrated grunt told him the comment had hit its mark. But before he could feel even slightly satisfied about it, he felt a tug on his hand and suddenly—his phone was no longer in his possession. His brain took a second to process what had just happened. He blinked, utterly stunned, and looked up at Jungkook with a thoroughly annoyed expression.
"You want my attention? Is that it?" he muttered sarcastically, adjusting himself on the bench and crossing his legs with complete disinterest. Jungkook, for his part, was speechless. It looked like even he didn’t know why he’d done it.
Taehyung took the opportunity to try to snatch his phone back, standing up after placing his tea on the bench, but Jungkook held it out of reach. His eyes scanned the screen, and his expression shifted for a moment.
"When are you supposed to sleep?" he asked mockingly, scrolling through the endless list of notes filling every day of Taehyung’s calendar. "You're gonna end up with huge, ugly bags under your eyes and scare all the girls away."
"Not your problem," he replied, extending his hand with obvious irritation. "Give it back and leave me alone."
"Mhm, not yet," Jungkook said. "I’m gonna find a free slot so I can book it since you’re acting all high and mighty and refusing to talk to me."
"I don’t have any, and even if I did, I wouldn’t waste them on you, you piece of shit," he snapped, trying again to grab his phone—another failed attempt. "Stop fucking around!"
"What the hell is wrong with you today?" Jungkook shot back, crossing his arms while still holding the phone.
"You. You’re what’s wrong with me. You’re always what’s wrong with me," Taehyung replied. "Like a persistent flu that just won’t go away."
"Did you just compare me to a disease?" Jungkook narrowed his eyes.
"More like a bacteria," Taehyung shrugged. "One of those antibiotic-resistant ones."
"You know what?" Jungkook let out a humorless laugh, leaning a little closer. "Maybe if you weren’t such a dick, people would actually want to talk to you."
"And maybe if you weren’t so self-absorbed, you’d realize not everyone wants to talk to you."
Jungkook opened his mouth to reply, but not a single word came out. Taehyung held his gaze for a moment longer before leaning in dangerously close.
"Thanks for holding my phone," he said with fake courtesy, snatching it from Jungkook’s hands while he was still distracted. Jungkook was still processing the last insult when Taehyung turned calmly and walked toward the practice room door.
No. No way he was going to let him win that easily.
"Hope your tea falls," he called out, trying to cling to what little dignity he had left.
Taehyung didn’t even hesitate.
"I hope you fall, crack your head open and end up in the hospital with five stitches," he replied, yanking the door open and slamming it shut behind him.
Jungkook stood there, dumbfounded, with irritation rising in his chest so fast he actually felt like punching the damn wall. Ugh. That sounded so cringe. Toxic alpha male shit. But it was all Taehyung’s fault!
"Son of a bitch..." he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair and turning on his heel. He started walking aimlessly down the hallway, his foul mood growing with every step.
Taehyung. Always Taehyung with that arrogant attitude, that razor-sharp mouth, and the way he always managed to piss him off without even trying. Jungkook didn’t understand why it bothered him so much, but the fact that Taehyung existed just… got on his nerves.
He shoved his hands into his pockets and kept walking toward his next class, even though there were still thirty minutes left before it started.
But then he noticed Sana walking down the hallway in the opposite direction, her long, shiny brown hair swaying gently with every step. Normally, Jungkook would’ve smiled on instinct, said something sweet, jumped at the chance to make Taehyung look pathetic by comparison.
But not today.
Today, he was too pissed off. And he didn’t want her to pick up on his bad mood and start saying something weird because of it.
"Oh, Jungkook," Sana smiled as she saw him.
"Hey," Jungkook barely managed a smile back. And just like that, he kept walking.
The surprise on Sana’s face was obvious, but he didn’t stop. Because, much to his own frustration, his mind wasn’t on her. It was still stuck on Taehyung’s goddamn annoying personality.
──── ∗ ⋅✧⋅ ∗ ────
Hours later, the afternoon sun lazily bathed the campus, painting the hallways in warm hues as students moved between classes and clustered in small groups. At one of the university’s tables, Hoseok had managed to gather everyone for a high-level, extremely important meeting… or at least that’s how he made it seem, judging by the serious and expectant look on his face.
Jungkook arrived last and dropped into a seat beside Namjoon, arms crossed. He wasn’t still mad about the earlier encounter with Taehyung—but he wasn’t exactly eager to see him either. Quite the opposite.
"Alright, now that we’re all here…" Hoseok began enthusiastically, looking around the table where Namjoon, Jin, Jimin, Yoongi, Mina, Momo, Sana, Taehyung, and Jungkook were all seated. "I want to talk about something very important." Jungkook raised an eyebrow, glancing sideways at Namjoon, who simply sighed like he already knew where this was going. "It’s about Yoongi-hyung’s birthday," Hoseok continued, grinning broadly. "I’ve been planning how we’re going to celebrate, and…"
"Wait," Mina interrupted, frowning at Yoongi. "Isn’t this supposed to be a surprise? Because I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Yoongi’s literally right here."
Before anyone else could say a word, Namjoon, Hoseok, and Jungkook replied in perfect unison, as if rehearsed:
"Yoongi-hyung doesn’t like surprises."
Jungkook barely noticed he’d said it at the same time as the other two—he was far too used to that fact to even think about it. Yoongi smiled with pride, like he’d just received the highest praise of his life.
"Well said. You all know me so well."
Mina blinked a few times before nodding slowly.
"Alright, got it."
Hoseok snapped his fingers and continued, unfolding his planner like he was presenting a business pitch.
"Yoongi-hyung’s birthday is on March ninth, which means we have exactly ten days to get everything ready," he said, glancing around at everyone at the table. "But here’s the problem: next week, those of us involved in the video shoot—that is, Sana, Mina, Momo, Jimin, Taehyung, and me—are going to be absolutely swamped."
"So we won’t be able to do anything too elaborate that day," Jimin chimed in, nodding in understanding.
"Exactly. That’s why on Thursday the ninth, we’ll just get a cake, take a few photos, celebrate a bit, and that’s it. Something simple."
"That sounds good to you, right, hyung?" Jungkook leaned his elbow on the table and looked at Yoongi.
"Obviously. As long as there’s no surprise party or random people showing up out of nowhere, I’m good," Yoongi replied like Jungkook had just asked the most obvious question on Earth.
"Don’t worry," Jin said calmly. "We all know you’re antisocial and hate people. We wouldn’t do anything that would annoy you."
"Thanks for phrasing that as both an insult and a compliment at the same time."
Seokjin smirked smugly and patted him on the shoulder like he was saying you’re welcome. Jungkook let out a soft snort. Despite the bad mood that had been hanging over him since morning, being with the group always managed to relax him a little—if only slightly.
But just when he was starting to feel a bit more at ease, his eyes met Taehyung’s.
The other wasn’t even really paying attention to the conversation. He was spinning his phone in his hands while writing something in a notebook with the other. Jungkook figured this emergency meeting had disrupted his neatly planned schedule, and he was trying to get ahead on some assignments from where he sat.
As soon as their gazes met, Jungkook felt that same spark of irritation flare up again—just like it had all goddamn morning. He looked away immediately, deciding it wasn’t worth staying pissed. Instead, he focused on Hoseok, who was now explaining how they’d divide the tasks for the celebration. Honestly, Jungkook already knew the only thing he needed to do was show up and eat cake.
And knowing Yoongi, that was probably all that mattered anyway.
"But the real celebration will be the weekend of March twenty-fourth to twenty-sixth," Hoseok said, raising his voice with excitement. "Because I’ve rented a cabin outside the city for the whole weekend! And it just so happens to fall on Mina’s birthday, which is the twenty-fourth."
Everyone let out gasps and celebratory sounds, looking around at each other with surprise and curiosity.
"Your birthday’s the twenty-fourth?" Jin asked the girl, and she nodded shyly. "How come I didn’t know?"
"You never asked," she replied simply. "Besides, I don’t really like my birthday. I think I’m kind of like Yoongi in that sense… but I take it even further."
"Yeah, we’ve never been able to celebrate it," Sana complained. "I haven’t even said 'happy birthday' to her—she doesn’t like it!"
"I love birthdays. You have no idea how much I suffer every time hers comes around because I can’t do anything to celebrate the fact that she exists," Momo said, hugging Mina tight while the latter laughed.
"I’m sorry," Mina said as she gently pulled away. "But now that I won’t be the center of attention and Yoongi’s birthday is also that weekend, I might be able to handle it."
"That sounds expensive," Jungkook cleared his throat.
"Because it was," Hoseok replied without flinching. "So I’ll be sending my bank account info to everyone except Yoongi-hyung and Mina so you can chip in."
"Son of a bitch, you had it all planned," Yoongi muttered with a dry laugh, shaking his head.
"Obviously," Hoseok shot back without an ounce of shame. "I thought you already knew I’m a genius."
Jungkook let out a low laugh, shaking his head. Hoseok might’ve been a natural-born organizer, but he also had a knack for getting everyone else to pay for his brilliant ideas.
"Alright, count me in," Jin said after cursing him under his breath. The last thing he’d expected was to end up helping pay for a celebration for two people he’d only known for less than a month. Luckily, money wasn’t an issue, so it didn’t really bother him.
"Me too," added Namjoon.
"Us as well," Sana said, looking at Momo. "We’ll even pitch in extra just to celebrate Mina."
Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook also agreed, although the blond rolled his eyes a little before nodding. Hoseok smiled proudly before continuing his monologue, sounding more like he was selling the cabin itself than just describing it.
"The cabin is huge, with five bedrooms—two of them with queen beds, and the other three with two singles each. There’s a pool, a jacuzzi, a sauna, and a grill for barbecues. Plus, tons of space to party, get drunk, and do stupid shit."
"Perfect," Jimin murmured.
"Hold up, hold up, I’m not done yet," Hoseok raised a dramatic finger. "It’s also in a private area, so no annoying neighbors and no one to tell us to turn the music down."
"Okay, that actually sounds amazing," Mina whistled, clearly impressed. "My first celebration in years is going to be fancy as hell. I like it."
"I know," Hoseok said, pulling out his phone and starting to pass it around—beginning with Seokjin—so everyone could see the photos of the cabin one by one.
Jungkook took the phone when it got to him and swiped through the images. It looked really nice. The pool was huge, the interior had a rustic but elegant design, and the outdoor space was perfect for any kind of party or gathering.
"Not bad," he murmured, handing the phone to Taehyung without looking at him.
"Not bad at all, Hoseok," Namjoon said, nodding in approval.
Once the phone made its way back to Hoseok, everyone turned to look at Yoongi, waiting for the final verdict—Mina had already given hers.
Yoongi stayed silent for a few seconds, scanning each of their faces with an unreadable expression. Then, without warning, he let out a smile and nodded.
"I like it."
"Then it’s decided!" Hoseok declared, slapping the table with excitement. "Clear your schedules for that weekend, because we’re gonna have a good time."
Jungkook exhaled slowly, feeling—for the first time that day—like something actually sounded worth looking forward to.
An entire weekend with everyone, no pressure from school, no tight deadlines...
Yeah. That definitely sounded like something he could use.
But then the thought hit him properly.
A whole weekend away... with Taehyung. And Sana.
Chapter 10: Chapter 09
Chapter Text
"You're going to kill yourself if you keep going like this, Taehyung."
Jimin said it in the softest tone possible, but Taehyung didn’t have time to even consider that as an option. He kept walking without lifting his eyes from the papers in his hand, flipping through them with movements that bordered on manic, trying to get ahead on readings even as he made his way to his destination.
"I don’t have time to die," he replied, his voice flat and nearly emotionless.
"Oh, really? Then maybe you should check your planner again and see if you can squeeze in a mental breakdown somewhere," Jin scoffed, walking beside him with his arms crossed.
"Prioritize your health, please," Hoseok chimed in, who until now had been trying to stay the most understanding.
Taehyung let out a dry laugh. He had no idea why they said it like it was that easy. Like the world would suddenly stop and give him a goddamn break just because he decided to rest. As if college deadlines, rehearsals, the video shoot, and life itself would simply wait for him.
He couldn’t just let people down. He couldn’t stop just because.
"I’m fine," he snapped. Judging by the way Hoseok, Jimin, and Jin looked at him, none of them believed him for a second.
Of course not. Because "fine" meant he’d slept three hours in the past forty-eight, was running on energy drinks and stress, and could feel his body beginning to shut down a little more with every passing minute.
But stopping wasn’t an option—he had way too much to do. And all for the love of art, because what had him running around like this was the girls’ video project. One that he wasn’t getting paid for, wouldn’t earn any reward or even a grade for. He was driving himself into the ground just for being a decent person.
Well, sure, it had started out because of Sana, but at this point, Taehyung figured he had to have earned a spot in heaven. No one in their right mind would be putting a noose around their neck just to impress someone. Now, he was only doing it out of commitment—because he genuinely liked the girls, and... it had become important to him. He’d poured his heart into it—and his wallet.
So he kept walking with that same relentless determination, ignoring the burning in his eyes and the dizziness that came with every blink.
"Taehyung, seriously, do you want me to give you something?" Jimin asked again, genuinely worried. "I don’t know, a calming tea, a blanket, a hug... a hit to the head so you’ll finally knock out and sleep for a couple of hours..."
"I appreciate the offer, but no."
"You're gonna collapse at any moment, you know that?" Jin tried again.
"If it happens, it happens, hyung."
"Just... take care of yourself, okay?" Hoseok finally said, resigned.
"Yeah, yeah," Taehyung waved a hand in the air, dismissing them, and continued walking towards the study room without looking back, leaving his friends standing in the middle of the hallway with worried faces and looks of resignation.
They knew full well that trying to reason with the blond was a waste of time. The guy was as stubborn as they came. He didn’t have time for distractions. He didn’t have time for his own body to betray him, so he’d drown himself in work—but he’d get it all done.
Jungkook wasn’t particularly observant when he didn’t care about something. But Taehyung wasn’t doing a great job of staying unnoticed.
He saw him from a distance, walking down the hall with his eyes glued to the papers in his hand. His posture was tense, his skin even paler than usual, and his steps erratic enough that at one point, he actually tripped over the floor.
Yes, over the fucking floor.
Taehyung didn’t fall, but he came damn close—and that already said a lot. Jungkook frowned. Not that he cared, of course not, but it was fucking weird to see him like that. He didn’t look arrogant or annoying or smug. He just looked... wrecked.
Maybe that was why—out of habit, or maybe just to see if the guy still had enough energy to bite back—Jungkook approached him with a half-smirk tugging at his lips.
"Did you know walking and reading at the same time is the fastest way to slam into a wall?" Silence. Taehyung didn’t even glance at him with annoyance, didn’t sigh in exasperation—nothing. He didn’t even stop walking. Jungkook paused for a second before following him again. "Wow, the insomnia’s hit you so hard you don’t even have the energy to insult me?"
All he got in response was a slow blink from Taehyung, like processing what he’d just heard required too much effort. Then he shook his head, lips pressed tight, and never stopped walking.
And that, more than anything, left a weird sensation curling in Jungkook’s stomach.
It wasn’t fun if Taehyung didn’t react. It wasn’t satisfying if he couldn’t get a rise out of him. Jungkook grimaced, trailing after him, uncomfortable with the void the lack of a fight left behind.
"You should get some rest," he blurted out suddenly, not thinking much about it.
That did get Taehyung to look at him—but not the way Jungkook had expected.
"Go eat shit and get out of my way," he growled, his voice rough from exhaustion. "I need to get to the study room in less than five minutes and I’m still far, so do me a favor and fuck off for a bit."
Before Jungkook could say anything, Taehyung clenched the papers in his hand and sped up, like his body was running on autopilot. Jungkook stopped walking and stared after him, blinking a couple of times.
"Who the fuck does he think he is?" he muttered in disbelief.
He crossed his arms, trying to shake off the annoying, inexplicable feeling stuck in his chest. Not that he cared, obviously. But if Taehyung collapsed in the middle of campus, he better not expect Jungkook to be the one picking him up. He decided to keep walking in the opposite direction from the blond. He tried telling himself he should respect the guy’s clear wish not to be bothered, but his brain kept replaying the image of him tripping over thin air and dragging himself down the hallway like some half-dead soul. And besides, why should he do what Taehyung said? That was annoying as hell.
His mood always got worse after running into him, and maybe he should finally stop bothering him. He used to say it was fun, but the truth was, it always ended with him pissed off. Fortunately, the distraction came quickly.
"Jungkook!" Sana’s sweet voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and when he looked up, there she was—walking toward him with a bright smile, holding a bottle in one hand.
Immediately, Jungkook switched gears. His expression relaxed, his posture lightened.
"Sana," he greeted with a smile that was charming—though it lacked its usual spark. "Where are you headed?"
"Practice room," she replied, holding up the bottle of peach-flavored water she had with her. "Mina and Momo are there—we’re rehearsing all afternoon. I just stepped out to grab a drink." She showed him the bottle with a soft, affectionate look, and it took Jungkook a second to recognize it.
"That’s the one I bought you that day," he commented with mild surprise, nodding toward it.
Sana nodded enthusiastically.
"Ever since I tried it during dress rehearsal, I loved it. So thanks again for getting me this drink—it tastes amazing."
Jungkook chuckled softly and shrugged.
"I'm a man of good taste, what can I say? I could give you plenty of successful advice, totally free of charge."
"Yeah, yeah, sure you could," she teased, rolling her eyes playfully. "Alright then, what would you suggest I do with my hair for the shoot? I've been thinking about it, but I can't decide. And since you claim your advice is so successful..."
"Honestly, anything would look good on you just because it’s you," Jungkook said, his voice low and soft. "But if you want something specific, I'd say an updo would look amazing on you. Because, well... do you want details?"
"Lots of details," she replied, biting her lip slightly as she looked at him.
"It highlights your neck and back," he admitted, tilting his head. "Leaving those areas exposed makes you look really pretty."
Sana responded with a light smack on his arm, laughing as she covered her face, cheeks a little flushed. It wasn’t exactly blatant flirting—or at least, not like the kind Jungkook usually dished out—but it was one of those exchanges that flowed naturally between them. Or would have flowed better, if Jungkook’s mind hadn’t been somewhere else entirely.
"I'll walk you to the practice room," he said suddenly.
"Yeah?" Sana tilted her head, surprised but not opposed. "Are you staying a while?"
"If you don’t mind."
"Not at all," she shook her head. "You’re always welcome—I like having you around."
They began walking down the hallway together, and even though Jungkook tried to stay focused on the conversation, his brain kept replaying the same image over and over again. Eventually, curiosity won.
"How’s everything going with the video?" he asked casually, and Sana sighed immediately.
"It’s been crazy, honestly."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, mostly because Taehyung’s neck-deep in everything," she said with a hint of disbelief. "He’s not just filming our rehearsals—he’s also managing wardrobe, location scouting, set design... and on top of all that, he’s editing the whole video too."
"Wow, and he’s doing all that by himself?" Jungkook raised his eyebrows.
"Yeah. We help where we can, of course, but since he’s the director, he feels like it’s all his responsibility," she explained, her tone tinged with concern. "We tried to convince him to at least accept some payment, even something symbolic, but he completely refuses."
"So he’s doing all this for free?" the black-haired boy grimaced.
"Exactly. And on top of that, he still has his university work."
That made Jungkook press his lips together and nod as he looked down at the floor. Of all the things he’d thought about Taehyung, generous wasn’t exactly one of them.
For a moment, he figured maybe Taehyung was just trying to impress Sana—but the idea didn’t quite fit. Not unless the guy was a complete masochist. No sane person would put themselves through that just to impress someone. Then again, Taehyung hadn’t looked all that sane lately.
Sana kept talking, but Jungkook had stopped listening.
That same damn annoying buzz in his stomach returned, the uncomfortable knot that had been nagging at him ever since he saw the blond nearly collapse in the hallway. And then, before he could really think it through, the words left his mouth.
"Go on without me, I... I need to do something first."
"Huh?" Sana blinked, confused.
"I’ll be there later, I promise. I’ll catch up," he said quickly, already turning around.
And without giving her a chance to answer, he started walking in the opposite direction—almost running.
And the worst part? He had no fucking idea why.
──── ∗ ⋅✧⋅ ∗ ────
Jungkook was standing beside the closed door of one of the individual study rooms, holding a hot drink in his hand, questioning every single fucking decision he’d made in the past ten minutes. Or maybe in his entire life.
Because seriously, what the hell was he doing?
It wasn’t just that he’d basically run there for absolutely no logical reason. No, the worst part—the part that made his brain scream like a goddamn emergency alarm—was what he was holding in his hand.
A vanilla cappuccino.
For Taehyung.
Since when did he do shit like this? Since when did he walk away from a conversation with Sana—the girl he was supposed to be competing for—to go look for Taehyung? Since when did he detour to a café and spend his own money buying coffee for his enemy?
Since when the fuck did he think he even knew what kind of coffee Taehyung liked? He didn’t really know, he was just guessing. And anyway, he shouldn’t know what kind of coffee the blond liked. This was his—emphasis on the following—rival.
Still, he stood there, holding the café’s laminated menu like a dumbass, and genuinely tried to figure out what Taehyung might enjoy. Something to keep him alive a little longer.
He decided on a vanilla cappuccino because the blond had a serious sugar addiction. A very serious one. So Jungkook bought the sweetest, most ridiculously sugary drink he could find. He even took the time to grab two sugar packets. He almost opened one and poured it in, stirred it for him.
But he didn’t. Why?
Because he didn’t want to mess up the cute little drawing the barista had made in the foam. He thought Taehyung might want to see it. That’s why he didn’t do it. Not because he wasn’t sure whether Taehyung added sugar. Not because it was too much to bother. He didn’t stir it because of the fucking drawing.
Now, he kind of wanted to mess it up on purpose—just out of spite. But even that, he couldn’t bring himself to do.
"Fucking idiot..." he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair and glaring at the closed door like it held the answer to the existential crisis he’d spiraled into.
None of this made sense. None of it.
If someone had told him three weeks ago that he’d be standing there, debating like a damn lunatic whether or not to knock on the door of a study room to give Taehyung coffee, he would’ve punched them in the face just for saying it out loud.
But there he was. This was his rival, his competition, his fucking nemesis in this ridiculous ego war they’d built. He shouldn’t be going around buying him coffee like he was...
Important.
The thought alone sent a shiver down his spine.
No fucking way.
He was Jungkook, and Taehyung was Taehyung. The same irritating bastard who got under his skin every time he opened his mouth. The same smug asshole who smirked every time he managed to piss him off. The same guy who provoked him with looks, with comments, with that insufferable 'I’m better than you and you know it' attitude that made his blood boil. Lately, he had to remind himself of things like that. He wasn’t his friend. He wasn’t someone he should be worrying about.
So then why the hell was he here?
Why did seeing how exhausted Taehyung was make his chest ache in that weird, uncomfortable way?
Why, when Sana told him how much the blond was doing, how much he was giving without expecting anything in return, did his brain decide the most logical response was to buy him a coffee?
Why, when he could’ve stayed with Sana—flirting, smiling, enjoying the company of the girl he liked—did he choose this instead? He chose to buy Taehyung a coffee, ask about him at the study room reception desk, and then wander around looking for room B11 like a fucking lost puppy.
Jungkook exhaled in frustration, closing his eyes for a moment.
Okay. Fine. Maybe he was actually going insane. Or maybe the fucking universe was screwing with him, putting him in this situation just to laugh at his misery, and he was simply having a weird day. Or maybe he was trying to redeem himself.
Yeah.
That made sense. It meant nothing. He was just... paying off some kind of cosmic debt or whatever.
After all, he and Taehyung had a whole dynamic based on messing with each other, right? Maybe this was just a small karmic balance, a little 'here you go, don’t die from exhaustion before I get to keep ruining your life some more'.
Yeah, that was it. Jungkook clung to that justification because any other explanation was way too complicated to process. So he straightened up and looked at the door beside him one last time.
All that was left was to knock.
...
Fuck.
Why the hell was he hesitating so much? He was a man. And he was going to act like a damn man.
The black-haired boy puffed out his chest and planted himself in front of the door with all the determination he could muster. His back was straight, jaw clenched, arms tense, and head slightly down. He looked confident. Or at least, he wanted to look confident.
Because inside, he was still a fucking mess. That’s why he was staring at the floor, too scared to look up and see what awaited him. Because the door had a glass panel. So he would see Taehyung.
Wait... if the door was made of glass, did that mean Taehyung could see him standing there like an idiot?
Great. Now he wanted to die.
But since he was already this far in, the least he could do was maintain some dignity and not look like a complete fool.
So he took a deep breath, released the tension in his shoulders, and finally looked through the glass panel of the door.
Taehyung was asleep on the table.
His head rested on his folded arm, lips slightly parted, blond hair falling lazily over his face. Around him was absolute chaos—papers scattered everywhere, open books, and his laptop still on. The scene couldn’t be clearer: he’d fallen asleep in the middle of working. Or worse. Jungkook felt a chill run down his spine.
What if he hadn’t just fallen asleep? What if his body, exhausted beyond its limit, had just shut down without warning?
It was a dramatic thought, sure, but not impossible. Jungkook had seen with his own eyes how fucking worn out Taehyung looked. He’d seen him stumble, heard him answer with half-assed grunts, barely able to hold his head up during conversations. Sana had told him how overworked he was. And now he was here, collapsed on a desk in the least ergonomic position imaginable, like his body had just said 'fuck it, I’m done' and gave up on the spot.
Okay. Fine. This was the dilemma.
He could go in and make sure Taehyung was okay... but that meant waking him up. And if there was one thing he knew about Taehyung, it was that he definitely seemed like the kind of person who turned into a demon when woken up abruptly. He was going to want him dead. Jungkook sighed and looked around. He had two options:
Option one—leave and let the idiot deal with himself.
Option two—go in, try not to fuck it up, drop the damn coffee, and make sure he hadn’t passed out from sheer exhaustion.
Option one was the logical choice. But for some reason, he didn’t like it. He didn’t like the idea of just leaving him there, folded over the table at an angle that was going to wreck his back for days. He didn’t like how that looked. Because like this, asleep, without the arrogant attitude, without the constant jabs, without that razor-sharp tongue always ready to bite—Taehyung looked...
God, he hated the word that popped into his head, but it was the only one that made sense.
Sweet.
He clenched his jaw and glared at the door like it was its fault he was having such stupid thoughts.
Alright, fuck it.
He was going to go in, come up with a reasonable excuse for being there, drop off the coffee, and get the hell out before Taehyung had the chance to physically assault him. A verbal beatdown was probably inevitable, but hey, you can’t win ’em all.
Plus, I paid for that coffee. He owes me.
It was a simple plan. He could totally pull this off.
Right?
He took a deep breath, turned the handle, and stepped inside as quietly as possible—like Taehyung was some wild animal he might spook. He closed the door with the same level of caution.
Silence.
The guy was still completely out.
Jungkook looked at him again and yeah, no doubt about it—when he wasn’t yelling at him or describing the many ways he wanted him to die, Taehyung could actually look... adorable.
"Fuck," Jungkook muttered, dragging a hand down his face because seriously, seriously, he needed to stop thinking shit like that.
Suddenly, his clean, simple, no-strings-attached plan evaporated from his brain. Just poof, gone. Because now he was standing there, in front of Taehyung, staring at him like some kind of creep.
It wasn’t his fault, okay? It wasn’t his fault Taehyung asleep looked like a completely different person.
His blond hair was slightly messy, a few strands falling carelessly over his forehead. His eyelashes were ridiculously long, casting soft shadows on his cheekbones. His long fingers looked elegant with those gold rings he always wore—the ones Jungkook knew were for showing off, because they were way too expensive and made him look like a fucking little prince. His nose still had that perfect shape Jungkook hated admitting he’d noticed before. And his lips... they were dry.
Chapped.
Pale.
Actually, all of Taehyung looked pale, washed out, lifeless.
And that worried Jungkook more than he wanted to admit.
He looked away, but it didn’t help—because that’s when he noticed the dark circles under his eyes. They were deep, dark, and impossible to miss. Like he hadn’t slept in days... which, given what Jungkook had seen on his calendar, wasn’t even an exaggeration. He’d literally seen days where Taehyung had just decided sleep wasn’t on the agenda.
The idiot was destroying his health, and that pissed Jungkook off. He felt a strange tingle in his hands—along with an urge. And before he could think twice, he leaned in slightly and brought a finger under Taehyung’s nose.
Because of course, his irrational brain decided the best way to check if he was alive was to feel his breath. It made no sense—he could see his chest rising and falling—but something in his stomach only unclenched when he felt the faint warmth of air against the tip of his finger.
Fuck. What the hell was he doing?
And just like that, reality smacked him in the face.
He realized how close he was.
He could see every goddamn detail of Taehyung’s face. Every lash, every pore, every freckle. Every little thing that supposedly drove him crazy about the blond, and yet now he couldn’t stop staring.
He got scared.
He moved his hand back way too fast and, in his clumsiness, knocked over a couple of pens that had been lying next to the scattered papers on the desk.
The clatter of the pens hitting the floor shattered the silence. And then Taehyung stirred. Jungkook felt his soul leave his body.
The blond frowned, squeezed his eyes shut, and let out a sound Jungkook was absolutely not prepared to hear—a low, sleepy groan thick with exhaustion. Jungkook panicked. He stumbled back, hit the chair, and nearly spilled the damn cappuccino in the process.
“Shit, shit, shit,” he hissed in a frantic whisper, pacing like his body was trying to find an escape route. He was desperate—his brain had completely short-circuited, and it showed in the erratic, pointless way he moved.
But it was already too late.
Taehyung rubbed his eyes with slow, lazy movements, still half-asleep, and mumbled in a hoarse voice, “Jungkook...?”
Jungkook froze.
Maybe if he didn’t breathe, didn’t make a sound, just turned into a statue, Taehyung would assume it was all part of a dream and go back to sleep.
But no—because the universe hated him. Taehyung blinked several times, his eyes still foggy with sleep, and focused on him with a confused expression.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, voice still raspy.
The black-haired boy swallowed hard.
His brain shut down.
His tongue tangled.
And the only thing he managed to do was open his mouth and blurt out the worst possible response.
“I… well… I mean… you… uhm…” And that was the answer—just a bunch of stammering and no actual words.
“Talk properly, dumbass.”
“I’m not a dumbass! You are!” he tried to defend himself.
“Wow, what a mature comeback. Truly the words of an eighteen-year-old.” Taehyung tilted his head.
“I’m twenty-one.”
“Sure doesn’t seem like it,” Taehyung sighed. “You say you’re not a dumbass but you’re acting like one. Again—what are you doing here?”
Jungkook felt himself collapse internally.
Saying 'I came to watch you sleep like a fucking psychopath' was not an option. Telling the truth wasn’t one either—because even he didn’t know what the truth was.
So he did what any intelligent, slightly self-respecting person would do: he improvised.
“I brought you a vanilla cappuccino,” he blurted, lifting the cup in his hand like it was some kind of offering. Okay. Good start. “Because you looked tired,” he added, trying to sound casual—but it came out way too forced. “So I figured it could be my good deed of the day and—”
“I don’t drink coffee,” the blond interrupted.
He felt his stomach twist. His mouth opened, but the only thing that came out was a strange noise—something between surprise and disappointment.
He didn’t drink coffee.
Was that why he’d been so passionately defending hot chocolate when they argued about what to recommend to Sana? Jungkook thought he’d only done it to be contrary. But no. He genuinely didn’t like coffee. Now he really did feel like an idiot.
He hated the realization that, logically speaking, he didn’t know Taehyung as well as he thought he did.
“Just leave it there,” said the blond, pointing lazily at the desk.
“But you said you don’t drink coffee,” Jungkook blurted, confused.
“I don’t. I don’t like it. Sometimes it even makes me sleepy,” Taehyung replied, settling into his chair and stretching his arms with clear fatigue. Then he glanced at him from the corner of his eye, a half-smile tugging at his lips. “But it’s your good deed of the day, right? You have to stop being such a fucking selfish bastard sometimes. Since you went out of your way to buy a coffee, I guess I can handle drinking it. It’s just a damn coffee, I won’t die.”
Jungkook felt his eyebrow twitch.
He was accepting it—while insulting him in the process. It was so typically Taehyung that Jungkook didn’t know whether to feel relieved or irritated. He let out a soft huff and placed the cup on the table next to the sugar packets.
He wasn’t mad—not really.
Something about the way the blond looked at him, the way he accepted his awkward attempt at kindness while still keeping that goddamn attitude—it made Jungkook a little nervous.
He didn’t want to be nervous. He had no reason to be nervous.
So he just shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, looked away, and mumbled, “Do whatever you want. I don’t care.”
“Oh, there it is—the selfish bastard attitude again,” Taehyung teased.
At this point, the younger didn’t know what to do. Or rather, he didn’t know why he was still standing there. Taehyung had his stupid coffee—which he didn’t even like—he was awake, and he’d already insulted him like always. But Jungkook wasn’t moving.
The air between them had shifted into something strange—uncomfortable and heavy with something he couldn’t quite name. And he hated uncomfortable silences. He was allergic to them. He’d explode. So he did what he did best: he opened his big mouth.
“What are you working on?”
Taehyung lifted his gaze from the mess of papers on the table and looked at him like the answer was obvious.
“A script. For my storytelling class.”
Jungkook nodded slowly, expecting more—but Taehyung looked back down like the conversation was over. Fine. If he wanted Jungkook to carry the whole conversation, then so be it.
“Just that?”
The blond let out a short huff—almost a laugh—and shook his head.
“I’m also sorting out the dancers’ outfits.”
“What outfits?” Jungkook frowned.
“For the video,” Taehyung answered simply. “We’re looking at colors, fabrics, styles. The idea is that everything matches the concept, and I need them ready before next Tuesday when filming starts.”
“You have to deal with that too?”
“Yeah. I’m the director. It’s part of the job.”
Jungkook nodded again, slower this time.
“That sounds like a lot.”
“It is. And I was also starting my Visual Anthropology paper,” Taehyung added. “I have to explain and justify the topic I picked for my short film.”
“That’s three things at once,” the black-haired boy narrowed his eyes.
“I’m a multitasker,” he shrugged.
The tattooed one let out a short, disbelieving laugh.
“Right. So multi-tasker that you passed out on top of your work,” he said, leaning on the table with a teasing smile. “I can see your drool from here.”
“I didn’t drool.”
“Yes, you did.”
“No.”
“Look at the mark.”
Taehyung looked at the table carefully, and for a second, Jungkook thought he had him. But the blond just clicked his tongue and gave him a look full of obvious disappointment.
“This is how you spend your free time? Watching me sleep? Do you really not have a life?”
“My life? Who’s the pathetic one here? The guy doing a good deed to keep his karma in check or the one dying slowly over a desk?”
“At least I’m doing something productive,” the blond snapped, crossing his arms.
“Yeah, sure, super productive—knocking yourself out in the middle of your so-called multitasking.”
“It’s called a micro-nap.”
“It’s called ‘I can’t take it anymore so I collapsed all over my stuff and drooled on it.’”
“It’s called ‘none of your business, Jungkook.’”
“Just admit you drooled,” Jungkook grinned.
“I didn’t drool,” Taehyung rolled his eyes.
“Yes, you did.”
“Do you need physical evidence?”
“Yes.”
“God, you’re such a pain in the ass.”
“Say it louder, dummy. I didn’t quite catch that.”
Taehyung shot him an amused look while shaking his head.
Jungkook felt his smile grow.
They were messing with each other, yeah. But it didn’t feel like it always did. It felt... lighter.
And the most fucked-up part of it all was that he liked it. And the worst part of the most fucked-up part was that, without even realizing it, he was actually enjoying it.
He let out a small, low laugh—barely audible. And Taehyung did too. And that was what really fucked him up.
"Sorry, dumbass, but I have to get back to this," Taehyung said suddenly, leaning toward the table and finally picking up the pens—slowly and with great care—the ones Jungkook had knocked over like an idiot. "And your stupid face is distracting me."
"So you admit I distract you," he said without thinking. Just like that, unfiltered, in a tone that wasn’t mocking like usual—it had a flirty edge, the kind he’d use with Sana.
Shit.
The atmosphere shifted in a millisecond. Taehyung blinked, tilting his head as if analyzing the words, and Jungkook felt a sudden heat rush to his face.
He cleared his throat immediately, straightening up as if that would make him look more serious and less like a dumbass.
"Yeah, I should go."
He didn’t wait for a reply. He grabbed the doorknob and opened the door quickly, but just as he was about to cross the threshold, Taehyung’s voice stopped him.
"Thanks, idiot."
He froze for a second. Turned his head just enough to glance back at him from the corner of his eye. Taehyung was looking down at his papers, holding a pen but not writing anything. His posture leaned slightly forward, as if he didn’t want to be looked at too closely.
There was no sarcasm in his voice. No mockery. Just a simple thanks, followed by an idiot that sounded softer than usual.
Jungkook nodded in response and left, closing the door behind him. And the moment he did, he felt like he could finally breathe again.
Shit, shit, and more shit.
What the fuck had just happened? What the hell was that entire fucking interaction?
He ran a hand down his face, exhaling slowly as he walked down the hallway.
It felt… different. And dangerously easy.
He ran his tongue over his teeth, uncomfortable with the thought, and shook his head, trying to get rid of all of it. It was better to focus on what actually mattered. On the reason his brain should be functioning properly.
Which, obviously, was Sana.
He was going to see her in the practice room—where he should’ve been in the first place. But when he turned the corner and noticed how his body moved a little lighter than usual, heart strangely warm for some fucking reason...
No.
He refused to admit it.
──── ∗ ⋅✧⋅ ∗ ────
As soon as the door closed, the study room fell back into complete silence, save for the soft hum of the air conditioner and the sound of Taehyung’s pen scratching against paper.
He tried to focus. Really, he did. He had to finish the script, sort out the dancers’ outfits, and write the damn justification for his Visual Anthropology essay. But his gaze didn’t take long to drift toward the coffee Jungkook had left on his desk—and the two sugar packets next to it. He frowned.
He didn’t like coffee, he never had. It always tasted like burnt dirt, and caffeine never did a damn thing to him. If anything, it made him sleepy. But he had never tried a vanilla cappuccino.
Taehyung slowly reached for the cup, examining its contents. There was a cute little bear design on the foam, already starting to fade—probably from all the shaking Jungkook must’ve done bringing it there. It had been a while; the drink wasn’t very hot anymore. The blond smiled faintly—it was a cute drawing.
He lifted the cup to his lips and took a cautious sip. The moment the bitter liquid hit his tongue, he made a slight face. Definitely not his favorite flavor, but also… not the worst thing he’d ever tasted.
It wasn’t as bitter as the other times he’d been forced to try coffee—those times his friends basically shoved it in his face. Back then he’d practically gagged. But this time? Not quite. Maybe because this was a different kind.
He sighed and looked at the sugar packets. He had nothing to lose. He grabbed the first one, poured it in, stirred it with the tiny straw that came with the cup, and took another sip. He felt a little sad as the foam bear disappeared.
Better. Slightly, but better.
He grabbed the second packet, did the same, took another sip and… well, it wasn’t bad. Not that he’d go running to order one tomorrow, but he could drink it like this.
Without even realizing it, as he worked on his assignments, he kept sipping it bit by bit until the cup was empty. He stared at it, eyebrows slightly raised, surprised at himself.
So, apparently, vanilla cappuccino wasn’t that bad after all. If it didn’t knock him out afterward, maybe he’d add it to his list of acceptable drinks.
He huffed and set the cup aside, forcing himself to focus again.
But that damn coffee wasn’t the only thing stuck in his head. His mind kept returning to the interaction he’d just had with Jungkook. To what had just happened. To how fucking weird it felt.
Because, in other circumstances, he would’ve killed him for waking him up. For interrupting him. For invading his space without a logical reason. But for some reason, he hadn’t. Even though he was still mad about the elevator thing.
He knew damn well it wasn’t exactly Jungkook’s fault—he didn’t know about his phobia—but the idiot had acted like a complete moron. Just hearing 'calm down' during a panic attack was more than enough reason to punch someone in the face. He thought it was common knowledge that you don’t say shit like that in those kinds of situations.
And yeah, maybe—maybe—he had gotten into the elevator with Jungkook thinking he’d be okay. And maybe he had clung to his arm as a desperate, silent cry for help in his own way. But you couldn’t blame him for reacting the way he did afterward.
Hoseok and Jin were his best friends. He trusted them deeply. But the only one who could always pull him back was Jimin. The brown-haired boy had seen every version of him.
The fact that Jungkook—his rival, the guy who claimed to hate him, the one he didn’t trust one bit—had seen him that vulnerable? That alone put him on the defensive. The way he treated him afterward was just a form of protection. He hated pity. And Jungkook, honestly, didn’t help himself. He also said things that got under his skin.
But just now, he hadn’t felt the same irritation. He didn’t feel the urge to chuck a book at his head.
On the contrary—there was something funny about seeing him so nervous. About watching his unshakable confidence wobble from just one comment.
Taehyung smiled faintly to himself, fingers of his left hand tapping against the table, his rings catching the artificial light.
He liked that he could make him uneasy. Well… not that Jungkook was actually afraid of him—but if he could make him uncomfortable, that was almost as satisfying.
He rested his elbow on the desk and massaged his temple, feeling the fatigue settle back into his shoulders.
Because, honestly? If Jungkook hadn’t woken him up, he’d probably still have his face glued to the desk—and that was not an option. He had work to do.
Maybe it hadn’t been such a bad thing that he was there. Maybe, just this once, he did more good than harm. Because if he fell behind on all this shit he had to turn in, he’d fucking die.
He sat up straighter and forced himself to focus on his notes, trying to stop thinking about Jungkook. About his soft laugh. His awkward stammering. None of that mattered. None of it made sense.
But somehow… it made him feel better.
Chapter 11: Chapter 10
Chapter Text
"If I hear 'one more time' one more time, I swear I'm gonna start having war flashbacks." From the sidewalk, right under the canvas tent where the crew and production materials were gathered, Jin let out a short laugh.
Taehyung shot him a warning look, too exhausted to reply, before turning back to the group of dancers who were panting as they hurried off the crosswalk, pushing the mobile set pieces the blond had prepped.
Sana had her hands on her knees, catching her breath. Jimin was fanning himself with his shirt, and Hoseok rolled his shoulders with a look of pure resignation. Momo and Mina exchanged glances, and Minho simply dropped into the chair next to Jin—the one Taehyung had brought along as a sort of personal assistant after randomly finding him with nothing to do.
It was no surprise they were worn out—it was the third day of shooting.
The last day to get everything filmed, and as if that wasn’t enough, it was Yoongi’s birthday. But instead of enjoying a cold beer at the guy’s house—where they were all supposed to go afterward—they were standing in the middle of an avenue, trying to film the perfect take of Let’s Get It Started before the light turned green again and the cars ran them over like roadkill.
They had filmed three songs in the past two days. Three full songs. In different locations, at ridiculous hours, with minimal breaks and constant retakes because Taehyung always spotted something wrong.
But these weren't technical errors on his part with the camera, they were human errors on the part of the dancers, such as out-of-time movements, poorly executed falls, and unbalanced formations.
And Taehyung wasn’t the type to let anything slide. Which was why Let’s Get It Started still wasn’t done, and they hadn’t even started Power yet.
Taehyung exhaled in frustration, arms falling to his sides before running a hand down his face.
“Hobi-hyung,” the blond called tiredly. “You're still coming in late on the second verse.”
“It’s one fucking second, Taehyung,” Minho protested, sitting up with an exasperated expression. “You can’t even tell.”
“It’s completely noticeable. That’s why I’m pointing it out.”
Minho rolled his eyes.
“Mina, during the drop…” Taehyung continued, crossing his arms. “You’re not fully extending your arm before the spin.” Mina nodded, tightening her ponytail. “And now you, Minho, since you’ve got so much to say…” he started, but the other raised a hand from his chair, cutting him off.
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he huffed. “I’m unbalanced, I’m not shifting my weight to the right foot, blah blah blah.”
“If you know, then why the hell do you keep screwing it up? You always know what I’m going to correct, you know exactly what you're doing wrong, and you still keep making the same mistakes over and over again.”
“Just kill me,” Minho groaned, throwing an arm over his face.
“After we wrap,” Taehyung replied flatly. Jin laughed from his spot, and Taehyung felt the urge to throw something at him—but didn’t get the chance, because right at the corner, the light turned yellow. “Places!” Taehyung shouted immediately.
The canvas tent on the sidewalk rustled as the crew mobilized. Taehyung secured his camera to the professional stabilizer. Hoseok, Jimin, and Minho grabbed the wheeled set pieces and pushed them into the crosswalk the moment the light turned red and the traffic stopped, clearing the street.
“Music!”
Jin hit play on the portable monitor. The beat exploded from the speakers, and the group came alive. The crosswalk became their stage. The shoot had to wrap today—and it had to wrap right—because there was simply no time left after this.
The dancers moved, each hitting their choreography in sync. Taehyung didn’t understand why it was suddenly so hard. During rehearsals, they barely messed up, but now? Everything that could go wrong was going wrong. He hated that damn Murphy’s Law—or whatever it was called—with his whole soul.
The blond followed behind them, the camera had to do some precise movements too—not overly complicated, but enough that he needed to make sure each of the girls got equal framing and screen time. He also had to move with the choreography to highlight certain motions.
For a moment, with his eyes locked on the camera screen, Taehyung thought: This is the one.
The muscles in his arm were tight from holding the camera so firmly, adjusting the angle, tracking every detail. But then, in an instant—maybe even less—everything went to shit.
Taehyung wasn’t sure what exactly went wrong. Maybe a miscalculated spin. Maybe the friction of the sole on the hot asphalt. Maybe just plain bad luck…
But all he saw was Minho’s body losing balance. His ankle twisted in a way so nasty that even from where he stood, Taehyung could see how unnaturally it bent.
The scream he let out was instinctive.
“Minho!”
Hoseok was the first to reach him, followed by Jimin and Momo.
The light was still red, but panic was wasting precious seconds. Drivers could be seen in their cars—alarmed and confused—they were the ones who got a front-row seat to the accident in high definition.
“Pick him up, pick him up—now!” Hoseok urged.
Minho cursed under his breath, clutching his ankle, but they couldn’t leave him there. They had no choice. When Jimin lifted him in his arms, Taehyung saw his face twist in a grimace of pain.
The light turned yellow.
“Get out! Out, out, out!”
They dragged him off the crosswalk, pulling the set pieces with them. Traffic started to move again just as they gathered on the sidewalk, adrenaline still rushing hot through their veins.
By the time they managed to sit him down on a chair under the tent, everyone crowded around with genuinely worried expressions.
Minho tried to move his foot.
And couldn’t.
“I can’t fucking believe this,” Jin exhaled.
“Can you stand?” Sana asked, worried.
“What do you think?” Minho whimpered.
“It’s swelling…” Jimin said, panic setting in, then ran off to grab the first aid kit they’d brought.
Hoseok crouched down in front of Minho and carefully removed his shoe, noticing how red the ankle already was—and just like Jimin said, it was swelling. He pressed gently, making the boy gasp.
“Doesn’t look like a fracture,” the gray-haired boy concluded. “It’s a sprain… that’s good, yeah.”
“Oh, yay for me,” Minho grumbled, propping his foot up on another chair to avoid straining it. He sighed and shook his head. “It hurts, yeah, but I’ll be fine. I’m just worried about the video.”
Jimin returned with the first aid kit and a bag of ice, then gently began treating Minho. He pulled out the bandages and started wrapping the foot. The guy knew exactly what he was doing—Jimin and the ground were practically besties, so he was no stranger to falling and twisting ankles. He had learned how to take care of it by necessity. Honestly, it was surprising he wasn’t the one who got hurt this time.
Once the foot was supported and compressed, he placed the ice bag on top.
“Where’d you get the ice?” Jin asked.
“There’s literally a store across the street.”
“Ah.”
Hoseok ran a hand through his hair, frowning.
"Taehyung, please tell me we have enough footage for Let’s Get It Started."
"No," Taehyung replied with a sigh, planting his fists on his hips.
"What do you mean no?" Mina frowned.
Taehyung closed his eyes for a second, organizing his thoughts before pointing at the monitor where Jin had been supervising the recordings.
"I’ll give you a quick recap of the last takes: Hoseok-hyung came in late on the second verse. You didn’t fully extend your arm during the drop before the spin. Jimin stumbled slightly during the second half's transition. Sana and Momo weren’t perfectly synced on the head movement before the final bridge. And now Minho twisted his ankle."
Everyone stared at him in complete silence.
"Do you have, like, a mental notebook for every mistake, or how the hell do you even remember all that?" Jin was the first to speak.
"The thing is, we still haven’t nailed the perfect shot," Taehyung said, his voice heavy.
"But we’ve got something," Jimin jumped in. "Can’t we just edit with what we have?"
"We’re not going to screw up weeks of work just because ‘well, it kind of works, we can salvage it,’" Taehyung shot him a glare.
"Okay, relax, you fucking perfectionist," Jimin lifted his hands.
"It’s not about that, Jimin. I shoot in one single take," the blond clarified, emphasizing the number with his finger. "I do it that way on purpose, no cuts, so that whoever reviews the audition sees that you can actually pull off the choreography flawlessly. Not just some edited mash-up of the best parts from five different takes. I’ve done it this way for every song—why the hell would I change the format now? And we still have Power left! We can’t skip that."
So basically, Taehyung couldn’t relax. This was the last day of filming. There were no more chances. The next day, he had to return the equipment, and the following week was all editing—because they had to upload everything before March 17th.
It was now or never, and Minho couldn’t dance. So Taehyung did the only thing he could do in that moment. He looked him straight in the eye and said:
"Take your clothes off."
The collective confusion hit instantly. Minho looked at him like he’d just said the most absurd sentence in the universe.
"Excuse me?"
"Take your fucking clothes off."
"I have a boyfriend," he blurted out, dead serious.
For a second, Taehyung stared at him in complete silence, processing the statement. Then he blinked slowly, exhausted, massaging the bridge of his nose.
"Minho."
"Yeah?"
"I don’t have time for your brain short-circuiting. Take your fucking clothes off—I’m replacing you."
"Oh."
A beat of silence.
"Ohh."
Another one.
"Alright, yeah."
The others were still watching expectantly until Taehyung turned around with an expression that made it very clear he was this close to telling someone off.
"Out."
"What?"
"Out of the tent!" He gestured to the entrance of the canvas that had been serving as their equipment storage—and apparently now also as an emergency changing room. "I don’t need an audience, thanks."
With some grumbling and a few whispered remarks Taehyung chose to ignore, the group left the tent, leaving only the distant hum of traffic in the background.
Taehyung exhaled.
Okay.
"Quick," he ordered, already unzipping his own jacket.
Minho was in the middle of taking off his shirt, albeit slowly, trying not to move the wrong foot and see stars from the pain.
"How the hell did you end up doing this?" he mumbled, tugging one arm out of the sleeve. "Are you even gonna be able to pull it off?"
Taehyung ignored the question, tossing his jacket onto one of the chairs.
"Shirt."
Minho finally took his off with a bit more speed and handed it over unceremoniously. Taehyung did the same with his, swapping without much thought.
"Pants."
"This is getting suspicious."
"Dude, I haven’t slept properly in three days and I’ve got only a few hours of natural light left. I swear on my career and my fucking life that I could not care less if you’re standing next to me in your underwear. I’m straight, do you get that? I don’t care if I see another guy half-naked."
Minho raised his hands in surrender and started unbuttoning his pants. Taehyung did the same, cursing under his breath when the buttons snagged for a second and he had to force them.
Minho already had his pants around his ankles and, using his good foot, kicked them off and slid them over to Taehyung. The blond followed suit, though with more urgency—and significantly less dignity than he would’ve liked.
He finished pulling up Minho’s pants and adjusting them, with more effort than he expected, frowning slightly at the snug pressure around his ass.
Minho, who was pulling on Taehyung’s shirt, glanced over and muttered:
"Wow."
"No."
"I’m just saying—"
"Don't say it."
"Your ass is—"
"Don’t you have a boyfriend?"
"I mean, yeah. But I’m not blind, it looks bi—"
"I do not need this conversation right now," Taehyung grumbled, finishing the outfit by shaking the shirt into place and turning to face Minho. "Do I look decent?"
Minho gave him a once-over.
"If I ignore the fact that your ass is filling those pants better than mine ever did, and they’re a bit higher on you because I’m shorter... yeah, you look good."
"Great," Taehyung took a deep breath, bracing himself.
Like he said—it was now or never.
The fresh air hit Taehyung’s face as he stepped out of the tent with the camera in hand. Exhaustion tugged at every fiber of his body, the weight of days spent filming, little sleep, and too much pressure settling on his shoulders. But he didn’t have the luxury of thinking about that now.
Everyone was outside, waiting for him.
Their eyes landed on him the second he passed through the canvas, a cocktail of anticipation, nerves, and—in the case of Hoseok and Jimin—worry that Taehyung didn’t have time to unpack.
"Tae, you don’t have to do this," the brunette crossed his arms, frowning.
Hoseok nodded right away, with that older brother look he always wore when one of them was about to make a stupid decision.
"Seriously. We can find another way."
"There is no other way," Taehyung snapped, patience hanging by a thread. "Today’s the last day of shooting. If we don’t finish this now, it’s not getting finished, and the girls are the ones who’ll suffer for it." His voice came out sharp and unwavering, and no one tried to argue after that.
Without wasting another second, he walked toward Jin, who watched him approach with alarm at the sheer determination in his expression.
"Hyung."
"Mhm?" The older one lifted his hands defensively, just in case.
"You've been watching me do it the entire damn time."
"What kind of sentence is that?"
Taehyung raised his arm to show the camera in his hand and gestured to it with a nod.
"You’ve been watching me use this thing all day, monitoring the footage. You should’ve picked up the motion pattern by now."
Jin was silent for a moment. Then, he narrowed his eyes.
"...Are you offering me the role of director of photography right now?"
"I’m not offering anything. I’m telling you to do it."
"Oh, how kind of you."
"Hyung."
The black-haired boy sighed, doubt clouding his face.
"What if I screw it up?"
"Then I’ll kill myself live on camera and leave a note saying you’re the one to blame so guilt will eat you alive from the inside out. It’ll be so intense you’ll start seeing me in your dreams over and over, watching me die on loop. They’ll drag your ass to a psychiatrist, strap you down, and then you’ll off yourself with an overdose of the pills they gave you—because you just couldn’t handle the fact that you were the reason I died."
"Kim Taehyung!" Jimin exclaimed, horrified.
"It’s a joke!" he scoffed, exasperated. "God, you’ve known me for years and you still don’t get my sense of humor."
"Alright," the older one finally sighed. "I think I can do it."
"Good," Taehyung turned on his heel to face the rest of the team. "As soon as the light turns red," he instructed, "act like nothing’s happening."
No one protested. They all just nodded, serious and ready.
──── ∗ ⋅✧⋅ ∗ ────
Jungkook was driving on mental autopilot. Not literally—he wasn’t trying to crash or anything—but he was in that state where he was driving more out of habit than actual focus.
It was the usual route, the one he knew like the back of his hand, with the same traffic lights where he always had to stop on his way to Yoongi’s place. Today was his birthday. They’d all celebrate later, but Jungkook wanted to get there early to spend some time with him first.
So far, so good.
What wasn’t good—or rather, what didn’t make any sense—was what he saw when he turned onto the next street. First, he noticed several people standing on the sidewalks, phones in hand, watching something like it was worth recording. It wasn’t an accident—their expressions weren’t alarmed or surprised—it was more like they were watching something entertaining.
He frowned, scanning the scene with growing confusion. Farther down, he managed to catch sight of what looked like some structures, parts of something he couldn’t fully make out because of the cars ahead. But on one corner, there was a tent covered in white tarp.
"What the hell is that?" he murmured to himself.
The line of cars moved forward, and just as he reached the intersection, the light turned red again, forcing him to stop in the very first row. That’s when he finally saw what was going on. It was the shoot for Sana and the girls.
He smiled, resting one arm on the window frame as he watched. He saw Sana, Mina, and Momo in position, Hoseok and Jimin ready to start dancing, and just as he was thinking about Minho, his eyes landed on something that made his brain short-circuit completely.
Taehyung was dancing. And Jin was holding the camera.
"What the fuck...?"
What the hell was Taehyung doing there? Where was Minho?
He didn't have to be a genius to know that Taehyung was in zombie mode these days. His stress levels had been obvious—even when Jungkook found him passed out on top of his notes—so if he was stepping in for Minho right now, something must’ve happened.
Jungkook straightened in his seat, his hands tightening on the wheel. His first instinct was to get out and ask what the fuck was going on, but the damned traffic wouldn’t let him. Obviously, he couldn’t just abandon the car in the middle of the avenue. He’d need to find parking a few blocks away and come back on foot.
He pressed his lips together, impatient, but then turned his gaze to Sana. He told himself it was the perfect chance to see her in her element—dancing confidently, radiating charisma. He could appreciate how beautiful she was, how smoothly she moved.
But somehow, his eyes drifted elsewhere. They went right back to Taehyung. And for some reason he couldn’t quite explain, he noticed a detail he probably shouldn’t have been paying attention to. The outfit Taehyung was wearing was tight. Really tight.
The pants in particular... well, let’s just say Minho and Taehyung might technically wear the same size, but Minho was noticeably slimmer than the blond. The difference in their hips was obvious.
Jungkook cleared his throat, crossing his arms like that would somehow block the thought from settling into his brain. Of course he’d noticed—how could he not? The outfit just didn’t quite fit, and not in a bad way—because it didn’t look bad—but... fuck, had he always been that...?
He had to tell himself to stop staring.
It should’ve been easy. He just had to focus on something else—like the girl he liked, for example. Anything other than Taehyung’s figure in those goddamn pants that clung to him like a second skin.
But his brain was a treacherous asshole. Because every time he tried to focus on Sana’s movements, his eyes kept drifting back like they were under a spell. It was the first time he’d seen him like that.
Sure, he’d noticed before that Taehyung had a good body—that was just objective truth. It’s not like he was thinking about it in a weird way—he was a guy who could acknowledge another guy’s beauty—but this was the first time...
The first time his eyes zeroed in on his ass.
Jungkook instantly felt like a fucking degenerate. What the hell was he even doing?
Pure instinct—and panic—made him look away. But it seemed like the image had already been burned into his mind. It wasn’t his fault, seriously. It was just that those damn pants were too tight in that area. Not just regular-tight, but that kind of tight that highlighted every curve, every line, every goddamn thing he wasn’t supposed to be noticing.
Fuck.
He shifted in his seat, suddenly feeling dirty, like he’d just committed a crime.
He tried to shake off the thought and focus on what was happening, because the dance was still going, and of course Let’s Get It Started had to be one of those intense choreographies—full of power moves and high energy. And Taehyung was killing it, obviously, because he knew it all by heart. It was like he’d been part of the original lineup from the start.
But that didn’t make things any easier for Jungkook. Because at one point in the routine, the dancers flowed toward the audience, with a rhythmic break and a smooth sequence of steps that brought them closer to the crowd.
Shit, Taehyung was getting closer. Until that moment happened—slow motion in real time.
Taehyung leaned back against the hood of a car.
Against Jungkook’s fucking car.
Jungkook stopped breathing for a second, trying to process what had just happened. Because it wasn’t just that he’d leaned there. It was how he did it—the way his body curved with deliberate sensuality, and how good he looked doing it.
Something in that moment shifted something inside Jungkook. He didn’t know how to name it, but it sent a wave of uncomfortable heat crawling up his neck to his cheeks.
There was no way he was the only one who saw that... right?
The damn light turned yellow just as the intense part of the song ended, marking the close of the segment. Hoseok, Jimin, and Taehyung bolted into action, rushing to clear the set pieces.
And that’s when Jungkook noticed something that worried him even more than all the previous chaos.
Taehyung was breathing heavily and clearly struggling to keep up, and that made the tattooed one feel a tight knot in his stomach. He knew Taehyung was exhausted. He knew he hadn't slept well these past few days and was running on sheer stubbornness, but seeing him there, exhausted and still forcing himself to keep going, made him grit his teeth.
As soon as traffic started moving again, he drove one block forward, found the first available spot, and parked without giving a damn whether it was legal or not. He got out of the car and started walking quickly. In less than a minute, he was back on the street where everything was happening. He didn’t have to make much of an effort to blend in—everyone recognized him the second he stepped onto the filming site.
"Jungkook-ah!" Hoseok greeted him, surprised, a wide smile on his face.
"What are you doing here?" Jimin asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I was on my way to see Yoongi-hyung and I saw you guys," he replied automatically. His priority wasn’t explaining himself—it was understanding what the hell was going on. "What happened? Why is Taehyung dancing instead of Minho?"
"Minho’s fucked," Sana gestured toward the tent, and Jungkook saw someone inside, sitting with his foot elevated on another chair. "He twisted his ankle pretty badly mid-recording and can’t dance. Taehyung had to replace him. Today is literally the last day to film Let’s Get It Started and Power. Tomorrow Tae has to return the equipment."
Jungkook nodded, his brain connecting the dots. His gaze automatically slid over to where Taehyung was, and he walked toward him. The blond was slumped in a chair next to Minho, head tilted back, trying to catch his breath.
He looked like hell.
His hair was damp with sweat, drops trailing down his forehead and along the sharp line of his jaw. His eyelids were heavy, dark circles etched beneath them, and his entire expression screamed exhaustion—though his damn pride would probably never let him admit it. Jungkook crossed his arms and looked down at him.
"How are you doing?"
Taehyung barely opened one eye to look at him.
"Fine," he replied, voice dragging lazily. Jungkook let out a sarcastic laugh. "Funny how you always pop up out of nowhere where no one asked for you."
"Oh, yeah? You don’t look fine. And I go wherever the fuck I want."
"And why the fuck do you care?" Taehyung exhaled sharply through his nose, sitting up in the chair with clear irritation.
"Me? I don’t give a single shit, actually. I’m just pointing out the obvious because apparently you’re too much of a dumbass to notice it yourself."
"Do you have a specific reason to come here and annoy the crap out of me, or are you just bored out of your mind?"
"I don’t know. Maybe because I saw some idiot about to pass out in the middle of the damn street and thought, ‘Hey, maybe I should ask if he wants me to send flowers to his funeral,’" he said with a shrug, completely indifferent, making Taehyung let out a dry, sarcastic laugh.
"Hilarious, you know what else is funny? That no one asked for your opinion."
"And yet, here I am, giving it. Wild, huh?"
"Why don’t you just fuck off and let me do my job?"
"Your job? Because from here, all I see is a suicidal idiot who thinks he’s invincible."
"Fuck off, Jungkook. Just because you bought me one damn coffee and I took it doesn’t mean we’re friends or anything like that."
The argument probably would’ve continued escalating to ridiculous levels if Hoseok, who had been reviewing the footage on the camera, hadn’t looked up and sighed in exhaustion.
"Now is not the time to fight, children," he interrupted, not even bothering to look at them. "We need to film."
Jungkook rolled his eyes and scoffed, but before Taehyung could move to stand up, he extended a hand and pushed him firmly back down into the chair. Taehyung looked at him like he’d just spit in his face.
"What the fuck are you doing?"
"Stopping you from continuing to be a fucking irresponsible dumbass," Jungkook said, holding his gaze without flinching.
"Leave me the fuck alone!"
"No."
"Jungkook!"
"Taehyung!"
They glared at each other for several seconds, neither one backing down. The tension between their stares was electric, crackling with fury. Jungkook clicked his tongue in annoyance and motioned toward him with his chin.
"Look at you. You look pathetic. You’re gonna end up dead in the middle of a shoot."
"Overdramatic asshole," Taehyung scoffed with mockery.
"You’re the fucking idiot here."
"Let me stand up."
"No."
"You can’t decide for me!"
"Yes, I can."
"Fuck!"
"Fuck you," he said. Taehyung moved abruptly, trying to get up, but Jungkook didn’t let him. He leaned over him with a mocking smile. "Look, genius, if you replaced Minho, then I’m replacing you."
The blond blinked a few times, processing the sheer idiocy of what he’d just heard, before throwing his head back with a dry, humorless laugh.
"Excuse me?" he said after a few seconds, turning his head to look at him with a smirk, but Jungkook didn’t budge.
"I tried saying it in a language you’d understand, but it looks like your lack of sleep is getting worse than I thought."
"Let me spell out the obvious for you, okay?" Taehyung replied in a sweet tone that was clearly sarcastic. "You don’t know the choreography."
"I’ve got a good memory. I’ve seen you guys practice it plenty of times, and I’ve danced it for fun more than once," Jungkook tilted his head and smiled smugly. "Did you already forget I managed to dance it once just by following you?"
"Fuck, Jungkook, it’s not that simple," Taehyung grimaced.
"If I get lost, I’ll just look around and catch up," the black-haired one snapped. "Besides, the only thing left is filming Power, and that’s the simplest choreography for the guys. It’s designed to highlight the girls, we’re basically just accessories."
Even Taehyung had to admit he had a point, but he still wasn’t entirely convinced. He ran a hand down his face.
"But Let’s Get It Started might need a second take, and you wouldn’t be able to fake your way through that because it’s more complicated and—"
"No, it doesn’t," Hoseok interrupted immediately, cutting him off.
Both of them turned to look at him. He was still watching the footage on the camera screen, fully focused.
"You sure?" Taehyung asked with a furrowed brow. Hoseok nodded.
"The take was perfect."
Taehyung bit the inside of his cheek, visibly conflicted. Jungkook watched him silently, waiting for an answer. Finally, after what seemed like an internal battle, Taehyung exhaled tiredly and muttered:
"Fine..."
"I knew you’d come to your senses," Jungkook grinned, nodding slowly, which earned him a death glare from the blond.
"Shut up, asshole," he snapped, making Jungkook laugh. "Alright, everyone out."
His voice came out firmer than he actually felt.
Taehyung rubbed the back of his neck as he watched the others gather their things and leave without protest. The last thing he needed was them hanging around while they changed clothes. He waited until the final person had crossed the doorway, exhaled in relief, and turned around to find...
Jungkook still standing there, not moving.
"What are you doing?" he asked, a slight nervous edge to his voice that he really didn’t like. Jungkook crossed his arms.
"I need your clothes."
"E-Eh?" Taehyung stammered, and the tattooed one rolled his eyes in exasperation.
"The dancers’ costume. It’s the only one available. The one you wore, the one that used to be Minho’s—I need it. Two plus two equals four."
Taehyung swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry.
"Oh..."
"And you need to put on my clothes—unless you’d rather stay in your underwear."
"What?"
"Minho has your stuff. So if you don’t change, you’re stuck in your boxers, everyone’s gonna see you, and you’ll die of embarrassment. Your choice."
"Shit..." Well, when he put it like that, there really wasn’t another option. He sighed and nodded in resignation. "Alright."
He started tugging at the hem of his shirt, fingers clumsier than he would’ve liked to admit.
There shouldn’t have been any discomfort.
He’d changed clothes in front of his friends countless times. There was no reason for his skin to feel hot all of a sudden, or for that ridiculous tingling sensation to crawl up the back of his neck just because Jungkook happened to be in the same room.
Taehyung tried to focus on what he was doing, but his eyes—traitorous as ever—seemed to have a mind of their own, drifting toward Jungkook without permission. The tattooed one was lifting his own shirt.
The fabric rose slowly, first revealing his firm abdomen, then the sharp line of his obliques, and finally the wide expanse of his bare chest. His fully tattooed arm stood out starkly against his skin, drawing even more attention.
He held his breath. He had to.
He shouldn’t have been staring, not like this. But his brain wasn’t cooperating. Every sculpted muscle, every damn shadow along that toned stomach was like a magnet for his gaze. Panic swelled in his chest and he yanked his eyes away.
Nothing weird was happening. Nothing. They were just changing clothes and he wasn’t thinking inappropriate things.
Definitely not.
Taehyung swallowed and hurried to lift his own shirt, but of course, Jungkook had to be impatient. A low grunt filled the space and before Taehyung could even react, Jungkook swatted his hands away.
"Hey!"
"You’re too fucking slow," Jungkook muttered, shoving his hands aside without a care.
And then… oh, fuck.
Then he grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it up in one swift motion. The fabric slid over his head, and suddenly, Taehyung was shirtless.
Shirtless!. Because Jungkook had taken it off! As if it were the most normal thing in the world!
Taehyung froze for a second, his skin burning in a confusing mix of shock, discomfort, and something else he didn’t dare analyze.
Then he snapped out of it.
"What the fuck is wrong with you, asshole?!" he exploded, clutching his chest in indignation, trying to cover himself. Jungkook gave his torso a once-over and smiled, biting down on his lower lip. "My eyes are up here!"
"You’re fucking lazy."
"You can’t just go around stripping people like it’s nothing!"
Jungkook shrugged with zero remorse.
"I didn’t have all day to wait while you fought with your damn shirt."
"Do you hear yourself?"
"I hear you, and what I’m hearing is that you’re still wasting time instead of putting this on," he said, tossing his shirt over without even looking. Taehyung caught it purely out of reflex.
And then, before he could even form a proper response, Jungkook slipped into Minho’s shirt. And… well. It didn’t fit. Not even close.
The sleeves looked like they were about to explode from the pressure against his biceps, the fabric stretched so tightly across his torso that it strained with every breath, and the hem landed a little higher than it should’ve—leaving a sliver of skin exposed above his waistband.
"God," Taehyung muttered. "You look ridiculous."
Jungkook sighed heavily and tugged at the shirt in frustration.
"Not my fault Minho has the body of a fucking toothpick."
Taehyung pressed his lips together, trying to hold back a laugh. No, he wasn’t going to mock Minho. He was still too shaken by what had just happened to give Jungkook the satisfaction of making him laugh.
Focusing on literally anything else but his damn body, he pulled on the shirt Jungkook had thrown at him. The worst part was, he didn’t even know why it was affecting him so much. Jungkook was just a guy with abs and muscles. Nothing he hadn’t seen before. Nothing extraordinary.
Now... it was time to take off his pants.
Just pants. All he had to do was take them off and change, fast, without overthinking it. But his body wasn’t getting the memo.
His muscles were tense, the skin on his neck prickled, and his brain kept feeding him absurd, intrusive thoughts that had no business existing.
Shit, why was he like this? He’d changed like this with Minho before and everything had been completely normal. And Minho was gay. If there was anyone in that room who had a reason to make him feel weird, it would’ve been him. But no. It had been natural. Just a wardrobe change.
So why the fuck was it different with Jungkook? Jungkook was straight. Taehyung was straight. Not like he needed a reminder.
There was no reason for his skin to be burning like this or for the idea of undressing in front of him to make him feel like a hormonal teenager on the verge of a breakdown.
He scolded himself mentally for what felt like the thousandth time in ten minutes and, without giving his overactive brain another second to sabotage him, turned around, crouched to take off his shoes, and then began removing his pants.
He unbuttoned them, slid them down to his thighs, past his knees, and finally stepped out of them completely. And then, just as he stood up to hand them over to Jungkook, he turned—
"What the fuck are you doing, you pervert?!"
Jungkook, who had his own pants in hand, looked up at him like he’d just been accused of murder.
"W-What?"
"Don’t stare at my ass, asshole!"
"I-I wasn’t!"
"I saw you!"
"I wasn’t!"
"You totally were!"
"I totally wasn’t!"
"Yes, you were, damn it!"
Jungkook’s brow was furrowed and his lips twisted in an irritated grimace, but Taehyung could see the tension in his jaw—like he was holding back from saying something more—and his cheeks were slightly flushed. Taehyung had no idea why, and he wasn’t about to find out.
Because, to his absolute horror, in the middle of the argument, he realized something far, far worse.
He was looking too.
And not exactly at Jungkook’s face.
Oh.
No.
He should not have been staring at the goddamn bulge in those tight-ass boxers!
His brain short-circuited for a moment, but his body reacted before his thoughts caught up. In one sharp motion, he snatched the pants out of Jungkook’s hands and without giving him a second to recover, threw Minho’s pants straight into his face.
The hit wasn’t hard, but it was enough to knock him off balance.
"Get dressed, for fuck’s sake!" he snapped, desperate, feeling his dignity fall apart like wet tissue paper. He hoped—prayed—that Jungkook hadn’t noticed where his eyes had been.
The black-haired one pulled the pants off his face with a scoff, cheeks still faintly pink.
"Chill the fuck out, psycho."
Taehyung didn’t answer. He couldn’t. He didn’t trust his voice right now.
He turned around so he wouldn’t keep seeing more than he should and, with a speed that would’ve impressed even Hoseok on stage, slipped into Jungkook’s pants. He crouched, grabbed his shoes, and put them on, thanking any divine entity listening that this time they actually fit.
When he finished, he stood completely still, staring at the tent wall like it was the most fascinating thing in existence.
He needed his brain to shut up. He needed to forget this had ever happened. He needed to pretend everything was totally normal and that he didn’t feel like his skin was burning all the way up to the roots of his hair.
"Uh, done."
Jungkook’s voice made him flinch. He didn’t want to turn around. Didn’t want to see him. Didn’t want to risk anything.
But he did.
And… oh, for fuck’s sake—Jungkook looked uncomfortable.
Minho’s pants were tight around his thighs, clearly too small for him, and to make matters worse, they sat a little higher than they should, making them look ridiculously snug in certain areas. The black-haired one was tugging at the fabric, trying to ease the pressure by pulling it away from his skin.
Taehyung felt panic start to crawl over his body, especially when Jungkook was looking him up and down.
"Get out."
Jungkook blinked, forcing himself to look back up into Taehyung’s eyes.
"W-What?"
"Get the fuck out!"
As soon as he was alone, Taehyung let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and placed both hands on a table, lowering his head. He needed a damn break. And maybe a fucking exorcism.
What the hell was wrong with him?
It didn’t make any sense. It was just Jungkook. But for some inexplicable reason, he had him feeling things he really didn’t want to feel.
"Fuck…" he muttered to himself.
And then, a cough behind him made him jump. He turned his head, heart still racing, and his stomach dropped to the floor.
Minho.
Still there, sitting calmly in the chair with his ankle wrapped—right where Taehyung had left him before—watching him with a look of pure amusement.
A different kind of chill ran down Taehyung’s spine. The chill of utter shame, because that meant...
"No," he whispered in complete horror. "No, no, no. Tell me you didn’t."
"Didn’t what?" Minho tilted his head, his smile only growing wider.
"Don’t tell me you were here the entire fucking time."
"Of course I was. Where else would I go with a busted ankle? I couldn’t exactly hop out of here."
Shit.
Fucking piece-of-shit cursed life.
His ears were burning as he tried to pull himself together. He stood up straight and, in a desperate attempt to play it cool, casually leaned against one of the walls of the tent.
Only… it wasn’t a wall. It was fabric.
So his weight met no resistance, and within seconds, his body wobbled dangerously backward, nearly sending him ass-first to the ground. He let out a panicked yelp and grabbed the first thing within reach, barely managing to steady himself just in time.
When he looked back at Minho, the bastard looked seconds away from bursting into laughter. His amused expression had crossed into open mockery.
"You okay?"
"Shut up," Taehyung muttered, his dignity in ruins. Minho crossed his arms, staring at him with the kind of smug superiority a cat reserves for a clumsy dog. "Why didn’t you say anything when Jungkook called you a toothpick?"
Minho shrugged.
"I wanted to see how far that thing was going to go."
"That thing?" Taehyung felt his eyebrow twitch. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"
The guy didn’t answer right away. Instead, his gaze drifted down Taehyung’s body in a way that was way too obvious.
"Nothing, nothing…" he murmured, wearing the most irritating little smile. "Just watching something interesting. What’s your problem?"
His tone was suggestive, his expression mocking, and he looked at Taehyung like he was witnessing a fascinating performance. Every single fucking detail made Taehyung’s blood boil with pure indignation. His mind went blank, consumed by the only possible response to such provocation: full, aggressive denial.
"N-Nothing’s wrong with me! Shut up! Die!"
His voice came out so loud that a few people outside the tent turned to look. Minho just raised his eyebrows, clearly trying not to laugh.
Taehyung couldn’t stay in there a second longer. He spun around and stormed out of the tent without looking back. And right then—just as the fresh air hit his skin—he realized two things:
One, the clothes were too big on him.
And two... shit, he reeked of Jungkook.
The mix of sweat and Jungkook’s scent clinging to the fabric created such a strong sensory cocktail that it made him dizzy on the spot.
Fuck. This couldn’t be happening to him.
He shook the thought off immediately and tried to focus on what actually mattered—the shoot. He pressed his lips together in determination and walked over to the camera, which was in Jin’s hands, and took control of it again.
No one dared to ask what was wrong with him. Literally everyone could see the storm cloud hovering over his head, so they took the path of peace and simply followed orders when Taehyung told them to get into position.
The first take was a mess—Jungkook messed up one of the moves and they had to redo it. The second attempt was even worse, as Jungkook made another mistake. Taehyung felt the twitch in his eye getting stronger; he was proving himself right. He'd been warned about that.
Ah, but the third take…
Well.
If anyone asked, he’d say it was a technical glitch, but in reality… it was him.
For some inexplicable reason that clearly had nothing to do with his emotionally unstable state, he had ended up focusing too much on Jungkook during the recording, throwing off the balance of the group’s framing. And that, obviously, was not acceptable.
So they tried a fourth time, and that one was the charm. Perfect. Precise. Clean. Just the way it was supposed to be.
──── ∗ ⋅✧⋅ ∗ ────
The shoot was over.
The air felt lighter, the tension that had built up had finally dissipated, and the atmosphere buzzed with the satisfied energy of a team wrapping up a good day’s work.
Taehyung heard laughter around him as everyone began packing up the gear. Jin was organizing the lights, Hoseok was adjusting the set pieces with Sana, and Jimin was coiling up the cables with Mina and Momo.
Everything was under control—or at least it looked that way—because Taehyung could barely stay on his feet.
His body was exhausted down to the bone. The adrenaline had worn off, and now he just felt fucking awful. Every muscle, every fiber in his body was screaming for rest. And even though he tried to hide it, the way he leaned on every surface within reach betrayed him.
But that didn’t matter. There was still work to do. There was still equipment to pack up. He still had responsibility weighing on his shoulders.
He straightened up with effort, taking a deep breath. Bad move, because he could smell Jungkook’s damn scent still stuck to his skin, embedded in his clothes, lingering around him like a persistent shadow. A shiver ran down his neck. He couldn’t believe he still smelled like him even after changing.
It was ridiculous.
It was infuriating.
It was...
"Tae, you’ve done enough," Hoseok’s voice snapped him out of his internal spiral. Taehyung blinked, coming back to the present, and found himself staring at Hoseok and Jimin’s firm, concerned gazes.
"Go with Yoongi-hyung," Jimin added. "We’ll finish packing up."
"What? No, no. It’s my responsibility to make sure everything gets back in perfect condition," said the blond, frowning.
"And it will," Hoseok smiled. "Jin-hyung and I will handle it."
"But—"
"No buts," Jimin cut in, crossing his arms. "You’re barely standing, Taehyung. I’m not going to let you overwork yourself."
Taehyung pressed his lips together. He was right. He knew he was right. But still, the idea of walking away while everyone else was still working made him feel useless.
"We’ve got it," Hoseok insisted, patting him on the shoulder. "Go."
Taehyung let out a heavy breath, finally surrendering.
"Alright, alright..." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his car keys, but before he could react, Jin snatched them away. "Hyung, what the fuck?" he protested, turning to him. Jin shot him a sharp look.
"You're not driving like this."
"I'm not that tired," Taehyung scoffed.
"Yes, you are." Jin crossed his arms. "You're literally a zombie right now."
"Then how the hell am I supposed to get to Yoongi-hyung's place? Walking?"
"Take an Uber," Hoseok answered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
But before Taehyung could protest, another voice joined the conversation.
"Why doesn’t he go with Jungkook?" Minho chimed in from where he was sitting—on a chair, of course—with a smile that Taehyung knew couldn't mean anything good.
"What?" Taehyung blurted, immediately getting a bad feeling.
"He’s the one who has no clue what’s going on here," Minho explained casually. "He wouldn’t be any help packing, sorting, or checking things, because he doesn’t even know what you brought. He’s basically useless here."
"Hey," Jungkook called out from the other side of the set. "I’m right here, asshole."
"I don’t care," Minho said, still smiling mockingly. "You’re heading to that Yoongi guy’s place anyway, right?"
The others nodded, finding the idea completely logical.
Everyone except Taehyung, of course.
"No way in hell."
"Now what?" Jimin asked, already exasperated.
"I’ll go alone."
"Don’t be stubborn," Jungkook cut in, arms crossed. "It’s on the way for both of us. Why are you making such a big deal?"
"Because I don’t want to."
"That’s not a valid argument."
"Yes, it is."
"No, it’s not."
"Yes, yes it is."
"For fuck’s sake," Jimin groaned, rubbing his temples. "I’m not putting up with this crap. Taehyung, you’re going with Jungkook, end of story."
"But—"
"No buts."
Taehyung clamped his mouth shut and pouted slightly. Jimin had that tone, the one that meant there was no room for further discussion.
Goddamn it.
His gaze slid slowly toward Jungkook, who was looking at him with a hint of satisfaction. Taehyung felt a jab of irritation, but there was nothing he could do anymore. He pressed his lips together and let out a frustrated huff.
"Fine," he grumbled. "But if you drive like an idiot, I’m getting out at the first red light."
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say," Jungkook rolled his eyes.
With one last resentful look at Minho, Taehyung resigned himself to his fate. Leaving with Jungkook hadn’t been in the blond’s plans for the day—or for his entire life, honestly—but there he was, dragging his feet toward the younger one's car, his body on the verge of collapse and his mind lost in a thick haze of exhaustion.
Every step felt heavy. Every muscle in his body ached. Every breath felt like he was carrying a fucking piano on his back. And yet, Jungkook had the audacity to open his mouth.
"I can carry you if you want."
Taehyung nearly tripped over his own foot. He turned his head slowly, glaring at him.
"What?"
The younger one shrugged, completely serious.
"I said, I can carry you. You look like you’re about to drop."
"You’re an idiot," he muttered tiredly. "Stop saying dumb shit."
"It’s not dumb if it’s a valid option."
"It’s not valid."
"Yes, it is."
"No, it’s not."
"Are you gonna keep being stubborn?"
"Are you gonna keep being annoying?"
Jungkook sighed dramatically.
"Whatever. But if you pass out, don’t blame me for not offering to help."
Taehyung didn’t answer. Not because he didn’t want to argue, but because, honestly, his brain was too fried to keep up with the conversation.
He just wanted to get to the car, and then to Yoongi’s place. And of course, take a fucking shower to wash off this sticky, filthy feeling clinging to him.
"You don’t have to go celebrate with Yoongi-hyung, you know?" Jungkook said suddenly, in a softer tone. "You’re not even that close."
"So what?" Taehyung frowned.
"So you could just go home. Sleep. Rest like a normal person instead of forcing yourself to socialize when you can barely keep your eyes open."
Taehyung pressed his lips together. It was true he hadn’t known Yoongi long enough to call him a close friend, but...
"No. I’m going."
"Why?"
"Because I want to."
"That’s a shitty answer."
"It’s the only one you need."
"Don’t be childish. Tell me why," Jungkook rolled his eyes. Taehyung exhaled, already fighting the urge to push him into traffic.
"Because maybe we’re not that close yet, but in the short time I’ve known him, I really like him," he said with a shrug. "And I genuinely want to be there."
Jungkook seemed satisfied with that answer, smiling faintly and nodding in acceptance. Then, without another word, he opened the driver’s door and got into the car. Taehyung did the same on the passenger side, settling into the seat with a heavy sigh.
"I think I’ll just ask Yoongi-hyung if I can borrow his shower," he murmured, leaning his head back. "And I’ll be as good as new."
"You’re gonna put your sweaty clothes back on after that?" Jungkook asked as he started the engine.
"What kind of question is that?" the blond scoffed while fastening his seatbelt. "Unfortunately for me, I hate putting dirty clothes on after I shower."
"Then borrow something from Yoongi-hyung. You’re not that different in size."
"I don’t feel comfortable and I don’t know him well enough asking him for something like that."
Jungkook glanced at him with a raised brow.
"Seriously? You’re going to his house, using his bathroom, his water, but won’t ask for clean clothes?"
"Exactly."
"God, you’re hopeless."
Taehyung closed his eyes, feeling exhaustion embedded in every cell of his body. But before he could surrender to the comfort of the seat, Jungkook spoke again.
"Then wear mine."
"Excuse me?" Taehyung opened one eye.
"I’ve got a change of clothes in my backpack. I was going to hit the gym earlier, but ended up skipping it."
"I don’t want dumbass clothes."
"Dumbass clothes?" Jungkook laughed.
"Yeah."
"What the hell are dumbass clothes?"
"Yours."
"You’re such an ungrateful brat."
"You’re such a dumbass."
"You don’t have any other option."
"Yes, I do."
"No, you don’t."
"I do."
"Are we really doing this?"
"We’re really doing this."
Jungkook let out a long, exasperated sigh, but Taehyung was too tired to keep up the argument. Deep down, he knew Jungkook was right.
He hated with every fiber of his being the idea of putting on clothes he’d already worn after a fresh shower. And not only had he worn them—Minho had too. And even if he liked him more now than a few days ago, the idea of smelling him—his sweat, his scent—in that fabric wasn’t exactly pleasant.
He knew the most sensible option was to accept Jungkook’s offer. That didn’t mean he liked it. Because if there was one thing that pissed him off more than anything, it was having to admit Jungkook was right—and he’d already done that way too many times today.
And it was fucking irritating.
"Fine," he grumbled at last, arms crossed. "But if I look ridiculous in your oversized clown clothes, I will murder you."
Jungkook smiled with that damn smug expression Taehyung hated so much.
The car moved steadily through the lit-up streets, the soft hum of the engine filling the space between them. Taehyung rested his head against the window, the evening breeze slipping in through a crack in the glass. His eyes followed the passing scenery, but his mind was far from all of it.
He’d been going in circles with the same damn thought for a while. He wasn’t the kind of person who apologized easily—not because he believed he was never wrong, but because admitting when he was felt impossible sometimes.
But this time… this time he felt like he had to.
So without thinking too hard about how it might sound—because if he did think about it, he’d probably back out—he blurted out:
"Hey."
Jungkook, who had been driving in silence until then, one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the gear shift, glanced sideways at him for a second.
"What?"
"The elevator thing..."
"What about the elevator?"
"When I had... you know."
Taehyung didn’t need to spell it out. They both knew exactly what he meant.
That panic attack in the elevator, where he’d stepped in without waiting for his friends because he thought he’d be safe with Jungkook, where he had clung to him begging for help and Jungkook had done absolutely fucking nothing.
He shifted in his seat, running a hand down the back of his neck.
"I just wanted to say that..." Fuck, saying this was so fucking hard. "I wanted to say that maybe I was a bit... a bit..." Taehyung let out a long sigh. "A bit of an asshole to you during and after. I mean, during—not my fault—you weren’t helping for shit. But I mean the part in the kitchen. I was kind of rude."
"Yeah, kind of," Jungkook chuckled shortly.
"Well, I’m sorry," Taehyung rolled his eyes.
"Oh, really?"
"Yes."
"That’s your grand apology?"
"Don’t make me regret it, dumbass," he muttered, narrowing his eyes. Jungkook smiled, shaking his head.
"It’s fine. You don’t have to apologize."
"I don’t?" Taehyung frowned.
"No, I get why you reacted the way you did. You were scared and afraid of being judged. Plus, you were clearly pissed at me because I wasn’t very helpful… You asked me for one thing and I didn’t do it until I saw the souls of the dead in your eyes, begging to be released," the black-haired one admitted. "I should apologize for that. That does deserve an apology."
He was right, of course he was. Taehyung had been scared. But the fear wasn’t just about the elevator—it had been the fear of someone seeing him like that. The fear of anyone other than Jimin seeing him so vulnerable. And out of all the people in the world… did it really have to be Jungkook?
That silence was enough for Jungkook to know he’d hit the mark. The car kept moving, the topic drifting off into the air, but Taehyung still had something else to say.
"Thanks."
"For what?" Jungkook asked, raising an eyebrow.
"For not saying anything to Sana."
"You thought I would?" Jungkook glanced at him again, his expression one of disbelief.
"You could’ve."
"It wasn’t my place."
"Yeah, but still… you could have."
"Why would I?" Jungkook shrugged, and Taehyung pressed his lips together.
"Because I ruined your date with her. I’m sorry about that."
"Oh, that." Jungkook let out a low laugh.
"Yeah, that."
"Don’t worry about it."
"Really?"
"Yeah, I’m just going to get my revenge."
"What?" Taehyung asked nervously, which only made Jungkook smile.
"I’m gonna get even."
"Why the fuck am I thanking you then?" the blond looked at him with pure disdain.
"Not like that," the younger one laughed softly.
"Then how?"
"I don’t know. I’ll figure it out." The silence between them was anything but peaceful. Taehyung eyed him warily. "Dates can be made more often at another time," Jungkook added casually. "But this… this is personal."
Taehyung narrowed his eyes.
"That sounds like you’re planning to fuck me over any second now."
"Sounds like you should sleep with one eye open."
"You bastard."
"Thank you."
The car stopped at a red light. The silence stretched for several seconds until, without planning it, they both said at the same time:
"Are you giving up on Sana?"
They stared at each other. Then, also in unison, they answered:
"No."
The light turned green and Jungkook pressed on the gas.
"I still like her," Taehyung said, heavy-hearted.
"So do I," the other replied.
"I’m not giving up."
"Neither am I."
Taehyung sighed, resting his head against the window. Jungkook smiled to himself.
The competition was still on.
Chapter 12: Chapter 11
Chapter Text
"Why the hell are we even buying beer if we’re going to Yoongi-hyung’s place? I’m pretty sure he has more alcohol than blood in his system. His entire fucking fridge is packed."
The younger one rolled his eyes at the blond's comment, holding a basket full of bottles in one hand and a bag of chips he didn’t even want in the other—he’d just grabbed them after arguing for the third time in under fifteen minutes.
"Because we’re decent guests, Taehyung. Something you clearly know nothing about."
Taehyung shot him an annoyed look, then turned back toward the snack aisle, crossing his arms like he was making the most important decision of his life. They’d been there way too long already because the dumbass kept insisting they had to bring 'something delicious' and rejected everything Jungkook suggested. Those chips? Nope. Those nuts? For old people. Those cookies? Weird aftertaste. Jungkook was this close to losing his damn mind. Why had he ever thought stopping at the store two blocks before Yoongi’s house with Taehyung was a good idea?
"If you keep rejecting everything, I’m just gonna buy broccoli to piss you off."
"Shut up, I’m almost decided."
"We’ve been here like twenty minutes, you could’ve closed your eyes and grabbed anything already."
"Oh, I’m so sorry. Apparently, with every passing minute, the price goes up."
Jungkook inhaled deeply. If he could go back in time, and Hoseok ever tried to set them up again, he’d tell him to shove his ideas of harmony and friendship right up his ass.
They eventually left the store with a six-pack of beer, a couple of bottles of soju that Jungkook grabbed just because he genuinely needed something to hold him over, and a ridiculous amount of snacks no one really needed, but they bought anyway just to stop arguing.
The walk to Yoongi’s place was relatively peaceful, though Jungkook could feel Taehyung’s occasional glances. When they finally arrived, the door opened before they even knocked.
"Well, look who showed up together," Namjoon greeted them, leaning against the doorframe with a beer in hand and a surprised smile.
"How’d you know we were here?" Taehyung asked.
"I heard Jungkook’s car," he replied, tilting his head before eyeing the bags in their hands and nodding toward them. "What’d you bring?"
"Unlike you, we actually know how to be good guests," Jungkook said as he stepped inside, placing the bags on the table.
Namjoon chuckled, and Taehyung followed behind, shoving Jungkook as he passed. Yoongi was in the living room, wearing a cozy black hoodie and sporting messy hair. He looked up at them with the same suspicious expression Namjoon had.
"You guys came together? What’s going on—are you in your redemption arc already?"
"Don’t talk nonsense, hyung," the black-haired one rolled his eyes. "I’ll hate this guy till the day I die."
"Yoongi-hyung, happy birthday," Taehyung ignored Jungkook and turned to the oldest with a smile, stepping in for a brief hug.
"Oh, right. Happy birthday, hyung," Jungkook added as he went over to do the same.
"'Oh, right'? You’re such an asshole," Yoongi lightly smacked Jungkook’s head with his knuckles. "But thanks, both of you."
"How old are you turning, hyung?" the blond asked curiously.
"How old do you think I am?" Yoongi took a sip from his beer and looked at Taehyung.
Taehyung stared at him for a moment, eyes narrowed as he scanned his face, then shrugged.
"Twenty-eight."
Yoongi blinked in disbelief.
"What the fuck?"
"He’s not that old, Tae," Namjoon laughed.
"I’m turning twenty-five, you idiot."
"Oh," Taehyung smirked mockingly. "Well, you’re still old."
"Jungkook’s rubbing off on you—you’re becoming just as insufferable and rude," the older one said in mock disappointment.
"I swear I have nothing to do with that shit," Jungkook replied immediately. "He was already a pain in the ass before he met me."
Taehyung looked pleased with himself for a second—until he hesitated, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Jungkook noticed instantly—that sudden awkward energy, like he wanted to say something but was too embarrassed.
And of course, why not use the opportunity to mess with him?
"Yoongi-hyung, Taehyung wants to know if he can shower here ‘cause he says he sweat like a fucking pig during the shoot."
Taehyung’s expression changed instantly—horror, then pure rage.
"Jungkook! You motherfucker!" Taehyung shouted. Namjoon and Yoongi burst out laughing as Jungkook took a step back to dodge any incoming physical assault. "Did you have to say it like that, you asshole?"
"I just passed along your message, don’t be so dramatic."
Still laughing, Yoongi waved a hand and then pointed toward his room.
"Go on, idiot. Before Jungkook starts exposing even more of your secrets."
Taehyung shot Jungkook a glare filled with pure hatred, then sighed in defeat.
"Can I use a towel?"
"There’s some in the bathroom."
"Here, take this." Jungkook took the bag off his shoulder and practically tossed it at his face. Taehyung caught it, throwing him another death glare before disappearing into the bathroom, leaving his phone on the living room table.
Jungkook collapsed onto the couch with satisfaction, feeling victorious. Annoying Taehyung and seeing him all worked up was hilarious—he fucking loved it. Until Namjoon raised an eyebrow at him.
"You gave him clothes?"
"Yeah, but not because I wanted to."
"Mhm," Namjoon gave him a weird little smile.
"I don’t believe a damn word," Yoongi added.
"Look—he hasn’t slept properly in like two weeks, Minho got hurt, Taehyung had to step in, and he’s barely holding it together enough to show up tonight without collapsing," the tattooed one explained, counting the points off on his fingers. "So I had to do one good deed and let him borrow my clothes so he could stay awake and celebrate your birthday, hyung. So really, it’s your fault."
"Oh, sure. Blame me now," Yoongi threw a cushion at him, but the black-haired one caught it effortlessly.
From his seat, he could hear the sound of running water from Yoongi’s bathroom in the background. He swallowed, forcing himself to ignore the sudden swarm of very impure thoughts flooding his brain.
"When are the others getting here?" asked the gray-haired one.
"We left them organizing everything. Once they load the truck they rented, they’re supposed to drop the equipment at Taehyung’s house," he explained simply. "I think they’ll shower there—Jimin says the place has like twenty bathrooms—then they’ll come over after picking up Yoongi-hyung’s cake."
"What’s left to finish the video?" Yoongi asked.
"Just the editing, so Taehyung can upload it before the seventeenth."
"Then it’s not much," the gray-haired one said again. "He’ll finally get to rest. But why didn’t he skip tonight? He looked really pale when he got here."
"I think he’s even lost a bit of weight," Yoongi said, and now that Jungkook thought about it, he realized it might be true. It made him press his lips together.
"He wanted to come. He really likes you, Yoongi-hyung."
"Aww," the older one said, scrunching his nose. "I like him more than you already."
"Hey!"
In the background, they heard the faucet turn off. The water stopped running. Jungkook glanced toward Yoongi’s hallway. Which meant the thoughts returned. Any moment now, Taehyung would walk out wearing his clothes. And the black-haired one would once again have to face that.
Earlier, when he saw him wearing his shirt and pants, he felt a little attacked. He didn’t want to admit that he liked it—but he did. And that was a big problem. For some reason, he couldn’t stop looking at him. He had messed up twice during the shoot because he’d been staring at him instead of watching his teammates.
It wasn’t a big deal, right? Sharing clothes between friends wasn’t unusual. He himself had lent pajamas to Namjoon, Yoongi, and Hoseok before—especially when they ended up crashing at his place without planning to.
But this was different, because it was Taehyung.
So, certain that his life was going to hell, he decided to simply not think about it. He really tried—he swore he did—but then Yoongi’s bedroom door opened, and with it, his mental peace was gone. Taehyung walked out, hair still damp and tousled from a towel that had clearly failed its mission. Jungkook’s shirt, which fit him perfectly, hung a little looser on the blond. And the pants sat a bit lower on his hips.
And that was a problem. A fucking problem.
"Honestly, this is your fault," the blond said as he reached his side.
"What are you talking about?" Jungkook asked, trying to mask the sudden nervousness in his voice.
"You stink," Taehyung exhaled, shaking the fabric near his neck.
"What?" Jungkook frowned.
"Your clothes. What the hell kind of detergent do you use?"
"If it bothers you that much, you can go naked."
"I’d rather this than walk around with my dick out, thanks." Taehyung dropped Jungkook’s bag on the couch next to him like it was nothing. But Jungkook, on the other hand, was having a catastrophic internal meltdown.
"I didn’t think the smell would be so invasive for you."
"Of course it wouldn’t be if the goal was to suffocate me with you, but it’s not, so yes—I’m absolutely drowning."
"Shut up."
Taehyung scoffed but didn’t push it further. Only that, when he walked toward the center of the room to grab his phone from the table, he bent down, leaned forward, folded himself right in front of Jungkook. And that was when everything went to hell—because Jungkook shouldn’t have looked.
He knew he shouldn’t have looked.
But he did.
He had already tried to ignore the way he looked in those pants while dancing. And he had also tried to ignore the fact that when they were changing, he’d literally had to watch him strip off his pants and stand there in a rather snug pair of boxers. Okay—he didn’t have to look, the absolute bastard turned around on purpose, which just made everything worse.
And if at that moment he thought he might die, this wasn’t any different—even with more clothing. Back in the tent, he tried to play it cool, he fucking tried. But Taehyung had caught him staring like three times. He denied it, obviously. If Rodrick Heffley had taught him anything, it was that rule number one was: deny everything.
But now? Now he wasn’t just aware Taehyung was there. He had him in his direct line of sight, and his brain turned to absolute chaos in seconds. Now that he knew what was under there, had seen it, his stupid brain decided to burn the image of Taehyung’s ass into his memory forever.
And in that moment, after trying his damn hardest to block that memory out, Taehyung had to go and do that fucking move right in front of him, dragging him straight back into his own misery. He forced himself to look away immediately, but the damage was already done. And now he was screwed.
"Jungkook." Taehyung’s voice snapped him out of his spiral.
"What?"
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
Jungkook swallowed, regaining composure with what little dignity he had left. Taehyung was already sitting on the couch next to Yoongi.
"I wasn’t looking at you in any way, asshole. Fuck off."
Taehyung frowned but didn’t push it, and Jungkook let out a breath of relief. After a few long and torturous minutes of internal struggle, someone knocked at the door. Namjoon got up to open it, and chaos erupted in the house.
"Look who’s here!" Hoseok announced with a radiant smile as he walked in energetically, tossing his jacket over one of the dining chairs. He had the cake in his hands and set it down on the table.
"Relax, no one missed you," Namjoon joked, earning a light punch on the arm from Jimin as he passed by.
Momo, Mina, and Sana came in behind them, chatting among themselves, while Jin closed the door with an exhausted sigh. As soon as Jungkook saw Sana, his entire crisis vanished, and he smiled automatically.
"We the poor workers arrived" Jin added dramatically.
"Jin-hyung, your only job was to press a button all afternoon and babysit the gear," Taehyung said from his spot.
"I recorded a song."
"One, and then you sat back down."
"Shut up, I suffered mentally with you all," he crossed his arms with an indignant expression. "I also wanted to rip my hair out every time Taehyung yelled ‘again!’ It was traumatic."
"So?" Yoongi asked, looking at them with interest. "How’d it go?"
"Fine. We’re horribly tired, but it went well," Jimin flopped down next to Jungkook with a long sigh.
"If you consider that Tae almost got killed in the process, I guess so" Jin muttered while taking off his coat.
"It was nothing important," Taehyung cut in quickly, waving it off. "Just small stuff."
"Yeah, sure. Because nearly passing out from exhaustion is totally minor," Jungkook mocked.
"I’ve told you so many times to take it easy, Tae," Sana said, approaching to gently run her fingers through his hair. Jungkook bit his tongue and had to physically stop himself from getting up and pulling them apart. The blond smiled sweetly at the brunette and didn’t move away at all.
"I’m fine, really. Don’t worry—I took a shower and now I feel brand new," the blond sighed before turning to Jimin and Hoseok. "Speaking of showers, I hope you left my house exactly how you found it. No hair in the bathroom or puddles on the floor."
"Yeah, yeah, calm down. Everything’s fine," Jimin rolled his eyes, but then frowned slightly as he pointed at something. "Is that outfit new?"
Taehyung looked down at himself and let out a small nervous laugh before shaking his head.
"No, Jungkook lent it to me," he admitted with a bit of hesitation. Jimin raised his eyebrows, stunned. "Since I wasn’t supposed to dance, I didn’t think I’d sweat so much."
"Speaking of Jungkook—if he hadn’t shown up, you’d probably be in the hospital right now," Momo said, clearly concerned.
"No, I wouldn’t!"
Jungkook agreed. It pissed him off how stubborn Taehyung was. Anyone could see he was doing badly—he looked anemic—but arguing with him was a complete waste of time.
"Alright, assholes, give me your decent faces," Jin said. Jungkook blinked as the camera flash lit up the living room.
"Jin-hyung, can you stop taking pictures like this is a wedding shoot?"
Jin lowered his phone just to give him a deadpan look.
"Shut up and smile."
"But—"
Another flash.
"Fuck!"
"I said shut up and smile."
Jungkook exhaled with frustration but obeyed. Jin always got what he wanted anyway, and fighting him was as useful as yelling at a wall.
The living room was filled with chatter and laughter. Yoongi, who wasn’t exactly the kind of person to make a fuss over his birthday, seemed more relaxed than usual—he looked genuinely happy, and that warmed Jungkook’s heart.
They had made him sit at the head of the dining table, with a small cake in front of him and everyone gathered around holding beers.
"How does it feel to turn twenty-five, grandpa?" the blond teased with a smirk, taking a sip of his beer.
"I don’t know, some idiot is calling me grandpa," Yoongi replied without even looking at him.
"At this rate, you’re gonna start growing gray hair."
"You do realize that in three years you’ll be my age, right?"
"Three years is a long time," Taehyung shrugged. "You’ll be way older by then."
"Better shut up before I smash your face into the cake," Yoongi said, pointing at the dessert for emphasis. "Why don’t you go bother Jin? He’s turning twenty-six."
"Hey!" Jin interjected. "You have to call me hyung too, know your place."
"As long as we’re both twenty-five, I’ll call you whatever I want."
"He’s right!" Taehyung’s attention shifted to Jin, and he threw an arm around his shoulders. "You’re even more of a grandpa—how does it feel to—"
"Kim Taehyung, don’t you dare finish that sentence."
Jungkook chuckled quietly. The conversation quickly drifted in different directions. At some point, Jimin sat next to Yoongi, and they got caught up in their own world, chatting about something Jungkook couldn’t quite hear. It wasn’t unusual to see them talk, but he did notice they seemed to be getting along better and better. Jimin laughed at something Yoongi said and bumped him with his shoulder confidently, while the black-haired one didn’t seem bothered at all by the invasion of his space.
However, Jungkook’s attention drifted away from them when Sana stepped up to the center of the table with a plate in her hands.
"I can’t believe no one’s served the birthday boy a piece yet," she said, placing the plate in front of Yoongi with a smile.
The blond cleared his throat.
"I was about to do it."
"Sure you were," Jungkook chimed in mockingly. "Right after you shoved half of it down your throat first."
"That actually sounds like a great idea."
"You’re shameless."
The blond just shrugged with a mischievous grin. Jungkook shook his head, but he couldn’t help noticing the way Taehyung slowly licked the fork after taking a bite of cake.
Shit.
He shook his head, trying to get the image out of it immediately. No, he was not doing this again. He was not going to start noticing weird things about Taehyung—or his damn mouth.
So instead, he focused on more important things. Like Sana. Jungkook was particularly chivalrous that evening, hardly letting her get up to do anything on her own. If she wanted more soda, he rushed to pour it for her. If she wanted more cake, he cut her a slice. If she needed to open a beer can but couldn’t because her pretty nails might break, he opened it for her.
Clearly, seeing these acts of service, Taehyung didn’t stay behind and hit back with something bolder—he offered Sana one of his famous massages since she said she was sore. The brunette was delighted by those magical hands. This time, Jungkook didn’t just sit back and watch; he 'casually' ended up pushing Taehyung aside. And by casually, that meant he accidentally tripped and knocked him away, then apologized for his clumsiness.
They both earned multiple warning glances from Hoseok, so they had to tone it down.
Hours passed, and the night had grown a little quieter now that part of the group had already left. Outside, the nighttime air was cool, and Jungkook stayed by Yoongi’s front door, resting one hand on the frame while watching everyone say their goodbyes.
Jin was dragging the blond by the wrist, clearly not giving him a chance to slip away into some nonsense. He was going to take him home and make sure he went straight to bed. Meanwhile, Sana and Mina walked away giggling—probably talking about how pathetic he and Taehyung had been all evening, because the two idiots had clearly gone right back to their usual behavior: bickering and competing for a bit of Sana’s attention.
Namjoon was also at the entrance, waiting for the last ones to leave so he could lock up. Both he and Jungkook were staying with Yoongi that night.
"Hey," Jungkook called out just before Taehyung stepped out the door. "About the clothes..."
Taehyung, halfway through being dragged off by Jin, stopped and looked at him with slightly raised eyebrows, as if he couldn’t figure out what the hell he wanted now.
"I’ll wash them and bring them back, happy?" the blond said, rolling his eyes in annoyance. "Don’t stress me out—your stress stresses me out."
"Yeah... that sounds good..." Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck, not sure why he suddenly felt so awkward. "Take care, okay? I mean—don’t be a dumbass and don’t kill yourself over your own stubbornness."
There were a couple of seconds of silence. Taehyung looked at him with a hard-to-read expression, clearly waiting for him to follow up with a joke or some smart-ass remark.
"Yeah, I know," he finally said when it was clear Jungkook wasn’t going to add anything else. But then he narrowed his eyes. "But don’t tell me what to do. It’s not like you care."
"I don’t care at all, you egocentric little prince who thinks the world revolves around him," Jungkook shot back, crossing his arms. "I’m just saying it so someone doesn’t have to drag your ass out of a coma again."
"I didn’t ask you to do that," Taehyung scoffed. "And don’t call me that, dumbass."
"Because you were wrecked, idiot. You were more dead than alive. You’re lucky I decided to be a Good Samaritan... little prince."
"Oh yes, I’m so grateful," he said with a sarcastic grimace. "Really, Jungkookie, I don’t know what I’d do without you." His tone was sweet and dripping with irony.
"Taehyung," Jungkook warned.
"I’ll try not to die, okay?" Taehyung rolled his eyes, then added, "But not because you asked me to—just to be clear, you rabid dog."
"Taehyung, are you done?" Jin interrupted, clearly tired of standing there as an unwilling spectator. He couldn’t leave without him, and no matter how much he pulled, the blond wouldn’t budge. "I want to go home and sleep, after I make sure you do."
The blond sighed dramatically before raising a hand in farewell.
"Good night, everyone... except Jungkook, for being a pain in the ass."
And with that, he left. Jungkook rolled his eyes and slammed the door shut. But when he turned around, he found Namjoon and the black-haired one staring at him with... a strange look on their faces.
"What are you looking at?" he asked, frowning.
Namjoon wasted no time opening his mouth, and what came out was the last thing Jungkook wanted to hear.
"‘Take care, little prince,’" Namjoon said in a seductive tone toward Yoongi, placing his hand on the older one’s neck.
"‘Yeah, I know,’" Yoongi replied in the same tone, cupping Namjoon’s cheeks.
"‘I don’t want to have to rescue you again like the prince charming I am... ah, it would kill me to see you like that,’" Namjoon sighed dramatically, placing a hand over his forehead.
"‘I’ll try not to die, so I can live longer by your side,’" Yoongi continued with a melancholic expression.
Jungkook felt his face burn.
"Go very directly to hell," he growled. "I’ll kill you both if you keep with this stupid little joke."
"But how does that make us feel safe?" Namjoon pouted slightly.
"Or do you only care about Taehyung’s safety?" Yoongi one added with a sly grin, tilting his head.
"Get out of your fantasy world. It’s not a good place," the black-haired one rolled his eyes.
"You can’t blame us," Namjoon said, shrugging with fake innocence. "I mean... the guy is wearing your clothes."
"Yeah, because he came back from filming looking like shit and showered here to wake himself up," Jungkook defended. "I explained that when we got here—weren’t you listening?"
"And that’s why he’s wearing your clothes," Yoongi concluded.
"He hates putting dirty clothes on clean skin."
"And you know that because...?" Namjoon asked in a suggestive tone.
"Because he told me on the way here!"
"And then he just grabbed your clothes?" Namjoon asked mockingly, raising his eyebrows.
"I offered him Yoongi-hyung’s clothes and he refused!"
"But he did accept yours?" the gray-haired one tilted his head with a smile.
"Go eat a whole lot of shit."
Yoongi, who had been watching the exchange with an amused expression, tilted his head thoughtfully.
"He looked cute," said the gray-haired one, and Jungkook looked at him like he had just grown a third eye.
"What?"
"I mean, the clothes are already big on you, but they’re even bigger on him. It makes him look... I don’t know, softer. He looks good. Objectively speaking."
Jungkook scrunched up his nose in pure disgust, and Namjoon burst out laughing right in his face. What the fuck? Why would Yoongi think that? Well... Yoongi was pansexual, so it made sense he might find Taehyung attractive... but cute and soft in the same sentence as the blond's name? That felt wrong.
"He doesn’t look cute, he looks ridiculous. Like a damn clown," he said, full of distaste.
"Yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that," Yoongi replied, rolling his eyes in amusement.
"And speaking of clothes..." Namjoon chimed in suddenly. "And the underwear?"
"What about the underwear?"
"Well..." Namjoon paused, clearly savoring the confusion on Jungkook’s face. "He doesn’t like wearing dirty clothes over clean skin, right? So... did he use yours?"
Jungkook opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
"...I hope not."
Panic flared in his chest and he practically flew toward his bag, rummaging through it desperately. When he found his boxers still there, untouched, he let out a long, relieved sigh.
"Then," Yoongi added calmly, "if he’s not wearing your underwear... is he just wearing your pants?"
He froze.
His mind, out of pure and cruel betrayal, conjured the image of the blond wearing his pants and nothing underneath.
Fuck.
He didn’t... right? Who does that? Like, he could get a rash or some kind of irritation, no one would actually wear someone else’s pants without underwear... right? But the seed of doubt had been planted, and worse, the image had been seen, and now everything was spinning.
"I’m going to..." he tried to say, but his voice came out in a whisper and he had to clear his throat. "I’m going to wash those twice when he gives them back."
Namjoon burst out laughing.
"Maybe three times, just in case."
Yoongi just smiled contentedly while Jungkook cursed his existence—and that of those two idiots.
──── ∗ ⋅✧⋅ ∗ ────
The cursor blinked on the editing program’s timeline, and the blond had his eyes glued to the screen with an almost obsessive concentration. He’d been sitting there for hours, same position, headphones on, with a random playlist playing in his ears.
It was nearly five-thirty in the afternoon, and he had kept his stomach from growling by munching on some cookies he found in the pantry. They were a bit stale, but they did the trick, since he was planning to stay put for a while longer—until, of course, there was a loud knock on the door followed by a text message.
Hobi-hyung
Taehyung, open up or I’ll knock the door down. <<
Goddammit.
He left his cave—or rather, his room—with his phone in hand and opened the door with a face full of pure irritation, only to find his friend standing there holding two bags of food, one eyebrow raised.
"Knew you were in full hermit mode," Hoseok said, giving him a gentle push as he entered. "Jesus, look at this disaster... have you eaten anything that didn’t come in a plastic wrapper in the last three days?"
Taehyung leaned against one of the walls and sighed, too tired to argue.
"I’m busy."
"Yeah, sure, busy starving to death," Hoseok set the bags on the table and started pulling out food containers. "Lucky for you, your hero showed up with homemade ramen and kimbap." The smell made Taehyung’s stomach betray him with a growl, and Hoseok grinned triumphantly. "Knew you were screwed. Eat. Now."
"How did you know my diet was made of plastic wrappers?"
"Jimin sent me, since he’s in class right now. He also told me to tell you to answer his fucking texts or he’ll castrate you," Hoseok said, pointing at Taehyung’s phone still in his hand. "He was very detailed about the method he’d use to remove your dick, so I’d take it seriously."
Taehyung unlocked the phone. Truth was, he hadn’t been paying attention, and now he felt a little guilty.
Jiminnie 💕
Are you still alive or did you turn into a corpse glued to your chair? << (12:08 p.m.)
Can’t believe you’re leaving me unread. I hate you. << (2:47 p.m.)
ANSWER OR I’M COMING TO YOUR HOUSE. << (4:22 p.m.)
I already sent Hobi. He has a little message from me that I hope you take seriously, dumbass. << (5:18 p.m.)
Well... that was something. Taehyung replied that he was alive—unfortunately—and told him not to worry, that Hoseok had arrived and he’d received the message.
Hoseok set the food on the dining table and gave him a look, nodding toward the seat. Taehyung didn’t have the energy to resist, so he obeyed, eating in silence while Hoseok watched him like a misbehaving child.
When he finished, his friend looked satisfied, but still gave him a warning look before leaving.
"If you die from malnutrition, I’m reviving you just so I can kill you again."
"Yeah, yeah... whatever you say. Thanks, hyung."
And with that, Hoseok left him alone again with his laptop and the endless workload.
He went back upstairs, put his headphones on, and resumed working. There were only four days left until the deadline to submit the video. Then, he could focus on his own schoolwork as usual, and things would go back to normal.
If he wanted to attend Yoongi and Mina’s party, he’d have to balance everything. That’s why he didn’t have time for nonsense like sleeping, eating, or, in general, living like a functional human being. He couldn’t let anyone down. Too many people were depending on him.
He wasn’t even sure how long it had been since he last blinked, but judging by the fact that his energy drink bottle was empty and the clock on his laptop read 2:27 a.m., it was probably way too long. He sighed, rubbing his eyes with his fingers. His back was stiff, his neck tense, and his eyelids felt heavier than his entire existence.
By the time he finally decided he needed a break, the clock said 2:41 a.m., and his body was screaming that if he didn’t sleep soon, he’d probably end up collapsing onto the keyboard. With a sigh, he closed the laptop and stretched in his chair, wincing as his back cracked in a way that was genuinely concerning.
Maybe—just maybe—he’d sleep a little.
But just as he was considering dragging himself to bed after turning off the lights, his phone vibrated on the desk.
He frowned. Who the hell was texting him at this hour?
He picked up the device with annoyance, and when he saw the name on the notification, he almost threw it out the window.
Biggest idiot of the century
Where’s my clothes? <<
"Oh, for fuck’s sake..."
He clenched his jaw and typed a quick reply.
>>I’ll give you your clothes back when I feel like it. Stop being a pain in the ass.
He locked the screen with a huff and tossed the phone onto the bed.
Still, curiosity got the best of him. Jungkook never texted him—especially not at this ungodly hour. So he walked over to the bed, flopped down on his stomach, and unlocked the phone again.
>>Why are you even awake?
You're not the only one with deadlines. I’ve got submissions too.<<
Taehyung stared at the screen for a moment, blinking slowly before typing a simple:
>>Ah.
He figured that would be the end of it, but to his surprise, Jungkook didn’t shut up.
Have you eaten today, or did you skip meals again? <<
The question caught him off guard. He frowned and replied without thinking much about it.
>>None of your business. You’d probably be happy if I dropped dead anyway.
Don’t talk shit. No one would be happy if you died. Just eat something, for fuck’s sake. <<
>>Hoseok already handled it. He came over with food and forced me.
>>How do you even know I’ve been skipping meals?
I was with Jimin and Jin this morning. They said you’re a fucking disaster. <<
>>Fucking snitches.
More like, fuck you for not knowing how to take care of yourself. <<
They went back and forth for a while longer, throwing insults like it was their native tongue. But eventually, Taehyung ended the conversation with a blunt:
>>I’ll return your clothes soon. Chill the hell out, hurricane.
And with that, he stopped replying. He let out a long sigh and dropped his head onto the pillow, staring up at the ceiling. However, when he closed his eyes, a familiar scent crept into his thoughts.
It was Jungkook’s clothes.
The damn things were still in his room, unwashed, and now his brain had decided this was the perfect moment to remind him of it. He groaned, burying his face in his hands.
"Fuck my life and my goddamn superpowered sense of smell." Because the last thing he needed right now was Jungkook’s scent lingering in his head. So he grabbed the clothes, tossed them out of his room, and crawled back into bed.
Chapter 13: Chapter 12
Chapter Text
"Who the fuck decides to take a tequila shot before dinner?" Jimin asked with a look of pure disappointment as he watched Taehyung slam the little glass down on the table.
"Someone who's been killing himself editing for nights on end and deserves a fucking celebration," Taehyung replied, narrowing his eyes as the burn scorched his throat. "Besides, it's to build up an appetite."
"Right," Jimin scoffed, turning his head toward Hoseok. "Are you sure it was a good idea to drag him out of the cave he's been hiding in for days straight into a gastro-bar? 'Cause I have a feeling this one’s going to be passed out before midnight."
"Oh, let him be, he deserves it," Hoseok smiled, leaning back in his chair with arms crossed. "Besides, what’s a night out without a little chaos?"
"It’s Wednesday," Jimin said seriously.
"Details, details."
"If I fall asleep on the table, don’t blame me. Just wake me up before you start stealing my food," Taehyung said with a heavy exhale, half-closing his eyes. His body felt like it was made of concrete after days of barely sleeping, and while his brain agreed that going out to celebrate was a great idea, his central nervous system was not on board.
"If you pass out at the table, Tae, I swear I’ll draw a pair of dicks on your forehead with a permanent marker," Jimin patted his arm, smiling like an angel but with demonic intentions.
"And I’ll record it," Jin added, way too amused.
"Oh, you’re all so mature, I can’t believe it," muttered the blond with heavy sarcasm.
"It wouldn’t be so bad if he did fall asleep," Jungkook chimed in with that casual tone of his, laced with just enough mischief to make Taehyung’s blood boil. "I mean, then we could all have a decent conversation without some idiot interrupting every two minutes."
Taehyung cracked one eye open and slowly turned his head toward Jungkook like a horror movie villain.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me," Jungkook smirked, deliberately provoking him.
The blond straightened in his seat with a slow, deliberate movement, clearly preparing a lethal comeback—but before he could speak, Sana turned toward them with her usual dazzling smile.
"Come on, guys, don’t start. Tonight’s a celebration," she said sweetly, and just like that, with her radiant charm, she sliced through the tension in a second. It was honestly incredible how much power she had over the two of them.
Taehyung would’ve loved to throw in a witty remark—if Sana hadn’t shut it down first—but truthfully, the alcohol in his system, though they’d only just started drinking, was already making him a little too relaxed. Or maybe it was the sleep deprivation. Now that the damned video was edited and uploaded, his body had fully entered do whatever you want, I don’t give a shit anymore mode.
The only thing that did matter—and the reason he was really here—was that he fucking deserved to celebrate. He’d worked too hard not to.
The gastropub was packed, the music playing at just the right volume to set the mood without making them shout across the table. There was low lighting, a modern-industrial vibe in the decor, and a warm blend of scents—wood, liquor, grilled meat—that triggered a vicious hunger in him. He shifted in his seat, glancing around the table.
Everyone was already settled in, and—as if the universe was playing a joke on him—his plan to sit next to Sana had been perfectly mirrored by Jungkook. The black-haired boy held his gaze with fake innocence while scooting his chair a little closer to Sana.
Bastard.
Taehyung mirrored the movement, smirking to himself when he managed to reclaim a bit of territory. He could feel Minho’s eyes on them, watching like it was a cheap soap opera playing out live. Sana, however, seemed blissfully unaware of the silent war unfolding on either side of her, too busy scanning the menu with excitement.
"Wow! There are so many good options," Sana said with a bright smile. "I can’t decide between pizza, ramen, or a burger."
"Pizza," Taehyung said instantly.
"Burger," Jungkook said at the exact same time.
They turned to look at each other. Sana blinked.
"Uh?"
"Nothing," they both said in unison, quickly returning their attention to the menu like they hadn’t just been about to fight over her meal choice. They weren’t going to start another childish argument again—like the one where they almost threw hands in the campus café over whether coffee or chocolate was better.
"I think I’ll go with a burger," said the brunette cheerfully.
Taehyung felt the taste of victory slip right through his fingers when Jungkook smiled, clearly pleased. Goddamn it.
"It’s a good choice, but if you end up wanting pizza, we could share," the blond added with a polite smile, trying to salvage some ground, and throwing a fleeting glance at Jungkook. He wasn’t going down without a fight.
"Oh, thanks, Taehyung," Sana replied sweetly, lightly brushing her hand over the blond’s arm. Jungkook clicked his tongue softly, and Taehyung felt a stupid surge of satisfaction.
Meanwhile, the table conversation shifted toward Minho. Namjoon and Yoongi, who hadn’t met him before, were listening intently as he talked about his ankle injury and how his recovery was going.
"It wasn’t too bad, luckily," Minho explained, stretching his leg a little under the table. "But I have to wear this damn brace for a while."
"And you can dance again after that?" Yoongi asked, eyebrows slightly furrowed.
"My physical therapist says I’ll be fine in a few weeks."
"That’s a relief," Namjoon commented. "From what I’ve heard, you’re really good."
"Oh, thanks," Minho replied with smug satisfaction.
"You should see him after a few drinks," Hoseok chimed in.
"Or when he’s trying to flirt," Jimin added with a laugh. "His moves upgrade instantly."
"Don’t expose me!"
Everyone burst out laughing, and as the drinks flowed and the conversations got louder, the night quickly picked up steam. Taehyung, though visibly relaxed, was also painfully aware of everything. Like Jungkook’s radiant smile every time Sana said something. Or the way Sana leaned toward him slightly when she laughed. And how he himself, almost on instinct, tried to do the exact same thing.
It was bullshit.
He let out a sigh and took a long sip of his drink, letting the alcohol’s warmth help dull the stupid weight in his chest.
This was his night to celebrate. His break. He wasn’t going to let any of that distract him. He wouldn’t let some dumb jealousy over a girl’s attention ruin his evening.
Or at least, that was the plan... until Jungkook turned to him with a crooked smile, looked past Sana, and muttered just loud enough for only him to hear:
"Why so quiet, litte prince? Giving up already?"
Taehyung met his gaze, spotting that familiar gleam of challenge in the black-haired boy’s eyes.
Oh, you son of a bitch.
Jungkook could be a manipulative little shit when he wanted to be, and Taehyung had no intention of backing down.
"Sana, would you like to try a sip of my cocktail?" Taehyung asked, pushing his glass slightly toward her with a smile.
"Really?" Jungkook cut in before Sana could answer. "Don’t listen to him. I bet it tastes awful because he has shitty taste, and it’s probably poisoned. And if it’s not poisoned, since his taste is garbage, you’ll get an upset stomach the second you try it."
Sana laughed while Taehyung rolled his eyes.
"God, can you not be so dramatic?"
"I don't think that would happen if it’s on the menu, Jungkook," Sana said with a giggle. Then she took Taehyung’s glass, brought the straw to her lips, and took a sip. "Mmm! It tastes good, not strong at all. It's sweet."
"Try mine now," insisted the black-haired boy.
"What is it?" the girl asked, taking Jungkook’s glass.
"It’s a Daiquiri."
"Oh, does it have white rum?" Sana paused mid-motion, the glass still in her hand.
"Yeah, it does. Also lime juice and—"
"Ugh, I don’t like white rum," the brunette made a face and handed the cocktail back to the tattooed boy. "But thank you!"
The blond smiled smugly, taking it as a personal win.
"Oh well... waiter! I’d like another cocktail, no white rum—" Jungkook raised his hand, but Sana quickly reached out and lowered it between laughs.
"Don’t order another one just for that, you idiot!" she said sweetly.
Taehyung stopped smiling and scrunched up his nose.
The mood at the table had completely shifted. What started as a relaxed dinner to celebrate had turned into an alcohol-fueled chaos, full of loud laughter, teasing, and moments that Taehyung knew they’d all regret the next day... or at least, the ones who didn’t end up completely wasted might remember.
Glasses were being emptied and refilled nonstop, plates cluttered the table in a growing mess, and appetizers—fries, chunks of meat, leftover bites—were being passed around like currency. Taehyung leaned back in his chair, feeling the pleasant warmth of alcohol spreading through his body. The exhaustion from the past few days still lingered in some corner of his mind, but right now, with a cocktail in hand, several tequila shots in his bloodstream, and Sana laughing beside him, he felt exactly where he was meant to be.
But what was truly entertaining him in that moment, even more than the chance to outshine Jungkook, was watching Yoongi.
The bastard was drunk. Not in a tragic, rambling-about-your-ex way, but in that rare and exotic state of drunkenness where Yoongi became loud, extroverted, said the dumbest things, and laughed uncontrollably at any nonsense.
"No, no, wait!" Yoongi burst out between laughs, slapping the table with his palm as he tried to catch his breath. "Are you telling me... he thought you were the bartender and asked you for a drink?"
Jimin, already half doubled over with laughter, nodded with his forehead pressed against Yoongi’s shoulder.
"Yes! And the worst part is, I actually served him because I didn’t know what else to do."
Yoongi burst into laughter again, leaning back so far he nearly knocked over his beer. Taehyung squinted, observing everything carefully.
Jimin had always been naturally touchy with people—everybody knew that—but tonight he was being especially clingy with Yoongi. It was hard to tell if the alcohol had anything to do with it, or if his instincts just naturally pulled him there, but every time Yoongi said something funny, Jimin touched him. A shove to the arm, a hand on the thigh, a head leaning on his shoulder. And Yoongi, instead of pulling away or looking annoyed like he usually would, just laughed harder.
"Alright, alright..." Hoseok cut in with a sly grin. "Since we’re in party mode, I propose a drinking game. We’re playing ‘The Appearance Game.’" He explained, "It goes like this: someone says a description, like ‘most likely to have the highest body count,’ and everyone points to whoever they think fits it best."
"And what happens to the one who gets the most votes?" asked Minho, narrowing his eyes with suspicion.
"They drink!" Hoseok raised his glass with a devilish grin. "So get your booze ready."
The blond grinned wide—this was fucking perfect. He loved these kinds of games. First, because humiliating people and judging them was ridiculously fun. Second, because it gave him an excuse to ask messed-up questions without seeming like a nosy asshole. And third, because honestly, he just wanted to drink.
Hoseok lined up the soju bottles and handed everyone a shot glass. Once the waiters cleared the empty plates and brought some order back to the table, his face was pure mischief.
"Jimin, you start," he said, pointing at him.
"Me?" the chestnut-haired boy pointed at himself. "Okay, um... I got it. Who looks like they’d rather be fucking than breathing?" Classic Jimin—asking those kinds of questions with the most natural tone ever. Shame was not in his vocabulary.
"Jesus, Jimin," Jungkook said, eyes wide. "Ever heard of subtlety?"
"For what?" Jimin shrugged with a mischievous smile. "It’s a great conversation starter. No point in asking boring stuff like ‘Who looks like they always makes their bed in the morning?’ We all know each other—answer the damn question!"
Taehyung shifted in his seat, eyes scanning the table as everyone started raising fingers and pointing at the poor souls chosen. Most of the votes landed on Namjoon and Jimin—not a shock to anyone. Namjoon was discreet, but once you got to know him, he was a certified freak who just seemed intellectual. And Jimin… well, Jimin had never exactly hidden his nature.
What was a surprise, though, was that he got a vote.
"Hey, what the hell?" Taehyung narrowed his eyes, noticing Jimin pointing at him with a smug little smile. "Why me? You were the one in crisis a few weeks ago because you hadn’t gotten laid in forever."
"And don’t you think that’s exactly why I voted for you?"
"Touché," Taehyung admitted.
While Jimin and Namjoon downed their shots, the gray-haired boy shook his head with mock offense.
"I can’t believe I got grouped with Jimin."
"I can’t believe Taehyung only got one vote," Jimin muttered, and that seemed to bother him the most.
Next up was Yoongi. He leaned forward with a serious expression, but with that glint of mischief in his eyes that only appeared when he was drunk.
"Who’s got the worst ‘I fucked my ex last night and regret it’ face?"
The whole group went silent for a second. Then, without much hesitation, almost everyone pointed at Jimin.
"What?!" Jimin shouted. "The disrespect!"
"Sorry, Jimin, but you do have that face," Hoseok laughed. "And not just the face… it actually happened."
"Go fuck yourselves," Jimin said before downing his shot in one go and slamming the glass on the table. "Unbelievable. Always me, huh?"
"Exactly," Jin said, patting him on the back as the rest kept laughing. Taehyung was having way more fun with this than he should’ve, and now it was his turn. He grinned and knocked his knuckles on the table to get everyone’s attention.
"Who looks like they’ve faked an orgasm more times than they’d care to admit?"
A brief silence followed as everyone considered it. Then, without much hesitation, the majority pointed at Yoongi.
"What? What the fuck?" Yoongi blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Why me?"
"Yeah, I mean… you kinda do look like it," Minho laughed.
"How the hell do I look like someone who fakes orgasms?!" he asked, completely offended.
"I’ve got it all figured out," Jungkook chimed in, flashing that usual smug smile of his. "I think you get tired and just don’t wanna fuck anymore, so you fake it and go to sleep."
The whole table burst out laughing. Yoongi stared at Jungkook in disbelief before shaking his head, chuckling.
"Fuck’s sake, I didn’t see that coming," Yoongi muttered, narrowing his eyes and lifting an eyebrow. "But I’d surprise you. I’m the complete opposite of what you’ve got in your heads. Sure, I value my sleep, but there’s a time and place for everything."
"Oh, really? I don’t believe you," Jimin tilted his head with a teasing smile.
Yoongi downed his drink calmly, set the glass on the table, and gave Jimin a small smirk.
"You want proof?"
"Shit, Yoongi-hyung!" Hoseok shouted, slapping the table in laughter. The group exploded again and Jimin raised his hands in surrender, grinning from ear to ear.
"I was just asking!"
"Yeah, asking," Jin muttered sarcastically.
"My turn!" Jungkook jumped in. "Who's sure has a "songs for have sex" playlist on Spotify?"
Votes started flying immediately. A few fingers pointed at Hoseok, which surprised no one. He gave off major 'I have a playlist for every single activity' energy—including sex. A couple went to Minho, who arched a brow with an amused smile. But the overwhelming favorite was Namjoon.
"Are you fucking kidding me," the gray-haired one said, completely defeated.
"Sorry, Namjoon," Sana said, raising her glass with a mischievous look. "It’s written all over your face."
"What face?" he asked, genuinely confused.
"The face of someone who definitely syncs to the beat of the song."
"Sana...!" he groaned like she’d just hit a sore spot.
"Now I’m imagining Namjoon with a totally focused expression, making sure every thrust lines up perfectly with the drop," Hoseok added through fits of laughter.
"That’s not true!" Namjoon protested, though his red face didn’t help his case. "Stop imagining me having sex, you assholes!"
"Do you have a playlist or not?" Mina asked, one eyebrow raised.
Namjoon opened his mouth, paused, then shook his head with a defeated smile before taking his shot.
"I’m not answering that."
"That’s a yes," Jin said with satisfaction.
"My turn," Minho cleared his throat, leaning forward with a wicked grin. "Who looks like they fall in love after good sex?"
Taehyung tilted his head, glancing around. He took his time to decide his vote. Hoseok, however, instantly pointed at Jin without hesitation. The votes ended up almost evenly split between Jin and Mina, but in the end, Mina won by a single vote.
"What?!" Jin clutched his chest with an overly dramatic expression. "What kind of injustice is this?!"
"Life’s rough, man," Jungkook said.
"Well, it’s true," Mina didn’t even flinch. She just calmly took her shot.
"You’re not even going to deny it?" Yoongi asked with a sly smile.
"Why bother?" Mina rested her chin on her hand with a soft grin. "Sometimes a really good fuck gives you the exact dose of serotonin you need to forget the world for a bit. And if someone gives me that, I’m set. I don’t need more than one person to feel satisfied."
"My turn! Who looks like they have a weird kink but hide it really well?" the next question came from Sana.
Votes mostly split between Mina and Taehyung. It ended in a brief tie… until he won by one vote.
"What the hell?" he blinked, frowning. "Why me?"
"Because the ones who look all sweet and innocent are always the kinkiest," Momo said with a mischievous smile.
"That makes no sense!" he protested with a pout.
"There it is! Angel," the blonde pointed at him.
"Taehyung doesn’t look like an angel at all," Jungkook cut in immediately, arms crossed.
"Excuse me?" Taehyung turned his head toward him, one brow raised.
"Don’t ‘excuse me’ me," Jungkook stared back in disbelief. "What angel face? He’s constantly looking at us with that smug, cocky bastard expression."
"What smug face?" the blond glared at him.
"That one!" Jungkook pointed directly at him. "You look like a spoiled, rude, arrogant, insufferable little demon—"
"—Sexy..." Jimin suggested.
"...Sexy," Jungkook repeated, then froze. His eyes widened. "Wait, no! Not sexy! I got mixed up because of Jimin! What’s the opposite of sexy?!"
The whole table was cracking up at Jungkook’s flustered attempt to backtrack, his face already a little red.
"Christ, Jungkook, it’s not like I did anything to you," Taehyung shook his head, amused. "Or are you just afraid to admit I’m sexy?"
"Don’t make me laugh," Jungkook rolled his eyes.
"If you don’t think I have a cute, innocent face hiding dark kinks, why’d you vote for me?" Taehyung asked, voice suggestive. "I saw your little finger pointing at me."
"Because... well, I voted for you because no one would be surprised if you were into weird shit. Just look at you," Jungkook replied, voice slightly nervous.
"The question was, 'Who looks like they have a weird kink but hide it well?' The key part is hide it well. If you put your brain to work, that means it’s not obvious they’re into that stuff."
"...Oh. I misunderstood."
"Are you always this dumb, or has the alcohol already fried your brain?"
"Hey, stop fighting!" Sana cut in with a smile. "What matters is Taehyung lost."
"And has to drink," Hoseok added.
"This is such bullshit," Taehyung sighed dramatically but took his shot without complaint.
"It is what it is," Mina said with a satisfied smile.
Taehyung slammed the glass down on the table and grinned. Mina rested her elbows on the table and asked her question with a devilish smile.
"Alright. Who clearly had a crush on a teacher at some point?"
Fingers shot up immediately, and nearly everyone pointed at Minho without a hint of hesitation.
"Wow!" Minho blinked. "Not even a shred of fear calling me out, huh?"
"Because it’s obvious," Jimin said with a teasing smile. "I bet Minho’s the kind of guy who realized he was gay because he fell for a teacher in school."
"Totally agree," Momo nodded with conviction.
"Close," Minho laughed, lifting his glass before shaking his head.
"What do you mean close?" Sana leaned in, intrigued.
"It wasn’t a teacher. It was the student council president—a senior," he said with a nostalgic tone.
"Oof!" Jin snapped his fingers. "Classic."
"I was fourteen and he was this tall, elegant, super responsible guy… basically everything I wasn’t," he said with a soft laugh. "Obviously, nothing ever happened, but that’s when I figured out I liked boys."
"Honestly? Solid gay awakening," Yoongi said with approval.
Minho shrugged as Momo stretched in her seat and raised her hand to signal it was her turn.
"Next question: Who seems like they say embarrassing shit in bed and then want to die afterward?"
The votes started going up, and Taehyung noticed most of them were aimed at the three girls. It made some sense. At one point or another, they themselves had admitted to being a bit emotional during sex, which could definitely lead to some embarrassing moments.
But then, something strange caught his attention. Jungkook had raised his hand—and was pointing at him.
What?
"Okay, single-celled organism," Taehyung stared at Jungkook like he’d lost his mind. "How the hell did you decide I belong in this category?"
"I just know," Jungkook shrugged with a smile that instantly got under the blond’s skin.
"Oh, really?" Taehyung crossed his arms. "And what, exactly, are you basing that on?"
"On your terrible personality."
That earned a round of laughter and murmurs of anticipation, while Taehyung narrowed his eyes in warning.
"What do you mean, my terrible personality?" he repeated, genuinely confused.
"Because I’m sure you say a bunch of embarrassing shit in bed and then deny it like your mouth never opened in the first place," Jungkook rested an elbow on the table, leaning in a little.
"Excuse me?" Taehyung shot daggers at him. "I don’t regret anything I say."
"Uh-huh, sure," Jungkook tilted his head mockingly. "Like I said, it’s just that your personality won’t let you admit it."
"Go fuck yourself!" Taehyung snapped, now visibly riled up.
"Look at him, he’s blushing!" Hoseok pointed with amusement.
"I am not blushing!"
But he was. And the worst part was that Jungkook was clearly enjoying it.
"Yeah, you are," Jin added, completely unhelpful.
"I’m not even the one who lost this round!"
"No, but watching you argue with Jungkook is way more entertaining," Yoongi chimed in.
"What, can’t handle an adult conversation about sex?" Jungkook still wouldn’t let it go, and the vein in Taehyung’s temple was dangerously close to bursting.
"Of course I can."
"Doesn’t look like it."
"Shut up!"
"See? You can’t."
"I can handle an adult conversation about sex!" Taehyung nearly shouted, feeling his face heat up even more.
"Oh yeah? Prove it."
"I don’t need to prove anything to you."
"Right," Jungkook nodded sarcastically. "Just admit you're embarrassed already."
"I’m not embarrassed, you fucking idiot, you stupid demon from hell."
Taehyung pressed his lips together, consumed by the violent urge to strangle Jungkook. He had no idea how the hell he’d even ended up in this argument, but now it felt like anything he said would only give the other more fuel to keep going. So he did the most mature thing he could think of in that situation: stop giving him anything to work with.
"Wasn’t Mina supposed to take her shot?" he said, deliberately looking away.
The girl, who had been enjoying the whole show, rolled her eyes with a grin and finally took her shot, ending the round. But when Taehyung glanced at Jungkook out of the corner of his eye, the bastard was still smiling smugly.
And it only made him want to throw his drink in his face. Although even if he did, he wasn’t sure he’d hit him—he was drunk already. His face wasn’t just hot from embarrassment or anger toward the tattooed one; the alcohol was definitely hitting.
Time passed, the questions got dirtier, the answers more shameless, and each shot chipped away at the group's collective filter. Taehyung felt at ease among the teasing, the innuendos, and the endless verbal jabs with Jungkook.
But then, somewhere along the night, something... weird happened.
Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe the flirty tension in the air, the lingering glances—or maybe it was simply that the only thing between them was Sana’s body. It wasn’t triggered by something one of them said, not a joke, not a fight, not even a moment in the conversation that could explain it.
It just happened. And Taehyung couldn’t even pinpoint how it started. They were sitting with Sana between them, and somehow, in the middle of the noise and chatter, their eyes met behind her back.
And neither of them looked away.
At first, Taehyung didn’t think much of it. But two seconds passed. Then three. And they were still locked in, ignoring the loud chaos around them.
It was strange, but not in a bad way—not even in an uncomfortable way. It was strange because, for the first time, he didn’t feel the need to break eye contact with a mocking grin or a smug smirk. He just... held it. His gaze traced Jungkook’s features without any particular reason, just taking them in like they were unfamiliar somehow—which was ridiculous. Of course he’d seen them before. He knew that face better than he wanted to admit.
Five seconds.
Then Jungkook looked away first. And for some fucked up reason, Taehyung thought he looked... uncomfortable? He did it quickly, like he didn’t want anyone to notice, like he’d suddenly remembered they weren’t supposed to be doing that. He dropped his gaze to his glass, pretending the alcohol inside was the most fascinating thing in the world. Taehyung blinked slowly, a strange chill crawling down his spine.
What the hell was that?
The air around him felt off—or maybe it was just his brain suddenly overanalyzing something stupid. As if that—just a look—could possibly mean anything. So, without thinking too much, he did the one thing he always did when Jungkook made him feel something weird: he mocked him.
"What’s wrong, Jungkook?" he said out of nowhere, his tone light, though his laugh came out a bit too nervous. "Did I intimidate you or something?" It was a joke—dumb, meaningless—but even as he said it, it felt like it didn’t carry the same bite it usually did. For some reason, the words lacked their usual weight.
Jungkook didn’t even give him the satisfaction of a reply. He just ignored him with infuriating ease. The black-haired boy leaned toward Sana, whispered something that made her giggle.
And suddenly, there it was—a shitty feeling blooming in Taehyung’s chest. Stupid and irrational. It didn’t make any sense, but it was there, tightening his brow for no apparent reason. A twinge of discomfort hit his chest as he watched him smile at Sana. He was acting like that moment before had never happened. Like it had meant nothing.
Which, to be fair... it hadn’t.
But the feeling didn’t go away. So Taehyung did the only thing that made sense in that moment: ignore it until it disappeared. He leaned in toward Sana too. Because if Jungkook was going to act normal, then so would he.
However, as he tried to keep his attention on the conversation, something told him he hadn’t been the only one who noticed that little exchange. Across the table, Minho was eyeing him with a suspicious expression, one eyebrow arched and a barely restrained smirk playing on his lips.
It looked like he had just figured something out—or maybe realized something Taehyung wasn’t ready to think about yet. And that, more than anything else, made him nervous.
"What?" Taehyung muttered, narrowing his eyes at him.
"Nothing," Minho replied with a shrug that was far too innocent.
But that smug little smile said otherwise.
──── ∗ ⋅✧⋅ ∗ ────
The alarm sounded like someone was slamming a bell inside his skull.
Taehyung let out a pitiful groan and rolled over in bed, burying his face into the pillow in a useless attempt to block out the shrill sound. Why the fuck had he set it so early? Oh, right. Because he had class.
He cracked one eye open and reached for his phone, which was vibrating insistently on the nightstand. The screen lit up the room with a cruel glow, momentarily blinding him before he managed to read the time: 08:30 AM.
Well, at least he didn’t have to run out like a complete idiot. Thank God—and his elective choices—his class didn’t start until ten, unlike some poor souls who had lectures at seven. Although, to be fair, it wasn’t like he had any desire to move right now.
"Fuck..." he mumbled in a hoarse morning voice, squeezing his eyes shut again.
The hangover wasn’t that bad compared to other times, but it was definitely there. A dull pressure in his head, a dry mouth, and a stiff body. He rubbed his forehead with one hand and let the phone drop onto his chest, releasing a long sigh.
Why the hell had he gone out on a Wednesday night? Who in their right mind partied like it was the weekend in the middle of the goddamn week?
He rubbed his eyes with his knuckles and tried to recall the events from the night before, but his brain only handed him a jumbled mess of fragments: lots of laughter, alcohol passed from hand to hand, Jimin saying inappropriate shit, Yoongi yelling, Jin mocking everyone, Sana being her usual sweet self...
And Jungkook.
The memory hit him like a fucking brick to the face. His eyes flew open, and his body stiffened under the sheets. He and Jungkook... had stared at each other for too long.
A shiver ran down his spine, and before he could stop himself, warmth rushed to his cheeks. He covered his face with the pillow and thrashed around in bed like a goddamn idiot, looking like some poor animal caught in a net.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he scolded himself under his breath, kicking at the sheets in frustration. It was nothing, nothing. Just a stupid moment that had lasted five seconds—six at most. Just a look. Normal. Casual.
But why the hell did it feel so weird to remember? Why did his stomach do that dumb twist every time the image of Jungkook looking away first came back to him? It had to be the alcohol messing with his head, distorting everything.
Yeah. That had to be it.
But then, another memory sliced through his thoughts like a dagger.
Minho.
That bastard had seen them. That bastard had used that mocking expression, that arched eyebrow, that fucking smirk that screamed, I know something you’re not ready to admit. Taehyung sat up in bed, grabbed his phone again, and checked his notifications, heart racing slightly.
And sure enough, there it was—something that clearly referenced that moment. Because of course Minho wouldn’t stay quiet about it.
Minho the cripple
Wanna tell me what that weird moment with Jungkook was about or should I let your subconscious figure it out on its own? <<(7:36 a.m.)
Taehyung felt shame crawl up his neck and burn all the way to the tips of his ears.
That bastard.
That fucking son of a bitch.
He scowled and smashed his fingers against the screen to reply.
>> Go to hell.
HAHAHAHAHA I’ll take that as a “I’d rather deny it till the grave.”<<
>> Go to hell twice.
He turned off the screen with force and let himself fall back onto the mattress, exhaling sharply. Why the hell was he acting like a teenager? He didn’t have time for this bullshit. He had class at ten, a mild but annoying hangover, and absolutely zero patience for Minho’s mental games.
But just as he was about to drop his phone and finally get up, a group notification popped up on the screen.
"Sana (my love) has sent 12 photos and 3 videos in 'The best sons of bitches'"
Oh, great. Just what he needed.
He opened the chat and began scrolling through the pictures. They were all from last night—Jimin posing dramatically with a shot in hand, Minho looking like he wanted to die, Namjoon laughing with his head thrown back, himself with Sana making bunny ears behind Jin’s head... and more of the same.
Everything seemed normal—until he reached that video. It only took one second for him to know he didn’t want to watch it. But, of course, he did.
It was him and Jungkook way too close to each other, arguing heatedly about something stupid, as always. The video was a little shaky—Sana was probably laughing while recording—but the message was clear.
The angle showed them way too close, practically pressed together, their faces flushed as they spoke—or yelled, really—and it looked like neither of them realized how intense it looked.
Why were they so close?
In the video, Jungkook said something with a frown, pointing a finger at him. Taehyung, clearly a few drinks in, responded immediately, leaning slightly toward him, never breaking eye contact.
From the outside, from someone who didn’t know their dynamic, the video looked... odd. Almost like they were about to...
"No." Taehyung said aloud, locking the phone abruptly.
No, he wasn’t going to think about this. He wasn’t going to analyze it or give it any meaning. It was just a damn hangover messing with his head. He jumped out of bed, determined to shake off every stupid thought still lingering in his brain. He just needed a shower and to never party on a fucking Wednesday again.
He let out a long sigh and unlocked his phone again, just to check the time—08:45 AM. Great. He’d already wasted more than ten minutes yelling at himself in bed. He trudged toward his bedroom door and opened it, but the second his eyes hit the floor, another memory crashed down on him like a bucket of cold water.
Jungkook’s clothes, fuck.
He had completely forgotten the damn clothes were still scattered across the hallway floor... for two days? Three? No, two. Or three. Who the hell cared, that wasn’t the point.
The point was he’d been telling himself he’d wash them 'as soon as I have time', and now, like the irresponsible dumbass he was, he had class in less than two hours and zero chance of doing laundry before leaving. There was no way he’d be able to hang them to dry.
Jungkook had already complained about it like three times. In fact, to torment himself even further, he remembered that the exact thing they were fighting about in that cursed video was this. He had promised he’d return the clothes today at university.
Why the hell did everything involving Jungkook have to be a fucking headache?
He could already picture Jungkook’s face when he found out he hadn’t done what he said he would. No—worse. He could already hear the sarcastic comment. Some condescending shit like: 'Is it really that hard for you to do something right, Taehyung?' in that voice that could piss him off in under a second.
He couldn’t wash them now, so he swore to do it once he got back. First: shower. Then: clothes. And after that... face the day. Or at least try to. With new determination—or at least the closest thing to determination someone could muster with a hangover—he stood up straight and dragged himself to the bathroom.
The cold water hit his head like a godsend. He stood there, motionless under the shower, eyes shut, hands braced against the wall, letting the water run down his back and clear his mind. He washed his hair quickly, scrubbing away any remaining traces of the night before.
He pulled out some clothes without giving it much thought, choosing comfort: loose pants, a black T-shirt, and a light jacket. He added a couple of rings that matched a chain he had. As he pulled on his socks and dried his hair with a towel, he started feeling a little more human with each step of his routine.
He just needed to not think about Jungkook all day. Easy enough, right?
The problem began when he looked at himself in the mirror while reaching for his toothbrush. His reflection stared back with a suspiciously nervous expression.
"Stop acting like a fucking child," he muttered, pointing the toothbrush at himself like it was a weapon.
He brushed with way more force than necessary and spat the toothpaste out angrily, noticing there was blood. He had brushed so hard his gums bled. He wasn’t nervous. He wasn’t embarrassed. And he definitely wasn’t thinking about Jungkook.
Once he was ready, he grabbed the darkest pair of sunglasses he owned and put them on. It wasn’t even that sunny out, but the light still felt like it would drill into his skull if he didn’t shield himself.
Chapter 14: Chapter 13
Chapter Text
"'What the fuck did you do with my clothes?'" Taehyung read the notification that popped up in the corner of his laptop screen with a groan. "How rude!"
The message came through almost aggressively—it was completely unnecessary to be that harsh. Or, well, maybe not that unnecessary if he considered the fact that it had been, like, ten days since he’d taken Jungkook’s clothes and still hadn’t returned them. In fact, they were still lying there, piled up in the hallway outside his room, ever since he’d thrown them out because the smell had gotten too strong.
It wasn’t like he meant to leave them there for so long, it just… happened. He’d forgotten, several times. Taehyung ran his tongue over his teeth and closed the notification without replying. Not because he didn’t want to answer—he just didn’t know what the hell to say.
There were only four days left before their trip with the guys, and he still needed to finish everything if he wanted to go without worries. He was half-slumped in his desk chair, head resting against the back. His laptop screen glowed in front of him, displaying an editing project, but his mind had been anywhere but on his work.
And now, on top of it all, he had to deal with Jungkook pestering him again. He sighed heavily and leaned forward, rubbing his face with both hands before picking up his phone.
Biggest idiot of the century
What the fuck did you do with my clothes?<<
>>I'm busy. I can’t answer right now.
You’re literally holding your phone, asshole.<<
>>It's not that urgent.
You know what? I’m coming to get them.<<
>>What?
>>What do you mean you're coming to get them?
I mean I'm coming to get them. <<
Pretty simple to understand. <<
>>No.
Yes. <<
Taehyung’s heart did a weird flip when the doorbell rang.
…
The bell rang again.
For a second, he held on to the tiny hope that maybe—just maybe—it was a coincidence, a package he forgot he ordered, a neighbor needing some sugar…
But then came the unmistakable knock of knuckles against the door.
"Taehyung, open up!" he heard, muffled by the fact that the front door was downstairs while he was upstairs.
"You’ve got to be kidding me," Taehyung jumped to his feet and crossed the house in two strides, face completely stricken. He stood frozen in front of the door for a second. "How the hell do you know where I live?" he shouted through the door without opening it. "How did you get here so fast?!"
"I was already outside when I texted you, and Hoseok-hyung told me where you live," Jungkook replied with an exasperated huff. "Now open the door."
Taehyung felt something short-circuit in his brain.
"Hoseok-hyung told you?"
"Yeah."
"And why the fuck is Hoseok-hyung out here giving people my address?"
"Taehyung, you’re not a celebrity or anything. It’s not exactly top-secret information."
"Go to hell," the blond gritted through his teeth.
"Open the door first and I’ll consider it," Jungkook said, and when several seconds passed with no response, he sighed. "Taehyung, I’m gonna count to three."
"You won’t count shit."
"One."
"Don’t you dare."
"Two."
"Jungkook, I swear to—"
"Three."
Taehyung opened the door.
But not because Jungkook had ordered him to—he refused to give him that satisfaction. He did it because the idiot was probably already thinking about kicking the door down, and honestly, Taehyung didn’t have the patience to deal with that mess.
Jungkook’s face greeted him with a look of pure impatience. He wore his usual dark jacket over a black T-shirt, and his backpack hung from one shoulder like he’d just come from campus and decided to make a pit stop in hell before heading back to his apartment.
Which, to be fair, was exactly what had happened. he moment he realized Taehyung wasn’t going to give his clothes back, he decided to take matters into his own hands. Just for the clothes, obviously. It had nothing to do with wanting to see him because Hoseok mentioned Taehyung had been frying his brain with work and only ate properly when he, Jimin, or Jin sent him food.
"I hate you," Taehyung shot daggers at him with his eyes.
"I’m taking them now."
"...You can’t."
"What do you mean I can’t?" Jungkook narrowed his eyes and tilted his head slightly.
"What makes you think they’re ready?"
"Because you said you’d wash them," he replied matter-of-factly. "Like, ten days ago, for fuck’s sake."
"I said I was thinking about doing it," the blond swallowed dryly.
"Don’t fuck with me, Taehyung."
"I’ve been busy," he said with a dismissive tone and looked away.
"I don’t believe a damn word," Jungkook snapped, and Taehyung dragged a hand down his face in frustration. "Where are my clothes?"
"Uh… in the hallway…" he muttered, clearly embarrassed.
"You didn’t even bother to toss them in a laundry basket? They’re still on the floor?"
"I’m drowning with all the shit I have to do. I haven’t even washed my own clothes."
"Is it that hard for you to do anything right? Or are you such a fucking little prince that basic tasks are beneath you now?"
"Shut up!" the blond practically screamed. He knew he was going to say something like that! Ugh!
"You’re the most irresponsible person I know."
"I’ve had to catch up on a thousand things!"
"I study too, Taehyung. And guess what? I’m not disgusting."
"I’m not disgusting!"
"Then what the hell do you call not washing your clothes for days?"
"If it bothers you that much, do it yourself!"
Jungkook grinned, dark and smug.
"Oh, no. You’re doing it."
Taehyung got a bad feeling the second Jungkook shoved the door open with one hand—and yes, shoved him in the process—and walked in like he owned the place.
"What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!"
"Have you eaten anything decent?" Jungkook ignored him entirely and marched straight toward the kitchen. How the hell did he know exactly where it was? Taehyung was going to kill him.
"Not this again!" Taehyung slammed the door and nearly sprinted after the black-haired guy. Jungkook opened the fridge, peeked inside, and the sound of the door slamming echoed through the kitchen.
"No food, not a single damn thing," Jungkook’s voice was flat, not even surprised—he had seen it coming from miles away.
"I do have food," Taehyung said, a vein twitching near his eye.
Jungkook turned to look at him, raised a brow, and opened the fridge again—just so the blond could take a proper look at its contents. Taehyung grimaced.
"You mean the half-empty bottle of water, the gummies that are so hard they could be weapons, that one apple slowly rotting, or the yogurt that would probably kill you if you ate it?"
"You’re being dramatic."
"Tell that to the yogurt." Jungkook closed the fridge again, wore a smug little smile like told you so, and pulled out his phone. "What do you like to eat?"
"What are you doing?" Taehyung looked at him suspiciously.
"Isn’t it obvious? I’m ordering food."
"Don’t you dare," the blond started shaking his head, backing away slightly.
"Too late," Jungkook said, typing away without even glancing up.
"I don’t want your food," Taehyung said quickly, alarmed.
"I don’t care." Jungkook’s tone was so serious it made Taehyung swallow hard.
"You don’t have to buy me anything," he insisted. He didn’t want to eat with him—dealing with him in his kitchen was already enough. He felt like he was going to explode.
Jungkook looked up with a mocking glint in his eyes and licked his lips, as if daring him.
"Oh, really? And what are you gonna do? Eat air?"
"I can make something..." Taehyung's voice came out in a whisper as he rubbed the side of his neck, slightly embarrassed.
"What could you possibly make?" Jungkook squinted at him.
Taehyung fell silent. The truth was, the black-haired guy was right—he had nothing. But it wasn’t his fault! His hectic schedule had left him no time to go grocery shopping like he usually did. And it’s not like his usual shopping list was impressive anyway—his daily menu mostly consisted of pre-packaged food and three kinds of pasta. That was all Taehyung could manage without setting the kitchen on fire.
In fact, his jam-packed schedule was now taking an even harder hit thanks to this uninvited guest who hadn’t made an appointment two weeks in advance.
"Exactly," Jungkook said, wearing a smug grin. Taehyung clicked his tongue and crossed his arms, feeling the heat of frustration rising up his neck.
"It’s not your fucking problem," he said, his voice trembling slightly.
"Maybe not," Jungkook refocused on his screen. "But I’m not about to sit here and watch you starve to death because you’re a lazy piece of shit."
The blond rolled his eyes but didn’t argue any further. He knew it was pointless. Once Jungkook made up his mind, changing it was harder than removing gum from someone’s hair. Jungkook swiped through a few options on the screen before placing the order.
"Done. I picked something I like, since you didn’t open your damn mouth," he said as he shoved his phone back into his pocket. Then he gave Taehyung a once-over with an assessing look. "And while we wait for the food, go do something productive: wash the fucking clothes."
"Excuse me?" His face twisted in disbelief.
"I gave you simple instructions." Jungkook gestured with his hand like he was motioning a dog to move. "Go."
"You can’t tell me what to do in my house," Taehyung said indignantly. "And don’t treat me like a damn dog! What even was that gesture?"
"Oh, but I can tell you what to do," Jungkook shrugged with a smile that Taehyung swore was straight out of a villain origin story. "And you will do it."
"What the actual fuck is wrong with you?!" Taehyung felt the indignation rise up his throat like fire.
"I’m sick of you," Jungkook said without a hint of guilt. "It grosses me out to think that my clothes have been sitting in that hallway collecting dust and god knows what else for days."
"It’s not that bad..."
"Oh, no? Want me to make you smell them?"
"No!"
"Then wash them."
The staring contest lasted exactly five seconds before Taehyung groaned, spun on his heels, and stormed off toward the hallway, grabbing the damn clothes with fury and resignation.
"You piss me off," the blond grumbled as he marched toward the laundry room.
"I know," Jungkook replied, following close behind.
"You’re a pain in the ass."
"I know that too."
"If you keep fucking with me, I’m throwing these in with bleach and seeing what happens."
"And if you do, I’ll make you eat the detergent as punishment."
Taehyung growled, shoved the annoying guy’s clothes in with his own, and started setting the washer cycle without sparing him a glance. But of course, Jungkook didn’t leave.
He stayed right there.
Watching him. Supervising him.
Taehyung could feel his presence like laser beams burning into the back of his neck. He clenched his jaw and turned just enough to glance at him from the corner of his eye.
"Can you stop staring at me?"
"No," Jungkook replied simply, and Taehyung really started to consider smashing that bunny smile with a brick.
"You’re so annoying."
"And you’re a walking disaster. I’m making sure you actually do it right."
"I’m not a child, Jungkook," Taehyung said as if it wasn’t blatantly obvious. "I know how to use a washing machine."
"Considering how irresponsible you are, it wouldn’t shock me if you didn’t."
"You’re gonna make me kick you the fuck out," he snapped, spinning around and pointing at him with a murderous glare. But Jungkook just crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway like he owned the place.
"I just want to make sure you actually do it," the black-haired guy shrugged. "I don’t trust you."
"Fuck off."
"You wish."
"What the fuck did you just say?!" Taehyung felt the blood rush to his face so fast he almost got dizzy.
"You’re so easy to piss off," Jungkook chuckled, shaking his head. "Now hurry up."
After what felt like an eternity of humiliation, the washing machine finally started its cycle, and Taehyung could at last step away from Jungkook and his domestic police routine.
Shortly after, the sound of the doorbell rang again. Jungkook walked off without a word, and Taehyung watched him with growing irritation, listening as he opened the door, exchanged a few words with the delivery guy, and then shut it again.
The smell was the first thing that hit Taehyung.
A warm blend of spices, juicy meat, freshly steamed rice, and a hint of garlic floated into the room like an almost offensive temptation. Jungkook dropped the bag onto the dining table with a dull thud and started pulling out the containers without rushing.
"You ordered...?" Taehyung frowned as more and more food appeared before his eyes. "Why the fuck did you order so much?"
"You’re not the only one who hasn’t eaten properly in days, genius," Jungkook replied, pulling out a pair of chopsticks and tossing them at him without warning. Taehyung caught them in midair without effort but glared at him like he wanted to kill him. "And because I know that if I ordered just a little, you’d go all martyr on me and say you’re not hungry. But if there’s too much, you’ll feel pressure and end up eating."
"I hate you so much, you rabid dog."
"Just so you know, the feeling’s mutual, little prince," Jungkook smirked before sitting down and opening one of the containers. Ugh, that nickname was infuriating.
He’d ordered Korean food—and not just anything. Sitting in front of them was a huge bowl of bulgogi, the meat sliced into thin strips, glistening in a dark, sweet-and-salty sauce that smelled mouthwatering. Around it were several side dishes: banchan, kimchi, seasoned bean sprouts, pickled radish, and seasoned spinach. There was also a generous serving of tteokbokki, the chewy rice cakes drenched in a thick, spicy red sauce that was still gently bubbling. And finally, two bowls of freshly steamed rice, the grains fluffy and perfect.
Taehyung swallowed hard without meaning to.
"You ordered a lot," he muttered, though his tone had lost most of its bite. He slowly took the seat across from the black-haired guy.
"Shut up and eat."
Jungkook handed him a bowl of rice before serving himself some bulgogi. After a second of hesitation, Taehyung copied him. Because he was only human, and his stomach was basically begging him at this point.
The first bite felt almost sacred. The meat was tender, coated in that perfectly balanced sauce—sweet, savory, and rich. Taehyung closed his eyes for a second, letting the flavor settle on his tongue.
He definitely needed to eat.
The rest of the meal passed in incredibly awkward silence. Jungkook ate with focus, barely acknowledging him, while Taehyung did the same—though he occasionally glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.
It was seriously uncomfortable.
Not because they were fighting, but because they weren’t. There were no insults, no bickering, just the sound of chopsticks clinking against bowls and the strange tension of sharing a peaceful meal. It was Taehyung who finally broke the silence.
"How’s your major going?"
Jungkook looked up, surprised by the question.
"Good."
"So expressive," the blond snapped, rolling his eyes before looking down to poke at his plate.
Jungkook chewed slowly, like he was deciding whether it was worth elaborating or not. Eventually, he sighed and set his chopsticks on the edge of his bowl before answering in more detail.
"It’s been a pretty intense semester." He ran his tongue across his lower lip, wiping off a bit of sauce. "We have to submit an original composition project for the first evaluation. You know, writing, arranging, producing... the whole thing from scratch. No sound mimickers or generating stuff from built-in libraries. Like, if you want the sound of a marimba, you gotta get your hands on a damn marimba."
Taehyung nodded, taking another bite of food without looking away from him.
"You got anything so far?"
"Yeah, but I’m still figuring out how to bring all the pieces together. I want to do something different, something that doesn’t sound like the same old shit. I’ve been rehearsing and recording like, a thousand times."
"Different how?" Taehyung rested his elbow on the table, tilting his head curiously.
Jungkook frowned, then looked up at the ceiling, like it was hard to put into words. He was trying to explain it to himself as much as to Taehyung.
"I want to mix styles. Not just stick to pop or mainstream stuff. I like playing with textures, with more organic instruments. I want it to feel alive, to have personality."
Taehyung nodded slowly, though he wasn’t entirely sure what the hell 'textures' meant in a musical context.
"So basically, you want to be weird."
"Yes, Taehyung. I want to be weird," he rolled his eyes and took another bite of bulgogi. "I’m also taking production and mixing classes, so I spend a ton of time in the university’s studio."
"Do you have to do it all by yourself?"
"Not the composition project, that one’s in groups of four," he barely managed to swallow before talking again. "I’m doing it with Hobi-hyung, Namjoon-hyung, and Yoongi-hyung."
"Sounds like you’ve got your hands full," Taehyung let out a low whistle.
"I do," Jungkook confirmed. "But apparently not as full as yours, since at least I have food in my fridge." Taehyung shot him a murderous glare, and Jungkook smirked with satisfaction before continuing. "Besides that, I also have to write an essay on the influence of R&B on contemporary music. It’s for a music history class."
"Now that sounds boring."
"It is," Jungkook agreed with a grimace. "But at least I get to talk about my favorite artists. They let us pick the approach, so I’m focusing on how R&B shaped the sound of modern pop."
Taehyung listened attentively, eating more slowly. At some point, he picked up a piece of tteokbokki and popped it into his mouth, only for the spicy sauce to spread across his tongue. He grimaced and quickly reached for his water.
"Seriously? You can’t handle a little spice?" Jungkook laughed, clearly amused by the blond’s expression.
"Shut up," Taehyung shot him a murderous look. Jungkook grinned mockingly and kept eating. Taehyung, on the other hand, frowned and toyed with his chopsticks over his rice bowl. "I’ve always wanted to learn how to play guitar."
"Oh, yeah?" Jungkook paused mid-chew for a second.
"But I never had the time." Taehyung nodded with a hint of nostalgia and sighed as he finally took another bite.
Jungkook leaned back in his chair and looked at him for a moment before blurting out, almost without thinking:
"I could teach you."
A heavy silence dropped over the table. Taehyung looked at him with slightly widened eyes, and Jungkook, realizing what he had just offered, quickly looked away and cleared his throat.
"Or maybe not," he added in a deliberately disinterested tone. "It might be a waste of time because you're a useless fool and I couldn't teach someone like that."
He said it fast, like a knee-jerk defense mechanism to restore their usual banter. But it wasn’t fast enough to hide the fact that his voice had pitched slightly higher than normal—or the way his ears had turned suspiciously red. Taehyung, for his part, didn’t take long to react. He frowned and narrowed his eyes, feeling a small flash of irritation whip through him.
"Oh, of course," he snapped sarcastically, leaning an elbow on the table and arching a brow. "Because the great Jeon Jungkook is an untouchable prodigy and I’m just a humble peasant too stupid to learn anything."
"At least you’re self-aware," Jungkook replied as he popped a piece of meat into his mouth with a smug air.
"How funny," Taehyung scoffed. "You know what? I don’t need you to teach me shit. I can figure it out on my own."
"Uh-huh." Jungkook nodded slowly, flashing a smile that Taehyung hated with every fiber of his being. "Just like you’ve been figuring things out on your own with your diet and your laundry, right?"
"And there you go again, that has nothing to do with this!"
"It does," Jungkook shrugged. "You can’t even keep your clothes clean. How do you expect to learn an instrument?"
"That’s completely different, you asshole."
"I don’t think so," Jungkook said, sipping his drink and clearly enjoying how close Taehyung was to a full-blown mental breakdown. "If you can’t handle something as basic as doing your laundry on time, then I really doubt you have the discipline to learn to play guitar."
"I hope you sleep with one eye open from now on," Taehyung muttered, narrowing his eyes.
"Aw, is that a threat because you know I’m right?"
"Shut the fuck up!"
The argument might have escalated even more if Jungkook hadn’t suddenly switched the subject. There was something he’d been wanting to ask, something that had been bouncing around his brain ever since those idiots Namjoon and Yoongi brought it up. And if he didn’t get an answer soon, his head was probably going to explode from the endless possibilities.
"Hey..." he said all of a sudden, trying to sound casual—though Taehyung could tell his tone was way too rehearsed. "When you wore my pants... did you put on underwear?"
There was such an intense silence that for a moment, the only sound was the distant ticking of the wall clock. Taehyung blinked slowly, processing the question.
"What?"
"Uh... I mean, when you wore my pants. Did you wear underwear with them?" Jungkook was clearly trying to sound indifferent, but the question itself was anything but casual. Taehyung took a second to react, then his expression shifted completely.
"What the hell kind of question is that?" the blond snapped, feeling incredibly violated. It wasn’t normal for someone to ask you something like that out of nowhere.
"It’s a valid question."
"No, it’s not."
"Yes, it is."
"Why the fuck do you care whether I wore underwear or not?"
"Because they’re my pants!" Jungkook tried not to sound desperate, but he wasn’t exactly pulling it off.
Taehyung stared at him with his mouth slightly open. Was Jungkook actually... getting nervous? He narrowed his eyes, trying to evaluate that trembling lip and those wide, Bambi eyes staring back at him.
"You’re such a fucking pervert," he muttered, looking away with a resigned click of his tongue.
"I am not!"
"Yes, you are."
Jungkook let out a frustrated huff. How the hell was he supposed to explain to this idiot that he needed the answer for his own peace of mind without actually saying that he needed the answer for his own peace of mind?
"Just tell me if you did or not!"
"Of course I wore them, dumbass," the blond said, looking at him with disgust. The black-haired guy felt a weight lift from his shoulders—it was an almost divine relief. A 'thank you to every god that’s ever existed' echoed in his head, but there was still something unresolved. "I turned my boxers inside out," Taehyung huffed, crossing his arms and staring at his now empty plate like it was the most interesting thing in the world.
"That’s disgusting," Jungkook grimaced, wrinkling his nose.
"More disgusting is you thinking I was walking around balls-out in your pants," Taehyung snapped, and the mental image hit Jungkook like a freight train. He nearly choked on his own saliva.
"Shut up!"
"You’re the one who asked."
"But I didn’t need that fucking image in my head!"
"It’s your fault for being a filthy pervert," Taehyung said, glaring at him with the purest form of disdain. "You’re the one picturing that shit all on your own. You’re gross."
Jungkook knew he wasn’t going to win this argument. He realized it the moment he opened his mouth to ask the damn question. So he decided to cut his losses and sighed.
"Whatever."
The conversation had taken such a ridiculous turn that Taehyung chose to end it in the most mature way he could think of: by leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms like an offended child.
"Clean the table," the older one ordered suddenly, making Jungkook arch a brow.
"Excuse me?"
"You were the one who ordered the food, so you clean," Taehyung muttered as he got up from the dining table, leaving the almost-empty plates behind.
"That doesn’t even make sense," the black-haired guy protested, his eyes shimmering in a way the blond could easily interpret as 'this is injustice!', but he wasn’t going to fall for it that easily.
"Yes, it does," Taehyung said plainly. "It’s the law."
"What law?"
"The law of my house."
Jungkook gave him a mocking look, but when it became clear Taehyung wasn’t going to budge, he rolled his eyes and started picking up the plates with clear annoyance. Whatever they hadn’t eaten, Jungkook made sure to store it properly, going out of his way to show the blond where he put the leftovers.
That had been Jungkook’s damn plan all along—buy in bulk so there’d be something left for later.
By the time he finished cleaning, the dryer had already done its job, which meant he could finally get his clothes back. Taehyung pulled the clothes out and handed them to him—but in the most uninterested way possible, like he was tossing him a couple of old rags.
"Here you go," he said, throwing them in Jungkook’s direction.
Jungkook caught his shirt and pants mid-air, but the socks landed on the floor.
"Thanks for tossing them on the ground, idiot."
"You’re welcome," Taehyung replied with a satisfied smile.
Jungkook huffed, shaking his head as he bent down to pick up his socks, then turned toward the door to finally get out of there. The blond opened the door for him and cleared his throat before Jungkook could step outside.
"Uhm... mhm, thanks," he muttered, a little shyly. "For the food."
"What thanks? You’re paying me."
"You’re a gratitude killer. Go fuck yourself very slowly."
"It’s the least you can do after holding my clothes hostage for ten days. Did you like how I smell or what?" Jungkook got a well-deserved smack on the arm. "Ow! That hurt, bastard!"
"Then don’t say stupid shit."
They stared at each other for a few seconds without saying a word. Their eyes locked, and both of them could feel the electric current passing between them. Jungkook was the first to look away, giving a slight bow as a farewell.
"Bye, rabid dog."
"Bye, egocentric little prince," the blond mimicked him, then turned around to go down the porch steps—but paused for a second. "Take care. I left you food, so don’t be stubborn and eat it."
With that, he kept walking, pulling out the keys to his car parked right out front. Taehyung closed the door behind Jungkook with a tired sigh, leaning his back against the wooden surface.
On the other side, Jungkook had only taken a few steps before stopping abruptly just a meter from his car. He looked down at the clothes in his hands and frowned.
Something was different. Something felt off. He brought the shirt up to his nose and sniffed lightly. There it was, sandalwood and vanilla.
Taehyung’s scent was soaked into every fiber of his clothes.
Jungkook cursed under his breath and kept walking, refusing to think about it too much.
──── ∗ ⋅✧⋅ ∗ ────
March 24 – 10:00 AM
The morning sun was beating down hard on the pavement, reflecting off the windows of the cars parked outside Hoseok’s apartment building.
The blond, like the rest, had successfully cleared his schedule for the weekend trip, so he wasn’t carrying anything academic with him. Totally worth it.
The entire group was gathered on the sidewalk, surrounded by suitcases and backpacks piled haphazardly at their feet. The energy was that of a friend getaway—everyone was clearly excited and it showed.
"Alright, we’re all here, right?" Hoseok looked around, mentally counting to make sure.
"I almost didn’t make it ’cause I overslept, but yeah," Jin replied with an innocent smile.
"Then we still have to figure out how we’re splitting into cars," Namjoon commented.
They had three cars available: Jin’s, Yoongi’s, and Hoseok’s—the biggest ones in the group. They could have organized it earlier, but of course, they’d left it for the last minute. They’d focused on more important things, like packing entire bags of alcohol, actual food—not that crap Taehyung usually bought—and games.
"I think Mina should get first pick," Momo suddenly said. "It’s her birthday, right? She should at least have that privilege."
"I like that idea," Mina smiled with satisfaction and said in a melodic tone, "In that case, I’m going with Hoseok."
"You didn’t even think about it," Jin raised a brow.
"Why would I? I know he’ll play good music and I’m not trying to be bored during a two-hour drive."
"Excellent choice," Hoseok said, placing a hand over his heart, clearly flattered.
"The rest can be random," Mina suggested. "We’ll use a virtual spinner."
The group seemed to agree with a collective murmur. Within seconds, Mina already had the app open on her phone and looked at the three drivers.
"Who wants to take three people and who prefers just two?"
Yoongi raised a heavy hand—he was feeling generous today.
"I can take three, if you want."
Jin and Hoseok nodded, satisfied with the arrangement. Mina started entering names into the spinner and launched the first round to see who would go with Jin. The digital wheel spun while everyone watched intently.
"Namjoon," Mina announced when the wheel stopped. "And... Momo."
The two mentioned exchanged looks and shrugged with small smiles.
"Works for me," Namjoon said, adjusting his bag on his shoulder.
Mina spun the wheel again to decide who would join her in Hoseok’s car.
"Sana."
"Yes!" Sana raised a fist in victory. "Good music!"
That meant the ones left would be riding with Yoongi.
Jimin.
Taehyung.
Jungkook.
The silence that followed was brief, but both Jungkook and Taehyung instantly regretted agreeing to the whole 'let’s choose randomly!' idea.
"Oh, no," said the blond the moment he realized they were the leftovers.
"I'm not spending two hours in a car with this idiot," Jungkook snapped right away, crossing his arms.
"Oh, and you think I want to put up with you?" the blond shot him a look of disbelief.
"Why does God hate me?" Yoongi muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Two hours with you two in the same confined space is going to be hell." Jimin sighed and gave him a few sympathetic pats on the back.
"Don’t worry, Yoongi-hyung, I’ll try to keep things light. Taehyung always listens to me," said the brown-haired boy proudly. Taehyung nearly snapped his neck turning to him, utterly scandalized.
"That’s not true!" he protested, frowning.
"Don’t lie," Jimin replied with a teasing smile.
"I'm not lying!"
"Yes, you are."
"I’m not!"
"Shhh." Jimin placed a finger over his lips, and Taehyung closed his mouth in a stubborn gesture, arms crossed and brows furrowed like a sulking child. His face screamed betrayal.
Jungkook watched the scene with a scowl. He had no idea why, but the way Taehyung shut up so quickly irritated him. A strange little buzz settled in his chest, a wave of annoyance that had absolutely no logical reason to exist.
"Alright, alright, let’s stop wasting time and get going," Hoseok said, grabbing his car keys. "The more we complain, the longer it’ll take to get there, and the less time we’ll have to celebrate."
The group started moving, grabbing their bags and splitting up according to their assigned cars. Jin settled into the driver’s seat of his car while Namjoon and Momo climbed in. Hoseok did the same with Mina and Sana, turning on the music the second he started the engine. And then there was Yoongi, who let out a long sigh when he saw the blond and the black-haired boy glaring at each other.
"I’m sitting in the front," Jimin declared. And when it looked like Jungkook and Taehyung had something to say about it, he shut them down with a wave of his hand. "I get carsick in the back, so unless you want me puking all over you because you’ve got some weird fetish for that, I’m going up front."
They were left with their mouths half open, unable to argue. They grunted and nodded instead. Sometimes they really were too similar.
"If you kill each other on the way, I’m not stopping the car," Yoongi warned, pointing at them.
Jungkook and Taehyung exchanged hostile looks before climbing in without a word. Jimin, on the other hand, sat in his seat with a satisfied little smile.
"This is going to be such a fun trip," he said innocently as Yoongi got into the driver’s seat.
"Shut up."
Jimin laughed and buckled his seatbelt. One by one, the three cars started up, and just like that, the trip began.
The car engine purred softly as they drove down the road. They’d only been driving for a little over ten minutes, but to Jungkook and Taehyung, it already felt like an eternity.
Inside the car, the atmosphere was technically pleasant. Jimin and Yoongi tried to keep a conversation going, chatting about anything that popped into their heads—a song on the radio, a story from a past trip, even some nonsense about the weather—but neither Jungkook nor Taehyung was really listening.
Sitting on opposite ends of the back seat, both of them were lost in their own worlds, eyes fixed on the window beside them. Their expressions were stoic, but their bodies betrayed them: arms crossed over their chests, jaws slightly clenched, shoulders tense... and the most obvious sign of all, the faint red flush creeping up their ears and the tops of their cheeks.
The problem was, neither of them had a fucking clue why they were like this.
Taehyung exhaled softly through his nose, trying to focus on anything that wasn’t Jungkook sitting right next to him. Watching the scenery blur past the window felt much safer. He tried to convince himself he was just tired, or maybe still annoyed by that damned roulette that had doomed him to this ride with Jungkook instead of someone more peaceful. Especially not with Sana! It would’ve been the perfect chance to be with her, but fate clearly had other plans.
Jungkook, on his side, was having a similar internal battle. His foot was bouncing lightly against the car floor—a habit he had when he was anxious. Not that he was nervous because of Taehyung. No way. He was just uncomfortable with the whole situation in general.
And then, there it was—a soft touch, a tiny bit of pressure against his right leg. Taehyung’s leg. Jungkook didn’t react right away. He tried to ignore it, assuming it had been an accident. But then, with the next curve in the road, it happened again.
And again.
The blond felt it too, the sudden warmth of the contact spread over his skin like a jolt. It was just a brush, a barely-there touch, yet it sent a weird sort of tingling all over him. It wasn’t just once—every slight shift of the car, every turn or brake, their legs would touch again. And the worst part was that each time it happened, it felt like his skin was being electrocuted.
It’s nothing, it’s nothing...
The younger one’s breathing had gotten a little heavier. Fuck, this wasn’t normal. He could feel the heat of Taehyung’s leg through the fabric of his pants, and for some reason it felt hotter than usual. Or maybe Jungkook was the one overheating.
Eventually, one of them couldn’t take it anymore, Taehyung abruptly pulled away, turning his head toward Jungkook with fire in his eyes.
"Stop touching me."
"Your legs are the ones in my personal space," he spat back, turning toward him with equal indignation.
"Oh, right. Because the universe revolves around you," the blond rolled his eyes.
"No, but at least I know how to respect someone else's space," Jungkook said through clenched teeth. "Move over."
"I can’t move over," Taehyung gestured with his hands to show he was already in his rightful space. The only way to avoid contact was for both of them to close their legs tightly—but neither was willing to spend the whole trip squeezing their balls.
"Not my problem."
"Not mine either."
They stared each other down with open hostility until Jimin sighed from the front seat.
"They're about to start," the brown-haired boy muttered with exasperation.
"No, they already started," Yoongi corrected. Their stupid fight was wearing him out. "Shut it, both of you, kids."
Of course, it didn’t help.
"Just stop touching me, Jungkook!"
"I’m not touching you! You’re the one moving too much!"
"Hey, you two—" Yoongi tried again, but they weren’t listening.
"If you weren’t so big and clumsy, you wouldn’t be squishing me against the door!"
"Oh, sorry for not being able to shrink myself!"
"Shut the fuck up!" the older one raised his voice and smacked the steering wheel. It only got him two seconds of silence before they started up again, making Yoongi groan and curse under his breath.
It was Jimin who finally ended the fight for real.
"Taehyung," the brown-haired boy said firmly. The blond turned his head and locked eyes with his best friend, who stared at him from the front seat with narrowed eyes and a tone that left no room for negotiation. "Shut up."
His lips parted, ready to snap back—but he didn’t. He shut his mouth immediately, obeying reluctantly. And then he sat there, arms crossed, sulking like a brat.
Yoongi noticed it, and so did Jungkook. But unlike the older one, who merely raised an eyebrow in clear amusement—mocking how obedient the guy could be when it came to Jimin—Jungkook felt a fucking knot forming in his chest.
It was the second time he’d seen it. The second time Taehyung—the same guy who argued with him at every possible chance—shut his mouth without a single complaint just because Jimin told him to. Still, he didn’t say a word. He didn’t even understand why he was feeling anything about it, and he really didn’t like it.
After an hour on the road—and a couple of failed attempts from Jimin and Yoongi to keep the conversation flowing—the group stopped at a convenience store in the middle of the highway.
The parking lot was almost empty, save for a few cars and a truck that looked like it had been parked there for years, which was honestly a relief, considering they had three cars and ten people. The sun beat down on the hot asphalt, and the air carried that unmistakable scent of gas station fumes mixed with reheated fast food.
As soon as they got out of the car, the blond and the younger one drifted away from the group and entered the store in silence, both with the same goal in mind: snacks.
"Sweet," the blond said, grabbing a chocolate bar and dropping it into the shopping cart.
"Salty," Jungkook replied without hesitation, grabbing a bag of chips and tossing it in. The blond clicked his tongue and looked at the bag like Jungkook had just insulted his entire bloodline.
"If we’re buying snacks, at least let them be decent."
"And who says this isn’t decent?"
"I do," he said, pulling the chips out of the cart.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Jungkook blinked, then narrowed his eyes.
"Saving you the embarrassment of eating trash."
"Oh yeah?" Jungkook huffed in disbelief and, without thinking, grabbed the bag again and threw it back in, snatching it from the blond with ease.
"You’re impossible," Taehyung muttered, dropping a box of cookies on top of the chips like that would somehow cancel them out.
"What’s this?" the black-haired boy asked, grimacing at the box.
"Chocolate chip cookies with colorful sprinkles," the blond said, smiling innocently.
"Yeah, I see that, genius. But why the hell are you putting this in if we’re only getting ‘decent’ stuff?" Jungkook raised a judgmental eyebrow.
"Cookies are decent."
"Sure, if you’re five years old."
"And chips aren’t for little kids? That’s what parents throw into lunchboxes when they don’t feel like cooking."
"Don’t even compare. At least this doesn’t make you look like a preschooler."
The blond held up the bag of chips Jungkook had picked and pointed at a label on the packaging.
"See this? It says ‘high in sodium.’ You’re gonna end up with kidney problems."
"Oh yeah?" the younger one mimicked him, grabbing the box of cookies and pointing to a similar label. "This one says ‘high in sugar.’ You’re gonna get diabetes."
They stared each other down, defiant. Then, just to piss each other off, they started grabbing more random items off the shelves and chucking them into the cart, not caring one bit about the chaos they were causing. Chocolate, chips, candy, popcorn, pretzels, more chocolate, another bag of chips because Jungkook was personally offended that Taehyung thought one was enough...
By the time they realized it, the cart was overflowing.
"You two are a fucking spectacle," Jin’s amused voice called out from the next aisle, arms crossed and one eyebrow raised. "You look like a married couple fighting over what to buy."
Jungkook and Taehyung turned at the same time, identical expressions of repulsion on their faces. They looked so disgusted that Seokjin couldn’t help but burst out laughing.
"I’m straight!" Taehyung shouted.
"So am I!" Jungkook added immediately.
"I never said anything about that," Jin said, raising his hands in a gesture of peace.
"Don’t imply weird shit," Jungkook grumbled, now avoiding his teasing gaze, but then, in a fit of pride, added with a grimace, "Besides, if this is the kind of husband I’d end up with, I’d rather stay single."
Taehyung let out a sarcastic laugh.
"Oh, please, like anyone could actually stand you," the blond rolled his eyes and stared at his nails with fake disinterest.
"Way more people would put up with me than with you, that’s for sure."
"Right, your shitty attitude is so charming."
"Better a shitty attitude than full-on diva with mood swings."
"What did you just say, asshole?" the blond growled, dropping his disinterested pose and stepping forward in anger.
Jin wasn’t listening anymore—he’d already pulled out his phone and was sending a voice note to Yoongi.
"Hey, that toxic couple of yours is making a scene in aisle three. Do something before we get kicked out."
He walked away, leaving the two of them still arguing, trying to out-insult each other with childish comebacks.
"Children..." Namjoon appeared out of nowhere like the responsible adult he pretended to be. "You guys do know that each of you can just buy whatever you want and eat it, right?"
Absolute silence fell over them. The gears in their brains had to work overtime just to process what Namjoon had said.
Taehyung blinked.
So did Jungkook.
Then, almost in sync, they turned their heads to look at each other, then at the overflowing cart, then back up.
"...Oh, right."
The black-haired boy cleared his throat and crossed his arms, remembering he was supposed to be a functional adult and not a child throwing a tantrum. The blond did the same, clearing his throat and pretending he hadn’t just spent ten minutes fighting over something completely irrelevant.
The cart remained untouched, filled with all the things they had grabbed in the heat of the argument. And in the end, they each paid for their own stuff.
But something still felt... weird.
Taehyung didn’t want to admit it. He didn’t even want to think about it. But there was a tiny detail he just couldn’t ignore. When Jungkook had snatched the bag of chips from his hands, their fingers had brushed—just for a second.
It had been the slightest touch, almost nothing. But he’d felt something—a spark. It happened so fast his brain couldn’t even react in the moment. It wasn’t until they were already in line to pay that his mind decided to replay it in full HD.
And that was a problem. Because if he was starting to notice stuff like that—if his body was reacting just because Jungkook touched him by accident—then he was heading into dangerous territory.
"I’m losing my mind," he muttered to himself, staring at the register while he paid his share.
"Did you say something?" Jungkook asked from behind him.
"Don’t talk."
They paid and walked out of the store. They climbed back into the car, each with their own bag of snacks.
Taehyung glanced sideways at Jungkook, and Jungkook did the same. They didn’t say anything, and simply focused on trying to coexist for the rest of the ride.
After more than an hour and a half on the road, the trip was nearly over. Any sign of civilization had long since disappeared, replaced by greener landscapes and quieter roads.
Through the window, the blond watched the trees grow taller and thicker, casting uneven shadows across the asphalt. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, flickering in rhythmic intervals against the glass.
According to the GPS, there were just over thirty minutes left to go. Soon, he’d finally be able to breathe air not laced with the black-haired boy’s cologne.
Jimin and Yoongi were lost in their own little world in the front seats. Every time the song changed, Jimin would let out a delighted squeal, and Yoongi would simply laugh before joining in to sing with him. Sometimes they’d even start improvising some ridiculous choreography right there in their seats, which made the car sway slightly whenever Yoongi got a little too into it.
With a bag of gummy candies resting on his lap, Taehyung popped one into his mouth and chewed absentmindedly, savoring the sweetness as his head nodded along with the beat.
But then—suddenly—something pressed against his shoulder, freezing him completely in place.
His whole body tensed at once as intense warmth spread down his left side. It took a few seconds for his brain to even process what was happening. With extreme caution, like moving too fast might trigger a literal explosion, he slowly turned his head just enough to see what it was.
And he nearly choked on the gummy.
Jungkook was asleep. On his shoulder! Someone kill him now.
Taehyung felt his brain short-circuit in real time. Every cell in his body went on high alert—he felt genuinely endangered.
Reflexively, his first instinct was to shove him off. To send him straight into the car door with zero remorse. But... he didn’t do it right away. Because his brain—that fucking traitor—chose that exact moment to notice a whole bunch of unnecessary details.
The way Jungkook’s lips were slightly parted, his calm, steady breathing, the way his lashes cast soft shadows against his skin, the glint of his eyebrow and lip piercings, and worst of all—his hair. It brushed lightly against his skin and felt stupidly soft. On top of that, it smelled good. Like lavender, neutral soap, and faint traces of bergamot.
What kind of person has the audacity to smell that fucking good? Taehyung felt something inside him snap. His brain was screaming at him to react, to push him away, to remind him this was not normal—shouldn’t be normal. But his body refused to move. He just sat there, eyes locked on Jungkook, hyperaware of his warmth, his weight, and his damn scent invading his personal space.
And before he even realized it, he was swallowing hard because—for some goddamn reason—his mouth had gone dry. His face started heating up, and it definitely wasn’t because of the temperature in the car, the A/C was on.
At some point, Yoongi glanced into the rearview mirror and saw the whole thing. But instead of saying anything, he just smiled. Taehyung didn’t even notice, because just then, Jungkook sighed in his sleep.
The warm breath against his neck snapped him out of his trance like a bucket of ice water.
Shit, shit, fucking shit!
He finally shoved Jungkook off with a clumsy push, not even bothering to measure his strength. The younger one jolted awake, blinking blearily as he tried to understand what the hell had just happened.
"What the fuck?" he muttered, his voice still rough from sleep. His eyes took a few seconds to focus on Taehyung. "Did you just push me?"
"Do you seriously have the balls to ask that?" Taehyung stared at him, full of righteous indignation.
"Why’d you do that?" the black-haired boy frowned and rubbed his eye, still half-asleep.
"Because you were drooling on my shoulder, you disgusting piece of shit," the blond snapped as he angrily wiped his shoulder with a few dramatic swipes.
"I wasn’t drooling."
"You could’ve at any moment," he said, eyeing him from head to toe. Jungkook let out a long sigh and stretched, cracking his shoulders. "I wish you’d broken your neck," he muttered bitterly.
Jungkook just chuckled sleepily, eyes still half-closed.
"You’d have to carry my corpse."
"I would’ve left it on the highway."
"Murderer."
"Idiot."
From the driver’s seat, Yoongi gave them another glance in the rearview mirror and just shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips.
"Fucking children..."
"What’d they do now?" Jimin asked, confused, twisting around in his seat to look at them with interest.
"Don’t talk," they both replied at the same time.
"Sheesh…" the brown-haired boy whistled, amused. "Fucking hysterics."
Jungkook just huffed, still half-asleep, and shifted in his seat again. Taehyung, on the other hand, stared straight ahead, body stiff, mind spinning in endless circles.
Chapter 15: Chapter 14
Chapter Text
"If you push me again, I swear I’ll make sure you never have kids," the blond snapped, spinning on his heel and glaring at Jungkook, still feeling the pressure on his back where the other had shoved him to get him out of the car faster.
Jungkook didn’t even look remotely sorry. He just raised an arrogant eyebrow and crossed his arms, leaning casually against the open car door. The asshole had an entirely free door on his own side, but no—he’d chosen to push Taehyung just to get out through his side. Just to annoy him.
"It’s not my fault you move like a grandpa."
"Why the fuck do you even care how fast I get out of the car?" Taehyung huffed.
"Because you were in the way," Jungkook shrugged.
Taehyung opened his mouth, ready to scream in his face, but stopped himself when his eyes caught something way more important. The two remaining cars had just pulled up behind them, and the moment he realized it, his annoyed expression vanished. Without a second thought, he took off running toward one of the vehicles—because he knew Sana was in that one.
Jungkook followed him with his gaze, vaguely amused—until he noticed where the blond was headed. His smirk disappeared instantly. He couldn’t stop the growl that escaped when he saw Taehyung reach the car just in time to open the door for Sana with a charming smile and grab her suitcase with an over-the-top, gallant gesture. She giggled sweetly, touching his arm, which—clearly—Taehyung loved.
Fantastic.
Fucking great.
"Fucking show-off," Jungkook muttered under his breath, crossing his arms and pretending like it didn’t bother him—though his scowl gave him away instantly.
Once everyone was out of their cars, the group finally made their way toward the cabin’s entrance. And the very first thing they did when they stepped inside was fall completely silent. Because holy shit—this place was insane.
"Jesus Christ, this is way too nice for us," Jin said, staring up at the high ceiling and the massive windows that flooded the open space with soft, warm light.
The cabin was huge. Rustic but elegant, with exposed beams overhead and polished wooden floors that creaked slightly under their shoes. The living room was spacious, filled with comfy leather couches, a stone fireplace, and a massive TV mounted on the wall.
But the real showstopper was in the back.
"Oh, fuck," Namjoon was the first to walk over to the sliding glass doors that opened onto the patio. He pulled them open—and revealed actual paradise.
There it was, the pool, and not just any pool. It was huge, with crystal-clear water that reflected the sky perfectly. Right beside it, a hot tub bubbled invitingly, and off to the side, there was an actual wooden sauna.
"Can we take a second to appreciate that this is, like, a thousand times better than I expected?" Mina spun in a slow circle, taking in every inch of the place. "Honestly, I feel like I just walked into a goddamn luxury travel ad."
Taehyung nodded in approval, scanning the place. Yeah, this was perfect. Now all that was left was to handle one small detail.
The luggage had been dropped at the entrance, and the group gathered in the living room to tackle the most important topic of all: rooms.
"There are five bedrooms," Hoseok reminded them, pointing toward the hallway where they were located. "Two with double beds, and three with twin beds. So we need to pair up. I’m bunking with Momo." He said it without a shred of hesitation.
"Wow, what a surprise," Jimin said, arms crossed and smirking. "How convenient."
"Of course the couple’s sharing," Jin teased. "So they can cuddle and give each other goodnight kisses. And good morning kisses too."
"Obviously they need the double bed," Taehyung added. "More room to do all their nasty stuff."
"Oh my god, shut up," Hoseok groaned, covering his face with one hand as his cheeks turned bright red.
"Alright, alright, let’s not judge," Yoongi chimed in, raising his hands in mock surrender. "It does make sense for them to share."
"Yeah, sure," Namjoon added, amused. "Just hope they don’t make too much noise at night."
"Oh please!" Hoseok covered his ears dramatically while everyone burst out laughing.
Taehyung was grinning, enjoying the chaos—until he felt a stare burning into him. He turned his head and locked eyes with the black-haired boy. Jungkook was watching him, brow slightly furrowed. Taehyung held the stare for a second, then tilted his head with a smug smile.
"What?"
"Nothing," came the flat reply. But his expression said otherwise.
"Alright, so we’ve got one of the double rooms sorted," Yoongi said. "What about the rest?"
"Well, since we’re being open and honest with our room preferences..." Taehyung crossed his arms, a smug grin on his face. "I think Sana and I should share the other double bed."
Sana blinked in surprise, laughing softly as she covered her mouth with her hand.
Jungkook, on the other hand, reacted instantly.
"What?" His voice was full of disbelief. "Are you stupid?" He glared, arms crossed over his chest, his tone dead serious.
"Oh, relax. It was a joke," Taehyung replied, though his sly grin made it obvious he’d said it just to see Jungkook’s reaction. And it worked perfectly.
"You don’t have a single fucking ounce of common sense," Jungkook muttered, shaking his head. "You’re not sharing a room with Sana."
"Oh, I’m not?" Taehyung tilted his head mockingly. "And who’s gonna stop me? You?"
Jungkook stepped forward, clearly considering pushing him again—this time with a little more force.
"Yeah, me."
"I’d like to see you try," the blond’s eyes glinted with challenge.
"Guys..." the brown-haired girl, who had been watching the argument with growing concern, raised her hands. She figured it was time to step in before things got out of hand and ruined the fun.
"You’re such a dumbass," Jungkook snapped. "You’re so obsessed with attention it makes me sick."
"Oh yeah? Well, what if Sana doesn’t mind?" Taehyung turned to her with a flirtatious smile. "Do you, Sana?"
Before she could answer, Momo raised one hand, index finger pointed sharply in the air.
"If you two don’t leave her alone," her voice was calm, but it had that icy undertone that made everyone shut up, "I swear on whatever the hell you believe in—you’ll both be sleeping with one eye open tonight. And every night after that."
The threat worked immediately. Both Taehyung and Jungkook went completely silent. Because when Momo wanted to be scary, she was fucking terrifying.
Sana laughed nervously, shaking her head.
"Don’t fight, guys," she said, waving her hand lightly. "Even though sharing with Taehyung would’ve probably been fun, obviously Mina and I are taking the other double room." Jungkook did not like the sound of that. Fun? Sharing a bed with him?
"Obviously," Mina cut in, arms crossed. "Like hell I’m sharing a room with a guy who probably farts in his sleep."
"Hey!" Taehyung made a protesting gesture. "Not all guys do that!"
"Sure," Mina smirked. "But I’m not about to take the risk."
Everyone laughed, and slowly, the tension began to ease. With the two double rooms now assigned, the group moved on to dividing the remaining three bedrooms.
"Alright, let’s see how we’re gonna figure this out," Namjoon said, glancing around. "There’s six of us and three double rooms."
"Namjoon and I," Jin said immediately, raising his hand.
"Wow, that was fast," Hoseok teased, raising his eyebrows.
"Do you have any idea how many nights of my life have been ruined by sleeping next to one of you idiots?" Jin scoffed. "Namjoon’s at least quiet."
"Thanks for the trust," Namjoon replied with a proud smile.
"I trust you not to do anything stupid in the middle of the night, that’s different," Jin said, shooting a wary look at Jimin and the blond—rightfully so.
Because the second the room assignments were brought up, Jimin and the blond clung to each other like glue.
"I’m with Tae!" Jimin announced, wrapping his arms tightly around the blond’s neck.
"You’re the love of my life," Taehyung replied dramatically, spinning Jimin around in his arms.
"Separating them is a war crime," Jin muttered, rolling his eyes. "But I don’t want to hear laughter or things falling at three in the goddamn morning."
Jimin and Taehyung put on their most innocent faces and hit him with synchronized puppy eyes.
"We would never do anything like that," they said in unison, voices pure and angelic.
"Those eyes don’t work on me," Jin deadpanned, unfazed.
"So cruel!" Jimin whined.
"You’ve got a heart of stone," the blond pouted.
"I do, because I know you two, idiots," Jin said flatly.
The group burst out laughing while Jin sighed in defeat.
Jungkook, on the other hand, didn’t laugh. He watched the whole scene quietly, feeling a weird discomfort in his chest as the room assignments wrapped up. It wasn’t like he cared—obviously not. But if he had to admit the truth… he would’ve preferred Taehyung bunking with Jin.
The thought came out of nowhere, surprising even himself. He frowned slightly, tilting his head and pressing his tongue into his cheek. He didn’t know why that stupid tight feeling in his chest had shown up—but he definitely didn’t like it.
"Alright, looks like everything’s settled," Hoseok said, pulling Jungkook out of his thoughts. "Yoongi, you’re with Jungkook."
"Looks like I got the kid," said the black-haired boy, throwing an arm over Jungkook’s shoulders with a smirk.
──── ∗ ⋅✧⋅ ∗ ────
The clock ticked past 1:30 in the afternoon. Between the travel chaos and the excitement of exploring the cabin, hunger was hitting hard.
Thankfully, they had come prepared for a proper lunch. The final decision: grilled meat and spicy ramen, with a mountain of side dishes ranging from kimchi to veggie skewers and fish cakes.
The sound of sizzling meat on the grill mixed with the scent of spices and the low murmur of scattered conversation. The midday sun shone bright, lighting every corner of the cabin and the wide backyard. The mission to feed ten people had fallen on the ones best equipped for the job: Jin, Yoongi, Jungkook, Momo, and Mina.
Everyone had been assigned a specific task by the oldest of the group. Jin was in charge of the grill. He held a pair of tongs, flipping the meat with practiced ease, making sure it cooked perfectly—crispy outside, juicy inside. Every now and then, he’d drizzle a mixture of spices and sesame oil on top, intensifying the aroma that was now spreading throughout the cabin.
Yoongi, meanwhile, was focused on preparing the spicy ramen. A massive pot simmered on the stove, its bubbling broth releasing a mouthwatering scent. He had also made a sauce with finely chopped garlic, scallions, and a splash of chili oil to boost the flavor. With quiet patience, he kept an eye on the pot, waiting for the perfect moment to throw in the noodles.
Jungkook was chopping vegetables. His hands moved swiftly and precisely, slicing carrots into matchsticks, peppers into thin strips, and onions into delicate rings. Every once in a while, he’d sneak a piece into his mouth, completely ignoring Seokjin’s disapproving glares.
Despite being the birthday girl, Mina was helping with the side dishes along with Momo. They had multiple plates lined up across the counter: fish cakes, veggie skewers, fresh kimchi, cucumber salad with sesame dressing, and rice.
"This smells amazing," Jin muttered, flipping over a piece of meat. "They better appreciate it or I swear I’m never cooking for them again."
"Same here. In fact, I’m hoarding the food for us, and they can eat garbage," Yoongi added, not even glancing away from his pot.
Just then, the blond strolled into the kitchen, beer in hand. He was already changed into his swim trunks, with a basic shirt thrown on top, and his hair was slightly tousled like he’d already been rolling around somewhere.
He settled onto one of the stools at the kitchen island, looking extremely entertained. That lazy grin on his face could only mean one thing: he was in the mood to mess with Jungkook.
"Funny," he commented, tilting his head as he watched the younger move around the kitchen. "You don’t look like someone who knows how to cook."
"Yeah? Well, you don’t look like someone capable of holding a conversation, and yet here you are—talking," Jungkook shot back, not even bothering to look at him.
Taehyung blinked, genuinely surprised by how quick that comeback had been. Then he laughed—low and dry—like he wasn’t entirely mad about it.
"You’re unbearable," he muttered, shaking his head.
Jungkook smirked but kept working.
"What’s not fair," the black-haired boy said as he dipped a spoon into the pot to taste the broth Yoongi was making, "is that I have to be in here cooking while you sit there drinking like an idiot."
"Look at it this way. I’m doing it for the greater good," the blond shrugged with zero shame.
"Oh yeah? And how the fuck does that work?" Jungkook frowned at him.
"Trust me, if I cooked, we’d have to call emergency services before lunch was over."
"God… how are you this useless?" Jungkook huffed, though an involuntary smile tugged at his lips.
"It’s better for everyone if I don’t cook," Taehyung replied before taking another sip of beer.
"For the first time today, I agree with something you said," Jin called from the grill.
"But if we're talking about injustices, I think the worst one is Yoongi-hyung and Mina cooking in their celebration," Taehyung added, looking directly at Mina. "And especially you, because it's your birthday."
"I like cooking," said the black-haired girl sweetly, giving him a soft smile. "It’s no trouble at all to cook for you guys."
"The world doesn’t deserve you," the blond said dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. Mina giggled softly and went back to her task.
"I don’t have a choice," Yoongi sighed in mock despair. "Jin-hyung dragged me in here."
"I needed someone who actually knew what they were doing," Jin replied without turning around.
"And I didn’t want to leave Jin-hyung alone to deal with Jungkook," Yoongi added seriously.
"Excuse me?" Jungkook, who had just taken a bite of raw carrot, paused and narrowed his eyes.
"You heard me," Yoongi replied flatly, dropping the noodles into the boiling broth.
"That’s beautiful," Taehyung burst out laughing. "Even your own roommate is already treating you like a problem."
"Oh right, because you’re a fucking little angel, aren’t you?"
"Obviously," Taehyung replied innocently.
"You’re the human equivalent of a pebble in a shoe."
"You’re just jealous."
The kitchen was still alive with movement and intense aromas when Jimin showed up behind the blond. He was barefoot, shirtless, and his damp hair suggested he’d been in the jacuzzi or the pool before lunch was ready.
He crept up silently behind Taehyung, leaning in just enough for his breath to brush his ear.
"Look what I brought," he whispered with a grin, sliding something against his chest. Taehyung glanced down and smirked when he saw the object in his hands.
A water gun.
"Oh…" He raised his eyebrows playfully, turning his head to look at the brunette. "So it’s war now."
"Come on before they start getting suspicious."
Jungkook caught the scene from the corner of his eye. He turned his head slightly, watching how Taehyung and Jimin exchanged that annoyingly familiar look. Not that he was interested in what they were doing—of course not. He just found it interesting how easily Jimin invaded the blond’s personal space without a single complaint. Jungkook clicked his tongue and looked away, forcing himself to focus.
"Have fun cooking, guys," Taehyung said with a lazy wave of his hand.
"Yeah, sure, whatever," Jungkook muttered under his breath.
"Don’t get anything important wet," Jin warned without lifting his eyes from the grill.
"What?" the blond said in a high-pitched tone, dragging the word. "Wet? Who said anything about getting wet?" Jin finally looked up and gave him a stern look, making Taehyung sigh. "I can’t promise anything."
The youngest watched them walk off together, and without even realizing it, his eyes followed every step they took until the glass sliding door closed behind them.
From the kitchen, the view of the backyard was clear, and he could still see parts of what was going on outside. Jimin and the blond walked out onto the grass, and that’s when the brunette turned to him.
"Take your shirt off, Tae," he said casually. "You don’t want it getting soaked."
"Oh, right."
Taehyung didn’t give it much thought. He simply pulled it off, opened the door again and tossed the shirt back inside the cabin. It landed on one of the chairs before he closed the door behind him again.
For Jungkook, time seemed to slow the second his eyes caught the scene.
He watched the blond’s fingers tug at the hem of his shirt, lifting it slowly, revealing inch by inch of lightly tanned skin stretched over a lean but defined torso. It wasn’t the kind of body built for show, but it was toned. The curve of his waist moved perfectly with the way he twisted and—fuck.
Jungkook swallowed hard as his gaze, somehow, dropped to his hips. That damn swimsuit fit him too well. And by 'too well', he meant… shit. He snapped his gaze away, feeling every cell in his brain go into red alert.
Come back to the present, dammit.
He tried to focus, tried to snap out of whatever trance he’d fallen into, but his hands were still busy with kitchen prep, and before he could stop himself, he felt a sharp sting of pain on his skin.
"Shit!" The curse tore out of him instantly. Jungkook dropped the knife and pulled his hand back, away from the pot he’d leaned too close to without noticing.
"Jungkook!" Mina rushed over, with Momo right behind her.
"Did you burn yourself? Or cut yourself? What happened?" the blonde girl asked.
"Please tell me you didn’t just burn yourself like an idiot," Yoongi scolded with a disapproving scowl. "You’re cooking, pay attention!"
"It was an accident!" Jungkook hissed, gritting his teeth as the burn throbbed beneath his thumb.
"Let me see," Jin said, hurrying over after lowering the heat on the grill.
"It’s not a big deal, I just spaced out for a second," Jungkook muttered, grimacing as he offered his hand.
"Spacing out while cooking?" Jin narrowed his eyes, placing his hand under cold water. "And what exactly were you looking at instead of the pot?"
"Nothing," Jungkook replied, though the heat on his face only worsened.
"‘Nothing’ doesn’t burn skin, genius," Yoongi scoffed.
He didn’t want to give any further explanation. There was no fucking way he’d admit that the reason he got distracted was because he’d been watching Taehyung take off his shirt.
Not happening.
Jungkook had just finished huffing when Sana appeared, walking lightly across the cabin. She was wearing her swimsuit with a delicate cover-up and looked completely in her element, her loose hair falling in soft waves over her shoulders. As she approached with a worried expression, a chill ran down Jungkook’s spine.
"Did you get hurt?" she asked, stopping beside him as she entered the kitchen.
"Uh… yeah, but it’s nothing," Jungkook blinked, not expecting the sudden attention.
He didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, but Sana was already taking his hand, gently turning it to examine the burn. Her touch was light, but still, Jungkook felt the electric tingle of skin on skin.
"Let me see…" she said softly, a slight frown on her face. Jungkook remained silent while she checked the injury. He could feel the temperature rising in his cheeks from how close she was, but he forced himself to stay calm.
"Doesn’t look too bad," Sana murmured after a moment. "But we should still treat it properly." She looked up, and Jungkook found himself staring into her warm, sincere eyes. "Come with me, I brought a first-aid kit for stuff like this."
"It’s not necessa—"
"I said let’s go," Sana was already walking toward the bedrooms, leaving no room for argument. Jungkook hesitated for a second, but when he saw the looks Jin and Yoongi gave him—faces that clearly said you’d better follow her—he decided it was best to just go.
Sana and Mina’s room was the same layout as the others, except it had a double bed. It was spacious, with a large window letting in natural light and decorated with small touches that made the feminine presence obvious. A couple of towels were folded over a chair, makeup bags and accessories covered the vanity, and on one of the nightstands sat a bottle of sunscreen and a pair of sunglasses.
"Sit on the bed," Sana instructed, pulling a small first-aid kit out of one of her bags. Jungkook obeyed without saying a word, feeling a little awkward being in her room. It wasn’t exactly scandalous, but the air felt… intimate. Sana sat beside him, turning slightly so she was facing him. "Give me your hand," she said gently. Jungkook offered it awkwardly, suddenly very aware of his nerves. She pulled out a cotton pad and an antiseptic bottle."It’s going to sting a little," she warned before dabbing the burn. The pain was immediate, but Jungkook didn’t flinch or complain. "How did you burn yourself?"
Jungkook considered the honest answer—I got distracted watching Taehyung take off his shirt and my brain short-circuited—but that obviously wasn’t an option.
"I wasn’t paying attention," he said instead, shrugging.
"You should be more careful, Jungkookie," she said with a soft smile, taking a small bandage and gently wrapping it around his hand. Jungkook watched her silently as she worked. He really liked the way that nickname sounded coming from her lips—it made him smile just a little.
It definitely sounded cuter when she said it than when Taehyung did.
It was impossible not to notice all the little details on her face because of how close she was. The way her hair smelled so nice and looked like it had been styled by a professional before she’d even stepped out of the room, the glow of her flawless skin under the sunlight coming through the window, the focused look in her expression, her plump lips that looked perfectly moisturized, her long lashes... and so many other things he genuinely liked.
She was pretty, that was obvious. More than pretty, she was stunning—almost perfect. She was—
But Taehyung’s lashes are longer.
He froze. What the hell was he thinking?
He tried to ignore it, but the thought stuck in his mind like a splinter. The details of Sana blurred out for a second while his treacherous brain began to compare.
Taehyung’s skin is more golden.
Taehyung’s lips are fuller.
Taehyung has a mole right here...
Jungkook felt a sudden knot in his stomach.
What the fuck was he doing? He was sitting way too close to Sana, her hand holding his so gently, treating him with so much care. And instead of focusing on her, his mind was filled with Taehyung.
Panic lit up in his chest. His body tensed slightly, and when Sana finished wrapping the bandage and looked up to smile at him, Jungkook was already battling a growing discomfort he didn’t know how to manage. His mind had gone to places it definitely shouldn’t have, and the first thought that followed was: I need to get out of here. So, quickly, Jungkook pulled back a bit, dipping his head in a slight bow.
"Thanks," he said politely. "Really, Sana, I appreciate it."
Sana blinked, a bit surprised by the sudden distance, but smiled anyway.
"No problem. Just be more careful, okay?"
Jungkook nodded, and without another word, stood up and left the room with his hand bandaged.
The cool hallway air hit him like a slap of reality, and only then could he fully process what had just happened.
What the fuck was wrong with him? His mind was a mess, spiraling in directions he didn’t want to admit, and honestly, he just needed to breathe.
When he stepped outside, the sun was shining brightly, reflecting off the pool and creating sparkles across the water. The breeze was warm and fresh at the same time, carrying the scent of chlorine and sunscreen.
And then, his eyes landed on Taehyung. He was standing in the middle of the yard, holding a water gun with both hands, soaked and laughing with that deep laugh Jungkook had heard more times than he could count. Jimin and Hoseok were with him, all three of them in an all-out water war, spraying each other without mercy, yelling curses between fits of laughter.
"Son of a bitch, stop running!" Jimin shouted, spraying water at him. Taehyung screamed and leapt to the side, dodging the blast.
"You’ll never catch me, you loudmouth little goblin!" the blond yelled back. Hoseok, who also had his own water gun, burst out laughing before aiming directly at Taehyung’s face and soaking him. The blond sputtered, coughing as he laughed. "Jung Hoseok, you’ll pay for that!"
"Hey! Show some respect to your hyung!"
And then he took off after him, launching himself forward and tackling him clumsily but effectively around the waist, dragging him to the ground.
Jimin ran over and took the opportunity to spray Taehyung’s back and head while he was focused on Hoseok.
"You fucking traitor, Park Jimin!" Taehyung shouted between laughs as he stood back up, shaking his head like a wet dog to get the water off.
"All’s fair in war, babe!" Jimin called with a playful laugh before sprinting toward the pool. Hoseok seized the distraction and fired from behind.
"Son of a—!" Taehyung spun on his heels and fired a jet of water in retaliation while Hoseok doubled over laughing, barely dodging.
Fuck, he hated it. He hated how his brain automatically zoomed in on Taehyung, like everything else in the damn world faded into the background.
Taehyung’s hair clung to his forehead, and his skin glistened under the sun. Water dripped lazily from his neck, sliding over his collarbone and down his torso. His chest rose and fell with every laugh and every teasing shout as he dodged attacks from Jimin and Hoseok. And those fucking swim shorts. Ugh. They were so annoying.
Jungkook clenched his jaw and blinked rapidly, shaking his head like that would help erase the image. He turned away and headed back toward the cabin before someone noticed him staring.
When he walked into the kitchen, the ramen was almost ready. In one of the big pots, the broth was gently bubbling with that unmistakable spicy aroma, and beside it, the spicy sauce sat in a small pan, still thick and fiery red. Jungkook saw Jin prepping the last ingredients while Yoongi stirred the noodles in the pot and Momo sliced fresh scallions.
The strong scent of the spicy sauce made his mouth water—he was starving. But then he remembered something from four days ago, when he’d gone to pick up his clothes at the blond’s place.
Without a word, Jungkook quickly approached the pot, grabbed a bowl, and before Yoongi could add the spicy sauce, scooped out a portion of ramen to set aside.
"What the hell are you doing?" Yoongi asked with a frown, glancing at him.
"It’s for Taehyung," Jungkook answered without thinking.
There was a beat of silence. Mina, who was setting the table, lifted her head with a puzzled expression.
"For Taehyung?" she repeated, like the idea itself sounded weird.
"What do you mean for Taehyung?" Momo turned with a raised eyebrow. Jungkook opened his mouth to respond, but Jin spoke first.
"Oh, is it because he doesn’t like spicy food?"
Jungkook went silent for a couple of seconds.
"...Yeah," he finally said. "He can’t handle it."
Jin nodded approvingly and pointed to a small portion of ramen already set aside in another bowl.
"Don’t worry, I already pulled some out for him," he said with a smile.
Jungkook stared at the bowl with a blank expression, glancing between it and the one in his hands.
"Oh..."
"I’m making him a special non-spicy sauce too, so it’s not bland," Jin added as he turned back to the pot.
The black-haired boy felt a strange twinge in his chest. Jin had already thought of it before he did, which meant there was no reason for him to have stepped in. No reason for him to be scooping out a separate bowl in the first place. It was obvious, right? They were friends, of course Jin knew about Taehyung’s spice intolerance. But... why did he feel the need to think about it?
Still, he looked at his bowl and then back at Jin’s with a slight hint of resentment.
"That’s not enough," he said, trying to sound casual. "I’ll leave this one too."
Yoongi let out a quiet chuckle and leaned toward Jungkook, just enough to speak low so only he could hear.
"Since when do you care that much or know Taehyung so well?"
Jungkook felt a shiver run down his spine.
He didn't answer; he didn't want to. Instead, he picked up the bowl and put it on the table without saying a word, acting like a fucking fool.
Sana appeared in the kitchen again and sat in the exact spot where Taehyung had been earlier. She rested her elbows on the kitchen island and cupped her face in her hands, watching Jungkook move around the kitchen as he began plating the meat and other side dishes that were already done.
"Don’t strain your hand too much, Jungkook. Want me to do it for you?" she asked sweetly, fluttering her lashes. He looked at her and smiled automatically, still genuinely glad that he thought she was beautiful—inside and out.
"Don’t worry, really, Sana," he replied in a calming tone. "I’m not gonna die over a little burn. Why don’t you go outside while we finish up? It’ll only take ten minutes—I don’t want you getting bored."
"Mhm," she hummed with an exaggerated thoughtful expression. "Nah, I’d rather stay here and supervise to make sure you don’t hurt yourself again, Jungkookie."
"Yeah, wouldn’t want Jungkookie cutting off a finger now," Jin teased from his seat.
"Or Jungkookie burning himself again, which would make him twice as dumb for doing it two times," Yoongi echoed Jin’s tone mockingly.
The black-haired boy rolled his eyes and shot them both a 'don’t fuck with me' look.
"Aish! Leave him alone," Sana said through laughter, and Jungkook let out a sigh.
──── ∗ ⋅✧⋅ ∗ ────
The smell of freshly made ramen and grilled meat filled the cabin, spreading from the kitchen to every corner of the dining area. The clinking of plates being set on the table, the soft sounds of utensils, and the cheerful chatter of those present created a warm, comforting atmosphere. With the help of Mina, Momo, Sana, and Jungkook, Jin and Yoongi had finished preparing the meal and were now calling out to the ones who were still missing.
"Come eat, you bunch of ingrates!" Jin shouted, his voice echoing loud and clear throughout the cabin.
"If you don’t come down in the next two minutes, I’m eating your portion!" Yoongi added from his seat, arms already crossed at the table.
"Don’t be an ass," Momo laughed, giving him a light tap on the arm.
"It’s a real threat," he muttered with a shrug. "I’m starving."
One by one, the stragglers began to show up. Namjoon came in from the hallway with a book in hand. From the patio came Hoseok, Jimin, and the blond, still with droplets of water on their skin and damp clothes clinging to their bodies.
"God, that smells amazing," Namjoon commented, rubbing his hands together excitedly.
"You guys really went all out," Hoseok agreed, exaggerating his sniffing of the air.
"Thanks, guys," Jimin said as he took his seat.
"Thanks? We accept cash and card," Jungkook wrinkled his nose. "And don’t forget your tips."
Laughter spread around the table as everyone settled into their seats. Jungkook, who was already sitting with his bowl in front of him, looked up the moment the blond approached, looking for a place to sit.
He had a white towel draped over his shoulders, his hair still a bit damp and messy, and his tanned skin glowing under the warm light of the dining room. He was smiling, relaxed, and Jungkook tried not to look at him. But then the blond looked at him, and his expression shifted.
His gaze dropped subtly to Jungkook’s hand, quickly spotting the bandage. And there it was—that fleeting concern in his eyes, that tiny frown that showed up instinctively.
"What happened to your hand?" he asked, his tone still light but tinged with genuine worry.
Jungkook met his eyes and shrugged like it was nothing.
"Nothing serious."
But the blond didn’t buy it. Without saying another word, he walked over and dropped into the seat next to him, ignoring everything else as he reached out and gently took Jungkook’s wrist with his still-damp hand.
"You burned yourself?" he murmured, his fingers brushing over the bandage with care, and Jungkook froze.
The blond’s skin was warm from the sun, still slightly slick from the water. His fingers were long and firm, holding Jungkook’s wrist so naturally. He was touching him. Taehyung was touching him.
Time paused for a moment until the blond seemed to realize what he was doing. He let go of Jungkook’s wrist abruptly, like he’d just received an electric shock.
"Knew you were too clumsy for your own good," he blurted out quickly, his voice deliberately teasing, but Jungkook squinted at him, having caught that tiny flash of real concern before the smug mask slipped into place.
Gotcha, he thought. The idiot couldn’t even hide it properly. Jungkook said nothing, just stored the information away to use against him later. And... maybe, just maybe, it felt kind of nice to know he cared.
Just a little.
"Eat before it gets cold," Jin said, pulling everyone’s attention back to the food.
Finally, the conversation picked up again as everyone began to dig in. The blond looked down at the bowl in front of him and the meat in the middle of the table next to all the side dishes. He could tell the ramen was spicy just from the smell, so he pushed it aside.
Jungkook noticed and scanned the table until he found the two bowls that had been set aside for the blond. He simply got up, grabbed them, and came back, placing them in front of him.
"Huh?" the blond mumbled as he turned to look at him, following him with his eyes until he sat back down beside him.
"Those don’t have spicy sauce," Jungkook explained, taking the one the blond had before and setting it in front of himself instead.
"Oh, yeah," Jin chimed in. "I made a non-spicy sauce for those. You can eat them without worrying, Taehyungnie."
The blond discreetly brought the bowls closer to his nose to check. Once he confirmed that the steam wasn’t burning his nostrils off, he took a bite.
"Mmm! Thank you! It’s really good!" he said with his mouth half full. Jungkook just rolled his eyes, though a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He was kind of cute, ugh.
"So, what are we doing after this?" Mina asked, stirring her ramen with her chopsticks.
"Pool," Jimin replied instantly.
"Aren’t you tired?" Namjoon teased.
"Of course not. Gotta make the most of it," the brown-haired boy grinned.
"By the way, are we drinking tonight? Who brought what?" Sana asked, resting her elbows on the table.
"I brought soju and beer," Jin raised his hand.
"We brought vodka and a couple bottles of whiskey," Momo said, pointing to herself, Mina, and Sana.
"I brought rum, but only because someone begged me," Yoongi added, narrowing his eyes at Jimin.
"You love me, hyung," Jimin replied, blowing him a kiss.
"Shut up."
"Then it’s settled," Hoseok concluded. "Pool until sunset, and then we drink ourselves stupid like there’s no tomorrow."
"And don’t forget drinking games, obviously," Jimin added with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
"Oh sure, what’s a night without games?" Yoongi said dryly.
"It’s tradition," Mina declared.
"We also brought regular games, by the way," Hoseok added, his mouth full of meat. "I brought my Switch, for example."
"Let’s do a Mario Kart tournament!" Jimin clapped excitedly.
"Yes!"
The voices blended into each other with laughter, stories, and jokes as the group finished their meal, already set on what promised to be a long and interesting first night.
While everyone chatted, Jungkook quietly looked away from his bowl to sneak a glance at the blond. He was eating calmly, seemingly unaware of the way Jungkook kept stealing glances from the corner of his eye.
But Jungkook couldn’t help it.
Chapter 16: Chapter 15
Chapter Text
"I better not hear that you're kicking my precious volleyball with your ugly-ass feet," said Taehyung without even turning around. "Volleyballs are not for kicking."
He didn’t need to open his eyes to know that’s exactly what was happening. He could tell the second he heard the thump of the ball—clearly not hit with a forearm—and the muffled laughter that followed immediately after.
"How the fuck did he know?" Jimin blurted out.
"It wasn’t me!" Namjoon defended himself instantly.
"It was Yoongi," Jin confessed, pointing straight at the culprit.
"Fuck, hyung, you didn’t even hesitate three seconds to rat me out," Yoongi muttered, looking thoroughly betrayed.
"I'm going to kill you all," Taehyung mumbled, still not moving a muscle from his relaxed position.
"Chill, keep sunbathing, Tae-Tae," Hoseok teased from his spot, where he was rubbing sunscreen into Momo’s back. Taehyung clicked his tongue but didn’t reply. He simply adjusted his posture on the float and let the sun keep doing its thing.
After lunch, everyone had migrated to the backyard, scattering across the different activities available. Music was playing at a comfortable volume from the speaker, blending with the shouts and laughter of the boys playing around.
Mina, Sana, and Momo were sunbathing on lounge chairs, sunglasses covering their eyes as they let the heat wrap around their skin. Momo had even untied the back of her bikini so she wouldn’t mess up her back tan, and Hoseok was more than happy to help her with the sunscreen, rubbing it all over the blonde’s back.
Namjoon, Jin, Yoongi, and Jimin were trying to keep the volleyball in the air, tossing it back and forth while cursing and yelling in victory whenever they managed to get a decent rally going or surpass seven hits. Truth be told, they weren’t very good. They never made it to ten.
Jungkook was sitting at the edge of the pool, feet in the water and palms planted behind him on the ground, simply observing everything without much urgency. He wasn’t really in the mood to move around. His bandaged hand didn’t hurt as much anymore, but he preferred not to push it. Besides, the truth was he didn’t feel like playing—especially not when his gaze was fixated on something else.
Or rather, someone else.
Taehyung was sprawled out on a blue inflatable chair, looking like he’d been born to be some kind of retro summer icon from the late '80s or early '90s. The sun hit his skin at perfect angles, casting a golden glow that highlighted every line of his muscles and the subtle curves of his torso. His hair was slightly damp, with a few strands sticking to his forehead.
The tattooed boy licked his teeth and exhaled, because he really needed to stop staring, seriously, but his body didn’t seem to agree with that plan.
Without thinking too much—or maybe thinking way too much—he slid off the pool’s edge and slipped almost completely into the water, keeping his injured hand safely above the surface.
He approached quietly, careful not to make too many ripples. When he got close enough, he raised his good hand, scooped up some water, and let it fall directly onto Taehyung’s face.
"What the fuck?" the older groaned, opening his eyes with clear annoyance and scrunching his nose.
"I was just checking if you were still alive," Jungkook teased, and Taehyung shot him a glare. Jungkook saw the exact moment Taehyung decided to retaliate. With a swift motion, he raised a hand and splashed water right back into his face, hard enough that Jungkook had to shake his head. "Son of a bitch..." he muttered under his breath, blinking the water from his eyes. Taehyung smiled, smug and satisfied.
"Don’t test me, Jeon Jungkook," he warned, then glanced at the bandaged hand Jungkook was holding out of the water. "It’s not great for you either if you mess up your hand, so cut it out."
"Oh... so you were worried about my hand," Jungkook said, narrowing his eyes and licking his lips.
The blond scoffed and looked at him with an expression that screamed he wanted to deny it immediately—but for some reason, he didn’t. Instead, he slid off the float with a quiet splash and sank deeper into the water, hiding his face as he muttered with a grumble:
"Don’t say stupid shit."
Taehyung emerged easily from the water, running his hands through his damp hair and brushing it away from his face. He shook the water off his arms before turning around—only to find Jungkook getting out of the pool right behind him.
"Why the fuck are you following me?" the older asked, frowning.
"I’m bored," Jungkook shrugged, his expression the picture of innocence.
"And what the fuck does that have to do with me?"
"I don’t know, you could entertain me."
"I’m not your fucking clown, Jeon," Taehyung snapped, pouting.
"Depends on who you ask. Some might say otherwise," Jungkook grinned in that infuriating way that made the blond want to strangle him. He grimaced and turned his back, trying to ignore him—or at least, he tried. Because the universe had a cruel way of throwing him into situations he never asked for.
Suddenly, a loud noise shattered the peaceful atmosphere.
"Shit, no!" Namjoon shouted behind him.
That was never a good sign.
The yell was followed by a sudden shuffle of feet on wet ground and a desperate attempt to save the ball from falling into the pool. Taehyung barely had time to turn around to see what was happening when Jungkook was pushed by Namjoon without warning, it happened so fast, he didn’t even get a chance to react. Jungkook stumbled ahead, and his only option was to reach out and grab onto the first thing in front of him.
Which was, of course: Taehyung.
Jungkook’s hands clutched onto his shoulders for balance, and Taehyung instinctively raised his arms to stop the collision—but it was useless. Jungkook crashed into him. His wet skin smacked against Taehyung’s, and the older immediately felt the heat of him.
They froze pressed against each other.
"Oops, sorry Jungkook," Namjoon said, already returning to the game like nothing happened.
The first thing that crossed Taehyung’s mind was that Jungkook had absolutely no right to be that fucking close. The second was that he needed to say something before this turned into some weird-ass moment.
"…Can you let go of me?" he muttered dryly. He didn’t want to sound nervous, really. But Jungkook was a fucking asshole, so the dark-haired boy smirked and narrowed his eyes.
"You’re not pushing me away."
"Shut up," Taehyung shot him a look that screamed go to hell. Fuck, if there was one thing that pissed him off more than Jungkook’s attitude, it was that smile.
Without another word, Taehyung shoved him hard enough to make him back off. Jungkook moved away calmly, but the damn smile was still there. Of course. That bastard loved this—loved getting close just to mess with him, as long as he wasn’t the one getting flustered.
From one of the lounge chairs by the pool, Sana had been watching the whole scene with one brow arched. Her sunglasses were perched on top of her head, one arm tucked behind her neck as she lounged in the sun, completely relaxed. But her expression made it obvious she hadn’t missed that strange little interaction. Her brows furrowed slightly as her eyes flicked between Taehyung and Jungkook. She felt... weird.
The blond cleared his throat and took a couple of steps back, trying to reassert that, yes, he still had control over his personal space, over his own life, and over his damn body temperature that, for some reason, had risen slightly.
The black-haired guy didn’t say a word, but he didn’t have to. The satisfied look on his face said enough—he was clearly pleased with his little victory in making Taehyung nervous.
Hoseok, who had also been watching them, though with a bit more innocence, finished rubbing sunscreen on Momo and stood up, stretching his arms.
“So? Are we joining or what?” he asked, gesturing toward the group that was still trying to play a decent game with Taehyung’s precious volleyball, laughing and shouting every time someone nearly dropped it.
“I guess so,” Taehyung said, tilting his head slightly.
“Fine by me,” Jungkook shrugged, glancing at the rest. It's not that he was in a hurry to play, but it was better than sitting and watching without doing anything, since his personal entertainment would be elsewhere.
The three of them walked over to where the others were, and the group immediately widened their small circle to include the newcomers.
“Jungkook, put your hand behind your back,” Taehyung said suddenly, looking at him seriously.
“For what?”
“So no one hits it by accident, dumbass.”
Jungkook looked down at his bandaged hand and then back at Taehyung. It had been a casual suggestion, like it wasn’t a big deal, but somehow it made his chest feel warm. Taehyung hadn’t asked if it hurt or made a fuss—he’d just told him what to do to avoid getting hurt again. And somehow, that felt... considerate.
“Yes, yes, mom,” he joked instead, tucking his hand behind his back with a mocking grin. Taehyung rolled his eyes but said nothing else.
The game started, and Taehyung quickly regretted even bringing the damn ball. Despite all his yelling, they kept using their feet to keep it in the air.
Jin, Yoongi, Namjoon, and Hoseok weren’t exactly the most athletic bunch—and it showed. But at least they were having fun. Namjoon tried to reach long passes, usually tripping over Yoongi, who cursed him out every time he got bumped. Jin, on the other hand, took the game way too seriously, cheering every time he managed a decent pass.
Taehyung didn’t mind the game. He could move well—the ball was his, and he knew how to play. And while Jungkook had a slight advantage in strength and reflexes, his injured hand forced him to be more cautious, making him slower. Jimin mostly just laughed, stumbled around, or mocked the others.
“Four!” Hoseok shouted as he hit the ball with a very poorly executed volleyball move.
“Five!” Jimin yelled, running far back to catch it.
“Six!” Jungkook punched the ball with his fist.
“Sev—!” Jin tried to dive into the middle but didn’t make it. “Shit!”
“You’re slow, Jin-hyung,” Taehyung muttered with his hands on his hips.
“Slow? Me? Jungkook was the one who tossed it right in the middle!” Jin defended himself, grabbing the ball again.
“But I’ve got a boo-boo hand!”
“I don’t care!” Jin pointed at him. “If you can’t play, then don’t!”
“Hyung, just throw the ball again,” Namjoon sighed. “I can’t believe we’re seven functioning brains and bodies and still can’t get past ten. We suck.”
Following the silver-haired guy’s request, Jin tossed the ball again, landing first in Taehyung’s hands, who bumped it up with perfect form. But it didn’t last. Right at nine, Yoongi made a bad pass, and once again the ball was about to fall in the middle.
Jimin tried to rush in with his foot to save it, but not only did he miss—it dropped just five centimeters from his toes—but he also slipped and did an almost complete split on the wet patio floor.
“Ow!” everyone winced in unison. Even Namjoon instinctively covered his own groin as if in shared pain.
Yoongi quickly approached the brunet only to find him laughing.
“Huh? Is laughing a way to cope with excruciating pain?” Yoongi asked, confused.
“You should’ve seen your faces!” Jimin cackled, pointing at all of them. “I’m a dancer. I mostly do contemporary, I can do the splits easily, see?”
Then he adjusted his posture to demonstrate that, yes, he was indeed very flexible. Taehyung and Hoseok already knew, clearly, but the pain in their balls was still shared.
“Can you do that too?” Jungkook asked Taehyung, earning himself a glare from the blond.
“Why does that matter to you?”
“Well, you studied contemporary dance too. It’s just a question...” Jungkook replied quickly.
“Not like Jimin. I can’t reach the floor,” Taehyung said with a slight pout. “I never managed to do it completely—it hurt like hell, felt like my balls were being ripped off.”
“You’re just lazy,” Jimin said, getting up and dusting off his shorts.
Right then, the speaker—which had been playing random songs—shifted to a new track. A familiar beat filled the air. It was the same mix they’d used for the girls’ audition.
“Oh, shit,” Taehyung blinked, immediately recognizing the track. They’d been using his phone for the music and he hadn’t deleted the audio after the audition. “Hold on, I’ll change it.”
He was about to walk over, but Hoseok stopped him, clapping excitedly.
“Oh no! We have to dance to this!”
“Yes, yes, let’s do it!” Jimin laughed.
Before Taehyung could complain, everyone was already lining up in the driest part of the patio. Even Jin, Namjoon, and Yoongi joined in. Sana, Mina, and Momo were cracking up on their loungers. Momo even whipped out her phone to start recording.
Hoseok took the lead, being the dancer he was, and began doing the boys’ choreography. He positioned himself at the front so those who didn’t know it could follow. Jungkook and Jimin jumped in without hesitation.
But the real show started when Jin, instead of doing the guys’ version, decided to copy the girls’ choreography. And he nailed it. With exaggerated hip movements, diva-worthy steps, and dramatic facial expressions like he was on a full-blown stage.
The group burst into laughter—so hard that Jimin ended up on the floor, clutching his stomach, tears rolling down his face.
“That’s not how it goes, hyung!” Hoseok scolded between giggles. “That’s the girls’ part!”
But Jin ignored him completely and kept going, shaking his hips with way too much confidence.
Yoongi was trying to follow the routine that Hoseok, Jungkook, and Taehyung were calmly executing, but he kept bumping into Namjoon, who, despite his best efforts, seemed to have zero spatial awareness.
“Fucking hell, Namjoon!” Yoongi growled after their fourth collision. “Move to another damn side!”
“It’s not my fault—the space is small!”
“The patio is huge, you idiot! Move properly!” Yoongi shoved him with his shoulder after bumping into him for the third time in less than a minute.
“I am trying!”
“Then try harder!”
Hoseok, seeing that no one was actually following the choreography, sighed in frustration and threw his hands up in surrender.
“Do whatever you want, I give up!” he exclaimed, now switching to a ridiculous routine with exaggerated moves and a dead-serious expression that clashed completely with what he was doing.
"The mix is good," Jungkook said out loud. He was a music enthusiast, after all—he had enough taste to tell when something was well done and when they’d just slapped songs together.
"Thanks, I made it myself," Taehyung turned toward him after hearing that.
"You made it?" Jungkook looked at him with a hint of surprise.
"Yup."
He frowned, assessing him. He didn’t know much about Taehyung’s major, only that it had something to do with film and production.
"But… why do you know how to mix music?"
"You do know I study Audiovisual Creation, right?" he replied with a roll of his eyes and a sarcastic tone. "The ‘audio’ part isn’t just for decoration."
Of course he knew Taehyung was studying Audiovisual Creation, but he had never really thought about what that entailed. He was genuinely surprised.
He could edit videos, understood photography, visual composition, how to use professional recording equipment. And now, apparently, he could mix music too.
"Do you know how to do everything or what?"
"Basically." Taehyung smirked arrogantly, making Jungkook roll his eyes this time.
Fucking Taehyung.
He really did seem like a genius when he was in that mode. So damn smug.
When the song finally ended, Yoongi decided it was the perfect moment for a dramatic and chaotic finish.
"To the pool, motherfuckers!"
Hoseok was first. A subtle but effective shove sent him flying backward into the water with a scandalized scream, splashing everyone in the vicinity.
Next was Jimin, who had been laughing at Hoseok and didn’t react quickly enough when Yoongi came for him. Momo and Mina shrieked as they narrowly avoided getting soaked in the fallout.
Jin tried to flee, stumbling along the pool’s edge, but his fate was sealed. Yoongi caught him, pushed him, and Jin fell with a dramatic screech that was cut off by the splash.
Namjoon was a tougher target. Not because he was smarter—he wasn’t right now, considering he stood laughing instead of running—but because he was the biggest and heaviest of them all. Yoongi didn’t seem to consider that when, through fits of laughter, he launched himself at him like a human tackle.
"No, no, wait…!" But it was too late. Namjoon lost his balance, and like a domino effect straight out of hell, he reached out in a desperate attempt to stay upright.
One of his arms hooked onto Jungkook’s, and suddenly everything was happening too fast—Namjoon falling and Jungkook being pulled along with him.
Taehyung, who had been watching the whole scene unfold with a half-smile, saw Jungkook stumble toward the water. Before his brain could even register what he was doing, his body moved on reflex. He grabbed Jungkook by the nearest wrist and yanked hard.
For a split second, it looked like he had succeeded—Jungkook didn’t fall into the water. But… fucking physics.
Jungkook was pulled back with too much force, and before he could even process it, the momentum spun him on his axis and he crashed forward—straight into Taehyung. The blond didn’t even have time to curse before he hit the ground flat on his back.
This was the second fucking time today Jungkook had crashed into him.
The fall was hard enough to knock the air out of him, and before the back of his head could hit the grass, Jungkook—pure instinct—wrapped an arm around him.
Only later did he realize that, with his good arm, he had cradled the back of Taehyung’s head, cushioning the impact. It was a small, unconscious gesture, but enough to keep Taehyung from getting a concussion.
Taehyung felt Jungkook’s weight on top of him. His first instinct was to groan, his second was to curse him out.
"What the fuck do you eat to weigh this much?!" he gasped with a pained look. Jungkook didn’t move immediately—he just stared at him.
Taehyung’s hair was spread out across the damp grass. His skin still glistened with leftover water, and his breathing was shallow. Jungkook could feel his chest rise and fall against his own with every breath.
The way the blond’s legs were parted—with one of his own slotted right between them—made them brush up against each other a little more than they probably should. He could literally feel the heat of his skin through their soaked shorts.
The blond’s eyes looked darker now, his brow furrowed, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. His ears were red too.
"...What?" he asked, blinking. Jungkook felt a weird little twist in his stomach.
"You weigh more than a dead cow, you idiot!" Taehyung barked—but didn’t push him away right away. Maybe because he was still processing the situation, or maybe because, deep down, the closeness left him momentarily paralyzed.
But a few seconds later, when a voice approached, his brain finally rebooted.
"Are you guys okay?!" Sana asked, kneeling beside them.
"I think I broke a rib!" the blond whined.
"Don't exaggerate," Jungkook muttered, shifting just enough to look at him in disbelief.
"Don’t talk! Almost murderer!"
This time, Taehyung gave him a solid push and got him off. Jungkook rolled onto his back beside him with a groan. He brought a hand to his face, running it through his hair, and when he lowered his arm, his eyes drifted sideways to the blond.
The bastard was still red. Jungkook smiled—just a little—to himself. He kind of liked having that effect on him.
"Tae, why’d you pull him?" Sana asked, her tone more curious than accusatory.
Still lying on the ground, the blond huffed and ran a hand over his face, trying to cool the heat in his cheeks.
Jungkook sat up and brushed grass off his arms but paused for a moment, repeating the question in his head. Now that he thought about it… she was right. Taehyung hadn’t hesitated even for a second to yank him back instead of letting him fall. And it hadn’t been an accident—he’d done it on purpose.
He turned to look at the blond with the same curiosity.
"His burned hand can’t touch chlorine yet," he said casually, like it was no big deal.
But Jungkook felt something in his chest. Something warm. It was a light feeling, barely there—but it was definitely there. Because despite everything, despite all their constant bickering, their silent standoffs, their stupid rivalry and how they were always sizing each other up… Taehyung had thought of him. Not the competition. Not his ego. Him.
Jungkook pressed his lips together to hide the small smile threatening to form, but the expression quickly faded when he saw Taehyung still lying on the ground, grimacing.
He didn’t think too hard before leaning down and reaching out a hand to help him up. It only made sense after he’d just flattened him with his entire weight a few seconds ago.
Only, someone beat him to it.
Jimin jumped out of the pool like the water was on fire, and before Jungkook could react, he already had the blond by the arm and was helping him to his feet.
"Come on, get up, you drama queen."
The black-haired one felt a little pout tug at his lips before he could stop it.
He was going to help him.
Him.
But Jimin had beat him to it without a second of hesitation, and now Jungkook was left there, hand still half-extended, feeling a little... weird. He didn’t know why, but the feeling was quickly replaced when Hoseok resurfaced with a loud gasp and shook the water from his hair like a happy dog.
"Alright, alright, that’s enough physical activity for today," he said, exhaling with exaggerated exhaustion. "If we keep this up, we’ll need a nap in thirty minutes."
"I wouldn’t be against a nap," Jin chimed in from the grass, where he was still sitting after climbing out of the pool.
"You’re never against a nap," Jimin pointed out.
"Of course not," Jin replied proudly. "I’m a strong advocate for good rest."
"This was fun, but my skin feels like a plum already," Hoseok showed his fingers.
"They’re called raisins, dumbass," Yoongi said with a half-smile.
"Actually, while ‘raisin’ does refer to a dried grape, there’s also such a thing as prunes, which are dried plums, so..." Namjoon added casually.
"Whatever!" Hoseok waved him off and raised his voice to get everyone’s attention. "Should we go inside already? We can start the Mario Kart tournament!"
"Hell yes!" Jin said immediately, stepping closer.
"I’m gonna destroy all of you!" Jimin added with a couple of excited hops.
"Not if I destroy you first, shortie," Jin shoved him playfully in the shoulder and shook out his hair.
Jungkook rolled his eyes at everyone’s overly enthusiastic reaction, but he couldn’t help the small smirk tugging at his lips. Mario Kart meant competition—especially between him and someone very specific.
He looked up at Taehyung. The other boy was watching the scene with a half-smile, and for a brief moment, their eyes met. And Jungkook, for some reason, felt a flutter in his stomach. So he decided to take the opportunity to tease him and cover up his own nerves.
"Hey."
"What?" Taehyung asked simply.
"In the tournament, promise me you won't cry when I beat you?" Jungkook narrowed his eyes.
"Excuse me?" Taehyung smirked.
"You heard me."
"You’re the one who’ll be crying when you finish dead last," scoffed the blond.
"That’s not gonna happen," Jungkook crossed his arms with a smug expression.
"Sure it will," the boy shot back, mimicking the pose. "Did you forget the last time we played, you lost?"
"We can bet if you want."
"As if I need a bet to win," Taehyung tilted his head mockingly.
"So what, are you in or not?"
Taehyung looked at him for a moment longer. Then, with that same trademark smirk, he shrugged.
"Of course I’m in," he said confidently. "Someone’s gotta put you in your place."
"We’ll see about that."
──── ∗ ⋅✧⋅ ∗ ────
The air inside the cabin was buzzing with energy. Outside, the sky had turned a deep blue, the last traces of sunlight fading over the horizon. But inside, the warm lighting of the lamps, the echo of laughter, and the many cans and bottles scattered over the tables all revealed the group’s general state of mind.
Among the ten of them, some were definitely tipsier than others, but overall, the atmosphere was relaxed. Still, the competitive spirit was alive.
To decide who would face who, they wrote everyone’s names on little pieces of paper, tossed them in a bag, and shook it. The matchups were randomly drawn, and the first round was set:
Yoongi vs. Sana
Mina vs. Momo
Seokjin vs. Namjoon
Hoseok vs. Taehyung
Jimin vs. Jungkook
The TV glowed in the main room, where everyone had gathered on cushions, couches, or the floor, eager to watch the matches unfold. Since there were only two controllers, it was strictly one-on-one, while the rest of the group took turns teasing, cheering, or simply enjoying the loss of someone else’s dignity.
Jungkook, with a cold can of beer in one hand and his elbow resting lazily on the back of the sofa—since he was seated on the floor—watched the first match between Yoongi and Sana with a faint smirk.
Honestly, he would’ve bet all his money on Yoongi destroying Sana in seconds. Except, when the race started, Sana gave him a sideways grin and left him eating her dust.
"What the fuck?!" Yoongi exclaimed, nearly spilling the drink by his feet when Sana took a shortcut he hadn’t even noticed.
"Aw, didn’t know you could do that?" she said with fake innocence. "Poor thing."
The room erupted in laughter and cheers as Sana crossed the finish line in second place, while Yoongi landed in a miserable fourth.
"Shit," Yoongi grumbled, crossing his arms and slumping deeper into the couch. "Shouldn’t have underestimated you, Sana."
"I didn’t see that coming either," Jungkook admitted, taking a sip from his can.
The tournament continued with Mina vs. Momo, where the competitiveness between the two friends got so intense they stopped speaking to each other mid-game. Momo won, but since it was basically the first time for both of them, Mina finished eighth and Momo fifth.
Next came Jin vs. Namjoon.
"Hyung, don’t get mad when I beat you," Namjoon taunted with a confident grin.
"You’ve got the coordination of a newborn giraffe, Namjoon," Jin laughed in his face. "Just admit now you’ll bow out with dignity."
Everyone cracked up, and to no one’s surprise, Jin won. Namjoon whined, insisting the controls were poorly calibrated, but no one believed him.
Then came Taehyung vs. Hoseok. Jungkook straightened up a little—not because he cared that much, but hey, it was fun watching Taehyung compete.
The guy had this way of focusing that made everything around him fade out. His lips pressed together, his jaw tightened, and his gaze sharpened with intensity. Every now and then he licked his lips—it seemed like a habit. And, unsurprisingly, he crushed Hoseok. By a lot.
"I hate you!" Hoseok groaned dramatically, flopping onto the couch after placing fifth while Taehyung took first. The blond gave a slight tilt of his head and a faint smile.
"I know."
"Ugh, see you in hell."
"See you there, hyung."
Jungkook had to bite the inside of his cheek not to smile too much.
And then came the final match of the first round: Jimin vs. Jungkook. The brunette cracked his neck with an exaggerated pop and narrowed his eyes at Jungkook.
"Get ready, asshole."
"We’ll see who’s ready," Jungkook raised a brow.
He didn’t know why, but the urge to beat Jimin was even stronger than his desire to beat Taehyung. It felt a little personal—he especially wanted to win.
The race began, and Jimin was good. Really good. But Jungkook was better. The game turned into an intense battle of precise shortcuts, perfectly aimed shells, and last-second calculations. Jimin was fighting with everything he had not to lose.
But he did. Just barely.
Jungkook leaned back against the couch with a satisfied smile, while Jimin collapsed flat on the floor, covering his eyes with his forearm as he saw he’d finished second.
"I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you."
"Yeah, yeah. Keep talking," Jungkook teased.
When Jimin sat up, Namjoon gave him a pat on the back.
"You gave it your best, man."
"Don’t you dare pity me!"
Yoongi adjusted the pieces of paper scattered on the floor, pretending they were part of a tournament bracket.
"And that’s the end of the first round," Hoseok announced. "Sana, Momo, Jin, Taehyung, and Jungkook move on to the next phase!"
Though now, there was a small problem. Five players had advanced, only two controllers were available, and they needed even pairs to keep playing.
"Okay, so how do we do this?" Sana asked, turning around to face everyone, legs tucked up on the couch.
"One of them could go up against the computer, but that’s boring," Namjoon said, drumming his fingers on his knee.
"Or we could draw lots to see who skips a round while the others play first," Jin suggested with a shrug.
"That’s bullshit. Someone would have an unfair advantage," Jungkook complained, frowning.
"Maybe someone could play twice?" Mina tried to suggest, but that idea was quickly shot down too.
The five of them debated among themselves, throwing out ideas that were ultimately dismissed for one reason or another. Until Yoongi, with his eyes half-closed and now holding a glass of whiskey—they had clearly moved on from beers to something stronger—raised his hand.
"I’ve got it," he said in a raspy voice. "We add someone else to make it even—another one-on-one."
"...Who though?" Sana asked.
"Jimin," Yoongi said without hesitation. The boy, who had been sipping his drink calmly, nearly choked.
"What? Me?"
"Yeah. You were the best among the losers."
Everyone fell silent for a few seconds, until Namjoon squinted, realizing something before anyone else.
"Wait..." he said slowly. "If Jimin joins, we’ll end up with three winners again. That’s an odd number, and we still only have two controllers."
"...Oh," Yoongi blinked. There was another beat of silence. And then everyone burst out laughing at the same time.
"Cut the crap already," he grumbled.
"You’re such an idiot," Jin laughed, loud and unfiltered.
"You thought of Jimin before doing the math!" Namjoon accused, pointing a finger at him.
"Shut the hell up!" Yoongi snapped, grabbing his shoe off the floor and literally throwing it at Namjoon. It hit him with a solid thud.
"Agh, what the fuck!" Namjoon grabbed his shoulder, shooting him an offended glare. "You didn’t have to throw a shoe at me, dumbass!"
"Say another word and I’ll throw the other one."
Jungkook chuckled behind his glass, feeling the warm burn of alcohol slide down his throat. But he couldn’t help noticing that, while Jimin was laughing too, he avoided making eye contact with Yoongi.
"Okay, okay," Momo interrupted, raising one hand. "Let me make this easier for you all."
Everyone turned to look at her. She was sitting between Hoseok’s legs, using his chest as a backrest, her head slightly tilted toward him.
"I’m stepping out," she said casually. "I don’t stand a chance anyway, and I’d rather go do something more interesting."
As she said it, she turned slightly, grabbed Hoseok by the shirt and pulled him close to whisper something in his ear. The change in the guy’s expression was immediate—relaxed and laid-back turned to full alert. His eyes widened, his back straightened, and a second later he was already on his feet.
"Yeah, uh... that’s definitely more interesting," he said, taking her hand to help her up.
The group watched the scene in silence for a moment until Jin muttered:
"Who really lost here? Her for quitting or us for being lonely as hell and not having anyone to fuck?"
"Shut up!" Hoseok laughed as he dragged Momo out of the room with him.
Once they were out of sight, Sana let out an exaggerated sigh.
"We lost."
"Well..." Taehyung shifted in place, striking a relaxed pose, then gave Sana a lazily flirtatious look. "I could fix that little problem."
Jungkook literally turned to glare at him, eyes burning. But Sana, far from looking uncomfortable, smiled with a hint of nervousness, lowering her gaze for a moment before looking back at Taehyung with a distinct sparkle in her eyes. Jungkook hated it.
"Oh, please," he scoffed, his voice a little drier than usual. "You don’t stand a chance."
"Oh, really?" Taehyung raised an eyebrow and tilted his head.
"Yeah."
"Says who? Because the only one who gets to decide that is Sana, and she doesn’t seem to agree with you."
The two locked eyes, and a subtle tension built between them. They stared each other down the way they always did—full of sparks. Sana looked between them with an expression that bordered on delight, biting her lower lip ever so slightly as she glanced back and forth, clearly enjoying the view even more this time.
The black-haired boy wasn’t sure what pissed him off more: the way Taehyung held his gaze or the fact that he didn’t seem to be taking it seriously. And before things could escalate further, Jimin stepped between them, clapping both their shoulders with a tense smile.
"Alright, boys, boys, save that energy for the games."
Jungkook shot Taehyung one last sharp look before exhaling hard.
"Fine."
"I hope you’re ready to lose, Jungkook."
"We’ll see who loses," he muttered without looking at him.
The name slips were shuffled again, and once more, matchups were picked at random.
"Okay, first round of the semifinals: Sana versus Taehyung," Namjoon announced, reading the papers.
Sana and Taehyung exchanged looks. She smiled with confidence while the blond raised a brow.
"Don’t think I’ll let you win just because you’re pretty," he said calmly.
"How dare you?" Sana gasped, placing a hand on her chest in mock offense.
"You’re a fucking jerk with zero chivalry," Jungkook scoffed and rolled his eyes.
"Chivalry?" the blond tilted his head. "It’s not about that. It’s common sense. Sana’s good. And what would be fair about letting her win? If I treated her like she’s helpless just because she’s a woman, that would be more insulting."
"You're a bastard, but thanks for trusting me." Sana smirked, determined to take control, rolling her neck from side to side to relax. "Anyway, I'm going to squash you like a fly."
"Can’t wait to see that," Taehyung chuckled.
The countdown flashed on the screen. 3... 2... 1... GO!
Sana and Taehyung were both competitive as hell, so the race became a full-on battle of attacks and counterattacks. And it was harder now too—they’d raised the bot difficulty to make things more exciting.
"A fucking lightning bolt?!" Sana shouted when her character shrank right before a ramp, leaving her stuck in the lower part of the track.
"You look adorable in miniature," Taehyung said with a mocking grin, speeding past her without remorse.
"Go fuck yourself."
The competition was fierce but fun. They pushed each other, threw items, and Sana even tried to trick him on a turn by claiming there was a secret ramp—Taehyung almost believed her.
"Shit!" Sana yelled when Taehyung bumped her into a wall.
"Oops, my bad," Taehyung smiled shamelessly. "Actually, no, not really."
"You’re the worst kind of person!"
"Yeah, I know."
Sana didn’t back down. As soon as she got a red shell, she launched it with perfect aim at the back of his kart.
"Take that, asshole."
Taehyung watched his character spin out from the hit and clenched his teeth.
"Alright, alright... so that’s how it is."
Jungkook watched the match closely, his lips pressed into a thin line. He wasn’t jealous—maybe a little, but generally he wasn’t—but it did bother him how well they got along.
The battle was fierce until the very end. Taehyung managed to cross the finish line first by a fraction of a second, while Sana came in at a respectable third.
She dropped the controller onto her lap and sighed.
"Well, that wasn’t bad at all."
"You took it better than I thought," Taehyung glanced at her and nodded in approval.
"For losing?" she asked with amusement. "It’s just a silly little game, it’s not like I lost anything in real life. Besides, I came in third, not last."
Jungkook, even if he didn’t want to admit it, felt a bit annoyed. Not just because Taehyung had won again, but because Sana genuinely seemed to enjoy his company.
"Next round: Jin versus Jungkook!" Namjoon announced.
If Sana and Taehyung’s match had been competitive, Jungkook and Jin’s was just plain ridiculous. Jin, with his quirky personality, didn’t take the game seriously for even a second. From the moment the race started, he began cheating in the most shameless ways.
"Oh no! My controller slipped!" he cried out dramatically, trying to push Jungkook’s controller out of his hands.
"You’re such a fucking cheater," Jungkook dodged him just in time.
"I don’t know what you’re talking about!"
Jin took advantage of a momentary lapse and reached over to try to cover Jungkook’s screen.
"Don’t do that!" Jungkook shouted, swatting his hand away forcefully.
"Hey! I was just trying to get a better view!"
The race was a total mess. Jin kept throwing items at Jungkook in the most illogical and blatantly dirty ways, while Jungkook fought back with equal intensity.
"No! I got hit from behind!" Jin suddenly yelled as a blue shell slammed into him, sending him flying just before the second lap’s finish line.
Without missing a beat, Jimin commented in a casual tone:
"Yummy."
The group burst out laughing. Taehyung, who was taking a sip of his whiskey, nearly spit it out.
"Shit..." he muttered to himself, surprised. It seemed like Jimin was finally comfortable enough around the group to start dropping dirty jokes. Jungkook, for his part, took advantage of Jin’s distraction to overtake him at the last second and crossed the finish line in first place. Jin stared at the screen in complete shock, like he’d just been informed his entire family had been kidnapped.
"This can’t be..."
"Tough luck, hyung," Jungkook said with a mocking smile.
"Jungkook."
"Yeah?"
"I want you to know that when you die, I will be present for your autopsy."
"...What?"
"I’ll be there, watching with my own eyes as they open your skull and confirm what I already know."
"And what exactly do you know?"
"That your brain is completely smooth and that not once in your entire existence have you generated a single thought."
"I appreciate the hate, hyung," Jungkook laughed and raised his beer in a mock toast.
After those rounds filled with shouting, cheating, and a good dose of alcohol coursing through everyone’s veins, the grand final had arrived.
"Taehyung and Jungkook in the grand finale!" Sana shouted excitedly, raising her drink.
A thunderous chorus of cheers filled the room. Some started banging their hands on tables, floors, and furniture, while others slapped their thighs like drum rolls. Even Namjoon, caught up in the moment, banged a knuckle against an empty bottle, momentarily forgetting that glass was, in fact, hard.
"Shit," he muttered, shaking his hand while Yoongi laughed and called him an idiot.
Meanwhile, Taehyung was mentally preparing himself for the showdown when he suddenly felt warm hands on his shoulders.
"Listen, Tae," Jimin began, using his best boxing coach tone. "Loosen those muscles, champ. Release the tension, channel your energy, make love to the track..."
"I don’t know if that was poetic or sexual, but it’s working."
"Don’t let that walking muscle intimidate you. Keep a cool head, eyes on the track, and if all else fails... smash the controller in his face."
Taehyung let out a laugh, tilting his head to the side to better receive the massage.
"Thanks for the pep talk, coach."
Jimin gave him a couple of encouraging pats before cupping his cheeks, locking eyes with him.
"Go make me proud, kid."
The blond bit his lip with a grin and gave a solemn nod. But Jungkook, from his seat, wasn’t enjoying the show. He looked pissed. His jaw was tight as he watched the scene with a look that screamed irritation. Just... why the hell did Taehyung have to be so damn spoiled by Jimin?
Before he could say anything, Namjoon gave him a light nudge on the shoulder.
"Don’t get distracted. You know what to do." He pointed at him. Jungkook clicked his tongue and settled into his seat, gripping his controller tightly.
The screen displayed the countdown.
3...
"Come on, Jungkook, do what you do best—be a pain in Taehyung’s ass," said Yoongi from his side of the couch.
2...
"Tae, focus," Jin warned. "Your reputation is on the line here."
"Jin-hyung, you’re not helping."
"Sorry."
1...
"Let’s go!" Sana shouted, slapping her own thigh in excitement.
GO!
The race began.
Jungkook and Taehyung launched forward with perfect acceleration, leaving the rest of the bots in the dust. The track chosen was Rainbow Road, which only raised the stakes since it was notoriously difficult—especially with the fall-off edges activated.
The room immediately split in two. Jimin and Jin positioned themselves on Taehyung’s side, whispering words of encouragement. Namjoon and Yoongi did the same with Jungkook, patting him on the back. Sana and Mina, in a noble act of neutrality, stood in the middle, cheering for both.
Taehyung managed to take the lead on the first turn, but Jungkook quickly caught up with a well-timed mushroom boost.
"Shit, shit, shit!" Taehyung growled as he saw Jungkook pull ahead.
"Eat my dust, asshole," Jungkook mocked, tossing a green shell backward. Unfortunately for him, karma was real—the shell bounced off a wall and ricocheted straight back at him. "Oh fuck no!" Too late. He had sabotaged himself, and his character skidded and fell into the void.
"You’re such a dumbass," Jin laughed.
Jungkook gritted his teeth and accelerated as soon as the game respawned him on the track. He wasn’t going to let Taehyung get away so easily.
By the second lap, the tension was insane. Every time one got ahead, the other struck back. They stole items, pushed each other to the edge, and hurled insults without mercy.
"Oh, Taehyung has triple red shells!" Jin announced. "Jungkook, start praying."
"As if that’s gonna affect me," Jungkook replied, using a turbo mushroom at the perfect moment to dodge the first shell.
"What the fuck?!" Taehyung exclaimed, shocked.
"That was dirty, there’s no way you planned that. Pure dumb luck!" Jimin accused.
"Shut up, it was pure skill," Jungkook said smugly. Taehyung managed to regain the lead by throwing a banana peel just as Jungkook attempted a drift, causing his kart to spin off the track. "Goddamn you, Kim Taehyung!" Jungkook yelled as his character fell off the edge.
"What’s wrong, little baby boy? Did you fall?" Taehyung mocked, eyes still glued to the screen.
Jungkook narrowed his eyes.
"I’m gonna break your face."
"Not in my living room," Namjoon intervened without taking his eyes off the race.
"Why the fuck are there so many bananas on this track?!" Jungkook shouted, narrowly dodging one.
"Maybe because you have a monkey complex, who knows," the blond replied nonchalantly. "You’re using that dumbass monkey." Jungkook growled. He hated when he called his Donkey Kong that.
"Last lap!" Sana yelled, eyes glued to the screen as the game announced they were nearing the end.
The two characters were practically neck and neck. Taehyung was slightly ahead, just by a few millimeters, but Jungkook had a turbo mushroom.
Everything came down to that final second.
"Don’t do it..." Taehyung muttered, catching a glimpse of Jungkook’s item box out of the corner of his eye.
"I’m gonna do it."
"Don’t you fucking dare!"
He did.
Right before the finish line, Jungkook used the turbo mushroom and crossed... a fucking second ahead of Taehyung.
"Yes!" Jungkook threw his arms up, accidentally launching the controller. "Suck it, bitch!" he beamed with euphoria and cocky satisfaction as he turned to face Taehyung, who was still staring at the screen in disbelief. "What was that you were saying about not knowing what it’s like to lose? What happened, Tae? Did I beat you? Oh wait—yeah. I did."
Taehyung blinked, then ran a hand down his face.
"I’m gonna say something in my defense."
"I don’t wanna hear it," Jungkook interrupted, still grinning like a victorious bastard.
"I’m saying it anyway. I’m way too drunk to play properly."
"Don’t give me that bullshit," the black-haired boy scoffed. "I’m drunk too."
"Yeah, but I’m drunker."
"That’s not a valid scale."
"Yes it is."
Jimin gave Taehyung a few sympathetic pats on the leg.
"It’s okay, champ," he said with a calm smile. "You gave it your all."
"Yeah..." Taehyung sighed, but then grinned mischievously. "The only way Jungkook can beat me is if I’m drunk. I’d be a little embarrassed admitting that I have to weaken my opponent to win because, on my own, my skills wouldn’t be enough."
"Are you seriously still going with that?" Jungkook growled, glaring at him. "You know it, I know it, they know it, Sana knows it, the entire fucking universe knows it—I won!"
Sana crawled over to Jungkook and placed a paper crown on his head—one she had crafted out of the thin cardboard packaging from the beer cartons. She’d been working on it this whole time. If it was a tournament, there had to be some kind of prize, and that was the best she could come up with given the limited supplies and her increasingly drunken state.
"Here’s your prize," the brown-haired girl giggled as she adjusted it on his head, then let her gaze wander across his face. She bit her lip, debating whether or not to take it a step further. She decided yes. "And also this..." Sana placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned in, giving Jungkook a sweet, gentle kiss on the cheek. He immediately smirked and turned to look at Taehyung with a smug, arrogant expression. "Congrats on winning, Jungkookie."
The blond sat there, mouth hanging open and eyebrows deeply furrowed. His eyes went from Sana to Jungkook, and his brain kept replaying that adorable little kiss she’d just given him. Taehyung was fuming. And "Jungkookie"? Seriously? Why didn’t she get shit for calling him that?
Both Jimin and Jin glanced over at their friend, a bit on edge, just in case he decided to lunge at Jungkook for getting kissed by Sana. Even though Taehyung wasn’t the kind of guy to throw punches, they still stood up when he did—he was drunk, after all.
"I demand a rematch!"
"I beat you, deal with it. No rematch, especially not for sore losers."
"You only beat me by a goddamn tenth of a second!"
"Still enough to put you in second place."
"But I wasn’t at one hundred percent!"
"I beat you with a crippled hand."
"I told you I’m drunk!"
"I am too!"
"Yeah, but I’m drunker!"
"I already told you that’s not a valid metric!"
"Yes it is!"
"No, it’s not!"
"Yes it is!"
"Will you both shut the hell up?" Yoongi interrupted, massaging his temples with a dramatic sigh. "No one wants to hear the drunk version of 'who’s got the bigger dick.'"
"It’s an important thing to establish," Taehyung mumbled, crossing his arms and plopping back down beside Jimin. The others followed suit when they saw he’d calmed down... more or less.
The blond glared daggers at Jungkook, who was still sitting next to Sana. His eyes zeroed in on the cheek she had kissed, noticing the faint smudge of her lipstick. Ugh! He hated it so fucking much! He wanted that kiss! How dare that beast think he was kissable to Sana? And then smile at him like that, rubbing his victory in his face? He was a goddamn bastard. But he wasn’t giving up—Kim Taehyung never gave up.
"Alright, children, now that you’ve gone through every stage of a male dominance battle... what’s next?" Jin asked, stretching his arms.
The group fell silent for a moment. At this point, it was already nighttime, and the vibe in the room had shifted. The lights were low, the bottles half-empty, and everyone was in that kind of drunk mood where any dumb idea could sound brilliant.
"We could keep playing," Namjoon suggested, though he didn’t sound too convinced.
"Nah, the thrill’s gone," Yoongi said, sipping his drink.
"We could play something... interesting," Jimin chimed in, wearing a smile that instantly triggered Taehyung’s internal alarm. He narrowed his eyes.
"I don’t like that tone."
Ignoring him, Jimin adjusted himself on the couch with a mischievous glint in his eye.
"I mean, we’re already in the vibe. We could play something more fun. I don’t know... something like spin the bottle... or seven minutes in heaven."
"Jimin, what kind of teenage Netflix drama have you been watching lately?" Yoongi asked sarcastically.
"Are you fifteen?" added Jungkook, rolling his eyes. But Taehyung looked the most annoyed.
"Park, are you fucking drunk or just born an idiot?"
"Could be both."
"Stop talking nonsense," he said in exasperation. "There are exactly two women and six men in this room. Do you want this to turn into a fucking sausage fest?"
"Sounds pretty homoerotic when you put it like that," Namjoon remarked, calmly sipping his drink.
"Because it is!" Taehyung threw his hand in the air. "The only people who’d enjoy this are Yoongi-hyung and you, Jimin. And that’s only because you two actually do stuff with guys."
"And what do you want me to do about it? Apologize?" Yoongi said sarcastically, raising an eyebrow.
"No, just... not everyone enjoys kissing dick carriers."
The group burst into laughter. But in theory, he had a point. Namjoon, Jin, Jungkook, and Taehyung had no desire to kiss another guy or end up in that kind of situation. Not yet, anyway. They were drunk, sure, but still very aware of their sexualities. No one was about to lose their sense of self and start flirting with their friends.
"Besides, I’m not letting any of you go in with Sana," Taehyung added with conviction. "So unless Mina wants to take a few spins with every dude in the room, it’s a terrible idea." He crossed his arms. Mina, who had been chilling in her spot, widened her eyes with an expressionless face.
"Hard pass. I’m not kissing drunk dudes," the black-haired girl rolled her eyes, then glanced at her friend, who looked slightly flushed and far too happy—but no one seemed to notice except her.
"See? It’s a terrible idea. She agrees with me."
Jimin crossed his arms, then tilted his head with a dangerous smile stretching across his lips.
"Why not, Tae?" His voice dropped slightly, turning almost provocative. "Are you scared?"
Taehyung blinked. His alcohol-flooded brain—and his even more intoxicated ego—couldn’t process the words rationally. All he heard was "scared."
That word.
That fucking word.
Park Jimin knew him too well. He knew exactly which button to press to make him act without thinking. Because if there was one thing Taehyung couldn’t stand, it was being called a coward.
It didn’t matter how stupid the challenge was, or how absurd the suggestion… if Jimin implied he was a chicken, his brain would flip a switch and force him to prove otherwise. And now, with several drinks in his system, his reasoning was hanging by a thread.
"Oh no," Jin muttered, realizing exactly what was about to happen. Jungkook, from his spot, watched the scene unfold with mild confusion.
The blond narrowed his eyes and leaned forward slightly, his expression shifting into something far more defiant.
"Scared?" he repeated, a cocky smile spreading across his face. "Who the hell said I was scared?"
"So, you’re gonna play?" Jimin grinned wider.
Taehyung picked up his glass, brought it to his lips, and downed a huge gulp of soju without breaking eye contact with Jimin. Then he slammed the empty glass on the table and smirked with full-blown arrogance.
"Bring the fucking bottle, Park Jimin."
Chapter 17: Chapter 16
Chapter Text
"Not a fucking chance I’m kissing anyone. Stop fucking around."
Jungkook had no idea what kind of face he was making, but judging by the way Jimin huffed, it probably looked like he’d just pulled a knife on someone.
"Oh, please, Jungkook," Jimin scoffed, rolling his eyes like he was dealing with a spoiled child. "Quit the damn theatrics. We’re switching games. I don’t need your fragile straight ego shattering in the middle of the living room."
"It’s not about my 'fragile straight ego', I just have zero interest in sticking my mouth to anyone here," Jungkook muttered, frowning.
"Mhm, sounds like someone’s scared they might like it," Yoongi chimed in, pouring himself more soju with a smirk.
"Fuck off, hyung."
"I’m just saying, just saying," Yoongi replied with an innocent shrug and an amused smile.
"Nah, but seriously, I’m with Jungkook on this one," said Namjoon, raising a hand. "I might be drunk, but I haven’t reached the 'kissing my friends' stage yet."
"I’m exactly five shots of straight vodka away from that," added Jin with utter certainty.
Jimin eyed him with interest. "Want me to get them for you?"
"No."
"What a shame," Jimin sighed, like he’d just lost a golden opportunity.
"Leave him alone, you’re scaring him," Taehyung laughed.
"It was just an offer," Jimin grinned, then clapped his hands enthusiastically and straightened up. "Alright, if no one wants an exciting game, we’ll do something simpler. We’re playing dares."
"What kind of dares?" Jungkook couldn’t help but eye him suspiciously.
"Whatever comes to mind. We’ll spin the bottle, and whoever it lands on has to do whatever dare we give. The catch is—no one can say no," explained the brown-haired boy, picking up an empty bottle nearby and giving it a twirl in his hands.
"That sounds like a terrible idea," Taehyung muttered under his breath—but in truth, he was already intrigued. He wasn’t about to say it out loud, but the idea of doing stupid shit with his drunk friends did sound kind of fun. Jungkook, on the other hand, let out a long, heavy sigh.
"What if the dare’s something fucked?"
"Don’t be a coward, Jungkook," Jimin teased, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips. "We’re among friends. No one’s gonna make you shave your head or get your face tattooed."
"You said that last time and Hoseok ended up back at his apartment with neon green hair. He kept it for like three weeks," Jin reminded him.
"That was his decision," Jimin shrugged.
"You literally dared him to dye his hair fluorescent."
"He chose to do it."
At the back of the couch, Mina glanced at Sana with a silent plea in her eyes.
"Are we really about to watch four straight guys and two fruity ones do dumbass dares?"
"I don’t know if it’s gonna be hilarious or just sad," Sana chuckled, shaking her head.
They watched the group for a few more seconds before Mina stood and stretched her arms.
"Alright, before you all get completely trashed and we have to witness the full collapse of manhood, we’re heading to the bedroom. If any of you kiss by accident, send pics," the black-haired girl teased before disappearing up the stairs.
"It’s not gonna happen," Jungkook muttered under his breath.
Sana glanced at everyone again, her gaze lingering on Jungkook and Taehyung as she debated whether to stay. Honestly, it was tempting—this had the potential to get very interesting. But in the end, she shook her head and stood as well.
"Yeah, I better go..." she said with mock disappointment. She walked toward the stairs, but not without saying goodbye to everyone—especially Taehyung and Jungkook, patting both of their backs gently.
When the blond felt her hand trail lower down his back, he looked at her with a smile, thinking about getting up to follow her. To him, that was clearly a sign she wanted that—at least, that’s how it had worked with other girls. But his smile faded the second he saw her doing the exact same thing to Jungkook.
So he huffed and crossed his arms, totally offended.
"Alright, gentlemen. Gather around, sit in a circle, and leave your dignity outside this room," Jimin said as he settled in the middle of the living room.
Everyone else hesitated a bit before sitting down. They were scared of Jimin’s dares—after all, the guy didn’t understand the concept of boundaries. Taehyung stretched out and glanced at Jungkook from the corner of his eye. The younger one looked a little tense.
"Relax, Jungkookie," he whispered playfully, nudging his arm. "It’s not like they’re gonna ask you to strip or something."
"That’s what you say now," Jungkook shot him a glare.
"If you’re scared of losing, you can always run off," the blond teased with a smirk.
"Shut up."
Despite the protest, Jungkook sat down with the rest. Pride was a double-edged sword, and none of them were about to let it get questioned.
The glass bottle sat in the middle, gleaming under the warm light of the living room. Everyone formed a circle around it, expectant. Jimin raised his eyebrows, a dangerous glint in his eyes.
"Ready?"
Taehyung watched as the bottle began to spin. His stomach churned with anticipation, but the first round wasn’t anything wild. As expected, no one started with anything too extreme, so the initial dares stayed pretty tame. But the drinks were kicking in, and every laugh grew louder, every challenge more ridiculous, and every dare increasingly bold.
Jin was the first to get picked. He had to kiss Jimin’s hand with over-the-top passion, as if it belonged to the love of his life. Jimin complained afterward that Jin left his whole hand covered in slobber and wiped it off on Namjoon’s shirt.
Then came Namjoon’s turn. He was dared to mix four different liquors into one glass and drink it. But that wasn’t all. Knowing he didn’t drink much and the mix would hit him hard, he begged for mercy. So Yoongi, who had given the dare, said they’d both pick a number from one to three—and if they picked the same, Namjoon would have to drink two full glasses. But if they picked different numbers, everyone else would take a big shot instead.
Namjoon said three. Yoongi said one. Everyone but Namjoon groaned and cursed as they were forced to drink.
Yoongi got his payback soon enough. Jungkook dared him to flirt with Jin like he was the love of his life—cringe mode on full blast. It got so intense that Jin actually turned shy and even played along for a bit. He leaned in like he was going to kiss him but, at the last second, tilted his head and kissed his forehead instead.
Then the bottle landed on Jungkook. His dare? To do twenty pushups—with Yoongi on his back. He was the lightest one there, and no one wanted anyone getting injured.
"That’s not even a punishment," Jungkook said, raising a brow.
"It is for Yoongi-hyung," Jimin replied with a grin.
The younger one sighed and got to his feet, rolling his shoulders like he was about to face a true test of endurance.
"I don’t wanna die, so try not to make any sudden movements, thanks," Yoongi said as he carefully approached Jungkook, who was already kneeling on the floor.
"You’re not that heavy. Stop whining," the tattooed one rolled his eyes and got into a push-up position.
"Keep saying that and I’ll kick you in the back," Yoongi climbed on top of him with caution, adjusting his weight.
The blond watched them with his lips slightly pursed.
"Are you sure you can do it?" he asked, his gaze instinctively dropping to Jungkook’s injured hand. "I mean, the burn..."
The younger one shot him a look of annoyance.
"Taehyung, the burn’s not on my palm. I’m fine."
"Well, excuse you, how rude" the blond huffed, still a little skeptical. He crossed his arms and watched as Jungkook lowered and raised himself with ease, as if he didn’t have a full-grown man on his back. The blond felt slightly attacked—those muscles were definitely tensed, giving off a way-too-impressive image.
By the tenth push-up, Yoongi had his chin resting on his fist, looking utterly bored.
"You know what?" Yoongi murmured, staring at the ceiling. "This is actually a pretty nice place to be."
"Get off."
Jungkook finished the challenge with ease and did it with so much smugness that Taehyung had the sudden, urgent urge to punch him just to wipe that cocky expression off his face.
"That’s insane," Namjoon said. "I hate him so much."
"That’s called envy."
The next dare was for Taehyung and Jimin—they had to chug a beer as fast as possible. Both looked overly confident about it, so they grabbed their bottles and, at Jin’s signal, started drinking.
Taehyung tilted his head back and let the liquid slide down his throat without stopping. He had to win. If Jungkook could show off with ridiculous push-ups, he could absolutely shine here. And he proved it—Jimin finished a few seconds later, slamming the table in frustration.
"Shit, I lost."
"Obviously," Taehyung replied, wiping his lips with the back of his hand.
"Wow, that was fast, Taehyung," the brown-haired one smirked. "We already knew you were good with your mouth, but this just confirms it."
"...What?"
"Deep throat king and everything," Jimin added with a giggle.
Taehyung felt his face go up in flames and nearly choked on his own saliva.
"Jimin! Don’t say shit like that!"
The temperature inside the cabin had risen by several degrees. Maybe it was the heater. Maybe it was the whiskey. Or maybe it was the combination of both, plus the total lack of self-control.
One bottle of whiskey was already empty, some soju bottles too, and the beers didn’t even have a count anymore. Taehyung could feel it in his skin—that drunk kind of heat that made everything seem funnier than it actually was, along with waves of euphoria coursing through his body. Jungkook, on the other hand, felt like the floor tilted slightly every time he moved his head too fast. Not enough to make him dizzy, but definitely enough to remind him that he had to activate every single brain cell just to keep functioning.
The circle wobbled slightly, laughter filling the spaces between each dare, their faces flushed not just from the alcohol but from the thrill of the game itself. Every new challenge was a game of Russian roulette with stupidity, and at this point, none of them had enough brainpower to question the logic of what they were doing.
It was in that unfortunate state that the bottle spun again and stopped in front of Taehyung.
"Oh, what do we give him?" Jimin murmured. Taehyung smiled, resting his chin in his hand.
He wasn’t afraid. He’d drunk enough for any dumb idea to sound reasonable. Which is why Yoongi tilted his head and looked at him like a predator who’d just found the perfect prey.
"Taehyung, your dare is... to go into the closet with Jungkook for seven minutes."
Silence. Complete silence.
Then Jin burst into laughter, Jimin clapped excitedly, and Namjoon frowned in visible concern. But it was Jungkook who spoke up first—way before Taehyung.
"Uh, uh, uh, hold on," he raised both hands like someone had just pulled a gun on him. "It didn’t land on me—why the hell would I have to do it?"
"Because Taehyung has to complete his dare, and he can’t do it alone," Yoongi shrugged, looking way too relaxed. "Jimin and Taehyung already had to do a dare together, and the bottle only landed on Jimin. Taehyung didn’t complain."
"That is the dumbest excuse I’ve ever heard in my life," Jungkook snapped, arms crossing tightly.
"Come on, Kook, don’t be a buzzkill," Jimin said, elbowing him.
"This has nothing to do with being a buzzkill! It just makes no fucking sense!"
And just when he thought Taehyung would back him up... the unholy bastard stood up in one swift move, wobbled slightly, then grabbed Jungkook by the arm.
"Stop being dramatic," he said, dragging him mercilessly. "It’s just a stupid closet."
"Hey! Let me go, asshole!" Jungkook struggled, but the alcohol had significantly dulled his reflexes—and Taehyung, drunk and stubborn as a mule, had no intention of letting the tattooed one weasel out of this. "I’m gonna sue you for kidnapping!" he groaned, stumbling a little as Taehyung hoisted him up.
"Stop fighting."
"Taehyung, let go of me!"
"Shut up and walk."
"Fuck, I don’t wanna!"
"Don’t care."
"This is your dare, not mine!"
"I need you to do it, so now it’s yours too."
"That makes zero fucking sense!"
But in the end, with clumsy pushes, wobbly steps, and the social pressure of a group of drunk friends watching, Jungkook gave in. Not willingly—pure resignation, really.
With a frustrated huff, he let Taehyung drag him across the room to the cabin’s closet, a wooden thing that creaked when the door was opened.
Before they could say anything else, Jimin grinned wide.
"Have fun!"
The door shut with a solid thud. Outside, Namjoon let out a tense sigh and rubbed his face.
"Okay, I’m saying this now: if I hear one suspicious sound, I’m opening that door immediately."
"They’re not gonna fight," Yoongi said with confidence.
"And how the hell would you know that?" Namjoon shot him a skeptical look.
Yoongi, eyes still on the door, just smiled.
"I just know."
Inside the closet, the space was ridiculously small. Jungkook realized it the second the door closed with a harsh click and darkness swallowed them whole. It was one of those built-in kinds, tight enough for two people if they arranged themselves properly.
Of course, they didn’t.
Instead, they ended up tangled in a clumsy, uncomfortable mess. Their legs were awkwardly intertwined, their breaths mingling in the warm, closed air of the closet. Jungkook tried to move, but that only made his knee press harder into Taehyung’s thigh, earning a low grunt from the other.
"Stop touching me."
"How the fuck do you expect me not to touch you when we’re stuck like this?"
Taehyung scoffed but didn’t answer. He just tilted his head back until it lightly thumped against the closet wall. Jungkook did the same—that was the best way to avoid their breaths mixing too much.
Alright. Seven minutes. Seven fucking minutes in this tiny-ass space.
He told himself not to overthink it, that he just had to wait and avoid letting his brain process the ridiculous closeness between them. But then his own mind betrayed him, bringing back the memory of that time at Hoseok’s apartment—the elevator incident—and suddenly, his stomach sank a little.
His gaze shifted toward Taehyung in the darkness, trying to make out his expression in the dim light. The only source of illumination came from the narrow slits in the door, casting faint golden lines that barely outlined the edges of their faces.
For a moment, Jungkook couldn’t help but wonder... was he okay? Because if Taehyung had an issue with elevators, wouldn’t this count as the same kind of confined space? Without thinking too much, he straightened slightly and nudged his arm when he noticed him swallowing hard.
"Hey," Jungkook’s voice came out a bit deeper than he intended. Taehyung turned his head toward him but didn’t say anything. The black-haired one swallowed and hesitated only for a second before insisting.
"Look at me."
"What the fuck did you say?" Taehyung narrowed his eyes.
"Look at me," Jungkook repeated, firmer this time. "Focus on me."
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Taehyung was genuinely confused.
Jungkook clenched his jaw and glanced away for just a second, feeling the heat of alcohol intensifying through his body.
Shit, now that he thought about it, it did sound ridiculously weird. But he’d already said it—there was no going back. So he cleared his throat and looked at him again, this time a little awkwardly.
"I don’t want you to have another anxiety attack."
Taehyung’s expression froze. Jungkook felt his own discomfort grow, but he tried not to show it.
"You’re such a fucking idiot," the blond rolled his eyes.
"Why...?"
"I’m not claustrophobic, dumbass," the blond snapped.
Jungkook fell silent. Taehyung watched him for another second before letting out an incredulous laugh.
"I’m not afraid of closets, Jungkook. I’m afraid of elevators."
"...Well, I had no way of knowing that, okay?" Jungkook felt his face heat up all at once.
"You didn’t? After I literally told you the trauma was specifically about elevators? I’m pretty sure Hobi-hyung told you too."
The black-haired one pressed his lips together. Shit, maybe he did sound stupid. But in his defense, he was drunk and trapped in a tight space with Taehyung—not the best conditions for rational thinking.
So instead of trying to justify himself any further, he just shut up. Really, both of them went quiet. There wasn’t much else to say anyway.
Seconds passed, and Jungkook noticed something he absolutely shouldn’t be noticing—because with the faint light filtering through the door, he could see Taehyung’s face in a way he hadn’t before. He saw his cheekbones, his jawline, his eyelashes, his nose, and his eyes—eyes that were looking straight at him.
He didn’t know who started studying the other first, but suddenly, both of them were doing it. Closely. So closely that Jungkook could see the slight curve of Taehyung’s lower lip and... oh.
"Hey," the younger one tilted his head, narrowing his eyes.
"What do you want now?"
"You have a mole on your lip."
"Yeah. So?"
Taehyung blinked, confused, and Jungkook could see his brow furrow.
"I don’t know, it’s just... interesting."
Taehyung looked at him suspiciously, but then his face softened and he studied Jungkook’s face in return.
"You’ve got one too."
"Huh?"
"A mole. Right here."
And without warning, Taehyung raised a hand and gently touched the skin just below Jungkook’s lower lip. His thumb brushed the spot in a light, fleeting contact.
Jungkook felt his entire body tense. The touch was brief, barely a graze, but it hit him like Taehyung had just pressed some internal button he didn’t even know existed.
Taehyung’s gaze drifted slowly across Jungkook’s face, inevitably landing on the silver gleam of his lip piercing.
He’d seen that damn ring a hundred times. Jungkook had had it ever since he’d known him. But for some reason, here in the dim light of the closet, with the distance between them dangerously reduced, the detail felt... more noticeable.
"What does it feel like to kiss with that?" the blond asked almost in a whisper, his eyes locked on the piece of metal.
"With the piercing?" Jungkook raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by the question.
"Yeah. Doesn’t it get in the way?"
Jungkook let out a low laugh, tilting his head with a confidence that Taehyung found irritating.
"Not at all," he said with a shrug. "Not for me and not for the girl."
"And how do you know the girl wasn’t secretly annoyed by it?" Taehyung asked, narrowing his eyes but with a little smirk tugging at his lips.
"Because they never said anything."
"Oh, sure," Taehyung replied, dripping with sarcasm.
"What’s with that tone?"
"Nothing. Just... what if they were just pretending not to mind? I mean..." Taehyung continued in a relaxed tone, resting his head against the closet wall. "Maybe it does bother them, but they don’t tell you because they don’t want to hurt your fragile little male ego."
"You’re such an idiot," Jungkook let out a short, disbelieving laugh.
"And you’re a shitty kisser with metal in your mouth."
"Hey!"
Taehyung smirked, looking at him with smug superiority. Jungkook suddenly felt a sharp, irrational need to wipe that look off his face—but the worst part was, he kind of had a point.
"You may be right," he admitted after a moment, leaning forward slightly. "Maybe they all hated it and just put up with it because I’m hot." Taehyung rolled his eyes at that last line but laughed anyway.
Honestly, Jungkook didn’t believe the girls he’d kissed post-piercing had secretly hated how it felt. In fact, he’d gotten a decent amount of positive feedback. Still, some stubborn part of him wanted to throw back a smartass response—something to reassert that he was a damn good kisser, piercing or not.
But what actually crossed his mind was something very different.
Then try it yourself and tell me.
The phrase hovered right there, on the tip of his tongue—burning, aching to be said. And if Jungkook had been a little more drunk or had a bit more nerve, he probably would’ve let it slip.
Because the worst part was, in that exact moment—without even realizing it—their bodies were leaning in toward each other. Very slowly, but it was happening.
Taehyung had stopped smiling. His eyes had dropped, almost unconsciously, to Jungkook’s mouth. And the younger one noticed, but he didn’t pull away—because his own mind was stuck in the exact same loop.
He could see the way the faint light outlined Taehyung’s lips, the subtle shine of moisture on them, and the way they were slightly parted. He didn’t realize how close they were until his nose caught the scent of Taehyung’s cologne, mixed with the faint trace of alcohol on his breath.
They were just a couple centimeters from touching, and then—right when Jungkook opened his mouth, ready to say the words that would’ve changed everything—the closet door swung open with a loud bang.
Jungkook jerked back so fast he nearly slammed into the wall. Taehyung, for his part, whipped his head around and cleared his throat abruptly.
"Everything okay in here?" It was Namjoon. His figure was outlined in the doorway of the closet, frowning as his gaze scanned over them carefully, clearly expecting to see blood or some sign of violence. "Still in one piece?"
The blond, his heart still racing, scoffed and stepped out of the closet, brushing past Namjoon with a slight shove to his shoulder.
"Yeah, hyung, thanks for the concern."
Jungkook followed closely behind, making a point not to look directly at anyone. Namjoon, still a bit suspicious, seemed to relax once he saw they were both intact.
They tried to catch their breath outside the stuffy closet. No one seemed to suspect anything… except one person did—Yoongi. From where he was sitting, he had a perfect line of sight to the closet door, which meant he saw, just barely, how Jungkook and Taehyung had practically leapt apart at light speed—and how their faces had been way too close right before Namjoon opened the door.
And although he didn’t say anything, the slow, crooked smile spreading on his lips said plenty.
The air outside the closet felt far too cold in contrast to the suffocating heat inside it. Taehyung had barely taken a few steps away from the door when he realized his thoughts were still tangled up in what had just happened—or almost happened.
He ran a hand through his hair, trying to shake off the strange feeling in his body, but it was useless. His thoughts were a total mess, and he forced himself not to look at Jungkook. He didn’t want to see his expression. He didn’t want to confirm that Jungkook was just as fucked up as he was. Or worse—that he wasn’t. How pathetic would that be?
"Namjoon here was practically gnawing his own nails from the stress," Jin laughed, nodding toward the guy now sitting back in the circle. "He thought you two were gonna beat the shit out of each other the moment the doors closed."
The thought made Taehyung let out a dry, humorless snort.
If only they knew.
But he said nothing.
"I bet they’d both be glued to the wall, one staring at the ceiling and the other at the floor," Jimin chimed in. "But hey, the important thing is they survived seven whole minutes in there without dying. That’s a win!"
Taehyung forced himself to keep a relaxed expression, to ignore the uncomfortable feeling in his chest, and to pretend nothing weird had happened. But he really didn’t want to be there anymore. He felt paranoid, like something was chasing him, and maybe if he drank more he’d start spilling everything—and that he couldn’t allow. What had almost happened needed to go to the grave with him. And he hoped Jungkook felt the same.
"I don’t know about you guys, but I’m tired," the blond said, stretching his arms lazily. "I’m going to bed."
"This early?" Jimin looked surprised. It wasn’t like Taehyung to call it a night out of nowhere.
"Yeah, yeah. I’m heading to the room."
And without waiting, he turned on his heel and left.
It felt like a fucking escape. But honestly, he didn’t care. His brain was too much of a mess, and all he wanted at that moment was to crawl into bed and not think about anything else.
Jungkook, for his part, felt the exact same urge. The moment Taehyung disappeared down the hallway, he felt even more restless than before. Because now, instead of having him just a few steps away, he had him in his head.
And that was worse. So much worse. So, without thinking much, he let out a heavy sigh and said, "I’m heading out too."
"You too?" Namjoon frowned.
"Yeah, I’ve had enough to drink."
"You? The guy who always says he can drink whenever, whatever, and however much he wants?" Jin let out a mocking sound.
"Yeah, well… not tonight."
"And you, Yoongi?" Jin turned to him, raising an eyebrow. "Not heading to bed too?"
"Nah, I’m not sleepy yet."
The black-haired one decided to ignore the exchange and simply walked off. Namjoon watched them disappear, his brow still furrowed.
"Do you think they fought?" he asked, turning to the others.
"I don’t know, but they’re acting weird," Jimin huffed.
"What if they’re so pissed they don’t even want to be in the same room?" Namjoon sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, looking genuinely worried.
"I don’t think so," Yoongi suddenly cut in, his voice calm and almost amused.
"And how would you know?" Jin asked, clearly skeptical.
"I don’t know. Call it instinct," Yoongi said as he got more comfortable on the floor. "Let them sort out their own shit. They’re adults, not kids."
And with that, the game went on a little longer. The laughter, the drinking, and the dares kept the group entertained...
But two people in that cabin were lying in their beds, staring at the ceiling, their minds tangled with thoughts neither of them wanted to have.
The air in Taehyung’s room was cooler than in the living room, which helped calm the heat in his face—but not the mess in his head. Because what the fuck was that? Why the hell had Jungkook gotten that close? And why the fuck hadn’t his own drunk brain pulled away immediately?
He squeezed his eyes shut and covered them with his forearm. He tried to convince himself it was nothing. Just the damn alcohol. That was all. He tried not to think about the way Jungkook had looked at him before the door opened. He tried not to think about how close they’d been. He tried...
Fuck.
He sat up abruptly and ran a hand through his hair in frustration before collapsing back down and shoving a pillow over his face.
Meanwhile, in the room across the hall, Jungkook needed a second or two. Or maybe the entire fucking night to process what the hell had happened in that closet, because his brain would not shut up.
Shit. Fuck. And more fucking shit.
He had been this close to saying it. This close to suggesting it. And not only that—they had been this close to...
Damn it, it was hard to admit, but they had been centimeters away from kissing.
He ran his tongue over his lower lip, his mind betraying him with images he should not be seeing. Because Taehyung shouldn’t look like that in his head, and he shouldn’t be wondering what he’d look like while kissing him.
"It was nothing. It was just the alcohol, yeah," he said out loud, as if that would somehow make it more convincing.
But then, why the fuck couldn’t he stop thinking about it?
──── ∗ ⋅✧⋅ ∗ ────
The sun was just beginning to filter through the curtains when Namjoon opened his eyes. His body was used to waking up early, no matter how many drinks he’d had the night before. His biological clock was a damn efficient machine that didn’t understand the concept of extra rest.
With a sigh, he stretched in bed, feeling his tense muscles complain a little, then sat on the edge of the mattress. He rubbed his eyes with both hands before letting out a long yawn and glancing around the room.
Jin, in the bed next to his, still had his eyes closed—but not for long. The moment Namjoon moved to stand up, Jin groaned in his sleep, shifting under the covers.
“Ugh... fuck, what time is it?”
“Time to get up,” Namjoon said with a smirk.
“That tells me nothing,” Jin groaned again, his voice rough and worn out from talking and drinking so much the night before. “I’m going to kill whoever invented alcohol...” he muttered, running his hands through his hair in a half-assed attempt to wake up.
“You say that every time you drink,” Namjoon chuckled quietly.
“This time I mean it.”
“You never mean it, hyung.”
The older one opened his eyes just to glare at him, but didn’t argue. Instead, he dragged himself out of bed with effort—his body feeling heavier than usual—and followed Namjoon out of the room with sluggish steps.
The kitchen was completely silent when they walked in. Without wasting time, both headed straight for the fridge. Namjoon grabbed a bottle of cold water, opened it, and took a big swig just to test how alive he was before pouring it into a glass like a civilized person. Jin leaned against the kitchen island, rubbing his face with both hands.
“Want some water?” Namjoon asked.
The older one nodded without even opening his eyes. Namjoon poured another glass and handed it over. Jin took it immediately and drank, the relief running down his dry throat.
“God, this tastes better than any fancy drink.”
“You’re only saying that now.”
“I’m serious. I’m never drinking again.”
Namjoon gave him a look that screamed sure, okay, but didn’t say anything. As Jin finished his water, the sound of dragging footsteps echoed from down the hall.
They both turned just as Yoongi appeared in the kitchen doorway, hair an absolute mess and the most uninterested expression on his face. He looked like a fucking zombie.
“Morning...” he muttered, his voice even raspier than Jin’s. Namjoon poured another glass of water without needing to ask and handed it over. Yoongi took it wordlessly and downed it in long gulps.
“Did you sleep well?” Jin asked as he slung an arm over his shoulders. Yoongi set the glass on the counter and stretched lazily before answering.
“Didn’t even hit the pillow before I passed out. When I got to the room, Jungkook was already knocked out in his bed,” Yoongi added, his eyes still barely open. “I didn’t hear him move all night.”
“Is that unusual?” Jin asked.
“Yeah, he usually tosses around like he’s fighting his own sheets.”
“What’s for breakfast?” Namjoon opened the fridge and scanned the inside.
“I think we bought eggs,” Yoongi replied, and Namjoon nodded.
“Well, I guess it’s my turn to go wake up my kids.”
Namjoon looked at him, amused. “They’re not your kids.”
“Jimin and Taehyung are my kids, and nothing you say will change my mind.”
With that, the oldest of the three left the kitchen, leaving Namjoon and Yoongi behind. They exchanged a look and simply shrugged, going back to their morning.
Jin reached the room Jimin and Taehyung shared and didn’t even bother knocking. Because really, what kind of father knocks when he’s waking up his children?
He turned the knob and pushed the door open. Inside, Taehyung and Jimin were curled up in bed, with Taehyung clinging to Jimin like a damn human-sized plushie. Jin brought both hands to his mouth in an exaggerated gesture of adoration.
“Oh my God.”
He whipped out his phone immediately, unlocking it and opening the camera app in seconds. Because that needed to be documented.
The two of them were dead asleep, completely unaware of the world. Jimin had his face buried in the pillow, hair a total mess. Taehyung had an arm around his waist and his head resting on his shoulder, breathing heavy and deep.
And the cutest part of all was that, despite the fact that the room had two beds, they had clearly decided to ignore one entirely—because it was piled with suitcases.
First, Jin took several pictures. Then, unable to hold it in, he let out a loud, affectionate sound.
“Aww!”
Both of them stirred instantly. Jimin was the first to open his eyes with a groggy grunt.
“What the fuck...?”
“You’re so cute!” Jin exclaimed, beaming.
“What the hell...?” Taehyung mumbled, now shifting groggily and rubbing his eyes.
Before either of them could react, more footsteps echoed down the hallway.
“What’s going on?” Namjoon asked, appearing in the doorway. Yoongi followed behind, peering in curiously. Jin didn’t waste time and showed them the screen of his phone.
“Look at this!”
Namjoon blinked, processing the image for a few seconds before letting out a soft laugh. Jin snapped more photos of the now-annoyed boys still tangled in bed.
“How many pictures have you taken?” someone asked flatly.
“Shhh!” Jin glared at them. “It’s for posterity.”
Yoongi rolled his eyes. Meanwhile, Jimin and the blond, now fully awake, were staring at them with pure irritation.
“Why the fuck are you in our room?” Jimin growled, his voice still thick with sleep.
“Because I’m your dad, and I came to wake you with love!”
“Fuck off, hyung, with all due respect,” Taehyung huffed, burying his face back into Jimin’s shoulder. Despite everything, neither of them moved an inch—they were too damn comfortable.
“Get up, we’re making breakfast,” Namjoon chuckled.
“I don’t wanna...” Jimin mumbled.
“There’ll be eggs,” Yoongi added in a flat tone. Jimin didn’t respond right away, but then, with a defeated look, he shifted a little in bed.
“Well, if there are eggs...”
“Let’s go, lazy asses!” Jin clapped, clearly proud of himself.
The sound of voices in the hallway was the first thing that pulled Jungkook out of his sleep.
His brows furrowed slightly, eyes still closed, his mind trapped in that limbo between dreams and waking. He shifted under the blankets, burying his face deeper into the pillow, but the noise outside didn’t let up.
He blinked a few times, adjusting to the light filtering through the window. His eyelids felt heavy, and his body was still warm from sleep, but there was no escape now—there was no way he could fall back asleep. Time to get up.
With a resigned sigh, he ran a hand through his hair, feeling the tangled strands between his fingers, and sat up on the edge of the bed.
He had no idea what time it was, but considering there was already noise outside, it was safe to assume everyone else was starting to wake up too. He yawned as he stood, stretching his arms over his head until he felt the tension ease. Then, not bothering to fix his hair or check if his shirt was even on right, he opened the door and stepped into the hallway.
"What’s going on?" he asked, voice still rough, sleep clinging to his throat.
Namjoon, who was standing at the open door of Taehyung and Jimin’s room, simply nodded toward the inside, so Jungkook looked instinctively.
And there they were—Taehyung and Jimin, cuddled up in the same bed. A knot formed in his throat immediately. There was a strange pressure in his chest, right behind his ribs, like something inside him had shifted out of place and didn’t know how to settle back.
When the sleepy gaze of the blond met Jungkook’s, his body tensed instantly, and the last trace of sleep vanished.
Panic hit him before he could even process it. Reflexively, without thinking at all, he grabbed the nearest pillow and hurled it toward the door.
"Get the fuck out!"
The pillow landed straight on Jin’s face, who burst out laughing instead of getting mad.
"God, so violent!"
Namjoon and Yoongi dodged the next pillows that the blond threw with an impressively accurate aim for someone who’d just woken up.
"Get out of our room, for fuck’s sake!" the blond growled, while Jimin hid under the sheets to shield himself from further attacks. Jin kept laughing but raised his hands in surrender.
"Alright, alright! But get up already, we’re eating," he said before dragging everyone out of the room, probably to prevent Taehyung from picking something heavier to throw next.
Jungkook was the last to leave. He headed for the living room, his mind loud and chaotic, his stomach uneasy for reasons he didn’t want to analyze. He dropped onto the couch without focusing on anything in particular, eyes lost in the void.
Why did it bother him so much to see Taehyung like that with Jimin?
He didn’t get the chance to dwell on the question, because before he could dig deeper into that mess in his head, Namjoon, Jin, and Yoongi’s conversation caught his attention.
"Are they always that affectionate?" Yoongi asked.
Jin nodded without hesitation. "Taehyung can’t fall asleep unless he’s hugging something. Pillows usually do the job, but if Jimin’s nearby..." he shrugged, "...he grabs him instead."
Unconsciously, Jungkook tuned in closer, though he stayed put and acted like he didn’t care at all. Namjoon, already in the kitchen, poured a glass of water, then walked over to the living room and handed it to the youngest.
"Drink this. How do you want your eggs?"
"Don’t worry, hyung, I’ll make my own food," Jungkook replied, taking the glass.
"Don’t be a brat. Just tell me how you want them," Jin clicked his tongue, shaking his head with a stern look that left no room for argument.
"Scrambled," he said eventually, a bit intimidated—Jin’s stare was scary. His expression changed instantly, and Jin smiled with satisfaction before heading to the kitchen.
Just then, Hoseok appeared from the hallway with Momo, Sana, and Mina at his side.
They looked... incredibly fresh. Not a single hint of a hangover. Awake, relaxed, and ready to start the day without a single complaint.
"I’m jealous of your physical condition, Hobi," Yoongi muttered, glaring at him.
Jin let out a sarcastic laugh as he moved around the kitchen. "Of course he’s fresh. He left early to go get laid and never came back."
Hoseok, who had just taken a sip of water, almost spat it out.
"Shut the fuck up, asshole!" he snapped, crossing the kitchen in an instant and tackling Jin with tickles.
The older man screamed between fits of laughter, trying to wriggle away, but Hoseok had a solid grip on his waist and didn’t let him escape.
"Stop it, you damn idiot! I’m cooking!"
"That’s what you get for running your mouth!"
Jungkook watched the scene with a faint smile on his lips, though his mind was still trapped in the image of the blond wrapped around Jimin. And right then, the sound of footsteps down the hallway announced the arrival of the last two sleepyheads.
Taehyung and Jimin crossed the living room still half-asleep, their movements heavy and sluggish, dragging their feet all the way to the kitchen. Walking looked like an unbearable effort.
Jimin yawned, covering his mouth with the sleeve of his hoodie before plopping down on one of the tall stools at the kitchen bar. The blond did the same, resting his elbows on the table and propping his chin up with one hand.
"Want water?" Jin asked, glancing at them as he stirred the eggs in the pan.
"Yeah..." they both muttered at the same time. Jin smiled smugly and grabbed two glasses to serve them.
"Eggs like always?"
Both nodded, almost in sync.
For Taehyung, after a while, the kitchen felt calm. Sana and Yoongi were helping Jin with the food, while Namjoon was finishing setting the table so everyone could eat comfortably. Hoseok was chatting with Momo and Mina about something he couldn’t quite hear, and Jimin beside him seemed more awake now that he had some water in his system.
Everything seemed peaceful.
At least for everyone but him, because ever since he’d sat at the bar, he’d felt this discomfort at his back—a sharp, almost physical sensation like someone was staring at him.
And it didn’t take long to confirm it.
Jungkook was staring at him so intensely it felt like his gaze could pierce through skin, and that made the blond... nervous. Very nervous.
He swallowed hard and forced himself to focus on his glass of water, on the cold texture of the glass against his palm, on the soft background sounds of the kitchen—basically anything that could serve as a distraction. But his mind wouldn’t cooperate.
Because the first thing that came to mind was the fucking closet. The memory hit him just as hard as the alcohol from the night before. He couldn’t forget the heat of Jungkook’s body pressed to his, their mixed breaths, the way their faces had leaned in—
Fuck.
He straightened abruptly in his seat.
He was straight. He liked women. He really liked women. He had always been with women, had dated women, slept with women, and his dick had only ever reacted to women. Never, not once in his fucking life, had he questioned that. No doubts, no second thoughts, nothing.
Besides, he liked Sana.
And as far as he knew, that dumbass Jungkook still liked her too. That was the entire point of this stupid dynamic between them. They were supposed to be rivals. The idea was that Sana would pick one of them. That was the goal. That was the plan.
He took a deep breath and tried to tune into the conversation happening in front of him. It was casual—just those who were cooking chatting about random things—and Taehyung almost managed to relax.
Almost.
Until he felt a wave of heat at his back. The temperature in the kitchen hadn’t changed, but his skin noticed immediately. The sensation of a big, warm body too close—his skin prickled with goosebumps.
The blond turned his head slightly, almost afraid of what he’d find.
And sure enough, there Jungkook was, right behind him. He was setting down his empty glass on the table, right in front of him. Why? Why the fuck right there?
The kitchen was big enough—there was plenty of space. Jungkook could’ve left his glass somewhere else, walked around him, or set it in the sink. But no. He’d chosen to stand right behind him, with only a few inches separating their bodies. He wasn’t touching him, but it felt like he was, and that was a problem. Because Taehyung’s mind clouded over with images he didn’t want and memories he shouldn’t be having.
The heat on his back spread to his neck, then flushed up to his cheeks. Before he could make sense of what the hell was happening, panic struck.
His instinct screamed at him to move, to get away and run.
So he did.
He shoved his chair back so fast he nearly fell, but he didn’t stop to explain. With rushed, clumsy steps, he practically bolted out to the patio.
The cool air should have helped. It should’ve calmed him down, cooled the heat still simmering on his cheeks. But he could still feel the ghost of Jungkook’s warmth against his back. He ran a hand over his face, inhaling deeply, trying to get himself under control.
Then his phone vibrated in his pocket. The sound jolted him out of his spiral, and for a moment, he almost ignored it. He didn’t feel like talking to anyone—but then he saw the name on the screen and knew he couldn’t.
“Mom.”
He sighed. He already knew where this was going. He closed his eyes for a second, bracing himself, and answered.
"Where are you?" was the first thing he heard the second he put the phone to his ear—no greeting, no hello.
"At the cabin with my friends," he replied immediately, his tone already laced with resignation. "I told you that."
"And what are you doing there?" his mother pushed, wasting no time. "Why aren’t you working on your projects?"
Taehyung clenched his jaw, shoulders tensing automatically. He knew it. He knew the call was going to go this way.
"I finished them before coming," he answered, trying to stay calm. "I didn’t come here without planning ahead."
There was a brief pause on the line—but it wasn’t approval.
"You always say that," his mother snapped, her tone critical. "But did you really finish everything? Don’t you think you should be spending your time on something more productive?"
That question hit like a fucking brick to the chest. As if everything he did wasn’t enough. As if no matter how hard he worked, how much effort he put into studying, turning in assignments, keeping his life balanced—it was still never enough for her.
He hadn’t slept through the night for two straight days, sometimes only getting three hours of sleep. Two nights completely awake.
His grip on the phone tightened.
"Mom," his voice grew firmer, more serious, but still tried to remain respectful. "I swear I organized my time so I could come here. I didn’t neglect anything."
But his mother didn’t sound convinced.
"Still… don’t you think you could be doing something better? I already told you—you can’t afford to waste time on nonsense."
Taehyung felt a weight in his chest, but didn’t answer, because he already knew.
"If you had at least picked something with a future..." she continued in that same disapproving tone. "I always said you could’ve been a doctor like me, or an architect like your father. Something stable."
"We’ve already talked about this," Taehyung said, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. His voice was controlled, but there was fatigue behind it. "I wasn’t going to study something I didn’t want. Dad supported me on this."
"But you didn’t study what you really wanted either, did you? So what’s the point?"
She had a point. That was the worst part. His mother knew the truth.
Audiovisual Production hadn’t been his first choice, his real dream was to be in front of the camera, not behind it. If it hadn’t been for the pressure from home, he would’ve chosen the same major as Jimin. He would’ve been studying Performing Arts.
But instead, he picked the closest thing he could manage without disappointing her. And even that wasn’t enough.
"You know why I did it," he murmured, voice low and tight in his throat.
"Because you want to ‘make me happy,’ you say," his mother replied, almost like she didn’t believe it. "But if you really meant that, you would’ve picked something with a future."
A lump formed in his throat, but he didn’t let it show. Because if he did—if he showed any sign of weakness—his mother would notice. He couldn’t give her that satisfaction, so he stayed quiet.
After a few seconds, she sighed with impatience.
"Do whatever you want. But one day you’ll realize you wasted your time. Now do me a favor and come back as soon as possible. Start studying or doing something useful. I already told you—you can’t afford to be a useless man," she said quickly and hung up.
The beep of the ended call rang in his ear, but Taehyung didn’t move.
He just stood there, phone still pressed to his ear. The breeze blew softly around him, ruffling his hair, but he couldn’t breathe properly—his chest felt tight, his head heavy.
With a sigh, he let himself drop to the ground, not caring if his pajamas got dirty with grass or soil. He curled in on himself, pulling his knees up and burying his face in his arms. The phone was still in his hand, but his grip was loose and almost trembling.
Jungkook hadn’t planned on following him. Honestly, the logical thing would’ve been to stay in the kitchen and pretend nothing happened. But he couldn’t just leave the blond alone—couldn’t not go after him. It was like his body and instincts had pushed him to stand behind him earlier on purpose, just to see what he would do.
Because, even if he didn’t want to admit it—and his head was already a mess—he liked seeing how Taehyung reacted. It gave him a rush. He liked seeing how his shoulders tensed when he was close, how his breathing hitched just a little, how his eyes—usually so damn full of confidence and control—suddenly faltered when they met his.
It was entertaining. Fun. Maybe even a little dangerous. But he wasn’t going to think about that now.
What he did know was that he hadn’t meant to follow him—and yet, when he saw the blond storm out toward the patio, his feet moved on their own. He stood, mumbled some vague excuse, and walked out after him.
"I’m gonna get some air." He didn’t care if anyone believed it or not.
The moment he stepped outside, he saw the blond sitting there, phone pressed to his ear, talking to someone. He couldn’t hear the voice on the other end, but he could see the slight tremble in Taehyung’s hand and could hear the frustration in his voice.
And that made Jungkook’s brow furrow.
"I swear I organized my time so I could come here. I didn’t neglect anything...." the blond said, trying to sound firm, but Jungkook could tell right away—he was trying not to cry.
He had never seen Taehyung like that before. The blond was always so fucking confident—always toeing the line between charming and insufferable—it was hard to imagine him being anything else. But in that moment... Jungkook didn’t like seeing him like this at all.
The conversation kept going. He didn’t catch every word, but he could piece together what was happening. He watched as the blond sat on the ground after hanging up, resting his elbows on his knees and burying his head in his arms.
Jungkook hesitated.
He should’ve gone back inside. He should’ve left him alone. After all, things had just happened between them. Things he still didn’t fully understand—and probably neither did Taehyung, or at least that’s what Jungkook liked to think, because he’d look really pathetic if he were the only one obsessing over it.
His instincts told him that staying away was the smartest move. But before his brain could catch up with the logic, his body had already moved. By the time he realized it, he was sitting on the ground next to him.
He didn’t say anything, but he knew the blond had noticed. There was a subtle shift in his posture, a slight tension in his shoulders—but he didn’t push him away or tell him to leave. And for some reason, that made Jungkook feel oddly calm.
A few seconds passed in silence, the morning breeze rustling the tree branches, the distant murmur of voices floating from inside the cabin. Finally, it was Jungkook who broke the silence.
"Something wrong?" His voice didn’t have that mocking tone he usually used with him. There was no smugness or sarcasm. It was just a simple question. And even though Taehyung could have ignored it or changed the subject, he found himself answering before he could stop.
"What isn’t wrong?" he muttered with a bitter, low chuckle.
Jungkook didn’t respond right away. He could’ve asked more, pushed a little—but he didn’t. He knew the blond talked when he wanted to talk.
So he just glanced at him from the corner of his eye and said, casually:
"If you want to talk..."
"Nah. I don’t wanna talk, and especially not with you," the blond scoffed. Jungkook didn’t push back. Silence settled between them again, until eventually, Taehyung muttered something else. "About the closet..."
Jungkook felt his chest tighten a little. He turned toward him, ready to hear whatever he was about to say. But at that exact moment, they were interrupted.
"Taehyung! Jungkook!" Jin’s voice startled both of them. They turned their heads at the same time, seeing the older one standing at the cabin door. "Come eat!"
Taehyung stood up so quickly he nearly got dizzy. Jungkook watched him, noting how his hands clenched into fists before shoving them deep into the pockets of his pajama pants.
He chose not to say anything else. He simply turned around and walked back inside.
Chapter 18: Chapter 17
Chapter Text
"If Yoongi screams instead of hitting a high note again..." Jin began with a smile that dripped with fake sweetness as he watched them through a pair of oversized nerd glasses, "I swear I'm leaving."
"I usually rap, Jungkook's the one who sings the high parts," Yoongi tried to explain while Jimin sang his lines.
"Excuses!" Momo yelled, wearing a roasted chicken hat and a pair of heart-shaped glasses, pointing at him dramatically.
The song kept playing—it was one of those old ballads no one would admit to having on their playlist, but somehow everyone knew by heart.
Taehyung laughed, not because they were singing badly. In fact, they were harmonizing surprisingly well. Jimin had that clear, sweet voice that contrasted perfectly with the deep, raspy tone of Yoongi.
He sank further into the couch with all the laziness in the world, holding a soju bottle in one hand. He was wearing a ridiculous superhero cape and a black mask someone had forced on him.
The best part, though, was Yoongi’s hat. God, that damn hat was huge, black, and had cat ears. It looked like it came straight from the kids’ section of a costume store.
And Jimin was wearing a chick hat, with big bulging eyes and an orange beak poking out from the front.
The contrast between that and his overly serious face as he sang that dramatic ballad was pure gold.
That afternoon’s activity was karaoke—ridiculous outfits included. That’s why everyone was wearing something so absurd it made Taehyung laugh every time he looked around. He was lucky to have ended up with a low-budget superhero suit. Others, like Hoseok, had it worse. The poor guy was wearing a giant Elvis wig and dark sunglasses.
Shit, Taehyung couldn’t even look at him without bursting out laughing.
When Jimin and Yoongi finished their song, everyone applauded enthusiastically, and Hoseok even stood to give them an exaggerated bow. That’s when Taehyung started laughing again at Elvis.
At that moment, Mina walked out from one of the rooms wearing a giant birthday cake hat, a mischievous grin on her face and something hidden in her hand.
"Okay, I know what’s next," she announced in a playful tone, raising the object in the air like it was some kind of prize.
It was a set of bright red lipsticks—an obscene kind of red.
"No," Jungkook said immediately, even though he had no idea what the dark-haired girl meant. He was currently wearing exaggerated, glittery pink bunny ears.
"Yes," Sana grinned wickedly. She was already tipsy, wearing a clown wig, and clearly down for whatever stupid idea came next.
"Mina, please explain," Namjoon said, wearing—literally—a brain hat on his head.
Mina laughed as she twirled the three lipsticks between her fingers.
"We’re all going to put this on. But like, really badly. Full-on clown breakdown mode."
"Who’s all?" Jimin asked, suspicious.
"When I say all, I mean everyone."
"That’s a terrible idea," Namjoon muttered, but no one paid him any attention.
"That’s an excellent idea," Hoseok corrected, grinning with anticipation.
Taehyung immediately sat up on the couch.
"Give me one," said the blond with a mischievous tone, and Mina didn’t hesitate to toss him one. He caught it midair with ease, but his eyes were no longer on the lipstick. They were locked on Jimin.
The brunette, who knew him far too well not to recognize that look, started backing away.
"No."
"Yes."
"Taehyung, no."
"Jimin, yes," Taehyung insisted. "Just let me."
"Why the hell would I do that?"
Jimin took a step back. Taehyung stepped forward. Jimin stepped back again, and Taehyung mirrored him, that mischievous glint in his eye growing stronger—nothing good ever followed that look.
"Because you don’t have a choice," said Taehyung.
And before Jimin could react, the blond grabbed him by the wrist and yanked him forward.
"Hey!" Jimin protested, but he had no time to pull away. There was a bit of struggle, and then Taehyung’s left hand slid up to the back of Jimin’s neck, holding him firmly in place. The right one held the uncapped lipstick. "Tae, don’t you dare."
While those two were going at it, they weren’t the only ones. Momo had literally tackled Hoseok onto the couch, straddling him so he couldn’t escape his fate. Jin held his head steady while the blonde applied the lipstick.
The last lipstick was with Sana, who was applying it to Mina in a clearly more civilized manner. Namjoon, on the other hand, was looking for a way to disappear, and Yoongi was filming Hoseok and laughing his ass off.
"Shhh..."
"Tae, listen to me. Just think about—"
"Shut up and stay still, damn it."
Jungkook, who had been watching the whole interaction with his arms crossed, felt his jaw tighten slightly. He couldn’t help but notice how close Taehyung was to Jimin. And how natural his hand looked on the back of his neck. And that... that annoyed him.
"Close your lips, Mimi. Make it easier for both of us."
"That’s not happening."
"Close your lips."
"No."
"Do it."
"No." The brunette pressed his lips together defiantly. Taehyung sighed like he was dealing with a stubborn child. Jimin shot him a deadly glare in return. "Fuck you."
"As you wish," the blond said, moving the hand from Jimin’s nape to his cheeks and squeezing them tightly. Jimin let out a squeal, but his lips were now exposed.
Without another word, Taehyung dragged the lipstick across Jimin’s plump lips, purposefully messy, smearing it unevenly around his mouth. The brunette tried to squirm away, but Taehyung’s grip was stronger—he didn’t stand a chance.
When he finished, Taehyung pulled back to admire his masterpiece and smiled proudly.
"Gorgeous."
"You’re a fucking asshole," Jimin glared at him like he’d just committed a war crime.
"Thank you."
His plan was to go after Yoongi next—he’d spotted the black-haired guy still recording like a damn cameraman. But of course, Taehyung wasn’t allowed to have nice things.
Just as he turned to launch his next attack, he felt a firm tug on his wrist. And before he could even register what was happening, the lipstick was gone from his hand. He frowned, spinning on his heel like someone ready to throw hands over his right to commit idiocy—but he came face to face with Jungkook.
The tattooed guy was holding the lipstick between his fingers, twirling it casually like he was inspecting it.
"I’ll do yours," he said, completely calm, as if he were suggesting the most normal thing in the world.
"Not a fucking chance," Taehyung grimaced in disgust, but Jungkook didn’t give him time to protest further.
With a swift movement, Jungkook closed the distance between them and, before Taehyung could react, grabbed him by the shoulder and slammed him gently but firmly against the nearest wall, pinning him there effortlessly.
Taehyung struggled instinctively, but his resistance was pathetic. His drunkenness dulled his reflexes, and to top it off, the younger was clearly stronger.
Jungkook knew it. And even though he wasn’t exactly sober himself, his brain was sharp enough to take full advantage of Taehyung’s disadvantage.
"Let me go, asshole!"
"Stay still." The tone dropped, lower now. Jungkook was close—too close. That made the blond freeze for a second, just long enough for the black-haired guy to start painting his lips with the intense red lipstick, grabbing the blond by the jaw with his free hand once he realized he wouldn’t run away.
The older one swallowed hard, his mind hazy from the alcohol. He tried to avoid looking at him, but it was impossible. And the moment their eyes met, the entire afternoon came crashing back into his head like an avalanche.
Taehyung had been trying to avoid Jungkook all damn day.
After breakfast, his first instinct had been to talk to him and clear things up. To say it had been the alcohol, that neither of them was really like that, and that there was nothing else to discuss. But Jin had interrupted them, and in that brief pause, Taehyung had changed his mind. He realized he didn’t want to say it.
Because if he said it out loud… then he’d have to think about what it actually meant. And he wasn’t ready for that.
So he ignored him—or tried to. Because honestly, ignoring Jungkook was a pain in the ass. For some reason, Jungkook had decided to follow him everywhere. Not in an obvious way, but he was there.
If Taehyung went to get more drinks, Jungkook showed up beside him with an empty glass. If he stepped out for air, Jungkook stood nearby, like the wind had dragged him there. If he talked to someone else, he could feel Jungkook’s gaze on him—a constant presence that wouldn’t let him relax.
And now he was here, so close Taehyung could feel the heat radiating from his body and could see every detail of his face. His eyes inevitably drifted to his lips—fuck. Lips that were now slightly pursed in concentration as Jungkook carefully applied the lipstick.
In a desperate move, Taehyung looked him straight in the eye, and Jungkook, noticing the intensity of his gaze, glanced up for a brief second. It didn’t last long, just a moment—but it was enough to make Taehyung’s breath catch in his throat.
He looked away again, this time lowering his gaze, and his eyes landed once more on Jungkook’s lips. They were dangerously close.
Jungkook, whether aware or not of where Taehyung’s eyes had wandered, kept working, slowly moving the lipstick across his lips, making sure to cover every part. For some reason, his fingers on his jaw felt warmer. Or maybe it was Taehyung’s skin overreacting.
The final swipe of lipstick was perfectly lined across his mouth, but neither Jungkook nor Taehyung moved an inch. They stayed still, trapped in the proximity they themselves had created.
Taehyung could see the faint trace of red left on Jungkook’s fingertip after fixing the color at the corner of his mouth. He could see his chest rising and falling with each breath. He could see his lips.
Maybe drinking again hadn’t been such a good idea.
Alcohol didn’t make him so uninhibited that he forgot who he was. He had never been the type to get handsy with his friends when drunk. He never felt the need to cross any lines just because he’d had a few drinks.
He had never kissed Jin.
He had never kissed Jimin.
He had never kissed Hoseok.
And fuck, he had zero interest in doing so. But then… why Jungkook? Why did alcohol bring out those kinds of ideas only with him? Why did he make him feel like this?
They were lucky no one was paying attention. There were other lipsticks and other victims. Even Yoongi had run off to find Namjoon, who’d disappeared. Taehyung didn’t want anyone to notice that suddenly, he couldn’t breathe right.
Jungkook narrowed his eyes, watching him closely, and Taehyung felt the ground shift under his feet.
Shit.
He was blushing. He felt the heat crawl up his neck to his cheeks, completely giving him away. And Jungkook noticed—of course he noticed. Taehyung could tell by the way he looked at him, the slight curve forming on his lips.
But before anything else could happen—before the thick tension between them could snap—Sana’s voice cut through the room.
"Okay, who’s putting lipstick on me?"
The bubble popped, and Taehyung pulled away so fast he almost choked on his own breath. Jungkook took a couple of seconds longer to move—just a couple more seconds lost in whatever the hell that moment had been.
When they looked up, Sana was standing in front of them, holding the lipstick in her hand with a mischievous grin.
"Who’s doing mine?"
Before, that question would’ve been a declaration of war. Taehyung and Jungkook would have jumped to fight over who got to do it first.
But this time… they hesitated. Not just Taehyung—Jungkook too.
That brief instant where they looked at each other before responding, and the silence left by hesitation—when just yesterday they would’ve fought without blinking—was what made them both realize that something was getting way too weird.
Taehyung cleared his throat awkwardly, and before Jungkook could say a word, he reached out and snatched the lipstick from the younger's hand, almost aggressively.
"Jungkook doesn’t know how to put on lipstick," he blurted, trying to sound casual. He didn’t look at Jungkook. He didn’t want to see his face.
The girl laughed and leaned forward enthusiastically, closing her eyes in trust.
And as Taehyung smeared the red lipstick over her lips, he forced himself not to think about how it didn’t feel the same.
He forced himself to ignore the fact that, for the first time, putting lipstick on Sana didn’t feel like the most interesting thing happening in the room.
──── ∗ ⋅✧⋅ ∗ ────
After several rounds of karaoke—where Jin had gone full drama queen with an over-the-top 90s ballad and Momo had dragged Mina into a sugary pop duet—Taehyung had settled into his corner, perfectly content to be an observer.
He had one leg tucked up on the seat, the cheap superhero cape hanging off one shoulder, and a half-finished bottle of soju resting in his hand. From there, he watched everything with amusement. He was fine. Comfortable… until Hoseok ruined it.
"You! Get up, bastard!"
Before Taehyung could process it, he was being grabbed by the arms and practically yanked off the couch.
"No, hyung," he protested, trying to cling to the furniture with all his strength. But his resistance was laughable compared to Hoseok’s determination. "I’m fine right here."
"You’re too comfortable there," the older one retorted, managing to lift him in one swift motion.
"Traitor!" Taehyung yelled, flailing his arms, but no one seemed willing to save him.
Hoseok just laughed, dragging him to the center of the room where the karaoke screen was.
"We’ve all sung except you. And since I don’t want you to feel alone in this..." he let go of Taehyung just to spin around and catch Jungkook with the same ease he’d captured his first victim. "You haven’t sung either!"
Jungkook, mid-sip, choked slightly when Hoseok turned and grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling him away from his spot without giving him a chance to object.
"Sing a duet," Hoseok declared, his smile far too bright to be ignored.
"Hyung, no," Taehyung frowned.
"Don't give me that crap, Taehyung."
"But if the little drama prince doesn't want to..." Jungkook shot Taehyung a look full of disdain before turning back to Hoseok.
"It's not that I don't want to, you rabid dog," Taehyung snapped immediately, already feeling his ego catching fire. "I just think it's unnecessary."
"Are you scared?" Jungkook crossed his arms, that annoying smirk plastered across his face.
"Oh, please," Taehyung scoffed, turning toward him with a scowl.
"I mean, it makes sense. I am the one studying music," Jungkook added casually with a shrug. "I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself."
Taehyung felt a vein throb at his temple.
"Idiot."
"Yeah?"
"I did musical theater, dumbass. I’ve sung in front of packed auditoriums."
"So?"
"So of course I can sing, you jackass!"
"Then prove it."
By the time Taehyung realized it, he already had a mic in hand and was scrolling through the screen for a song. Jungkook was a damn pro at baiting him.
"Already picked," he muttered without looking at Jungkook.
"What? Seriously? You're choosing the song without telling me?" Jungkook scoffed.
"Just shut up and sing."
"I’m not singing any random crap."
"It’s not random crap."
Before the younger could argue, Taehyung reached out and shoved the second microphone against his chest. Jungkook caught it on reflex, and when he looked at the screen, his irritated expression shifted to one of surprise.
A Daily Song by Hwang Chi Yeul.
Yes, he knew that one.
"See? Don’t complain," Taehyung said with a smug grin when he didn’t hear any protests. Jungkook rolled his eyes but kept quiet.
The music started. A soft, melancholic melody filled the air, and Taehyung inhaled deeply.
He gripped the microphone firmly.
"At the end of a hard day, I wander the streets in front of home..." His voice rang out low and rich, dragging each word with perfect sweetness. He didn’t even have to try—the song sounded like it was made for his tone.
Jungkook felt a shiver crawl up his spine. He’d heard Taehyung sing before—a line here or there when the girls were rehearsing—but this was different. This was whole. And it sounded fucking good.
When the verse ended, Jungkook picked up without thinking.
"In the midst of this emptiness, that song echoes..." His voice slid in effortlessly. They clicked instantly. His tone was clearer, brighter, easily reaching higher notes.
It was fucking impressive—each time a new line came up, one of them took it naturally. No planning, no glances needed. They just knew.
"In the world, this was the best song we used to hear together..."
"The song we used to listen to, so sad, this song..."
Jungkook raised the pitch in the chorus, letting his voice float through the room, and Taehyung supported him with his deep, steady baritone, layering the sound with a richness that made it all hit harder.
It was instinct. They knew when to come in, when to step back, and when to blend together to make something bigger.
"This song I hear every day, echoes every day, this song reminds you..."
"Everything seems to be about us, no matter how hard I try to cover my ears..."
Somewhere in the middle of the song, between the verses and harmonies, their eyes met. Jungkook found himself unable to look away. Something about it hit him in the chest, hard.
Because Taehyung sang with his soul. It wasn’t just his voice—it was the way he surrendered to the music, the way he let it carry him. He sang like he meant every damn word.
He was so good.
"It keeps playing. I don’t want to hear it, even if my body aches. The song I hear every day..."
By the time they reached the final note, their breathing was ragged. The echo of their voices still lingered in the room. And for a brief second—just one—they stood there, staring at each other.
Until the applause from their friends pulled them back. They both blinked and broke eye contact at the same time.
"Holy shit!" Jimin exclaimed. "That was amazing!"
"That was incredible," Mina added with a huge smile.
Jungkook ran a hand over the back of his neck, still feeling the heat of adrenaline buzzing in his veins.
"You sing well," he said suddenly, looking at Taehyung.
The blond seemed surprised by the compliment. He hadn’t expected Jungkook to say something like that.
"So do you, idiot," Taehyung shrugged with a small smile, then plopped back onto the couch.
He’d been singing for years, but never like that. He hadn’t expected to do a duet with Jungkook—it was ridiculous. But it had also been amazing.
He took a swig from the nearest cup without really checking who it belonged to, trying to calm the mess inside his stomach. And then his attention drifted toward Jimin, noticing something—or rather, the absence of something.
His best friend’s lipstick was completely smeared.
Not a little, not just around the corners. It was practically gone, smudged into a reddish mess around his mouth.
Jimin was chatting with Mina, laughing at something, totally unaware of the state he was in. Apparently, Mina was too drunk or the room too dark to notice that the brunette looked like someone had sucked his mouth off.
Curious, Taehyung frowned and let his gaze scan the room, analyzing everyone else.
Sana’s lipstick was intact. Mina’s too. Momo’s as well. Namjoon—well, he never let anyone near him with lipstick in the first place. Jin didn’t have a single smudge since he’d made sure they applied it properly.
But then he saw Yoongi, and his lips looked just as wrecked. Like someone had pressed their mouths together over and over.
Well. Maybe that’s where he should’ve started, considering Yoongi and Jimin were the only ones in the room with preferences beyond the purely feminine. He should’ve looked at Yoongi more closely after ruling out the girls—or well, just Mina. He knew Jimin wouldn’t kiss Sana out of loyalty to him or Momo because of Hoseok.
He felt a little dumb for not noticing it sooner. But he quickly refocused on the important part.
Oh, shit.
Taehyung’s eyes widened slightly.
And even though his first instinct was to shout it out and expose them in front of everyone, he held back. He bit down the laugh rising in his throat. But when they were alone... oh, there would be no escape.
He waited until Hoseok and Namjoon started a duet and everyone’s attention shifted toward them—no one looking in his direction—then acted fast.
"Come here," he grabbed Jimin by the wrist and dragged him out of the room. Straight to the kitchen. He didn’t even let him set his cup down, just pulled him along.
"What’s going on?" Jimin protested, stumbling behind him. "Why the rush?"
Taehyung let go once they were out of earshot and crossed his arms.
"I know you made out with Yoongi-hyung."
"...What?"
"Don’t make me say it twice, bastard."
"I don’t know what you’re talking about," the other replied quickly, raising his hands.
"Jimin, don’t lie to me." Taehyung clicked his tongue, looking at him with exasperation.
"I’m not—"
"God, are you stupid or did you just level up?"
"Excuse me?" Jimin narrowed his eyes. Taehyung simply pointed to his mouth. The brunette frowned, confused at first, but then his expression shifted drastically. "Shit… the lipstick… right, it’s smudged."
"You're so drunk you didn't even notice, did you?" Taehyung sighed heavily.
"Maybe."
"Idiot."
"Shut up." The boy pulled his phone from his pocket with some difficulty and stared at his reflection in the screen. His expression shifted to pure horror in a second. "Fuck my life."
"Yeah, sure," Taehyung replied sarcastically, planting his hands on the countertop and staring at him. "Are you going to tell me what the hell happened?"
"There’s not much to say... we kissed. End of story."
"That simple?"
"That simple."
"When the hell did that happen? I didn’t even notice you two were gone," the blond said, confused.
"It was during your song, actually. It was so emotional we looked at each other, slipped out into the hallway, one thing led to another..." He waved his hands vaguely.
"I hate you. You complimented me but weren’t even paying attention," the boy scoffed. "You’re lucky the lights are low and it barely shows. As far as I know, no one else has noticed."
"And you noticed? Were you checking out my lips, you perv?" Jimin raised his eyebrows suggestively as he leaned in and teased, "Mhm?"
"Jimin!"
The brunette let out a small giggle, set his drink on the counter, muttered a 'be right back', and strutted out of the kitchen with all the confidence in the world.
Taehyung, of course, followed him and watched as he crossed the living room with purpose. He stopped just behind Yoongi, who didn’t notice him since Jimin moved like a damn cat, stealthy and quiet, until he leaned in and whispered something in his ear.
Yoongi's eyes opened slightly, his brows furrowing in confusion. Then, slowly, he raised his hand to his lips.
Yeah. They definitely made out.
Before anyone could catch on, Yoongi stood up, Jimin followed silently, and they disappeared together. Probably to clean up. Or maybe for round two—who knew. Taehyung wasn’t even sure he wanted to know.
What he did know was that, as he returned to the living room, he felt Jungkook’s gaze on him. The bastard was watching him from across the room, arms crossed, head tilted slightly as if trying to figure him out.
But Taehyung didn’t give him the satisfaction of holding his gaze. He turned away quickly and walked over to the couch—just in time for Jin to shove a soju bottle into his hand.
"We're gonna play Uno. You in?" Jin announced with a grin. "Hoseok and Namjoon already ruined enough eardrums tonight. They didn’t take it seriously at all."
Taehyung accepted the bottle without hesitation.
"I'm in."
──── ∗ ⋅✧⋅ ∗ ────
Time had flown by.
The hours had vanished in a blur of laughter, frustrated shouting, and an obscene number of drinks no one was counting anymore. They had played every game in the cabin.
First Uno, where alliances shattered in minutes and the living room was filled with threats every time someone played a +4.
Then Monopoly, which was probably a mistake from the very beginning. Everyone was too drunk and their patience ran out fast. Hoseok almost fought Jin because he charged him rent three times in a row, and Jungkook kept trying to push dumb trades that only benefited himself. Taehyung lost when Namjoon drove him straight into bankruptcy.
Pictureka was more chaotic than anyone could’ve imagined. No one had decent reflexes at that point, and every time someone tried to point something out, they ended up smacking someone else by accident.
And finally, they played Scattergories, where the original goal of shouting out words quickly was buried under a mountain of totally wrong answers and punishment shots. Let’s just say it looked like none of them had ever gone to school to learn basic spelling.
It was already early morning when someone—no one knew who, everyone was too wasted to remember—declared it was time to sleep, since they didn’t have enough brain cells left to keep going. Everyone was on the verge of collapsing.
Taehyung could barely think straight. His head was a hazy mess, thoughts came in scattered bursts, and his body felt strange, like it moved half a second after his brain told it to.
The last thing his half-functioning brain managed to process before heading to the rooms was the fact that Jimin and Yoongi still hadn’t come back. Since they disappeared, they had vanished from the face of the earth. And the most fucked up part? No one seemed to have noticed. Not one single person had asked about them. How the hell could everyone be that clueless?
The group started making their way toward the bedrooms, some leaning on others. Jin almost took Namjoon down with him when he tried to help him walk, and Momo ended up leaning against Hoseok because climbing stairs was no easy feat at that point.
Sana looked far too pleased to have Taehyung and Jungkook on either side of her—her doing, of course, since she’d pulled them close to help her walk. Neither of them looked thrilled about the other being there, but she was certainly affectionate with both, getting maybe a bit too close to their faces from time to time.
And while Taehyung appreciated having Sana nearby, his eyelids were starting to drop without permission, and the idea of collapsing on any flat surface was growing more tempting by the second.
But then, just as he thought he could finally surrender to the sweet embrace of sleep, Mina opened the door to her room and stifled a scream. A scream that made Hoseok, ever the protector, rush over to see what was wrong.
"What? What happened?" he asked, worried, hurrying to the girl. She didn’t respond right away, so Hoseok peeked inside. And his reaction said it all. "Oh my God!"
Which, of course, prompted the rest of the group to come over. One by one, practically piling up at the doorway, they saw what was inside.
Jimin and Yoongi. Asleep. But where? That was the thing.
In the master bed.
They were shirtless—because oh, all their clothes were scattered everywhere.
Taehyung staggered slightly before leaning against the doorframe, staring at his best friend deeply asleep next to Yoongi, both of them tucked under the sheets up to their waists, faces relaxed, breathing steady.
Jimin had an arm draped across Yoongi’s stomach, and Yoongi was turned slightly toward him, like he was subconsciously seeking his warmth. It was the most post-fuck scene Taehyung had ever witnessed.
The group was dead silent. The only sound in the room was the peaceful breathing of the two unconscious boys in bed.
Taehyung, with brain still floating in soju, had a strong suspicion they’d gone into the room for makeup remover, one thing led to another, and they ended up fucking each other’s brains out.
"Well, well..." Jin murmured with an amused smile. "Don’t they look cozy?"
"You think they...?" Hoseok started, but didn’t finish the question.
"Yeah," Taehyung replied immediately, not even blinking.
"You didn’t even hesitate," Jungkook let out a low laugh.
"I don’t need to. Look at them," Taehyung tilted his head. "I can literally see Jimin’s heart-patterned underwear next to the nightstand."
"Well... at least it’s the last night and I won’t have to sleep on a bed all fucked and cummed on," Mina said with a traumatized expression. "I’d hate to lie down on leftover man fluids."
Everyone tried not to make a sound because it was just too funny—they covered their mouths quickly, letting out the most pathetic noises imaginable. They weren’t exactly being quiet, so Taehyung reached for the doorknob and carefully closed it, trying not to wake them up.
The group remained standing in the hallway, still processing the scene—and the reality that two of their friends had just randomly fucked.
"So what the hell are we supposed to do now?" Sana asked, arms crossed and one eyebrow raised.
It was a valid question. That room belonged to her and Mina.
"For tonight, you’ll have to sleep in Yoongi and Jungkook’s room," Jin shrugged.
The logic made sense. If Jimin and Yoongi had taken over the master bed without asking anyone, it was only fair that Sana and Mina needed another place to sleep. That room was theirs to begin with.
But despite the alcohol clouding his thoughts, Taehyung felt a warning go off in his head. Because if Sana and Mina were going to sleep in Jungkook and Yoongi’s room, that meant the room would be occupied.
And if that room was occupied...
"Where’s Jungkook going to sleep?" he asked, unable to keep his tone from sounding sharper than he intended. Jin shot him a look that honestly made him want to punch something.
"Well, with you, obviously. Where else?"
Silence.
Then, almost in sync:
"No!" Jungkook and Taehyung both exclaimed.
They exchanged horrified glances. Neither of them wanted that—not just because they clashed like fire and gasoline, or because their constant competition made them want to murder each other. It was also because they were drunk, and that weird tension that had been hovering between them for a while now wasn’t exactly helping.
"Why don’t you sleep with me and Namjoon-hyung sleeps with Jungkook?" Taehyung offered one last desperate attempt to avoid it, looking at Jin with a hopeful expression.
"Because Namjoon’s a peaceful person," Jin explained, like he was talking to a five-year-old. "And after a day this chaotic and alcohol-fueled, I deserve to sleep in peace."
Like he and Jungkook were some kind of rabid animals that would ruin Jin’s precious rest.
"Exactly," Namjoon chimed in, nodding. "Besides, this is a great opportunity for you two to work things out and grow up a bit."
Taehyung felt his eye twitch.
Grow up, he says.
Like this was some kind of maturity issue.
"I don’t want Jungkook and Taehyung to feel uncomfortable..." Sana said, dragging her words slightly. "Maybe we can find another solution. Like... I could switch and sleep with one of them."
Both Jungkook and Taehyung turned to her with hopeful eyes.
"No," Mina said, crushing their dreams instantly. The two boys looked at her with pouts. "I don’t want to sleep with either of them. No offense, but... we’re all drunk and I don’t feel comfortable..."
"Don’t worry, Mina," Jin jumped in quickly. "If I were a girl, I wouldn’t want to sleep in a room with a drunk guy I barely know either."
The two idiots nodded, now finally getting the point.
"What if Taehyung sleeps on the living room couch?" Jungkook suggested, pointing downstairs.
"You fucking peanut-brained asshole," Taehyung snapped immediately. "You're the one without a room, why the hell should I be the one to give up my bed so you can take it? If someone has to freeze their ass off on that couch, it’s you, bastard."
"If someone sleeps in the living room, they’ll wake up with a cold, get no rest from the freezing temperature, and be up at dawn because of the sunlight through those curtainless windows," Namjoon pointed out. That officially shut down that idea.
But before they could keep arguing, Hoseok cut in—clearly tired of all the bickering.
"Just do it already. Fuck's sake."
"You too, hyung?" Taehyung turned to Hoseok with puppy eyes, but Hoseok held his stare, completely unmoved.
"Yeah. Me too."
Fuck.
It felt like the whole universe was conspiring against him. Like some cosmic force had decided to kick him in the face tonight.
He looked over at Jungkook, only to find the same miserable expression mirrored back at him. At least he wasn’t suffering alone.
It didn’t seem like they had a way out. Jin, Hoseok, and Namjoon looked far too determined to make this happen. And frankly, neither of them had the energy to keep fighting about something that probably had been decided the moment they closed Jimin and Yoongi’s door.
So, with a heavy sigh, Taehyung closed his eyes for a moment before letting them land on Jungkook again.
They stared at each other in silence.
It was going to be a long, long night.
──── ∗ ⋅✧⋅ ∗ ────
The air inside the room was heavy—and not because of poor ventilation.
Taehyung and Jungkook stood on opposite sides of the room, arms crossed and brows furrowed, glaring at each other. Their hair was still damp, skin warm from the shower, and they were dressed in comfy sleepwear, but the tension hanging between them made any sense of relaxation evaporate.
The rest of the cabin was quiet, lights turned off. Their room was the only one still clearly awake.
Taehyung shifted his weight from one foot to the other, arms folded tight.
"I'm sleeping in my bed," he said, voice raspier than usual from exhaustion and the alcohol still in his system. "You can take Jimin’s." His tone wasn’t a suggestion—it was a statement of fact. But Jungkook, of course, never made anything easy.
"No."
"No?" Taehyung repeated, head tilting in disbelief.
"No."
"What the fuck now?"
"Jimin’s bed is full of suitcases," Jungkook sighed, running a hand down the back of his neck.
"So what?" Taehyung raised an eyebrow. "Then move them. Problem solved. Want me to do it for you or something?"
"The wheels are dirty, and in case you didn’t notice, there’s mud on the sheets."
Mud?
He glanced over at the bed—right next to him—and confirmed it. Both his and Jimin’s suitcases had wheels completely covered in dirt.
Still. Not his fucking problem.
"Why the hell should I care?" he shrugged. "Not my issue. Do whatever you want, you rabid dog," he snapped, and Jungkook let out a short huff, clearly losing patience.
"Well I care," he said firmly. "I’m not sleeping there, so now it is your problem."
Taehyung closed his eyes for a moment, pressing his fingers against his temple.
In another situation—on another day, with less alcohol in his veins and more energy to argue—he probably would’ve resisted harder. Maybe even started a full-blown fight. But honestly, he was way too drunk to give a damn.
He rolled his eyes, done with Jungkook’s stubbornness.
"Do whatever you want." And with that, he walked to the light switch and turned it off.
The only light left in the room came from the moon filtering through the half-open window. Long, silvery shadows stretched across the walls and floor.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Jungkook asked, exasperated.
"You figure out where you’re sleeping as long as you don’t bother me," he answered flatly. "Sleep on the floor if you want, but I’m done arguing."
That said, he turned around and walked toward his bed—only to be blocked by a firm obstacle.
Taehyung nearly bumped into Jungkook and had to stop abruptly to avoid crashing into him. He could only half-see him in the dark.
"I'm not sleeping on the floor," Jungkook stated with certainty.
"You're such a fucking pain in the ass," Taehyung muttered, pressing his lips together as his frustration began bubbling up again.
The air felt... different. Maybe it was the darkness, the solitude of the room, the closeness, or the exhaustion. Maybe it was still the alcohol coursing through his system, but he felt nervous.
He didn’t want to admit it—didn’t even want to think why—but something felt off. He couldn't clearly see Jungkook’s eyes in the shadows, but he could feel his gaze on him.
Fuck, he was sick of this.
Sick of the situation, sick of Jungkook’s stubbornness, sick of the tight pressure in his chest and the stupid discomfort of feeling like a stranger in his own damn room just because this idiot was standing too close.
So he did the first thing that came to mind—he pushed him. Or at least tried to, because the moment he raised his hands to shove him away, Jungkook reacted instantly. He grabbed his wrists firmly, warm fingers wrapping tightly around his skin.
"What the fuck...? Let go, you idiot," Taehyung murmured, trying to pull away, but Jungkook didn’t budge.
They clumsily wrestled in the dark, bodies shifting back and forth in a chaotic attempt to overpower each other.
Between the alcohol and the lack of coordination, all they managed was to completely lose their balance and crash onto Taehyung’s bed. The mattress creaked under their combined weight, and the air rushed out of Taehyung’s lungs in a strangled gasp when his back hit the wall.
He blinked, trying to process what had just happened. By the time he registered it, Jungkook was right in front of him—kneeling on the bed, pinning him with nowhere to escape.
The position was ridiculous. Jungkook still had one of his wrists trapped, and his other hand was planted by Taehyung’s head, effectively blocking any way out. Taehyung swallowed hard.
Both of them were breathing heavily—partly from the struggle and... partly from something else. Something neither of them wanted to name.
Because fuck, they were too close.
Taehyung could feel Jungkook’s body heat radiating toward him. He could see the glint in his dark eyes, even in the faint moonlight, and he could hear how their breathing synced, crashing and weaving together.
And without meaning to—without being able to help it—his gaze dropped to Jungkook’s lips.
He broke eye contact just a second before Jungkook did the same.
They were both too drunk, too caught up in the heat of the moment to think clearly.
Jungkook was the first to break the tension.
"You don’t want me to kiss you?"
The question was fucking direct, clear and shameless.
Taehyung froze, his brain short-circuiting. If his heart had been racing before, now it was about to tear out of his chest.
Thank God it was dark—he was sure the moonlight wasn’t enough to show how red his face had gone.
"W-What are you saying?" he stuttered, feeling like a complete idiot for stumbling over his words.
Jungkook tilted his head slightly, wearing a cocky expression that Taehyung hated.
"Taehyung, we’ve been staring into each other’s eyes for several minutes now," he said with an annoyingly patient tone. "Looking down at each other’s lips, and—"
"Who’s looking at your lips?" Taehyung snapped instantly. "Not me. I’m just admiring how ugly you are."
"You just did it again," Jungkook said with a short laugh.
"That’s because you mentioned it!" His voice rose too loud, and before he could say anything else, Jungkook clamped his palm over his mouth.
Everyone in the cabin was asleep. Any unusual noise could be reason enough for someone to walk in—and they were literally in the most compromising position possible. Jungkook wasn’t about to risk it.
"Mhm!" the blond tried to protest, but it came out muffled against Jungkook’s warm hand.
The contact threw him off more than he cared to admit—because Jungkook’s hand was big. Big enough to cover most of his face, big enough to feel strangely dominant.
And the worst part was, Taehyung didn’t react the way he normally would. He didn’t slap his hand away, didn’t shove him back. He just stayed there. Frozen. Heart hammering against his ribs.
Jungkook noticed the tension in his body, but didn’t comment on it. He waited a few seconds, making sure Taehyung wasn’t about to yell again, then slowly removed his hand.
But when he did, they were even closer than before. Close enough to feel each other’s breath, close enough for the tension between them to become unbearable. Jungkook’s gaze locked onto his—dark, intense, and full of something that neither of them wanted to define.
The bastard wouldn’t stop staring. Not at his face, and especially not at his mouth. And that made Taehyung nervous. Mostly because he was doing the exact same thing.
"I think you’re forgetting one small, insignificant detail," he said, voice cracking more than he’d liked. "You’re a guy." Jungkook tilted his head, analyzing him. Taehyung swallowed hard, but forced a steadier tone when he added, "And as if that wasn’t enough, you’re also my rival for Sana, Jungkook."
A low chuckle escaped Jungkook, who didn’t seem fazed in the slightest.
"Then let’s keep it between us," the black-haired boy murmured. His voice was deeper than usual—husky from the alcohol and the goddamn proximity between them. "Think of it as... an experiment. We’ll blame the booze later."
Taehyung searched for a counterargument—anything to get out of this without looking like a total idiot—but nothing came.
Because, fuck, he was right. They could blame the alcohol. Pretend it never happened. And most importantly, no one had to know.
Maybe—just maybe—Taehyung didn’t even want to object. Because the idea Jungkook had just planted didn’t disgust him. Not at all.
And that pissed him off more than anything else. It was stupid. Reckless. Exactly what he’d been suppressing for days.
Because Jungkook got under his skin. Because he made him want to compete over every goddamn thing. Because he looked at him in ways that made his stomach twist. But most of all—because he wanted him.
And if it was just an experiment... then he didn’t think anymore.
He leaned in, grabbed Jungkook by the neck with a kind of determination he didn’t know he had, and kissed him.
Fuck.
Jungkook let out a low gasp when Taehyung crashed his mouth against his—hungry and desperate, like he’d been holding back for way too long. Because, truthfully, he had been. He knew it the moment he tasted him. Their mouths met with a disgusting kind of synchronicity—it felt too natural.
Jungkook growled into the kiss, caught off guard at first, but quickly taking control—like he always did. Taehyung barely had time to register it before he felt a strong hand gripping his waist, pulling him closer, forcing their hips to collide and their breaths to tangle in the sliver of space between them.
Jungkook’s lips moved against his with such ease it was almost insulting. It felt... good—too good. It felt necessary. Even feeling the clash of that piercing against his mouth felt like it made sense, like it settled something deep in his closet.
Taehyung gasped in surprise when he felt Jungkook’s tongue push into his mouth. There was no hesitation, not even a hint of softness. He was kissing him like he’d been wanting to do it for weeks. Like he’d been waiting for the perfect chance to catch him alone in bed and devour him.
And the worst part was that Taehyung couldn’t and didn’t want to pull away.
A shiver ran down his spine when Jungkook’s hand slid down to press into the curve of his hip.
He was being dominated, handled however the other wanted, and the fucked up thing was—Taehyung didn’t want to fight it. He didn’t want to take back control.
Every spot Jungkook touched felt like it was burning. Every time he tightened his grip on his waist, Taehyung’s body trembled. When Jungkook bit down on his lower lip, tugged at it, then kissed him again with more hunger, his mind went completely blank—and all of it only confirmed that he didn’t want Jungkook to stop.
He clutched at the younger’s shoulders, pulling him in with growing need. Their mouths parted wider, tongues clashing with wet sounds, and the heat flooding his body made him forget everything else.
Jungkook let out a low sound that vibrated ridiculously in Taehyung’s chest. His grip on his waist tightened, forcing Taehyung to arch into him, to follow his rhythm, to open his mouth wider so they could devour each other shamelessly.
Every time one of them tried to pull back to breathe, the other caught them again—with another hungry kiss, another reckless swipe of tongue, another breathless protest that filled the space between their mouths.
You don’t kiss someone like that if you never want to do it again.
Jungkook’s body felt like a damn furnace pressing into his, his weight making Taehyung sink deeper into the mattress with every movement. The younger pushed harder, forcing him to lie down completely, since Taehyung had been leaning against the wall. The shift in position threw him off for a second—his head still spinning from the alcohol, and the heat rushing through his veins certainly wasn’t helping.
They were undeniably flushed, a strange tension blooming low in their bellies, spreading slowly. Taehyung knew what it meant and that was terrifying.
Taehyung’s breath was shaky as Jungkook settled over him, bracing himself on one elbow so he wouldn’t crush him, while his other hand slid confidently along his waist, slowly moving upward. Taehyung felt his shirt ride up, and without thinking, he closed his hand around Jungkook’s wrist.
“What is it?” the younger asked, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes.
His lips were swollen and red, his breath still mixing with Taehyung’s. He looked incredibly good like that… which only made Taehyung’s stomach flip.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he murmured, barely able to breathe.
“Why not?” Jungkook frowned in genuine confusion, like he honestly didn’t get what the problem was.
The blond licked his lips—already wet from Jungkook’s mouth—and shivered at the sensation.
He looked away, like it might help him think clearly. But it didn’t. Not after that kiss, not with Jungkook still on top of him, and definitely not with his entire body reacting to him.
The idea of blaming the alcohol didn’t sit right anymore—not if they went further than this.
“Because…” The words caught in his throat. “Because no.”
“Wow, great explanation,” Jungkook replied, staring at him in disbelief before rolling his eyes with a dry laugh. “Jimin and Yoongi did it a while ago. Why can’t we?”
“Because Jimin and Yoongi like guys!” he snapped, exasperated. “We…” He fell silent. Jungkook raised an eyebrow, waiting. “We…” he tried again, the pressure in his chest growing tighter. “We’re straight.”
Jungkook took a few seconds before answering.
“We can go back to being straight once we’re out of here.”
Fear crept into Taehyung’s chest. That kind of fear—the kind you feel when you’re about to cross a line you’re not sure you want to come back from. The kind that floods your head with questions you don’t want to answer.
He was fucking terrified. And Jungkook saw it. His expression softened, and his voice came out so calm it threw Taehyung off completely.
“It’s okay,” he said, pulling back a little, though his eyes never left his face. “I won’t go any further with you. Yet.”
“What do you mean ‘yet’?” Taehyung narrowed his eyes. Jungkook smirked, that infuriating confidence coming back like nothing had happened.
“I said I wanted to experiment, didn’t I? This is new for me too. And… I kinda liked kissing you.”
“Y-You liked it?” Taehyung asked, struggling with the words. “Like… you liked it liked it? Or not that much liked it?”
Jungkook shrugged, like it wasn’t a big deal. Taehyung scanned his face, trying to read him, searching for any sign this was a joke—that Jungkook was messing with him, that this wasn’t what it seemed to be.
But there was nothing.
“Mhm, I kinda liked kissing you too,” he said shyly. “But, like, just a little. Okay?”
“That’s enough for me.”
Silence stretched between them until Taehyung looked away and ran a hand over his face, feeling the heat still burning in his cheeks.
“Go lock the door,” he said suddenly. “I don’t want someone walking in now or tomorrow morning and seeing us like this. It’s not that we’re gonna... you know... but still.”
The black-haired boy looked at him for a second longer, then got up without a word. He walked to the door and twisted the lock with a soft metallic click that made Taehyung’s chest flutter.
He waited for him on the bed, his expression unreadable. And before Jungkook could ask what was going on, Taehyung reached out, grabbed his hand, and pulled him back down.
“You can sleep with me,” he said without looking at him. “But just sleep. I don’t want to do anything else with my head spinning and then blame the alcohol for our shitty decisions.”
Jungkook blinked a couple of times before letting out a soft laugh.
“Alright.”
And with that, he settled beside him. The mattress dipped under his weight, and Taehyung allowed himself to close his eyes.
But something still felt off—a tiny, annoying detail. There were only two pillows, and they both had their heads on them. So Taehyung tried hugging himself for comfort. Jungkook seemed to notice.
“If you want, you can hold me.”
“What?”
“I’m just saying—I know you can’t sleep without hugging something.”
“Shut up,” he growled, elbowing him lightly in the side. Jungkook chuckled under his breath, but didn’t say anything else. He didn’t push.
They stayed quiet for a few more seconds, but in the end, with a resigned sigh, Taehyung turned and rested a hand on Jungkook’s waist, wrapping an arm around him. Jungkook smiled.
Neither of them said another word.
Chapter 19: Chapter 18
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“Mhm, Jimin… how much working out could you possibly have done in one day to get this strong…?” Taehyung’s raspy, sleep-heavy voice drifted into the air as his arm unconsciously tightened around the body he was curled up against.
His head was still floating in that hazy space between sleep and wakefulness, where everything felt distant and confusing. He felt comfortable—too comfortable, even.
His consciousness was just starting to come alive, but something felt… off. Something definitely wasn’t right. He frowned without opening his eyes and flexed his fingers.
He groped what he assumed was Jimin, and his frown deepened when he realized his friend had apparently bulked up a lot overnight. His chest felt hard, broad, much firmer than usual. Had the bastard injected himself with steroids in one night?
His fingers pressed in, as if needing to confirm it wasn’t a hallucination, and the confusion in his half-asleep mind only grew when he confirmed that those pecs were easily double the size of the ones he’d hugged the night before.
He touched again, more intentionally this time. The muscle under his palm was broader, thicker. His hands traced over a tight abdomen—way more defined than he remembered.
“No, seriously… how much fucking working out did you—?” Taehyung grumbled again, crinkling his nose.
And then he opened his eyes. His eyelids lifted heavily, and his blurry vision landed on something that made him freeze.
That wasn’t Jimin.
That was Jungkook.
Fucking shitty Jungkook.
A scream tore from his throat before he could stop it, echoing through the room like pure terror and confusion. In less than a second, his body reacted before his brain did, launching itself out of bed and dragging the sheets with him in the process. And when he looked down and saw that Jungkook was wearing nothing but underwear, he screamed even louder.
Jungkook jolted awake and leapt out of bed, startled by the screams. He instinctively took a boxing stance—fists up, hair a complete mess, eyes barely open from sleep.
“What? What is it? What happened? Huh?”
With the motor coordination of a drunk brawler, Jungkook started moving in two-meter circles around the room, taking a defensive stance like he was being attacked by some invisible enemy.
His reaction only made Taehyung stare at him with even more desperation.
“You!” he bellowed, pointing at him with a trembling finger. Jungkook blinked, utterly baffled, but before he could respond, he saw Taehyung’s expression twist into horror. His eyes widened as he pointed between Jungkook and his own body repeatedly. “We…”
The word came out as a broken whisper, splitting midway through, but it was enough. A brutal wave of memories hit them both like a fucking avalanche. A shiver ran down Taehyung’s spine as his mind replayed the flashbacks in HD.
He remembered Jungkook’s weight on top of him, his hands moving over hot skin, the low, husky sound of his voice against their lips, the way their mouths had searched for each other with desperation—and how Taehyung had pulled him closer, clinging to his neck, his hair, to everything.
“Oh, fuck,” Jungkook murmured, his face pale.
“Oh, fucking shit,” Taehyung whispered, pure terror in his voice.
There was a single second of deadly silence.
And then both of them screamed at the same time.
Jungkook clutched his head in both hands, pacing in frantic circles with the expression of someone spiraling into an existential crisis.
“No, no, no, no, no, no, no!” he muttered on repeat, shaking his head, trying to erase reality from existence.
“This didn’t happen! It didn’t happen! I’m gonna wake up and I’ll be in my house and I’ll have been dreaming and this’ll all be a nightmare because—!”
“We…” Jungkook repeated, alarmed, then covered his face with his hands. Taehyung nearly threw something at his head.
“Don’t say it!” he snapped, panic swelling violently in his chest.
Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say it, fuck.
If he was lucky, maybe ignoring it would make it disappear. Maybe not putting it into words would make it less real. But no matter how much he tried to cling to that delusional logic, the memory stayed.
They had kissed. Fuck, they had really kissed.
And it hadn’t been a fleeting brush by accident or a dumb moment of temporary stupidity—not even a ridiculous dare set by someone else.
They had kissed with hunger, with want, with desperation and pure need.
Jungkook looked at him, eyes still wide open, heart pounding in his chest like he’d just run a fucking marathon.
“W-Why aren’t you wearing clothes?” Taehyung’s voice was filled with absolute horror, and Jungkook instinctively looked down at himself.
He was in boxers. Just black boxers, tightly clinging to his body.
“I’ve got boxers on,” he replied simply—as if that solved anything.
“That’s it! That’s nothing!” Taehyung shouted in sheer panic.
And then a new wave of terror hit him. His brain sounded another alarm. What about him?
With clumsy movements, he quickly checked under the sheets he was still clutching. For two agonizing seconds he imagined the worst, heart in his throat—until he confirmed reality and let out the most relieved sigh of his pathetic life.
“I’ve got my full pajamas on…” he whispered, the weight on his chest lifting like a boulder. His head dropped back dramatically and he exhaled with so much gratitude it was like he’d just seen the actual messiah. “Thank you, God. I love you. I always believed in you.”
A second later, his relief mutated into rage. He snapped his head toward Jungkook, pointing an accusatory finger at him.
“I remember you went to bed with clothes,” he said, eyes sharp. “Why don’t you have them now?”
Jungkook shrank a little, his expression shifting from confusion to mild embarrassment.
“Uh… I tend to take them off in my sleep.”
“And you’re just now telling me this, you idiot?!” Taehyung yelled.
“I woke up thirty seconds ago!” Jungkook defended himself. It was a completely valid point—he was still trying to make sense of what the hell was going on. The combo of being rudely awakened by screaming, the raw panic on Taehyung’s face, and the entire universe seemingly shifting overnight wasn’t exactly helping his brain function. “Taehyung… we kissed—”
The black-haired boy couldn’t finish, because just then, the door handle rattled. Both of them froze. For one brief instant, pure terror left them paralyzed. The sound of the doorknob turning and clicking against the lock made their souls leave their bodies. Taehyung silently thanked his past self for locking the damn thing.
“Taehyung! I heard screaming and I need my clothes!” Jimin’s voice rang from the other side of the door, accompanied by urgent knocking.
Panic hit them like a goddamn hurricane.
They scrambled around the room frantically, directionless and chaotic. Left, right, back, forth—Jungkook even tripped over his own feet trying to find his clothes.
"Shit, shit, shit!" Taehyung gasped.
"What do we do?" Jungkook whispered, his wide eyes gleaming with fear.
Taehyung waved his hands around in a panic until the lightbulb finally went off in his head. He grabbed the sheets and flung them straight at Jungkook’s face.
"You slept on the floor!" the blond snapped at him.
"What?" Jungkook asked, pulling the sheets down to see him.
"You slept on the floor! Think, Jungkook!"
Something clicked in Jungkook’s head.
Oh.
Oh.
OH.
He finally understood what Taehyung was trying to do. He cleared his throat, tried to compose himself, and nodded quickly.
"Yeah, I slept on the floor, right."
The older one shot him a death glare that made it very clear: if he dared to screw up this cover story, Taehyung would murder him with his bare hands. Then, heart pounding in his chest, he walked to the door. He exhaled deeply and tried to put on his best nothing weird happened here face, even though his skin was still burning with shame.
Carefully, he turned the doorknob and cracked the door open just enough to see Jimin’s impatient face on the other side.
Nothing strange, nothing strange, please don’t notice anything strange...
"What’s going on?" he asked, voice surprisingly calm.
"Why were you screaming like someone had just died?" Jimin squinted suspiciously.
"Ah... nothing. Just had a bad dream," Taehyung chuckled nervously.
"And why was the door locked?" the brunette raised an eyebrow. "What were you doing in here, you perv?"
"Nothing!" he blurted, waving his hand quickly. "I must’ve locked it by accident last night." Jimin stared at him with obvious suspicion, and Taehyung wanted to evaporate into thin air. Still, he tried to salvage the moment. "Uhm... first of all, good morning?" he mumbled, hoping to sound casual.
Jimin narrowed his eyes at him, completely unamused.
"Good morning, my ass," he snapped, pushing the door open and barging into the room uninvited. He slammed it shut behind him and stormed toward his suitcase with fury. At least Taehyung could breathe easier now—he wouldn’t ask any more questions. "I thought I could have a casual fuck and no one would know, but no. We had to do it in Mina and Sana’s damn bed, and of course, everyone found out."
Completely unaware of the internal crisis he had just triggered, the brunette tore his suitcase open and started digging through his clothes like a man possessed. Taehyung tensed up even more, but thankfully, it seemed no one had told him Jungkook had slept in that same room. It was clear that finding out where the tattooed guy had crashed last night wasn’t anywhere on Jimin’s priority list right now.
"It’s insane what one drunk person can do!" he continued, yanking a T-shirt out and tossing it on the bed like it had personally offended him. "I wanted no one to know. I wanted to be part of that cliché population in movies who sneak around for the thrill, but no, everyone literally saw us. And they didn’t even bother waking me up!"
At that moment, Jungkook—still wrapped in the sheets behind Taehyung—froze. Completely. He was barely breathing. He couldn’t make a sound, because if Jimin noticed him standing there, half-naked, looking like he had a closet full of dirty secrets, it would be game over.
Taehyung knew that, which is why he swallowed hard and cleared his throat, shifting slightly to redirect Jimin’s attention.
"You looked really comfortable..." he offered in a weak attempt to diffuse the situation.
Jimin stopped rummaging through his clothes and spun around, pointing his deodorant at Taehyung like a weapon.
"Comfortable, my balls. I can’t even look anyone in the face now—especially not Yoongi-hyung, or Mina, or Sana. I stole their damn bed and fucked in it, Taehyung! Do you understand that?"
"Yeah... uh, yeah, I get it," he stammered nervously.
"So what the fuck do I do now? Just show up at breakfast and pretend I don’t exist? Move to another country? Shave my head and start over?"
Every word was emphasized with dramatic hand gestures, like he was spiraling into a full-blown nervous breakdown. Taehyung, for his part, was fighting hard not to let his face betray him—because his brain was giving him the shittiest flashback ever, the mental video titled: Taehyung’s horrible choices in the last seven hours.
"I’m serious, Tae. Don’t ever do something like that. No matter how horny you are, just don’t. Have sex sober. I’m warning you."
Taehyung felt a bead of sweat trickle down the back of his neck.
If Jimin only knew...
Fucking hell, he hated Jungkook. He hated him more than ten minutes ago. More than last night. More than on any other day of his life.
Because if it weren’t for him—his damn mouth, his stupid muscles, and his infuriating talent for making Taehyung’s life difficult—he wouldn’t be in this goddamn situation right now, fighting to keep a poker face while his best friend unknowingly lectured him about everything he’d just done.
He clenched his jaw and avoided looking at Jungkook. If he did, he’d probably strangle him on the spot.
Jimin finally stopped ranting, letting out a loud sigh as he wrapped up his assault on the suitcase. Taehyung thought the uncomfortable moment was finally over—until he saw Jimin turn in the direction where Jungkook was standing.
"But did you enjoy it?" Taehyung blurted out, desperate to stop him from looking that way.
Jimin turned his head immediately, eyes lighting up in a very different way.
"Fuck, yes," he grinned with a deep sense of satisfaction. "One of the best fucks of my life. The way we kissed... it felt like all the sexual tension we’d been bottling up just exploded. And then when he threw me onto the bed? Uff."
Taehyung forced a smile, but it was painfully stiff. It looked ridiculously fake. Sure, he was used to this—he and Jimin had always shared stories openly, without filters. He’d told his own fair share of graphic tales, and they’d even analyzed techniques like the sex nerds they were.
But today was different, because they weren’t alone. Jungkook was there, and he was hearing everything.
"He dominated me, Tae," Jimin went on, eyes glazing over slightly but with a soft smile on his lips. "I used to think I’d been the dominant one in past hookups. Ha. What a fucking lie. Yoongi made me rethink every single one."
Taehyung cleared his throat, nodding stiffly.
"Uh-huh... sounds intense, Jimin."
"Intense? What he did to me was brutal. That bastard knows exactly what he’s doing."
"Wow..." Taehyung muttered, the discomfort crawling up his spine like a damn cockroach.
But Jimin didn’t notice.
"It started with these kisses—the kind that make you forget how to breathe, you know? He had me pinned against the wall, hand on my neck, and then he grabbed my thigh and pulled me in like I weighed nothing. Tell me that’s not hot, Taehyung."
"Yeah... super hot."
"And then, God, his damn voice—he whispered ‘get on your knees for me’ in that deep, confident tone and I almost came right then and there."
"That’s... pretty intense..."
"And when it finally happened, he just took over, you feel me? I didn’t have to do anything. Had me trembling in less than five minutes, shit."
"Super dominant..."
"And just when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, he pinned me to the bed and held my wrists, looking at me like I was his damn personal toy, and all I could think was, ‘Shit, Jimin, you did it. This is the best fuck of your life.’" Jimin let out a dramatic sigh. "And yeah, it was."
The brunette was about to launch into his usual visual reenactment of positions—like he always did—but his gaze suddenly drifted to the corner of the room. To a very specific spot.
"...Is that Jungkook over there?" he asked with a furrowed brow, still staring toward the back of the room. "Or am I still drunk?"
Taehyung felt his stomach drop straight to the floor. Because he knew exactly what Jimin was looking at. He turned around slowly, almost fearfully.
And sure enough—there was Jungkook.
Wrapped up like a human burrito. Lying on the floor with the sheets tangled around his body. His eyes were open, fixed on the ceiling, with the expression of a man who had seen things—or in this case, heard things.
The blond wanted to drop dead on the spot. Because sure, the cover story was that Jungkook had slept on the floor, but damn, he didn’t have to take it that literally.
"...Yeah," Taehyung replied, feeling like that single word had just condemned his entire existence.
Jimin blinked a few times, clearly trying to process what he was seeing. Then, slowly, he turned toward him, arms crossed over his chest, wearing an expression that made Taehyung want to curl up and disappear.
"Two things," he said, holding up a finger. "First, why the hell didn’t you tell me Jungkook was in here before I started talking about how amazing it was to fuck his best friend in graphic detail?" Taehyung pressed his lips together. Jungkook, still on the floor, squeezed his eyes shut, genuinely not wanting to know any of that. "And second," Jimin continued, raising another finger, his tone now more speculative, "Did he sleep here? With you? Peacefully? In the same bed, or why are our bags still here?"
The two idiots didn’t even need to look at each other to coordinate—they practically had advanced telepathy. Simultaneously, with the exact same panicked tone, they blurted out:
"He slept on the floor!"
"I slept on the floor!"
Their voices echoed in unison, and Jimin raised a single eyebrow. Then he made a face like the answer made sense... but only partially.
"Ah..." he gave them a skeptical look. "Still doesn’t answer the first question."
For the first time in his life, Taehyung understood how criminals felt when being interrogated in crime movies. He knew one wrong word could ruin everything. So, using the most neutral and convincing tone he could muster, he shrugged and said:
"Uh... you didn’t ask?"
There was a pause.
Jimin blinked.
Once.
Twice.
"I hate you," he muttered, spinning on his heel and storming out of the room with his clothes in hand, slamming the door so hard behind him the damn bed shook.
He was probably going to shower or curse them out under the water. Whatever. The important thing was that he was gone.
"Technically..." Jungkook said, sitting up on the floor, "It’s his fault for being so fucking graphic. I don’t tell my friends how I fuck."
"Jungkook, shut up."
After that, silence.
They just stared at each other.
Now that the storm had passed, they had no choice but to face the only inevitable truth of the morning: they remembered everything. Apparently, the universe had decided that this would be the one drunken night that alcohol wouldn’t erase from their memories.
Even though there were several feet between them, the fucking tension was suffocating. An unbearably awkward silence. It was Jungkook who broke it first.
"Taehyung..." he started, then paused. It was like he wasn’t even sure what he was about to say. "I’m straight."
"Oh, that’s great," the blond replied with biting sarcasm. "Guess what, rabid dog... so am I."
Jungkook stayed quiet for a second. He didn’t seem sure where this was going. Whatever he was trying to do—it wasn’t working.
"So then...?"
Taehyung sighed, like Jungkook was a kid asking why the sky was blue.
"You said it yourself last night. Once we leave this place, we’ll go back to being straight," he said, crossing his arms. His voice sounded firmer than he actually felt. "So that’s it. Let’s pretend nothing happened."
And with that, he turned his back to Jungkook—not to be dramatic, but because his cheeks were red as hell, and the last thing he wanted was for Jungkook to see.
The black-haired guy seemed to process those words a bit late. He cleared his throat and nodded repeatedly.
"Yeah, that’s what I said, sure." He sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than Taehyung.
"Good."
"Good."
"Good."
"Good."
"Get out of my room, Jungkook."
"Yeah, okay," he nodded quickly. Trying to preserve whatever shred of dignity he had left, he looked down, grabbed his pajamas from the floor, and pulled them on fast. Then, without another word, he walked to the door and left.
The blond let out a long breath, letting his whole body finally relax.
Three seconds.
Three fucking seconds of peace.
Because then, the door creaked open again. Jungkook poked his head back in, brows slightly furrowed, and said:
"Kissing you doesn’t make me gay. Just wanted to clear that up."
Taehyung didn’t even think. He grabbed the nearest pillow and hurled it with all his strength. Jungkook reacted just in time, slamming the door shut before the pillow could smack him in the face.
"God damn it!" Taehyung growled in pure desperation.
He ran a hand down his face, wishing he could rip off his skin, his hair, and his fucking brain that wouldn’t stop replaying what happened.
He cursed himself.
He cursed Jungkook.
He cursed the universe.
He cursed every god that had ever existed.
Because he was confused, scared, and absolutely losing his mind.
He had kissed a guy. And the fact that that guy was Jungkook made it so much, so much worse.
The problem wasn’t just that he had kissed him. It was how he had kissed him. Taehyung could remember every damn detail with a clarity that made him want to bash his head into the wall until he forgot or died from internal bleeding—at this point, either sounded fine.
It hadn’t been one of those clumsy, half-assed, drunk kisses you’d expect from two idiots fooling around out of curiosity. No, it had felt too real, too good, and way too fucking dangerous. It had been fucking intense, goddamn it.
He was used to leading kisses, to taking the initiative, to dominating and setting the pace. That was his comfort zone—his safe ground. It had always been like that with girls. Even when one tried to take control, he’d find a way to steer things back without effort.
But last night... drunk Taehyung had made a completely different choice. He had given in. Let himself be led. Let himself be dominated. And the one who did it was Jungkook. That thought sent a violent shiver down his spine, so intense it knocked the air from his lungs.
He had been overwhelming. Taken his face with confidence, tilted his head exactly how he wanted, deepened the kiss at will, and roamed his body with those damn hands that Taehyung could still feel.
He pinched the bridge of his nose hard, trying to shake off the images that were ambushing him, but it was useless—every single one was burned into his memory with painful clarity.
As if his brain had decided to screw him even more, another memory hit him. The closet. That damn moment when he had asked Jungkook if his piercing got in the way while kissing—well, now he had a firsthand answer, and it was a fucking no. A resounding, absolute, and devastating no.
Not only did it not get in the way, it actually made the kiss a thousand times worse. Because now Taehyung knew exactly what that cold metal felt like brushing against his lower lip, when Jungkook caught it between his teeth, when he used it to pull him back in whenever he tried to pull away.
“Fuck…” he whispered, dragging a hand down his face.
He needed to get rid of that feeling. He needed to get Jungkook out of his damn system.
Without thinking too much, he grabbed the first clean clothes he could find, scooped up his stuff, and bolted out of the room.
If anyone saw him, they’d probably think he was running away from something—and they wouldn’t be wrong.
He headed straight to the bathroom, locked the door behind him, and turned on the shower. He cranked the cold water handle all the way. The freezing stream hit his skin like a fucking bucket of ice, making him shiver from head to toe.
But he didn’t care. He had to erase that feeling from his body.
That feeling of liking.
──── ∗ ⋅✧⋅ ∗ ────
Coming down to the dining room was a torture all on its own.
Taehyung and Jungkook walked in silence, both lost in their own heads, pretending everything was fine. Trying to act like nothing happened.
But their friends weren’t idiots.
The moment they stepped into the dining room, the discomfort was painfully obvious. Maybe they weren’t being suspicious—at least, that’s what they told themselves—but the fact that they didn’t even fight over the empty seat next to Sana was already weird enough to raise red flags.
That had always been their damn pattern since the day they met. They didn’t share space in peace. If there was something to compete over, they competed. If there was something to argue about, they argued. If there was one seat next to Sana, they practically killed each other for it. But today? Nothing.
Jungkook simply sat as far away from Taehyung as possible. And instead of teasing him for how obvious his attempt to create distance was, the blond just sat down and stayed in fucking silence.
At least Taehyung still held onto the hope that, in time, his brain would do the sensible thing and bury it all deep in his subconscious. But for now, he was trapped with the uncomfortable certainty that they both remembered everything.
He forced himself to focus on the present—on everyone else caught up in animated conversations while finishing breakfast. The scent of coffee and toasted bread filled the air. There were plates of fruit, scrambled eggs, and the occasional bowl of cereal.
“Good morning,” Hoseok greeted with a crooked smile, though his tone was tinged with suspicion. “Weird seeing you two this quiet.”
Taehyung brought the spoon to his mouth, focusing on his cereal, which he had served himself the moment he arrived. If he ignored the comment, maybe the conversation would steer in another direction. Jungkook kept his head down, pushing his food around aimlessly. He didn’t really feel like eating eggs, but Jin had made them, so he figured he should.
“Is something going on?” Hoseok pressed, his gaze bouncing between the two boys.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Taehyung replied with total neutrality.
“Really? Because Jungkook isn’t even teasing you. That’s... strange.”
“I don’t know…” Jungkook coughed and took a sip of his coffee to buy time. “I’m just not in the mood today.”
It was a terrible excuse. Taehyung glanced at him from the corner of his eye, considering throwing an insult at how lazy that response was—but he was also too mentally exhausted to start a fight right now.
“No way…” Sana’s voice interrupted his thoughts. She glanced back and forth between them, covering her mouth with one hand. “Did you guys fight last night?”
Both Taehyung and Jungkook froze mid-motion, their spoons halfway to their mouths.
“No!” they blurted out at the same time—too fast, too synchronized.
Shit. Obvious much?
“Ah…” Sana eyed them more suspiciously but didn’t press further.
“Then why are you so quiet?” Momo asked, tilting her head. “It’s weird. You two don’t even know the meaning of peace.”
Taehyung felt his patience wearing dangerously thin.
Not only did he have a pounding hangover and an existential crisis after kissing Jungkook, now he had to deal with this interrogation from his friends.
“My head hurts,” he said finally, cutting off any more questions, and he didn’t wait for a reply.
He wasn’t going to sit there and endure Hoseok’s analysis or Sana and Momo’s curious looks—and Jin and Jimin hadn’t even jumped in yet. Jin was busy in the kitchen, and Jimin was still too mortified to show his face. There was no way he was staying.
He grabbed his empty bowl, washed it silently in the sink, and left the dining room without looking back, heading upstairs with quick steps to his room. Jungkook didn’t meet his eyes, but he did watch him until he disappeared up the stairs. As long as he didn’t look him in the eye, he could pretend he was fine.
Once Taehyung was gone, Jungkook tried to focus on his breakfast and the sounds of the dining room. His friends’ lively chatter carried on—they had clearly decided not to push further on his and Taehyung’s strange behavior.
But he couldn’t think about anything else. The memory still burned inside him, the guilt like an open wound throbbing in his chest. It was eating him alive.
At what point had he completely lost control of himself?
He didn’t want to think about last night. But every time he blinked, the damn scene replayed in his head, and his stomach churned.
He cradled the coffee mug between his hands and downed it in one gulp, hoping the burn in his throat would serve as punishment—hoping it would wake him up for real, make him stop remembering how his lips had clung to Taehyung’s with a hunger he never should’ve felt.
And the worst part—the absolute worst—was how desperately he had begged Taehyung for that kiss. Jungkook buried his face in his hand, pressing his fingers against his eyes.
He was fucking pathetic. A desperate idiot who had begged Taehyung for a kiss.
He had wanted more. If things had escalated even a little, if Taehyung hadn’t drawn a line, if… if… oh fuck. The thought was so terrifying he had to tense every muscle in his body not to react right there at the table.
Because it wasn’t just the kiss he had begged for. He had hinted at sleeping with him.
With Taehyung.
With Taehyung!
A guy! Him and Taehyung! Someone please just kill him.
He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, forcing himself not to make a sound. He couldn’t afford to lose it in the middle of breakfast.
Why Taehyung? If it had been any other guy, maybe it wouldn’t have hit him so hard. Maybe he wouldn’t be in this mental freefall, biting his lip like an idiot and trying to convince himself it had all been a fucking mistake.
But it hadn’t been just anyone. It had been Taehyung.
It had been with that blond guy—intense eyes and a maddeningly tempting mouth. A velvet voice and that fucking way of smiling when he knew he was winning. Taehyung, who made him want to rip his hair out every day, who drove him insane.
Taehyung, whose mouth Jungkook had nearly destroyed with kisses the night before.
He didn’t want to think about it, but his mind betrayed him with the memory of his own words.
'You don’t want me to kiss you?' 'Let’s keep it between us.' 'Think of it as an experiment.' 'Jimin and Yoongi did it a while ago, why can’t we? 'I won’t go any further with you. Yet.'
Just yet! He had said yet! Deep down, he really planned on repeating it—maybe even taking it further.
He exhaled slowly, trying to calm himself down. His eyes dropped to the table, desperate to find something to anchor him, anything that would pull him out of last night’s whirlwind.
And then he saw Sana. Sweet, pretty, lovely Sana.
She was sitting a couple of seats away, laughing with Momo while she ate, her hair falling gently over her shoulders, and that bright smile that always managed to make Jungkook feel... okay.
She was everything Taehyung wasn’t. She was kind, soft, gentle. She was the one he liked. She was what he should want. What he deserved. She was perfect, she... fuck.
But he had kissed Taehyung. Kissed Taehyung like a desperate fucking mess. Had wanted Taehyung like he’d never wanted anyone else.
She was everything opposite to what Jungkook had so hungrily kissed last night.
He wanted to scream.
Bang his head against the table.
Stick his head in the oven and turn it on.
Why, every time he thought of the night before, instead of feeling disgust or regret, did he only feel confusion and a ridiculous heat creeping up his spine?
This was all bullshit. Fucking alcohol.
──── ∗ ⋅✧⋅ ∗ ────
The day had been absolute hell.
Taehyung was no stranger to bad days. Days where everything went wrong—when his hot chocolate spilled, when his laptop froze during a major project, when the hours slipped through his fingers and stress burned his nerves so badly he wanted to scream at the first person to cross his path.
But this... this was worse. And it all, absolutely all of it, revolved around one person—Jungkook. Or rather, avoiding Jungkook.
Since that morning, Taehyung and Jungkook had silently agreed on one rule: do not share a space under any circumstances.
If one entered a room, the other left. Whenever they heard the other’s voice in the distance, they found an excuse to move elsewhere. And if by some cruel twist of fate they ended up in the same room, they wouldn’t look at each other. Would barely breathe.
It was ridiculous. But Taehyung didn’t give a damn how immature it looked. Because every time he found himself in the same space as Jungkook, his body tensed up, his skin prickled, his breathing turned heavy, and his stupid brain started playing scenes he did not want to remember. If their friends noticed, they didn’t say anything—at least not at first. After all, the day had passed with apparent normality. They played, laughed, did group activities, got distracted by the light mood... or at least they tried to.
Because neither Jungkook nor Taehyung were enjoying any of it.
And now, instead of being responsible adults and facing the issue, their grand solution had been to run. It was pathetic. But it was the only strategy they could handle.
They were ignoring the whole thing, and it was working. Ignoring worked.
If they pretended nothing had happened, then nothing had happened. If they faked everything was normal, then everything was normal. If Taehyung kept avoiding Jungkook, eventually his goddamn body would stop reacting like a complete idiot every time he thought of him.
Right?
"Everyone, bring your bags downstairs!" Hoseok’s voice snapped him back to reality with an annoying jolt.
Ah, finally. They were leaving.
For the first time all day, Taehyung felt a flicker of relief.
This was good. Back home, it would be easier to keep his distance, go back to his life, and forget this whole fucking weekend.
With determined steps, he grabbed his suitcase and headed downstairs. When he got outside, everyone was already gathered. The luggage was stacked near the cars, the sunset painted the sky orange, and conversation flowed naturally.
Normalcy.
God, how he craved normalcy.
"So, are we taking the same cars as when we arrived?" Hoseok asked, glancing around.
A simple question, but for Jungkook and Taehyung, it rang like a fucking fire alarm.
They both froze for a second—and then moved at once. Each grabbed their suitcase and, without looking at anyone or asking a thing, walked in opposite directions.
Jungkook threw his bag in the trunk of Yoongi’s car and climbed into the passenger seat. Taehyung did the same in Jin’s car. They really made sure they wouldn’t even cross paths.
The others watched them in surprise, confused and clearly curious. But no one said a word. No one dared stop them.
"Okay... that was weird," Mina muttered.
Namjoon let out a sigh, crossing his arms as he looked toward the cars where Taehyung and Jungkook now sat. It wasn’t what he’d hoped for.
He’d really believed that making them sleep together would force them to talk, to resolve their differences, to find common ground in the middle of their absurd rivalry. But... apparently, he’d achieved the complete opposite.
"Great..." the gray-haired guy muttered, running a tired hand through his hair. "Now they’re worse."
"It’s so weird seeing them like this," Jin crossed his arms, frowning slightly as he stared at the cars. "They were fighting over every damn thing just yesterday, and now... they won’t even look at each other. Now that they don’t, it feels like they’re repressing everything and it’s going to explode later. We seriously thought making them sleep in the same room would fix things?"
"I thought that if we forced them to coexist, they might resolve things by talking like adults," Namjoon shrugged, already feeling like maybe he'd been too optimistic in hindsight.
"Yeah, well... apparently we gave too much credit to two immature kids."
Namjoon sighed again. Jin was right. They hadn’t fixed anything—if anything, things were worse. They weren’t even fighting, which in its own twisted way, was even more concerning.
"I’m starting to worry," Jimin admitted softly, eyes distant.
"Do you think something happened between them?" Sana asked suddenly, frowning slightly. There was a small, almost imperceptible pout on her lips.
"Maybe sharing a room was so horrible and traumatic that now they just can’t tolerate each other anymore," Mina said, genuinely alarmed.
"At least they’re not fighting," Yoongi said plainly, clicking his tongue and shaking his head. "Tell me, haven’t we had a peaceful morning and afternoon?"
No one could deny it. Without the constant bickering between Taehyung and Jungkook, the cabin had indeed been... quieter. But... was that actually a good thing?
"Trust me," Yoongi added. "Whatever happened, I think it was for the best."
"Hyung, do you know something?" Hoseok asked, turning to look at him.
"I can't really say I know or don't know, because I'm just making assumptions based on what I’ve seen. But what I do know is that something happened, and they need to figure it out on their own," the older one said in a calm voice. "Just don't stress them out with a million questions—I know you guys, and it’ll only make things worse."
"Well, I miss them fighting over Sana," Momo cut in with a mock pout. "They were such idiots, but at least they were entertaining."
The group let out a soft laugh, but Sana didn’t join in.
She didn’t say anything. She just kept staring at the two cars Jungkook and Taehyung had gotten into, her brows furrowed like someone had taken her toy away or something. She wasn’t exactly angry...
But she wasn’t happy either.
Hoseok broke the awkward moment with a sudden clap, snapping everyone’s attention back.
"Alright, so how are we splitting up? Who’s riding with who?"
There were a few seconds of hesitation. And then, out of nowhere, Sana moved.
"I’m going in Jin’s car," she announced abruptly, grabbing her things and rushing toward the car before anyone could react.
"Huh?" Jimin blinked, watching her leave in surprise.
The rest of the group stood silent for a few seconds, exchanging confused looks, but no one said anything. If Sana wanted to go with Jin, so be it.
In the end, the arrangement was clear: Jin would take Taehyung, Sana, and Mina; Hoseok would ride with Momo and Jimin; and Yoongi would drive with Jungkook and Namjoon.
And just like that, the trip back began.
──── ∗ ⋅✧⋅ ∗ ────
The sound of the door slamming shut echoed through the room just before Taehyung let out a long, frustrated groan and dropped onto his bed.
He was exhausted. Not just physically, but mentally.
He’d spent the entire day avoiding Jungkook—dodging his gaze, making sure not to be in the same room for longer than a minute—and yet the bastard was still in his head like some unbearable echo that wouldn’t go away.
His mind kept replaying the kiss. Shit, he was giving it so much damn importance. Maybe because it was important.
He rolled over in bed, burying his face in the pillow in frustration, but it was useless. As if the whole day hadn’t already been shitty enough, the ride home hadn’t helped either. Because for some reason, Sana had been particularly chatty with him.
Not just chatty.
She was clearly trying to get his attention. Taehyung wasn’t stupid—he knew when someone was flirting with him. Sana had done it before, a few times even, but this time she’d been... pushier.
During the ride, sitting in the backseat next to Mina, she found every excuse to start a conversation with him. It was one casual question after another, like a never-ending quiz that kept pulling at his attention.
And it wasn’t just the words—there was contact too. Sana kept touching his shoulder. If it had been any other time and his mind wasn’t so fucked by the disaster that had been the night before, he probably would’ve taken the opportunity.
Sana was attractive. He liked her. She was the girl he’d been fighting over with Jungkook. But right now, all he could think about was how fake it felt to even try and play along.
He’d tried. He really tried. He responded, smiled, threw in a few comments here and there... but his heart just wasn’t in it.
It wasn’t in anything.
Now, lying on his bed, his head was a fucking mess. He sat up abruptly, dragging both hands down his face in frustration.
"No."
He couldn’t be feeling like this. It made no damn sense.
He stood up and walked over to his desk, grabbing his phone with restless fingers. He couldn’t stay with this feeling in his chest. He couldn’t let that fucking kiss be anything more than a drunken mistake. He needed to prove something. Prove something to himself.
His fingers slid across the screen, unlocking the phone.
The solution was simple—he needed to be with a girl. As soon as possible. His pride and his straight-boy ego were hanging by a thread, and he needed to be sure they were still intact.
Taehyung stared tensely at the glowing screen. His contacts scrolled one after another with each flick of his thumb. Names that meant nothing in this moment. His legs bounced slightly against the mattress in a restless tic that betrayed his nerves.
This was stupid. He wasn’t like this. But he couldn’t shake this tight knot in his chest, this uncertainty that made him want to do something—anything—to shut his thoughts up. So his finger stopped on a familiar name.
Jimin.
If anyone could help, it was him. His best friend.
He didn’t think too long before tapping the screen and bringing the phone to his ear. The dial tone rang a few times before Jimin’s voice came through.
"Hey, Tae-Tae, what’s up? Already miss me?" Jimin asked in a flirty tone.
But Taehyung didn’t waste time.
"I need to sleep with a girl."
Silence.
"Sorry, what?" Jimin finally broke the pause, his voice filled with disbelief. Taehyung leaned back on the bed, resting his weight on one elbow and rubbing his temple with the other hand.
"I urgently need to be with a girl, Jimin."
"O-Okay?" Jimin sounded even more confused. "Why the urgency?"
He opened his mouth to answer, but he had no idea what to say. Because 'I need to prove to myself that I’m not having a sexuality crisis' sounded fucking ridiculous, even in his own head.
"I don’t know," the answer slipped out before he could come up with a better excuse. "I just... need to. Tell me you’ve got someone you can introduce me to. I don’t have a fucking catalog of girls. Though that would be really helpful."
"And what happened to your whole plan to not hook up with anyone while trying to win Sana over?"
"That ended today," Taehyung pressed his lips together.
"Just like that?"
"Just like that."
"Uh-huh." Jimin clicked his tongue.
"Don’t use that tone," Taehyung sighed, closing his eyes for a second.
"What tone?" Jimin sounded amused.
"That 'I’m reading you like a fucking open book' tone."
"Oh, so you do know which tone I mean."
Taehyung groaned, letting his head fall back against the pillow.
"Look, just tell me if you know someone or not."
There was a short pause before Jimin spoke again, his tone a little softer now.
"Did something happen?"
"No," the response came instantly. Too instantly. But Jimin caught the hesitation in his voice.
"Tae..."
"Nothing happened," he insisted.
The silence on the other end said it all. Jimin wasn’t buying it for a second, but he didn’t push. Taehyung heard him sigh.
"Alright. If you don’t want to talk, I won’t push you."
Taehyung exhaled slowly, feeling a twinge of guilt in his chest.
"Thanks."
"Well, in that case... I actually do know someone."
"You do?" the blond sat up again on the bed.
"Yeah, she’s been into you for a while," Jimin explained casually. "Always asking about you when we post pictures together and stuff."
"What does she say?" he asked, bringing his thumb up to nibble nervously at the nail.
"The usual," he replied. "That you look good, that she asked if you’re single, that I should introduce you... I met her in a workshop months ago, didn’t introduce her before because honestly, I forgot. Besides, I don’t think she’s your type..."
"Send me her contact," Taehyung interrupted, not hesitating for even a second.
"I’ll send you her Instagram." There was a short pause. Neither of them said anything for a few seconds. "You know you can count on me for anything, right?"
He felt a lump forming in his throat but masked it with a small nod, even though Jimin couldn’t see him.
"I know."
And with that, he hung up.
Very soon, he was going to sort all of this out.
The sound of a notification pulled Taehyung out of his thoughts and drew his attention back to his phone. The lit screen showed Jimin’s message, with a direct link to an Instagram profile and the words, 'here she is. Good luck, casanova.' Taehyung scoffed at the joke and tapped the profile.
The name 'Kim Jiwoo' appeared in bold, followed by a short bio filled with cute emojis and a phrase that read, 'Life is short, but my patience is shorter.'
The first thing he noticed was that the girl was already following him. Her profile picture was a selfie with her head slightly tilted and a bright smile on her face.
He scrolled down, browsing her posts. Almost all of them were selfies.
She had a beautiful smile. Wide and bright, the kind that completely transformed someone’s expression. In nearly every photo, Jiwoo was smiling, showing off perfect teeth and a joy that felt unmistakable.
She was pretty. There was no other way to put it.
Her long hair fell in soft waves, and in most of her selfies, she used animal filters—cat ears, puppy noses, digitally flushed cheeks. In others, she puffed out her cheeks or made playful poses with peace signs next to her face. Her outfits were colorful, with lots of skirts and oversized sweaters that gave her an adorably soft vibe.
Jiwoo was ridiculously cute—maybe too cute for his taste.
She was gorgeous, no doubt, but not the kind of woman he was usually drawn to. She wasn’t his ideal type, so to speak.
He tended to like women who looked older, more mature. The ones who wore bold, dark makeup that gave off a mysterious, confident aura. Even if they weren’t older than him, he was into women who carried themselves with strength, who had a commanding presence.
And Jiwoo... she was too adorable. Not that there was anything wrong with that. Lots of people liked girls like her. But he’d never been into women who seemed overly innocent and soft. A lot of the time, it came off as forced, and he couldn’t help but wonder if it was real or something she put on deliberately.
He paused, frowning slightly. Like Jimin had said earlier, Sana didn’t really fit that mold either. She didn’t wear the kind of makeup he usually found attractive, and she didn’t have that dark, mysterious look. And while his attraction to someone didn’t have to follow a specific formula, Sana was certainly different.
But Sana never tried to force anything. She didn’t try to look cute—she just was. There was something natural in the way she smiled, how she laughed mischievously, how she was playful without becoming a caricature. She had her bold side too, that confidence that sometimes left him speechless. Maybe that was why he liked her so much.
That thought made him press his lips into a thin line.
He felt... off. A weight settled in his chest the moment he thought about her.
He wasn’t doing anything wrong, right? He didn’t owe her anything. They weren’t a thing. There was no agreement, no promise, not even an unspoken understanding. He had simply decided—on his own—to stay loyal while trying to win her over.
Still, the idea of sleeping with someone else felt like a betrayal. The guilt hit him—not just towards Sana, but toward Jiwoo too.
She was adorable, no doubt. And the last thing he wanted was to use her as some sort of twisted experiment to prove to himself that... well, that he still “worked” with women. Because if he thought about it, that was exactly what he was doing, wasn’t it? Trying to test something.
He was going to do the right thing. He wasn’t going to do anything unless she was fully on board. He wasn’t going to play with Jiwoo, or take advantage of her interest if she didn’t want the same thing. He’d be upfront from the start: just a one-night thing, no false promises. If she wasn’t okay with that, he’d find someone else. The last thing he wanted was for someone to end up hurt or misled.
With that thought in mind, he tapped the follow, and without overthinking it, opened the message tab.
──── ∗ ⋅✧⋅ ∗ ────
Jungkook slammed his apartment door shut, tossing his keys onto the side table by the entrance. His backpack hit the floor without a second thought, and without even bothering to turn on the lights, he made his way down the hall, his mind a complete fucking mess.
He felt restless.
Dragging a hand down his face, he pushed his hair back and stood there for a moment, exhaling a long, shaky breath.
Fuck, the way his body had reacted—completely out of his control—was still messing with him. He took a few steps toward the full-length mirror in his bedroom, staring at his own reflection. His dark eyes, wide and glossy, mirrored the turmoil eating him alive.
What the hell is wrong with me?
His lips still tingled from the kiss. He licked them, as if trying to erase the feeling, but it only made the memory more vivid. He remembered everything, and that made it worse.
With a frustrated growl, he turned on his heel and stormed toward his bed. He shrugged off his jacket, throwing it over a chair, kicked off his shoes, and dropped onto the mattress, staring at the ceiling.
This wasn’t normal. Not for him.
Jungkook was a confident guy. He knew what he liked, what he wanted. He’d always been like that. But this was messing with his head in a way that genuinely scared him.
Because it didn’t make sense—he liked women. He liked soft curves, small waists, wide hips. He liked girls who were petite and delicate. Smooth skin, sweet voices, flirty glances.
But Taehyung... Taehyung was definitely not a woman.
He was tall, solid, rough around the edges. There wasn’t a single feminine thing about him. His body was firm, his hands were big, and his every movement radiated confidence that had nothing to do with delicacy.
And despite knowing that, when he had him pinned beneath him—pressed against the bed, against the wall—when he’d felt his breath against his skin...
Jungkook sat up abruptly, the memory scorching through him like fire. He had never felt attraction to another guy. Not once. So why the fuck was his body reacting so strongly to the idea of overpowering a man who looked indomitable?
He swallowed hard and looked down at his hands resting on his thighs. His breathing was heavier than usual.
Notes:
Okay, I know. At this point, more than a few of you are probably clutching your heads, wondering why the hell these two idiots are making the worst possible decisions. And trust me, I get it—don’t throw tomatoes at me. But let’s take a moment to analyze what’s happening here.
First of all: yes, Taehyung and Jungkook share a single brain cell, and in this chapter, they decided to play Russian roulette with it. Because, for some reason, they both came to the exact same conclusion—that the best way to clear up their confusion was... to have sex with a girl. Both of them. Without even talking about it first. Without discussing it. Literally the same thought, the same idea, at the exact same time.
Now, why? Why would they react this way? Why was their first instinct to do this instead of, I don’t know, sitting down to process their emotions like functional adults?
The answer is simple and painfully realistic: fear.
These two are TERRIFIED.
Taehyung and Jungkook never had to question their sexuality because, up until now, they had never felt attracted to another man. It’s not like they actively thought, "Oh, I love women too much to ever feel anything for a guy". They just never had a reason to think otherwise.
And now, all of a sudden, they’re feeling things they can’t understand. Things that confuse them. Things that scare them. Because if what they feel for each other is real—if there’s truly desire, if there’s truly attraction—then everything they thought they knew about themselves changes. And that’s terrifying.
So instead of facing that possibility, they did what any emotionally inept person would do: deny it with everything they have and seek 'confirmation' that they’re still the same as always. And the easiest way to do that (according to their flawed logic) is to go back to what they know, to what they’ve always done without complications—being with a woman.
Does that excuse them? No. Not at all. They’re still two idiots making a terrible decision, using these two girls for their own benefit. (At least Taehyung made an effort to be upfront with Jiwoo about it being a one-time thing. Jungkook, on the other hand, called Soojin because... well, he still holds a bit of a grudge and doesn’t really care if she gets hurt, considering she’s far from perfect and has treated him like crap in the past.) But the point here isn’t to justify them—it’s to understand where this reaction is coming from.
This is part of their development. It’s part of their internal struggle, their self-discovery, their acceptance. It’s not like they’re just going to wake up one day and say, "Oh, wow, I liked a guy. What a surprise! How exciting!"—because it’s not that easy.
They’re in the denial phase. They’re fighting what they feel. They’re trying to fit their emotions into a mold that no longer fits them.
Even Taehyung instinctively called Jimin the moment it all hit him, even if he doesn’t want to talk about it yet. Jimin makes him feel safe, so unconsciously, he reached out to him.
And yes, they’re about to do something that will probably make them feel even worse instead of better. But personal growth isn’t linear. Sometimes, you have to mess up, learn the hard way, face the consequences, and realize on your own what, deep down, you already knew.
So have some patience with these two. We’re going to hate them a little, yes—but we’re also going to watch them grow. 💜
Now, I just found out that the K-pop industry has about a thousand Kim Jiwoo's... super original of Koreans with names and surnames. The girl Taehyung is meeting is Chuu, former LOONA member—her real name is Kim Jiwoo.
That’s it for now. Don’t forget to comment, leave kudos, and bookmark if you haven’t yet! Kisses!
Chapter 20: Chapter 19
Chapter Text
"Do you have anything for dinner?" Soojin stretched across the bed, clearly in no rush to move. Her arms were spread over Jungkook's pillow, her hair messy across her face, and her skin glistened with a light sheen of sweat she hadn’t bothered to wipe off yet.
The boy didn’t answer right away. He just sat at the edge of the mattress with his head down, rubbing his hands together as if that could clear the fog clouding his mind. His muscles felt heavy, and his back ached with that pleasant soreness that came after sex—the kind of strain that meant everything had been intense, passionate, and good.
Because it had been good, just like it always was with Soojin. His body had no doubts about it.
His skin had responded to her touch, to her caresses, her lips, the way she kissed him, the way she moved on top of him. It felt right, felt like it always had. Natural, exciting, and familiar. There hadn't been a single moment where he didn’t respond to her, where his body hesitated or rejected her. No discomfort, no weirdness.
So that was that. End of the drama. Nothing had changed. He wasn’t broken. Everything was exactly the same as it had always been.
"I don't know," he finally replied, running a hand through his hair. "Check the kitchen."
"You're a terrible host," she teased, rolling her eyes before stretching one last time and getting out of bed.
She grabbed one of his shirts from the closet and slipped it on without asking, then padded barefoot out of the room. Jungkook should’ve been used to this by now. Soojin had always been this way. She’d stayed over plenty of times, worn his clothes even more, and had been in his bed so often that her presence shouldn’t feel strange.
But something felt off.
Jungkook let out a slow exhale and rested his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor while he listened to Soojin open the kitchen cabinets. He thought about what had happened literally thirty minutes ago—or less—how good it had been, how good he had felt. How his body had reacted without hesitation. How his mind had cleared with every moan, every kiss, every thrust.
There wasn’t supposed to be anything wrong with him. There was nothing left to test or question. He was supposed to be...
Soojin came back and leaned against the doorway.
"Don’t feel like ordering something? I’m genuinely too tired to cook, and I’m guessing you’re not up for it either," she said. "You still like that fried chicken place we used to order from, right?"
He barely heard her—his eyes were fixed on her. More specifically, on the shirt she was wearing. For a fleeting second, he saw something else.
Taehyung.
The image of Taehyung in his shirt, because that was precisely the one Taehyung had worn the other time.
It was such a vivid image it felt like he was seeing it right in front of him.
The memory hit him in a way he couldn’t explain. A chill ran down his spine, and he knew—he knew—he shouldn’t be thinking about that.
"You look like you’ve got something to say, but you’re not saying it," Soojin cut into his thoughts with a teasing smile, tilting her head as she watched him. "You regretting it?"
"What? No." His response came fast. He shifted on the bed and cleared his throat. "I was just thinking about something else."
"Good. I hope so, because that was really good," Soojin gave him a skeptical look, but shrugged.
He nodded, because yes, it had been good. He was still the same.
So then, why the fuck was that feeling still sitting in his chest?
Soojin walked back over to the bed and leaned in to kiss his cheek. Her hair brushed his skin, her perfume filled his senses, and Jungkook knew he should respond, he should feel like everything was fine—because, theoretically, it was.
But the thought was still there. Taehyung was still in his head.
Fuck, he didn’t want Taehyung’s image creeping into this. That was the whole point, wasn’t it? That was why he had called Soojin in the first place. To erase any lingering doubt, to push out that damn feeling.
And yet... he couldn’t.
The mattress creaked under her weight as Soojin pushed him back with a firm hand on his chest, her lips curled into a smirk. She straddled him easily, and Jungkook let her.
He let their hips brush together in a way that made her intent obvious—and he should’ve wanted it too. Because half an hour ago, he’d been fine. So there was no reason to be doubting anything now.
Soojin leaned down over him, biting her lower lip in a playful gesture.
"Why that face?" she murmured, amusement flickering in her eyes.
"What face?"
"The one that looks like you just saw a ghost," Soojin laughed softly.
"Please," Jungkook scoffed.
She raised an eyebrow and let her body slide just slightly against his, moving her hips in a slow, suggestive rhythm.
"So what is it then?" she asked with mock sweetness. "Wasn’t enough? Did I leave you unsatisfied, Jungkook?"
Her lips twisted into a grin when she saw his jaw clench, but before she could get another word in, Jungkook grabbed her by the waist and flipped her over in one swift move, pinning her beneath him in seconds. Soojin let out a breathless laugh.
"Still with your dominant male complex?"
"Still with your complex of testing my patience?"
She gasped dramatically.
"Rude! I’m just trying to make conversation."
"Your idea of conversation is finding any excuse to piss me off," Jungkook raised his eyebrows at her.
"Only because I love watching you bite your tongue."
"I could do something else with my tongue."
Their lips were close enough to feel each other’s breath, but neither of them closed the gap yet. That was the thing about being with Soojin—the fucking tension.
It was always a power struggle. A game of who teased more, who gave in first.
It was fun. It was entertaining. It was... why the hell did it feel familiar?
The image in his head returned. That same push and pull, that same twisted habit of provoking him just to get a reaction. It was something Taehyung did.
Jungkook felt panic crawl up his spine like a rabid animal.
No. Not again.
So before his brain could go any further down that path, he wrapped his fingers around the back of Soojin’s neck and pulled her in roughly, crushing his mouth against hers in a hard kiss. Soojin let out a surprised sound but responded immediately, biting his lip and dragging her nails down his back.
This is fine. This is what I’ve always done. This is what I like.
When Soojin finally pulled back to catch her breath, her smile turned mischievous again.
"Round two, dumbass?"
But before Jungkook could say anything, the sound of the doorbell shattered the moment. He turned his head toward the door of his room, and the bell rang again.
"Ignore it," she muttered, frowning, catching his jaw in an attempt to pull him back in. But Jungkook wasn’t paying attention anymore. Without a word, he pushed her off, making her roll to the side of the bed. "Jungkook!" she complained.
He didn’t care. He stood up immediately, grabbing the first shirt he could find to throw on as he walked toward the door.
The bell rang once more. His hand gripped the handle and turned it sharply. And when he opened the door, the whole world seemed to freeze for a second.
Sana was standing there.
"Oh," was all Jungkook managed to say, and she looked at him with an expression he couldn’t quite read.
For a second, he didn’t know how to react—he wasn’t sure what the hell to do.
He cleared his throat, trying to pull himself together, trying not to make it awkward, trying to ignore the fact that he’d literally just had someone under him a minute ago.
"Sana," he said finally, forcing a smile, trying to sound casual and normal. "Didn’t expect to see you here. What are you doing at this hour? It’s almost seven."
But then she stopped looking at him. Her gaze slid past his shoulder, into the apartment, and Jungkook knew exactly what she was seeing.
Fuck.
The sound of soft footsteps behind him confirmed what he was already dreading. Before he could do anything—or even think about closing the door or blocking Sana’s view somehow—Soojin appeared.
And of course, it wasn’t like she peeked out discreetly. No, obviously not. Soojin walked right past him like she owned the damn place, wearing his shirt, with her hair a mess and her bare legs on full display. There wasn’t much left to the imagination.
Jungkook wanted to die.
Sana didn’t react much, but he caught the shift in her expression—the way her lips tensed just slightly, the way her eyes darkened for a split second before she blinked and her face went completely neutral again.
Because even though they weren’t officially anything, even though they’d never defined what they were—because everything between them had always been implicit, ambiguous, label-free, and not to mention Taehyung was part of that mess too—he knew her well enough to know that this bothered her.
"Oh, what a lovely surprise," Soojin sang behind him. Jungkook shut his eyes for a second, already anticipating the bullshit about to come out of her mouth. "Did you need Jungkook? You picked the perfect time—‘cause if you’d come half an hour earlier, or even ten minutes later, no one would’ve answered the door."
She was a fucking son of a bitch.
Jungkook turned his head slowly, glaring daggers at Soojin, but she didn’t flinch. She just smiled with that mocking look that had always irritated and fascinated him at the same time. But this time, it didn’t fascinate him—it just made him want to tell her to fuck off.
"Shut up," he snapped, not even trying to hide his annoyance.
He didn’t think too hard about it. He raised a hand, grabbed her arm firmly, and pushed her gently back inside the apartment.
"What the... hey!"
He didn’t give her a chance to say anything else—he slammed the door shut behind him.
Soojin had no right to say shit like that, nor to look at Sana with that unnecessary territorial attitude. And Sana clearly didn’t deserve that comment.
The silence left in the hallway was so heavy that, for a moment, the only thing he could hear was the sound of their breathing.
He tried to speak, to say something, but the first thing that came to mind was the most cliché line in existence—so ridiculous that he regretted it the second it left his mouth.
"It’s not what it looks like."
Sana smiled, but it wasn’t her usual smile. It was smaller, more distant... and more hurt.
"Jungkook, you don’t owe me any explanation," she said softly, calmly. But there was something off in her tone, something that didn’t quite sit right. "We’re anything." She looked him straight in the eyes as she continued. "You’re free to do whatever you want."
Those words fucked him up. A knot twisted in his stomach. Her voice said one thing, but her expression said another. Her eyes weren’t as calm as her mouth. Because if she really didn’t care, she wouldn’t have paused for that brief second before saying ‘we’re anything.’
Jungkook didn’t know how to respond or how to fight back against that—because it was the truth, after all.
Sana took a deep breath, already putting an end to a conversation that hadn’t even started.
"I just stopped by because I found something of yours in my bag," she said, pulling something from her pocket.
Jungkook barely had time to register it before she placed it in his palm, without drama.
A fucking lighter he didn’t even remember leaving at the cabin. He’d brought it just in case they needed it for cooking or something. He had a bunch of them, so losing one didn’t matter.
"I could’ve given it back another day, but I thought it’d be better to drop it off now," she added, shrugging. "That’s all."
She turned to leave, and Jungkook felt desperation crawl up his skin, but when he tried to open his mouth, his tongue felt glued to the roof of it. She was already walking away, disappearing into the elevator.
He looked down at his hand, staring at the lighter.
He stayed there, feeling like absolute shit, because Sana had left before he could explain anything—even though he had no reason to explain himself, and no way to do it properly anyway.
But that didn’t matter, because her expression before she left had ruined him. Even though she hadn’t caused a scene, he knew she wasn’t okay. He knew he’d hurt her. And the guilt was eating him alive.
By the time he stepped back into his apartment, his mood had completely crashed.
The sound of the door closing echoed in the silence, and Jungkook immediately felt the weight of exhaustion settle into his body. He wanted to throw the damn lighter against the wall and watch it shatter.
But he didn’t. Because he wasn’t some hot-headed asshole.
He just closed his eyes for a moment, trying to calm the irritation. Then he walked toward his room, and his eyes landed on the bed.
Soojin was lying against the pillows like she owned them, totally comfortable, with her phone in one hand and the other resting on her bare thigh like it was nothing. Jungkook felt frustration tighten in his gut.
"You didn’t have to talk to her like that," he said bluntly, not bothering to soften his tone.
Soojin looked up from her phone, blinked once, then let out a disbelieving laugh.
"Are you fucking serious?" she leaned forward slightly, staring at him like he’d just turned into some circus freak. "Now you’re gonna defend her?"
Jungkook crossed his arms, patience draining fast down the metaphorical sink.
"Yes," he said simply, with an impassive expression. "Because there was no need to be a bitch. She came to bring me something, that’s all. You didn’t have to mark your territory like a cat in heat."
"Please, as if you were some kind of saint," Soojin scoffed in annoyance. "That little girl came with an excuse, it’s obvious. Since when do you go for little miss innocent types, Kookie?"
"I never said I was a saint." The nickname made his stomach twist. "She’s not little miss innocent. And it really shouldn’t matter to you whether she had an excuse or not. You’re not my girlfriend, you’re not anything of mine."
"If you call me and you haven’t forgotten me, clearly I matter to you. Don’t lie to yourself."
"It doesn’t mean anything," he said coldly.
She fell silent for a few seconds, assessing him. Then she scoffed sarcastically.
"I was fine living my life, and you showed up again, called me, picked me up, and we fucked like never before. Don’t bullshit me, Jungkook. You know damn well you miss me. Don’t try to deny it. You could have any girl you want, but you called me. You know no one makes you come like I do. Not that bitch Sana, not anyone. That’s why you always come back."
"Shut up!" Jungkook snapped, stepping forward. "You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. Sana has nothing to do with you, and you have no fucking right to insult her. If you’re going to be in my house, at least have the decency not to act like shit toward the people I care about."
"Oh, you care about her, huh? How cute. You want to win her over, but you can’t even let go of your ex. Have you told her you still have my taste in your mouth? I don’t know what surprises you," she went on, shrugging. "Or did you really think that little girl didn’t need a reminder of who was here first and who will always be?"
"Soojin…" he warned, but she raised a hand to stop him.
"No, don’t come at me with your righteous bullshit, Jungkook. You were the one who called me." She stood up and started walking slowly around the room as she spoke. "And now you’re playing the gentleman. What, feeling guilty because the little princess gave you a dirty look?"
"Don’t call Sana that," he said, his tone sharper this time.
"And why not?" she shot back, stepping toward him defiantly. "What’s so special about her? What the fuck does she have that I didn’t? Huh? Smaller tits? No personality? Does it turn you on that she’s so submissive? Tell me what she has, Jungkook. I want to remind you that I’m better and that I want you back. You know damn well I always get what I want."
"It’s not that, and you know it. She’s none of those things you said." Jungkook felt the blood rush to his head—she was so fucking shameless. "Don’t talk about her like you’re in some kind of competition."
"Of course I don’t see it as a competition… because I always win. Because I know your body so well, it can’t resist me."
He clenched his fists. It wasn’t exactly that her words hurt—it was more the frustration of having let her back into his life, even if just for one night that hadn’t been worth it.
And right then, Jungkook realized that he just... didn’t want to keep doing this. He didn’t want to argue with her, didn’t want her there wearing his shirt like she had any claim over him. He sighed, then looked her directly in the eyes.
"Leave."
Soojin raised an eyebrow. She looked surprised, but instead of getting angry, her mouth curled into a smug half-smile.
"Come on, Kookie," she said in a fully amused tone, and the annoying nickname scraped at his nerves. "You know this isn’t the first time we’ve done this. When you feel like fucking properly again, call me. I know you’re not capable of deleting my number."
Then, without a hint of urgency, she stretched her arms over her head like it was nothing and picked her clothes up off the floor. She dressed effortlessly, and before leaving, she gave him a quick kiss on the mouth, pulling away with a lazy smile.
When the door finally closed behind her, he exhaled heavily, running both hands down his face.
Now he was alone. He was supposed to feel satisfied. After all, he’d gotten what he wanted, hadn’t he? He’d proven his point.
He still liked women.
Whether he wanted to admit it or not—even if the woman in question was Soojin and she was basically Satan incarnate—he’d reacted to her, and that confirmed there was nothing weird going on with him.
Everything was in order, but the weight in his chest wouldn’t go away, his head didn’t feel clear, and worse yet, the same thoughts kept spinning around.
First, he started thinking about Sana again, about how badly he’d fucked things up with her. How her expression had stuck in his mind, that small smile, that attempt to act like she didn’t care. That feeling that he’d let her down somehow, even though she’d never admit it. Especially not now.
He felt worse knowing something else—that fucking Taehyung had the upper hand with her, clearly. He groaned, scratching his head in frustration, and dropped his body onto the bed.
And the worst part was that, during several makeout sessions with Soojin, his face had popped into his mind a few times.
Even... what really had him rattled was the thought that crossed his mind while he was fucking Soojin. Because for one damn second, he wondered what it would be like to have Taehyung in that position.
Beneath him, with that haughty, teasing look, playing the same power game. Jungkook felt a shiver run down his spine.
And he told himself he shouldn’t be thinking about that. He couldn’t keep letting those thoughts slip in.
Because if he did... then he wouldn’t be able to keep ignoring what his subconscious had been screaming at him.
──── ∗ ⋅✧⋅ ∗ ────
When Taehyung imagined the dynamic with Jiwoo, he made a lot of assumptions.
First, he thought it was going to be awkward. That the conversation about terms would be a slow, careful process—choosing words so he wouldn’t come off like an idiot or an asshole. Second, he believed she’d be the type of girl who would hesitate and think it through before accepting something casual; he even thought she might reject him or try to convince him to go on romantic dates just to eventually get to sex.
But fuck, he couldn’t have been more wrong.
He’d learned over the years that the biggest mistake when it came to something casual was leaving loose ends. It was always better to be honest from the start to avoid misunderstandings later on.
Not only was Jiwoo not bothered by the idea—she was the one who brought it up before he even had to say anything. She suggested something no-strings-attached herself; it was what she’d been looking for all along. He was left speechless.
She made everything easy—so fucking easy that Taehyung actually felt better.
And on top of that, the girl was surprisingly... intense.
Sweet at first glance, with a soft voice and an adorable appearance, but when she talked, when she wrote, when she teased him through messages, Taehyung realized she had a very clear duality.
For a few days, they exchanged messages that grew increasingly hotter, more graphic, and more shameless—like foreplay to warm things up and make sure that when they finally saw each other, nothing would feel awkward.
And if Taehyung had any doubts about his situation, if deep down there was even a trace of uncertainty about his desire or attraction toward women... it all vanished when, with just one dirty message from Jiwoo describing something filthy, he got hard just from reading it—and he had never felt so relieved in his life.
Because it meant he wasn’t screwed up.
That he could still do this.
Everything he had been feeling lately, all the confusion, all the shit that had turned his mind into a mess, didn’t mean he had changed completely—and that brought him peace. He had no idea why he’d been doubting himself so much. He was a man; he had needs. This was natural.
With that in mind, they agreed to meet. He picked her up in his car that night, drove to her house, and when he saw her walking toward him with a radiant smile and a sparkle in her eyes that made it look like she was living the date of her dreams, Taehyung felt a slight pang in his chest.
Not because he disliked the image, but because… fuck. Why did she have to look so cute?
It wasn’t that he wanted her to look bad, but he’d expected this encounter to be more transactional. Something with less... enthusiasm. But Jiwoo looked happy. Genuinely happy.
And when she got in the car, when she started talking with excitement, asking questions with genuine interest, laughing with a sweetness that felt too sincere…
Taehyung started to feel a little guilty. But before he could analyze it further, Jiwoo opened her mouth and the whole atmosphere shifted, because the sweetness turned into boldness in its purest form. The girl didn’t have a single ounce of shame.
“So we’re finally meeting in person,” she murmured, settling into the passenger seat with her legs crossed. “Do you know how many times I touched myself while texting you, Taehyung?”
He almost stopped the car.
He glanced at her sideways, completely caught off guard.
He was supposed to be ready for this—he had read with his own eyes what Jiwoo was capable of saying—but it was one thing to see it written and another to hear it in her soft, sweet voice.
It was fucking disorienting.
“Do you know what I want to do to you once we get there?” she added with a half-smile, her fingers playing with the edge of her skirt as she looked at him with innocent eyes. “Do you want me to list it out?” she continued without waiting for an answer, her gaze sparkling mischievously. “Because I’ve got it all planned out.”
“Wow,” he let out, laughing nervously. “You don’t waste any time, huh?”
“I don’t see the need,” Jiwoo shrugged. “We already know what we want, don’t we?”
He nodded slowly. Yeah, they did. But damn, the girl had zero filters.
“Are you always this direct?” he asked with a low chuckle.
“With you, yes,” she replied without hesitation, leaning in a bit toward him. “I know you like it, or at least that’s what you’ve made clear these past few days.”
The blond swallowed thickly, because yes, he was attracted to someone who didn’t beat around the bush, who wasn’t ashamed to express desire, who didn’t expect him to make the first move.
It was refreshing.
However, the way she looked at him and the way she slid her fingers along her own thigh while she spoke sent his mind spiraling to a dangerous place. Because for a second—just a second—she reminded him of Jungkook. Not physically, clearly, and for obvious reasons, but in the way she carried herself with confidence and knew exactly what effect she had on him.
And when Jiwoo laughed a certain way, with a playful, cocky tone, something in his head clicked. Because it sounded way too much like Jungkook’s laugh.
A shiver ran down his spine.
Suddenly, the image of Jiwoo in the passenger seat distorted in his mind. Suddenly, it was Jungkook sitting there. Legs spread, that mocking gaze, that fucking expression of 'I know exactly what you’re thinking, Taehyung'. And that was enough to make the blond swallow hard and turn his eyes back to the road.
Because he shouldn’t be thinking about him. But he did, and he had no idea how the fuck to deal with it.
The motel was nice. Too nice, actually.
Not the kind of cheap, impersonal place where people met for a quick, meaningless night. This place had class. From the outside, it looked more like a boutique hotel than a simple motel. It had warm lighting, elegant architecture, a façade that screamed discretion and luxury.
He had chosen it for a reason. There was no way he was bringing a stranger into his home. Not a chance. And he wasn’t going to someone else’s place either, not when he didn’t know them.
So this was the best option.
He booked a room on the second floor because he wasn’t about to ruin his night waiting for an elevator. The trip up the stairs was quick. Jiwoo kept talking non-stop, throwing shameless innuendos between trivial comments about how nice the place was and how much she loved the gold accents in the decor.
Taehyung listened, but his mind was elsewhere.
When they got to the room, Taehyung slid the card through the reader, heard the click of the lock, and opened the door.
And as soon as they crossed the threshold—right after he closed the door behind them... Jiwoo jumped him.
Her mouth crashed against his with a force that made him take a step back. Her hands were already all over him, gripping him with a need that took him slightly by surprise.
But of course, he didn’t hesitate, and he didn’t stand still. He let himself touch her, feel her, explore her. He responded immediately, his lips moving with hers with equal intensity. His hands traveled firmly over her body without pause or doubt.
This was easy; he’d done it so many times before. Leading the kiss and taking control of the situation was what he did best. Like always, he set the pace with his movements, pressed himself against her body, and with his fingers traced the curve of her back, sliding down to her waist with purpose.
He felt his own arousal grow in response.
When he picked her up, her legs wrapped around him instantly, her muffled laughter against his mouth, her breath already uneven. He carried her straight to the bed and everything happened.
Their bodies fit together effortlessly, with no awkward friction. He knew it the moment he felt the heat rush through him, when his hands moved with the same confidence as always, when pleasure took over with no room left for thought.
He got hard.
He came.
He enjoyed it—and so did Jiwoo.
She made it known with every sound, every reaction, every word that escaped her lips in the middle of it all. When it was over, Taehyung found himself naked in bed with Jiwoo beside him, equally naked, partially covered by the rumpled sheets.
Her chest rose and fell softly, her breathing had slowed after a few minutes. Taehyung had done what he always did—aftercare.
He could never skip it. It didn’t matter if it was casual, if he’d never see the other person again, if there were no feelings involved.
It was a rule for him. He always made sure the other person was okay. Jiwoo was no exception. Massages, caresses, water, soft words.
She relaxed quickly, curled up beside him, and made sure she was comfortable. He cleaned her up, stroked her hair until her eyelids dropped from exhaustion, and let her fall asleep without a single worry.
And now, in the silence of the room, Taehyung was wide awake.
The night had been amazing. Jiwoo was good at this, they’d connected effortlessly, without any awkwardness that might’ve ruined the mood. They understood each other perfectly; he was genuinely attracted to her—his body didn’t lie, his reaction didn’t lie.
Jiwoo was beautiful, with a sweetness that contrasted perfectly with the way she moved in bed. She had that combination of tenderness and boldness that could drive anyone crazy, and Taehyung was no exception. He could say with certainty that he liked women. No one could deny that.
But something didn’t fit. Something still didn’t feel quite right, and he couldn’t figure out exactly what it was. His body was relaxed, but his mind wasn’t.
There was a small space inside him that wasn’t fully satisfied, and that annoyed him, because it didn’t make sense.
The worst part of it all was that, at some point—during those moments when pleasure completely wrapped around him—his mind had betrayed his body, because for one damn fleeting second, it hadn’t been Jiwoo who filled his thoughts.
It was someone else.
Another voice, another face, another fucking name.
And when he realized it, Taehyung's eyes flew open.
He turned his head slightly and looked at Jiwoo. Her hair was spread across the pillow—she was gorgeous, and not just physically. She was charismatic, charming, confident in a way that was impossible to ignore. There wasn’t a single thing wrong with her.
Taehyung furrowed his brow and looked back up at the ceiling.
He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to go down that road, but the thought had wedged itself into his mind like a thorn stuck under his skin—annoying and impossible to ignore. Because even though the kisses with Jiwoo had been amazing, even though his mouth had explored every inch of her, even though he’d felt her moan into his lips more than once...
They didn’t feel even half as good as kissing Jungkook.
Not even fucking half.
And that was the real reason for his discomfort—because it shouldn’t be that way. He shouldn’t be comparing. He shouldn’t be thinking about that damn kiss with Jungkook when Jiwoo was lying naked beside him, still marked by everything they’d just done.
But he was thinking about it. And there was nothing he could do about it.
This was a crisis. Definitely a crisis. Because up until now, he’d believed that kissing Jungkook had been just a fucking mistake that happened in a moment of tension and heat, encouraged by alcohol-clouded judgment.
But... what if it wasn’t? What if the problem wasn’t the kiss itself? What if the real problem was that he’d enjoyed it too much? He didn’t know what to do with that information—he didn’t know how to process it without going insane.
So he just stayed there, staring at the ceiling, feeling his entire world begin to shake beneath him on a ground he never expected to tread.
He liked women. He always had. But then... why the hell couldn’t he get Jungkook out of his head?
──── ∗ ⋅✧⋅ ∗ ────
The sound of the door closing behind Jiwoo echoed loudly through the quiet house.
Taehyung stood in the middle of his living room, hands shoved into his pants pockets and lips slightly pursed. It was April 1st, a Saturday afternoon, and Jiwoo had just left after another one of their casual meetups.
What he had with Jiwoo had already reached a certain level of stability—if you could even call what they were doing that. At least they didn’t meet up in a motel anymore. That had to count as progress, he supposed.
He no longer had the paranoia that she might be a potential thief or some psycho with a weird fetish for chopping up the men she fucked. Jiwoo now came and went from his house without any issue, and he’d been to hers a couple of times too. Nothing out of the ordinary.
That 'just once' thing had turned into a bad joke, because by the time he realized it, a week had gone by and they were seeing each other regularly.
The dynamic was clear and simple. If they were available and felt like it, they did it. They didn’t talk much beyond some casual conversation before or after sex, and as soon as it was over, Jiwoo got dressed, grabbed her things, and left without complications. Or the other way around, if he’d been at her place.
It almost felt programmed—an efficient system where they both got what they wanted without unnecessary entanglements. Jiwoo seemed happy with that.
And he... was supposed to feel the same. After all, this was what he’d wanted from the start. It was supposed to help—the constant sex was supposed to be enough, and the physical satisfaction was supposed to silence the noise in his head.
But it didn’t. Because even though his body enjoyed every fucking encounter and it felt good, he was still thinking too much about Jungkook. And that was the real reason why he kept calling Jiwoo—not because he actually craved her, but because he needed to shut his mind up.
When Jungkook settled into his thoughts, when the memories started chasing him again and the fucking sensation of those lips against his made him want to scream, he needed something—anything—to forget.
And Jiwoo was that. An escape. A wall between him and the reality he didn’t want to face.
That was fucked up—or rather, he was fucked up—because no matter how hard he tried to avoid it, the problem always came back.
Jungkook.
Even though he tried to deny it with every damn piece of his being, he knew that what he felt wasn’t normal.
The blond walked over and sat at the desk where his computer rested and some papers were scattered.
Jungkook’s absence was too noticeable. It was strange, because it wasn’t like they used to talk every day. They’d never been friends, never exchanged constant messages, or kept in contact around the clock. But somehow, over the past week, the emptiness left behind by the lack of interaction with him had become more obvious.
They hadn’t seen each other since the cabin. They hadn’t run into each other at university. They hadn’t even crossed paths on social media. It was like they’d vanished from each other’s lives. They were really set on avoiding each other.
It was ridiculous and immature, but at the same time, Taehyung wasn’t ready to face him.
The group had tried to bring them together several times. Hoseok, Jimin, Jin, Namjoon, Yoongi... they all made plans, sent messages in the group chat, suggested hangouts. But it always went the same way: if Taehyung knew Jungkook might be there, he came up with an excuse. And Jungkook did the same.
It was shit.
They were supposed to be having fun together, enjoying what was left of the semester before some of them graduated, but instead, they were both trapped in an uncomfortable bubble because they couldn’t exist in the same space.
This wasn’t working.
This week had helped him clear up a few things, but at the same time, it brought more questions than answers. And there was one thought in particular that haunted him.
Logic told him that if he wanted to confirm that he truly felt nothing for Jungkook, that everything that had happened meant absolutely nothing, that it was all just in his head, the most reasonable thing would be to try kissing him while sober.
Because last time, alcohol had been a major factor. He couldn’t judge anything clearly if he hadn’t even been in his normal state.
He had to test it under different circumstances and be sure.
Because if he kissed him again while sober and didn’t feel a thing—if the kiss stirred nothing in his chest—then he could breathe easy. Then he could go back to his normal life, without complications, without an identity crisis hanging over his head.
But just as quickly as the idea had arrived, Taehyung mentally slapped himself to shut it down.
"No, no, no," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head as if trying to knock the thoughts out of it.
He was going insane. Definitely losing it. And that was a problem—a big one.
So he did the only thing he knew how to do in moments like this: he worked.
He turned on his laptop, opened the file for his research, and started typing. The essay had already been approved, sure, but he still had to work on the development of the documentary. He had to structure the interviews, organize the shots, and establish a clear narrative. He knew he still had weeks to do it, but he couldn’t afford to fall behind.
He didn’t want to disappoint anyone.
And more than anything, he didn’t want to give himself the luxury of thinking about Jungkook any further.
Time had slipped through his fingers before he realized it. The hours passed one after another, devoured by the glow of his laptop screen. He didn’t know when the night had crept along so far, but the stabbing pain in his neck and the heaviness of his eyelids told him it was time to stop.
He sighed and stretched his arms above his head, feeling his back crack with the motion. He turned his head to glance at the digital clock in the corner of the screen, and his brow furrowed instantly.
1:05 a.m.
Fuck.
He ran his tongue over his dry lips and rubbed his face with both hands, blinking heavily. He was only supposed to get a little work done, not spend the entire damn night on this. But then again, he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about Jungkook either—and there he was, doing exactly that in the back of his mind while pretending to be focused.
It was time to sleep.
He sighed again, lazily closing the documents on his screen. He shut down the computer and stretched out in his chair, his muscles groaning in protest after sitting still for so long. He definitely needed to sleep.
He was going to get up, put on a comfortable pair of pajamas, crawl into bed, and let himself crash, hoping to forget everything swirling in his head.
But then his phone rang, startling him.
He frowned and blinked toward the device, which was vibrating on the mattress and casting a bright light through the darkness.
Who the fuck would call at this ungodly hour?
Since the phone was on the bed and he was still at his desk, he couldn’t see who it was.
Ignoring it seemed like a very tempting option, because seriously—who the hell thought it was a great idea to call him at one in the morning? Normal people were supposed to be asleep at that time.
But… what if it was one of his friends in an emergency?
His expression tensed, and a chill crept down his spine.
What if someone needed help? What if something serious had happened?
It wasn’t exactly common for anyone to call him this late, so… he couldn’t ignore it now.
He stood up and walked to the bed to grab the phone that was still vibrating insistently. He picked it up, turned it over in his hands, and the moment he read the name on the screen, he nearly fell backwards.
'Biggest idiot of the century.'
Chapter 21: Chapter 20
Chapter Text
"What the actual fuck?" Taehyung muttered, feeling his stomach twist into a tight knot of nerves.
The phone was trembling in his hand—or maybe it was him who was trembling, he wasn’t sure. His throat felt dry, and his fingers were so tense around the device that he almost thought he’d break it if he squeezed any harder. The screen kept glowing in the darkness of his room, lighting up his face.
Jungkook was calling him.
At one in the morning.
He had no fucking idea what to do. He could obviously ignore it, maybe even block him. Or he could just throw the phone against the wall and pretend none of this was happening.
But deep down—way deep down—a part of him wanted to answer. Because they hadn’t seen each other in days, hadn’t spoken, not even through a text. No matter how hard he tried to ignore it, Jungkook was still in his head, and now, he was calling him.
Why? Why the hell was he calling him at this hour? Was he okay? Had something happened to him?
Worry settled in his chest and he bit down hard on his lip. Jungkook was still waiting on the other end, and Taehyung, like the fucking idiot he was, swiped his finger across the screen.
He brought the phone to his ear just as it stopped ringing, holding his breath.
“…Tae.” The sound of his name, dragged out and drawn with a ridiculously funny tone, made him frown. He instantly guessed what was going on.
"Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me," he muttered, running a hand down his face.
Jungkook was drunk. The blond pressed his lips into a tight line, staring at the ceiling in disbelief.
"Tae," Jungkook repeated, his voice a bit rougher now, but with that same slow drawl. Taehyung’s stomach churned without his permission.
"What do you want?" he asked cautiously, trying to keep his tone indifferent, though the truth was he was nervous.
He could hear noise in the background—other people’s voices, glasses clinking, distant music. Jungkook went quiet for a moment, his brain clearly trying to find the answer. Then he let out a light, half-stifled chuckle.
"Nothing."
"Yeah, right, nothing, my ass," he muttered. Why did he have to be so fucking stupid? "Where are you?"
"Mmmh..." Jungkook’s voice sounded thoughtful, drawn out—he was really trying to remember. "At a bar."
"No shit." Taehyung rolled his eyes. "And why the hell are you calling me?"
"Uh…" the black-haired guy mumbled. "See… I… I was thinking that…" Taehyung raised a brow. Jungkook sounded completely lost in his own head. "Shit, how do I even say this…?"
Taehyung scoffed before he could stop himself. The whole situation was so ridiculous he even felt the ghost of a mocking smile tug at the corner of his lips.
"You called me at one in the morning to stutter nonsense?"
"No, no, no," Jungkook rushed to deny it. "It’s just that I have to tell you something, but I don’t know how to say it without making it sound weird…"
Everything about this fucking call was already weird. Taehyung rolled his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers.
"God, Jungkook, you could at least be sober if you’re going to say stupid shit." There was another silence. Taehyung knew Jungkook was trying to come up with an excuse in his drunken state. "You’re an idiot," Taehyung said, shaking his head. "You call me at one in the morning, half-dead drunk, and you don’t even have a decent reason."
"I’m not half-dead."
"Uh-huh."
"I swear."
"Yeah, sure, I bet you’re fresh as a daisy," Taehyung scoffed. "I can practically smell the alcohol through the phone."
The black-haired guy chuckled softly, and for some reason, that sound made Taehyung’s chest tighten.
Jungkook sounded so comfortable. Like… like he missed talking to him.
"Taehyung." His name sounded different this time—he used a lower tone, and Taehyung swallowed hard.
"Mhm?"
There were a couple of seconds of silence. Then Jungkook let out a heavy sigh, as if giving in to something in his head.
"Come get me." Taehyung’s mouth fell open, but no words came out. "I can’t… I don’t want to leave alone. I feel like I can’t make it to my apartment by myself…"
"No." Taehyung’s answer was immediate, dry, and completely devoid of consideration.
He wasn’t about to leave his apartment at one in the morning just because Jungkook couldn’t handle his alcoholism for one fucking night. He wasn’t going to get involved in that mess. It wasn’t his responsibility.
"Tae…" The tone Jungkook used made him tense—it almost sounded like… begging.
Fuck.
No, no, no, and no. He wasn’t falling for that.
"Not a chance, Jungkook. Call Hobi-hyung."
"I don’t want to bother him."
"Namjoon-hyung, then."
"He’s busy with Jihyo."
"Yoongi-hyung."
"He’ll kick my head in if I wake him up."
Well, better he kicks it in, you fucking idiot.
"Then fuck off, why me?" he snapped.
Why was he calling him? Out of all the people in his life, why him?
They had been avoiding any kind of contact for days. Both of them—it wasn’t just a Taehyung thing. Jungkook had pulled away too, and yet here he was, fucking up his night in the middle of the goddamn one in the morning.
"I don’t know…" Jungkook’s voice was so low that Taehyung barely heard it over the background noise. "I just… I didn’t want to call them. My battery’s low. I don’t know if it’ll last another call."
"Then get your ass home before your phone dies, you piece of shit."
"Tae…" There was a brief pause, just a couple of seconds. Then, with a slow, almost absent tone, as if he were half-lost in his thoughts, Jungkook said, "I think I’m about to get robbed."
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
"What do you mean?"
"I d-don’t know," Jungkook laughed, but it sounded strange. "There are some weird guys here."
Why the hell are you in a place with weird guys, Jungkook?
Taehyung felt a wave of frustration and irritation crawl up his skin. The idiot wasn’t even trying to come up with a decent excuse.
"I need you, Tae."
The blond bit down on his lip hard. By this point in the conversation, his foot was bouncing impatiently against the floor.
He didn’t want to give in.
But there was something in his chest pushing him to move—something he couldn’t quite understand, but it was there, pressing against his damn logic. The guy sounded lost, and though Taehyung wouldn’t admit it even in his fucking grave, a part of him… wanted to see him.
Goddamn it, and fuck this unfair life.
"Jungkook…" he exhaled, feeling desperation gnaw at his head. "You’re a fucking piece of shit, you know that?" Jungkook didn’t respond. "You’re a fucking, miserable, pathetic, idiot piece of shit."
"Uh…"
"A fucking moron, a walking disaster, a completely incompetent person who can’t control himself and only causes problems for everyone else—are you aware of how stupid you are?"
"Taehyung…"
"If you get robbed, it’ll be because of your damn alcoholism, and honestly, you’d deserve it." Jungkook stayed silent. "Send me the fucking address."
"Was that your way of saying you’re coming?"
"Don’t get excited, asshole. I still want to kill you. Send me the address before I change my mind and decide to let you get robbed."
"Thanks, Tae," Jungkook said in a tone that Taehyung knew came with a smile—the bastard. He hung up before the blond could say anything else.
Not even a minute later, a WhatsApp notification popped up on his screen—Jungkook had sent him his location.
With a frown, Taehyung unlocked his phone and opened the map. And when he saw where the hell Jungkook was, his heart sank.
"What the fuck…? This lunatic!"
Jungkook was in a seedy bar. Not in a luxurious place, not in a good part of the city. He was in the gutter.
In a place that probably served drinks in dirty glasses, where the music sounded like it was being played with a frying pan and a damn tin can.
A bar Taehyung had never set foot in—and never would if he had any choice—so he opened their WhatsApp chat and furiously typed:
Biggest idiot of the century
[Location 📍]<<
>>WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING DRINKING IN THAT PLACE, JUNGKOOK? ARE YOU STUPID OR WHAT?
No reply, which only made his anxiety worse. Because now he wasn’t just mad—he was genuinely worried.
Taehyung closed his eyes, inhaled deeply through his nose, and stayed like that for a few seconds, desperately trying to recover some shred of sanity before doing what he was about to do.
He managed it for exactly two seconds, because the moment he opened his eyes again and his gaze fell on Jungkook’s damn location on his phone screen, his brain went up in flames once more.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” He grabbed his jacket from the nearest chair and shoved his arms through the sleeves in clumsy, furious movements. “I can’t believe I’m actually doing this.”
He walked quickly to the table where his house keys lay and snatched them up, his fingers curling tightly around them.
Taehyung wanted to say he wasn’t leaving his house at one in the morning just because that idiot had told him he needed him.
He really wanted to say it. But the problem was… he was. He was leaving his house at such an indecent hour.
He slammed the door shut behind him, jamming the key into the lock with angry precision.
“First I’ll save him,” he muttered while turning the key and securing the door. “Yes, that’s what I’ll do. First I’ll save him…” His mouth twisted into a sardonic smile. “Just so I can be the one privileged enough to kill him with my own hands.” He let out a dry laugh as he walked across his porch. “Yes, I’ll be the one to make him pay for all his damn sins, for making me leave my house at this hour to go rescue him from some trashy dive bar with zero class.” The last part dripped with disdain as he searched his pockets for his car keys. “I’ll kill him, that’s what I’ll do. I just hope that when I walk into that dump, I don’t end up with three different airborne diseases just from standing near it.” He frowned, seriously considering that possibility. “Should I take a mask? Gloves? A hazmat suit? What should I…?”
His train of thought came to a screeching halt when, as he turned, he locked eyes with a curious drunk man in his forties standing in the middle of the street.
They both stayed silent for a couple of seconds.
Taehyung blinked.
The man blinked back.
“What are you looking at?” Taehyung shot back quickly, frowning and waving a hand for him to move along. “Keep walking, oldie.”
It took the guy a couple of seconds to process his words before he stumbled off without saying a thing. Maybe he thought he’d imagined it.
Good choice, old man. Good choice.
Taehyung exhaled and went back to focusing on his grand master plan.
“Alright, where was I? Oh, right…” He snapped his fingers like he was trying to remember an important line from a script. “The moment I see him, I’ll drag him out of there just so I can be the one to kill him afterward. And then…”
He yanked the car door open and dropped into the driver’s seat with a huff. He started the engine, an odd feeling stirring in his chest as he typed the address into the GPS.
I’m going to kill you, Jeon Jungkook. Just wait for me.
──── ∗ ⋅✧⋅ ∗ ────
The drive to that damn bar was hell.
Not even Google Maps wanted to cooperate—Taehyung had heard it 'recalculating route' more times than his patience could endure. Even the app itself seemed to be trying to convince him not to go.
'In five hundred meters, turn right.'
“Turn right? Which right, for fuck’s sake? This is a maze!”
He tried to follow the instruction, but the moment he took the turn, the GPS recalculated the route with a passive-aggressive tone Taehyung swore sounded more frustrated than him.
'Recalculating… recalculating… recalculating…'
“What the hell did I do wrong now?!”
The damn map seemed to have the same level of existential crisis as he did. No matter how many times he tried to follow the route, he always ended up in a dead-end alley or on a street that looked highly questionable.
Did he look like a late-night Uber for lost causes?
He had long left behind the familiar scenery of wide, well-lit streets lined with luxury buildings, now driving into a part of the city where everything was slanted on absurdly steep hills, the lights flickered like they were on their last moments, and there was a suspicious number of people on street corners eyeing his car like they were assessing how much they could get if they stripped it.
It was painfully obvious his car didn’t belong here.
“I can’t believe I’m getting myself into this shit.” His voice trembled with anger, but the urge to turn back and let Jungkook sort out his own mess wasn’t strong enough to stop him.
He clenched his jaw, smacking the steering wheel with one hand while muttering insults at the man who’d dragged him into this.
He could pretend amnesia, turn around, call Yoongi, block Jungkook on everything, and label him 'someone else’s problem'. He could go back to bed like someone who respected their own well-being. Let Yoongi be the one to kill him.
But no, he didn’t. Because he had that damn impulse. Jungkook had said 'I need you', and now his brain was too fucked up to ignore it.
“I’m going to kill him,” he declared through gritted teeth, parking in front of the address Jungkook had sent him.
He locked the car once. Then twice. Then three times. Then four. Then five—because he truly didn’t trust that it would still be there with all its parts intact when he came back.
Only when he was certain no one could touch it without triggering an alarm did he look up and examine the bar’s façade.
It was worse than he’d imagined.
The neon sign flickered, the door looked like it had been kicked in an unreasonable number of times, and even from where he stood, he could hear the noise from inside—a mix of cheap music, loud laughter, and the unmistakable sound of glasses clinking against the wooden bar.
“Gross,” he muttered in disgust before letting out a long, dramatic sigh. “Alright, let’s go in before my common sense stops me.”
He strode toward the entrance, dodging a couple of guys outside smoking something that was definitely not a cigarette. The moment he set foot inside, a wave of heat slammed against his face. It smelled like cheap alcohol, tobacco, sweat, and disappointment.
There were men everywhere. And not the kind Taehyung usually partied with—these were middle-aged men, some more unkempt than others, all absolutely wasted and, worse, some looking like they were ready to pick a fight with the first idiot who crossed their path.
He pressed his lips together and lowered his gaze.
Just don’t make eye contact.
He had no intention of starting a bar fight tonight. He walked a few meters until, at the counter, he finally spotted Jungkook—sitting with his elbows resting on the wooden surface, eyes lost in his glass of whiskey.
His expression was hard to read, and for a brief second, Taehyung forgot why the hell he was so angry at him.
But then he remembered where they were.
And what time it was.
And that he shouldn’t be here.
So the anger came rushing back.
He approached from behind and cleared his throat.
"Jungkook."
The younger man stiffened instantly. His back straightened in less than a second before he turned around. Jungkook’s eyes went wide—wider than Taehyung had ever seen them.
Bambi.
Damn it. For a moment, he felt far too vulnerable under that gaze.
"...You came." Jungkook’s voice was a whisper, and for some reason, it made Taehyung feel stupid.
"Of course I came, you idiot!" he snapped quickly, his tongue looser than it should have been, though he couldn’t exactly be blamed for being pissed. "But this isn’t going to become a habit, you hear me? I’m not your damn babysitter! I’m not your mom! I’m not even your friend! Don’t ever make me come looking for you in some filthy dive bar again or I swear I’ll—!"
But his threat never finished, because suddenly, Jungkook was hugging him. He just leaned in and wrapped his arms around him, burying his face in Taehyung’s shoulder.
Taehyung froze—his brain quite literally shut down—and he felt heat flood his face.
"...Jungkook?" His voice barely came out.
"Thanks." That was all he said, and it was enough to completely mess him up.
He swallowed hard, his throat dry, standing there stiff for five full seconds before his brain finally caught up and he shoved Jungkook away.
"What the hell are you doing?!"
Jungkook looked at him with a half-smile, his eyes still a little glassy from the alcohol. Taehyung didn’t want to think about how soft that hug had felt. So, in a desperate attempt to regain some dignity, he punched him in the arm.
And it wasn’t light.
The younger man let out a pained groan, clutching the spot where Taehyung had hit him, but there was still a smile playing on his lips.
"You’re so rough," he complained in a whiny tone, though his eyes still gleamed with amusement.
"Don’t ever pull that shit again, Jungkook." Taehyung glared at him, arms crossed and brow furrowed.
"What shit?"
"That!" He gestured sharply, referring to the hug that had completely caught him off guard. "If you do it again, I swear I’ll leave you here for someone to steal your kidneys."
Fucking bastard.
Jungkook just stared back at him with an amused yet confused expression, so Taehyung huffed and turned on his heel to get the hell out of there. If he stayed a second longer, his brain was going to start malfunctioning.
He strode toward the exit, each step long and quick, determined to put as much distance as possible between himself and the temptation to go soft—but he had only taken two steps before something felt... wrong. His sixth sense kicked in, an internal alarm that made him stop dead. Something was missing—or rather, someone was missing.
With an impatient frown, he turned back, only to see Jungkook still at the bar, clumsily fumbling with his wallet, pulling out crumpled bills and trying to count them with little success.
"For the love of God..." Taehyung exhaled sharply and walked back, pulling out his own wallet as he leaned against the counter with a firm thud. "How much is it?" he asked without even sparing Jungkook a glance.
The bartender—a man with a sour expression and tattooed arms—raised an eyebrow, looking from Jungkook to Taehyung with a hint of curiosity.
The dark-haired man lifted his head in surprise and shook it immediately.
"No, no, wait. I’m paying. I’m not letting you pay for something you didn’t drink."
"Don’t start," Taehyung cut him off before he could finish, already pulling out a couple of bills.
But before he could hand them over, Jungkook grabbed his wrist and looked at him seriously. A slightly drunken seriousness, but seriousness nonetheless.
He clearly intended to fight him on this. Taehyung narrowed his eyes, his competitive streak instantly flaring. Fine. If he wanted to fight, they would fight.
Without breaking eye contact, Taehyung grabbed the whiskey glass Jungkook had left on the counter and, in one motion, downed it in a single gulp. The liquid burned his throat—strong and bitter, the cheap kind that was probably fake—but he forced himself not to make a face.
Then he set the glass down with a solid thunk against the wood.
"Now I’ve had some."
"...You’re an idiot."
"Tell me that again when you can count your bills properly, drunkard."
The bartender let out a short laugh before stating the total.
It was an absurd, outrageously high number that made Taehyung’s eyes go wide. He turned his head toward Jungkook.
"How much crap did you drink, you asshole?"
Jungkook shrugged, scratching the back of his neck.
"It wasn’t that much..."
"Wasn’t that much? I could feed a family with this kind of money!" he growled before pulling out the cash and paying without another word. Jungkook lowered his head like a child being scolded.
"I-I’ll pay you back..."
"Obviously, you will," Taehyung shot him a sharp look.
The bartender took the money with little interest, giving a short nod in thanks.
Without wasting another second, Taehyung turned again, ready to leave the damn place once and for all.
But his patience was tested yet again. He had only made it a few steps before a noise behind him caught his attention. He turned just in time to see Jungkook stumble slightly as he walked, his balance clearly compromised by the alcohol in his system.
And not only that—in his clumsy state, he accidentally bumped into a man who, like everyone else in that damn bar, was drunk. The guy spun around immediately, bloodshot eyes and an angry scowl.
"Hey, watch where the hell you’re going, you piece of shit!"
Taehyung saw red. Not because Jungkook wasn’t at fault—because clearly, he was for walking like that—but because, honestly, he didn’t have the patience to deal with more idiots tonight. Jungkook alone was enough.
In less than a second, he turned and grabbed Jungkook by the hand, tugging him slightly to position him behind his body. Without letting go, he narrowed his eyes at the drunk man.
"You don’t want to get involved in our business."
His tone was dry, cold—pure warning. The guy glared at him, but Taehyung held his gaze with an expression that clearly said, give me a reason and I’ll break your face. The man frowned, but after a few seconds—maybe realizing Taehyung wasn’t exactly small—he huffed and looked away.
Taehyung didn’t wait for him to change his mind. He simply pulled Jungkook along and walked out of that damn bar once and for all.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" He barely waited until they crossed the bar’s door before unloading everything that had been building in his throat. He yanked Jungkook out onto the sidewalk without a shred of gentleness, forcing him to walk straight. "Are you a fucking irresponsible idiot or what?" he went on, not giving him a chance to respond. "What the fuck were you thinking, going into a bar like that by yourself? Do you want to end up in a dumpster without your kidneys? Or do you just enjoy the idea of getting your face smashed in for being an idiot?"
Jungkook staggered along beside him, not resisting the grip on his hand, but showing no interest in answering either. His expression was completely blank.
And that only made him angrier.
"Not answering, huh? Of course. Because you don’t have a single fucking decent excuse to give me," he spat with irony. "Do you know what could’ve happened if I hadn’t shown up? Do you have any idea how easy it would be for someone to take advantage of you when you’re this fucked up? Not just rob you, Jungkook—it could’ve ended way worse." Silence was his only response. Taehyung narrowed his eyes, holding back the urge to shake him until he came to his senses. "Jungkook, I’m talking to you."
When he still didn’t get an answer, he turned with a growl—only to realize Jungkook wasn’t even looking him in the eye. He didn’t seem to be paying attention to the scolding at all.
His eyes were fixed lower, exactly where their hands were joined. He was staring at them with an unsettling intensity.
Taehyung’s throat went dry, a shiver running down his spine, and he immediately let go of his hand.
"Get in the car," the blond muttered, averting his gaze awkwardly.
"B-But..." the younger said, as if waking from a trance.
"Get in the car, Jungkook."
The tone left no room for argument, and Jungkook seemed to realize it, because he didn’t push back. He simply walked to the vehicle with an unsteady step and opened the passenger door.
Taehyung took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down before circling the car and sliding into the driver’s seat.
Fucking just his luck.
"Taehyung, you shouldn’t drive," Jungkook’s voice cut through his thoughts just as he was putting the key in the ignition.
"Excuse me?" Taehyung arched a brow in irritation, turning to look at him.
"You drank."
"One drink, Jungkook."
"Still."
"Don’t be an idiot, that doesn’t affect me for shit," he scoffed.
Jungkook narrowed his eyes, clearly unconvinced, but didn’t seem to have the energy to argue.
Good, that was better.
Before starting the car, Taehyung leaned toward him and grabbed the seatbelt, buckling it for him—because of course Jungkook hadn’t made the slightest effort to put it on himself.
The scent of his skin hit his nose in the process, a warm aroma with notes of whiskey and lavender that made him hold his breath for a second. He didn’t have the patience for this.
He pulled back quickly and looked at him impatiently.
"Where do you live?"
Jungkook blinked. And then… frowned, as if he was trying to remember.
"In my apartment."
"Wow, really?" Taehyung squinted at him.
"I mean… the building’s name is…" He cut himself off, literally not continuing. He just fell silent, staring into space, a deep line forming between his brows. Taehyung felt like banging his head against the steering wheel.
"You don’t remember the name of your own damn building?"
"It’s on the tip of my tongue, wait."
"The building. Tell me."
"It’s a tall building."
Taehyung closed his eyes, feeling his patience slipping right out of his body.
"All fucking buildings are tall, Jungkook."
"It has windows too."
"I’d be worried if it didn’t."
"And a balcony! It has a nice view of the city, I really like it. That was one of the reasons I chose it—"
The blond counted to three to keep himself calm.
"Give me the address."
"It’s just that… I don’t remember it either."
"Fuck."
Taehyung rested his head against the steering wheel for a moment, trying to calm the urge to strangle him right then and there.
After a few seconds, he exhaled through his nose and tried to think clearly.
"Fine," he sighed, gathering patience. "We’ll do it another way. I’ll say the names of buildings, and you tell me if one sounds like yours."
Jungkook nodded with exaggerated seriousness, almost childlike. The blond wanted to kick him.
He knew Jungkook lived in a certain area of the city, so he started naming some of the buildings he knew there, hoping one would sound familiar.
"Riverside Towers?"
"No."
"The Pinnacle?"
"Nope."
"Imperial Heights?"
"That one!" Jungkook snapped his fingers enthusiastically.
"Are you sure?" Taehyung eyed him suspiciously.
"Mmh."
Not exactly confidence-inspiring. But still, he pulled out his phone and entered the address into the GPS. He started the car and began to drive.
──── ∗ ⋅✧⋅ ∗ ────
The ride passed in silence.
The only sound came from the radio, playing some song in the background that neither of them was really listening to.
Taehyung kept his eyes on the road, but every now and then, he glanced sideways at Jungkook, who had his head resting against the window and a strange expression on his face.
"Don’t even think about throwing up in my car," he warned coldly. "Or I swear to God I’ll make you clean it with your fucking tongue."
"You’re a sick fuck," Jungkook said with a disgusted expression.
"I’m serious."
"I’m not going to puke."
"Good. Because if you do, I swear—"
"I got it! You’re disgusting."
"And you’re a useless drunk." Taehyung huffed, and Jungkook turned back to stare out the window.
Silence fell again. The younger stayed exactly as he’d been the entire ride—motionless, not saying a word. He just breathed in that weird, pensive way Taehyung fucking hated because it made him uncomfortable.
He had no idea what the hell was going on with him, but ever since they’d left that damn bar, his head hadn’t stopped for a single second.
The thought he’d had earlier—Should I kiss him sober? How would it feel to kiss him without alcohol?—kept echoing like a bell in his skull. And the worst part wasn’t just that thought—it was also the fact that he’d slept with someone out of desperation, and that was starting to make him uneasy.
At the time, it had seemed like the right thing to do, but now… he was pretty sure it hadn’t worked. Because if it had, why the hell did he feel like this?
And more importantly, why did he feel guilty?
The feeling was subtle but persistent. He wasn’t sure if he should even mention it to Jungkook. Maybe it didn’t make sense to say it at all. But then, while he was still debating in his head, Jungkook’s voice broke the silence.
"Taehyung," his voice was soft and low, the alcohol still obvious in his system. He kept his gaze forward and let out a small 'mhm' in response, with no intention of giving him much attention. "I want to tell you something."
Taehyung’s grip on the wheel instantly tightened. He didn’t like the sound of that. A drunk talking too much was never a good thing—and if there was one thing he’d learned about Jungkook since they’d met, it was that his filter was already paper-thin sober, so drunk it probably didn’t exist at all.
"What is it?" he asked, swallowing hard.
Jungkook took a few seconds to respond. Maybe he was trying to put his thoughts in order, or maybe he was just deciding whether to say it at all.
"As soon as we got back from the cabin..." he inhaled deeply. "No—actually, since I woke up with the memory of us kissing, I’ve been in a crisis." Taehyung’s heart gave an unpleasant jolt in his chest. He didn’t say anything, just let him continue. "I had never... never in my life kissed a guy before," Jungkook admitted, and Taehyung couldn’t help the shiver that ran down his spine at those words. He glanced at him out of the corner of his eye as they reached a red light. "And even less in that way... so wet."
Taehyung felt his entire face heat up.
Why the hell did he have to describe it like that?
He quickly looked away, trying to keep his expression as neutral as possible, but just remembering what that kiss had been like made his stomach tighten.
"When I got home... I didn’t know what to do. I sat on my bed and thought about everything—about myself, about what I believed about myself and who I am. I wondered if everything I thought I knew about myself was a lie. If I’d lived twenty-one years in a lie." His voice was tighter now, and Taehyung noticed a faint tremor in it. "I panicked. I didn’t understand it, and I didn’t want to understand it. I just... felt like I was drowning in my own head and I was scared, so..." the younger swallowed hard. "To try and prove to myself that nothing had changed—that it had just been the alcohol and that was it—I called S-Soojin."
Soojin? Of all the people in the world, he had to call Soojin?
It wasn’t just the coincidence that surprised him—the fact that they’d both done the same thing, trying to recover in the same way. What truly left him in shock was that Jungkook had called her.
Because if there was one person in his life he shouldn’t have called, it was Soojin. Taehyung remembered clearly the first time he’d heard that name from Jungkook’s lips—it had been the day they met, at Hoseok’s party. The same day Soojin showed up with another guy, and Jungkook reacted with anger.
Taehyung remembered her vividly. He remembered her shoving Sana with disdain. He remembered the truth-or-shot game, when Jungkook confessed without hesitation what their relationship had been like. It had been completely toxic and destructive. She was manipulative and controlling. Jungkook had even admitted that he hadn’t told his friends the reality of their relationship until that moment because he was embarrassed for them to know what he’d been trapped in for such a worrying amount of time.
He’d confessed that when Soojin suggested making things official, he thought that if it was already that suffocating and draining when it was casual, then becoming a couple would only make it worse.
So he broke up with her.
Deep down, he’d been afraid of going back to her, but at the time he said he was sure that was the last time. Taehyung had thought it was just to make it clear to Sana that there was nothing between them. But now, after everything, Jungkook had gone looking for her again.
"I slept with her, because if anyone deserved to be used for an experiment, it was her," he said, wrinkling his nose. "I just desperately wanted to see if I was still the same."
The blond kept his gaze on the road, even though they were already parked in front of Jungkook’s building. He didn’t ask him to get out. Instead, he turned his whole body toward him, giving him his full attention.
Jungkook seemed to be gathering the courage to go on. He pressed his lips together for a second before taking a deep breath.
"And yeah, I enjoyed it," he confessed in a neutral tone. "My body reacted. The things I always found sexy about her are still sexy to me. B-Basically... I still like women."
Taehyung felt a strange tingling at the back of his neck. He didn’t know why—it was logical and expected. Jungkook turned his head toward him, meeting his gaze directly.
"B-But..." his voice lowered slightly. "It didn’t give me much relief." Jungkook kept staring at him, searching his face for any sign of judgment, but found none. "Because either way, even though we were drunk..." he wet his lips. "The kiss we shared stirred something in me."
Taehyung’s heart skipped a damn beat, but he didn’t react. He forced himself to stay neutral.
"And as crazy as it sounds... I’ve been in a total crisis all week," the black-haired man continued, and Taehyung pressed his lips together, feeling a strange sense of déjà vu. Because all of it was so damn familiar. "So I thought maybe it would be a good idea to repeat it. To really confirm or rule something out."
The blond’s eyes went wide. He didn’t say anything for a few seconds, and then... he burst out laughing.
He let out a loud, unexpected laugh that made him lean forward a little, covering his face with one hand. Jungkook frowned at him.
"What the hell are you laughing at?" His tone sounded genuinely offended, but Taehyung couldn’t stop. "Go to hell," Jungkook snapped, clearly annoyed, reaching for the door handle. But before he could open it, Taehyung moved quickly, grabbing his wrist, finally managing to stifle his laughter.
"No, don’t take it the wrong way," he said, still with a smile on his lips. "I’m not making fun of you. I’m not judging you." Jungkook eyed him warily, and Taehyung took a deep breath, letting go of his wrist gently before leaning back against the headrest, looking up at the car ceiling. "It’s just that... fuck, Jungkook."
"W-What?" Jungkook looked at him, still frowning.
Taehyung lowered his gaze, meeting his again.
"I think we share a brain cell."
"What the fuck does that even mean?" Jungkook narrowed his eyes, confused.
"The exact same thing happened to me." Taehyung looked away, focusing on some point beyond the windshield. "I’ve been in crisis since we kissed, in case that wasn’t obvious. And my solution was... to try to go back to what felt safe." He turned his head toward Jungkook. "I also slept with a girl."
"With who?" Jungkook didn’t bother hiding the displeased look on his face.
"You don’t know her," he replied with a shrug. "Her name’s Jiwoo."
The black-haired man narrowed his eyes. The name didn’t ring a bell, but it wasn’t like that changed anything.
"At least Soojin deserved something like that from me after everything she did," he said immediately, frowning. "But you... you shouldn’t use some poor innocent girl for that."
Taehyung let out a snort and turned his head fully to look at him.
"Calm down, martyr of noble causes," he said in a mocking tone. "First of all, Jiwoo is not some poor innocent girl, and second, she doesn’t know my motives, but we have a good understanding. It’s completely casual."
"That sounds like an excuse to justify yourself." Jungkook looked at him with suspicion.
"It sounds like the truth." Taehyung smirked ironically. "We literally only see each other to fuck. We’re not even friends."
"What do you mean you’re not even friends?"
"We’re not," Taehyung repeated. "We talk as little as necessary. We meet up, do what we have to do, and then we go our separate ways." Jungkook frowned even more, but Taehyung didn’t give him a chance to reply. "Actually, I’m not even sure if I’m the one using her or if it’s the other way around, because a day after we hooked up, I overheard her on the phone with some guy..." He paused, watching Jungkook’s expression grow more and more confused. "I think she’s using me to get over her ex."
He didn’t know what to say to that. Because suddenly, all his indignation was interrupted by a wave of confusion. He didn’t know what was worse: the fact that Taehyung was saying it with such calmness, or the fact that, somehow, it made sense—at least to his drunken brain.
“But that’s not the point,” Taehyung continued. “The point is that I went through the same thing you did. I wanted to check for myself and yeah, it feels good.” Taehyung rested an elbow on the window, leaning his head against his hand. “My body reacts. All of that. I like girls, and girls like me, there’s no doubt about that… but…”
That single word was enough to make Jungkook feel a pang in his chest. Because he understood it. Because he, too, had said a 'but'.
“I don’t know.”
“Didn’t you feel relieved?” Jungkook leaned an arm against his own window, turning a little more toward him.
“Not really.” Taehyung shook his head, a small, bitter smile tugging at his lips. “I mean, yeah, I like being with her,” he added with a strange grimace. “But I don’t feel relieved the way I thought I would.”
“So…” Jungkook said after a few seconds, catching something in his whole speech. “It happened more than once?”
“Yes.”
Jungkook felt a strange little twist in his chest. And before he could stop himself, he pouted. A pout.
He felt like a complete idiot when he realized it, so he pressed his lips together and quickly looked away, as if that could hide it. Taehyung, however, noticed. And he couldn’t help but smile faintly.
“What do you mean yes?”
“What?” Taehyung shrugged with a crooked smile. “Sex is good, we have an arrangement.” Jungkook frowned at him, as if expecting him to stop there, but he didn’t. “I’m not hurting anyone and I don’t owe Sana anything. I can perfectly well sleep with other people while wanting to win her over. Besides, she doesn’t need to know I have needs.”
Jungkook froze for a moment. Then, without warning, he buried his face in his hands with a muffled groan of frustration.
“What’s wrong with you now?” Taehyung’s voice carried a hint of amusement as he asked, because Jungkook—after covering his face as if his life had just ended—was now slouched back in the seat, arms crossed, wearing an expression of pure annoyance.
“N-Nothing,” he replied, but the deep frown and the way he avoided looking at him said otherwise.
“Bullshit, you look like you want to die.” Taehyung narrowed his eyes. “What happened?”
For a moment, he seemed torn between saying it or not. But in the end, he did.
“The day I slept with Soojin…” he began, dragging the words out as if they were hard to say, “Sana came to my place. She came to drop off something of mine she’d picked up at the cabin.”
“Oh, shit…”
“Yeah…”
“Don’t tell me—” Taehyung was already imagining where this was going.
“Exactly.” Jungkook ruffled his hair in frustration. “It wasn’t just that she saw Soojin in my apartment.”
“So?”
“It’s not just that she saw her,” he repeated bitterly. “It’s that she saw her wearing nothing but one of my shirts.” Taehyung brought a hand to his mouth, already feeling laughter bubbling in his throat. “And as if that wasn’t enough, Soojin opened her mouth and basically told her we’d slept together—or at least heavily implied it.”
“No fucking way…” Taehyung let out a laugh through his nose.
“Wait, wait, it gets better.” Taehyung already had a bad feeling, but gestured for him to go on. “She specifically told her that if she’d arrived a little later, she would’ve walked in on the second round.”
Taehyung burst out laughing. He tried covering his mouth, but even that couldn’t stop it. Jungkook squinted at him.
“Don’t laugh,” Jungkook said, but he was laughing too—it was inevitable. The situation was ridiculously absurd.
“You’re an idiot!” Taehyung leaned forward and gave him a light punch on the arm. “How the hell do you let Sana see that?”
“I didn’t plan it, damn it. It’s not like I woke up and called her over exactly when I was about to shove my dick into my not-ex.”
“And how the hell do you let Soojin make Sana uncomfortable again?”
“I know,” he muttered. “I felt like absolute shit—guilty as hell.” Jungkook’s expression was nothing but regret. “I-I think I ruined any chance I had with Sana,” he admitted bitterly. “She literally stopped answering my messages.”
Taehyung looked at him for a moment, then clicked his tongue and shook his head.
“So basically, you dug your own grave.” Jungkook shot him a warning look, but Taehyung only smirked mockingly. “Shit, Jungkook.”
Jungkook huffed, not in the mood to argue, but he couldn’t deny it either. Because yeah, he had dug his own damn grave.
“For what it’s worth,” Taehyung said, glancing at him sideways, “I feel really guilty about Sana too.”
“Why?” Jungkook turned slightly toward him, frowning.
“Because of the deal I made with myself,” he confessed. “The one where I’d wait for her. I promised myself I wouldn’t sleep with anyone else until I knew where things were going with her.” Jungkook felt another pang in his chest—because he had thought about doing the same thing and hadn’t followed through either. “But I’ve broken that promise several times, and I’m the one who hasn’t felt worthy of answering her messages.”
Jungkook swallowed hard. Because even though their situations were different, deep down, they were both in the same damn place.
They stayed silent for a moment. And then, at the same time, their eyes met. They stayed like that for several seconds. And then… they burst out laughing. It was the laughter of resignation—of two idiots who had made the same mistakes. Two idiots who understood each other far too well.
“We’re such idiots,” Jungkook said.
“Fucking idiots.”
The echo of their laughter slowly faded.
“If you’re saying it happened exactly the same way…” Jungkook said with a slight frown. “Did you also think about trying b-both?”
Taehyung felt the air catch in his throat. He didn’t want to say it, but there was no point in lying.
“Yes,” he finally admitted. “I thought about it.” Taehyung bit his lower lip and rubbed his hands over his jeans. “If I really had to try something… it would be repeating it with you sober. To see what the hell happens to me. To see if it was the alcohol or… what.”
The confession hung in the air, heavy and dense. Taehyung’s heartbeat pounded in his ears.
He didn’t want to look at him, but he did. And Jungkook was already looking at him—dark, intense eyes fixed on him.
He didn’t look away, didn’t say anything, just stared.
“Do you want me to kiss you?” Jungkook asked, his tone low and a little suggestive.
Taehyung’s eyes widened slightly, and his face turned red in a matter of seconds.
“No!” he blurted out immediately, completely flustered.
“No?” Jungkook arched a brow, tilting his head in disbelief.
“No!” Taehyung repeated, more desperate this time. Jungkook looked at him like he didn’t believe a single word.
"But we were both thinking about doing it."
"I said no!" he yelled. "Sober."
"You’re sober," Jungkook frowned.
"But you’re not!" he repeated, running his hands through his hair in frustration. "I’m not going to kiss a damn drunk with cheap alcohol breath!"
"I can go upstairs and brush my teeth." Jungkook blinked, as if he didn’t understand why that was an issue.
"That doesn’t make you less drunk, idiot."
"But it gets rid of the breath."
"It’s not just the breath, Jungkook!"
"I’m not that d-drunk."
"You can’t consent to anything in this state!" Taehyung exclaimed, feeling his desperation rise with every second. "If I kiss you now, it would be like taking advantage of you!"
Jungkook let out an annoyed sound and crossed his arms.
"But I want to do it."
"Saying that isn’t enough."
"What if I leave a voice note saying I do want to, so you can use it as proof?"
"No!"
"What if I make a video? With my face, it’s more believable."
"No!"
The black-haired man clicked his tongue, as if trying to come up with a more convincing solution.
"What if I write a handwritten letter that says, ‘I, Jeon Jungkook, authorize a kiss from Kim Taehyung,’ and I sign it with my signature and ID number? I can even put my fingerprint on it if you want."
"No, no, no!" he waved his hands in front of him. "No means no! I’m not kissing you drunk!" Taehyung felt like he was running out of air, and Jungkook puffed his cheeks in frustration.
"Fine, damn it," he grumbled, rolling his eyes. "Then I’ll just ask you again when I’m sober."
Taehyung blinked several times. Did he just say he’d ask again? That when he was sober, he’d try again?
Jungkook didn’t wait for an answer. As soon as he finished speaking, he opened the car door and got out with all the determination in the world. Taehyung watched him walk toward his building with hurried, wobbly, and far-too-confident steps.
He rolled his eyes and leaned his elbow on the open window, watching skeptically as Jungkook zigzagged down the sidewalk. God, what an idiot.
"Then I’ll just ask you again when I’m sober."
Damn it.
It shouldn’t have rattled him so much, because it was certainly something he’d already thought about, but there he was, mind in shambles, watching Jungkook make his way to his building.
Well… 'make his way' was putting it kindly. Because the idiot was wobbling like a damn newborn fawn, unsteady legs and uneven steps, as if the ground beneath him was shifting.
"Fucking idiot," Taehyung sighed, rolling his eyes.
Still, he didn’t move. At least, not until Jungkook stumbled over a huge flowerpot. And saying he stumbled was generous, because the damn thing had about four meters of free space on each side.
But no.
Somehow, Jungkook still managed to walk straight into it. Taehyung watched him sway, flail his hands in the air in a desperate attempt to regain balance, and then lean forward.
He didn’t completely fall, but he tilted far enough for Taehyung to panic and decide it was time to stop wasting time.
He sighed again, this time in resignation, and parked the car properly in the visitor area outside the building. He turned off the engine, rubbed his face in frustration, and quickly got out, striding toward Jungkook.
He found him exactly as he’d imagined—leaning over the flowerpot. What he hadn’t imagined was him talking to it.
"I’m sorry, really… I didn’t mean to, I swear," Jungkook had one hand resting on the rim of the pot, as if trying to comfort it. "It’s just… I didn’t see you," he went on, voice slurred from alcohol. "I don’t know how it happened. You’re huge… but… I still bumped into you…"
Taehyung felt a violent urge to smack his own forehead with his palm.
Was he seriously apologizing to a fucking plant?
He counted to three in his head before stepping closer and taking Jungkook’s wrist firmly.
"Enough with the nonsense," he muttered, gently pulling him away.
Jungkook wobbled, letting out a sound of surprise, but didn’t protest when Taehyung guided his arm over his own shoulders, letting him lean on him.
"Come on, I’ll take you to bed."
The younger smiled, showing those infuriating bunny teeth. He didn’t object, just looked at him with dark, shining eyes and nodded. Taehyung felt a pang in his chest, but said nothing. He adjusted his hold around Jungkook’s waist and started walking with him toward the building entrance.
Chapter 22: Chapter 21
Chapter Text
"Stairs."
Taehyung stopped dead in his tracks and looked at him with irritation.
"I'm going to repeat my question, and I expect you to answer it this time, okay?" he said, his patience hanging by a thread. "What's your fucking floor?"
"Stairs."
"I hate you," Taehyung gritted his teeth and closed his eyes for a moment.
"I don’t want to take the elevator," Jungkook replied, as if stating something perfectly reasonable.
"Jungkook," Taehyung exhaled heavily, rubbing his temple with his free hand. "I don’t give a damn what you want. You’re drunk—you can’t even walk in a straight line without apologizing to a plant. So for the last time, tell me what the fuck is your floor."
Jungkook didn’t answer. He simply bit his lip, tilting his head slightly with an unreadable expression. And before he could spit out another stupid comment, the building’s security guard decided to intervene—before a homicide happened in the lobby. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with that today.
"Seventh."
"Thank you," Taehyung gave him a half-smile weighed down with exhaustion before pressing the elevator button. Jungkook let out a whine at that and shook his head. He wasn’t giving up.
"No, no, no. Stairs."
"Jungkook, do you want me to leave you here?"
"But I don’t want to take the elevator."
"You are in no condition to climb seven flights of stairs."
"Yes, I am."
"You’re not."
"I can."
"You can’t!"
Jungkook puffed his cheeks like a scolded child, trying to figure out what argument to throw next, but Taehyung cut him off before he could try.
"I’m not hauling your dead cow body up the stairs. So unless you can fly like Jason Grace, we’re taking the elevator."
"Who the hell is Jason Grace?"
The blond froze for a second and then looked at him with pure disdain.
"I can’t believe you’re this uncultured."
Just then, the elevator arrived with a soft chime and the doors slid open smoothly. Taehyung didn’t waste another second and, with a light tug, pulled Jungkook inside the small cubicle before pressing the button for the seventh floor.
As the doors began to close, Jungkook spoke again.
"But seriously. Who’s Jason Grace?"
"A character from Percy Jackson."
"And what does that have to do with flying?"
"He’s the son of the Roman god Jupiter," Taehyung huffed, his patience thinning with every word. "That’s why he can fly."
"Why?"
"I’m not explaining mythology to a drunk right now."
The doors closed with a faint squeak and a low hum announced the start of their ascent. With it, Taehyung felt his body tense. It wasn’t like he was going to lose control that very instant, but the sensation of being trapped began to pound in his chest, forcing him to take a deep breath.
He really didn’t want to deal with this right now. Pressing his lips together, he closed his eyes for a moment, focusing on anything that wasn’t the feeling of being stuck inside a metal box suspended in the air.
He wasn’t going to have another anxiety attack—not again, not in front of the younger one. He couldn’t let him see him that vulnerable again, he... uh?
Jungkook shifted slightly. The sudden change in Taehyung’s breathing was enough for even Jungkook’s drunken haze to notice. Without thinking twice, he moved his arms and pulled him into a tight hug.
Taehyung froze, his eyes flying wide when he felt his face pressed against Jungkook’s shoulder. His nose sank into the soft fabric of his jacket, his skin soaking up the warmth radiating from his body.
But he didn’t push him away—he made no effort to move. In fact, without even realizing it, his fingers discreetly clung to the fabric of Jungkook’s jacket, searching for something tangible to focus on.
He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with Jungkook’s scent and concentrating solely on that. Only that.
The pressure in his chest slowly began to ease. The elevator felt less suffocating, and Jungkook didn’t let go—the heat of his body and that faint lavender scent anchored him back.
When the elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, it was as if someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over Taehyung. He pulled away immediately, cheeks faintly flushed.
"You’re an idiot," he muttered, his voice slightly shaky. "Don’t ever do that again."
Jungkook, still dulled by the alcohol clouding his senses, looked at him with genuine confusion.
"Do what?"
The blond clenched his jaw and refused to answer. There was no point in dragging this out. The only thing that mattered now was getting Jungkook out of that damn elevator before he had the chance to do something else stupid.
Without another word, he grabbed Jungkook’s hand and pulled him out, worried that the doors might close again any second and trap them there for eternity.
"What’s your door?" he asked after clearing his throat.
"Seven-oh-nine."
Before Taehyung could say anything else, Jungkook stumbled forward, clumsily leading the way to his apartment. The blond sighed and followed—clearly, he had more alcohol than blood in his system, and it showed in every step.
With growing irritation, Taehyung watched as the other tried to enter the security code into the lock panel. His fingers wobbled, erratic and uncoordinated. By the second failed attempt, Taehyung smacked his hand away.
"Let me do it before you lock yourself out of your own damn apartment. Code?"
"One, three, three, zero," the black-haired man said slowly. Taehyung entered it correctly and the lock finally clicked open. Before Jungkook could even take a step forward, Taehyung was already shoving him inside.
The apartment’s interior was dark, lit only by the faint glow of the night filtering through the windows. Taehyung let out a sigh and released his hold on Jungkook.
"Well, you made it in one piece," he announced dryly, crossing his arms. "I’m leaving now."
But Jungkook spun around far too quickly, swaying slightly before extending a hand toward Taehyung.
"Help me get to bed."
Taehyung let out a sarcastic laugh.
"Not in a million years. Crawl if you want, I couldn’t care less."
"Please," Jungkook tilted his head.
Oh, that bastard was trying to sound cute.
"No."
"Tae..."
"No, damn it."
"You’re so cruel to me..." Jungkook pouted faintly.
"I don’t care," he replied firmly, crossing his arms tighter. "You’re home now, move on your own."
But before Jungkook could try another argument, he stumbled—tripping over his own feet.
At the last second, just as he was about to lose his balance and hit the floor, Taehyung reacted on instinct, lunging forward and grabbing his arm before the fall got any worse.
Jungkook clung to his jacket with surprising strength, and for a moment, his face was far too close to his.
Too close.
"You’re fucking useless," Taehyung muttered, pulling his face back.
He tightened his grip around Jungkook’s arm and adjusted him, making sure to hold him firmly before guiding him toward his bedroom.
Every step felt like a battle. Jungkook was heavier and more muscular than he looked at first glance, and half-dragging him was definitely not the most pleasant experience in the world.
When they finally made it to the bed, Taehyung let him fall onto the mattress with a sigh.
"There you go, now manage on your own," Taehyung huffed, turning to finally leave.
But Jungkook didn’t waste time protesting.
"I don’t want to sleep in dirty clothes."
"You’re not seriously thinking I’m going to take your clothes off," Taehyung slowly turned his head, eyeing him with suspicion.
"And what if I am?" the black-haired man let a mischievous smile slip.
"Alcohol is bad for your health, and you’re living proof of it. It stripped you of every single functioning brain cell, and now you’re hallucinating."
Jungkook let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head softly.
"Just hand me something from the closet, grumpy."
Taehyung scoffed but ended up obeying anyway. He walked to the closet door and opened it without ceremony—and the moment he did, Jungkook’s scent hit him square in the face.
It was strong. Way too strong.
Lavender, wood, and a faint trace of musk. A mix of freshness and warmth that instantly clung to his senses, wrapping around him mercilessly.
He hated it—or at least, he used to—because for some fucking reason, it didn’t bother him as much anymore.
Frowning, Taehyung rummaged through Jungkook’s closet. Not that he cared to be careful, because honestly, this was entirely the other idiot’s fault. If Jungkook had just grabbed his own damn pajamas instead of putting on this whole show, Taehyung would already be in his car, far away from this disaster.
But no. There he was, digging through hangers and drawers, deliberately ignoring the fragrances that wafted through the air every time he moved an item of clothing. It was ridiculous how good everything smelled—ugh.
"What the hell is this?" He pulled out a hoodie with an absurdly colorful print, holding it up with an expression of pure judgment. "When exactly did you buy this atrocity?"
"I don’t know, but if you keep mocking it like that, I’ll make you wear it to campus," Jungkook raised an eyebrow, clearly uninterested.
Taehyung huffed and shoved it back without another word.
He kept rummaging, tossing in the occasional jab about Jungkook’s questionable taste in clothes, until he finally found what he was looking for—the section where Jungkook kept his pajamas. The bastard could’ve just told him where they were, but no, he clearly found this image funnier.
"Finally," he muttered with relief, grabbing the first shirt and pants he saw. "Let’s see… hopefully they’re not satin or covered in weird prints."
He picked out a decent set, closed the closet door, and turned toward the bed, ready to toss the clothes at Jungkook.
What he didn’t expect was to find him half-naked.
"What the fuck are you doing?!" Taehyung shouted, stepping back like he’d just seen a damn ghost.
The air caught in his throat, his eyes involuntarily roaming over the other’s bare torso. It was a sin. His muscles were defined in an irritatingly perfect way, his skin carried a warm glow under the room’s dim light, and his messy hair only made him look even more indecently attractive. And his tattoos… holy fucking shit.
Jungkook looked at him with complete calm, considering he was only wearing tight black boxers that definitely didn’t help Taehyung’s internal crisis.
"It’s not like I’m gonna put pajamas on over dirty clothes," Jungkook said with total nonchalance.
The blond’s tongue tripped for a moment, but he quickly recovered and tossed the pajamas at his face with a scowl.
"Put them on. Now."
Jungkook chuckled as he caught the clothes, starting to pull them on with slightly clumsy movements. Taehyung, for his part, deliberately turned away, crossing his arms and staring at the door like his life depended on it.
You didn’t see anything. You didn’t see anything. You didn’t see shit. You definitely didn’t look at his fucking muscles, or his skin, or his—
"Done," Jungkook announced with a smug little smile in his voice.
Taehyung cleared his throat and nodded without looking at him.
"Good. Now I’m leaving." Jungkook watched with amusement as the older man rushed toward the bedroom door. "And I don’t want to hear any crap about bringing you chocolate milk or whatever to help you sleep," Taehyung added, pointing a finger at him. "Don’t count on me for that—you can make it yourself."
"You know, you don’t sound that tough when you’re still red as a tomato," Jungkook smirked.
"Shut up!" Taehyung snapped, twisting the doorknob. But just as he was about to leave, he felt a tug on his wrist. Jungkook had grabbed him from the bed. "And now what?" Taehyung asked tiredly, turning to look at him.
"Stay the night."
"The fucking drunk said what?"
"Stay the night," Jungkook repeated with a calm expression. "You’re not taking the elevator down alone, and I’m in no condition to go with you and come back up by myself."
"I can take the stairs."
"It’s seven floors."
"So what?"
Jungkook bit the inside of his cheek, then, in a quieter voice, murmured, "It’s just… there are bats. And spiders. And… they’re scary."
"Scary?" Taehyung arched a brow.
"Yeah," Jungkook nodded solemnly. "Legend says a woman was killed there and shows up at night to take souls for revenge."
Taehyung stared at him blankly.
"Are you serious?"
"Uh-huh," Jungkook tilted his head, adopting a more mysterious tone. "She wears a white dress and has her hair covering her face."
"You’re making that up."
"Am I really making it up?" he asked with a suspicious look, making Taehyung hesitate.
"You’re an idiot," Taehyung muttered, feeling a shiver crawl down his spine against his will.
"Besides, it’s almost four in the morning. Driving at this hour is irresponsible if you’re tired."
Taehyung let out a long sigh, running a hand down his face. Goddammit.
Goddammit, goddammit, goddammit.
"Fine," he finally growled in defeat. "Where’s the guest room?"
"I don’t have one," the black-haired man said simply.
"What do you mean you don’t have one?"
"I don’t have one."
"Everyone has a guest room," Taehyung stared at him in disbelief.
"Well, I don’t," Jungkook rolled his eyes. "Stop sounding like some spoiled rich kid."
"You’re a spoiled rich kid too."
"But I still don’t have a guest room."
"Then I’ll sleep on the couch."
"I don’t have one."
"I literally saw it when I came in."
"It’s broken," Jungkook said with a completely serious expression. "If someone lies on it, it collapses."
"How convenient, don’t you think?" Taehyung shot him a glare.
"Right?"
A long silence settled between them.
"Sleep with me," Jungkook said, as if it were the most logical thing in the world. "The bed’s big."
"Cut the crap."
"Come on, Tae," Jungkook squinted, his mouth curling into the faintest pout. "I don’t bite."
Taehyung just stared at him, feeling a fierce internal battle between logic and patience. Then Jungkook did the worst thing he could possibly do—he made puppy eyes.
His expression shifted from normal to one of those pitiful, adorable looks—big, shiny eyes, lips slightly curved downward, like he was on the verge of utter heartbreak.
Damn it.
Taehyung clenched his fists, closed his eyes for a moment, and then, with a deep growl, said, "Fine."
Jungkook smiled, clearly satisfied. Damn son of a bitch. Taehyung hated himself a little for falling into that trap so easily.
"You can take one of my pajamas," Jungkook said. Taehyung shot him a glare, feeling his already thin patience dangerously wearing out.
He didn’t have many options. He could sleep in the clothes he was wearing, but a jacket and jeans weren’t exactly comfortable. He could go back to his house, but between the elevator and the supposedly cursed seven flights of stairs he wasn’t willing to risk going down, that option was out of the question.
So, with a resigned huff, he spun on his heels and went straight to the closet again. This time, he didn’t bother rummaging too much. He grabbed the first pajama set he found—a black T-shirt with loose gray pants—and shut the closet with a sharp thud. Jungkook let out an amused laugh from the bed.
"Angry, Tae?"
"Shut up," Taehyung said, his jaw tight.
Without giving him any more room for comments, he took off his jacket, tossed it onto a chair, walked to the bathroom, and slammed the door shut.
Jungkook stared at the closed door with a smile he couldn’t hold back. It was funny how Taehyung got mad over such small things. But his expression changed the moment he noticed Taehyung’s silhouette backlit against the frosted glass bathroom door.
The door had a small section of opaque glass from the middle to the top—enough to distort the image so nothing was perfectly visible, yet still letting you make out the outline of whoever was inside if the light was on. And right now, the bathroom light was on.
He swallowed unconsciously, his eyes focusing on the figure against the soft glow.
He could see Taehyung moving inside, his shadow cast on the glass with each action. First, he leaned slightly forward, probably setting the pajamas down somewhere, before his hands went to the hem of his T-shirt, pulling it up over his torso. Jungkook felt his own breathing slow as the silhouette of muscles came into view under the light—blurred, but clear enough for his mind to fill in the missing details.
Shit.
He saw the shadow of the shirt fall to the floor, then the movement of his hands unbuttoning his pants. The garment slid down slowly until Taehyung stepped out of it, left only in his underwear.
Jungkook licked his lips without realizing it, his tongue wetting dry skin in a completely involuntary act. An uncomfortable heat began to build low in his stomach. He blinked, and then felt a slight tug in his groin.
It took his mind a second to process what was happening before a wave of panic slammed into him.
He tore his gaze away from the glass immediately, turning around as if the devil himself were about to catch him in the act. His heart pounded hard against his chest, his hands clenched into fists, and his jaw tightened as he realized the kind of thoughts he was falling into.
He inhaled sharply, forcing himself to focus on anything else.
He thought about big, slimy frogs hopping in a swamp.
Worms writhing in the dirt, slick and disgusting.
His dead grandmother scolding him from the afterlife.
Okay. That helped.
Jungkook closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. A bit calmer now, he forced his mind onto something—anything—else while he waited for Taehyung to come out.
When the bathroom door opened, Jungkook’s head turned automatically, and he saw that the pajamas Taehyung had taken were too big on him.
Taehyung wasn’t small, but aside from the fact that Jungkook liked oversized clothes anyway, he clearly had broader shoulders and more muscle from his gym habits. The T-shirt hung loose over Taehyung’s torso, the neckline wide enough to reveal part of his collarbone. The pants were loose as well, the fabric gliding smoothly over his legs as he walked toward the bed with a shyer expression than usual.
The younger hated that he still looked good even in something that wasn’t his size.
Taehyung stopped beside the bed, looking a little uncomfortable before clearing his throat.
"I’ll sleep on the left side," he announced seriously. "And don’t you dare touch me."
"And what if I move in my sleep?"
"Then move to the other side."
He climbed onto the bed carefully, hands and knees sinking into the mattress as he crawled to his side. There was something so feline about his movements that Jungkook had to look away again.
Once settled, Taehyung snuggled into his pillow and pulled the sheet up to his chest.
Jungkook smiled at his childish attitude but didn’t say anything. He simply turned off the bedroom light and got comfortable on his side of the bed as well.
Silence settled between them, and Jungkook listened as Taehyung’s breathing slowly evened out, feeling him shift slightly beside him as he searched for a comfortable position.
"If you want, you can hug me," Jungkook murmured playfully, turning his head slightly toward him.
"I have enough pillows."
He chuckled under his breath. He loved annoying him.
──── ∗ ⋅✧⋅ ∗ ────
Taehyung woke up feeling heavy, his eyelids swollen, and a strange warmth wrapping around his skin. He blinked a couple of times, still half-asleep, and the first thing he noticed was the unfamiliar ceiling above him. His mind took a few seconds to react before the memory of last night slammed into him.
Shit—right, he was at Jungkook’s place.
His eyes opened wider as full awareness returned to his body. He felt the mattress beneath his back, the texture of the sheet around him, and the faint pressure of something beside him. That something was breathing.
Slowly, he turned his head and saw Jungkook sleeping next to him. His body was facing him, his breathing steady and calm, his chest rising and falling in a constant rhythm, and his face held a peaceful expression he rarely showed when awake.
He looked…
Cute.
Taehyung almost choked on his own tongue. An absurd panic rose in his chest, and his first instinct was to hide under the sheet. But the moment he did, something worse happened. Inside the shared blanket, in the warm, suffocating darkness, his body tensed as he noticed a detail he hadn’t before.
Jungkook was in boxers.
Again.
A fresh wave of panic shot through him, and without thinking twice, he bolted out of bed so fast that the blanket ended up bunched to one side, leaving Jungkook almost completely uncovered.
He stood beside the bed, staring at him in horror. Why the hell had Jungkook made him wear one in the first place if he was just going to end up half-naked anyway? What an infuriating person!
Taehyung felt the urge to grab the T-shirt Jungkook had left on the floor and throw it in his face, but he restrained himself. With a huff, he ran a hand through his hair and looked toward the door.
He could just leave—grab his things, walk out, and pretend none of this had ever happened. But then he looked at Jungkook again.
His breathing was still steady, blissfully unaware of everything Taehyung was going through. His hair was slightly tousled, one hand rested lazily on his exposed stomach, and his expression made him look far more harmless than he actually was.
The blond knew that the moment he woke up, the hangover would hit him full force. For a brief moment, he thought Jungkook deserved it—for making him come all the way here, for dragging him into this absurd mess, for getting his way and making him spend the night at his place.
God, he was so irritating.
With a sharp exhale, he decided that before anything else, he needed to wash his face. He walked to the bathroom and shut the door behind him. The reflection staring back at him in the mirror was anything but encouraging—his hair was a complete disaster, and his expression was the very picture of exhaustion.
"Ugh..." he muttered, massaging his temple.
He turned on the faucet and splashed some water onto his face, trying to wake himself up. Then, he started opening drawers in search of something useful—like, for example, a toothbrush.
The first drawer he opened held baby wipes. He frowned but kept his comments to himself.
He closed it and opened another—hair products. He rolled his eyes. Of course. It was obvious Jungkook was the type who actually cared about that kind of thing. He closed it again and opened a third—just toilet paper. He grunted, patience wearing thin.
Finally, the next drawer had what he was looking for. An unused toothbrush. A small wave of satisfaction hit him—until his eyes registered what was sitting right next to the package.
A box of condoms... XL... strawberry-flavored... lubricated.
He froze. For a second, his brain just... stopped working. Then, as if a spring had snapped inside him, he nearly stumbled backward away from the drawer.
What the actual hell was that?!
Why—of all things—did he have to find that?
He felt ridiculously embarrassed. Cheeks burning, he grabbed the toothbrush package roughly and slammed the drawer shut, as if that would erase the fact that he had just seen what he shouldn’t have.
He shouldn’t have done that.
He shouldn’t have done that.
He shouldn’t have done that.
With a frustrated huff, he tore open the packaging clumsily, squeezed toothpaste onto the brush with unnecessary force, and began brushing his teeth aggressively—so aggressively that he ended up hurting his gum in the process.
A faint taste of blood filled his mouth. He spat the foamy mixture into the sink, rinsed his mouth, and shot a glare at his own reflection.
When he stepped out of the bathroom and saw Jungkook still sleeping peacefully, the sheets barely covering him, Taehyung felt the urge to hit him—just to get it out of his system.
He narrowed his eyes, seriously considering waking him in the least pleasant way possible. Maybe a bucket of cold water. A smack to the head. A scream right in his ear. Something that would let him know that, because of him, Taehyung had been on this ridiculous emotional rollercoaster ever since opening his eyes.
But no—he wasn’t going to stoop to that level. He wasn’t going to give that easy-smiling, abs-of-steel idiot the satisfaction of knowing he could get under his skin that much.
Taking a deep breath, cheeks puffed in frustration, he stomped out of the bedroom.
When he reached the kitchen, he stopped for a moment, taking it in. It was spotless. Everything was in its place, not a single stain on the counters, no stack of dirty dishes in the sink.
"Who the hell keeps their kitchen this clean all the time?" he muttered under his breath, raising a brow.
Weird—but not unpleasant. In a way, he liked that Jungkook wasn’t a total mess like some people he knew... namely, himself.
With that thought, he opened the fridge without hesitation.
He was starving.
Waking up in such a compromising situation, finding that in the bathroom drawer, and having to watch Jungkook sleep with infuriating calm had drained what little patience he had at this hour.
The least he deserved after putting up with all this crap was a decent meal.
Without an ounce of guilt, he began rummaging through the contents.
Milk, eggs, some fruit, leftover food in glass containers, several bottles of water, orange juice, a box that looked like fried chicken from some restaurant...
Not bad.
He opened one of the cupboards and found bread, honey, coffee, and a collection of spices and seasonings he didn’t expect to see in a college student’s kitchen. Taehyung clicked his tongue.
"You’ve got everything, asshole," he muttered, pulling out what he needed.
Within minutes, he had everything laid out on the counter. If he was going to cook, he was at least going to make something decent—decent by his own standards, not like he could actually make fancy eggs Benedict or anything. He wasn’t about to settle for a plain bowl of cereal like a five-year-old.
If Jungkook could afford XL strawberry-flavored condoms, he could damn well afford him breakfast.
And if he had a problem with that... well, tough luck. Taehyung couldn’t care less if he complained about him using up his overpriced groceries.
──── ∗ ⋅✧⋅ ∗ ────
Jungkook felt the headache before he even opened his eyes. It was a deep, pounding pressure—like someone digging their fingers into his temples just to squeeze his skull with merciless force.
A pained groan escaped him as he shifted in bed, burying his face into the pillow with the faint hope that darkness would dull the throbbing behind his eyelids. Spoiler: it didn’t.
Shit. He had definitely drunk way too much last night.
He moved clumsily, rolling onto his back—and that’s when he noticed the second thing. The bed was colder than he remembered. Slowly, he cracked his eyes open, blinking against the light streaming in through the window, and turned his head toward the other side of the pillow.
Empty.
Had Taehyung left?
The thought hit harder than the hangover.
Seriously? Why did that feel... disappointing?
An uncomfortable hollowness settled in his chest, but Jungkook forced himself to ignore it. He had no right to be surprised after the shit he’d pulled last night. Memories came back in fragments—his slurred voice mumbling nonsense even he didn’t understand, his hands clinging to Taehyung like some damn koala, his sloppy insistence that he stay over.
A heavy sigh left his lips, and he ran a hand over his face in frustration. He felt like crap—not just because of the hangover, but because now, with a clearer head, he realized he’d been a complete idiot. An annoying, clingy drunk.
How embarrassing. Was making a fool of himself in front of Taehyung just his default setting? Why could he never keep his dignity intact around him?
If Taehyung had decided to leave without saying a word, it was more than understandable. After all, Jungkook was the one who had dragged him here just to give him the most pathetic show of his life. The shame rose up his throat like a wave of fire.
God, what if Taehyung told the others what had happened? He imagined the scene and felt a shiver of pure horror crawl down his spine. Maybe the best thing was simply... to exile himself. Change universities. Move to another country. Fake his death and start fresh on a deserted island.
With another groan, he stood up, swaying a little on his own legs. He couldn’t think about that now.
First, he needed water. And something to calm the disaster pounding in his head. He dragged his feet toward the bathroom and pushed the door open with a light shove.
He flicked on the light and looked at himself in the mirror.
Damn, what a mess.
His hair was sticking out in every possible direction, his eyes were swollen, and there was a faint trace of dried drool at the corner of his lips.
Definitely not his best look.
He let out a snort and turned on the faucet, cupping water in his hands to splash on his face. The cold helped clear him up a little, but his head was still throbbing. With a sigh, he grabbed his toothbrush and started brushing his teeth.
That’s when he noticed something strange—right next to his toothbrush, there was another one that wasn’t his. His gaze dropped to the sink, where he noticed small, fresh droplets of water scattered around the area. Almost just used.
Which meant…
At that exact moment, a noise reached him from downstairs. The echo of something moving in the kitchen. Jungkook froze for a fraction of a second, his mind slowly processing what that implied.
He hadn’t left.
Relief hit him before he could stop it.
Without thinking twice, he brushed his teeth quickly, spat the foam into the sink, and rinsed his mouth in one gulp.
He hurried to straighten his pajamas before stepping out of the room, heading down the stairs with quick steps, his headache taking a backseat the moment he reached the kitchen.
There was Taehyung, standing in the middle of it, pulling two freshly made sandwiches from a sandwich press and placing them onto a plate. Jungkook stopped in the doorway, watching him.
The smell of toasted bread hit him hard, along with the faint scent of butter and melted cheese.
On the kitchen island sat another plate with two sandwiches already ready, next to a folded napkin and a glass of cold chocolate milk.
Something in his chest felt... strange.
He didn’t know exactly what it was, but the warmth of the moment made him forget—at least for a second—the hangover, the embarrassment, and the sinking feeling that he’d ruined everything the night before.
Taehyung was still here, and he was making him breakfast. He never thought he’d say that sentence in his life.
"Morning..." His voice came out raspy and low, still thick with the sleep that hadn’t completely left his body. Taehyung turned his head to look at him, his expression instantly lighting up with mockery.
"Finally, the princess wakes up," he drawled, amusement dripping from his tone without the slightest attempt to hide it.
"Uh, no, you’re the little prince," Jungkook muttered, narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest.
"I dragged you out of some shitty, god-awful bar, put you to bed, and now I’m making you breakfast, and you repay me with insults?" he complained, taking a bite from one of the sandwiches he’d just taken out. "Unbelievable. I even thought about giving you something for that terrible headache you must have right now, but I didn’t for two reasons. First, I don’t know where you keep your medicine, and I’m not sure I want to start opening drawers only to find your darkest and most disgusting secrets. Second, you deserve to suffer for being such an irresponsible piece of shit."
"Sorry..." he said, not sounding very convincing—mostly because he was still processing everything. And yes, Taehyung was right; his head hurt like hell.
He sat down in front of the plate, eyeing it warily. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Taehyung, but... well, okay, maybe he didn’t trust him a little.
"You made this?" he asked cautiously, glancing up to catch Taehyung’s reaction. The other frowned, as if the question itself was completely absurd.
"No, it made itself," the blond rolled his eyes. "Obviously, Jungkook. Why?"
Jungkook didn’t answer right away. In his defense, Taehyung had told him more than once that he was absolute crap in the kitchen.
And sure, this was just a sandwich—nothing complicated—but still, his instincts told him to be careful. With a suspicious look, he picked one up and brought it to his nose, sniffing it intently.
How bad would it look if he asked what he’d put in it?
Because seriously—what if he’d added something weird? Not because he thought Taehyung wanted to poison him or anything, but maybe he’d made some stupid mistake without realizing it. Taehyung was now frowning even harder at him.
"If you don’t want them, give them here, you ungrateful dog," he said, reaching out to snatch the plate without a shred of remorse.
But Jungkook reacted instantly, pulling it out of his reach and hugging it like it was suddenly his most prized possession.
"No," he snapped, scooting back a little. "You made it, I’ll eat it."
Besides, he’d just seen Taehyung take a bite of his own sandwich without making a face or anything. So... it had to be fine, right?
With cautious curiosity, he took a bite.
Oh—it was good. Actually, it was really good.
The bread was toasted just right, the cheese perfectly melted and generously applied—something Jungkook deeply appreciated—and the bologna was well-seared, with crispy edges.
Before he realized it, he took another bite.
And another.
By the time he thought to respond, he’d already devoured half the sandwich.
"This is good," he said with his mouth still full, before taking a sip of the chocolate milk. Taehyung snorted, leaning a hand on the counter while holding his own sandwich in the other.
"It’s just a sandwich, Jungkook. Bread, cheese, jam... what could possibly go wrong? Even your sandwich press tells you when it’s done—there’s not much science to it."
The black-haired one just kept eating happily, because honestly, it was good.
Silence settled between them after that as they ate. It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but it was different.
Taehyung stayed leaning against the counter, a little away from the island where Jungkook ate with more enthusiasm than he’d thought possible that morning. He ate until he was satisfied, finishing everything. Not a bad start to the day.
"Come on, wash the dishes."
Jungkook blinked, pulled out of his thoughts, and turned to see Taehyung, who had straightened up and was looking at him expectantly as he finished the last sip of his chocolate milk.
"What?" Jungkook asked, somewhere between disbelief and annoyance.
"Wash the dishes. I didn’t cook just to wash them, too."
"Shit, you’re demanding," he muttered, but stood up anyway, taking the plates without further complaint.
He carried them to the sink and turned on the faucet, letting the water run as he grabbed the sponge with clear reluctance. He could feel Taehyung’s eyes on him—his gaze fixed squarely on the back of his neck.
"Jungkook..." Taehyung broke the silence with a tone that made him frown instantly. "If you forgot what you said last night, I swear I’ll kill you..." Jungkook blinked, feeling his chest tighten slightly. "Or no— you know what?" Taehyung continued, a nervous edge of mockery in his voice. "I hope you forgot, because that way I—"
"I remember everything, Taehyung," Jungkook cut him off before he could finish the sentence.
Because yes, he remembered every word, every moment—he remembered everything.
Taehyung, standing a few steps behind him, fell silent.
"Everything as in everything, or not so much everything?" the older asked, his voice sounding a little less confident now. Jungkook set the last plate on the rack to dry and then slowly turned, glancing at him over his shoulder.
"Everything," he repeated, turning fully toward him. "As in everything."
The air in the kitchen shifted, and Jungkook began walking toward him. Taehyung, on reflex, started stepping back.
One step.
Another.
One more.
The blond swallowed hard, feeling his back arch slightly as his body urged him to put distance between them... but at the same time, his feet didn’t seem all that willing to move quickly.
"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice laced with obvious nervousness. Jungkook raised an eyebrow, his expression tinged with amusement.
"I told you I’d ask you while sober."
"Huh?" Taehyung blinked several times, his mind going completely blank for a second.
Jungkook took another step forward, forcing him to back up until his spine bumped against the kitchen island.
And now, there was nowhere left to go. Jungkook looked straight into his eyes, carrying the same confidence he’d had the night before—but this time without the filter of alcohol. This time, he was serious.
"Do you want me to kiss you?"
Taehyung felt his heartbeat in his throat, felt his skin prickle, and the heat in his face burn mercilessly. He swallowed with difficulty, watching the way Jungkook looked at him without blinking.
"How...? How can you ask something like that so casually, so out of nowhere, without dying of nerves?" His words tumbled out, betraying what he was trying to hide.
"Who said I’m not nervous?" Jungkook’s voice dropped lower. "Don’t make me out to be the desperate one when you want it too."
The older opened his mouth to retort—of course he was going to retort, to say something, anything to regain control of the conversation—but the only thing that came out was:
"Su–sure you haven’t even brushed your teeth."
"I did," Jungkook replied with an even wider smile.
"But—"
"And as far as I know..." Jungkook interrupted, leaning a bit closer. "We’ll both taste like chocolate milk."
Taehyung’s hands gripped the edge of the counter, needing something solid to anchor himself. Jungkook calmly placed his hands firmly on either side of Taehyung’s body, caging him between himself and the kitchen island.
He had him trapped.
Their eyes locked for a few seconds, and the entire world seemed to fall silent around them.
It was so damn annoying how good he looked up close. That shamelessly confident expression, that defiant air, that way his lower lip glistened slightly with that damn piercing catching the light in a small metallic gleam.
Without realizing it, Taehyung’s gaze dropped to his mouth.
If it was to confirm...
He didn’t need to think much after that.
The blond lifted his right hand, sliding it to the back of Jungkook’s neck, fingers tangling in his hair. He didn’t give him time to react—he simply pulled him in and kissed him.
He started it.
Again.
He was the one who took the initiative, but this time, alcohol wasn’t to blame.
The kiss began slow, soft, even timid. Too timid for what they were both feeling. Their bodies already knew what they wanted, but their minds were still processing the fact that this was really happening.
Jungkook reacted quickly, tilting his head slightly and letting his lips move with more depth, molding perfectly to Taehyung’s with ease.
Their mouths fit too well—it was ridiculously unfair.
They pulled away after a few seconds, just enough for their lips to hover mere centimeters apart.
They met each other’s gaze, dropped to each other’s lips, and returned to their eyes again.
It was like a magnet—an uncontrollable pull forcing them to stay close to something they would no longer be able to ignore after today. And then, without any warning, they both went for it again.
This time there was no shyness, no holding back. It was all or nothing.
The kiss was hungry, desperate, needy. They had been holding back for far too long without even realizing it. Every damn look, every reckless provocation, every touch disguised as an accident had been preparing them for this moment.
Both of them were excellent kissers by nature, and they proved it in the best possible way. Taehyung clung tightly to Jungkook’s neck, tugging him closer with urgency—by this point he didn’t care if he seemed desperate, because Jungkook was too. The black-haired boy gripped his waist and pulled him flush against his body. His hands slid down to Taehyung’s lower back, holding him firmly in place.
Jungkook’s lips were warm, demanding, moving with an ease that Taehyung found almost frustrating. And then there was that damn piercing—the small ring on his lower lip brushed Taehyung’s mouth with every movement, leaving a cold, metallic sensation that contrasted with the heat of their mouths, making him shiver.
The kiss grew deeper, dirtier. Taehyung felt everything. Air started to become scarce, but neither of them wanted to stop.
Their breaths were heavy, almost gasps trapped between their lips, and for a moment, Taehyung couldn’t tell if the heat on his skin came from the room or from the way Jungkook was kissing him.
It was only when the burn in their lungs became unbearable that they finally pulled apart, breathing hard.
But something had shifted—they both knew it the second their eyes met again. Their breathing was erratic, their lips wet, shining, a little swollen from the intensity of the kiss, and their bodies... shit—that’s what had changed.
At the same time, they both glanced down, to where their hips were pressed together.
And damn... there was no ignoring that. They were both hard, their erections pressing against each other, rubbing dangerously without meaning to.
Fuck.
Chapter 23: Chapter 22
Chapter Text
"Oh–Oh my God, what is that?" the blond stammered, his eyes locked directly on the source of his crisis. It was red—like, too red. His hands shot to Jungkook’s arms, trying to push him back to get some personal space, since they were brushing against each other without the slightest hint of shame.
However, Jungkook didn’t move an inch.
"Please, don’t start with that. You’re way more promiscuous than I am," he said in a mocking tone. "What do you think it is? Basic biology."
"Are you hard from a little kiss?" Taehyung tried to tease—emphasis on tried—because his voice sounded more nervous than anything. "You’re a kid, you’re premature, you’re a pervert, a pig, a filthy mind, a—"
"Taehyung," Jungkook cut him off. "You’re hard too."
"T-That’s not important!" the blond looked away, mortified. Wow, look at that—the floor is made of floor. Fascinating.
Jungkook tilted his head, trying to catch Taehyung’s eyes. Though the black-haired man sounded calm, inside he was a complete bundle of nerves. But seeing the blond spiral into hysteria so quickly, he decided to play the maturity card—someone had to.
When their eyes met again, Jungkook gave him a reassuring smile. The blond swallowed hard.
"I’ve never gotten an erection with a guy," Taehyung murmured, biting hard at his lower lip in nervousness.
"Me neither. I’m new to this too," Jungkook sighed. "But… we said we wanted to try…"
"A kiss, Jungkook. We didn’t say anything about… going further."
"I think we made it clear in the cabin that we would go further," the black-haired man muttered, dangerously close to his lips. "We said we wanted to experiment."
"No, you said you wanted to do it. I had nothing to do with that," he tried to defend himself.
"You were the one who took the first step and kissed me when I said we should experiment," the younger countered. "That’s agreeing to my suggestion."
Technically, he was right. Taehyung knew it—but they’d been drunk! They couldn’t… Shit, the more he thought about it, the more the idea kind of… appealed to him. Just a little.
He was honestly thinking with the head down there, focused only on how badly he wanted to solve his problem. And the fact that it was 'forbidden' in quotes somehow made it hotter—but again, just a little.
The blond considered it. Maybe his decision was influenced by those dark eyes staring at him so intensely, but in the end, he nodded slightly and saw Jungkook smile.
"Fine, I want to. But… mhm… I’ve never—"
"I’ve got a dick too. It doesn’t have to be that hard."
Taehyung’s hands clenched around the kitchen island when Jungkook stepped back slightly. Cautiously—since he was honestly expecting Taehyung to punch him if he moved too fast—he lowered his hand to the undeniable bulge in the man’s pants, giving it a light squeeze over the fabric.
Taehyung gasped softly. He didn’t know if it was the situation, but he was more sensitive than ever.
What surprised Jungkook wasn’t just the gasp—it was that Taehyung himself brought one of his hands to the very obvious tent in Jungkook’s pajama pants, rubbing him up and down.
"It’s not fair if only I get to enjoy this," the blond muttered, trying to sound indifferent.
They touched each other for a few seconds, until Taehyung decided to pull down both the waistband of Jungkook’s pajama pants and his boxers. His growing erection sprang free the moment its prison was no longer an issue. There was literally no turning back.
Taehyung wasn’t an expert on dicks—obviously—but he swallowed hard at the sight. He was proud of himself, sure, but Jungkook’s was definitely as big as his… maybe even bigger. Fuck, his mind was so filthy.
His suspicion was confirmed when Jungkook pulled down Taehyung’s clothes too—the blond’s cock slapped against the older’s abdomen, brushing against the other’s erection as well. Jungkook was bigger. Maybe by two centimeters.
He felt a twinge of embarrassment, but only breathless gasps left his lips when the black-haired wrapped his right hand around the base of Taehyung’s length. It was hot, and Jungkook swore it was getting harder by the second.
The blond didn’t fall behind—he grabbed Jungkook with his left hand too.
Neither of them knew who started moving first, but both moaned filthily when the other began to slowly pump their length. They were just testing the waters, feeling out each other’s reactions to see if they were doing it right.
Jungkook’s left hand went to the blond’s lower back, keeping him in place. Meanwhile, the blond’s right hand gripped the younger’s chest, searching for some stability.
Their hands moved in sync, in a steady rhythm that quickened over time. Taehyung had his hand over the top and twisted slightly as he stroked up and down. Jungkook applied a little more pressure, torturing the blond, who at this point looked like a complete mess. They were clearly going off their own preferences—and it worked, because they were moaning and gasping without being able to stop.
Taehyung desperately sought Jungkook’s lips. He was starting to feel different and needed somewhere to release. And since kissing the black-haired man honestly wasn’t so bad, that was exactly where he’d go. The blond captured his lips, and Jungkook welcomed it eagerly, kissing him deeply without stopping his hand.
"I think I’m gonna... don’t stop or I swear you’ll regret it," Taehyung pulled back just enough from the black-haired man to say it between ragged breaths and constant moans. Jungkook laughed in response, quickening his pace too. Taehyung cried out but didn’t fall behind—he wasn’t going to come alone, and definitely not first. Even now, he had to compete. Immature as hell.
The blond pumped faster, playing especially with Jungkook’s reddened, wet tip. Taehyung caught a glimpse of his expression and… damn, it felt good. It made him feel powerful, knowing he was the one making Jungkook’s eyes glaze over, his mouth unable to close properly, spilling curses and filthy, deep moans. He liked seeing him like this—liked hearing him like this.
Heat and tingles coiled in his stomach, and seconds later, with a moan against the now fully-swollen lips of the black-haired man, he came—just a few seconds after the other. Spurts of cum coated both their hands, some landing on the other’s cock and even on the floor.
Their breathing was erratic, chests heaving nonstop. Shit, that had been intense. Jungkook had never in his life had an orgasm like that from just a damn handjob.
"You… you—" Taehyung tried to catch his breath, feeling like all his strength had left him. "You came first. See? You really are premature."
"Shut up," the black-haired man laughed and shook his head. He reached out for a handful of tissues to clean himself, then took Taehyung’s hand, turned it over, and wiped it gently. "Look at the mess you made on the floor."
"Me? You—! Ugh!" he blushed furiously and looked away, tugging his pants back up clumsily before helping Jungkook do the same. "I can’t believe we did this."
"We're definitely not thinking with the right head here," he muttered as he bent down to clean the floor. "What do we do now? Because we kinda fucked up a little."
"No one can know about this," he blurted quickly.
"Absolutely not," the black-haired guy said firmly. "If you don’t say anything, I won’t either."
"Obviously I’m not gonna say anything, you rabid dog. I don’t even know if it was the adrenaline or... I don’t know, fuck. What the hell is this supposed to mean? You and I aren’t—"
"We’re nothing," Jungkook cut in, still focused on wiping the floor spotless of any suspicious substances. "But I also can’t say I didn’t like it."
"Neither did I," the blond admitted. "And that’s the problem. If we keep doing this, it’s gonna be weird. Like, really weird." Taehyung scrunched up his nose. "Have you thought about what’s gonna happen if someone finds out? I don’t know about you, butI will be killed, I will be sent to a monastery, and I’d have to become a monk. Although knowing my mom, she’d probably drag me out of there all brainwashed and make me marry some rich high-class woman so she could have all the grandkids she wants. And honestly, that part wouldn’t bother me if my future wife’s hot and rich."
"God, can you stop being such an idiot? I’m not exactly thrilled about the idea of telling anyone that I jerked off a guy’s dick—especially a dumb one. So no one finds out, end of story," Jungkook shot back, shrugging. "It’s not that hard."
"You’re literally incapable of keeping your mouth shut," Taehyung pointed at him accusingly. "You’re a reckless, impulsive asshole."
"As far as I remember, you weren’t exactly quiet a few minutes ago."
"Shut up!" Taehyung threw a clean napkin at his face but ended up laughing under his breath. "God, this is insane."
"So... things go back to normal then?" Jungkook looked up at him from the floor, finishing wiping off the last drop of cum. "We’re still gonna go after Sana?"
"I guess so," Taehyung shrugged, trying not to think too much about Jungkook kneeling on the ground way too close to his dick. His brain wasn’t functioning properly anymore. "But still... you don’t stand a chance now."
Jungkook stood and tossed the dirty napkins in his face. Taehyung squealed and quickly shook them off in disgust.
"I’ll fix that. Just wait and see."
"Good luck with that, idiot." They stared at each other for a few seconds in silence until Taehyung huffed. "Lend me a towel and your shower, I’m washing up before I leave."
"You’re not staying for lunch? Come on, it’s Sunday."
"In your dreams, dumbass." Taehyung wrinkled his nose, but a small grin slipped onto his lips. "Do you... want to do this again? I mean, I do, but if you don’t want to, that’s fine."
"Fuck, yeah, I want to," the black-haired guy answered without hesitation. "I just didn’t want to be the one to say it. Mhm, experimenting, yeah."
"Yeah, experimenting..." the blond cleared his throat. "And doing this doesn’t make me gay."
"You weren’t exactly Mr. Straight when you were moaning with my hand on—"
"Stop talking!" Taehyung cut him off. "You’re so annoying, ugh."
He walked—or maybe fled—out of the kitchen and headed straight for Jungkook’s room. Jungkook laughed and followed him after tossing the dirty napkins in the trash. He handed him a towel there, of course lending him clothes too, because Taehyung hated putting dirty clothes back on freshly cleaned skin.
The plan to win over Sana was still technically in place, but it didn’t feel the same anymore. It felt like an excuse, a pretext to keep fueling this ridiculous tension they both secretly enjoyed. Outwardly, they both still called themselves straight, and what they’d just done was a secret between the two of them. No one else needed to know. If, out of nowhere, they stopped competing or fighting, people would definitely start suspecting. So they’d keep acting normal—just now, there was another completely different reason behind it.
And sure, maybe they were still attracted to the girl and knew deep down it would end badly, but adrenaline? Yeah, they both liked that.
They weren’t ready to admit anything to their friends. It’s not like they could just say, 'Hey, so, I think we found out we’re not exactly straight. Oh, how do we know? Well, turns out we shoved our tongues down each other’s throats and gave each other a double handjob. Super casual'. And it’s not like they liked each other. There were no feelings. It was just physical, just tension. It was... an experiment. Curiosity. Seeing how far they could push it.
And there was no way in hell they were telling anyone.
──── ∗ ⋅✧⋅ ∗ ────
The girls’ apartment was wrapped in complete silence, broken only by the soft clink of the spoon against porcelain as Sana stirred her tea. Her gaze was lost in the tiny whirlpools the liquid formed.
The living room was bathed in morning light streaming through the windows, casting a warm glow across the furniture. In the kitchen, Mina was focused on preparing breakfast for the three of them. The sound of oil sizzling in the pan and the rich smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, wrapping the apartment in a cozy, homely atmosphere.
Momo arrived a few minutes later, her hair still slightly damp from her shower. She was dressed in a loose sweatshirt and shorts, and she dropped onto one of the chairs at the table with a sigh. It was Sunday, and she had zero desire to do anything remotely productive.
"I was the last one to shower, and I got stuck with cold water. Why didn’t you wake me up?" the blond whined, stretching to grab the fresh cup of coffee Mina had already set out for her.
"I called you three times," Mina replied without looking up from the pan. "And Sana knocked on your door, but you just mumbled something about five more minutes."
"Oh." Momo blinked, clearly with no memory of that. "Well, still, awful. I almost froze to death."
Sana let out a short laugh, not even lifting her gaze from her tea. The usual spark in her eyes was nowhere to be found. Momo frowned and leaned across the table, resting her elbows down and lacing her fingers under her chin.
"Okay, what’s wrong with you?"
"What? Nothing." Sana blinked and feigned an innocent expression.
"Don’t lie, woman. I know you too well," Momo tilted her head, studying her. "Something’s up."
"No, no, it’s nothing."
"Sure," Momo looked at her with obvious disbelief. "Because you’re always brooding over a cup of tea, right?"
"Momo’s right," Mina chimed in from the kitchen. "You’ve been quiet all week since we got back last Sunday. We’ve asked you before, but you always change the subject. Not this time, miss. Spill it."
"It’s just that..." Sana began, hesitating for a few seconds before finally deciding to let it out. "Taehyung and Jungkook are acting weird."
"Yeah, we know. Ever since the cabin, they don’t talk, they don’t look at each other, and they don’t even breathe near each other," the blond pointed out with a raised brow. "So what’s your point?"
"No, I mean, yes," the brunette stammered. "What I mean is... they’ve been acting weird with me, not with each other."
"Weird how?" Momo asked. Sana set the cup down and adjusted herself in her seat, lacing her fingers over her knees.
"I don’t know, it’s like... something changed after the cabin."
"What do you mean?" Mina turned off the stove and faced her with interest.
"Before the cabin, they were both so... attentive. Jungkook was always sweet with me, always had some kind of compliment, always made me feel special. And Taehyung was different. He was bold, charming, he made me feel..." She paused, searching for the right word before letting out a sigh. "Alive."
Momo narrowed her eyes at her. "Sana..."
"I don’t know, I just liked the attention," she admitted, shrugging her shoulders. "But ever since we came back from the cabin, something’s different."
Mina dried her hands with a kitchen towel before walking over to sit at the table beside them.
"Are you talking about what happened in the car?"
"What happened in the car?" Momo asked quickly.
"Oh, right, you went back in Hoseok’s car." Sana took a breath and looked at Mina, as if searching for a bit of comfort before speaking again. "On the drive back to the city, Taehyung was... different." She bit her lip lightly. "He wasn’t rude or anything, but I felt like he was distant."
"I noticed it too," Mina nodded, her brow slightly furrowed. "He didn’t act the way he usually does with you."
"Exactly," Sana exclaimed, pointing at her. "Even when I touched him or tried to flirt, it wasn’t the same. Sure, he responded, but it didn’t feel the same. Even this week he’s barely answered me. I see him online all the time, but he doesn’t reply like he used to."
"Maybe they made some kind of pact or something," Momo said with a wave of her hand.
"A pact?" Sana repeated, confused.
"Yeah, you know, like, ‘Let’s stop fighting over Sana because we’re making her uncomfortable,’ or something like that."
"But why would they do that?" Sana frowned.
"Because, my dear friend..." Momo leaned closer, pointing a finger at her. "They’re not going to chase after you forever. And since you haven’t been very clear with them, they probably just think they’re bothering you and you’re not saying anything to avoid conflict."
Sana opened her mouth to answer but went silent. Because deep down, she knew Momo was right. Mina crossed her legs and looked at her calmly.
"Sana, do you like both of them?"
"I..." Sana tensed slightly.
"Of course she likes both, isn’t it obvious?" Momo let out a huff. Sana buried her face in her hands and released a frustrated groan.
"It’s not that simple!"
"No, of course not," Momo replied with sarcasm. "It’s just that you’ve got two handsome guys chasing after you and you can’t decide which one you like more. Super complicated."
Mina shot Momo a warning look before focusing back on Sana.
"It’s not strange to like both. But Momo has a point. You can’t expect them to be at your feet forever."
"That’s not it. It’s just that... I got used to the attention."
"So, you liked that they were practically killing each other over you?" Momo let out a laugh and propped her chin in her hand, watching her with amusement.
"It’s not like that."
"It’s exactly like that."
"It’s normal to feel that way," Mina cut in before Momo could keep attacking. "If someone suddenly stops treating you like they used to, it throws you off balance."
"That’s it," the brunette muttered. "It’s not that I want them to fight, but before, they were always there—seeking me out, pulling my attention. And now... I don’t know, it’s like they lost interest."
"But so far, you’ve only mentioned Taehyung. Did something happen with Jungkook too?" the blonde asked again.
"Hours after we got back from the cabin," the girl continued. "I tried something with Jungkook."
"Tried what?" Momo tilted her head, eyes narrowing.
"I wanted to see if it felt different with him," Sana admitted. "If his attitude had changed like Taehyung’s, or if he was still the same, giving me that special attention."
"And what did you do?" the black-haired girl asked.
"At the cabin, when we were packing everything up, I found the lighter Jungkook had brought for the barbecue. He’d left it on the table. When I saw it, I thought about giving it back to him right then, but... I didn’t."
"Why not?" Momo raised an eyebrow.
"Because I wanted to give it back later, at his apartment." Mina and Momo exchanged a quick glance, but neither interrupted. "I went there that night. I wanted to see him, talk to him, test the waters... but when I got there, she was there."
"She?" Mina asked carefully. Sana nodded, feeling anger bubbling back in her chest.
"Remember the girl from Hoseok’s party? The one who pushed me, and everyone assumed had something going on with Jungkook?"
"Oh..." Momo let out a sigh. "And what was she doing there?"
"What do you think?" Sana let out a bitter laugh. "She was in his apartment, wearing his shirt and clearly nothing else underneath. And she made damn sure I knew they’d fucked... and that they planned on keeping it that way. She looked me up and down and smiled like she’d already won."
"What a shitty girl," Momo spat angrily.
"Did she say anything to you?" Mina frowned.
"Not directly, but she made it perfectly clear Jungkook was hers with a couple of passive-aggressive comments and smug looks."
"What a bitch."
"Momo."
"Sorry, go on, sweetheart."
"I didn’t even get to talk to Jungkook," Sana continued. "I left before I caused a scene, but... I felt awful."
"I’m sorry, Sana," Mina said softly.
Sana forced a smile. "You don’t have to be. It’s not like we’re anything. I don’t owe him exclusivity, and he doesn’t owe me either."
"No, but it still hurts," Momo looked at her with empathy. "And if it hurts, it means he’s more important to you than you think."
"Did Jungkook talk to you afterward?" Mina asked.
"Yeah, he’s sent me a bunch of messages, but I haven’t been able to answer. I don’t know what to say, I just feel hurt."
The blonde let out a huff and leaned forward.
"Okay, girl... then what are you waiting for to pick one?"
"Momo’s right," Mina said calmly. "This situation can’t go on forever."
"I don’t want to decide yet," Sana insisted, crossing her arms. "Not until I know the results of the audition."
"But that’s in weeks. Are you going to keep playing with them until then?" Momo rolled her eyes.
"I’m not playing," Sana raised an eyebrow.
"Sana, please..."
"But given the circumstances," she went on, ignoring Momo’s scolding tone, "maybe I should start playing. I don’t want to fall behind."
Momo stared at her for a moment before sighing.
"I get that this is the first time anyone’s ever given you this kind of attention, and that’s why you feel this way, but..."
"Easy for you to say. Hoseok’s been eating out of your hand your whole life," the brunette muttered with a pout. Momo looked at her with an unreadable expression before shaking her head.
"It’s not the same."
"Of course it is."
"Sana, what Momo’s trying to say is—" the tension between them was thick enough that Mina interrupted, "this isn’t just about control or attention. They’re people, not toys."
"I know," Sana replied, unfazed by Mina’s tone. "But I also know I’m not going to sit back while other girls try to take them. Because Jungkook’s with her, and it wouldn’t surprise me if one of the reasons Taehyung’s not talking to me is because he’s got someone else hidden too."
Mina pressed her lips together. "I don’t think that’s the best way to handle this."
"Then tell me what is the best way, Mina." Sana looked at her with frustration. "Because right now I don’t want to be the girl who just accepts it when guys lose interest."
"And what are you going to do?" Momo ran a hand through her hair, staring at her in exasperation.
Sana smiled, but it wasn’t her usual sweet smile—this one carried something darker, almost unsettling.
"I’m going to win back their attention and take control. And this time, I won’t let anyone else take it away from me."
──── ∗ ⋅✧⋅ ∗ ────
If he wanted to keep playing this damn game, if he wanted to keep matching himself against Taehyung in this competition that seemed to drive them both—not to mention that now they had to keep going, otherwise they’d raise suspicions about what they’d done or what they might do—then he had to take back the upper hand. And to do that, he needed to apologize to Sana.
It was useless to play dumb and hope she would just get over it. Besides, Sana deserved an apology. What had happened with Soojin had been a fucking mistake.
As soon as his last Monday class ended, he left the university building with quick strides. His bike was waiting for him in the parking lot, black and spotless, its deep growl always turning heads whenever he started it up. He swung onto it with ease, fitting his helmet in place like second nature, and revved the engine with a flick of his wrist.
The ride to Sana’s apartment was fast, much faster than it would’ve been in his car. At a red light, he made a quick stop at a convenience store and bought two things: a peach-flavored water bottle—the one he knew she loved—and a pack of chocolates. He wasn’t entirely sure if that would be enough to earn her forgiveness, but at least it was something, a gesture to show that he cared. Not only because he wanted her back in his orbit, but because he genuinely felt bad about what had happened.
When he arrived at the building, he parked the bike neatly and headed toward reception. With his leather jacket still on and the helmet dangling from his hand, he approached the guard confidently.
"Hi, I’m here to see Minatozaki Sana."
The man looked up from his desk and nodded, reaching for the phone to call her apartment. But just then, the elevator doors opened, and out came Sana, Momo, and Mina.
Jungkook reacted instantly. He turned and walked toward them in quick strides.
"Sana!"
Momo and Mina exchanged a knowing glance before Momo spoke casually:
"We’ll go on ahead, we’ll wait for you outside."
Without giving either of them a chance to protest, both girls walked past Jungkook without another word and left the building, leaving the two of them alone in the lobby. Jungkook felt his throat go dry at the sight of Sana’s expression. She didn’t look angry, but she didn’t look particularly thrilled to see him either. She stood there with her arms crossed over her chest, her head tilted slightly.
"What are you doing here, Jungkook?" she asked, her tone neutral.
He swallowed hard, feeling a twinge of nerves for the first time. He wasn’t used to feeling like this around girls—and definitely not with Sana. But well, he was already there, so no turning back.
"I came to give you this," he said, holding out the peach-flavored water bottle and the pack of chocolates. Sana’s gaze dropped to the items in his hand before lifting back to him, one brow arched skeptically.
"You came all the way to my apartment just to give me this?"
"No," he admitted, running a hand through his hair. "I also came to apologize."
"Apologize for what?"
"For what happened at my apartment the other day. For Soojin."
Sana’s expression didn’t change much. She kept looking at him attentively, but without giving away much of what was going on in her head. Finally, she let out a small sigh.
"You don’t have anything to apologize for. It’s not like we’re dating or have some sort of exclusivity agreement," she said with a slight shrug. "You don’t owe me an explanation."
"I know," he admitted, nodding. "But still, the situation was shit. Soojin was completely rude to you."
"Not really," she replied. "I mean, yeah, she used a kind of passive-aggressive tone, but she never actually insulted me or anything like that."
"She didn’t have to insult you to make you uncomfortable," he shot back firmly. "And that is exactly the problem. She said those things with the clear intention of making you feel bad, and that’s why I’m apologizing."
She looked at him for a long second, as if she were weighing his words. Then she shook her head with a faint smile. This time, she finally took the gifts Jungkook had brought her.
"It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t expect me to show up, and you definitely didn’t tell Soojin to act like that."
"I know." Jungkook sighed, slipping his free hand into his jacket pocket.
"Then why apologize?" Sana pressed, one eyebrow arched. He wet his lips, exhaling with a hint of frustration before answering.
"Because I don’t want you to have the wrong impression of me," he finally said, locking his gaze on hers. "It’s no secret that I’m interested in you, Sana. And I know you’re not sure if you’re staying in Korea or not, but still, I’m trying. Taehyung is trying too, so I’m not going to let him get an edge over me with things like this."
For the first time in the entire conversation, he saw Sana’s neutral mask break into genuine laughter. Jungkook felt something ease in his chest at the sound, watching her posture relax and her expression soften.
"Alright," she said at last, still smiling. "I accept your apology."
"So… we’re good?"
"We’ve always been good."
Jungkook felt a subtle rush of victory in his chest. With that, he knew he had regained his footing in the game, but honestly, there was something different about it. Even though he felt calmer now that the guilt wasn’t weighing on him anymore, he didn’t feel entirely happy.
The logic was simple: he and Taehyung had agreed to act as if nothing had happened in front of everyone else, the competition was still on, the race for Sana was back in motion. Everything was supposed to feel normal again.
So why didn’t he feel completely satisfied?
If it had been anyone other than Taehyung, he would’ve given up on the whole competition idea a long time ago.
He hadn’t been able to focus since Sunday—what they had done kept replaying in his head. He had loved it. Too much. He’d barely slept since then, because every time he closed his eyes, he found himself remembering what it felt like to make Taehyung run and how it felt when Taehyung made him run at the same time.
Taehyung kept invading his thoughts, and all he could think about was how much he wanted to see him again, to repeat it or maybe… to go further.
But they had made an agreement. They couldn’t tell anyone. It was the best way, the simplest, the least complicated. Which meant they had to make everything look normal again.
So he couldn’t give in. Not when it was Taehyung. Not when every interaction with him felt… he didn’t even know how to define it, but it made him feel alive. He couldn’t give in, not after kissing and after everything they had done. It was supposed to be just an experiment, something they were testing out. Which only made this whole chasing-Sana thing feel more like an excuse to keep seeing each other somehow.
It was supposed to be a game. But the problem with games was that someone won and someone lost. And the question Jungkook didn’t quite dare to ask himself was: what would happen if he won? And what would happen if he lost? He wasn’t sure what the hell he would do if he won. I mean, yeah… the obvious answer was that he’d end up with Sana. But at this point, did he really want that? Even though the mere idea of Taehyung ending up with her instead disgusted him.
Because deep down—way down, in a place he still didn’t want to look at directly—he knew he wasn’t competing for Sana anymore. He kept competing because it was Taehyung. Because he liked the dynamic they had, because he enjoyed every damn provocation, every touch, every challenge that sparked between them. Because if it weren’t him, if it were anyone else, he wouldn’t be doing this.
Damn you, Taehyung. What the hell did you do to me?
Chapter 24: Chapter 23
Chapter Text
"You're looking pretty happy lately, Jungkook. Care to tell us why?" Yoongi's voice dragged Jungkook back into the conversation.
He had been distracted, staring at the foam on his coffee, absentmindedly stirring it with the spoon without even taking a single sip. Lifting his gaze, he saw the three of them watching him with curiosity. Jungkook shrugged, trying to feign indifference.
"It's nothing," he muttered, but the way Namjoon narrowed his eyes made it clear he didn’t believe him.
"Nothing?" the older one repeated, his tone skeptical. He rested an elbow on the table and leaned a little closer. "Are you sure this has nothing to do with Sana?"
The girl’s name made him stop stirring. It wasn’t exactly a secret that he was interested in her—quite the opposite—but the way Namjoon had asked made it sound like she was the specific reason behind his change in mood.
And the truth was that she was... only not in the way they thought. He took a second to sort out his thoughts before replying.
"Something like that."
"I’m guessing that means there’s been some progress," Hoseok said in a sing-song tone, finally looking up from whatever he was typing on his phone. "And speaking of progress..." He turned his gaze toward Jungkook, his expression even more amused. "I’ve also noticed you and Taehyung are back to your old ways. I don’t know if you two fixed things or made them worse, but you’re definitely back to fighting and competing like always."
Jungkook tensed for a brief moment. He could have just answered with a simple yes and left it at that, but his own thoughts betrayed him, his mind replaying the feel of Taehyung’s skin against his, the heat of his mouth, his ragged breath, and the sounds he made at what Jungkook had been doing to him.
"We worked it out in our own way," he said at last, his tone sounding strange even to his own ears.
Hoseok raised an eyebrow, but before he could ask what exactly 'in their own way' meant, the low murmur around them hinted that someone else had just entered the café.
The younger didn’t need to turn around to know who it was, but he did anyway. There was Taehyung, walking in with effortless confidence, flanked by Jimin and Jin. His backpack was slung over one shoulder, his blond hair slightly tousled. He looked good—ridiculously good.
They hadn’t seen each other since what had happened at Jungkook’s apartment, but neither of them acted strange. That was the deal. They would keep up their game, their dynamic, their competition. Whatever the hell it was they were doing.
"Just look at him," Yoongi commented with a half-smile. "Like he’s straight out of some damn clothing commercial."
"Or a fashion magazine photoshoot," Namjoon added.
"Or a runway show?" Hoseok suggested.
"Shut up," Jungkook muttered, but his eyes stayed locked on Taehyung.
The older boy spotted him the moment he walked in. Their gazes met for the briefest second before Taehyung looked away, wearing the same carefree expression as always, as if Jungkook’s presence was nothing worth noting.
But Jungkook caught the way his lips curved into the faintest smile first.
Taehyung’s group reached their table, and greetings went around quickly. Jin clapped Yoongi and Namjoon on the shoulders, Jimin stole a piece of bread from Hoseok without asking, and Jungkook and Taehyung did what they did best.
"You look tired, Taehyung," Jungkook said with a smirk. "Didn’t sleep well or what?"
"Enough to not walk around with a dumb face like yours," he replied calmly, not even bothering to look at him.
"I doubt anyone with bags under their eyes like yours should be talking."
"My dark circles are sexy."
"If you say so."
"I do say so. And so does my superior genetics."
Jungkook let out a sarcastic laugh but didn’t add anything else. To everyone else, it was just another one of their stupid fights, but only the two of them knew what it really was. And maybe... maybe it turned him on a little, the idea that no one knew their little secret besides them.
The groups split into different tables since there wasn’t enough space at the first one, though still within the same area. Jungkook kept sipping his coffee, though at this point it was more out of habit than anything, while sneaking glances at the other table.
It wasn’t that he was particularly interested in Taehyung, Jin, and Jimin’s conversation, but... well, he couldn’t help himself. And more than that, what really distracted him was the way he could feel Taehyung’s eyes on him too. Not constantly, but now and then, it was there.
His attention shifted when he noticed three familiar figures approaching.
"Hi, guys!" Momo exclaimed brightly, stopping by Jungkook, Hoseok, Namjoon, and Yoongi’s table. Mina and Sana were with her, smiling with the same contagious energy.
"We were in the area because we’re heading to the mall to buy a few things, but we thought we’d stop by and visit," Sana explained in her characteristically sweet tone. "Though Momo insisted her only reason for coming was Hoseok."
"Obviously!" Momo crossed her arms, pretending to be offended. "Why else would I come?"
Without warning, she dropped herself onto Hoseok’s lap with complete confidence, making him laugh.
"Aww, so cute," Hoseok said easily, wrapping an arm around her as she shamelessly stole a piece of bread from his plate. "Did you miss me?"
"Possibly," she replied, taking a bite of the bread before turning to kiss his cheek. "I don’t have anyone else to steal food from."
Jungkook watched the scene with fondness, but at the same time felt an utterly irrational urge to kick Hoseok under the table.
Lucky, straight bastard.
He hated him, he hated him so much. Because his own heterosexuality had been completely wrecked by Taehyung.
He took another irritated sip of coffee, trying not to think about it, but then Sana moved. She slipped away from the group with a smile and went directly to the other table, where Taehyung, Jimin, and Jin were sitting.
He couldn’t stop his eyes from following her. She sat beside Taehyung as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The moment she settled, her hand landed on his arm, and Jungkook saw the way Taehyung smiled.
"What are you doing here all alone?" Sana asked in a soft tone, leaning slightly toward him. Taehyung chuckled under his breath, glancing at Jimin and Jin, who were already watching.
"I’m not alone," he replied, nodding toward his friends.
"I meant, what are you doing here without me," Sana corrected, her tone now unmistakably flirtatious.
Jin, who happened to be drinking water from his tumbler at that very moment, nearly choked. Jimin patted his back as he coughed, failing to hide his surprise.
From across the room, Jungkook rolled his eyes without even realizing it. But then he saw Sana laugh at something Taehyung said, her head tilting back slightly. And without realizing it, his leg began to bounce under the table.
"Stop moving," Yoongi suddenly grumbled. "You’re kicking me."
"I didn’t notice, sorry."
Yoongi gave him a once-over, trying to figure out why his mood had shifted so drastically, but he didn’t say anything else. He didn’t like the feeling growing in his chest.
"Hyung, come with me to order something," Jimin didn’t wait for a reply before grabbing Jin’s arm and practically dragging him away from the table. Jin barely had time to take a breath before he was forced to stand up, letting out a low groan as he tried not to trip over his own feet.
"Why the hell do you have to yank me around like a dog?" he protested with a frown, but Jimin just laughed, refusing to let go. His plan was to leave Taehyung and Sana alone so they could talk.
"Because otherwise you don’t move," he replied with a cheeky smile before turning back to Taehyung. "The usual?"
Taehyung nodded without thinking.
"Yeah, get me—" but then he stopped, reconsidering. Before Jimin could walk away completely, he rushed to correct himself. "Wait, bring me a vanilla cappuccino instead, with two packets of sugar."
Jungkook, who had been pretending for a while now to be focused on the conversation at his own table, immediately lifted his head. He couldn’t even claim to be subtle anymore—he was outright staring. His expression softened automatically.
The brunette frowned in confusion, looking at him as if he’d just said the most ridiculous thing in the world.
"You don’t drink coffee."
"Well, I learned to tolerate that one in particular," he answered, dodging his friend’s suspicious gaze. "I like it, but only if it has two extra packets of sugar."
The black-haired boy lowered his eyes again, his smile faint but undeniably there. Because he knew why—or at least, he had a pretty good guess.
The time he had brought him coffee in the study hall, he’d done it without thinking. He only did it because Jungkook looked tired. Back then, he had no idea the other practically avoided caffeine. But now it was clear enough: after that day, he’d ended up acquiring a taste for that particular drink. For him. And somehow, that made Jungkook feel satisfied.
Jimin eyed him even more suspiciously, clearly not buying a single word of his excuse. But he didn’t push, just shoved Jin toward the counter.
When they left, Sana kept chatting cheerfully with Taehyung, her melodious laughter filling the space like a charming echo. Jungkook could hear it even from his table, which shouldn’t have been a problem. But it was.
Because just a few seconds later, Taehyung said something he couldn’t catch, and Sana touched his shoulder casually, leaning toward him with that dazzling smile on her lips.
And that was when Jungkook stood up abruptly.
"I’m getting more coffee."
"Your cup’s full," Namjoon pointed out. Jungkook ignored him and started walking without bothering to answer. "The counter’s the other way," Namjoon added now with a frown.
But Jungkook was already out the door.
Behind him, no one seemed to connect his sudden exit with the conversation at the other table. No one—except Yoongi.
He watched them carefully, that calculating look he wore whenever he was analyzing something. His eyes moved slowly between the door Jungkook had just walked through and Taehyung, who still sat there, apparently unaware. But out of the corner of his eye, Taehyung had followed Jungkook until he disappeared from sight.
And at that exact moment, he cleared his throat and turned slightly toward Sana.
"Sorry, I need to do something."
"Huh? Now?" Sana blinked, surprised.
Taehyung nodded with a casual smile before pointing to the coffee Jimin was carrying back.
"You can have my coffee," he added sweetly, even patting her head lightly.
The girl didn’t look entirely convinced, but she accepted without much else to say, and Taehyung stood up, heading toward the exit. Yoongi, still at his table, followed him with his eyes. And then, without a word, he simply nodded to himself before focusing back on his conversation with Hoseok, Momo, Mina, and Namjoon.
Taehyung hadn’t really had a plan when he went after Jungkook—he just saw him leave and, for some reason, knew he had to follow.
His steps echoed on the pavement as he left the café, but Jungkook was walking fast, clearly upset about something. And yeah, Taehyung wasn’t exactly the best at reading people’s moods, but even he could tell something was off.
He followed silently, not calling out, not wanting Jungkook to know just yet that he was behind him. First, because he wanted to see where he was going. Second, because he had no idea what he was even going to say once he caught up.
Jungkook turned at a corner and, without stopping, slipped into a deserted passageway between two buildings. It was one of the loneliest spots on campus—no direct exits, only closed doors no one ever seemed to use.
The older one stopped at the entrance, frowning. What the hell was he doing now?
He crossed his arms and leaned a shoulder against the wall, watching him without moving. Jungkook hadn’t even noticed his presence yet. He was just there, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets, eyes fixed on the ground, as if trying to pull himself together.
Taehyung exhaled softly and decided to step in.
"Jungkook," he called firmly.
He spun so fast he nearly tripped over his own feet. His eyes widened slightly, clearly surprised to see him there.
"What are you doing here?" he asked tensely.
"That’s my question. What’s wrong with you? Why’d you storm out like that?" Taehyung crossed his arms over his chest, staring straight at him.
"It’s none of your business," he snapped, his tone aiming for indifference but fooling no one. Taehyung scoffed and shook his head.
"Stop being childish."
"It’s not your problem."
"It will be if you keep acting like this."
Jungkook clicked his tongue and looked away. Taehyung studied him for a moment. There was something strange in his expression—it wasn’t exactly anger. Not entirely, anyway.
"Are you going to tell me what’s going on, or are you just going to keep acting like a five-year-old?"
The black-haired let out an irritated noise—the kind he made when someone got under his skin but he didn’t have a good comeback. Taehyung raised an eyebrow, feeling like he was getting closer to an answer.
"Tell me the truth…" Taehyung tilted his head slightly, watching him carefully. "Are you jealous?" He didn’t really believe it, he only said it to tease. But then Jungkook tensed. His reaction was immediate—and way too obvious. "Are you?" the blond raised both brows, utterly incredulous.
"No," Jungkook shot back instantly, far too fast to sound convincing.
But it was already too late—his reaction had given him away. Taehyung felt a strange satisfaction at catching him off guard, though it didn’t take long to piece together what it meant.
Oh, of course.
It was because of Sana.
Somehow, that made sense. Taehyung let out a small scoff, rolling his eyes lightly.
“Come on, Jungkook.” He clicked his tongue. “You can’t blame me for that. We said we’d keep trying with her, didn’t we? Sana hasn’t chosen yet. You can’t get mad if I flirt with her. Besides, she came up to me.”
His expression was… strange, like he wanted to reply but didn’t know how. Still, he didn’t deny it—mostly because even he didn’t know what that was. Taehyung waited, expecting Jungkook to say something, but the answer never came. Finally, Jungkook sighed, his posture loosening, his gaze softening.
“I know,” was all he said.
The hallway was deserted, and Jungkook noticed it as soon as he turned his head, quickly scanning the surroundings. No one was in sight, no suspicious shadows in the corners, no faint sound of footsteps drawing near. Perfect.
Casually, he leaned a little toward Taehyung, closing the space between them.
“We haven’t seen each other since my apartment,” he murmured, his voice low but clear enough for Taehyung to hear.
Taehyung froze, his back stiffening like a board. He swallowed hard, refusing to look directly at Jungkook, his gaze darting instead to some random spot on the wall.
“It’s just… I haven’t had time,” he said quickly, as though the excuse had been sitting ready. Then he scoffed in obvious annoyance. “And don’t think I’m dying to kiss you or… or touch your dick. I have better things to do than play pretend gay.” He paused, wet his lips, and added, as if that somehow helped his point: “Because I’m not.”
Jungkook narrowed his eyes, the ghost of an amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
“Oh, you’re not?” he asked, his tone dripping with mockery.
Taehyung frowned, but before he could shoot back, Jungkook stepped forward, closing the distance even more.
His personal space shrank dramatically, and in an automatic reflex, Taehyung stepped back. Jungkook tilted his head slightly, studying him with obvious amusement.
“I know we haven’t done much, but if you’re already bored of just kissing and jerking off, even if it was only one damn time…” His voice dripped with mischief. “We could try something else.”
“I’m not bored,” Taehyung blurted immediately, faster than his brain could stop his mouth. Then he frowned, realizing what he’d just admitted. He quickly added, trying to correct himself, “I mean, like, I haven’t thought about it. It’s not my priority.”
“Uh-huh.” Jungkook was clearly entertained, and Taehyung wanted to smack himself. “We could try something new…” Jungkook mused.
“Something new like what?”
“Like you blowing me.” Jungkook’s grin widened dangerously.
Taehyung’s brain practically exploded. His eyes went wide, his mouth opened and closed a couple of times, no sound coming out. He actually short-circuited.
“No!” he exclaimed, louder than he meant to. His heart hammered so hard it lodged in his throat, and his skin was burning. “No, that’s not happening. I haven’t reached that level of… of gay.”
“Oh, you haven’t?” Jungkook burst into laughter.
“No!”
“But you will.”
“I will not!”
“What if we speed things up?” he asked, biting his lip.
“There’s nothing to speed up, for fuck’s sake!” He wanted to hit him. He wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him until he stopped talking nonsense and quit making him feel hotter and hotter. “You’re a fucking pervert,” Taehyung muttered, unable to tear his eyes away from him.
“Maybe.” Jungkook smirked with satisfaction.
His breath ghosted over Taehyung’s skin, and he cursed mentally, because if this kept going… he honestly had no idea how the hell he’d get out of it without losing his sanity. Jungkook was a complete pervert to say things like this in the middle of university! Someone could see or overhear their conversation, and it would be the end of both of them!
Taehyung jerked back and shot both hands out in front of him, palms open, fingers slightly spread. He was careful not to touch Jungkook. It was a new unspoken rule in his head: under no circumstances would he allow his skin to make contact with the other’s. The last time it had… well, better not to think about that.
Jungkook was enjoying this way too much—Taehyung could see it in his dark, amused eyes, in the crooked smirk playing at his lips as he toyed with his piercing, in the relaxed tilt of his head.
Of course he was enjoying it. Of course he was watching him squirm in his own discomfort like it was the show of the day.
“Stay there,” Taehyung said, his voice trying for authority but coming out closer to a plea. “You look better standing still.”
“Do I?” Jungkook’s tone was shamelessly provocative, making sure Taehyung knew he had no intention of listening. “And what if I do this?”
Before Taehyung could even process the words, Jungkook moved, stretching out his hands to grab his wrists. His strong fingers closed around his skin with insulting ease, and then, almost effortlessly, he lowered Taehyung’s arms until they rested at his sides.
Taehyung’s world tilted because suddenly Jungkook was way too close.
Centimeters.
A ridiculously small distance.
His cologne rushed through his system so fast it made him dizzy, and the bastard had the nerve to keep smiling with that smug look plastered on his face.
“B-Back up!” Taehyung blurted in panic. “Someone could see us.”
His words didn’t seem to faze Jungkook in the slightest.
“Let them,” Jungkook replied with absolute nonchalance, almost making Taehyung want to kick him. “I don’t care.”
“What do you mean you don’t care!?” Taehyung felt like he was about to have a nervous breakdown. “Well, I care, so get off me!”
“Taehyung, if you really wanted me to move, you would’ve already pushed me, kicked me, or whatever it is you do when someone invades your space. But you haven’t.” Taehyung scowled, but Jungkook didn’t stop there. “You’re not even trying to pull your wrists away. I’m not using any strength here.”
And sure enough, when Taehyung paid attention, he realized Jungkook was barely holding his wrists. His fingers were loose, his grip light, without the slightest pressure. If he’d wanted to, he could’ve slipped free easily from the start.
But he hadn’t. Because he was still there.
Because, unconsciously, he had stayed exactly where Jungkook wanted him. Heat shot up Taehyung’s face.
“You’re insane!” Without thinking, he yanked his hands away in one sharp motion, smacking Jungkook’s hold off him. He took two steps back—he needed space, he needed air.
While he struggled to recover his dignity and convince his own body that it shouldn’t be reacting to absolutely anything, Jungkook stayed right where he was, letting out a mocking laugh, completely satisfied, like he’d just won something.
Taehyung was this close to choosing violence.
“Dramatic,” Jungkook threw out between chuckles.
“I’m not dramatic,” Taehyung shot back, offended. “I have a reputation to maintain. That’s different.”
“I have a reputation to maintain too.”
“Of course you do.” Taehyung rolled his eyes with ironic bite. “Doesn’t seem like it when you suggest shit like that.”
But before he could continue with his sarcasm, Jungkook leaned in just enough to invade his personal space again.
"And still, the only thing I can think about right now is how much I want to kiss you."
Taehyung felt his entire body tense. His hands curled into fists at his sides, his breathing faltered, and his face burned with a suffocating heat that reached all the way to his ears.
"Shut up," he muttered, scrunching his nose and avoiding his gaze at all costs. But that only made Jungkook smile wider.
It was unbearable and ridiculous.
It was a complete and absolute hell because, fuck, how could he say things like that so easily? How could he throw out those kinds of comments as if they were nothing? As if he didn’t have the power to make his brain short-circuit and his skin turn a hundred times more sensitive when he pushed him like this. Or maybe it was the opposite—he knew and he used it to his advantage.
He was an asshole. An absolute, fucking asshole.
But… Taehyung’s eyes darted around in every direction, looking for any sign that someone might be nearby, but the hallway was empty.
Without realizing exactly when he had made the decision, he stepped forward with hesitant steps and, once he was finally close enough, grabbed the younger by the collar of his jacket firmly.
Jungkook didn’t move. He just watched him, expectant, with that damned expression on his face that seemed to scream, will you dare or not?
And Taehyung… he did dare. He leaned forward and, with a quick movement, pressed his lips against Jungkook’s. It was a light, soft kiss, but fuck, it was cute. Almost tender—if anything between them could be called tender.
The blond barely had time to process what he’d just done before Jungkook reacted. In one swift move, the younger slid his hands around his waist and pulled him closer, pressing him tight against his body. Taehyung didn’t have time to resist—and honestly, he didn’t want to. The kiss deepened slightly, fueled by the need to feel him just a little longer. They shuffled in short steps, side to side—it looked like they were dancing, or maybe wrestling for control.
They finally pulled apart just enough, their breaths mingling in the tiny space between them. Taehyung let out a laugh, a little nervous, a little embarrassed, but strangely light.
"You’re an idiot."
Jungkook smiled, but before he could reply, a voice cut through the air.
"Jungkook! Taehyung!"
Panic shot through his system.
By pure instinct, Taehyung reacted before he could think. Taking advantage of his grip on Jungkook’s collar, without a single warning, he shoved him against the wall hard enough to make the impact echo.
"Agh!" Jungkook groaned, his brows furrowing immediately. "Shit, Taehyung!"
But the blond didn’t have time to worry about that, because a second later, the person who had called their names turned the corner and found them exactly how Taehyung wanted to be seen—pressed close, but with the false appearance of fighting.
"What the hell are you two doing?" Taehyung barely had time to process when he saw Sana round the corner, her face full of alarm. "Let him go, Taehyung!"
He released him instantly, taking a couple of steps back in a pathetic attempt to distance himself from the problem. Jungkook, still rubbing his back from the hit, looked at Sana with surprise.
"Are you okay?" she asked, quickly scanning the dark-haired boy for bruises or visible injuries. Jungkook straightened a little and gave a half-smile, though he still looked a bit sore.
"I’m fine, I’m fine," he said with a shrug. "It’s not like he threw me against a concrete wall or anything."
That did nothing to calm Sana, and her focus immediately shifted. She spun around to face Taehyung, fury flashing in her eyes, making the blond swallow hard.
"What the fuck is wrong with you, Taehyung?" she snapped, arms crossing. "Why did you hit him?"
Fuck.
He couldn’t stay silent because it would only look worse, but anything he said would dig him deeper into shit. He opened his mouth, desperate to come up with something, but Jungkook was faster.
"It’s not that bad," he cut in, still smiling like he was trying to ease her worry. "I deserved it. I was the one who provoked Taehyung with my words. I went a little too far and he just reacted."
Sana didn’t look convinced. Her gaze bounced between the two, her frown deep and her lips pressed tight.
"You’re both idiots," she finally declared. "You shouldn’t be fighting like this, what’s wrong with you?"
Taehyung lowered his gaze, uncomfortable.
It wasn’t like they had really fought, but he couldn’t tell the truth either. They couldn’t exactly admit he’d slammed him against the wall out of pure panic at being caught kissing like a pair of horny idiots experimenting.
"I’m not saying you have to be friends or anything, but you should at least tolerate each other," the girl said, hands planted firmly on her hips. "I was right to come find you. Something told me I’d catch you like this. What would’ve happened if I’d gotten here later? Taehyung, look at me when I’m talking to you! You can’t resort to violence every time you get riled up!"
And she was right—he wasn’t looking at her. His eyes were locked on Jungkook, who was still rubbing his back with a faint grimace of pain.
Shit, maybe he had hit him harder than he meant to. Now he just felt like a complete idiot.
He was about to say something—anything to cut off Sana’s scolding, or at least let Jungkook know he hadn’t meant to hurt him—when another female voice joined in from behind her.
"Well… what a coincidence." Taehyung, Jungkook, and Sana all turned their heads toward the source of the voice almost at the same time. And there she was—Soojin—standing with a relaxed posture but sharp eyes. Sana instantly decided the best move was to slip behind the two boys.
A minute ago, this had been the loneliest damn hallway on the planet, but now that they wanted to be alone, suddenly it turned into the busiest one? Taehyung cursed in his head. He attracted the worst kind of people.
The blond didn’t need to look at Jungkook’s face to know his mood had just plummeted in seconds. He himself felt a shiver of irritation run down his spine; his body already knew that whatever came out of this woman’s mouth would be a headache.
"Well, if it isn’t Jungkookie with his little lapdog," she sneered, lips curling into a malicious smile. "How sweet." Without moving much, she turned to look at the blond, who now wore a cold expression. "Do I know you? You’re cute. How come I didn’t know you existed?" She tilted her head, her voice dripping with flirtation.
"Soojin, can you leave? We’re talking here," Jungkook interrupted before she could focus any more on Taehyung. But apparently it was too late, because her gaze lingered on him with blatant desire before she finally snapped her fingers.
"Oh! Now I remember. You’re the guy from the party who whisked away the sweet, innocent little girl before I could have some fun. You saved me a bit of work." She bit down on her lip, painted in a vivid red. "Ah, but… how curious to find you two together. I thought you hated each other—you know, both chasing after the same girl. Sana, that’s your name, isn’t it?… I can’t decide whether to admire your dedication or laugh at how pathetic you are."
"Soojin," Jungkook called again. "Go to hell, seriously."
The blond didn’t miss the way the girl’s smile widened just slightly, as if she loved being answered like that, as if she was enjoying every second of it.
"Oh, how rude. I only came to say hi, I just happened to see you walking by," Soojin continued, brushing off the insult with ease before sliding her gaze toward Jungkook. She dragged her eyes up and down his frame with an expression that the blond found… unpleasant. "It doesn’t matter if you tell me to go to hell now. Some things never change."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Jungkook frowned, but Soojin tilted her head with a fake pout.
"Oh, Kookie, don’t play dumb, we’ve already talked about this," she murmured, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You and I both know that no matter how hard you try to act tough, you always end up coming back to me. You already proved it. You said you hated me after we broke up, and then you called me because you needed me."
"You talk so much bullshit," Jungkook muttered, his tone sharp.
"Are you sure?" she sing-songed, folding her arms and lifting a brow. "Because it seems like you forget how easy it is to make you call me. A couple of texts, one phone call… and there you are, exactly where I want you."
"That’s disgusting, Soojin."
"Tell me I’m lying. Go on."
The blond clenched his teeth, a growing discomfort pressing against his chest. He didn’t know all the details of Jungkook and Soojin’s past relationship, but he did know she was the kind of person who thrived on manipulating and fucking up other people’s lives just because she could. He only knew what Jungkook had admitted that night during the game.
And if something was clear in that moment, it was that she wanted to screw with Jungkook.
"Leave us alone," Sana’s voice was firm, cutting, the warning tone in it making Soojin finally shift her full attention to her. Sana had stepped forward again, slipping between the guys and placing herself directly in front of Jungkook and Soojin.
"Excuse me?" Soojin arched a brow.
"I said leave us alone," Sana repeated, her tone unusually cold. "Nobody wants to play your fucking game anymore."
The air grew tense, and for the first time, Soojin’s smile faded. The blond saw the exact moment when her passive-aggressive façade cracked, giving way to something far more hostile.
"You don’t get to talk, Sana," Soojin scoffed, her voice stripped of any pretense of friendliness. "You act like you’re some kind of saint, but we all know you’re nothing more than a bitch desperate to be the center of attention. That’s how easy you are."
"Shut your mouth," Jungkook snapped, angrier now, but Soojin didn’t even glance at him.
"The perfect virgin defending her reputation. We all know yours isn’t purity, it’s desperation," she spat, her words full of venom. "It’s obvious no one ever paid you any fucking attention in your life, that’s why you act like this around these two. And do you honestly think Jungkook is really going to care about you? Look at you. Now look at me. What makes you think you and I are even on the same level? Jungkook needs a real woman, one who knows what she wants, one with attitude and personality. Not a damn hypocrite like you, pretending to be a good little girl."
"Soojin, I swear—" Jungkook tried to control himself with all his strength.
"It’s funny," she continued with a poisonous smile, stepping closer. "Look at how these two idiots are fighting over you. Pathetic. But I’m not surprised they fell for it. After all… it only takes a useless little slut to reel them in. They always go for the easy fuck first, but in the end, they always come back. Jungkook is the perfect example of that—he’ll play cat and mouse with you for a while, but eventually, he goes back to where the food is served on a plate."
Taehyung felt the exact moment Jungkook saw red, because he saw it too, and he didn’t think twice. The instant he saw her step closer with that smug smile that made him want to rip it off her face, he moved. His body placed itself like a wall between Jungkook, Sana, and that snake wrapped in human skin. It was pure instinct—pure protection.
"Not one step closer."
"Oh, are you playing knight in shining armor now?" Soojin tilted her head with false innocence, her dark eyes scanning him with superiority. "It wouldn’t be the first time."
"Don’t make me laugh, Soojin. Do you really think anyone takes you seriously?" His eyes glittered with mockery when he saw her tense. "Poor thing, I bet in your little head you think the whole world is at your feet, that with a single blink or a sweet smile everyone will forgive you for whatever shit you pull."
"I don’t know what you’re talking about." Soojin narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms defensively.
"No, of course you don’t," Taehyung let out a dramatic sigh and shook his head as if he were scolding a clueless child. "Let me guess—now you’re going to play the victim? Poor you, it’s all a big misunderstanding, you didn’t do anything wrong? That Jungkook’s the crazy one chasing you?"
"Listen, blondie, stay out of things you don’t understand."
"Don’t understand?" Taehyung let out a dry laugh. "Soojin, don’t waste my time. I know exactly what you are. I’ve seen it before, I see it now, and I’ll see it always. You’re the kind of pathetic person who feeds on other people’s attention because, deep down, you’ve got absolutely nothing to offer. No charm, no charisma, nothing beyond a pair of pretty eyes and a venomous tongue you use to manipulate everyone around you."
"Wow, what sweet compliments."
"You honestly just make me feel sorry for you," Taehyung clicked his tongue with feigned compassion. "It must be miserable to live like that, clinging to people like a damn parasite, begging for scraps of validation because you know if no one pays attention to you, you’re left with the truth of what you really are: a nobody. So tell me, who’s really the easy one? Because you’re the one spreading your legs for Jungkook the second he calls to feed your ego, aren’t you? Just like you did with Jaebeom."
"Excuse me?" she hissed, offended. "Who the fuck do you think you are to talk to me like that?"
"As it happens, Jaebeom’s my friend. He tells me things. Everyone on campus already knows that if we need an easy fuck, all we have to do is DM you on Instagram," Taehyung smiled with cold falseness. "Not that I’ve ever messaged you, of course. I don’t like something passed around like a cheap vape at a high school party. I prefer something that’s actually worth having, something you need to earn."
He saw her clench her teeth. Her posture wasn’t confident anymore—her shoulders were tight, her fingers curled stiffly.
Taehyung wasn’t the kind of man who insulted women. In fact, even when some of them had insulted him, he had never fired back. He’d never dared call them 'easy' to their faces, or 'bitches', because he wasn’t a hypocrite. He knew damn well he was basically promiscuous himself. He never thought women couldn’t fuck whoever they wanted while men could.
But fuck, he was so angry. So fucking furious. It was the first time he had ever insulted a woman like that, and that alone showed how far she had pushed him. He couldn’t stomach the idea of her calling Sana 'easy', because shit, she was probably the least easy woman out there. Two attractive men were chasing after her, and she wasn’t even doing anything about it.
He hated it—he absolutely hated that she took advantage of Jungkook. He hated the way she treated him now, the way she had treated him before. He hated how Jungkook tensed up just from her damn presence, and he hated that Jungkook had called her in his desperation to make sense of himself after their kiss. In fact, the blond felt guilty that he had somehow been part of the reason Jungkook reached out to her again.
So he had no intention of showing mercy. He chose to be a hypocrite for once.
"Shut up already."
"Why? Does it hurt?" Taehyung tilted his head with a falsely understanding tone. "Does it bother you when someone tells you the truth? Because believe me, if I really felt like fucking you up, I’d have already reduced you to dust with a couple of sentences. But I don’t care. I genuinely don’t care about you at all." Soojin swallowed hard, unable to respond. "I don’t want to see you near Jungkook again," he said coldly. "Or Sana. And most of all, don’t you dare bother Jungkook again."
It was then, right at that moment, that Soojin, in addition to being humiliated, began to look… curious. A furious kind of curiosity. Her eyes darted from Taehyung to Jungkook, then to Sana, and back to Taehyung. She furrowed her brow even tighter.
"So now you’re defending him even though he’s your fucking rival or some childish crap like that?" she spat with contempt, glaring between the two boys. "How ridiculous."
"Yeah, I’m defending him. In fact, I’m defending them both." Taehyung didn’t lower his gaze. "I can’t stand fucking hypocrisy or people who think they’re the last Coke in the desert."
"Fucking idiot…" she muttered. Her pride was wounded, but she tried not to let herself be humiliated any further. She simply shrugged her shoulders. "For now, I won’t go near your Jungkook," she stressed with intention. "Or the little saint, of course. But keep in mind that I always get what I want, even if I have to drag two people straight through the mud."
Without another word, she turned on her heel and walked away with a supposedly calm and insulting air, though in reality she was trembling with rage. This time, she wasn’t leaving with anything. She was leaving defeated, burned, and furious, forced to pretend none of it had affected her in the slightest.
Taehyung followed her with his gaze until he was sure she had disappeared. Only then did he allow himself to exhale deeply and turn toward Jungkook and Sana. His eyes landed on the black-haired boy first, almost by instinct.
"Don’t call her again," he said immediately. Jungkook was still dazed, but the intensity in Taehyung’s voice knocked the air right out of him.
Through the entire exchange, he hadn’t been able to stop looking at him with admiration. Now, his lips parted slightly as he looked at him, warmth rising to his cheeks before he could stop it.
"Alright," he murmured without even thinking. The elder felt his chest loosen a little; he hadn’t realized how tense he was until he heard Jungkook’s answer. For some reason, Jungkook agreeing without a fight made him feel calmer.
Finally, Taehyung pulled his gaze away from him and turned it toward Sana, who was watching the scene with a mix of emotions on her face.
"Are you okay?" he asked in a softer tone, stepping closer to her and lifting a hand to brush a strand of hair away from her face. Sana gave a small smile, surprised by the gesture, and Jungkook suddenly cleared his throat. "Sorry about my language… I was just so angry with her."
Taehyung couldn’t stop a mocking little smile when he noticed, from the corner of his eye, that Jungkook was standing with his arms crossed, staring at some random spot down the hallway as if he were trying not to look annoyed. But then Jungkook himself stepped closer to Sana and took her hand.
"I’m sorry," he murmured. "It’s my fault."
The girl looked at both of them and smiled.
"I’m fine," she said, squeezing Jungkook’s hand gently. "But if you’re going to spoil me like this every time someone bothers me, maybe I should provoke Soojin more often."
Jungkook and Taehyung both grimaced in unison.
"Don’t even think about it," Taehyung snapped.
"Don’t you dare do that," Jungkook added.
Sana laughed in amusement, but there was something else in her expression. Something that looked a lot like satisfaction. She was delighted that, in that moment, Jungkook and Taehyung were surrounding her. She didn’t really care about having to put up with Soojin if it meant both of them would protect her like that.
But Jungkook couldn’t focus on anything except the way Taehyung had defended him. He had defended Sana too, of course—she had been the main reason he’d spoken up—but he had defended him as well. And why the hell had Soojin said 'your Jungkook'?
Chapter 25: Chapter 24
Chapter Text
"I came for my clothes." Taehyung had barely opened the door when Jungkook was already there, standing with squared shoulders and his chin held high, trying to make his presence seem completely normal and justified.
The blond looked at him with an expressionless face, holding the door half-open with one hand and resting the other on the frame. His eyes traveled slowly down Jungkook’s body and back up again with exasperating slowness. Jungkook shifted a little under that gaze but didn’t back down. Instead, he raised a brow, daring him to contradict him.
"Couldn’t you come up with another excuse?" Taehyung finally asked in a neutral tone.
"It’s not an excuse, it’s real. Last time I lent you something, you kept it for like ten days without giving it back. This time I came to make sure you wash it and return it."
"That still sounds like an excuse." The blond tilted his head mockingly.
Jungkook opened his mouth, ready to argue, but then closed it again when he realized Taehyung was right.
Technically, yes, he was there for his clothes, but it wasn’t like he urgently needed them. He could have just sent him a message as a reminder and set a deadline, or waited a bit longer. But no—he had used the perfect pretext to come in person because he wanted to see him.
Yes, he felt like a creep, because he was genuinely thinking about what else they could do now that he had the chance. Lately, the idea of 'experimenting' had become more and more tempting, and he wasn’t about to waste the opportunity now that it was laid out on the table. But of course, Taehyung had to wear that smug expression, as if he knew exactly what Jungkook was thinking, and that made him nervous.
"Fine, come in and make sure I wash your clothes," he said with a little smirk. "But there’s one tiny detail you didn’t consider."
Confident, Jungkook simply pushed the door open with his shoulder and walked in without waiting, with a smile that was almost mocking.
"What detail are you talking about?"
Taehyung didn’t answer right away because he wanted to see his raw reaction. He just closed the door calmly behind him and then followed him into the living room. Jungkook was already ahead, planning in his head the best way to get closer, to provoke, to test the limits.
He was a damn pervert.
Because the moment Taehyung let him in, his mind was already projecting all the things they could do now that they were alone. He was already thinking about how far they could go this time, what new ways of touching each other they could discover, how it would feel to have him on the couch instead of the bed…
Of course, all for educational and scientific purposes—the learning process was obviously the main reason for all this.
Except those thoughts went straight to hell the moment he crossed the threshold and saw what was in front of him.
Jimin was comfortably seated on the couch, remote in hand, scrolling through the movie catalog on the massive TV screen. On the table in front of him there was a ridiculously large assortment of snacks, popcorn, candy, and drinks—practically a full setup for a marathon. When the brunette noticed Jungkook’s sudden presence, he lifted his gaze with a raised brow, clearly surprised by his unexpected appearance.
Jungkook froze on the spot. Fucking shit.
"You didn't think I might not be alone, did you?" Taehyung whispered near his ear, his voice so low and so damn satisfied it tickled his skin. Then he patted his arm a couple of times as if to console him before brushing past him and walking casually toward the living room.
Jungkook wanted to die. Not just because Jimin was there, but because his brain had instantly played him a mental movie—at lightning speed—of all the things he had planned to do when he thought they’d be alone. And now, with Jimin sitting there, everything he had imagined felt incredibly inappropriate.
He’d been so busy fantasizing about what they could do that he had completely forgotten to consider the possibility that Taehyung might have company. Since he hadn’t told him he was coming over, he hadn’t given him the chance to warn him that he wasn’t alone.
"And what’s he doing here?" Jimin asked Taehyung with arched brows. As if Jungkook wasn’t standing right there in front of him! He was perfectly capable of answering for himself! Jungkook clenched his jaw, trying to contain his irritation. He really did care about Jimin, but sometimes he just wanted to strangle him.
Especially when it came to Taehyung.
Not that he expected a warm welcome, but Jimin ignoring him like that didn’t help. His gaze slid toward Taehyung, hoping at least he would bother to answer, but the bastard just shrugged indifferently.
"I don’t know, good question," Taehyung said with all the calm in the world, turning his face toward Jungkook. "What are you doing here?"
The bastard.
The younger opened his mouth, but no sound came out. It wasn’t like he was a genius at quick thinking—that title definitely belonged to Taehyung—but he’d managed to improvise his way out of situations before. Out of all those moments when his reflexes had been sharp, right now his brain decided to crash.
Why did Taehyung have to dump all the responsibility on him? Why couldn’t he help just a little? He was so cruel. Jungkook felt utterly betrayed. But since he had no choice, and staying quiet would only make things more suspicious, he ended up blurting the first thing that came to mind.
"I came to pick up my clothes," he finally said.
Not really a lie—it was partially true.
"What clothes?" Jimin asked immediately. It wasn’t exactly common for Jungkook and Taehyung to lend each other clothes as if they were friends, so he couldn’t be blamed for being curious. Still, Jungkook clicked his tongue and crossed his arms over his chest, trying to look unconcerned even though he was starting to get irritated.
"Something I lent Taehyung," he answered without hesitation.
Jimin narrowed his eyes, trying to recall a moment when Jungkook and Taehyung had ever swapped clothes. Then his gaze slid toward the blond.
"When did Jungkook lend you clothes? And why?"
Taehyung, who had already started to bring a piece of popcorn to his mouth, froze halfway. He cleared his throat and tried to avoid Jimin’s gaze—because he knew him well enough to catch a lie instantly.
"Once I needed an emergency shower and Jungkook’s apartment was the closest." Okay, that was a total lie. Jimin blinked a couple of times and opened his mouth to keep asking, but Taehyung quickly cut him off before he could analyze too much, turning fully toward the black-haired boy. "I haven’t washed it."
"You always take forever to do the simplest things," Jungkook scoffed.
"You can wash it now," Jimin chimed in with a smile. "And in the meantime, Jungkook can stay and watch a movie with us. When the clothes are ready, he can take them."
Before Taehyung could argue, Jungkook was already nodding eagerly.
"Yeah, that works," he said with a satisfied smile. "So go ahead and wash it right now."
The blond let out a heavy sigh and reluctantly got up from the couch. It was obvious he had no way out, especially since Jimin had practically kicked him out of the living room. He turned toward Jungkook, shooting him a warning look.
"Stay here and pick something with Jimin," he ordered dryly, but Jungkook shook his head immediately.
"No, I’m going to make sure you do it right. I don’t want you using something weird as revenge."
Taehyung scrunched up his nose. Because yes, honestly, he had thought about washing it with dish soap just to piss him off. But now that Jungkook was watching him like a hawk, he would have to behave.
All he could do was huff and start walking, feeling Jungkook following closely behind.
As they walked down the hallway toward the laundry room, Jungkook was fighting thoughts he shouldn’t have been having. Because maybe he shouldn’t have come, maybe he shouldn’t have insisted on staying. But, fuck, it was inevitable. The idea of being alone with Taehyung—even if it was in a damn laundry room—made him feel something he didn’t want to admit out loud.
The older one walked with obvious reluctance, feeling Jungkook’s presence too close behind him. They reached the small room that held the washer, dryer, and a couple of shelves stacked with cleaning supplies. Taehyung pushed the door open with his foot, flicked the light switch, and walked toward the basket where he had left the dirty clothes.
"You’re really a pain in the ass," he muttered without looking at him. "I’ll just wash your stupid clothes and then you can go to he—"
He never finished the sentence. The moment they stepped inside, Jungkook seized the chance, he grabbed the blond firmly by the hips and spun him around. The blond stumbled slightly, his hands grasping at the air for something to hold onto, but before he could fully react, Jungkook’s lips crashed onto his.
A startled sound escaped his throat, vibrating against Jungkook’s mouth, who only held onto him tighter. The blond could have pulled away immediately, shoved him, or done something that would have signaled rejection, but he didn’t. Instead of breaking away, his lips answered.
For a few seconds, he simply let Jungkook do whatever he wanted with him, letting himself sink into the warmth of his mouth and the way his body pressed forward with an intensity that made him feel dangerously close to losing balance.
It wasn’t until his brain finally caught up, reality hitting his consciousness like a bucket of ice water at the sound of a movie trailer playing faintly from the TV in the other room, that he managed to pull back just a few inches. Just enough to breathe, though not enough to completely sever the contact between them.
"What the fuck are you doing?" he hissed in a furious, desperate whisper. "Jimin’s right outside, do you want him to catch us?"
Jungkook didn’t flinch. In fact, he smiled in that particular way that made the blond want to kick him in the shin and bolt.
Without saying a word, Jungkook reached out with one hand and carefully shut the door, never letting go of him, never allowing more distance than he permitted. Once the door was completely closed, he tilted his head with a mocking expression.
"Better?"
Taehyung saw him lean in and reacted at the very last second, turning his face sharply so Jungkook’s lips only grazed the air—a perfect dodge. Jungkook frowned, clearly unhappy with the evasion, but Taehyung didn’t give him the chance to protest.
"You’re such an idiot," he growled under his breath, glaring at him with reproach. "You can’t be this irresponsible. Jimin could walk in any second, or he could hear us, or—oh!"
The blond didn’t get to finish, because instead of arguing, instead of insisting with his lips, instead of doing any other damn thing, Jungkook simply lowered his mouth to his neck and kissed the skin shamelessly.
Taehyung froze, his eyes flying open in shock as Jungkook’s lips lingered against his skin—slow, damp kisses that raised goosebumps across his entire body.
"J-Jungkook…" he tried to protest, but his voice came out weak, trembling.
His neck was ridiculously sensitive. He hadn’t thought Jungkook knew that, but apparently, he had just found out. Taehyung squeezed his eyes shut, feeling his temperature rise.
He tried to do something to stop this recklessness, but Jungkook pressed on, guiding him with ease until his back hit the cold wall. His breathing was beginning to spiral out of control, and his fingers clutched Jungkook’s shoulders in search of an anchor, or else he’d collapse.
"You’re filthy…" he muttered with a shaky voice, but Jungkook didn’t seem the least bit affected by the insult. If anything, he smiled against his skin before trailing more slow, dangerously intoxicating kisses. Taehyung felt his resistance unravel with every touch.
But it all shattered the instant Jungkook bit down on his skin lightly. The sound that tore from Taehyung’s throat was involuntary, loud—a damn moan that reverberated through the room.
The moment it escaped his mouth, Jungkook pulled away instantly, eyes wide with panic. Their gazes locked at the same time, and both of them froze completely.
Jimin had just popped another piece of popcorn into his mouth when a strange noise made him frown. It wasn’t loud, more like sudden—out of place. Just enough to make him lift his head and stop chewing. He blinked, glancing toward where Taehyung and Jungkook were supposed to be, lips pursing.
"What the hell is taking them so long?" he muttered to himself, setting the bowl of popcorn down on the table.
He dusted his hands off calmly and stood up. It wasn’t that he was particularly nosy—well, maybe a little—but considering the two had gone together and hadn’t come back yet, it was odd.
It didn’t take a lifetime to wash a few clothes. They weren’t scrubbing them against a rock in a river, for fuck’s sake. It was a button, a quick cycle, done. So, what the hell were they doing?
So, he headed toward the laundry room. He knew the layout perfectly—he’d been there countless times. The hallway was silent. Jimin ran his tongue over his teeth, feeling a flicker of suspicion in his chest, but chose to ignore it. Surely Taehyung and Jungkook were just arguing about something stupid.
When he reached the door, he noticed it was shut. That was strange too.
He frowned. Jimin had questions, and he wanted answers, so he opened the door without hesitation.
The first thing he saw was Taehyung, his back to him, crouched on the floor, shoving clothes into the washer with fury. The second thing he saw was Jungkook, leaning against the opposite wall with his arms crossed, an annoyed expression plastered across his face.
"Don’t even think about putting bleach on my shirt," Jungkook said sharply, narrowing his eyes. The blond, without turning around, scoffed in irritation.
"I won’t, you idiot," he shot back disdainfully, tossing a piece of clothing into the machine. "Unlike you, I’ve got more than two functioning brain cells."
"Sure you do. That’s why you ruined a sweater the other day."
"It was an accident!"
"Oh, really? Like the day you threw a pair of red pants in with your whites and walked out looking like a fucking pink marshmallow?"
"Shut up, you damn moron!"
Jimin raised a brow, watching the scene with amusement. Well, everything seemed to be in order. They were just in their usual dynamic of fighting like little kids—too much energy, zero filters.
However, there was something about Taehyung’s posture that caught his attention. The blond wasn’t moving much, which was strange, because when he argued, he was usually more expressive, more physical. Before Jimin could say anything, Taehyung, still without turning around, let out a sigh full of exasperation.
“Go away, Jungkook. Go wait with Jimin in the living room.”
Jungkook frowned, but after a second of silence, he huffed.
“Hysterical.” He pushed himself off the wall with a look of disgust and walked to the door. When he passed by Jimin, the latter gave him a suspicious glance, but said nothing. He simply followed him back to the living room.
As soon as the door closed and their footsteps faded away, Taehyung felt his body loosen in pure relief.
Fuck.
He bit his lip and lowered his gaze. His face was burning, an unbearable heat climbing from his neck up to his ears.
The worst part wasn’t that he had almost been caught—no. The worst part was that, despite the interruption, he still had a very obvious problem in his pants.
Fucking Jungkook.
He stayed kneeling for a moment longer, trying to even out his breathing, but the ridiculous heat running through his body refused to fade. He knew his neck was sensitive, but he had never thought it was this bad—to the point that he would… well, react like this.
Now he couldn’t step out of there until things calmed down. He needed the damn erection that had sprung up almost automatically when Jungkook kissed him there to go down.
Slowly, he finished setting the washing machine cycle and got to his feet awkwardly. He braced both hands on the machine, breathing deeply, glaring at his own reflection in the metal drum.
Seriously, fucking Jungkook.
He gave himself a couple of seconds, trying to focus on anything else.
Taxes.
Market prices in the current inflation.
The boring documentary their Visual Anthropology professor had shown them last week.
The last time his internet crashed in the middle of an online game.
Seokjin’s face when he found out they had taken his car without permission and slightly scratched it.
Anything that wasn’t Jungkook’s damn body over him, the warmth of his lips on his neck, or the way he had bitten down right on…
Taehyung banged his forehead against the washer in frustration.
“I hate you, Jungkook,” he muttered through gritted teeth.
──── ∗ ⋅✧⋅ ∗ ────
By the time they noticed, they were already on their third Marvel movie.
Time had slipped away between the action scenes that kept Jungkook absolutely glued to his spot. The washer had finished its cycle hours ago, the dryer too. But no one cared much, because when Jungkook was watching something Marvel-related, nothing else existed in his damn world.
Now, Taehyung’s living room had been fully adapted for the three of them. Since the first half of the first movie, they had transformed the couch into their own version of a bed—a wide enough, soft enough space for the three of them to sprawl out without much discomfort.
Taehyung had brought pillows and blankets, creating a little nest of comfort where they all curled up. He knew he was the one who had insisted on piling all that up for maximum coziness, but now he realized it had been a mistake. Now they were too comfortable.
It was past midnight, fatigue beginning to settle into their bodies. The only light in the room came from the television, flickering with the end credits of the latest movie. An epic soundtrack still played in the background, but none of the three were really paying attention.
Jimin, who had been half dozing off for the past few minutes, was the first to break the silence.
“I can’t stop thinking about what I said earlier,” he mumbled. Taehyung, who was lying on his back with a pillow under his head, gave him a lazy look.
“What thing?”
“Tony Stark is a Border Collie,” he declared with absolute conviction. There was a two-second silence before Jungkook burst out in a raspy laugh, burying his face in the pillow.
“God, Jimin, shut up.”
“No, seriously, think about it,” Jimin went on, completely ignoring the complaint. “He’s smart, hyperactive, gets frustrated when people don’t understand what he already processed hours ago, and he always has to be doing something or he’ll die.”
“Did the pillow tell you that, my love?” Taehyung snorted in amusement.
“You’re annoying and anti-cool,” Jimin pushed himself up on one elbow. “But it made me think about what dog breeds our friends would be.”
“God…” Taehyung rolled his eyes.
“Jin is a Beagle,” he declared. “Basically a terrenator. Looks super charming and harmless, but he’s actually a demon. Energetic, mischievous, and throws a fit every time he feels ignored.”
“You’re right,” Jungkook nodded immediately.
“Namjoon is a German Shepherd. Smart, protective, looks all serious, but in reality he’s clumsy and crashes into furniture.”
“Acceptable,” Taehyung chimed in this time. “Hoseok is a Dachshund.”
“What?” Jimin blinked.
“Yeah. Small, but with insane energy. Always happy, always moving, and with tiny little legs that shouldn’t be able to handle all that running around, but somehow they do.”
“Shit, I can’t even argue with that,” Jimin admitted. “It hurts how accurate it is.”
“Yoongi,” Taehyung murmured. “He’s a cat.”
“Definitely,” Jungkook confirmed.
“But if he had to be a dog no matter what…” Jimin frowned, thinking hard. “He’d be a Brittany Spaniel.”
“That’s a very specific breed,” Jungkook said.
“Not my fault you two are uncultured.”
“Justify your answer, Jimin,” Taehyung asked.
“He’s independent and calm, but when he gets excited, he really gets excited,” the brunette replied. “And he looks like he doesn’t have energy, but if you give him something he cares about, he suddenly becomes a damn lightning bolt.”
“God, yes,” Taehyung dropped his head onto a pillow. “Fuck, that’s exactly Yoongi.”
There was a brief silence as Jimin looked at them with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He was analyzing them.
“Jungkook, you’re definitely a Husky. Taehyung, you’re a Golden Retriever.”
“What? Excuse me? What the fuck just came out of your mouth?” Jungkook sat up to look at the brunette. “Why would you say that?”
“What?” Jimin asked. “You don’t like your Husky? Because I swear that’s what you are. You know—loud, hyperactive, stubborn, whiny, dramatic, and if you’re left alone for too long, you go into destructive mode.”
“No, no, no. I’m saying Taehyung isn’t a Golden,” the black-haired boy rushed to say. “The only golden thing about him is his dye-burnt hair.”
“Shut up, asshole!” Taehyung kicked him under the blankets.
“I will happily stay with the Husky, because they’re awesome, smart, and incredibly good-looking—nothing else,” Jungkook said proudly. “I’m not dramatic, whiny, or loud.”
“Please,” Jimin scoffed. “You never stop yelling.”
“That’s not true!”
“That yell just proved my point.”
“Ahg!” Jungkook huffed, crossing his arms in frustration. “The important thing is that Taehyung is not a Golden.”
"Why can’t I be a Golden? I could easily be one," Taehyung said, sounding completely offended.
Jungkook, who still had his arms crossed after his little tantrum, gave him a harsh once-over, judging him mercilessly.
"Because Goldens are cute, happy, pretty…" he started listing, his expression bordering on dreamy, like he was picturing one of those golden furballs wagging its tail under the sun. But then his face shifted, hardened, and the spark in his eyes vanished in an instant. "And you are none of those things," he finished simply.
The blond stared at him, completely resentful and indignant at what he had just heard. But luckily for him, Jimin came to his defense.
"Of course he is!" he protested with a pout. "With me, Tae is like that."
Taehyung immediately turned toward him with a smile, as if Jimin had just said the sweetest thing in the world.
"Aw, Minnie," he murmured tenderly before reaching out and gently squeezing his cheek, his thumb brushing over the skin with the same affection one would give to an adorable puppy. Jimin laughed and batted his hand away, but the blush on his cheeks betrayed him.
Jungkook, on the other hand, felt a sharp pang of discomfort in the pit of his stomach watching the scene. It wasn’t anger, it wasn’t exactly disgust… it was more like some abstract, irritating feeling he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but it felt exactly like chewing glass.
He didn’t like it.
"To me, Jimin is a Corgi," Taehyung continued with a playful smile. "Small, adorable, elegant, and kind of royal."
"Tae!" Jimin giggled, covering his face with his hands for a second. He was flattered and embarrassed at the same time.
Both Jungkook and Jimin wrinkled their noses. The brunette did it because he thought it was sweet. But the black-haired one did it because it made him want to vomit.
"Okay, enough with the honey show," Jungkook cut in hastily, before the two could keep going with that dynamic that inexplicably put him in a foul mood. "Because Taehyung is not like that with me."
"Oh, really?" Taehyung tilted his head with curiosity and that pure, damn innocence Jungkook knew was fake.
"No!" Jungkook shook his head emphatically. "With me it’s totally different. He’s not cute, or happy, or pretty, or a ray of sunshine. He’s mean, a brute, dangerous, and has no manners. He’s a…" He paused briefly, searching for the best possible comparison, until his eyes lit up with satisfaction at having found the perfect answer. "He’s a Rottweiler."
Taehyung raised an eyebrow. He could’ve refuted it, but instead chose to finish him off with something else.
"I think everyone has different perceptions of people," he said simply. Jungkook eyed him with suspicion, already sensing that the calm way he’d answered was not a good omen. And, indeed, what came next was a direct blow to his patience. "For example, to me, you’re a Chihuahua."
Jungkook froze for at least five whole seconds of complete silence, just processing what he had heard.
"I hate you so much." Without waiting for a reply, Jungkook disappeared toward the bathroom with a scowl. Instead of feeling guilty, Taehyung burst into open laughter.
He leaned back against the couch, sinking into the blankets and shaking his head with a grin.
"Chihuahua? Seriously?" Jimin laughed beside him, covering his mouth with the sleeve of his hoodie.
"Totally a Chihuahua," Taehyung nodded with certainty. "Always barking, always growling, always way too energetic for his own good."
Jimin snorted with laughter, but before the conversation could veer off in another direction, Taehyung turned to him with a more practical question in mind.
"Hey, it’s late," Taehyung commented casually. "Are you staying over?"
"Mhm…" Jimin hummed, glancing at the time on his phone. "Yeah, I think I will."
"But you have class tomorrow at nine, don’t you?"
"Uh-huh, but it’s fine. I’ll wake up, shower quickly, grab some of the clothes I usually leave here, and head out. You don’t have to wake up if you don’t want to," he answered with complete ease.
Taehyung watched him for a few seconds, considering his words. Up until a moment ago, the idea of Jimin staying had been an unshakable certainty. But now… now there was a new factor in the equation.
Jungkook.
His mind made an uncomfortable pause on that name.
It wasn’t that he wanted to be alone with him, no. I mean, why would he? What for? It was just Jungkook, with his big nose, his expressive brows, his long legs, his overdeveloped muscles, and that absurdly annoying voice. There was absolutely no reason for Taehyung to prefer his company right now.
Except there was.
That damn thing that had happened in the supply room still had his nervous system in shambles. He couldn’t say he wanted to do it again, because that wasn’t true—or at least, that’s what he kept telling himself—but he did want to… taste a little more. To experiment and play with fire, even if just for a while.
And he couldn’t do any of that with Jimin here, which made the guilt crash down on him like a bucket of ice water.
God, was he really considering canceling his night with his best friend over… a dick?
No.
He wasn’t that kind of person. He wasn’t going to let a momentary impulse cloud his judgment. Jimin was his priority.
"Alright then," he said at last, deciding he wasn’t going to think about it anymore.
What he didn’t see coming was what happened minutes later, when Jungkook came back from the bathroom.
When the younger reappeared, the whole Chihuahua matter had already been buried in the past, and now he was a renewed man, free of resentment. Taehyung didn’t buy it for even a second, but he had no intention of pointing it out.
"Hey, Jungkook," Jimin said suddenly. "Why don’t you stay over? It’s too late for you to drive all the way back to your apartment."
Jungkook raised an eyebrow, surprised by the offer, but his expression quickly shifted into a smile. It looked like someone had just done him an unexpected favor he was now going to accept with full delight.
"Sounds good, sure, that’s fine."
Oh, he was going to suffer tonight.
──── ∗ ⋅✧⋅ ∗ ────
The night had taken a turn Taehyung hadn’t planned, and now he was paying the price for his indecision with every passing minute.
It had all started with the damn pajamas.
He had agreed to lend Jungkook a pair because, well, he wasn’t about to let him sleep in the clothes he’d been wearing all day—sticky and carrying that inevitable stench of humanity that built up after hours of existing.
He also wasn’t going to put on the clothes he had originally gone to grab, since he’d wear those the next morning when leaving. So, with resignation written all over his face, he’d opened his closet and dug around until he found something that might fit.
The problem was that he hadn’t accounted for one small detail: Jungkook was broader than he remembered. And it wasn’t that Taehyung didn’t own oversized clothes for sleeping—it was that somehow, all of them still ended up fitting his body.
He definitely needed to hit the gym.
"This feels a little tight," Jungkook commented, stretching his arms to test the fabric’s flexibility.
"Sucks to be you," Taehyung replied mercilessly.
"Don’t you have a bigger size?"
"No, wear what I give you and shut up," Taehyung answered, looking away.
He had no desire to drag out that moment. Jungkook finally finished adjusting the pajamas and, at last, seemed ready for bed, even though it was obvious the fabric pulled a little too tightly across his torso. However, when he noticed Taehyung hadn’t given Jimin a set of pajamas, his brows furrowed in confusion.
"And Jimin?" he asked, tilting his head in his direction.
"Jimin has his own space in my closet."
It shouldn’t have been a big deal, but judging from Jungkook’s expression, it was as if he had just received devastating news. His already large eyes widened even further, his lips formed an automatic pout, and Taehyung could see the internal battle written all over his face.
He had wanted to say something else—Taehyung knew it. It showed in the way his mouth opened slightly, in how his tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek as if he were chewing over unspoken words.
Taehyung waited for some passive-aggressive remark, a complaint about favoritism, or some jab about Jimin having special privileges. But nothing came. Jungkook simply turned to the makeshift bed on the sofa, dropped onto the blankets, and settled in without saying another word.
Perfect. Now Jungkook was playing the role of a wounded puppy.
Taehyung ignored him. Or at least, he tried to.
Now the three of them were settled on the sofa bed in the living room, and Taehyung was spiraling into crisis. He could have sent both of them to the guest room and taken his own bed in peace. Or he could’ve slept with Jimin in his bed and banished Jungkook to fend for himself elsewhere. But he hadn’t counted on the fact that both insisted they all sleep there together, and Taehyung hadn’t been able to contradict them or fight against those two spoiled brats.
Jimin was on his right, already deeply asleep, breathing steadily and completely oblivious to the existential torture unraveling beside him. Jungkook, on the other hand, was very much awake on his left and, from what Taehyung could tell, far too entertained.
Taehyung lay in the middle, flat on his back, staring at the ceiling. Which direction was he supposed to face? Because he had to choose one—he genuinely couldn’t sleep like a vampire in a coffin.
If he turned toward Jungkook, their faces would end up just a few centimeters apart, and considering what had happened between them lately, that sounded like a terrible idea. But if he turned his back, then Jungkook would be right behind him, and he didn’t even want to think about what that implied.
Which position was less gay? Which would make him feel less nervous? Which one would let him sleep without feeling like he was about to self-destruct?
He cursed silently in his head, and just seconds later, Jungkook shifted—and then Taehyung felt his warm breath against his ear.
"If you want, you can hold me." The tone was suggestive. Insanely suggestive.
His mind went completely blank, his body launched into immediate panic, and heat rushed to his face as if his cheeks had been set on fire.
"W-What?" he stammered, barely processing what he had just heard.
"I mean, if you’re uncomfortable sleeping like this, you can hug me," Jungkook repeated, this time with an obviously amused tone.
Taehyung wanted to die.
Or hit him.
Or hit himself.
He wasn’t sure which option was better right now, but what he was sure of was that no, he was not going to hug Jungkook. So, without another thought, he whipped around, giving him his back—in other words, facing Jimin—in a desperate attempt to erase the last ten seconds of his life.
"Are you seriously going to ignore me like that?"
"Good night, Jungkook."
Jungkook huffed but didn’t push further. He settled on his side of the sofa bed and let out a resigned sigh. Because, even though he wouldn’t admit it out loud… he had wanted Taehyung to hug him.
He reached toward the small table nearby, fumbling with his fingers until he found his phone. As soon as the screen lit up, the bluish glow hit him directly in the face, and he squinted, blinking a few times until his eyes adjusted.
He wasn’t sleepy. Or, well, he was, but not enough to knock out right away. His body was tired, sure, but his brain was still wide awake.
So, he did what he always did in those cases: wasted time on his phone until sleep finally claimed him.
He wasn’t looking at anything in particular—he opened Twitter, checked Instagram, scrolled through chats he didn’t plan on answering, even played a couple of rounds of some dumb game the Play Store had recommended. Nothing really held his attention, but still, he didn’t put the phone down.
Eventually, he decided to open TikTok. Worst decision ever. Because TikTok was a death trap. He always told himself he’d only watch one or two videos, but somehow the algorithm sucked him in, and suddenly he had spent several minutes scrolling through meaningless content. One after another.
Thirty minutes passed.
Then forty.
Then fifty.
At some point, his eyelids began to feel heavy.
He rubbed his eyes with his free hand, felt a slight strain in his arm muscles from holding the phone up for so long, and it became harder to keep it steady. Finally, it slipped from his fingers and smacked lightly against his cheek.
"Shit…" he muttered quietly. Luckily, everyone was asleep and hadn’t witnessed the humiliation of his phone falling on his face.
Alright, enough, time to sleep. He sighed and turned the screen off.
He had to half-sit up to reach the table and set the phone down, and just as he did, his gaze instinctively shifted toward the other side of the sofa bed.
Taehyung was hugging Jimin.
A small, irritated twitch ran through Jungkook’s eyebrow. His tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek as he stared with a blank expression, though internally something sharp thumped in his chest.
Seriously? So, Jimin got hugs, but he didn’t? Did Taehyung really have to reject him like a damn stranger, only to turn around and do exactly what he’d offered—but with someone else?
What kind of fucked-up logic was that?
He let out a low sound of disapproval and flopped back down on the bed with a thud.
Stupid Taehyung.
He didn’t care. Definitely not.
So, he shut his eyes and decided to forget and ignore that little stab of irritation that still lingered in his chest. But then he felt movement, something shifting beside him, and suddenly an arm wrapped around him.
Jungkook opened his eyes slowly, and there was Taehyung. Pressed right up against his side, breathing evenly, expression completely relaxed—totally asleep. The brunette didn’t even have time to process what the hell was happening before he felt something else.
Taehyung’s warm breath ghosted against his skin, his nose brushed against his arm, and then he inhaled deeply. He was smelling him.
For a moment, the surprise froze Jungkook in place. And then, without being able to stop it, his lips curved into a small smile.
Idiot.
He exhaled slowly, feeling the bad mood he’d been carrying earlier fade away with ease.
It wasn’t so bad, after all.
So he simply closed his eyes again and let sleep take him—this time with a smile still lingering on his lips.
Chapter 26: Chapter 25
Chapter Text
"Just a few more..." a voice in Taehyung’s dreams whispered. "There, that’s it..."
Taehyung frowned without even opening his eyes.
His mouth felt dry, his throat scratchy, and his body strangely comfortable. His brain was still trapped in that morning fog where nothing made much sense, but something in his instinct told him he should probably wake up.
He did so with effort, blinking a couple of times until the blurry image in front of him finally came into focus.
And then he saw the very first thing anyone would hate to see upon waking up: a damn phone camera practically pressed against his face.
With all his strength, he tried to focus on the person holding the phone, and of course, it was Jimin—already showered and dressed, hair perfectly styled, bag slung over one shoulder, and wearing the most guilty expression for having been caught.
"What the fuck are you doing?" he rasped, squinting his eyes without moving a single muscle.
In a shamelessly obvious move, Jimin slipped the phone into his pocket with exaggerated calmness and gave him an innocent smile that was anything but genuine.
"Nothing."
"Liar."
"I just..." Jimin tilted his head, his smile widening. "You two look really cute when you’re not fighting."
Huh?
The blond frowned harder. What the hell was he talking about?
His brain wasn’t running at full capacity yet, but the teasing look on Jimin’s face—and the way he glanced at what Taehyung was holding—was what finally snapped his consciousness awake.
The pillow under his head didn’t feel like a pillow. What he had in his arms was far too firm to be a blanket, warm and steady, moving with a calm and steady rhythm of breathing.
Very, very slowly, with terror building in his chest, Taehyung lifted his head.
And saw exactly what he absolutely did not want to see.
Oh God, no.
Jungkook was asleep next to him, lying on his back, one arm under his head—the very same arm Taehyung had been using as a pillow—while his other hand rested lazily over his stomach. His face was relaxed, lips parted slightly in deep sleep.
And Taehyung... was hugging him. In front of Jimin! At least he still had his pajamas on; it could’ve been much worse if he were naked like he usually slept.
His arm was draped across Jungkook’s torso, his face buried against his bicep, and his leg was thrown over him.
In less than a second, Taehyung was no longer there—he had practically leapt away like he’d just discovered he was lying on a nest of snakes. Now he was at the far end of the sofa bed, barely able to breathe.
Jimin’s laughter exploded in the room, the sound only adding fuel to the humiliation burning in his chest.
"Oh my God!" Jimin clutched his stomach, bending over as he laughed mercilessly. "You flew!"
The blond was still in shock, his skin burning hot with embarrassment. His eyes darted from Jimin to Jungkook, and back again, trying to process what had just happened while his brain was still rebooting.
Fuck. It was one thing to wake up clinging to Jungkook when they were alone, but another thing entirely when someone else saw. Jimin... what if he started suspecting that they...? No! Shit!
When had he even ended up like that during the night? At what point had he gotten cozy against Jungkook? Wait... Jimin had been pointing his phone at him when he woke up!
"Were you taking pictures of me, you son of a bitch?!" he shrieked, utterly hysterical.
"Obviously." Jimin wiped away an imaginary tear from laughing. "How could I not?"
"Delete them!"
"Mhm... let me think." The brunette touched his chin thoughtfully. "No."
"Jimin!"
"They’re memories!"
"I’ll smash your fucking phone!"
"Then you’ll buy me a new one."
"Stop making noise..." Jungkook mumbled, his voice dragging with sleep. "I don’t give a shit what you’re fighting about, just shut up."
Taehyung turned slowly and saw Jungkook shifting on the sofa bed, eyes still closed, brow furrowed, hair a complete mess.
They went quiet for a second, and when they assumed Jungkook had drifted back to sleep, Taehyung glared at Jimin again.
"The photos," Taehyung said in a low, threatening tone. Jimin only smiled wider.
"I’ll save them to make an album."
"I’m going to kill you."
"No, you won’t."
"I’ll break your fucking phone, second warning."
"You wouldn’t dare."
"I’ll hack it and—"
"Do you even know how to hack anything?"
"...No, but I’ll learn."
Jungkook growled again, shifting under the blankets when the noise became impossible to ignore.
He didn't want to open his eyes, he was too comfortable there, but the idiots weren't making his life any easier, so he rolled onto his stomach and buried his face in the pillow, trying to silence those annoying people in his head.
"I swear, if you don’t delete those fucking photos, I’ll ruin your life, Jimin!" Taehyung’s voice thundered through the air.
"Oh, please. Don’t exaggerate. You were just cuddling, it’s not like you woke up naked or something."
Okay, fuck it—there was no way he could keep sleeping now. What the hell was going on? What were they even talking about?
"What time is it?" Jungkook asked hoarsely, finally stretching an arm over his head.
"Eight o’clock," Jimin said casually, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder. "I’m leaving now, I’ve got class. What about you? When’s yours?"
"I don’t have any today," Jungkook muttered heavily.
There was a pause, and then Jimin’s cursed voice came again—only this time it sounded almost sweet.
"That’s perfect. Taehyung doesn’t have class until two, so you two can stay in and cuddle some more."
The audacity.
Taehyung’s eye twitched.
"Jimin!"
Jungkook blinked a few times, this time slowly opening his eyes. Well, that woke him up.
He lifted his head from the pillow sluggishly, turning just enough to see Jimin, who wore the most innocent smile imaginable. Then his gaze shifted to Taehyung—whose face was redder than a fucking tomato.
The initial confusion he’d felt upon waking up dissolved instantly, and suddenly, everything made sense.
He sat up right away, running a hand through his hair to tame it a little.
The blond shot him a side glance, searching for any trace of something on his face, but Jungkook just looked... calm. Even happy. Not a shred of embarrassment, not even the slightest sign that he was panicking over the fact that Jimin might have caught them.
"Well, I’m off," Jimin sang, dragging the words with delight as he headed for the door. "Be good, boys. Have fun."
Taehyung wanted to throw a cushion at him. But he didn’t—his hands were clenched tightly on his knees, all his energy focused on not reacting more than he already had.
From the living room, they heard the door open, then close.
For the first time all morning, the room fell into complete silence, and Taehyung finally felt like he could breathe. But then Jungkook turned to him and smiled.
"Finally alone."
Taehyung’s expression was a spectacle worth seeing. His eyes widened slightly, and his mouth parted just a bit, his brain trying to process whether Jungkook had actually said what he’d just said. Jungkook held his gaze with a crooked smile, clearly enjoying his discomfort.
Because, honestly, it was kind of hilarious to see Taehyung like this—so fucking nervous.
“Did you wait all of yesterday afternoon and the whole damn night just to say that?” Taehyung’s voice sounded shakier than he wanted.
He felt heat crawling up his cheeks, and it didn’t help at all that the black-haired boy stood there with that smug little-kid smile. Jungkook tilted his head, his expression far too innocent for what he had just done.
“Yes.”
Yes? Just like that? Taehyung bit his lip nervously, having no idea what to do with that.
So he did the first thing that came to mind. He simply stood up, turned on his heels, and walked out of the room with firm steps.
“Where are you going?” Jungkook asked behind him, following closely.
“In the guest bathroom…” he replied quickly without bothering to turn around. “In the drawer under the sink, there’s a new toothbrush. Use it.”
“What?”
“Use it,” Taehyung repeated, opening the door to his room and stepping inside without pausing. “Because I’m not kissing anyone with morning breath.”
And with that, he shut his bedroom door.
Jungkook bolted straight to the guest bathroom. If Taehyung told him to use a new toothbrush, then he was going to use a damn new toothbrush.
Taehyung had barely stepped out of his room with a fresh mouth after brushing his teeth in his own bathroom when he saw him return, hair still messy and looking pleased.
“Done,” Jungkook announced, stopping in front of him. “I brushed my teeth.”
“Great,” Taehyung said quickly, looking away. “But I’m not doing anything on an empty stomach.”
“And what do you want to eat?” Jungkook let out a sigh.
“Surprise me.”
The black-haired boy didn’t answer. He just looked at him for a few seconds before turning around and heading to the kitchen. He made a completely unbalanced breakfast—because Taehyung had very few groceries—served it, and thirty minutes later, Jungkook was washing the dishes.
“You’re such an exploiter,” he muttered, stacking the utensils in the drainer.
“I’m just charging you for using my food and my water,” Taehyung corrected from the table.
“You’re an asshole, that’s what you are.”
Taehyung smiled behind his cup. Jungkook finished washing the last plate and dried his hands with a sigh.
“We ate, I washed the dishes. Now what…?”
“I’m not doing anything with a dirty body,” Taehyung shrugged, cutting him off.
Jungkook stared at him in silence. Taehyung met his gaze calmly, and then Jungkook went to the guest shower without complaint.
He came out of the bathroom and slipped into the clean clothes Taehyung had washed—the same ones he had supposedly come to pick up in the first place. When he returned to Taehyung’s room, ready to hear his next excuse, he found the blond standing in the middle of the room, mouth slightly open as if he were about to say something.
But he never got the chance because Jungkook planted himself in front of him with determination.
“It’s already ten in the morning,” he informed with a calmness that didn’t match the look on his face. Jungkook stepped closer, and Taehyung backed away, but when the bed hit the back of his legs, he swallowed hard. “What’s wrong?”
The way he swallowed, how his eyes flicked around without settling on a fixed point, and the obvious tension in his shoulders gave Jungkook the answer without him needing to say a word. But Jungkook wanted to hear it from his mouth.
“Nothing,” Taehyung tried to sound convincing. He failed miserably.
“I don’t believe you.” The black-haired boy narrowed his eyes while Taehyung huffed and looked away, pretending to inspect the sleeves of his hoodie as if they were the most interesting thing in the world, but Jungkook had no patience for that. “Taehyung?”
“I already told you, nothing.”
“Taehyung.”
“Fuck, Jungkook, stop…”
“Why the hell are you so nervous?”
He watched him swallow again and knew he was fighting himself. Taehyung had always been like this—someone who preferred to keep things in rather than admit what he really felt. But Jungkook wasn’t going to let him get away with it this time. The blond knew that if he didn’t spit it out, that persistence could last a lifetime, so he pressed his lips together, took a deep breath, and after several seconds, let out:
“I’m scared.”
The change in Jungkook’s expression was immediate. The frown, the tension in his jaw, the defiant attitude he’d carried a moment ago… all of it softened. Those two words flipped a switch inside him.
Taehyung was surprised when Jungkook stepped forward again, this time without the authority he’d had before. When his hands touched his arms, the older boy felt the heat of his skin seeping through the fabric of his clothes. It was a gentle touch, so soft that Jungkook drew calm lines with his fingertips, trying to soothe him.
“Why?” Jungkook asked, not in a mocking tone, just… curious and genuinely interested. Taehyung felt a lump forming in his throat and shifted uncomfortably. His hands clenched into fists, preparing some excuse, but Jungkook didn’t give him space for more evasions. “Tell me,” he insisted, searching for his gaze.
He wasn’t sure how to answer. Or rather, he wasn’t sure how to answer without feeling more vulnerable than he already did. Because the truth… was embarrassing.
“It’s just…” he wrinkled his nose a little, as if he didn’t quite like the words about to come out. “What happened last time… I liked it, we already said that before.”
He didn’t dare look Jungkook in the eye.
God, he felt like a fucking teenager saying that.
“I liked kissing you, and…” he exhaled again, because talking about this made an uncomfortable heat crawl up his neck and ears. “And what we did after… I enjoyed it so much that…” he swallowed hard. “I want to do it more times.” He said it so low that for a second he thought Jungkook hadn’t heard, but the pressure on his arms tightened slightly, and a shiver ran down his spine. “And that scares me.”
Jungkook stared at him silently without letting go of his arms. He understood perfectly what he meant because he felt the same. He tilted his head, trying to catch his eyes, but Taehyung still avoided them.
“Taehyung,” he said calmly, but nothing. “Look at me.” Still nothing. Jungkook exhaled through his nose but decided to go on; if he waited for Taehyung to stop being embarrassed, they’d be there forever. “I’m scared too,” he finally said. “Because I liked kissing you too. And I liked making you come.”
“Shit, Jungkook…” Taehyung winced like he’d just been punched.
“I liked coming myself too,” Jungkook continued without stopping, leaning his face a little closer. “But I liked making you come even more.”
“Stop being so explicit!” Taehyung snapped, his face now completely red. Jungkook let out a low laugh, amused by his reaction.
“Why? Does it embarrass you?”
Taehyung smacked him in the chest.
“Shut the fuck up.”
Jungkook brought his hands to the blond’s wrists and gave them a gentle squeeze, trying to draw his attention, but Taehyung kept avoiding his gaze. His fingers opened and closed in small, nervous motions, and his breathing was slightly uneven.
That made Jungkook smile a little.
It was strange to see Taehyung like this, and yet here he was, standing right in front of him, restless and shy. It was almost cute. Not too different from what Jungkook himself was feeling, so he took a moment to think about how to put it into words.
"Listen, I’m not going to say this shouldn’t be scary," he began, his voice calmer now. "Because it is. It really is. But... so what if it is? Since when do we let that stop us?"
Taehyung frowned, but still didn’t lift his head.
"It has nothing to do with it."
"Of course it does," Jungkook cut in. "Think about it. Do you remember the first time you tried... I don’t know, beer or any kind of alcohol?"
"What?" Taehyung blinked, confused by the question.
"The first time you drank beer, you were probably, what... fifteen? Maybe younger? You definitely give off the vibe of someone who started drinking young," Jungkook said with a half-smile. "Knowing you, I can totally imagine you saying you were scared it’d taste disgusting and make you puke. Or maybe you were terrified your parents would find out and disown you for being a drunk. Am I wrong?"
"That’s completely different, but weirdly accurate."
"Why would it be different? You wanted to try it, didn’t you? You were curious." Jungkook tilted his head slightly. "And yeah, you were scared it’d taste like shit and that you’d end up the family disappointment, but you still tried it. And surprise—you liked it. Because now you’re just a cheap alcoholic."
"And what exactly are you trying to say besides insulting me, idiot?"
"That it’s the same thing," he said simply. "We’re scared because it’s new. We’re scared because we don’t know how to handle it. We’re scared because we haven’t talked much about this, because we don’t know what it means. But we like it," Jungkook continued, his voice dropping a little lower now. "And it doesn’t have to mean anything more than that."
There was a long silence. Taehyung seemed to be carefully processing his words, testing them in his mind before deciding whether to accept them. Jungkook let him. He wasn’t in a hurry.
"So... you don’t know what it means either?" Taehyung finally asked after a while, finally daring to meet his eyes. Jungkook let out a small laugh.
"I have no fucking idea."
And there it was—the first smile from Taehyung during the whole conversation.
It wasn’t a big smile, not even close to a full one. Just a small twitch at the corner of his lips, but coming from him, it meant a lot. Enough to make Jungkook feel something loosen in his chest.
"But what I do know," Jungkook murmured, his expression now more relaxed, "is that I want to do it again. I want to enjoy it with you again."
"You really don’t have a filter, do you?" the blond scoffed.
"Why would I need one?" Jungkook smirked.
"I don’t know, maybe to avoid casually saying you want to... you know," he waved his hands vaguely, "do it again."
"Make you come."
"Fuck, Jungkook!"
Jungkook burst into laughter at the way Taehyung covered his face with both hands, muttering curses through his fingers.
But then, once the laughter faded a little, Jungkook leaned closer, lowering his voice.
"If we like it, if we enjoy it, if we want to do it again... what’s wrong with that? We’re not hurting anyone," Jungkook added. "We’re not compromising anything. We’re not signing a contract or changing our lives forever. It’s just... what it is. If something feels good, why should we stop ourselves out of fear?"
"Because..." Taehyung grimaced and looked down. "I don’t know, just... what if it changes something?"
"If it changes something, we’ll deal with it when it happens."
"You have a way of making things sound so simple," Taehyung half-smiled.
"Maybe because they are," Jungkook shrugged.
The older one shot him a glare, but there was no real annoyance in it. And then, after another long silence, he sighed in resignation.
"If you tell anyone what I’m about to do, I swear I’ll kill you, then bury you in a mass grave so they never find your body and you don’t get a decent funeral."
The younger one didn’t even have time to process the threat before Taehyung yanked him forward by the waistband of his pants, pulling him in sharply. The motion made their bodies collide softly, fitting together without effort.
And before Jungkook could open his mouth to toss out another comment that would surely earn him another hit, the blond caught his lips in a kiss.
Taehyung had pulled him in without warning, his fingers gripping tightly at the waistband of Jungkook’s pants as if afraid he might back out at the last second. The black-haired boy didn’t resist—he wouldn’t.
He’d said it clearly: he wanted to repeat it. And despite all the fear and doubts, so did Taehyung. Jungkook felt it in the way he kissed him.
His lips were tense at first, but then they relaxed, softening just enough to let Jungkook’s tongue slide against his. A low sound escaped Taehyung’s throat, and his fingers clenched harder into his clothes.
"You don’t have to pull me like I’m going to run away," Jungkook murmured between kisses, his breath brushing against Taehyung’s lips. "I’m not going anywhere."
Taehyung shoved him against the bedroom door with surprising force and looked him directly in the eyes.
"Shut up."
"Make me."
He hadn’t even finished the challenge when he felt Taehyung’s right hand slide up his chest, gliding boldly over the fabric of his shirt until it reached his neck, where it wrapped around firmly. He didn’t squeeze too hard, but the simple pressure of his grip there made Jungkook let out a heavy breath.
Fuck.
The idea that Taehyung was taking control—when only minutes ago he’d been nervous—sent a rush of adrenaline straight to Jungkook’s abdomen. Or, more precisely, to his cock, which was already beginning to stir.
The blond must have noticed, because he smiled against Jungkook’s jaw before biting it roughly.
"You don’t have to get aggressive just because you’re scared of liking it," Jungkook growled. Taehyung paused for a second to glare at him.
"Do you always talk this much?"
"When I want to provoke you, yeah."
Taehyung’s left hand, still clutching his waistband, slid just a little lower, brushing against the growing bulge there. Jungkook swallowed hard.
The blond could see Jungkook’s dark eyes locked on him, his chest rising and falling with heavier breaths, and his lips slick from their kisses. Taehyung felt a flip in his stomach—not from nerves, but from realizing how much he liked seeing him like this.
He swallowed thickly. He had no idea what the fuck he was doing. He had doubts, fear, and plenty of embarrassment. But he also had desire. And he wanted it badly.
"Taehyung..." Jungkook’s voice came out rough, trying to get him to look at him. The older boy inhaled deeply, trying to convince himself of something. Then he exhaled in defeat.
"Fuck it."
And then, he began to lower himself until he was kneeling in front of him. Jungkook almost fainted right there; he actually had to be thankful he was leaning against the door, with something firm to support him.
Without hesitation, Taehyung unbuttoned his pants and pushed them down to the raven-haired boy’s knees. And there, right in front of him, was the already nearly full erection, only trapped by a boxer that painfully restrained it.
Seeing Taehyung this close to his cock, with wide eyes and color on his cheeks, was all Jungkook needed to fully ignite. He wasn’t some kid—he was a grown, dominant man, and he wasn’t going to let his legs shake or act like some inexperienced virgin just because it was another guy who was about to go down on him.
He grabbed Taehyung’s chin and made him look up. From above, he smirked mischievously before lowering his own boxer completely. The blond stared at the cock just inches from his face with a flicker of nervousness. He knew exactly what the next step was—he’d gotten countless blowjobs himself—but there was a difference between receiving and giving. This was new territory.
"Open that pretty mouth for me, yeah?" Jungkook told him, only to earn a sharp pinch on his thigh from Taehyung."Ouch!"
"Don’t talk to me like that, you piece of shit. I’m not one of your whores," he spat from below.
"Then could you please start the blowjob? Pretty please?"
"Much better," the boy said, glancing back at the cock. "It’s just that… it’s not exactly small."
"About twenty centimeters, last time I measured," Jungkook answered proudly.
"You know what? Let’s switch. Mine’s around eighteen, so let’s start with that. Easier for a warm-up." The boy tried to stand, but Jungkook placed a hand on his shoulder and stopped him. Taehyung gave him a reproachful look, wrinkling his nose. "Fine! I’m a man, I can handle this, I can take it. I started this, I’ll finish it."
With some hesitation, he wrapped his right hand around the base of the younger’s cock and began to stroke it with torturous slowness. First he made sure to cover it with spit so it would slide more easily, licking all along its length from top to bottom, tasting the heat of his skin and its peculiar flavor, which didn’t disgust him nearly as much as he had expected.
He moved the cock side to side in his hand, making sure his saliva reached everywhere, while his other hand clutched at the younger’s thigh for support.
Jungkook let out short, shallow gasps, the blond’s tongue encircling him quickly becoming one of his new favorite things. And when Taehyung began to press wet kisses along his shaft, his sanity went straight down the drain. His right hand darted into the blond’s hair, gripping it shamelessly, forcing him to pull back and tilt his head up.
Taehyung looked up, confused, but Jungkook’s dark, blown-out eyes made him shrink just slightly. The raven-haired boy grabbed his own cock, stroking it lightly before pressing the tip against Taehyung’s lips, rubbing it up and down against them.
He didn’t need words—Taehyung knew exactly what he wanted—but for some reason, the blond wanted him to say it. So he did nothing.
"Open up, Taehyung," the raven-haired boy warned. The blond smirked wickedly but didn’t obey right away. "Don’t make me force you to open."
A shiver shot through his whole body, pooling straight in his cock, which swelled further. Was he really that turned on just by hearing him say it like that—so direct, so commanding?
In the end, he parted his lips with a hint of hesitation.
The raven-haired boy thrust his hips forward slightly, sliding the tip into his mouth. The blond gasped at the intrusion but didn’t complain, alternating between sucking and licking until, little by little, he pushed his head forward to take more of it inside.
When the first discomfort hit—when he had a little less than half inside—he pulled back, leaving just the tip. He repeated the process several times, using his right hand to stroke the rest he couldn’t fit.
Jungkook groaned loudly, growled, cursed incoherently—he genuinely looked like he was seeing stars every time he closed his eyes. He was using every ounce of willpower not to grab Taehyung’s head and start fucking his mouth. He had to be patient, wait, because it was his first time. He knew he needed to be gentle. But oh, fucking hell, it felt too good.
No, he couldn’t resist any longer.
Taehyung gradually adjusted, already taking more than half inside, but it was still slower than Jungkook would’ve liked. So he began thrusting forward whenever Taehyung moved his head, forcing himself deeper.
The blond tightened his grip on the younger’s thigh when Jungkook began to pick up the pace, to the point where Taehyung was still and the raven-haired boy was the one doing all the work. Both of his hands clutched at the boy’s legs as he moaned around his cock, throat aching but giving no sign of stopping.
When he finally looked up, he was met with Jungkook’s gaze. It gave him a perfect view of him swallowing the boy’s entire length, his own eyes watery and pleading. Yes, he was gone. Only a few seconds later, the younger was moaning louder, more frequently, a tingling heat spiraling in his belly.
"F-Fuck, Taehyung," he barely managed to say. The blond felt the warmth surge through him just from hearing his name like that. "Where do you want it? In your mouth or on your face?"
Maybe he asked too late—though Taehyung couldn’t exactly answer anyway—because only seconds later a wave of pleasure consumed him, orgasm ripping through as he moaned loudly, spilling down the elder’s throat. Taehyung’s eyes shot wide, and he tapped at Jungkook’s thighs, forcing him to pull out immediately.
Unfortunately for them both, his release hadn’t ended yet, and the last spurt landed right on the blond’s flushed face. He coughed lightly, gasping for air, trying to catch his breath, now feeling the hot, sticky mess dripping down his cheeks. He honestly didn’t know how to feel about it.
"I’m so sorry! Forgive me, seriously!" Jungkook crouched in front of him, cupping his cheeks, forcing him to look up, his gaze lingering proudly on the fluids running down his face. "No… shit, I’m so fucking sorry."
"You’re not even a little sorry, don’t fake it," Taehyung said with some difficulty.
"Truth is, no, I’m not. I loved it," he chuckled softly. "But I should’ve been gentler."
"I told you I could take it, didn’t I? Stop treating me like I’m fragile." He pushed Jungkook’s hands away, trying to wipe the traces of cum off his own face.
"You’re just making it worse, idiot." Jungkook caught his wrist before he could smear the thick white mess further.
"Then get something and clean me up yourself, asshole. It’s your damn engineers after all, take responsibility."
"Ugh." Jungkook huffed and stood, fixing his pants back into place. He wasn’t about to ruin the whole moment by stumbling like an idiot.
He went to the bathroom, grabbed some tissue, and came back, crouching down to his level again. With delicate care, he took hold of the blond’s chin and began wiping away the mess, being careful not to spread it further. He felt a little intimidated because Taehyung’s sharp, analytical eyes didn’t stop watching him. He tried to ignore it, but it was certainly intimidating.
When he pulled back, he finally saw him fully. Taehyung was handsome… very handsome. He had clearly noticed that before, but… those swollen, slick lips, along with that foxlike gaze, not to mention the undeniable fact that he was genuinely attractive, made him nervous.
Jungkook cleared his throat and shifted his gaze downward, only to notice what looked like an erection straining against the other’s pants, which made him smile.
"Did you get hard from sucking me off?" Jungkook mocked. "Curious, for someone who claimed he wasn’t dying to touch my dick."
"No."
"Of course you did, I can see how your pants are suffocating you." Taehyung tried to cover himself, but it was useless, because Jungkook quickly lifted him from the floor. "Come here."
"Wait!" Taehyung was thrown onto the bed, yelping, but Jungkook couldn’t care less.
And indeed, the blond was very aroused. He liked the view from below, he liked being the reason for his moans and… he liked being treated that way too. He liked his attitude, and the salty taste of semen hadn’t bothered him at all—though he would never admit that, not even with a gun to his damn head.
He felt exposed, completely exposed. It was one thing to have an erection from being stimulated, from having a mouth on his cock, and another thing entirely to be hard without being touched—just because he was sucking another man off. He was going to die of shame.
The younger quickly rid him of his pants and boxers. He struggled a little, sure, but Taehyung really didn’t want him to stop, because it was starting to ache.
Before, he had only thought about locking himself in the bathroom under the excuse of taking a piss and jerking off silently, but seeing the black-haired boy offer himself… well, he could let him do it. He just didn’t want to make it that easy—he wanted to play hard to get.
That had been his plan, until Jungkook started touching him.
Oh, fucking hell.
Taehyung was lying in the middle of his bed, nothing left on below, his sweatshirt removed as well, leaving him only with his shirt half-pushed up and his boxer dangling from one leg. His pants lay crumpled beside him.
Jungkook was at his neck, kissing and biting mercilessly, while his right hand worked over his cock—not too fast, but with enough pressure, paying special attention to the head. The black-haired boy was pressed at his side, and Taehyung felt the heat of his closeness.
The younger had discovered he was sensitive at the neck, so now he used it to his advantage. When he’d heard him moan in the laundry room the day before, it had taken all his willpower to pull away before Jimin arrived. It had been too arousing, and he had to thank his oversized shirt for perfectly hiding his cock, which had been half-hard. He was a filthy bastard.
The elder whimpered at the boy’s touch, writhing a little since he’d been suffering without stimulation for a while. Jungkook’s hand moved up and down, twisting slightly.
"J-Jungkook," the blond practically purred, and Jungkook loved hearing him say his name like that. "Slower, fuck."
"Mhm-mhm," he hummed without lifting his mouth from him, his tone denying, and he even shook his head against the boy’s neck.
That was a problem, because Jungkook was too hooked on his neck, sucking, kissing, nibbling—making him tremble not only from pleasure but also from the fear of being left with a visible mark.
"Don’t leave hickeys," he tried to say in a weak voice.
"Don’t tell me what to do." Jungkook only pulled back a little to murmur that in his ear before resuming his task. Taehyung had no way to argue, he only bit his lip, trying to stifle the obscene sounds spilling from his mouth.
Fucking shit.
Taehyung started moving his hips slightly, meeting Jungkook’s hand. It felt too good. His eyes glazed over, pupils blown wide, while his right hand clutched Jungkook’s arm and the other gripped the sheets in a tight fist.
His skin was already glistening with sweat; he’d definitely need a shower before heading to university.
The sounds of moaning were interrupted by Taehyung’s phone vibrating in the pocket of his pants beside him. He thought about ignoring it, but the insistent buzzing was irritating, so he patted Jungkook’s hand for him to stop—but the younger only slowed down.
Taehyung pulled out the phone to silence it—unless it was his mother, in which case he’d have a problem—and the name "Jiwoo" flashed across the screen. The blond took a moment to focus and process what was written, but Jungkook caught it immediately, frowning.
"You’re still seeing her?" he asked a little harshly as Taehyung hit the power button, silencing the call and then switching it to silent mode. Despite his tone, he spoke between kisses to his neck and jaw.
"Y-Yeah," he barely managed, tossing the phone onto the nightstand. Jungkook’s hand on his cock began moving faster, with more pressure. "Shit, Jungkook!" Taehyung clung to his arm, digging his nails in lightly.
"I don’t want you seeing her anymore," he growled against his skin, getting rougher with his bites, which made Taehyung moan louder.
"W-Why?" His words were barely intelligible.
Jungkook didn’t respond immediately, thinking about what to say, because the order had come out before he could stop himself. He didn’t really have a reason; he just didn’t want him seeing her anymore—but he couldn’t admit that.
"Out of respect for Sana," he said after a moment, though he didn’t sound very convinced.
"We’re not exactly respecting her r-right now—ahh! Mhm!" the blond managed to say, but then Jungkook’s free hand turned his face, forcing him to look.
"If we’re going to do this, I don’t want to worry about that shit. I want exclusivity—you and me, nothing else," he whispered against his lips, kissing him between each word. That sounded like a good excuse. He was grateful Taehyung was too far gone, too clouded to question it.
"Yeah, o-okay, I’ll tell her," he murmured when Jungkook let him breathe. "I’m about to cum, if you dare stop, I-I…"
"I know, I’ll regret it." Jungkook smirked against his lips before tilting his head back to attack his neck again. He wanted to hear him moan as he came.
The climax hit him hard, sending shivers through his body as cum spurted from his cock, landing shamelessly on Jungkook’s hand and across his own stomach. Despite his deep voice, his moan pitched several notes higher, and he writhed under him. The black-haired boy felt too proud to be the one who had made it happen.
He let Taehyung steady himself, pressing soft, innocent kisses to his cheeks and caressing the skin of his abdomen. When he finally seemed calmer, their eyes met and they couldn’t help but laugh.
“We’re such hornballs,” Taehyung said between chuckles.
“Yeah, pretty damn horny,” Jungkook replied as he got up from the bed to grab toilet paper again. Taehyung sighed, still trying to recover, and slid a hand down his own stomach before frowning at how sticky he felt.
Jungkook returned with enough paper and began cleaning him when he sat back down on the bed right next to him. Taehyung tried to take it from him, but the black-haired boy didn’t let him.
“I can do it myself,” he growled, reaching for the paper.
“I’m already doing it,” Jungkook retorted simply. His fingers moved with an unusual gentleness for him, and Taehyung narrowed his eyes, silently enjoying the pampering.
“By the way, sorry for slamming you against the wall yesterday,” Taehyung said. “I panicked, and it was the first thing that came to mind when I had you by the shirt. Did it hurt a lot?”
“No. Well—I mean, yeah, it did hurt in the moment, it was a fucking wall,” Jungkook muttered, not looking away from his task. “But honestly, the pain didn’t last long, so don’t worry, Tae. Actually, I should congratulate you for thinking fast. I would’ve just frozen up.”
Taehyung smiled and nodded. He really had been quick and smart about it, he wouldn’t deny that. But believing he’d hurt Jungkook had him swimming in guilt; at least now he could feel at ease.
“What time is it?” Taehyung asked after a while.
Without stopping his cleaning, Jungkook stretched his arm toward Taehyung’s phone on the nightstand. He tapped the screen and read the time out loud.
“Almost twelve.”
Taehyung’s eyes widened immediately.
“What?”
Before Jungkook could react, he was already on his feet, ignoring the exhaustion, the dull ache in his knees, and the fact that his body was still overly sensitive in more than one place.
“And now what?” Jungkook arched a brow at him.
The boy, already in a state of anxiety, ran a hand through his sweaty hair.
“I have class at two!” he exclaimed, as if it were obvious. “And I need to go to the university to have lunch because I don’t have a single decent thing in this damn house, and now I’m fucking late because I need to shower. I’m all sweaty and sticky! I smell like—”
He cut himself off, his lips pressing into a tight line, and Jungkook didn’t miss the opportunity.
“Smell like what?” he asked with a smug grin. Taehyung shot him a death glare.
“Fuck you,” he spat furiously.
“You smell like sex.”
“Ugh!”
“Relax,” Jungkook said through laughter. “You’ve got time.”
“No! I don’t have time!” he yelled, rushing to search for clean clothes in his closet. His anxiety only spiked when he saw his T-shirts were a complete mess. Shit. Why hadn’t he organized them?
Without wasting another second, he grabbed the first thing he found in his closet and headed to the bathroom in hurried steps. Jungkook watched him with mocking eyes as he nearly slammed the door shut behind him.
Jungkook stayed where he was, a smile still tugging at his lips. He was in a good mood. Damn, he was in an excellent mood. Orgasms always put him in a good mood, but making Taehyung come? That was even better.
He stretched lazily before standing from the bed and glanced around at the mess they’d left behind. His eyes took in Taehyung’s clothes scattered across the floor, the wrinkled sheets, and the toilet paper they’d used to clean themselves.
Shaking his head with a chuckle, he started tidying up.
He fixed the bed without much effort, folded Taehyung’s hoodie, and picked up the paper, making sure the room looked halfway decent. While finishing folding Taehyung’s pants, a furious scream erupted from the bathroom.
“JEON JUNGKOOK, I’M GOING TO KILL YOU, YOU FUCKING IDIOT!”
Jungkook froze.
“What?” he muttered to himself, the pants still in his hands.
“I TOLD YOU NOT TO LEAVE ME WITH FUCKING HICKEYS, YOU SON OF A BITCH! I’M GONNA FUCK YOU UP! I’M GONNA RIP YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF SO YOU NEVER TOUCH ANYONE EVER AGAIN IN YOUR MISERABLE LIFE!”
Oh.
Oh, shit. He hadn’t noticed.
“FUCK YOUR PATHETIC LIFE, JEON! FUCK YOU, YOUR EXISTENCE, YOUR DESCENDANTS, AND EVERYTHING YOU REPRESENT! I LEAVE IN HALF AN HOUR AND I HAVE TO GET LUNCH BEFORE CLASS, GODDAMMIT! HOW THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO GO OUT WITH MY FUCKING NECK COVERED IN MARKS?!”
His gaze slid toward the bathroom door, where he could hear Taehyung cursing with murderous fury while probably inspecting himself in the mirror.
Uh-oh.
Would it be appropriate to run right about now?
Chapter 27: Chapter 26
Chapter Text
"I'm using you to forget my ex." Jiwoo's voice was sweet, calm, even melodic. One could almost say she sounded innocent, but the words that had just come out of her mouth were anything but.
Taehyung blinked a few times, his brain trying to process what he had just heard. Had he understood correctly?
He had expected a lot of things from this conversation. He had even practiced what he was going to say to Jiwoo. He thought there might be a little awkwardness, maybe a pinch of tension. Perhaps even a dramatic reaction, some tears. But this... well, this hadn’t been on the list.
"Right..." was all he managed to say.
Jiwoo took a breath, like she still had a thousand more things to say. And of course, she did.
"I haven’t gotten over him even though he left me completely traumatized, which honestly says more about me than it does about him," she continued, not giving him a chance to reply. Taehyung was about to interrupt, because he certainly didn’t agree with that, but she raised a hand to silence him before he could open his mouth. "I don’t like you."
Ah.
Taehyung narrowed his eyes slightly. Not that he wanted her to be in love with him or anything, but the way she said it—so blunt, so careless—poked at his ego just a little.
"Don’t get me wrong," she rushed to add, leaning over the table with a conciliatory smile, "I like you physically. There’s a reason I circled you like a vulture for weeks until I finally got to fuck you, but it’s only that. I mean..." Jiwoo narrowed her eyes, choosing her words carefully. "I don’t like you. I like your dick."
There was silence. A deep, graveyard silence.
That was, without a doubt, one of the most unexpected sentences he had ever heard in his life.
Even a couple at the table next to them seemed to have overheard, now glancing sideways in their direction.
"Excuse me, what?" Taehyung tilted his head, wondering if his brain had just short-circuited.
"Your dick helps me not think about my ex," she carried on, completely oblivious to the mental breakdown he was having. "You have a good dick." The girl, utterly shameless, even pointed at his crotch. What the fuck were they even talking about now? "I’m not looking to fall in love with you. I won’t fall in love with you. You’re not the person I see myself in a years-long relationship with, getting married and having two kids—a boy and a girl. The girl will be named Yijae, and the boy Chongseok." Jiwoo added this with complete certainty, as if she had already embroidered their names on blankets. Taehyung decided it was best not to comment on that. "I already have my life planned out, and I know you’re not the father," she declared firmly. "You’ll just be the kind of guy I’ll have in a retro-style photograph to look at whenever there’s a sexual problem with my husband. Something to spark nostalgia so I’ll think: ah, those were the good times."
Taehyung was fairly certain he no longer understood a single thing.
"As long as your dick exists, I can erase my ex from my thoughts. But of course, you’re not the only dick out there, so I can easily find another one to keep working on my main goal."
"Jiwoo..." he tried to interrupt.
"So please, tell me you didn’t bring me to a café with that guilty, nervous face to confess that you fell in love with me or any of that. I mean, it’s fine," Jiwoo continued, not letting him speak. "I’ll be empathetic. I won’t make you feel bad because it’s true you can’t choose who you fall in love with, but let me tell you upfront that I won’t reciprocate. There won’t be a ‘we could give it a try’. There won’t be a ‘I can repress my feelings, let’s just keep going as we are until I stop being in love’, because that doesn’t work for me. That’s not how it goes. This is real life. If you keep this kind of contact with someone you like, you’ll just fall harder or get your hopes up. So don’t count on me for that."
"Jiwoo," he huffed, grabbing her wrists and looking at her with a hint of amusement. "I don’t like you."
"Huh?" Jiwoo tilted her head.
"I mean," Taehyung smiled, "yes, physically I think you’re amazing, and your personality genuinely seems incredible, but I don’t like you. I like your tits."
"Taehyung!" Jiwoo instantly blushed, hitting his arm. "You’re such a pervert!"
"Oh, so you can say you like my dick but I can’t say I like your tits?"
"Just keep going!"
Taehyung chuckled under his breath before sighing.
"The point is, I’m not here to confess my love, so we can get married and have kids with terrible names."
"Hey!"
"I’m here because... uh..." He paused, realizing this wasn’t going to be easy to explain without revealing too much. He didn’t plan to tell her the whole truth, because honestly, there was no reason she needed to know. It was an issue between him and Jungkook. "I’m seeing someone casually, and—I mean, this person isn’t comfortable being with someone who has multiple sexual partners."
He almost said “he,” which would’ve been a disaster because it would’ve immediately given away that the person was a man.
"This person asked you for exclusivity?"
"Yes, that."
Jiwoo blinked before shrugging and smiling with innocent ease.
"That’s fine!"
"It’s fine?"
"Yup, it is."
Well, that was easy, but...
His ego had just taken a second hit in under five minutes.
"Judging by your surprised face, I assume you thought I’d throw a fit."
"Pfft, no, what are you talking about?" Taehyung frowned and looked away, trying to sound convincing; but then he looked back at her with suspicion. "But really, is everything okay? Are you sure?"
"I told you I was using you to not think about my ex. I told you you’re not the only guy with a dick who could help me with that, so don’t worry. Everything really is fine." Jiwoo’s smile was far too sweet. She looked at him with such a tender expression that Taehyung actually felt a little guilty for assuming the conversation would be hard. "I don’t usually tell my ex-hookups, or whatever I should call the people I used to fuck for sport, but if you want we can just be normal friends. I like you."
"That actually sounds perfect to me," Taehyung relaxed a bit, and the two shook hands in a gesture of complicity.
"Great. Good luck with your little someone, because if they asked you for exclusivity and you agreed, then there’s nothing casual about it."
"Ugh... it is casual, it’s just for precaution," Taehyung shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
"Yeah, sure, of course," Jiwoo teased, leaning across the table with a sly smile.
"I’m serious."
"Uh-huh."
"I am!"
"Totally," Jiwoo raised a brow, amused. "The whole point of casual is that there’s no exclusivity, but hey, everyone interprets it how they want. By the way, nice hickeys. I thought you had a no-marks policy."
Taehyung looked away, pretending he hadn’t heard.
Because yes, he did have one, and he had warned him, but Jungkook couldn’t care less.
Fuck.
──── ∗ ⋅✧⋅ ∗ ────
It was Friday night, and as usual, Fridays meant only one thing: a gathering of adult men with very serious and elevated interests. In other words, a group of idiots consuming indecent amounts of beer, devouring junk food like they were competing in a caloric intake contest, and watching questionable movies while debating life-changing topics, such as the best way to survive a zombie apocalypse or who in the group was most likely to get married first.
The unanimous answer was Jin, because he was already old and social pressure would eventually catch up with him. Although lately, considering the situation with Joohyun, the answers leaned more toward Namjoon or Hoseok.
He drove toward Hoseok’s building with some song playing in the background he wasn’t paying attention to at all. His thoughts drifted, bouncing between the soccer match he’d watched earlier that afternoon, the meeting he had at the university next week, and the image of Taehyung on his knees in front of him with his mouth…
Jungkook gripped the steering wheel tighter and exhaled sharply, trying to shake off the image.
Don’t think about that, idiot.
The car slid smoothly into a parking space and, after turning off the engine, he stayed there for a few seconds staring ahead before getting out, because he noticed two figures walking toward the elevator. He recognized one of them immediately, which made him rush almost at a sprint to the closed doors, arriving just as Jin pressed the button.
“Look at you, a model citizen arriving early,” Jin said in a mocking tone.
“It’s because I’m responsible, hyung,” Jungkook answered dramatically, pressing a hand against his chest as if he felt deeply honored.
“Yeah, sure. Responsible for being a nuisance to society,” the black-haired one scoffed with mockery.
“And you’re responsible for being a pain in the ass,” Jungkook shot back.
“At least I’m useful for something. Unlike you, who only exists to hog oxygen.”
The black-haired one smiled in resignation. This kind of exchange was their daily bread, but there was something in the way Taehyung looked at him—with frustration on his face, but lips curved into a half-smile that betrayed he was actually entertained.
He glanced down a little and noticed something odd, something that didn’t fit Taehyung at all: a scarf. It was thin and pretty unnecessary, which made Jungkook narrow his eyes, studying the piece of clothing and the neck it was trying to cover. A lopsided grin spread across his face, and he looked away, stifling a laugh.
Coward.
He knew perfectly well what was under that fabric. And, of course, he knew it was his fault.
The elevator doors opened and Jin stepped in first. Taehyung hesitated for a second before following, and Jungkook patiently waited for his beloved pain in the ass to take the first step before joining them.
Jin pressed the button for their floor and, as soon as the doors began closing, Jungkook noticed a slight tug in his field of vision. He looked down and saw Taehyung’s left hand clutching tightly at Jin’s shirt, wrapping around the elder’s arm. The black-haired one watched as Jin covered Taehyung’s hand with his own, rubbing it in a soothing gesture.
“Relax, Tae,” Jin murmured softly. “It’ll only be a few seconds. If we die, at least we’ll die together.”
“Fuck you, hyung,” Taehyung muttered through clenched teeth.
Jungkook smiled, but his attention shifted when he noticed Taehyung’s other hand. It was down, fidgeting nervously, fingers flexing and stretching in a desperate attempt at distraction.
He pursed his lips, staring at his own hand, considering maybe doing something about it. But he hesitated, because first, they weren’t alone, and second, it wasn’t really his place. Then he looked at Taehyung again, and a bothersome feeling rose in his chest. He didn’t like seeing him like that.
He sighed inwardly and, without overthinking it, slid his hand toward Taehyung’s, taking it as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He felt the subtle jolt from the other and, for a moment, thought he’d pull away. But Taehyung only turned his head slightly, looking at him with surprised eyes, while Jungkook kept his gaze stubbornly fixed anywhere else.
The only thing he did was brush his thumb slowly over Taehyung’s skin in a warm, comforting gesture.
That touch wasn’t supposed to mean anything.
Except it did.
It was strange, so fucking strange.
They had done things. Things that, in theory, were much more intimate than holding hands. They had kissed. They had touched. Taehyung had had Jungkook in his mouth—in more than one sense—and had felt him shudder.
But this… this was different.
It was literally the first time they held hands, if you didn’t count that one time Jungkook was drunk and Taehyung had to drag him. This was new. This was something they hadn’t done before.
Holding hands shouldn’t mean anything. Not with everything else that had already happened between them. But it felt different—it felt more intimate than everything else.
And it felt good. It was soft.
He swallowed hard, heat spreading across his neck and ears. He couldn’t react too much, because Jin was right there and hadn’t noticed a thing, but he also couldn’t ignore the strange twist in his stomach.
When the elevator doors opened, they both released each other’s hands in a quick, almost nervous movement, acting as if absolutely nothing had happened. As they walked out, Taehyung couldn’t help but glance sideways at Jungkook, and for the first time in a long while, Jungkook had no idea what the hell that look in his eyes meant.
The youngest of the three was the one to knock first, rapping his knuckles against the wood three times before leaning lazily against the frame. Taehyung and Jin stood just behind him.
The door opened almost immediately, revealing Namjoon on the other side. Upon seeing them, he grinned wide and lifted the bottle in his hand as if in a toast.
“You got here fast,” he said, stepping aside to let them in.
“If by fast you mean at the exact time you told us, then yes, incredibly fast,” Jin replied with irony, walking in first.
“For the two of you, that actually is fast,” Yoongi added from the couch, not even bothering to look up, fully focused on his phone screen.
Jungkook rolled his eyes but stayed quiet, following Jin inside the apartment. Taehyung came in afterward, rubbing his hands to get his circulation back. Hoseok, of course, was in the kitchen pulling beers from the fridge, greeting them with just a wave of his hand.
“Jimin isn’t here yet?” Jin asked as he dropped his keys on the coffee table and flopped down on the couch beside Yoongi.
“He said he had to make a quick stop first, but he should be here in ten minutes,” Yoongi answered without lifting his eyes from the phone.
Taehyung noticed the way his gaze lingered on the screen a bit longer than normal. His hand twitched with an almost imperceptible tic, like he was waiting for a message.
And he didn’t need to be a genius to realize that message was probably from Jimin. He didn’t have proof, but he had the damn certainty that Yoongi and Jimin had kept seeing each other after what happened at the cabin.
Of course they had.
It wasn’t something that surprised him, if he was honest. After all, Jimin had told him how much he had enjoyed that night at the cabin. But somehow, seeing it now with his own eyes left him with a strange sensation in his chest—the fact that Jimin hadn’t told him anything. And considering how close they were, that only meant Jimin didn’t want him to know.
And that hurt a little. And not like he had the right anyway, because no matter how hard he tried to justify himself, a part of him couldn’t help but think about the fact that he hadn’t told Jimin anything about Jungkook either.
Almost instinctively, his gaze slid toward him. He was standing by the table, taking off his jacket, revealing a short-sleeved black t-shirt that clung to his arms and torso in an almost insulting way. He rubbed his neck with one hand, easing the muscle tension after driving, and Taehyung felt a stab of heat in his stomach that he rushed to ignore.
In an automatic reflex, he brought his hands to his own jacket, unbuttoning it to take it off. The apartment was warm thanks to the heating, and in theory, he should’ve been comfortable in just a t-shirt. But when he felt the cooler air on his neck and remembered what he was trying to hide, he lingered in indecision for a second before choosing to leave the scarf on. Yet the moment he caught his reflection in one of the windows, he frowned.
Shit.
He looked like a damn hipster from 2010.
Clicking his tongue in frustration with himself, he put his jacket back on without thinking too much, deciding he’d rather die of heat than look like some idiot stuck in a fashion phase everyone wanted to forget.
When he looked up again, he found Jungkook right in front of him, offering him a beer without a word. He gave him a strange look.
“What?” he asked, not taking it yet. Jungkook raised a brow.
“A beer. Or do you have trouble recognizing them now?”
“You’re a fucking asshole,” Taehyung spat, narrowing his eyes as he snatched the bottle from his hand.
“You’re weird.”
“Fuck off,” he scoffed, popping the cap off with a practiced flick before bringing it to his lips. Jungkook chuckled softly and took a sip of his own beer.
Taehyung shouldn’t have been staring.
There was absolutely no fucking reason why watching someone drink should be striking or attractive, but his eyes got stuck on the way Jungkook’s throat moved when he swallowed and the subtle swipe of his tongue over his lips when he lowered the bottle.
He looked away abruptly, as if he’d just witnessed something he wasn’t supposed to.
Fuck.
He felt hot, and it had nothing to do with the heating.
Fucking Jungkook and his damn habit of attacking him where he was weakest. Because now his mind was racing at a thousand miles per hour, imagining things, remembering others. And that was exactly the last thing he should’ve been doing while surrounded by his friends.
Ever since what had happened between them—specifically since he had gone down on him, for the love of all that was holy, he had sucked Jungkook’s cock, what the fuck, he still couldn’t believe he’d actually done it—he hadn’t been able to stop wondering how far the other wanted to go.
Because Jungkook had made it pretty clear in that prior conversation that he didn’t want to stop. And Taehyung had also said, more or less clearly, that he didn’t want to either. And that thought shouldn’t have been making his face feel so hot.
The problem was that, since that day, he’d been stuck with the same damn question: did he really want more, or had it just been the heat of the moment?
So, like a complete lunatic, the moment he got home after classes, he turned on his computer, opened the browser, and recklessly risked getting a virus by spending an hour or more watching gay porn.
And in conclusion, he felt dirty.
Not because it was wrong—because it wasn’t—but because he had never in his life watched guys with other guys. Since he was seventeen he hadn’t even watched porn at all; he’d stopped because, honestly, once his sex life actually started, he simply didn’t need it anymore.
So, in a way, he felt like a teenager again. Like he was being dragged back to that awkward stage where hormonal awakening made him do things he didn’t fully understand.
And the worst part was… he didn’t dislike it.
He felt curious, but he didn’t know about what. It wasn’t like he was going to admit it out loud, but there was something about certain videos that caught his attention. Something that, while at first made him frown in confusion, later left him questioning things.
Because when he was younger and watched porn, he usually focused on the girls. Girls touching themselves, basic stuff. He didn’t even pay much attention to the men. But while watching those videos, he unlocked a memory he had buried deep in some dark corner of his subconscious: back when he watched straight porn, there had been times he focused on the guy’s cock, on how it pushed in and out of the girl, on how she reacted to it. And at some point, he had wondered how it would feel to be the girl and experience that.
Was that a sign of something? Had his whole existence been a lie?
He shook his head violently, feeling like an absolute fucking idiot. He couldn’t be thinking about porn here. He snapped back to the present abruptly, forcing his focus on his friends’ conversation before anyone noticed he was off in another universe.
Namjoon had a satisfied smile on his face, and Jin looked like he wanted to eat him alive. Not in a sexual way—he literally looked like he wanted to pounce and snap his neck.
“…So, Namjoon is now officially a one-woman man,” Hoseok was saying with a mocking smile as he nudged Namjoon, who rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at his lips.
“I don’t see why you all say it like it’s something surprising,” Namjoon replied, crossing his arms. “I like Jihyo, she likes me, we’re good together. Where’s the surprise?”
“It’s not surprise, it’s more like pride,” Yoongi cut in with his raspy, calm voice, sipping from his glass. “You’ve taken the first step toward becoming a responsible adult.”
“Someone here should take that as a role model,” Jungkook said, trying to sound casual but letting his eyes land specifically on Jin. “Oh, hi, hyung, do you have anything to say?”
“No.” Jin crossed his arms in an almost childish gesture. “I don’t know why you’re pointing at me, you fool.”
“Oh, shut up, hyung,” Yoongi scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You’ve been stuck in a damn limbo with Joohyun for weeks.”
“But it’s complicated!”
“It’s not complicated, you’re just stubborn,” Hoseok cut in, shaking his head. “You overthink everything and make up excuses to avoid making a move.”
“It’s not an excuse, it’s common sense,” Jin huffed indignantly.
“No, hyung, it’s fear of rejection.”
“It’s not fear of rejection! It’s just that… okay, what if we hook up and then screw it all up and everything gets awkward? What if she doesn’t actually want something serious and is just messing around, and then I end up looking like the pathetic fool?”
“And what if she does want something serious and is just waiting for you to take the first step?” Yoongi countered with exasperation.
"What if a meteorite falls and we all die before you even get the chance to kiss her?" Jungkook added mockingly.
Taehyung couldn’t help but burst out laughing at that, and Jin shot him a deadly glare.
"You're a child, you don’t know anything about relationships."
"Well, I don’t need to be a damn expert to know you’re being ridiculously indecisive," Jungkook shot back. "Besides, guess what? This kid has had more girlfriends than you. That makes me more of an expert."
"Just admit you’re scared, hyung," Namjoon cut in, far more relaxed now about the situation. "There’s nothing wrong with that."
"I’m just... thinking it through, alright?" the oldest in the room sighed.
"That’s exactly the problem," Yoongi repeated. "You think too much."
"I don’t overthink, I’m just evaluating the possible situations and scenarios where it could go wrong."
"That is literally what overthinking means."
"What if she freaks out? What if she says no?"
"And what if she says yes?" Hoseok countered.
"It’s not that simple," Jin insisted for the fifth time, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I can’t just send her a text and say 'hey, do you want to go out with me?' That’s tacky!"
"Since when is asking someone out tacky?" Yoongi huffed, arms crossed.
"It is if you do it out of nowhere," Jin insisted. "And what if she doesn’t want to? What if she rejects me?"
"Oh, for fuck’s sake!" Hoseok exclaimed, leaning back on the couch, clearly at the edge of his patience. "Jin-hyung, brother, it’s the goddamn 2025. If she rejects you, you move on with your life."
"But—"
"Alright, I’ve had enough," Taehyung cut him off, raising his voice. "Namjoon-hyung, Jungkook, grab this idiot."
"What?" Jin exclaimed, immediately pulling back in his chair, clearly alarmed.
"What?" Namjoon repeated, just as confused.
What no one expected was for Jungkook, without questioning a single thing, to get up instantly, move behind Jin, and grab his arms firmly.
Jin let out a scream and started thrashing like his life depended on it—because, really, it did.
"Jungkook, let me go, you bastard!"
"Sorry, hyung," Jungkook said with a half-amused smile, but didn’t loosen his grip one bit. Namjoon, even more baffled, looked at Jungkook as if he’d just grown a second head.
"Why did you obey so fast?"
"I don’t know, it sounded convincing," Jungkook shrugged.
"Don’t listen to him!" Jin shrieked, struggling harder. "I don’t know what he’s planning, but it can’t be anything good!"
"Namjoon-hyung, are you gonna help, or would you rather keep asking stupid questions?" Taehyung pushed impatiently.
Namjoon pursed his lips, hesitated for a second, then shrugged and joined in. He walked around the table, crouched down, and with all the calm in the world, grabbed Jin’s legs, lifting them in the air as if they were broomsticks. Jin was now completely immobilized.
"This is kidnapping! This is abuse of trust!"
"No, this is a favor, and you’ll thank me later," Taehyung said, approaching him now that he was defenseless, and began patting down his pockets shamelessly.
"What the fuck are you doing?! This is assault! You can’t just put your hands on me like that, you creep!"
"Shut up, or I’ll have Jungkook carry you upside down until you puke."
Jin froze, his mouth falling open, clearly offended by the threat.
"You’re a fucking lunatic."
"God, Jin-hyung, what did you do to deserve this?" Yoongi mocked with pure amusement in his voice.
"Exist, apparently!" Jin shouted, kicking his legs uselessly in the air, though Namjoon’s grip was firm. In his back pocket, Taehyung felt a rectangle and, without a hint of shame, reached in and pulled it out, making the oldest shriek. "Give it back, you bastard!"
"Unlock it first."
"I’m not doing that."
"Hyung, sweetheart, we know you have face unlock," Taehyung waved the device in front of him.
"And I’m not looking at the screen!"
"You wanna do this the easy way or the hard way?"
"I’m not doing it, asshole!"
"The hard way, then."
Before Jin could even realize, Taehyung grabbed his jaw and forced his face toward the phone screen. Jin tried to thrash with everything he had, shaking his head like a maniac, but between Jungkook and Namjoon’s grip, he had no real options.
"Just hold still for one damn second," Taehyung muttered, shoving the phone closer to his face and, the moment the camera recognized him, the screen unlocked with a satisfying little chime.
"You’re all fucking traitors, I hate every single one of you!" Jin bellowed, throwing more useless kicks. Yoongi and Hoseok doubled over laughing.
"This is the best thing that’s happened all week," Hoseok said, wiping away a tear.
"My god, this is pure gold," Yoongi wheezed.
"I swear I’m gonna piss myself from laughing so hard," Hoseok gasped, clutching his stomach.
Ignoring Jin’s screams, Taehyung went straight into Joohyun’s chat. Jin panicked the second he saw him typing.
"No! Don’t do it, don’t be an asshole, Taehyung, I swear I’ll kill you!"
Taehyung smirked wickedly, reading out loud as he typed:
"'Hey, gorgeous. I’ve been thinking about you a lot. Tomorrow I want to take you on a date, not something casual. Just you and me, something romantic and really special. I want you to dress pretty because I swear I’m going to impress you. What do you say?'"
"You son of a bitch!" Jin screamed desperately. "Delete that right now! Don’t send it!"
"Oops, already did," Taehyung said with fake innocence.
"You’re the fucking devil!" Jin howled like he’d just been shot. Jungkook burst into laughter, and Namjoon only shook his head.
"Well, too late now."
But then, his phone vibrated with a notification.
Silence fell over the table for a few seconds as everyone stared at Taehyung, who opened the message, read it silently, and then grinned.
"Congratulations, Jin-hyung," he said with satisfaction. "I just got you a girlfriend."
"What?!"
"Let him go."
Namjoon and Jungkook immediately released him, and Jin almost fell face-first to the floor from the sudden freedom. He bolted across the room, grabbed his phone, and rushed to read the reply out loud.
"‘Finally, Seokjin. I thought you were going to keep pretending forever. I’d love to go out with you tomorrow, I've been waiting for this invitation for a while now. Don’t make me wait any longer.’" As he read, his voice slowly calmed, then he lifted his gaze with a small smile tugging at his lips. The room erupted in cheers.
"Taehyung just saved you like twenty chapters of filler!" Yoongi teased, patting his back. Taehyung crossed his arms, satisfied.
"You’re welcome, idiot."
"I hate you all," Jin groaned in resignation, throwing his head back.
The sound of the doorbell echoed through the apartment, interrupting the laughter and teasing that still lingered in the air after Jin’s ordeal.
Hoseok, who was closest to the door, stood up and walked toward it, still trying to recover from the stomach and cheek pain caused by laughing so much.
"I’ll get it, I’ll get it. Don’t anyone else bother, wouldn’t want you to get tired," he said dramatically, rolling his eyes.
He opened the door and barely had time to react before Jimin almost tripped over his own foot trying to walk in with his hands full of pizza boxes.
"Ah! Sorry, hyung! I stopped to grab food for everyone, ugh… it’s heavy."
Yoongi shot up in a split second, like a spring snapping open so fast that even Hoseok glanced sideways with an amused little grin, though he didn’t say anything. Taehyung frowned in curiosity at the speed with which he rushed toward Jimin, leaning in to take some of the boxes off his hands and setting them down on the dining table.
"Are you okay?" he asked, trying to sound casual, but Taehyung caught the genuine concern in his tone. Jimin huffed, relieved that someone was finally taking part of the load.
"I’m fine, thanks, hyung," he replied, shaking his arms a little to ease the tension once all the boxes were safe, then started to take off his jacket. "Almost broke my back in the elevator, but whatever."
The eldest accepted his jacket without hesitation and hung it up on the rack. Taehyung narrowed his eyes. His body language was saying things—like the way his gaze lingered on Jimin just a little longer than necessary, and how he knew exactly what to do without being asked.
Interesting.
They were definitely seeing each other. That was his proof. But before he could analyze further, Jimin turned his head in his direction and his expression shifted.
"Why the hell are you still wearing a jacket and a scarf?" he asked, frowning. "It’s boiling in here."
"I don’t have to take it off," he answered too quickly, too defensively. Jimin twisted his lips into a mischievous smile at his evasive attitude.
"Why not?"
"Because… because I’m cold."
"Liar, I can see you sweating," Jin chimed in, stepping closer with a smile that Taehyung immediately recognized as someone smelling blood.
Shit. Now everyone was looking at him.
"Why don’t you take it off, Taehyung?" Hoseok sing-songed, joining the group with the same playful expression.
"It’s none of your damn business," he shot back, starting to retreat with tension stiffening his shoulders.
The problem was… they could smell his fear.
Jimin tilted his head slightly and, with just a small raise of his eyebrows, the three of them lunged at him.
"No, you bastards! Stay away!"
Taehyung spun on his heel and bolted.
But there weren’t that many places to run in the apartment.
He rounded the couch, jumped over the coffee table, almost knocked Namjoon over—who was doubled up laughing in his seat—and nearly crashed into the wall before Hoseok cornered him from the other side.
"Come on, don’t fight it, we just want to help you feel cooler!" Jimin teased, advancing with measured steps.
He tried to dodge, but Hoseok was faster, grabbing his arm and dragging him toward the center of the room with Jin’s help, who was laughing wickedly. Together they pulled him down to the floor.
"Leave me the hell alone, you sick fucks!"
He ended up on the ground, thrashing with all his strength, but Hoseok had already dug his fingers into his sides and began tickling him mercilessly.
Jungkook didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t laughing—he was panicking. If he defended him, it could be way too obvious, but if he didn’t, Taehyung might get mad. What was worse? Being possibly exposed, or dealing with the blond furious and spitting fire at him? Honestly, it was a tough decision.
"Stop, stop, you sons of—!" Tears were already streaming down his face when he felt hands tugging at his jacket. "No, no, no, no!"
But there was no escape, and Jungkook hadn’t even finished deciding what to do when, between laughter and struggling, they yanked off his jacket. Then, with more effort, they started pulling at his scarf. Taehyung clung to it with every ounce of desperation, but it was three against one. With one final tug, the fabric slid off his neck.
The silence was instant.
Every gaze locked on him. Or more specifically, on his neck.
The hickeys—reddish and purple—decorated his skin from collarbone to jawline, an unmistakable trail that left zero doubt about their origin.
He hadn’t used makeup, of course—he didn’t have any! He wasn’t a girl! And he had no idea how to use it anyway. He had looked up tutorials, but they may as well have been in Chinese; he didn’t understand a damn thing. The scarf had been working—nobody messed with him—but his friends were pests.
"Oh, shit!" Jin exclaimed, bursting into explosive laughter. "What the hell is this?"
"Taehyung, what the fuck!" Hoseok mocked, covering his mouth with one hand. "Looks like you got attacked."
"This is amazing," Yoongi muttered, recording with his phone without the slightest shame.
Taehyung felt the heat rise all the way to his ears and shot to his feet. He raised a hand to his neck in a pathetic attempt to cover up, but it was already too late.
Jungkook, still frozen in his spot, felt his blood turn cold and boil at the same time.
"Holy shit, Kim Taehyung!" Namjoon exclaimed, hand over his mouth as he tried to catch his breath. "What the fuck happened to you?"
"I can’t believe this," Jimin nearly doubled over laughing. "Did a damn vampire get you or what? Jiwoo was pretty aggressive, huh?" he added with malice, elbowing him playfully in the ribs while watching him with that fiery gleam in his eyes.
Taehyung opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. There it was. The excuse. The easy way out. The alternative that would keep everyone from discovering that the person who had branded him like property was sitting right across the room, looking like he wanted to disappear.
Yeah. He’d let them think it was Jiwoo.
"Did you fuck her or fight her?" Jin asked mockingly, which only sent another wave of laughter crashing through the room.
"Didn’t know you were into that kind of kink, Tae," Namjoon teased, folding his arms with a grin plastered across his face. "And look at you, all about aesthetics and good taste, and now you’re walking around marked up like some teenager in his first relationship."
"It's okay to be the submissive one every once in a while, right?" Yoongi added lazily, and Taehyung felt a chill run down his spine.
That line in particular made him clench his teeth. It wasn’t that he cared about the joke—he was usually the first to roast someone without mercy when they were the center of attention—but this time… this time was different. The context was different.
"So what?! I didn’t..! I mean, I didn’t even..!" Taehyung’s sentence died off when Hoseok, merciless as ever, slung an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close with a grin of pure amusement.
"Alright, alright, let’s give our boy a break. Let’s raise a toast to the amazing fuck Taehyung must’ve had to throw out his no-mark rule," he declared, lifting his bottle with a wide smile. "I mean, this is the first time we’ve seen him like this. Jiwoo must have you real happy, man."
The laughter erupted again, and Taehyung couldn’t help but let out an incredulous chuckle, shaking his head.
"You’re all fucking idiots!"
Hoseok patted his back.
"Come on, confess. Was it really that good for you to ditch your precious rule?"
Taehyung just avoided everyone’s eyes; he wasn’t going to answer that. Jungkook glanced around and cleared his throat.
"Alright, that’s enough, leave him alone," he finally said, trying to sound casual. Nobody really paid attention to him, but Taehyung did—and gave him a small smile.
──── ∗ ⋅✧⋅ ∗ ────
The night air was colder than he expected.
Taehyung curled up slightly on the outdoor sofa, cursing himself for forgetting his jacket inside. He could get up and go back into the living room to grab it, sure, but he was already settled out here, and the thought of sliding the door open again only to face the chaos of his drunk friends felt exhausting.
Besides, he wasn’t ready to go back just yet.
Out on Hoseok’s balcony, with the door shut behind him, he could pretend he was alone in the world for a while. No shrill laughter, no excited shouting, no damn off-key singing from Jin as he tried to convince Namjoon to join him in a celebratory duet over their respective dates and relationships. Just the quiet of the night and the faint hum of cars in the distance.
So he stayed there, sunk into the least visible corner of the balcony, hugging himself to keep whatever little warmth he had left. He exhaled heavily and let his head fall back against the sofa. His phone was still in his hand, the screen black, but his grip was tense. He could still feel his mother’s voice bleeding through the speaker, her words carved into his skin—cold and cutting.
It was always the same. Every time she called, it was always the same.
She would start with that demanding tone, asking why he never called her, why every time he bothered to pick up he was 'wasting his time' with friends instead of doing something worthwhile. Then came the disappointed sighs, followed by the litany of reproaches he knew by heart.
That he should be maturing faster.
That he had to accept his responsibility.
That he wasn’t a child anymore.
That there was a company waiting for him, a legacy to uphold, a position he needed to take as soon as he was capable—because that was his duty as a son.
Taehyung clenched his jaw, a knot forming in his stomach. It was always like this. It had been like this for as long as he could remember. Sure, his mother had always been strict, but when his father was alive, there had been some sort of balance. His father had high expectations too, but he also had patience. He knew how to talk to him, how to persuade without crushing him.
But ever since his father died, everything had gone downhill.
Five years. Five years since that damn accident took away the only person who defended him in that house. And ever since, nothing had been enough. Not his perfect grades, not his effort to stay within the limits of what she considered acceptable, not his insistence that what he did had value.
At first, he had managed to trick her. What he really wanted to study was Performing Arts, but obviously that was impossible, so he chose something similar and tried to argue it the best he could. He had to convince her that Audiovisual Creation wasn’t a dead-end degree but a tool. 'Someone has to handle the company’s image—marketing, advertising, design'. He had said it with such confidence that even his uncle—the man temporarily running his father’s architecture firm—had agreed with him.
But his mother had never been truly convinced. And after his father’s death, when suddenly Taehyung went from being 'the only son' to 'the man of the family', the whole façade collapsed. What she really wanted was for him to drop all that artistic crap and focus on what mattered: becoming the heir to the business.
She wanted him to study something more serious. To stop playing with movies and take the reins of his destiny like the man he was supposed to be. Because in the future she envisioned for him, there were no cameras, no scripts, none of that artistic nonsense. The future she saw was filled with contracts, corporate meetings, architecture, and a damn office desk that Taehyung refused to accept as his fate.
But how long could he keep resisting?
The sound of the balcony door sliding open yanked him violently out of his thoughts, making him flinch as a rush of warm air slipped in from inside.
Taehyung didn’t even bother turning his head. His instincts told him it could only be one person. And he was proven right when a bundle of dark fabric landed squarely on his face, covering his head entirely.
"Are you a fucking idiot or what?" Jungkook snapped, arms crossed and clear annoyance on his face. Taehyung yanked the garment off with a rough motion, immediately recognizing the familiar scent of his own jacket before he even looked at it. When he finally lifted his gaze, Jungkook was standing in front of him, jaw tight and eyes narrowed, looking at him like he was seriously considering giving him a lecture. "It’s freezing as fuck out here and you’re sitting like it’s nothing," Jungkook continued, jerking his chin at him. "Are you stupid?"
"You’re the stupid one," Taehyung shot back with a grimace. "Why did you even come looking for me? Worried about me or something? I didn’t ask you to bring it."
"Of course not, because you don’t think. You’re welcome, by the way."
Jungkook rolled his eyes and dropped onto the sofa beside him. The couch was big enough for both of them, but he still sat close enough that their knees brushed now and then.
"Put it on," he said again, nodding toward the jacket now resting in the blond’s lap. "Don’t make me do it for you."
"You’re so bossy, I swear."
Still, despite sounding annoyed, Taehyung slipped the jacket on—because he really was freezing.
"What are you doing out here alone?" Jungkook asked after a moment, his voice a little less irritated than before. Taehyung sighed, shifting against the back of the sofa, slipping his phone into his pocket as he started fiddling with his rings.
"I was answering a call."
"From who?" Jungkook arched a brow and turned his head, looking at him with more interest.
Taehyung smirked at the tone in his voice and, being the asshole he was, decided to tease.
"Jiwoo."
Jungkook’s expression soured almost instantly. Taehyung had to bite back his laughter when he saw the way his jaw tightened and his tongue pressed against his cheek, like he was chewing on his own anger.
"And what did she want?" Jungkook asked, his tone sharper than usual, eyes dropping to his hands as he fidgeted with his fingers.
"She said she missed me."
The dark-haired man went quiet for a few seconds before muttering a simple, "I see."
The blond let out a low chuckle, noticing how Jungkook kept his gaze fixed on his fingers, clearly pissed. Without thinking twice, he lifted a hand and smacked him on the shoulder, hard enough to make him stumble slightly.
"Hey!" Jungkook complained, turning toward him with a frown. "What the hell was that for?"
"Because you're an idiot." Jungkook’s frown deepened, but before he could snap back again, Taehyung let out a laugh and shook his head. "It wasn’t Jiwoo," he finally confessed. "It was my mother."
"And why the hell did you say it was Jiwoo?"
"I just wanted to fuck with you for a bit." Taehyung shrugged indifferently. Jungkook scoffed and rolled his eyes, but before he could throw another comment, something seemed to click in his head.
"So, what did your mom say?"
"Nothing new," Taehyung replied in a quieter voice, tipping his head back to stare at the sky. "Same as always." Jungkook didn’t push further, and Taehyung silently thanked him for that. He had no energy to repeat the same old monologue or relive every sharp word his mother had thrown at him during that call. "Ah, but since we’re talking about Jiwoo..." he added after a pause, clearly wanting to change the subject. "I already spoke with her."
"About what?" Jungkook blinked, turning his head with interest.
"About what you said," Taehyung replied plainly. "About not fucking her anymore."
Jungkook’s eyes widened, his mouth parting slightly in surprise.
"Seriously?"
"No, I’m making it up," Taehyung shot back sarcastically. "Of course seriously, idiot."
"And how did she take it?"
"Surprisingly well," Taehyung chuckled softly at the memory. "She thought I was about to confess to her and went off on a damn speech about how she doesn’t like me, she likes my dick, and that she was only using me to get over her ex. So she was hoping I didn’t ask her out just to say I loved her."
"She actually said that?" the black-haired boy asked between laughs.
"Word for word," Taehyung nodded. "Direct hit to my masculinity, my ego, and my pride, but yeah—it was easy."
Jungkook kept laughing, and Taehyung glanced at him sideways, feeling a strange tug in his chest seeing him so at ease.
"Wow, Taehyung," Jungkook teased, shaking his head in amusement. "Didn’t know you’d been just an emotional dildo."
"Shut up," Taehyung smacked his shoulder again.
When the black-haired boy’s laughter finally died down, he looked at him intently, as if trying to read him. Taehyung held his smile and tilted his head, waiting to see what was spinning around in Jungkook’s mind.
"Why did you do it?" Jungkook asked at last, his voice more serious this time.
The blonde raised a brow, taking a couple of seconds to sort through his tangled thoughts before answering.
"First, because you asked me to, and I’m a man of my word," he said lightly. Jungkook gave a small nod, eyes never leaving him. "Second," Taehyung continued, "because I think it’s the right thing to do. STDs are real, it’s not just some nonsense. It’s something to be careful about, and yeah, you were right about that."
Jungkook let out a short exhale, like he hadn’t expected Taehyung to actually take his argument seriously, but was satisfied that he had.
"And third?" he pressed, not letting him off so easily.
Taehyung paused, debating whether to say it or not, but in the end decided it didn’t matter.
"Because I hope you’ll do the same. That you won’t see Soojin."
"We only fucked once!" Jungkook defended himself, though far from offended, he looked almost relieved, a small smile tugging at his lips. "You and Jiwoo did it like twenty times."
"Doesn’t matter," Taehyung said with a shrug. "I still hope you don’t call her."
"I won’t," Jungkook replied with a soft sigh. "Soojin’s out of my life already."
"I hope so," Taehyung muttered, giving him one last intense look before turning away.
Silence fell between them again.
The wind drifted through, ruffling a few strands of hair across Jungkook’s forehead. Taehyung watched him, tracing every detail of his face, every unconscious gesture—the big Bambi-like eyes that contrasted with the rest of his body, the soft curve of his nose.
Without thinking too much about it, he reached a hand up to Jungkook’s ear and brushed it lightly with his fingertips, grazing warm skin. Jungkook tensed, but he didn’t move away.
"What are you doing?" he asked quietly, unmoving.
"I don’t know," Taehyung answered, his tone casual. "I just felt like it."
"Oh..." Jungkook cleared his throat immediately. Taehyung didn’t miss the faint flush coloring his cheeks or the way his fingers gripped the hem of his jacket tighter. Jungkook seemed to scramble for something else to say, eager to redirect. "Hey, speaking of... well, not that, but since we’re on the subject, I wanted to ask you something."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, I mean... it’s not really important. Or maybe it is. I don’t know. But, uh..." Jungkook sighed, leaning forward a little, resting his elbows on his knees. "I like what we have, you know? This. It’s... fun. It’s comfortable."
"Mm-hm." Taehyung tilted his head, listening carefully.
"And..." Jungkook cleared his throat again—he was nervous, it showed. "I don’t know, it wouldn’t be so bad to try other things."
"What do you mean?" Taehyung narrowed his eyes, and Jungkook started speaking faster.
"I’m just saying, like, we’ve been doing stuff, right? And it’s good, I like it. But what if... I don’t know, we tried more? Like... the whole thing."
"The whole thing?" Taehyung looked at him with amusement. Jungkook nodded quickly.
"Yeah, I mean, I’m not saying it has to be now or anything, or that it has to be some big deal, or that it has to mean more than what it already is. Because I know we’re not at that point or whatever, I’m just saying if at some point we wanted to, I don’t see why not. Because it’s normal, right? People do it, and we’re already doing stuff, so technically it’d just be one more step. But I’m not saying we have to if you don’t want to, because if you don’t, that’s fine, you know? I don’t want to pressure you or anything, it doesn’t have to happen, it’s just a possibility, and if you’re not into it, we can just keep going like we have been, that’s good too, but if at some point you’re curious, then... well, the option’s there..."
Taehyung blinked, dumbfounded. He was about to cut him off, but Jungkook just kept rambling, not even looking at him, stuttering and flailing his hands around.
"...I mean, it’s not like I’m in a rush or anything. It’s not like I need it. Well, yeah, I do need it, but not specifically with you. I mean, yes, specifically with you, but not in an urgent way or anything. It’s just that, you know, I’m curious. But if you’re not curious, then that’s fine. But if you are curious, then maybe we could think about it. Not now. Some other time. Or never. But I’m just saying..."
"Shut up, idiot," Taehyung finally cut in, laughing as he shoved his shoulder.
Jungkook huffed and finally turned to look at him. "See? This is why I don’t talk about this stuff, you always end up insulting me."
"You talk too much when you’re nervous."
"I wasn’t nervous!" he said in, ironically, a very nervous voice. Taehyung only stared at him with an obviously disbelieving look. "Stop looking at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like... like that."
"You’re talking nonsense, you look like a damn nervous wet parrot."
"I was just explaining," Jungkook muttered with a frown, crossing his arms.
"No, you were babbling like a fucking lunatic."
Jungkook clicked his tongue and looked away, but the blond caught the faint blush blooming on his cheeks again.
He smiled.
How adorable this idiot was.
Now, he needed to answer that kid. First of all, Taehyung hadn’t made the decision lightly. It wasn’t like he had woken up one morning with the epiphany that he wanted to fuck Jungkook—well, partly yes, but it hadn’t been that simple.
He’d had to go through a real mental hurricane before even considering the possibility. First came the existential crisis after giving him a blowjob. Because, sure, he had gotten really turned on in the moment, with the heat of the situation, the act itself, and Jungkook’s moans making him feel insanely powerful, but once he was alone in bed and his brain had time to think, the brutal reality hit him.
What the fuck did I just do?
So he thought about it. He thought about it a lot. He thought about it while he showered, while he got dressed, while he tried to sleep and failed miserably. He thought about it while searching for information online, only to regret it because holy shit, there were things he definitely didn’t need to see at this point in his life. He thought about it while watching porn, because, well, porn was educational material at that point, right? And by the time he finally managed to fall asleep, he had already made a decision.
“Yes.”
“Yes? A yes-yes or a not-so-yes?”
“Yes,” Taehyung repeated, this time with more conviction. “I thought about it after an existential crisis at three in the morning, after sucking your dick, watching a ton of porn, and doing some research—I want to try something more.”
Jungkook went silent for a long second. A very long one. So long that Taehyung started to get nervous.
“Do you have any fucking idea how much you just crammed into a single sentence?”
“Do you want me to repeat it?”
“Actually, yeah.”
“Well, too bad. You missed it.”
They stared at each other, both of them clearly thinking the same thing, because in the very next second, they opened their mouths at the same time and said, perfectly synchronized:
“I’ll be the top.”
They froze. They stared at each other with the most dumbfounded expressions they had ever seen in their lives. As if the other had just said the single stupidest thing ever uttered in the history of humanity. Taehyung was the first to react.
“I’ll go on top.”
“No, no,” Jungkook shook his head quickly. “I’ll go on top.”
“Not in a million years.” The blond crossed his arms. “Jungkook, there is no possible way you’re putting anything in my ass.”
“Then we’ll make a way because I’m not bottoming for you.”
And there it was. The problem. Ever since the possibility of going beyond the “hand or mouth stuff” had become real, apparently neither of them had thought about who would make the great sacrifice. Neither was particularly thrilled about being on the bottom, but clearly, one of them had to give in.
“That’s not happening. You’re not fucking me from behind,” Taehyung insisted firmly.
“Funny words coming from someone who wore a Deadpool costume last year. Do you want me to remind you that guy fucked everything? Or more like, everything fucked him.”
“And what the fuck does that have to do with anything?” Taehyung stared at him, incredulous. “Deadpool also regenerated his body and was immortal. I can’t do that, so I don’t necessarily have to share his characteristics just because I wore his costume.”
“I’m just saying the energy was already there.” Jungkook shrugged, flashing a cocky little grin. “Convenient that you ignore some details and only keep the ones you like.”
But something clicked in Taehyung’s mind. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
“Wait a second… did you stalk me or what? Because those pictures are way down on my Instagram.”
Jungkook blinked rapidly.
“…No, of course I didn’t.”
“Shit, you totally did,” he mocked.
“Let’s not change the subject!” the black-haired boy protested. “The point is I’ll be the top!”
“Jungkook, I’m older than you, so listen to your hyung and be the bottom.”
“Exactly because you’re older, you should protect me and sacrifice yourself!”
“Protect who?” Taehyung gave him a once-over, raising a judging eyebrow. “If you look at yourself, you’ll realize you’re a massive, tattooed beast. Who needs protection here?”
“Which is exactly why I should be the top! The ones who give are always bigger.”
“What kind of outdated stereotype is that? Where did you even see that?”
Jungkook, with all the innocence in the world, replied:
“In a webtoon.”
There was silence.
“…You read a gay webtoon?”
“I wanted information.”
Taehyung’s laugh was dry.
“And you went looking for it in some little drawings made by a hormonal girl fetishizing gay relationships instead of searching medical or sexual health pages? Even forums would’ve been better!”
“The point is, in there the more muscular and bigger guys were the tops!” Jungkook tried to defend himself. “And porn isn’t a source of education either because it’s always altered for consumption!”
“I couldn’t give one single flying fuck about what those drawings say! They throw around forty-seven-centimeter dicks as if that’s normal or biologically possible when it’s not!”
The black-haired boy suddenly smirked mischievously.
“Then let’s do it that way.”
“What are you talking about?” Taehyung frowned. Jungkook’s eyes sparkled with mischief.
“Whoever’s bigger gets to be the top.”
A nervous pang hit Taehyung.
“N-No way! That doesn’t make sense! Picking the bigger one as top would just make it even more of a punishment for the bottom. If we pick the slightly smaller one, the bottom wouldn’t suffer as much.”
“That makes even less sense.” Jungkook looked at him skeptically.
They both knew exactly what was happening. Jungkook had a slight advantage in size, and Taehyung was trying to twist things around with ridiculous arguments. Twenty centimeters versus eighteen.
“You have more ass,” the black-haired boy declared. “Bottoms have nice, round asses.”
“Excuse me?!” Taehyung snapped, scandalized, whipping his head toward him with a deep frown and mouth hanging open.
“It’s true,” Jungkook insisted with exasperating calm, shrugging. “It’s a universal fact.”
“Your lack of an ass has nothing to do with this,” Taehyung shot back, arms crossed as he glared at him. “Besides, your ass is an exercise ass, all muscle—it works too.”
“But not for bottoming,” he whined, pouting with a small sulk on his lips. “I want it to bounce.”
The impact of those words was so immediate and brutal that Taehyung felt his soul leave his body.
“You’re disgusting!” he exclaimed in horror. He scrambled up from the outdoor couch with clumsy movements, putting a couple of steps between himself and Jungkook.
Without realizing it, he brought both hands behind him, instinctively covering his ass. Jungkook had just planted a thought in his head that should never have existed: the possibility, the cursed concept, that if he were the bottom, his ass would… well… do that…
"Let’s do something," the blond said again, trying to regain his composure. Jungkook eyed him with suspicion, still sitting on the couch, arms resting on the armrests and one eyebrow raised.
"What thing?"
"Let’s not choose ourselves," Taehyung proposed, straightening up with determination. "Let’s ask someone."
"Who?"
"Jimin."
Jungkook let out a sarcastic laugh and clapped slowly.
"Oh, yes, of course," he said in an overly sarcastic tone. "Let’s go to him and say: 'Hey, Jimin, Taehyung and I are trying to decide who gets to be the top when we have sex, want to pick for us? We’ve been fighting about it.' Nothing suspicious at all."
"No, idiot," Taehyung huffed, rolling his eyes. "We’ll casually ask him how he decides who tops when he’s with men."
"Is he versatile?"
"Yeah, he is. He’s topped plenty of guys, bottomed a few times. And with girls, he’s always the top, obviously—he says he hasn’t met a girl yet who wanted to use a strap-on."
The younger scrunched his nose at that unnecessary information, then bit his lower lip, idly playing with his piercing while he processed it. The idea of asking Jimin seemed risky, but the truth was, they weren’t reaching any conclusion on their own. Finally, he let out a sigh.
"Fine, let’s do that," he said at last, with a tone more serious than usual. "And the answer can’t change."
"Deal," Taehyung nodded solemnly.
He walked back over to Jungkook, who extended a hand. Taehyung took it firmly, sealing the pact. But they didn’t let go. Jungkook’s eyes gleamed with mischief as he tilted his head playfully.
"Now’s the part where you kiss me," he said casually. "You know, to seal the deal."
"We already shook hands," Taehyung shot him a glare.
"Not enough."
"You’re a fucking idiot and a pain in the ass, just so you know," Taehyung growled, but at the same time, he began leaning toward him. Their faces drew closer. Jungkook remained seated on the outdoor couch, waiting patiently, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
But just as their mouths were about to touch, the balcony door burst open.
Taehyung’s survival instinct kicked in and, in a completely irrational reflex, he threw his body backward so hard he practically flew across the balcony. A clumsy, disastrous sound followed as his foot caught on a flowerpot, leaving him half-kneeling, half-hanging on the railing, trying to regain balance while his heart pounded like a war drum. Jungkook, on the other hand, stayed completely frozen in place, blinking with his mouth slightly open.
The people who had interrupted stepped in, and the blond panicked, thinking maybe he hadn’t moved away fast enough and they’d be caught… but luckily, those two were far too occupied with each other.
Jimin and Yoongi stumbled in with the unsteady steps of people who had clearly had too much to drink. But what truly left Taehyung and Jungkook in shock wasn’t their sudden appearance—it was the fact that they were practically glued together like they wanted to fuse into one person, kissing with an intensity that left very little to the imagination.
The brown-haired boy had one hand tangled in the back of Yoongi’s neck, fingers woven into his dark strands, while the other rested on the elder’s hand, who—shamelessly—had his fingers digging into Jimin’s hip, pressing him against him like he had no intention of letting go for the rest of the night.
They walked without looking, without caring about anything else, completely absorbed in each other. Their bodies swayed with every movement of their lips, so wrapped up in their bubble that they didn’t even notice the other two on the balcony. They reached the railing and stopped there, still fused in their own little world.
Taehyung and Jungkook were frozen, in absolute shock. In fact, their mouths were hanging open.
Literally.
Jungkook blinked several times, his brain trying to process the image in 4K quality but still unable to fully comprehend what he was seeing. Taehyung, for his part, felt a strange tingling on his skin. Okay, sure, he had already suspected Jimin and Yoongi were still seeing each other—there had been small signs that made him think so. But it was one thing to suspect it, and another to see it in high definition, sound included.
He tried to shake off the surprise and cleared his throat loudly, deliberately, hoping the other two would catch the hint.
Fortunately, they did.
Jimin and Yoongi pulled apart with a noise Taehyung honestly wished he could forget. It was a wet plop, a suction sound so obvious it made the blond feel even more like an intruder. Jimin, with slightly swollen lips and messy hair, blinked a couple of times before flashing a guilty smile.
"Oops."
Yoongi, on the other hand, simply looked away with a faint gesture of embarrassment. Taehyung crossed his arms over his chest and shot them a critical look.
"Seriously, Jimin? That shameless?" he scolded, his tone halfway between reproach and mockery. "Doing that at a friends’ gathering? This is Hobi-hyung’s house, not some cheap motel, you indecent brat."
"I like spicing up life, it was an impulse," Jimin offered him an innocent smile.
"Impulse my ass," Taehyung scoffed, though internally he thought he was a complete hypocrite for scolding when he had been seconds away from doing the exact same thing if they hadn’t been interrupted. Not that he’d ever say that out loud.
The oldest of the four finally lifted his gaze, studying them with curiosity.
"And what are you two doing out here alone in the dark?"
Taehyung felt Jungkook’s nervousness take over; he saw him swallow hard and everything. He knew if he let him speak, the idiot would blurt something incriminating, so he jumped in first before he could do something stupid.
"Nothing," he replied quickly, his tone calm and convincing. "We just came out for some air. It was too noisy inside."
"Mhm." Jimin tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, wearing a suspicious expression, like he was trying to decide if he believed them.
"Well, this is the perfect place to have deep talks and kiss without being seen," Yoongi commented with total nonchalance. "That’s why we came here."
The panic was written all over Jungkook’s face. His pupils dilated slightly, his hands tensed on his thighs. Taehyung, on the other hand, kept his composure—thankfully, his skill at improvising excuses in awkward situations was excellent.
"Don’t be paranoid," he said smoothly. "We came out to talk about something private, but nothing like what you’re thinking. You said it yourself—deep talks. Jungkook’s the only one not drunk yet, and I preferred talking to someone who wasn’t slurring their words."
Yoongi studied him for a moment, but Jimin, with alcohol clouding his system and no interest in playing detective, just accepted the excuse with a wave of his hand.
"Oh, fine. If Taehyung says so, I believe him."
"If you want, we’ll leave you two alone," Jungkook offered with a small smile, getting up from the couch. "You can keep doing your thing."
"Nah, you already ruined the sexy, hot vibe with your faces anyway," Jimin scoffed with a dismissive wave, then grabbed Yoongi by the arm and tugged him back into the house.
Jungkook and Taehyung locked eyes.
And then, without thinking too much about it, they ran after Jimin.
"Jiminnie," Taehyung sing-songed.
"Jimin," Jungkook added in a much drier tone, though his gaze sparkled with a certain contained mischief.
The mentioned one sprawled across the couch, one leg dangling lazily off the edge while the other bent beneath his body. His eyes slid over the two of them lazily, but before saying anything, he cast one last lascivious glance toward the kitchen, where Yoongi disappeared with a conspiratorial little smile. Taehyung noticed the expression on his face and had to hold himself back from making a joke, because if he did, Jimin would surely throw a cushion at him—or something worse.
"Taehyungie and Jungkook," his voice dripped with honey when he said Taehyung’s name, as if he were addressing a spoiled child. But when his attention shifted to Jungkook, the tone changed, growing much more serious.
The younger’s lips instantly formed a pout. Why did it feel like he was being scolded for no reason?
The two of them sat down on the floor in front of Jimin, like little kids about to ask a life teacher an important question.
"Do you need something?" Jimin asked, raising an eyebrow as he settled back against the cushions.
"You see, Jimin, we realized that we don’t really know you that well," Jungkook was the first to speak, his tone strangely sweet, but Jimin’s face changed instantly. His lips parted in genuine disbelief and offense.
"Excuse me?"
Taehyung, who knew Jimin well enough to recognize that tone as a red flag, immediately went into damage control mode.
"No, I mean, I do know you, Minnie, a lot," he tried to sound reassuring, but Jungkook felt his clarification only made him sound even more suspicious. "But Jungkook asked me something I couldn’t answer, so we got curious and wanted to come ask you." Just as he finished the sentence, Jungkook pinched his thigh discreetly. Taehyung jumped. "Ow!"
Jungkook shot him a look that very clearly said, What the fuck are you doing? They hadn’t agreed that he would be the center of the question. Since when in their daily lives would he ask that kind of thing? It made no sense.
Jimin narrowed his eyes at them, evaluating.
"And what exactly is it that you don’t know about me?"
Taehyung rubbed his thigh with a scowl before speaking.
"I know you’re versatile, right?"
"Uh-huh." Jimin nodded slowly, but the way he said it made Taehyung hesitate a little. It sounded affirmative, but also... suspicious.
"But..." Taehyung continued, "how do you know when you’ll be bottom with a guy and when you’ll be top?"
The brunette blinked slowly, as if his brain were processing the question in slow motion. They had to thank the fact that Jimin was drunk as hell, because otherwise his logic might have connected the dots faster.
"That’s the question that... Jungkook asked?" His voice carried an awkward edge, and his smile looked more tense than natural.
Both of them nodded at the same time, so perfectly synchronized they looked like two kids auditioning for a cereal commercial.
Hoseok walked by at that exact moment, and Jimin, still shaken from the ambush, stretched out an arm from his seat and stopped him. Hoseok frowned, clearly confused by the sudden contact.
"What’s going on?"
Jimin looked at him with exasperation before pointing at the two boys sitting in front of him.
"I can barely tolerate Taehyung, what made you think it was a good idea to put the two of them together? Look at them! They’re dangerous."
Hoseok glanced at the pair, who were still sitting on the floor with faces of pure innocence. Taehyung even tilted his head, making his bangs fall in a ridiculously adorable way. They looked so calm and cute that Hoseok frowned, not understanding the problem.
"They look quiet and pretty to me. What’s the problem?"
Jungkook and Taehyung smiled at each other before turning their gazes back to Hoseok, looking like two puppies waiting for a pat. Hoseok nearly lifted a hand to ruffle their hair like obedient pups before remembering they were adults.
"Yeah, pretty idiots," Jimin scoffed.
"We just asked Jiminnie something about himself and he acted weird," Jungkook said in a tone that almost sounded tender. The brunette wrinkled his nose in disgust the moment that nickname left the younger’s lips.
"We just wanted to get to know him better," Taehyung added, imitating Jungkook’s tone with a smirk. Jimin opened his mouth in indignation.
"You two...!"
The oldest placed a hand on Jimin’s shoulder, interrupting before he could start a real fight.
"Jimin, answer the kids."
"Why should I...?"
"It’s just an innocent question, what’s the big deal?" Hoseok patted his head reassuringly before continuing on his way.
Jimin watched him go with a look of betrayal. Then he turned back to the two boys in front of him, who were smiling as if they’d done nothing wrong. He scowled, crossed his arms, and muttered bitterly:
"You two are very manipulative."
"Jimin, it’s just a question, it’s nothing personal," the blond said with a relaxed smile, but the older didn’t buy it for a second.
"Oh, it’s very personal, actually," he shot back, raising a brow.
"It’s just curiosity! You know we’re... straight, so we don’t know anything about that," Jungkook jumped in.
The brunette blinked slowly, tilting his head. Jungkook felt a twist in his stomach as he realized that by emphasizing the word straight like that, he’d probably only made it sound less believable.
There was a brief silence—long enough for Taehyung to feel the room grow hotter, and for Jungkook to start questioning whether this had been a good idea at all. But then Jimin sighed and shrugged.
"Ugh, fine. I’ll skip where this doubt came from and just answer." Both Taehyung and Jungkook straightened up to listen, almost ready to take notes at this point. "You has needs, you has urges. Sometimes you want to be on top and sometimes you want to be on bottom—it’s really simple," Jimin began. "It also depends on the person. Since I’m versatile, I can adapt, and if I see a guy who’s all dominant, I can be more submissive—or the other way around."
Taehyung nodded slowly, processing the information. It made sense. Up to a point. But...
"Okay, but let’s say you want to be top and the other person does too, and you’re both... let’s say equally dominant or something. How do you decide?"
Jimin frowned slightly. He had never really thought about it that way, so the question actually made him pause. He shifted in his seat, crossing one leg over the other, then tilted his head with a smile.
"Oh, well... let’s just say we decide that without, you know, clothes."
Taehyung blinked.
"Huh?"
"Usually I pick whoever has the bigger dick as the top, because personally, I enjoy big dicks when I’m bottoming. So... if his is bigger, I yield."
There was a second of absolute silence.
Then, Jungkook smiled. Not just smiled—his face lit up with an expression of pure, raw victory, like he’d just won the lottery.
And then, he slowly turned to look at Taehyung. The poor guy was pale. Not just pale—he looked like he’d seen a ghost. His eyes were wide open, his lips slightly parted, and he had completely lost the ability to blink.
When Jimin got up from the living room—probably to go find Yoongi—Jungkook leaned toward Taehyung and whispered in his ear:
"Looks like I won. Get that ass ready."
The punch Taehyung threw knocked him to the floor, but instead of being upset, Jungkook just laughed.
Chapter 28: Chapter 27
Chapter Text
"I can't believe I'm doing this," Taehyung muttered to himself, his elbows resting on his desk as he stared at his phone. The screen remained lit, displaying the chat with that person as he debated whether to type or not.
He had hit rock bottom.
He wasn’t sure what scared him more: what he was about to receive or the fact that he was actually turning to that person for this. Because in his desperation, in his existential crisis, in his absolute fucking panic, he had come to the conclusion that he needed help.
And no, not from Google. Not from anonymous forums where some people painted gay sex as the most wonderful experience of their lives while others described the pain as if they were being split in two without anesthesia. He needed the truth.
But, of course, life couldn’t be that easy.
He couldn’t ask Jimin because he had already risked too much that one time he asked how he decided who went on top and who went on the bottom. At the time, he hadn't thought much about the consequences since Jimin was drunk and wouldn’t question it too much. But if he brought up the topic again, he’d basically be digging his own grave. There was no way Jimin wouldn’t figure out what was going on.
Yoongi wasn’t an option either. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust him, but he didn’t trust him enough to ask how the hell he was supposed to fuck his best friend. Besides, if he asked Yoongi something that specific, he was one hundred percent sure the bastard would never let him live it down.
So that left him with Minho, his closest, most reliable gay confidant.
Months ago, Minho had already hinted that something was going on between Taehyung and Jungkook—before even they realized it themselves. With his damn gay radar fully activated, he had seen all of this coming from the very beginning.
But at this point, what other choice did he have?
So after much hesitation, much internal debating, much wanting to bang his head against the wall, he finally typed the message.
Minho the Cripple
>>Minho, are you busy?
The "seen" appeared immediately. Fuck.
Depends, are you about to confess something to me? <<
>>God, can you stop saying things like that?
No. <<
>>Ugh, I need to talk to you.
This time, Minho took a few extra seconds to respond. The son of a bitch was probably enjoying this.
I knew it. Do you want a café, or would you prefer some privacy to cry? <<
He chose the café. The last thing he needed was to be in a place that was too quiet when he asked that question.
Once he sent the message confirming the location, he leaned back in his chair and covered his face with both hands.
He groaned, letting his head fall against the desk.
Could anyone blame him? He had no idea what the hell he was doing.
"Minho, what do you think of this dress?" Sana held up a garment against her body and turned to her friend with an expectant look.
It was a short, form-fitting dress in a bold, vibrant red that contrasted beautifully with her skin. The fabric seemed high-quality, and she could already picture herself wearing it with high heels and her hair in soft waves.
They were at the mall because she had asked him to help her shop for clothes. Ever since they worked on that video together, they had developed a rather unexpected but genuine friendship—one that now involved casual outings for coffee, shopping, or whatever else came up. Today was one of those days.
Minho, however, didn’t respond.
Sana frowned, realizing he was completely engrossed in his phone, eyes wide with excitement. His fingers moved rapidly across the screen as he smiled to himself, like he had just received electrifying news.
"Hey, Minho."
Nothing.
"Minho?"
Silence.
Sana narrowed her eyes, lowering the dress.
"Minho!"
The guy jolted and finally looked up at her.
"What?"
"What’s up with you?" she asked, pointing at his phone. "Why do you have that look on your face? Did you win the lottery or something?"
Minho blinked several times, as if remembering she was there. With a guilty smile, he locked his phone before meeting her gaze.
"Ah… Sana, sorry, but we’re gonna have to postpone this shopping trip. Something came up."
"Something came up?" she repeated, narrowing her eyes. "What thing?"
Minho hesitated for a second but then shrugged nonchalantly and answered simply:
"Taehyung is coming to this mall."
Sana blinked. Okay, now he had her attention.
"For what?"
Minho pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket and checked his messages again. His expression didn’t change, but Sana noticed the slight curl of his lips in amusement.
"It’s a business matter," he said casually. "He doesn’t have any other time in his schedule, so I have to take care of it here."
"Can I come?"
"No." Minho chuckled, shaking his head. "It’s private."
The response was so firm that Sana didn’t even get the chance to argue. Minho simply smirked, slipped his phone back into his pocket, and with one last glance at the clothes they were browsing, waved goodbye.
"See you later, Sana."
And before she could say anything else, Minho practically ran out of the store.
Sana remained standing there, surrounded by racks of clothing, watching him disappear into the crowd.
A private matter with Taehyung, huh?
She had no idea what the hell he was up to, but that wasn’t what interested her at the moment. What mattered was that Taehyung would be here. And that meant she had a golden opportunity right in front of her.
A mischievous smile appeared on her lips as an idea formed in her head. Oh, this was going to be fun.
She bit her lower lip, excitement bubbling in her chest as she recalled the last time she had gone out with Jungkook. It was back when he was still desperately trying to impress her—right before Taehyung showed up and ruined everything.
At the time, watching them compete for her attention had been one of the most entertaining things she had ever witnessed, and while she wasn’t entirely sure if they were still interested in her the same way… well, there was no harm in testing the waters again, right?
She pulled out her phone and quickly searched for Jungkook’s name in her contacts.
When the dial tone began to ring, her smile widened.
There was no reason not to take advantage of this.
The cold air slipped in every time someone entered or exited the café, and even though the heating did its best to keep the place warm, Taehyung felt the temperature drop a few degrees as soon as he arrived—probably because of the awful nerves wreaking havoc inside him.
Minho was already there. Of course he was already there. He had hoped for a few minutes to compose himself, but he was completely wrong. A steaming cup of coffee sat in front of Minho, and across from it, another cup of hot chocolate waited on the small table.
Taehyung swallowed hard and walked forward with measured steps, trying to ignore the anxiety curling in his stomach. He sat down, his posture unnaturally straight, as if an invisible string was pulling at the back of his neck, forcing him to sit up perfectly.
"Thanks for the hot chocolate," he murmured, wrapping both hands around the cup—he needed something to hold onto.
Minho didn’t say anything at first. He just tilted his head with an expression that Taehyung couldn’t quite decipher right away. It was like he was assessing him, watching him with a sharp gaze that put him completely on edge.
“I knew you’d come to me sooner or later.”
A shiver shot down Taehyung’s spine. He glared at Minho and clicked his tongue in annoyance, bringing his cup to his lips to hide the slight tremor in his expression.
“Shut up,” he snapped. “Don’t start.”
The dark-haired man simply smirked, taking a slow sip of his coffee. Taehyung sighed, tapping his fingers against his cup, trying to find the right way to bring up the topic without making it sound ridiculous.
“So… are you going to do it?” Minho barely gave him a chance to open his mouth before cutting him off, making Taehyung nearly drop dead on the spot. His heart skipped a goddamn beat, and for a brief second, he seriously considered just playing dead to avoid answering. Minho’s face lit up with amusement when he noticed his reaction. “Do you want me to recommend lubricants or just give you methods so you don’t die of sheer panic?”
Hot chocolate nearly sprayed out of Taehyung’s mouth. He choked on his own saliva, coughed, covered his mouth with his sleeve, and felt his entire face burst into flames.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about!”
Minho raised an eyebrow with an expression that clearly said, Oh, please. Don’t insult me.
“Oh, please. Just look at yourself,” he stated matter-of-factly. “You’ve been having an existential crisis since the moment you sat down.” Taehyung frowned, immediately feeling the urge to deny it, but Minho wasn’t done. “What worries you more? That it’s going to hurt? That you won’t know what to do? Or that he’s going to find out you’re actually a baby?”
“I’m not a baby!” he shouted, offended.
Minho simply smiled condescendingly and, with all the patience in the world, patted his hand.
“Taehyung, darling… we all are the first time.”
Taehyung suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to do three things at once: cry, punch Minho, and run away without looking back. But since he was already there, since he had already opened Pandora’s goddamn box, he had to make the most of it.
He took a deep breath, avoiding Minho’s gaze, and muttered under his breath,
“Look, just… tell me the truth. What’s it like?”
“What’s what like?” Minho raised an eyebrow.
Son of a bitch.
Taehyung felt desperation consume him. Minho knew exactly what he was talking about. He just wanted him to say it out loud, wanted to make him squirm in his seat and die of embarrassment. He clenched his jaw and exhaled in frustration—he had to be an adult about this.
“Well… you know. Having sex with another guy.”
His face burned with shame as he shrank into his seat. The words felt scorching on his tongue. The moment he said them, he wanted to swallow them back, do a goddamn Ctrl+Z and erase them from existence. But it was too late.
Minho smirked with obvious satisfaction, leaning back in his seat.
“That depends,” he replied nonchalantly. “What role are you planning to take?”
“…What?”
“Are you going to be the top or the bottom?” he asked as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “But, judging by how you’re acting—” he gestured vaguely, pointing at his tense posture and how he could barely look at him, “—I’m guessing you’re going to be the bottom.” Taehyung felt himself crumble, but Minho didn’t even give him time to process it. “So, do you want the ‘don’t worry, everything will be amazing’ version or the realistic version?”
Taehyung swallowed hard, his stomach in knots.
Both options sounded horrible.
But since he was already here, already knee-deep in this mess, he might as well get the truth.
“The… the realistic one,” he whispered, feeling like he was selling his soul to the devil.
Minho leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, and his playful smile shifted into something more serious.
“Well… if you’re with someone who knows what they’re doing, it’s amazing.” Taehyung felt a flicker of relief. Okay. That sounds good. That sounds manageable. “But if you’re with an idiot who has no clue, it can be… let’s just say, a disaster.”
The relief vanished instantly.
“Seriously?”
“It hurts if you’re not prepped properly,” Minho continued, shrugging. “You could even bleed a little. It has to be slow at first, so you get used to it and don’t feel like two cranes are grabbing your legs and pulling them in opposite directions.”
“Two what?” Taehyung whispered, horrified.
Minho ignored him completely.
“Of course, even the most inexperienced person can be good at it if they’re not rushing and don’t think that doing it up the ass is the same as doing it with a vagina. Vaginas self-lubricate when aroused. An ass doesn’t. It’s a manual process.”
Taehyung’s eyes were wide in pure shock, his expression completely blank—his brain had just ceased to function.
He had no words. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t even know if he wanted to say anything. He just wanted to get up, move to Tibet, become a monk, and erase this conversation from his memory forever.
Why the fuck had he even asked?
He dropped his head, a wave of insecurity washing over his chest. His hands, suddenly cold, clenched over his knees, and his mind spiraled into utter chaos. What the hell was he getting himself into? I mean, yeah, he wanted to—he couldn’t deny he was curious, but just the thought of something going up his ass made him borderline aggressive—But what if he fucked it up? What if it really did hurt as much as it sounded? What if—?
Minho watched him silently for a moment, noting his expression, his stiff posture, the tension in his lips. He sighed, resigning himself to softening up a little. Maybe he’d gone too far.
“But, from what I see, Jungkook doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who would rush things. He’d probably take his time, be careful. I doubt he’s an idiot.”
A shiver ran down Taehyung’s spine, and he immediately looked up, eyes wide in absolute terror.
“How do you know it’s Jungkook?!”
“…Are you seriously asking me that?” Minho didn’t even blink. He just stared at him, completely unimpressed.
“Oh my god…” Taehyung let out an inhuman noise and covered his face with both hands.
“Relax,” Minho said patiently. “The most important thing is that you communicate with him. Tell him if something doesn’t feel good, tell him if you’re uncomfortable, and for the love of all things holy, use lube and prep properly. At least three fingers. Minimum. Or it’s going to hurt like hell.”
“Do not say that here…” Taehyung groaned, his face still buried in his hands. “People can hear us.”
“Would you rather I say it louder?” Minho smirked with pure malice.
Taehyung went into immediate panic mode. He yanked his hands away from his face just to throw them up in a desperate “Stop!” gesture and shook his head frantically.
Minho burst out laughing, absolutely merciless. When he finally calmed down, he sighed and tried to take another sip of his coffee—before laughing again.
"You also need to remember to breathe."
"Breathe?" Taehyung repeated in a nearly robotic voice.
"Yeah, breathe." Minho shrugged. "I swear it's important. Some people get so tense they forget to do it, and, buddy, trust me, you need oxygen."
Taehyung didn’t react.
"And relax too," Minho added in the same calm tone. "Not just in the moment, but before it happens. If you're stressed out, if your whole body is tense, it's gonna be ten times worse. And, from what I see right now, if someone touched one of your muscles, it’d shatter like glass." Minho reached out and gave his shoulder a light tap, testing his theory. Taehyung flinched instantly, his back going ramrod straight. "Point proven," Minho murmured, amused.
"Fuck off…" Taehyung buried his face in his hands, feeling like he had never been more embarrassed in his entire life. His face must have been as red as a damn tomato. Minho chuckled under his breath.
"I'm serious, Taehyung. Look, I know your mind is probably spinning right now, and I know you’re probably imagining a thousand different ways this could go wrong, but seriously… it’s not the end of the world. You just have to take it slow and make sure the person you’re doing it with is on the same page too." The blond took a deep breath, still not lifting his head. "And if Jungkook is decent, he will be," Minho continued, now in a more relaxed tone. "He doesn’t seem like the type to just dive in recklessly without thinking about the other person."
"And how the fuck do you know that?" Taehyung slowly raised his head, frowning.
"Because I’m not blind." Minho smirked, taking another sip of his drink—if he just talked, it’d get cold. "I’ve seen the way he looks at you, the way he talks to you. He’s not an asshole."
Taehyung stayed silent.
Well… he wasn’t wrong.
Minho studied him for a moment before leaning forward, resting his elbows on the table, and lacing his fingers together.
"Another thing," he continued. "I’m gonna say this again—lube. Don’t be a dumbass and use just anything you have lying around. There are things that should never go in there. Even spit can cause infections, so use what was literally designed for getting a dick in an ass."
"Minho!"
"What? I’m saving your ass. Literally."
Taehyung shot him a tired glare, but Minho just winked.
"Also, if something doesn’t feel good, say it. Nothing is worse than staying quiet. If it hurts, if it’s uncomfortable, speak up. You’re not a damn piece of furniture."
The blond nodded, slowly processing everything he was saying. As much as he hated to admit it, Minho had a point.
"And one more thing." Minho gave him a serious look. "Don’t be afraid to enjoy it."
"Huh?"
"You heard me." Minho grinned. "Don’t do this just because you feel like you ‘have to.’ It’s not an obligation, it’s not a chore, it’s not a damn tax you have to pay. If you do it, do it because you want to, because you feel comfortable, because you’re ready."
Taehyung took a deep breath, finally feeling his body relax a little. He looked at Minho with slightly less panic, and for the first time in their entire conversation, he let out a small sigh that almost sounded like a laugh.
"Thanks," he murmured. "For… helping me. And for not judging me."
"Judging you? Why would I do that?" Minho raised an eyebrow. "I’m gay, Taehyung. I literally went through this myself."
"I’d still appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone," Taehyung said after a moment, lowering his voice. "You’re the only one who knows that Jungkook and I…"
Minho looked at him calmly.
"Why don’t you want to tell your friends?" he asked. "You know they wouldn’t judge you."
"I know." Taehyung sighed, running a hand through his hair. "They’re good guys, but… Jungkook and I aren’t ready for that yet."
Minho stayed silent, letting him continue.
"We’re going through… I don’t know. Internal acceptance. Our whole lives, we thought we were one thing, and then suddenly, we’re… kissing each other. And we liked it. I don’t know, it’s just… physical, you know? Sexual attraction."
"Are you sure?" Minho narrowed his eyes.
"Sure about what?"
"That it’s only physical?"
Oh.
Taehyung opened his mouth, ready to say yes, that it was only physical, that it was just desire and self-discovery, that it didn’t mean anything more.
But he hesitated.
Because… there were moments.
Moments when it felt different with him. Moments when his heart beat faster for reasons that had nothing to do with lust. But it couldn’t be. That didn’t make sense.
So, after a few seconds, he took a deep breath and nodded.
"Yeah. It’s just physical."
Minho looked at him, clearly not believing a single word, but he didn’t say anything. He just smiled and nodded slowly.
"Sure. Whatever you say."
There was something about the way Minho talked that made him feel less alone. Minho didn’t judge him, didn’t tell him he was overreacting or that he was an idiot for not having it all figured out. He just listened, nodded, asked questions when he needed to, and threw in a stupid joke at the right moments to ease the tension. And it worked. At first, Taehyung hadn’t been able to laugh at anything—he was too trapped in his own panic—but now he felt lighter.
"Alright, then tell me… how far have you guys gone?"
"What?" Taehyung frowned, not fully processing the question.
"You heard me." Minho shrugged like it was the most normal thing in the world. "Besides kissing. Have you jerked each other off? Gone down on each other? Both or just one? Given each other a helping hand in inconvenient places? Spill, spill!"
"Minho, what the fuck?!"
Minho burst out laughing.
"What? It’s a legit question! I deserve to know the tea if I’m helping you out!"
"It’s a zero-filter question, dumbass!" Taehyung shot him an exasperated look. God, this guy… "You’re so fucking shameless," he groaned, though he couldn’t stop himself from chuckling. He raised a hand and placed it on Minho’s head, ruffling his hair roughly. "Don’t be so damn blunt, idiot."
Minho let him, laughing and not resisting at all.
What neither of them knew was that, at that exact moment, someone else was watching. From outside, through the large café window, Jungkook had frozen in place.
He and Sana had been walking right past the shop. Well, more like Sana had been happily pulling him forward, her fingers gripping his hand tightly, laughing at something he’d said a second ago. Jungkook had been smiling too.
Until he turned his head and saw Taehyung inside the café. And his smile disappeared.
His body tensed immediately, and suddenly, Jungkook had a lot of questions.
One: What the hell was Taehyung doing there?
Two: What the hell was he doing there with Minho?
Three: Since when was Taehyung that affectionate with Minho, when he used to want to strangle him every time he messed up a choreography?
Four: Why the fuck did it bother him so much to see them like that?
He stopped.
Just… stopped.
His body refused to obey Sana’s pull, his hand was still trapped in hers, but his feet wouldn’t move an inch forward. The brunette turned to him, blinking in confusion.
"Jungkook?" she asked, giving his hand a small tug, trying to snap him out of it, but he didn’t look at her.
His eyes were fixed on Taehyung—on the way he laughed with Minho, on the way his hand rested on his head, on the way he held his arm with those slightly flushed cheeks.
Why? Why did it bother him? Why did he feel that uncomfortable, annoying twist in his stomach?
Sana, noticing he was still completely distracted, frowned and followed his gaze. When she saw what he was looking at, her expression shifted slightly.
"That's weird," she murmured.
Jungkook barely blinked, just enough to glance at her from the corner of his eye.
"What?"
"Minho and I were together a little while ago. He got some messages and suddenly got all excited. He literally canceled our plans to run off and see Taehyung."
"Really?"
"Yeah," Sana nodded, watching the scene with interest. "He told me they had some private work to do, but he wouldn't tell me what it was. Yet I don’t see a laptop or anything that looks like work. I didn’t expect them to be that close."
Jungkook didn’t respond. His fingers tightened around Sana’s hand without realizing it.
He just kept staring, jaw clenched, brow furrowed, stomach twisting. However, despite his anger, the girl beside him smiled to herself.
Perfect. This was the ideal moment.
If she wanted Taehyung to remember they were in a competition, she had to do something. She had to provoke him. And the easiest way to do that was to shove in his face exactly what he was supposedly losing.
So, without overthinking it, she shifted her weight to one side and, with a dramatic sigh, pretended to stumble, twisting her ankle and letting out a small whimper.
"Ouch!"
Jungkook, of course, was slow to react. He was too busy staring at Taehyung.
Sana, on the other hand, lowered her gaze to her own foot, grabbing it with one hand and lifting it slightly off the ground, making a slight grimace of pain.
"Shit..."
The sound didn’t go unnoticed. Inside the café, Minho and Taehyung turned their heads, still smiling from their conversation. But Taehyung stopped smiling the moment he saw them.
The first thing he noticed was Jungkook looking at him. His expression was hard to read, but the intensity in his eyes made the air in Taehyung’s chest feel heavier than usual.
Then, his gaze dropped to their intertwined hands.
Oh.
Jungkook, on the other hand, looked stunned. It took him a few seconds for his eyes to shift from Taehyung to Sana, only then realizing what was happening.
"Sana?" His tone changed instantly, now filled with concern. He leaned in a bit closer, looking at her expression and the foot she was still holding. "What happened?"
"I twisted it..." she said, immediately glancing toward the café.
She waited.
She waited for Taehyung to frown and blurt out something stupid like, "You idiot, Jungkook, you let her trip."
She waited for him to get up and walk toward them.
She waited for them to start arguing about who should carry her to the infirmary or to her house.
She waited for something to happen.
But no. Nothing happened.
Taehyung just looked away.
Minho glanced at him with a slight frown and pressed his lips together in a knowing expression before lifting a hand and gently rubbing his back in a slow, reassuring motion.
Sana thought she understood instantly. She assumed Taehyung was affected, that it had hurt him. It hurt him so much that instead of reacting explosively, he simply... shut down.
She smiled to herself. Good, this might be enough for now. But she couldn’t leave it at that. If she gave up now, there’d be no fun in it. She wanted him in the game. She needed him in the game. She’d deal with that later, though. Right now, she had to stay in character.
"Can you put weight on it?" Jungkook asked, leaning in a bit more to examine her ankle.
Sana nodded slowly. "Yeah… but it hurts."
Jungkook didn’t think twice. Wrapping one arm around her back and the other under her legs, he lifted her effortlessly. Sana nearly laughed. Okay, maybe she hadn’t gotten the showdown between Jungkook and Taehyung that she had hoped for, but at least now he was carrying her.
Before leaving, Jungkook glanced at Taehyung.
He still had his gaze lowered, his eyes a bit sad while Minho continued rubbing his back.
The black-haired boy clenched his jaw. He didn’t know why it bothered him so much. So he forced himself to look away and focus on Sana instead.
"Let’s go," he said, not noticing how his tone was a little too sharp.
Silence settled over the table after Jungkook carried Sana away.
Minho still had his hand on Taehyung’s back, moving in slow circles, saying nothing.
But Taehyung could feel it. He could feel it too much. And it made him uncomfortable. He didn’t want to be seen like this.
So, with a sharp exhale, he swatted Minho’s hand away.
"Don’t touch me."
Minho didn’t complain. He didn’t even look away. He just observed him patiently, analyzing every little tension in his face, every movement in his body, trying to decipher what was going on inside his head.
Taehyung didn’t bother looking at him. He kept his gaze fixed on the table, lips pressed together, knuckles tense against the wooden surface.
Minho waited a few seconds before speaking, his tone soft, subtle.
"You’re jealous."
"Don’t say stupid things," Taehyung scoffed.
Minho tilted his head, resting an elbow on the table.
"You are."
"There’s no reason to be jealous," he muttered, shrugging. "We agreed we’d keep trying with Sana until she made a decision."
The black-haired boy stayed silent for a few seconds. Then, he smiled—tenderly. It was a... gentle smile.
"You don’t look jealous over Sana."
"What are you talking about?" Taehyung frowned, still unable to look at him.
"I mean..." Minho leaned in a little more over the table, lowering his voice. "You don’t look jealous over Sana. You look jealous of Sana."
Taehyung blinked.
For the first time in a while, he lifted his head to look at him.
Minho stared back calmly. There was no intention to make him angry, no attempt to provoke him, nothing that could push him to snap another insult at him like he had before. There was only understanding.
And that made Taehyung more nervous than anything else. He didn’t say anything because... he didn’t know what to say.
Minho didn’t need an answer to keep going.
"If it’s just something physical, like you said..." He rested his chin on his palm, raising an eyebrow. "Why does it bother you this much?"
"My feelings are for Sana," Taehyung forced himself to say.
He didn’t think about the answer. He just said it.
Because it was what he had to say. It was what he had said before. It was what he had repeated over and over again.
So it had to be true. It had to be.
Minho sighed in resignation. He didn’t say anything else, and he didn’t push further. Because he knew it was just a matter of time. He knew Taehyung needed to accept it first. So instead of pressuring him, he simply leaned back in his chair and slid his gaze toward the window.
"If you ever need to talk..." he said in a lower voice, "you can count on me."
Taehyung looked at him, and it made his throat tighten.
When his voice came out, it was shakier than he would have liked.
"…Thanks."
And Minho just gave him a small, understanding smile.
Jungkook should be happy. Technically, he was. Or at least, he was trying to seem like it.
After all, this was exactly what he had wanted for so long: a date with Sana. A real one. Not like that time when everything had been ambiguous, and she had made it crystal clear—without a shred of hesitation—that it wasn’t a date, just two friends hanging out. This time was different. She had called him, invited him. She had told him outright that she wanted to spend the day with him, that she needed his help shopping for clothes, that they could eat together, talk, have fun. Everything lined up perfectly with what he had wished for.
And yet, he had almost said no.
That was the problem.
When Sana had made the proposal, words of rejection had been right on the tip of his tongue. He had felt suffocated, as if an invisible noose had been wrapped around his neck, tightening little by little. He wasn’t sure what exactly had made him feel that way. Or rather, he did know, but he didn’t want to admit it.
Guilt.
He had no reason to feel guilty, right? Supposedly, both he and Taehyung were competing for the same girl. Supposedly, that was the deal. Supposedly, he should be celebrating the fact that Sana had chosen him this time. Besides, Taehyung had already screwed him out of a date once before. It was only fair. Technically, he owed him one.
But deep down, something told him that wasn’t the reason he felt this way.
Jungkook pressed his lips together, his brow slightly furrowed, as he looked at Sana in his arms. She looked beautiful, as always. Sweet, charming. Exactly the kind of woman he was supposed to be in love with.
Then why did he feel a weight pressing against his chest?
It wasn’t because he didn’t want to be with her. It wasn’t because she bothered him, not at all. That wasn’t it. The problem was that he had almost turned her down because, the moment she asked, the first person who came to mind was Taehyung. It wasn’t like Taehyung was a factor he needed to consider. He shouldn’t be. It didn’t make sense. Taehyung wasn’t his boyfriend. He had no reason to feel guilty about going out with a girl Taehyung also liked. And yet, the weight in his chest remained, persistent.
Part of it was because he felt like he owed Sana something. Not just for the time Taehyung had stepped in and ruined his chance with her, but also for the times he himself had hurt her. He had been an idiot when he let Soojin walk all over her—not once, but three times. And if there was one thing Jungkook hated, it was being seen as a heartless asshole. He didn’t want to be the kind of person who hurt someone like Sana, someone who trusted him. That was why he had agreed to the date. To show her that he was there for her. That he chose her.
But he had also agreed because he felt guilty about something else.
Because he had kissed Taehyung at the cabin. Because he was kissing him now, doing things with him now. Because he liked it. A lot. And, honestly, he didn’t want to stop.
Jungkook swallowed hard, a shiver running down his spine. He had dreamed about Taehyung more than once that week after he had stopped talking to Sana following the incident with Soojin. And they weren’t casual dreams—not just memories of their friendship, no. He had dreamed about him in ways he should have dreamed about Sana. But he hadn’t. In his head, in his subconscious, there was only Taehyung.
And the worst part?
Every time he woke up from those dreams, the only emotion that settled in his chest wasn’t confusion or rejection. It was desire.
And that was why he felt like absolute shit.
That was why he had gone to the bar that night—to drink like an idiot, to drown himself in alcohol and distract himself from whatever the hell his mind and body were trying to tell him. Jungkook had always had a self-destructive streak whenever he did something he thought was wrong. He punished himself, looked for a way to balance the scales. If his mind tormented him with something he refused to admit, then at the very least, his body had to suffer for it. Maybe, if he was lucky, he’d get his ass kicked, and the physical pain would outweigh the mental one.
But at some point that night, in the middle of the drinks and the fog of his own chaos, he had grabbed his phone and dialed.
Taehyung.
Without thinking. Without fully understanding why he was doing it. Or maybe he did. Maybe that was exactly what he had been hoping for. Maybe because he had been thinking about him too damn much. Because he wanted him close, wanted to hear his voice.
Because he wanted to kiss him again.
Jungkook felt his stomach twist. He hated himself in that moment.
He was on a date with Sana to reassure himself that he liked her. To prove to himself that this all made sense. Because if he was with Sana, if he went out with her, if he could just focus on her smile and her laughter and the way her eyes lit up when she saw something she liked, then everything else would fade away.
That was why he was there. Because he had to be.
Because Taehyung, the moment he had the chance, would accept a date with Sana without hesitation. Just like he had before. Just like he hadn’t hesitated to ruin Jungkook’s date with her that time.
So if Taehyung had no problem moving forward with this... Why the hell did he?
Jungkook carefully set Sana down in the passenger seat, making sure she was comfortable before fully letting go.
He remained leaned in toward her, one hand resting on the car door and the other on the back of her seat. His face wasn’t too far from hers—close enough that he could study her up close, see the way her lips curled into a light, almost playful smile.
"Are you okay?" he asked for what felt like the thousandth time that night. Sana let out a soft, amused giggle.
"I’ve told you a million times, Jungkookie. I’m fine," she assured him, tilting her head sweetly. "But thank you for worrying so much about me."
Jungkook sighed, but his lips stretched into a small smile.
"How could I not?"
"You’re really cute when you get all protective," she murmured, her tone taking on a flirtier edge.
He went quiet.
A compliment like that, once upon a time, would have made him puff up with pride. It would have pulled a confident, charming smirk out of him and fueled him to flirt back with just as much enthusiasm.
But right now… he felt nothing. No excitement, no rush of adrenaline, no heat under his skin like when someone you like compliments you.
"I should reward you, don’t you think?" she said, drawing out her words suggestively, a small pout forming on her lips.
Jungkook felt his body react automatically to the implication, but his mind wasn’t fully in sync with it. He smiled, trying to play along.
"Reward me how?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, forcing himself to sound intrigued.
"Mhm… I don’t know." Sana brought a finger to her chin, pretending to think. "You were my hero today. You deserve a prize."
Jungkook let out a short, awkward chuckle, though he didn’t let it show too much. He tried to respond with something witty, something that would keep the playful atmosphere going, but his mind was too scattered. He barely opened his mouth to say something when, suddenly, Sana cupped his face in her small hands, holding him gently between her fingers.
Jungkook blinked, startled. She was pulling him closer, slowly, her lips slightly parted, her gaze fixed on his—expectant, as if waiting for him to reciprocate. Her face was getting closer and closer; he could feel her breath ghosting over his skin, the subtle scent of her perfume wrapping around him. His heart should’ve been pounding harder, his hands should’ve reached for her, pulling her in himself… but instead, all he felt was that uncomfortable tightness in his chest.
This was it—he should kiss her.
It was the perfect moment, the kind of situation he’d imagined so many times before. The girl he liked, leaning in towards him with the clear intention of pressing their lips together.
He should want this.
But he didn’t.
His body moved on its own. At the last second, Jungkook turned his face slightly to the side. Sana’s kiss landed at the corner of his lips.
It was barely a touch, a fleeting brush, but the surprise on her face was obvious. She froze for a second, eyes wide as she still held his face in her hands. Jungkook swallowed and quickly pulled away, carefully slipping from her grasp.
"I'm taking you back to your apartment," he said immediately, his voice firm but gentle as he straightened up, putting distance between them. His hand moved to the car door, ready to close it. "I don’t want you pushing yourself more than necessary."
Sana blinked several times, trying to process what had just happened.
"But…" she started, but Jungkook cut her off before she could finish.
"Sorry I wasn’t much help with the clothes," he added with a slightly forced smile, trying to shift the topic without making it too obvious. "And that the date had to be canceled."
She frowned slightly, shaking her head quickly.
"It doesn’t have to be canceled, I feel better," she said urgently. "We can still go to a restaurant, we still have time…"
Jungkook shook his head before she could insist any further.
"I don’t want you hurting yourself any more," he repeated softly, keeping the smile on his face even though all he really wanted was to get out of there as soon as possible.
Sana opened her mouth but didn’t say anything. She wasn’t sure what had gone wrong, but it was clear that something hadn’t gone the way she planned.
Before she could say another word, Jungkook closed the passenger door with a soft click. Then, he quickly walked around the car, his heart hammering in his chest—but not in the way it should have.
He got into the driver’s seat and let out a sigh, pressing his lips into a tight line as he started the engine without even looking at her.
Taehyung didn’t think too much when he was like this.
When the shitstorm in his head got so bad he couldn’t even name what he was feeling, when anger, frustration, and confusion left his nerves frayed, his body simply moved on its own.
It wasn’t something he consciously decided—it just happened.
He’d leave wherever he was and end up at Jimin’s place, no matter the time, no matter if they had plans or if Jimin was busy. It just happened. And by the time he realized it, he was already ringing the doorbell insistently, his jaw clenched, his heart pounding in his chest, each breath feeling harder than the last.
When the door opened, he didn’t even wait for Jimin to say anything. He stormed inside, eyes fixed on the floor, footsteps heavy. He all but collapsed onto the couch with a long sigh, grabbing a cushion and burying himself into it, maybe hoping he could just disappear.
Jimin blinked a couple of times before calmly closing the door. Crossing his arms, he turned toward his friend, raising an eyebrow.
"Nice to see you too, Taehyung. A ‘pleasure to see you’ would be nice."
Taehyung huffed into the cushion where his face was buried and lazily lifted a hand.
"Hey."
Jimin let out an amused scoff and walked over to the living room table, sitting right in front of him. He studied him for a moment, using that sharp gaze he always had whenever Taehyung was acting like this.
"Alright," he finally said, resting his elbows on his knees. "What the fuck is wrong with you? Spill."
Taehyung didn’t respond right away. He shifted on the couch, ran a hand over his face, and stared at the ceiling.
Jungkook.
Sana.
Holding hands like a damn couple. On a fucking date, smiling and being all cute together. So ridiculously corny that Jungkook had even lifted her up like some kind of goddamn princess.
Wasn’t he supposed to be the little prince in the first place? …Okay, now that he thought about it, that didn’t really make sense. He didn’t know why the hell that even crossed his mind but—ugh.
It was fucking irritating.
No.
It was worse than irritating—it was bullshit.
Taehyung couldn’t put it into words.
He couldn’t say exactly which part of it made him feel so fucking awful. Was it the idea that Jungkook was actually enjoying himself with her? That he was the one Sana had chosen to go out with? That their damn date was going well? That Jungkook seemed to be having fun?
He couldn’t explain it. All he knew was that seeing them together made him feel like absolute shit.
"I saw Jungkook with Sana at the mall."
"...On a date?" Jimin tilted his head.
"On a fucking date."
"And what did you do?"
Taehyung grimaced, avoiding his gaze.
"Nothing."
Jimin blinked.
"Nothing?"
"Nothing."
"Like, nothing whatever?"
"Yes, Jimin, nothing whatever," Taehyung sighed, rolling his eyes.
"So…" Jimin said slowly. "You’re telling me that you saw Jungkook on a date with the girl you were trying to win over, the same Jungkook you compete with in everything, and you did nothing?"
"For fuck’s sake, no."
Jimin let out an incredulous laugh, leaning forward as he gawked at his friend.
"And why didn’t you do anything?"
"Because I couldn’t," Taehyung finally admitted, pressing his lips into a thin line. "I felt… bad," he muttered, swallowing hard. "I couldn’t do anything. I didn’t want to do anything. But that doesn’t change the fact that it made me feel like absolute shit. Like someone dropped a fucking concrete block on my chest." He turned to look at Jimin, who could see the frustration and something close to desperation in his eyes. "I don’t know, I don’t fucking know what’s wrong with me. But this love triangle bullshit is getting on my goddamn nerves."
Jimin studied him for a few seconds, noting the tension in his jaw, the furrow of his brows, the way his leg was bouncing restlessly, like his body physically couldn’t stay still from all the pent-up frustration.
To lighten the mood, he smirked and said, "You know what the real solution to your love triangle problem is? The real solution?"
"What?" Taehyung asked, immediately intrigued.
"Polyamory."
Taehyung wrinkled his nose and shot him a disgusted look almost instantly.
"I thought you were going to say the solution was to kill him and bury him somewhere no one would ever find him," he grumbled, waving his hand dismissively. "Or at least beat the crap out of his face so that his pretty-boy looks don’t get in the way. That way, no one would love him for looking like a damn Quasimodo."
"Do you think before you speak, or do you just blurt out whatever comes to mind?" Jimin looked at him with a blank expression.
"You were the one who suggested polyamory. Now that’s insane," the blond scoffed.
"And turning Jungkook into a damn Quasimodo sounds less crazy to you?"
"It’s monogamy or a bullet with me," he declared with certainty. Jimin let out a sharp exhale, leaning on the table with an amused smirk.
"Taehyung, you’re basically a men whore," he said teasingly. "You’re the damn Mark Sloan of Yeoreum University. You’re McSteamy."
"That’s true," Taehyung admitted, smiling with a hint of pride.
"So what the hell are you even talking about?"
Taehyung shrugged.
"One thing is liking variety. Another thing is that when I commit, I commit." He sank deeper into the couch and sighed. "And I hate being the third wheel."
Jimin studied his face, analyzing every little expression. He knew him. He knew him too well. He saw pain, fear, and desperation in him. Jimin already knew something was going on, and he already had a pretty good idea of who it was about. He wasn’t an idiot. He just let Taehyung believe he didn’t know.
Yoongi and he talked about things—of course, they did. The older guy had told him everything he had observed, and they had reached a conclusion.
But Jimin didn’t want to believe it.
He wanted Taehyung to tell him. He wanted Taehyung to come to him, to talk to him first. He wanted him to trust him enough to do that. He didn’t want to buy into crazy theories because he was sure Taehyung would say something eventually.
But he hadn’t. And now, things were getting too obvious to ignore. Which is why he felt hurt. He couldn’t blame Taehyung, but that didn’t make it sting any less.
"Taehyung, are you sure you’re doing this for Sana… and not for Jungkook?"
He didn’t know what irritated him more: Jimin’s tone—careful and gentle, as if trying not to scare off a wild animal—or the question itself, its meaning as clear as day. He forced himself to respond immediately, leaving no room for doubt.
"Why are you asking obvious questions?" he snapped, exasperation seeping into his voice. "Of course, I’m doing this for Sana."
Jimin looked at him with that expression Taehyung knew too well. It was the same look he had when someone tried to lie to his face while he already had all the evidence in hand.
"You’ve never been this obsessed with a girl before," Jimin continued, his tone unwavering. "Especially not one who has her eyes on someone else. You’ve never put yourself through this much trouble for someone who doesn’t make you their priority."
"Sana is different," Taehyung insisted.
"Tell me why she’s different."
Taehyung parted his lips, ready to list all the reasons, but the words got stuck in his throat.
Suddenly, answering Jimin felt like taking a pop quiz he hadn’t studied for at all.
"Well… because she’s gorgeous," he started, lacking confidence. "She’s really kind, charismatic, energetic… When you’re with her, you never feel drained. She’s cute and sweet without even trying. She’s hardworking, and she likes things that I like too, like dancing, performing, and cats."
"You like dogs," Jimin stated flatly.
"But I like cats too."
"Taehyung."
"She’s my type," he said, a bit more desperately. Jimin let out a deep sigh, the kind that people do when dealing with a particularly stubborn child.
"So your type is basically millions of women," he shot back. "You just described any average girl, literally. Besides, none of your past girlfriends looked like her."
"But she’s the one I like," Taehyung insisted, though the words didn’t sound as solid as he wanted them to.
"What makes her special?"
"Well…"
He tried to think of something, but for some reason, his brain completely shut down, leaving him with his mouth slightly open and his gaze unfocused.
Nothing came to mind. Not because Sana wasn’t special, but because, for some reason, none of the qualities that popped into his head felt like a valid answer.
Jimin watched him crumble under his own dilemma in real-time and smirked in victory.
"I liked Wonho because…" Jimin suddenly began, not giving him a chance to react. "Because when I was with him, I never had to tell him I was having a bad day. He just knew. He’d bring me a latte without me asking. He’d make sure I ate whenever I was too stressed. He’d text me before every exam to wish me luck, even when he was dealing with his own mess."
Taehyung shifted on the couch, feeling like this conversation was heading in a direction that did not benefit him at all.
"Jimin, that’s—"
"I liked Yuna because she was the only one who knew that when I scratched my wrist, it meant I was anxious," Jimin cut him off mercilessly. "She’d just take my hand without asking. She’d send me voice notes of her laughing when she knew I was stressed, just to help me relax. She’d always save me a seat in class because she knew I hated sitting in the back."
The knot in Taehyung’s stomach tightened even more. Those two were some of Jimin’s longest relationships. He had seen him at his most in love with them.
"But those things you’re mentioning only happened after you were already dating them," Taehyung tried to argue. "I can’t give reasons like that because I’ve never been Sana’s boyfriend, so—"
"Fine, if that’s your excuse," Jimin said, crossing his arms and leaning in slightly. "Wonho was a man who always had his priorities straight. He knew what he wanted and never hesitated to go after it. But he wasn’t an arrogant asshole—he was the kind of guy who could lead effortlessly. He had this confidence that didn’t feel cocky, just reassuring. He wasn’t wishy-washy; he was direct and honest, but he knew how to make you feel good even when telling you something difficult. He was protective without being overbearing, and even though he wasn’t a hopeless romantic, he had these little gestures that showed he cared without having to say it all the time."
Taehyung barely had time to process before Jimin continued.
"And Yuna… she had this magnetic aura, you know? Not the kind that demands attention but the kind that draws you in without you realizing it. She was calm but not passive. She had this steady energy that made everything seem easier when she was around. She was one of those people who really looked at you, who really listened, who made you feel like what you said mattered. And at the same time, she had this fire inside her, a passion for the things she loved that was impossible to ignore. She knew what she wanted and went for it, but never at the expense of others. She was… special."
Well.
Shit.
That sounded way too specific. It sounded real. Tangible. Solid emotions, vivid memories, concrete reasons why Jimin had fallen for those people at the time.
And him… What the hell was he doing?
"Ah..." he repeated, because he didn't have a better answer.
"So... why do you like Sana? What makes her so special that you're fighting Jungkook over her?"
"Well... she..." he started, feeling the pressure growing in his chest. He had to come up with something—anything. "She's really confident. She has this magnetic energy, but she doesn't even have to try. She's the kind of person who really listens to you, who makes you feel important when you talk. She's passionate about what she loves and isn't afraid to go after what she wants..."
Jimin looked at him with absolute disappointment.
"You literally just copied and pasted what I said."
"I don't know! Okay?!" Taehyung exploded, running his hands through his hair in frustration. "I don't know why she has this effect on me, I don't know why something keeps pulling me toward her, I don't know anything."
Why the hell couldn't he give a real reason? Why couldn't he find something truly unique about her that made him lose his mind like this?
"Don't you think it might be because of Jungkook?" Jimin asked, his voice soft, almost like he was afraid of the answer. Taehyung felt a lump form in his throat.
"I don't know... maybe... Why are you cornering me?"
"I'm not cornering you. Do you feel suffocated?"
"Yeah, I'm drowning," the words slipped out before he could stop them. And the moment he said them out loud, he realized they were true. He felt like he was trapped in an ever-shrinking space, this whole situation with Sana, with Jungkook, with everything pressing down on him bit by bit. "Maybe I'm chasing after her so much because this is the first time I actually have competition," he finally confessed. "It's the first time I've felt threatened and vulnerable, I don't know. Competing against Jungkook makes it... interesting."
Jimin didn't look away from him.
"Are you sure it's just about the competition?"
"What are you talking about?" Taehyung frowned.
"I'm talking about the possibility that maybe—just maybe—you're chasing after Sana because it gives you an excuse to be around Jungkook."
Silence settled between them for a few seconds. Then, Taehyung simply reached out and pressed his hand to Jimin’s forehead.
"Mhm, no fever, but you're definitely delirious," he muttered with fake concern. "I think we should go to the doctor before you start hallucinating."
"You know what? I'll just let you figure it out on your own," Jimin huffed, swatting his hand away. "At least I planted the seed of doubt."
Taehyung opened his mouth to argue, but Jimin was already getting up from the table.
He watched as his friend stood up, getting ready to leave, but just before he did, Jimin paused for a second.
"You know you have my full support, no matter what happens," he said gently. "You know I love you, Taehyung."
With that, he turned and started to walk away.
But... no. He couldn’t take it anymore. He needed his best friend—handling this alone had only made him feel worse. So, he grabbed Jimin’s wrist before he could get too far. Jimin turned to look at him, waiting for whatever he had to say.
"Jimin... I..." Taehyung exhaled, pressing his lips together for a moment before forcing himself to continue. "Yeah. I need to tell you something."
Chapter 29: Chapter 28
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
"How the fuck could you not tell me?" Jimin was angry—Taehyung knew it. His tone made him swallow hard as he felt his chest tighten.
They stood in the middle of the living room, barely a meter apart, yet Taehyung felt as if there was a vast abyss between them. He could almost see the trench forming right there. Jimin’s arms were tense at his sides, his jaw clenched, and his eyes gleamed with frustration. Taehyung hadn't seen him like this in a long time, with his brows furrowed in that way that made his usually calm face turn rigid.
"Jimin, please—"
"No!" Jimin cut him off immediately, his voice now higher-pitched, more wounded. "Don’t ask me to understand, because I don’t! I don’t even know where to start, honestly..." He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before looking at him again, his gaze filled with so much disappointment that it made Taehyung’s stomach churn. "Are you telling me you've been making out with Jungkook? In secret? And instead of coming to me, you went to Minho?"
The mere mention of that name made Taehyung grimace. He didn’t even have a particularly good relationship with Minho. They weren’t friends—not really. They could tolerate each other at times, but at others, they genuinely couldn’t stand each other. And yet… it was him that he had turned to.
"Jimin, it's not that I don’t trust you—"
"Then what is it?!" Jimin exploded, throwing his arms up in exasperation. "There’s no other logical explanation! You didn’t trust me, Taehyung!"
"I was desperate, I didn’t know what to do—"
"You could have come to me! That’s what best friends are for! For the good and the bad! Not just for going out drinking on Fridays, not just for talking nonsense and making stupid jokes. Not just for the superficial things! We’re here for what really matters!"
Every word was a direct blow to the chest. Taehyung felt a stinging sensation behind his eyes, emotions piling up in his throat, suffocating him.
"Jimin..."
"I would have been there for you," Jimin shook his head, his voice slightly trembling. "If you had told me something this important, I would’ve listened, I would’ve given you advice, I would’ve done anything to make sure you didn’t feel so fucking alone and desperate like you say you were." He took a deep breath before continuing, this time in a slower but no less cutting tone. "This isn’t something small, Taehyung. It’s not like you forgot to tell me what you did over the weekend. It’s not like you stayed quiet about some meaningless thing. This is... important. Really important. And it hurts that you didn’t share it with me."
Taehyung squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to cry, didn’t want to because he didn’t even feel like he had the right to. Jimin was the one who was hurt. He was the one who had been left out. But fuck, this hurt so much.
"I’m sorry," he murmured.
"I don’t care that you’re sorry," Jimin cut him off immediately. "I don’t want some empty apology. I want to understand why."
Silence stretched between them for a moment. Taehyung felt exposed, completely bare in front of the truth he had been avoiding for so long.
"I didn’t tell you because..." His voice came out cracked. He cleared his throat before continuing. "Because if I told you, then it would be real."
"Real?" Jimin frowned. Taehyung nodded, averting his gaze, his nose red from the effort of holding back tears.
"If I told you, it meant there was no turning back. That it wasn’t just something happening in my head anymore. That I couldn’t keep pretending it wasn’t happening." He crossed his arms over his own body, as if trying to shield himself from the vulnerability threatening to swallow him whole. "It meant accepting that I’m not straight. That my whole fucking life has been a lie."
Jimin stayed silent for a moment, but his gaze gradually softened.
"Taehyung..."
"I wasn’t ready," his voice was fragile, unwillingly so. "I didn’t want to accept it yet."
"That..." Jimin spoke slowly, carefully. "That’s something I would have liked you to tell me."
"I didn’t want you to see me differently," he admitted.
"You’re my best friend."
"That's exactly why." Jimin narrowed his eyes—not in anger, but in sadness, in understanding. "And besides," Taehyung continued in a quieter, heavier tone, "it wasn’t just my secret."
"What do you mean?"
"It wasn’t just about me, Jimin… If I told you, I wouldn’t just be dragging myself out of the damn closet—I’d be dragging Jungkook out with me. And that… that wasn’t my place." By now, Taehyung was trembling slightly. He knew, logically, that he was right—that what he was saying made sense—but it still wasn’t enough to quiet the guilt gnawing at him. "Jungkook isn’t ready either," he added, feeling the burning in his eyes intensify. "I... I already took a risk telling Minho, and I didn’t even intend to say who the other guy was, but he figured it out."
The older of the two started closing the distance between them, walking toward Taehyung with slow, deliberate steps. The blonde felt a lump in his throat as he noticed the change in Jimin. His stance was no longer rigid and defensive. His gaze had lost that sharp edge of reproach, and now he was really looking at Taehyung—not just hearing his words but truly understanding them.
The pressure in his chest became unbearable. His nose burned, his vision blurred, and he felt the first set of tears slide down his cheeks.
"It’s not just that we’re kissing," he choked out. "It’s not just... experimenting like we’re a couple of fucking teenagers."
His voice caught. He wanted to say it, knew he had to, but it felt like his body was fighting itself—like a part of him was desperately clinging to denial.
"Then what is it?"
"It’s that..." His lips trembled, and he squeezed his eyes shut because he couldn’t bear to look at him. "It’s that I think..." The words wouldn’t come out. Saying it out loud meant confirming what his mind had been trying to shove to the back of his consciousness for so long. But he couldn’t avoid it anymore. "I think... I like Jungkook."
A heavy silence filled the room.
He had barely whispered it, but Jimin heard him. His eyes widened in surprise, his mouth parted slightly before closing again. Taehyung felt like he was about to drown.
"You mean... in a sentimental way? Romantically?" Jimin asked.
"I don’t know," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. He let himself collapse onto the couch, burying his face in his hands. "Fuck, I don’t know."
The sound of the cushion sinking told him Jimin had sat down beside him, but he didn’t look up.
"I like kissing him," he confessed, almost in desperation. "I feel like a fucking hurricane is tearing through my stomach every time I do it. It’s so goddamn addictive. I like the way he looks at me—those damn Bambi eyes that have nothing to do with how insanely strong he actually is. I like that he remembers stupid little details, that he’s thoughtful, that even when he doesn’t want to, he understands me. I like competing with him. It’s fun. He challenges me, pushes me..."
Each word left him feeling more exposed, more vulnerable. But he couldn’t stop. Now that he had started, everything was spilling out like an avalanche.
"He’s an idiot," he said bitterly, letting out a dry laugh. "A stubborn bastard, proud as hell, thinks he knows everything, and at the same time, he can be the most hard-headed person in the world. But I like that. I like that he’s like that because… because that’s what makes him him." Taehyung took a shaky breath, voice thick with emotions. "I can’t help but worry about him. I like the way he smells—fuck, I used to hate it, but now it’s not unbearable anymore. I find it funny how he thinks he’s some kind of rebel, like no one can tell him what to do, but at the same time, he can be so damn condescending it makes you wanna punch him." Jimin didn’t say anything. He just listened. "I don’t know everything about him yet, but I want to. And I hate… I hate how Soojin treated him. I hated seeing him with Sana, hated seeing their hands intertwined, hated watching him carry her like… like he was her fucking knight in shining armor."
Taehyung’s chest rose and fell with ragged breaths. His heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might burst out of his chest.
Jimin let out a quiet sigh before sliding his hand over Taehyung’s back, soothing him with slow, comforting strokes.
"Tae…" His voice was so soft, almost a whisper. "That’s the kind of answer I was expecting when I asked you what made Sana special to you. You could have given me that answer about her… but you gave it about Jungkook." Taehyung felt his throat tighten. "Tae-Tae… I think you already know the answer."
The tears he had been holding back for so long finally broke through. A sob ripped from his throat, shaking his entire body. He couldn’t stop it.
And Jimin didn’t try to stop him. He just hugged him. It wasn’t awkward, and it wasn’t empty. It was the most genuine, warm embrace Taehyung had received in weeks.
He clung to Jimin, letting himself break apart, his chest trembling with every sob. His fingers curled into the fabric of Jimin’s shirt, his face burying into his shoulder.
"I’m sorry…" The apology slipped out in a shaky whisper. "I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry, Jimin."
Jimin stroked his back gently, his own voice cracking.
"I’m sorry too," he sighed. "I’m sorry for making you feel guilty about not telling me. I’m sorry for pushing you so hard. Now I understand everything that was running through your head."
Taehyung squeezed his eyes shut. The sobs didn’t stop. But for the first time, he wasn’t alone in them.
Minutes passed, and his crying gradually faded into soft hiccups and shaky breaths. Jimin was still there, holding him, his hand rubbing slow, firm circles on his back. He didn’t say anything—he just gave Taehyung all the time he needed.
Taehyung took a deep breath. His ribs still felt heavy from the tension, but he pulled away slightly, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand before leaning his head against the couch. He felt drained.
"Thanks…" he mumbled, his voice still hoarse. "For not hating me."
"I could never hate you, dumbass." Jimin huffed softly, shaking his head. He gave him a small, affectionate smile before his expression shifted—more serious, hesitant. Taehyung noticed the slight change in his posture, the way Jimin drummed his fingers against his knee like he was nervous about something. He frowned.
"What is it?"
Jimin cleared his throat, looking away for a second.
"There’s… something you should know."
"What is it?" Taehyung sat up straighter, suddenly on high alert.
"Yoongi-hyung knows."
The effect was immediate. Taehyung stiffened like a spring, his eyes widening in pure panic.
"What?!"
"He doesn’t know know!" Jimin quickly clarified, lifting his hands in a calming gesture. "It’s just… you know Yoongi-hyung. He’s freakishly observant. And we’ve talked about this between us, exchanged thoughts about it, so… I’d say he has his suspicions."
"Fuck," Taehyung whispered, pressing his fingers against his temples. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."
He couldn’t deal with this right now. Not after emotionally vomiting everything he had just admitted. First Minho, then Jimin, and now Yoongi apparently had an idea too? He couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was spiraling out of control.
"But relax," Jimin added quickly, trying to sound reassuring. "I’m not going to tell him anything about what we talked about today. And I doubt hyung will bring it up out of nowhere—that’s not really his style."
Taehyung swallowed hard, forcing himself to calm down. There was nothing he could do about Yoongi right now. The only thing he could do was make sure this didn’t spiral even further.
"Alright," he finally said, his voice tight. Even though, in reality, nothing felt alright at all. Jimin nodded, satisfied with his response, but then his face turned serious again.
"There’s one more thing I think you should do."
"Please tell me it’s not something that’s going to give me another heart attack," Taehyung groaned, squeezing his eyes shut for a second.
Jimin let out a short chuckle, shaking his head.
"It’s not that. I was going to say you should talk to Jungkook. Not about your feelings," he added quickly when Taehyung shot him a look like he had just suggested he jump off a bridge. "Not if you’re not ready or if you still don’t fully understand them. But you should tell him that Minho and I know. Because this involves him too."
"Jimin…"
"Listen," Jimin interrupted. "You said you didn’t want to out him because it’s not your place, and you’re right. But this does involve him. It’s not fair for him to be in the dark when other people know what’s going on."
"I don’t know how to tell him," Taehyung admitted quietly.
"Just tell him the truth," Jimin said gently. "Don’t keep this from him."
Taehyung took a deep breath. His mind was a mess, but no matter how much he wanted to avoid it, he knew Jimin was right. This wasn’t just his secret. Jungkook deserved to know.
"Fuck," he whispered again, running a hand through his hair. "Fine. I’ll go see him."
Jimin smiled a little, giving him a light punch on the shoulder.
"Good. And don’t overthink the thing with Yoongi-hyung. If you ever need to talk to someone else… he’s probably the least problematic one out of all of us."
The blonde scoffed, not entirely convinced of that.
He had no idea how he was going to handle this conversation with Jungkook.
But he couldn’t keep running from it anymore.
Jungkook paced back and forth in his room, phone in hand, fidgeting with it impatiently. His footsteps echoed against the wooden floor, firm, almost anxious.
A part of him knew he was overreacting, that it made no sense to be in this state just because he saw Taehyung with Minho. But fuck, he couldn't help it.
He couldn't get that image out of his head.
Taehyung, smiling so easily, sitting way too close to Minho. The black-haired guy leaning toward him with confidence, as if it were completely natural to be that close. As if there was absolutely nothing to fear about getting near Taehyung like that.
Jungkook clicked his tongue, annoyed at himself.
He shouldn't be feeling this way, but he couldn't stop it either.
Minho was gay. That was a fact. Jungkook had known for a while, though it had never been something he thought much about. There was no reason to, after all. It wasn’t his problem, it wasn’t his concern.
Until now.
Because now, fuck, his head wouldn’t stop filling up with ridiculous questions.
What if Taehyung was testing the waters with him? What if Minho was interested in Taehyung? What if something had already happened and Jungkook was here, like a fucking idiot, wondering what those looks meant while they…?
He shook his head, clenching his jaw.
“Shit…”
He flopped onto his bed, running a hand through his hair in frustration.
He felt like a goddamn teenager having a crisis, and he hated it.
Fuck.
He should call him.
Not just because of this, but also because he needed to talk to him about Sana.
That was another thing making him nervous. He felt a little guilty, but what worried him the most wasn’t Sana herself—it was Taehyung. He didn’t know how he’d react, but deep down, he had this stupid hope that maybe he was feeling the same way. That, just like him, he had realized this whole thing made no sense.
Because he didn’t want to keep up this fucking act anymore.
The almost-kiss with Sana had been enough to finally make something click in his brain. Every fiber of his being was screaming at him that he felt nothing romantic for her, and the worst part was that, deep down, he had always known. He had just refused to admit it until now.
He didn’t want to chase her anymore. He didn’t want to keep fighting Taehyung over her. He wanted to stop acting, to stop competing.
But what if Taehyung didn’t feel the same? What if Taehyung was happy because it meant he could have Sana all to himself without any competition? What if, the moment Jungkook stepped aside, Taehyung ran to confess his love to Sana and they ended up together?
A tight knot formed in his stomach, an unpleasant heat spreading through his body.
Shit.
Jungkook bit his lip and unlocked his phone with his thumb. His eyes scanned the screen until they landed on “Dumb little prince” in his contacts.
He hesitated for a few seconds. His fingers trembled slightly as he swiped to call.
But at that exact moment, the sound of the doorbell echoed through his apartment.
He frowned, puzzled.
Who the hell would come over at this hour?
Still holding his phone, he left his room and walked to the door. He hesitated for a second before opening it, unsure of what to expect on the other side. But the moment he did, the surprise hit him like a punch to the gut.
“Tae…” he whispered, eyes wide.
But Taehyung didn’t let him speak any further.
He barely lifted a finger in Jungkook’s direction, not even looking at him, still bent forward with his hands on his knees, gasping for air. It looked like he had just run a marathon. Jungkook shut his mouth automatically.
He stared at him, startled. Taehyung was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, his chest rising and falling rapidly, and his hair was a messy tangle over his forehead.
What the hell had he been doing?
“I need to talk to you,” Taehyung managed between ragged breaths.
Jungkook frowned, his concern escalating in mere seconds.
“How did you get here?” he asked, stepping toward him. “Did you take the elevator? You should’ve called me. Are you okay? Can you breathe? Look at me.”
He didn’t think twice before lifting his hands and cupping Taehyung’s face. His fingers were cold against the other’s warm skin.
Taehyung flushed slightly.
“Don’t be an idiot,” he mumbled, glancing away for a second. “I ran up the stairs. Yeah, I can’t breathe, but it’s from exhaustion.”
Jungkook blinked, his expression shifting from worry to sheer confusion.
“Why the hell would you do that?”
“I don’t know, I just… needed to get here fast,” Taehyung huffed, wiping a hand across his forehead.
Jungkook stared at him for a few seconds before sighing and opening the door wider.
“Get inside before you pass out.” Taehyung didn’t hesitate. He stumbled into the apartment with still-unsteady steps, and Jungkook shut the door behind him. “Sit down,” he ordered, guiding him toward the kitchen island.
Taehyung obeyed, dropping onto one of the stools with his elbows resting on the table.
Jungkook moved quickly to the fridge, grabbing a cold bottle of water and practically rushing back to hand it to him.
“Here.”
Taehyung took it without a word, uncapping it and chugging down big gulps.
Jungkook sat beside him, still frowning as he watched him.
By the time Taehyung set the bottle down, his breathing had evened out, and Jungkook finally broke the silence.
“What do you need to talk about?” the black-haired man asked. Taehyung took a deep breath. He knew he had to say it, he knew he couldn’t keep holding it in, but just as he opened his mouth to speak, Jungkook interrupted him. “Is this about Sana?”
The question caught him off guard. His lips parted in clumsy silence, blinking in surprise. He hadn’t expected that. He hadn’t expected Jungkook to go straight there. But of course, it made sense—if there was something Jungkook worried about, if there was something that unsettled him about this twisted thing they had, it was Sana.
“Something like that,” he replied, and he saw the way Jungkook nodded heavily, almost resigned. It felt like his words had confirmed something Jungkook had already been thinking. And for some reason, that made Taehyung’s chest tighten. “First of all, I want to apologize.”
That seemed to snap Jungkook out of it. He looked up immediately, frowning.
“Apologize?”
“I did something I shouldn’t have,” Taehyung admitted, staring at the kitchen island’s surface. “I acted on impulse, out of desperation, but I didn’t think about the consequences it could have for you.”
“What did you do?” Jungkook’s tone changed. It was no longer resigned—it was annoyed. “Does this have to do with Minho?”
“How did you know?” Taehyung muttered, frowning.
Jungkook let out a laugh. Not a real one, but a hollow, bitter laugh, dripping with disbelief and even a little anger.
“I knew it,” he said, without a hint of surprise.
“You knew? How?”
“Do you really think I don’t notice things?” Jungkook shot back, his gaze sharp and accusing. “That I don’t pick up on when someone’s acting weird? When someone is hiding a fucking secret right in front of me?”
“Well, I didn’t think just seeing me would make you figure everything out… am I that obvious?”
“Tell me something, Taehyung,” Jungkook’s voice dropped lower, more intense. “What did you do with him?”
The blond looked confused, not understanding the question.
“What are you talking about?”
“I mean, you did something with him!” Jungkook snapped, patience wearing thin. “You kissed him, you fucked him, you did something with him!”
“What the fuck?”
“Just tell me the truth!”
“What the hell are you even thinking, Jungkook?!”
"I'm starting to think that, apparently, I wasn't enough!" he snapped angrily. "That I've always had this doubt that one day you'd break that stupid exclusivity promise, and turns out you didn’t even have to wait long."
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Taehyung felt the irritation rising straight to his head. Was Jungkook really this much of an idiot?
"Minho has a boyfriend, for fuck's sake! If you're messing around with him, it’s fucked up no matter how you look at it!"
"I don’t give a shit if Minho has a boyfriend! I’m not messing around with him!"
"Oh, really?" Jungkook looked at him with clear distrust.
"No!"
"Then tell me what you did with him."
"You really wanna know what I did with him?" Taehyung locked eyes with Jungkook, feeling his irritation explode through every fiber of his body.
"Yes."
"I went to see him because I’ve never had a fucking dick up my ass, and I wanted advice from someone who actually knows!"
The silence that followed was brutal.
Jungkook stopped breathing. His expression shifted from anger to utter bewilderment in a split second.
“…What?"
"You heard me, Jungkook." Taehyung crossed his arms and glared at him. "I went to see him because I needed answers. Because I’ve never done this before, and I wanted to make sure I didn’t fuck it up. Because…" He sighed, rubbing his face in frustration. "Because I was losing my goddamn mind, and I had no one else to ask."
Jungkook kept staring at him, his anger completely dissipated, a tinge of embarrassment creeping up in his chest.
"So…" He cleared his throat, his tone much quieter now. "Nothing happened between you two?"
"Of course nothing happened, you idiot!" Taehyung snapped, still pissed. "I can’t believe you actually thought I broke the promise. What the fuck is wrong with you? I told you I’m a man of my word, you dumbass. And you treated me like a fucking whore? What the hell is that about, saying you 'always doubted me' and that I 'didn’t take long'?"
The black-haired man averted his gaze, suddenly feeling like a complete fool.
“…You two looked really close."
"Of course we were close," the blond scoffed. "I was asking him if it hurts to get your ass wrecked."
Jungkook felt his face burn instantly and looked away, completely mortified. Taehyung watched him, still angry, but deep down, a tiny part of him was starting to find this slightly amusing.
"What’s wrong? Are you embarrassed now?"
"It’s not that…"
"Then what is it?"
"I feel like an idiot."
Taehyung stared at him for a moment before looking away with a scoff.
"Well, you kind of were."
"I… I’m really sorry."
"Just drop it. And shut up, I’m not done yet." Taehyung swallowed hard and forced himself to continue. "I tried to keep it from him. I didn’t want Minho to know that… that the dick in question was yours, but the bastard has a damn good gaydar, and somehow, he figured it out. He didn’t even ask me directly, he just… just started throwing your name into the conversation."
Jungkook’s frown deepened, and his posture visibly tensed.
"What?" His voice came out lower than usual. Taehyung felt his skin prickle—Jungkook only used that tone when he was genuinely upset, when something actually got to him. "Taehyung, we agreed not to tell anyone."
"I know, I know," Taehyung hurried to say, raising his hands defensively. "Believe me, I never meant to, but there was nothing I could do. I don’t even know how he did it, but Minho just… knew."
Jungkook clenched his jaw and looked away for a moment, rubbing his palms against his thighs—a clear sign that he was trying to calm himself down before saying something he might regret.
"I’m sorry," Taehyung repeated. "I really am. I didn’t want to expose this, I didn’t want anyone to know, but it just… happened."
"Is that all?" Jungkook asked, still not looking directly at him, his voice tight.
Taehyung swallowed hard, his fingers nervously playing with the hem of his shirt.
"No," he whispered. "That’s not all."
Jungkook’s head shot up immediately, his expression hardening again.
"What else did you do?"
Taehyung felt a painful squeeze in his chest at those words. Like he had already fucked up enough, like Jungkook was just bracing himself for another disappointment. He bit his lip nervously, looking down for a second before blurting it out:
"I told Jimin."
The silence between them was suffocating.
Jungkook just stared at him, lips slightly parted, but no words came out. Taehyung took a deep breath and kept going, feeling desperation clawing at his throat.
"I needed to talk to someone, Jungkook. I felt lost, I felt alone, and so fucking confused. I didn’t know what to do, what to feel, or what any of this even meant. I couldn’t just keep all of this inside my head without losing my mind. Jimin is my best friend, he… he’s the only person I knew I could trust, the only person who could help me make sense of whatever the fuck was happening to me. It wasn’t because I wanted to betray our privacy, it wasn’t because I didn’t care about what we agreed on. It was because I was fucking scared."
He stopped for a moment, running a hand down his face, trying to steady himself.
"I shouldn’t have done it," he admitted, his voice breaking. "I know that. I know it was wrong, I know it was selfish. Exposing you like that, pulling you out of the closet. Or well, I don’t even know if you’re actually in one or not, but it was a shitty thing to do. I had no right, and I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, Jungkook. But I didn’t do it out of malice, I didn’t do it to screw you over. I did it because… because I felt like I was drowning."
Every word leaving his lips carried a silent "I’m sorry." He felt miserable.
"Fuck…" Jungkook muttered, rubbing a hand down his face.
"Please, tell me you forgive me," Taehyung pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know what I did was wrong. I know, but I just wanted help, support. This has all been too much for me."
Jungkook closed his eyes for a moment. His mind was a mess. He felt frustration, obviously, but also a sting of understanding. Because he got it. He understood the desperation of feeling trapped in something you couldn’t even define properly.
"One more thing," Taehyung spoke up again.
"There’s more?"
"Yeah," he admitted, shutting his eyes briefly. "Yoongi-hyung knows too."
"Yoongi-hyung knows?"
"Kind of, not completely," Taehyung said quickly, raising his hands in surrender. "But that wasn’t my fault, I swear. Yoongi is way too observant. He connected the dots on his own."
Silence settled between them again.
Taehyung felt like he was on the verge of breaking. He didn’t know what else to say, what else to do to make Jungkook understand that he hadn’t done all this to hurt him.
Jungkook lowered his head for a moment and let out a long sigh. It sounded exhausted, resigned, like all the anger and tension had just drained from his body. Taehyung watched him with a knot in his stomach.
"The last thing I wanted to tell you is that I can’t do this shit anymore," his voice wavered slightly. "I don’t want to keep up this stupid love triangle with Sana. I don’t want this, I can’t do it." Jungkook stared at him in silence. "I’m out," Taehyung continued. "I don’t want to keep trying to win her over or keep up this charade. I don’t want to keep pretending this is about her when clearly… it’s not."
He didn’t like the idea that now two people knew for sure what was happening between them, and another one suspected it. He wasn’t ready for his life to take that turn—not when he didn’t even know what all of this meant for him yet. He wasn’t ready to face the questions, neither his own nor anyone else’s.
But Taehyung… Taehyung was a mess. And he couldn’t blame him. Jungkook had also had days when he felt completely lost, wanting to talk to someone but never finding the courage to do so. Maybe if he had trusted Yoongi, Namjoon, or Hoseok, things would be easier now. He wasn’t ready to talk about this—he didn’t know if he ever would be—but he understood why Taehyung had felt the need to do it. He had just been trying to stay afloat, and Jungkook couldn’t hold that against him.
"I'm sorry." His voice broke the silence, low and tense. Taehyung blinked and looked up, confused. Jungkook took a deep breath before continuing. "For going out with Sana on that date."
Taehyung cleared his throat. His face remained expressionless, but Jungkook noticed the slight tension in his shoulders.
"Don’t worry," he replied, his tone dry, devoid of emotion.
"It wasn’t really much of a date anyway," Jungkook went on with a grimace. "She got hurt, and I ended up taking her home."
The blond let out a low sound, something resembling a humorless chuckle, and nodded.
"Yeah, I saw you carrying her like a damn princess," he muttered, rolling his eyes. Jungkook glanced at him and allowed himself a small smile, though it didn’t last long.
"In the car, she grabbed my face," he said, lowering his voice slightly, unsure of how to say it. "She leaned in to kiss me."
Taehyung tensed instantly. His jaw clenched, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. He didn’t look at him. He couldn’t.
"Good for you," he said, his voice sounding off, like he was forcing himself to sound normal when he could barely breathe. "You won."
"What?" Jungkook frowned.
"Now that I stepped aside, you two can be together," Taehyung continued, his tone struggling to remain neutral but failing miserably. "Good to know." Jungkook barely had time to process what was happening before Taehyung abruptly stood up. He didn’t look at him—not even once. "Now that everything’s cleared up, I should go."
But Jungkook didn’t let him move. On impulse, without thinking, he caught his hand quickly, his fingers wrapping around his skin before he could walk away.
"Sit down."
"Jungkook…"
"Sit down, Taehyung."
Taehyung huffed, but Jungkook didn’t loosen his grip. After a brief moment of hesitation, the older one sank back onto the stool by the kitchen island, lips pressed together and eyes fixed on the countertop. Jungkook took a deep breath before continuing, easing his grip slightly but not letting go.
"I said she grabbed my face and leaned in to kiss me."
"I heard you. Can I leave now?"
"I didn’t say I kissed her." Jungkook shook his head.
Silence.
Taehyung’s eyes flickered, hesitant, like he was debating whether or not to look at him. When he finally turned his head, his expression was laced with confusion.
"You didn’t kiss her?"
"No." A small smile tugged at Jungkook’s lips.
"Why not?" Taehyung asked immediately. "If you like Sana… that’s what you wanted, right?"
Jungkook stayed silent for a second, but he didn’t look away from him. Then his gaze dropped to their hands, still clasped together, and gently, he intertwined their fingers. Taehyung tensed again, but he didn’t pull away.
"Because I didn’t want to kiss her." Taehyung felt his breath catch in his throat. Jungkook looked up and held his gaze firmly. "I couldn’t do it. My body…" He exhaled, his voice lowering just a fraction. "It was screaming at me."
"What did it say?"
"That I don’t like Sana," Jungkook answered, a certainty in his voice that surprised even himself.
Taehyung blinked, still unsure of what to do with the way Jungkook was holding his hand, his thumb stroking his skin so delicately that it almost hurt.
"Then… what does that mean?"
"That I’m stepping out of this stupid love triangle, too." He didn’t look away from Taehyung for even a second. "This doesn’t have to change anything between us," he said, his voice steady, though deep down, there was still a trace of uncertainty. He was still getting used to the idea, but there was one thing he was sure of—he wanted to keep being with Taehyung, to see where this would take them, even if it all ended terribly. "I’m comfortable with what we have. And even though I didn’t like that you told Jimin and Minho details about us without my consent… I get why you did it. I’m not as mad anymore."
"‘As’ mad?" Taehyung raised an eyebrow. Jungkook let out a small laugh at the way he looked at him, shrugging before leaning in just a little, his eyes gleaming with playful mischief.
"I’ll stop being mad if you kiss me right now."
"You’re an idiot." Taehyung rolled his eyes dramatically, but the blush creeping up his cheeks betrayed how unaffected he was trying to seem. "Well, I’m still mad at you for basically calling me a slut."
"Let me make it up to you, then, because I really am sorry."
Yeah, right, as if he’d actually—
But barely a few seconds passed before he was gripping Jungkook’s shirt collar with his free hand, pulling him closer. Jungkook barely had time to react before their lips met in a kiss that was anything but superficial.
Taehyung tilted his head slightly to adjust the angle, letting his lips slide slowly against Jungkook’s. The warmth was intoxicating, the soft friction sending tiny shivers down their spines.
Jungkook felt tingles rush down his back as Taehyung’s hand traveled from his shirt to the nape of his neck, fingers threading through his hair with gentle ease. He responded to the kiss with the same intensity, his lips pressing with more certainty, more need. When Taehyung lightly nipped his bottom lip, a shudder ran down Jungkook’s spine, and without meaning to, he let out a small sigh against his mouth.
When they finally pulled apart, Jungkook blinked slowly, trying to catch his breath. His lips were slightly damp and tingling from the contact. But Taehyung didn’t move away completely—he stayed right there, watching him closely.
The blond let his gaze sweep over his face, taking him in with an almost unbearable softness.
And then he smiled. A smile so pretty, so genuine, the kind that made his whole expression soften like he was looking at something he adored.
Taehyung never let go of his hand, and he took full advantage of that by giving it a small tug, urging him to stand. Jungkook followed without question, feeling the warmth of Taehyung’s palm seep into his skin in a way that felt oddly comforting.
He led him to the living room and made him sit on the couch, while he remained standing in front of Jungkook. The raven-haired man looked at him curiously, raising an eyebrow when Taehyung moved his hands from side to side in a playful manner.
"What are you doing?" he asked, chuckling lightly.
Taehyung tilted his head with an enigmatic smile before shrugging.
"We should celebrate being ‘free men.’"
"And how do you plan to do that?" Jungkook scoffed, shaking his head as he looked down at his intertwined hands. Taehyung stared at him with a special glint in his eyes before leaning in a little closer.
"Knowing that I'll be the bottom, it’d be good to get used to certain touches, you know… to relax when the time comes."
Jungkook felt his brain short-circuit for a second.
"What?"
Taehyung didn't respond immediately. Instead, he licked his lips slowly, and then, with the same calmness he had when he kissed him, he moved closer and sat on Jungkook’s lap.
The tattooed man froze completely when he felt Taehyung's weight on him. His legs were on either side of his body, locking him in with no chance of escape. Jungkook swallowed hard, feeling his breathing grow erratic at the closeness.
"T-Taehyung..."
He couldn't help but stutter when the other’s dark eyes locked onto his. And then, Taehyung took his wrists without breaking eye contact and guided Jungkook’s hands to his ass.
And how the hell was he supposed to resist that?
Taehyung barely had time to let out a gasp before Jungkook pulled him in. The distance between their bodies vanished in a single movement, their chests brushing through the fabric of their shirts, and their breaths mingling in the little space they left between their faces.
"Fuck…" was all Taehyung managed to say before Jungkook kissed him.
And it wasn’t a timid or careful kiss; it wasn’t a hesitant exploration or a test of limits. It was a full-on assault on his senses, a shameless clash of lips against lips that made his brain shut down entirely.
Jungkook kissed like he'd been waiting for this for too long. Like he was certain he wouldn’t be letting go anytime soon. His lips were firm and demanding, and when his tongue brushed against Taehyung’s, a shiver ran down his spine.
He clung to the back of Jungkook's neck, leaning into him more, kissing back with desperate urgency. There wasn't a single part of their bodies that wasn't touching in some way, and yet, it still wasn’t enough.
Jungkook already had his hands on his ass, but it wasn’t until that moment that—without any warning—he squeezed hard. Taehyung jolted, pulling back just a few centimeters with a sharp, shaky breath.
"Fucking hell, Jungkook…"
"You asked for it."
Jungkook instinctively bucked his hips upward, seeking more friction, more contact. Taehyung chuckled against his lips, sliding his tongue over Jungkook’s lower lip before catching it between his teeth and tugging lightly.
The heat in the room became unbearable within seconds.
Taehyung’s hands moved with urgency over his chest, his abs, his sides—trying to memorize every inch of his body through the fabric. Jungkook trembled slightly when Taehyung’s fingers tangled in his hair and pulled firmly, forcing his head back. He took full advantage of the space, pressing slow, torturous kisses along his neck.
But Jungkook wasn’t about to stay still. His hands continued their exploration with zero hesitation, openly groping his ass, kneading his flesh with an intensity that Taehyung wasn’t sure he could handle without losing his mind. Every press of his fingers sent a rush of heat straight to his groin, and when Jungkook rolled his hips against him, his entire body tensed.
"Is this couch gonna survive this?" Taehyung suddenly asked, breathless, in a desperate attempt to hold onto some semblance of control.
Jungkook froze. His face, which had been filled with unfiltered desire just a second ago, shifted into a comically guilty expression as he blinked rapidly, processing the question.
"I… well…" He cleared his throat, avoiding Taehyung’s gaze.
Taehyung couldn't stop the laugh that burst from his chest.
"I knew it!" he exclaimed, leaning back just enough to look at him properly. "You lied to me about the couch!"
Jungkook squirmed underneath him, pursing his lips into an adorable pout that didn’t match the way his hands were still shamelessly gripping his ass.
"I was drunk!" he defended himself, though his voice sounded more like an embarrassed whimper than an actual excuse. "I wanted you to stay with me, and if I told you the couch was free, you would've chosen it."
"You told me it would break if someone lay on it!"
"And you believed me!"
"You’re such a cheater, Jeon," Taehyung laughed again, unable to hold it in. Jungkook clicked his tongue, pretending to be offended, though the slight blush on his face betrayed him.
"And so what if I am? I got what I wanted, didn’t I?"
Taehyung's laughter slowly faded. The way Jungkook was looking at him—with dilated pupils and kiss-swollen lips—stirred something deep in his stomach.
"Yeah…" he murmured, his voice lower than he intended. "You did."
He didn’t give him time to reply. He kissed him again, and this time, he took full control. He moved over his lap with slow, deliberate movements, pressing his arousal against Jungkook’s in a way that made them moan into each other’s mouths.
Their clothes were still on, but they barely felt like a real barrier when the heat between them was so overwhelming. Jungkook could feel every muscle in Taehyung's body tensing under his hands, every shift of his hips grinding against him, making it impossible to think straight.
His fingers dug even deeper into Taehyung’s ass, squeezing and gliding shamelessly over the curves of his body. He could feel how hard he was against him—just as hard as he was—and knowing that Taehyung was enjoying this just as much only made him burn hotter.
Taehyung clung to his shoulders, his breathing growing more erratic. Jungkook groaned against his lips; he was losing it. The guy kept rolling his hips over him. For someone who had never straddled anyone before, he was doing it disturbingly well—even with their clothes still on, the pressure and stimulation were driving him insane.
He wanted more.
And then, with a swift movement, Jungkook flipped their positions, pushing Taehyung down so he was sitting on the couch. The blond looked up at him with narrowed eyes, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath.
"And now what?" he asked, his voice slightly hoarse.
Jungkook leaned over him, his hands sliding down his thighs before parting them slightly.
"Let me show you."
He knelt on the floor, getting down on his knees in front of him. Taehyung had a pretty good idea of what was about to happen, so he bit his lip in anticipation, desire flickering in his eyes.
Jungkook wasted no time unbuttoning his pants, though he struggled a little, making Taehyung chuckle and help him out. He pulled the blond’s pants off completely, leaving him only in his tight black underwear, which did absolutely nothing to conceal the prominent bulge beneath.
At first, he touched him over the fabric, running his hand up and down, studying Taehyung’s face carefully. The blond was beyond turned on, his skin flushed, lips swollen, and, as always, those pleading eyes were enough to ruin Jungkook completely. Without further hesitation, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of his boxers and pulled them down, getting rid of them entirely.
Taehyung’s cock sprang free, slapping against his abdomen, and Jungkook immediately wrapped his hand around it, stroking up and down. The blond let out a breathy moan, pushing his hips upward, silently asking for more. And since whatever Taehyung wanted was basically law to him, Jungkook moved faster.
The deep, husky moans spilling from Taehyung’s lips sent shivers down Jungkook’s spine. He knew he was doing a good job just by looking at the way pleasure twisted the blond’s face, but he also knew he could do even better. So he leaned in and parted his lips, taking Taehyung into his mouth.
Taehyung’s fingers clenched tightly around a pillow, while his right hand found Jungkook’s hair, gripping it. The younger worked his tongue around him, moving his head slowly up and down, trying to get used to it. He wasn’t taking too much at once—this wasn’t something he did often, and he definitely wasn’t used to a dick the size of Taehyung’s.
Looking up, Jungkook found the blond with his eyes shut and lips slightly parted, allowing the most intoxicating moans to escape. Fuck, he loved making him moan.
Taehyung started rolling his hips up just as Jungkook lowered his head, making each thrust deeper. Little by little, the blond set his own rhythm, guiding Jungkook’s head to his liking, using his hips to fuck into his mouth.
Jungkook could barely breathe, his hands gripping Taehyung’s hips as he let the older take full control. And honestly, it didn’t feel bad having a dick in his mouth after all.
After a few more seconds, Taehyung’s moans got louder, and suddenly, he yanked Jungkook away, pulling his cock from his mouth. The younger looked up in confusion, lips slick and swollen, a slight pout forming.
"Do you always have to be so rough?" he snapped.
"Sorry, I just— I was about to cum," Taehyung admitted, looking a little embarrassed.
"And why stop then? Come on…" Jungkook opened his mouth again, sticking his tongue out slightly as he leaned back toward his cock. But Taehyung stopped him, pulling him away once more. "Hey!" Jungkook complained.
"I don’t want to cum yet. I want us to do it together." As soon as the words left Taehyung’s mouth, a faint blush spread across his cheeks.
Jungkook couldn’t help but smile at that but decided to respect his request. He simply stood up from the floor, unfastened his own pants, and moved next to Taehyung. Grabbing the older by the arm, he suddenly yanked him forward, making Taehyung yelp as he was pulled onto Jungkook’s lap, just like before. Except this time, he had nothing on, and fuck—he felt incredibly exposed.
Jungkook’s grip tightened around one of his ass cheeks, lifting him just enough to slide his other hand down and push the rest of his clothes off. Then, he guided Taehyung back down onto his lap.
Taehyung’s face was burning. It was one thing to have Jungkook grab his ass when he had his pants and boxers on—two layers of clothing in between. But it was a whole different thing to feel those hands on his bare skin, and worse, to feel Jungkook’s hard cock pressed right up against his— Jesus fucking Christ.
He couldn’t hold back the whimper that escaped his lips. It felt weird, but fuck, the warmth between them felt good.
Jungkook slid both hands over his ass, and Taehyung tensed immediately. The younger started moving his hands in opposite circles, his gaze locked onto Taehyung’s face, which was now a deep shade of red as he bit his lip. The way Jungkook was touching him left him completely exposed for brief moments, spreading him open. It was new. It was strange to feel cool air contrast against the burning heat of his skin. But he didn’t complain.
Then Jungkook did something unexpected—he lifted his hand and brought it down swiftly, landing a sharp slap on Taehyung’s ass.
The blond jolted with a gasp.
"J-Jungkook!" he sputtered, his face shifting through a spectrum of colors.
"See? It bounces." Jungkook grinned, looking far too excited, almost innocent about it. Taehyung wanted to fucking kick him.
"I hope you die and reincarnate as a used, discarded condom."
"Mhm, can I choose who uses it?"
"You’re dirty." Jungkook raised both hands and smacked his ass again—twice this time. "Ah!" Taehyung whined.
Jungkook chuckled, clearly enjoying this, so he grabbed the older’s hips again, urging him to move back and forth like they had before. Only this time, there was nothing between them, making Taehyung shudder because he could feel every inch of Jungkook rubbing against him.
Jungkook left his right hand on Taehyung’s ass, but with his left, he reached between them and wrapped his fingers around the blond’s cock, gripping it fully. However, he didn’t move—he just held it in place, letting Taehyung’s own movements stimulate him. With this new incentive, Taehyung didn’t hesitate to grind against him more eagerly.
Jungkook grew bolder, sliding his right hand a little further down until his fingertips brushed against Taehyung’s entrance. The blond’s eyes widened slightly, and he immediately shook his head.
"W-Wait, no."
"Relax, I’m not going to put it in," Jungkook reassured him. "I just want you to get used to the touch. I won’t do anything you don’t want, okay?"
Taehyung hesitated for a moment before giving him a small nod, allowing Jungkook to continue. The younger ran his fingers around the tight ring of muscle, not applying pressure, just exploring, tracing gentle circles. The sensation was strange—almost ticklish—but not unpleasant. He… liked it.
So he kept moving against him.
Jungkook was already feeling too fucking good. This wasn’t even full-on stimulation, just teasing, but the friction was enough to make him moan and see stars. He couldn’t even imagine what it would feel like once he was actually inside him.
Taehyung let his head fall onto Jungkook’s shoulder, and Jungkook did the same, his ear pressed against him, listening to that deep, breathy voice moaning right next to him. It was too fucking hot to be the one making him sound like that.
Taehyung moved faster, harder, never stopping the stimulation on Jungkook—his own movements, his hand on his cock, and though it embarrassed him a little, the hand on his ass—all of it had him on the edge.
Desperate, he searched for Jungkook’s lips and kissed him hungrily, moaning into his mouth as the heat coiled tightly in his stomach, his thighs trembling slightly as pleasure took over him, his orgasm spilling onto Jungkook’s hand.
But Jungkook hadn’t come yet, though he was pretty damn close.
As Taehyung caught his breath, resting his head back, Jungkook placed both hands on his ass and rocked his hips more intensely than before. A couple of minutes later, he let out a loud moan and came from the friction, his release dripping down onto Taehyung’s lower cheeks.
Taehyung felt the warm liquid and pulled away, twisting his torso slightly to check himself.
"You left my ass red, Jungkook."
"I'm not gonna apologize for that," Jungkook panted. "Sorry for not being sorry."
Taehyung turned back around just to smack his chest lightly before slipping off his lap. They looked at each other, sweaty and breathless. After a few seconds, they exchanged small, tired smiles.
"So… no more Sana," Taehyung muttered, his words dragging slightly from exhaustion.
"No more Sana," Jungkook confirmed with a nod. "If we're gonna try something, it’s just us. And if it all goes to shit, no one has to know." He reached up, brushing blond strands out of Taehyung’s eyes before adding, "Next time, I wanna come inside you."
Taehyung scoffed, rolling his eyes but smirking anyway.
"You better make sure I come first this time, ‘cause if you put it in, that’s definitely not happening."
"Oh yeah? You wanna bet?" Jungkook challenged, voice dripping with suggestion.
The thing was, Taehyung wasn’t so sure about his own claim anymore. Not at this point. So he decided to keep his mouth shut. Just in case.
Notes:
Hi! I wanted to let you know that I opened a Twitter account today, in case you'd like to follow me there. I appear as @frakinavi. It's to interact with you, share news about my updates, answer questions, or anything else you might have. It's an account dedicated to Taekook/KookV, so you'll see me reposting about that. Still, since my first language is Spanish, I'll still be tweeting in Spanish, although of course, in English too. Thanks for reading and supporting me so much.
Don't forget to comment and leave kudos if you haven't already; everything is appreciated. Kisses!
Here's the direct URL to my Twitter profile: https://x.com/freakinavi
Chapter 30: Chapter 29
Chapter Text
"Thanks for inviting me, Jungkook. I think we deserved this after our last outing, don’t you think?" Sana smiled softly, wrapping both hands around the coffee cup in front of her.
Jungkook averted his gaze toward the street, watching the traffic with a tense expression. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, then looked at her again, making sure his tone was as clear as possible.
"Sana… this isn’t a date."
Her smile faltered for a second. She frowned slightly, as if she hadn’t heard him right, and tilted her head.
"Sorry, what?"
"This isn’t a date," Jungkook repeated, this time with a little more firmness.
He had asked Sana to meet him at the bakery across from their university to talk about the decision he had made regarding her. However, it seemed like she had misunderstood things. Sana didn’t say anything right away; she simply held Jungkook’s gaze, evaluating him, trying to read between the lines for something he wasn’t saying. She held onto a small hope that maybe this was some kind of joke or that she was just misinterpreting things.
Jungkook took a deep breath, because unfortunately, the uncomfortable part was just beginning. He ran a hand over the back of his neck and, before Sana could ask more questions, he decided to get straight to the point.
"I asked you here because… there’s something important I want to talk to you about." He picked up his coffee cup, only to turn it in his hands. "I think it’s only fair that you know."
"You’re scaring me." Sana narrowed her eyes.
"It’s nothing bad, don’t worry. Or… well, I don’t know. I don’t know how you’ll take it. It’s just… something I needed to tell you." Jungkook was a little afraid of how she’d react—he didn’t want to hurt her. "These past few weeks…" he started, pausing for a moment before continuing, "I was really interested in you. I liked spending time with you. I like to think we got close, and honestly, I think you’re an amazing girl, but…" He wet his lips, feeling the slight tremor in his leg under the table. "But the push and pull between us… it wore me out."
Sana’s lips parted slightly in surprise.
"What?"
"I don’t blame you for not choosing anyone," Jungkook continued, using a gentle tone to keep the atmosphere from turning tense. "It’s not your fault. It’s natural that you’d want to take your time. You don’t have to choose anyone if you don’t want to. But in the end, I realized that competing for someone just isn’t for me."
Sana kept looking at him as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
"Wait… are you telling me that you’re giving up?"
Jungkook felt a flicker of irritation at her choice of words but kept his composure.
"It’s not about giving up. What I’m saying is that I’m not going to keep doing this," he said slowly. "I’m not going to keep chasing you."
"Are you sure?" Sana murmured after a long silence. Her voice was calm, but something in her body language betrayed her true emotions. Her fingers gripped her coffee cup a little tighter, and her usually straight and elegant posture now seemed tense.
Jungkook nodded.
"Yes. I’ve grown a bit in this time, and… I’d rather be your friend than keep up this dynamic." Sana smiled, but Jungkook immediately noticed that the smile didn’t reach her eyes—it looked forced. He swallowed hard. "I also don’t want you to think this is anything against you. It’s not," he added. "I just want to make it clear that my competition with Taehyung is over."
"Are you serious?"
"Yeah. I realized that…" Jungkook pressed his lips together, searching for the right words as he watched her lower her head. "I realized that I was idealizing you more than actually falling for you."
"I see," she said in a neutral voice. But then, leaning slightly forward, she added in a more casual tone, "Although… don’t you think we could just wait a little longer?"
Jungkook narrowed his eyes in confusion, unsure of where the conversation was going.
Sana continued, her voice turning almost sweet.
"I mean… things could change in a week. We still have time to see how things settle, right? I mean, there’s only one week left until I get the results from my auditions. It’s not that long, is it?" She shrugged. "By then, I’ll know what’s next—whether I’ll stay here or not."
Jungkook knew exactly what she was doing. She wasn’t saying it outright, but the intention was there, hidden in her casual tone. She was basically asking him to wait, to not make a decision just yet, to at least give her those days before walking away completely.
But he wasn’t going to do that.
"Sana…" His voice came out more serious, and he had to take a deep breath to calm himself before continuing. "I don’t want to wait anymore."
Her small smile froze for a moment. It wasn’t a drastic change, but it was enough for Jungkook to notice the slight hardening of her features. However, she recovered quickly.
"Well…" she said, changing tactics. "In that case…" And before Jungkook could process it, he felt the warmth of Sana’s hand on his. Her touch was soft, almost persuasive. Her fingers glided delicately over his, intertwining slightly. Jungkook felt uncomfortable immediately. "We could give it a try," she said, lowering her voice a notch, her smile reforming on her lips. "If what you wanted was a decision, how about I choose you?"
He froze.
Not because he was considering her proposal, but because the exact moment she spoke those words was the same moment everything he had been feeling until now condensed into a single, clear certainty: He didn’t want this, and he didn’t want her.
Over time, his interest in Sana had turned into an obsession—something fueled by his competition with Taehyung, by his ego, by the need to win. But now, with her offer on the table, with her fingers on his and her eyes looking at him like that, Jungkook didn’t feel the slightest spark of excitement.
He only felt discomfort. So, gently, he pulled his hand away from hers.
"No," he said, his voice remaining calm.
Sana blinked, her expression showing the first real crack.
"What?"
"Even if you chose me now, I don’t feel the same anymore," he said sincerely, his voice firmer now, making sure there were no misunderstandings. "I’m sorry, Sana."
She looked at him, her lips parting slightly as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. Her fingers, the same ones that had just tried to cling to his, curled slightly on the table, forming a subtle fist.
"Is there someone else?" she asked sharply.
"Not everything revolves around that," he replied, his tone a little drier than before. "I just hope we can be good friends from now on."
Sana didn’t respond, and Jungkook felt like there was nothing more to say. So he grabbed his backpack, stood up calmly, took out his wallet, and left enough money to cover both their drinks. Then, without breaking eye contact, he bowed almost ninety degrees toward her.
"I’ll see you around, Sana."
And without another word, he turned and walked out of the bakery. The door closed behind him with a soft chime. Inside, Sana remained seated, motionless.
For a moment, she did nothing. She just stared at the steaming coffee on the table and the plate with the cheesecake she had barely taken a bite from.
Then, pressing her lips together, she clenched her fist and slammed it lightly against the table. Not hard, but just enough to release some of the frustration burning in her chest, making the porcelain tremble slightly.
She didn’t like losing. She definitely didn’t like being left first.
But…
She straightened up, took a deep breath, and lifted her head. If Jungkook had stepped aside, then she would simply choose another option. It wasn’t the end of the world—she still had Taehyung.
With that thought in mind, she grabbed her purse, stood up from the table, and walked out of the bakery. The cold air greeted her as she stepped outside, but she didn’t even flinch. She simply headed toward the university, which was conveniently right in front of her. And as if fate had arranged it, Taehyung was there, strolling into campus with his backpack slung over one shoulder, walking leisurely as he always did.
Sana smiled.
Perfect.
Her expression changed instantly. She closed her eyes, let out a sigh, and then lifted her head with renewed energy. Her lips curved into a sweet smile, her gaze regained that charming glow she wielded so well, and her posture became lighter.
To any onlooker, she wasn’t a girl who had just been rejected. No, not at all.
She was the same Sana as always—the one who effortlessly captivated everyone. The sweet, lovable Sana.
"Taehyung!" Her voice rang out, melodic and cheerful.
The blonde, who was just about to cross the university entrance, turned his head at the sound of his name. The moment he saw her, his face lit up with a smile.
"Sana!" he greeted with warmth, walking toward her without a hint of suspicion.
As soon as he was close enough, she tilted her head with an endearing expression and softly asked, "What are you doing here so early?"
Taehyung let out a short laugh, adjusting his backpack with a small shrug.
"I have class in a bit. What about you? I wasn’t expecting to see you here."
Sana pouted slightly, letting out a dramatic sigh before flashing a playful smile.
"Can’t I just say I missed you?"
The blond blinked, clearly caught off guard by the comment, but soon let out a light chuckle, scratching the back of his neck with a slightly shy smile.
"Well, I wasn’t expecting that."
"Always so modest," she teased, laughing along with him. But this time, she stepped closer—too close. The space between their bodies disappeared, her scent lingering between them.
Without warning, her hands trailed down his arm. Taehyung felt the warmth of her fingers against his skin, too much, too fast. He tried to keep his expression neutral, but his body reacted immediately, tensing under her touch. Sana noticed. But instead of pulling away, she simply smiled even sweeter.
"You look good today," she said, tilting her head slightly.
Taehyung let out a nervous chuckle before, with careful tact, taking her hands in his and subtly moving them away.
"Thanks…" he replied, his smile still in place, but the discomfort was evident in the way he took a small step back. "Actually, it’s good that I ran into you," he added quickly, wanting to take advantage of the moment. "I needed to talk to you."
"What a coincidence!" she exclaimed enthusiastically, leaning in slightly. "I have something to tell you too."
"Oh yeah? What about?" Taehyung felt a slight knot in his stomach but nodded for her to continue.
"Well…" she started, twirling a strand of hair between her fingers. "I ran into Jungkook earlier." At the mention of the brunette, Taehyung tensed slightly. Jungkook hadn’t told him he was going to talk to her. "I told him that… well, that I wasn’t interested in him." Taehyung narrowed his eyes slightly, watching her in silence. She looked at him with an air of innocence. "I guess it caught him off guard," she added with a soft giggle. "But well, that’s just how things are, right?"
Taehyung instantly understood what she was trying to say between the lines. By telling him she wasn’t interested in Jungkook, she was making it clear that she had chosen him instead. That was why she was being so flirtatious. The blond could only grimace. This was going to be difficult.
"I see," was all he could say after a few seconds.
Sana smiled with satisfaction and took that moment to confidently hold his hands in hers.
"But now it’s your turn to talk."
Pure discomfort spread through his body. His instincts screamed at him to get out of there, but instead, he simply pulled away gently, slipping out of her grasp without making it seem like an outright rejection. Sana’s brow furrowed slightly, but she recovered quickly.
"So? What did you want to say?" she asked with a smile.
Taehyung let out a quiet sigh before meeting her gaze directly.
"Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about."
"Oh?" She tilted her head, expectant.
"Yeah, about… all of this." He gestured vaguely between them. "I wanted to tell you that I don’t want to keep trying to win you over."
Sana’s face froze for a brief second before shifting into one of disappointment. Clearly, she didn’t like what she was hearing.
"Why?" she asked, not bothering to hide her frustration.
"I’m just not interested in competing anymore," he answered with a shrug. "I’d rather focus on other things."
"Other things?"
"Yeah. My studies, my projects…" He paused before looking at her again. "I want us to be good friends, without any awkwardness."
Sana’s gaze sharpened slightly, but her smile remained in place.
"Does that mean you found someone else?" she asked, laced with sarcasm.
"I just realized this wasn’t going anywhere. I had fun, but I think I was wrong about what I felt." Sana narrowed her eyes slightly. She knew something was off about his words. But before she could say anything else, Taehyung bowed politely, offering her one last smile. "I’ll see you around, Sana."
And just like that, he turned on his heels and walked toward the entrance, leaving Sana standing there, watching his back as he walked away.
For the first time in a long time, things were slipping out of her control.
Sana felt her blood boil in her veins.
He didn’t stop, didn’t look back, didn’t show any sign that this decision had been hard for him. He was leaving with an infuriating sense of ease, as if none of this had affected him in the slightest. And that burned her from the inside out.
Because in just a matter of minutes, she had lost everything. Not only Jungkook, who had treated her with almost cruel indifference, but now also Taehyung, whom she had practically handed the victory to, only for him to walk away without a second thought.
How had this happened? How the hell had she let things spiral out of control so quickly? It wasn’t fair. She didn’t deserve this.
Sana felt a lump form in her throat, but she swallowed it down with rage, refusing to let something this stupid affect her too much.
She had been too slow, too patient, too lenient. She should have made a decision earlier. She should have made it clear from the beginning who she was truly interested in.
If only she hadn’t played around so much. If only she had handled things better.
Because yes, she did want their attention. Yes, she enjoyed watching them go out of their way for her. But more than anything, she liked the feeling of control, of being the one to decide, the one who had the final say. And now… she had nothing.
The anger bubbling inside her turned into something darker—rage fueled by wounded pride and resentment. Why did she have to lose them both at the same time? Why hadn't either of them waited for her? Jungkook had given up first, and now Taehyung. Was she really not worth it?
No. Of course she was worth it. She knew that. The problem was that they hadn’t realized it in time. But one thing was for sure: this wasn’t over.
Even as fury coiled in her chest, Sana didn’t take her eyes off Taehyung, watching as he walked through the university entrance. And then, just when she thought he would disappear from view, she saw him stop. Taehyung’s face lit up with enthusiasm as he raised a hand to wave at someone who had just stepped out of the building.
It was a girl.
A light-brown-haired girl, shorter than Sana, with long wavy hair tied into two high pigtails that framed her face. Her bangs highlighted her large, bright eyes, and her outfit was… childish. That was Sana’s first thought. A short denim overall dress over a blue striped shirt, and—what the hell?—a ridiculous Cinnamoroll plushie dangling from her strap. What was this? Some kind of messed-up five-year-old cosplay?
Sana felt a tight knot form in her stomach when Taehyung not only greeted the girl with enthusiasm but also hugged her without a hint of hesitation. And the worst part wasn’t the hug. No, the worst part was that he didn’t take his hands off her afterward. He held onto her comfortably as they talked, completely oblivious to Sana’s venomous stare.
Her eyes narrowed, analyzing every little movement. The way the girl laughed so easily, the way Taehyung tilted his head slightly while listening to her, that stupid charming smile on his lips.
A bitter taste rose in Sana’s throat.
Was this a joke? Was this really the girl who had stolen Taehyung’s attention?
She crossed her arms, eyes sharp as she studied the scene, searching for something—anything—that could explain why Taehyung seemed so at ease, so happy.
What the hell did she have that Sana didn’t?
Because, sure, she was pretty. Sana couldn’t deny that. But her style was so ridiculously childish, so immature, that it made no sense. What could Taehyung possibly see in her? She looked like a kid with that hairstyle. Her clothes looked like something out of a teen boutique.
Was this really the kind of girl Taehyung liked?
Sana clicked her tongue, crossing her arms impatiently.
Ridiculous. The scene unfolding before her was disgustingly sweet. Taehyung was grinning like an idiot while talking to that girl, and she wasn’t any better—acting like the world around them didn’t exist. Sana couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she didn’t need to. What mattered was what she was seeing, and what she saw told her everything.
That girl was already in a place Sana had never been. Taehyung was affectionate with her, comfortable with her. He wasn’t trying to win her over—he was acting like someone who already had a secure spot in her life.
Sana felt her stomach churn with frustration when, finally, Taehyung said goodbye with a kiss on the girl’s cheek. And the worst part? The way she reacted—with a spontaneous laugh, playfully hitting his arm, like she was used to it.
It was fucking irritating.
Taehyung, completely unconcerned, continued on his way, looking like a winner.
Sana, on the other hand, felt her blood boiling. She wasted no time. As soon as Taehyung disappeared into the university, she straightened her posture, smoothed down her skirt, and strode toward the light-brown-haired girl, who was casually rummaging through her bag for her earbuds, seemingly in no rush.
Something burned under Sana’s skin—rage, jealousy, or whatever the hell it was. But she masked it behind a perfect smile as she approached.
"Hi!" she greeted in her usual light, melodic tone, though there was a barely perceptible edge of passive-aggressiveness beneath it.
The other girl turned her head, blinking a couple of times before flashing a bright, sweet smile. Sana had to resist the urge to frown.
"Oh, hi."
"I couldn’t help but notice you were talking to Taehyung." Sana tilted her head slightly, twirling a strand of her hair in a casual manner. "I haven’t seen you around here before."
"Oh? Really?" The girl let out a soft giggle, adjusting one of her pigtails. "Well, the university is big. I study here, so…"
"Mhm, right." Sana narrowed her eyes just a fraction, keeping her smile intact. "And what’s your name?"
"Jiwoo," she answered without hesitation, her unwavering smile still in place.
Jiwoo.
Sana repeated the name in her head, committing it to memory immediately.
"Pretty name," she commented, though in her mind, it sounded more like, What a common name.
Jiwoo didn’t seem to notice (or maybe she simply didn’t care) about the bitterness laced in Sana’s tone. She simply tilted her head in a polite gesture, waiting to see if the brunette had more questions or if she could leave in peace.
"So…" Sana crossed her arms over her chest, feigning indifference. "You and Taehyung are friends?"
Jiwoo’s reaction was almost instant—her smile widened, and Sana felt an annoying pang of irritation. Why the hell was she smiling so much?
"Something like that," Jiwoo replied with a small shrug. "You could say so."
Sana studied her with narrowed eyes. The answer was ambiguous enough to mean absolutely nothing, and that pissed her off. Taking a deep breath, she forced a friendly smile.
"Something like that?"
"Yeah." Jiwoo nodded, completely unfazed. "We get along well."
She could feel her patience starting to crack. She hated vague answers, especially when she needed information. But she wasn’t about to let this girl see that.
"Oh," she hummed in understanding. "I see. I didn’t know Taehyung had female friends here."
"Well, not many," Jiwoo admitted. "But yeah, we’ve known each other for a while."
"For how long?"
Jiwoo made a small gesture with her lips, as if thinking.
"Mmm… not that long, but long enough to consider ourselves close."
Another fucking vague answer.
"Oh, how interesting," Sana muttered, pretending not to care too much. "I’ve never seen you with him before."
"Well, it’s not like we’re together all the time," Jiwoo replied with another bright smile. "But we see each other often."
That made the annoyance in Sana’s chest spike even higher. If they saw each other often, then she wasn’t just some random girl he had run into.
"It must be nice to have that kind of trust with him."
"It is," Jiwoo nodded.
Sana waited for her to say something else, to give her some additional detail. But she didn’t. She just looked at her with that sweet, innocent expression that Sana was starting to find unbearable.
Fuck, this girl wasn’t going to spill anything at this rate. So she took a deep breath and decided to cast the bait more directly. She wasn’t going to give up.
"Did you two have something?" she blurted out. Jiwoo fell silent for a second. Just a second. But in that brief moment, Sana knew she had hit the mark.
"Well…" the brunette said, shifting her gaze to the side. "Something like that."
Sana had to make an inhuman effort to keep her composure.
"Something like that?"
"Yeah." Jiwoo looked at her again. "It was casual, but not anymore."
"Why not?" Sana asked. Was it normal to feel both relieved and furious at the same time?
Jiwoo shrugged. "Because now he's in something exclusive with someone."
"Someone?" Sana’s stomach dropped to the floor.
"Uh-huh."
"Who?"
"I don’t know," Jiwoo smiled, not showing the slightest hint of doubt. Sana studied her face, searching for any sign of a lie, any clue that she was hiding the truth. But there was nothing. Jiwoo didn’t seem to be holding anything back. And that frustrated her even more because now she couldn’t get what she wanted. "Well…" Jiwoo checked her phone and then glanced toward the street. "I don’t want to be rude, but I have to go."
"Oh," Sana tried to sound indifferent, but it was hard.
"I don’t want to miss my bus." Jiwoo put her phone away after finally connecting her headphones, then looked at Sana with the same irritating sweetness as before. "It was nice talking to you."
Sana clenched her teeth.
"Sure."
"Have a nice day."
And with that, she put her headphones on and walked away, leaving Sana standing there at the entrance of the university, feeling like her entire world was crumbling down. Because for the first time in a long time, she felt like the loser.
Jiwoo, on the other hand, smirked mischievously as she walked away. She knew who that girl was, which was why she hadn’t asked for her name. Ever since she and Taehyung had stopped hooking up, they had become close friends, and he had told her that this was Sana, the girl he and that Jungkook guy had been competing over. She also knew that Taehyung had stopped chasing after her because of that special someone, though she still genuinely had no idea who the lucky girl was.
Would it be appropriate to tell Taehyung about this little interaction, or should she let the girl crash and burn on her own? Because she seemed very capable of becoming the obsessed one now, and it would be pretty funny if it ended up being the blond who rejected her this time around.
Taehyung’s hand closed around Jungkook’s wrist. He didn’t ask for permission, didn’t hesitate, didn’t even glance around to see if anyone was watching before pulling him along, shoving open the small bathroom door and slamming it shut the moment they were inside. Jungkook barely had time to blink before his back hit the door and Taehyung’s lips crashed onto his with a hunger that knocked the air out of his lungs.
Fuck.
No warning, no preamble. Not that he was complaining, obviously, but damn, he was needy. Jungkook liked that. Taehyung’s hands grabbed him without a shred of shame, like he had every damn right to touch every inch of him.
"You're so fucking desperate," he muttered against his lips when they barely pulled apart, only for Taehyung to trace his tongue over Jungkook’s lips before capturing them again.
Jungkook let out a low growl against his mouth, but he didn’t push him away, didn’t even try to stop him. He just let himself be handled, tilting his head to give him better access. And yet, his brain—his annoying, inconvenient brain—still managed to spit out between kisses:
"Seriously, Taehyung?"
Taehyung didn’t answer. He just whined against his lips in protest and kissed him harder, biting down on his bottom lip before shamelessly sliding his tongue into his mouth. A shiver ran down Jungkook’s spine.
Shit.
His grip on Taehyung’s waist tightened involuntarily. Even so, he tried speaking again, his breath already uneven.
"Do you have to get horny in the most ridiculously inappropriate places?"
"Shut up," Taehyung said before dragging his lips to Jungkook’s jawline, trailing kisses down his neck.
Jungkook swallowed hard.
Alright, stay calm.
Not that it was easy with Taehyung all over him, his warm breath ghosting over his collarbone, his tongue drawing slow, wet lines over his skin.
Jesus.
Jungkook clenched his teeth and shut his eyes for a second, trying to focus.
"You’re especially loud when we do stuff," he whispered, holding onto the last shreds of self-control. "People are gonna hear us."
Taehyung scoffed against his skin.
"We’re in the middle of a fucking party," he murmured, lips brushing against Jungkook’s throat. "The music’s blasting. No one’s gonna hear a thing."
Jungkook squeezed his eyes shut when he felt Taehyung’s teeth grazing his neck, followed by a slow, wet kiss that had him cursing in his head. His body melted against the door.
"What if someone tries to come in?" he tried, though his voice already sounded far too affected.
"Relax," Taehyung whispered, his hand sliding down with zero hesitation, popping open Jungkook’s button in one swift motion that made every last rational thought fly out of his head.
Jungkook felt the click of the button and, with it, any remnants of responsibility evaporate. Fuck the party, fuck the door, fuck the voices and music blaring outside. His mind fogged up with heat and the sensation of those skilled fingers moving against his skin.
With a low growl, he grabbed Taehyung’s face and kissed him with an intensity that nearly knocked them off balance. It was a raw, desperate kiss, all tongue and teeth and breathy moans mixing between them. Jungkook’s hands fisted Taehyung’s shirt, pulling, searching for any way to get him closer as their mouths devoured each other without restraint.
Taehyung’s impatient hands roamed over his waist, exploring, and just as he was about to drop to his knees with a smirk on his lips, a knock on the door made them both freeze.
They went completely still, eyes wide, hearts hammering against their ribs.
They stared at each other in sheer panic, not daring to move a muscle. Maybe if they stayed quiet—
Another knock, more insistent this time.
"Is someone in there?" a voice asked from the other side.
"See?" Jungkook whispered, exasperated. "I told you someone might come in."
"And how the hell was I supposed to know?" Taehyung shot back, incredulous.
"I don’t know, maybe because it’s a fucking party and there are other people here?"
"Shhh."
"Don’t shush me," Jungkook pushed him slightly. "You started this. You insisted on dragging me in here!"
"You didn’t resist!" Taehyung hissed back, whispering just as intensely, waving his hands.
"You were unbuttoning my damn pants, asshole!"
"And you didn’t stop me!"
Jungkook shot him a warning glare, and both of them fell silent when the doorknob rattled.
"Shit," Jungkook whispered.
"Don’t move," Taehyung murmured back.
"What am I supposed to do? Breathe quieter?"
"Basically, yeah."
The raven-haired man rolled his eyes, resisting the urge to punch him.
The knocking on the door intensified, loud and obnoxious. Taehyung clicked his tongue, taking a deep breath to calm the frustration that shot through him like lightning.
He shot Jungkook a warning look, demanding with his eyes that he stay silent. Then, he moved quickly: first, he adjusted his clothes, making sure his pants and shirt didn’t give away a single hint of what had almost happened. He ran his fingers through his hair, strategically smoothing it so it wouldn’t look too messy, and finally, he pressed a firm hand over Jungkook’s mouth, covering it completely.
"Don’t make a sound," he whispered in an authoritative tone before turning toward the door.
With his heart still pounding in his chest, he grabbed the handle and opened it just enough to stick his head out, blocking the view inside the bathroom with his own body. Standing in front of him, looking annoyed, was Youngjae, a guy from his university. They weren’t close friends or anything, but they knew each other well enough to exchange greetings when passing by in the hallways.
"What do you want?" Taehyung asked bluntly.
"What do I want? I need to take a piss, idiot. Are you gonna take long?" Youngjae raised an eyebrow.
"Go to another bathroom."
"The other ones are disgusting, this is the only clean one," Youngjae wrinkled his nose, crossing his arms stubbornly.
"And how is that my problem?" Taehyung shot back, leaning against the doorframe, looking as if he had all the time in the world—despite the fact that, behind the door, Jungkook was still breathing heavily, his mouth covered by Taehyung’s hand.
"It’s not, but since you’re already in there, you could hurry up and let me in," Youngjae insisted.
"Hold it in."
"I’ll wait right here."
Taehyung’s brow furrowed for a brief second before his expression changed entirely. His gaze sharpened, dark and serious enough to erase Youngjae’s confidence in an instant. He didn’t need to raise his voice or adopt a threatening tone. He didn’t need to step forward or make any aggressive movements. All he had to do was look at him like that—like he was nothing.
"You know what else is not clean? The floor outside. If you don’t get lost right now, I’ll make you taste it with your face."
Youngjae blinked. His lips parted as if he was about to argue, but no words came out. And then, just like that, he swallowed, took a step back, and raised his hands in surrender.
"Alright, alright… chill. I’m leaving."
Taehyung didn’t say anything else. He simply kept his impassive expression as he watched Youngjae turn around and hurry down the hallway, almost as if he was afraid Taehyung might actually follow through with his threat.
Only when he was sure there was no one around did he let out a heavy sigh and shut the door again. When he turned back, he found Jungkook still leaning against the door, cheeks flushed, dark, blown-out eyes locked onto him.
"What?" Taehyung asked, blinking, not understanding why Jungkook was looking at him like that. He removed his hand from Jungkook’s mouth, but Jungkook didn’t move an inch.
"That was so fucking hot," Jungkook murmured, his voice barely a whisper, but heavy with desire—enough to make Taehyung’s stomach twist. "I’ve never wanted to fuck you right here more than I do now."
Taehyung’s face burned.
"Shut up," he huffed, giving him a light shove to the chest, though he had no real intention of pushing him away. "Do you know what a ‘quickie’ is?"
"Yeah," Jungkook answered, a little dazed.
Taehyung arched an eyebrow, leaning in slightly, his mouth dangerously close to Jungkook’s, his warm breath brushing against his lips.
"Then make it quick."
That was all Jungkook needed. He kissed him without a second’s hesitation, their lips crashing together with hunger. His hands gripped Taehyung’s thighs tightly, lifting him just enough before pushing him up onto the sink. The cold ceramic against his skin contrasted sharply with the heat radiating from Jungkook, but he barely had time to process it before Jungkook was already between his legs, his mouth on him.
Their lips moved desperately, devouring each other with urgency—there was no control, no moderation. Their breaths were uneven, ragged. Taehyung could feel Jungkook’s hardness pressing against him, and it only fueled the fire spreading through his stomach, making him clutch at Jungkook’s shirt, tugging at it with a low growl as the other pressed even closer between his legs.
Jungkook had him trapped, his hands gripping his hips, sliding freely under his shirt, tracing over his burning skin. Taehyung let out a rough gasp when Jungkook’s lips left his, trailing down his jaw, then lower to his neck with open, wet kisses, leaving a scorching path that made him arch slightly against him.
"Fuck…" Taehyung whispered breathlessly, closing his eyes for a moment as he tilted his head back, giving Jungkook even more access.
Jungkook groaned against his skin, his hot breath sending shivers down his spine, and he thrust his hips forward in a motion that had both of them gasping.
"You have no idea how fucking good you look like this," he muttered before catching the skin of Taehyung’s neck between his teeth, sucking hard with the clear intention of leaving a mark. Taehyung cursed under his breath, fingers threading into Jungkook’s hair, tugging roughly in response. It was impossible to make Jungkook understand that he shouldn’t leave marks.
Taehyung’s hands dropped to Jungkook’s waist, fingers finding the buckle of his belt, and without a second thought, he began undoing it with the same speed Jungkook used to unbutton his pants. They were seconds away from shedding their clothes when…
KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.
"Who the fuck is in there for so long?!"
Both of them snapped their heads toward the door as if it had personally insulted their entire families. And then, without warning, they started arguing again—completely silent, only mouthing words and gesturing in sheer desperation.
"This is your fault," Jungkook seemed to say, pointing at him furiously.
"What? How is this my fault? You were the one who lifted me onto the sink!"
"You were the one who said ‘make it quick’!"
"Because you were the one who said you wanted to fuck me right here!"
"Because you were sexy!"
Both of them went silent for a second, processing that last part. Taehyung opened his mouth to reply, but another loud knock cut him off.
"Whoever’s in there, if you don’t come out in five seconds, I’m kicking the door down!"
"For fuck’s sake…!" Jungkook dropped his head against Taehyung’s shoulder, letting out a frustrated laugh. "Never has an orgasm in a bathroom been this fucking difficult."
Taehyung, still trying to catch his breath, let his head fall back with a heavy sigh before laughing too, incredulously.
"This is a fucking joke."
"Definitely," Jungkook lifted his head, looking at him with a crooked smirk. "I swear, if anyone else interrupts, I’m killing them."
"Yeah, sure. We should probably stop here for now before we actually get caught," Taehyung huffed, nudging him slightly.
"We can keep ignoring people. They’ll get tired and leave," Jungkook suggested hopefully.
"And what if next time they actually have the damn keys and open the door while we’re at it? I don’t know about you, but voyeurism isn’t exactly my thing."
Jungkook pouted but nodded, albeit clearly reluctantly. Taehyung hopped down from the sink, quickly adjusting his clothes. Then, he looked at him with seriousness.
"I'm going to distract whoever's outside. You stay here and count to three hundred or something. When you leave, make sure no one sees you."
"Three... hundred?"
"Don't be dramatic, it's just to make sure no one gets suspicious."
"You like giving me orders, huh?" Jungkook murmured with a smirk.
"And you love following them," Taehyung shot back, giving him a knowing look before turning toward the door. Jungkook huffed but didn’t deny it.
Taehyung took a breath, adjusted his expression, and opened the door with a smooth motion, making sure to close it behind him before anyone could see inside. On the other side, an impatient and clearly irritated Hongseok—owner of the house and birthday boy—stood with his arms crossed.
"Hyung, what's up?"
"What's up?" the other repeated, frowning. "What's up is that this is my house and this is my damn bathroom!"
"Oh..." Taehyung let out a nervous laugh. "Yeah, well... Sorry. Your bathroom is just too comfortable."
"Why the hell did you take so long?"
Taehyung blinked, pulling out his best expression of mild surprise and slight discomfort.
"Ah, sorry. I think something I ate didn’t sit well with me, I was... you know."
Hongseok wrinkled his nose, taking a half-step back.
"Ugh, I don’t need the details. I just need to get in."
"Look, look, I know this is the nicest bathroom in the house, but right now, trust me, you do not want to go in there."
"You don't sound very convincing," Hongseok eyed him suspiciously.
"Hyung, if you want to suffer the stench of hell, be my guest." Taehyung stepped aside and gestured toward the door as if granting him permission.
"I'm disinfecting that whole bathroom as soon as this party is over."
"Wise decision."
"Fucking hell, Taehyung..."
"Don't worry. We could do something way more fun. It's your birthday, right? You should be drinking, not arguing over a bathroom."
"Hmph. What do you have in mind?"
Taehyung smiled, throwing an arm around his shoulders to steer him away from the door.
"Come on, I’ve got a special drink for you. Something that’ll make you forget you ever needed the bathroom."
Hongseok seemed to consider it for a moment, but in the end, he rolled his eyes and let Taehyung guide him toward the drinks table. With one last quick glance at the bathroom door to make sure Jungkook was still inside, Taehyung disappeared into the crowd with Hongseok.
Five minutes later, Jungkook slipped out of the bathroom without a hitch, only to be met with the sight of Taehyung entertaining the birthday boy with a drink in hand, as if nothing had happened. He approached him, whispering into his ear while grabbing a glass from the table.
"Are you always this good at covering your tracks, or should I be worried?"
Taehyung smirked, taking a sip before answering.
"You should be grateful I'm a genius, not questioning it."
"Oh, I'll definitely be thanking you later," Jungkook murmured, smiling sideways. Taehyung couldn't stop the shiver that ran down his spine at the promise in his tone.
Taehyung leaned an elbow on the drinks table, absentmindedly drumming his fingers against the surface while holding his half-finished drink in his other hand. Jungkook, beside him, scrolled through his phone absentmindedly, but he wasn't really paying attention to the screen. The adrenaline from the bathroom still pulsed through their bodies, and every accidental touch between them reignited the heat they hadn’t fully burned out.
They were caught in that strange limbo between frustration and amusement, trying to act normal while their bodies still burned with the need for each other. Just as Jungkook was about to say something to Taehyung, a wobbly figure appeared before them, interrupting his thoughts.
"My beautiful babies!" Hoseok exclaimed, eyes sparkling and a dazzling smile on his face. His tone was syrupy and exaggeratedly affectionate, and before either of them could react, he pulled them into a tight hug, crushing them against his chest with excessive fondness, kissing their cheeks. "Ah, you two are so damn cute. So precious, so adorable."
Taehyung huffed in amusement, though the wave of alcohol on Hoseok’s breath hit him immediately. Jungkook let out a deep laugh, letting himself be hugged without resistance.
"You're drunk, aren’t you?" Taehyung said, though the question was completely unnecessary.
"Who, me?" Hoseok pulled back slightly but still kept an arm around each of them. "Why would you say such a thing, Kim Taehyung? I'm merely expressing the deep love I have for you two."
Jungkook blinked, surprised at the outburst, then chuckled when Hoseok latched onto his neck like a koala.
"Since when do you get this affectionate when you drink?" he asked, trying to stay upright while Hoseok clung to him.
"Since always," Taehyung said, amused, wiping the sensation of Hoseok’s kiss off his cheek with his hand. "We just rarely see him get to this point."
"Because I’m usually a responsible man!" Hoseok protested, clutching his chest dramatically. "But today... today, I'm suffering, my friends."
Behind him, Namjoon appeared with a resigned expression, crossing his arms as he watched the scene with patience. Taehyung raised an eyebrow at him.
"What’s up with him, hyung?"
Namjoon sighed, running a hand down his face before grimacing.
"Tomorrow, the audition results for Momo, Mina, and Sana come out."
"Oh," Jungkook said.
"Yeah," Namjoon nodded. "And this idiot is nervous as hell. He got drunk thinking about what his life will be like if Momo leaves again."
As soon as the words left his mouth, Hoseok let out a pitiful noise, a deep, soul-wrenching groan straight from the heart of a man in anguish.
"I don't want Momo to leave..." he mumbled, dramatically resting his head on Jungkook’s shoulder. "Ever since I met her, I've been holding myself back because of the damn distance, and now again... again, damn it!"
Taehyung exchanged a look with Jungkook before patting his back.
"Hey, don't jump to conclusions. We don’t know anything yet."
"Relax, hyung..." Jungkook patted his back awkwardly. Hoseok huffed and pulled away from Jungkook only to sway slightly before leaning on Taehyung.
"I miss her."
"We know."
"I'm gonna call her!"
"No!" Namjoon instantly straightened up, but Hoseok was already fumbling for his phone with clumsy fingers. "Hoseok, you're drunk. This is not the time."
"You can't stop me, Kim Namjoon!" Hoseok declared, holding his phone up high, out of Namjoon's reach. "Love is stronger than logic and reason!"
Namjoon scoffed, reaching for it, but Hoseok dodged him, stumbling backward while holding the phone like a sacred trophy.
"Give it to me, Hoseok!"
"No!"
"Give me that phone, right now!"
"Never!"
"Hoseok, don’t you dare."
"I have to tell her I love her!"
"No! You're drunk, you idiot!" Namjoon lunged for the phone, but Hoseok clutched it to his chest and took a step back.
"You're not taking it from me!"
"Give me the damn phone!"
"Never!"
The struggle was pathetic. Hoseok wobbled backward every time Namjoon tried to grab it, but his drunk grip was strong, clinging to his phone with determination. Jungkook and Taehyung watched in amusement as Hoseok spun in circles, dodging Namjoon in the clumsiest way possible.
"Let me tell her I love her before she leaves!"
"You don’t even know if she’s leaving, damn it!"
"But what if she is?!"
"You’re fucking kidding me, Hoseok!"
"I'm fucking myself over, Namjoon!"
Jungkook had to cover his mouth to keep from spitting out his drink from laughing. Namjoon was on the verge of a meltdown, and the two of them could barely contain themselves. And then, at the climax of the struggle, Hoseok did the most unexpected thing. He spun on his heels and bolted.
"Hoseok, don’t fucking run!" Namjoon yelled, immediately chasing after him.
Taehyung and Jungkook froze for a moment, watching as poor Namjoon dove after Hoseok through the crowd, cursing while the other laughed and weaved between people. There was a brief silence between them before Taehyung let out a laugh.
“God, poor Namjoon,” Jungkook muttered, rubbing his eyes from laughing too hard.
“He’s the babysitter tonight,” Taehyung agreed, shaking his head. “He’s gonna kill him when he catches him. Should we help?”
“Nah, Namjoon can handle him,” Jungkook shook his head. Taehyung grinned and raised his glass toward him. “Should we head back to the others?”
“Let’s head back.”
And with that, they left the drinks table and returned to the area where the rest of their friends were still enjoying the party. The atmosphere in the house was incredible. The dim lights, flickering with bursts of color, gave the illusion of moving in slow motion. The bass of the music vibrated through the floor and walls, blending with the murmur of conversations and scattered laughter.
Taehyung and Jungkook made their way through the packed space, maneuvering past bodies in various states of drunkenness until they reached the spot where Jin, Jimin, and Yoongi were gathered. Jin was the first to notice their arrival, raising an amused eyebrow as he leaned back against the couch, arms crossed.
“Well, look who decided to show up together, and without any visible signs of attempted murder,” he commented dryly, in that annoying older-brother tone he had perfected. Yoongi, sitting with his glass in hand, gave them a lazy glance before taking a sip of his drink.
“So, how’s it going now that you’re no longer forced to fight over the same woman?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.
Jungkook dropped onto an open spot on the couch, exhaling slowly before answering.
“Honestly? Pretty good. It’s nice not having to stress over that shit,” he admitted.
Jimin, who had been watching them in silence, narrowed his eyes just a fraction. He was the only one who truly knew what was going on between them, but he didn’t say a word. Instead, he just nodded with a small, almost imperceptible smirk.
The conversation shifted when Jin, oblivious to the truth behind Jungkook’s words, suddenly became the center of attention.
“What about you, hyung?” Jimin asked with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “How did your date with Joohyun go?”
Jin blinked a couple of times and shifted in his seat as if the question had suddenly made him uncomfortable.
“It was… perfect,” he finally said, his expression betraying more than he probably wanted.
Jimin’s grin sharpened as he leaned in. “And? Did you kiss her?”
Jin’s reaction was instant. His face turned a furious shade of red, and his back went rigid like a spring.
“That’s none of your business!”
“Oh my God, you totally did!” Jungkook exclaimed, now fully invested.
“I don’t have to tell you anything,” Jin muttered, trying to maintain his dignity but clearly losing it with every passing second.
“Please, you’re more transparent than freaking glass,” Yoongi snorted, his laughter deep and rough. “What, was it your first kiss or something? Is that why you’re acting like this?”
“It was not my first kiss!” Jin exploded, but his voice sounded so flustered that no one believed him.
“Say that again without turning red, and maybe we’ll believe you,” Jimin teased.
“God, hyung, stop acting like a damn virgin,” Yoongi scoffed, leaning toward him with a smug grin. “What? Did you kiss her and almost pass out?”
“That’s not it!”
“Then what is it?”
“I just don’t want to talk about my love life with a bunch of degenerates!”
Jungkook burst into laughter, thoroughly enjoying how Jin desperately tried—and failed—to shift the attention away from himself. They were in the middle of it when a new presence joined the group.
“Hey.” A shiver ran down Jungkook’s spine at the sound of a low, soft female voice speaking near his ear. He turned his head and found himself looking at a girl with short black hair that vaguely reminded him of Alice Cullen. She had a slender frame and dark, intense eyes that studied him with interest. Her vibe was different—mature. He figured she was older. “Wanna dance?” she asked bluntly.
Out of pure instinct, before answering, Jungkook’s eyes immediately sought out Taehyung’s. It was a fleeting glance, almost imperceptible, but long enough to notice the way Taehyung was looking at him. Jungkook blanked out for a second.
He didn’t know her. He had no idea who she was, and for some reason, his brain decided that was the perfect excuse to turn her down.
“Uh, I…,” he started, scrambling for a polite way to refuse, “I don’t know you, uhm…”
Unfortunately for him, Jin was quicker.
“What’s your name?” he asked the girl without hesitation.
“Seungwan,” she answered confidently.
“Great. Seungwan, this is Jungkook. Now you know each other.”
And without another word, he clapped Jungkook on the shoulder before giving him a rather obvious push. Jungkook barely had time to frown before he felt a kick to his ass that made him stumble forward.
“Hey!” he protested, but Jin just flashed him a completely unapologetic grin.
“Have fun,” he said sweetly—fake sweetly.
Jungkook threw one last glance at Taehyung before letting himself be dragged away, hoping that at least he would have some sympathy for his situation.
But when their eyes met, what he saw froze him in place. Taehyung was looking at him like someone had just left him out in the rain. Wide, shining eyes, a pout forming on his lips, and an expression that practically screamed, Are you seriously going?
Guilt twisted in Jungkook’s chest, but it was already too late. Seungwan was leading him to the dance floor, where the space was tight and people swayed against each other, the music pulsing in his ears. And as he was pulled away, he caught a glimpse of Taehyung out of the corner of his eye, still standing there, still looking at him with that sad puppy expression that made him want to turn around immediately.
Taehyung didn’t take his eyes off Jungkook the entire way to the dance floor. Jungkook wasn’t going to turn her down. It wasn’t like he had any real reason to. He was single, attractive, with no public attachments whatsoever. He could dance with whoever he wanted.
Still, the moment he saw Seungwan slide her hands down Jungkook’s sides to pull him closer, something inside him twisted uncomfortably. Jimin, who had been watching everything a little too closely, seemed to catch on to his unease immediately.
“Hey,” he called lightly, leaning toward him. “Another beer? A drink? Wanna see what’s in the kitchen?”
Taehyung didn’t answer. He barely spared him a glance before his eyes went straight back to Jungkook.
“Or you could do something other than standing there like a damn stalker,” Jin chimed in, who had also been watching but with a completely wrong interpretation of the situation. “If it bothers you so much that he’s flirting, do the same. You won’t have any trouble finding someone.”
“I don’t want to flirt.” Taehyung clenched his jaw.
“That’s what you say now,” Jin smirked. “But the second you walk around the party, someone’s gonna throw themselves at you. Guaranteed. You don’t even have to talk—with that face, you’re set.”
“Leave him alone, Jin-hyung. Not everyone has to be out here hunting,” Jimin rolled his eyes.
“And why not?” Jin shrugged, clearly enjoying himself. “Why waste natural talent?”
Taehyung huffed but didn’t say anything. Instead, he turned just enough to get a better view of the dance floor. Jungkook and Seungwan were moving together. Too close. This wasn’t casual dancing; it was the kind that got too intimate either because of lack of space or deliberate intention. Jungkook’s hands were resting on Seungwan’s waist, and she moved against him with ease. He didn’t seem uncomfortable. In fact, his expression was completely neutral, devoid of any obvious emotion. But Taehyung knew him well enough to tell that if he really didn’t want to be there, he would’ve found a way out. That thought sat heavy in his chest.
He wasn’t going to do anything about it. He couldn’t. He had no right to complain. But that didn’t change the fact that he had the unbearable urge to rip that feeling out of his body.
Jin kept pushing. “Come on, pick someone. It can’t be that hard.”
Taehyung let out a sigh, letting his gaze wander through the crowd—not because he was actually interested in doing what Jin wanted, but because he needed an escape from the conversation. And that’s when he saw her. A short, brown-haired girl trying to navigate the packed space without getting crushed in the process.
Taehyung smiled. There was his way out.
“Alright,” he murmured, nodding toward the girl. “There you go.”
And before anyone could respond, he walked toward her.
Jiwoo noticed him approaching before he even reached her. She raised an amused eyebrow, crossing her arms once he was close enough.
“If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to start thinking that ‘special someone’ you mentioned doesn’t actually exist,” she teased. Taehyung felt a hint of warmth in his cheeks but quickly covered it up with a scoff.
“Of course, they exist,” he replied. “But it’s not a ‘special someone.’ It’s casual.”
Jiwoo let out a low, knowing chuckle. “Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”
Taehyung narrowed his eyes at her but didn’t take the bait. Jiwoo knew him too well.
“So, what brings you here, acting all charming?” she asked playfully, tilting her head. “Did you come to sweep me off my feet?”
“No, but that’s a tempting idea,” Taehyung smirked. “I’m just trying to get away from my friends. Jin wanted me to flirt with someone, and you were my salvation.”
Jiwoo studied him for a second before laughing lightly.
“They don’t know you’re in something exclusive?”
“No,” he admitted easily. “It’s a secret.”
“Then I think this is the perfect chance to help you sell the story,” she said mischievously, grabbing his hand without waiting for a response and pulling him toward the dance floor.
Taehyung laughed but didn’t resist. The crowd engulfed them, the air hotter here, thick with perfume, alcohol, and the sweat of moving bodies. He let Jiwoo lead, feeling the pressure of her fingers in his until they finally stopped in a slightly more open spot among the people.
“What’s on your mind?” Jiwoo’s voice pulled him back.
“Nothing.” Not even he believed that. At that moment, he had a perfect view of Jungkook and his dance partner. He frowned and, without thinking too much about it, turned his body slightly, positioning himself so that his back now faced Jungkook. He wouldn’t look at him anymore. He didn’t have to.
Unlike the almost sexual display happening behind him, Taehyung and Jiwoo were moving with ease. There was no tension, no overly intimate touches, no loaded gazes. Just good vibes, playful steps, laughter whenever one of them made an awkward move. She spun him around now and then, holding his hand as if they were at a quinceañera and not in a packed club full of people running on hormones.
“You know you could be dancing with someone who actually wants something with you, right?” Jiwoo teased, still moving.
“Oh, yeah?” Taehyung scoffed.
“It’s no secret you could have anyone if you wanted.”
“You think I want just anyone?”
Jiwoo squinted at him and pointed a finger.
“No. That’s why you have me here—to keep people off your back.”
Taehyung chuckled, thankful that she understood without needing a lengthy explanation.
But behind him, Jungkook wasn’t as relaxed.
He had tried to let himself go, to enjoy the music, the atmosphere, the warmth of the body grinding against him. Seungwan wasn’t shy; she knew what she was doing and had no problem showing she was interested. But that was the issue.
He wasn’t.
Or maybe he was. Just not with her.
His eyes instinctively searched for Taehyung. He saw how he danced with Jiwoo, how he smiled, how comfortable he looked with her. They weren’t close, they weren’t touching more than necessary, but there was a connection.
Jungkook pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek and looked away.
Elsewhere in the club, Jin, Jimin, and Yoongi watched from a distance, drinking and chatting among themselves.
“They’re a damn magnet for women,” Jin clicked his tongue, taking a sip of his drink.
“The worst part is that they’re not even trying,” Yoongi scoffed, shaking his head.
“It’s a fucking injustice,” Jimin crossed his arms.
“No, but seriously,” Jin gestured toward the dance floor. “How do they do it? What kind of black magic do they have to attract anyone who gets near them?”
“It’s the face,” Yoongi said.
“And the body,” Jimin nodded, laughing.
“And the attitude,” Jin sighed dramatically. “Honestly, it’s unfair.”
Their conversation was interrupted when they saw Namjoon appear, dragging Hoseok by the hand toward them. Their arrival wouldn’t have been particularly noteworthy if it weren’t for the fact that Hoseok was holding Momo’s hand, and behind her were Mina and Sana.
“I couldn’t stop it,” Namjoon sighed in resignation, looking at the others. “Hoseok called Momo while drunk and, well… here we are. Sana and Mina came as a package deal.”
Jin and Yoongi exchanged a glance before bursting into laughter. Jimin, however, focused on the way Momo clung to Hoseok. The guy was ridiculously clingy with her, murmuring things in her ear, touching her waist, pulling her closer and closer. But the curious thing was—she didn’t seem to mind. At all.
Meanwhile, Mina glanced toward the drinks table and announced she wanted something to drink. Jin offered to go with her, Namjoon too, and just like that, within seconds, the group shrank to Hoseok and Momo in their own world, plus Yoongi, Jimin, and Sana.
Jimin quickly noticed the shift in Sana’s expression. Her eyes flickered back and forth between Taehyung and Jungkook, both still dancing with their partners. Yoongi, catching her expression, raised his beer in her direction.
“Want some?” Sana nodded without hesitation, grabbing the bottle from his hand and taking a long swig, her face set in irritation. Jimin, standing right next to her, heard her mutter something under her breath—just loud enough for him to catch the words.
“Dumb cartoon-faced girl. I don’t know what Taehyung sees in her.”
Jimin blinked. Had she just said that out loud?
He turned slightly to look at her. Her expression remained tense as her eyes bounced between Taehyung with Jiwoo and Jungkook with Seungwan.
“Look at her, dressed like a… slut.”
He felt a pang of discomfort crawl down his spine. Up until that moment, he had always seen Sana as a charismatic, flirtatious girl, overflowing with confidence. But there was something in her tone, in the way she spat out her words with barely contained resentment, that made him notice something he hadn’t wanted to see before.
He didn’t like it.
Not one bit.
The music changed, and with it, the energy on the dance floor seemed to lose some of its intensity. Taehyung noticed immediately, watching as people scattered in search of a break, a drink, or just some air. He himself felt like he’d had enough—not because he hadn’t been enjoying himself, but because his mind was elsewhere. Somewhere in particular.
His eyes searched for Jungkook without meaning to, finding him just as the girl he had been dancing with leaned in to whisper something in his ear before stepping away. Taehyung clenched his jaw and averted his gaze immediately—the mere sight of him made his stomach churn with unease.
"Come on, Jiwoo, I want to introduce you to my friends," he said without much thought, grabbing the girl’s wrist. Jiwoo nodded without hesitation, following him through the crowd with a bright smile. The walk back to the group was relatively short, but to Taehyung, it felt endless. "Guys, this is Jiwoo," Taehyung announced, patting her shoulder confidently.
"So you’re the famous Jiwoo," Yoongi remarked in his usual low, measured tone, eyeing her with mild curiosity. Jiwoo giggled and greeted them with a small nod.
"Hi, everyone," she said cheerfully before turning slightly toward Jimin. "Hi, Jiminnie… and oh, you."
The 'you' was clearly directed at Sana. And even though she tried to play it cool, the slight tightening of her lips gave her away. Jungkook noticed how her fingers toyed with the rim of her glass, gripping it a little too tightly.
"You two know each other?" Momo asked, tilting her head.
"Jiwoo and I took a workshop together," Jimin explained simply. "Actually, I was the one who introduced her to Taehyung."
"Oh, and with Sana?" Momo pressed, curiosity evident in her voice.
"Ah, well…" Jiwoo shrugged. "She approached me a few days ago, asking about Taehyung, but that’s about it."
Jungkook blinked, automatically turning his head toward Sana—just like Taehyung did. Sana avoided the latter’s gaze, taking a sip of her beer as if she hadn’t heard anything. But the slight flutter of her lashes betrayed her. Jungkook didn’t quite understand why Taehyung suddenly looked so distrustful, but his jaw was tight, and his posture had gone rigid. He didn’t say anything, but the way he pressed his lips together made it obvious—he was going to ask Jiwoo about it later.
Just as the conversation began to shift toward another topic, Jungkook felt arms wrap around him from behind and warm breath brush against his ear.
"You’re being so serious," Seungwan whispered, her voice tinged with playful amusement.
Jungkook barely had time to react before he felt the pressure of her lips against the skin of his neck, just below his ear. His body went rigid, muscles tensing, but… he didn’t pull away. He wasn’t even sure why. Maybe because he was too caught off guard, maybe because his brain hadn’t fully processed what was happening.
Seungwan didn’t seem to notice his lack of response—or maybe she just didn’t care—because her smile widened as she slowly pulled back, her fingers still tracing light patterns over his stomach.
But Taehyung noticed. Jungkook felt his gaze even before turning around to confirm it. And sure enough, Taehyung was staring at him. Not just staring—he was absolutely fuming. His lips were pressed into a hard line, his dark eyes flashing, and his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white.
"I’ll be right back," he muttered suddenly, pushing himself up from his seat.
"Where are you going?" Jimin asked.
"I don’t know, to go kick a tree."
Jungkook barely had time to process his words before watching him disappear into the crowd, shoving aside anyone in his way. No one seemed to pay much attention, too wrapped up in their own conversations, too entertained by everything else. Everyone except Jimin, who watched him go for a second before letting out a sigh.
"And I’ll go… save a tree," he said, standing up to follow him. Jungkook frowned. What the hell just happened?
The air outside was cool, but not enough to calm the heat simmering beneath his skin. The music still thumped from inside the house, muffled but loud enough to keep his thoughts from settling. A few guys were smoking nearby, but Taehyung ignored them completely. Instead, he walked straight to the first big tree he saw and stood in front of it.
What if I kick it?
"I don’t think the tree’s to blame," a voice sounded behind him.
Taehyung let out a low, humorless chuckle before turning around. Jimin was watching him, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised.
"It might be," Taehyung sighed heavily.
Jimin rolled his eyes, stepping closer. "And what exactly is the tree’s crime?"
"Being here. Being kickable."
"You’d just end up breaking your own foot first," Jimin laughed. "You’re so obvious—it’s ridiculous."
"I have no idea what you’re talking about."
"Yes, you do."
"No, I don’t."
Taehyung let his head fall against the tree with a dull thud, exhaling sharply, frustrated with himself, with Jungkook, with Seungwan, with fucking gravity, with the entire goddamn universe if necessary.
"Why the fuck are you such an idiot?" The question came out harsh, almost unfiltered.
"Excuse me?" Jimin blinked, confused.
"Not you. Him." Taehyung clicked his tongue and ran a hand through his hair, messing it up in frustration. His voice grew more agitated as he spoke. "Why the fuck is Jungkook such an idiot that he can’t properly push away people who provoke him? Why does he let them do that shit to him?"
Because yes, it was absurd. He knew that. It was completely ridiculous. Jungkook could do whatever the hell he wanted—he could let himself be kissed, touched, hugged, whatever. It wasn’t Taehyung’s damn responsibility. He had no right to tell him what to do.
But it bothered him.
Goddamn it.
He grabbed a fistful of his own hair, pulling lightly, as if that could somehow rid him of the irritation boiling in his chest.
"I shouldn’t even care," he muttered. "We’re supposed to keep this a secret, right? I mean, isn’t this better? If Jungkook does shit like that, people won’t suspect a thing. It’s perfect. Great. A fucking master plan."
And yet, instead of making him feel reassured, the bitterness in his throat only grew stronger. Jimin, who had been listening patiently to his entire existential crisis with one eyebrow raised and arms still crossed, let out a sigh and shook his head.
"Don’t be an idiot, Taehyung."
"Too late for that."
"What you’re feeling is valid."
"What I’m feeling is a pain in the ass."
"It’s jealousy." Taehyung opened his mouth to deny it immediately, but Jimin didn’t give him the chance. "And don’t look at me like that. It’s normal. Even I’d get jealous if Yoongi was like that with someone."
"What? But you two aren’t—" The blond frowned.
"Exactly. It’s casual, I don’t have romantic feelings for him. So imagine how it feels when you do."
And that one sentence—fucking hell, that one sentence—hit him like a punch to the gut. He knew it already, but hearing someone else say it out loud made it sound so much worse. He grimaced, straightening up suddenly to nudge Jimin lightly in the shoulder.
"Don’t say that so loud, dumbass," he muttered, glancing at the guys smoking a few feet away. "I can’t believe I actually like that rabid dog."
"Don't say what? That you like Jungkook?"
"Jimin!"
"That you like Jungkook!"
"Shut the fuck up!"
"That you li—" Jimin couldn't finish his sentence because Taehyung had already slapped a hand over his mouth, glaring at him with murderous eyes.
"I swear, if you keep—" Instead of backing down, Jimin stuck out his tongue and licked the palm of Taehyung’s hand. "What the fuck, Jimin?!" Taehyung yelled, pulling away immediately and rubbing his hand against his best friend's shirt to wipe off the spit.
"Oh my god, you really like him," Jimin teased, clutching his chest as if he had just witnessed a miracle.
"Shut up."
"You like the rabid dog."
"Enough!"
"You want him. You crave him."
"Jimin."
"You love him."
"Jimin, I swear I'm going to strangle you!"
But before he could even try, Jimin caught him in a tight hug and lifted him off the ground effortlessly, spinning him around a few times as he burst into laughter.
"Taehyung and Jungkook, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I—"
"Put me down, goddammit!"
Jimin completely ignored him and kept twirling, squeezing him like a teddy bear. But just as he was about to open his mouth to tease him even more, a voice rang out behind them, instantly freezing their blood.
"Well, look who we have here."
They both went rigid for a second before turning in unison.
Gwanhee.
They recognized him instantly, even though years had passed. The memories from high school came rushing back in a sickening flash. And from the way Jimin tensed beside him, Taehyung knew he felt the same. Jimin reacted on instinct, almost automatically moving behind Taehyung. The motion was so ingrained, so immediate, that it broke his heart. It was as if his body already knew what to do the moment he heard that voice—like a conditioned reflex after years of enduring the same shit over and over again.
Taehyung felt how Jimin clutched the back of his jacket, his fingers curling into the fabric so tightly that they’d probably leave wrinkles. He didn’t say anything—Jimin just lowered his head. And that was enough for Taehyung’s rage to ignite inside him like gasoline set on fire. He lifted his gaze and locked eyes with Gwanhee, his stare so sharp it could cut through metal.
The guy was still the same fucking asshole. Tall, with that ridiculously short haircut that made him look like a discount drill sergeant, a cigarette hanging from his lips, and a pair of yellow-tinted sunglasses despite it being nighttime.
But what disgusted him the most wasn’t the shitty attitude. It wasn’t the wannabe thug look, nor the idiotic comments he used to make when he was surrounded by his equally moronic friends. What disgusted him the most was how he treated Jimin.
He had always been like this. Always picking on him, always harassing him with that smug superiority complex, savoring every second of watching Jimin shrink into himself just a little more.
Taehyung had never left him alone. He had always tried to protect him, always tried to get in the way, but sometimes it wasn’t enough. Sometimes Jimin went home with red eyes from holding back tears or from the pain of the bruises Gwanhee and his pack of idiots left behind.
He hated him with every single inch of his being.
And now, after years, after leaving high school behind, after thinking he’d never have to deal with this piece of human garbage again—here he was.
"Well, if it isn’t Taehyung and Jimin," Gwanhee drawled mockingly, shoving his hands into his pockets after flicking away his cigarette. He looked them up and down with that goddamn smirk Taehyung had always wanted to wipe off his face with a punch.
Taehyung didn’t speak at first. Not because he had nothing to say, but because he was too busy calculating how many of Gwanhee’s teeth he was willing to knock out before someone stepped in to stop him.
"Damn, Jimin. I thought that after high school, you would’ve grown a bit more… dignity." He didn’t need to turn his head to know Jimin had lowered his gaze even further. "And you—" Gwanhee tilted his chin toward him, scanning him with a hint of disappointment. "I thought you were at least normal, Taehyung. But I guess I was wrong. Then again, I think I always knew." He cocked his head, smirking. "You were always too close to this idiot. Too protective. Too… how should I put it? Affectionate. And now I find you two here, all cuddled up, laughing like lovebirds. How long have you been fucking, huh?"
"How long have you been brain-dead, Gwanhee? Because you should already be used to me making a fool out of you every time you open your fucking mouth."
Gwanhee clicked his tongue, but he didn’t seem fazed. Instead, he stepped closer, tilting his head in fake curiosity.
"Oh, don’t get all aggressive. It’s just a question. After all, you were always the only idiot dumb enough to defend this faggot."
"And you were always dumb enough to need someone like me to shut you the fuck up."
Gwanhee’s smirk faltered—just for a second. But he wasn’t easily intimidated. He never had been. Instead, he scoffed and shook his head.
"You’re a real piece of work. So much fuss over a little nobody who should’ve gotten used to being treated like the bitch he is by now. What’s the matter, Jimin? Not even a hello? Come on, don’t be rude. We’ve known each other forever. Or is it that you’ve finally figured out your mouth is better used for other things?"
Taehyung felt the fury rise in his throat like wildfire. "I suggest you shut the fuck up," he said, voice low and rough. Gwanhee laughed.
"And if I don’t? What, you gonna shut me up, Taehyung? Wow, so protective. You were always Jimin’s little guard dog, huh? How cute. Though, now I get it. You must be jealous, right? Didn’t want anyone else sniffing around your boyfriend?"
Taehyung took a step forward—just one. But enough for Gwanhee to feel the warning.
"Say one more word, and I swear I’ll make you choke on your own fucking teeth."
Gwanhee’s smirk widened.
"Oh, how scary. Are you going to fight for him? How romantic." Jimin gripped the fabric of Taehyung’s jacket even tighter. Gwanhee noticed and clicked his tongue. "Come on, Jimin. Don’t hide behind him like a scared little bitch. You’ve always been like this, haven’t you? Weak. Pathetic. God, you’re disgusting."
Gwanhee raised a hand, making a move as if to grab Jimin’s arm. But he never got the chance—Taehyung reacted instantly, catching his wrist midair and squeezing. Hard. Hard enough that Gwanhee’s smug expression faltered for the first time.
"I’m only going to say this once," Taehyung hissed, his voice dripping with venom. "If you ever lay a hand on him again, I swear on my life, I’ll break your fucking face so bad not even your damn mother will recognize you."
"You?" Gwanhee scoffed, forcing out a laugh. "Don’t make me laugh, pretty boy. What are you gonna do, huh? Cry because someone picked on your boyfriend?"
"No. I’m gonna slam your head into the ground so hard you’ll have to learn how to eat through a fucking straw."
For a split second, Gwanhee’s grin wavered. But he recovered fast. Too fast.
And then, he shoved Taehyung. Not too hard. Just enough to test him. To gauge his reaction.
"Last warning, Gwanhee," Taehyung said, not even bothering to fix his jacket.
He smirked and shoved him again. This time, Taehyung shoved back. Harder. Hard enough to make the asshole stumble a few steps back.
"Let’s go," Jimin whispered behind him, tugging at his jacket.
But Gwanhee didn’t know when to stop.
Because he did it again. This time, even harder.
And this time, Taehyung saw red.
His entire demeanor shifted. His jaw clenched, his eyes darkened, and every muscle in his body went rigid, rage surging through him like wildfire, coiling in his chest like a lit fuse ready to explode.
"You’re a fucking rat," he spat, voice low and lethal. "And I swear to God, you’re gonna regret showing up to this damn party."
And in the blink of an eye, he launched himself at him.
Chapter 31: Chapter 30
Chapter Text
"We're leaving. Now." Taehyung’s voice cut through the small commotion in front of him. Jimin was pressed up against him, his hands clutching onto Taehyung’s jacket, trembling slightly. His face was buried against his shoulder, and his breathing was uneven—so unsteady that it looked like he might run out of air at any second.
Jin immediately opened his mouth to protest.
"What? Why? What happened?" But then he lifted his head and saw. He froze on the spot, his face twisting in shock. "What…?"
But he never finished the question.
Jungkook had his back turned to Taehyung, so he didn't see him right away. However, he caught the shift in the others’ expressions before he even registered what caused it. Sana covered her mouth with her hand, Momo’s eyes widened, Hoseok stiffened. Yoongi and Namjoon both frowned and stood up immediately. The whole table, which had been buzzing with laughter just moments ago, turned silent. The energy shifted from lighthearted to something thick and tense.
A knot of unease settled in Jungkook’s stomach, and he turned his head, already dreading whatever he was about to see.
And when he did—he felt his breath catch in his throat. Taehyung had blood on his lower lip, a cut on his cheek, and bruised knuckles, the skin split in some places. There were smudges of blood on his clothes, though it wasn’t clear if they were his or someone else’s. Jungkook shot up from his seat so fast that his chair nearly toppled over.
"What the hell happened to you?" He didn’t bother masking the urgency in his voice or pretending he wasn’t worried. His chest tightened with something raw and uneasy. Why the fuck was he injured? Who had he fought with? And why did Jimin look like he was on the verge of falling apart?
He stepped closer in two quick strides, eyes scanning Taehyung for any other injuries. But Taehyung didn’t answer. He only held Jungkook’s gaze for a second before looking away.
Around them, the murmurs had already begun. People at the party were noticing the scene, standing up with hushed whispers, eyes fixed on the blood. Some were peering out the windows, others pulling out their phones.
"We need to go. Now." Taehyung repeated, his jaw tight. Yoongi didn’t hesitate. He moved around the table and grabbed Jimin’s arm firmly.
"Let’s go." His voice left no room for argument. Jimin didn’t resist, simply followed with his head down, his shoulders hunched, still clinging to Taehyung until the distance forced them apart. Taehyung turned to Jungkook, but Jungkook didn’t move.
"Taehyung…"
"Not now. Move."
Jungkook barely had time to react before Taehyung’s hand wrapped around his wrist, yanking him forward. He was too caught off guard to even think about pulling away.
The rest of the group stood up immediately, following without too many questions, though their faces said enough. Hoseok—who seemed to have sobered up instantly—grabbed Momo’s hand and guided her toward the exit. Jin led the way, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds. The others walked just as cautiously.
The second they stepped outside, the cold night air hit them, sharp and biting in contrast to the warmth inside. That’s when Jungkook saw him.
A guy lay sprawled on the ground, unconscious. His face was a mess of blood, his nose and mouth clearly battered. Someone crouched beside him, trying to wake him up. Jungkook could see the faint rise and fall of his chest—so he was alive, just knocked out cold.
Before he could fully process it, the pull on his wrist dragged him forward again.
"Keep up." Taehyung’s voice was clipped, his pace unwavering. He didn’t look back, didn’t give Jungkook time to think.
But Jungkook couldn’t stay quiet. The image of Taehyung—blood on his face, bruises on his hands—burned into his mind, searing hot and unforgiving. So he asked again.
"Taehyung, what the fuck happened?"
He kept walking. He didn’t glance at him, didn’t even flinch. He just quickened his steps, eyes locked on the path ahead leading to the nearest parking lot. Jungkook felt frustration crawl up his throat.
"Don’t fucking ignore me. You’re bleeding—why the hell won’t you tell me what happened?"
Silence.
Jungkook clenched his jaw, his patience hanging by a thread. But if there was one thing he knew about Taehyung, it was that when he shut down like this, he wouldn’t talk—not even if Jungkook shoved him against a wall and demanded answers right in his face.
So, barely holding himself back, he let it go.
For now.
No one spoke as they walked. The night air felt colder than before, or maybe it was just the adrenaline still surging through their veins. Jin led the way with Yoongi and Jimin, the latter still sticking close to the older boy. Hoseok walked with Momo, unusually serious. Sana and Mina trailed behind, whispering in hushed voices. And Namjoon was last, he seemed to be looking after them all and was taking quick glances around making sure no one was following them.
They reached the parking lot in minutes. The blonde approached Jimin, whispered something softly in his ear, then pulled away and saw the brunette glance at him briefly before looking back into Taehyung's eyes. Jimin cupped his face, placed a small kiss on his forehead, and then Jungkook could read a "thank you" from the older boy on his lips. Taehyung nodded slightly and walked away to his car.
The designated drivers’ cars were lined up, ready to take them home. Jungkook knew that Jin had driven his own car, Taehyung had his, and Jungkook himself had come in his own since he hadn’t planned on drinking much.
But the second his eyes landed on Taehyung, he knew. He didn’t want to leave him alone.
Without thinking, he pulled out his keys and, without even looking at Yoongi, tossed them his way.
"Take mine."
Yoongi caught them effortlessly, one eyebrow lifting.
"Why are you—"
"I’m going with Taehyung."
His tone was so firm and final that Yoongi didn’t even argue. He simply looked between him and Taehyung before shrugging with a small, knowing smirk. Jungkook didn’t waste time. By the time Taehyung opened the driver’s side door, Jungkook was already slipping into the passenger seat without hesitation.
He expected Taehyung to protest. What he didn’t expect—was another voice.
"Taehyung!"
Sana’s voice made Jungkook turn just in time to see her running toward the car. She didn’t hesitate, reaching for the back door handle. But it didn’t open.
The unmistakable click of the locks echoed. A dry, final sound. Sana frowned, trying again, this time calling his name more insistently.
"Taehyung, can you open the door for me?" But Taehyung didn't move. He didn't even look at her. His profile was tense, jaw clenched, knuckles still white against the steering wheel. It seemed like he was processing something in his head, but the only thing he did was start the car with a swift motion. "Taehyung!" The girl knocked on the window, this time with more impatience.
He was already pulling away. Through the rearview mirror, Jungkook caught a glimpse of Sana's incredulous expression as she stood there, frozen in place.
The entire group just watched as Taehyung’s car disappeared into the distance. The taillights flickered before he turned the corner, and in a matter of seconds, every trace of him and Jungkook was gone.
No one said anything at first. An awkward silence settled over them, accompanied by the confused expressions on their faces.
"Did he just take him?" Namjoon asked, not quite understanding.
"He took him," Hoseok repeated, just as bewildered.
"Did he take him?" Momo blinked slowly, as if she needed to confirm her vision wasn’t deceiving her.
"He took him!" Mina exclaimed, turning her head toward Sana, who still had her hand in the air, as if she couldn’t believe Taehyung had just left her standing there like another decoration in the parking lot.
"Well..." Jin finally broke the silence, still frowning. "Can someone explain to me what the hell just happened?"
Because if there was one thing that made no sense in this situation, it was the fact that Taehyung had left with Jungkook instead of Jimin. It was logical for Jimin to go with him, but at the last moment, instead of following his best friend, Taehyung had simply left with Jungkook.
Jungkook.
The person he couldn’t spend five minutes with without arguing. The person he had been competing against until very recently.
"Why do I feel like I’ve just been thrown into an alternate universe without warning?" Jin said.
"What I want to know is why the hell it took us so long to figure this out," Yoongi said with a shrug.
Everyone looked at him.
"Figure what out?" Namjoon asked.
"We were killing ourselves trying to make them get along when the answer was obvious. We just had to take Sana out of the equation, and voilà."
"Are you saying that...?" Hoseok turned to Yoongi.
"That was the only thing missing for them to become friends," Yoongi finished with a satisfied smile. "Sana was ruining everything. No offense, of course."
Sana, who had been too busy staring in the direction where Taehyung’s car had disappeared with a clearly irritated expression, snapped her head toward him.
"What did you just say?" she hissed, her eyes blazing.
Yoongi shrugged, completely unfazed.
"What?" He raised an eyebrow, as if he genuinely didn’t understand why she was so outraged. "It’s a fact. Ever since you three started your little game, Taehyung and Jungkook have done nothing but hate each other. Now that you’re out of the picture—boom! They’re inseparable. I’m just saying, maybe you were getting in the way of something beautiful."
"Oh, please. Don’t come up with stupid theories."
"I didn’t come up with any theory," Yoongi replied calmly. "You’re the one getting all worked up."
"I’m not worked up."
"Of course not."
"I’m not!"
Without another word, she spun on her heels and stormed toward Jin’s car. She yanked open the passenger door and got in, not even bothering to look at the others. Jin raised his hands in surrender before circling the car and getting in as well.
Yoongi just smirked smugly, savoring every second of it.
"You’re such an asshole," Hoseok sighed.
"Thank you," Yoongi replied with a mock bow.
The inside of the car was silent.
Only the rumble of the engine and the faint sound of Taehyung’s unsteady breathing could be heard.
Jungkook couldn’t stop looking at him. His profile was rigid, lips pressed into a thin line, and his hands were still gripping the steering wheel tightly. He was speeding, shifting gears with abrupt movements. The car was going fast. Too fast.
"Taehyung, are you okay?" No answer. Jungkook frowned. "Taehyung..." The blond didn’t even blink. He didn’t like this. Not one bit. "Taehyung, listen to me." Nothing. The car kept moving, devouring the pavement, and Jungkook realized Taehyung didn’t even seem aware of how fast he was going. "Taehyung, slow down." Still nothing. "Pull over." This time, his tone was more serious.
Nothing.
Jungkook pressed his lips together, his concern rising like foam. Taehyung had never been a reckless driver; he always drove well, calmly. But now...
Now it was as if he wasn’t even registering what he was doing. As if his body was reacting on autopilot, while his mind was somewhere else entirely.
Jungkook licked his lips.
"Hyung... hyung, listen to me." Jungkook’s breath grew slightly shorter, his instincts on high alert, a deep worry settling in his chest.
He leaned forward, reaching out until his hand found Taehyung’s on the wheel. His touch was firm, but not aggressive. His fingers slipped between Taehyung’s, applying a steady, reassuring pressure—grounding him.
He didn’t want to startle him. He just wanted to bring him back.
Taehyung blinked. It was a subtle movement, but Jungkook caught it.
"It’s okay," he whispered. "I’m here." Taehyung’s eyes flickered, as if he was only now realizing what was happening. Jungkook didn’t look away. "Let me drive, hyung." His voice dropped a few tones, turning soft, velvety—almost a caress. "Let me take the wheel. Come on." Jungkook didn’t let go. "Trust me."
Taehyung exhaled sharply through his nose. His hands loosened around the wheel, yielding, letting Jungkook take control from the passenger seat.
Jungkook kept one hand over Taehyung’s, making sure he didn’t drift away again, while using the other to maneuver the wheel and gear shift with ease. He slowed down with steady movements, reducing the engine’s RPM until the car smoothly pulled over to the side of the road.
The headlights illuminated the empty street, and the engine vibrated for a few more seconds before going silent.
Stillness settled over them.
Taehyung let his head fall back against the seat, squeezing his eyes shut. Then, his breathing turned erratic, and Jungkook looked at him, heart tightening. He hadn’t noticed before, too focused on Taehyung’s driving, on his tension. But now that they had stopped, all the built-up strain in his body burst at once. His chest rose and fell too quickly, his breathing was uneven, and his hands trembled slightly in his lap.
"Hey." Jungkook unbuckled his seatbelt in one swift motion, turning fully toward him, then reached over and unfastened Taehyung’s as well. "Taehyung, breathe. Look at me." No response. "Please."
It was the gentleness in his voice that finally made Taehyung do it. He turned his head slowly, and Jungkook felt something tighten inside him as he took him in up close.
The cut on his cheek was a thin red line against his skin. His lower lip was split at the corner, with remnants of dried blood around it. There was something in the way his gaze seemed slightly unfocused, in the way his pupils were still dilated, that sent an uneasy knot to Jungkook’s stomach.
It was rare to see him like this. Taehyung always carried himself with confidence, with an air of self-assuredness and effortless arrogance. But right now, none of that remained. Right now, he just looked... tired.
With gentle care, he lifted a hand and caressed his cheek, carefully avoiding the cut. His thumb brushed against his skin with the same tenderness one would use to touch something fragile. Taehyung closed his eyes for a moment.
"Who did this to you?" Jungkook whispered, his voice laced with a softness that clashed with the growing fury inside him. "Why?"
Taehyung sighed, his dark eyes searching Jungkook’s. After a few seconds of silence, he finally answered in a barely audible voice.
"When I went out with Jimin… that guy showed up."
"What guy?" Jungkook frowned.
Taehyung ran his tongue over his split lip, tasting the metallic tang of blood in his mouth.
"We knew him from school," he continued, his voice low and rough. "He spent his whole damn life making Jimin’s a living hell. I always defended him. Ever since we were kids. Always. With everything I had."
Jungkook didn’t say anything, just watched him.
"I could never leave him alone," Taehyung went on. "Not a single fucking day where I could relax. If Jimin spent even one day without me around, the next day, he’d show up with bruises. I always tried to protect him. Always. But back then, I was smaller than that bastard, thinner, weaker."
Taehyung clenched his teeth. His fists tightened on his knees, his knuckles still reddened from the blows he had thrown earlier.
"I could never break his face the way I wanted," he admitted, the anger in his voice evident, but Jungkook also detected something else—guilt. "When we graduated, Jimin and I thought that was it," Taehyung continued, his tone quieter now. "That we’d never have to see his fucking face again. But today..." He let out a bitter, humorless laugh. "Today, we saw him again. After years."
Jungkook’s anger flared to its peak at that moment. The scene formed too easily in his mind—Jimin with his dimmed smile, his eyes filled with fear disguised as indifference, trying to ignore and endure the insults. And Taehyung, furious, unable to hold back, shielding him, stepping between him and that guy who clearly hadn’t changed one bit.
He closed his eyes for a second, trying not to lose his composure.
"And he started the same bullshit. He talked to us like we were the trash he always thought we were. Especially Jimin. I warned him, Jungkook… I swear I warned him to leave us alone," Taehyung pressed his lips together, and for the first time in the entire conversation, he lifted his gaze to meet Jungkook’s eyes. "I know I’m not the same as before. I’m bigger now, stronger, bolder in some ways. I knew that if he provoked me, I wouldn’t stop myself, I might go too far. Because, fuck, I’ve held this in for years. I warned him and told him to walk away."
"What did you do?" Jungkook’s voice came out tense, low.
"I didn’t start it. That bastard pushed me."
"What?" Jungkook’s frown deepened.
"Three times."
Jungkook’s chest expanded with a heavy breath, his hands clenching into fists. He felt a thick, heated rage course through his veins, igniting every nerve in his body with visceral anger.
"Give me his fucking name."
Taehyung looked at him for a moment, then glanced down at Jungkook’s hand, tightly clenched on his own leg. Slowly, he reached out, letting his fingers glide over Jungkook’s skin, squeezing lightly.
"Don’t worry," he whispered.
But Jungkook let out a sharp, humorless laugh.
"How the hell do you expect me not to worry, Taehyung?" He leaned in a little closer. "That son of a bitch pushed you, he hurt you." His fingers ghosted over Taehyung’s face, brushing the wound on his cheek gently. "Look at your face..."
Taehyung exhaled slowly. "It doesn’t matter."
"Of course it fucking matters," Jungkook felt like his head was going to explode. "That guy..." His jaw tightened. "Tell me who it was. Give me his name. I’ll find him, I swear."
"The guy you saw on the ground," Taehyung said with a lopsided, joyless smirk. "It was Gwanhee."
"You...?"
"I took care of him," Taehyung stated, his voice disturbingly calm. "For all those years I couldn’t." His gaze darkened slightly, lost in the memory. "I slammed him against the ground. I hit him as many fucking times as I wanted. I beat the shit out of him while I screamed at him to leave Jimin alone. And I also told him..." Taehyung continued, his voice lower, his eyes burning with dangerous fire. "That a 'faggot' was now stronger than him."
Jungkook had thought that the guy knocked out on the ground was just another victim of Gwanhee’s cruelty—he hadn’t thought Taehyung was the one who put him there.
Jungkook said nothing. He couldn’t say anything. Something inside him twisted so hard it hurt. He looked at Taehyung—his tired eyes, his tense jaw, his chapped lips. He took in his bruised face, his injured hands, the slight tremble in his fingers, the way his chest was still rising and falling heavily.
Seeing him like this... It shattered him. It wrecked him. Jungkook felt something burning in his chest. And he felt something inside him crack, just a little.
He wanted to go back. He wanted to turn the car around, go back and make sure that bastard never opened his mouth about Taehyung or Jimin ever again. But he also wanted to stay here. He wanted to touch him. He wanted to make the shaking stop.
All he could do was pull Taehyung close and kiss him—soft, delicate kisses all over his face. Slow, gentle kisses. Kisses on his wounded skin, on his forehead, on his cheeks, along his jawline, at the corners of his lips. The kisses were brief, scattered across his face with tenderness. Jungkook wanted to erase every trace of the fight, every remnant of violence.
At first, Taehyung remained completely still, surprised. His eyes blinked a couple of times as the contact repeated, over and over, the warmth of Jungkook’s lips seeping into his skin. And then, inevitably, he smiled. A genuine smile. Jungkook had managed to calm him down completely.
"You should’ve called me," Jungkook murmured against his skin, not stopping the kisses, his breath ghosting over Taehyung’s cheek between words. "I do boxing, Taehyung." He finally pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, resting his forehead against his. "I swear I would’ve done a damn good job."
Taehyung couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh, his eyes half-lidded as another kiss landed on the tip of his nose. He liked the way Jungkook was pampering him, even if it was such a stark contrast to the fact that, just minutes ago, he had been admiring his handiwork on the ground—the ruined, unrecognizable face of Gwanhee.
"It’s not necessary," he whispered, tilting his head to look at him. Jungkook frowned, but before he could argue, Taehyung continued with the same small smile. "I can take care of myself," he reminded him. "And today is living proof that I’m strong."
"I know," Jungkook admitted, his fingers skimming along Taehyung’s jaw. "Shit, I thought that guy was dead when I saw him, but still..." He hesitated briefly. "I felt powerless," he continued, his tone lowering slightly. "It’s normal to want to protect the people you ca—"
And then, he completely blanked.
Taehyung blinked, tilting his head slightly as if waiting for him to finish the sentence, but Jungkook didn’t. He felt panic rise up his throat like a wildfire. He had almost told him he cared. Not that he did! But moments like these bring out his corny side. Yeah, that was it.
"The people you have some kind of closeness with, you know?" he finally finished, his expression perfectly composed, as if he hadn’t just had a tiny internal meltdown a second ago. "It’s normal."
The blond watched him for a moment longer, then, with an easy smile, nodded.
"Thanks for coming with me," he said softly.
Jungkook shook his head immediately. "Don't thank me."
Then, Taehyung narrowed his eyes playfully, and in an instant, his expression shifted. His lips stretched into a lazy, flirtatious, mischievous smile.
"Oh, right," he murmured, leaning in a little closer, his voice dropping to a more suggestive tone. "You were the one who was gonna thank me later. You know, for saving our asses from getting caught while we were almost fucking."
Jungkook didn’t even take half a second to play along.
"You're right," he nodded, his expression shifting completely, mirroring Taehyung’s teasing demeanor. "I haven’t properly thanked you for being so smart." Taehyung's grin widened.
"And I have to admit, watching you knock someone out was also very hot."
"So tell me…" His voice dropped to a sultry whisper. "Did I turn you on, Jungkookie?"
"You have no idea."
The older one let his gaze travel down Jungkook’s body, licking his lips.
"My place or your apartment?" Taehyung asked, straight to the point.
A shiver ran down Jungkook’s spine, but he didn’t let it show on his face. Instead, he leaned back comfortably in the passenger seat, turning to him with a half-smile.
"We could do it right here in the car if you want," he said shamelessly, without missing a beat.
Taehyung shot him a glare, but the smile tugging at his lips gave him away. He wasn’t actually mad.
"I don’t want my first time to be in a car," he stated matter-of-factly.
Jungkook’s throat instantly went dry. His smile froze for a split second before he could react, but it was already too late. His brain went into full panic mode.
"First time?" he blurted out, his voice coming out a little higher than expected.
"Yeah, idiot. First time having a dick in my ass."
Jungkook swallowed so hard he thought it might get stuck in his throat. He’d assumed they were just going to… do the usual. Heavy touching, blowjobs, grinding that led to mind-numbing orgasms.
But not this. Not actual sex. Real sex. Like, really real sex. His brain latched onto the word, looping it over and over while his body reacted on pure instinct.
Oh, fuck.
A flood of images rushed through his head, making him momentarily short-circuit. Not because he hadn’t imagined it before—God, of course he had—but because now, it was actually happening.
A slow, pulsing heat settled between his legs, and he had to take a deep breath to avoid embarrassing himself right there. Just in case, he pressed his thighs together.
"Ah…" he stammered, trying to regain his composure while his mind was still short-circuiting. "L-Let’s go to my apartment. I have… uh, condoms. And lube."
Taehyung nodded as if they were just making casual plans, then leaned in toward him without warning.
Jungkook didn’t even have time to react before Taehyung’s lips crashed against his in a desperate, messy kiss—the kind that sucked the air out of his lungs and left his mind blank. He barely registered the faint metallic taste of blood in his mouth.
It was short, but intense enough that Jungkook felt like his soul had been yanked out of his body and left floating somewhere in the car.
When Taehyung pulled away, he simply turned back to the wheel and started the engine.
Shit. Jungkook was still trying to remember how to function.
"Buckle up," Taehyung ordered without looking at him, focused on the road.
Jungkook blinked, still staring at him, mouth slightly parted, his brain moving at a snail’s pace.
"Yeah… seatbelt… right…" he mumbled, fumbling with his hands to reach for it, but his fingers clumsily missed the buckle, getting tangled in the strap like a complete idiot.
Taehyung let out an exasperated sigh, but without taking his eyes off the road, he stretched an arm over, grabbed the seatbelt with ease, and clicked it into place.
"How have you made it this far in life being this clumsy?"
Jungkook felt his face heat up. But more than embarrassment, it was because his body was still recovering from that kiss. And, of course, because of what was about to happen.
The elevator doors slid open smoothly when they reached Jungkook’s floor. They stepped out unhurriedly, fingers intertwined.
Since whatever they had started, going back and forth between their places had become routine. Taehyung knew the way by heart. He could mentally count the steps from the entrance to the elevator, and from there to Jungkook’s door. But what had truly become a habit was that brief moment in between—the time inside the elevator. Without fail, every time they went up together, Jungkook found a way to distract him.
Sometimes he would take his hand and intertwine their fingers firmly, his thumb tracing slow, soothing patterns over his wrist. Other times, he would pull him into a silent hug, pressing him against his chest until Taehyung could focus only on his scent. And when the anxiety was worse, Jungkook would simply kiss him. A soft graze, a playful bite on his lower lip, a barely audible whisper against his mouth.
It always worked. Always.
This time was no exception.
Jungkook squeezed his hand on the way up, leaning a little closer into his space. Taehyung felt his warm breath ghost over his skin and knew Jungkook was seconds away from pulling one of his usual tricks, so he acted first—tightening his fingers slightly around his.
Taehyung let him do it. Because it was effective, because it actually calmed him down, but also because he liked it. He liked how Jungkook took any excuse to touch him.
Like now, when his hand was still clasped around his even after they had stepped out of the elevator. Jungkook didn’t let go until they reached his apartment door, where he entered the security code without hesitation.
The lock clicked open with a soft beep, and the door swung inward.
As soon as they stepped inside and the door shut behind them, Jungkook lunged at him desperately—but Taehyung dodged him.
Jungkook froze mid-motion, completely stunned, his brain struggling to process what had just happened. He turned to Taehyung with wide, confused eyes, his dark gaze carrying a hint of a pout, like a kicked puppy.
Taehyung took his time eyeing him from head to toe, his expression unreadable, before stepping closer—slowly, deliberately. His gaze remained locked onto Jungkook’s with an intensity that made him slightly nervous.
They were just inches apart, their breaths mingling. Jungkook leaned in again, ready to finally claim his lips, but Taehyung stopped him—sliding a hand up to his face and covering his mouth gently, preventing him from getting any closer.
This time, a smirk did appear on his lips.
"Jeon Jungkook," he said, pronouncing his full name with deliberate slowness.
Jungkook’s body went rigid.
Oh, fuck.
Hearing his full name was never a good sign.
"W-what?" Jungkook stammered, his voice only slightly deeper than usual.
"If you let another girl get that close to you again… I’m going to kill you," Taehyung murmured in a low, sultry voice, as if he were flirting instead of threatening him.
Jungkook's eyes widened. "What? No, but I—"
"You were the one who insisted this should stay just between us," Taehyung cut him off, his tone still relaxed, but his eyes gleamed with warning. "So don't go around acting like a damn player. Just because we’re trying to keep things low-key doesn’t mean you can let others rub all over you to pretend nothing's going on between us."
"It wasn’t my fault!" Jungkook blurted out, desperation creeping into his voice. "I didn't… I didn’t want her close! She was the one who came onto me! I… I just froze, I didn’t know what to do!"
His voice sounded too nervous, too defensive—and he knew it. But it was the truth. He hadn’t done anything; he had just been standing there when the girl pressed up against him, moving her hips in that blatant, sticky way. He had just… frozen when she suddenly leaned in and kissed his neck.
"I'm sorry," he added quickly. "Really. I didn’t mean for that to happen. I don’t want anyone else. It was an accident."
He tried to read Taehyung’s expression, searching for any sign that he believed him, but all he found was that sharp gaze and an utterly unyielding posture.
"I don’t want excuses, Jungkook." The black-haired boy shut up immediately. Taehyung leaned in just a little more, his face dangerously close, and smiled in a way that wasn’t entirely sweet. "Next time, use your survival instincts and back off before someone sticks their ass on your dick," he whispered. "Or I’ll cut it off."
A shiver ran down Jungkook’s spine. He wasn’t sure what scared him more—the threat or the way Taehyung smiled, so perfectly charming that anyone would doubt he had just said something so sinister.
"Got it," he whispered at last. But then… "But… you… danced with Jiwoo," Jungkook blurted out, swallowing hard.
The silence that followed was immediate. Taehyung stared at him in disbelief at first, then his eyes narrowed, and his entire posture shifted—like a predator locking onto its prey.
"Excuse me?"
"Y-you danced with Jiwoo," Jungkook repeated, though much less confidently this time.
"And what about it?"
Jungkook hesitated, dropping his gaze for a second before gathering the courage to look up again—pouting slightly, the way he usually did when he wanted to get out of trouble.
"I’m just saying… you looked pretty comfortable with her," he mumbled, dragging out the words like a child complaining.
"Are you fucking blind or what?" Taehyung snapped, crossing his arms tightly. "Jiwoo and I are friends, Jungkook. Friends. And if you were actually paying attention, you’d notice we weren’t dancing like we wanted to fuck in the middle of the club—unlike some people."
"But you had a connection…" Jungkook insisted, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "That’s why I got jeal—"
He cut himself off abruptly, realizing what he had been about to say. His mouth snapped shut, and his eyes widened slightly. He hoped Taehyung hadn’t caught it, but of course, he did. Oh, he definitely did.
"You got what?" Taehyung leaned in slightly, cornering him.
"Nothing." Jungkook shook his head quickly, taking a step back.
"Say it again," Taehyung demanded.
"No."
"Jungkook…"
"I’m not saying it."
"Say it."
"No!"
The moment the word left his mouth, he spun on his heel and bolted towards the bedroom, hoping a quick escape would be enough to bury the conversation.
It wasn’t. Not even close.
Had he forgotten that Taehyung was stubborn as hell and always won arguments?
The second he heard Taehyung’s footsteps behind him, Jungkook picked up speed, cursing his own clumsiness under his breath.
"Jungkook, get back here!"
"Not a chance!"
"Don’t be a coward!"
"I’m not stupid either!"
Jungkook reached the bedroom and was just about to slam the door shut when Taehyung slipped inside with cat-like agility, using his own body weight to shove him backward. Jungkook landed flat on the bed with a dull thud.
He didn’t even have a second to react before Taehyung was on top of him, straddling his waist, pinning his wrists down against the sheets, making sure he couldn’t move.
His face was too close. His breath, too warm. And Jungkook felt the heat rush to his cheeks in an instant.
"Hey!" he protested, squirming beneath him. "This isn’t fair!"
"Life isn’t fair, Jungkook," Taehyung replied with a smug smile. "Now, say it again."
Jungkook turned his head away, struggling beneath his grip.
"I don’t know what you’re talking about."
"Oh, you know exactly what I’m talking about." Taehyung leaned in even closer, his lips brushing against Jungkook’s jaw. "You said you got jeal… what was it again?"
"It was nothing."
"Did my connection with Jiwoo make you jealous?"
Jungkook averted his gaze, frowning like a kid about to throw a tantrum.
"No."
"You sure?" Taehyung tightened his hold on his wrists.
"Yes."
"Jungkook… answer me."
He shut his eyes in frustration, letting out a long sigh before muttering begrudgingly, "Yes…"
"What was that? I didn’t quite hear you." Taehyung tilted his head, pretending to bring his ear closer.
"Yes, damn it!"
Taehyung’s heart skipped a beat at those words. His triumphant smirk softened for a moment, warmth creeping up his cheeks. The idea of Jungkook being jealous over him was just… too good.
"Jungkook…" he murmured, voice softer now, leaning in until their noses nearly brushed. "I swear, there’s nothing between Jiwoo and me. Just friendship. That’s all."
Jungkook still refused to look at him directly, but his flushed ears betrayed him.
Taehyung, on the other hand, felt his chest swell with unbearable fondness. Jungkook was just too damn cute—his brows furrowed, his cheeks pink, that tiny pout forming on his lips.
Shit.
He looked way too damn edible.
He quite literally wanted to eat him up.
So he did.
Without letting go of his wrists, Taehyung leaned down and started peppering Jungkook’s face with kisses. One on his forehead, another on his nose, then his cheeks, his temples, his chin—each one loud and exaggerated, intentionally obnoxious.
Jungkook squealed, thrashing beneath him, trying to dodge his lips, but Taehyung had him completely trapped.
"Taehyung, stop!" Jungkook yelped between breathless laughter, squirming beneath him. "You’re slobbering all over me!"
"You deserve it for being jealous."
"You were jealous too!"
"That’s different! You let someone kiss your neck and put on a whole public demonstration of how you fuck!"
"But you did sleep with her!"
"But not anymore!"
Taehyung burst into laughter, enjoying every second of it. Yeah. He definitely loved riling Jungkook up.
Taehyung’s kisses fell like a gentle rain over Jungkook’s skin. He kissed wherever he could, wherever he wanted, wherever he felt he needed to. It was as if he was making sure to leave his mark on him somehow, reddening every possible inch just because he could—because he liked seeing him like this, squirming beneath him, ears flushed, lips trembling.
"Hey..." he murmured, pressing a kiss to his jaw, then to the corner of his lips. "Speaking of things I need you to repeat..." Another kiss, this time on his cheek. "What exactly happened in the car?"
Jungkook blinked a few times, his mind too clouded by kisses to process what he was referring to right away.
"Mhm...?"
"When you called me hyung."
Jungkook’s body tensed instantly. A scorching heat crept up his neck, settling in his cheeks as embarrassment consumed him.
"I-I didn’t..." he stammered, trying to turn his face away so Taehyung wouldn’t see his expression. But Taehyung simply cupped his face with both hands, keeping him from escaping.
"Yes, you did," he insisted, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Don’t play dumb. You called me hyung, and you never do that because, according to you, I don’t deserve that respect. Did you do it to see how I’d react?" Jungkook squirmed a little more under his weight, feeling like his embarrassment was eating him alive. He cursed internally at how well Taehyung could read him.
"Maybe."
"And it worked." Taehyung grinned widely.
"I noticed."
"Then you should do it more often."
"No."
"Why not?" The blond tilted his head, surprised at how quickly Jungkook had answered.
"Because hyung is for elders. And you’re a baby."
"What?" His voice jumped an octave, and Jungkook had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.
"You heard me. You’re not hyung, you’re a baby."
"I’m older than you!"
"You’re a baby. One year is nothing."
"It’s a lot!"
"No, it’s not."
"Of course it is! I’ve eaten 1,293 more bowls of rice than you. Show some damn respect!"
"How the hell did you come up with that number?"
"I calculated it."
"No, you didn’t."
"Yes, I did!"
Jungkook couldn’t hold back his laughter this time. Taehyung’s indignant expression was too good, so he took advantage of his distraction, sliding a hand down his side and squeezing lightly just above his ribs. Taehyung flinched immediately.
"No, no, no, Jungkook," he started pleading as soon as he realized what was coming.
"This is what you deserve, hyung," Jungkook emphasized the last word teasingly before launching a full attack, tickling his sides and stomach. Taehyung thrashed on top of him, letting out a mix of laughter and curses between desperate pleas for mercy. But Jungkook didn’t stop until he managed to unbalance him just enough to flip their positions, pinning Taehyung beneath him.
"Okay, okay! I surrender!" Taehyung gasped between laughs, cheeks flushed from both laughter and lack of air.
Jungkook finally stopped, placing his hands on either side of Taehyung’s face. He looked down at him, still giggling, breathing unevenly, lips slightly swollen from earlier kisses. Something stirred inside him at the sight.
Taehyung gazed up at him, his eyes shimmering with a strange spark that made Jungkook’s throat go dry.
He leaned in, and without thinking too much about it, he pressed a soft kiss to his lips. It was slow, just a brief touch, but filled with warmth. Jungkook felt the way Taehyung melted beneath him, surrendering to the kiss completely.
When he pulled away, Jungkook’s voice came out as a whisper.
"Hyung."
"It feels weird," Taehyung admitted, scrunching his nose in a way that was almost too cute. "But... I kind of like it."
Jungkook smiled. Taehyung stared at him for a moment, then, without warning, wrapped both arms around his neck, pulling him closer.
"You know I hate you, right?" he murmured, and Jungkook chuckled, settling more comfortably between his legs.
"I know. I hate you too."
Taehyung’s gaze roamed over his face. His eyes were so damn pretty that Jungkook swore time had stopped. The blond bit his lip lightly, and without thinking much more about it, tugged him down for another kiss.
This time, it wasn’t soft—it was deeper, their lips moving in sync, breaths mingling. Jungkook felt Taehyung’s hand tighten around the nape of his neck, holding him close as his tongue brushed against his with a tenderness that made him dizzy.
The kiss deepened, growing more intense, more demanding. Jungkook felt Taehyung’s fingers slide up into his hair, tangling in the strands and tugging just enough to hear the breathy sound that slipped past his lips.
It was too easy for Jungkook to get lost in him. Too easy to want more. He let out a soft moan against Taehyung’s lips, and the older one smirked into the kiss, satisfied.
Fuck, he could kiss him like this every damn day.
A shiver ran down Taehyung’s spine the moment Jungkook started moving against him so shamelessly. He knew the younger was bold, that he liked to tease, but this… this was fucking torture.
He could feel the pressure of Jungkook’s hardness pressing against his own, the friction between their clothes making him tremble, the heat pooling in his stomach. He couldn’t help it—every time Jungkook rolled his hips against him, a moan got caught in his throat, barely muffled by the desperate kisses they shared between ragged breaths.
Jungkook wouldn’t stop kissing him like he was starving, his tongue sliding against Taehyung’s, nipping at his lower lip and tugging it gently before diving back in. His hands moved with confidence, slipping beneath Taehyung’s shirt, fingers tracing the hot skin of his waist before pushing higher, stroking along his ribs without an ounce of hesitation. Taehyung could barely process everything he was feeling—his body was reacting before his mind could catch up, shivering under every touch.
“Taehyung…” Jungkook murmured against his lips, his voice thick with desire. He barely pulled away, still brushing against his mouth, his warm breath fanning over his skin. One of his hands slid down to Taehyung’s hip, gripping it firmly, holding him in place as he kept grinding against him, rubbing himself shamelessly against his clothed erection. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
Taehyung’s eyes snapped open, his body caught between the pleasure coursing through him and the weight of the question.
Was he sure? He couldn’t say yes with absolute certainty, but he didn’t want to say no either. His body burned for more, for Jungkook, for the feeling of him even closer, for the chance to see how far they could go. But deep down… there was fear. Not because he didn’t trust him, but because he didn’t know what to expect. Because he had spent so long avoiding this, had convinced himself for years that he wouldn’t even let himself consider something like this.
And yet, here he was—panting beneath him, desire searing through his veins, with an aching erection begging for attention.
“I’m scared…” he admitted finally, his voice barely a whisper, but clear enough for Jungkook to hear. Jungkook’s gaze softened slightly, but he didn’t say anything—he simply stopped his teasing thrusts. “But I still want to do it.” His chest rose and fell quickly, his cheeks burning with heat. “You told me I shouldn’t be afraid of liking it. That I should face it.”
Jungkook nodded slowly, his fingers brushing over Taehyung’s cheek with unexpected tenderness, his thumb tracing his cheekbone in a soothing motion, careful not to hurt his bruises.
“Then…” The blond took a shaky breath, locking eyes with him. “Go get the condoms from the bathroom.”
Jungkook grinned, his excitement clear. He pushed himself up easily—literally like he was doing a push-up—and sat on the bed. But then, he paused, frowning slightly as if something had just occurred to him.
“How do you know I have condoms in the bathroom?”
Fuck.
Taehyung wasn’t sure if he should tell him that, when he had stayed over, he accidentally found the box of XL strawberry-flavored, lubricated condoms while looking for a spare toothbrush in the cabinet. Would that be too much of an invasion of privacy? Then again, he already had his own toothbrush there out of nowhere—did Jungkook not remember that he bought it and where he kept it? Either way, he wasn’t about to risk it.
“I guessed,” he blurted out. But it sounded more like a question than a statement.
“You guessed?” Jungkook raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah…”
Silence stretched between them for a couple of seconds before Jungkook let out a low chuckle. He didn’t press the issue any further, but the look he gave Taehyung made it painfully obvious that he didn’t believe him at all. Still, he said nothing—just stood up and disappeared into the bathroom.
Taehyung took those few seconds to try to calm his racing pulse, but it was useless. His skin was still tingling, his body still burning up, his hard-on was impossible to ignore, and knowing that Jungkook was actually in the bathroom looking for the condoms only made him flush even redder.
When Jungkook returned, he wasn’t holding just one or two condoms. Oh no. He had brought the entire damn box. And as if that wasn’t enough, he was also holding a big bottle of lube. The expensive-looking kind.
“Why did you bring the whole box?” Taehyung asked, his voice slightly higher than usual.
Jungkook shrugged, far too nonchalantly. “In case you want to go again.”
Taehyung blinked, his mouth slightly open, his brain struggling to process the meaning behind those words. He swallowed, but his throat was dry. His eyes darted to the box of condoms, then back to Jungkook, then to the box again.
Holy hell.
There was no turning back now.
Jungkook set everything down on the nightstand and shrugged off his jacket. Taehyung, on the other hand, grabbed Jungkook and pulled him back onto the bed, kissing him fiercely, swallowing down every thought, every doubt, before they could surface again.
Jungkook’s hands were on him once more—warm, steady, knowing exactly where to touch to set his skin ablaze. His body responded instinctively, his senses completely attuned to the way Jungkook moved, the way he kissed him, the way he pressed against him.
Jungkook kissed him with intensity, that infuriating way of his that made Taehyung feel like he was being consumed entirely. Taehyung clung to his shoulders, feeling the muscles flex beneath his fingertips as Jungkook settled between his legs again, rolling his hips against him in a way that had him gasping loudly.
Fuck.
This was too much—this was intense.
“Jungkook…” His voice came out broken, barely a whisper tangled in uneven breaths. The younger one smirked against his skin, kissing lower, licking and biting shamelessly. His hands roamed freely, exploring his torso, slipping under his shirt, pushing it up slowly. “God, how the hell are you so good at this?” he blurted out before he could stop himself, his voice shaky with panting breaths.
Jungkook chuckled against his skin before biting him a little harder, drawing a low moan from him.
“Natural talent.”
He was enjoying this. Jungkook’s eyes were dark, heavy, filled with raw desire. He was devouring him with his gaze, touching him with both reverence and hunger.
Taehyung didn’t even have the chance to respond before Jungkook started undressing him. His fingers trailed over his abdomen before pulling his shirt over his head in one swift motion. Instinctively, Taehyung moved to cover himself—because… well, they had never actually taken everything off before. Only pants. Which, now that he thought about it, being pantsless probably wasn’t any less intimate than being shirtless. Jungkook had already seen him without a shirt before, so why was he suddenly making such a big deal out of it in his own—
Jungkook interrupted his thoughts by grabbing his wrists, pinning them above his head with one hand, shooting him a warning look before starting to trail wet kisses from his lips down to his chest.
Jungkook was driving him insane. Literally.
He had never been stimulated on his nipples before. It wasn’t exactly the kind of thing a girl would find attractive enough to lick, but now he couldn’t understand why it had never happened. Taehyung arched his back slightly when Jungkook captured one between his lips, sucking it, licking it—even going as far as to bite it, though just barely.
The blond could only bite his lip as he instinctively tried to close his legs, but he couldn’t—Jungkook’s large body was settled right in between them.
When Jungkook moved on to the other nipple, Taehyung noticed that the one he had just sucked was slightly erect. He didn’t even know they could do that. How many things had he been missing out on exactly?
He freed his hands as best as he could and reached for the hem of Jungkook’s shirt, tugging at it in an attempt to take it off.
"It’s not fair that I’m the only one shirtless. We should be equal, don’t you think?" He tried to sound serious, but all he got was Jungkook rolling his eyes with a grin before pulling the shirt off in one swift motion. Taehyung’s gaze roamed over his torso—strong, defined, much more than his own. The tattoos made him look insanely hotter, and Taehyung couldn’t help the blush creeping up his face. “U-Um, actually… maybe you should put it back on.”
"Taehyung!" Jungkook laughed. "Did my body attack you? Mhm?" The cocky bastard flexed his arm, making the muscles stand out even more. "What do you think? You like it?"
"J-Jungkook!" Taehyung covered his face with both hands, completely flustered. "No—I mean, yes, but... ugh! It’s just that… you’re big. Muscular. You look… uh, good. And I don’t look like you. I mean, yeah, I knocked a guy out, so I am strong, but I don’t look it. And I don’t know if you like that, or if—ugh, I mean, you’ve never said anything, and—”
Taehyung couldn’t finish because Jungkook shut him up with a kiss—so intense it almost hurt from the pressure. When they pulled apart, Jungkook knelt between his legs, looking him up and down as he licked his lips.
"Taehyung, I love every fucking part of your body," he said bluntly. Then, with no hesitation, he reached down and palmed himself over his pants. "See this? It’s because of you. You have no fucking idea how many times I’ve gotten hard just from thinking about you. Remember when I burned myself at the cabin?"
"S-Sure… what about it?" Taehyung’s face was burning.
"Well, I did that because I got distracted watching you shirtless."
"Even back then you…?"
"Yeah. Even back then, I was looking at you. Even before that, though I tried to deny it."
Taehyung averted his gaze for a moment before locking eyes with Jungkook again.
"I was looking at you way before that too, if it means anything… I tried to deny it too, but damn, you really go hard," he chuckled. "That day at the shoot, when we changed clothes… I couldn’t stop staring."
"Yeah… me neither," Jungkook admitted in a low voice.
"But don’t let it get to your head, dumbass."
"You don’t either. You’re already a show-off."
They stared at each other for a few seconds before Taehyung sat up on the bed, getting really close to Jungkook. He reached for the younger’s pants, unbuttoning them and pulling them down without hesitation.
Jungkook smirked playfully before helping himself out of them completely. Then, just as quickly, he pushed Taehyung back onto the bed and stripped him of the last remaining piece of clothing. Taehyung helped him take off his boxers too.
Now they were both completely naked, flushed, and nervous. They knew what to do—it wasn’t like they were virgins—but right now… everything had slipped their minds.
Taehyung was the first to move. He grabbed Jungkook by the waist, guiding him to lay down on the bed. Jungkook let him, only letting out a low moan when Taehyung wrapped a hand around his cock, stroking him slowly. He glanced up to check if Jungkook liked it or if he was being too forward, but the way the younger bucked his hips into his hand was answer enough. Taehyung wet his lips before lowering himself and taking Jungkook’s cock into his mouth. The older’s hand immediately went to his hair, gripping it. He really liked the color—it suited him well, and the contrast against his skin was fucking hot.
The blonde bobbed his head, letting the length slide down his throat with ease. Jimin had been right about the whole deep-throating thing—he had quickly learned how to give a good blowjob. He just had to relax his throat, open his mouth wide, and find a comfortable angle where he wouldn’t gag.
"You got really good at this, huh?" Jungkook panted. Taehyung smacked his thigh in response. "Ow! Always so rough," Jungkook chuckled.
Taehyung pulled off when he ran out of breath, a thin string of saliva connecting his swollen lips to Jungkook’s cock. His lips were glossy and slightly puffy, his eyes teary from the effort. It was… an incredibly hot sight.
Jungkook grabbed him by the arms, and with one swift move, Taehyung was suddenly on his back, mattress underneath him. The younger settled between his legs and kissed him again, leaning down so their chests were flush against each other. Their skin burned on contact—they were too hot, too needy.
Taehyung could feel Jungkook’s cock rubbing against his own, which only made his blush deepen. Jungkook moved his lips against his, tracing their shape with his tongue before slipping inside once Taehyung allowed it. As he devoured his mouth, his hand slid down to Taehyung’s neglected cock, pumping it quickly with the perfect amount of pressure, paying special attention to the tip—already red and leaking precum.
Jungkook pulled back just enough to grab the older’s thighs and push them up against his chest.
"Jungkook!" Taehyung whined, feeling completely exposed. The younger ignored his protests, lowering himself between his legs. “W-What are you doing? Oh—!”
Jungkook had stuck out his tongue, licking a wet stripe from the base of his balls to his hole. He pushed Taehyung’s legs up further to angle him better, and luckily, Taehyung had mentioned he was flexible thanks to contemporary dance, so it wasn’t hard at all.
Taehyung gripped the sheets desperately when Jungkook started licking him all over, tracing circles around his entrance before pushing his tongue in. His face was burning—this was such an embarrassing position, and he felt completely vulnerable.
But he’d be lying if he said it didn’t feel good.
Wait—did Jungkook just bite his ass? Oh, fuck, he did.
"Jeon Jungkook!" he shrieked, reaching back to cover the spot.
"You can’t blame me," Jungkook defended. "If you could see what I’m seeing, you’d want to bite yourself too… it looks so soft and pretty…"
"Don’t look at my ass!"
"I’m gonna keep looking at your ass. And touching it. Hope you get used to that."
With that, he let go of Taehyung’s legs, making the older instinctively close them. Jungkook reached for a condom and lube.
"You're such a show-off. You bought the whole box of the most expensive condoms," Taehyung muttered, snatching the wrapper from Jungkook's hand. "XL? As if regular condoms weren’t literally designed to fit an entire arm. This is just for guys with a superiority complex." He spun the package between his fingers before scoffing. "Lubricated is fine, that’s useful. But… strawberry-flavored? I mean, yeah, I like strawberries, but it's not like I'm dying to taste them in a condom. It’s not like I enjoy giving blowjobs with a condom on—latex flavor and texture aren’t exactly my thing."
"But putting it in your mouth raw is?" Jungkook teased. Taehyung didn’t respond, just stuck his tongue out at him childishly. "And if you have a problem with it, buy the next ones yourself."
"Oh, hell no. You bring the sword, you buy the condoms. That’s the law," Taehyung huffed, crossing his arms.
"I also bought lube. If you're taking it, shouldn't you be responsible for that too, according to your own logic?"
"No, because you need to take care of my ass. Do you understand the concept of putting that thing inside my little flower?" Taehyung pouted slightly.
"Ew. Don’t call your anus a ‘little flower.’"
"And don’t call it an ‘anus’, it sounds ugly and completely unsexy, you idiot."
Jungkook shook his head, laughing. He grabbed the lube and flipped the cap open. The soft plup sound made Taehyung's nerves spike instantly. Jungkook poured a generous amount onto his fingers before turning to look at the blonde expectantly. Taehyung, however, had his legs tightly pressed together, staring back at him in sheer terror.
"Spread your legs, Taehyung," Jungkook said in a suggestive tone. Taehyung shook his head slightly. "Spread them."
"I'm fine like this, thanks."
"Taehyung," Jungkook warned. "Don't make me do it for you."
Taehyung squirmed in place, biting his lip. It wasn't that he didn't want to… He just kind of liked it when Jungkook got like this—demanding. Just a little.
Eventually, he spread his legs on his own, and Jungkook smiled as if rewarding him. He guided his lube-covered fingers to Taehyung’s entrance, making the older boy flinch as goosebumps ran across his skin. It felt ice-cold compared to his own body heat. Jungkook took his time spreading the slick around before applying a bit more, then aligned his index finger against Taehyung's entrance.
Before pushing in, he leaned down and kissed him—softly, sweetly. It was an innocent kiss that left Taehyung dazed.
"Remember, if you want to stop, tell me."
"But what if I say I want to stop, but I don’t actually mean it, and I'm just trying to act all dignified and hard to get?" Taehyung mumbled. "We should have a safe word."
"At least you admit you're playing hard to get," Jungkook laughed. "Alright, fine. If you really want to stop, say… uh…" Jungkook glanced around the room, looking for something Taehyung would never, under any circumstances, say during sex. "I don’t know… comics?"
Taehyung thought about it. He couldn’t imagine a single scenario where saying comics would be necessary in the heat of the moment, so he nodded.
"Comics it is."
With that settled, Jungkook applied gentle pressure, and—much easier than either of them had expected—his first finger slipped inside.
They locked eyes for a moment before both instinctively glanced downward. Taehyung couldn't see his own entrance from his position, but he could see Jungkook’s arm, tense as he worked his way in. When the younger didn't hear any complaints, he started moving his finger back and forth.
"It feels… w-weird, mghm," Taehyung murmured, his face burning. He pressed his left hand against his lips, trying to keep any sounds from escaping.
Jungkook moved his middle finger in slow circles, feeling the warm, pulsing walls around it. When he noticed Taehyung was adjusting well, he pulled back just enough to press his ring finger against him, sliding a second finger in.
"Oh—!" Okay. That was different. The first finger hadn’t hurt, but the second definitely did. Not unbearably, though. "I-It feels…"
He couldn’t even finish his sentence because Jungkook suddenly started moving his fingers up and down—using that familiar Spider-Man technique guys usually did on girls. No wonder they liked it so much.
Taehyung's head fell back as he muffled his moans with his hand. Jungkook was doing a really good job down there, studying him closely, and when he noticed Taehyung liked it, he sped up, making the older boy whimper.
And then Jungkook curled his fingers right into that one spot—Taehyung’s back arched off the bed as a choked moan tore from his lips.
"F-Fuck!" He removed his hand from his mouth, grasping onto Jungkook’s muscular arm. "Was that… my prostate?"
"Judging by your reaction, I’d say yes," Jungkook said, repeating the movement and sending another spark of pleasure through him. "Yes, yes it is."
"Yeah—yeah, no shit, dumbass," Taehyung panted, biting his lip before looking up at him. "Do it again."
"You liked that, huh?"
"Less talking, more fingers."
Jungkook rolled his eyes but did as he was told, this time moving faster and rougher. Taehyung moaned and writhed beneath him, never once attempting to close his legs. In fact, he spread them even wider.
Every time Jungkook hit his prostate, he yelped in pleasure. Having fingers inside him wasn't traumatic at all—it was the opposite. Jungkook reached down with his free hand, intending to wrap it around Taehyung’s cock, but the older immediately stopped him, grabbing his wrist.
"J-Jungkook, don’t touch me there. I swear I’ll come, and I don’t want that yet," Taehyung pleaded with wide eyes, and Jungkook had no choice but to obey.
Wait. Would he really come just from being fingered? That was valuable information.
"Think you’re ready?" Jungkook asked after a while, looking down at his two fingers buried inside Taehyung.
Taehyung shot him an incredulous look.
"Jungkook, are you serious?" Taehyung said trying to regulate his breathing.
"What?"
"Do you see your dick?" The blond pointed with his eyes at Jungkook's erection almost in front of him, which was erect, large, and needy. Jungkook looked at himself for a second and then looked back at Taehyung.
"Uh… yeah."
"Great. Keep that in mind because you’re going to use it later. Now, how many fingers do you have inside me?" His tone was so condescending it was as if he were talking to a child.
"Two?"
"Very good! You can count. Now, remember your dick?"
"Taehyung, where are you going with this?" He said, tilting his head and making a slight grimace.
"Do you remember it or not?"
"Yes, I remember it." Jungkook sighed.
"Good. Now tell me—does your dick have the same girth as two fingers?"
Jungkook used his free hand to clasp two fingers together and then compare them to his own penis. He then shook his head innocently.
"Mhm… no."
"So why the fuck do you think just two fingers up my ass is enough preparation!?" The blond growled as he glared at him.
"Okay, okay! I get it!" Jungkook sighed. "You could've just said it wasn’t enough, dumbass."
"Add another! At least three!" Minho traumatized him with that, he definitely had no reason to ignore him.
The black-haired man shrugged and with extreme care, inserted another finger into Taehyung once he felt he could resist no longer. Taehyung immediately opened his mouth and tried to close his legs,—okay, that hurt a lot more.
Seeing his reaction, Jungkook quickly approached his face, kissing him completely. At first, Jungkook didn't move the three fingers inside him, just staying still, waiting for the older man to get used to it.
He kissed his cheeks, his forehead, his chin, his nose, his lips—tenderly, lovingly. Taehyung locked eyes with him, and though he didn’t cry, Jungkook knew he was in pain.
"Relax, baby, don’t tense up. It'll be harder if you do," he whispered softly against his ear.
"Kiss me," the blond murmured. "Kiss me, please, Jungkook. And while you’re at it, use your free hand and touch me."
Jungkook didn’t hesitate to follow orders. His right hand began to move while his left wrapped around Taehyung’s cock, stroking it as his mouth sought his. He kissed him deep and rough, yet slow—the kind of kiss he knew Taehyung liked. Their lips moved together in an unhurried rhythm, with Taehyung tasting him as if he had all the time in the world, as if he wanted to memorize the sensation of his mouth against his.
When Taehyung started moaning into the kiss instead of whining, Jungkook knew he was finally getting past the discomfort. That’s when he started moving his fingers, scissoring them carefully. Taehyung gasped, even biting Jungkook’s lip a little in response.
A few minutes later, Taehyung pulled back slightly, grabbing Jungkook’s arm—the one still stroking his cock—to stop him.
"I think that’s enough," he whispered. "Put the condom on."
Jungkook smiled at him, reaching for the condom he had left nearby. He tore the package open with ease and kneeled, sitting back on his heels. He was so fucking hard that his cock stood stiffly in place, defying gravity. That’s just what Taehyung did to him.
He rolled the condom on without issue, then looked at Taehyung—devouring him with his gaze, his lust evident as he squeezed more lube over the latex.
"Come here, I want you like this," he said, grabbing one of the pillows from the bed. He then took one of Taehyung’s legs and turned him over, leaving him face down.
"What are you doing?" Taehyung asked, a little nervous as he propped himself up on his elbows. The blond yelped when Jungkook grabbed his hips, lifting them slightly and sliding the pillow underneath his pelvis. Taehyung moaned as the movement made the pillow press against him just right. "You pervert," he huffed. "You planned this position beforehand, didn’t you?"
"Not gonna lie—I did. And more than once."
"I’m warning you, Jeon," Taehyung said. "If you start thrusting like you’re having a seizure the second you’re inside, I swear I’ll rip your hair out."
"Relax, little prince."
"How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that, piece of inept?"
Jungkook placed a firm hand on Taehyung’s back, pressing him down against the bed, not letting him lift his torso. His goal was to shut him up—and it worked, since Taehyung’s face ended up smushed against the mattress with a muffled sound of protest. Most of his body was now pressed against the bed, except for his ass, which remained slightly raised thanks to the pillow, making Jungkook’s life a whole lot easier.
"Don’t move, Tae," Jungkook grinned playfully. From his angle, he had the perfect view of Taehyung completely at his mercy, his gorgeous back flexing, muscles standing out, his hair a complete mess.
"Don’t tell me what to do, asshole," Taehyung snapped, his voice muffled—not only because Jungkook still had a hand on his back, but also because he probably needed something to bite down on. The closest thing he could find was a pillow.
"Oh, but I’m sure you’ll be the one telling me what to do once I start."
With his free hand, Jungkook caressed one of Taehyung’s ass cheeks, spreading him open for a perfect view of his freshly prepped entrance. It was twitching. Then, aligning himself, he slowly pushed his hips forward, sliding in bit by bit.
Jungkook bit his lip hard, the feeling overwhelming—so fucking good that he had to fight every instinct to thrust in all at once. On the other hand, Taehyung let out a muffled moan into the pillow. It hurt. A lot. It felt like a burning flame right there, making his eyes sting with the threat of tears. But was he a masochist? Why the fuck did he like it?
There was no way he should be enjoying having his ass split open. And he wanted to kill Jeon Jungkook for making him feel like this.
Taehyung felt Jungkook’s hips press against his ass. The entire twenty centimeters were inside him. His ass was on fire, and he already knew he’d be in for some serious muscle pain after this. He could already see himself asking Jimin for a massage. That guy and his hands knew exactly what to do—wait, no, thinking about Jimin wasn’t helping right now.
Besides, what the hell would he even say? "Hey, can you give me a back and leg massage? I just got fucked. Oh, who was the owner of the dick? Jungkook. Remember when I told you we made out in secret and that I liked him? Well, turns out I gave up my ass, just like that, I'm that easy. A few weeks ago, I was fucking girls, and now I got fucked. Life’s full of surprises, huh?" No. That conversation wasn’t happening.
And thinking about girls wasn’t helping either, because the second he did, his ass clenched instinctively. Maybe that was where his heterosexuality was hiding. But the damn bastard Jungkook had made him discover otherwise. He definitely wasn’t straight. He could now say with almost complete certainty that he was bisexual—although, truthfully, he’d never liked any other guy. Just Jungkook. So how did that work?
"Fuck—Taehyung, don’t clench…" Jungkook’s breathy, wrecked voice sent shivers down his spine. Hearing him moan while Taehyung blew him or jerked him off was one thing, but this—hearing him like this while he was inside him—was completely different. It was deeper, raspier, more desperate.
"Oh, I’m so sorry, expert in fucking men," Taehyung sneered. "I don’t usually have dicks up my ass, so I didn’t know that clenching like this—"
He clenched again, fully on purpose this time. Jungkook let out a needy whimper.
"T-Taehyung!"
"—would be pure torture for you. In fact, I’ve never even been inside a girl’s ass before, because, to me, it’s always been an exit. And nothing sounds less appealing than—ah!"
Taehyung bit down on the pillow, gripping it tightly with his arms as his entire body tensed once again—this time, even more. Jungkook had started moving inside him. Slowly. No one could call him impatient after this, because the way he was taking his time proved otherwise. The real challenge was dealing with Taehyung and his mouth.
The lube was making things easier, letting Jungkook slide in and out smoothly. And that offended Taehyung. His ass wasn’t even putting up a fight.
As Jungkook picked up the pace, the sensations intensified. Taehyung’s skin was covered in goosebumps, every thrust making him lose control little by little. His knuckles had turned white from how hard he was gripping the sheets—he needed something to hold on to.
"Fuck…" That was all the blonde could manage to say. His eyes kept squeezing shut, his mouth half-open, failing miserably at silencing his moans with whatever he was holding onto.
Jungkook noticed, so he struggled a bit to snatch the pillow Taehyung was using as his last line of dignity.
"H-Hey!"
"Leave that."
"Give me my pillow back!"
"No," Jungkook repeated. "I wanna hear you."
Taehyung was beyond red, completely flustered, and if that wasn’t enough, the cock in his ass was making him aggressive and just a little desperate. His brain wasn’t functioning properly. All he could do was try to hide his face with his own hands.
"You're an idiot, a pervert, a fucking pig, you're a… you're a…" His voice faded into nothing, his dazed eyes giving him away completely.
Jungkook, determined to shut him up, started thrusting harder and faster, hitting places that had never been touched before. And now that Taehyung no longer had his pillow, there was nothing stopping his voice from echoing freely in the room, letting out the kind of obscene sounds that made him want to die on the spot.
For Jungkook, though, it was too fucking hot. Taehyung’s deep voice breaking into high-pitched moans only made him harder—if that was even possible. But those moans quickly turned into whines of protest when the thrusts suddenly stopped.
Taehyung turned his head as best as he could, trying to look at him, only to find Jungkook smirking at him with a cocky glint in his eyes.
"What? Already tired? Or did you cum already, you fucking two-pump chump?" But he got no response. Jungkook only raised his brows and tilted his head. "Well, I haven’t finished," Taehyung added suggestively, but again, nothing. "Jungkook? What’s wrong? Why aren’t you moving? Can you move? Why the fuck aren’t you moving?"
But he was completely ignored.
Taehyung started growing impatient. His neglected cock was aching, dripping, and rubbing against the mattress wasn’t cutting it. Meanwhile, his insides felt hot and pulsating. Muttering curses under his breath, he 'subtly' tried to move on his own.
He rocked his hips up and down, the most effective motion given his position. He could feel Jungkook’s cock shifting inside him, but of course, it wasn’t the same. However, going this slow somehow made him feel everything more intensely.
He tried moving faster, panting each time Jungkook’s cock slid all the way in. He was losing it, his face burning red in pure embarrassment.
"Move, I need more—can you?" Taehyung was going to die of shame right then and there, but the relief that washed over him when Jungkook’s hand gripped his waist was all he could care about.
"Told you you’d be begging me soon."
Taehyung wanted to kick him.
"I fucking hate you," he muttered, trying to bury his face in the sheets.
"You’re saying that while I’m literally fucking you?"
"I hate you," Taehyung repeated. "But I kinda don’t hate your dick inside me."
Jungkook didn’t need to hear anything else. He grabbed Taehyung’s hips and straightened up, pulling the blonde up with him, managing to get Taehyung in a perfect cat position. For someone who had never done it before, he looked quite adept. Without another word, he resumed his relentless pace, thrusting into him mercilessly. Taehyung could only moan, clutching onto the sheets for dear life.
"More… more…" he whimpered, feeling like he was being dragged up to heaven only to be dropped straight into hell again.
"God, you’re fucking bossy," Jungkook said with difficulty.
"S-Shut up."
This time, his order was heard and followed. Jungkook’s pace quickened, pounding into him even harder. He even had the audacity to slap Taehyung’s ass—repeatedly. Each time his palm landed, he could see how his ass jiggled, and when he lifted his hand, a pretty red mark was left behind. Taehyung had too nice of an ass. Too soft. Bouncing with every thrust. Jungkook decided he was now officially addicted to this view.
The blonde suddenly felt a tingling sensation spreading from his stomach to the rest of his body. He tensed up, barely turning his torso just enough to get a glimpse of Jungkook’s face, his scrunched brows and parted lips letting out choked moans as he moved. That sight alone pushed him even closer.
"J-Jungkook, mhgm," Taehyung whined. "I-I'm gonna cum. If you fucking stop now, I swear I’ll kick you off this bed so hard, you’ll crack your skull open and die."
"Sounds fair."
Jungkook was close too, especially after hearing his name slip past Taehyung’s lips like that.
It only took a few more thrusts before Taehyung reached his peak, squeezing his eyes shut and moaning louder than ever. His entire body shuddered with pleasure as thick ropes of cum shot out, staining the sheets with no mercy. Jungkook, feeling Taehyung clench around him, was sent over the edge as well. But ever since he’d seen that beautiful ass bouncing in front of him, he knew exactly how he wanted to finish.
Right at the brink of orgasm, he quickly pulled out, yanked the condom off with practiced ease, pumped himself a few times, and let out a deep groan as he spilled all over Taehyung’s ass and lower back.
It was a sight the blonde wouldn’t be forgetting any time soon. And, okay, maybe it turned him on a little… but he wasn’t about to admit that.
"Jungkook," he called out once his breathing was somewhat steady.
"Taehyung," Jungkook answered, still catching his breath.
"If you stain me again, I'll castrate you."
Taehyung let himself collapse onto the bed, still trembling with the aftershocks. He grimaced—not just from the soreness taking over his body, but also from the fact that he’d just landed straight into his own mess. It felt disgusting.
"Sorry," Jungkook laughed. "Your ass was too tempting."
"Yeah, keep laughing," Taehyung grumbled. "Go get some wipes or something."
"And there you go again, bossing me around," Jungkook teased. "Why me?"
"Because you’re the one who put his dick in me, and I was the one who got my ass beaten. Be a gentleman. Did you make the girls clean themselves up after fucking too? What happened to aftercare, huh?" Taehyung scrunched his nose in disapproval.
"Why should I do something like that for someone I hate?"
"Jungkook!"
"I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I’ll get them."
Jungkook rolled his eyes in amusement before getting out of bed, stretching his arm to grab the first piece of clothing he found—his own shirt—and tossing it at Taehyung without a hint of remorse.
"Here, use this while I get something."
"Disgusting!" Taehyung slapped it away. "I'm not wiping myself with your shirt, idiot."
"Well, you should've kept your mouth shut, and I would've cleaned you up myself."
The blond shot him a murderous glare, but Jungkook just chuckled, walking naked to the bathroom without a shred of shame. Taehyung covered his face with both hands, letting out a heavy sigh as his body reminded him in every possible way of what had just happened.
Shit.
They had fucked. Screwed. Had sex.
He and Jungkook.
A dick—a big dick—had been inside his ass. An ass that, by the way, was now starting to ache.
He couldn’t stop the wave of disbelief creeping up on him as his brain struggled to process everything.
Because yeah, he knew he had been more than willing, that the desire had been too strong to ignore, that every part of him had wanted it to happen.
But now that the heat of the moment had passed, now that he was lying in bed with his breath still uneven and his muscles aching, a small part of him felt like his brain was about to short-circuit from the overwhelming mix of emotions.
His eyes snapped open when he heard Jungkook return, carrying a pack of baby wipes, a bottle of water, and a painkiller. Taehyung had been so lost in thought that he hadn't even noticed when the guy left the room.
"Are you planning on making me breakfast too?" Taehyung threw out sarcastically, and Jungkook shot him a lazy glance while opening the pack.
"If you wanted breakfast in bed, you should’ve asked me to fuck you in the morning," he quipped with a smug grin. Taehyung threw a pillow at him without thinking, but Jungkook caught it effortlessly, laughing under his breath. "Come on, move. I need to clean you up," Jungkook said, so casually that it made Taehyung want to punch him.
"You could’ve been a little more gentle, you brute."
Jungkook chuckled, but his touch was soft as he started cleaning him up, his fingers gliding over Taehyung’s skin with more care than he had expected. His movements weren’t clumsy or rushed, and even though he had the audacity to let his fingers linger in certain places with obvious intent, his touch still felt... warm. Taehyung closed his eyes for a moment, silently enjoying the sensation.
"Does it hurt?"
The question caught him off guard, even more so because Jungkook asked it in a tone so gentle it made him nervous.
"A little," he admitted eventually. "But I’ll be fine with the pill."
The black-haired sighed and patted his hip twice. "I’d be sore too if I stayed in that position for so long. But it was worth it, right? By the way, I left some nice handprints on your ass. They look good on you."
Taehyung bit his lip. He didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of answering.
But yeah, fuck, it had been worth it. Even those damn marks.
"Shut up."
Jungkook smirked and finished cleaning both him and the bed before tossing the wipe onto the floor. He made sure Taehyung took the pill and drank the water before slipping back into bed beside him. For a few seconds, neither of them said anything. They just lay there, looking at each other.
Taehyung felt something stir in his chest because, suddenly, more than the desire, more than the pleasure, the only thing he could focus on was the way Jungkook was looking at him.
"What?" he asked, nervous.
Jungkook tilted his head, resting one arm under it.
"Nothing, it’s just..." He paused, a small smile forming on his lips as he reached out, brushing Taehyung’s hair out of his face. "I think we can officially say we don’t hate each other anymore."
Taehyung felt his heart skip a beat. He opened his mouth to reply but had no idea what to say. Because fuck, Jungkook was right. They couldn’t lie to themselves anymore—not after this. So instead of arguing, instead of making a scene, he just sighed tiredly and closed his eyes.
"Turn off the light and go to sleep, dumbass."
Jungkook laughed quietly but obeyed. And when the room was plunged into complete darkness, when only the sound of their steady breathing filled the air, Taehyung knew there was no turning back.
Because he shifted closer to Jungkook, wrapping an arm around him, and when Jungkook hugged him back, holding him tight and letting his scent surround him... they both knew they wanted to stay like this much more often.
Chapter 32: Chapter 31
Chapter Text
“Shit…” The very first thing Taehyung felt, even before he opened his eyes, was a sharp, aching pain in his ass. It was bad enough to make him frown, even half-asleep.
The second thing he noticed was the warmth of something solid and firm pressed against his back, and the weight of arms wrapped tightly around him. He blinked slowly, letting his surroundings come into focus—and that’s when it hit him.
His arm was curled tightly around Jungkook’s, which was possessively holding him in return. And not just that—his entire body was nestled flush against Jungkook’s, completely spooned like the smaller one.
And they were naked.
Completely.
Holy fuck.
His breath hitched in his throat. A shiver ran down his spine as last night came rushing back to him—how he’d given himself over completely, how every inch of his skin still remembered each touch. Why the hell hadn’t they put on clothes after?
His face lit up in flames, and in a desperate attempt to escape, he tried to move away. But in doing so, his ass accidentally rubbed directly against something hard—something that was very much not a leg.
He froze.
No no no.
His face went from red to crimson in a second as realization smacked him straight in the face. Jungkook had morning wood. And he’d just shamelessly rubbed up against it. Please, let the ground swallow him whole. At this point, death sounded like the cheaper option.
He tried to wriggle away as gracefully as his shame would allow, but Jungkook stirred behind him, letting out a low, sleepy sound and tugging him even closer.
“Mhm…” Jungkook mumbled into his neck, tightening his arms to keep him still and snug against his chest. “Stop moving so much…”
Taehyung’s eyes shot wide open. His heart slammed against his ribcage as Jungkook’s goddamn erection brushed up against him again—mercilessly.
Oh God.
What the hell was he doing with his life?
“Let me go, you idiot!” he squeaked, his voice cracking from pure desperation.
Jungkook groaned lazily but finally blinked his eyes open. He propped himself up on one elbow, resting his cheek in his palm as he looked at him with a sleepy smile, dark eyes still hazy from sleep.
“Good morning, Taehyung,” he said in a low, raspy voice. The heat on Taehyung’s face doubled. His mouth opened and closed uselessly, completely failing to form a response. “Aren’t you gonna say good morning back?” Jungkook tilted his head, feigning a hurt expression.
“G-Go to hell!”
Jungkook didn’t even flinch at the verbal slap. In fact, his smile widened, and instead of backing off—like any sane person would—he pulled Taehyung closer and planted a loud kiss on his cheek.
“Someone woke up grumpy.”
“My ass hurts, Jungkook!” Taehyung squirmed in his arms, scandalized. “And it’s your goddamn fault!”
Jungkook let out a low chuckle, clearly enjoying every second of his suffering.
“Didn’t seem like you thought that last night,” he murmured in a smug tone that made Taehyung want to punch him.
“It was awful!”
“Awful, huh?” Jungkook raised an eyebrow with a crooked smile.
“Yes,” he snapped, clinging to the last shreds of his dignity with everything he had.
“Then explain to me why you came just from the penetration and kept begging for more.”
Taehyung’s brain blanked.
The silence barely lasted a second before his survival instincts kicked in. He grabbed the pillow beneath him and smacked it hard into Jungkook’s face.
“You’re such an asshole!”
“I was just teasing, Taehyungie,” Jungkook laughed into the fabric, easily grabbing the pillow and tossing it aside with an annoyingly entertained grin.
“Don’t call me that!”
“Alright, Taehyungie.”
“God, stop! You’re such a jerk!” Taehyung yelled, face burning.
“I was joking—but you know what’s funny?” Jungkook went on, undeterred. “That day we played the ‘appearances’ game… I pointed at you when the question was ‘Who’s most likely to say embarrassing stuff during sex and want to die afterward?’ You denied it. You said you never regret anything you say.” He smirked. “See? I was right.”
Taehyung squinted at him, glaring with all the fury his flushed face could muster. Jungkook still had that damn smirk plastered on his lips when Taehyung yanked the blanket over his face in exasperation.
“Shut up,” he mumbled, voice muffled by the fabric.
But Jungkook had no intention of shutting up. Instead, he shifted close enough to tug the blanket down and reveal Taehyung’s face.
“Hey,” Jungkook said softly.
Before Taehyung could throw back a threat laced with mortal danger, Jungkook leaned in and kissed him—just a gentle, soothing brush of lips, as if trying to calm him down... or maybe distract him.
And it worked.
For a fleeting moment, Taehyung forgot everything. The discomfort, the pain in his ass, the burning embarrassment still clawing at his chest. All of it faded. He let himself melt into the kiss, into the feeling of Jungkook’s lips on his own.
It lasted only a moment, but it was enough to short-circuit his brain. Jungkook pulled back just slightly, lips still brushing his.
“I know a way to make the pain go away.”
“What?” Taehyung blinked a couple of times, still dazed. “You do? What is it?”
“Well, think about it. What do people do when they work out for the first time and their muscles hurt?”
Taehyung frowned for a moment, considering the question, and then, with all the innocence in the world, he answered:
“Stretch?”
“No, dummy,” Jungkook laughed. “I mean do it every day until your body gets used to it.”
It took Taehyung exactly three seconds to understand.
And when he did, his whole body tensed like a spring, the red on his cheeks crawling all the way down his neck.
“W-What…?” he stammered. Jungkook didn’t answer—he just smiled. That smug, cocky, damn-near-illegal smile. It was enough to send Taehyung into full-blown panic. “You’re sick!” Before Jungkook could trap him again, Taehyung jumped out of bed, ignoring the sharp jolt of pain that shot up his lower back and ass. Survival mode had officially kicked in. “I’m taking a shower!”
“So early? Stay with me a little longer,” Jungkook murmured, reaching out to pull him back.
“I’m stealing your clothes again” Taehyung shot back, completely ignoring him as he limped toward the bathroom, muttering curses under his breath with every step.
Jungkook opened his mouth to complain some more, but it snapped shut the moment his eyes landed on Taehyung’s fully naked form.
Oh.
Oh fuck.
Now that the morning light illuminated every inch of his skin, he could finally take in what he’d only been able to touch blindly in the shadows the night before.
Taehyung's body was completely exposed before him, golden skin marked by remnants of the previous night—faint traces still visible on his back, on his thighs. And fuck, his legs. So long, so firm, so fucking perfect. But what really caught Jungkook’s attention was his ass. Round, firm, still streaked with the red lines Jungkook himself had left. Heat bloomed in his stomach, thick and heavy, and a low, almost guttural sound escaped him as he licked his lips without even realizing it.
“Shit, Taehyung…” he said in a deep, drawn-out voice. Taehyung, already halfway across the room, stopped instinctively at that tone.
“What?” he asked suspiciously, glancing back over his shoulder.
“Goddamn…” Jungkook murmured, unable to stop the words from spilling out. “You look fucking delicious.”
Taehyung froze in place. The silence that followed was so absolute Jungkook could practically hear the blond’s soul leaving his body and coming back from the shock.
“You fucking pervert!” In a clumsy motion, Taehyung spun around and tried to cover himself with his hands, glaring at him with pure indignation. Jungkook burst into laughter, making no effort to hide just how much he was enjoying the reaction. “Don’t look at me, you idiot!” he yelled, his face flushed bright red.
“I already looked, little prince,” Jungkook sang as he flopped back onto the bed with a satisfied grin.
“You’re such an asshole!”
Without wasting another second, Taehyung practically ran to the bathroom, grumbling with every step until he slammed the door behind him, leaving Jungkook still laughing in bed.
Definitely the best morning he’d had in a long time.
The sound of chopsticks hitting the edge of the plate was the only thing breaking the silence in Jungkook’s dining area. Well, that and Taehyung’s constant grumbling, cursing under his breath as he wrestled with his very existence.
He was the literal definition of grumpy.
He sat slouched in the chair, legs spread, a deep scowl etched into his face, lips twisted into a sulky pout, eyes glaring at the food in front of him.
Jungkook, on the other hand, was in a great mood. Despite sleeping in and skipping breakfast, he’d managed to cook them a decent lunch, which he now enjoyed leisurely, sneaking glances at Taehyung as he struggled with his chopsticks.
He had managed to bathe without dying in the attempt and now, with his skin still warm from the hot water, he found himself dressed in Jungkook's clothes because, well... his own clothes were scattered on the floor of the other's room and he didn't have a shred of energy to go pick them up.
The sweater hung loose on him, the sleeves covering his hands if he let his arms drop completely, and the gray cotton sweatpants sagged a bit at the waist.
Not the most flattering outfit, but at least it was comfortable. Or it would be, if his ass weren’t on fire.
“Fucking life…” Taehyung growled through gritted teeth, gripping his chopsticks too tightly. Not even the painkiller he’d taken had completely soothed the burning sensation in his back and ass, and even though Jungkook, in an attempt to redeem himself, had given him a massage after his bath, his body still protested with every movement he made.
Jungkook bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing when he saw him try to grab a bite of rice… and fail miserably. His whole damn body hurt and now he couldn’t even eat in peace. He looked like a kid who hadn’t quite mastered how to feed himself.
Eventually, Jungkook couldn’t hold it in anymore and let out a soft snort. Taehyung looked up, eyes sharp with murder.
“What the hell are you laughing at, asshole?”
Jungkook only smirked and, without saying a word, reached over with his own chopsticks, easily picking up the bite Taehyung had been trying to grab for minutes. With a smug expression, he lifted it toward the blond’s mouth.
“Open up,” he said in a clearly teasing tone. “I’ll feed you since it’s obvious you don’t know how. Are you gonna open your mouth or keep throwing a tantrum?”
Taehyung glared at him, pride warring with hunger. Jungkook wasn’t going to win that easily.
“I don’t need your help. I can eat on my own.”
Jungkook raised an eyebrow, holding the bite in front of his face patiently. Taehyung glanced at him, then at the food, then back at him.
His stomach growled.
Clicking his tongue in frustration, he huffed and reluctantly opened his mouth. Jungkook smiled in satisfaction and popped the bite in, watching with a touch of affection as Taehyung chewed angrily. Once he finally swallowed, he shot him a warning look.
“If you say anything stupid, I’ll stab you in the eye with these chopsticks.”
“Good boy,” Jungkook teased, clearly lacking any survival instinct. “Is that what you want me to call you, hyung?”
“You’re such a damn idiot.”
“You act like a baby and still expect me to be polite and call you hyung.”
“Yes, no matter how I act, you should. I’m older than you!”
“Fine…” Jungkook smiled, tilting his head slightly. His eyes sparkled as he leaned in a little, voice dripping with syrup. “Hyung.”
Taehyung went still. For the first time that morning, the irritation melted from his face. His lips twitched into a small, satisfied smile.
“That’s better.”
With his dignity restored, he picked up his chopsticks and, this time, managed to eat without his frustration getting in the way too much.
Sometimes, it was best to let the kid have his little victories.
“We should be heading out in about an hour,” Jungkook said suddenly, calmly licking his thumb. “We’re going to Sana, Mina, and Momo’s place, remember? They’re getting their audition results today.”
He had barely finished swallowing his last bite when the information clicked in Taehyung’s head, and the mention of Sana instantly tensed his jaw. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see them—Mina and Momo were cool—but Sana…
The change in his expression didn’t go unnoticed by Jungkook, who watched him curiously while sipping his juice.
“What’s up?”
“Nothing,” Taehyung said at first, but after noticing Jungkook’s persistent stare, he ended up voicing what was really on his mind. “It’s just… I’ve noticed Sana’s been acting different since we stopped giving her the same attention as before.”
“Yeah, I noticed,” Jungkook admitted. “But I think she’s just frustrated that we dropped her out of nowhere. I mean, she had both of us chasing after her,” he added with a sly grin, “and then, all of a sudden, neither of us was around anymore. She probably felt… I don’t know, rejected?”
“Well, what did she expect?” Taehyung scoffed.
“I don’t know,” Jungkook chuckled. “Anyway, it looked like she was going to pick me.”
"Wait, what? That she was going to choose you?"
"Yeah, she told me she'd pick me," Jungkook said, crossing his arms with a calm expression. "Though I told her I wasn’t interested anyway."
"No, that doesn’t make sense," Taehyung shook his head. "She told me she was going to choose me."
"What?" Jungkook raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah, she said she told you she wasn’t into you." Taehyung said and Jungkook's brow furrowed slightly. "How exactly did your conversation with her go?"
"I told her I wasn’t interested. And she... kind of tried to convince me not to give up and said she’d choose me. She practically begged me to reconsider."
"So..." Taehyung spoke again, slowly this time. "She lied?"
Jungkook leaned back in his chair, letting out a sigh as he looked up at the ceiling.
"I don’t know," he admitted, glancing back at him. "But it sure seems like she didn’t care which one of us she ended up with if she went to you and said that."
Taehyung bit the inside of his cheek, feeling a discomfort blooming in his chest. It wasn’t that he was hurt. He didn’t like Sana. He didn’t feel anything for her, but still... the idea of having been just a pawn in her little game left a bitter taste.
Then again, they weren’t exactly innocent either. For a good while, they had been trying to win her over while sneaking around behind her back. But... well, to be fair, ever since they kissed for the first time—at least Taehyung—had eased up on the whole competition. And later, they had been clear about things. She never was. She let them both tear each other apart over her.
"She also approached Jiwoo," Taehyung added, remembering that detail. "I don’t know exactly what she said, but she asked about me." He looked at Jungkook with a wary expression. "And if Jiwoo referred to her as 'oh, you,' it’s because she didn’t like her."
Jungkook fell silent, watching him closely. He didn’t know what Sana wanted either, or why she’d been acting so strangely lately. But one thing was clear: there was more going on with Sana than they’d noticed before.
Taehyung’s car engine purred to a stop when Jungkook turned the key in the ignition. The blonde had said he was too sore to drive, so the younger one had taken over the responsibility.
From his seat, Taehyung frowned at the apartment building in front of them, letting out an annoyed huff when he checked the message showing the floor where the girls lived.
"Eleventh floor..." he muttered with exasperation, sinking slightly into his seat. Jungkook, already unbuckling his seatbelt, raised an eyebrow with amusement. "Why do people insist on living so high up? Have they never thought about earthquakes? Fires? A fucking alien invasion? People on those floors have way fewer chances of evacuating and surviving."
Jungkook let out a snort, pushing open the door to get out.
"You say that like you’d be completely safe on the second floor."
"It’s better than the eleventh, that’s for sure."
"You’re something else."
Taehyung didn’t answer, just grumbled something unintelligible and slowly opened his door. No matter how hard he tried not to show signs of pain, it was impossible for his body not to protest every movement.
After shutting the driver’s door, Jungkook circled the car until he stood in front of him. Taehyung didn’t even have time to ask what he was doing before Jungkook slipped the car keys into the front pocket of his pants. Taehyung blinked a couple of times, surprised by the action, and looked down at his own pocket.
"Did you really just do that?" Jungkook only smiled innocently, then glanced around the parking lot. No one was around, so with a small gesture, he extended his arm toward Taehyung, offering it to him. "And what is this?"
"For you to lean on," Jungkook replied simply.
The older one eyed him suspiciously. Still, his ass and back hurt like hell, and even if he didn’t want to admit it, the idea of leaning on Jungkook was way too tempting.
With a soft grunt, he slid his hand over the younger’s arm and used it for support as he took the first step. Jungkook smiled in satisfaction.
"What are you going to do when everyone sees you limping?" he asked casually as they walked toward the building’s entrance.
"It’s no secret I got into a fight last night," Taehyung replied without flinching. "You can still see the marks on my face and everything, so I’ll just say I’m sore from the fight."
Jungkook nodded slowly, considering the explanation.
"Sounds convincing."
"It is."
They entered the building’s lobby and headed for the elevator in silence. Jungkook pressed the button to call it, and they waited without saying much. When the doors opened and they stepped inside, Taehyung instinctively clung to Jungkook as he pressed the button for the girls’ floor. It was automatic—the sense of safety Jungkook gave him through simple contact was comforting.
The dark-haired boy felt the pressure on his arm and turned to check on him. Their eyes met, and he wasn’t sure what expression he was wearing, but Jungkook pressed his lips together with a soft, tender look before letting out a small, affectionate hum.
"Come here."
Before Taehyung could say anything, Jungkook wrapped his arms around him and pulled him into a hug. The older boy froze for a few seconds, surprised by the sudden gesture, but then closed his eyes and hugged him back.
The elevator moved, but Taehyung barely noticed. The younger began to stroke his back slowly, sliding his hand up and down in a gentle rhythm. He sighed against his neck, allowing the calm to wash over him.
Taehyung felt the warmth of Jungkook’s embrace fade as they pulled apart just enough to look into each other’s eyes. Their breathing was steady, but heavy. Taehyung held his gaze for a moment longer, noticing how Jungkook’s pupils dilated just a bit, how his eyes drifted toward his mouth. Automatically, his own body followed, gaze dropping without him meaning to, focused on Jungkook’s lips, on how they were slightly parted, on how easy it would be to close the distance and...
The thought didn’t even finish before Jungkook leaned in, and their lips met in a slow, deep kiss.
Taehyung sighed against his lips before fully giving in. The way Jungkook kissed was so soft, so intentional, like he wasn’t in any rush for anything except feeling him. Taehyung couldn’t help but respond with the same tenderness, fingers gripping the fabric of his jacket.
The elevator disappeared, the outside world ceased to exist. There was only them, the heat of their mouths, the way they moved in sync. And that’s exactly why they didn’t notice when the elevator doors opened.
It was the sound of someone clearing their throat that yanked them back to reality, making them both jump and pull away abruptly, heads turning in unison, hearts in their throats.
Fear shot through them like lightning. But their tension eased just slightly when they recognized the silhouette standing in front of them—unfortunately, someone who was now staring at them like they’d just caught two teenagers in the middle of a dumb prank.
"I still haven’t gotten used to this," Jimin declared, pointing at them before crossing his arms and pursing his lips in complete disapproval.
Taehyung swallowed hard, feeling the heat of embarrassment creeping up his neck to his ears. Jungkook wasn’t in any better shape; his face was entirely red, and he couldn’t even meet Jimin’s gaze.
"You’re both idiots," Jimin continued, not even bothering to soften the blow. "If you really don’t want anyone to find out, you’re the most reckless and irresponsible idiots in the fucking world."
Taehyung wanted to argue, but he couldn’t come up with a single excuse that sounded even remotely believable. Jimin let out a heavy sigh, like he was dealing with two misbehaving children.
"You should be thankful it was me who saw you and not someone else," he went on, shaking his head in disapproval. "Seriously, a little discretion, please."
Before they could say anything, Jimin stepped forward and grabbed their hands without the slightest gentleness, yanking them out of the elevator with a swiftness that Taehyung wasn’t sure was more impressive or humiliating.
"What are you even doing here, anyway?" Jungkook asked, trying to ignore the way his cheeks still burned.
"I was coming down because Taehyung texted me saying he’d arrived, so I was going to meet him at the elevator," Jimin replied without even glancing at them. Then he let out a mocking snort. "But of course, turns out you’ve got someone else now—and other ways to keep busy."
Taehyung felt his face turn even redder, if that was even possible.
They didn’t say another word as they walked down the hallway, but Jimin, noticing something odd in the way Taehyung was moving, narrowed his eyes.
He paused for a moment, letting the other two walk just a step ahead, just enough to notice how Taehyung winced slightly with each movement. It wasn’t exaggerated—he was clearly trying to hide it—but the little grimaces slipped out anyway.
"Walk properly," Jimin ordered, raising an eyebrow.
"I am walking properly," Taehyung stiffened instantly.
"No, you’re not."
The blonde felt like a deer caught in headlights. If he were a cat, his ears would’ve been pinned flat against his head in alarm. Jimin squinted and scanned him from head to toe, pausing at his clothes. He wasn’t wearing his own.
"Wait a second…" he murmured.
Then his gaze flicked to Jungkook, who avoided eye contact with suspicious speed.
Ah.
The silence that followed lasted only a couple of seconds before Jimin burst into breathless, borderline maniacal laughter—the kind that makes people need to hold onto something so they don’t collapse on the floor.
He bent over, leaning against the wall as he tried to catch his breath between the fits of laughter that shook his body.
"I can’t believe it!" he finally managed to wheeze. "Oh my God, this is… this is fucking incredible!"
Taehyung and Jungkook stared at him with expressions so blank, they might as well have been statues.
"Are you done?"
"No, no," Jimin shook his head, though his laughter barely subsided. "It’s just… I seriously can’t believe it. Really? Taehyung? You?" He doubled over again, trembling with laughter, and had to rest a hand on his knee to avoid falling over. "I always bet it would be Jungkook!"
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!" Jungkook shouted, completely outraged.
But Jimin barely heard him, too busy laughing. And when he finally managed to regain a bit of control, he looked at both of them with a mischievous expression.
"So…" he grinned even wider. "Does that mean Jungkook’s is bigger?"
"Jimin!" Taehyung tried to shut him up immediately, but Jimin was having way too much fun.
"No, seriously, I can just imagine—" he kept going, still laughing, "—because I clearly remember that time at Hoseok’s apartment when you two asked me how I chose my sexual role, and now everything makes sense."
Taehyung wanted to die on the spot.
"You’re a fucking menace," Taehyung hissed under his breath, glancing around in panic because they were still in the hallway. "Shut up already, you idiot!"
Jimin tried to calm himself, wiping a tear of laughter from the corner of his eye with his fingers.
"Obviously I’m not gonna tell anyone, relax," he said mockingly. "But damn…" he chuckled again, this time a bit more controlled. "Shit, that was too funny."
And before he could say anything else, Taehyung punched him in the arm.
The atmosphere in the dining room was thick with tension; everyone was huddled around Momo’s laptop, which was open to her email inbox.
The poor girl had been refreshing the page every five seconds for a while now, as if sheer desperation alone could summon the long-awaited response.
Taehyung, for his part, was trying to move as naturally as possible, but every step he took reminded him—painfully—that his body wasn’t in any shape to be walking around like nothing had happened.
Goddammit.
He knew that the smartest move would probably have been to just stay standing or lean on the table until the right moment came to sit down carefully, but doing it too slowly would also draw attention. So, with all the dignity he had left, he forced himself to act like absolutely nothing was out of the ordinary.
He barely managed to sit without making a too-obvious grimace, but he felt Namjoon’s gaze land on him. Taehyung turned his head slowly toward his friend and met narrowed eyes clearly analyzing him.
"Everything okay?" Namjoon asked in a casual tone, though his expression said something else entirely.
"Yeah," Taehyung replied immediately, forcing a smile that he hoped looked perfectly natural and not at all suspicious.
Namjoon didn’t seem convinced, but he didn’t push further either.
Next to him, Hoseok was standing behind Momo with his hands on her shoulders, gently massaging them in an attempt to soothe her. The blonde had her hands on the keyboard but wasn’t actually doing anything—just tapping the refresh key over and over again. Mina, sitting beside her, looked about ready to hyperventilate at any moment, and Sana had her arms crossed, biting her lip impatiently.
Hoseok was trying hard to appear calm, but anyone who knew him well could tell he was at his limit too.
The sound of a new email arriving made Momo let out a tiny squeal of excitement.
"An email came in!" Everyone held their breath and turned to the screen, but the excitement lasted exactly three seconds before Momo grimaced. "Ugh, it’s just a promo…" she said in disappointment. "Oh—but it’s from that clothing brand I like. They’re having a sale soon."
The whole group let out a collective sigh, practically in unison, like some kind of synchronized choir.
"I’m aging every time you hit that refresh button," Yoongi grumbled, resting his chin in his hand.
"Tell me about it," Jin muttered, focused on soothing Mina with gentle pats on the back.
Taehyung let the background noise distract him as he tried to shift in his seat without anyone noticing. The discomfort was still there, though at least sitting made it easier to hide. Jungkook remained standing next to Jin, arms crossed, watching the screen.
Next to the dark-haired boy, Sana straightened her posture and gave him a hopeful look, as if expecting him to do or say something. Jungkook didn’t notice, because at that very moment, Taehyung moved his hand ever so slightly, making a subtle gesture toward him.
Jungkook looked down at him, and the moment he caught his expression, he knew Taehyung wanted to say something. He walked around the table to get to the blond and leaned in so his ear was close to Taehyung’s face. The other boy whispered something quietly to him.
Sana watched as Jungkook straightened after hearing whatever Taehyung had said and began moving back in her direction.
Oh.
Was it finally happening?
Sana held her breath, her heart skipping a beat. Had Jungkook changed his mind? She gave him a soft smile, almost as if giving him permission to come closer and talk to her. After all, he’d come back on his own, so maybe…
"Can I get a glass of water from your kitchen?" Jungkook asked in a neutral tone.
Sana felt her smile freeze for a second before her shoulders sagged slightly.
"Ah..." She pressed her lips together, clearly disappointed, but eventually nodded slowly. "Yeah, sure."
Jungkook didn’t notice her reaction—or if he did, he didn’t really care. He simply turned around and headed to the kitchen. She watched him go with a barely noticeable frown. Jungkook returned shortly after with a glass of water in hand and gave it to Taehyung without saying a word. The blond received it with a small thankful smile and immediately took a sip.
Sana watched the whole thing from her spot with an ironic expression. Her fingers drummed against the back of Momo’s chair, lips pressed into a thin line.
Was Yoongi right? Had Taehyung and Jungkook actually become best friends after giving up on her? The thought felt completely absurd—and at the same time, incredibly irritating.
"Look, I know you're all nervous, but whatever that email says doesn’t change the fact that you’re amazing," said Yoongi, resting one elbow on the table after noticing Mina was close to tears.
"Exactly," Jimin agreed with a comforting smile. "You did an incredible job at the audition. There’s no way they didn’t pick you."
"And even if they didn’t," Namjoon chimed in, straightening in his chair like he was about to give a TED Talk or an inspiring speech, "that doesn’t define your talent or your worth. The three of you have worked so hard to get here. You’ve honed your craft, sacrificed time, energy, and effort. Whatever the result is, this isn’t the end of your journey—it’s just another marker of your growth. Because real success isn’t measured only by immediate achievements, but by perseverance, dedication, and the love you put into what you do. And I know—know it with absolute certainty—that your talent shines too brightly to go unnoticed. So don’t doubt for even a second that—"
"Shut up!" Momo suddenly blurted out.
The blonde’s sudden outburst cut Namjoon’s monologue clean off. He blinked, confused, his expression quickly shifting to offended indignation.
"Well, screw you then," he huffed, crossing his arms.
"No, no, no, no! I mean—yes, but no!" Momo waved her hands frantically, her breath coming fast. "We got the email—the real one!"
She didn’t need to say anything else.
Chaos erupted in the dining room.
Everyone immediately rushed to crowd around the computer, leaning over the table, shoving each other a little in their attempts to get a better view of the screen. Taehyung, still sitting in the seat next to them, felt someone jab an elbow into his shoulder, but didn’t even bother checking who it was.
The girls held hands, their knuckles white from the tension. Hoseok, his heart pounding in his throat, was the one to take the mouse. His hand visibly trembled.
He took a deep breath.
He clicked on the email.
Mina, with a trembling voice, began reading aloud.
“We appreciate your participation in the audition process for NOVA Entertainment…”
Jungkook felt his heart sink a little. Shit. It sounded way too generic. Like those emails that start with polite formalities and end with “unfortunately, at this time…”
“We have reviewed your performance at each stage of the process and recognize the talent, effort, and dedication you demonstrated…”
Taehyung held his breath. His eyes flicked from Mina to Momo, then to Sana, all of whom remained frozen in place, clinging tightly to one another.
And then Mina’s voice cracked slightly as she read the next part.
“That is why we are pleased to inform you that you have been selected to join NOVA Entertainment. Congratulations and welcome to the NOVA family!”
The scream was deafening.
Chairs scraped backward as everyone stood up at once. At some point, Jin had managed to grab one of those confetti tubes that explode in a shower of colorful paper. He twisted it, and the burst of color mixed with their screams of joy, sending small bits of confetti fluttering down on all of them.
"You did it!" Hoseok practically roared, immediately turning to Momo, who stared at him with teary eyes and a trembling smile.
In less than a second, Hoseok pulled her to her feet, wrapped an arm around her waist, and leaned down to kiss her in the middle of the chaos. The kiss was intense, full of emotion, pride, and pure love. Momo let out a tiny laugh mid-kiss before wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him back with equal excitement.
"I’m so fucking proud of you," Hoseok murmured against her lips when they barely pulled apart to catch their breath. Momo let out a shaky laugh and cupped his face in both hands, as if making sure it was real—that he was really there, sharing this moment with her. "You’re staying," he whispered, his eyes gleaming with joy.
Momo nodded quickly, laughing through her tears.
"I’m staying."
The moment was so intimate and beautiful that everyone around them applauded with genuine joy, joining the celebration with hugs, jumps, and even more excited screams. Amid that whirlwind of euphoria, Sana, overwhelmed with happiness, suddenly threw herself at Taehyung and Jungkook, trapping both boys in an unexpected hug. She hooked her arms around their necks and pulled them toward her with surprising strength.
Taehyung and Jungkook both froze instantly, their brains seemingly processing the moment in slow motion.
Sana’s sweet perfume wrapped around them, her hair brushing their cheeks as she clung to them with such pure joy that Taehyung felt a flicker of guilt for how stiff his shoulders had become.
Jungkook, on his part, blinked a few times. His first instinct was to pull away—too much unexpected contact—but Sana’s sincere laughter made him soften.
It was a celebration, after all. So, in a nearly synchronized move, they both relaxed and lifted their arms to wrap around her in a brief but warm hug.
Sana gave them one last squeeze before releasing them just as suddenly and running back to her friends, throwing herself at them with the same euphoric energy.
Taehyung let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
"Well… that was unexpected," he murmured, scratching the back of his neck.
Jungkook nodded slowly, still processing what had just happened.
"Yeah."
Sana, Mina, and Momo were still tangled in a group hug, trembling with excitement and flushed cheeks, while the rest of their friends surrounded them, cheering, congratulating them, and showering them with words of pride and celebration.
And Taehyung was smiling, of course he was. Because he was happy—he truly was. But at the same time, something inside him felt just a little dimmed.
It wasn’t that he needed recognition. Well, maybe just a little. He couldn’t help it. He’d spent weeks breaking his back to make this possible, pouring every free minute he had into it, staying up until dawn, skipping meals without even realizing it—all for the perfection of this unpaid, extracurricular project. He had directed, filmed, and edited every damn second of the video the girls had used for their audition. Every shot, every transition, every painstaking color correction had passed through his hands. He’d even danced when Minho got injured, despite being completely exhausted.
And now that it had all been worth it, now that the girls had made it, now that his work had actually meant something—he felt proud. But at the same time… invisible.
It’s not like he expected everyone to forget about the girls’ victory and give him a standing ovation. That would be ridiculous. But seeing all the praise going in a single direction while he remained quietly on the sidelines left a little knot in his chest.
He sighed and ran a hand along the back of his neck, glancing down at the floor to try to shake off the feeling. And then, he felt a firm hand on his shoulder. He looked up and turned around—to find Jungkook standing there.
“You did an amazing job, hyung,” Jungkook said, his tone genuine and steady. “None of this would’ve been possible without you.”
Taehyung froze. For a second, he didn’t know how to react.
The sincerity in Jungkook’s voice caught him completely off guard, taking him by surprise and making his chest feel lighter. His cheeks grew warm, and before he even realized it, he was smiling—a smile he couldn’t hold back or soften.
“Thanks,” he murmured. Jungkook smiled too, a small curve of his lips that said I mean it without needing words.
And then, as if Jungkook’s comment had unlocked something in the group’s awareness, the others started chiming in.
“He’s right!” said Yoongi, lightly punching Taehyung’s arm. “Without that video you made, they wouldn’t have even been able to audition.”
“And without the backup dancers, it wouldn’t have looked the same,” Namjoon added, pointing toward Jimin and Hoseok.
“She’s right!” Sana turned to them, her eyes gleaming. “We wouldn’t have made it without you.”
“You guys did an amazing job, really,” Mina agreed, her warm smile sincere.
Hoseok placed a hand over his chest, pretending to be touched. “Please, go on, I like this,” he joked, before laughing.
Jimin, meanwhile, pulled out his phone.
“I’m calling Minho to give him the news.” He dialed the number and held the phone to his ear, stepping a little to the side so he could hear better through all the noise.
Still feeling a pleasant buzz in his chest from the sudden wave of recognition, Taehyung lowered his voice and leaned slightly toward Jungkook.
“This is your win too,” he murmured, making sure only he could hear. “If you hadn’t shown up at the end, we never would’ve finished on time.”
Jungkook blinked, surprised. For a moment, he just looked at him. Then his expression softened. It was ridiculous, really. But the only thing either of them could think about in that moment was how badly they wanted to kiss each other. Obviously, they couldn’t. Not there, with everyone around. But the thought was there, lingering, pulsing in the air between them.
And Jimin, the perceptive little shit that he was, noticed instantly. With a mischievous grin, he tilted his head toward them while still holding the phone to his ear.
“Hey, you two!” Taehyung and Jungkook broke eye contact and turned to the brunette. “Come with me for a sec.”
He didn’t give them a chance to ask questions. Jimin was already walking toward the door, still on the phone. With no other option, they followed him.
They stepped out of the apartment, and the hallway suddenly felt too quiet compared to the buzz inside. Jimin moved the phone slightly away from his ear and stood by the entrance, turning to face them and covering the mic with his hand.
“Go ahead,” he said playfully. “Kiss like Hoseok and Momo to celebrate.”
Then, before either of them could protest, he simply turned back around and refocused on his call with Minho.
Taehyung and Jungkook stared at him, completely stunned.
Then they looked at each other.
And blushed.
The air between them turned electric in an instant, and Taehyung felt his heart speed up. Jungkook, however, was the first to react. He smiled, tilting his head slightly as he stepped closer.
“Shall we celebrate?” he whispered playfully.
Taehyung, pulse racing in the most absurd way, glanced away with a small smile.
“It’d be weird to say no at this point.”
Jungkook didn’t wait any longer. He leaned in and kissed him. It was a slow kiss, calm—nothing exaggerated, nothing desperate. Just a kiss that carried joy and pride, a kiss that celebrated the moment without needing words. Taehyung closed his eyes and kissed him back just as softly, letting himself get swept up in it.
When they pulled back—barely an inch apart—they looked into each other’s eyes and smiled.
Jimin pressed the screen of his phone to end the call and slowly lowered his hand. He turned slightly and looked at Taehyung and Jungkook with quiet satisfaction. He didn’t say anything right away, simply let the silence settle, giving them space.
Taehyung still felt a tingle on his lips. Jungkook, for his part, was still looking at him with that conspiratorial little smile, that damn expression that said I’d do it again. And well—he did. Because he cupped Taehyung’s face in his hands and kissed him again, with the same tenderness as before.
A few seconds later, they both heard Jimin clear his throat.
He had appointed himself 'guard' by staying near the door to keep watch. Taehyung frowned and turned his head toward his friend after pulling back from Jungkook, but before he could ask anything, Jimin made a quick hand gesture. A clear, urgent movement that only meant one thing:
Separate.
Taehyung reacted first, straightening up and stepping back, pretending to adjust the sleeve of his shirt. Jungkook let out a quiet huff, his expression clearly annoyed, but he still obeyed, releasing a heavy sigh before stepping back as well.
Just as Sana reached them, the two were already standing beside Jimin, pretending they’d just been hanging out.
“What are you doing out here?” she asked, narrowing her eyes slightly.
Taehyung stayed silent for a second. Jungkook too. But Jimin answered before either of them could open their mouths.
“Talking to Minho.” His tone was neutral, emotionless. Not rude, but not exactly friendly either. Jimin had decided not to stir the pot, but ever since he’d heard Sana speak so degradingly about the girls at last night’s party, she had left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Sana tilted her head, as if weighing his response, but didn’t say anything more about it. Instead, she simply cleared her throat and raised her hands, reaching for Taehyung and Jungkook’s wrists at the same time. The touch was unexpected. Not aggressive or harsh, but just strong enough to make them reflexively step forward.
“Let’s go back inside,” she said with a smile.
And without waiting for an answer, she gently pulled them toward the apartment.
The clock struck six sharp when the group began to disperse.
The apartment, which had until recently been filled with laughter, empty plates, and leftover food, now looked tidier, though traces of the celebration still lingered here and there. They had ordered food to celebrate their success, and between chatting and joking around, time had flown by. But now, since it was Sunday, no one could stay too late. Monday loomed with classes and responsibilities, and although everyone would’ve liked to stretch the night out a little longer, it was time to say goodbye.
Taehyung could barely keep himself upright. The thought of driving home made him want to collapse on the couch and not move for the next twelve hours. But for obvious reasons, he couldn’t stay, so with a deep sigh, he mentally prepared himself for the ride back.
Jungkook, meanwhile, was watching him out of the corner of his eye. He had been doing it for a while, noticing how Taehyung stretched every so often and rubbed the back of his neck. He knew him well enough to tell he was exhausted. But there wasn’t much he could do at that moment.
After gathering their things and making sure they hadn’t forgotten anything, the group left the apartment and headed to the elevator. It was an old building, with a tiny lift that could barely hold all of them without making them feel like sardines in a can. But since no one wanted to wait for the next round, they crammed in anyway, fitting themselves however they could into the narrow space.
Jungkook was one of the last to get in, instinctively hoping to end up close to Taehyung. But luck wasn’t on his side this time. Somehow, with all the shuffling and pushing, they ended up separated, with Jin, Namjoon, and Yoongi in between. Taehyung was pressed near the back wall, Jimin standing right in front of him and the rest of their friends packed in around them.
And when the elevator doors closed with a metallic sound and the lift began to descend, panic hit him. Being there with so many people made him feel overwhelmed, his mind immediately spiraling into irrational thoughts about the elevator falling, about the weight of all the bodies pulling on the cables until they snapped, about the lack of space, the possibility of getting stuck in there without air…
He tried to control it. Tried to breathe deeply, think of something else, focus on the feeling of his feet planted firmly on the ground. But his body wasn’t responding. His heart was racing, sweat was starting to gather on his skin, and a low buzzing filled his head, making it impossible to focus.
Then, almost instinctively, he searched for a way out. His hand gripped Jimin’s shoulder, and without thinking twice, he leaned his head forward, resting it on the other’s nape.
Jungkook, from the other side of the elevator, had his eyes fixed on Taehyung. He wanted to move closer, wanted to do something—anything—that could help, but the problem was he didn’t have the space. Jungkook clenched his jaw, his muscles tightening slightly as he watched Taehyung breathing unevenly against Jimin’s back.
He wasn’t the only one who noticed. Yoongi, always tuned into the little things, saw it too. His gaze flicked briefly between Taehyung and Jungkook, instantly understanding what was happening without a word.
Without making a fuss, Yoongi began to shift, subtly nudging Jin and Namjoon in the opposite direction, getting them to adjust their positions. It wasn’t obvious, but after a few seconds, Jungkook noticed that the space between him and Taehyung had shrunk.
He wasn’t going to waste it. He took a step to the right, ending up right next to him. With the perfect excuse, Jungkook slid his hand up to Jimin’s shoulder—right where Taehyung had placed one of his own. It wasn’t bold or overly obvious, but the intention was clear: he wanted to touch him, even just a little.
When Taehyung felt Jungkook’s touch, his eyes moved toward him. At first, he looked confused, but when he understood what Jungkook was doing—thanks to the knowing look on his face and the small, playful smirk on his lips—something inside him loosened.
The message was clear. 'I’m here.'
Taehyung felt an immediate wave of relief rush through him.
It wasn’t that Jimin wasn’t helping, but he’d grown used to Jungkook’s ways of handling things and the calm he brought just by being close. He smiled, just a little, and shook his head at how obvious Jungkook had been in maneuvering his way to his side.
When the elevator doors opened, the group stepped into the lobby, some pulling out their keys as they headed for the building’s exit. Jungkook also reached for his keys, only to remember he didn’t have them. So, he walked straight to Yoongi, who was already pulling out the keys to Jungkook’s car.
"Can I have my keys?"
"Can I keep it one more day?" Yoongi asked without hesitation. Jungkook frowned.
"What? Why?"
"I’m dropping Namjoon off," Yoongi replied simply. "And you’ve been drinking."
"I only had a couple beers. I’m fine," Jungkook scoffed, rolling his eyes.
"No," Yoongi shook his head. "Go with someone else."
He twirled the keys in his hand with a casual expression, but his eyes were sharp. There was an idea forming in his mind, and as he listened to Jungkook grumbling under his breath at the refusal, his gaze began to scan the area for Taehyung. It didn’t take long to find him.
Taehyung was a few meters away, saying goodbye to Jimin in their usual overly affectionate way. He had one hand resting on the door of Jimin’s car while the other guy said something with a teasing grin.
Yoongi smirked to himself before raising his voice.
"Taehyung!"
The blonde turned his head slowly, clearly not in the mood to pay attention to anyone else.
"What?" he replied flatly.
"Take Jungkook home."
"No," Taehyung grimaced.
"Yes."
"No, I won’t."
"I don’t want to go with him either," Jungkook snapped, crossing his arms. "I’d rather walk."
"Right, at six in the evening. Don’t make me laugh."
"Don’t care," Jungkook shrugged.
"Me neither," Taehyung added. "Let him call an Uber."
"Is it really that hard to do me a favor, asshole?" Jungkook glared at him.
"Since when are we friends, idiot?"
"Never."
"Perfect. Then I don’t have to take you anywhere."
Yoongi looked at both of them, narrowing his eyes with amusement. Oh, he knew this game. So, he grabbed Jungkook by the arm, spun him around, and smacked him on the butt. Jungkook jumped immediately.
"What the fuck?!"
"Quit whining," Yoongi said, ignoring his outrage. "Get in the damn car."
"I don’t want to."
"Get in."
Jungkook huffed but ended up rolling his eyes and stomping his way toward Taehyung’s car. He did it with a scowl, like he was being forced to do something truly awful, but deep down, his mind was already elsewhere. Taehyung watched him open the door with an offended expression.
"What the hell are you doing?"
"Following orders, apparently."
"Don’t get in my car!"
"Too late."
Jungkook flopped into the passenger seat with an expression of complete indifference, leaning his head back and sighing dramatically.
Taehyung was about to say something else, but Jimin—who had been watching the entire exchange with a smug little smile—simply placed a hand on his back and gently pushed him toward his car.
"Cut the crap and drive."
"I don’t want to."
"We weren’t asking."
"Goddamn it..." Taehyung muttered under his breath, cursing quietly as he stomped around the car and yanked open the driver’s door with way too much force. He dropped into his seat with a huff and slammed the door shut.
"I hate all of you," he grumbled as he rolled down the window.
"We love you too!" Jimin called out, blowing him a kiss before walking away.
Taehyung didn’t reply. He just started the engine and pulled out of the apartment complex, irritation simmering beneath the surface—not because he minded giving him a ride, but because everything had unfolded way too easily. Yoongi could smell it. He just knew.
The car ride was quiet, but not tense. Jungkook leaned his head against the window, watching as the sky gradually faded into deeper shades of blue, while Taehyung kept one hand on the wheel and the other resting casually on the gear shift.
It was at the first red light that everything changed. The car came to a stop and, as if there were some invisible magnet between them, they both turned their heads at the exact same time.
No words were needed. Taehyung didn’t even think. He leaned in, and Jungkook met him halfway.
The kiss was immediate—intense, hungry, with a need that had been building up for far too long, and neither of them had the will or the desire to hold back. Jungkook slid a hand to the back of Taehyung’s neck, fingers sinking into his hair and tugging gently as the kiss deepened. Taehyung growled into his mouth, leaning in harder, craving him, needing more, needing everything.
They wouldn’t have stopped if it hadn’t been for the blaring honk from the car behind them. Taehyung jumped and quickly pulled back into his seat, his heart pounding and cheeks burning. Jungkook broke away just as fast, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he held back a laugh.
"Shit..." Taehyung whispered, stepping on the gas.
"You got distracted," Jungkook teased.
"Shut up."
Jungkook smirked, then turned his eyes back to the window.
"It’s getting dark."
"Yeah," Taehyung replied, still slightly breathless. Then, after a brief silence, he added in a casually flirtatious tone, "We should celebrate our win."
"What do you have in mind?" Jungkook turned his head to look at him, clearly intrigued.
"Let’s just say... the back seats of my car aren’t just for decoration."
"Seriously? Right here?" Jungkook murmured, leaning a little closer.
"Why not?" Taehyung shrugged.
"You’re sore," he pointed out. "How are we even supposed to do anything in here? Weren’t you just saying you were tired?"
Taehyung shot him a sidelong glance and smirked, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
"But I'm not tired to have an orgasm," he whispered in a low voice. "Plus, you’re a damn good kisser and that kiss left me wanting a whole lot more. And hey, I gotta get used to it, don’t I? Like you said, it’s like working out at the gym—train it enough, and eventually, it won’t hurt anymore."
A shiver ran down Jungkook’s spine. He bit his lip, his breathing noticeably heavier.
"I know a spot," he said after a few seconds.
"Oh yeah?"
"Drive where I tell you."
Chapter 33: Chapter 32
Chapter Text
"How many girls have you brought here?" The question slipped from Taehyung’s lips in a slightly breathless murmur, disguised as casual but soaked in suspicion.
His breathing was ragged and his cheeks flushed—not just because of the heat inside the car, but because he was literally on top of Jungkook, straddling his hips, shirtless.
Their shirts were carelessly tossed over the front seats, which they’d pushed forward the moment they arrived, trying to make room in the back. Now the air inside the car was thick and hot, despite the A/C running. The windows had already started to fog up, every breath leaving a mark on the glass.
But amid all that tension, one detail hadn’t escaped Taehyung: Jungkook knew this place way too well. He was the one who led the way, gave the directions, told him exactly which road to turn off and where to stop. Getting here hadn’t been easy—the spot was well hidden, not a soul in sight—and that little fact had him just a bit annoyed.
So he couldn’t help it. The venom slipped through his pores.
"What?" Jungkook laughed, his head tilted back, clearly amused, hands still gripping Taehyung’s hips. "Are you getting jealous now?"
"As if, dumbass. That’s not it." He lied—not very convincingly. He feigned indifference, fingers idly tracing over Jungkook’s shoulders without looking him in the eye. "I’m just saying… I don’t think TikTok randomly showed you a video titled: ‘Top 3 places to fuck in a car.’"
"Of course not." Jungkook chuckled, gently squeezing Taehyung’s waist as he pulled him closer. "I found this place while running. I live nearby. One day I took a detour, climbed up here, and found it."
Taehyung looked at him, skeptical. "Right. And that day you immediately thought: ‘Oh, what a perfect spot to fuck.’"
"Obviously," Jungkook grinned, cocky as ever. "And since then, I saved it in my mental bookmarks. Just waited for the right moment to… defile your fancy-ass car."
Taehyung let out a real laugh, shoving him lightly before leaning in to kiss him again, hungry for more. Jungkook’s lips were warm, and his hands roamed with more urgency now, sliding down toward Taehyung’s jeans.
There was a soft click as he undid the button.
Taehyung gasped against his mouth, not pulling away until he felt Jungkook’s fingers trying to push the fabric down and slip underneath. That’s when he pulled back just slightly, breathing uneven.
"Wait, hold on," he said in a lower voice. "I totally forgot—we don’t have lube."
"We’ll use natural lube then."
"What?" Taehyung frowned. "Minho told me saliva can cause infections."
"I’m not talking about saliva," Jungkook smirked. "I’m talking about cum. That’s natural."
Taehyung stared at him in silence for a few seconds, processing, then slapped his chest with a mix of nervous laughter and exasperation.
"You’re an idiot."
But he didn’t stop.
He moved carefully within the tight space of the back seat, and with a little effort, Jungkook got him down to just his boxers. He froze for a second when he saw the design.
They were his.
"Are those… mine?"
"Yeah," Taehyung replied, blushing slightly but not bothering to make up an excuse. "You've been in my ass, I thought it was appropriate to stop flipping my boxers and grab one of yours."
"You look fucking amazing in them."
Taehyung was about to snap back, but Jungkook had already dipped his head to kiss his chest, his neck, his collarbone. His hands grew bolder, hungrier, and Taehyung could barely keep up.
But then, Jungkook suddenly stopped.
"Shit," he muttered, hands falling to his lap, visibly frustrated. "I don’t have a condom."
"What?" Taehyung raised an eyebrow, panting.
"I didn’t think I’d need one going to the girls’ apartment."
"You’re so irresponsible."
Taehyung bit his lip, sighed, then twisted his body and leaned forward, reaching for the glove compartment and pulling one out.
The scene was absurd. And ridiculously hot. His ass ended up right in front of Jungkook’s face, who let out a deep, guttural moan at the sight. He stared. Then stared again. And then gave in. He landed a firm slap on that perfect curve, making Taehyung jerk and hit his head on the car ceiling.
"Fuck! Are you out of your goddamn mind?!"
He rubbed his head, glaring in pain. Jungkook just laughed, unapologetic.
"Sorry, sorry. But come on—you served it up like a five-star meal. What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t help it." He reached out to rub Taehyung’s head gently.
"You are an idiot. In every fucking sense. A perverted idiot!" Taehyung smacked the condom against his chest hard. Jungkook let out a dramatic groan. "Here, you beast. Do me a favor and shove it up your own ass," he snapped, scowling—though the crooked smile trying to break through betrayed him. Jungkook deserved it. The horny bastard.
But before he could say anything else, Jungkook narrowed his eyes, eyebrows drawing together with suspicion.
"Wait. Why do you have condoms in your car, huh?" he shot back immediately, raising a brow while grabbing the wrapper. "What, you’ve been here with someone else before? Is this what you do when you’re tired of editing? Come take a break with some girl in the backseat? These same windows—did they fog up for someone else too? Is everything already defiled and you just didn’t tell me? Because I thought—"
"Jungkook."
"What?"
Taehyung leaned forward and kissed him—hard—cutting him off instantly.
Jungkook barely had time to respond before Taehyung deepened the kiss, one hand tangling in his heat-damp hair, gripping it tight. Jungkook gripped his hips, pulling him down hard and grinding up against him, the condom momentarily forgotten as their bodies aligned and a choked moan slipped between their teeth.
The heat inside the car was unbearable now, the windows so fogged that anyone walking by would only see shadows tangled in the haze.
Well—if Taehyung didn’t have fully tinted windows.
In the middle of that steamy, suffocating atmosphere, Taehyung thought he might be losing his mind. He couldn’t believe he was actually doing this here. It wasn’t modesty or discomfort—although, yes, the cramped space in the back seat wasn’t exactly ideal. It was because he felt so fucking vulnerable. Jungkook had everything: his body, his desire, his trust… his heart. And he had it like this—straddling his lap, shirtless, wearing stolen boxers, in the car he babied like it was his child.
And the worst part was—he loved it. Even though he was a little scared, unsure of where this was going. He had barely found the courage to admit he liked Jungkook. What they had felt good, it felt right… but what was he supposed to do with that? Was he just going to be some kind of fuck buddy for the rest of his life? Would his feelings ever be returned? And if they were—did that mean they’d become boyfriends?
The mere thought of that word sent a shiver down his spine.
He didn’t know how it would all end. He just knew that, for now, he wouldn’t do anything. He was terrified. Even so, Jiwoo’s words echoed in his head—how if he kept up a relationship like this, he’d end up catching feelings, getting his hopes up. Taehyung didn’t care if he got a little hurt. If it meant being with Jungkook a little longer, it was worth it.
The dark-haired boy broke the kiss just to drag his lips down Taehyung’s neck. The older closed his eyes and tilted his head back slightly, giving him more room. The slow roll of his hips was involuntary but undeniable, grinding down with need.
"You’re trembling," Jungkook murmured against his skin, his voice so rough it felt like gravel in his throat.
"Don’t say dumb shit, asshole," Taehyung panted, biting his lip when he felt a hand slide between them, boldly rubbing over his boxers.
"Isn’t it because you want it so bad?"
"Jungkook, if you keep talking, I’m getting out of this damn car, and you’ll be the one left aching."
"Don’t say things you’re not gonna follow through on," Jungkook grinned, sitting up slightly so he could lean better against the seatback.
The space was tight and awkward, but right now, neither of them cared. It was just them.
Taehyung reached for the back of Jungkook’s neck and yanked his hair, hard, pulling a low moan from him.
"You like that, don’t you?" he whispered in his ear.
"I like everything you do to me."
"Fucking bastard," Taehyung muttered with a grin, his free hand moving to Jungkook’s pants. The blonde was good with his hands, so it only took a second to undo the zipper. He lifted his hips slightly, and that gave Jungkook the chance to slide the pants off completely.
Taking advantage of that position, Jungkook also tugged off Taehyung’s boxers with clumsy hands, making the car rock slightly on its wheels. The blonde’s underwear landed in a messy pile on top of the handbrake—right there with their shirts, their pants, and whatever sense of logic they still had left.
Taehyung braced himself on his knees, now completely naked on top of him, his breath coming in shallow, erratic gasps. Jungkook looked up at him like he was the only piece of art he’d ever wanted to hang on his wall.
"You’re fucking beautiful like this, hyung," he said—not whispered, said. Plain and brazen.
Taehyung swallowed thickly. He didn’t know why those words hit him so hard. Maybe because they were coming from him. Maybe because no matter how hard he tried to pretend he had everything under control, every time Jungkook looked at him like that, it tore right through his defenses.
"Shut up," he mumbled, voice barely a whisper, cheeks burning.
Before sitting back down on Jungkook’s thighs, he made sure to pull down his boxers too—leaving both of them completely bare, fully hard, and starving for each other.
Jungkook wrapped his hand around Taehyung’s cock and started stroking. The older boy let out a moan and rolled his hips forward, chasing more friction. Jungkook added just the right amount of pressure on the way down and a teasing flick of his fingers over the head on the way up, making Taehyung melt in his hands.
But Taehyung wasn’t the type to just take. He reached down and grabbed Jungkook’s dick in return, pumping him quickly, twisting his wrist slightly at the top and bottom. Jungkook growled and leaned forward to kiss him.
Taehyung gasped when Jungkook sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, but he didn’t stop moving his hand. They needed lube, didn’t they? Fuck, they were so damn horny.
Jungkook pulled Taehyung closer, and their hands bumped slightly in the middle—sparking an idea.
Taehyung grabbed both of their cocks in one hand and started stroking them together. The feeling was unreal. The heat of their lengths pressed together, the friction, the slick—it was enough to make them moan into each other’s mouths.
Jungkook smiled against his lips and wrapped his hand over Taehyung’s, moving together with him.
"You like how that feels?" he whispered, pulling back just enough to speak. "Mhm?" Taehyung nodded rapidly, panting even harder when Jungkook made their joined hands move faster. "Why don’t you use your words, hyung?"
"Because I don’t want your ego inflating any more than it already is," Taehyung muttered, making Jungkook laugh. "But fine—I’ll admit it. It feels... interesting."
Thanks to the precum leaking from both of them, their hands slid easily over the slick heat. Their moans grew louder, more erratic, as the stimulation became more intense.
Taehyung whimpered when Jungkook pulled his hand away so he could take over completely. The blonde had slowed down too much for his taste, and now Taehyung had to clutch his shoulders for balance as Jungkook stroked both of them quickly, relentlessly.
It didn’t take long. Jungkook’s hand was soon drenched in cum from their first orgasms of the night.
Taehyung had barely caught his breath when he yelped—Jungkook had started gathering their release in his hand.
He’d just come. He was clearly still sensitive.
Surprisingly—or maybe not—they were both still rock hard.
"You’re seriously gonna use cum as lube?" Taehyung asked, breathless.
"You got a better idea?" Jungkook replied, hand slick with their combined mess. "You want me to go outside, cut down a tree, and extract sap? Want to use spit?"
"Well… now that you put it like that, spit doesn’t sound so bad anymore."
"We’re healthy and horny, I don’t mind spit either. But yeah, I heard because of pH or whatever, it’s not really ideal to use saliva."
"You’re a pig. A smart pig, but still a pig."
"You want me to stop?" he asked, challenging him.
Taehyung looked him dead in the eye. His pupils were blown wide, lips slightly parted.
"Don’t you fucking dare."
Jungkook didn’t need to hear more. He moved his hand between Taehyung’s thighs, never looking away from him as his fingers found their way between his cheeks. He wanted to see his expression.
The first finger slid in slowly, making Taehyung squirm.
Even if it wasn’t real lube, it definitely helped—his finger slipped in much easier thanks to the slick, even if it felt a little weird knowing it was cum.
Weird… but hot.
Taehyung moaned when Jungkook added a second finger. That sound hit Jungkook like a jolt of electricity—he loved seeing the pretty blonde come undone just from his fingers.
It didn’t take him long to find his sweet spot. Taehyung couldn’t hide it even if he wanted to. He arched his back every time, trembled slightly, and dug his nails into Jungkook’s shoulders.
"Don’t take too long," Taehyung whispered, voice rough. "I want you to use this." The blonde boldly reached for his cock and stroked it. Jungkook licked his lips and smiled.
"Oh, pretty boy," he growled, "I’m not even close to being done with you."
Without warning, he slipped in a third finger, making Taehyung nearly scream. It wasn’t gentle—definitely not—and it hurt like hell. But instead of pulling away, telling him to fuck off or being reasonable and saying “comics” to stop him... he just grinned in this almost maniacal way, his eyes rolling back slightly when Jungkook’s three fingers thrust into him harshly.
Taehyung squirmed, but Jungkook kept him in place with his free hand, not allowing him to move away. The older boy’s moans, along with the unmistakable wet, slick sounds, filled the car like music to Jungkook’s ears.
Jungkook was mercilessly attacking his sensitive spot, and Taehyung was still so tender from his recent orgasm that he whimpered with every touch. He wondered for the second time—was he a masochist? Why did he enjoy this so much? With girls, he’d always been the dominant one, always the one making them squirm and cry from pleasure, always in control. But every time Jungkook treated him the same way—even though he always wanted to fight back, mess with him, and make his life harder—he liked it. It turned him on.
“S-Slower...! Mghm!” Taehyung tried to protest, but a harsh slap to his ass shut him up instantly.
“Who told you you could tell me what to do?”
The dark-haired boy could see every detail of Taehyung’s face up close, and if anyone asked, he’d say it was a work of art. Taehyung couldn’t even close his mouth, his eyes were unfocused, his face completely red, and Jungkook swore there was a thin string of drool trailing from his lips. He didn’t waste the opportunity—he leaned in and ran his tongue along Taehyung’s bottom lip, 'cleaning' it.
Because of Jungkook’s hand movements, Taehyung’s gorgeous ass jiggled in soft waves every time he slammed into him. Jungkook couldn’t see it from his angle, but his imagination was doing just fine.
“Jungkook... if you keep going like this I-I’m gonna...”
“You moan so fucking pretty, I swear I’m about to say fuck the condom and fuck you right now,” Jungkook growled, never stopping his fingers.
Just a few more seconds were enough to make Taehyung tremble under his touch and then come with a loud moan, carelessly spilling all over Jungkook’s abdomen. A wave of pleasure washed over him, nearly drowning him. He couldn’t even hold himself up, dropping his head on Jungkook’s shoulder as he breathed heavily.
“Look how hot you got just from using my fingers.”
“I-Idiot.”
Jungkook let him recover—but literally just for a few seconds. The break lasted only as long as it took him to grab the condom from the seat, slick his hand across his own stomach to gather some of Taehyung’s cum, and smear it over his dick as best he could. Then he shifted forward slightly, reclining just a bit, and aligned himself with Taehyung’s entrance.
“If you want to stop, you know what to say,” Jungkook whispered in his ear before lifting his hips and thrusting into him in one sharp motion, making Taehyung cry out.
It wasn’t that it didn’t hurt—because it did. But not like last time. The thing was, if he’d been sensitive before, now it was worse. He was being completely overstimulated. Jungkook hadn’t even given his dick time to soften after his orgasm—he just dove right back in, stretching his walls again completely.
Jungkook groaned as he began to move. Both his hands were on Taehyung’s ass, spreading his cheeks apart. The blonde’s entrance was completely red, shiny from the “lube,” and streaked with white. It was an insanely hot sight if anyone had seen them.
The car was rocking a lot, though they probably couldn’t even tell. They also hadn’t noticed how fogged up the windows were—completely misted over.
Having three fingers inside was one thing, but having Jungkook’s thick cock inside was another. And in this position, it felt different. He liked it—a lot—and he showed it. Instead of resisting the intrusion, he moaned shamelessly every time Jungkook hit his sweet spot.
Jungkook rolled his hips up and down. The rhythm wasn’t particularly fast, but the force behind it was, and it was driving Taehyung crazy.
“J-Jungkook... you’re gonna make me explode... shit, I can feel every inch of you,” the blonde pulled back from his neck to look him in the eye. Maybe if he saw Jungkook looking just as wrecked, he wouldn’t feel so embarrassed.
“Don’t look at me like that—then you go pretending to be all innocent,” Jungkook whined. Seeing his face like that while being inside him messed him up completely, and when Taehyung straightened up a bit, the new angle made him slide in even deeper.
“Sh-Shut up and keep fucking me,” Taehyung muttered, face flushed. “No, wait—you know what?” He sat up straighter, placed a hand on Jungkook’s chest, and lowered his hips, stopping Jungkook from continuing his thrusts. “I’m gonna ride you myself. Isn’t this what you wanted? Then watch me take all of you.”
Jungkook suddenly looked nervous and cleared his throat.
“I didn’t know you liked being filled up this much,” he tried to joke.
“Oh, please. You’re only saying that to boost your ego because you want me to admit I like your dick,” Taehyung rolled his eyes. “Well, fine. I do.”
Taehyung started moving on his own. He wasn’t as strong as Jungkook, sure, but he was faster thanks to the easier angle. The way he moved surprised Jungkook—he was elegant, almost too good for someone who’d never ridden anyone before.
That whole saying about dancers knowing how to move? Apparently very true.
“Didn’t know you were such a slut on top. I’m proud,” Jungkook muttered with a grin. “You’re moving like you’re getting paid by the hour.”
Taehyung shot him a murderous look. Like, truly deadly.
“Did you just call me a slut, Jeon Jungkook? I’m giving you one chance to take that back.”
“Oh, did that upset you?” Jungkook raised both eyebrows.
“Hell yes! A lot!”
“Then why are you moving even faster if you’re so mad?”
Taehyung didn’t have an answer for that.
His hips kept moving on their own—his body said one thing while his mouth said another. And the truth was... he liked it. Just a little. He felt like his whole body was burning from the inside out, and not just because of the heat trapped inside the car or the fogged-up windows stealing their air. It was the way Jungkook filled him, stretched him, broke him apart gently with every motion he guided himself into. And that word—slut—hadn’t made him mad. It had turned him on more. Not that he’d ever admit it.
His hips bounced up and down without rest, fast and desperate, legs shaking from the strain of mixing need, pleasure, and stubbornness in equal measure. Every time he slammed himself down and felt Jungkook deeper, further inside, he gasped uncontrollably, chest sticky with sweat, dark strands of hair clinging to his forehead.
There was no order in his mind anymore—just one insistent thought, pulsing in time with his body: he wanted him until he literally couldn’t take it anymore. And that wasn’t far off, considering the next one would be his third orgasm.
There was something deliciously wild about being on top, about being in control, about watching Jungkook shut his eyes and curse under his breath with every sharp thrust of his hips. And yet, it didn’t feel like he was the one in control—not really.
His skin was burning, his spine was buzzing, and the way Jungkook’s lower belly rubbed against his own made him move faster, chasing that spark of pleasure that flared and spread in waves through his entire body.
God, I’m gonna come if I keep going. I’m gonna come again without even touching myself. Fuck, fuck, fuck…
Jungkook couldn’t think straight. Everything clouding his mind came down to the warm, wet, tight grip of Taehyung around him, moving on top of him like the world was ending and he needed to take his soul with him. Every drop of his hips was a bolt of electricity, a delicious stab that made him growl deep in his chest.
His hands gripped Taehyung’s thighs tightly, guiding him, trying to mark a rhythm, though it was obvious the other had already taken over completely. He stared up at him, mesmerized, watching him move on top of him while the pleasure climbed up his spine like hot lava.
The pace was fast, nearly desperate, and every time Taehyung dropped down harder, Jungkook felt like he was about to lose it. Curses slipped through his clenched teeth, gasps, filthy words tangled on his tongue, all spoken with a broken voice and a trembling chest.
“Fuck, Tae… you’re gonna kill me… I swear, you’re gonna fucking kill me.”
What drove him the craziest wasn’t just the heat, the friction, or the overwhelming feeling of being so deep inside—it was Taehyung’s expression: furrowed brows, parted lips, eyes fluttering shut with pleasure. He looked like he was devouring every inch of him, like he needed it, like he craved it. And Jungkook… all he could do was surrender.
He felt the pressure building low in his belly, burning like a time bomb. Sweat slid down his temples, his nails dug into Taehyung’s skin, and for a moment, he was convinced there was no better place to die than inside Taehyung, with his body trembling above him, riding him without mercy, roaring in pleasure.
Taehyung was feeling so much, seriously. He felt him so deep inside. His right hand reached for the window, looking for something to hold onto. His fingers dragged across the cold glass, leaving streaks behind. His left hand went down to his stomach, and he lowered his gaze slightly—making Jungkook follow it too. He didn’t need to say it, saying it might kill him, but Jungkook seemed to understand the gesture almost instantly.
I feel you here.
Shit, that sounded so anime cringe. Someone kill him. But technically, it was true—ugh.
That was almost a trigger for Jungkook, who moved his hands from Taehyung’s thighs to his hips, holding him still, taking back the lead to thrust into him again—not just with the same strength, but even more forcefully, drawing a moan from Taehyung.
Everything came down to that exact point of pressure, of friction, of fire burning in his abdomen, pulsing between his hips, scorching his skin from the inside out. Taehyung could barely breathe; his lungs fought for air as Jungkook’s movements grew erratic and desperate. He felt sweat rolling down his chest, dripping down his back, mixing with the humid heat inside the car.
The pleasure built so fast it left him dizzy. There was no warning, just a muffled cry that escaped his lips as his body arched, as the spasm ripped through his core. His legs trembled. His thigh muscles gave out, and his hips crashed down one last time before completely surrendering.
Streams of cum splattered Jungkook’s stomach and part of his chest, not that he gave a damn.
The climax hit in rough, intense waves. It made him grit his teeth, bite his lip to keep from screaming too loud, and his vision went white with stars as if the entire universe exploded behind his eyes. His body shook violently against Jungkook’s, and all his strength vanished as he collapsed onto the other, desperately seeking a well-earned kiss.
Jungkook welcomed his lips eagerly, sucking on them without a trace of sweetness. The way Taehyung clung to him—and the fucking gorgeous show he’d just put on while coming—was all it took to push him over the edge.
His whole body tensed. A low, almost animalistic groan escaped him as his back arched off the seat. His abdomen clenched tight. The wave hit him hard, like a surge of electricity shooting from the base of his spine straight to his brain.
The sensation was violent, raw, and so powerful that for a second he lost complete control of his body—fingers digging in too hard, hips bucking upward reflexively, breath caught in his throat as a low growl tore through his chest. Orgasm overtook him and his cum filled the condom in sharp, pulsing bursts.
The dark-haired boy wrapped his arms around Taehyung immediately. The silence inside the car was thick, heavy, steamy—charged with pheromones and the echo of their own moans still ringing in their ears. The air reeked of sex, sweat, of their bodies tangled and wrecked.
Taehyung had his forehead resting on Jungkook’s shoulder, arms still trembling, chest rising and falling with effort. His skin felt sticky, his back drenched in sweat, and a strange electricity still buzzing down his spine.
Jungkook held him tight, one arm across his lower back, the other cradling the back of his neck, breathing against his throat with parted lips, still trying to calm down. He held him close, like he wasn’t ready to let go, like he needed to make sure he was still there. And Taehyung was thankful. Because fuck, he wasn’t sure he had the strength to move on his own.
The orgasm had left him dazed, eyelids heavy, body numb, and brain utterly fried. His legs trembled from overuse, his throat dry from moaning so much, and his ass—fuck, his ass hurt. Not in a bad way, but the kind of ache that reminded him of just how insanely intense that had been. He wasn’t gonna walk straight for a while. Again.
Eventually, it was him who moved first. His arms lost the strength to cling to Jungkook, and with a tired moan, he straightened just enough to lift himself off his lap. The moment Jungkook slipped out of him, a wet, dirty sound filled the space, followed by an involuntary gasp that slipped from Taehyung’s throat unfiltered.
“Ah, fuck…” he muttered, halfway between a groan and a sigh.
The emptiness was immediate—almost painful. Something inside him wanted to keep him there. He let himself fall to the side, half-turning his body to lie back on the seat, one arm covering his eyes as he tried to catch his breath. His chest still rose and fell in uneven movements, his legs trembled, and sweat dripped down his temples. He felt completely used, drained, wrecked… and fucking good.
Jungkook let out a breathless, raspy laugh as he reached down to grip the base of his cock, holding it carefully over the condom.
"Do you have wipes or something? I don’t want to drip this all over your seat."
Taehyung raised a hand without removing it from his eyes and pointed blindly toward the front.
"Glove compartment."
Jungkook leaned over the front seat carefully, trying to keep himself somewhat upright so the condom wouldn't spill in the process. Sweat ran down his back as he opened the glove box and rummaged through it until he found a pack of wet wipes. He held it up like a trophy, turned back around, and returned to the seat with slow, cautious movements—as if any sudden jolt might cause the damn condom to explode.
With meticulous precision, he removed it, tied it off quickly, and wrapped it in one of the wipes. Then he used another to clean himself—his abdomen, his chest, and down his thighs, wiping away every trace of the mess they’d made.
Once he felt cleaner, he turned his head and saw Taehyung half-dead, sprawled on his side with one leg bent on the seat and the other hanging off the edge. His chest still glistened with sweat, lips parted, hair a wild mess stuck to his forehead... and between his legs, Jungkook could see everything. Absolutely everything.
Taehyung’s entrance was red, swollen, wet, glistening. Slick. Obviously used. The faint white trace of cum inside him made Jungkook swallow hard. He felt a pulse twitch in his cock, unbidden.
“Fuck…” he whispered to himself, looking away. Not now. Not again. He had to think about taxes, about cockroaches, about his grandfather in pajamas… anything to stop his dick from reacting again.
With a delicate gesture, he grabbed another wipe and leaned toward Taehyung. The moment the damp cloth touched his skin, Taehyung jolted.
"Ah! Shit, give me a warning!"
"I'm cleaning you," Jungkook said, trying not to laugh.
"And what the fuck did we use a condom for if I still have cum in my ass?" Taehyung huffed, resting his head against the door again. Jungkook let out a loud laugh.
"Neither of us was thinking with the head on our shoulders, clearly."
The comment made Taehyung smile, even though he didn’t open his eyes. He let Jungkook clean him, let him gently wipe around his entrance, his thighs, every spot covered in sweat. When he was done, the younger one grabbed his shirt and slipped it over Taehyung’s head in slow, careful motions. Then he helped him pull his boxers back on. After that, he dressed himself again—shirt, boxers, everything back in place.
They cracked the car windows open just a little, letting the night’s cold air drift in and ease some of the heat that still clung to their skin. Jungkook slumped against the opposite door, raising one leg and stretching the other. Taehyung, almost by instinct, slid toward him, settling between his legs and resting his head on Jungkook’s chest. Jungkook lowered his arm to hold him, his hand settling on Taehyung’s back and tracing soft patterns with his fingers.
“You like cuddling after sex, huh?” he teased in a quiet, amused tone.
“Shut up,” Taehyung muttered, too comfortable to pretend he didn’t enjoy it.
They stayed like that for a while, in silence, until Jungkook spoke again.
“That was fucking good.” His hand wandered beneath the loose fabric of Taehyung’s shirt, stroking his bare skin. “I’ve never felt anything like that.”
“I know,” Taehyung murmured without thinking. Then, realizing what he’d just said, he quickly added, “I mean—!”
“You know?” Jungkook laughed, genuinely amused but not mocking. “You’re that confident, huh? Did I tell you your moans drove me insane? God, when you clenched like that…”
“No! Stop saying stuff like that, you pervert!” Taehyung sat up to lightly smack him on the chest.
“Ow! I’m just being honest! It was…” Jungkook looked into his eyes, this time with a softer, raw sincerity. “It was fucking special, Tae. I don’t know if it was because it was you, or if it was everything—the place, the car, the sweat, your legs trembling, your mouth… But I don’t want it to be the last time. Not a fucking chance.”
Taehyung stared at him, cheeks flushed, eyes wide with that same dazed expression—like he couldn’t decide whether to hit him again or kiss him.
“You’re such an idiot.”
“Yeah, but I’m the idiot who made you see stars—literally,” Jungkook chuckled.
“You’re so full of yourself.”
He was about to come back with another cheeky remark when Jungkook’s phone rang, breaking the moment. The familiar ringtone echoed through the car, and Jungkook let out a groan. Taehyung sighed deeply—his body still tingling, his head floating in a sticky haze of endorphins and exhaustion—but the phone kept ringing, annoying and persistent.
With some effort, he sat up slightly and reached out with a shaky arm toward the crumpled pile of Jungkook’s clothes. He rummaged through the pockets until his fingers touched the smooth surface of the phone, then pulled it out without looking at the screen.
“Here,” he rasped, handing it to Jungkook clumsily.
Jungkook took it with one hand, and as soon as he saw the caller ID, his expression changed instantly. The post-sex glow vanished from his face, and his eyes widened. He quickly brought a finger to his lips, signaling Taehyung to stay quiet.
“It’s my mom,” he whispered, barely audible.
Taehyung blinked. A moment of confusion passed across his face, followed by a low, hoarse laugh that bubbled up from his chest. Jungkook didn’t scold him—he was already answering the call, his voice shifting into something warmer and instantly composed.
“Mom! Are you okay? What are you doing awake at this hour?”
On the other end, his mother’s voice came through, sweet and familiar—the kind he knew by heart.
“Jungkook-ah! How could I not call when you’re ignoring my messages? I thought something had happened to you!”
Jungkook scratched the back of his neck, guilt flashing across his face. He didn’t exactly have a way to explain that, yes, he’d been… unavailable—for very explicit reasons.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I was… busy. But I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”
“And how are things, huh? School? University? Are you eating well? Sleeping enough?”
“Yes, yes. Everything’s fine. Just swamped with assignments, you know—essays, presentations, the usual.”
Taehyung was still lying on his chest, looking up at him, watching silently even if he couldn’t hear the other voice. His eyes followed Jungkook’s expressions with fond curiosity. It was rare to see him like this. So gentle. So… adorable.
“Any problems? Anything new you should be telling me?” his mother pushed.
“Nothing serious, really. Just the usual stress. But I’m managing.”
There was a short pause on the other end, and then her voice returned, this time with that casually threatening tone only moms could pull off.
“Well, you better be managing, because I’m coming to see you.”
“What?”
“With your dad. We’re going from Busan to Seoul in two weeks. We want to see you. We’ll be staying a couple of days.”
Jungkook straightened a little, eyes going even wider. Taehyung felt him shift and raised a curious eyebrow.
“Two weeks? You’re coming here?”
“Yes, so you better have that apartment looking spotless. No dirty dishes or clothes on the floor.”
“Mom, I always keep it tidy,” Jungkook replied with a soft, genuine laugh.
“Uh-huh. That’s what you say. But I know how you are. I don’t want to find dirty socks under the bed, got it?”
Taehyung smiled hearing him laugh like that. There was something so fucking endearing in his voice, the way his features softened, how his eyes became tender. The contrast with the Jungkook who had just wrecked him minutes ago was both brutal and hilarious.
“I’ll be ready, I promise,” he said, starting to relax again.
“Good. And another thing…”
“Yeah?”
“You don’t have a girlfriend to introduce me to yet? You’re at that age, son. You should have someone by now. Can’t believe you’ve never introduced me to a single girl.”
Jungkook froze. His heart gave a small, traitorous leap, and his gaze immediately dropped to Taehyung, still lying against his chest, watching him through half-lidded eyes like a satisfied but alert cat. Jungkook’s lips tensed. His throat went dry.
“No, Mom. I don’t have a girlfriend. I’m focused on school.”
Taehyung raised an eyebrow. He couldn’t hear the other side of the call, but he could read every flicker on Jungkook’s face. The sudden stiffness in his shoulders, the way he avoided looking at him directly… He knew him well enough to recognize when something had thrown him off balance.
“Aish,” his mother sighed. “You’re too dedicated. But okay, fine. As long as you’re healthy and happy.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Jungkook said with a softer, more hesitant smile.
“Love you, son. We’ll see you soon, okay?”
“Love you too, Mom. Goodnight.”
He hung up. Silence returned between them. Jungkook held the phone in his hand for a few more seconds, as if he needed time to reset.
Taehyung was the one who broke the quiet.
“You two seem to have a really beautiful relationship,” he said softly, resting his head back on Jungkook’s chest. Jungkook glanced down at him, a little more at ease now.
“Yeah… it’s always been like that. She’s kind of my anchor, I guess.”
Taehyung didn’t answer right away. He just nodded slowly, soaking in that small truth. It wasn’t something Jungkook said lightly. And for some reason, it felt good to know. He liked seeing this side of him. The soft side. The one that wasn’t all muscle, or confidence, or cocky charm. But raw, familiar, loving.
“Must be nice,” Taehyung murmured, voice low and slow from the cozy warmth of the car. “Having that kind of relationship with your mom.”
The words dropped like a stone into water. Jungkook didn’t say anything at first. He felt the subtle shift in Taehyung’s posture as he turned slightly, now with his back to him, staring at the car’s ceiling. The way he said it wasn’t bitter or envious. It was something else. Something quieter. Something like resignation.
Jungkook swallowed hard. He didn’t need to be a genius to understand the subtext. They had never really talked about it—actually, he’d noticed how Taehyung always avoided the subject—but now it was obvious. It wasn’t just a random observation. It was a crack, one of those deep ones. The kind you learn to ignore until someone turns on the light and you realize it’s still there.
“If you want to talk…” Jungkook began, lowering his gaze to his hand, which was resting on Taehyung’s stomach. He took it without thinking much, intertwining their fingers. “I’m here. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to, but... if you need to, I’ll listen.”
Taehyung swallowed. He felt the immediate lump in his throat, that pressure that always rose whenever he even considered talking about the weight he’d been carrying for so long. His first reaction was silence, an automatic resistance. But then, his body relaxed slightly.
“They were always like that,” he began, his voice low and measured. He didn’t look at him, but somehow that made it easier. “My parents. Especially my mother. Very demanding. Always with sky-high expectations. Like just breathing came with an invoice I had to pay.”
He paused. Jungkook didn’t interrupt. He just kept gently stroking his knuckles.
“The plan is clear. I’m supposed to be the heir to my father’s company. Architecture. Family tradition. Blah, blah, blah. That kind of crap. I need to get ready, I have to live up to the standard…”
Jungkook frowned, still silent. Something twisted in his stomach.
“Your father was an architect?” he asked after a moment. Taehyung nodded, just a slight tilt of his head.
“Yeah, but he died five years ago.”
The words were dry, blunt. Not dramatic. But that made them hurt even more. They sounded so clean, like they'd been chewed over for a long time. Jungkook said nothing. Not because he didn’t want to, but because he had no fucking clue what to say that wouldn’t sound hollow.
“When he was around... well, there was some kind of balance. Sure, he wanted me to be the ‘perfect son,’ but he had patience. He knew how to explain things to me. He knew how to motivate me without crushing me. He was demanding, but also... human. But after he died, everything went to shit with my mom.”
His fingers tensed slightly in Jungkook’s. Remembering it still left a residue of anger on his skin.
The image was too easy to picture. Jungkook had never met Mrs. Kim, but he didn’t need to. He could already see the archetype: a woman with perfect posture, cold as steel, with words sharper than any glass.
“Nothing is ever enough for her,” Taehyung continued, now speaking a little faster. “Not my grades, not my achievements, not my effort. I bust my ass to work hard, to be one of the best, to not fuck things up, and still... nothing. The only thing she wants is for me to dive headfirst into the company, to stop wasting time with cameras and scripts, to stop ‘playing’ at being an artist.”
“But you’re studying Film Production. How did you convince her?”
“At first, I managed to trick her,” he let out a sarcastic little laugh that didn’t reach his eyes. “I told her I could handle the company’s marketing, the public image, the design of their campaigns. I sounded so convincing that even my uncle bought it. And he’s the one in charge of everything, at least until I’m ‘ready.’ But my mom never bought it. Ever since my dad died, she sees me as the ‘man of the house.’ Like it’s something admirable, a badge of honor. But it’s actually a trap. What she really wants is to turn me into another version of him.”
“What does your mom do?”
“She’s a doctor. General surgery. Head of Surgery at Dongsan Medical Center, and she also teaches at Keimyung University, where the hospital’s from. At least she’s only obsessed with architecture and not medicine. She says I don’t have the stomach for it, that I’d faint in an operating room. So not even that. In her eyes, I’m only good enough to be a bland businessman in some fucking office.”
Jungkook let out a long sigh. He stared at him for a few seconds, his expression somewhere between understanding, frustration, and helplessness.
“Is your mom’s name Ellis Grey, by any chance?” he asked, his voice soft but teasing. “I mean, she sounds just like her. What was that line? ‘I raised you to be extraordinary. Imagine my disappointment when I wake up after all these years and find out you’re merely ordinary.’ Or some shit like that, I don’t remember. Poor Meredith was just trying to tell her she’d found love and her mom got disappointed. Like she hadn’t been screwing Richard for half her career…”
Taehyung let out a stifled laugh. He closed his eyes and pressed his nose against Jungkook’s chest, like he didn’t want to admit he was laughing.
“You watched Grey’s Anatomy?” Taehyung said between chuckles.
“Yeah, it’s really good, though obviously it’s not the same anymore,” Jungkook sighed. “Ever since MAGIC broke up, it all went downhill for me.”
“You’re an idiot,” he murmured, though the laughter still clung to his voice.
Jungkook smiled too, visibly more relaxed now. Then, still stroking his hand, he shifted his tone.
“But seriously…” he waited for Taehyung to look at him. And when he did, Jungkook held his gaze, unwavering. “All those things they expect from you, all those roles they want you to fill… none of that is more important than who you really are. And yeah, I know it sounds like a cheap motivational quote, but I mean it. You’re not responsible for living up to anyone’s expectations. Not your mom’s, not your late father’s, not your uncle’s, not the fucking weight of your last name. No one gets to force you into a life that doesn’t make you feel alive.” He raised his hand and gently stroked his cheek. “And you, Taehyung… you are insanely talented. What you do, how you think, how you see the world. You matter. Even if she doesn’t see it, even if she never does. I do. And not out of pity or anything like that—because I know you hate being looked at like you’re fragile—but because I care about you. I’m here. And if one day you decide to fuck it all and live your life the way you want, I’ll be right there by your side, clapping for you. And if you need to push someone off a cliff, just say the word. I’m in.”
He meant it. Every word. He felt so powerless—he wanted to protect Taehyung no matter what. He deeply regretted not having talked to him sooner when he knew the thing with his mom was weighing him down. He regretted not being there earlier. He just wanted Taehyung to be free and happy, always. He wanted him to... Oh. Jungkook swallowed hard, as if a lightbulb had gone off and now he was really nervous. Did he…? Shit.
Taehyung didn’t respond right away. He just looked at him with those dark eyes that sometimes seemed to hold entire galaxies. Then, without a word, he leaned in a bit more, rested his forehead on Jungkook’s shoulder, and stayed there.
Still. Silent. But smiling.
Maybe, he thought, it wasn’t so bad letting someone see what hurt. Not if that someone was that boy with Bambi eyes.
“Thank you, Jungkookie.”
Two days had passed since that night in Taehyung’s car, but Jungkook could still feel the blond’s touch on his skin, and he kept showing up in his mind all fucking day long. He couldn’t help it—honestly, he didn’t even want to—but right now, it was inconvenient as hell.
Yoongi’s studio was relatively tidy, which was rare. Cables were loosely coiled, papers were stacked in a corner, and only one mug with leftover cold coffee hinted that a human being actually lived there.
Jungkook sat hunched forward, elbows on his thighs, notebook resting on his legs, and a chewed-up pencil between his fingers. He kept twirling it absently. The page was scribbled all over—random words, half-finished verses, scribbles over scribbles.
Yoongi sat across from him, staring at the monitor above the MIDI keyboard, not touching a thing. It didn’t take a genius to realize that the tension in the air wasn’t because of the shitty poem. It was supposed to be a simple assignment: take a poem, add a few lines, compose an original harmony, and record a demo that wouldn’t make their professor spit in their faces. But they weren’t getting anywhere. Because you can’t build a song when one of you has their head on a completely different fucking planet. Today, Jungkook was absolutely useless.
Every time he tried to compose an instrumental line, write a progression, or even define the overall mood of the piece, he kept going in circles. And the worst part? Every time it felt like he was finally managing to create a decent sequence, he realized he was writing it like it was a goddamn love song. And that made no sense. They had agreed from the beginning: nothing romantic, nothing cliché. But fucking Jungkook kept going back to it.
Yoongi stopped moving his fingers. He froze for a second, then exhaled through his nose—the kind of exhale that carried no relief, only resignation.
“Are you gonna keep pretending you’re in this astral plane, or are you finally going to tell me what the hell is going on?” he asked, not even bothering to look at him.
Jungkook blinked. Slowly. Like he’d just come back from somewhere very, very far away.
“What? Nothing. I’m fine.”
Yoongi finally turned to him, tilting his head slightly with one eyebrow raised. He didn’t need to say much—his entire face screamed, I don’t believe a single fucking word. But he still indulged in speaking.
“You’ve been writing the same shit or some variation of it for twenty minutes. What the fuck is going on, Jungkook?”
The younger looked away. Suddenly, it felt hot. Like he was trapped inside his own skin. He rubbed the back of his neck and forced a crooked smile.
“I swear I’m fine. It’s just... the poem’s weird. I don’t know, it’s not inspiring me.”
Yoongi didn’t answer right away. He leaned toward the notebook. Between the scratched-out lines and half-written words, his eyes landed on something. He frowned. Then his lips curled into a mocking smirk. He read aloud, dragging the syllables.
“Did you write ‘Tae’ instead of ‘track’?” he asked, savoring every letter. “Or was that on purpose?”
Jungkook froze.
He felt it in his gut, like a punch. He looked down abruptly, slamming the notebook shut clumsily in an attempt to erase the evidence, and cleared his throat roughly.
“Taehyung? Who said anything about Taehyung?” he said way too fast, practically stumbling over the words. “He doesn’t matter to me at all, what are you talking about?”
He was pale. And he knew it. He felt it on his skin—that cold, electric feeling when your body reacts before your brain does. Fuck.
Yoongi leaned back in his chair, arms crossed with a look of total disbelief. He let out a sharp, silent laugh and stared at him calmly.
“Good thing he doesn’t matter to you. Imagine if he did,” he said dryly. “Seriously, you’re like an open book written in highlighter. You say he doesn’t interest you, but guess who keeps giving him attention?”
Jungkook clenched his jaw tightly. He didn’t want to respond. He couldn’t. His eyes drifted to the powered-off keyboard, to the empty mugs in the corner, to the part of the rug where he knew there was a stain Yoongi never cleaned. Anything but look him in the eye. Because looking would mean admitting that what he was feeling wasn’t just a phase. That it wasn’t just confusion. That he’d already crossed a line and didn’t know how to come back.
He ran a hand through his hair, uncomfortable, trying to ease the heat crawling up his neck.
“I’m not giving him attention,” he muttered, weakly.
Yoongi gave him a crooked smile.
“Sure, of course not. I just want you to know I’ve seen you looking at him when you think no one’s watching,” he said, calm but not gentle. “You worry about him. You’re always scanning the room to find him. You notice things about him that no one else does. The way he fixes his hair, the way he bites his lip when he’s concentrating, how his expression changes when something bothers him. I’ve seen the way you look at him. And how your face turns to shit whenever someone else makes him laugh—even if it’s Jimin.” He paused just long enough to let the absurdity of being jealous of Jimin sink in. “And now you’re writing his name in the margins of your notebook, while accidentally writing romantic lines. Very emotionally detached, indeed.”
Jungkook felt a lump in his throat. He felt trapped. Naked. Exposed in the middle of the room, in front of someone who knew him better than he was ready to admit.
“Can you stop fucking with me?” he whispered, almost afraid.
Yoongi didn’t say anything. And that silence was the worst part. Because when Yoongi didn’t laugh, didn’t throw a sarcastic jab, didn’t brush things off—it meant it was serious. Jungkook knew him well. He knew that kind of silence meant I figured it out, and I’m not letting you off the hook.
“You don’t have to talk about it if you’re not ready. You don’t have to say it out loud. But don’t lie to me, Jungkook. You can’t bullshit me. I’m your best friend. I know you better than you can even stand yourself.”
Jungkook finally looked at him. And his eyes... fuck, his eyes were full of fear—that kind of stare with his lips pressed tight together. Because he knew. He knew he couldn’t hide what he felt anymore. Yoongi didn’t say anything else. He just leaned back slightly in his chair, arms still crossed. He knew when not to push. He knew how to let silence do the heavy lifting.
And it worked.
“Fine,” Jungkook whispered, barely audible, like the confession was getting stuck in his throat. “Okay, yeah. Something happened.” Yoongi raised an eyebrow but didn’t interrupt. The younger ran both hands down his face and let out a rough sigh—one full of everything he’d been holding in. Everything he hadn’t told anyone. “At the cabin...” he started, voice a little stronger. “The last night, when everyone was already asleep—we were drunk. Not too much to forget, but enough to do dumb shit without thinking.” He paused, swallowing. His eyes lifted slightly, just to check if Yoongi reacted. But he was still unreadable. “We kissed,” he said. No sugarcoating. No embellishment. He just said it.
The atmosphere seemed to compress even more. The air in the studio grew heavier, if that was even possible. Yoongi's jaw dropped slightly before he narrowed his eyes, scanning every inch of Jungkook’s face like he was trying to figure out if this was a joke.
"You and Taehyung?" he finally asked.
"Yeah." Jungkook lowered his gaze again. "I didn’t see it coming either. We’d had a couple of... weird moments. Tension, looks, touches. But that night... I don’t know. It was like everything just exploded." Yoongi leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. He needed to process every word. But he didn’t interrupt. Not yet. "After that..." Jungkook continued, speaking faster and faster. "I freaked out. I panicked hard. I didn’t know what the fuck it meant. And instead of dealing with it like a decent human being... I slept with Soojin."
Yoongi’s face twisted instantly. His expression shifted from skeptical to annoyed in seconds.
"What?"
"It was fucked up, I know," Jungkook rushed to say, trying to avoid being murdered by Yoongi’s glare. "I don’t even know why I did it. Or maybe I do. I wanted to punish myself. I thought that’d somehow 'fix it.'"
"Jungkook," Yoongi began, and just his tone alone was enough to make his skin crawl, "are you actually this fucking stupid?"
"Yeah," Jungkook replied without hesitation. Because he knew. Because there was no defending the indefensible. Yoongi shook his head, holding himself back. He massaged the bridge of his nose, and Jungkook felt a deeper sting of guilt. But it didn’t end there. "Sana..." he said with a heavy sigh. "She came to my apartment that day. Right when Soojin was there."
"And she saw everything?"
"Yeah," Jungkook admitted, barely above a whisper. "She left. And after that, we didn’t talk for a while."
"You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, Jungkook."
"I know. I know. Believe me, you don’t have to tell me how stupid I was. I’ve told myself a thousand times. And just to make things worse, that same week..." He paused, took a deep breath before confessing the darkest part. "I went to this shitty bar. Alone. One of those tucked away in alleys, where the people give you a bad feeling the second you walk in. I went because... I wanted something to happen to me. Something bad."
Yoongi’s arms dropped. He wasn’t angry anymore. Now he was worried. Genuinely.
"What the hell are you saying?"
"I wanted to punish myself. I felt like I deserved it. For disappointing Sana, for sleeping with Soojin, for not being able to stop thinking about Taehyung... for dreaming about him, about his mouth, his laugh, the way he kissed me. I couldn’t get him out of my head. I was going insane."
"That’s not normal, Jungkook. That’s not okay. That kind of thinking... it’s self-destructive."
"I know," he said, not trying to justify anything. "I know. But that night, when I didn’t even know how to get back home, I called him. I called Taehyung. And he came to get me."
"Taehyung came for you?"
"Yeah. He took me home. We talked. Really talked. And he stayed with me. Nothing happened that night, but the next morning..." He hesitated for a second. "We kissed again. Sober this time. We just... wanted to make sure it wasn’t the alcohol. And it wasn’t."
"And what happened then?"
"And... one thing led to another. We didn’t have sex that time, but yeah... we helped each other out with our hands, let’s put it that way." He licked his lower lip, embarrassed.
Yoongi leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
"And that was it?"
"No. Since then, we started... seeing each other. Kissing. Touching. At first it was just those 'little helps,'" he made air quotes with his fingers. "It started with hands, then it went to mouths too. It was lust. Passion. Heat. We couldn’t stop. And then... we had sex. A few days ago. The whole experience."
"And was it just that? An experience?"
"I thought so. I wanted to believe it was. But..." He looked away. "I can’t stop thinking about him. He stirs up things in me I didn’t even know existed. When I kiss him, I feel things I’ve never felt with anyone else. And when I see him laughing with someone else, my blood boils. When he doesn’t text me back, I get worried. I’m always looking for him. He always matters."
Yoongi watched him in silence. And when he saw Jungkook had nothing else to add, he said quietly:
"And that doesn’t tell you something?"
"It scares me," Jungkook admitted, for the first time without dodging. "It scares me to think it’s not just sex for me. Because if it’s not... then I don’t know what to do with that. I’ve never felt this way about a man before."
Another silence. A long one. Yoongi got up from the chair, walked toward him, and stopped in front of where Jungkook still sat, hunched over, almost defeated.
"You’re a fucking asshole for not telling me this sooner," he finally said, sitting on the edge of the table next to him. "This gossip is god-tier, and you kept it like it was classified military intel."
Jungkook let out a laugh—weak, more relief than real humor.
"Sorry."
"I hate you," Yoongi said. "But thanks for trusting me. For telling me. Now, are you seriously still going to pretend you’re not into him?" Jungkook stayed still, didn’t answer. "You’re really not going to admit you’re fucking head over heels for him?"
"It’s not that easy," Jungkook murmured, almost a whisper, like it hurt to say it out loud. "It’s not just ‘I like him’ and that’s it. I don’t know. I don’t know what I feel. I don’t know what all this means."
"Yes, you do. You just don’t want to put a name to it, because naming it means there’s no turning back. That it’s no longer just ‘we’re exploring.’ It means you care. That you’re fucking in deep. Do you think that kind of shit is normal when you’re just hooking up with someone?"
"I never said it was normal. I just... it doesn’t mean I’m in love with him."
"I never said ‘in love.’ But you like him. A lot. More than you want to admit." Yoongi leaned in a little closer. "You like him, Jungkook. And not in a shallow way. Not just because he’s hot. You like him. The whole person. You look for him, you miss him, you worry about him, you get jealous... that’s not just a long-lasting crush. It’s something else."
Jungkook clenched his jaw, brows furrowed, fighting against something he couldn’t name. He didn’t want to name it. Not because he didn’t know it—but because saying it out loud terrified him.
"I don’t know," he answered after a moment, scratching the back of his neck. "Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. It’s confusing. I don’t want to assume anything. What if I’m just projecting?"
"Projecting?" Yoongi snorted. "Do you project when you get hard just hearing him breathe on the other side of the phone?"
"It’s not like that!" Jungkook looked up with a frustrated grimace.
"Oh, no? Then why did you call him that night? Why not me, or Namjoon, or Hoseok?"
"Because... because I felt like..." He trailed off. He didn’t know how to finish that sentence without exposing himself. "Because he’d understand."
"Uh-huh. And why do you worry about whether he’s eaten, or slept, or had a good day?"
"Because we’re close!"
"Since when?"
Jungkook glared at him, annoyed. But it wasn’t anger directed at Yoongi. It was the kind of frustration that comes when you know someone’s telling you the truth and you just don’t want to hear it. Don’t want to accept it.
"What if it’s not like that for him?" Jungkook blurted out, suddenly, more harshly than intended. "What if I’m the only one feeling this, and he’s just playing around? What if he’s just... I don’t know, actually experimenting, and that’s it? What if I’m the one who took it seriously?"
Yoongi tilted his head slightly as he looked at him.
"Do you really think someone would mess around with another person like that? Have you even seen the way he looks at you, Jungkook?" Jungkook clenched his jaw, shifting his gaze to nowhere in particular. "Taehyung always kind of looks like he’s got a stick up his ass," Yoongi continued without giving him a chance to protest. "But when it comes to you... he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters in the damn room. Don’t give me that look. I’ve seen it. When you walk in, when you talk, when you do some dumb shit. Even when you’re quiet. He watches you like he’s trying to memorize you. And you... you do the same. Only difference is, you’re scared shitless."
"It’s not fear. It’s common sense."
"It’s fear, Jungkook. Fear of feeling. Fear of falling. Fear of getting your heart broken. Because you know damn well that if Taehyung ever hurts you, you’re going to fall apart like never before." Yoongi leaned forward, fixing his gaze on him. "And you know why? Because he means more to you than anyone else ever has. That’s why you’re driving yourself crazy with all these theories instead of just accepting what it is."
Jungkook took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling slowly. He couldn’t deny it. Not completely. Every time Taehyung smiled at him, something in his stomach lit up. When he laughed, when he touched him by accident, when he stared at him for more than three seconds without speaking. Every single gesture from Taehyung unraveled him. But there were too many layers on top. Too many excuses, too many buts.
"But you don’t know, you’re not in his head, you have no idea if he feels the same or if he’s just... being nice." He dragged his hands down his face, frustrated. "Maybe he’s more comfortable with his sexuality, maybe he doesn’t care about kissing someone or sleeping with another guy. Maybe he doesn’t see it as something that... emotional."
"Right," Yoongi snorted, spinning his chair slightly. "Because all straight guys can just sleep with other men like it’s nothing and cuddle afterward like that doesn’t mean a damn thing. Haven’t you noticed, Jungkook? Haven’t you seen the way he touches you? How his voice changes when he talks to you? Do you seriously believe that’s just physical?"
"I don’t know," Jungkook insisted, more quietly this time. "What if it’s just affection? What if he’s just a good person? What if he’s like that with everyone? Because objectively, he is like that with Jimin. Maybe I’m just the idiot getting confused because I’ve never had that kind of affection before."
Yoongi rolled his eyes and stood up abruptly, walking over to a shelf as he spoke.
"You’re being stubborn. You’re a fucking expert at running away whenever something starts to matter or hurt. You’ve always been like that. And you know what? I’m tired of it. I’m tired of you being so smart about some things and so damn dumb about others."
"Thanks, I guess," Jungkook replied with a bitter smile.
"That wasn’t a compliment. Look, if you want to keep denying the obvious, fine. But don’t come crying later if you screw it up. Because if that guy feels something for you," he said, pointing his finger in the air, "and you don’t have the guts to own up to what’s going on with you, then you’re going to lose him. You’re going to push him away. No one stays where they’re not truly wanted."
Jungkook closed his eyes for a second. That idea... cut through him like a blade. What if Taehyung got fed up one day? What if he got tired of his doubts, his fear, of the way he never really moved forward or back? What if he decided it wasn’t worth it anymore? His heart lurched so violently he felt nauseous.
"So what am I supposed to do? Tell him I’m starting to feel something and ruin everything? What if it’s not mutual? What if I just make things awkward?"
"You’ve got two options," Yoongi said, his voice more serious than Jungkook had heard in a long time. "You either stay stuck in this fucking limbo, biting your tongue and bottling everything up until you explode… or you talk to him. Ask him. Tell him how you feel, whatever. But do something. Because I swear, what hurts the most isn’t what happens—it’s what you never said. Has it ever crossed your mind that maybe he’s protecting himself? That maybe he’s just as fucking scared as you are?"
"Why would he be scared?"
"Why are you?" Yoongi shot back without hesitation. "For the same damn reasons. Because he doesn’t know what to do with what he’s feeling. Because you also play dumb every time things start getting real."
Part of him wanted to believe. Wanted to think all of it meant something. But another part... another part kept screaming at him not to get his hopes up, that it wasn’t worth it to expect something that could fall apart at any moment.
"I don’t know, hyung," he whispered. "I don’t want to fuck this up."
"Then don’t fuck it up," Yoongi said with an ironic smile, like it was that simple. "Just... don’t get ahead of yourself. Don’t assume for him. Don’t decide for him. Talk. Ask. Feel. But don’t run. And don’t hide behind sex like that’s all you two have, because you and I both know it’s not."
"And if he tells me he doesn’t feel anything?"
"Then it’ll hurt," Yoongi replied bluntly, no sugar-coating. "But at least you won’t be left wondering. And you won’t spend the rest of your life asking yourself what might’ve happened if you’d had the balls to say what you felt."
Jungkook fell silent. That sentence hit him deep. He looked down, noticing his hands trembling slightly in his lap.
"I don’t know," he repeated, his voice raw and honest. "I don’t know if I can."
Yoongi let out a long, resigned sigh. He sat back down in his chair and looked at him—not angry anymore, just tired.
"Then do whatever the hell you want, believe whatever you want, cling to your buts. But please, don’t fuck it up. Because if that guy loves you, then all he needs is for you to love him back without fear."
Jungkook swallowed hard, his throat tight. He knew Yoongi was right. He knew it. He had known it ever since Taehyung’s kisses started leaving tremors in his hands, not just heat between his legs. Ever since sleeping beside him felt like the safest place in the world.
"Thanks, hyung," he murmured finally, voice cracked but sincere. "Really. Thanks for saying all this."
Yoongi shrugged, unfazed.
"Someone had to. Now go think about it. But don’t take too long. The world doesn’t wait for people who doubt too much. And don’t come crying to me later if you mess it up by playing dumb," he warned with a half-smile. "Because this time, I won’t comfort you. I’ll just say ‘I told you so’ and kick your ass."
Jungkook laughed—weak, but genuine.
"I’d deserve it."
"Yeah, you would."
And with that, the tension in the studio eased just a little. Not completely, but enough for the air to feel breathable again. Jungkook knew he still had a lot to figure out—within himself, and with Taehyung. But he wasn’t alone anymore. And even if he couldn’t say everything out loud just yet, at least now he knew he wasn’t completely lost.
Chapter 34: Chapter 33
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“Fuck…” Jungkook muttered, lying flat on his back on the bed, a pencil between his lips and his eyes fixed on the ceiling. He pulled the pencil out of his mouth and tossed it aside. “What the hell am I supposed to do with you, Taehyung?”
He hadn’t been able to focus on anything since he woke up. The only thing occupying his mind was a complete emotional disaster—but at least now he knew exactly why: Taehyung.
Ever since that talk with Yoongi, something inside him had come undone. Maybe he’d always known. Maybe he’d spent too long repressing, denying, distracting himself… but the answers had been there all along, right in front of his face. And now that he saw them clearly—well, it was worse. Way worse. Because knowing he had feelings for Taehyung didn’t help him deal with it. If anything, it messed with his head even more.
“I like him,” he repeated under his breath, as if saying it again might help him process it, absorb it, stuff it inside his chest in a way that didn’t hurt as much. He liked Taehyung and had no clue what to do about it.
Did that mean he was bisexual? He had no fucking idea. He’d liked plenty of girls, sure. But he had never, not once, felt this way about a guy. Except for Taehyung. And that ‘except’ now had him questioning everything. Did it still count as bisexuality?
“I don’t know! I don’t get these fucking labels!” he burst out, even though no one was there to hear him—except for his Totoro plushie sitting on the shelf. “But what I do know is that I want him. I like him. I fucking like you, you idiot. I like you so much I want to hit you with a pillow and then kiss you until you can’t breathe.”
Jungkook covered his eyes with his forearm, frustrated. A part of him felt lighter since he confessed it to Yoongi—at least one internal war had ended—but there was still fear, confusion, and a thousand doubts eating away at him every time he thought of Taehyung’s eyes or his boxy smile.
What if he didn’t feel the same? What if Jungkook was reading everything wrong? What if Taehyung just cared for him, and that was it? What if getting closer ruined everything, just like he’d messed up so many other things in his life?
Because yeah, he remembered. He thought about it too. Jungkook had screwed things up before—relationships, friendships, even his own self. He’d been a coward, he’d run when he should’ve stayed, he’d said things that cut deep and couldn’t be taken back. He didn’t want to make the same mistake again. Especially not with Taehyung. Not with him. Never with him.
Taehyung was… fuck, he was too much. He calmed Jungkook down and set him on fire at the same damn time. Jungkook didn’t want to stay away from him. It felt like a curse. He wanted to be near him—needed to. Taehyung made him feel good, made him laugh until his stomach hurt, made him want to be a better person. How the hell was he supposed to give that up? He didn’t want to, and he couldn’t. The only thing he could do now… was try. Try with all the fear in his chest, but try anyway. Maybe Yoongi was right.
“I’m going to win him over. Seriously,” he said with conviction, like saying it out loud might give him strength. “But carefully, step by step. Testing the waters. I don’t want him to notice anything if he doesn’t feel the same. I don’t want to fuck this up from the start.”
He glanced at the clock. The hands read 10:34 a.m. It was Wednesday, midweek, a boring day. Seemed like as good a time as any to start his plan. If he invited Taehyung to lunch, they could hang out without it sounding too desperate. It was a solid excuse—who says no to food?
He reached out for his phone, unlocked the screen, and opened the chat labeled ‘Dumb little prince’. Just seeing the name made him smile. It took him a while to decide what to type. He didn’t want to seem too eager, but he didn’t want to sound dry either.
Dumb little prince
>>Hey, what are you doing?
He read the message three times before sending it. He hesitated. A lot. Then he hit send and let out a tense sigh. Immediately after, he started nibbling on his thumb nail—a nervous habit that only showed up when he was on the verge of a breakdown.
Five minutes passed.
Then ten.
Then twenty.
Nothing.
No ‘read’ notification. No typing dots. No sign of life. Jungkook shifted positions on the bed at least four times, trying to pretend it didn’t bother him, but every passing second dragged him deeper into a pit of anxiety and disappointment. Was Taehyung busy? Sleeping? Upset with him for some reason? Had he said something wrong in their last messages? Was he just imagining things—did Taehyung not like him that much after all?
“Shit… I’m so pathetic,” he groaned, burying his face in one of his pillows. “See? This is what happens when you like someone. You turn into a stupid, insecure mess.”
By the time the clock struck 11:40, he had given up.
He tried to make progress on some schoolwork—though ‘progress’ mostly meant staring at the same slide for the third time without absorbing a damn thing. He was sad. Actually sad. The fact that Taehyung hadn’t replied felt like the collapse of his entire brilliant plan to get closer. His motivation had crumbled like a house of cards in a thunderstorm.
And then, just when his brain was ready to declare the whole thing dead, his phone vibrated.
At first, he didn’t react. He assumed it was a group message, a notification, spam—anything but what he was hoping for. But his eyes drifted to the screen, and there it was, in clear, merciless letters:
"Dumb little prince sent you a message."
His heart lurched so violently that he knocked over a bunch of papers and nearly got tangled in his blanket, but he didn’t care—he scrambled for his phone like it held the meaning of life. Muttering curses under his breath, he smacked his forehead with the back of his hand and sat up, the phone trembling slightly in his fingers. He fumbled to unlock it, and the moment he saw the message, his face lit up.
Hey, sorry, I’m in class.<<
Psychology of Perception… I want to die of boredom but I’ve got an exam coming up so I can’t sneak out yet.<<
The wave of relief that washed over Jungkook was so instant and so overwhelming that he collapsed back onto the bed, letting out a long, shaky breath. He wasn’t being ignored. He wasn’t being avoided. He wasn’t hated. Taehyung was just in class. A fucking class. God, I’m so dramatic, he thought, laughing under his breath as he dropped the phone onto his chest. He had spiraled into full crisis mode over an unread message, like some stupid teenager in love. Well… he almost was, wasn’t he? Minus the teenager part. And the ‘in love’ part—he didn’t think he was there… not yet.
He picked the phone back up, feeling a spark of hope, and typed quickly:
>>You’re fucking impossible to reach, goddammit.
>>We should share our schedules.
What for?<<
>>So I know when I can see you.
He sent the message with a sharp tap of his thumb. His heart sped up again—just a little. He couldn’t help it. He was taking a risk, sure, but not one big enough to be obvious. Just enough to test the waters.
Dummy.<<
What he got in response made him smile even wider—borderline stupid. The word popped up on the screen, followed by an image just seconds later. A screenshot—Taehyung’s class schedule. Jungkook felt a warmth bloom in his chest, something soft and stupid and beautiful that lingered in his body even as he sent back a picture of his own schedule.
Taehyung’s was colorful, messy, handwritten, full of crossed-out subjects and scribbled notes along the edges, with little hearts decorating Mondays and Fridays. Of course his schedule would be adorable chaos—just like him. Jungkook’s, on the other hand, was digital, perfectly organized in his calendar app, each class color-coded and every study session scheduled like he was a Wall Street executive.
You’re a control freak. Just look at that schedule.<<
Are you secretly 45 or something?<<
>>Thanks, I do my best.
>>By the way, since you don’t have any classes this afternoon… wanna grab lunch with me? My treat.
The reply wasn’t immediate, but it came after a few seconds.
Why so sudden? We only hang out when we’re… you know.<<
Jungkook stared at the message. It was true, after all. They didn’t have any other kind of dynamic. They’d never explored any other aspect of their connection. But that was exactly what he wanted to change.
He typed slowly this time, carefully.
>>Because I want to get to know you. It’s crazy that I know exactly how to make you come, but I don’t even know your favorite color. Or your favorite fruit. Or your favorite food.
He really didn’t know any of those things. He didn’t know if Taehyung liked rainy days, if he preferred the cold or the heat, if he hated bugs or had some ridiculous allergy. He didn’t know what his childhood was like or what could make him cry. He only knew how he moaned when he was about to come, how his back arched when Jungkook touched him there, how his skin smelled when it was warm with desire. And yeah, he liked all those things. Of course he did. But suddenly, they just weren’t enough.
He wanted more. So much more.
The ‘read’ notification hit him like a bucket of ice water.
Jungkook stared at it for a second, frozen. He blinked. A small shiver ran down his spine. His brain began to unravel in mere seconds. Too direct. Shit. I scared him off. He probably thinks I’m being weird.
Which, if he was honest, wasn’t that far from the truth. But that wasn’t the point. The point was that he might’ve freaked him out. He threw himself backward onto the bed, covering his face with his forearm. The phone rested on his chest, forgotten for a few moments while he spiraled. Minutes passed. Long, torturous minutes.
Until the phone buzzed with a notification.
I’d like that, but I didn’t bring my car.<<
Jungkook’s smile was so wide it hurt his cheeks. He sat up like a spring, clutching his phone with both hands like it was a trophy, a golden ticket, a fucking divine sign that maybe—just maybe—his luck wasn’t so shitty after all.
>>Don’t worry. I’ll pick you up.
You’re not my chauffeur, Jungkook.<<
>>Shut up and let me pick you up.
Fine, but you better be here by 12:30. Got it?<<
>>I promise.
Wasting no time, he dropped the phone on the nightstand, yanked off his shirt at lightning speed, and ran to the bathroom.
He nearly tripped on the rug just outside the bathroom door on his way in.
Shit, shit, shit, he chanted in his head as he turned on the shower and stepped in without waiting for the water to heat up. The burst of cold made him curse and groan, but he didn’t care. He had less than an hour to shower, get dressed, and show up on time.
Jungkook was already there.
He didn’t know how the hell he’d managed it, but he was standing outside the university’s main exit, one helmet cradled in his arms and the other hanging off one of his motorcycle’s handlebars. The midday sun blazed down with intensity, though he barely felt it—his heartbeat was too loud, too quick, thundering against his chest.
He wasn’t sure at what point exactly the thought had crept into his head, but now it was stuck there, loud and clear: This counts as a date.
Yes.
A fucking date.
And that—God, that—had him completely wrecked with nerves. If someone—anyone, didn’t matter who, any dumbass with a mouth—had told him just a few months ago that he’d be here, sitting on his motorcycle, nervous as hell like some awkward teenager, waiting for Taehyung to go out for lunch, Jungkook wouldn’t have just laughed.
He would’ve knocked them the fuck out.
He checked the time again. 12:30 on the dot. He’d texted him three minutes ago, letting him know he was outside, right by the mushroom-shaped tree near the main entrance. The helmet was getting damp from the sweat on his arms, but he didn’t let go. He checked his phone again. Nothing yet. Then he looked up.
And that’s when he saw him. The turnstile let him through without resistance after he swiped his ID, and then he started walking toward him. And it was like everything slowed down. So fucking slow.
Every one of Taehyung’s steps echoed in Jungkook’s temples. He looked too good. He was wearing wide light-blue jeans with ripped knees, a soft salmon-pink wool sweater—loose and cozy—with tiny white patterns that gave him a delicate vibe, and that damn neckline that showed the start of his collarbones like he was tempting fate without even trying. His white sneakers—spotless, probably expensive as hell—made his steps quiet but confident.
And his bag, that half-hanging white shoulder bag, gave him an air of effortless cool.
Jungkook swallowed hard, feeling a wave of heat climb up his neck to his ears.
Fuck.
Why did he look so damn pretty? Had he always been this pretty? Or was it Jungkook who was seeing him differently now?
Because sure, he’d always known he was handsome. Everyone did. But now he felt it—felt it in his ribs, in his gut, in his goddamn knees that were trembling just a little without his permission. Now he was so handsome it hurt.
Taehyung finally reached him, not rushing at all.
"What’s with that dumbass face?" he asked, wearing a crooked grin.
And Jungkook almost—almost—kissed him right then and there.
The black-haired boy blinked, snapping out of his trance.
"Hey..." he finally managed, voice a bit lower than usual and embarrassingly clumsy. So fucking clumsy.
"So?" Taehyung asked, adjusting his bag on his shoulder. "Where the hell are you taking me, Jeon?"
"I’ve got some options," Jungkook said after clearing his throat, trying to seem cool. "Because I’m a man of solutions. But… I’m also a thoughtful man," he added with a shrug. "So I want your input before deciding. Italian, Korean, Japanese, or Mediterranean. Pick whichever you want, and I’ll take us there."
Taehyung tilted his head slightly, hair falling over his forehead. He took a moment, clearly trying to guess which one Jungkook had secretly planned from the start.
“Mhm…” he hummed, drawing out the sound. “I feel like having Japanese. Sushi, ramen, whatever.”
“Perfect,” Jungkook smiled. “That’s exactly what I was leaning towards.”
“And what if I’d said Italian?” Taehyung asked accusingly, raising an eyebrow. “Would you have made a bratty little face?”
“It’s not like I wouldn’t have wanted it,” Jungkook replied, rolling his eyes playfully. “But if you’d picked something I wasn’t that into, I’d still take you where you wanted to go. It’s an invitation, right? I want to go wherever you want to go.”
The comment was so direct, so genuine and unfiltered that Taehyung felt a slight shiver down his spine. His cheeks flushed before he could stop it, a soft, treacherous heat crawling up his skin. He frowned on instinct and turned his face away, more out of reflex than actual irritation.
“You’re an idiot,” he said quickly, trying to cover it up. But Jungkook noticed anyway and smiled sweetly.
Jungkook set the helmet he was holding on the motorcycle seat, stood up calmly, and reached for the other helmet—the one he had brought for Taehyung—that was hanging from the handlebar. He held it with both hands.
“May I?” he asked, lifting the helmet slightly in Taehyung’s direction.
Taehyung looked at him for a second, surprised by the gesture. He hadn’t expected him to offer to put it on. He hadn’t expected that kind of gentleness, but still, he nodded—without really knowing why such a stupid little thing made his chest tighten a bit.
Jungkook stepped closer, and Taehyung stood still. The younger boy raised the helmet carefully, angling it just right so it would slide over Taehyung’s hair without pulling or messing it up. As he lowered it all the way and locked it into place, his fingers brushed lightly against Taehyung’s jawline while fastening the chin strap. And when he was done, he stayed there a moment longer than necessary.
From that angle, with the helmet already on and the visor up, all Jungkook could see were Taehyung’s eyes.
And fuck—those eyes.
Taehyung’s eyes were fucking hypnotic. They were intense, deep, analytical, and sharp. There was something wild and dangerous about them, even something dominant. Those were eyes that commanded, that pulled you in. Fox eyes. Siren eyes, like people called them online. And fuck, his own eyes couldn’t even compete. Jungkook’s eyes, in contrast, were big, round, and bright. They had a kind of tenderness you couldn’t fake, like he was always amazed by the world, like everything was brand new to him. Doe eyes—innocent, adorable, even a little childish. Everything Taehyung wasn’t.
Jungkook swallowed. He forced himself not to say anything, not to lean any closer, even though Taehyung was just inches away. When he finally finished securing the helmet, he backed away slightly, taking a deep breath and regaining control of his body with monumental effort.
He turned, grabbed his own helmet, put it on with quick, almost trembling hands, and climbed onto the motorcycle without another word. He started the engine, adjusted himself on the seat, and as Taehyung climbed on behind him, he tilted his head back slightly so he could be heard.
“Hold onto me. I don’t want you flying off the damn bike at the first bump,” he said with a teasing tone.
“Go to hell,” Taehyung shot back immediately, making Jungkook laugh out loud.
“You’re gonna fall, dumbass.”
“And you’re gonna have to pay the hospital bills if something happens to me, so think about that.”
“Then hold on.”
“No.”
Jungkook rolled his eyes and revved the engine. The bike roared to life, and as they took off, Taehyung’s arms did end up wrapping around his waist—albeit begrudgingly. His fingers barely gripped the edge of Jungkook’s jacket, refusing to hold him properly.
The late afternoon breeze hit them persistently, slipping through the edges of their helmets, messing up the strands of hair that refused to stay in place as they sped down the avenue. They were quiet—not because they didn’t want to talk, but because the helmets made it hard. Still, Taehyung’s mind was far from quiet.
He shifted slightly on the back seat and decided to raise his voice, hoping he could be heard through the wind.
“Where are we going?” he asked first.
“You’ll see,” Jungkook replied calmly, with a tone that screamed I’ve got it all figured out. Taehyung narrowed his eyes—even though no one could see—and gripped his waist a little tighter, seizing the moment.
“Can I drive?”
“What? No. Do you even know how to ride a motorcycle?”
“Yes,” he said, and even if it sounded like a lie, it was the truth. He hadn’t ridden in years and didn’t have a license, but those were just details. Jungkook shook his head firmly.
“I’m not letting you drive,” he said, trying to shut the conversation down. But clearly, he didn’t know Taehyung well enough if he thought that would stop him.
“But I want to. What’s the big deal? Just for a little while.”
“No.”
“Come on, Jungkook, don’t be such a drag.”
“Why are you so damn stubborn?”
“Because I don’t have a car and a motorcycle like some people,” Taehyung replied, loading that last word with as much venom as possible.
“But you do have a car!” Jungkook argued, glancing at him briefly through the rearview mirror.
“But not a motorcycle,” Taehyung shot back quickly, like it was an undeniable, absolute truth.
“Taehyung, your car costs more than mine,” he replied, sounding slightly exasperated. “In fact, it costs more than my car and my bike put together.”
“But I still don’t have a motorcycle.”
“It’s my bike, so I decide.”
“But I want to!” Taehyung whined like a spoiled kid, puffing out his cheeks inside the helmet—knowing Jungkook couldn’t see it but could definitely picture it.
And it worked, because Jungkook let out a long sigh.
“Ahg, fine,” he gave in at last, defeated. “But on the way back, okay?”
“Yes! Deal,” Taehyung replied instantly, with a triumphant little grin no one could see—but that was clear in his voice.
The traffic light turned red and Jungkook slowed down smoothly, letting the bike come to a stop. The black-haired boy glanced slightly to the sides, noticing how Taehyung’s knees were pressed against either side of his waist, and through the ripped holes in his jeans, Jungkook could see his skin clearly.
The silence only lasted a second. They were already far from the university, and with their helmets on, no one would recognize them anyway. So, without warning, Jungkook leaned back, making his back press against Taehyung’s chest.
The move was so sudden, the blond barely had time to process it. He tensed up on reflex, and just as he was about to ask what the hell Jungkook was doing, he felt the younger’s hands rest casually on his thighs.
And not just that—Jungkook’s fingers slid through the ripped holes in his jeans, boldly touching his skin. It wasn’t a firm grip—it was subtle, even intimate. Just two fingers grazing slowly along his bare skin, slipping through the torn fabric, and that alone made Taehyung’s heart start pounding violently.
He didn’t have time to think. His body reacted before his brain did. He jerked backward slightly and raised a hand on instinct, smacking Jungkook’s helmet with a hollow-sounding slap.
“Hey!” Jungkook complained, bringing a hand to his head without turning around, clearly hurt.
“I panicked,” Taehyung mumbled, voice shaking.
The younger one let out a quiet chuckle and shook his head, like he was laughing at both Taehyung and himself. His gaze turned forward again and, as the light turned green, he twisted the throttle and the motorcycle took off once more.
Taehyung adjusted his seat, heart still pounding—way too fast. He could still feel the ghost of those fingers on his skin, tingling as if they’d never left. He bit his lip under the helmet and hid his face behind Jungkook’s shoulder, hoping the warmth crawling up his body would go away.
Up front, Jungkook said nothing, but a small smirk tugged at his lips. He knew exactly what he’d just done.
The Japanese restaurant was tucked into the corner of a quiet side street, half-hidden among shops that didn’t really stand out. There was no big sign or flashy lights—just a wooden board with hand-carved kanji letters hanging discreetly above a sliding wooden door. At first glance, it was the kind of place you could walk right past without noticing.
He parked the bike right in front of the place, where a small empty space looked like it had been waiting just for them. Taehyung was the first to hop off, stretching out his legs. The helmet came off next, revealing messy golden hair flattened from the pressure. He shook his head hard, like a dog fresh out of water, then ran a hand through his hair with practiced elegance.
Jungkook watched him for a moment before removing his own helmet. Unlike Taehyung’s, his hair didn’t cooperate. A few stubborn black strands stuck to his forehead, while others poked out in random directions. He pursed his lips in mild annoyance, trying to smooth them down with his hand—unsuccessfully. That’s when Taehyung’s fingers came up without asking, gently fixing the chaos.
"Yeah… knock it off," Jungkook muttered, not sounding entirely convinced. Not because he actually wanted him to stop, but because every time Taehyung touched him like that, it sent a jolt of electricity up his neck.
The blond didn’t say anything, just fixed his bangs with a small smile. Jungkook’s face lit up, starting at his cheeks and spreading to his ears. He cleared his throat, trying to pull himself together, and they both walked toward the entrance with their helmets in one hand.
The place was small, cozy—like a little corner lifted straight out of a Kyoto alleyway. The lighting was soft and warm, not in that gloomy, "trying to be fancy" way, but with just enough glow to make everything look softer, more intimate. The décor was entirely rustic and traditional, with low wooden tables, rice paper screens, and a counter that gave a full view of the kitchen. An elderly Japanese man in a white apron was slicing fish behind it. The air was filled with the smell of dashi, soy sauce, and freshly cooked rice, with an undertone of aged wood that made the place feel comforting. Soft instrumental Japanese music played in the background, barely audible.
"I’ve never been here before," Taehyung whispered.
"Me neither," Jungkook replied, scanning the room. "I found it by accident a few weeks ago. I was walking by and it caught my eye. It felt... different."
Taehyung nodded and looked around with one eyebrow slightly raised. He liked it. It felt authentic. Not like those fake themed Japanese restaurants that looked like plastic imitations of the real thing.
"Smells good. Feels like one of those places in Japan run by the same family for eighty years," he commented with a half-smile. "You better hope the food’s good or I’m gonna feel scammed."
Jungkook let out a snort and shook his head.
"You’re such an idiot."
They walked over to one of the two-seater tables near the back, tucked in a corner where a wooden screen offered a bit of privacy. It didn’t completely block the view, but at least it kept curious eyes at bay. They sat across from each other, placing their helmets on the floor on either side of the table.
A young server soon approached. His Japanese accent was noticeable, even a little endearing. He greeted them with a quick bow and handed them two menus before walking away in silence.
Jungkook watched him go for a second, then opened his menu with curiosity. Taehyung followed suit, flipping through it.
"Do you think I should order the most expensive thing, since you’re paying?" the blond teased, not even bothering to hide the mischievous smile spreading across his lips. He glanced over the top of his menu, those bright eyes clearly knowing they were pressing the right buttons.
"You’re such a dumbass," Jungkook muttered without looking up, though the slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips betrayed him instantly. "Watch me leave you here washing dishes. I’ll record it. Post it on TikTok. It’ll go viral: ‘Blond idiot pays the price for his arrogance in a Japanese restaurant.’"
"Blond idiot?" Taehyung raised a brow and leaned back in his chair with mock offense. "I don’t know what’s worse—that your insult was that uncreative or that you think someone as cute as me would ever end up washing dishes. They’d probably give me the food for free," he added with exaggerated sass, eyebrows raised provocatively.
Jungkook chuckled under his breath, lowering the menu a bit to look at him. It was wild how they could joke around like this—like two teens on their first date, and at the same time like they’d known each other forever. It made everything feel light and easy.
"Order whatever you want, dumbass," he said at last, with a soft smile.
"What do you like?" Taehyung asked, setting the menu down to look at him.
"Well..." Jungkook blinked. "I like spicy ramen. Tonkotsu. And gyozas. The fried ones, not the cold ones. I hate when they’re all gummy, like someone chewed them and spit them back out. Disgusting."
"So graphic, thanks for that," Taehyung mumbled with a grimace, though his lips stayed curled into a teasing smirk. His attention returned to the menu, but not before sneaking one last quick glance at him. "Then I’ll order something that goes well with that."
"Why?" Jungkook asked, raising an eyebrow.
"So we can share, genius. We get different stuff that complements each other and enjoy more things together. No point in ordering the same thing. Also..." He lowered his gaze and voice just a bit. "...I want to make sure you like what I pick, too."
Jungkook didn’t respond right away, because what Taehyung had just said hit him right in that tender spot he’d been trying to keep in check. The blond was completely focused on the menu again, brows slightly furrowed, tongue pressed faintly against the inside of his cheek as he tried to decide.
Why do you say things like that like you don’t know what they do to me? Jungkook thought. His heart pounded. He was genuinely touched—fucking moved by something so simple as that gesture. It wasn’t just about sharing food. It was that Taehyung wanted to make sure they had a good experience together, something they could enjoy side by side.
It made him want to lean across the table and kiss him. Just to see if he could shut him up for a second.
"I'm gonna get the katsudon," Taehyung finally said, like it was nothing. He looked up and found Jungkook’s eyes still fixed on him.
"What?"
"Katsudon. It goes well with what you said. The sweet and salty sauce balances the spicy ramen. And the fried gyozas work as a nice middle ground. It’s a good combo, don’t you think?"
Jungkook nodded slowly. He was still caught in some kind of internal trance. All he managed to murmur was:
"Yeah... good combo," the dark-haired boy echoed, still half out of it. Then, as if waking up, he added, "Though I’m getting the ramen without spice. Since you're a sensitive baby who can't handle heat."
"Do you want me to spit in the katsudon? Because I totally can," Taehyung replied with terrifying calm.
Before Jungkook could answer, the waiter appeared with his notepad and a polite smile.
"Are you ready to order?"
"Yes," they both answered at the same time, then looked at each other with silly grins.
Taehyung was the first to speak, detailing the dishes they'd picked. Jungkook added a drink for each of them and a small appetizer. The waiter gave them a slight bow, tucked the menus under his arm, and left them alone in that quiet corner of the restaurant.
Jungkook looked down, playing with the napkin. He didn’t know how Taehyung did it, but being around him left him totally defenseless. Vulnerable. Disarmed. And strangely, he didn’t mind.
The blond rested his elbow on the table and watched Jungkook as he looked around, his gaze drifting between the decor and the counter where the elderly chef worked in deep concentration.
"Do you think that guy has a knife hidden under the table in case someone dares to ask him to deep fry something that’s not supposed to be deep fried?" Taehyung suddenly murmured. Jungkook raised an eyebrow at him, then chuckled.
"A hundred percent. He’d stab your soul too if you ask for mayo with sashimi. Or ketchup. God," he shook his head, "don’t even say ketchup out loud, he might come over and slit your throat."
"Noted: do not insult ancient culinary arts," Taehyung grinned and leaned forward a little, fingers playing with the cloth napkin in front of him. Then, out of nowhere, he said, "I like aquamarine green, strawberries, and my favorite food is Japchae."
"What?"
"Your message. You said you knew how to make me come, but not my favorite color, fruit, or food," he explained plainly. "So, there you go: aquamarine green, strawberries, and Japchae."
"Oh, right." Jungkook cleared his throat. "Well, I like black, bananas, and dwaeji gukbap."
"I was expecting that kind of answer for the food. There’s a lot of places in Busan that serve it, right?" He glanced slightly to the side, trying to remember if what he said was actually true or if he just made it up. "The color’s obvious—you’re a fucking emo. And I think I already knew your favorite fruit. You’ve got so many bananas at your place, banana milk too, and I remember on your first date with Sana you ordered a banana smoothie or something."
"You actually remember what I ordered?" Jungkook asked, incredulous. Taehyung just nodded casually, and Jungkook shook his head, amused. "About the dwaeji gukbap, yeah, but none of them compare to my mom’s. I still haven’t figured out what the hell she adds to make it taste that way. Mine never turns out the same."
"Have you asked her?"
"She says it’s ‘love.’" Jungkook made a face. "That shit doesn’t help. She’s gotta be hiding some spice and just won’t tell me."
"Are you one of those people who plays music while cooking? Or are you boring?" Taehyung asked, keeping the conversation flowing. "Please tell me you’re not the type to play something like 'chill kitchen vibes for peaceful souls' or some crap like that."
"What the hell is that?" Jungkook wrinkled his nose. "Nah. Sometimes I play 2000s rock, sometimes hip-hop. If I’m in a good mood, I’ll put on some Japanese funk. I mix it up with stuff I don’t even understand, but it sounds cool. I’ve got one playlist for cleaning, another for cooking, and a very specific one for when I feel existential."
"I want to hear that last one. Must be a completely deranged mix of genres."
"It is," he nodded solemnly. "It makes you sad, then pumped up, then suddenly you wanna do squats. It's a ride."
Taehyung laughed again. But this time it was softer. He looked down at his hands and laced his fingers together on the table. Then he looked up again, his expression almost curious, like he wanted to peel Jungkook apart layer by layer.
"What's something that doesn’t show right away about you?"
"Mhm..." Jungkook grumbled, thinking as he rubbed his neck. "That I care way too much about what the people I love think. Even if it doesn't look like it. What about you?"
The blond bit the inside of his cheek, thoughtful. Then murmured:
"That I’m more emotional than I should be. And I hate it. But I also use it when I can."
"And what does that look like?"
"I have an amazing talent for crying on cue," Taehyung shrugged. "I tell everything to fuck off when I’m frustrated. I get excited over little things. And sometimes I have a hard time letting go of something that hurt me—even if it happened years ago."
Jungkook nodded, and under the table, his foot shifted just a little, brushing against Taehyung’s. The contact was subtle, just for a second, almost like it didn’t mean anything. But it did. And Taehyung knew it, because he didn’t pull away. He didn’t say anything either. He just glanced down at the edge of the table, biting back a smile. Jungkook saw it, and wanted to laugh. Because it was so obvious he’d noticed, but was pretending not to.
"Do you have any weird habits?" Jungkook asked, changing the course of the conversation so it wouldn't stall. It was so easy to talk to Taehyung.
"Just one?"
"Give me your top three."
The blond raised three fingers.
"One: I like looking at people’s nails. It tells me a lot about them. Two: I smell my books before reading them. Three: when I’m nervous, I talk too much or start making up random facts just to mess with people."
"You make up facts?"
"Did you know octopuses have three hearts and one of them only beats when they’re in love?"
Jungkook looked at him suspiciously.
"That’s a lie, isn’t it?"
"Absolutely."
"Shit, you say it so fast and so convincingly that even though you warned me, I still believed you for a second."
Taehyung rested his cheek on his hand, tilting his head slightly as he stared at him shamelessly. It was obvious he loved having Jungkook like this—half confused, half fascinated. That kind of power was addicting to him.
"And you? Weird habits?"
"I collect lighters," Jungkook replied, shrugging. "I don’t smoke, but I keep them. I’ve got one from every place I’ve been to. And..." he paused briefly, "I hate being watched when I’m focused. It makes me feel naked."
"Interesting, coming from someone who clearly has a kink for watching me while I’m focused on feeling pleasure..." Taehyung said suggestively, making Jungkook choke on his own saliva.
"Don’t say shit like that here!" he snapped, cheeks burning—even though his eyes had that dangerous gleam again. He didn’t know whether he wanted to punch him or kiss him right then and there.
"Then help me think of more questions," the blond suggested, casually playing with the edge of his napkin like nothing had happened, "so I can figure out what kind of person you are."
The dark-haired boy cleared his throat and looked everywhere except at Taehyung's intense gaze. If he got too nervous, he'd end up asking his favorite color again—and that was definitely not the plan.
"What's the stupidest thing you've ever done that you don’t regret?" he asked after a moment.
Taehyung blinked, surprised by the question, then let out a low, amused laugh, as if savoring the challenge.
"Define 'stupid,' because in my opinion, almost everything I do is brilliant."
"Don’t get smart with me," Jungkook teased. "Something that anyone else would call a terrible decision, but you stood by it proudly. Come on, impress me."
The blond paused, thoughtful for a few seconds, lowering his gaze like he was mentally scrolling through a list of personal misadventures. Then he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
"Okay, listen. In my third year of high school, I skipped school with two friends to see a band we didn’t even know. We got on a random bus, no real destination, and somehow ended up at a jazz bar where they were playing. It was in some sketchy neighborhood where anyone under eighteen probably wasn’t even allowed to breathe. One of my friends ended up playing bass on stage because someone thought he was part of the band. I drank several cocktails with unpronounceable names because some old pervert thought I was cute and kept buying them for me. Free drinks, after all. I threw up in the bar’s bathroom and we went home in a taxi with the money my mom had given me for lunch for the whole week."
"Definitely stupid," Jungkook said with a laugh. The image of a probably less-blond but definitely more reckless Taehyung doing all that was incredible. "But... sounds like something I’d do with you."
"With me or for me?" Taehyung replied without hesitation. Jungkook went quiet for a second and tilted his head.
"And what’s the difference?"
"With me sounds like an adventure. For me… sounds like you’d be willing or feel forced to do things you normally wouldn’t." Jungkook looked away for a moment, his eyes dropping to the table. After a pause, Taehyung asked in a softer voice, "And you? What’s your dumbest story?"
"I pierced my eyebrow at home with a sewing needle and ice when I was fifteen. Wanted to look tougher. I fainted at the sight of the blood and ended up in the hospital. I still have a scar, but no one notices it now because I covered it up with the actual piercing once I grew up."
Taehyung burst out laughing, loud enough that a couple at another table glanced over. He leaned closer to Jungkook, still laughing.
"You? The rebel with a thousand tattoos and a ‘don’t touch me’ face? You fainted at the sight of a little blood?" he teased. "I seem to recall you box. And how did you act when that asshole Gwanhee hit me? Super protective and all ‘you should’ve called me’—and you’re scared of a drop of blood?"
"It wasn’t a drop!" Jungkook protested, laughing too, though he lowered his voice halfway through when he realized people were still listening. "It was... a lot. I almost ripped my eyebrow off! And don’t mention that idiot, he pisses me off!"
"God, you’re more dramatic than you seem," Taehyung said, resting his face in his hand with a mocking grin.
"You’re judging me for something I did as a teenager, that doesn’t count!" Jungkook crossed his arms, pretending to be outraged, though the smile on his face betrayed him.
"I’m trying to get to know you, not judge you. But if I get some bonus teasing out of it, I’m not gonna waste the opportunity."
"Yeah, yeah. Okay, next one: what’s your worst habit?" he asked suddenly, letting his chin drop into his hand, unintentionally mimicking Taehyung’s earlier posture.
"Does plotting stupid revenge for things that probably don’t matter count?"
"That’s what I figured," Jungkook smirked.
"Then... probably speaking without a filter. Or pretending I don’t care when inside I’m burning up. I’m good at acting."
"Do you consider that a habit or a defense?"
"...Both," Taehyung said eventually, lowering his gaze again. "What about you?"
"Breaking things when I get frustrated. Objects. Relationships. Conversations. Anything. When something doesn’t go the way I want, the anger blinds me."
"You haven’t wanted to break anything today, have you, fourth-rate toxic macho?" Taehyung raised an eyebrow.
"Ugh, you’re insufferable," Jungkook said, rolling his eyes. "No, I haven’t wanted to break anything. Nothing except your ass."
"Jungkook!" the blond recoiled, blushing furiously, and Jungkook laughed at his reaction. He noticed his hair had gotten a bit messy and, after a few seconds of watching him, almost without thinking, reached across the table to fix a stray lock that had fallen over Taehyung’s forehead. It was a simple gesture, but Taehyung’s heart was pounding. "Idiot..." he muttered, trying to play it off.
The soft sound of the waiter’s footsteps on the tatami pulled them out of the little bubble they’d created. Taehyung looked up just in time to see a slender young man with a kind face approaching, holding a perfectly arranged tray. He carried their food, and the entire room now filled with the exquisite aroma of hot broth, soy sauce, and fresh green onion. Taehyung’s stomach growled.
He straightened up quickly and began to clear the small items on the table—the napkins, the condiment jars—to make space. It wasn’t the kind of gesture anyone would think twice about, but he did it with such care, with such a genuinely kind disposition, that even the waiter seemed to notice.
"Oh, thank you, thank you so much," the waiter murmured with a slight bow, clearly touched by the considerate gesture.
Jungkook joined in, grabbing the wrapped chopsticks and aligning them neatly. When the waiter leaned in to place the dishes in front of them, Taehyung accepted them with both hands, making sure nothing wobbled, and set his katsudon bowl in front of him. Jungkook did the same with his tray of gyozas and tonkotsu, grateful. Just as the waiter was about to leave, the dark-haired boy looked up and said with a calm smile, in perfect Japanese:
"どうもありがとう。どれも本当に美味しそうです。ご尽力ありがとうございました。" ("Thank you very much. Everything looks truly delicious. Thank you for your hard work.")
The waiter’s face lit up like a lamp turning on. He nearly dropped the little bowl of side dishes from how excited he got.
"わあ！日本語がとても上手ですね！びっくりしました！" ("Wow! Your Japanese is really good! I’m surprised!")
The conversation continued for a few more seconds in that language that flowed effortlessly from Jungkook’s throat, a little cascade of words that Taehyung didn’t understand for shit—but still found beautiful to listen to. It wasn’t anything earth-shattering, but it was enough to leave Taehyung... stunned. Literally stunned. The waiter left with a smile that practically wrapped around his whole face, muttering something in Japanese that sounded like a compliment as he floated away in joy.
"Since when the hell do you speak Japanese?" Taehyung asked as soon as he regained the ability to speak, not hiding the amazement in his voice or the slight frown that formed between his brows. Jungkook just shrugged, letting his arms drop to his sides like it was the most normal thing in the world.
"Since I was a kid, actually. My school focused a lot on languages," he said calmly. "You had to take English, that was mandatory, and then choose an additional language. And, well... I was a fucking otaku. Of course I picked Japanese."
"No way... that would've been a damn weapon to fight for Sana," Taehyung said between laughs, pointing at him with his chopsticks. "Why didn’t you ever speak Japanese with her to win her over?"
"It’s cute you think I didn’t," Jungkook shot back, raising an eyebrow with a sly smile. "We talked in Japanese all the time. Mostly over chat."
Taehyung stared at him, somewhere between amused and deeply offended, like Jungkook had just stabbed him in the chest. He lifted one hand dramatically and let it fall on the table, as if the betrayal was just too much to carry.
"You son of a bitch," he hissed, now pointing at Jungkook with the tip of his chopsticks like it was a dagger. "And how the hell did I never find out?"
"Because it was part of the strategy," Jungkook said nonchalantly, blowing on his food like it was no big deal. "I knew if you found out, you'd find a way to outdo me... or ruin it."
"You're right," Taehyung admitted, laughing. "I’ve already thought of like five ways to beat you. Shit. One involves learning Japanese in three weeks. Another... murdering you. I’m still deciding."
"Shut up," Jungkook replied with a laugh. "Let’s eat before this gets cold."
They both shifted in their seats, settling in more comfortably, and for a moment, the air was filled with that kind of easy, pleasant silence that only happens between people who genuinely enjoy each other's company—without needing to fill every second with words. Taehyung picked up his chopsticks, spun them between his fingers, then caught a piece of chicken katsu. The texture was satisfyingly crispy, and the moment the flavor hit his tongue, he let out a soft moan of delight.
"Shit... this is amazing."
"Yeah? The tonkotsu's insane too," Jungkook replied, scooping up some ramen and closing his eyes as he chewed. "Damn. This is heaven."
Then, almost without thinking, both of them slowly moved their plates a little closer to the center of the table, offering their food to the other. Taehyung picked up a bite of chicken katsu with rice and egg and lifted it toward Jungkook just as Jungkook raised a small bundle of noodles toward him from his ramen.
The moment was so perfectly timed it felt ridiculous. So unexpected that they both froze, staring at each other like a pair of fools. Taehyung was the first to laugh—a soft, almost nervous chuckle—and he bit his lip as he raised an eyebrow.
"That was disgustingly cute."
"A little bit," Jungkook admitted, clearing his throat while holding his gaze, not moving an inch. "But we’ve started it now, so no backing out."
Taehyung leaned in to take the noodles from Jungkook’s chopsticks, careful not to touch them with his lips too much—but not entirely avoiding it, either. Jungkook did the same, accepting the bite from Taehyung as they both sat back upright, cheeks a bit more flushed than they should’ve been. Taehyung swallowed and dropped his gaze to the plate, stirring it slightly with his chopsticks, trying to sound casual.
"Your ramen’s good."
"Your chicken too. So good it’s kind of offensive," Jungkook replied, wiping his mouth with a napkin, still smiling. "Hey... I noticed you really like Marvel too. Like me. You know, the marathon we did at your place with Jimin. What’s your favorite movie? I never asked."
Taehyung looked up, surprised by the casual question, but smiled right away.
"Out of all of them? Including the X-Men ones?"
"No, no, just the MCU. Only the connected ones," Jungkook clarified, waving his chopsticks as if to draw a boundary.
"Mhm... I’d say Thor: Ragnarok. It’s the one I enjoyed the most, the most fun, and the one I’ve rewatched the most."
Jungkook looked up instantly, eyes wide.
"Are you kidding me?"
"What?" Taehyung laughed, confused. "Why?"
"That’s my favorite too! Like, exactly that one. I love everything about it. The direction, the humor, the crazy aesthetics, Jeff Goldblum with his lunatic face, Hulk talking like a giant baby, Loki being Loki... all of it."
Taehyung burst out laughing, exhaling through his nose.
"Yes! And Cate Blanchett. God, that woman made me question my entire existence."
"Literally, if she killed me I’d thank her," Jungkook nodded with his mouth full. Taehyung looked at him for a second, nodding as well.
"Okay, this question will define our relationship—or whatever it is we have going on here. Are you Team Cap or Team Ironman?"
"Ironman, obviously," Taehyung said without hesitation.
"Thank you!" Jungkook threw both hands in the air dramatically. "Finally. Someone with good taste. I was so tired of hearing 'but Steve just wanted to protect Bucky,' like Tony wasn’t carrying the damn world on his shoulders."
"'Carrying the damn world' is exactly it. The guy just wanted to prevent more tragedies, for fuck’s sake. And they made him look like the villain!"
"Exactly," Jungkook sighed. They kept eating, increasingly relaxed, shoulders loose. The food was still delicious, but it had faded into the background, replaced by something more flavorful—unwrapping each other, one sentence at a time, peeling back layers. "You’re from Daegu, right? Like Yoongi-hyung. You’ve got the accent."
"Yeah, I was born there, but I spent most of my life studying in Busan at Haneul Elite Institute."
"The one that overlooks the Nakdong River?"
"That’s the one. My mom sent me there because my grandparents lived nearby, and according to her, the education in Busan was more disciplined than in Daegu. So I lived with them for most of my school years."
"My school was nearby! I went to Daewon International Academy. I think we even competed against each other in some school tournaments. Did you ever take part?"
"I did! I was in the drama club, but they also made us parade during spring festivals even if we didn’t play sports," Taehyung groaned, rolling his eyes. "I hated that crap. I only did it for the grade."
Jungkook looked at him, processing the info, until a thought crossed his mind and he grinned sideways.
"Then there’s a chance... we might’ve crossed paths."
Taehyung blinked, surprised by the idea. He leaned back in his chair a bit, staring off into the distance, as if rewinding every blurry memory from those years.
"Maybe. Maybe you walked past me in a hallway, or sat nearby during a competition... or watched me from the window of your fancy-ass international school."
"Don’t play the humble card, yours is one of the most expensive schools out there," Jungkook shot back with a playful grin. "Looks like our lives have been tangled up for a while now."
"Yeah," Taehyung said softly, lowering his gaze with a shy smile, then looking up again to meet Jungkook's eyes. "Looks like we were meant to be."
The silence that followed was barely noticeable—just a heartbeat stretched a little too long. But in that instant, Jungkook froze. Taehyung’s eyes widened just a bit, as if he’d only just realized what he said. He swallowed awkwardly and looked away, laughing nervously as he waved his hand in the air.
"Alright, enough with the mushy stuff, yeah? Did you see the last season of What If…?"
Jungkook watched him for a few more seconds, not saying anything. His face was burning, but he didn’t mention it—just nodded.
"Yeah, of course. Though I still haven’t gotten over the zombie episode."
And just like that, they made a silent pact. Both of them went back to their food, each dealing with the mess in their own head. They ate quickly, as if stuffing their mouths could make the heat in their cheeks disappear. But it didn’t—not with that stupid feeling that their lives had, somehow, been orbiting around each other for years, just waiting to crash.
The last crumbs of dessert vanished between laughter and satisfied sighs. With their helmets hanging from their arms, Taehyung and Jungkook stood from the table and walked toward the register. Everything felt... right. Comfortable. Almost ridiculously perfect.
"Let me at least cover half," Taehyung insisted for the fourth time as they stepped up to the counter, his tone laced with stubbornness.
"No way. I invited you. Let me do my part."
"Don’t be stubborn. At least the dessert, or the drinks—something."
"Taehyung," Jungkook said, turning just slightly to glance at him, his voice tinged with impatience. "You already did me a favor by coming with me. Let me pay."
Taehyung clicked his tongue and sped up, placing himself in front of Jungkook at the register. When the young Japanese cashier greeted them with a small bow, Jungkook quickly pulled out his card and placed it on the payment terminal before Taehyung could react.
But Taehyung wasn’t about to lose that easily.
With an equally fast move, he whipped out his own card and laid it right on top.
Jungkook scoffed, turning his card to place it back on top, and Taehyung shoved it aside with his. And so it began: back and forth, over and over again.
"狂人のカードを受け取ってはいけません。" ("Don’t take the lunatic’s card.") Jungkook muttered in Japanese, lips pressed together in a smile as he tried to shove Taehyung’s card away. The blonde didn’t understand a word but recognized the tone perfectly, frowning in response.
"What are you saying about me? Are you plotting against me?"
"I’m saving your dignity. Just let me do it, please."
"No. I don’t want to owe you anything."
"What, so you want to pay now just to cash it in later?" Jungkook teased, raising an eyebrow. "You know you can pay me back in other ways."
And that simple joke left Taehyung defenseless. He blinked, and for a second, his mind went places it definitely shouldn’t have in public.
He stepped back half a pace, then immediately came forward again with that same stubborn fire, pushing his card back onto the terminal. The cashier watched them, amused, like he was witnessing a typical scene between a married couple.
"Hyung," Jungkook sighed, his voice dropping as he made one final plea, almost begging, "if you don’t let me pay, I won’t let you drive back."
And there it was. The trap card.
Taehyung froze, his card still resting on top of Jungkook’s, his eyes locked onto him in disbelief. Did he really just threaten to take the wheel away from him? That was a low blow. Cruel. Unfair.
"Son of a..." he muttered, finally surrendering as he pulled his card back and raised both hands in mock defeat. "You’re playing dirty."
"I win however I can," Jungkook grinned, clearly proud as he inserted his card.
The young cashier processed the payment with a quiet chuckle and wished them a good afternoon. They were just about to leave when a deep, kind voice called out from the back of the restaurant.
"待ってください！" ("Wait, please!")
Jungkook turned first, understanding the call from the chef who was walking toward them from the kitchen with heavy steps and a wide smile. Taehyung turned too, noticing Jungkook’s reaction.
The man held a small basket covered with an embroidered cloth. When he lifted the fabric, he revealed individually wrapped fortune cookies. Taehyung blinked at the sight and raised a mischievous eyebrow.
"Fortune cookies? I thought those were Chinese... isn’t this cultural appropriation?"
"Shut up," Jungkook muttered through clenched teeth, giving him a quick pinch on the side that made him flinch. "Be thankful and shut up"
"You’re abusing me," Taehyung whispered, but still did as told, taking one and bowing in thanks. Jungkook followed suit and was already cracking his cookie open a second later. Taehyung, on the other hand, held his between his fingers for a moment before gently breaking it in half and pulling out the small slip of white paper.
"Aren’t you going to eat the cookie?" Jungkook asked as he popped the whole thing into his mouth, leaving just the fortune sticking out.
"Priorities first," Taehyung murmured, unfolding the paper between his fingers and reading it aloud. "'Destiny finds its path, even between strangers who’ve crossed a thousand times without ever seeing each other.'" He then glanced at Jungkook’s, who couldn’t read his aloud because his mouth was full. "'The bond unseen is the strongest. Those destined to meet will find each other again and again.'"
Shit. That was weirdly specific.
They hadn’t even fully processed what the fortunes said when the elderly man approached them. His hands were thin, wrinkled, and slightly trembling, and without asking for permission or warning, he took one hand from each of them—one from Taehyung, one from Jungkook—into his own. His fingers were warm, his grip firm.
Taehyung tensed slightly, startled. He looked at the man with a mix of confusion and curiosity, not understanding a word of what he began saying in Japanese. His gaze shifted to Jungkook, searching for clues, but what he found was Jungkook with cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk, still chewing on the damn fortune cookie.
Jungkook understood what the man was saying, but he couldn’t translate—because the shock made him start choking.
"Oh no!" Taehyung exclaimed, alarmed, patting him quickly on the back with one hand while the other was still trapped in the old man’s grasp. "Swallow, swallow! Are you okay? Please don’t throw up on me."
"Sorry, guys," the younger man said in Korean, offering a slightly nervous smile. "My grandfather says a lot when he gets excited."
"Yeah?" Taehyung stopped patting and looked at him. "What exactly did he say?"
"First, he thanked you for coming," the young man translated patiently, crossing his arms while his grandfather continued holding their hands with complete seriousness. "Then he said he’s an expert at reading people’s auras. That he’s seen a lot in his life, but rarely ones as clear as yours." Taehyung blinked slowly. Jungkook, beside him, was still coughing. "He says you’re like yin and yang," the young man went on. "That you—" he turned to Jungkook, "—are fire, but carry water in your mouth. And you—" he looked at Taehyung, "—are water, but have fire on your lips. That you complement each other, balance each other, challenge and push each other forward. That one calms and nourishes the other."
Taehyung felt his heart climbing up his throat like it was trying to escape. What the hell was that supposed to mean?
"He says that’s why you make a very good couple."
The word hit like a bomb.
Couple.
The blond froze. Literally. His brain shut down. All he could do was let out a half-mumbled:
"A-ah, n-no... we’re not... I mean... I..."
His voice was trembling even more than his legs, and his cheeks began to heat up with humiliating intensity. He looked at Jungkook as if begging for help, only to find him just as, if not more, flustered.
"Tell him... tell him he's wrong," Taehyung whispered, his voice barely audible.
The old man spoke again, this time with a faintly teasing smile. His grandson chuckled softly.
"He says not to try and fool a wise old man."
Jungkook finally swallowed the rest of the cookie, and his face was now red not just from choking but from pure, visceral embarrassment. A deep crimson flushed up his neck to his ears. He bowed in a ninety-degree angle because he genuinely didn’t know what else to do with his body. He couldn’t even look the elder in the eye.
Taehyung watched him in silence for a few seconds before copying him, bowing so stiffly it looked like he might snap in half. Then, as if something had stung them both at the same time, they straightened up and practically ran out of the restaurant, helmets in hand and without saying a single word.
Outside, the afternoon breeze hit their faces. Jungkook couldn’t look at him. His eyes were glued to the ground, to the edge of the sidewalk, to anything that wasn’t Taehyung. He felt like if he looked, he would explode. The older one didn’t look at him either. He stood there in silence for a moment, biting his lower lip, his heart still pounding in his chest. The old man’s words, and the ones on that little piece of paper, kept repeating in his head.
Fire and water. A couple. Destined.
Shit!
He took a deep breath and then cleared his throat lightly, not daring to speak too loudly.
"T-This..." he began quietly, looking anywhere but at Jungkook. "Can I have the keys?"
"What?" Jungkook turned his head slightly, still not meeting his gaze.
"The keys. You promised I’d get to drive."
Silence.
Jungkook closed his eyes for a moment, cursing silently. Why the hell had he made that promise? Why was he such an idiot? He wanted to tell him he was out of his mind if he thought that after almost dying from a cookie and getting a surprise romantic prophecy, he was just going to hand over his bike like nothing happened.
"I don’t think it’s a good idea right now," he tried instead. "You’re... shaking."
"I’m not shaking!" Taehyung lied, though his hands were visibly unsteady.
Jungkook pressed his lips together. He didn’t want to. He shouldn’t. But then he saw him. That soft shimmer in his eyes, the faint quiver in his lashes, the still uneven breath. And the damn adorable way he was looking at him.
He cursed under his breath.
"Fuck!" he grumbled, pulling the keys out of his pocket with fake annoyance and tossing them over without looking. "But if you kill me or scratch my bike, I swear I’ll kill you."
Taehyung caught the keys midair.
"Thanks."
"Don’t thank me. I’m not happy about it."
"You’re blushing."
"Shut up."
Taehyung smiled as he approached the bike, still thinking about the old man, the auras, fire, water... and that damned little slip of paper still tucked away in his pocket.
Jungkook regretted his stupid decision almost immediately.
His arms were wrapped tightly around Taehyung’s torso, muscles tense and teeth clenched as the motorcycle roared beneath them like a demon. Somewhere around the second red light Taehyung decided to ignore, Jungkook seriously considered that maybe—just maybe—throwing himself off a cliff without brakes might’ve been a safer choice than handing the blond with cat-like eyes his beloved keys.
Because sure, 'I want to drive' sounded cute with his sweet little voice and innocent face. But why hadn’t anyone warned him that Taehyung—adorable, eccentric Taehyung—turned into a speed-addicted maniac the second the engine roared to life?
"Don’t turn like that! No, no! That was red, you son of a bitch!" he screamed, his face buried in Taehyung’s back, who, to make things worse, was laughing.
"Come on, Jungkook! Trust me, I’m a good driver!"
"Being a good driver does NOT include racing a delivery truck, you moron! TAEHYUNG!" Jungkook yelled, the wind slapping his face as he nearly flew off the back. He clung on tighter. "That was a pothole, goddammit! Slow down!"
Taehyung giggled, clearly enjoying himself like the unhinged man he was.
"But the street’s empty, Kook! Look, look at this stretch! It’s perfect for speed!"
"We don’t need more speed! We need to stay alive!"
Taehyung didn’t reply—or at least not with words. He just laughed louder and took a turn so sharp that Jungkook let out a scream worthy of a B-grade horror movie. He felt his helmet vibrate with the sheer volume, and trauma beginning to form deep in his frontal lobe. If he survived the night, he’d definitely need therapy. Therapy and probably an exorcism. Taehyung, on the other hand, was in absolute bliss. The cold air brushed his cheeks, the city blurred past him in streaks, and everything felt so damn right. He’d had an amazing day—a date that ended with a soul reading from a Japanese shaman, and now he had the keys to a motorcycle and Jungkook’s body pressed against his. How could he not be thrilled? If that wasn’t reason enough to drive with his whole soul, then what was?
"Do you know how long this ride usually takes? Twenty minutes!" Jungkook shouted, watching buildings blur into streaks on either side.
"We’re almost there!"
"Of course we’re almost there, because you’re going a thousand miles an hour, you psychopath!"
They made it home in record time. Literally. He’d done it in ten minutes. TEN! Who the hell did he think he was?! Vin Diesel?!
The final brake was the last straw. Taehyung, completely delighted, skidded to a halt right in front of the house. The problem? Jungkook wasn’t ready for the sudden jolt, and his body slammed into Taehyung’s back with a loud 'THUD!'
"For the love of—!" he growled, ripping off his helmet so fast he nearly took his ear with it. He stumbled off the bike, dropped to his knees on the ground, and braced himself with his hands on the cold pavement. "Thank you, universe. Thank you, universe. Thank you, universe," he chanted like a mantra, eyes closed, heart pounding against his ribs.
"You okay?"
"DO NOT TALK TO ME RIGHT NOW!" Jungkook shouted, raising a hand dramatically. "Give me a goddamn minute to be grateful I’m not dead! Thank you... thank you, universe... thank you, Buddha, Jesus, Allah, and all the old and new gods... I’m alive..." he whispered in a reverent bow.
"You think I drove badly? I thought it was smooth..."
"Smooth?! Smooth?!" Jungkook shot to his feet and walked toward him like he was about to smack him on the head with the helmet. "You ran five red lights, almost hit a guy, and I have no idea how the hell we didn’t get pulled over by the cops! What the fuck was that, Kim Taehyung?!" He shook the helmet in the air like it was some kind of weapon of punishment. "Are you out of your mind? Do you even realize what you did? You ignored signs, hit potholes like you were playing fucking Mario Kart, and almost made me swallow my tongue!"
Taehyung, far from offended, just slouched his shoulders, raised his hands in a gesture of peace, and put on a face that didn’t help the situation one bit. It was a mix between a wet kitten, a scolded puppy, and a kid who just broke Mom’s favorite vase.
"I'm sorry..." he mumbled in a tiny voice. "I just... got excited. I was with you. I was happy. I'm really sorry, Jungkookie."
And Jungkook. Just. Died.
Literally. Died, came back to life, and died again from how fucking cute that idiot looked pouting like that, glancing up at him with those big, apologetic doe eyes. His hair was all messed up from the helmet, his cheeks slightly flushed from the wind… and that small, sheepish smile. All the fury Jungkook had been holding onto since they left the restaurant evaporated in one single second. He turned around like he’d been shot in the chest, brought a hand to his mouth, bit it, and shut his eyes tightly.
It was too much.
Too much.
He turned his back because if he kept looking, something inside him was going to give out. Seriously. A full-on meltdown. He didn’t know if it was tenderness, rage, or hysteria, but he was pretty sure his heart just collapsed and restarted twice. How the hell do you yell at that? How do you scold a suicidal forest creature?
Jungkook turned back around, took a deep breath, and with a voice tight with restraint, said, "Just… just be more careful next time, okay?"
Taehyung looked at him for a few seconds. Then, like a lightbulb flicked on inside his head, he beamed with excitement. That smile was radiant.
"So there will be a next time?"
Jungkook glared at him. He wanted to say no. He wanted to say Taehyung was out of his damn mind if he thought he’d let him touch his bike again after that assassination attempt. But then… he saw that smile. And his throat tightened. He couldn’t. He just couldn’t say no to him. And Jungkook—fucking Jungkook—with his soft heart and ridiculous weakness for everything Taehyung, didn’t have the guts to crush that spark of hope.
"Yeah," he said quietly, trying to sound indifferent. "But you drive slower or I swear I’ll kick your ass."
Taehyung laughed—loud and delighted. And Jungkook hated himself a little for thinking it might’ve been worth nearly dying just to hear him laugh like that.
The blond was holding the helmet in his hands, and for a moment he just stared at it. Then, after a beat of hesitation, he offered it to Jungkook, trying to keep his smile from looking too cheesy—but of course, it was him. And it was Jungkook. So he failed miserably.
"Thanks for... the afternoon," he said, clearing his throat near the end. He tried to sound casual. "It was... it was fun."
"Thank you... for saying yes." His voice was low but steady. Unlike Taehyung, he didn’t seem like he was holding back as much. Or maybe he was, but he was worse at hiding it. The storm inside him was just a little less obvious. "And keep the helmet. I only want you to use it anyway."
Taehyung hesitated, then held the helmet tighter.
The silence stretched out for a few seconds, warm and comfortable. Taehyung didn’t want it to end. You could tell by the way he didn’t move toward the door, how he just stood there, slightly leaning toward Jungkook, waiting for more—like he wanted the moment to last.
"I’ll pay next time," he added softly. His stomach twisted right after he said it because he instantly realized what it implied: that he wanted there to be a next time. Jungkook looked at him for a moment, narrowing his eyes slightly.
"So there will be a next time?" he teased.
"Yeah... yeah, there will be," Taehyung finally admitted. The words came out in a whisper, like they’d peeled themselves off his soul, shy and raw.
Jungkook’s smile softened. He didn’t say anything else. He just looked at him. And for a few seconds, that was all there was: two idiots standing in the street, in front of someone’s house, saying nothing, because saying anything might ruin the quiet magic floating between them.
They moved in sync without needing to speak, swapping positions. Now Jungkook was the one beside the bike and Taehyung stood closer to the door, his back straight, fingers fidgeting with the keys in his pocket.
They looked at each other again. They couldn’t stop. There was something magnetic in the other’s gaze. They just were. Existing. Feeling. Jungkook swallowed hard. The air felt heavy in his lungs. There was something in Taehyung’s eyes—something soft and warm, something that begged to be touched, to be kissed.
He was about to say it. He was about to ask if they could go inside—not with any dirty intention, just… to have the space. The place. So he could get closer. So he could kiss him without the fucking weight of the street pressing down on them.
"Hey, Taehyung, why don’t we go in and—"
But Taehyung didn’t let him finish.
In one sudden move, he closed the distance between them. He was tired of holding back, of waiting, of overthinking—he just wanted. He wanted to kiss Jungkook. And if he was going to do it, fuck it, he’d do it now.
He grabbed him by the collar of his jacket, pulled him in without asking, without hesitating, and kissed him. It wasn’t rough or frantic. It was soft, deep, and warm. Like he’d been holding that kiss in his chest all day long.
And for a moment, the world stopped. Jungkook froze. His eyes widened, the helmet nearly slipped from his hands, and then—he closed his eyes and let it happen. His lips moved against Taehyung’s in a clumsy but intimate rhythm. Everything around them fell silent. No cars. No people. The world had disappeared. There was only them. And the taste of each other.
When they pulled away, it was slow. Their mouths still barely apart. Taehyung looked down, his cheeks burning, his breath uneven. Jungkook blinked, completely blank.
"Well... I...," Taehyung started, his voice trembling, barely audible. He gave a nervous laugh. "Goodnight, Jungkookie."
And before Jungkook could say anything, he turned and ran to the door with the helmet Jungkook had 'gifted' him. He slipped inside with a quick, soft slam. The dark-haired boy stayed there, frozen, staring at the closed door with wide eyes.
He collapsed onto the seat of his bike, legs weak, still feeling Taehyung’s lips on his own and the scent of his clothes lingering. He closed his eyes. Let out a long, breathy sigh—somewhere between exhausted and euphoric. Shit, that kiss had fried his brain.
He still hadn’t moved when, several houses away, a motionless figure stood hidden in the shadows. Still. Watching.
Neither of them noticed. But someone had seen everything.
Notes:
I know I haven’t been posting as often lately… it’s not because I hate you all, I promise. It’s just that I’ve been genuinely unwell—I’ve been admitted to the clinic. I’ve only been able to work on a single chapter this whole time, and I’m really sorry for that.
I hope you enjoy this one. It’s a bit more soft and tender, made especially for all of you. What do you think is going to happen next? Don’t be shy—leave lots of comments!
The whole “fire with water in his mouth” and “water with fire in his mouth” thing isn’t a reference to them kissing. It’s actually about their personalities. Taehyung (water) tends to be calmer when it comes to actions (aside from that moment with Gwanhee), and he usually uses his words as weapons. Jungkook, on the other hand (fire), is more impulsive, more physical—he even breaks things when he’s angry—but his words are softer, more careful. That’s what the metaphor means.
I know I had you all used to daily chapters, but please be patient with me. I’m not doing great right now, so don’t worry if I’m not updating constantly. Don’t stress about it—I’m only human.
I recommend you follow me on Twitter, here it is:
https://x.com/freakinavi
Chapter 35: Chapter 34
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
"Do you think they might still show up later, or have we lost them for good?" Namjoon asked, slouched deep into the couch with one leg thrown over the backrest, eyes fixed on Hoseok, who was chatting animatedly from the middle of the room.
"I’d say we shouldn’t count on them," the black-haired boy replied, chuckling softly while toying with his half-full glass. "They’re just getting started with the company’s intense routine. They’re training ten to twelve hours a day. From early morning until almost ten at night—and that’s on a Friday. Although, maybe they’ll be let out early today and come over for dinner before it gets dark."
"That sounds brutal. Are they really keeping that pace every day?" Taehyung asked, visibly concerned.
"Yeah," Hoseok nodded. "Sometimes they get ten-minute breaks between classes, but that’s it. Momo says she’s got bruises on her eyelashes. And they’ve only just started the physical evaluation phase."
"And you still think they might come after all that?"
"Maybe," the dancer said with a crooked smile. "It’s Friday, and they said they want to see us. But no promises—Momo says if they’re let out early, they’ll probably head straight to bed."
"And they’re really sure they want that kind of life?" the grey-haired boy asked, grimacing slightly.
"Yeah, all three of them are super determined. Although Momo was ready to drop dead by day two," Hoseok laughed, though there was a soft fondness in his tone. "She says her soul left her body three times this week, but there she is—my girlfriend, still giving it her all."
"Wait, your... girlfriend?" Taehyung echoed, tilting his head and slowly turning toward him. Okay, he’d definitely missed something, because last time he checked, Hoseok hadn’t called her that.
Hoseok blinked. Then he rubbed the back of his neck, and a soft blush spread from his cheeks to the tips of his ears.
"...Yeah," he murmured with a shy smile. "We’re officially together now. We talked the other day, and there’s nothing standing in the way anymore. She’s staying in Korea. So… yeah, we’re finally dating. I’m really happy."
"Congrats, Hobi," Namjoon said with a warm smile. "You realize that makes three of us in relationships now? And it’s only April. That’s literally a new record."
"Pff, three? Who’s the third? Jin-hyung doesn’t count until he makes things official with Joohyun," Hoseok scoffed, rolling his eyes playfully.
"True! How long has he been seeing her and still hasn’t asked her to be his girlfriend? The man’s an emotional dinosaur. He is very slow, I swear..."
But his smile disappeared the second he felt a heavy hand clamp down on his shoulder. He turned slowly, and there he was: Jin, grinning maniacally, eyes narrowed into slits.
"Care to repeat that, you little bastard?" Jin asked, not removing his hand from Hoseok’s shoulder.
"Oh... shit," the blond muttered, swallowing hard. "I—I just said you were wisely weighing all your options like a mature and thoughtful man."
Jimin appeared beside him just then, arms crossed and a wicked grin spreading across his face.
"Oh no. I’m out of here," Hoseok bolted toward the patio, literally fleeing. Taehyung turned to Namjoon with a silent plea in his eyes, but the grey-haired boy simply shrugged with a half-guilty smile.
"Sorry, you’re on your own. It was nice knowing you," Namjoon said before standing up and disappearing in the same direction Hoseok had taken.
"Cowards! Traitors! I was your friend!" the blond shouted, raising a hand dramatically to the heavens, as if hoping for divine rescue.
"You were saying, Kim Taehyung?" Jin was no longer smiling.
"I was just expressing my admiration for your commitment skills. Joohyun’s lucky to have you... whenever you finally decide to take the leap. This decade. Or the next."
"You’re really not in a position to talk," Jin said, leaning in to speak directly into his ear in an icy tone. "You can’t talk about serious relationships when you were dumb enough to let Sana slip through your fingers. You let some other guy scare you off and gave up like a little coward. So shut the fuck up."
He said it so bluntly that even Jimin choked on his laughter. Taehyung clutched his chest, eyes wide.
"Wow... that hurt. Where’s your heart, Jin?"
"Stored in the freezer next to your dignity," the eldest replied, patting him on the shoulder before sitting down where Hoseok had been.
Jimin giggled and flopped down next to him, taking Namjoon’s spot.
"Don’t you think it’s about time you stopped being useless and went to help Yoongi and Jungkook with the grill?" Jin asked, legs crossed, lips curled into a provoking smile. His eyes bore into Taehyung. "Everyone else took their turn. You’re the only one left. And now that Namjoon and Hoseok are gone to help, I guess you’ll have to get your ass up."
Taehyung blinked, barely turning his head in Jin’s direction, making no effort to hide the look of pure disinterest settling over his face.
"Don’t you think you should stop talking shit?" he replied lazily, sinking deeper into the couch. "No way. If you all want to survive, it’s best I stay far away from the food. I might accidentally kill someone."
"You seriously don’t have the slightest will to learn?" Jimin chimed in. "How have you survived this long?"
"Living off takeout and instant ramen. If you’ve got money, you eat how you want," Taehyung said without a care, shrugging. "Boiling water and I have a very functional relationship. I don’t need anything else."
"I don’t understand how you keep that hot body eating nothing but junk," Jimin said, lips pursed in disapproval.
"All the fat goes to his ass, not his abs," Jin chimed in with a mischievous grin.
Taehyung froze.
Excuse me?
A warm flush crept up his neck and into his cheeks, making him sit bolt upright. The blond stretched his leg out and kicked Jin in the shin, earning a pained grunt followed by laughter.
"Shut up, you idiot!" he snapped, covering his face with his hand, wishing he could disappear into a hole in the ground. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
"What?! It was a compliment!" Jin said, rubbing his leg, still grinning like a devil.
Taehyung didn’t know whether to scream or cry. His mind spiraled from that one simple sentence. He had never stopped to think about his... ass. Did he... have a good ass? He’d never questioned it. His focus had always been on his face, his hair, his outfits, abs, arms—legs sometimes. But his ass? That never even crossed his mind. Not like it mattered, anyway.
Until Jungkook, of course. Who had no problem telling him, right to his damn face, how much he loved his ass—especially while fucking him like a man starved.
Fuck.
"Do you guys seriously think I... have a nice... um, butt?" he asked suddenly, lowering his voice near the end, skipping over the word ass because he was too embarrassed to say it out loud in front of them.
"Are you kidding me?" Jimin let out a loud laugh, eyes wide. "After mine, yours is the best ass out of all seven of us. Everybody knows that."
"...I never noticed it before," the blond muttered, scratching the back of his neck, still feeling the heat that refused to leave his skin.
"You've got more ass than some girls, Tae," Jin added, shooting him an appreciative glance straight to his lower half, trying to sneak a peek at what he was complimenting. Of course, he couldn’t see anything given the angle—and because Taehyung grabbed the nearest cushion and hurled it straight at his face. He didn’t have time to react. The hit landed with a dry thud, full-on and direct. "Ow! You beast!" Jin yelled, pulling the cushion off his face as he sat up.
"And you're a pig, but I don't say anything," Taehyung shot back dryly, still half red from embarrassment.
That left Jin speechless. He narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips, unable to come up with a sharp enough comeback.
But Taehyung’s little moment of victory was cut short by the appearance of Jungkook. The raven-haired boy walked from the patio to the doorway that led to the living room, his shoulders barely covered by a sleeveless shirt that revealed his tattooed arm and the glistening sheen of his skin—probably from the grill's heat. He stopped right at the threshold, scanned the three of them on the couch quickly, but let his gaze linger on Taehyung.
Time slowed for a second. The blond looked at him too, and for a moment, it was just the two of them. But the calm didn’t last.
"Taehyung, come with me to the kitchen," the tattooed one finally said. "I'm making cocktails and I need help."
Yeah, right. Like he was born yesterday.
"Ah… really? Me?" he grumbled with an exaggerated sigh. "Why me?"
"Because it's about time you stopped being lazy," Jungkook replied with a lopsided smile, his tone firm enough to make it clear he wasn’t taking no for an answer.
And before anyone could say a word, the younger walked off and disappeared inside the house, leaving Taehyung with his mouth half open. The blond growled under his breath and stood up, dusting off his pants without much energy.
"Ugh, fine. I'm going."
But just as he turned around, intending to follow Jungkook into the kitchen, he heard a mocking little noise behind him. Jin let out a sarcastic “hm-hm.” Taehyung froze. He turned slowly on his heels, frowning hard.
"What?" he snapped.
"You’ve got yourself an apron," Jimin said suddenly, tilting his head with that mischievous childlike smile.
The blond turned his head slowly toward his best friend, a mix of disbelief, annoyance, and sheer confusion in his expression. His brows drew together, his upper lip curled slightly, and his voice came out loaded with indignation.
"What did you just say? Obviously not. Please justify that nonsense you just spouted."
"What he means," Jin chimed in with a slightly suggestive tone, "is that if Jungkook tells you to go, you go. We told you earlier to help with the meat, and you said no. But the muscle baby shows up, and suddenly you're sprinting. That, my dear, is having an apron."
Taehyung stared at him, utterly outraged. The rage started bubbling in his chest, rising from his gut in a wave of heat. He furrowed his brow and then fixed his eyes on Jimin. That one he wanted to strangle. Because that bastard knew exactly what he was doing, he knew absolutely everything that was going on, and yet he had the nerve to pull this crap in front of Jin, when Taehyung still had to keep up the charade of hatred.
Asshole. He truly hated him.
"That's not true," he gritted out, trying to hold himself together. His ears were burning. He could feel the heat on his neck, on his face. "It’s literally not true. I hate him. I've said it a thousand times. We just have a truce now. No more fights, no Sana, no reason to compete. But that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten he’s a jerk, a dumbass, and a stubborn idiot. Nothing’s changed."
"Uh-huh," Jimin mumbled, not even looking at him, turning toward Jin with a thoughtful expression that made Taehyung want to scream. "I picture it in baby blue. What about you, Jin-hyung?"
"Actually..." Jin began, squinting as if visualizing it. "I was thinking the exact same thing. Baby blue with white checkers."
"Yes! But not super bold ones. Like, a softer tone at the intersections. Nothing too flashy," Jimin snapped his fingers, excited. "You get it all!"
"It should have ruffles too," Jin added, smoothing his hair with a smug little grin.
"You're a visionary, hyung," Jimin pretended to wipe away a fake tear.
Taehyung rubbed his temples hard, his eyes squeezed shut, and his chest rising and falling faster than normal. This was torture. A nightmare. Two morons with a license to ruin his afternoon.
"Are you two done?" he asked without much hope.
They both ignored him masterfully. As if he hadn’t spoken at all.
"Ooh! There’s a little bow in the back!" Jimin suddenly exclaimed in a hopeful, epiphanic tone.
"Of course! But it’s crooked because Taehyungnie tried to tie it himself and messed it up," Jin finished with a pout.
He was done. Dignity, common sense, self-respect—all of it gave up at the same time.
"I'm going to the damn kitchen," he muttered. He turned and marched toward where Jungkook had gone, and as he walked away from the idiots’ laughter, he thought—frowning slightly—that maybe he did have an apron.
Maybe it was blue. But they better not dare add ruffles or bows or any of that crap. If he was going to have a damn apron, it better have some character. He wanted it to be like the one from The King in Cars. The freaking King.
Taehyung crossed the kitchen threshold but immediately stopped. Jungkook was standing right there, arms crossed, brow furrowed, giving him a once-over from head to toe. For some reason, that stance—almost dominant—sent a flutter straight to his stomach. Why the hell did he look so good? And why did it feel so... hot?
Okay, yes, Jungkook was attractive. Taehyung had standards—he'd always gone for stunning girls with striking features—but damn. Jungkook seemed like a whole different level of fine.
Sure, Jimin, Jin, Hoseok, Yoongi, and Namjoon were attractive too, but he’d never paid much attention to that because he’d never been interested in them like that. Now that he knew he liked Jungkook, everything felt more intense than ever.
"Why did you take so long?" Jungkook asked, raising a brow. His voice was low—almost scornful.
"Because… because those two!" Taehyung burst out dramatically, pointing back toward the hallway. "Jin and Jimin are freaking demons! They were teasing me! They wouldn't let me leave! They were harassing me about this stupid apron thing! They said it was baby blue with bows and frilly stuff! But I want The King from Cars! And… and then they started talking about... weird stuff and... they’re both just... just idiots!" he finished, breathing hard, chest heaving.
Jungkook didn’t say anything at first—he just stood there, quietly watching Taehyung ramble on and on. The older boy’s dark eyes sparkled softly, and his lips, just on the verge of curling into a smile, revealed a tiny bite mark. It was unbelievably cute. So nervous and so flustered, trying to explain himself with such intensity. Jungkook... couldn't help but find him absolutely adorable.
Taehyung noticed Jungkook staring at him with a dumb smile on his face. At first, he thought the younger was making fun of him, but when their eyes met, he realized that wasn’t it.
"Why are you smiling?" Taehyung couldn’t help but ask, a bit uneasy as he gave him a judging look from head to toe. Jungkook, amused by the blonde's reaction, stepped closer and let out a soft laugh. Taehyung hated him for smiling at him like that—but at the same time, that smile made him completely vulnerable.
"Because you’re really cute when you get like this," Jungkook replied simply, and Taehyung immediately looked away and turned around, trying to hide the blush that was no doubt spreading across his skin. Jungkook stepped even closer, still smiling. The blonde ignored him completely—until the younger stood right behind him, so close that he could feel the warmth of his body. He was starting to hate that closeness, yet at the same time, he couldn’t bring himself to move away. "You seem a little nervous. What’s going on, Taehyungnie?" he asked playfully. The older boy felt his heart skip a beat, and his jaw clenched instantly.
"Just shut up," he muttered, eyes flicking toward the kitchen island. That’s when he noticed all the cocktail-making paraphernalia. There were liquor bottles, all kinds of fruit, juices, tools, ice, tiny glasses, pitchers... the damn island was covered in stuff, and it looked like a little drink-making paradise.
"Alright, let’s get started. We’re making cocktails," the younger said with a calm confidence as he stepped away from Taehyung and moved over to the island. "I’m a cocktail master, you know?"
"A master? I didn’t know that," Taehyung replied, a little surprised.
"If you hadn’t noticed, I’ve got a liquor collection in my living room," Jungkook said casually.
"No offense, but when I was in your living room, I wasn’t exactly paying attention to the decor," Taehyung mumbled, noticing the subtle change of color on Jungkook’s cheeks, which made him smirk mischievously. The tattooed boy cleared his throat, trying to regain control of the conversation, but couldn’t stop himself from giving Taehyung a sharp look.
"We’re making three types of cocktails: Tequila Sunrise, Long Island, and Mojitos," Jungkook said in a more serious tone, clearly trying to hide the mental image of what they'd done in his living room. "We’ll make at least seven of each so everyone can try one. If someone wants more of a specific one, we’ll be the ones to make it."
"Sounds good," Taehyung replied with a slight smile. "I love Tequila Sunrise!" he added enthusiastically.
"It’s one of my favorites too," Jungkook replied as he organized the ingredients. "Actually, we’ll make those first. Cool?"
"Yeah, I guess," Taehyung said as he stepped closer.
"You think you’ll be able to follow my instructions?" the dark-haired boy asked, his playful gaze locking with the older one’s. Taehyung could feel his heart speeding up.
"Of course. I’m not completely useless," Taehyung snapped, slightly irritated.
Jungkook gave him a quick glance before heading to the prep area and started pulling out the ingredients. Taehyung watched as he skillfully laid out the bottles and fruit on the counter. The sound of glass tapping against marble echoed through the kitchen—tequila, grenadine, orange juice... everything perfectly aligned.
"First, grab the tequila and the orange juice," Jungkook began, running a slice of lemon around the rim of a tall glass. His movements were so fluid, Taehyung couldn’t help but watch him closely. "Mix them together, add crushed ice, and shake it well. Then you strain it into the glass."
Taehyung tried to mimic Jungkook’s motions, but his hands felt clumsy in comparison. Jungkook was watching him closely to make sure he got it right—so attentive, so close—that it made his body react weirdly, all jittery and nervous.
"Are you sure you know what you’re doing, Tae?" Jungkook interrupted with a teasing smile. The blonde gave him a sharp side glance. "Because it really doesn’t look like it. The secret’s in the grenadine."
Slowly, Jungkook picked up the bottle of grenadine and poured the red liquid into the glass, watching it slide down slowly. The way the red sank into the orange created that sunrise effect the cocktail was named after. Taehyung stared, hypnotized, watching how Jungkook focused on every little detail.
"This is what makes it look so good, Tae," Jungkook said, stepping closer and lifting the glass up to show him from nearby. "You have to let it fall slowly—watch how it blends, little by little."
Jungkook handed him the glass with a smile, their fingers brushing briefly during the exchange. It was a small touch, but it made the blonde tense up. Fucking hell—liking Jungkook and getting all nervous over a simple touch was really starting to suck.
Little by little, they finished the seven Tequila Sunrises. Jungkook made five, and Taehyung made two—because the blonde was kind of slow, constantly needing to ask and double-check how to do things.
"Alright, next up is the Long Island," Jungkook said with a smug smile. "Pay attention this time. I need you to be faster."
"I’m doing the best I can," Taehyung grumbled. "It’s hard to keep track of every measurement and do it fast."
"Oh, but you’re fast for other things, aren’t you? Don’t try to tell me you’re bad with your hands—I know that’s a lie," the younger teased. In self-defense, Taehyung grabbed an ice cube and threw it at him.
"Ow, Taehyung!"
"Cool off, idiot."
Jungkook chose to ignore the comment and kept focusing on his task of making the cocktails and teaching Taehyung. As he poured the white rum, vodka, and triple sec into the tall glass, his fingers moved over the bottles with such skill that Taehyung momentarily forgot what he was supposed to be doing. He just watched, because everything about it made him forget the world around him.
He liked watching him concentrate.
"Are you gonna help or just stand there gawking like an idiot?" Jungkook asked, glancing over his shoulder. Taehyung felt something stir in his stomach. That tone drove him crazy, and he couldn’t stop thinking that Jungkook was doing this on purpose. He had to be.
"Don’t flatter yourself—I was trying to memorize it," Taehyung said, stepping up to the table and starting to add the sugar syrup and lime juice, trying to stay busy.
While both focused on the bottles, Jungkook dropped the ice cubes into the glass and added the Coca-Cola to finish the drink. The fizzy liquid filled the glass, the colors shining under the warm kitchen light.
"See? It’s not hard," Jungkook said with a satisfied smile. He placed the freshly made cocktail on the second tray and started the process all over again to make more.
"Considering nothing exploded, I’d say it’s not that hard," Taehyung replied with a soft laugh, beginning to imitate the younger one to make more of the same cocktails.
The two of them worked together, passing drinks, utensils, and really syncing up. And even though Taehyung was a little clumsy, he was good at following instructions.
"Hey..." Jungkook started speaking again, this time in a more serious tone as he finished the last cocktail. "Yoongi knows about us."
Taehyung’s heart stopped. The thought that someone else knew what was going on between them sent him into a momentary panic.
"What?" The word slipped from his lips before he could stop it. Immediately, a wave of anxiety swept over him. He imagined every possible scenario at this point.
"Don’t worry, Tae. Yoongi can be trusted. I needed him, the same way you need Jimin," he said softly, pulling his gaze away from the drink in front of him so he could look at Taehyung. "I couldn’t keep doing this without telling someone. I couldn’t handle it alone."
Despite his initial shock, Taehyung couldn’t help but feel a little relieved. After all, if Jungkook needed someone to confide in, Yoongi did seem like the best option. He couldn’t blame him for that—everyone needed support in situations like this. Besides, who was he to judge? He had told Jimin and Minho about things too, he couldn’t be a hypocrite.
"I get it…" Taehyung muttered, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "How do you feel about it?"
"I feel lighter now. Talking to him… helped me figure some things out. I feel… free, you know?"
The blond’s eyes were filled with curiosity. What kind of things had Jungkook figured out? He was dying to know, but he didn’t dare ask. Somehow, it felt like he shouldn’t.
"That’s what matters, Jungkook. That you feel good about what you’re going through." Taehyung gave him a soft smile. "Talking about it, letting go… That’s what’s important."
"I’m glad you understand," Jungkook smiled sweetly.
"How could I not?" he said sincerely. "It’s the least I can do, Jungkook."
They locked eyes, smiles still lingering on their lips. The background music had stopped, and for a moment, it was just the two of them.
"I wanna kiss you right now," Jungkook said quietly. Taehyung turned bright red, grabbed a towel and started hitting him with it repeatedly.
"Don’t say stuff like that here!" he snapped nervously.
"Then stop being so damn cute!" Jungkook laughed, trying to shield himself.
"You asshole," Taehyung muttered. "What if someone hears us?"
"Hears what? Everyone’s outside with the music blasting."
"I don’t care."
Still flushed, Taehyung went back to making the remaining Long Island cocktails. Jungkook chuckled and moved in to help. After a few minutes, they had everything set for the next round of drinks—mojitos. Jungkook explained the steps, pointing to each ingredient, specifying how to cut or serve them and what the exact measurements were. Taehyung struggled at first, but he got the hang of it.
The fresh scent of mint mixed with the sweetness of brown sugar and the sharp tang of lime. Taehyung realized the way Jungkook was looking at him had shifted—it was more challenging, more playful. He was clearly trying to get a reaction out of him. And he was succeeding.
The way his hands handled the aged rum bottles and mint leaves wasn’t innocent at all. Taehyung tried to focus on making the cocktails, to keep his composure, but he couldn’t ignore it. Every gesture Jungkook made felt more and more provocative. Was it just him, or was the younger doing it on purpose? He wasn’t sure, but he was starting to suspect that yes, Jungkook knew exactly what he was doing.
"What’s wrong, Taehyung?" Jungkook asked with a mischievous smile, mashing the limes in his glass with a force that made Taehyung tense up a bit.
The blond huffed, pretending to be annoyed, but the truth was, he couldn’t concentrate. He didn’t want to admit it, but Jungkook was throwing him off completely.
"Nothing," Taehyung said, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, trying to seem casual.
As Jungkook added the brown sugar, Taehyung couldn’t stop staring at how his fingers moved. His mind was going places. And Jungkook knew. The younger one looked up and gave him a smile that made Taehyung swallow hard.
"You’re losing your rhythm," Jungkook teased while tossing in the mint leaves and crushing them with the limes. His gaze stayed fixed on the blond, who tried to ignore it, but couldn’t.
"I’m not losing anything," Taehyung tried to reply coolly, but his voice was tight. He chopped the ice just like Jungkook had shown him and moved to a part of the kitchen island where Jungkook’s scent wouldn’t completely overwhelm him.
But now he had to put the ice in the glasses—and those were right behind Jungkook. He swallowed, but didn’t let it intimidate him. He walked over with the crushed ice. As he poured the ice into one of the glasses, his back brushed slightly against Jungkook’s. It was a fleeting touch, but it sent a jolt through Taehyung’s skin. He immediately stepped away, pretending it hadn’t affected him.
Jungkook, however, wasn’t about to let it slide. He turned toward him.
"That nervous, hyung?" he asked, his teasing tone growing as he stepped a little closer. Taehyung turned his head, glaring at him.
"I’m not nervous," but his heart was pounding like crazy. What the hell was this? He felt like some giddy kid freaking out over a stupid little touch. It was embarrassing.
All he wanted was to finish these damn cocktails and get out of there before something else happened. But Jungkook kept coming closer, and he didn’t seem willing to let him off the hook that easily.
"Sure you’re not," the younger smirked, his lips curling in a way Taehyung could only describe as… dangerous. Taehyung tried to flee before he got even closer, running to the other side of the kitchen island to grab the rum.
He came back to the glasses and noticed Jungkook hadn’t moved an inch. He swallowed, feigned indifference, and shoved him aside to pour the rum into the cups. Jungkook leaned in even more—way too close. Taehyung didn’t know how to react with him breathing down his neck.
He cursed him for teasing so much. Shit, he was going to get revenge. He swore it.
"Jungkook, I’m begging you, back off," he pleaded as best he could, noticing his legs were trembling a bit—but of course, Jungkook wasn’t about to listen.
The younger leaned in, took his chin, and gently turned Taehyung’s head. Before he could say anything, Jungkook’s lips met his in a brief but stolen kiss. The sensation left him breathless—a tingle spread through his body.
Honestly, he loved kissing him. The tension was killing him. But immediately, his mind went into full panic mode. What if someone saw them? What if someone walked in right now and caught them? Taehyung pulled away instantly, his breathing ragged, eyes wide.
"What the hell are you doing?" he whispered through clenched teeth. "You can’t just kiss me in someone else’s house."
The black-haired boy leaned back, but the playful smile never left his face. Taehyung knew him too well—Jungkook was enjoying this, enjoying watching the older one get flustered.
"Does it bother you?" Jungkook whispered in that soft voice of his. Taehyung couldn’t help but glance at those tempting lips, cursing himself for getting lost in the details again. "You didn't seem to mind if someone saw us in front of your house."
"It’s not that it bothers me," he replied, more flustered than he meant to. "It’s just… it’s different. There was no one around then, and now we’re here with the guys."
"So you didn’t like my little kiss?" Jungkook pouted slightly.
"...I didn’t say that," Taehyung admitted, unable to lie. "I like your kisses, but... be more discreet. You're such an idiot."
"Sorry, Tae. I couldn’t help it."
Later, the three trays were finally filled with cocktails. Taehyung had barely survived that part—because for Jungkook, 'being more discreet' meant covering both their faces with a towel while stealing a kiss. He was so reckless! And well... Taehyung wasn’t doing much to stop him either. He let himself be kissed, and only pulled away when his conscience reminded him he was heating up in the middle of the kitchen. But truthfully, even when he saw Jungkook leaning in, sometimes he leaned in too.
Still, he had to play hard to get.
The sun painted the sky with warm hues as the group’s laughter and chatter mingled with the smell of grilled meat wafting from the BBQ. Jin’s backyard was massive, with a wooden table overflowing with plates, glasses, and utensils. Taehyung and Jungkook were walking together toward the patio, trays in hand.
Taehyung, face slightly flushed from focusing so hard on not dropping anything, was carrying a tray with the Tequila Sunrises. His arms trembled a little under the weight of the glasses, though he tried to hide it. He walked beside Jungkook, who carried two trays—one in each hand—with such ease that Taehyung was convinced he was just showing off.
When they arrived, the others were already waiting, and a chorus of voices rose up as soon as they saw the trays full of drinks. Hoseok was the first to shout, throwing his arms in the air.
"Finally! The cocktails!"
Yoongi, already nearby, helped Jungkook take the Mojito tray, and Taehyung, after placing his own on the table, noticed how everyone quickly gathered around the large wooden table.
"What do we have here?" Namjoon asked, eyeing the glasses curiously. "I know this one’s a Mojito, but I don’t recognize the others. What are they called?"
"This one’s a Tequila Sunrise," Jungkook said, pointing at Taehyung’s tray. "And the other one’s a Long Island."
"And you’re telling me you two made all of this?" Hoseok asked. "They look so professional—decorations and everything."
"Yeah, we worked on them together," Jungkook said lightly.
"You didn’t fight while making all this?" Yoongi asked, his tone almost playful.
"Oh, we definitely did. Taehyung’s so stubborn, there’s no way to guide him through anything. He’s a pain!" Jungkook said with a low chuckle, throwing a teasing look at the blonde.
"A pain? You were the one bugging me nonstop! You wouldn’t leave me alone!"
"Enough!" Namjoon said, raising a hand with authority. "I want to try them already, shut up."
The boys obeyed and reached for the Mojito glasses first. Namjoon was the first to take a sip, eyeing the glass with a smile that said this has potential. But not everyone drank right away—he was the only one who did.
"Are you sure you helped, Tae?" Jin said, raising an eyebrow at Taehyung, then tilting his head. "I mean, I won’t say much, just tell me if drinking this won’t kill me."
"Wait—dying from it was a possibility?" Namjoon asked, lifting his head in alarm. "You’re supposed to give a warning, idiot!"
Taehyung made a face of indignation, but before he could jump to his own defense, Jungkook patted him on the back and interrupted with a smile.
"Taehyung did help, and seriously, he did a good job," he said, throwing a knowing glance at the blonde. "Either way, I was watching the whole time to make sure hyung didn’t toss dish soap in or anything like that. So don’t worry."
Taehyung went quiet for a second. He’d caught that little slip. And he wasn’t the only one.
"Since when do you call him 'hyung'?" Jin asked, narrowing his eyes at Jungkook, who immediately looked nervous, eyes darting to Taehyung as if searching for an escape route.
"No! I didn’t say that," he stammered, stumbling over his words. "Taehyung’s full name has ‘hyung’ in it, right? You must’ve misheard—I said 'Taehyung', I swear."
But Jin wasn’t buying it.
"No, no, you said 'hyung'. I’m sure of it."
Instinctively, Taehyung looked at Jimin for help, and Jungkook did the same with Yoongi. Both Jimin and Yoongi caught their friends’ pleading eyes and knew they had to step in.
"Let’s try the Mojitos, guys!" both of them blurted at the same time. As soon as the words left their mouths, Jimin and Yoongi turned to look at each other—and something flickered in both their expressions. They decided not to ask about it yet, just in case.
Miraculously, Hoseok, Jin, and Namjoon went along with it and started sipping their first cocktail of the day. The first tastes of the Mojito triggered a wave of collective satisfaction that rippled across the table. Ice clinked against glass as everyone began commenting—some more dramatically than others—but all their reactions were praise.
"Oh my god, this is delicious!" Jin exclaimed, raising his glass toward Jungkook. "I can’t believe one of you made this and not a professional bartender."
"Seriously! This is so good. Jungkook, honestly, where were you hiding this talent, huh?" Hoseok added. "I mean, I knew you were a damn drunk—your liquor collection at home says it all—but I didn’t know you actually knew how to make cocktails."
Jungkook smiled, clearly proud and satisfied that the drink had turned out well. But more than that, he wasn’t about to let all the credit fall on him, so he shrugged.
"Thanks, but give Taehyung some love too. We made them together."
That made several heads turn toward the blonde, who couldn’t help but smile—though his was a bit more bashful than Jungkook’s. Jimin patted his back affectionately while Jin raised his glass in his direction too.
"Wow, Kim Taehyung doing something even remotely related to cooking? Didn’t see that coming."
"Not on my 2025 bingo card," Hoseok laughed.
"I look useless, but I’m not," Taehyung replied. "Besides, cooking and making drinks are totally different things."
The conversation continued as Jin stood to check on the meat and asked Yoongi to help. Yoongi got up without complaint, only letting out a long, exaggerated yawn. The rest of the group began moving plates, utensils, and napkins around, trying to set everything up before the food arrived.
When Jin and Yoongi finally brought out the first round of meat, the smoky scent of freshly grilled barbecue filled the air. The trays were overflowing with juicy, golden-brown cuts, still steaming at the edges, each served with side dishes already arranged in small plates around the table. The group sat down, their moods lifted by the perfect combination of food, drinks, and the warm afternoon sun.
The seating arrangement ended up like this: Taehyung was at one corner of the large wooden table, with Jungkook directly across from him. To his left was Jimin, then Jin beside him. On the opposite side, Yoongi sat across from Jimin, followed by Namjoon, with Hoseok next to him. It was a wide table, with plenty of space so no one felt cramped.
At the end where Taehyung and Jungkook were seated, there was no foot traffic—no one could walk past without drawing attention. And the table was thick and sturdy, hiding anything happening beneath. Taehyung noticed that the moment he sat down. It was a detail that didn’t go unnoticed.
He had unfinished business with the younger boy. And he wasn’t about to let him off the hook that easily. Jungkook had been shameless in the kitchen. A fucking shameless tease. Cocky and smug. And on top of that, he’d left him turned on—so now he had to deal with the consequences.
During all that time, while they laughed and talked, tasting the first bites of meat as the atmosphere relaxed, the blond had been plotting his revenge.
Taehyung slipped off his left shoe in complete silence. No one noticed, obviously. Everyone was too busy arguing about the drinks, laughing, and commenting on the barbecue. Jungkook too. Which only made things easier.
Keeping his face neutral, pretending to be engaged in the conversation, he slowly slid his sock-covered foot into the space between the younger boy’s legs. Jungkook’s knees weren’t completely together—an inevitable habit with how he usually sat. Taehyung’s foot found its target: the inside of Jungkook’s right thigh. He pressed gently.
Jungkook’s reaction was immediate and deeply satisfying—he almost jumped in his seat, but managed to stop himself at the last second. His eyes shot wide open, scanning for the culprit. Taehyung wasn’t even looking at him. He was focused on Jin, talking about the meat’s level of doneness. Jungkook swallowed hard. He forced himself to stay still, but it was difficult. Because Taehyung’s foot didn’t retreat. On the contrary, it moved slowly forward, knowing exactly where to apply pressure to drive him insane.
He glanced sideways at Yoongi, but the older guy was too caught up in one of Namjoon’s stories. No one was paying him any attention, and no one could see a thing. But that didn’t comfort him. His body knew exactly what was happening and wasn’t cooperating in keeping it cool.
Taehyung… you bastard, what you’re doing is fucking insane. This is what I call irresponsible.
He tried to ignore it, tried to focus back on the conversation, tried not to look at him, to breathe steadily. He shoved a piece of meat into his mouth, pretending to be fine and attempting to string together a coherent sentence, but just when he was managing to say something, the foot moved higher.
Jungkook stuttered.
Literally.
"And then…" he began. "The… ah…"
He had to cover it up with a cough, clearing his throat harshly to mask the breathy moan that nearly escaped him. The pressure right against his crotch was unmistakable, and so blatantly intentional that his brain went into meltdown. Jin looked at him from across the table, one eyebrow raised.
"You okay, Jungkook?"
The younger boy looked up and forced a smile.
"Yeah, yeah, just… really hot meat," he lied. Badly.
Taehyung was staring at his glass with a polite smile that Jungkook knew damn well was mocking him. It was a declaration of war. The blond still wasn’t looking at him, but his foot was pressed directly over his erection, the contact alone setting his blood on fire.
I swear I’m going to kill you when we’re alone.
But for now, he had to pretend, play innocent while the blond made his life hell. Taehyung’s face was the picture of pure innocence, but his eyes—when they finally met Jungkook’s for a brief second—revealed everything. He was the devil in an angel’s smile. Jungkook glared at him. The blond only raised his eyebrows slightly, as if to ask, 'what’s wrong, Jungkookie?'
The younger clenched his jaw. Of course, he couldn’t do anything without blowing his cover.
Now the blond began moving his foot shamelessly, up and down, stimulating his growing erection. The friction hit Jungkook like a whip. This was a fucking crime. A crime against his self-control, his dignity, his fucking common sense. What the hell was that bastard Taehyung doing? Was he trying to kill him right there, in front of all their friends, with a hard-on during lunch?
All around them, their friends kept chatting away, laughing between bites of meat and sips of Tequila Sunrise now that the Mojitos were gone. No one had any idea of the hormonal hellscape erupting beneath that little corner of the table. Jungkook had to think fast. If Taehyung wasn’t planning to stop, he wasn’t going to let him win that easily.
Discreetly, he lowered his left hand into his lap and reached under the table for the blond’s ankle. He found it quickly and squeezed, trying to say without words: stop it. But of course that idiot wasn’t going to listen. The foot kept moving, and Taehyung’s smile remained intact—just as relaxed, just as calm.
Jungkook pursed his lips. Fine. Then they were going to play dirty.
His hand left the ankle, sliding slowly upward, his fingers sure and memorizing every texture. He ran his open palm over the skin of Taehyung’s calf, slipping under the older boy’s pants with zero shame. The linen fabric rose slightly, revealing more of Taehyung’s leg. His skin felt warm, soft—ridiculously tempting—and even though Jungkook couldn’t see a thing, his mind was painting the whole picture with graphic precision.
Taehyung, for his part, tensed slightly in his seat, covering it with a long sip from his Tequila Sunrise. He knew damn well he couldn’t react, that he had to keep his cool. But fuck, Jungkook’s touch was undoing him. What the hell did that hand have that it could short-circuit him with a simple brush against such an innocuous part of his body? Why did it make him feel exposed, vulnerable, and deliciously wrecked?
The older boy stopped moving his foot, which Jungkook took as a small victory—even if he was trembling inside. Taehyung was letting him touch, letting him explore, and by staying still, it was a momentary surrender to the firm touch of that hand that could set him ablaze without even grazing a sensitive spot. It was just an ordinary leg, but goddamn—Jungkook made it feel erotic, filthy, and intimate. When he reached just below the knee, Taehyung’s back went rigid, and he had to bite his tongue to keep from from letting out a sigh.
They were perverts. Two fucking degenerates. Playing that little touch game under the table while their friends chatted like nothing was going on. Five more people were sitting around them, with meat, drinks, and trivial conversations filling the air, and the damn daylight illuminating every corner of the backyard. And still, there they were, touching each other like a couple of sick bastards. And the worst part—the absolute worst—was that they liked it. They were both in on it. Both wanted more.
Every time the tattooed one opened his mouth to say something, he felt Taehyung's foot start moving again. He tried to sound neutral, but his entire body screamed to let out a moan. And to balance things out, every time the blond spoke, Jungkook’s hand slid back up, fingers slowly tracing along the now-exposed leg, squeezing with intentions that couldn’t be called innocent.
The conversation carried on with laughter, comments, and a few toasts. No one seemed to notice a thing—or at least, that’s how it looked. Taehyung and Jungkook spoke too, joined in the laughter, like nothing was happening.
Then the doorbell rang, and the sudden vibration in the air made Jin get up right away, leaving his utensils on the table with a light tap and walking into the house. Taehyung glanced sideways at Jungkook, who met his eyes for a brief second. Both of them grinned shamelessly. The older boy kept his foot between Jungkook’s legs, right where it had been, and Jungkook hadn’t moved his hand off Taehyung’s thigh.
Until the female voices echoed in the yard. Clear, cheerful, enthusiastic voices.
Shit.
Taehyung’s foot withdrew instantly and Jungkook tensed up, exhaling through his nose in frustration. In perfect sync, they both straightened their shirts, tugging the fabric down in front, even though they knew damn well that the bulges they were hiding weren’t going to be concealed that easily. Taehyung crossed one leg over the other. Jungkook sat up straighter, hands on the table, praying his erection would go down by sheer willpower. Of course, it didn’t.
“Hi guys!” Sana greeted with her usual sing-song voice.
“Smells amazing!” Momo added with a laugh.
“Sorry we’re late!” Mina said, waving her hand.
The guys stood up politely to greet them—everyone except those two. They simply couldn’t. If they did, they were screwed.
“God, it’s been ages since I saw you all,” Momo exclaimed with a big smile. She was the first to approach them, full of that trademark energy that never seemed to die, though the dark circles under her eyes gave away a certain exhaustion her smile didn’t quite cover. She walked among the guys, greeting each one with a brief but warm hug—starting with Namjoon, then Yoongi, then Jungkook, letting out a few giggles as they exchanged quick words. When she reached Hoseok, she didn’t hesitate for a second before planting a kiss on his lips and wrapping him in a longer hug.
Mina followed suit, offering hugs one by one. Behind her, Sana did the same. Or well, almost. When she reached Jungkook and Taehyung, she simply gave a short bow, avoiding touching them or even looking at them for too long, and continued on to Jimin.
Taehyung tilted his head slightly, eyes following Sana’s back as she walked away. What the hell was that? Was she mad? At them? At him? At Jungkook? Sana’s painfully short bow hadn’t just been cold—it had been evasive.
Then, when she reached Jimin, she got a mechanical greeting. No emotion at all, almost robotic. Jimin didn’t raise his voice or smile; he just mumbled her name and looked away, pretending to be more interested in his glass than the girl in front of him.
“Want me to serve you some meat?” Jin asked, brushing off his hands as he approached the newcomers.
“Yes, please,” Mina replied softly. “We’re starving, but we won’t stay long. We’re super tired—we want to sleep early tonight.”
“Ah, of course,” Jin said in his always courteous tone, already turning back toward the grill. As soon as he stepped away, Hoseok and Yoongi got up naturally to help him, leaving their seats open.
“Make yourselves comfortable, take a seat,” Namjoon said with his deep yet gentle voice, motioning to the empty chairs. That included Yoongi’s spot, right next to Jungkook. Taehyung noticed Sana glance at the empty seat, like she was considering it… but no. She turned and walked to the far end of the group, sitting in the seat furthest from both the blond and the tattooed guy.
Taehyung couldn’t stop watching her. Jungkook noticed it too. That kind of behavior was unusual for her. Not that he was complaining, but it was... odd. Had she already gotten over everything and accepted they weren’t interested in her? Or something like that? It seemed like a good thing, anyway.
Just then, Jin returned with plates, one for each of the girls. Hoseok handed Momo hers with a big smile and sat next to her, starting a light conversation. Yoongi served Mina, who thanked him with a sweet smile, and Jin handled Sana’s plate, leaning slightly to hand it to her politely.
“Anyone want more meat?” he asked, raising his voice a bit so everyone could hear.
“Me!” several of them responded at the same time.
“Alright,” he said, giving Yoongi a friendly pat on the arm. “Let’s go get more for these bottomless pits.”
Both of them got up again, resuming their duties at the grill. The sizzle of grease over hot coals once again filled the background with its crackling melody.
Meanwhile, Taehyung fixed his eyes on Sana again. She was eating in silence, not really engaging with the others. Her fork moved, but her eyes stayed glued to the plate, her posture stiffer than usual. The blond frowned without meaning to. Was she okay?
Yoongi opened Jin's bedroom door with a swift motion and closed it behind them after pulling the brunette inside. Unlike the other rooms, Jin's was a sanctuary of order. Nothing out of place, everything perfectly aligned—the bed, the pillows, the sheets.
Jimin was already used to this kind of behavior from Yoongi, so he rolled his eyes in amusement. Of course, he’d learned that when Yoongi dragged him somewhere, it wasn’t always to talk. So he tried to sound firm.
"Yoongi-hyung, I'm gonna stop you right here," Jimin said, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms as he gave him a half-smile. "Look, I get it. I look spectacular today, seriously, even I'd hook up with me. But I'm not making the mistake of sleeping with you again in someone else's house during a get-together. Lesson learned. Thanks."
Yoongi scoffed, though a small smile curved his lips. He leaned back against Jin’s desk, crossing his arms as he raised his eyebrows at Jimin.
"You really think I have that little imagination?" he replied, half amused, half offended. "That’s not why I brought you here. Though I won’t lie—you do look amazing, idiot."
"Then why’d you bring me here?" the younger asked, tilting his head, pretending to be suspicious, though his eyes sparkled mischievously. "Is this finally the moment where you confess you're in love with me?" he teased.
Yoongi took a few steps toward him, then stopped, thoughtful. There was a flicker of intrigue in his gaze. He slid his hands into his pockets.
"I swear, Jimin," Yoongi said with a dry chuckle, "that’s not why I brought you here. I have more... important things to discuss with you."
"Important things? And those important things are...?" Jimin raised an eyebrow, starting to doubt Yoongi's intentions.
"Don’t get nervous. I’ve just been thinking about what’s been going on lately and how it might affect all of us." He paused, letting the words hang in the air. Jimin looked at Yoongi, trying to read something in his face—some hint of where this was going. "Taehyung and Jungkook..."
The mention of those two names made Jimin tense slightly. Though he’d suspected where this was going, hearing Yoongi say it out loud hit differently. Jimin was aware of everything going on between Taehyung and Jungkook, but he had promised Taehyung not to say a word—especially not to Yoongi, who he already knew was suspicious.
"Taehyung and Jungkook?" Jimin asked neutrally. He didn’t want to show too much interest. Yoongi watched him closely, as if trying to gauge his reaction.
"Yeah. Them. It’s pretty interesting, isn’t it? That after both of them backed off from Sana, they’re suddenly getting along so well. I mean, they’re still throwing insults, I don’t think that’ll ever stop, but they’re... good now."
"Interesting? Mhm..." Jimin looked away, realizing that his lack of response was making the conversation even weirder. He didn’t want to ask Yoongi direct questions for fear something might slip—or that Yoongi might pick up on something. "Yeah, it’s interesting. I don’t know, sometimes people have a weird way of getting closer... it’s not always obvious, right? I guess they’ve got that thing that connects them, you know? They’re similar in ways, and even though they clash and push each other away, they also have that in common. It was just a matter of time before they grew closer."
He delivered the line in a deliberately ambiguous tone, hoping that if Yoongi didn’t know yet, he wouldn’t be sharp enough to catch what he was implying. Of course, Jimin didn’t want to give anything away by accident. Yoongi gave him a more intense look, noticing how Jimin was avoiding eye contact. A faint, knowing smile began to form on his lips. It seemed like Jimin was trying to hide something, and Yoongi’s curiosity was already piqued. He didn’t plan to spill everything just yet, but he was starting to feel pretty confident that Jimin knew more than he was letting on.
"Yeah, that’s true. They do have that something that makes them click and complement each other," Yoongi said casually, though his gaze stayed fixed on Jimin, waiting to catch any reaction. "Took them a while to realize it... and to accept it."
"Sure. Accepting things can be complicated sometimes. Especially when you don’t know if the other person is seeing it the same way, right? Like, it’s hard to know if you’re on the same page."
Yoongi let out a soft laugh, lifting a brow with dry irony.
"Yeah. And honestly, I think they are on the same page. They’ve accepted that they get along, but in my opinion, they should accept some other things too, don’t you think?"
Jimin looked at him closely, arms crossed now, realizing that yes—Yoongi definitely knew something.
"And what kind of things do you think they should accept, hyung?"
"You tell me, Jimin. You seem to know things."
"You really seem to know things."
They both fell silent for a moment, the words still hanging between them, until the tension finally snapped.
"You know," Yoongi said suddenly, the words slipping out with a triumphant grin.
"You know!" Jimin shot back, throwing his hands up in a dramatic display of shock. "Since when did you know?" he exclaimed, smacking Yoongi’s arm.
"Jungkook told me a few days ago," Yoongi said defensively. "He asked me not to say anything. And you? When did you find out, you nosy little shit?"
"Taehyung told me weeks ago! And he also asked me to keep my mouth shut!"
"Weeks? You’re telling me you knew this for weeks and didn’t tell me?"
"We’re good friends, right?" Jimin said, laughing. "Loyal to the end. I wasn’t gonna betray Taehyung. But I guess if you already know, it’s fine. By now, Jungkook must’ve talked to Taehyung, since when Tae told me, he also said he’d talked to him."
"We’re too good at being friends," Yoongi agreed, getting up to sit beside him. "So? Do you know if Taehyung…?"
But he didn’t finish the sentence. Instead, he tilted his head with a questioning look. Jimin noticed, and his eyes narrowed.
"And do you know if Jungkook…?"
Silence. Tense. Inevitable.
Just one look was enough. Yoongi’s eyes widened a little—there was the damn confirmation. Jimin, for his part, just exhaled through his nose and shook his head.
"No way."
"No way," Yoongi echoed, almost at the same time.
They both burst into nervous laughter, the relief and excitement finally bubbling to the surface. They looked at each other and, without thinking, their hands reached out in the air, intertwining quickly as a reflection of the shared thrill over this discovery.
"This is amazing!" Jimin exclaimed, beaming and practically bouncing with excitement, his energy overflowing in all directions. "We have to do something! We have to help those two get out of that bubble they’re stuck in!"
Yoongi looked at him, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips, though he wasn’t entirely convinced it was the right move.
"Help them?" Yoongi asked, his tone a bit more serious. "Jimin, are you sure about what you’re saying? I think we should let them figure it out on their own. Those two are already complicated enough when it comes to their feelings—getting involved might just make things worse."
Jimin looked at him, his excitement dimming slightly. He took a few steps closer and gave him a pleading look.
"But, hyung," Jimin said, furrowing his brows, "you don’t understand how stupid they are! They don’t even see what’s going on! They don’t realize they’re both into each other, and that’s the worst part. Neither of them has the guts to make the first move because they’re scared."
Yoongi sighed, finally giving in a little. He wasn’t entirely convinced, but he had to admit that if anyone could help Taehyung and Jungkook finally realize what they were feeling, it was the two of them.
"Maybe..." Yoongi said, scratching his head. "Maybe you’ve got a point. But Jimin... we can’t get involved directly. It has to be... subtle. If they realize what’s happening, it has to be because they figured it out."
"Exactly!" Jimin jumped with excitement. "We can... create situations. Little nudges, indirect ones, just to help them notice things on their own. We don’t even have to step in directly, just give them a few small pushes."
Yoongi frowned slightly, still skeptical, but when he saw the spark in Jimin’s eyes, he knew there was no stopping him. Jimin had his own way of doing things, and once he got an idea in his head, there was no turning back.
"Fine," Yoongi said with a resigned sigh. "If we only act indirectly... then I guess we’re not really doing anything wrong. It’s within bounds."
Jimin jumped like a kid on Christmas morning and ran to Yoongi, throwing his arms around his shoulders.
"You’re a genius!" he shouted, and without thinking, he kissed him with the same burst of excitement as when he’d jumped. Yoongi, surprised at first, quickly gave in, smiling as he wrapped an arm around Jimin’s waist, kissing him back with matching energy. The kiss was short, but just enough for both of them to pull apart grinning, their hearts racing.
"Let’s head back before we miss them too much," Yoongi said with a soft laugh.
He took Jimin’s hand and walked to the door, opening it quickly—only to find Taehyung standing right there, hand raised mid-air, clearly about to knock. The two of them froze in place. Taehyung raised an eyebrow, staring at them with disapproval, his hands going to his hips in a pose so scolding it made him look like an annoyed mom catching her kids doing something bad.
"Seriously?" Taehyung said. "What are you two doing in Jin-hyung’s room? Don’t you have any shame? Don’t tell me you’re in here again... doing immoral things!"
Jimin and Yoongi exchanged a glance, then burst into nervous laughter. As ridiculous as it sounded, letting Taehyung believe they were desecrating Jin’s room was way better than him finding out they were secretly plotting to get him and Jungkook together. Better guilty of that than caught matchmaking.
Hours later, Sana stood alone on the balcony of her apartment. The moonlight, faint and silver, filtered through the clouds, casting an eerie softness over the empty streets below. She wasn’t usually one to indulge in melancholy, but something about the cold night air pushed her inward, forcing her into her own thoughts. The night breeze brushed against her skin, a chilly gust that made her involuntarily shrug her shoulders. Momo and Mina were already asleep inside, and Sana knew she should be doing the same. But she couldn’t—not until the call she had started a few minutes ago came to an end.
"Are you serious about what you said? Like, a hundred percent?" she asked quietly. She didn’t want to believe it.
Sana had received a message on Instagram a few days ago. It had said something hard to ignore—but just as hard to believe. Besides, the account it came from was unusual enough to raise red flags the moment it showed up in her DMs.
The voice on the other end of the line, soft but steady, replied without hesitation.
"Yes, I’m serious. I saw them, Sana. I think it was outside the blond guy’s house—I'm guessing it was his because he ran back inside right after—but the important part is that I saw them kiss."
A shiver ran down her spine, and Sana gripped the balcony railing tighter, the cold metal giving her some much-needed stability. Reading about it in a message was one thing—hearing it out loud was another.
A kiss. Taehyung and Jungkook? Really?
"We were all hanging out this afternoon. I tried paying attention, but it didn’t seem like anything had changed," she said, her voice lacking conviction. "They bickered a lot, called each other idiots whenever they could... but that’s it."
"Of course they’re pretending," the voice replied calmly. "Apparently no one knows anything. But I saw them, and I have no doubt."
"I’m not so sure," she responded, her voice laced with uncertainty. "What if this is all just a misunderstanding? What if it’s not what it looks like?"
The person let out a skeptical laugh.
"A misunderstanding? Girl, I saw them. They arrived on a motorcycle going full speed, got off, talked for a bit—Jungkook seemed thrown off by something Taehyung said—and then the blond one kissed him and ran inside," said in a tired tone. "You have to believe me. I wouldn’t be wrong about this. You need to stick to the plan. Everything will work out if you do."
Sana shut her eyes tightly, a knot starting to form in her stomach. There was something in the insistence of that voice that left her unsettled. Part of her clearly didn’t trust it... and yet, there was something pulling her in.
"If this turns out to be true..." she finally said, her voice a blend of worry and resignation, "this could go really badly for Taehyung and Jungkook. They don’t deserve that. Not like this."
"They do deserve it. We’ve put up with enough humiliation. And let’s not forget what they did to you—don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten how they led you on while secretly hooking up behind your back? They promised you the moon, made you believe in something... all while having their fun behind the curtain while you were left begging for scraps of attention," the voice replied, unwavering—manipulative and convincing. "And don’t think this is just about you, Sana. You know what happened to me, I’ve told you everything. If you don’t go through with this, you’ll never get what you really want. If you don’t act now, nothing will change. And you’ll still be waiting... What are you gonna do, keep waiting forever? Didn’t you say you wanted to take control back?"
Sana swallowed hard, fighting against the growing pressure in her chest. The words cut deep, filling her mind with doubt and unsatisfied longing. She was letting herself get dragged in—and she knew it. But she couldn’t help it. It was too tempting. Too easy.
"Alright..." she said at last. She didn’t know if she meant it because it was the right thing to do or because she was just too tired to keep fighting the current. "I’ll get what I can. Any proof that they’re seeing each other in secret. But... what are we going to do with that?"
"Start digging into their lives. Find their weak spots. Everyone has something to lose. Figure out what you can use against them, anything you can use to apply pressure."
Sana clenched her teeth, cursing under her breath.
"Why am I the one doing the dirty work?" she asked with a sigh. The voice chuckled softly, almost mockingly.
"Because you’re the only one with access. They trust you. If you don’t do it, no one else can. And don’t forget the condition. In the end, you pick Taehyung. Leave Jungkook to me. Are you going to do it, Sana? Are you going to choose him? It shouldn’t be that hard—you said yourself you didn’t care which one stayed with you."
Sana went quiet, the phone pressed against her ear, her mind spinning with everything she had just heard. She didn’t know if what she was doing was the right thing. But what other choice did she have? If she didn’t follow the plan, then what was left for her?
She took a deep breath.
"Alright, Soojin," she said the name with a tone of resignation. She had no other options. And in that moment, the only thing she could do was move forward.
With a click, the call ended. Sana stayed there, staring out over the city, a sense of emptiness weighing down on her. She knew she was stepping into dangerous territory. Somewhere deep inside, she felt like she had made the right decision. But in some hidden corner of her soul, a voice whispered that maybe—just maybe—this would end far worse than she could imagine.
And yet, part of her wanted it.
Notes:
3:09 a.m. and posting this.
Did you get the correct answer as to who saw them? I think I saw a correct comment by the time I posted this, although most were partially correct. Sana wasn't the one who saw them, but she was informed. Basically, Soojin happened to be passing by and saw them.
What did you think? Did you like today's episode?
If you're interested, I'm slowly getting better. At least I can breathe normally now, and that's important. Thanks for the nice messages!
Don't forget to comment and leave kudos if you haven't already. Kisses!
Chapter 36: Chapter 35
Chapter Text
"You seriously have never seen Heathers? Legally Blonde? Clueless? Never? Not even once?" Jiwoo raised her eyebrows in pure indignation.
Taehyung let out a nasal laugh as he leaned back on the sofa bed, sinking into the blankets he had spread out a few minutes earlier.
"Does it matter? They're ancient movies," he muttered, though deep down he knew he was provoking her. And it was hilarious. "Besides, I grew up watching depressing European films with my dad and historical dramas with my mom. I didn't have time for teenage psychopaths and blondes in miniskirts—though I won't complain about the latter."
"You mean you didn’t have time for art," she huffed, snatching the remote from his hand. "Well, we're going to fix that today. And if you don't come out of this marathon loving Cher Horowitz, we’re going to have a problem, Kim Taehyung."
They’d spent the entire afternoon together, and Taehyung didn’t regret a second. It was one of those rare days when he had nothing urgent to submit or edit. His laptop was shut, his phone was face down and on silent, and the only commitment he had made was to Jiwoo.
The reason she was there wasn’t exactly cheerful—she’d run into her ex that morning, and the first thing she did after was call Taehyung and ask if they could hang out.
In the past, they probably would’ve met up to hook up—that had been her go-to method for forgetting about her ex—but ever since their friends-with-benefits arrangement ended, they had gotten closer in other ways. Even Taehyung was surprised by how much he cared about her. Not romantically, but he cared. And it showed. Jiwoo had maybe found a healthier way to cope, and to move on.
They had already watched Heathers and Legally Blonde, and now Clueless was reaching its emotional climax. Cher had just stepped out for a solo walk among the storefronts of Beverly Hills, coming to terms with her sudden realization of love. Just as the music swelled to its cheesiest point and the fountain behind her lit up when she finally admitted she was in love with Josh, Jiwoo hit pause.
Taehyung’s living room went silent. Jiwoo sat with the remote on her knees, her back slightly hunched and eyes locked on the screen. She wasn’t crying, but her lips were pressed together, and she stared with a kind of sadness that instantly put Taehyung on alert.
"What is it, Ji?" he asked gently, running his fingers through her hair.
"Nothing, it’s just that..." she swallowed hard. "Maybe I shouldn't have watched Clueless. This movie reminds me of when I realized I had feelings for Minhyuk. We were just really good friends at first—the kind you’d call ‘siblings from another bloodline’—and when he started getting interested in one of my friends, it hit me hard."
"I get it, babe."
Taehyung knew better than to stop her. She had never really opened up about that relationship to anyone before. She had started with him, and now, she clearly needed to get it all off her chest.
She spoke for several minutes, telling him how it all had gone—what she missed, what she couldn’t get over, and the insecurities that haunted her. And all of it helped Taehyung understand why it had been so hard for her. His role was just to listen and bring her back to reality when she needed it.
"He used to say those things to me," she murmured, not turning her head. "Not the same way, of course. Not as sweetly, not with that angel voice of yours, but... he said things that made me feel seen. At least at first."
The glow from the TV cast a bluish tint over her skin, and her silhouette looked fragile beneath the oversized sweater she had borrowed from him when she arrived. She had convinced herself she’d closed that chapter, but after running into him on the street, something had definitely been stirred back up.
"Did he say anything today?" the blonde asked softly.
"No, he just looked at me. He looked at me like he didn’t fully recognize me. I think he even struggled to remember who I was, which made me feel like absolute crap, because it seems like he’s already moved on and I’m still stuck here. It hasn’t even been that long since we last saw each other, and even less since we last talked directly. So why was it so hard for him to see me?"
Jiwoo leaned forward, set the remote on the table, and rubbed her face with her hands, clearly frustrated.
"It fucking sucks, Tae. Because I miss him, you know? I miss the good stuff, the silly things, the times he laughed so hard it made me laugh without meaning to. Or how he’d touch my knee when he knew I was getting anxious. Stupid little things that now piss me off. Because I know that all that came bundled with the crap too. The silence, the fucking pride, his inability to say sorry. What do you do when the things you miss are already poisoned?"
Taehyung took a deep breath. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard a speech like that. He knew the pattern. The grief of a relationship that had hurt more than it healed, but still left a mark.
"Don’t feel guilty for not being able to let go. You loved him, after all," he said simply. Jiwoo pressed her lips together, then gave a humorless smile.
"Yeah, I guess. But it shouldn’t hurt this much, right? I mean, I left for a reason. Several, actually. But... fuck, remind me why I left."
"Do you remember when you told me that he made you feel like anything good in your life had to be validated by him first?" Taehyung asked, and Jiwoo nodded slowly. "That’s not love, Ji. That’s control. Manipulation. You know that. It’s not new."
"But he also made me laugh like no one else. And he had this way of looking at me when I talked about something I was passionate about—like he was proud of me. I don’t know, Taehyung. Not everything was bad."
"No one’s saying it was," he replied, this time placing his hand on hers. "But even good moments can come from people who don’t know how to love you right. And you deserve more. At the very least, respect. At the very least, to not feel like you have to shrink yourself just to fit into someone else’s bullshit expectations. He even got jealous of your achievements. What the hell is that? He got mad when you succeeded at something, especially if you did it on your own without asking for his help. What kind of person can’t stand seeing the one they love thrive?"
Jiwoo let out a bitter laugh.
"When did you get so wise?"
"Since I stopped sleeping with you. Clearly the sex was clouding my judgment."
They both burst out laughing, and for a moment, the atmosphere lightened.
"Thank you," she whispered, calmer now. "I really needed to talk about it."
"You can always come over," he said sincerely. "And bring more movies about straight teenagers with ridiculous problems."
Jiwoo swatted him lightly with a pillow, but her smile was more genuine now. She snuggled deeper into the blankets, resting her head on the arm of the couch. Silence settled between them again, until Taehyung suddenly cleared his throat. There was something else on his mind—something only Jiwoo could help him with.
"Hey… can I ask you something?"
"You’re already asking."
"I mean, seriously," she clarified, turning to face him. "What happened with Sana?"
"What do you mean what happened?"
"At Hongseok-hyung’s party," he explained. "When I introduced you to her, you said ‘oh, you’ in this super weird tone. And then you said she’d come up to ask you about me. What was that about?"
"Oh, fuck. I almost forgot to tell you!" she began, crossing her arms over her chest and settling against the cushions. "Remember the day we ran into each other at the university entrance? You said hi, we talked for a few minutes, then you went inside and I left…" Taehyung nodded immediately. Not only did he remember—it was burned into his brain because it was the day he’d ended things with Sana. "Well, right after you turned to leave, she showed up."
"Did Sana run into you right after that?" he asked, sitting up a little. If Sana had approached Jiwoo that day, it probably meant she’d seen them.
"Yeah. Literally, not even five seconds had passed since you walked away when I saw her coming straight at me. She planted herself right there, wearing this smile that made me want to punch her. All sweetness and porcelain manners, but her eyes were screaming she wanted to peel my skin off."
"Oh, shit…" Taehyung let out a low, disbelieving laugh and ran a hand over his face. "And what did she say?"
"First, I pretended not to recognize her," Jiwoo said with a totally unapologetic shrug. "I don’t know, it just felt like the right move. You’d already told me about her, so I knew who she was instantly, but I wanted to see what she was up to. So I played dumb. She greeted me with this sing-songy ‘hi’ that almost gave me diabetes, and then came the small talk: my name, how she’d seen me with you, that she hadn’t seen me around campus."
"She said that? But she doesn’t even go to our university."
"Exactly," Jiwoo cut in, tilting her head. "She was acting like she was part of the campus, but I knew better. And the worst part? She didn’t even sound awkward or nervous—she said it like she meant it. So I just went along with it, smiling, acting relaxed and friendly. The basics. You know how I am." Taehyung nodded slowly, processing. His mind was already piecing things together, but he didn’t interrupt. "At first, I thought maybe she was just being curious, like genuinely interested," she went on. "But then she started pushing. Her questions got more pointed, like ‘Are you friends?’, ‘Do you see each other often?’, ‘How long have you known each other?’. You know, that passive-aggressive crap that pretends to be friendly but is really just nosy as hell."
"And what did you say?"
"The truth—but my version of it," she replied. "I didn’t lie, but I didn’t give her anything juicy either. I answered vaguely, nothing concrete. It was actually kind of fun watching her tense up every time she didn’t get what she wanted. Maybe I shouldn’t have toyed with her so much, but honestly… she had it coming. If she’d been less poisonous, I would’ve been nice."
Taehyung smiled, tilting his head with a hint of pride. Jiwoo had that rare talent of knowing exactly when to be warm and when to turn into a wall. And even if he didn’t always agree with her methods, he couldn’t deny that the whole scene she was painting was kind of entertaining.
"Eventually, she got direct. She asked if we were friends, how long we’d known each other, if we saw each other a lot… and then," she added, pausing dramatically, "the million-dollar question: ‘Did you guys have something?’"
"Fuck."
"I told her yes. That it was casual, but that it was over. I mean, why lie? I’m not ashamed or anything. We’re two adults doing adult things—pretty normal," Jiwoo said with a shrug. "And that it was your decision. Since it was for exclusivity, you can’t blame me for saying that. At the time, I had no idea it was a secret—I only found out later, at Hongseok’s party. I didn’t name names, obviously, because hello, you still won’t tell me, you idiot. She asked if I knew who it was, I shrugged and told her I didn’t. Again, no reason to lie."
They fell silent for a few seconds. The only sound in the room was the ticking clock on the wall, though Taehyung felt like his head was roaring. He wasn’t mad at Sana—it’s not like he’d told her not to say anything, and he knew he hadn’t. And even if she knew there was someone else in his life now, he really didn’t see how that could hurt him. If anything, he hoped it would give her more reason to back off.
"And how did she take it?" he asked finally.
"It messed her up. You could tell. I think she didn’t know whether to feel relieved that we weren’t sleeping together anymore or pissed that someone else was on the radar. She tried to hide it, but her frown kept deepening every second."
"And then?"
"I said goodbye all sweetly. Told her I had to catch a bus. Left her standing there, with that little smile trembling and her ego in shreds."
Taehyung closed his eyes and took a deep breath. All of this felt like a snowball that had started out small and harmless but was now speeding down a hill—and he was standing at the bottom, watching it barrel toward him.
"And you didn’t think of telling me this before?"
"I did, but honestly, I forgot. My bad," she said with a guilty wince and a shrug. "And I kind of went back and forth on whether to say anything or just let her crash and burn. I mean, she seemed really obsessed, and I thought it might be funny to see you reject her. There’s just… something off about that girl, Tae. I don’t know what it is, but I don’t like her. She rubbed me the wrong way. Acts all sweet, but there’s something about the way she looks at you—it gives me the creeps. That smile… that ‘oh, I’m so innocent’ voice… but inside she’s measuring every word you say, trying to see what she can get out of it. It’s scary."
Taehyung lowered his gaze, running through all the possibilities on the table. It all felt so… he didn’t know, strange. Because Sana, despite everything, had always come off as sweet, outgoing, and full of energy. Her laughter was contagious, her playful nature made it impossible not to smile when she was around. She had a flirty edge she wielded effortlessly, charming everyone without even trying. She was the kind of person who made everything she said sound exciting—even the most mundane stuff. How could she be scheming something? It made no sense.
"Right before you talked to her," he began, swallowing hard and shifting uncomfortably on the couch, "Sana and I talked."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah, literally right before I ran into you, she stopped me and we talked. Honestly, I have no idea what she was doing outside the university at that hour, but she said she'd been thinking about it and that she chose me. That she talked to Jungkook and told him she wasn't interested in him. Literally, those were her words. Then of course I told her I wasn’t going to keep playing that game, but she said she had decided on me." He paused to rub his face with one hand, frustrated with himself over how ridiculous it all sounded in hindsight. "The problem is, later I talked to Jungkook, and he said no—that he was the one who spoke to Sana. That he told her he didn’t want to keep being part of that stupid triangle, that he wasn’t interested in her."
Jiwoo blinked a couple of times, processing. Then she frowned, not bothering to hide how incredibly suspicious it all sounded to her.
"So… she lied to you?"
"Apparently, yeah."
"And why did Jungkook pull out of the triangle? I mean, you already had a reason," Jiwoo looked him dead in the eyes. "You stepped out because you’re seeing someone exclusively. But Jungkook... what reason did he have? He could’ve taken advantage of the fact that you were no longer competing to win her over."
Taehyung looked away, uncomfortable. His ears burned, and he couldn’t tell if it was from nerves or the sudden heat rushing through his body. He didn’t want to lie to Jiwoo, but he also didn’t want to say too much. He couldn’t tell her it was because the two of them were “experimenting.” Though, it wasn’t that anymore. At least not for Taehyung.
"I don’t really know," he replied evasively, shrugging. "All he said was that he’s also seeing someone."
"Figures," she said, her tone sharp. "That girl’s been indecisive since day one. I don’t know how you two put up with her games for so long. I’m not saying this to judge you, okay? But seriously, what the hell were you thinking?"
Taehyung lowered his head, letting out a short, tired laugh. How had he put up with it for so long? Good question. He guessed at some point it was because he had no clue what he actually wanted, or because he needed the validation. Or maybe because pride hurts less when someone “chooses” you—plus, it was the first time he’d had real competition, and that made it more exciting than just DMing a girl on Instagram to tell her she looked good in her latest pic. But now, looking back on it, the whole thing felt fucking pathetic.
"I don’t know, Ji. Honestly. I got carried away, I think. I wanted to feel wanted, I guess. It’s not like Sana actually mattered that much to me, but… it was new. And in the moment… I didn’t realize what I was doing."
Jiwoo nodded without judgment. Her expression softened, and when she spoke again, her voice was gentler.
"Tae, you're one of the best people I know. And I’m not just saying that. You’re smart, sensitive, effortlessly funny, attractive without even trying. You have one of the kindest souls I’ve ever fucking seen. Do you know what you deserve?"
Taehyung stayed silent, unsure if he wanted to hear what she was about to say. Part of him wanted to stop her, to avoid the discomfort of hearing something good about himself that he wasn’t sure he deserved. But another part—the broken, tired part, starved for genuine affection—needed to hear every word.
"You deserve someone who chooses you without hesitation. Who doesn’t make you doubt. Who doesn’t make you fight for their attention. Someone who looks at you and thinks, 'It’s him and no one else.' You deserve a relationship where you don’t feel like you’re begging for affection or constantly wondering if you’re enough. Because you are enough, just as you are—on your good days, your bad days, with your weird sense of humor and that big, generous heart of yours."
He couldn’t look at her, because everything she said made him think. He understood exactly what she meant, and well… shit, he couldn’t stop thinking about Jungkook.
That guy, even though they didn’t really have anything beyond a weird, exclusive gay experimentation thing, made him feel all of that. He felt like he didn’t have to compete for his attention—well, aside from their usual competitions over stupid stuff. He didn’t feel like he was begging for anything, he didn’t feel like he wasn’t enough, and Jungkook didn’t judge him for anything. He could just be himself.
That night at the Japanese restaurant had left him with way too many hopes. So many. But his head wasn’t entirely clear. They were flirty, they were soft, they were hot—but how real was it for Jungkook? He never actually said, 'I’m taking you on a date'. He hadn’t said anything that clearly indicated he was courting him or anything like that. Taehyung didn’t want to assume and end up being wrong.
He guessed he’d have to tell him first, make the first move. But he was terrified. Because if that dinner had just been a casual hangout meant to get to know each other better since, well, they were sleeping together and had to make sure the other wasn’t a serial killer or something… it would hurt. A lot.
Fuck, it would really hurt. Imagine getting rejected by the first guy you ever had any kind of gay experience with—someone you’d shared so much with, who was your first in everything related to that. If this turned out to be nothing more than Taehyung’s own delusion, he swore he’d change his name, leave the country, and take a vow of celibacy.
There was no way Jungkook was love bombing him or anything… right?
Right?
No, wait—there was a chance. Jungkook was a man. And men? Men aren’t people. They’re not family. Shit. Now he was pissed just at the possibility of it.
And that reminded him how annoyed—not really—he’d been the day before at Jin’s place. That dumbass had been absolutely shameless in the older guy’s kitchen, provoking him like never before. He remembered Jungkook’s bare arms, slightly shiny under the light, the way he licked his thumb after tasting the cocktail they were making, stealing kisses like it was nothing, slipping past his boundaries without a hint of remorse. That smug smile, the way he side-eyed him like, “I’ve seen you naked,” and all that bullshit.
It got him hot. So he got revenge. For a moment, he had the upper hand under that table, using his foot as a weapon to make it hard for Jungkook to speak. Until, of course, Jungkook got him back, sliding his hand along Taehyung’s leg. That damn touch—even though it was light and definitely not on an erogenous zone—got him worked up. Again! What the hell kind of effect did Jungkook have on him? And now, just remembering how it felt was getting him turned on all over again, especially since they never got the release they needed. By the end of the night, they each had to take someone home and that was the end of it.
Taehyung cleared his throat, uncomfortable with himself. He was in the middle of a conversation with Jiwoo. He couldn’t keep thinking about all that like some hormonal idiot.
"Tae," Jiwoo said, her voice lower as she called for his attention. "Are you even listening to me?"
"Yeah, yeah," he blinked, snapping out of it. "Sorry, I just… got distracted."
"I noticed," she smiled, amused, but her eyes were sharp. "I’ve got a couple theories about all this. I feel like she’s plotting something. I don’t know what exactly, but something that’s going to mess with your life—and that of your special someone."
"She acted weird yesterday, to be honest," he admitted after a moment. "She was always super sweet with Jungkook and me, you know... all smiles, little touches, sweet words. But yesterday, when we greeted her, she barely looked at us. She gave us a short bow and went straight to hug everyone else like normal."
"Really?"
"I thought maybe she's going through some kind of mourning or something. Like, maybe she finally accepted that nothing was going to happen with either of us and decided to set some boundaries. I don’t know."
"Could be..." Jiwoo replied in a neutral tone, though the look in her eyes made it clear she wasn’t entirely convinced. "But still, Tae… stay alert. It wouldn’t be the first time someone acts all sweet while planning something nasty behind your back. I don’t like her energy."
Taehyung bit the inside of his cheek. He didn’t want to assume the worst, didn’t want to spiral into paranoia now that something was finally blooming between him and Jungkook. He needed peace, but Jiwoo’s words left a lingering unease in his chest.
"Thanks, Jiwoo," he whispered. "For saying all that. I’ll keep my eyes open."
"I hope you do," she replied with a half-smile. "That’s why I said it."
A brief, but comfortable silence followed. Then Jiwoo reached for the remote.
"Should we go back to the movie or do you want to keep talking about the little lunatic?" she asked teasingly. Taehyung let out a nasal laugh, rolling his eyes.
"Put the movie on. I want to see if Cher and Josh end up together, even though it’s obvious they will because it’s way too cliché. I still can’t believe that in a few years he’ll be Ant-man. Paul Rudd seriously doesn’t age, he looks amazing nowadays."
Jiwoo smiled and clicked play. The screen lit up again, but Taehyung barely paid attention, his thoughts still spinning around Jungkook.
The house was completely silent, except for the steady patter of rain that had settled outside. The sound against the windows was soft yet persistent—almost therapeutic and relaxing. But right now, it brought Taehyung no comfort as he finished rinsing the sticky glasses still smelling like sugar and the telltale fizz of an indulgent afternoon. Warm water ran down his fingers, but his mind was far from the kitchen.
He paused, resting his hands on the edge of the sink. He looked out through the fogged-up window and sighed. Jiwoo had left a while ago, and now he was alone in the house. The afternoon had been fun, but now that he was back to his routine… he felt kind of lonely. That specific kind of ache that eats away at you when you miss someone in particular.
He missed Jungkook.
He shouldn't miss him—not that much, at least. They’d literally seen each other yesterday. Had he become dependent or what? Was that normal? It was funny how just a few weeks ago, he could enjoy his solitude, chill in his house with no problem. But now, he couldn’t go a single damn day without his mind boomeranging back to Jungkook like a cursed thought that didn’t know how to sit still.
He tossed the towel on the counter, dried his hands, and walked sluggishly to his room. He threw himself onto the bed with a long sigh and stared at the ceiling for a few seconds, eyes half-closed, listening to the rain.
Should he tell Jungkook how he felt or not?
Because yeah, sure, it sounded romantic and sweet—but if you thought about it rationally… it could also be emotional suicide. And while he was dramatic, he wasn’t a masochist. Or not that much of one, at least not in this regard.
Because this wasn’t as simple as 'I like you', 'I like you too', 'aww, how cute', kiss, now we’re boyfriends. No, this wasn’t a teen soap opera, nor one of those gay romcoms where everything got magically resolved with a kiss in the rain. This was real life. And in real life, you could fuck things up even with the best of intentions.
He had already gone over the facts. He didn’t doubt anymore. That was a huge step: he liked Jungkook. He really liked him. The guy made him nervous, happy, horny, and stupid in equal parts. He could have a serious conversation with him, or play-fight and feel his chest bubble over like a shaken soda can.
He was way past the 'it’s just a phase' and the 'we’re just experimenting' stage. He didn’t even try to convince himself it was just for fun anymore. Not when he had memorized the sound Jungkook made when he laughed quietly. Not when he could describe exactly how his tongue felt against his own. And definitely not when he knew all of his damn habits by heart.
But… saying it? Out loud? With real words? What if he ruined everything?
Because the problem wasn’t just ruining it. It was that if Jungkook didn’t feel the same, he wouldn’t just lose the amazing sex and the company that made him feel a little less alone in the world… he’d lose the guy who had gotten under his skin without even asking.
And that, honestly, felt worse than anything else. It would leave him broken. Maybe a little humiliated. He might even have to move to a different continent. India? Greenland? Somewhere that wouldn’t remind him of his romantic failure with the one guy who seemed perfect for him. Because objectively speaking, he was perfect—even the damn old man at the Japanese restaurant had said so.
But on the other hand… he was tired of living in uncertainty. Tired of wondering whether what they had actually meant something to Jungkook, or if it was just a string of hot encounters and sweet gestures with no real depth. Because sure, they treated each other nicely. They texted when they weren’t together, laughed at dumb shit, Jungkook hugged him from behind, listened to him vent about his mom, lent him clothes, distracted him in elevators, worried when he didn’t eat… among other things. Was that love? Was that a guy trying to see if something real could work?
Fuck! Why was being gay so hard? Or, well, bisexual or whatever the hell he was. He didn’t even have the right label figured out—let alone the correct romantic protocol.
"Who the fuck is supposed to make the first move when both are guys?" he grumbled into the air, offended at the universe. "Where’s the damn instruction manual? Who wrote it, and why didn’t I get it in high school?"
He needed to think this through. Pros and cons. Perks and dangers.
Pros: Jungkook might feel the same. He might be just as crazy about him. They could stop pretending they were just two curious guys making out randomly. They could put a name on what they had—or at least start figuring it out. Jungkook was warm. He made him laugh. He treated him with care, even when teasing him. He saw him in a way no one else did. When they were together, Taehyung finally felt like himself.
Cons: All of that could be wishful thinking. Or worse—it could be real, but only for him. What if Jungkook was just experimenting? What if he saw Taehyung as just some guy—because not even friends seemed to fit—that he got along with sexually, and nothing more? What if he rejected him? What if it all went to hell? What if they couldn’t even look at each other afterward?
And then there was the whole coming out thing. How would their friends take it? And... his mother? He wasn’t sure she’d be thrilled about her only son ending up with another guy.
Shit, he had to be brave—he knew that much. Because if he didn’t do it, his anxiety was going to kill him. He couldn’t keep hesitating, suppressing what he felt, or waiting for Jungkook to magically guess what was going on inside his head.
Now, that didn’t mean he was about to ask him to be boyfriends right away. Hell no!
That was another thing—the whole boyfriend word situation. Ugh, just thinking about that word gave him chills. Not because he hated the idea, but because… were they really ready for that? Was he ready for that? Did saying “I like you” mean that the very next day they’d be holding hands in public and posting cheesy selfies with bear filters on social media? Did he have to take him out to dinner? Buy him gifts? Call him “babe” over text and out loud? Get matching bracelets or couple rings? He didn’t want that shit! Well… maybe he did. But not like that. Not that fast. Not that forced.
He had always been a romantic in his relationships, that was true, and that’s exactly why he didn’t want to turn this into a checklist. If they ever became boyfriends—emphasis on the if—he wanted it to be special, meaningful, something that made sense. He didn’t want “I like you” to automatically turn into a label. He wanted them to keep getting to know each other, to talk it through, to not assume anything, to build it step by step. But how the hell did you even do that between two guys? Who was supposed to ask who to be boyfriends? How did the dynamics even work now?
What he wanted was to be clear. If he confessed, he wanted to tell Jungkook that he liked him, that he was emotionally interested in him, that he wanted to keep seeing him, touching him, kissing him—whatever—but he wasn’t ready to label everything as a serious relationship without going through an in-between phase. He wanted that if they were going to be boyfriends, it would be something that happened naturally, something that felt right—not something that became a forced next step just because of the confession.
And he definitely didn’t want Jungkook to feel pressured. If he pushed too hard, he might scare him off. And if that happened, then he really might just throw himself off a bridge.
Alright.
Decision made—he was going to confess. He was going to tell him he liked him, that he wanted to keep going just like they were now but with more clarity. That he didn’t want to assume anything or jump ahead. That he wanted to build something real, but without rushing.
And if everything went well...
“Oh, please, gay god, hear me out,” he said dramatically, pressing his hands over his chest. “Don’t leave me on read with my heart wide open.”
He smiled to himself, feeling a little lighter after making the decision. Yeah, he felt ridiculous, but at least now he had a direction—a plan—and a real chance of not living the rest of his days in uncertainty.
But just when he managed to calm down a bit, his thoughts betrayed him. He tried not to think about the afternoon before—because if he did, he’d get angry again about being left wanting—but then he remembered the night, when he got home after everything.
The second he walked through the door, he had locked himself in his bathroom and touched himself in the shower. He had jerked off thinking about Jungkook—his hands, his mouth, his voice whispering those things into his ear. But the worst part… the worst part was that in the heat of the moment, his body wanted more. He wanted to feel more than just his own hand on his dick. So, overwhelmed by lust and maybe a bit of desperation, he ended up using his fingers for the first time in his life.
Just one at first, out of curiosity. It wasn’t the same. But after a few minutes, he was doing it with two, panting quietly, imagining it was Jungkook touching him again. He came hard, strong, gripping the wall to stay upright.
And even then… it wasn’t enough. It was pathetic. He felt like he was turning into an addict.
“I’m a damn horny teenager all over again,” he muttered through his teeth, rolling around in bed.
He grabbed his phone. He had no pending assignments, he’d already done everything he needed for school, so he allowed himself to procrastinate without guilt. He opened Instagram and, out of habit, checked the stories he had posted that afternoon with Jiwoo.
The first one was a photo of their lunch. A big, colorful plate, with juices and wrinkled napkins from eating in a hurry. Jungkook had seen it and liked it.
The second story was a selfie of him at the restaurant table, head tilted slightly and lips curved just a little. Nothing special, but he’d felt handsome when he took it. Jungkook had seen it too. He’d liked that one as well.
The third was a photo of some plushies in a store window. Cute, adorable—the kind of thing that always caught his eye when he was out with Jiwoo. Jungkook had seen that one too. Liked it.
And then came the fourth. A picture of him and Jiwoo, both with ice cream, smiling like idiots in front of a pastel-colored wall. A cute, innocent, friendly photo. Jungkook had seen it… but hadn’t liked it.
Taehyung raised an eyebrow. His first reaction was confusion. He blinked. Checked again. No, he hadn’t skipped it. Jungkook had seen it. But hadn’t touched the like button.
The blond tapped the direct message icon and went straight to their conversation. Their latest messages were dumb memes, replies to stories, and a few flirtatious comments here and there. He typed quickly.
@thv: Did I not look good in the last pic or what?
It hadn’t even been a minute before the 'typing…' bubble appeared at the bottom of the screen. Taehyung’s heart sped up a little. Just a little. Not enough to panic, but just enough to make him feel like an idiot for sending that message in the first place.
@jeonjk: What photo?
@thv: The ice cream one. You saw all of them and liked all of them except that one. Weird, right? Did you just get distracted right then or what?
The reply took a bit longer this time, and that made him smirk. The typing bubble would appear, then disappear, then appear again, and vanish once more. He was probably deleting and retyping several times before hitting send.
@jeonjk: I didn’t know I needed to fill out an approval form for every post you upload.
@thv: Hey, don’t get all dramatic. I just asked.
@jeonjk: And I just answered. What now, do I have to like everything you post by contract or some shit?
@thv: Oh, sorry, Your Majesty. I didn’t realize lifting a finger was such hard work for you. I hope you didn’t injure yourself from the sheer effort.
@jeonjk: You should be grateful I even liked one of your shitty posts. And don’t think I forgot what you did yesterday. Are you insane or what? You used your foot to tease me in front of everyone—I almost lost it. I was this close to dragging you away by the wrist and fucking you wherever we landed first.
@thv: My shitty posts? Did you just call my face shit? Is that how you talk to someone who puts up with you every damn day? I’m about to block you, you miserable rat. And for the record, you wouldn’t have done anything because you’re a coward.
@jeonjk: Block me, dumbass, you never post anything good anyway. And don’t make me keep talking, I was seriously about to lose control.
@thv: I post my face—that’s art! What more do you want? And did you really think I’d let you drag me into some corner like that? Look at you, Jungkook, all hot and bothered over a single touch. You’re so easy to get worked up.
@jeonjk: Yeah, sure. I don’t know who lied to you, but that little face isn’t all that.
@thv: That “little face” has more likes than your whole music career, dumbass. Are you upset I went out with someone who isn’t you? Aww, poor baby.
@jeonjk: Go to hell.
@thv: Already there. It’s called a bed. Cold. Empty. Sad. Lonely. But hey, don’t worry about it. Don’t feel bad about leaving me here, suffering all alone while you’re off somewhere warm and cozy with your gigantic ego and your grumpy-ass face. It’s fine. Sleep well, asshole.
The silence barely lasted a few seconds before a new notification popped up.
@jeonjk: Shut up, I’m putting my shoes on.
Taehyung grinned with stupid satisfaction, feeling a warm flutter spread through his chest. He knew it would work. It always worked. His favorite way of getting the brunette’s attention was exactly that—pushing his buttons until the limit.
He typed again.
@thv: Don’t take forever, idiot. And bring food. But not spicy, don’t be a savage.
That was the last message he sent before Jungkook stopped replying. The chat was left on read, but he didn’t worry. He knew the brunette wasn’t ignoring him. He knew he’d be there in a few minutes. He couldn’t help smiling because he was genuinely excited to see him. He tried not to look desperate, but okay, maybe that had gone a little to hell. Oh well. What mattered was—he was coming!
And Taehyung needed to tidy up. Fast.
It was pouring. Rain was hammering against the second-floor windows, sliding down the gutters and forming little rivers along the pavement edges. The sky was completely overcast—it didn’t look like it would clear up anytime soon.
Taehyung was in his room, picking up clothes from the floor and folding them with an unusual level of efficiency, lips moving silently as he mouthed the lyrics to a song that wasn’t playing anymore but was still bouncing around in his head. He had yesterday’s t-shirt slung over his shoulder and a pair of socks in his hand when the doorbell rang.
He froze for a second, then quickly shoved the rest into his closet—by 'shoved' he meant 'threw it in and slammed the door shut'—and nearly tripped over himself as he bolted out. He flew down the stairs two at a time, sliding down the banister like he hadn’t just been fighting lint under his bed ten minutes ago. When he hit the ground floor, he rushed to the door, a grin already tugging at his lips. His chest felt giddy and light.
He opened it, and there was Jungkook—partially soaked, though clearly he’d driven over. He was holding two bags of food, and even though his hoodie had protected him somewhat, a few damp strands of hair clung to his forehead. His clothes were splattered with rain, and his sneakers looked like they’d absorbed most of it during the short dash from the car to the front steps. Still, the first thing Taehyung noticed was his face—some discomfort from the cold, a little embarrassment. He looked insanely good, even like that, with the tip of his nose red from the chill and his cheeks lightly flushed.
“Get in, quick!” Taehyung exclaimed, still grinning as he stepped aside. “I don’t want you getting sick, dummy.” Jungkook stepped inside, trying—and failing—to shake off the water. “I’ll go get a towel. Wait here.”
He ran to the guest bathroom down the hall, grabbed a big towel, and came back just as fast. When he returned, Jungkook was standing by the window with his arms crossed, the food bags neatly placed on the dining table.
Without a word, Taehyung walked over, pulled down his hood, and placed the towel over his head, starting to gently rub his hair dry.
“Stop getting the floor wet, dumbass,” he muttered with a soft smile.
Jungkook didn’t move. He just closed his eyes for a second and let Taehyung take care of him. Even with the heat in the house, he was still shivering slightly—not just from the cold, but from the way Taehyung made him feel like this, so close and attentive.
“Did Jiwoo leave already?” he asked suddenly, trying to sound casual. Taehyung caught the tiny shift in tone. He smiled but didn’t stop drying his hair.
“A while ago,” he answered simply. Jungkook nodded but said nothing else for a moment. He looked down at the floor and took a deep breath.
“Well…” he mumbled eventually. “That’s good. Didn’t want to interrupt whatever you two were doing.”
Taehyung let out a small laugh. He could hear the sarcasm dripping from every word. It was kind of adorable, seeing him like that—with the towel still on his head, cheeks red, eyes avoiding his. It was honestly the cutest thing in the world.
He couldn’t help but step in closer and cup Jungkook’s cheeks in both hands, squeezing them lightly until the other’s lips puckered into an involuntary pout. Jungkook barely had time to blink before Taehyung pressed a kiss right there.
“Taehyung!” he protested, trying to pull away, but Taehyung didn’t let him.
“Relax,” he whispered, still close to his face. “We just watched movies and had lunch at the mall. She ran into her ex and was a total mess. Nothing else happened, Jungkook. You’re the only one I see.”
Jungkook swallowed hard. He stood still for a few seconds, feeling the tension in his chest slowly ease. His arms moved on their own, wrapping around Taehyung’s waist and pulling him in close.
“I missed you,” he said finally with a little smile. Taehyung smiled back, slipping the towel off Jungkook’s head and letting it fall to the floor without a care. He wrapped his arms around Jungkook’s neck and looked straight into his eyes.
"What part of me did you miss?" he asked playfully.
"Everything," Jungkook said without hesitation. "But especially... this privilege of being the only one who gets to touch you like this."
Taehyung bit his lip, thrilled by the words. The way Jungkook said it made him want to keep teasing him endlessly.
"I missed you too..." he whispered. "So I guess you should do something about that, right?"
Jungkook narrowed his eyes, a sly smile forming on his lips as he leaned in just a little more.
"I'm going to get revenge for what happened at Jin-hyung's place. I swear, you’re gonna pay for it."
"Oh, really?" Taehyung raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence.
"Don’t play innocent," Jungkook growled, dragging the words through gritted teeth. "You had me walking around with a fucking hard-on in the middle of the damn patio. Surrounded by everyone. Are you insane? Do you know how hard it was to hide that?"
"Oops," Taehyung said, shrinking a little.
"You’re gonna pay for that," Jungkook muttered, closing the distance between them and gripping his waist firmly.
"Are you gonna punish me or what?" Taehyung teased with a shameless grin.
And then Jungkook stopped holding back. He leaned in and finally kissed him. Their lips crashed with force and hunger. It was a wet, urgent kiss—the kind that starts with fury and only slows down to savor every second. Taehyung responded immediately, clutching at his shoulders.
Jungkook didn’t need to see where he was going; he just pushed him backward blindly, his hands firm on Taehyung’s waist, until he finally backed him into the wall. Trapped there between the cold surface and Jungkook’s body pressing in, Taehyung let himself be devoured.
He breathed heavily against Jungkook’s lips, offering no resistance—quite the opposite. He gave in to him easily. There was something obscenely relieving about not having to lead for once, about letting Jungkook guide them, decide for both of them. And fuck, he was loving it.
"Shit..." he whispered against Jungkook’s lips just as the younger bent slightly, gripped his thigh from underneath, and lifted it with force, pressing him closer.
The surprised moan that escaped Taehyung was more of a breathy gasp. Jungkook’s hand wasn’t just holding his thigh—it was squeezing, caressing, guiding him into his body, creating a friction that bordered on painful. His hips moved with lust, grinding against him. Taehyung panted into his mouth, breath ragged and desperate, unable to hold back the sounds. The effect on Jungkook was instant.
"Fuck, Tae... those sounds are driving me crazy," Jungkook whispered, voice hoarse.
The blond tried to reply, but his words got lost the moment Jungkook’s lips dropped to his neck. Hot kisses, teeth grazing skin, a bold tongue licking and marking. Taehyung had a fucking weak spot on his neck, and Jungkook knew it—knew it well.
Without the barrier of their mouths fused, Taehyung's moans grew louder, echoing down the hallway, his blush spreading like wildfire.
"God... Jungkook..." he murmured breathlessly, gripping his back. "This is ridiculous. Let’s go to the room, okay? Fucking against a wall is not comfortable. Trust me, I’m speaking from experience."
Jungkook paused, looked at him, and raised an eyebrow.
"Oh yeah? You’ve done it enough to know?" he asked with a cheeky, clearly provocative smile. Taehyung widened his eyes and shot him a judging look.
"I’ve got a pretty respectable list of girls behind me, thank you. And you can’t say anything ‘cause yours is just as long," he replied with a pout. Jungkook made a face of surrender but didn’t let go of him.
"Okay, fine. You’re right. But don’t talk about other people when I’m like this with you—it totally kills the mood, fuck."
"Then I’ll keep my mouth busy with yours. Sound fair?" Taehyung smirked. Jungkook loved that.
"Doesn’t sound like a bad idea," he said, licking his lips. "Actually, sounds like a pretty good deal."
He lowered his hands, bent down slightly, and without warning, wrapped his arms under Taehyung’s thighs and lifted him like he weighed nothing.
"What the hell are you doing, idiot?! Put me down!" Taehyung yelled, pounding on Jungkook’s back with fists that had zero actual force behind them.
"I’m taking you to the room, spoiled brat. You said the wall wasn’t comfortable, right? So I’m listening to you."
"Don’t call me a spoiled brat, you moron! And put me down before we die! We’re on the stairs!" he shouted even louder as he felt the first step beneath them, clinging desperately to Jungkook’s shirt.
Jungkook laughed genuinely as he carried him up the stairs without the slightest effort, as if carrying a whole adult man was part of his daily workout. Taehyung’s legs flailed in frustration, and his voice sounded almost childish between curses and threats.
"Don’t you dare drop me, Jungkook! I swear to God, if you let go, you’re going to be stuck taking care of me in the hospital for the rest of the semester!"
"Relax, Tae. You’re not that fragile. And you're not gonna break anything with that cushiony ass of yours."
"Shut up, bastard! You’re such a perv! A perv with ridiculously strong arms!" Taehyung yelled, clinging even tighter to his shirt in a desperate attempt to avoid an untimely death in case of a slip.
Finally, Jungkook reached the door, pushing it open with his foot.
"We’ve arrived. Final stop: the spoiled little prince’s bedroom."
"Don’t you dare throw me like a sack of potatoes, Jungkook. I swear to God, if you do, I’ll kill you," Taehyung warned breathlessly, still hanging half over his shoulder.
But surprisingly, Jungkook obeyed. He lowered him gently and slowly, keeping one hand on his back as he helped him sit on the bed, still leaning over him.
"Wow, miracles do exist," Taehyung said with a breathless smile, hair messy and chest rising and falling quickly.
"See? I can be gentle when I want to," Jungkook said in a quieter voice, his dark eyes locked dangerously on Taehyung’s lips.
Something in that moment flipped a switch in his chest.
Taehyung froze, feeling Jungkook’s breath on his face, his heart pounding so hard he was sure the other could hear it.
Goddamn it.
He couldn’t keep doing this. He didn’t want to keep doing this.
He was scared, yeah. His palms were starting to sweat from how nervous he was—but he was also tired. Tired of not knowing if this was real or just some fantasy he’d made up in his head. Tired of those Bambi eyes looking at him like he meant something... but maybe that was just how Jungkook looked at the world. And that was exactly what he couldn’t take anymore: living off the possibility.
He took a deep breath.
"I have to tell you something," he blurted suddenly, practically spitting the words out before they could get stuck. Jungkook blinked, confused at first, but then his lips curved into a playful smile. He leaned in a little more, cupped Taehyung’s cheeks in both hands, and squished them gently until his face looked like a pufferfish.
"What is it, hmm? Why are you so serious?" he asked sweetly, with that damned tenderness that wasn’t helping at all. Taehyung shot him a glare, but didn’t pull away.
"Don’t freak out, but..."
"Why would I freak out?" Jungkook interrupted, voice steady and confident.
Taehyung swallowed hard. His throat felt dry. He forced himself to meet those eyes head-on. The same pair that had stirred up all kinds of things in his chest more times than he could count.
He was going to do it.
"Because… shit, Jungkook," he said tensely, pulling Jungkook’s hands away from his cheeks. "I like you, okay? I like you, and not in a ‘you’re nice’ or ‘you’re cute’ kind of way or any of that vague bullshit. I like you for real, dumbass. There, plain and simple, I said it."
The silence that followed was brutal. Jungkook just stared at him, wide-eyed, not even blinking. He was just there, looking scared out of his mind.
"I'm freaking out."
"What? What the fuck does that mean?" Taehyung snapped right away, overwhelmed, feeling every ounce of courage he'd just gathered leaking out through his skin. "Don’t look at me like that! Say something, asshole! Or are you gonna reject me? Great! Perfect! Just what I was waiting for! I’ll go jump out the window, be right back!"
"Taehyung—"
"No!" he shouted when Jungkook tried to grab his arm. "I knew it, I knew I’d fuck everything up by saying this. You made me believe that… that maybe there was something there. But of course! Stupid Taehyung getting his hopes up for nothing!"
"Tae! Tae, calm down!" Jungkook said, grabbing his wrists, looking at him in panic. Taehyung looked back at him, his eyes about to collapse. He felt everything inside him twist up. His throat, his chest, his stomach. His whole soul in knots. "You just caught me off guard, okay? I didn’t expect you to say that. It’s just…" Jungkook paused, trying to find the right words. "It wasn’t supposed to go like this."
Taehyung blinked, feeling the hit land right on his sternum.
Wasn’t supposed…?
Ah. That was it. It wasn’t mutual, it wasn’t real. Jungkook didn’t want this. Not with him.
"Let go of me," he whispered. He didn’t have the strength to yell anymore.
Jungkook loosened his grip, but didn’t fully let go. He looked at him and saw the shift. The light in Taehyung’s eyes faded. His shoulders sank, and his expression turned flat, empty.
"Tae…" he whispered. "I’m explaining this like shit, I know. But that’s not it. I swear that’s not it."
Without another word, he dropped to the floor in front of him, palms pressed to the ground between Taehyung’s legs, right in the space between his thighs. He looked up at him like a guilty dog.
"It wasn’t supposed to go like this because I was going to tell you. I wanted to do it. I was going to say I liked you. But you beat me to it, fuck."
Taehyung looked down at him, eyes already brimming with tears he was refusing to let fall. He felt ridiculous, vulnerable, and fucking exposed.
"Are you serious?" he asked in a raspy voice. "You’re not messing with me?" Jungkook shook his head and brought his hands up again, cupping Taehyung’s face, stroking his cheeks with his thumbs.
"I'm dead serious. That time… at the restaurant, it was a date. I wanted it to be a date. That’s why I invited you, to see if this… if we could work. I wanted to get to know you better."
"You didn’t call it a ‘date,’ though," Taehyung snapped, slightly indignant, but relieved. "I thought you just wanted to make sure you weren’t sleeping with a psychopath."
Jungkook laughed, short and nervous.
"Sorry. I was scared you’d turn me down. I tried to be subtle, but I guess I went full dumbass instead."
They went quiet for a few seconds, just looking at each other. Then Taehyung spoke.
"Hey… listen. Just because I said I like you doesn’t mean I want us to be... uhm, boyfriends right away, okay?" Jungkook blinked, confused by the statement. "I don’t want labels yet. Not because I don’t want to be with you—it's not that. It’s just that… I don’t want this to feel like a checkbox. You get me? If we’re gonna be together, I want it to feel special. I don’t want ‘I like you’ to instantly mean ‘we’re official now.’"
Jungkook let out a soft, nasal laugh—not mocking, just warm—and nodded slowly as he listened.
"I want to keep getting to know you, keep seeing you… but without the pressure of having to be something, at least not yet. I don’t know how this is supposed to work between two guys, but I know I want it to work with you. At my pace, at our pace. And if one day we do become… boyfriends"—he paused and shrugged a little, the word hard to say out loud—"I want it to feel natural and special. Like it happened because it felt right, not because it was expected."
Jungkook nodded immediately and smiled at him.
"I’m totally on board. Don’t worry about it. I don’t want to rush anything either."
"Or slap a label on it before it's time," Taehyung added, more relaxed now.
"Exactly," Jungkook said, lifting a hand to caress his cheek again. "Though you’ll have to deal with me fucking you just as often as we’ve been doing."
"You might be pretty, but you’re still a pig," Taehyung scoffed.
"And you’re a dramatic little shit. Did you really think I’d reject you? Haven’t you seen the way I treat you?"
"You thought I’d reject you too, and I was basically one step away from ripping out my heart and handing it over."
"Yeah, well that’s different, you’re more complicated. And just now you almost stormed out of your own damn house before I could explain."
"You were talking total crap and explaining yourself like shit. Now shut up and kiss me before I change my mind."
Jungkook didn’t need to be told twice.
Chapter 37: Chapter 36
Chapter Text
"I like you way too much, Kim Taehyung," Jungkook breathed out.
Taehyung swallowed hard. His cheeks were flushed, lips slightly parted, and his back was resting against the headboard of his bed.
They were in his room, the dim light from the desk lamp was the only thing illuminating the space, casting a warm glow on the edges of the bed and furniture. It was still raining outside, and the soft patter of drops against the window acted like a calming soundtrack.
Jungkook was straddling his legs, leaning forward just a bit, his bare chest glistening faintly under the light, while his fingers played with the waistband of Taehyung’s pants, which were already pulled halfway down his thighs. The blonde was also shirtless by now, and his skin was burning up; the heat between them was intense. They had kiss marks on their necks and their lips were swollen and red.
Taehyung didn’t know how they had gotten to this point so fast, but he didn’t want to stop it either. He felt out of his mind. All the drama from the confession, everything he’d been holding in for weeks, was now spilling out in the form of urgent touches, trembling sighs, and broken laughter.
"Jungkook…" he murmured, his throat tightening. "This feels fucking insane, I can’t believe this is real… that I was able to tell you without dying."
"It is, and you did," the younger replied, kissing his lips with a sweetness that contrasted with the raw desire in his voice. "I like you so much, Taehyung. You have no idea how much."
It wasn’t the first time he’d said it like that—during these past minutes, he’d said it every chance he got—and every single time, something in Taehyung’s chest trembled.
Jungkook gently adjusted him so he was lying down completely. His messy hair fell over his forehead, and his breathing was already uneven. He leaned down to kiss his stomach, his hip, the sharp bone on the side. Taehyung squirmed slightly beneath him, trying to keep it together, but it was hard when every inch of him was screaming for more. He was so turned on, he was panting with every touch.
And that was making it hard to think straight.
"You’re so fucking desperate," Jungkook whispered as his kisses trailed lower.
"It’s because of you, fuck," the blonde groaned. "You’ve had me like this since yesterday. And last night, you made me do things that…"
He trailed off as soon as he realized what he’d said. Jungkook raised his head and smirked, amused.
"What did you do last night, hmm? After you almost ripped my soul out with your foot under the table?"
"Shut up," Taehyung growled, covering his face with one hand. "This is so embarrassing."
"Tell me," Jungkook teased. To push him, he slid his hand down to Taehyung’s erection, touching him over his boxers, making him writhe.
"I’m already embarrassed, I’ve confessed enough today," the blonde mumbled, turning his flushed face away to avoid Jungkook’s gaze—because he knew he’d spill everything just by looking at him. Especially with that hand, which was now moving more firmly. "J-Jungkook…"
"Talk," he said with a serious tone, making Taehyung shiver slightly.
"Yesterday…" Taehyung began, voice lowering even more. And when he finally looked into his eyes, there was no stopping—he didn’t want to. "Yesterday, after we left Jin-hyung’s house…"
"Yeah?"
"You left me a mess," the blonde admitted, closing his eyes for a second. "A total mess. And when I got home… I locked myself in the bathroom."
Jungkook felt a surge of arousal shoot up his spine. He could already guess where this was going, and the image was taking shape in his mind.
"You touched yourself?" he asked, not breaking eye contact. Taehyung swallowed and nodded.
"I thought about you," he whispered. "About your hands, about the way you spoke in my ear. About what you did in the kitchen. About how you made me feel under the table. I couldn’t get you out of my head."
The dark-haired boy looked down at his chest, his stomach, then back up at his eyes. He seemed hypnotized.
"Keep going," he asked, voice hoarse. Taehyung looked away again, embarrassed and exposed.
"I did it in the shower," he murmured. "At first it was just my hand on my dick, nothing special… but then, I don’t know. It wasn’t enough. I wanted… more."
"More?" Jungkook held his breath. Taehyung nodded. His cheeks were completely red.
"I used, uhm… my fingers. One at first, just out of curiosity. I didn’t really know what I was doing, but… I felt like I needed you. I ended up with two… and even that wasn’t enough."
He shut his eyes tightly. The image forming in Jungkook’s mind was too much. He ran a hand down his face, muttered something Taehyung didn’t catch, then held the older boy’s face in his hands, staring at him.
"You fingered yourself thinking about me?" he whispered, voice thick with lust. "Fuck, Taehyung… you’re gonna drive me insane. Why the hell didn’t you call me? I would’ve come help you gladly."
"I wasn’t going to call you for that!" Taehyung exploded, covering his face with both hands. "What’s wrong with you?! Don’t be like that!"
Jungkook chuckled softly, gently pulling his hands away from his face and placing a short kiss on his lips.
"Don’t hide that from me, Tae. Don’t hide how you feel, what you think. I love that you think of me like that. I love knowing I turn you on so much you can’t help yourself."
"It’s embarrassing," the blonde whispered, but he wasn’t pulling away anymore. He wasn’t running. Jungkook reached up and caressed his nape gently.
"Do it now," he ordered, eyes locked on his.
"What?" Taehyung blinked.
"Do it here. In front of me. Touch yourself like you did last night, use your fingers. I want to watch."
Taehyung felt his heart stop for a second. His whole body tensed, a rush of adrenaline shooting through his muscles. He didn’t know whether to laugh and insult him, run away, or let him do whatever he wanted. Was he insane? Maybe. But maybe… he also wanted to. Just a little. Still, he wasn’t going to give in that easily.
"You’re insane."
"No," Jungkook denied, dragging his lips along his jaw, kissing him. "I’m turned on. Do you know how fucking sexy it is to imagine you doing that alone, thinking of me? Moaning my name without even having me there? I want to see it, I want to hear you, I want to know what your face looks like when you’re pleasuring yourself. I like you so fucking much…"
Taehyung whimpered softly at those words. How could he speak to him like that? How could he melt his bones with a single phrase? He covered his face again with one hand, a futile attempt to shield himself from the overwhelming intensity.
"Jungkook… I’m dying of embarrassment."
"So what?" Jungkook whispered, caressing his hip with a firm hand. "Die with me. You don’t have to do it perfectly. I just want to see you."
"You’re such a fucking pervert."
"And you’re fucking beautiful," Jungkook replied, now kissing his neck just below the ear. "Come on, hyung. Be good for me, show me how you did it yesterday."
The blonde closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and then nodded. If he was going to do it, he was going to do it right. For Jungkook.
Slowly, with slightly trembling hands, he slid his pants lower down from where they hung around his thighs, along with his boxers, fully exposing his body. Jungkook shifted a bit, sitting beside him but never taking his eyes off him. He was completely mesmerized, lips slightly parted, his eyes shining. Taehyung swallowed again, knowing he was now completely naked in front of the person who drove him the craziest in the world. And he was about to show him a part of himself he had never shared with anyone.
He reached toward his nightstand and pulled out a bottle of lube he had bought a few days earlier. He also took out a condom, though he left that one on the table.
"I brought my own condoms, Tae."
"Your dick won’t fall off just because they’re not XL strawberry-flavored and pre-lubed," the blonde scoffed, returning to his previous position with the lube in hand. Jungkook laughed but nodded—saving condoms every now and then wasn’t a bad idea.
Taehyung realized he had no idea what to do next. Being in bed was different from standing in the shower; here, he had to twist around a bit. Embarrassed as hell, he tried to find the best position while lying down—because there was no way in hell he was getting on all fours for this. Besides, he wasn’t even sure Jungkook would let him, since he wouldn’t be able to see his face.
He first brought his left knee to his chest, holding it by the thigh, and left his right leg stretched out on the mattress. But he noticed that maybe the angle wasn’t great if he tried to reach with his right hand. He’d definitely have to twist his wrist in a painful way, and that didn’t seem practical. His entrance wasn’t located where a vagina would be—it was lower—so his fingers might not even go in all the way.
So he changed positions. He lay on his side—specifically turned his body to the left—and reached his right hand behind him, deciding that gave him better access. Face burning red, he took the lube and squeezed some onto his fingers, then reached behind to spread it over his entrance. He shivered from the contrast between the cold liquid and his warm skin. He applied more lube to his fingers, then moved back to that area again after placing the bottle next to him.
Jungkook couldn’t take his eyes off him. The whole view, every little thing Taehyung was doing, was driving him absolutely crazy. But he decided to be patient, even though his cock was twitching with anticipation inside his pants. He reached down and pressed his hand over his crotch, trying to calm himself down. It didn’t help, obviously.
Taehyung brought his left hand to his right ass cheek and grabbed it, spreading himself so Jungkook could see everything in high definition—what a privilege. Taehyung’s hole kept clenching, and all Jungkook could think about was touching him.
The blonde paused for a second to glance at Jungkook’s face—his dumbfounded face—just to make sure he was watching. Then, with a courage he didn’t know he had (because honestly, he thought he might die afterward), he pushed against his entrance and shoved in two fingers at once.
Why not one? Because Taehyung was a fucking idiot who thought he could take two right away—he was a man, after all. Big mistake. It hurt like a bitch, but there was no way he was going to let himself look weak, so he played it cool. Jungkook, on the other hand, thought he might pass out, watching as Taehyung explored his tight ring and pushed deeper and deeper. He stopped breathing for a moment when his gaze traveled from Taehyung’s ass to his face. Seeing Taehyung like that—biting his lip seductively with teary eyes and flushed cheeks—was the hottest thing in the world.
Every time Taehyung moved his fingers, despite the pain, he liked it. The discomfort slowly began to shift into the kind of pleasure he craved. He never thought he’d enjoy putting things up his ass so much.
"Talk to me. Don’t hold back your moans," Jungkook said, his voice husky. "How does it feel?" Taehyung let out a heavy breath, clearly into that. His eyes were half-lidded, his brows furrowed like he was deeply focused. He locked eyes with Jungkook and swallowed hard.
"Good... I-I mean, it h-hurts a bit, but I like that it hurts," he said with difficulty, speeding up as soon as he saw how much Jungkook liked the view.
"You’re such a fucking masochist, Taehyung," the younger muttered, licking his lips. "I really fucking like you."
"Mghm!"
Taehyung’s whole body trembled when his fingers brushed that sensitive spot he loved to hit. Once he found it, he didn’t hesitate to pound into it. Jungkook watched as Taehyung pushed his fingers in with desperation, moaning shamelessly.
Jungkook’s erection was throbbing under his palm, begging to be freed, and there was no way he was going to leave it waiting. He unbuttoned his pants and, in the blink of an eye, was naked too. He stroked his cock from base to tip, trying to match the rhythm Taehyung was using on himself, imagining how it would feel to actually be inside him.
The older looked divine—so sexy, so hot, and downright filthy. He kept pressing into that spot that made him moan and shake. His cock was flushed red and leaking pre-cum, the tip slippery, with a drop sliding down the shaft and landing on his left thigh, where his erection rested. Taehyung’s breathing turned erratic, and his moans grew louder. Jungkook immediately recognized those signs.
"Does it feel good?" the younger asked breathlessly, because everything was clearly getting to him.
"Yeah... really good, b-but..." Taehyung paused to swallow for what felt like the thousandth time. "It’s not enough. It’s not you. I need you, but I could still come like this."
Fuck that.
Jungkook watched those fingers thrusting in and out of Taehyung and whimpered. Two fingers clearly weren’t enough anyway, right? And he still had to punish him for being so reckless.
He grabbed the lube with his left hand and applied some to his fingers, bringing them to Taehyung’s entrance. He didn’t even wait for the blonde to pull his fingers out—he just shoved in two of his own. Taehyung’s eyes flew open and he let out a loud moan from the sudden intrusion—two new digits joining the two already inside. Four fingers now. Holy fucking shit, that hurt like hell.
He tensed up, legs clenching tightly, and gripped his ass cheek with his left hand, probably hard enough to leave a mark.
"You like it when it hurts, don’t you?"
He couldn’t respond with words, too busy moaning as Jungkook began moving his fingers, guiding Taehyung’s hand with his own since it was still trapped beneath his grip. Taehyung nodded repeatedly. It hurt like crazy, but he fucking loved it.
It didn’t feel like punishment, not really—but he didn’t care.
Jungkook sped up the movement of his hand on his cock, moaning in sync with him. The room was filled with both of their gasps and the unmistakable wet sounds from the lube dripping from Taehyung's entrance.
It didn’t take long for Taehyung to feel those familiar tingles in his belly. He locked eyes with Jungkook—at this point, he was breathing heavily, waves of pleasure rolling across his face. Close. So close. So fucking close.
"Jungkook..." Taehyung managed to gasp out, struggling to speak, never breaking eye contact as his whole world began to shift.
"Harder. Say my name louder," Jungkook ordered, pupils blown wide and eyes darkened with lust.
"Jungkook! Ah!" A fiery burst of pleasure exploded inside him, and he finally came, body tensed, so hard that a stream of cum shot up to his calf. His cock twitched and kept spurting thick ribbons across his thighs for what felt like an eternity. His whole body trembled, convulsing with wave after wave of shattering release. Jungkook couldn’t tear his eyes away, breathing erratically as he watched the scene unfold before him.
He gave Taehyung a moment to rest, pulling his fingers out of him, earning a soft whimper from the blond at the sudden emptiness. Meanwhile, he wrapped his other hand—the one slick with Taehyung’s warmth—around his own cock and started pumping quickly. His eyes never left the blond, who looked completely spent and dazed from the intensity, and fuck, he looked insanely hot like that.
Jungkook saw sparks behind his eyelids as he stroked himself, fast and desperate, moaning as the heat pooled in his gut and his muscles tightened. Flames licked inside him, and it didn’t take long before his orgasm slammed into him. He doubled over, bringing his cock closer to Taehyung’s entrance. A loud groan escaped his lips as he came, thick spurts painting the blond’s ass, his rim, even dripping down to his balls.
Taehyung looked at him with a small, satisfied smile playing on his lips. That sight alone kept his cock from going soft. That’s the kind of effect Jungkook had on him. Like he said: a fucking addict. Addicted to him. He didn’t know if he wanted to pass out or beg for more.
His body was wrecked, legs still trembling, the insides of his thighs slick, and his ass… well, calling it a mess was generous. Jungkook hadn’t held back—he’d aimed without mercy and hit with almost perverse precision.
"You… I already told you," Taehyung started with a voice still hoarse, his throat raw from all the moaning. "Jeon… you left my ass looking like it got shot with a fucking milk gun again… I'm gonna castrate you."
Jungkook burst into laughter, leaning in to rest his forehead against Taehyung’s sweaty collarbone. His chest rumbled against the other boy’s, and his once-tense shoulders now shook with soft laughter.
"Oh, yeah?" he murmured, still pressed close. "You gonna do that all shaky and worn out? Admit it—you loved it."
Taehyung pressed his lips together, unable to deny how much he’d loved that part, and his face betrayed him.
"You’re such an asshole," he muttered, looking away, trying to stay mad even though his lips were already twitching. "Don’t tempt me, dickhead."
Jungkook nipped at his shoulder, gently, just a teasing scrape of teeth, then collapsed beside him, exhaling like he’d just run a marathon. They both stared at the ceiling for a moment, until Jungkook turned his head toward him, his expression lazy but burning with life.
"I didn’t think I’d get so turned on watching you like that," he said, no filter, his voice still husky. "I never imagined you’d look that fucking perfect touching yourself. You looked… hot. So much like you, I didn’t even want to blink." Taehyung turned his face toward him too, swallowing hard. His eyes were still wide, dark, and blown with lust.
"I’d never done that in front of anyone," he confessed quietly, barely audible. "Not even just jerking off my cock. I didn’t know if I could. But you..."
He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to. Jungkook was already smiling, that soft kind of smile that melted him completely.
"You know what the best part is?" Jungkook added suddenly, raising an eyebrow as his hand lazily traced down Taehyung’s abdomen, lowering dangerously.
"That you're getting up to grab some towels?" the blond shot back, half-growling. "Because your damn masterpiece is dripping between my legs, idiot."
"Nope," Jungkook laughed, sitting up again and moving between Taehyung’s legs, settling on his knees. "The best part is that we’re not done yet."
"What?" he murmured, though he already knew the answer.
"You said you needed me," Jungkook whispered. "You said your fingers weren’t enough, and I believe you. Because I need you like this too."
And without asking, he grabbed Taehyung’s legs, lifting one onto his shoulder, then the other, holding them firmly in place. The contact made Taehyung's muscles twitch involuntarily, his mouth falling open in a silent gasp. The angle left him completely exposed, but he didn’t have time to cover himself.
"Jungkook…" he said, voice trembling to a thin thread. "Wait. I’m… I’m really sensitive."
"I know," Jungkook whispered, leaning closer to his face while keeping his hips steady. "Me too. But that doesn’t mean we don’t want it. Right? I haven’t fucked you yet."
Taehyung shut his eyes. His whole body was burning, aching in that blissful way, but still, when he felt Jungkook lean over him, pressing his legs to his chest, his lips curled into a faint smile.
"I’m gonna die," he whispered with a strangled laugh. "You’re gonna fuck me to death, aren’t you?"
Jungkook kissed him, slow and deep, a reminder that he was there, with him, and not going anywhere.
"Only if you let me," he murmured against his lips. "Though honestly… if I die too, sounds like a fair deal."
The blond laughed, because even though his body was begging for a break, his chest was full of fire. He still wanted him. More than that—he needed him. He wasn’t done. Not with him. Jungkook grabbed the condom from the nightstand and rolled it on skillfully, then added plenty of lube. He positioned himself again, lining his now-covered and slick cock with Taehyung’s entrance.
"If I can’t walk tomorrow, I swear to God I’ll kill you," Taehyung muttered through clenched teeth, shivering from the sensation shooting up his spine.
"Then it’ll be worth the threat," Jungkook whispered against his neck. "Because this time, I’m not holding back. This time, I’m going to fuck you like your body’s mine."
And for a moment, Taehyung believed it. Maybe he was. Maybe, for a while now, he already had been.
Little by little, he began to move his hips forward, entering him at a dangerously slow pace. Taehyung felt every inch—he felt him bigger than usual, too much in that position, with his back arched and his legs over the boy's shoulders. There wasn't much room for pride. Only for surrender. Only for him.
Jungkook placed both hands on either side of Taehyung, and the older one clung to his arms, lightly digging his nails into the younger's skin. His muscles trembled every time he felt the heat of Jungkook’s body pressing deeper, further. Taehyung moaned, unable to tell if it hurt, turned him on, or both. Every intrusion made his skin feel more alive than ever.
“God…” he murmured with a broken voice. “Fuck, Jungkook…”
And Jungkook heard him. He heard him with his whole body, with half-lidded eyes, clenched teeth, and a tensed neck. He was beautiful like that.
He started moving once he was fully inside, not erratic or rough just for the sake of it—his thrusts were intense, measured, tailored to what Taehyung needed and didn’t even know how to ask for.
Taehyung had thought he’d be too sensitive, that he wouldn’t be able to take more, that the orgasm which had stolen his breath just minutes ago had left his body drained. But then Jungkook began moving faster, and he realized he still needed him. He wanted to feel all of him, and every thrust only deepened that need.
“You’re so fucking tight…” Jungkook gasped against his mouth. “You have no idea what you do to me. I like you so much.”
Taehyung tried to say something, but he had no idea what. His body was being shaken from the inside out, completely caught between pleasure and overstimulation. He couldn’t close his legs, couldn’t look away. Jungkook was over him, inside him, breathing him in so close that he could taste the sweat on his lips when he spoke.
He’s going to break me… fuck, he’s breaking me, he thought. But not as a complaint—it was surrender. An absolute acceptance that his body no longer fully belonged to him.
Jungkook leaned down to kiss him as he moved his hips, though it was hard to keep the kiss going, constantly interrupted by their gasps and moans. His hips slammed hard against Taehyung’s already sore ass, creating sounds far too arousing to ignore—those “claps” echoing shamelessly in the room.
The cum Jungkook had spilled earlier was sliding down Taehyung’s cheeks, dripping slowly onto the bed. He could feel every drop of the warm, milky fluid trailing down his skin.
“Look at me,” Jungkook ordered hoarsely, sweat dripping from his forehead down to his neck. “I want to see you.”
And Taehyung opened his eyes, even though his eyelids were heavy, and looked at him. Their bodies moved together, Jungkook’s hair shifting with the rhythm of his hips, and even though their faces were overtaken by pleasure, their eyes reflected love.
“Do you like this?” Jungkook asked breathlessly. “Do you like feeling me this deep inside you?” Taehyung bit his lip, trying not to melt just from the sound of those words. Damn Jungkook. Damn that mouth of his that always said exactly what it wanted. “Say it, Tae,” he demanded, slightly picking up the pace. “Say it.”
“Yes,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “I love it. I fucking love when you fuck me like this. Don’t stop. Never stop, you fucking idiot.”
And Jungkook didn’t.
The sound of their bodies slamming together filled the room in a wet, savage rhythm, accompanied by the creaking of the bed under their weight and their ragged breaths that couldn’t find a sync—they were too busy surviving the pleasure.
Taehyung felt a sharp spike of sensitivity deep in his belly, and his hips trembled involuntarily. He was coming again. He was so close, it felt like a single touch more would shatter him into a thousand pieces. And still, he didn’t want to stop. He wanted to stay right there, under Jungkook’s body, wrapped in his arms, completely surrendered to his control. He wanted to be used. To be marked.
“You’re trembling,” Jungkook whispered with a cracked smile. “Are you gonna come again?”
Taehyung clenched his teeth.
“S-Shut up… you arrogant fuck…” But his voice trembled, and Jungkook laughed low in his throat, not stopping, not letting him go.
“I won’t. I want to watch you fall apart again.”
With that, Jungkook sped up his thrusts. And despite mocking him, Taehyung could tell by the younger’s face that he was getting close too—his brows furrowed, eyes half-closing, lip caught between his teeth as his thrusts turned sharper, faster.
And when the moment came—when Taehyung’s body arched violently, spine curving to its limit, legs pressing against Jungkook’s shoulders, fingers desperately clawing for something to hold onto—he moaned so loudly he was sure the nosy neighbors could hear him. His cum burst out of him, splashing up to his chest.
Jungkook cursed through gritted teeth when Taehyung tightened around him, and everything turned wilder, more intense. Their bodies crashed together in a frantic, almost painful rhythm—but it was needed. Craved.
“Tae…” Jungkook panted. “I’m gonna…”
The younger threw himself over him to kiss him, swallowing a curse between their lips. His thrusts turned erratic before he finally fell apart, and Taehyung felt it deep as he came inside him. Jungkook’s mouth stayed on his, though it could barely be called a kiss at that point. It was an explosion. Heat. Shudders. A full-body tremble. Jungkook sank into him with a deep, guttural moan as Taehyung felt him shaking above him.
They didn’t move right away. They stayed there, panting, bodies still connected, skin soaked with sweat. The only sounds were their racing hearts and the remnants of uneven breathing. Jungkook slowly lowered Taehyung’s legs from his shoulders and collapsed beside him, wrapping an arm around his waist to pull him close. They both stared at the ceiling in silence, until Jungkook broke it with a breathless chuckle.
“Remember, hyung?” he said between ragged breaths. “I told you I was gonna fuck you like your body’s mine.”
“So?”
“I think you are.”
And Taehyung, still breathless, still trembling… had no strength to deny it. And he didn’t want to.
He was happy.
The classroom was empty, silent, and dimly lit by the soft glow filtering through the large side windows. The desks were abandoned, chairs left in disarray, papers scattered and forgotten—except for one at the back, where two figures sat on top of it, not on the chairs like normal students, but right on the desk, legs crossed, shoes dangling.
Jimin had a marker in his hand, the cap between his teeth and a childlike sparkle of excitement in his eyes. In front of them, scrawled across the whiteboard in all caps, underlined, and enclosed in a poorly drawn heart, it read: 'HELP PLAN FOR STRAWBERRY & BANANA'. Below that was a scattered list of bullet points—some crossed out with an aggressive X, others marked with a ridiculous little star that only Jimin could’ve come up with.
Yoongi, for his part, had his arms crossed and his back slightly hunched. He was staring at the board with one raised eyebrow and an exhausted expression. He had only agreed to this “emergency meeting” because Jimin had asked with his best abandoned puppy face, and now he was neck-deep in a brainstorming session.
“Okay, hear me out,” Jimin said, eyes gleaming with a conspiratorial glint as he tapped his fingers on the wooden surface. “What if we accidentally lock them in a supply closet here at the university? For like, half an hour? No lights? Just the two of them? Maybe some romantic music playing by ‘accident’?”
“You want them to get kicked out of school?” Yoongi replied. “That’s way too obvious. No one’s gonna believe that wasn’t planned.”
Jimin huffed, stretching like a cat and letting his head fall back with a groan.
“But they’re so close already! One little push and boom. Hearts, kisses, rainbows shooting out of their asses…”
“I did not need that image in my head, thanks,” Yoongi said with a theatrical shudder, though a small smile betrayed him.
“You’re just a grump,” Jimin scoffed, shoving his shoulder. “All your ideas are like, ‘Oh, Banana should invite Strawberry to study,’ or ‘Oh, Banana could casually tell him he looks nice.’ That doesn’t do anything! They need drama! Tension!”
Yoongi turned to face him slowly, raising an eyebrow.
“Sorry my master plan doesn’t include booby-trapping their path like this is some cheap reality show. You’re projecting your fantasies again, Park. That’s not ‘subtle approach,’ that’s stalking with a blankie.”
Jimin clicked his tongue in annoyance and looked back at the board, sulking with a dramatic shrug.
“Then you suggest something, Mister Lukewarm Ideas,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Since we got here all you’ve done is shoot down everything I say and pitch boring crap like ‘accidental messages’ or ‘leave them alone in the kitchen.’”
“I don’t need explosions and roleplay games for two idiots to realize they like each other,” Yoongi muttered. “You just have to let them be. Ease the inevitable. Jungkook’s already on the edge. One little push and he’ll spill everything.”
Jimin stared at him for a few seconds, then frowned, crossing his arms and speaking with a defiant tone.
“And why are you so sure Jungkook will be the one to confess first?”
“Because it’s obvious. Jungkook’s head over heels for him. If he hasn’t said anything, it’s because he thinks Taehyung’s not into him. The second he gets a clear sign, he’ll go for it. Full throttle.”
“Ha! No, no, no, no,” Jimin said, raising a hand like he was stopping sacrilege. “Are you insane or just stupid?” he exclaimed, pointing at him dramatically. “Strawberry is the one with the spark, the one who can’t keep quiet. Banana is more… how do I put it… emotionally constipated.”
“You don’t know him like I do,” Yoongi said, arms crossed with a know-it-all tone. “When he sets his mind to something, he goes for it. He’s stubborn, remember? And he’s already at that ‘I can’t take this anymore’ point.”
“No! Taehyung’s about to burst too—if he hasn’t already. I saw him the other day looking at Jungkook like he was trying to melt his clothes off with his eyes. They’re both equally desperate, but Tae is more impulsive. He’s gonna talk first, I’m sure of it.”
Yoongi tilted his head, narrowing his eyes with a competitive glint.
“Wanna bet?”
“Are you being serious?” Jimin leaned forward like he’d just been summoned by Satan himself.
“Yes,” Yoongi said, pulling out his phone like it was an official notepad. “Let’s bet. I say Jungkook confesses first. If you lose, you owe me 17,000 won.”
“Pfft, money…” Jimin made a face and shook his head. “No. If I win, I want something better. I want you to be the bottom for once.”
Yoongi’s expression froze for a split second.
“What?”
“You heard me,” Jimin smiled, dangerously charming. “Just once. That’s all.”
“Are you insane?”
“Are you scared?”
Yoongi stared at him for a long moment, unblinking. Jimin held his gaze without backing down, wearing that smug smile that said, Gotcha.
“I’m not scared,” Yoongi growled eventually. “I just think it’s stupid. But fine. Deal.”
“Perfect. Pinky promise or are you afraid of that too?”
“Pinky promise,” Yoongi huffed but extended his pinky. Their fingers intertwined.
“Pinky promise,” Jimin repeated solemnly.
They stayed like that for a few seconds longer, caught in that strange contact, staring directly into each other’s eyes. But the silence was abruptly broken by a cough behind them. Both of them whipped their heads toward the door, and in doing so, their fingers snapped apart like they’d just been electrocuted.
“Are we interrupting something?” Jungkook asked with a wide grin.
Beside him, Taehyung stood with his arms crossed and one dangerously arched brow. His gaze was critical, sharp, and enough to send a chill down even Jimin’s bold spine.
“What the fuck are you two doing?” Taehyung asked in a rough voice.
Yoongi and Jimin jumped off the desk. Literally. Their bodies snapped upright like springs, backs straightening instantly as they stood.
“We weren’t… I mean, it’s not what it looks like, we were working,” Yoongi stammered, cursing internally for not thinking of something better.
Jimin, on the other hand, chose the worst possible course: physical deflection. He spun toward the whiteboard where their brilliant ideas were scribbled and plastered himself against it.
“Nothing to see here! Just… creative exercises. Improvisation. Academic roleplay.”
His outstretched arms barely covered a third of the board’s content, which only made the whole thing look even more ridiculous. Taehyung didn’t even blink. He stepped forward slowly, like a predator, until he was right in front of Jimin.
“Move,” he said firmly. Jimin turned his head slowly, swallowing hard. He tried to hold his gaze, but just two seconds of that icy tone were enough to make his shoulders shrink. Defeated, he stepped aside like a kid caught stealing candy.
“Taehyung, you’re not mad about this… right?” he asked in a small, almost pleading voice.
Jungkook raised both eyebrows, clearly impressed by Taehyung’s commanding tone. He pressed his lips together to keep from laughing, and couldn’t help but think that this dominant version of Tae suited him dangerously well. It was strange—but he liked it. A lot.
The blond ignored Jimin and stared at the board. The black marker stood out, and there, shamelessly, was all the crap his two best friends had been planning behind his back.
"‘Idea 1: Strawberry trips and falls on Banana. Strawberry blushes. Banana helps him up and caresses his cheek’... Seriously?" he scoffed, rubbing his temple with two fingers. Jungkook stepped closer, tilting his head as he read the rest of the notes.
"‘Idea 2: Banana hears Strawberry singing in the shower. Banana listens from the door. Then tells him he has a beautiful voice and that he fell in love’ Well... I've already heard him sing, so..."
"You two are complete idiots," Taehyung muttered, his patience starting to wear thin. He turned around again, arms crossed, and glared at the other two. "I appreciate that you want to... help us, I guess. But you had no fucking right to meddle like this."
"It could be about anyone," Jimin protested, though his voice already sounded weak and defeated. Taehyung kept his arms crossed and raised an eyebrow sharply.
"Seriously, Jimin? Really?" he asked. "What other people do you know who are exactly in the same situation as Jungkook and me?"
"And let’s not forget," Jungkook added with a shrug, "my favorite fruit is banana. And Taehyung’s is strawberry. You couldn’t have been more obvious if you tried."
"It could be a coincidence!" Jimin tried one last time, his voice sounding as desperate as a shipwrecked man clinging to a piece of driftwood. Yoongi placed a hand on his shoulder and shook his head, closing his eyes for a moment.
"Yeah... stop embarrassing yourself," Yoongi muttered, resigned. "We’ve been caught. We tried and failed. Bad idea."
Jimin let out a long sigh, his shoulders slumping. His face was completely defeated, shame written across every feature. He looked down, murmuring under his breath:
"I'm sorry. Really."
"Me too," Yoongi added in a dry tone, looking at Taehyung first and then at Jungkook. "We just wanted... for it to work out between you two, and now you know everything. That wasn’t how we wanted it to happen, and we’re sorry. I don’t even know if it was right to talk to the other about your feelings. We crossed a line."
Silence fell for a few seconds. And then, Jungkook moved. He took two steps until he was right behind Taehyung, and before the latter could say anything, he wrapped his arms around him from behind, resting his chin on his shoulder with a cocky smile on his lips.
"I really like you, Taehyung."
Every drop of blood in Taehyung’s body decided to rush to his face in that exact instant.
"You son of a bitch," he muttered, smacking the arm holding him. "You crazy mutt."
"But you like me too, don’t you?" Jungkook whispered, way too close.
"I like you too, you fucking idiot," he admitted, voice tight, eyes shut, and cheeks so red even Jimin was left gaping. And Yoongi was worse, his jaw practically hitting the floor. Jungkook gave him one last squeeze in the hug before slowly pulling back, the grin still plastered on his face.
"Well," he said aloud, straightening up and rubbing his hands together. "Looks like we beat you to your plan. I guess you should know we already had that talk... last weekend."
Silence hung in the air for a moment until Jimin let out a high-pitched squeal and rushed forward, his eyes sparkling and hands clutched to his chest.
"Does that mean you’re dating now?!" he exclaimed with so much excitement it felt like he'd been waiting for this moment since the dawn of time. "Huh?! Huh?! Are you?!"
Taehyung swallowed hard. He noticed Yoongi watching him expectantly, and Jimin staring so intently it felt like his eyeballs would explode if he didn’t answer. He took a deep breath and scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed.
"No," he finally replied, lowering his gaze a little. "Not... yet. We're not ready for that. We want to take it slow. Get to know each other better, at our own pace. No pressure."
He said it firmly, but couldn’t keep his voice from softening at the end, as if he still feared someone might judge him for taking things slowly. But there were no jokes, only a murmur of understanding from Yoongi, who stepped a bit closer with a small smile on his lips.
"Then congratulations, you pair of idiots," he said gently. "I’m happy for you. But I also hate you so much for making us waste time on ridiculous ideas, fruit nicknames, and color-coded plans."
Jungkook burst out laughing at that, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand.
"And you’re going to hate us more, Yoongi. Because the one who confessed first... was Taehyung. And we heard something about a bet when we walked in."
The effect was immediate. Yoongi froze. Completely.
"What...?" he whispered.
"Ha!" Jimin shouted, throwing his arms up in triumph and jumping in place. "I knew you were going to lose, Min Yoongi! I told you! I told you Taehyung would do it first, dumbass!"
"No way... no way," Yoongi repeated, still processing. "Goddamn it... No! Damn this world! Damn Jungkook for being a fucking coward!"
The outburst was long, dramatic, and incredibly theatrical—especially when the eldest threw himself to the floor with arms outstretched. Jimin seized his moment of glory. He started dancing around him, hopping like a baby goat and laughing his head off, completely merciless.
"I won the bet!" Jimin shouted, spinning in place like a kid at the park. "And you lost! You lost like the skeptical idiot you are!"
"Damn you, Jungkook! You were supposed to be the one to confess first!" Yoongi yelled from the floor, pointing at him accusingly. "It had to be you, but no! You just had to be a goddamn coward! Why the hell didn’t you do it, Jungkook?!"
"Eh, I was waiting for the right moment," Jungkook replied with a goofy smile and a shrug. "And well… Tae beat me to it."
Taehyung rolled his eyes, unable to stop laughing at the level of drama unfolding in front of them. He crossed his arms, giving Jungkook a light elbow to the ribs, just because he couldn’t resist touching him—even when scolding. Jimin, still bouncing, approached Yoongi and offered him a hand with a smile that was practically glowing.
"Come on, be a man of your word. The bet was clear. You have to go through with it."
Yoongi looked up from the floor, lips pressed tight. Still, he took Jimin’s hand and got up.
"And what if I don’t want to?"
"Then you’re a coward... and a sore loser. A bad loser," Jimin said, raising an eyebrow with wicked glee. "But if you do it, I promise you won’t regret it."
"Fine, damn it. I’ll do it," Yoongi grumbled, nodding slightly. "But only because I’m a man of my word."
"That’s all I needed to hear!" Jimin shouted, giving him a hard pat on the shoulder. "You’re gonna love it! I swear! You’re gonna love it! Just wait!"
Taehyung leaned against the table, trying to catch his breath. His face hurt from laughing so much. He looked at Jungkook, who was also bent forward, wiping away a tear that had escaped from laughing too hard. When their eyes met, Taehyung felt a warm pang in his chest. They didn’t really know what they were, or where they were heading, but seeing Jungkook laugh like that… it was enough. For now.
He hadn’t looked away when he felt Jimin’s hands grabbing his firmly, gently pulling him to face him. His friend had stepped closer, his expression warm and his eyes glowing with such sincere emotion that it made Taehyung straighten up instantly.
“Tae… I’m so fucking proud of you,” he blurted out, his voice completely free of sarcasm. “Really. I know it wasn’t easy, I know how hard it was for you to understand yourself, to accept yourself, to dare to feel this way about him. And taking that step… damn, I admire you. You did it. Not because anyone pushed you or because you felt pressured. You did it when you were ready, when the time was right for you. And that’s so brave.”
Taehyung felt it hit him straight in the emotions. It wasn’t the first time Jimin spoke to him with his heart on his sleeve, but this time there was something different. And that word—'brave'. It made him squeeze his friend’s hands tightly without thinking, swallowing hard.
“You have no idea how happy I am that you found someone to share what you had locked away inside. You deserve it, Tae. You deserve to love and be loved like that, no filters, no fear. I’m glad it happened with Jungkook.”
Taehyung’s chest tightened sweetly, a strange and intimate warmth filled his throat, and he forced himself not to blink too much, afraid he might cry like an idiot in front of everyone. So he arched a brow, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.
“That sounds really nice and all, but…” He tilted his head. “Are you saying all this just because I made you win Yoongi’s ass?”
“Of course I am!” Jimin shot back with a shameless grin. “And that’s why you’re my best friend!”
The hug that followed was tight and warm. Taehyung buried his face into his best friend’s neck and closed his eyes for a moment. Because right there, in that moment, he felt completely safe. When they pulled apart, Jimin looked even more inspired than before. His eyes gleamed with that unmistakable spark—the one that always showed up right before an idea Taehyung would probably hate.
“Hey… what if we go to a gay club next weekend? Yoongi and I were already planning to go, but now you two could come too. Minho and his boyfriend are going.”
Taehyung froze. A gay club? Them? Together? In public? Dancing? Touching? People watching them?
His uncertainty was written all over his face. He tilted his head slightly to the side, furrowed his brows just a bit, and pressed his lips together. He didn’t say it out loud, but his eyes were screaming: I’m not so sure this is a good idea. Jimin noticed right away.
“Hey, listen to me. You can be free there, you don’t have to hide anything, no one’s going to judge you. Just think—this would be different from any party you’ve ever gone to. At none of them were you two really able to be together, to enjoy just being with each other. And seeing other men in relationships could help you both feel more comfortable. It’s new for both of you, right?”
Taehyung was about to speak, still unsure, when Jungkook’s voice cut in from the side:
“I think it’s a good idea,” he said. His tone was calm and confident. Taehyung immediately turned to meet his gaze. There was no nervousness in his posture. He seemed genuinely sure.
“Are you sure?” Taehyung asked.
“Yes,” the younger one nodded, his lips curving into a soft smile. “I want to be with you. Wherever that is. We can give it a try. We don’t have to stay all night if we don’t want to. But… I think it would be fun. And different. And it wouldn’t hurt to see what this world is like—the one you and I are just starting to explore.”
The blond stared at him for a few seconds, searching for even the tiniest sign of hesitation—but found none. There was only calm in Jungkook’s expression. Confidence. A small, patient smile. And that alone was enough to deflate his resistance. He sighed through his nose, furrowed his brow slightly, and turned back to Jimin.
“Alright. Let’s go.”
The reaction was immediate. Jimin clapped once and gave a little hop in place with a mischievous grin.
“See? Apron!” he sing-songed teasingly. Taehyung puffed his cheeks in outrage and, without a word, stretched out his hand and smacked his best friend’s arm. Jimin burst into laughter, rubbing the spot dramatically. “Ow! Domestic abuse!”
“Idiot…” Taehyung muttered, unable to hide the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, even if he tried to keep up an offended face.
Jungkook just chuckled from his spot, watching them both. Though deep down, a faint unease was bubbling beneath the surface. A gay club. A public outing. He knew he’d said yes firmly—and he meant it—but part of him still felt that anxious tingle of taking bigger steps than he thought he was ready for.
Still, watching Taehyung laugh with Jimin, he knew it would be worth it. Even if it felt uncomfortable at first, what truly mattered was that they were doing it together.
Chapter 38: Chapter 37
Chapter Text
"What the fuck am I even supposed to wear to a gay club?" Taehyung snapped, his tone dry as he stood with his arms crossed, lips pressed into a frustrated frown in front of the mirror.
He was surrounded by piles of clothes at his best friend's place, with an old T-shirt hanging off one shoulder and his hair still damp from the shower. Jimin, on the other hand, was sprawled comfortably on the bed, looking thoroughly entertained.
"Take your clothes off," he ordered and, without warning, threw a tight-fitting shirt straight at Taehyung’s face. "Put this on. And those pants over there. Move it—we need to wax your ego before we go out."
"My what? Wax what?"
"Your ego, Tae. It’s inflated. In a gay club, there’s real competition, babe. If you want to turn heads, you need to stop thinking like a confused straight guy and start thinking like a god in the flesh."
Taehyung let out a disbelieving laugh but obeyed anyway. The whole thing felt less like getting dressed and more like a sacrificial ritual. Every piece of clothing had to be approved by the dictator-stylist sitting across from him, and none of them seemed good enough—even though everything he tried on came from Jimin's own closet.
The week had gotten away from him, and suddenly it was Friday. The plan they had sort of agreed on—going out to a club with Jimin, Yoongi, Minho, his boyfriend, and, of course, Jungkook—had become real. And he was excited... but also terrified.
That whole week, he and Jungkook had been closer than ever, and there was no way he could ignore it. From Monday up to that very Friday had been... strange, but in a beautiful, almost ordinary way. Jungkook and he weren’t officially anything yet. They hadn’t said the word 'boyfriends', and they didn’t act like it in an obvious way. But everything they did screamed it without needing to say it out loud.
They had been seeking each other out more than usual. Taehyung waited for him outside of class even if their schedules didn’t align. Jungkook did the same and would sometimes bring him snacks because he knew Taehyung was terrible at feeding himself. They had lunch together, sat out in the university gardens to talk. They’d also meet up just to work—each on their own stuff—but shared the space and the comfort of being near each other. Sometimes Jungkook wore headphones, sometimes Taehyung stole one. Other times, they’d just look at each other, and that was enough. Jungkook had even come over to Taehyung’s place one afternoon, saying he just wanted to 'see how he worked', but ended up falling asleep on Taehyung’s bed while he battled with Premiere for hours.
Basically, they were making plans that went beyond just fucking. But of course, it wasn’t like they had stopped doing that either. They fucked—a lot, and often. Sometimes they didn’t have much time, so they just jerked off together. They had even brought up the idea of calling each other while getting off if they couldn’t meet up.
They were learning how to be a couple without saying it out loud.
But there was also that damn feeling. The one that crept up every time they were out in public together. A tightness in his chest that made him feel like someone was watching. He’d look around, scan the crowd, try to catch a familiar face—but there was never anything unusual. Still, the unease wouldn’t go away. He figured he was being paranoid, maybe just nervous, but it didn’t make it any less unsettling.
Taehyung looked down at himself, raising his eyebrows in anticipation. After practically parading seven different outfits, Jimin finally seemed satisfied with one. He was now wearing a sleeveless shirt—tight, short, not enough to show his belly button, but enough to tease some skin—with a texture that shimmered subtly in the light. The pants were black, a bit snug, held up by a belt with metal spikes that gave him an unexpectedly punk vibe. The shoes had a glossy-yet-casual finish. It was the opposite of what he’d usually wear, but he couldn’t deny the outfit did something. Jimin definitely knew how to dress people—no question about that.
"I can't believe you're actually convincing me to go out like this," he muttered as Jimin adjusted the belt. "Are you sure I don’t look like a stripper on his break?"
"You look like a walking fantasy. Everyone in that place would kill to be the one touching you tonight," Jimin said with a wink as he stepped back to admire his work. "You do know you’re insanely hot, right? You’re so fucking fine it’s making me wanna strengthen our friendship with a little kiss."
Taehyung blinked once. Then again. And by the time his brain finally registered what Jimin had just said—with that playful, flirty, shamelessly wicked tone he wielded like a weapon of seduction—his whole body went into full alarm mode.
"What?!" he squeaked, voice going high-pitched. His face lit up instantly, and he stared at Jimin, who was grinning like a cat that had just cornered a mouse.
"That you’re fucking hot," Jimin repeated casually, his grin only growing wider.
"Jimin!" Taehyung raised both hands in a dramatic 'stop right there' gesture and started backing away.
"Oh, don’t look at me like that. If you know you’re pretty, why are you so scared?"
"Because it’s different when you say it like that," he whispered, covering his forehead with one hand. "You’re gonna kill me. Why do you do this?"
"Because I can," Jimin replied, stepping closer. He reached up and placed his fingers under Taehyung’s chin, gently tilting his face upward. "If it weren’t for Jungkook, I’d be all over you without a second thought."
"If it weren’t for Jungkook, I’d probably still think I was straight," Taehyung muttered, exhaling a shaky breath. Jimin raised an eyebrow, stepped back, and crossed his arms again.
"That’s true," he said with an easy nod, still perfectly calm. "But even then, eventually another guy would’ve come along. You were always bisexual, you just hadn’t figured it out yet. Jungkook just got there first."
And Taehyung knew he was right. He knew it was probably true. That eventually, another guy would have sparked that part of him that had been asleep for so long. But thinking about anyone who wasn’t Jungkook just felt... wrong. Jungkook was the only one now, and imagining someone else felt like betraying this new, precious feeling they were building together.
"Just shut up and go get ready," he said suddenly, not wanting to wade any deeper into that emotional territory. He checked his phone. "It’s already ten. We said we’d be there by ten-thirty."
"What?!" Jimin screamed, eyes going wide with dramatic flair. "Tae! Why didn’t you tell me?!"
"I just did!" he yelled back, though he was grinning now.
Jimin bolted for the bathroom, where he kept his personal wardrobe, and locked himself in. Taehyung could only laugh, shaking his head. He sat down on the edge of the bed as he listened to Jimin cursing, running around, and throwing things.
At 10:40 p.m., they finally arrived. The club was massive—you could tell from a distance. The purple and red lights decorating the façade looked like something out of a sci-fi movie. The entrance featured a tall vertical LED screen looping clips from past parties: bodies dancing to the beat, glowing drinks in sweaty hands, sequins, skin, laughter.
It was impressive, no doubt. And that did nothing to help Taehyung’s nerves.
Sitting in the back of the Uber, he kept fidgeting with his fingers without realizing it. He’d adjusted his shirt four times already, even though there was nothing out of place. Jimin, sitting next to him, looked completely relaxed. He was busy taking selfies, probably for his stories. And he looked incredible, of course. He always did.
"Come on, Tae," Jimin said with a smile when the car stopped. "Relax, okay? You’re gonna have fun."
They both stepped out of the car, and waiting for them outside with crossed arms were Yoongi and Jungkook.
Jungkook saw them get out and his brain short-circuited. Literally. The air vanished from his lungs. He had to blink several times just to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. Taehyung was glowing—and not just because of that damn shirt. His whole presence felt intense and stupidly beautiful. He was the walking definition of temptation. Jungkook didn’t say a word. But Yoongi caught on immediately. He glanced at him from the side and, in less than two seconds, was smirking.
"Oh my god, close your mouth before you start drooling."
"Shut up," Jungkook shot back instantly, not taking his eyes off Taehyung.
And then Taehyung started walking toward them.
He was killing him.
"Hey," he said a little shyly, with that half-smile Jungkook adored.
Jungkook didn’t think. He didn’t hesitate. He walked straight up to him, wrapped one arm firmly around his waist, pulled him in close, and kissed his cheek—his lips brushing against his skin with sniper-like precision.
"You look amazing," he whispered into his ear, feeling the almost imperceptible shiver run through Taehyung’s body.
The older boy blushed immediately. His face turned red all the way to his ears, and his eyes dropped to Jungkook’s outfit—which was a pair of loose black denim pants, a basic white t-shirt just short enough at the waist to flash the waistband of his Calvin Klein boxers when he moved, and a matching denim jacket, slightly faded. The whole look was simple, but on him? Fucking sexy. And in that instant, Taehyung’s brain just went, shit.
"You look… uh, good too. Really good," he managed to say in a near whisper, swallowing hard.
"Hi, Yoongi-hyung!" Jimin chirped with a mischievous smile as he approached the older one and planted a kiss on his cheek.
Yoongi barely had time to turn before the kiss landed, raising an eyebrow, already used to Jimin’s affectionate ways. He gave him a light pat on the waist in response, mumbling a neutral 'Hey', though something more relaxed flickered in his eyes.
Taehyung, right behind, greeted Yoongi with a few pats on the back, the kind of contact that didn’t need words. Then, while Jungkook was busy greeting Jimin with a shoulder pat, the brunette with the feline smile wasted no time stirring up trouble.
"Take care of Taehyung tonight, alright?" Jimin said, raising his eyebrows playfully as he gave Jungkook a once-over, like he was eyeing a buffet. "Because, honestly, he looks so fucking good that I’m this close to forgetting we’re friends and stealing him from you… or at least planting one on him."
The scandal was immediate. Taehyung turned toward him so fast his eyes nearly popped out, a mix of embarrassment and horror carved onto his face. He slapped Jimin on the shoulder—not hard enough to hurt, but definitely hard enough to make his protest clear.
"Shut up, you idiot! Don’t say dumb things!" he barked, blushing all the way to his ears.
Jimin burst out laughing and pretended the slap had wounded him deeply.
"Dumb things? Have you seen yourself? I’m just stating facts."
Jungkook chuckled, low and deep, that crooked little smile tugging at the left corner of his lips—the one that showed up when he was amused and a little possessive. Still smiling, he turned to Jimin and raised an eyebrow.
"Don’t even think about it. Seriously. Bad things will happen to you," he said in a joking tone, but there was a flicker in his eyes that made Jimin straighten up for a second, recognizing a boundary. Jimin clicked his tongue and gave him a please face, but before he could say anything else, Yoongi cut in, laughing quietly.
"Don’t provoke him," he said, nudging Jimin in the arm. "Come on, let’s head in. Minho’s already inside. Jeongin’s with him too. They’re waiting for us."
Just as they were about to move, Taehyung felt that strange shiver again. An uncomfortable pinch right in the middle of his back, like a pair of unknown eyes had locked onto him without permission. He turned subtly, scanning the club entrance, but he didn’t recognize anyone in line, nor the ones smoking in the corner, nor the group chatting animatedly with plastic cups in hand. Everything looked normal. Normal enough to chalk it up to paranoia. He took a deep breath and shook his head to himself.
It’s just nerves. You’re overthinking again.
Jungkook noticed his slight hesitation and reached for his hand, pulling him gently toward the door. They walked in together, and the moment they stepped inside, the impact hit them hard.
The entrance to the club was striking. The exterior was painted matte black concrete, with LED lights tracing the edges of the large windows. The music didn’t just echo in their ears—it throbbed in their chests. The place was huge, with high ceilings and two floors visible from the entrance. The main level held a central dance floor overflowing with moving bodies, and above it, a second-floor balcony with lounge tables and additional bars.
But the most jarring thing for Taehyung was the sight of men. Men everywhere. Men kissing. Men dancing. Men holding each other so close there wasn’t room for even a blink between them. In the darker corners, he could make out silhouettes moving in ways too explicit to be misread. There were a few girls too, sure—he could spot a group of three kissing each other without a care in the world—but most of the crowd were men. Lots of them. All handsome. All free. And it was… overwhelming.
Without even noticing, he grabbed onto Jungkook’s arm. The younger boy turned slightly toward him, curious, and Taehyung leaned in close to his ear to speak—or rather, to shout—because the music was so loud you could barely hear your own thoughts.
"What if someone here recognizes us?" he asked, his lips barely brushing Jungkook's earlobe by accident. "How do we know there aren’t any acquaintances around? I don't know… What if someone takes a picture?"
Jungkook tilted his head with a smile and pulled him closer, as if trying to shield him from the noise or whatever was making him doubt.
"I seriously doubt there’s anyone here who knows us and doesn’t already know about us," he whispered into his ear. "I mean, all our LGBTQ friends are here, and the rest… well, they’re not the kind of people who come to these places. Relax. You're with me."
Taehyung looked at him for a moment. The changing lights bathed him in shifting colors, but even so, the warmth in his eyes remained. His chest gave a sudden lurch. Sometimes it was hard to believe this was really happening—that it wasn’t a dream or some absurd fantasy. They were together, at a gay club, out in public with friends, and he could hold on to Jungkook without having to pretend he didn’t want to.
Meanwhile, Jungkook felt every little gesture from Taehyung like a punch straight to the heart. The way he clung to his arm, the way he looked for his eyes even if it was just to nod—it all felt so fucking beautiful.
"You look really cute holding on to me like that," he said suddenly, half joking, half sincere. Taehyung let out a soft laugh, but the blush on his cheeks was instant.
"You're sick," he muttered, looking away.
They weaved through the club, surrounded by sweaty bodies moving to the rhythm of a song with rather explicit lyrics. Taehyung was still tightly holding onto Jungkook’s arm—not just because the crowd was a dense, swaying monster that threatened to swallow him whole, but because, honestly, Jungkook’s hand gave him a sense of stability.
He had lost sight of Yoongi a few seconds ago, and Jimin was already dancing along to the beat while walking. Taehyung, on the other hand, felt like he was being scanned from every possible angle. He could see how some guys turned their heads to look at them—or more accurately, to look at him.
"Fuck," Jungkook muttered under his breath, not slowing down, his jaw clenched and his eyes fixed ahead.
Taehyung heard him even over the blasting music. He glanced toward where Jungkook was looking and noticed a couple of guys staring at them blatantly, one of them even licking his lips. He swallowed hard, uncomfortable. He wasn’t used to that kind of attention—or at least not in this kind of environment.
"Idiots," Jungkook growled again and pulled the blond boy even closer to his body.
They finally reached the table Minho and Jeongin had secured. There was a semi-circular couch upholstered in black velvet wrapped around a low table that glowed with fuchsia light from within. Several bottles rested on the table, including a half-open bottle of vodka. There were shot glasses ready, a couple of soda cans to mix, and even lime wedges, salt, and peanuts.
"Finally!" Minho exclaimed, arms wide open as he bounced up to greet them. He walked up to Jungkook first, ruffled his hair, then hugged Taehyung with a grin so wide it looked like his face might dislocate. "Finally, I get to have you both on a real gay plan—it feels historic."
"What?" Taehyung blurted out with a nervous laugh, hugging back awkwardly.
"Shhh," Minho whispered suddenly, leaning in with a theatrical tone. "Tell me, Tae… how was your first time? Did you end up enjoying it? Did you follow my advice?"
"Minho!" Taehyung shoved him hard, feeling his cheeks go hot. "I’m not telling you that! What the hell’s wrong with you…?"
"Oh, he's nervous!" Minho sing-songed, striking a dramatic pose with one hand on his chest. "That means you did enjoy it."
"You're so dead," Taehyung muttered through gritted teeth, covering his face with both hands for a second, fighting the urge to die right there from embarrassment.
Jungkook was standing right beside him, watching the whole scene. Taehyung’s reaction was adorable. That blush, that awkward pull away, the way he looked at the floor like he was trying to find a hole to crawl into—God, he was beautiful. So fucking beautiful it made Jungkook want to cup his face in both hands and kiss him until he forgot the entire world existed.
But he didn’t. He pressed his lips together and held back.
Meanwhile, Minho turned toward the boy still sitting at the table. He had light blond, straight hair parted down the middle, falling neatly on either side of his face. His smile was dazzling, dimples showing, radiating a disarming sweetness. His sharp eyes sparkled with a mischievous gleam that gave him a sly, fox-like aura.
"This is Jeongin, my boyfriend," Minho announced with a puffed-out chest of pride. "Jeongin, these are Taehyung and Jungkook—the ones I told you about."
Jeongin stood up immediately and gave a polite bow, smiling brightly.
"A pleasure," he said in a soft voice.
Jungkook and Taehyung returned the gesture, a little surprised by the formality but also charmed. Jeongin seemed young—even younger than them. Taehyung thought he looked like a fennec fox: absolutely adorable.
They all settled around the low table. The seating order ended up being: Yoongi in the corner, then Jimin next to him, followed by Taehyung who sat pressed against Jungkook, and on the other side, Minho and Jeongin, sitting very close to one another. Minho took charge of opening the vodka bottle with a mischievous grin.
"This is just to get the engines running, boys," he declared while skillfully pouring the shots.
Everyone laughed, even Taehyung, though his cheeks were still warm from earlier. They lifted their glasses and clinked them in the center.
"Cheers!" they shouted in unison before downing the shot in one go.
The alcohol burned like liquid fire down their throats. Taehyung grimaced but didn’t say anything. Jungkook, on the other hand, just let out a sigh and wiped the corner of his lips with his thumb.
As the conversation shifted to lighter topics, Jungkook couldn’t help but notice the way Minho casually placed his hand on Jeongin’s thigh, speaking close to his ear, leaning in with a lopsided smile. He didn’t seem to care who was watching. Jeongin smiled back every time, leaning in too.
Jungkook glanced down at his own hand—resting on his knee, not on Taehyung’s.
Would Taehyung let him do that?
He turned his head slightly, and his gaze filled with the sight of Taehyung laughing with Jimin, head thrown back, lips slightly parted, eyes shining. His cheeks were pink from the alcohol, hair falling messily over his forehead, and his shirt a little rumpled from all the movement. Jungkook flushed slightly just looking at him.
For a second, he thought again about just leaning in and kissing him. But it would probably be too weird to do that out of nowhere in front of everyone, so he sighed and swallowed the urge again.
"Another round?" Minho asked, already pouring the second shots.
Jungkook nodded automatically, still thinking about Taehyung's lips and how much he missed them that night. They hadn’t kissed yet that day.
“So, let’s see… where are you guys at?” Minho asked bluntly, his tone direct and curious. His eyes moved between Jungkook and Taehyung with a hint of teasing amusement. “Are you dating already or still stuck in limbo?”
Taehyung opened his mouth, but Jungkook was the one who answered first.
“Not yet,” he said in a relaxed tone, and as he spoke, he let his right hand slide gently until his fingers rested softly on Taehyung’s thigh. Taehyung bit his lip and forced a smile to hide the flush on his face, lowering his gaze for a second.
“We’re not ready yet,” he said, his voice slightly nervous. “We need… time, I think. It’s weird. We’ve never… we’ve never been in something like this before, you know? We have no idea how to act when it’s two guys.”
Minho let out a soft laugh, leaning his elbow on the back of the couch and shaking his head. He couldn’t believe how dumb they sounded.
“Have you had girlfriends before?” he asked, and both nodded at the same time. “Then act the same. It’s not that complicated,” Minho laughed. “If you used to hold hands, then do that. If you sent each other cheesy texts, send more. If you used to make out anywhere and everywhere, then… well, you get the idea. It’s not rocket science, guys. You don’t need a PhD in ‘How to Be Gay Boyfriends.’”
Taehyung laughed, but he still felt a little off. He liked how confident Minho was when he spoke, but there was something he just couldn’t shake off: fear and uncertainty. A kind of silent anxiety that crept under his skin and told him that, even if it seemed easy for others, for him it was uncharted territory.
“Yeah, I get what you’re saying, but… it’s not that simple for us,” he admitted, lowering his gaze to the shot glass in his hand. “It’s our first time with all of this. We’ve never done this… together, with another guy, and it’s a completely new world. We don’t know anything.”
Jimin jumped in with a soft smile, gently bumping his shoulder against Taehyung’s.
“I get it, Tae,” he said firmly. “And that’s okay. Go at your own pace, whatever feels right. No one’s rushing you—just enjoy what you have. Don’t make it harder than it has to be.”
Yoongi nodded and reached out to grab the vodka bottle.
“Let's toast to that, to the slow rhythms and the clumsy first steps.”
“And to alcohol making everything feel less complicated,” Minho added, leaning in to refill everyone’s glasses.
“You’re not gonna die this time, Jimin?” Yoongi asked, turning his head toward him with a deadpan expression.
“Not if you don’t leave me passed out at the bar again, Mr. ‘I fall asleep in the bathroom,’” Jimin shot back, pretending to be offended, which earned him a snort and a faint smile from Yoongi. Everyone burst out laughing, even Jeongin, who had been a bit shy until then, covered his mouth with his hands as he giggled quietly, the dimples on his cheeks adorably deep.
“That really happened?” Taehyung asked, both surprised and fascinated.
“I was half-conscious, but yeah,” Jimin said, waving his hand. “I found him asleep hugging a broom closet.”
“It wasn’t a broom closet, it was an umbrella stand,” Yoongi corrected with absolute seriousness, which only made the laughter double.
Minho switched the topic, steering the conversation toward stories of failed dates, awkward experiences, and juicy gossip. Amid the jokes and laughter, Jungkook found himself fascinated by Jeongin, who turned out to have a sharp, even dark sense of humor, throwing in random comments that made everyone laugh despite his baby face. He was the perfect contrast to Minho, and together they just… worked. Effortlessly.
“So, Jeongin,” Jimin said suddenly, turning to the blond guy, “how do you even put up with Minho?”
“With patience,” he replied, rolling his eyes dramatically. “And with bribes of chocolate, cuddles, sex… the usual.”
Minho gave him a light smack on the arm, pretending to be offended.
“You traitor.”
“I’m just being honest,” Jeongin replied with a little smirk. “And you’re intense. You make me do stretching routines before sex, Minho.”
Jimin nearly spat out his drink from laughing, and Yoongi had to cover his mouth to avoid choking.
“What?” Jimin laughed. “Stretching? What kind of Olympic routine is that?”
“Safety first,” Minho declared with mock seriousness. “No accidents, please. Love should be made responsibly. I’m a dancer—I need to take care of my muscles. I don’t want to go to practice sore. Don’t you guys do that? For newcomers like Taehyung and Jungkook, it’s highly recommended.” He nudged both of them, clearly entertained.
“Minho!” Jungkook protested, laughing but wanting to bury himself in the floor. “Shut up!”
“I’m just asking for health reasons,” Minho replied, raising his hands.
“We’re not talking about that in front of everyone,” Taehyung said, his face burning. “It’s embarrassing!”
“I don’t mind,” Yoongi mumbled, taking another sip.
“You’re just a pervert in disguise,” Jimin retorted, gently shoving him.
Some time later, everyone was a little tipsy. Both Yoongi and Minho took charge of pouring shots whenever they could, with the worst excuses imaginable. 'Your ex did what? Let’s drink to that.' 'You’re flunking that class? Time to drink for good luck.' 'Your dog ran away when you were ten and never came back? That’s tragic! Cheers!'
A rather provocative khh song was playing. Minho was the first to move away from the table, dragging Jeongin with him, a confident smile on his lips.
“Come on, lovebirds,” he said, glancing at Taehyung and Jungkook, who were still sitting stiffly with half-finished drinks and discomfort all over their faces. “Time to learn how to move like civilized men.”
“That sounds encouraging,” Jungkook muttered without moving, eyes fixed on Minho, who was already holding Jeongin by the waist with infuriating ease.
Behind them followed Jimin and Yoongi. The brunette turned with a mischievous smile and looked at the older man, who raised an eyebrow in return.
“Wanna dance, hyung?” Jimin asked, and without waiting for an answer, he turned around and pressed his back against Yoongi’s chest. Yoongi let out a small nasal laugh, placed his hands on Jimin’s hips, and they started moving together.
Taehyung and Jungkook stayed at the table, sneaking glances at each other, both feeling nerves tighten their throats.
“Uh… Do you… wanna…? Uhm…” Jungkook said, making awkward hand gestures.
“D-Dance…? Uh, yeah… do you…?” Taehyung replied, his back so straight it looked like it would start hurting any second now.
The blond waited for Jungkook to nod, and then both of them stood up awkwardly, moving like stiff robots. They walked over to where their friends were dancing—not too far from their table, just enough to keep an eye on it and make sure no one took their seats.
Taehyung and Jungkook stood side by side, stiff as pillars, silently watching their friends dance. They looked tense, arms hanging at their sides and lips tightly pressed together.
Jungkook swallowed hard. His eyes moved from Minho and Jeongin, dancing face to face with a fluid confidence that was almost enviable, to Jimin and Yoongi, who were now swaying in sync, the elder’s fingers playing along the younger’s waist. Their movements were smooth and provocative.
“Do we… have to do that?” he asked quietly, almost a whisper, just barely audible to Taehyung, who tensed like a tightly pulled string.
Taehyung wasn’t doing any better. The rhythm of the song vibrated in his chest, but he didn’t dare to move. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to dance with Jungkook—God knew how much he wanted to touch him, to move with him—but… how was he supposed to do that? What the hell was he even supposed to do? He’d danced before, sure, with girls at parties, even at performances, but this... this was different. This felt intimate.
After a couple of minutes enduring the ridiculous sight of the two of them standing like wax figures in a museum, Jimin lost his patience. He turned to Yoongi with a raised eyebrow.
“Can you take care of Jungkook?”
Yoongi let out a low, amused laugh and nodded without hesitation.
“Gladly.”
Without giving them a chance to react, they both walked confidently toward the boys. Taehyung felt a chill run down his spine before Jimin even touched him. His best friend positioned himself behind him, wrapped his arms around him, took hold of his wrists and whispered in his ear:
“You don’t need to know what to do. Just let yourself be guided.”
Taehyung held his breath. Jimin’s soft voice brushed against the nape of his neck, leaving him frozen for a second. On the other side, Yoongi did the same with Jungkook, who didn’t even have time to resist when his hyung’s hands circled his wrists and gently nudged him forward.
“Come on, Jungkook, stop overthinking,” Yoongi murmured in his calm tone. “Move your hips, or I’ll have to do it for you.”
They barely had time to process what was happening before they were literally pressed face to face. Jimin, still pressed against Taehyung’s back, moved him forward until Jungkook’s body was only inches away. Yoongi, behind Jungkook, gave a subtle push to his lower back, sealing the formation.
“All right. Now, we’re going to do the following,” Jimin began, whispering in Taehyung’s ear. “I want you to put your hands on his hips, right here. We’ll go from there, but let’s start with that.” He guided him with his own hands, lowering them until they were placed just over Jungkook’s hip bones. Taehyung held his breath and swallowed hard.
Jungkook let himself be touched, but his heart was pounding in his throat. Yoongi was guiding his hands to Taehyung’s sides, showing him how to hold him—gentle, but with intent. Every brush of his fingers sent chills through him, but he didn’t pull away.
“Now, listen to the music,” said Yoongi, his deep voice calm. “You don’t need exact steps. Just feel the rhythm and go with it. We’ll move first, you just follow.”
The movement started slowly. From behind, Jimin swayed Taehyung’s hips, which in turn caused his body to move with Jungkook’s. Yoongi did the same with the younger, guiding him in a similar motion.
The music remained low, slow, dirty and suggestive. Jimin’s hips gently nudged Taehyung’s lower back, forcing him to sway. His hands guided him, shaped him, showing him exactly where to place his own, how to hold tighter, how to move. Yoongi was doing the same with Jungkook. His hands moved along the younger’s arms, pushing with subtle movements, aligning him, helping him feel how his body should flow.
Pelvis to pelvis. Chests nearly brushing. Hands meeting on waists, then backs, then lower still.
Between them, Taehyung and Jungkook were trembling—but they had started to move. Hesitantly at first, but slowly, the heat of the contact, the pressure from the other two, and the steady rhythm began to melt their doubts. Taehyung felt his hips start to follow the beat on their own, felt his hands growing more confident as they held Jungkook. Jungkook, for his part, realized he could lose himself in Taehyung’s gaze, in the sway of his hips, in the way his touch no longer trembled.
Gradually, Jimin and Yoongi let go of them. They stopped guiding their movements and stood still for a moment, watching. The boys no longer needed instructions. So they stepped away slowly, careful not to distract or disturb them.
Taehyung had taken the lead, moving with the rhythm, bringing Jungkook with him—he was a dancer, after all. His hands slid naturally over Jungkook’s waist, and his hips followed the beat effortlessly. Jungkook mirrored him but added small touches—a caress on the back, a light squeeze on the side—that drew them closer. They danced pressed together, sensual, lost in their own world.
Jungkook leaned in and kissed Taehyung on the cheek. Taehyung smiled, biting his lip. They looked ridiculously happy. And without warning, the blond kissed him. It was a slow kiss, full of heat. Jungkook responded instinctively, his arms wrapping around Taehyung’s waist, pulling him closer, their lips moving in sync with their bodies.
Jimin and Yoongi exchanged glances, wearing matching smirks.
“We should probably stop watching,” murmured Jimin, though he didn’t look away right away.
“Yeah, it’s starting to feel like we’re watching porn,” Yoongi added in his usual indifferent tone, though his eyes gleamed with mischief. He spun Jimin with a hand on his waist and they resumed their own dance, leaving Taehyung and Jungkook alone in the center of the floor, dancing, touching, discovering.
Minho and Jeongin approached where Jimin and Yoongi were, still catching their breath from the last dance round.
“I have to say it,” Minho blurted with no filter. “Watching the four of you in the middle of the floor was one of the hottest things I’ve ever witnessed at a party. I felt… attacked. I should probably confess I totally groped you all with my eyes. Sorry.”
“‘Hot’ is putting it mildly,” Jeongin added, giggling as he saw Yoongi’s face.
“Hot, huh?” Jimin echoed with a teasing grin. “Careful, comments like that might make me think you’re the type who enjoys watching.”
“Only think?” Minho replied, then turned his head toward where Jungkook and Taehyung were still half-embraced, devouring each other, oblivious to the world. “Shit, those two won’t even come up for air.”
The comment triggered a burst of laughter from all four of them—even Yoongi, who disguised his chuckle behind a cough.
A couple of hours later, Taehyung felt like he needed air. Not because he was dizzy or tired, but because for a while now, he’d had this urgent need to be alone with Jungkook. Just a corner would do, a spot where they could let their guards down and speak in their real voices—no colorful lights, no people screaming around them.
"Want to step out?" he asked, leaning toward Jungkook’s ear. "I need some oxygen and your face. Not in that order."
Jungkook let out a low chuckle and nodded, grabbing his hand without hesitation. They let their friends know they were leaving and headed outside, down the street next to the building. The night air hit their faces with a refreshing coolness. They found a small alley lit by a single flickering streetlamp, quiet enough that the world seemed on pause. Jungkook leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets. Taehyung stood in front of him, his cheeks still flushed from the heat.
"You’re sweating," Jungkook said, pointing at his forehead.
"That’s because you’re an idiot and forced me to dance ‘Greedy’ like we were in a fucking music video," Taehyung scoffed, reaching out to grab Jungkook’s jacket and wipe his forehead with the sleeve. "And the worst part is, I keep following you."
Jungkook shrugged, clearly amused.
"Maybe what Jimin said about having an apron is real."
"Not my fault it turns me on to see you sweaty and smiling," Taehyung replied shamelessly, and Jungkook looked down, smiling."And don’t you start with the whipped thing either, thank you very much." There was a moment of silence then—one of those comfortable ones that only ever existed between them. Then, Taehyung leaned in for a short kiss, just a brush of lips, and pulled away right after. "This scares me sometimes," he confessed without looking at him.
"Why?" Jungkook frowned. Taehyung took a second to answer.
"Because I feel like if I get any closer to you, I’ll never want to let go."
"Then don’t let go. Simple," Jungkook smiled and reached out to take his hand. "You know, your friends always tease you about wearing an apron," he said suddenly. "But I think I have the apron. Every time you want something, I just want to run and give it to you. What does that make me?"
"Well, it makes you look really bad," Taehyung replied without much thought.
"Taehyung."
"Sorry," he said, shrugging. "I don’t know how to act gay."
Jungkook burst out laughing, closing his eyes.
"God, you’re such an idiot."
"It’s part of my charm."
"It is," Jungkook said. Then silence returned. He seemed to be thinking about something. He held Taehyung’s hand, swallowed hard, licked his lips, and looked away for a second before speaking again. "This week… my parents are coming."
"Oh, right. I remember..."
"Yeah, just for a couple of days, you know, they want to visit. And... I was thinking maybe, if you want, you could come over for dinner. Nothing formal, I just... I want them to meet you."
Meeting the parents—that was basically… dinner with the in-laws. He didn’t know if Jungkook meant to introduce him as a regular friend or something more. He wasn’t sure he wanted to deal with interrogation-style conversations, not to mention the fear of being rejected was huge. Still, if it was framed as a casual, friendly dinner… it didn’t seem so bad, and it might help test the waters.
His chest filled with a mix of nerves and tenderness. He was about to say something when a voice shouting his name shattered the moment.
"Taehyung!" The voice sounded furious. They both turned at the same time, and there was Gwanhee, a few meters away, walking toward them with tense shoulders, a scowl on his face, and a white bandage still across the bridge of his nose—probably from the beating Taehyung had given him a few days ago.
"What the fuck...?" Jungkook muttered, frowning. Taehyung straightened his back and crossed his arms calmly.
"Gwanhee?"
"What the fuck are you doing?" Gwanhee spat, voice dripping with venom. He stopped in front of them and stared at Jungkook’s face as if sizing him up. Then he looked back at Taehyung. "So now you’re with him? And what about Jimin? You cheating piece of shit!"
Jungkook stepped forward instantly, his eyes sparking with fury.
"Watch your mouth."
"Kook," Taehyung cut in, raising a hand in front of him. "I’ll handle it."
Jungkook glanced sideways at him, clearly frustrated, but he stepped back half a step. Gwanhee huffed and crossed his arms.
"Are you cheating on Jimin with this idiot?" he growled, pointing at Jungkook without restraint. "How low can you go, Tae? And to think that fucking faggot still defends you. Is that how you treat the people who care about you?"
The dark-haired boy felt his blood boil. His jaw clenched, but he forced himself to follow Taehyung’s lead, albeit reluctantly. The blonde took a step forward.
"First of all, you have no fucking clue what you’re talking about," he said through gritted teeth. "Second, don’t you dare mention Jimin with that filthy mouth of yours."
"Jimin’s a fucking whore, yeah, but at least he’s not hopping from bed to bed like you," the other one spat. "You’re a cheating piece of trash."
"Okay, I’m not following your insults here," Taehyung replied, looking genuinely confused. "So according to you, he’s a whore, but not sleeping around? Do you even know what the word whore means? Be coherent, or are you just out of creative juice? Your quality’s dropping." He exaggerated a pout, then a lightbulb seemed to go off in his head. "Oh… wait, answer me something—what the fuck are you doing here?"
Gwanhee shifted on the spot. His eyes dropped for a second before he forced himself to meet Taehyung’s gaze with a fake look of disdain.
"I—I was at a bar," he said, tripping over the first vowel. "A bar nearby. I’m here with some friends. Whatever, I don’t owe you any fucking explanation, so screw off."
"A bar? On this street?" Taehyung scoffed, full of irony. "There aren’t any straight bars around here, genius. This whole block’s been an LGBT zone for years. Every bar’s queer. You picked the wrong neighborhood if you were looking for straight attention."
Jungkook narrowed his eyes, tilting his head slowly, and that’s when something clicked. He crossed his arms too, eyes gleaming with pure mischief and delight.
"Oh..." he murmured, and Taehyung glanced at him. Jungkook raised his eyebrows, still staring at Gwanhee. "So you were at a... gay bar. That’s interesting. And weren’t you the one always running your mouth about how guys like us are disgusting?"
Gwanhee pursed his lips and looked away.
"I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about," he tried to hold it together, but his body betrayed him. His shoulders tensed visibly, his throat moved as he swallowed hard, and he looked away for a second.
It all fell into place, and Jungkook burst out laughing.
"No fucking way!" Jungkook covered his face with a hand, still laughing. "Of course! You’re gay. You’re deep in the fucking closet!" Gwanhee went pale. He said nothing, but his reaction gave him away more than words ever could. Taehyung stood silent for a second too, staring at Jungkook with wide eyes, unable to stop the slow, mocking smile spreading across his lips. "Oh no," Jungkook continued dramatically. "Don’t tell me you’re that kind of repressed gay who throws shit at others because he can’t admit he gets hard for men. That’s so sad. So which one of them drives you crazy? Is it Jimin? Or Taehyung?"
Gwanhee clenched his teeth so tightly that the muscles in his jaw pulsed. He took another step toward them, fists balled, eyes so wide they looked like they might pop out of his skull.
"Shut up, asshole."
"Ooh!" Jungkook exclaimed, placing a hand over his chest. "Did I touch your heart?"
"You don’t know me. You don’t have a fucking clue what you’re talking about."
"I don’t?" Jungkook asked, lowering his voice as he slowly walked around him. "But you sure reacted strongly when you thought Taehyung was cheating on Jimin. Why is that? Why so much drama? What hurts more—that you think Jimin is with him… or that he’s not with you?"
"Shut the fuck up!"
"No," Jungkook replied, smirking. "I think you were in love with him. But since you couldn’t accept it, you made him your target. You hit him, humiliated him, tried to break him. That was your way of trying to repress it. But you couldn’t stop thinking about him. You graduated high school, tried to move on, tried to focus on other things and get off under the table, but seeing him with Taehyung at that party messed you up bad."
"You’re all fucking sick. Two goddamn perverts who think you're better than everyone just 'cause you suck dick in public. You’re disgusting! You’re shit! Your whole community is shit! A bunch of filthy fucking faggots!"
"Are you done talking about yourself?" Taehyung said coldly. "Because everything you’re screaming… that’s all projection. You don’t need to tell us what you hate. We already know you’re the one who can’t stand himself in the mirror."
Gwanhee’s face was beet red. A tremor ran through his jaw, and for a second, it looked like he was going to explode. Or cry. Or both.
"I’m going to sue you," he growled, staring at Taehyung. "You knocked me out. You busted my fucking nose. This won’t end here."
"Do it. I dare you," the black-haired boy replied, tilting his head and then smiling. "But the moment you file a complaint, I’m talking. Everyone’s gonna find out. Not just about what you did to Jimin and me all those years, but also about the bars you sneak into when no one’s looking. I’ll tell them what you really are. And trust me, I’m not afraid."
Gwanhee shook. For the first time, it seemed like his own body was too heavy for him to carry. He swallowed hard and stepped back half a pace. He knew Taehyung wasn’t bluffing.
And at that precise moment, voices rose behind them. Jimin appeared out of the shadows, walking quickly, brows furrowed, accompanied by Yoongi, Minho, and Jeongin. They had come out because they were worried Taehyung and Jungkook hadn’t returned. Jimin had his phone in hand, just about to call his best friend, and his eyes jumped from Taehyung, to Jungkook, and finally landed on Gwanhee.
"What the hell is going on here?" he asked, letting out a breath. Yoongi, without thinking, slipped an arm around Jimin’s shoulders—a gesture that was protective without seeming possessive. Gwanhee noticed and snapped.
"Of course! Of course you're with someone else! You always have someone, don’t you?! You’re never alone, you fucking whore! Always with someone on top of you, always smiling like everything’s perfect. You don’t even see what you’ve got right in front of you. You’re a fucking spoiled brat! Always craving attention, always clinging to the first person who smiles at you! And then you act like the victim! You’re pathetic!"
Jimin froze. The words hit him hard, but not because of the insult—he’d heard worse before—but because he was just done.
"I don’t know what you’re trying to say," Jimin replied calmly, something he rarely did with that guy, and Gwanhee noticed, seeming to grow even angrier. "But I don’t have the time or interest to understand your trauma. Stay away from my friends. Stay away from me."
Gwanhee took a few steps toward Jimin with a twisted expression, jaw trembling with rage, his eyes burning with resentment. Taehyung went fully on alert, but Yoongi was the first to react.
"I’m fucking done with you," he said, stepping forward immediately to stand between Gwanhee and Jimin. His stare was razor-sharp, cutting and direct. "You’re not laying a fucking finger on him."
Minho quickly stepped to Jimin’s side and took hold of his arm, as if to make sure he knew he was protected too. Jeongin, who had hesitated for a second, also stepped forward to stand beside him—steady, though the trembling in his hands betrayed him. Taehyung observed everything from his spot, chest heaving, his focus fixed on the other guy’s every move.
Gwanhee glared at them all, and seeing the support Jimin was getting, the rage in his expression turned venomous.
"Stay out of it, fucking faggot, this has nothing to do with you," he snarled through gritted teeth and raised his arm. His intent was clear.
"Don’t even think about it." Taehyung appeared behind him like a flash, grabbing both of Gwanhee’s arms in one swift motion. With his knee, he struck the back of the guy’s legs, making him lose balance immediately. Gwanhee’s body collapsed to the ground awkwardly. "Try raising your hand again and I’ll break it," Taehyung spat, crouching slightly to stare down at him. "I wouldn’t mind knocking you out again. This isn’t fucking high school—no one here’s going to take your bullying."
"What did you mean earlier…?" Jimin asked, stepping forward slightly but staying within Yoongi’s protective reach. "When you said 'not seeing what’s right in front of you.' What the fuck did you mean?"
"I’m not telling you shit, you fucking idiot," Gwanhee snarled, his face contorting in disgust and frustration. "Stay with your little group of perverts—bet you all suck each other off anyway. Always got someone on top of you, right? Must be easy for you, being a whore who spreads his legs for every damn group."
"You wanna know, Jimin?" Taehyung said mockingly, turning toward him with a grin. "Because if you want, I’ll gladly—"
He didn’t finish. Gwanhee’s body launched like a missile from the ground, slamming into Taehyung with enough force to pin him against the nearest tree. The impact shook the whole trunk, making several leaves fall down over them.
Jungkook saw red.
Taehyung had told him not to step in unless he said so, but right then, Jungkook couldn’t give a damn. Because seeing that bastard on top of him, watching him pin Taehyung against the tree, raising his fist to strike—there was no promise in the world strong enough to hold him back.
Taehyung’s lips curled into a twisted, almost maniacal smirk. His whole body ached from the slam against the tree, his back screaming in protest, but he refused to give in. He wasn’t about to give Gwanhee the satisfaction of seeing him break or show pain.
"Come on, repressed faggot," he muttered through clenched teeth. "What are you waiting for?"
Gwanhee’s fist rose, and he closed his eyes, bracing for the impact. Only, it never came.
"Jungkook!" Yoongi's voice rang out from somewhere nearby.
The weight disappeared. Air rushed back into Taehyung’s lungs with a sharp pull, and he opened his eyes, confused by the sudden lightness. Gwanhee's body was ripped away from him like a hurricane had swept him off. Jungkook had struck him with overwhelming force, slamming him to the ground with such violence that the others instinctively stepped back. Gwanhee rolled across the floor, trying to process what had just happened.
Blood streamed from his nose, staining the pavement a bright red, but not even that stopped Jungkook. His eyes, wide and blazing with fury, locked onto him. He stepped forward and, without hesitation, lunged at Gwanhee again. In one swift motion, he trapped him in a headlock, his strong arm tightening around Gwanhee’s throat.
Gwanhee struggled, trying to break free, but it was useless. Jungkook’s strength had him completely immobilized, and the pressure on his trachea quickly made his breathing erratic. He coughed, desperate to escape, but Jungkook’s arm wouldn’t budge.
"Don’t you fucking dare," Jungkook growled, his voice hoarse and ragged. "Don’t you fucking touch him ever again. Don’t come near Taehyung. Don’t look at him, don’t think about him, don’t even let his name echo in your goddamn head. Because if you do, I swear I’ll kill you. I’ll bury you with these very hands, you piece of shit."
Gwanhee’s hands were still clawing at the arm wrapped around his neck, but his movements were slowing down, getting clumsier and weaker. His face began to change color, turning purple, and his mouth opened wide, desperate for air that wouldn’t come.
Yoongi was the first to react.
"Jungkook! Let him go, for fuck’s sake! That’s enough!" He rushed toward him, trying to pull at his arm, shove his shoulder, but it was like trying to move a mountain. Jungkook didn’t even glance at him, eyes locked on his prey. "Jungkook, goddamn it, you’re going to kill him!" Yoongi yelled again, this time punching him on the shoulder with a clenched fist. "Listen to me!"
But he didn’t listen. In his head, there was only one mantra, repeating over and over like a drumbeat: No one lays a hand on him. No one. Everything else was white noise.
Jimin joined in, grabbing at the younger one’s shirt in desperation, though his voice trembled with fear and his hands couldn’t do much.
"Jungkook! Stop! Now! He’s going to stop breathing!" he screamed, then turned toward Taehyung, who stood frozen. "Do something!" he shouted at him, eyes wide with panic.
Taehyung looked back at him, not understanding at first. Him? What was he supposed to do? Jump in? Say “look at me”? Act like this was some shitty romcom where the guy was clearly a future abuser but the girl still fell for him? What a fucking embarrassment.
He had no idea what to do—he was completely lost. The thought of going over there and yelling at Jungkook to stop made him feel ridiculous. He didn’t want to sound like one of those cliché scenes where people scream stuff like “Noah, look at me!” or some other bullshit like “It’s me” — like, what the fuck did that even mean? He didn’t want to sound like some cringe female lead. How was he even supposed to…?
But… Gwanhee was starting to go still.
So, against every ounce of pride he had, and even though a part of him believed Gwanhee deserved it, he crouched down and slowly approached. When he reached him, he gently touched his face, trying to keep his voice steady and his hand firm. He didn’t want to visit Jungkook in prison.
"Jungkook," he said, almost in a whisper, hoping he’d look at him. When Jungkook’s eyes finally met his, Taehyung felt a knot twist in his stomach. He repeated, more firmly, "Jungkook, let him go."
He tried to make it sound stronger, more masculine, but in truth, it came out soft and kind of cheesy. His voice wavered, and though he fought it, it cracked a little. He felt ridiculous—so ridiculous—but it was all he could do. The guy was too strong, and the three of them together couldn’t break him off with brute force alone.
"Come on, let go, you idiot… please. It’s okay, I’m okay," he added, dropping his voice to a whisper only Jungkook could hear.
Jungkook blinked. His brow was still furrowed, but his gaze slowly softened. His arm loosened. The pressure eased. And finally, he let Gwanhee go.
The other boy collapsed to the ground like a rag doll, coughing violently, crawling away with trembling hands, gagging as he gasped for air and clutching his throat with a shaking hand.
Taehyung turned to Jungkook and, without thinking too much, kissed his cheek. It was a brief gesture, but full of affection, gratitude, and comfort. Jungkook squeezed his eyes shut at the contact. Taehyung was about to say something, but before he could, Jungkook cupped his cheek with a tenderness that stood in stark contrast to the chaos from moments ago. He pulled him closer and stole a kiss—this time on the lips.
"I'm sorry," Jungkook whispered, eyes filled with a hint of guilt. "I'm sorry for jumping in without asking. I really... I didn’t want to do it like that. But I couldn’t just stand there. I wasn’t going to let them hit you. I couldn’t. Not again."
"It’s okay. It’s over now," Taehyung murmured, bringing his hand to Jungkook's, still resting on his face, and gently caressing his fingers.
Gwanhee was writhing on the ground, his face pressed against the filthy alley concrete. He coughed, spat out saliva mixed with blood, and lifted his flushed face.
"You're fucking insane!" he croaked, his voice hoarse from the chokehold Jungkook had used.
Jungkook didn’t move, but Taehyung could tell—he was ready. If that asshole Gwanhee so much as twitched, even breathed wrong, Jungkook would pounce again. That was when Yoongi stepped forward.
"I'm so fucking done with you," Yoongi growled, his voice low and lethal. And before anyone could react, he landed a sharp kick to Gwanhee’s side. The thud was dull, followed by a pathetic groan of pain as the guy curled in on himself.
But Yoongi wasn’t finished.
He immediately crouched down and yanked Gwanhee by the hair, forcing him to lift his head and meet his eyes. Gwanhee whimpered again, not just from the pain but the sheer humiliation.
"Listen to me, you piece of shit," Yoongi spat, his words grinding through clenched teeth. "You're gonna get the fuck out of here right now, or I swear on whatever the fuck you believe in, I'll let that 'psycho' over there—" he nodded toward Jungkook without letting go of Gwanhee’s hair, "finish what he started, and no one's gonna stop him. Believe me, there are no witnesses, and no one’s gonna talk. You see all these people?" He motioned with his eyes to the boys behind him. "There’s a lot of money here, a lot of connections. Do you have any idea how easy it would be to make a report disappear with a fucking snap?" Gwanhee’s eyes widened. "Is it fair? Hell no. But that’s the shitty society we live in," he growled even closer. "So, for your own good, stay the fuck away from us. Don’t look for us. Don’t come near any of us. Because if we ever see you again… you’re dead."
When Yoongi finally let go of his hair, Gwanhee dropped to the ground with a low whimper. He didn’t stay a second longer—he scrambled, pushed himself up with what strength he had left, and, shaking, ran off without looking back. He vanished into the darkness like a wounded animal that knew it had only barely escaped.
Jungkook was still there, shoulders tense, but no longer burning with rage. His eyes remained locked on the spot where Gwanhee had disappeared. Taehyung grabbed his arm and helped him off the ground.
"Are you okay? What the hell were you thinking, Jungkook? Huh? Just jumping in like that without thinking? What if he hurt you? What if he pulled out a weapon, you idiot? What if someone walked in here to take a piss and saw you?" As he spoke, Taehyung clumsily brushed off his jacket, trying to straighten the wrinkles with trembling hands.
"I didn’t think," Jungkook replied, still slightly dazed.
"Yeah, that’s obvious," Taehyung said with sarcasm. "You’re so reckless..."
Jungkook let him fuss. He didn’t say anything at first, just watched every movement Taehyung made with a mix of guilt and awe. There was something deeply intimate in the way Taehyung cared for him, in how he scolded him while fixing his clothes, looking so damn worried. Jungkook watched him, listened to him, and something warm stirred inside. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from reacting, though the faint blush on his cheeks gave him away.
He’s mad, yeah. But more than that—he’s scared. He’s taking care of me, even if he doesn’t say it like that.
"I know it was stupid," Jungkook lowered his head. "But he deserved it. I couldn’t just stand by."
"I know, I know," Taehyung huffed. "But next time, think, for fuck’s sake."
"So… what now? Should we go back to the party? It’s barely one. And I refuse to leave before getting drunk."
Yoongi let out a tired, nasal laugh, though it sounded like relief. Jimin ran a hand through his hair, shaking the tension from his shoulders.
"After that? Yeah, I think we could all use a drink," he muttered, and Yoongi gave him a knowing glance.
Taehyung looked at Jungkook. Jungkook looked back at him.
"Let’s go," Taehyung said, giving his shirt one final smoothing. "Try acting like a civilized person this time."
"I’ll do my best."
Jungkook winked, and this time it was Taehyung who smiled, shaking his head as he nudged him toward the alley exit.
Minho and Jeongin walked hand in hand. Jimin and Yoongi walked close together. And Taehyung looked at Jungkook one last time before sliding his hand over and grabbing him by the arm.
Chapter 39: Chapter 38
Chapter Text
"And remember, it's not enough to simply identify the subject entries; you need to justify why you think they are. Analysis without understanding is just noise disguised as work," Professor Kwog said as he left a copy of Bach’s fugue score on each desk.
Jungkook was sitting at the end of the row by the window. His head was resting on his hand, fingers covering part of his cheek, eyes fixed outside with an absent expression. The trees swayed gently in the wind, and Jungkook seemed to find more interest in those leaves than in the professor’s voice. His iPad lay inert in front of him, not a single word written on it.
Namjoon, sitting next to him, was taking notes quickly. 'Analyze Bach’s Fugue in D minor, BWV 539 by ear. Identify subject entries and answers. Pay attention to tonal changes and contrapuntal imitation'. His notebook was already filled with arrows, margin notes, and quotes from the professor that he found important.
Even though he seemed focused, his gaze drifted toward Jungkook for a second, and he frowned slightly. That level of passivity was strange; Jungkook wasn’t the type to mentally check out during class, especially not in a demanding one like Advanced Solfège and Ear Training. He was usually punctual, meticulous, obsessed with recording every word the professor said, and now he sat there, a shadow of himself. Namjoon watched him for a few more seconds and noticed that Jungkook wasn’t even blinking.
The professor finally closed his folder and clapped a couple of times to grab the group's attention.
"You’ll have ten minutes before we start the workshop. Get some coffee, use the restroom, breathe. After that, I want your full attention," he declared before walking out the door with his usual rigid posture.
The classroom immediately stirred. Some students stood up eagerly, others dragged their feet, and some stayed in their seats, pulling out their phones. Hoseok leaned toward Yoongi, who was sitting at the far end of the group, and muttered something to him, which Yoongi responded to with a tired grimace.
But Namjoon didn’t move, didn’t waste a second. He took advantage of the general distraction to turn toward Jungkook and tapped his arm a couple of times with the end of his pen.
Nothing.
He repeated the gesture, this time a little more insistently, but Jungkook didn’t even flinch.
"Jungkook," he finally called, his voice low.
The younger boy blinked slowly and turned his head toward him, his eyes unfocused, as if he had just been jolted awake from a trance.
"What?" he mumbled, confused.
"What's wrong with you?" Namjoon asked bluntly.
"What do you mean?"
"Don't play dumb," Namjoon scoffed, closing his notebook with a soft thud. "You've been acting weird—not just today, for weeks now. You don’t hang out with us, you barely answer texts, you don’t even have lunch with us anymore, and now you didn’t take a single note, which is super out of character for you. Is something going on, Kook? Are you avoiding us?"
Jungkook couldn’t help but feel guilty because Namjoon was right. He had distanced himself, left them on the sidelines. He had immersed himself so deeply in everything related to Taehyung that he had stopped swimming in the rest of his life. Meals with the guys, group practice sessions, silly walks between classes, even late-night chats over text. He had put everything on hold, only hanging out with them if Taehyung was there too.
And he couldn’t deny he loved what he had with Taehyung. It made him feel more alive, more foolish, more human. But also guiltier, because clearly, to everyone except Yoongi and Jimin, he was avoiding his friends. Even now, in class, he had been completely distracted thinking about the blond.
"I'm not avoiding anyone, hyung," he finally said, not very convincingly.
"Oh, come on," Namjoon scoffed skeptically. "Jungkook, do I look like an idiot to you?"
"No..." the younger one sighed, glancing toward the classroom door. "It's just that... I don't know. A lot’s been going on lately. I've been busy."
"And those things are a secret?" Namjoon narrowed his eyes. "Because you’re not telling us anything. No one knows what to do with you anymore because you’re so closed off. You don’t even share dumb stuff in the group chat anymore. You used to send us every random thing you found online, and now… nothing."
Jungkook bit his lower lip and stared down at his iPad. He couldn’t even remember what part of class they were on.
"Seriously, nothing’s wrong," he insisted more softly, pulling his phone from his pocket and pretending to check notifications. "I’m just distracted, I have assignments due for my professors, and my schedule’s been crazy."
Namjoon didn’t buy it for a second.
He observed him carefully, noticing how Jungkook avoided eye contact, how tightly he was gripping his phone, how his knee was bouncing nervously against the leg of the desk. Everything in his body language screamed I'm hiding something. Namjoon sighed deeply.
"Look, I’ll drop it for now because I know something’s going on," he said with an uncomfortable calmness. "I know you too well. I’ll wait patiently until you’re ready to talk about it—or until you explode from not knowing what to do, whichever comes first. For now, I’ll pretend I believe you."
With that, Namjoon got up and walked out of the classroom to get himself a much-needed coffee. Hoseok saw him leave, called out for him to wait, then shot Jungkook a strange look before hurriedly following after him.
Jungkook let out a long sigh, throwing his head back in resignation, his fingers running through his hair, messing it up even more as he closed his eyes.
"Wow, super convincing. I swear, no one suspected a thing, genius. You should consider switching to Performing Arts. That lying talent of yours shouldn’t be wasted in Music Studies," Yoongi commented sarcastically, arms crossed and one eyebrow raised.
Jungkook opened his eyes, turned his head toward him, and rolled his eyes.
"Shut up, hyung."
"I'm just saying, you could totally win the 'Pathetic Attempt at Distraction of the Week' award," Yoongi added with a smirk, gesturing with his hands like he was presenting the title in the air.
"I'm not that bad at acting," Jungkook mumbled almost under his breath, frowning as he turned his gaze back to the front.
"Please, you’re as transparent as glass, and everyone knows it. Even Hoseok gave you a weird look before he left," Yoongi said, shrugging. "Why don't you just tell them already? Namjoon, Hoseok, Jin-hyung… they're your friends, Jungkook. They're not going to judge you for telling them you’re seeing Taehyung."
"First of all, we're not seeing each other, we’re not boyfriends... yet," he clarified, heavily emphasizing the last word. "And that's exactly why I don't want to say anything yet. I want to wait until we are, you know? Until it's real and we're ready."
"You're not ready? What are you talking about?" Yoongi raised both eyebrows. "Why wouldn't you be? Honestly, dude, I don't know what else you need. You're exclusive, you kiss, you see each other almost every day, you fuck with love-drunk faces, you do cute little things for each other, you go on dates, you sleep cuddled up... you look for each other with your eyes whenever you're in the same room, and the way you do it is the sappiest shit I’ve ever seen. What more do you need? A divine sign? The only thing missing is updating your Instagram bios. Tell me which part of that isn’t being boyfriends."
Jungkook huffed, lowering his gaze to his phone, even though he wasn’t really looking at it anymore. He was just holding it in his hands.
"Technically, we're still two guys who like each other and do couple stuff but don't have the label yet. There are millions of people in this situation, you can't judge me," Jungkook retorted defensively, although his expression was a little embarrassed. "But... shit, I know. I know we act like boyfriends, okay? And I really want us to be boyfriends, for real. But I want to be the one who does it, I wouldn't feel good if he beat me to it again. He already confessed first."
"You're still competing with him even over that?" the older one snorted in amusement. Jungkook shrugged, a small crooked smile forming on his lips that he couldn’t hold back.
"I can’t help it. I like him, but I also like beating him."
"You're such an idiot," Yoongi laughed, though without any real malice. "You seriously have a loose screw; you're ridiculous."
"I'm competitive, that’s different," Jungkook corrected, smiling even wider.
"Competitive idiot," Yoongi added with a grin as he shifted more comfortably in his chair. "But yeah, it's obvious he’s got you bad. You're drooling over him, Kook. You're head over heels."
Jungkook didn’t argue; he couldn’t. Because yeah, he was. And the smile he couldn’t wipe off his face betrayed him more than any words could.
"I also want it to be special," Jungkook said with a few nods. "I want that moment to be his, something beautiful, something that makes him smile with that face he makes when he’s excited. I don’t want him to remember it as something improvised. Taehyung deserves more than that. He deserves something sweet. I want it to be perfect."
Yoongi watched him for a few seconds without saying anything, then nodded softly.
"Alright, that actually makes more sense," he said with a faint smile. "So you are ready, huh?"
"Yeah... I am," Jungkook replied, and this time there was no hesitation. His fingers relaxed around the phone and he rested it on his thigh, his gaze briefly drifting back to the large window. "I've never been so sure about anything in my life."
"I'm glad you're finally stopping being such an idiot, at least in that," Yoongi joked. "And are you going to tell the girls too?" Jungkook hesitated, biting the inside of his cheek, then shook his head.
"I don't know. I appreciate Momo, Mina... even Sana, despite everything. But I don’t trust them the way I trust you guys. I’m not comfortable sharing something this important with them... yet. Plus," he added with a heavier sigh, "I have no fucking idea how Sana would take it. A few weeks ago, Taehyung and I were fighting over her, and now we’re... well, whatever this is. She’s gonna see it like a soap opera plot twist, maybe even traumatic."
"Well," Yoongi said with a nasal chuckle, "she’s probably regretting ever flirting with you if the result was you ending up in bed with your former love rival."
"You're not helping, Yoongi-hyung," Jungkook said, unable to stop laughing. "But yeah, I don't want to throw more fuel on that fire. Not right now."
"Anyway, it's up to you who you tell and when. Just remember you’re not alone, and you don’t have to act like some secret agent living a double life. No one's gonna crucify you for falling in love, Jungkook. And honestly, you don’t owe Sana anything. However she takes it, it’s not your problem."
"I know," the younger one replied, feeling calmer now. "Sometimes it’s just... hard for me to show how I feel. I don’t want to screw it up."
"You’re not going to screw anything up," Yoongi said. "But you have to stop running in circles, or you're the one who's gonna end up dizzy. And what about Taehyung? Is he ready too?"
Jungkook shook his head, the dopey smile returning to his face involuntarily at the thought of him, though he sighed in resignation.
"I don't know, but I want to talk to him about it soon. I want to see if he’s ready too, because I won’t do anything until I know," he tilted his head, then turned to Yoongi as he remembered something. "Oh, by the way... my parents are coming on Thursday." Yoongi raised an eyebrow, his interest in the conversation spiking.
"Do you think your mom will bring those butter almond cookies from Busan?" he asked eagerly.
"Probably. She always brings them," Jungkook answered, and Yoongi nodded slowly, visibly satisfied by the news. And just when he was about to tell Jungkook to make sure he hid a few before Hoseok pounced on the box like a wild demon, Jungkook spoke again. "I invited Taehyung to have dinner with them," he confessed.
Yoongi leaned forward, resting his arms on the table with a soft thud. He blinked a couple of times before letting out a low, amused chuckle, genuinely entertained by the sudden twist of events.
"Well, well," he shot him a look full of teasing, widening his eyes slightly. "If you were taking baby steps before, now you're taking Olympic strides."
"It’s not that big a deal," Jungkook muttered, crossing his arms. "I'm not introducing him as my boyfriend or anything. It's just... dinner, casual. I’ve brought you guys to dinner and it was totally normal."
"Uh-huh, sure..." Yoongi rested his cheek against his closed fist, looking at him with disbelief. "Look, Jungkook, I'm not exactly a relationship expert, but from what I know, most people wait until they’re in a formal relationship before parading the guy in front of their parents. You don’t even have the damn title yet and you’re already setting up the official introduction."
"I swear it’s not like that," Jungkook shook his head vehemently, though he didn’t sound very convinced himself. "I just invited him as a friend, no one's gonna think it’s weird."
"I’m just saying you’re doing things backwards. First, you introduce him to your parents, then you ask if he wants to be your boyfriend. Very efficient. Very modern. Very progressive."
"I hate you," Jungkook growled, covering his face with his hands for a second. "I mentioned it to him on Saturday... but then Gwanhee showed up, and I couldn't continue. So he hasn’t answered yet because that stupid, Aztec-monkey-faced idiot interrupted my moment with Taehyung."
"And are you just gonna sit around waiting for the planets to align?" Yoongi asked, crossing his legs. "Thursday’s in three days, and the poor guy needs to mentally prepare. Not everyone digests the idea of meeting the parents that easily, even if it’s 'just a friendly dinner'."
"I know, hyung," Jungkook sighed again. "You're right. I should tell him properly. See if he wants to, if he can, if... I don’t know. I need to know if he wants to come."
"Do it now. Before you talk yourself into postponing it again. Besides, the professor’s not back yet, and you look one step away from a full emotional meltdown."
He didn’t need more pushing. Jungkook stood up with his phone in hand. He took a few steps toward the door, glancing toward the classroom to make sure the professor hadn’t returned yet. He couldn’t stray too far because he needed to keep watch, but he needed a bit of space and privacy to say what he had to. He leaned against a wall, took a deep breath, and looked at the screen. The chat with Taehyung was already open, the last message being a blurry selfie of his breakfast with the caption: "Saved you a bun but I ate it, sorry (not really)." Jungkook smiled tenderly.
"God, I'm so fucked," he muttered under his breath, tracing the edge of his phone with a finger, feeling unsure.
Jungkook knew perfectly well that by this time, Taehyung was either on his way to the university or just arriving. He had done the math quickly in his head, factoring in how long it usually took Taehyung to get up, get ready with his ridiculously meticulous routine—because even if he acted all absent-minded, the bastard was vain—and head toward campus. He knew him way too well. He could even imagine the playlist Taehyung would be listening to in the car, probably some indie rarity in French or jazz from the forties.
Jungkook glanced at his phone for a second, let out a long sigh, and made up his mind.
He called him. The phone barely rang twice before a raspy, sleepy voice answered on the other end of the line.
"What the fuck do you want, idiot?" Taehyung growled, dragging his words out in that deep tone, though clearly joking.
"Hello to you too," Jungkook said with a laugh. "What are you doing?"
"I'm driving into the damn university," Taehyung grumbled. "I have class in like ten minutes. By the way, are we having lunch together today?"
Jungkook fell silent for a few seconds, biting his lower lip as he thought about it. He wanted to say yes without even thinking. He always wanted to be with him. Even if it was just to share a tray of junk food and laugh at their professors. But...
"No," he finally answered, a hint of regret in his voice. "I can't today." On the other end, he heard a soft little whine of disappointment, and it was so fucking adorable it shattered his heart. "I'm sorry, Tae-Tae," he rushed to say, sweetening his voice. "It's just that Namjoon is starting to suspect something's up with me. He complained that I haven't spent much time with him lately and... I don't want to raise more suspicion."
"Ugh… fine," Taehyung sighed. "But you're still an asshole."
"Thanks for understanding, seriously," Jungkook said with a small smile on his lips, pacing in circles down the hallway, phone still pressed to his ear.
He heard noises on the other end, specifically the metallic sound of a car door shutting. He figured Taehyung was getting out of his car because he'd already parked.
"Hey..." Jungkook said then, lowering his voice, staying alert in case the professor came back. "On Saturday, in the alley, you never answered me about having dinner with my parents. I was just bringing it up when Gwanhee showed up and... well, everything went to shit."
Silence stretched between them for a couple of seconds, and Jungkook felt it more intensely than ever.
"I don't know..." Taehyung finally replied, speaking slowly. "It's just... I don't know what they'll think, Jungkook. I'm not sure I'm ready to meet your parents. That... that sounds really fucking serious."
"Relax, hyung. You're not going to meet them like that. I'm not gonna say you're my boyfriend or anything," he explained, lowering his voice a little. "You'll just be... a friend."
"And it won't seem weird?" Taehyung asked, clearly nervous. "I mean... some random guy showing up at the Jeons' family dinner? I don't know, it sounds forced."
"It's not weird, I swear. I've done it before—I've taken Yoongi-hyung, Hoseok-hyung, Namjoon-hyung... My mom loves when I bring people over for dinner. She loves cooking for everyone. You'll love it, and she's gonna adore you. I just know it."
Taehyung sighed on the other end, but this time the sigh carried a trace of anxiety. Jungkook could feel it even through the phone.
"I don't know if I'll be able to sit there without... without exploding inside."
"I'll hold your hand under the table," Jungkook said, voice as soft as he could manage without sounding too cheesy. "I'll squeeze your hand whenever you feel like you're about to lose it. No one will see. Just you and me."
Another longer silence followed. Jungkook figured Taehyung was thinking it over. He could only hear the muffled sounds of people moving around near the blond.
"Alright..." Taehyung said at last, voice low. "I'll do it. But I'm scared."
"I'm scared too," Jungkook answered without hesitation. "But we'll be together, and that's what matters. Okay?"
"Idiot..." Taehyung muttered, though his voice sounded slightly shaky. Jungkook let out a softer laugh.
"I bet you're blushing right now."
"Shut the fuck up! I'm not blushing," Taehyung shot back urgently. "You can't know that. You're not even looking at me!"
"I know you too well. Don't lie to me."
"Shut up, dumbass. I'm at my classroom already," Taehyung said, and then his voice softened sweetly. "Talk to you later, okay? Take care, baby."
Jungkook froze.
"What?" he blurted out, but the call had already ended. He stood there, phone still pressed to his ear, listening to the dead line, not moving, barely breathing. "He's fucking with me..." he muttered after pulling the phone away and staring at the screen like it was supposed to explain what the hell had just happened.
He had called him 'baby'.
Taehyung had used a goddamn pet name.
The blond had never done that before. Sure, there had been playful variations like "Jungkookie" or "Kook," and even once he had said "Kookie," but never anything like this.
Jungkook was usually the one throwing around those sweet names—especially when they were alone, naked, sweating, kissing until they lost track of time. But Taehyung... Taehyung never. Shit.
And now he had just dropped it, right in the middle of a casual conversation, with that soft voice that had branded itself into Jungkook’s mind.
A tingling sensation started spreading from his chest to his ears, blushing instantly. He slapped a hand over his mouth as if he were about to scream. He had melted him. He had turned him into a goddamn puddle of idiocy. His heart was beating so fast he was sure anyone walking by could hear it.
He couldn't handle this level of tenderness. He couldn't process it. He wanted to sprint across the entire university, find his classroom, kick the door open, and kiss him senseless in front of everyone.
Goddamn it.
But he couldn't do any of that.
Because right at that moment, while he was still standing frozen in the middle of the hallway, phone clutched in hand and brain in orbit, the professor showed up and walked into the classroom. Jungkook pressed his lips together, let out a frustrated sigh, and forced himself to move.
"Fucking bastard... now I'm the one who's all red," he muttered as he made his way to class, a stupid little smile plastered on his face.
When he reached his seat, Jungkook noticed that Namjoon already had his notebook open again, scribbling something with a focused expression, while Hoseok was humming a tuneless melody with his earbuds dangling around his neck. Yoongi was still there too, fiddling with his phone.
Jungkook had barely sat down and was about to turn on his iPad, determined to finally pay attention for the first time that day, when Hoseok glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, a mischievous grin playing on his lips.
"I know what's been going on with Jungkookie lately," Hoseok sing-songed in a shrill, playful voice, taking advantage of the fact that the professor was busy at the computer, setting something up to project. "Now I get why you've been so distracted and distant lately."
Jungkook instantly frowned, whipping his head toward Hoseok, then glanced at Namjoon, who was now smirking at him.
"What are you talking about?" he asked, forcing a nervous laugh, trying to sound casual, but his heart had already shot straight up into his throat.
"You're in love," Hoseok blurted out in a teasing tone, but his smile was conspiratorial.
Panic hit immediately. Jungkook felt the blood drain from his face, only to rush just as fast down to his stomach. His eyes darted desperately toward Yoongi, who was seated just behind them. He found him wide-eyed, hands raised in a clear 'I don't know anything, it wasn't me' gesture. Jungkook swallowed thickly. At least, thanks to the way Namjoon and Hoseok had turned toward him, they couldn't see the genuine look of alarm on Yoongi’s face.
"I'm not in love," Jungkook said as firmly as he could, but his tone came out way too defensive. Namjoon raised an eyebrow and narrowed his eyes, leaning closer with his arms crossed.
"Don't lie to us. It all makes sense now. You've been acting weird, you barely go out anymore, you're always glued to your phone, you laugh at nothing," he started listing. "Yesterday you forgot we were supposed to study for Tuesday’s project. And this morning, you said you were just 'watching TikToks,' but you had that stupid lovesick grin on your face. Your eyes were literally sparkling, Jungkook."
"And you were moving like this," Hoseok cut in, doing a goofy little shoulder sway from his seat. "And you did that thing you always do, touching the back of your neck. Then you started texting someone and giggling. We saw you. You’re head over heels, man. Why didn't you tell us sooner?"
"I wasn't flirting with anyone over chat!" Jungkook tried to defend himself, but even to his own ears, his voice sounded weak. He barely believed himself.
"Don't lie to us, Kook," Namjoon said. "I mean, like I said, it explains a lot. But why all the mystery?"
"Yeah, why didn’t you tell us before?" Hoseok chimed in, now resting his chin on one hand. "Who is it? Why all the secrecy?"
Jungkook shook his head vigorously, pure desperation taking over. Meanwhile, Yoongi was pulling bizarre hand gestures, frowning like he was scrambling for something to say to help him, but the pressure wasn’t making it any easier.
"I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re making up drama," Jungkook insisted.
"Please," Hoseok scoffed, rolling his eyes. "We saw you right before you came into class. You were on a call. You had the biggest lovesick grin, Jungkook. You were moving all soft and cute. Your eyes were sparkling and so freaking sappy. You don’t even realize how obvious you were."
"Who's the lucky girl? And it better not be Soojin, or I swear to God, I'll kill you," Namjoon added, half-joking—but only half.
That was when Jungkook felt his soul return to his body. He exhaled, relieved, feeling the knot in his stomach slowly unravel. His secret was safe. They hadn't heard the conversation; they had only seen him. They didn’t know anything. They weren't even close to the truth.
"Oh…" he let out, pretending like he had just understood. "Oh! No, no, no. God, you guys are such idiots," he laughed, allowing his body to relax bit by bit. "I wasn’t talking to a girl. It was my mom."
"Your mom?" Hoseok repeated, frowning in confusion.
"Yeah," Jungkook confirmed, quickly leaning into the lie since it actually made sense. "She was telling me she's bringing a ton of food from Busan. You know how she gets when she visits. She basically unloads half a grocery store from her backpack."
"Ah, well, that’s fine then," Namjoon said, relaxing his shoulders, although he did sound a little disappointed. "I hope she brings those cookies you gave us that one time."
"God, I miss those cookies," Hoseok sighed. "Being away from home sucks sometimes. I mean, yeah, I live alone and I’m all independent or whatever, but I haven’t been back to Gwangju in forever."
"Same," Namjoon agreed, leaning back in his chair. "I miss my parents. I even miss that weird seafood soup they always made, the one I hated but would kill for right now. And I miss Ilsan."
"Yeah… being away from home is rough," Yoongi added just as the professor shushed them, finally finding what he was going to play for the workshop.
Jungkook slumped back in his seat, letting his head fall back for a few seconds as he stared up at the ceiling.
He didn’t want to lie to them. He really didn’t. But he couldn’t risk it. Not yet. Not until he knew if Taehyung was ready to take that step.
He had to ask him. He had to ask Taehyung to be his boyfriend. He didn’t want to keep hiding, didn’t want to keep making up stupid excuses or living with the fear of being found out. But he also needed to know if Taehyung was ready.
He had to talk to him. And soon. Very, very soon.
"That's not an F-sharp, Yoongi-hyung, it's a damn natural G. Listen to it again," Namjoon growled, craning his neck toward the laptop speaker where the music snippet was playing on a loop.
Hoseok's room was covered in sheet music, pencils, erasers, and half-finished cans of energy drinks. Their Advanced Solfège and Aural Training class was no joke, especially after the professor assigned them the task of transcribing a contemporary atonal piece—full of dissonances and irregular rhythms—that he had composed himself, meaning there was no way to look up the answers online. To make matters worse, the man had been sadistic enough to give them a deadline of midnight to submit it through the platform.
The task itself was to transcribe a complex contemporary musical fragment. Basically, they had to listen carefully and write down, note by note, everything they heard. The problem was that the piece was riddled with dissonances—combinations of notes that sound tense, harsh, and don't fit together "nicely" to the ear—and irregular rhythms, switching erratically between time signatures like 5/8, 7/16, 3/8, and so on. Instead of following a steady 4/4 or 3/4 beat, the piece jumped all over the place, shattering any sense of rhythmic common sense and forcing them to listen to the professor’s crazy creation until their heads hurt. And honestly, none of them were particularly lucid that afternoon.
"Don't mess with me, Namjoon. That's an F-sharp and you know it," Yoongi snapped back, not even glancing up from the sheet music. His pencil balanced precariously at the corner of his lips as his leg bounced impatiently. He was sure. More than sure—he was done listening to the same damn fragment on repeat for the past hour without those idiots trusting him.
Jungkook, who was sitting on the floor with his back against Hoseok’s bed, massaged his temples with his thumbs. The dissonant sound was starting to seep into his skull like a never-ending drip, and he was one more argument away from losing his mind.
"What if it's somewhere in between?" Jungkook suggested, frowning. "There are notes that land right on the edge, right? Like microtones or whatever that shit is called." It wasn’t his most technical moment, but he had a point.
"There are no microtones in this piece, you idiot," Yoongi said, though there was no real malice in his voice—he was just exhausted.
"Fuck!" Hoseok exclaimed, throwing himself backward onto his bed. "We're going to fail this crap. I'm sorry, I've already accepted my fate."
"We're not going to fail," Namjoon said wearily, looking at him. "We're just exhausted. We've been listening to the same thing for hours. Our brains are fried."
"We could take an hour off," Yoongi suggested. "Come back and finish polishing the last few measures tonight."
"No," Hoseok interrupted dramatically, pushing himself up halfway. "If we stop, we'll run out of time. We're finishing this today even if I have to summon Bach's spirit in his underwear. I'm not going to sleep with this unfinished!"
"What if we just accept that Yoongi-hyung is right?" Jungkook said in defeat.
"That's what I've been saying for the last forty minutes!" Yoongi groaned, rolling his eyes.
"Can we please make a decision already? We've been at this for three hours. My back isn’t even a back anymore," Hoseok muttered, scratching his neck.
"Fine," Namjoon sighed. "If everyone insists it's F-sharp, we'll go with that. But if the professor tells us we’re all tone-deaf during the review, I’m killing you all."
"Kill Yoongi-hyung, not me," Jungkook said, raising his hands innocently. "I just suggested microtones."
Namjoon stood up with a relieved sigh, stretching his arms over his head until his back cracked.
"I'm going to the bathroom. Don't erase anything while I'm gone. And if any of you dares to steal my last yogurt from the fridge, I swear I'll lose it."
"The peach one, right?" Hoseok asked, feigning innocence.
"Yes, and it's labeled, so don’t play dumb," Namjoon replied as he left the room.
Silence settled for a moment. Jungkook glanced down at his notebook again, but his focus didn’t even last five seconds. He looked up at Hoseok, and when he noticed the discreet silver necklace around his hyung’s neck—a small 'M' glinting under the warm room light—he couldn’t help but smile.
"And that?" he asked, pointing with his mouth toward the pendant. "An M? For Momo?"
Hoseok blinked and instinctively touched the charm, his smile turning soft and a little silly.
"Yeah..." he said in a quieter voice. "It's a couple thing. She has an H."
"Things are going well, then," Jungkook smiled, genuinely happy to see him like that. "You look happy."
"I am," Hoseok said, laughing softly and looking at the floor. "Momo’s amazing, seriously. And to think we almost didn’t even try because of the damn distance. I don't know... since we started dating, everything feels easier. Even bad days don't feel so heavy. She makes me feel... seen."
"That’s worth a lot," Yoongi said simply. "When someone sees you with no filters and stays anyway."
"Exactly!" Hoseok said, pointing at him with a brighter smile. "Exactly that. Momo doesn’t just put up with me—she celebrates me. I don't know, I'm really in love."
"It shows," Jungkook laughed. "You’re oozing cheesiness."
"And I embrace it proudly," Hoseok declared, stretching out across the bed with his arms wide open. "Long live love and all its ridiculous displays."
Jungkook dropped his gaze for a second, smiling to himself. Seeing his friends happy sparked a warm feeling in his chest. It was nice to see that kind of thing actually happened. That not everything was confusion or fear—that there were certainties and safety too, when things were done right.
And he wanted that.
Not exactly a cheesy matching necklace—although if Taehyung ever wanted one, Jungkook would totally wear it to sleep—but he craved that peace and certainty. And, well, maybe a matching necklace sounded tempting after all. Or a bracelet. Or rings.
"I'll be right back. Try not to fight while I'm gone," Hoseok said suddenly after checking his phone, his grin completely giving him away. Whatever message he had just read left him practically floating. Jungkook, sitting at the foot of the bed, raised an eyebrow and watched him without saying anything at first.
"And what’s that about?" Yoongi asked.
"Nothing, nothing... I'll be back," Hoseok repeated, this time in a more playful tone, and before they could say another word, he slipped out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar.
For a few seconds, the only sound was the scratching of Yoongi’s pencil on paper. Jungkook watched his back, his focused posture, his relaxed shoulders. Then he let himself fall back, leaning on his elbows against the bedspread.
"So," Yoongi said without looking up, "are you gonna need help or ideas to ask Taehyung to be your boyfriend?"
"What? You? Your ideas?"
"What’s wrong with that?" Yoongi raised an eyebrow.
"Come on, hyung," Jungkook burst out laughing. "I saw what you and Jimin had on that board last week. Those ideas were terrible. I have no idea how you thought any of that would work."
"Hey!" Yoongi put his pencil down on the notebook and turned to him, looking genuinely offended. "That doesn't count! The board was contaminated. Jimin threw in all those shitty ideas; the bad ones were his. Mine were decent and brilliant."
"Brilliant? Please! One literally said 'Take them (kidnap them) to see a shaman and pay him to tell them that they are meant for each other' What the hell was that?"
"That was Jimin’s, I swear!" Yoongi raised both hands defensively. "Besides, you didn't even see my ideas. Jimin hogged the marker and wouldn't let me write anything."
Jungkook burst out laughing, his head falling back.
"So what was your big idea, then? Confess with a love song and fireworks?"
"Don't be an idiot. Mine was about inviting him to a meaningful place for both of them and having a straightforward, adult conversation."
"Uh-huh..." the younger one murmured, dragging the syllable out. "You're such a romantic, hyung."
"Sorry if I’m not interested in turning my love life into a Netflix series. And honestly, you don't need anything that dramatic. What you need is to stop being scared of the whole thing. Stop carrying around that damn secret..."
Right then, there was a sharp knock at the door, and before Jungkook could even process that they weren't as alone as they thought, a female voice broke through from the doorway.
"What secret?"
They both froze. Yoongi slowly turned his head; the door had swung open without either of them fully noticing, and there they were—not just Namjoon and Hoseok, but Momo too—holding hands with Hoseok, which would’ve been cute if the context wasn't so terrible—plus Mina and Sana.
And Sana wasn’t smiling. Sana had a serious look on her face, her eyes locked onto him, intense, like she could see straight through any excuse he might try to come up with.
"Uh... what are you guys doing here?" he asked immediately, faking surprise, as if they hadn’t just barged into a conversation that clearly wasn’t meant for outside ears.
"Momo came to visit me," Hoseok answered in his usual cheerful tone. "She brought food for everyone. Said she missed seeing me during the day. I figured you wouldn't mind if they hung out for a while."
"Of course," Yoongi jumped in quickly, moving aside to make space. "Anything that smells like free food is always welcome."
Mina let out a soft giggle, but Sana neither laughed nor moved. Her focus remained fixed on Jungkook, clearly expecting more.
"And the secret?" she asked again, this time in a more neutral, almost inquisitive tone. She had zero intention of letting the subject slide.
Jungkook had no idea what the hell to do. He had ten pairs of eyes on him, and his throat felt like it had completely closed up. He literally couldn’t even swallow. His brain was screaming at him to react, to say something, to not just stand there like an idiot, but the pressure was absolutely crushing. It was always Taehyung who saved them!
"I-It’s... uh..." he stammered. "Nothing. It was just... just a silly thing. An inside joke, really, it's nothing serious..."
"What joke?" Sana pressed again. His friends were watching him expectantly—after all, if it was an inside joke, it would make sense that they'd know about it too—but they clearly had no idea what he was talking about.
Yoongi had gone completely tense too. His eyes flicked between the newcomers and the mess that was Jungkook beside him. And suddenly, something lit up behind his eyes, like a desperate spark. Something reckless, probably stupid.
"Alright, alright," Yoongi said, raising his hands in surrender. "Don’t push, I’ll tell you." Jungkook turned to him, wide-eyed, what the fuck are you about to say?! Yoongi sighed deeply, putting on a look of resignation. "Jimin and I are dating," Yoongi declared, completely avoiding Jungkook's stare, which was practically screaming you’ve lost your damn mind. The older guy was like a soldier who had just sacrificed himself for his battalion. A suicide mission, but noble.
"What?" Mina gasped, her eyes immediately lighting up. "Seriously?"
"You two? You and Jimin?" Momo asked, still holding onto Hoseok’s hand, smiling brightly.
Namjoon and Hoseok exchanged stunned looks. They hadn’t seen that coming at all.
"Since when?" Hoseok asked, frowning slightly.
"And why didn’t you tell us earlier?" Namjoon added, crossing his arms.
"Because it’s... recent," Yoongi improvised, clearing his throat. "We didn’t want to say anything yet. We were seeing how things went."
"Secretive bastard," Hoseok laughed, stepping closer to give him a soft smack on the shoulder. "Congrats, seriously. But you could’ve said something, you know?"
"Seriously? That was the big secret you guys were hiding? It was obvious from a mile away! You’re all such idiots," Mina said, rolling her eyes but smiling broadly as she walked over to mess up Yoongi’s hair playfully.
"Congratulations, Yoongi!" Momo squealed, throwing her arms around him in a tight hug. "This is so cute! Now we can go on double dates with Hobi."
Yoongi stiffened for a few seconds, clearly uncomfortable with the sudden, intense physical affection, but didn’t push her away. Meanwhile, Jungkook stood completely frozen in place, watching the whole scene unfold with his mouth slightly open. Did that just happen? Did he really cover for him like that?
Sana, on the other hand, didn’t say a word. She stayed back, arms crossed, staring directly at Jungkook. One of her eyebrows lifted subtly, then she frowned. She didn’t need to say a single word for Jungkook to know—she wasn’t buying a single damn thing. She didn’t believe any of it.
"We should go," Sana announced suddenly, turning to her friends with a sickly sweet smile, completely different from how she’d looked a second ago. "Technically, we snuck out of the company; we shouldn’t stay too long."
"Eh? Already?" Momo whined, pouting up at Hoseok. "But I just got here!"
Poor Hoseok smiled tenderly, caressing her arm.
"It’s okay. As soon as practice is over, I’ll come find you. We can go out for a bit, okay?"
"Really?" Momo beamed so brightly it practically lit up the whole room, and she kissed him sweetly but firmly on the lips. "You’re the best."
The girls started saying their goodbyes. Momo hugged everyone; Mina did too, even elbowing Yoongi while teasing him for being 'such a secretive guy'. Sana, however, just waved a hand without much emotion. Hoseok walked them to the door, and Namjoon decided to stay, settling back into Hoseok’s desk chair and focusing on his laptop without saying much.
At that point, Jungkook finally felt like he could breathe again—not much, but a little. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and unlocked it. He knew he couldn’t say it out loud, so he opened his chat with Yoongi.
Yoongi-hyung
>>Does Jimin know you two are dating?
Yoongi's phone vibrated. Jungkook watched him pull it out, turn it on, and then roll his eyes after reading the message.
Everything I do for you... it's amazing. I panicked and that was the first thing I could think of to save you. Fuck, Jimin's going to kill me.<<
Jungkook bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. He covered his face with his hand, snorting quietly. They were screwed. So screwed.
>>Thank you, hyung. Seriously, thank you so much for doing that for me. I owe you big time. I have no idea what the fuck I would've done if you hadn't stepped in. But... how much will this affect your relationship with Jimin? What exactly is your relationship?
We're... normal. Friends with benefits, nothing more. Super casual. No exclusivity. Sure, we care about each other, but not romantically. We just have a connection and we get each other. And we both hook up with other people whenever we want, no big deal.<<
Jungkook raised an eyebrow, almost offended. He knew Yoongi was pretty blunt about his stuff, but still, the casual way he explained that kind of relationship with Jimin felt absurd to him.
>>Do you hear yourself? Do you repeat that in front of the mirror to make it sound more real? You're in denial, hyung. LOL.
Unlike some people, I'm perfectly capable of hooking up without falling in love. Not all of us are that fragile.<<
Jungkook almost dropped his phone, having to swallow his laughter so hard it hurt.
>>Yeah, yeah. Keep telling yourself that. When you're crying because Jimin started dating someone else, we'll talk. I don't wish you harm or anything, but when it happens, I'm definitely reminding you of this conversation.
Yoongi let out a short laugh and shot him a mocking glare, which, in the unspoken language of functional idiots, clearly meant: "Shut the fuck up before I stab you in the eye with this pencil."
The door swung open at that exact moment, and Hoseok walked in carrying a bunch of bags.
"I brought the food Momo bought!" he announced, dropping the bags onto the floor with a thud.
Namjoon barely lifted his head, muttering a thanks as he immediately moved to raid one of the bags. Jungkook quickly stashed his phone away, Yoongi did the same, and they exchanged a brief glance, sealing a silent pact of "not one more fucking word" that, honestly, didn’t even need to be said.
"Uh, hello? Why the hell did Mina just text me congratulating me on my 'relationship' with Yoongi?" Jimin blurted out. He had his phone in one hand and his folded script in the other.
Taehyung, who was sitting on the couch, looked up from the script he was holding too, tilting his head in confusion.
"What?" he asked, frowning. "What the hell are you talking about?"
Jimin huffed and walked over to him, practically throwing the phone into Taehyung's hands. Taehyung caught it as best he could, setting his own script on his lap, and read the message on the screen. Mina had written a cheerful, "Congratulations on your relationship with Yoongi! You guys look so beautiful together, I'm so happy you made it official!"
Taehyung raised an eyebrow, blinking several times to make sure he wasn't hallucinating.
"Is this for real?" he said, looking up at his friend. "Since when are you getting all official without telling me?"
Jimin let out a dry laugh and snatched the phone back.
"I mean, Mina is super sweet and all, but what the fuck? Yoongi and I aren't dating! We’re just hooking up!" he exclaimed, throwing himself onto the couch beside Taehyung, burying his head in the cushions.
"And are you sure he didn't fall in love with you and start telling people?"
The brunette shot him a death glare, but just as he was about to reply, the phone vibrated again. Jimin slid his finger across the screen and opened the notification. It was from Yoongi.
"Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me," he muttered, then read aloud, "Don't kill me, please. I had to tell Namjoon, Hoseok, Mina, Momo, and Sana that we’re dating to save Jungkook's ass because they overheard something about a ‘secret’ in the conversation we were having." Taehyung almost choked from laughing so hard.nJimin, meanwhile, froze for a few seconds. "I can’t believe this," he whispered, covering his face with his hands. "What kind of fucked up Wattpad prompt is this?"
"So now you have to pretend to be Yoongi's boyfriend?" Taehyung teased, leaning his elbow on the back of the couch and giving him a wicked grin. "Like in K-Dramas?"
"In theory, this is your fault too," Jimin said, pointing an accusatory finger at him.
"Mine? What the hell did I do?" Taehyung put on an innocent face.
"Everything!" Jimin shot back. "If you hadn't had a thing for Jungkook, none of this would’ve happened."
Taehyung burst out laughing again, this time not even trying to hold back.
"So, to sum it up: because of me, you’re about to star in the most cliché storyline ever," he said between laughs. "Friends with benefits pretend to be a couple... and then end up falling for each other! Classic."
"Shut up, idiot. I'm not falling for anyone. I just wanted a safe, stable hookup," Jimin said, throwing a cushion at him, which Taehyung dodged effortlessly.
"At least it's with Yoongi," the blond shrugged, picking the cushion up from the floor. "Feels like a good match, honestly. He’s proven it. He respects you, he takes care of you, he defends you. He's loyal and not a complete asshole."
Jimin looked down for a moment. He didn’t answer right away. Taehyung noticed the slight blush on his cheeks, the way he bit his lower lip, and how his fingers played with the edge of his phone case.
"Yeah... that's true," Jimin admitted quietly. "But I don't think it's what I want, Tae. Not right now. Not with him, or anyone, really..." He paused, searching for the words. "I feel like I'm emotionally blocked, like I'm running away from something. I don't know if it's trauma or just plain fear, but... it’s not coming naturally. And Yoongi knows that. That’s why we're where we are. No promises, no labels."
"It's okay if you don't want anything right now. No one should force you," Taehyung said with a shrug. "But... don't shut yourself off either if something changes one day. You don't have to force it. Just... don’t close the door too soon. Sometimes..." he paused briefly, lowering his gaze to the script in his hands, "you don't realize you’re feeling something more until it’s too late."
"Better shut up and help me think of ways to kill him for dragging me into this mess," Jimin huffed, leaning back.
They were at Jimin's place. Taehyung was helping him rehearse for an upcoming performance, hoping it would distract him from the looming anxiety about Jungkook’s parents arriving that week. The blond was playing all the characters that interacted with Janggok, Jimin’s character. It was a historical play, so they needed to fully immerse themselves in their roles.
"But hey..." Taehyung tilted his head, sharpening his gaze with a mischievous curiosity. "Did you already make him a bottom or what?"
Jimin's laugh echoed loudly through the living room. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
"Not yet!" he defended himself between laughs, waving his phone in one hand. "The bastard's playing all dignified, you know? But I get it. It would be his first time being a bottom. I don't want to pressure him; I want it to be special for him."
Taehyung couldn't help but burst out laughing too, the sound vibrating deep in his chest. He theatrically placed a hand over his heart.
"Oh, sure, the Wattpad cliché is kicking in already!" he teased. Jimin didn't hold back and, without warning, smacked him hard on the shoulder with the rolled-up script. Taehyung let out a dramatic whine, clutching at the spot while laughing under his breath.
"Shut up, idiot!" Jimin growled, though the smile never left his lips. "Let's just get back to rehearsing. That's what you came for, isn't it?"
"Alright, alright," Taehyung agreed, picking up the script again.
However, Jimin had the perfect idea to mess with Taehyung while he had the chance. His eyes gleamed suspiciously, and his voice turned syrupy sweet, almost seductive.
"How about we rehearse the scene where Janggok and Nawoon confess their feelings?" he suggested, stretching lazily toward Taehyung with a smile so innocent it was obviously hiding something.
Taehyung eyed him suspiciously and immediately frowned. He knew that tone; it always meant Jimin was up to something. Still, he flipped through his own script, skimming until he found the scene. As his eyes moved over the lines, his expression slowly morphed: first confusion, then tension, finally alarm.
"Jimin," he whispered gravely. "This scene has a kiss."
"So what?" Jimin replied shamelessly, shrugging and crossing his arms. "We're actors, Tae. It doesn't mean anything, it's for the story."
"But I'm not an actor!" Taehyung shot back, his voice rising with real nerves. "I'm not going to kiss you! That would be like... like cheating... and I'm not doing that shit!"
Jimin's eyes widened, caught between being offended and highly amused. He found it weirdly adorable how serious his friend got about it. It was obvious how committed he was to Jungkook and how much he cared. He couldn't resist teasing him a little more.
"Oh, don't be so dramatic," he started, setting the script aside and slowly standing up, inching closer to the blond. "It's just a practice kiss. No tongue, no spit, just a sweet little peck."
Taehyung jumped to his feet, sending the script's pages flying through the air like someone had turned on a fan. He raised his hands defensively and backed away.
"Don't come near me, you idiot! I'm not doing it!"
"Taehyung," Jimin cooed sweetly, "come here... just one little actor's kiss..." Before he could argue more, Jimin started making exaggerated kissing noises and lunged toward him. "Come here, my darling! Just give in!"
Taehyung let out a strangled scream as he fled the assault.
"You're sick, Jimin! Stop trying to kiss me! I'm calling the cops, you damned pervert!" he shouted, dodging Jimin's failed attempt to grab him from behind.
"Just a tiny peck, man! For the sake of art!" Jimin defended, doubled over laughing, chasing him around the room.
Jimin ran after him, making kissy sounds every two seconds, while Taehyung fled like his life depended on it, stumbling over a rug and gripping the walls to keep from falling flat on his face.
Taehyung stepped out of Jimin’s house, carefully closing the door behind him, feeling the cool night air wrap around his skin. He adjusted his jacket and made his way down the porch steps as the nervousness started to settle heavily in his chest.
He wasn’t going to lie to himself: he wanted to see him.
He hadn't seen Jungkook since Saturday, and even though they'd exchanged texts, a few quick calls, and some random photos, it wasn’t enough. He missed him like it had been months. Since when could someone get under his skin so fast?
As he walked toward his car parked in front of the house, his pace gradually slowed. He slipped a trembling hand into his jacket pocket to fish out his keys, jangling them between his fingers before letting out a long sigh and opening the driver's side door.
He collapsed into the seat, pulling the door shut with a dull thud, and just sat there. He didn’t start the engine. He didn’t even buckle his seatbelt. He simply leaned his head back against the seat and stared blankly through the windshield. His bottom lip ended up trapped between his teeth, bitten hard enough to leave it sensitive and sore.
He was nervous. Terrified, actually. It was Monday, and according to Jungkook’s message, his parents would be there on Thursday. It was just supposed to be dinner, but... shit, what was he supposed to do?
The knot in his stomach twisted tighter. He thought back to his last experience 'meeting the parents' years ago and remembered the sweaty palms, the clumsy phrases, the damned trembling legs. And that had been after four months of a stable relationship.
But now...
Now they weren’t even officially dating. They were something—something huge, intense, overwhelming—but it didn’t have a name.
Sure, he’d be introduced as a friend, but what if Jungkook’s parents started suspecting? He had no idea how they would react if they found out the truth. And to make things worse, his mind—traitorous as always—dragged up the one image he feared most: his mother.
His mother, with that disapproving stare that could destroy everything he tried to build. His mother, who had never once in his life shown him real pride.
Taehyung squeezed his eyes shut and leaned his forehead against the steering wheel.
"I don’t want to be another disappointment," he whispered, feeling the burn behind his eyelids.
It was so fucking unfair that even in his purest moments of happiness, he had to carry that guilt. Because he knew that if his mother ever found out about what he felt for Jungkook, there would be no support, no smiles, no "as long as you're happy." There would only be more distance. More disdain. More pain.
And even though part of him screamed that he didn’t need her approval anymore, another part still craved it. He didn’t want to give her more reasons to hate him. He didn’t want... to become even less in her eyes than he already was.
He sat back slowly, letting his hands fall into his lap, allowing the sadness to spread through his chest. He knew he wasn’t going to change what he felt. He knew that even if the whole world turned against him, he would still choose Jungkook. But fear was a stubborn son of a bitch to kill.
His mother's voice echoed sharply in his mind: 'You need to grow up, Taehyung. Someone has to take over the company. You can't stay a child forever. You need to grow up, graduate, find a wife who’s worthy of you, have children to carry your name, to continue your father's legacy.'
Taehyung’s jaw tightened. He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting against the uncomfortable burn rising in his chest. What the hell was he supposed to do? If he stayed with Jungkook, all of that would go straight to hell. He wouldn’t fulfill the life plan his mother had drawn out for him. There wouldn't be a perfect wife with a plastic smile. There wouldn't be a firstborn molded into the image she dreamed of.
He opened his eyes, staring at his hands gripping the steering wheel. He was surprised by how hard he was clenching it.
No, he didn’t want that. He didn’t want the life others had decided for him before he even learned how to choose between vanilla or chocolate ice cream.
Besides, being with a boy didn’t mean he couldn't build a family someday if he wanted to. There were ways, there were options. But his mother would never understand, wouldn’t even bother trying. For her, things were simple: a child needed a father and a mother, period.
Taehyung let out a dry, bitter laugh, leaning back in his seat as he ran his hands through his hair, messing it up. Suddenly, he felt ridiculous, sitting there like an idiot, having a full-blown existential crisis over something that hadn’t even happened yet. They weren't even dating, and here he was already thinking about adoptions, impossible futures, family breakups, and all the apocalypses that could possibly unfold.
He was getting way ahead of himself, throwing rocks onto his own path before even taking the first step. What was the point of screwing himself up like this? Why couldn’t he just enjoy what he had right now? Jungkook was there, for him. He was his, in some strange, beautiful, and damn imperfect—or maybe perfectly imperfect—way. And honestly, just that thought alone made his chest ache with happiness.
He missed him. He missed Jungkook so much it hurt. He missed his smile, his contagious laughter, the way he crinkled his nose when he laughed at something stupid Taehyung said... and Taehyung wanted to see that a thousand more times. He couldn’t just sit there and let fear steal that away from him.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket and stared at the screen before opening the call app. He didn’t hesitate to dial.
"Tae?" came Jungkook’s voice on the other end, surprised and excited. Taehyung felt a flutter in his stomach. "Second call today... Is it my lucky day? Should I go buy a lottery ticket?"
"Idiot..." he muttered, clearing his throat softly, his cheeks tinged pink. "Are you busy?"
He heard some noise in the background, like a soft thud—maybe Jungkook had dropped something.
"No, no, not at all. What's up?" Jungkook asked, clearly happy to hear from him.
"I was...helping Jimin and... well, I didn’t feel like going straight home," he admitted, his voice dropping almost to a whisper. "Do you wanna meet up now?" he asked quickly.
There was a brief silence. Then Jungkook’s low, warm laugh traveled through the line, wrapping around him like a hug.
"Where are you?"
"Still outside Jimin’s house. I haven't driven off yet," he confessed, half-smiling even though no one could see it.
"Do you wanna come over?" Jungkook offered without hesitation. "Or I can head out and meet you somewhere. Whatever you want."
Taehyung’s heart gave a traitorous lurch. He bit his lower lip, thinking about how easy everything felt when he was with Jungkook. No complications, no demands, no judgments. Just that honest, simple need to be together.
"I’m on my way," he decided, finally starting the engine, feeling a bit of the heavy weight on his chest lift.
"I’ll be waiting," Jungkook said, his voice soft and full of promise before hanging up.
Taehyung placed the phone on the passenger seat and, for a moment, simply allowed himself to smile. A small, vulnerable smile, full of something dangerously close to hope.
He was scared shitless, yeah. He was carrying a backpack full of insecurities and fears on his shoulders. But he was also sure of one thing: Jungkook was worth it. And right now, that was enough.
He tightened his hands on the steering wheel and drove off into the night, heading toward the only thing he truly wanted at this moment: Jungkook.
Chapter 40: Chapter 39
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
"Fly me to the moon..." Taehyung hummed, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.
Frank Sinatra's voice floated through the car speakers. The night was cool, and at that hour, traffic was light—just a few scattered cars, the blinking lights of traffic signals, and pale streetlamps lighting his way. The air conditioner buzzed softly, and his phone, connected to the car’s Bluetooth, played the jazz playlist he loved so much.
He drove almost on autopilot, barely paying attention, letting his thoughts fill up with Jungkook. He was thinking about where to take him, what to do together, what to say without sounding like an idiot. He remembered seeing an artisanal pizza place online, practically in the middle of nowhere, with an eco-friendly trail that led to a natural viewpoint. The moment he saw it, he’d thought of bringing Jungkook there—it looked like one of those places made to create beautiful memories. It sounded perfect. Something simple, not pretentious, and intimate.
He chuckled softly, scratching the back of his neck distractedly.
"Shit, Taehyung, tone it down a few notches," he muttered to himself, shaking his head in amusement.
But before he could keep floating on those stupid, dangerously romantic ideas, something in the rearview mirror caught his attention.
A black sedan. Definitely a Chevrolet. He wasn’t an expert on car brands, but the emblem was unmistakable, and an uncomfortable itch crept under his skin. It wouldn’t have mattered—except for one detail: he could’ve sworn he’d seen that same car parked near Jimin’s house.
Coincidence? Maybe. He kept telling himself that the city was full of black Chevrolets. It wasn’t alarming, not on its own. But something just felt... off. His fingers gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. He considered ignoring it, not feeding into his paranoia, but the universe knew his brain had been a pressure cooker lately. Maybe it was just another black car—nothing rare about seeing a sedan like that in the streets of Seoul. Maybe it was just anxiety.
"Shit, relax," he muttered, but he decided not to stay in the dark.
He made a turn at the next intersection, one that definitely wasn’t on the logical route to Jungkook’s apartment. The street was mostly empty, so it wasn’t like traffic could’ve confused the other driver. If the car followed him, he’d have his answer.
His heart started beating faster as he turned, eyes fixed on the rearview mirror. The Chevrolet kept going straight, disappearing in a matter of seconds.
"Fucking paranoid," he muttered through clenched teeth, shaking his head. He forced himself to relax his shoulders and tuned back into the music. The song had changed—now Cheek to Cheek by Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald was playing. It was impossible not to smile at it, even if he was still nervous. "Heaven… I'm in heaven..." he sang softly.
Now, thanks to the detour, he was completely lost. Great.
He had to mentally recalculate how the hell to get to Imperial Heights from here. He let out a short huff, focusing on the mental maps of the city he’d built in his head over the years.
"Okay, genius, two more blocks ahead, then connect to the main avenue," he instructed himself, gripping the wheel tighter and fixing his eyes on the road.
Taehyung moved his shoulders in a relaxed rhythm, humming along to the jazz. Thinking of Jungkook, of course. Who else would he be thinking about? He wanted to get there already and take him to that restaurant he’d seen. He just hoped social media wasn’t lying and he wouldn’t show up to a place that looked nothing like the pictures—or worse, where the pizza didn’t taste nearly as good as the reviews claimed.
It was a Monday—who the hell would be out there on a Monday? With luck, no one. Just the two of them, sharing a pizza, kissing between bites, whispering to each other. He smiled to himself, imagining the scene—Jungkook biting into a slice of pizza, looking at him with those bright, dark eyes. Or laughing, maybe lying back on the blanket, saying something stupid just to get on his nerves. Or maybe—just maybe—reaching out to tangle their fingers together in a gesture so quietly intimate.
But it wasn’t just about wanting to spend time with him. No, tonight, Taehyung had something else in mind. He wanted to open up a little more, to talk about things he usually swallowed in silence. Like his mother. Or the fears that still clenched at his chest some nights. Or the insecurity he felt when thinking about the future—about what could or couldn’t happen between them.
If they wanted to build something real—whatever that meant exactly—he’d have to learn to truly trust, to let himself be seen even in the parts that were still broken. And he wanted that. Because Jungkook mattered to him. Way more than he could usually admit out loud.
A soft snort escaped his nose as he remembered another little incident that had been stuck in his head all day: that morning, during their quick call, he’d actually dared to call him “baby.” Baby! He wasn’t the type for cheesy nicknames—he was more likely to drop a "dumbass," "idiot," or "bastard" with a fond tone. The sweet nicknames had always been Jungkook’s thing: “pretty,” “gorgeous,” “beautiful,” though he mostly saved those for bed. Taehyung... well, he could barely say Jungkook’s name when he was overwhelmed with pleasure.
Did it sound forced? Cringe? Ridiculous? Jungkook hadn’t said anything on the call, but he hadn’t had the chance—Taehyung had hung up awkwardly the second the word left his mouth. He had no idea if Jungkook liked it or if he was still in his apartment laughing at him. Maybe he should ask him tonight... or maybe not. Maybe it’d be better to just pretend it never happened.
He was so deep in thought that he barely noticed when a blinding light filled his rearview mirror, making him squint and frown. Automatically, his gaze slid back, at first with indifference—but soon, a knot started tightening in his stomach.
There it was again. The black Chevrolet sedan.
"No fucking way..." he whispered, his fingers tightening around the wheel.
He swallowed hard, trying to fight the paranoia creeping back up his spine. Maybe it was a different car. Maybe he was overreacting. After all, black sedans weren’t exactly rare—there had to be thousands of them out there, right?
He blinked several times, forcing himself to stay calm, not to do anything stupid. He was already close to Jungkook’s building—just a couple of blocks away, maybe less. He couldn’t panic now. He turned the music down to a near whisper and reached out with a trembling hand for his phone, unlocking it quickly. He opened Jungkook’s chat, pressed the audio button, and spoke quietly, trying to sound casual even though his heart was pounding way too fast.
"I’m almost there. Come downstairs, please," he said, then released the button. He tossed the phone onto the passenger seat with a nervous flick of his wrist and focused back on the road.
He took a deep breath—once, twice. There was a real chance he was just being a paranoid mess. He only had to hang in there for a few more minutes. It was nothing.
The car behind him kept its distance, but it was still there. It wasn’t speeding up, it wasn’t trying to pass him, it just… was there.
Taehyung swallowed hard. Shit, he really shouldn’t have watched so many true crime series on Netflix. His brain had gone full survival mode for no real reason.
When he finally saw Jungkook’s apartment building in the distance, a wave of relief spread through his chest, warm and reassuring. And right on cue, Jungkook stepped out through the doors of the building. Instantly, a smile broke across Taehyung’s face, easing the tension that had stiffened every muscle in his body. Seeing him felt like coming up for air after being underwater too long.
He parked in front of the building, rolling down the window just as Jungkook approached and leaned casually against the car door.
The sedan slowed down a bit, and Taehyung, on high alert, turned his head to watch it. He tracked the vehicle as it passed by, trying to make out something through the dark-tinted windows, but couldn’t see a damn thing. He let out a frustrated breath and turned back to Jungkook, who was greeting him with that smile—the one so beautiful it squeezed his heart.
Jungkook leaned in for a hello kiss, and although Taehyung wanted to kiss him back like always, his mind was still half-stuck in panic mode. All he managed was a quick clearing of his throat and a brief, almost chaste kiss. Jungkook frowned slightly, picking up on his mood right away. Without hesitation, he reached out, his warm hand cradling Taehyung’s cheek, brushing the skin with his fingertips.
“What’s wrong, Tae?” he asked.
Taehyung stared at him for a few seconds, then his eyes drifted back toward the spot where the sedan had disappeared into the distance. Did it really make sense to scare Jungkook too over something that might be nothing? The last thing he wanted was to ruin the night.
“It’s nothing,” he muttered, forcing a smile. Jungkook narrowed his eyes, clearly not buying a word of it. He knew Taehyung too well—could see something was gnawing at him. But before Jungkook could say anything else and pressure him into opening up, Taehyung cut him off. “Get in, come on,” he said, tilting his head slightly. “I want to take you somewhere nice.”
Jungkook raised an eyebrow, intrigued. He crossed his arms over the window edge, leaning in a little closer.
“Weren’t we staying at my place?” he asked with a teasing grin.
“We were, but…” Taehyung scratched the back of his neck, visibly nervous. “I saw a place and... it caught my eye. I want to take you there.”
Jungkook found it endearingly sweet to see him so flustered over something so small. Taehyung—the same guy who threw out cuss words like confetti when pissed—now looked like a teenager about to ask out his first crush. A mischievous little smile curled Jungkook’s lips as he leaned down to meet his gaze.
“So, is this a date?” he asked, relishing the immediate blush that bloomed across Taehyung’s cheeks.
The blonde scoffed, rolling his eyes and shaking his head vehemently as if to deny it. But eventually, he sighed in defeat and muttered so quietly that Jungkook had to lean in closer to hear it:
“Yes, fuck, it’s a date,” he admitted under his breath, almost through gritted teeth.
Jungkook beamed, grinning ear to ear. Without giving Taehyung a chance to retreat, he cupped his face with both hands and kissed him. It was a short kiss, just a firm, intense press of lips. Taehyung closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the world fade to silence. When Jungkook pulled away, he brushed his thumbs over Taehyung’s cheeks, then circled around the car to hop into the passenger seat.
Taehyung stared straight ahead, hands on the wheel, frozen. His brain was temporarily rebooting. He blinked a few times, dazed, his cheeks burning so hot he felt like he could heat up the entire car on his own.
How the fuck does he do that to me with just one kiss? he thought, half-indignant and completely smitten—not that he’d ever admit it out loud.
He turned his head slightly to glance at Jungkook, already settled in his seat, buckling his seatbelt like it was the most normal thing in the world. Taehyung opened his mouth to say something, to try and claw back some of his lost dignity, but all that came out was a useless little stammer that died in the air. Jungkook looked at him, barely holding back a laugh, and Taehyung, in a final act of self-preservation, chose to shut up and focus on starting the engine.
His hands, of course, were trembling slightly on the steering wheel as he pulled away from the curb. Even though the fear that sedan had planted still lingered in the back of his mind, having Jungkook beside him made it all feel just a little less terrifying. Just a little.
“Are you gonna tell me where we’re going, or is it a surprise?” Jungkook asked, reclining slightly in his seat and looking at him sideways.
“I saw this pizza place online… it’s outdoors,” he replied, trying to keep his voice from shaking. “It’s also a lookout point... they have picnic options, and... they lend you blankets and all that so you can eat there.”
“A picnic?” Jungkook repeated, then let out a soft laugh—not mocking, just pure affection. “Are you telling me you planned a pizza picnic date?”
Taehyung growled under his breath.
“I didn’t plan it. It showed up on social media, I liked it, and… I thought of you, okay? Idiot,” he muttered, the blush creeping up his neck again.
“I love it,” Jungkook said simply, and the sincerity in his voice was so pure Taehyung nearly ran a red light.
Taehyung slid the card back into his wallet in one swift motion, deliberately ignoring the disapproving look Jungkook was shooting at him—like he was about to snatch his hand just to pay for everything himself.
“Tae, don’t be stubborn. Let me pay half,” Jungkook grumbled, frowning and crossing his arms like an annoyed child.
“Don’t start,” Taehyung cut him off without even looking at him, taking the receipt and giving the cashier a polite smile. Then he turned to Jungkook, who was still staring at him with a pout. “I invited you, so learn to accept something nice without making a damn scene.”
Jungkook opened his mouth, probably to launch another stubborn protest, but Taehyung didn’t give him the chance. He grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him toward the wooden benches next to the restaurant. Jungkook let out a small laugh, letting himself be dragged along, and plopped down beside him, swinging his legs idly. Taehyung only let go of his wrist once he was sure Jungkook wouldn’t run off to do something ridiculous like pay double the tip or some other 'make-it-even' nonsense.
He rolled his eyes and sighed, feeling the tension from earlier slowly drain from his body. Ever since Jungkook showed up, the fear that had clutched his chest earlier now felt distant, like a half-forgotten bad dream.
He looked up. The moon was brutally beautiful that night—huge and surrounded by hundreds of twinkling stars. He’d gotten so used to the noise and smog of the city that he’d almost forgotten what constellations looked like when they weren’t competing with artificial light.
"It's a really nice night," Jungkook said, stretching his legs out in front of him and leaning his head back to look up at the sky with a peaceful smile.
Taehyung tilted his head back too, closing his eyes for a moment to enjoy the fresh air brushing against his face. But a colder gust of wind made him shiver, and he quickly hugged himself.
"Nice, but cold as hell," he muttered through gritted teeth, shrinking into his seat. He had barely finished the sentence when Jungkook, without a second of hesitation, scooted closer and wrapped a warm, muscular arm around his shoulders, pulling him against his side, enveloping him in body heat. "Idiot," Taehyung stammered, clearly panicking as he weakly nudged him with his shoulder.
"I love how you get when you're nervous," Jungkook said, rubbing his fingers playfully against the sleeve of Taehyung’s jacket. Taehyung shot him a death glare—one that, in his mind, was intimidating, but probably only made Jungkook melt even more.
"Fuck off," he huffed. Jungkook leaned in and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. "You know," Taehyung said, narrowing his eyes, trying to regain some control, "I think you have a weird kink for being degraded. Every time I insult you, you laugh, dumbass."
Jungkook let out another laugh, crinkling his nose in the most adorably annoying way possible.
"It’s not that," he said, still laughing. "I just think you’re really cute when you do it."
Taehyung blinked. Cute? What the hell? He thought that when he insulted people, at the very least he looked intimidating or dominant, not cute.
"So I'm only cute when I insult you?" he asked.
"You're always cute," Jungkook replied with the most infuriatingly natural tone in the world. "I also like it when you get all sappy."
"When have I ever gotten sappy?" Taehyung frowned, confused.
"When you called me baby on the phone," Jungkook whispered, in that tone that made Taehyung’s skin instantly break out in goosebumps.
"You heard that?" he asked, horrified.
"Of course," Jungkook laughed, totally delighted. "You wrecked me. Even Namjoon and Hoseok said I looked like a man in love because I was acting all lovesick while I was talking to you."
"What?! What did you tell them?"
"I had to make something up—I said I was on the phone with my mom, asking what she was bringing from Busan. Somehow, they bought it. But it was tough because they were really convinced I was in love."
Taehyung buried his face in his hand, trying to hide his embarrassment, while Jungkook laughed openly now, clearly enjoying how wrecked he looked. Every single cell in his body was buzzing with love and nerves, and even though he wanted to tell Jungkook to go to hell again, he couldn't stop the awkward smile that slipped out.
"You're such an idiot," he mumbled into his palm, not even sounding convincing. He would’ve changed the subject, but then he noticed something. In love? Was Jungkook acting like he was in love or actually in love? "Uh… Jungkook… are you in love? With me? Or are you just really good at acting?" Taehyung asked suddenly.
Jungkook's body tensed immediately. He took a few seconds to answer. He swallowed hard and finally replied with honesty:
"I'm gonna be real… not yet." Taehyung felt a small sting in his chest, but Jungkook didn’t leave room for misinterpretation. "But I swear… I swear I’m headed there. And fast."
Taehyung blinked, trying to process what he’d just heard. It wasn’t a rushed confession, nor a half-assed yes thrown out to make him happy. It was real—fucking real—and his chest filled with a warmth that had nothing to do with the freezing night air. He looked at him, holding back the urge to smile like a total idiot, and slowly nodded, tenderly.
"Me too..." he confessed, his voice cracking just a little. "Not yet, but… I think I might get there. We haven’t known each other that long, we have to give it time."
And he meant it. It wasn’t something he could—or wanted to—force. It was just a seed growing between them, something that needed time and care, but had already started to take root.
Jungkook looked at him in a way that made Taehyung’s skin tingle. His eyes drifted unconsciously to his lips, but he didn’t move. Taehyung, suddenly hyper-aware of their proximity, shifted slightly in place, trying to calm the insane beating of his heart. The position they were in—Jungkook’s arm draped over his shoulders, their faces absurdly close, to the point where he could feel his warm breath on his cheek—wasn’t helping at all.
"I like you," Jungkook said out of nowhere.
Taehyung let out a nervous laugh, bringing a hand to his face in a failed attempt to hide.
"Idiot!" he scolded, squeezing his eyes shut. "Don’t be so direct, you’re making me nervous!"
"So you don’t like it when I’m direct?" Jungkook asked, tilting his head playfully.
Taehyung glanced at him from the corner of his eye, still pretending to be offended, though internally he was melting like damn ice cream in the sun. He loved that unfiltered part of Jungkook, that way he had of saying exactly what he felt. Though, of course, it was absolutely destroying his self-control.
"It’s not that I don’t like it, it’s just that it scares the shit out of me, dumbass," he growled, crossing his arms in a ridiculous attempt to shield himself from Jungkook’s devastating charm. "But..." he added, lowering his voice and feeling stupid, "I like you too."
"Thank God," Jungkook murmured, then grinned mischievously. "So… are you gonna call me baby more often?"
"Do you seriously want that?" Taehyung asked, laughing.
"Please," Jungkook begged, pouting in a way so stupidly adorable that Taehyung had to look away to avoid dying on the spot.
"Alright... baby," he finally said. The effect was immediate: Jungkook chuckled softly, curling in on himself a little, absolutely wrecked by the nickname.
They stayed like that, looking at each other, smiling, not saying anything. Jungkook wanted to say something. He had this idea forming awkwardly in his head—asking Taehyung if he thought he’d ever be ready to be his boyfriend. Not to pressure him, just to know, to plan, to daydream about the moment he could ask him to be his for real.
But before he could open his mouth, a voice interrupted, loud and clear:
"Kim Taehyung!"
They both turned toward the source of the voice, startled. It was the guy from the pizza place, waving at them from the counter. Taehyung let out a small huff and awkwardly got up from the bench.
"Pizza’s ready," he announced, smiling as he brushed off his pants.
Jungkook had no choice but to follow, even though internally he was cursing the perfectly timed interruption from that poor worker who had no idea what he’d just ruined.
They walked side by side to the counter, where a huge pizza box was waiting for them, along with cardboard plates, thick napkins, a professional pizza spatula, non-alcoholic wine, and two sturdy plastic cups made to look like wine glasses. There was also a rolled-up picnic blanket waiting for them in a cloth bag.
"Please remember to bring everything back, including the trash," the guy said with a kind smile. "To get to the lookout, take the eco trail on the left. Just keep walking until you reach the clearing. You can't miss it."
"Thanks," they both said at the same time, bowing slightly out of habit.
They split the items between them—Taehyung took the tablecloth, spatula, plates, and napkins, while Jungkook carried the heavy pizza box, the bottle, and the glasses. Taehyung weakly protested the unfair division, but Jungkook shot him a challenging look that shut down any argument before it could begin.
"I'm not letting you carry the heavy stuff, dummy," Jungkook said with a crooked smile that made Taehyung want to either shove him... or kiss him. He wasn’t quite sure which.
The path ahead of them was wide, covered in small pebbles, and surrounded by lush greenery that glowed under the light of artistically placed garden lamps on either side. Every few meters, small hanging lights dangled from tree branches like artificial fireflies, creating a nearly magical atmosphere. The air smelled of damp earth and night-blooming flowers—fresh, clean, revitalizing.
"Thanks for bringing me somewhere so beautiful," Jungkook said. Taehyung smiled without looking at him.
"You haven’t seen anything yet," he promised.
They walked together until the trail opened into a wide, clear space where the grass looked healthy and freshly cut. They were no longer surrounded by trees, and the dim lights were arranged strategically around the clearing to create a cozy, romantic atmosphere that didn’t feel overwhelming. The lighting was warm, not too bright—just enough to illuminate the food, their faces, and their hands, but not so much that it stole attention from the spectacular view in front of them.
The city stretched out below, twinkling with hundreds of tiny lights like a sea of fireflies. In the distance, past the skyline, mountains stood faintly outlined beneath the night’s curtain. Above it all reigned a massive, white full moon that seemed to have grown just for them that night. The sky was clear and dotted with stars.
Jungkook let out a sound of awe, a brief sigh full of admiration, and Taehyung smiled as he heard it while carefully rolling out the picnic blanket on the grass. He brushed off a few stray leaves and began to arrange the things he’d carried in the center. Jungkook sat down beside him quickly, first kneeling to keep his balance before placing down the heavier items—the pizza box, the non-alcoholic wine, and the glasses.
"I'm starving," Taehyung confessed, adding a little dramatic flair as he let his body fall backward, bracing himself with open palms on the blanket.
Jungkook wasted no time opening the pizza box, and the hot, spiced aroma hit them immediately. They both leaned in to admire it: bubbling cheese, golden edges, perfectly distributed pepperoni. Jungkook grabbed the pizza server and expertly sliced a large piece, placing it on Taehyung’s plate first before serving himself.
"Here you go, Mr. Hungry," Jungkook teased.
Taehyung rolled his eyes but accepted the plate. He grabbed the bottle of non-alcoholic wine, twisted off the cap with a satisfying little 'click', and filled both glasses to a reasonable level. They raised their glasses in a small, silent toast before taking their first bite of pizza.
It was glorious.
They both let out murmurs of approval at the same time, mouths full, and quickly devoured their first slice. Jungkook was serving the second when Taehyung, lazily wiping a crumb from the corner of his mouth, suddenly said:
"I want to talk to you."
"About what?" Jungkook asked in a low voice.
"I’ve got a lot on my mind," he confessed, eyes momentarily lost in the lights of the city below. "And I’ve been thinking... about your parents."
"My parents?"
"Yeah," Taehyung nodded slightly. "They’re coming to Seoul on Thursday… and I… well, you want me to have dinner with you all, and I’m not saying no, it’s just… I’ve been thinking." Jungkook nodded, encouraging him to continue. "I wanted to ask you," Taehyung went on, his tone softer and more uncertain now. "Do you think… if they found out there was something going on between us… would they take it well?"
Jungkook ran a hand through his dark hair, thoughtful. He closed his eyes for a moment, sifting through memories, conversations, glances, things his parents had said—or not said—over the years.
"Honestly…" he began. "I have no idea how they'd react at first. Maybe they'd be shocked, maybe they wouldn’t know what to say. I think they still hold on to some conservative ideas in their heads." Taehyung felt his stomach twist a little tighter. "But..." Jungkook added firmly, looking back at him, straight into his eyes. "Something they’ve always made clear is that I’m their son and they love me. They’ve told me that in moments when... well, when I felt like I was losing myself. I know that after the initial surprise, they’d come around. They wouldn’t turn their backs on me."
"That’s good," Taehyung murmured, lowering his gaze to his glass. "I don’t think it’d be the same for me," he added bitterly.
"Why do you say that?"
"You already know about my mom, she’s always been... fucking difficult," Taehyung swallowed hard. "You know she’s never been proud of me." Jungkook’s brow furrowed slightly, but he said nothing. Taehyung turned his gaze toward the city again, taking a deep breath. "And now I feel like if she ever found out what I feel for you... there wouldn’t be a ‘as long as you’re happy.’ There wouldn’t be support—just more distance, more disappointment."
"I can imagine how much that must hurt," Jungkook said eventually. Taehyung laughed, shaking his head.
"You have no idea." He rubbed his face with both hands, exhaling in frustration. "It’s fucking unfair, because I feel like I finally have something real, something good, something that makes me happy... and still, I have this shitty voice in my head reminding me that I’m failing again."
"You’re not failing, Taehyung," Jungkook said firmly, scooting closer. "Loving someone and being happy isn’t failing."
"But to her, it would be," his voice cracked slightly as he turned his face to look at him. "She wants me to graduate, take over the company… she never even asked if that’s what I wanted. She just... decided."
"Taehyung…" Jungkook said slowly. "That sounds... really messed up. I’m sorry."
"It’s not your fault. Don’t say ‘I’m sorry,’" Taehyung replied immediately. "I’m not telling you this to make you feel bad, okay? It’s... it’s just that I can’t help thinking about it. I can’t stop being afraid that she’ll hate me even more if she finds out. I know I should be over it, that I’m an adult now, that I should be past this shit—but part of me still wants her, just once, to look at me and say, ‘I’m proud of you.’"
"You know what? Fuck that," Jungkook said, and Taehyung blinked, surprised by his bluntness, but Jungkook didn’t look away. "Sorry, I don’t mean to be disrespectful. But honestly, hyung... no one should have to apologize for being happy. Or beg for love from someone who’s supposed to love you unconditionally."
"It sounds easy when you say it," the blond murmured, smiling a little.
"I never said it was easy," Jungkook raised an eyebrow. "I’m just saying it’s true. You deserve to be happy. Period."
The wind tousled their hair, and for a second, they just looked at each other—connected in such a profound way that it left Taehyung breathless. The older one shifted, uncomfortable with how vulnerable he felt, and looked back up at the sky.
"It's not just her," he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. "Like I told you, it’s the whole fucking life plan she’s got laid out for me. Marry the perfect girl, have perfect kids, be that picture-perfect success she can show off at dinner parties and brag about to her friends. And being with you… would shatter all of that. There’d be no fake-smiling wife, no firstborns who look just like my father. There’d only be something she’d never accept." He paused for a second, then gave a small, bitter laugh. "You know what’s worse?" he asked, tilting his head. "That I feel like a complete idiot for even thinking about kids and a family with you when… we’re not even dating." He shrugged, pressing his lips together in self-reproach. "We haven’t even had a real conversation about what we are. And here I am, picturing impossible scenarios that are never going to happen."
"Who says they couldn’t?" Jungkook grinned playfully.
"Jungkook, we’re not dating! Next thing you know, we’ll be picking out names for our imaginary children."
"Fine, then I get first pick, since you’re clearly in denial," he said, pretending to be serious. "If it’s a girl, her name will be… Stapler. And if it’s a boy, Sandwich."
Taehyung stared at him, incredulous, before bursting into laughter.
"You’re completely insane."
"And you’re going to be the father of Jeon-Kim Stapler, so imagine that."
They laughed until their stomachs hurt, and when the laughter faded, Taehyung felt light for the first time in what felt like an eternity.
The blond turned his head to look at him, and in that moment, he knew it didn’t matter how scared he was. It didn’t matter how much disapproval would fall on his shoulders. It didn’t matter how many people’s life plans he’d have to wreck. Choosing Jungkook was the only choice that mattered.
Still, despite the jokes, real doubts lingered in Jungkook’s mind. He thought about everything Taehyung had just confessed—how heavy it all was—and wondered if it was worth it. He didn’t want to expose him to a life full of rejection. He didn’t want to be the reason Taehyung ended up hated by his mother, the only close family he had left.
"Taehyung," the black-haired boy called softly. Taehyung blinked, coming out of his own thoughts, and what he saw made his heart ache: that sad, Bambi-like look in Jungkook’s eyes. "Are you so afraid… that you're going to end things with me?" Jungkook asked, swallowing hard.
For a moment, Taehyung forgot how to breathe—but then he shook his head immediately, forcefully.
"No," he said firmly. "No, Jungkook. Of course not." He ran a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath, trying to untangle the storm in his mind. He didn’t want Jungkook walking away with such a ridiculous idea. "It’s just… I’m getting ahead of myself, you know? I’m putting roadblocks in the way before I’ve even taken the first fucking step. It’s like..." He made a vague, frustrated gesture with his hands. "I don’t know why the hell I’m screwing my own head like this." Jungkook was watching him closely, not interrupting. "You’re here. For me. And honestly, that alone makes my chest ache from how happy it makes me" He let out a low, disbelieving laugh. "It hurts how happy I feel. It makes no fucking sense. I don’t want to just sit here and let fear steal all of that. I won’t let it."
For a moment, Jungkook just looked at him, a shy smile slowly blooming across his face. That expression melted something warm and soft inside Taehyung.
"So...?" Jungkook looked down for a second, hesitating, then met his eyes again. "Does that mean you're ready to take the next step? Like... make it official?"
Taehyung smiled, tilting his head just a little, thinking it over.
"Sort of," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck absently. "Truth is… I do want something with you, Jungkook." He leaned in a bit, his voice dropping, becoming more intimate. "I want more moments like this with you. I want you in my life, not just now, but..." He furrowed his brow slightly, searching for a way to say it without sounding too sappy—or scaring him off. "I want to be able to call you my boyfriend. I’m sure of that part. I’m sure I want you."
Jungkook’s heart seemed to beat so loud Taehyung thought he could hear it. His eyes sparkled—wide and stunned—and Taehyung let out a small chuckle before continuing.
"It’s just that..." he looked down, playing with his fingers. "I’m still missing a tiny bit of courage." He pinched his thumb and index finger together, leaving only a sliver of space between them. "It’s because of my mom, mostly. Not because of you. You make me want to settle down. But there’s that fucking voice in my head, always reminding me of what I’m 'supposed' to do. And, well… I can’t just shut it off overnight." He looked back up, meeting Jungkook’s gaze, now so full of tenderness it almost hurt. "I don’t know if I explained that well," he added with a lopsided, slightly embarrassed smile. "I suck at talking about my feelings, huh?"
But Jungkook shook his head, smiling like Taehyung had just handed him the whole universe.
"I understood you perfectly," he whispered, leaning a little closer. "And you have no idea how happy it makes me to know you’re sure you want to be with me."
He took his hand, warm fingers wrapping firmly around Taehyung’s. He felt his heart speed up—not from fear this time, but from pure, overwhelming joy. Jungkook wasn’t pushing him. He wasn’t demanding anything. He was just there, supporting him, celebrating every little step he could take toward him.
Taehyung let out a soft laugh, unable to contain the wave of affection that washed over him. And without thinking too much, he leaned forward, closing the distance between them in a gentle kiss. The blond felt the whole world shrink to that one touch—the way Jungkook trembled just slightly, the quiet sigh that escaped his throat, the hand that rose to his cheek with such careful tenderness it broke something in him.
When they pulled apart, just barely, Taehyung kept his forehead resting against Jungkook’s, smiling like an idiot.
"I like you so much I sometimes don’t know what to do with myself," he whispered, laughing against his lips.
"You could start by not jumping ahead to the tragedies," Jungkook teased, brushing his nose against his.
"I promise I’ll try," Taehyung laughed, closing his eyes for a moment, allowing himself to feel the peace that this moment brought him, memorizing it for the times when the voices in his head would come screaming again.
"We’re okay," Jungkook reminded him softly, brushing his thumb along Taehyung’s cheek. "We’re going to be okay."
And for the first time in a long, long time, Taehyung actually believed that was true. Not everything would be easy, not everything would be perfect, but Jungkook was there. And that, fuck, was enough.
They were focused on each other until something interrupted them from behind—a sound. The crack of branches was almost imperceptible amid the murmur of the forest and the constant swaying of leaves in the wind, but it was there. Jungkook heard it and turned his head toward the noise. Taehyung noticed it too, because his body froze immediately, lips pressed tight, eyes locked on the darkness beyond the edge of the clearing.
"Did you hear that?" Taehyung whispered, barely audible, without moving.
Jungkook exhaled through his nose and forced a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, trying to sound casual even though his stomach was twisting with subtle unease.
"It was probably the wind. Or some animal looking for food. There’s nothing dangerous around here, don’t worry."
Taehyung hesitated for a few seconds, but nodded. He wanted to believe him. He forced himself to release the tension in his shoulders and turned his gaze back to what was left of their picnic. The night remained still, warm, and comfortable enough to keep enjoying the moment. Jungkook stretched out one leg and, without taking his eyes off the forest’s edge, poured more non-alcoholic wine for both of them.
Another twenty minutes passed without interruptions, and the atmosphere relaxed again. They had finished all the food, the pizza box was empty, and there were only a few sips left in the bottle, but they were already full.
"I'll take care of everything, don’t worry," Jungkook insisted, holding the box and crouching down to gather the rest of their things.
"What’s wrong with you? You think I can’t carry stuff?" Taehyung complained, frowning as he snatched the cups Jungkook had just picked up. "Just because you were up my ass doesn’t mean I can’t do things on my own now, alright?"
"That has nothing to do with it!"
"Of course it does!" Taehyung raised an eyebrow and pointed one of the cups at him. "I see you. All protective, all gentlemanly. What’s next? Gonna open the car door for me and carry me bridal-style?"
"Doesn’t sound like a bad idea, honestly," Jungkook laughed playfully. They exchanged a few more words, all harmless, and between fake shoves and laughter.
But the sound came back. This time, louder and closer. The branches snapped with a sharp crack right behind them. They both froze instantly. The joke died on Taehyung’s lips, and his smile vanished at once.
Jungkook turned his head slowly, going on full alert. His first instinct was to look at Taehyung, and his stomach sank a little when he saw the worried expression on his face.
"Hey," Jungkook said calmly. "Seriously, it’s probably just an animal. Squirrels, a raccoon, something like that."
Taehyung didn’t answer right away. He was staring into the trees, jaw clenched tightly, slowly letting the napkins he held fall from his hand.
"I saw something," he said in a low voice.
"What?" Jungkook frowned. "What did you see?"
"A shadow."
"Taehyung, no—" but the older boy was already moving. He took two determined steps toward the edge of the clearing. "Seriously, Taehyung, don’t. We don’t know what the hell that is."
"Exactly. I’m tired of feeling like we’re being watched."
"Probably we’re not!"
Taehyung ignored him and kept walking, his steps firm on the damp ground. Jungkook dropped what he was holding without thinking and followed him, cursing under his breath. With every step, the forest grew denser, darker. The lights from the clearing barely reached a few meters behind them, and after that, it was nothing but shadows, branches, leaves, and the distant echo of the wind.
"Taehyung!" Jungkook growled, trying not to trip over the roots. "Seriously, you wouldn’t last five minutes in a horror movie."
"And why’s that?" the older boy whispered back without turning, moving carefully but with conviction.
"Because you just did the dumbest thing any character does before dying! Walking toward the fucking noise. Haven’t you seen any movies? Haven’t you learned anything?"
"Then if you’re so scared, why’d you follow me?"
"Because leaving you alone would be even dumber, don’t you think?" Jungkook shot back, lowering his voice a bit but not hiding his frustration. "That’s the second-fastest way to die—splitting up. God, we’re following the goddamn masked killer’s manual to the letter."
"Shut up," Taehyung suddenly whispered, lifting a hand to signal him to stop.
They both fell silent. Jungkook swallowed hard; there was something about the way Taehyung stared into the trees, eyes narrowed and lips pursed, that sent a chill down his spine.
"What is it?" Jungkook asked, even softer now.
"I heard footsteps. They’re close."
Jungkook looked around, side to side, but couldn’t see much beyond the outlines of trees. The night was pitch black, only broken by a few beams of light filtering from the clearing. Taehyung took another step, and this time, Jungkook grabbed his arm.
"Stop. Listen to me. We don’t know what or who it is. There’s no point going deeper. It’s dangerous."
"I don’t want someone watching us."
"And I don’t want us ending up on the news as the two idiots who wandered into the woods at night and vanished. I’m no expert, but that’d make a pretty shitty epitaph."
Taehyung scoffed and pulled Jungkook’s hand away. The younger was about to argue again, but stopped when he heard another, louder crack. Something—or someone—was there, breathing the same air, waiting.
"Tae..." Jungkook murmured, even quieter now. "Seriously. Whatever it is, it’s not worth it."
The older boy seemed torn between his need to confront the unknown and the growing sense of danger around him. His fists were clenched, back tense, and his breathing short, controlled.
In his mind, Taehyung couldn’t stop imagining a pair of eyes staring at them from the shadows. And that infuriated him. It made him feel exposed and vulnerable. No one had the right to watch them like that. No one.
"If someone’s out there..." he said firmly, lifting his chin. "You better come out now. I’m not playing hide-and-seek."
Jungkook closed his eyes and whispered a please to the universe, hoping Taehyung wouldn’t end up provoking a bear—or worse. Not that he even knew if that area was home to the Asian black bear, but he wasn’t about to find out.
Taehyung moved through the underbrush; he couldn’t see shit, just formless shadows stretching between trees. The ground cracked beneath his shoes, damp and unstable.
A louder crack to his left made him spin immediately. He didn’t think, didn’t measure the consequences. He simply lunged toward the source of the noise. It was dark, but in the middle of the nothingness he made out a human figure—just a silhouette, denser than the rest of the scenery. That was enough. His hands grabbed fabric, and before the stranger could react, he slammed them face-first against the rough trunk of a tree.
The stranger’s ragged breathing filled his ears. Taehyung pinned them with his forearm, pressing them into the bark. With the other hand, he pulled out his phone, unlocked it, and turned on the flashlight—pointing it straight at their face.
The shaky beam of light illuminated a terrified pair of eyes—an unfamiliar face, a boy, thin and young, with such a frightened expression that for a second, Taehyung felt the urge to loosen his grip. But he forced himself to hold on. Hanging from the boy’s neck was a camera.
"What the hell...?" Jungkook ran up beside him, panting, and when he saw the scene, his eyes widened. "Have you lost your mind?"
Taehyung ignored him completely. He didn’t let go of the boy, only tightened his grip while scanning him up and down.
"Who the fuck are you?" he snapped, his voice hoarse with tension. The boy swallowed audibly, his face drenched in cold sweat.
"M-My name’s Sungchul," he stammered, his words trembling as much as his knees. Taehyung’s scowl deepened, and he tightened his hold with a sharp movement. Jungkook placed a hand on his arm, trying to calm him down, but the blond didn’t even flinch.
"What are you doing here? Why the fuck were you spying on us? And that camera?" Each word hit harder than the last.
"I-I wasn’t spying!" Sungchul defended himself, voice trembling. "I’m a biology student! I-I was taking photos of wildlife! I swear!"
Taehyung stared without blinking, searching for the slightest hesitation, any sign of a lie. Wildlife photos at that hour? In this goddamn place, so close to where they were? He wasn’t buying it.
"Tae, let him go, you’re scaring him," Jungkook said, tugging lightly on his arm.
But something inside him screamed not to trust it. That sharp, nagging feeling in his gut—the one that had saved his ass more than once—was screaming now.
"Show me the fucking photos," he ordered, not moving an inch.
Sungchul squirmed uncomfortably, gasping slightly from the pressure Taehyung was putting on his chest.
"B-But... can you let me go first?" he asked, on the verge of panic.
Taehyung narrowed his eyes, jaw clenching tightly. He glanced over at Jungkook, who returned a serious look, almost begging him silently to stop this before it spiraled out of control.
Finally, exhaling sharply through his nose, Taehyung let the boy go—reluctantly.
Sungchul fell back against the tree, wobbling slightly, but quickly straightened up. With clumsy fingers, he turned on the camera screen and showed them the pictures.
The first five photos were indeed of animals: a deer, a couple of owls, a raccoon that looked like it was posing for the camera, some half-hidden fox in the underbrush. Blurry shots, badly lit, rushed—but recognizable.
Taehyung pressed his lips together, skeptical. When he tried to take the camera to check for himself, Sungchul quickly pulled it back.
"That’s all!" he said, his voice still shaking.
Taehyung clicked his tongue in frustration. He didn’t like this shit one bit. Jungkook, seeing the tension etched into Taehyung’s face, gently rubbed his arms in an attempt to soothe him.
"You don’t need to worry, just look at him. The poor bastard nearly pissed himself," he muttered in a calm voice. "Come on, apologize."
Taehyung closed his eyes for a second. Reluctantly, and swallowing his goddamn discomfort, he forced himself to say:
"Sorry," he growled, without looking at him.
It wasn’t a pretty apology, not even a sincere one, but it was the best he could offer at the moment.
Without waiting for a response, Taehyung turned around and headed back to the clearing. Jungkook gave Sungchul a quick bow, apologizing more formally, before hurrying after him.
They walked in silence for a few minutes. When they reached the clearing, Taehyung immediately crouched down and began picking everything up with rough, clumsy movements, full of rage. Jungkook watched him silently for a moment, then stepped closer.
"What the hell was that?" he asked.
"It’s nothing," he finally said without looking up. "Just my damn imagination."
But Jungkook didn’t buy the excuse. He saw how tense Taehyung’s shoulders were, how he clenched his teeth while gathering everything into his arms.
The blond wasn’t okay—he knew something didn’t add up. And even though he was trying to convince himself it was just his brain playing tricks, deep down, that inner alarm was still blaring. Jungkook sighed, resigned. He stepped in and took a few things out of Taehyung’s hands, forcing him to pause for a moment.
"Relax," he said quietly. "Let’s get out of here, okay?"
Taehyung looked at him, the anger still burning in his eyes, but he nodded without a word. He just wanted out of that fucking forest.
They walked together toward the exit of the ecological trail without speaking. Every so often, Taehyung shot quick glances toward the darkness around them, muscles tense, like he was expecting something—or someone—to jump out from the bushes. Jungkook noticed, of course he noticed, but decided not to press him yet. He knew how Taehyung was: push too soon and he’d only shut down further.
They arrived at the restaurant, returned the gear, dumped the trash, and then resumed walking, this time toward the parking lot. The walk was short, just a few minutes under the dim lights. Jungkook, relieved that everything seemed to be over, finally allowed himself a smile.
"Thanks for the date, Tae," he said, his tone so cheesy even he cringed a little. "Seriously, I had a great—"
But his voice trailed off when he realized he was talking to himself. Taehyung was no longer walking beside him. He stood a few meters behind, completely still, staring at something with way too much intensity.
"Tae?" Jungkook asked, frowning as he stepped back beside him. "What is it?"
The blond didn’t respond right away. He pointed discreetly ahead, toward a black car parked not far from them.
"Do you know what brand that car is?" he asked in a neutral voice. Jungkook, still a bit confused, squinted to get a better look. It took him a few seconds, but then he nodded.
"It’s a Chevrolet Onix Turbo Sedan... new model, 2025, I think," he said, wrinkling his nose slightly. It wasn’t unusual for him to recognize cars—his dad was a car enthusiast and had dragged Jungkook to every possible auto expo throughout his childhood.
Taehyung didn’t take his eyes off the vehicle.
"Was it here when we arrived?" he asked, not moving a muscle.
"I’m not sure..." Jungkook narrowed his eyes, trying to remember. "I don’t think so. I didn’t see it when we got here, but... I also wasn’t really paying attention, so I don’t know."
"Was there anyone else here?" Taehyung pressed.
Jungkook slowly shook his head.
"I don’t think so. Just us. The restaurant was empty too. Tae, what’s going on?"
He didn’t respond immediately. He closed his eyes for a moment, inhaled deeply through his nose, then took Jungkook’s hand and squeezed it tightly before pulling him toward their car. His urgency was such that Jungkook barely managed to keep up, stumbling a little behind him.
When they got there, Taehyung practically shoved him inside, slammed the door shut, and rounded the car to get in the driver’s seat. But just as he was about to start the engine, Jungkook placed his hand over the keys—because he saw Taehyung’s hands trembling.
"Wait, wait," Jungkook said quickly, stopping him. "Don’t start the car yet. Just breathe for a second and tell me what’s going on."
Taehyung's eyes were wild, filled with terror and rage. He swallowed hard, his chest rising and falling at an alarming rate.
"I think… I think someone’s following us," Taehyung finally said. "I think it’s that bastard Sungchul."
"Who? That guy from earlier?"
"Yeah… I don’t know… maybe," Taehyung growled, rubbing his face with both hands, trying to pull himself together. "Jungkook, don’t look at me like that. I’m not crazy."
"What? Tae, I’m not saying that, and I don’t think you’re crazy," Jungkook began, trying to sound calm, to be the anchor Taehyung needed. "It’s just that we already checked—he’s a biology student, and he didn’t seem to have bad intentions."
"He only let me see the first five photos!" Taehyung shouted, hitting the steering wheel lightly. "What if there were more? And that car!" His voice trembled.
"What about the car?"
"I saw it before," he said, speaking fast, words tumbling out. "When I went to Jimin’s place, it was parked a little down the street. I didn’t think much of it—I figured it was a neighbor or something. But when I left, I saw it again on my route. I tried to shake it off, took a detour I never use, and I lost it. I thought it was over, that I was just freaking out or being paranoid, you know? But a bit later, there it was again behind me. Then, when I got to the apartment... that damn car slowed down as it passed me. I..." He ran a hand through his hair, desperate. "I felt like it was following me."
"Are you sure it was the same car?" Jungkook asked, trying to sound calm, though a voice inside him was screaming that something felt seriously wrong. Taehyung hesitated. He lowered his gaze, pressing his lips into a tight line.
"Not… not entirely," he admitted. "I could only see the lights in the rearview mirror. They were super bright. I didn’t catch the plate or anything. But the model… the lights… it looked too much like it."
"And you think Sungchul is the one driving it?"
"I don’t know," Taehyung whispered. "I don’t know what to think, but I don’t believe it’s a coincidence that this car is here right after we arrived, and then some creepy guy with a camera shows up around where we were. Also... sometimes I feel like someone’s watching us when we’re out together."
"What do you mean?" Jungkook asked. He was more alarmed than ever now, but he had to focus on Taehyung—getting nervous himself would only make it worse.
"I feel a stare on my neck," he confessed, words stumbling over each other. "Every time we’re together, it’s like this pressure, this persistent discomfort I can’t ignore. You just know when someone’s watching you—it’s instinct—and I really feel that. I try to check if there’s someone I know, but I can’t find anyone… I’m trying to remember Sungchul’s face, but he’s so fucking generic it’s impossible."
Jungkook frowned slightly, not because he didn’t believe him, but because he hated that Taehyung had been feeling all this and never thought to tell him.
"I thought it was all in my head. That it was just my own psychosis or early-onset schizophrenia, what the fuck do I know... paranoia, maybe. I kept telling myself it was impossible that someone would be that obsessed with us. But these coincidences..." He looked up. "This shit’s getting way too weird, Jungkook."
"But why would some random guy want to follow us?" Jungkook asked, trying to keep some logic afloat. "What’s the point?"
Taehyung shrugged, the weight of not having any answers pressing down on him.
"I don’t know. Maybe to expose us," he muttered.
"I don’t think some stranger would care that much about us," Jungkook said, but he reached over to gently stroke Taehyung’s arm. "But I believe you, Tae. I don’t want you thinking I don’t believe you. Do you want me to look into it?" he offered, a mischievous glint in his voice to lighten the mood. "I could steal his camera, stick a damn tracker on his car, I don’t know… scare the shit out of him?" Taehyung let out a small, relieved laugh, his body relaxing just a little. He shook his head and leaned back against the seat.
"No… I just want to get out of here."
Jungkook smiled sideways, a warm relief spreading in his chest at hearing that laugh, no matter how small.
"Do you want me to drive?" he asked, holding out a hand in offering. Taehyung hesitated for a second, pride wobbling, but finally nodded with a tired movement.
"Yes, please."
They quickly switched places. Taehyung settled into the passenger seat, hugging himself while Jungkook adjusted the seat and took the wheel with steady hands.
The scenery passed by them, the shadows of trees stretching under the faint glow of the approaching city. Store and restaurant signs started blinking into their peripheral vision again, bringing a soft comfort of civilization and normalcy.
"Do you want me to drop you off at your place?" Jungkook asked. "I’ll make sure you get home safe, and I can grab an Uber."
Taehyung immediately shook his head, turning to look at him with unexpected intensity.
"I want to sleep with you tonight," he said firmly. Jungkook felt his heart slam against his chest like a wild drum. He swallowed hard, trying not to smile too obviously.
"I want to sleep with you too," he admitted.
"And I want to sleep at your apartment."
Jungkook blinked, glancing at him before turning back to the road.
"Why?" he asked, genuinely curious. Taehyung shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"Your place has good food," he said casually. "Your bed smells nice, and also, it’s more likely I fit into your clothes than you fit into mine."
"My bed smells nice, huh?" Jungkook teased, raising an eyebrow. "So you like my scent? What is this? Some kind of fucking omegaverse cliché?"
Taehyung let out a scandalized snort, turning toward the window to hide his burning face.
"Shut up, you walking piece of shit," he grumbled. Jungkook laughed loudly, unable to hold it in.
"My scent calms you down, is that it? Am I your personal pheromone, Kim Taehyung?" he kept teasing.
Taehyung mumbled something unintelligible, burying his face deeper into the collar of his jacket. He couldn’t really deny it anyway.
As they drove through the lit-up streets, Taehyung closed his eyes for a moment. He thought that maybe—just maybe—everything would be okay. Maybe, as long as Jungkook was there, the rest of the world could go to hell.
Notes:
I'd like to read your theories on this. Could you please comment?
By the way, I invite you to follow me on my X, where I interact with you <3
X: https://x.com/freakinavi
Chapter 41: Chapter 40
Chapter Text
"Jihyo sent me a video this morning of a dog wearing a sweater," Namjoon said as they turned the corner toward the main lunch counter. His tone was light, and a goofy smile was stuck on his face. "She said the dog looked like me. And the worst part is… yeah, kind of."
Yoongi snorted, barely lifting his gaze from the ground, and muttered, "Bet it had the face of a sad philosopher."
"Something like that," Namjoon laughed loudly, bumping Yoongi lightly with his shoulder. "It was one of those bulldogs with an intense expression, like it was contemplating the meaning of life. Jihyo swears it’s adorable when I frown."
"Isn’t it, though?" Yoongi asked with a tired half-smile, trying to steer the conversation away from himself and feed Namjoon's monologue instead. For the past few minutes, they'd been playing a sort of verbal ping-pong—Gray-hair kept asking about Jimin, and the older one kept deflecting back to Namjoon however he could.
Jungkook, walking beside them, remained silent. He had his guitar slung across his back, the strap pulled a bit too tight over his left shoulder. His head was down—not because he wasn’t paying attention, but because watching Yoongi dodge Namjoon's questions was way too entertaining.
"And you?" Namjoon asked suddenly, turning his head slightly toward Yoongi. "How are things with Jimin? Still doing that thing where you send each other selfies first thing in the morning?"
"Not really. I think he sent me a dancing seal sticker. Or maybe it was an octopus, I don’t remember. Does that count?"
Namjoon let out a short laugh and shook his head. "You and Jimin are weird. But weird in a good way, I guess. I’m glad you’re seeing someone. I was starting to worry I'd have to make you a Tinder profile."
Yoongi didn’t reply—just rolled his eyes dramatically and muttered a barely audible 'please don’t'. Inside, though, he was starting to break into a cold sweat. His shoulders stayed relaxed, his pace casual, but his brain was spinning at full speed, trying to maintain the illusion with as little information as possible. He couldn’t say anything Jimin hadn’t approved. He couldn’t get into specifics. He couldn’t confirm a single thing, because the relationship Namjoon thought was real had completely spiraled out of their hands.
And to top it off, Namjoon wouldn’t shut up.
The black-haired guy could no longer hide his grin. He stared at the ground, but his lips twitched with the effort not to burst out laughing. He knew those kinds of evasive answers all too well, but he kept it to himself. Out of respect, sure—but also because the show was just too damn good.
He was about to make a comment when all three of their phones buzzed at the same time. Jungkook pulled his out with one hand, and a notification from their group chat popped up immediately. It was from Hoseok.
'Come to the university’s central plaza, it’s urgent! And I know all of you are free this lunch hour, so you better hurry,' the message read, along with a photo of him with Momo, Mina, and Sana.
That’s when Jungkook’s entire expression changed.
He stared at the picture closely, and his eyes immediately locked onto Sana. Taehyung had told him the night before about what she and Jiwoo had talked about, and ever since then, something about her had made him uneasy. He couldn’t look at her without his stomach twisting.
He kept staring at the image for a few more seconds and clenched his teeth, his jaw twitching slightly. Thinking about Sana brought Taehyung back to mind, and that warmth returned to his chest.
Damn, what had happened the night before felt like a bubble. Something intimate, just between the two of them. Sleeping next to Taehyung had been… different. It wasn’t just about sharing a bed, or even the hug that lasted all night, warm and firm. It was the peace he’d felt, the way their breathing had naturally synced—like their bodies already knew how to fit together without needing words. He remembered the scent of Taehyung’s shampoo, the way he’d whispered his name just before falling asleep, and the heat of his body pressed up against his.
"Hoseok says we should head over," Namjoon said after reading the message. "He’s with the girls in the central plaza. Let’s go."
Without waiting for a reply, he turned on his heel and started walking toward the lunch counter’s exit, with Yoongi following behind, not all that enthusiastic. Jungkook blinked, unsure whether he even wanted to go. He could come up with any excuse: he was hungry, he had rehearsal, he needed to do something with his guitar. But he knew that if he stayed behind, they’d interrogate him later—or think he was acting weird.
So he sighed deeply, completely resigned, and started following them.
As they made their way through campus, weaving between buildings and the shadows of trees, Jungkook was still stuck in his head. He could vaguely hear Namjoon talking about how Jihyo had cooked something that nearly poisoned him, and how he’d pretended it was delicious just to spare her feelings. Yoongi barely responded, offering grunts or deflecting questions with his usual talent for keeping other people talking.
Jungkook, Namjoon, and Yoongi arrived at the meeting spot a few minutes after the others. Hoseok was the first to greet them, as energetic as ever, throwing both arms in the air with a dazzling smile.
"You finally made it! I was starting to think you were trying to play hard to get," he exclaimed, giving Namjoon a friendly thump on the chest, patting Yoongi on the back, and pulling Jungkook into a quick, tight hug.
Jimin and Jin welcomed them with soft smiles and a light tap on each of their arms—something Namjoon didn’t miss. He raised an eyebrow and smirked teasingly, locking eyes with Jimin just as he greeted Yoongi.
"That’s all the enthusiasm you show your boyfriend, Jimin?" he teased, then turned his head toward Jin. "What do you think? Does that count as a couple’s greeting?"
"I think they should kiss," the eldest said, amused. "Come on, don’t be shy, Jimin. Momo kisses Hoseok even when he sneezes and no one complains."
The comment made Jimin visibly blush, though he lifted his chin with resolve. He took a step toward Yoongi, who barely dipped his head before giving him a soft kiss on the lips.
"Happy now?" Jimin asked with a defiant smile. Jin gave two enthusiastic thumbs-up, clearly approving.
Jungkook noticed how the tips of Yoongi’s ears turned red. He knew him well enough to tell that—even if they were pretending—that little kiss had triggered a minor mental short-circuit. But he didn’t say anything. He just hid a smile and glanced at the whole group.
The girls had greeted them with polite gestures when they arrived—subtle, slightly formal smiles. Momo and Mina had waved at Jungkook, cheerful. Sana, on the other hand, didn’t smile at all. She held his gaze for a brief moment, then looked away.
Then, his eyes met Taehyung’s. There he was, standing on the other side of the group, hair a little tousled and wearing a calm, beautiful expression. His eyes locked onto his, like he was the only person Taehyung could see in the crowd. He offered a soft smile and a small nod—so subtle and simple that Jungkook’s facial muscles instantly relaxed.
He responded the same way, mirroring the gesture with a gentle smile, and shamelessly looked him up and down. Taehyung was wearing a black Nirvana shirt—his Nirvana shirt—which fit loosely but hugged his arms, along with a denim jacket that also belonged to Jungkook. Of course, he’d seen him leave the apartment like that earlier that morning, hair still damp from the shower, lips slightly swollen from biting them while rushing to get ready because he was running late.
Still, seeing him again from the outside, in his clothes, had a different effect.
How the hell do you manage to make me like you more every day? he thought, never taking his eyes off him.
“Well, well,” Hoseok interrupted, his voice loud and cheerful as he caught everyone’s attention. “I called you all here for a very important reason. This weekend, the girls are finally getting a break after all that training. So I thought we could all go out together. How does a trip to Lotte World this Saturday sound?”
There was a brief moment of surprise, but then came the inevitable wave of excited reactions. Jin clapped enthusiastically, Jimin let out a small jump and clung to Yoongi, Momo and Mina looked at each other before grinning widely.
“I haven’t been in ages!” Jin exclaimed. “I used to go almost every year with my cousins, but since I started university I haven’t had the time. Last time was on vacation with Jimin, Taehyung, and Hoseok.”
“Lotte World is huge,” Namjoon commented. “It’s got over forty attractions—roller coasters, an aquarium, a snow area with artificial snow, ice skating rinks... I think I was seventeen the last time I went.”
“I wanna go to the aquarium!” Taehyung said with excitement, his smile wide and his eyes sparkling. “The underwater tunnel where you can see sharks swimming above your head is insane.”
“You don’t want to go on any roller coasters?” Yoongi asked curiously. Taehyung wrinkled his nose in an adorable way.
“I don’t love rides that go too high. They make me nervous, but I always end up doing them anyway because of peer pressure. And in the end, they’re not that bad,” he said with a small shrug.
Jungkook stared at him completely entranced. The softness in Taehyung’s voice, the way he tilted his head while describing the tunnel... it was torture, just watching him without being able to touch.
Because even if no one else knew, even if most people believed they were just friends, last night he’d slept with that man. Taehyung had climbed into his bed like he belonged there and had fallen asleep clinging to him tightly, face tucked into his neck, their legs tangled. And Jungkook had slept better than he had in weeks. How the hell was he supposed to pretend nothing was happening between them?
Then he noticed something. While everyone was chatting and laughing, Sana—who had been beside Momo just a moment ago—had quietly slipped over to stand just to Taehyung’s left. Jungkook blinked, suppressing the immediate urge to frown.
Taehyung, however, didn’t seem to notice. He kept talking about the aquarium and how he’d once seen a transparent seahorse that left him fascinated. He was even gesturing animatedly with his hands. Jungkook noticed Sana staring at him while he spoke, but Taehyung didn’t even glance her way. He seemed oblivious—or maybe he just didn’t care.
“What about you guys?” Namjoon asked, still chatting excitedly with the girls. “What kind of rides do you prefer? Something extreme or more relaxed?”
“I like water rides, even if I end up soaked,” Mina confessed. “They’re fun.”
“I want to go on everything,” Momo declared eagerly. “The tallest, the fastest, whatever!”
“I think I prefer something calmer, you know?” Sana said in a soft, slightly sugary tone. “Extreme rides scare me… the aquarium sounds perfect.”
As she spoke, she tilted her head slightly and looked at Taehyung, holding his gaze with big, shiny eyes and a soft smile. Taehyung wasn’t sure whether to swallow or frown, but his body chose for him. He took a small, subtle step back—just enough to put a bit of space between them.
“That’s boring,” Jin interrupted. “The extreme ones are the best.”
“Oh, yeah, right,” Hoseok chimed in with a teasing smirk. “Says the guy who screams just seeing the roller coaster line.”
“That’s a lie!” Jin shot back.
“Jin-hyung, come on,” Jimin added, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms. “You almost cried last time.”
“Brave Kim Seokjin, who refused to get on the Extreme Spin ride last time because, what was it? ‘Your stomach hurt’?” Hoseok said with mockery.
“It was gastritis, you idiot!” Jin snapped, indignant. “At least I got on the Viking ship, which is more than I can say for you, who almost cried just looking at it!”
“Lies! I didn’t cry, I just didn’t want to mess up my hair—I had something to record that day.”
“We were on vacation, liar.”
Taehyung let out a soft nasal laugh and curled his lips, but his attention was still focused on Sana, who hadn’t backed off despite his evasive step. Amid the commotion, she leaned in a little closer to him, enough for her perfume to waft through the air he was breathing again. Ugh. He hated it. It was way too sweet and gave him a headache.
“Looks like,” she whispered with a flirty little voice that gave him chills instead of butterflies, “it’s just going to be the two of us going to the aquarium.”
He swallowed hard and barely wrinkled his nose—a gesture that lasted less than a second, but for him was the equivalent of screaming internally: Shit, no, please no.
“Ah... yeah... looks like it,” he muttered, voice low and dry, not even trying to sound convincing.
But not everyone was so distracted. Jungkook had been listening for a while now, jaw tight, every little gesture from Sana making his neck itch. The way she looked at him, the fake-sweet tone she used, the dumb little hair-tuck thing—it all irritated him.
What the hell is she doing? Has she lost her mind or what?
He didn’t think much before moving; it was automatic. He walked straight to Taehyung’s other side.
“I like aquariums too,” he said casually, locking eyes with her with the most innocent expression he could manage. “So there’s no need for you to go alone.”
Jungkook didn’t look at her after that. Instead, he turned to Taehyung and gave him a half-smile. Taehyung barely managed to hold back a laugh. He bit his lower lip and pretended to cough to hide his grin.
“Then… it’s three of us,” he said through a restrained smile, glancing at him from the corner of his eye.
Sana, for her part, wasn’t nearly as subtle. She let out a faint huff. Still, she didn’t back down easily. She turned back to Taehyung, completely ignoring Jungkook’s presence, and resumed the conversation with enthusiasm.
"What's your favorite part of the aquarium?" she asked sweetly, turning her whole body toward Taehyung. "They say there's a beautiful jellyfish area. I'd love to see it with you."
As she spoke, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, slightly lowered her head, and looked up at him with a forced flirtatious expression. Taehyung tried to keep his composure, but each of her words felt like a grain of sand on his tongue.
"Ah... yeah, well," he replied, forcing a smile and looking down at the table. "I like the penguin section."
"Penguins! Oh, I love penguins," she said, leaning in a bit more. He just wanted her to stop. Jungkook didn’t say a word, but every time she opened her mouth, his jaw tightened a little more.
His arm was deliberately brushing against Taehyung’s. He was a solid presence, a sort of wall standing between her and Taehyung without actually pushing anyone aside. But even so, it was unbearable. No one else seemed to notice this little war zone; they were all too caught up in other conversations.
He didn’t understand what she was doing. Taehyung had made it crystal clear he wasn’t interested in her. He had told her explicitly that he didn’t want anything more. Even Sana thought he was seeing someone else. And yet, she still had the audacity to flirt with him?
Taehyung kept responding in monosyllables, shorter and shorter sentences. He couldn’t walk away because they were surrounded by everyone. He couldn’t ignore her without looking rude. But each time she threw another question at him, each time she tried to laugh at things that weren’t even funny, he felt the irritation rise from his stomach like a wave.
"Do you know if there are any seal shows?" Sana asked, this time pursing her lips at him.
"I don’t know… I guess there might be… I don’t really remember."
"We can find out that day. We're all going anyway," Jungkook turned to her and flashed a fake smile. The emphasis on 'all' was clear, like a warning. He wasn’t joking around.
It was a little funny now—like they were both competing for Taehyung’s attention. The triangle was back, but with a new center. Though, of course, Sana didn’t stand a chance.
"Did you ever go to Lotte World with your parents when you were a kid?" Sana asked, tilting her head with a sweet smile, once again ignoring the black-haired boy. The question caught Taehyung off guard. He hadn’t expected her to bring up his parents.
"No," he replied flatly.
"No? Why not?" she pressed, her curiosity laced with faux casualness.
Taehyung hesitated. His eyes briefly scanned the open area, as if searching for a way out of the conversation. The atmosphere was still lively; Jin and Hoseok were loudly arguing about who was the bigger coward on thrill rides, Jimin was laughing shamelessly, and Namjoon was quietly sharing his own opinions with Yoongi. But all of that suddenly felt far away. So he took a deep breath and kept his tone flat.
"My parents were always busy working. It wasn’t the kind of place they ever cared to take me."
Sana seemed to latch onto that like it was a juicy thread. She leaned in slightly—just enough to let her floral perfume reach his nose again, making him wrinkle it subtly.
"One of those demanding types, huh? Super conservative, strict, and cold? The kind that actually scares you?"
Taehyung’s face stayed neutral, but his insides clenched. He hated talking about that, especially with someone like Sana. He was about to blurt out a big, loud mind your own business, something he should’ve said long ago if it hadn’t been her. But he didn’t get the chance—because the black-haired boy stepped in.
"Hey, Tae," Jungkook suddenly called, cutting in before Sana could push further. "When did you say was the last time you went to Lotte World?"
Taehyung turned to him, silently grateful. He held Jungkook’s gaze for a moment and gave a small nod. For a second, the discomfort faded, and he focused on telling him about that vacation with Jin, Jimin, and Hoseok.
Sana noticed the shift. She raised an eyebrow, her smile faltering just a hair, and her eyes narrowed just slightly. But she said nothing.
Meanwhile, Jin and Hoseok were still at it, throwing accusations back and forth over who was the real chicken of the group.
"You screamed when the roller coaster had just started moving!"
"You backed out before we even got on, idiot!"
"You made a list of fake medical excuses not to ride!"
"Jin-hyung, you passed out on the Gyro Drop," Jimin said with a crooked grin.
"That’s a lie!" Jin shouted, scandalized. "I just closed my eyes for a second, I didn’t pass out, you asshole," he grumbled as Jimin burst into laughter.
"Right, right," Hoseok added mockingly. "And then you threw up because the burger was bad, huh?"
"Exactly."
"God, you’re pathetic!" Jimin nearly fell to the floor, laughing mercilessly.
"Okay, enough with the who's-the-bigger-chicken contest," Yoongi cut in.
"I just want to make it clear it’s Jin—but you’re right," Hoseok clapped his hands loudly to get everyone’s attention. "I'm booking the tickets now."
"Hey, Kook," Namjoon said, turning to him with curiosity. "Aren’t your parents arriving Thursday? Are they staying through the weekend?"
Jungkook stretched a bit and shook his head softly.
"They’re leaving Saturday morning. First thing."
"Perfect, so you can still come," Jimin raised his arms in celebration.
Sana, on her part, stayed quiet. She stared at Jungkook with a thoughtful expression—something about that comment caught her attention, but she didn’t say anything. Taehyung was ready to leave. He was exhausted—not just from the conversation, but from the tension he’d been carrying ever since Sana decided to target him. He ran a hand through his hair and took a few steps toward the center.
"I'm heading out," he announced calmly.
"Already?" Hoseok asked, frowning.
"Yeah, I have to work early tomorrow," he lied—he just wanted peace.
"Where are you going?" Sana asked almost instantly.
"Home," he replied bluntly.
"That’s great!" she said right away. "We’re headed toward the agency, and it’s on the way. Can you give us a ride?"
Taehyung fell silent. He looked around at the others, who were watching him quietly, waiting for an answer. There wasn’t a logical reason to say no, and she was right—the agency was relatively close to his apartment. Plus, she wouldn’t be alone; Momo and Mina were with her.
"Fine," he said at last, with little emotion.
What no one expected was Jungkook’s voice cutting in out of nowhere:
"Can I go with you too?"
Everyone turned to look at him, including Taehyung. His heart gave a little jolt.
"You?" Namjoon narrowed his eyes. "But your apartment isn’t in that direction."
Jungkook froze for a second. He didn’t have a good excuse ready, so he made one up.
"I need to buy something at the mall near Tae’s place. It’s easier if I go from there," he said, avoiding direct eye contact with anyone. Namjoon didn’t look convinced, but didn’t push.
"You didn’t come in your car or on your motorcycle?" Hoseok asked casually, just out of curiosity.
"No, my car’s in the shop and it rained a lot this morning. I didn’t want to ride the bike, so I took an Uber."
That last part about the rain was true, but the rest was a lie. And he hated it—hated making up these stories, hated feeling like a clingy teenager who couldn’t stay away from the guy he liked. But what he hated more was the idea of letting him go alone with Sana.
"Ah..." Hoseok said, relaxing his shoulders. "Makes sense."
The blond just stared at him, his first reaction one of confusion. Why…?
But then, when he saw Jungkook’s face—the way he looked at him with those big, clear eyes—he understood. And something warm stirred in his chest.
"Well, I'm leaving now," Taehyung announced, breaking the low murmur of the group with a brief cough. "Whoever's coming with me, follow along."
The goodbyes began as a collective murmur of automatic phrases and gestures, some more genuine than others. Momo gave Hoseok a short kiss on the lips, and he, with a goofy smile, held her briefly by the waist as if wanting to prolong the moment before letting her go.
"I'll text you when I get there."
Taehyung was already walking away when he heard quick footsteps catching up to him. He didn’t need to turn to know who it was—Sana latched onto his side with energy and without asking for permission. Jungkook adjusted the guitar on his shoulder and quickened his pace too, falling into step beside them, deliberately positioning himself on Taehyung’s other side. The blond instinctively stepped a little closer to Jungkook’s body.
Luckily, Sana didn’t seem to notice. Momo and Mina were behind them, chatting away about who knows what, completely unaware of the tension building in that little trio.
"Hey, Jungkook," Sana said suddenly. "They mentioned earlier your parents are coming Thursday, right?"
"Yeah," he replied without slowing down.
"What are they like?" she pressed.
"They're good people. My friends like them a lot," he answered, without looking at her.
"Wow," Sana commented. "Sounds like they’re the type of parents who are really involved, huh? The kind who care and are... available. It’s sweet that they’re coming all the way from Busan to visit."
"Yes," he repeated simply. But Sana wasn’t the type to let an opportunity slip by.
"I’ve heard Busan is full of hot-headed people with strong opinions—some even pretty nationalistic. Are they conservative or traditional?"
Jungkook frowned, just slightly.
"I don’t think so," he answered, trying not to sound annoyed. They really weren’t. His mom cooked for his friends like they were her own kids, and his dad lent books to Namjoon and had shared whiskey with Yoongi more than once.
Unaware of the subtext, Momo cut in with a charming smile.
"Hoseok always says the nicest things about your parents. He says your mom makes these amazing cookies, the kind with butter and almonds. I wanna try them!"
"Namjoon, Yoongi, and Hoseok are obsessed with those cookies," Jungkook chuckled, more relaxed. "I asked my mom to make a bunch this time, so I can share them with everyone."
That comment temporarily diverted Sana’s attention. Taehyung pulled out his keys, pressed the button, and the car made that familiar beep-beep as the lights flashed. He opened the driver’s door without stopping.
Jungkook watched in horror as Sana, even though she was closer to the back door, subtly turned with a very obvious intent: to circle around the car and take the front seat.
Not a fucking chance.
He sped up, rounded the car from the front with absurd agility, and just before she reached it, opened the passenger door and climbed in without hesitation, boldly settling the guitar between his legs.
Sana looked at him with a frozen smile. A puff of air left her nose before she turned and opened the back door, clearly annoyed. Taehyung didn’t need to see her face to know she was wearing that charmingly irritated look she got when she didn’t get her way. He saw her in the rearview mirror as she climbed in, followed by Mina and Momo. Sana sat directly behind Jungkook, Mina in the middle, and Momo behind him.
He said nothing, just started the engine with a soft sigh, silently wishing—for once—that the drive to the agency would miraculously be short. Though, given the tension already hanging in the air, he knew it wouldn’t be.
Jungkook, for his part, couldn’t help a smug smile as he buckled his seatbelt. He clearly heard the rear door shut with a bit more force than necessary. Sana was annoyed. What a shame.
Besides, sitting in the passenger seat had another purpose. He wanted to be near Taehyung. He wanted to see him drive, to watch how the light hit his golden hair, how he bit his lower lip without realizing when he was thinking. God, yes, he wanted that.
Taehyung cast a sidelong glance at the boy beside him. He noticed the smugly satisfied expression and couldn’t help but smile. There was something comforting about having him close.
"Everyone got their seatbelts on?" he asked, voice low, glancing just slightly toward the back.
"Yeah," the girls answered in unison. Sana’s tone was notably sharp.
"All set," Jungkook said beside him, sounding much more cheerful.
And just like that, Taehyung started the car.
The ride back turned out to be far less uncomfortable than Taehyung had feared in those first few seconds after starting the car. In fact, if he really thought about it, he actually felt slightly relieved. And that was, without a doubt, thanks to Jungkook.
The younger boy, as soon as the engine started, leaned toward the car’s console, unlocked his phone, and connected it to the Bluetooth without asking—though it wasn’t like he needed to, since that little move had already become a routine between them. Within seconds, music started playing.
Taehyung hadn’t even had time to mentally brace himself for the trip because Mina and Momo immediately joined the impromptu karaoke session Jungkook had kicked off from the front seat. The girls' enthusiasm was instant. And Taehyung… could only smile.
He kept his hands on the wheel, eyes on the road, but he couldn’t help nodding along to the music, feeling the bad mood that had been gnawing at him slowly dissolve.
What brought him the most relief was that Jungkook, with all the subtlety in the world, had once again saved his ass without saying a word. All it took was that song, his voice belting out the chorus with passion, his hands gesturing dramatically in the air as he sang with emphasis, his messy hair bouncing slightly with the motion, and that ridiculously charming performance—for everything to feel better.
Taehyung kept glancing at him at every stoplight and every turn. He looked so into it, so focused, so damn beautiful with the soft glow of sunset lighting his profile, that Taehyung’s chest tightened without permission. How the hell did that idiot manage to brighten his whole day just by existing?
It was mesmerizing, he thought. Stupidly mesmerizing—especially when he sang with that soft tone that stirred something strange in Taehyung’s stomach. It wasn’t fair that he was so damn good-looking, and sweet, and funny, and… his. Well, not officially yet, but he would be—or so he hoped. Or wanted to believe.
The ride passed faster than expected, because the minutes melted away between verses, laughter, and Mina’s occasional attempts at making up seated choreography that ended up getting everyone involved—except Sana, who had stayed mostly silent the entire time.
Taehyung checked her in the rearview mirror now and then. She was sitting with her arms crossed, eyes lost out the window, lips tight, and one brow slightly raised. She didn’t say much, but the annoyance was clear in the way she even breathed.
He didn’t care too much. In fact, he was actually grateful.
When they arrived at NOVA Entertainment, the atmosphere still felt light. Taehyung parked smoothly in front of the building, near the entrance, and glanced quickly in the rearview mirror to make sure no other cars were coming up behind them. Then he looked toward the building’s main entrance, where a few employees were coming and going, either carrying briefcases or talking on the phone.
The girls began saying their goodbyes with what sounded like sincere thanks. Momo was the first to get out, followed by Mina. But Sana, on the other hand, took a second longer. As she passed by the driver’s side, she leaned in with calculated calm and stretched out her arm, brushing Taehyung’s arm with a softness that gave him goosebumps. Taehyung instantly tensed up and froze in place, his face turned away so that Sana couldn’t see the mix of annoyance and hatred twisted in his expression.
“Thanks for the ride, Tae,” she said in a syrupy voice.
Taehyung could barely manage a murmured “Bye,” his muscles still stiff, his entire body uncomfortable. Jungkook, sitting in the passenger seat, frowned the moment he saw the contact. His jaw clenched, his fingers tightened on his lap. He didn’t say anything right away, but his eyes followed her as she closed the back door and joined her friends to head into the building.
As soon as the door shut, the blond wiped his arm with the palm of his hand, rubbing it hard like he wanted to erase the touch completely.
“What the fuck was that?” Jungkook muttered, clearly irritated even though his voice was low.
Taehyung sighed, still rubbing his arm. He didn’t start the car. Instead, he watched through the rearview mirror as the three girls crossed the building’s entrance and made their way to the reception desk, where two security guards were already waiting for them. He wasn’t an asshole, and he was going to wait until they were safely inside before driving off.
“I don’t know, Jungkook... I don’t get it,” he said, shaking his head and letting out a bitter laugh. “We were in front of everyone. I couldn’t be rude, but I swear I was about to yell at her to stop.”
“Well, it showed,” Jungkook replied, shifting slightly so he could see him better. “Like right now, you looked like you wanted to tear your arm off just to make her stop touching you.” Jungkook leaned toward him, reaching out to gently stroke Taehyung’s hair, brushing his fingers behind his ear in a comforting gesture. “Maybe you should talk to her,” he added. “Clear things up again. What she did wasn’t okay.”
Taehyung looked out the window one last time. The three girls had already passed through security and were inside the building, so he finally turned his head to Jungkook, his expression tired.
“You’re right, but I don’t know if I should do it by text or face-to-face. I don’t want to put her in an uncomfortable position or humiliate her in front of others if I say it in front of someone else… but this is getting out of control.”
“I think text is better,” Jungkook said softly, his hand still brushing through his hair. “Direct and clear, but without exposing yourself more than necessary. That way, you also give her space.”
Taehyung glanced at him sideways, an ironic smile forming on his lips.
“You’re only saying that because you don’t want me to see her alone, aren’t you?”
“Obviously,” Jungkook grinned. There was no point in lying. “What if she tries to kiss you? Only I get to do that. Did you see how she was acting earlier? She was mentally undressing you, and that’s my job.”
Taehyung let out a soft laugh—not loud, but honest enough to make his shoulders relax a little. His body was still tense, his mind still crowded with thoughts, but at least he knew he wasn’t alone in this.
“You’re an idiot,” he murmured, his voice full of affection.
Without thinking too much, guided only by the heat bubbling under his skin every time he had Jungkook this close, he leaned in and brought his hand to the older boy’s nape. His fingers tangled in the blond strands, and taking advantage of the car’s tinted windows, he gently pulled him in. Their lips met in a slow, sweet kiss.
Taehyung was the first to smile when they pulled apart, his eyes lit up with that warm glow that made him look beautiful even when his brows were still slightly furrowed from what had just happened.
“Relax,” he whispered, brushing Jungkook’s cheekbone with his fingertips, not breaking eye contact. “I only want to kiss you. And I like what you do… how you manage to make my bad mood disappear so easily.”
Jungkook let out a more audible laugh, his chest vibrating against the older one, who hadn’t moved far. It felt so fucking good to have him this close, to know all that affection and those smiles were meant for him. He liked being the one who could change Taehyung’s whole day, who pulled him out of the dark without even saying much.
Taehyung was about to lean in again, clearly intending to kiss him once more, but just before their lips met, his eyes shifted beyond the windshield. Something—or rather someone—had caught his attention across the street.
“Hey…” he said, stretching out his arm to discreetly point through the windshield. “Isn’t that the guy from last night in the damn forest?”
It took Jungkook a second to figure out who he was talking about, but when he followed the direction of Taehyung’s finger and focused on the face of the guy who was almost done crossing the crosswalk, his expression changed too. He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head.
“Sungchul?”
“That’s him,” Taehyung confirmed, slowly lowering his arm.
“He does look like him…” Jungkook replied, still watching. “Although it was dark last night, and you were lighting him with the flashlight, but the light was falling weird on his face. Still… yeah, he looks a lot like him.”
They both went quiet for a moment as they watched the guy disappear inside NOVA Entertainment, wearing what looked like workout clothes and carrying a bag full of gym gear. Neither of them spoke again until Sungchul was out of sight. Then, slowly, their eyes met again.
“A Biology student doesn’t have time to be a trainee,” Taehyung said, shaking his head. “If he’s on the same schedule as Sana, Momo, and Mina, there’s no way that fits. And also…”
He turned fully toward Jungkook, settling in his seat like he was about to give a masterclass.
“The five photos he showed us yesterday,” he began, lifting the fingers of one hand to count them off. “They were all garbage. Not just blurry and out of focus—the composition was a mess, the diagonals made no sense, the framing cut off the subjects in all the wrong places, the exposure was wrecked. The deer photo, for example, was shaky, meaning it was blurred because he didn’t use the right shutter speed. And the ISO? Ridiculously high for the lighting conditions. So high you could see the grain and digital noise in the picture. That only happens if you’re shooting in low light without a tripod. There’s no logic in doing that if it’s a planned photo, which is what Bio students are usually aiming for. The lighting was all off, no clear direction. And the framing—God, the framing. He cut the animal’s legs off. Who the hell cuts off a deer’s legs in a nature photo? That’s Photography 101!”
Jungkook blinked. He had no idea what ISO was, nor what an unstable composition or off-kilter framing meant. In fact, he wasn’t entirely sure what 'composition' even referred to outside of songwriting.
“The white balance wasn’t even calibrated,” Taehyung went on, pointing at the air in front of him. “And the shadows... fuck, the shadows were completely blown out, he had no idea what he was doing. Those pictures didn’t look like they were taken by someone studying Biology and passionate about wildlife. Not even like someone who’s ever used a professional camera—and his was really expensive. No way someone buys that kind of gear if it’s their first time shooting.”
Jungkook, who only understood 'deer', 'blurry photo', and 'bad lighting', was already lost in all the other weird terms, but nodded very seriously, pretending it all made perfect sense to him. He even added a little approving head tilt, like an art critic pretending to understand abstract painting, and muttered in a neutral tone:
“Ah... yeah, totally,” he said with a seriousness that clashed with the fact he had no idea what he'd just heard. “Everything you said... is really bad.”
“Did you understand anything I said?” Taehyung looked at him incredulously, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah... I mean...” Jungkook made a vague hand gesture. “They're blurry.”
Taehyung let out a laugh so loud he leaned over the steering wheel.
“You’re such an idiot,” he said through his laughter, giving him a shove on the shoulder. “I just gave you a whole lesson on photography basics and the only thing you got was that the pictures are blurry.”
“But I got the point!” Jungkook pulled an offended face, though he was holding back his own laughter. “That’s the most important part, right?”
“No, it’s definitely not the most important part,” Taehyung replied, still smiling. “But fine. I’ll let it slide only because you look adorable when you pretend to know what I’m talking about.”
“I always look adorable,” Jungkook shot back, puffing his chest like a little kid. “So what is the most important part?”
“The important part is that this whole thing is extremely weird,” Taehyung said quietly, his eyes drifting to the door of the NOVA Entertainment building, even though Sungchul had already disappeared minutes ago.
“Tae...” Jungkook said softly, and before Taehyung saw it coming, he cupped his cheeks with both hands. “Hey,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss him.
Taehyung closed his eyes with the kiss, letting himself float for a few seconds in the softness of the contact. A part of him wanted to get lost in it; another couldn’t disconnect from fucking Sungchul. Something didn’t add up. Nothing did. His eyelids fluttered as they pulled apart.
“Do you want me to get out and ask someone something?” Jungkook asked sincerely, still gently caressing Taehyung’s cheeks as he held them.
Taehyung immediately shook his head, his movement sharp, eyes dropping to the floor.
“They won’t let you past the front desk. Security’s strict, and if it really is a legit entertainment company, they won’t release personal info about their employees or trainees. It’s not worth it.”
“You’re right,” Jungkook nodded, finally letting go of his cheeks. “It’s okay, alright? You’re not alone, and we’re going to figure this out.”
Taehyung closed his eyes for a moment and exhaled through his nose. Jungkook’s gesture had managed to ease his anxiety just a bit. That guy had an irritatingly effective talent for calming him down.
“Thanks,” he murmured, opening his eyes to look at him again. “Let’s go before I end up throwing myself at the guards and making a scene just to distract them.”
Jungkook let out a genuine laugh.
“You totally would,” he chuckled, teeth showing. “Wanna go to your place? I’ll give you a massage. Help you relax, yeah?”
Taehyung shot him a side glance, smirking. A low 'mhm' slipped from his throat, drawn out, laced with that annoyingly suggestive tone that came so effortlessly to him. His smile widened.
“I’m in,” he replied playfully, and without wasting any more time, turned the key in the ignition, the engine purring softly as the car started to move.
As soon as he opened the door to his house and they both stepped inside, Taehyung didn’t waste a second. The moment Jungkook leaned the guitar against the wall and shut the door behind them, Taehyung cornered him against it. His body pressed to his, hands braced on either side, face just inches away.
"Hey, I was serious about those massages," Jungkook teased with a crooked smile. "You’re such a fucking pervert."
"I want massages," Taehyung replied, his voice already hoarse, eyes locked on Jungkook’s mouth. "But after we fuck. We haven’t done it since Friday and it’s already Tuesday. Don’t fuck with me, Jeon. Do you know what that does to my brain?"
"Did you miss me that much? Or did you just miss my dick?" Jungkook raised both eyebrows, his smile widening provocatively. Taehyung narrowed his eyes, his brow furrowed in warning, though he managed to keep his composure. Barely.
"Don’t make me say it," he warned.
"Say it," Jungkook pressed, practically singing the words, clearly loving every second. "Come on, admit it."
"Jungkook," he growled through gritted teeth.
"What do you miss more? Me or my di—"
The frustrated growl that tore from Taehyung’s lips was the only warning before he leaned in and kissed him hard. It was a messy, noisy kiss—the kind that left your mouth sore and your pride obliterated, with teeth clashing and tongues pushing in as deep as possible. Jungkook moaned into him, fingers tightening around Taehyung’s waist as he felt the other grind shamelessly against him, desperate for friction and relief.
When they finally broke apart, Taehyung was breathing hard, lips red, eyes blown wide with lust.
"Yeah, fuck," he panted, biting down on his bottom lip. "I missed you… and your fucking dick. Happy now? Was that good enough or are you gonna keep being annoying?"
Jungkook let out a deliciously low chuckle that vibrated through his chest.
"Perfect. You said it perfectly," he whispered, leaning in to bite Taehyung’s bottom lip slowly before sucking on it hard. Then, as he pulled back slightly, he added, "Then let’s not make you wait any longer."
Before Taehyung could reply, Jungkook spun him around, switching their positions. The loud thud of Taehyung’s body hitting the door filled the room—this time with his back against the wood. Jungkook stood right in front of him, invading every inch of his personal space, pressing their bodies together again, hips grinding into hips, hardness against hardness. He raised one hand to grip Taehyung’s jaw, tilting it to make him look straight at him.
"Look at you," Jungkook murmured, lowering his voice. "You get this worked up so easily. A few dirty words and you’re already hard against my leg."
"You’re hard too, so don’t act all cocky, idiot."
Jungkook slid one hand down to Taehyung’s stomach and then lower, over his belt, shamelessly squeezing the erection that was straining against his jeans. Taehyung gasped, eyelids fluttering, lips trembling ever so slightly.
"If you keep running that mouth..." Jungkook whispered, "...I might just make you beg for it before I fuck you. And we both know how hard that is for you."
"I don’t have to beg for anything. You’re gonna fuck me either way."
"I can’t decide if I should punish you or reward you for that."
"Do both, if you’ve got the balls."
Jungkook let out a low laugh and dropped his mouth to Taehyung’s neck, biting just below the jaw, right where he knew it would drag out that deep, half-whiny moan he loved so much. He licked the spot after, leaving it red and marked. Taehyung’s fingers tangled in his hair, pulling, desperate, while Jungkook’s hips moved slowly in circles, grinding without mercy.
His hands shifted down to Jungkook’s shoulders, then slid lower along his back, slipping under his shirt and scratching down with determined nails.
The black-haired man growled at the feeling but didn’t stop. He liked when Taehyung got like this—pushing back, not making it easy. It made him want to break him even more.
One of Jungkook’s thighs slipped between the older boy’s legs, forcing them apart. Taehyung gasped at the pressure against his crotch and rolled his hips harder against Jungkook’s thigh. Then Jungkook dropped his hands to his waist and gripped his hips tightly, pulling him in, grinding against him so hard that they could feel every inch of each other.
"I’m gonna wreck you," he whispered into his ear, running his tongue along the lobe before biting it. "You’re gonna take all of it, and then beg me to let you come."
Taehyung let his head fall back against the door, a breathless, broken laugh slipping from his lips.
"Shut up and do it. Or are you all talk?"
"Oh, you’re gonna swallow those words," Jungkook growled, dropping one hand to Taehyung’s ass and squeezing hard.
Their mouths crashed together again—hotter, dirtier—tongues colliding recklessly, mixing spit, lips wet and messy, leaving trails of warmth and need when they pulled apart. Their breathing was shattered, bodies burning, and the rub of their pelvises had turned into a sweet kind of torture.
As they broke apart to breathe, Jungkook kept his eyes on Taehyung and slid his hands slowly down the sides of his body to the waistband of his pants. He unfastened them without looking away, watching every blink, every hitched breath. He pulled the zipper down slowly, letting the metallic sound echo between them. Taehyung bit the inside of his cheek, never breaking eye contact.
"You’re fucking gorgeous," Jungkook murmured as he dropped to his knees in front of him, still holding onto the pants as he began to slide them down. His eyes sparkled from below like he was worshipping at an altar, not kneeling before a man. Taehyung felt his legs tremble and the heat was overwhelming, so he shrugged off his denim jacket and tossed it somewhere behind him.
Jungkook’s breath ghosted over his skin, sending goosebumps racing across his thighs as he pulled both pants and boxers down to Taehyung’s knees. His fingers traced slow lines along his bare thighs, pressing here and there, exploring, playing with him like a predator toying with its prey. He wasn’t in a hurry—he liked to savor, to tease, to drive him insane. And most of all, he loved that look Taehyung made when he was fighting not to beg.
"You’re already shaking and I haven’t even touched you properly yet," Jungkook murmured with satisfaction. "Aren’t you ashamed of looking this needy, hyung? Or do you like it—legs spread, back to the door, waiting for me?"
"You think you’re hot shit just because you’re on your knees?" he shot back, though his voice was barely a whisper. "You’re exactly where you belong—kneeling."
"Oh yeah? Let’s see if you’re still that arrogant in a minute," Jungkook’s pupils were pitch black now.
He finished pulling off Taehyung’s pants and underwear, setting them aside gently, then got to work doing exactly what he knew would shatter every last bit of Taehyung’s pride. He opened his mouth, let his tongue peek out slightly, and leaned forward to take in the hard length standing right in front of him.
The heat, the humidity, the pressure—everything hit him all at once. Taehyung arched against the door with a rough gasp that he couldn’t tell was a moan or a choked-off cry. His hand flew instinctively to the younger's hair, grabbing it tightly—he needed something to hold on to so he wouldn’t completely melt.
His back slid down the wood behind him, heels lifting slightly off the floor as his knees gave out. Jungkook gripped his hips firmly, pressing him back against the door, forcing him to stay there—vulnerable, exposed, with no escape from everything he was doing to him.
He thought he was ready. That after so many times, his body would already know what to expect, that it wouldn't catch him off guard anymore. But that was a lie—it was always more intense. Or at least it felt that way. More fucking overwhelming.
Heat climbed up his abdomen like a wave, slow and tense, reducing the entire world to the wet sounds coming from below and the constant tug on his nape every time Jungkook moved his head.
"Jungkook…" he growled through gritted teeth, trying to sound reproachful, though it came out more like a plea.
The younger glanced up at him and saw the mess he’d become. He wanted to smile, if only his mouth wasn’t so busy.
His head moved back and forth, never pulling all the way out. He shamelessly sucked on the head and stimulated it more each time he came closer. Then he pushed his head down again to take more in, his tongue working the best it could.
Taehyung clenched his jaw, fighting to stay upright, even though his head was spinning. He felt the tension swirling in his lower belly and his legs were already heavy. He wanted to move, to thrust his hips forward, to take control of the rhythm—but Jungkook had him firmly pinned.
The moans were impossible to hold back. Taehyung had never been good at hiding them—or stopping them—and with Jungkook, it was practically impossible. Especially with the way he was moving now, faster and wetter, saliva slipping down his chin.
Then the younger slid a hand back. Taehyung felt it approaching, pressing first against his thigh, then lower, until it reached that spot that made him the most nervous. The place where he knew all calm would go to hell. His muscles tensed; his breath caught.
"Ready for more, hyung?" Jungkook whispered, pulling back just enough to speak. "You're opening up on your own, can you feel it? Your body’s already begging me to touch it."
Taehyung let out a short, raspy laugh, broken up by his panting.
"Don't make me laugh," he snapped in a deep, trembling voice. "Don’t get cocky."
Jungkook chuckled, delighted by that sharp tongue. That was his Taehyung—foul-mouthed and too stubborn to admit he was wrecked, even when his legs were shaking.
"Is that how you talk when you want to be treated nicely?" he murmured, leaning in again to kiss his hip bone. "Not sure you deserve me being gentle."
"Last I checked, I wasn’t made of glass."
"Well, since you insist."
The younger brought two fingers to his mouth, licking them thoroughly before spitting on them. Then, still slick, he reached down to the other entrance and, without any warning, pushed two fingers in at once. In his defense, Taehyung had said not to be gentle—and he had taken two like this before. Jungkook had used spit too, knowing it was better than nothing, but he had no intention of going back to Taehyung’s bedroom to get the lube.
He wasn't about to give him that satisfaction, and honestly, the brat had been in need of a lesson for a while. Besides, they had a safeword—and he wasn’t using it.
Taehyung let out a loud moan and nearly collapsed when he felt the intrusion. It hurt, a lot—but being the damn masochist he was, he liked it that way. Jungkook started thrusting his fingers in and out with no time to adjust. He scissored them apart, needing to stretch him properly.
The blond screamed when, on top of being fingered, Jungkook opened his mouth again and continued the blowjob. Taehyung felt everything. He felt his knees buckle, the heat climbing up his spine, and the embarrassing, guttural sound that escaped his chest.
"Ah, fuck... Jungkook..." he moaned, trembling, his chest heaving violently.
He couldn’t tell how much time had passed before Jungkook slid in a third finger—he was only moaning, squeezing his eyes shut and cursing under his breath. He wasn’t aware of anything else around him, wasn’t thinking clearly. Jungkook was too proud of being the one who got Taehyung like this—so desperate—especially when he found his prostate. The blond cried out and squirmed so hard that Jungkook had to hold him down with his free arm to keep him in place.
The older kept muttering 'there, right there' in a loop, while his hips bucked instinctively, trying to control the thrusts into Jungkook’s mouth. The younger knew exactly how Taehyung got when he was close, so he sped up his hand and moved his head faster, deeper.
When the climax hit him like a crashing wave, his legs gave out and he could only cling to the front door for support. His vision went white for a few seconds, and his cry was long and drawn out, lasting for the entire time he came hard into Jungkook’s mouth. The younger was good—he swallowed all of it without a single complaint.
The air on the ground floor still felt thick, heavy from everything that had just happened. Taehyung panted, his back arched after coming so hard, mouth open, gasping without shame. His head was tilted slightly to the side, eyelids half-closed, sweat-soaked hair stuck to his forehead. His whole body trembled with tiny aftershocks, his legs still unsteady and spread carelessly.
Jungkook rose up in front of him, licking his lips shamelessly, cleaning up whatever was left of Taehyung. He wiped his mouth and chin with the back of his hand, slow and deliberate, like he’d just finished eating something delicious.
"Lie back on the table. I’m going to fuck you right there," he said bluntly, voice dripping with lust. He took a step toward the dining table, never looking away from Taehyung’s nearly naked body, then locked eyes with him again—waiting.
But Taehyung, even with his mind fogged up, still had enough clarity to scowl and raise a hand to stop him.
"Yeah, right. So romantic…" he muttered hoarsely. "You think just because I let you use spit to mess around with your fingers, you can stick it in just like that?"
Jungkook let out a sharp, wicked laugh, tilting his head to the side. He crossed his arms, clearly amused by Taehyung’s defiance.
"What? That wasn’t enough for you?" he teased with a grin. "I left you trembling, Tae."
Taehyung rolled his eyes and braced a hand against the door as he wobbled slightly, grumbling under his breath from the lack of control over his own body.
"Save the bragging and go get the lube and the condoms," he snapped, biting the inside of his cheek. "There’s no fucking way I’m letting you fuck me with just spit. Not happening."
Jungkook raised both eyebrows and bit his lower lip. He took a step back, as if measuring how much more he could tease before Taehyung kicked his ass. But in the end, with a huff and his hands lifted in surrender, he gave in.
"Alright, alright. You get all demanding after you cum."
"And you’re such an asshole. Get upstairs already," the older one growled, crossing his arms.
Jungkook let out a low chuckle and spun on his heels, heading upstairs with quick steps. He knew exactly where everything was. He'd been there before—many times. He knew Taehyung's room, the drawers he opened lazily when he needed something. He knew the lube was in the nightstand, and the condoms in the second drawer, behind an old book he didn’t even read anymore.
Taehyung, half-sprawled out, wearing nothing but Jungkook's Nirvana shirt, his thighs marked by the younger’s hands, was still panting as he processed what Jungkook had said he would do. Fuck him against the dining table? His cock twitched just at the thought.
He managed to stumble over to the dining table, placing one hand on the wooden surface as he took a deep breath, closing his eyes. His body hadn’t fully come down from the orgasm yet, and now every inch of his skin was so sensitive that even the shirt brushing his back felt like too much.
He rubbed his temples, trying to steady himself, but forced himself to sit at the edge of the table. His legs dangled, feet brushing the floor, and he kept his hands planted beside him. He heard Jungkook's steps coming back down before he saw him. He turned his head toward the stairs and watched him appear again... holding the bottle of lube in one hand, and nothing else.
"And the condoms?" he asked.
Jungkook stopped in front of him, raising an eyebrow as he held up the bottle.
"None left. This is all there is."
"What the fuck?" Taehyung blinked, then his eyes widened. "No way, Friday—" the damn memory hit him like a slap— "Ah, fuck."
"You remember now, don’t you?" Jungkook smirked. "That was the last one."
"Shit, I forgot to restock."
They both fell silent for a few seconds. Taehyung looked at him from the table. Jungkook looked back from the carpet, a few steps away. Neither said anything at first, until—almost simultaneously—they both spoke:
"I'm clean."
They chuckled softly, still breathing heavily.
"I haven’t fucked anyone without a condom in a year and a half," Jungkook added quickly. "I get tested all the time. Nothing ever— not even a damn bacteria."
"Same here. You’re the only one."
Jungkook walked toward him, eyes never leaving his. Taehyung swallowed hard. He could feel another wave of heat crawling up his spine.
"You’re not a girl, I can’t get you pregnant," Jungkook said as he stopped in front of him. "And I’m not going to hunt down a fucking pharmacy with a hard-on."
"Don’t be so arrogant," Taehyung scoffed a laugh, tilting his head. "But... get over here before I change my mind, asshole."
That was all Jungkook needed. He stepped right between Taehyung’s open legs, and the older boy welcomed him by resting his arms on his shoulders. Jungkook’s hands slid down his thighs firmly, rough and claiming, like he needed to own every inch of skin. His big palms moved up to his hips, pulling him closer to the edge of the table, sliding him just enough over the wood to bring him within reach.
Taehyung's breath hitched as he felt Jungkook's erection press right between his legs, right there—against that hypersensitive spot still pulsing. His body jolted involuntarily from the overstimulation, vulnerable and exposed.
"Careful," he murmured, barely audible. "I'm still sensitive, dumbass."
Jungkook smiled against his neck and pressed a wet kiss just below his ear.
"Good. I want you to feel every fucking second."
"You’re an idiot. A fucking idiot," Taehyung laughed through his nose, pretending to be disgusted, but he was just turned on. "Touch me and I’ll bite you."
"Do it. I’m counting on it."
Taehyung’s body tensed as Jungkook's fingers found their way between his legs again. Jungkook didn’t talk much when he was focused. It showed in his clenched jaw, in his sharp gaze, in the way he gripped Taehyung's hips with both hands to steady him while opening the lube bottle.
The younger stripped down as well, leaving himself completely naked—unlike Taehyung, who was still wearing Jungkook’s shirt. When he noticed, the blonde tried to take it off, but surprisingly, Jungkook stopped him.
"You look so good in my shirt. I want you to keep it on a little longer."
Taehyung let his head fall back for a second, breathing deeply, letting out a low groan when Jungkook slid his lube-slicked hand under his balls, touching his entrance.
The coolness of the gel clashed with the burning heat of his skin, making him grip the edge of the table tighter. The remnants of his previous orgasm were still buzzing through his nerves. And yet, his body responded with raw, new hunger.
"Jungkook..." he murmured, voice hoarse with need.
"Mhm?"
"Don't take too long or I’ll shove that bottle up your ass."
Jungkook laughed at how desperate he sounded and pushed him gently back onto the table, making him lie down. Taehyung's back hit the wood and he let out a moan at the sensation. Jungkook leaned over him, pressing their bodies together, letting their hard cocks rub against each other with no barriers. The moan that escaped Taehyung's throat was filthy and unintentional, and he quickly wrapped his legs around Jungkook’s waist.
"You’re begging me to break you with those pretty moans of yours, you know that?"
"What are you waiting for, then? A fucking invitation with a bow?"
Jungkook growled under his breath, sliding one hand down Taehyung’s waist to grip him tightly, while the other—still slick with lube—moved decisively between his legs. Taehyung arched on the table, gasping with his eyes closed.
Jungkook paused for a second to look at him. There he was, so exposed, still wearing his shirt, his chest rising and falling with each shaky breath. His body looked like a trembling, wet, living work of art. And Jungkook wanted every part of it.
"Say it again," Jungkook whispered in his ear. "Tell me you want it without a condom."
"I want to feel you, so do it already—before I kick your ass out of my house."
Jungkook smiled, almost tenderly, but his eyes said something else. He coated his own cock with lube before lining himself up. The first brush of his tip against Taehyung’s hot, slick entrance made him gasp, the sound catching in his throat. He didn’t push all the way in at once—he was patient. He eased in little by little, feeling how Taehyung’s body tensed, clenched, tried to relax even while instinctively resisting. But then, Taehyung exhaled and lifted one leg, placing it on the edge of the table, opening himself even more.
"What part of ‘do it’ didn’t you understand, dumbass?"
Well, that was all the invitation Jungkook needed.
He sank deeper, jaw clenched, letting his body be swallowed by Taehyung’s tight, suffocating, addictive heat. He felt the way the inner muscles gripped him, squeezing him hard—almost painfully. Taehyung let out a dry sound, somewhere between a moan and a curse, shifting just slightly to adjust, his brow furrowed, fingers clutching the edge of the table.
“Fuck…” he muttered, swallowing thickly. “You’re... too much.”
“Too much what?”
“Too deep inside me.”
The dark-haired boy held back a smirk before he started to move. At first, the thrusts were short and measured, giving him time to adjust. But the sounds—those wet slaps and the low noises Taehyung made with every push—were enough to make Jungkook slowly lose control.
He gripped Taehyung’s hips, pulling him closer each time he thrust in. The table creaked faintly beneath them; Jungkook had thought it might be uncomfortable because of the hard wood or the position, but it wasn’t. There was no room left for thought anyway. All he could do was feel—feel everything. Jungkook inside him, the heat coiling in his stomach, the pounding that shook his lower back. Jungkook’s fingers dug into his skin like he never wanted to let go. His whole body trembled with every movement.
Jungkook began to thrust harder, reaching down with his right hand to wrap it around Taehyung’s cock, stroking it in rhythm with his hips. The older boy screamed, unable to hold it in. His thighs trembled, fingers gripping the edge of the table like he might take off flying, because Jungkook’s thrusts were relentlessly powerful.
“Harder,” he begged between gasps. “I want to feel you more, Jungkook.”
He followed the request without holding back anymore. He gripped Taehyung’s waist tightly with his free hand and started moving faster, pounding into him with a pace that bordered on violent. Each thrust pushed Taehyung a few inches further onto the table, but he kept bringing himself back to the edge.
Taehyung’s body shook uncontrollably, but he didn’t ask him to stop. On the contrary—his legs wrapped tighter around Jungkook’s waist. Every thrust made him moan with a broken, trembling voice, his mind unable to hold onto any coherent thought. He reached up to Jungkook’s strong arms and dug his nails into them.
“Don’t stop…” he murmured, voice hoarse. “Don’t stop, please.”
Jungkook looked down. Taehyung’s face was flushed, eyes half-lidded, lips parted, his Nirvana shirt soaked with sweat and clinging to his skin. It was a sight that set his blood on fire. Seeing him like this—open for him, taking him without fear, begging please—made it impossible to hold out much longer. And Taehyung wasn’t far behind; if anything, he was worse.
Jungkook knew it from the way his legs tensed, from the involuntary spasms clenching around him, and from how tightly he clung to his body, as if desperate. So when Taehyung’s shaking reached its peak, and his back arched almost painfully, Jungkook leaned in and kissed his neck, catching skin between his teeth just as another orgasm tore through him. Taehyung’s body convulsed, spilling into Jungkook’s hand, which hadn’t stopped stroking him. He moaned his name with a voice so broken it sounded like a plea.
“Jungkook…” he panted. “Shit… a-ah…”
He held him tightly, and for a second, they stayed completely still, breathing heavily, still connected, skin on skin.
But Jungkook wasn’t done.
“Turn around,” he ordered, voice rough, still buried inside him. “Now.”
Taehyung blinked, dazed from the wave of his second orgasm, but the firm tone pulled him out of the haze. He growled low, exhaling sharply, and rolled his eyes.
“You’re fucking insatiable…”
“And you’re addicted to provoking me. That’s one of the reasons I like you so damn much,” Jungkook shot back, smacking his ass. “Come on, face down. I want to fuck you while I watch those gorgeous cheeks bounce.”
Taehyung let out a rough laugh and gently pushed him off, making Jungkook slip out, leaving behind a void he hated. He turned around, bending over the table, his chest pressing to the wood as he tried to keep his legs straight, his ass raised just slightly since the table was lower than his hips. His shirt had ridden up halfway along his back, exposing bare skin. His ass stuck out perfectly, and the curve of his lower back was a fucking gift Jungkook planned to savor to the end.
“Is this how you like it, pervert?” Taehyung mumbled in a breathy, raspy voice.
“Totally, not gonna lie,” Jungkook replied, grabbing his waist again. “A fucking fantasy come true.”
He positioned himself behind him, guiding himself in with one hand, and thrust back inside—this time faster, deeper. Taehyung let out a guttural moan that echoed off the dining room walls, gritting his teeth and gripping the table like his life depended on it.
The new angle hit differently—more intense. Jungkook fucked him without mercy, holding him tightly by the waist, his hips slamming against him in a brutal rhythm. Each movement made Taehyung’s body shudder, his ass bouncing, his legs trembling. It was hard to keep himself raised.
He felt everything—every inch, the fire reigniting in his belly despite his recent orgasm. Jungkook cursed under his breath, sweating, breathing hard, sometimes leaning down to lick Taehyung’s back, leaving wet trails on his skin, soft bites on his shoulders.
He picked up the pace—each thrust fast and deep. One hand slid up Taehyung’s back to his neck, gently pressing him down onto the table—not to hurt him, just to hold him there, completely surrendered. The older boy let himself go, lost in the burning pleasure, in the overwhelming sensation of being taken so fully. The wood creaked under them, his moans turning into ragged cries, and the climax began to build again at an absurd speed.
Jungkook released his neck and brought that same hand down to the shirt barely covering him, grabbed it into a fist, and yanked it back to keep Taehyung from slipping forward. Watching him wear his shirt while being fucked was such a turn-on. He was enchanted. He wondered what else he could dress him in—he’d probably look stunning in everything.
The pace became erratic with those dirty thoughts. Jungkook squeezed his eyes shut, breath wild, feeling his abdomen tighten uncontrollably, waves of pleasure rising from the base of his spine and crashing through his whole body.
“God... you’re so fucking tight…” he gasped, barely able to speak. “You’re gonna make me come…”
Taehyung didn’t respond—he just clenched his eyes shut and pushed his hips back, taking every thrust even better that way. His mouth hung open, his mind blank except for how much it burned, how deliciously it hurt, how every inch of Jungkook inside him broke him further, made him feel so full his body couldn’t even react properly anymore.
“Kook… I’m gonna come again… I can’t…”
“Do it for me,” Jungkook whispered, voice low and rough. “I want to see you come over and over, like a fucking mess.”
Jungkook let go of the shirt and grabbed both of Taehyung’s wrists with his right hand, pulling them toward himself and forcing the older boy to lift his chest slightly off the table. His left hand went to his ass and slapped it without restraint, leaving marks behind.
Taehyung moaned loudly, completely exposed, trembling, his skin drenched in sweat, with an expression on the verge of collapse. His body tensed up for the third time, exploding in waves of pleasure so intense they blurred his vision.
The dark-haired boy was right at the edge too. He was about to pull out and finish on Taehyung’s back, but Taehyung seemed to read it when he loosened his grip on his wrists, denying it almost in desperation.
"Inside."
"But—"
"Come inside me."
With Taehyung’s renewed consent and request, Jungkook didn’t stop. He kept thrusting, chasing his own release until, with a deep groan, he let go too, gasping his name as his body shuddered behind him.
For the first time in his life, Taehyung felt jets of cum being released inside him. It was strange. Hot. Jungkook’s body trembled against his, holding tightly to his hips as his own legs gave out, collapsing slightly forward and panting against Taehyung’s sweaty neck.
Neither of them said anything for a moment. The only sound in the room was their ragged, breathless gasps. Jungkook rested his forehead against Taehyung’s back, letting his full weight fall on him for a second, while his thumb absentmindedly stroked the marked skin on his hip.
Jungkook stayed inside for a few more seconds until he finally pulled back, sliding out of him with a slow, wet movement. Taehyung let out a shaky exhale.
The sensation was strange. Empty, at first. A sudden void inside him that made his muscles clench instinctively. And then… warm. So damn warm.
Something was moving inside him, sliding down with annoying slowness and absolutely no control. His body trembled, and he didn’t know if it was from oversensitivity, exhaustion, or just the sheer confusion of what he was feeling. Taehyung hadn’t even moved yet when he felt a thick, warm, viscous stream begin to trickle from his entrance, sliding down the curve of his ass and then dripping down his thighs all the way to the floor.
His consciousness returned to his body.
"What...?" he mumbled weakly, eyes wide open as he felt another drop run down his left leg. "What the fuck...?"
Jungkook, who had stepped back just a little to look at him—and yes, to shamelessly admire the sight of Taehyung still bent over, panting, wearing nothing but his shirt and shaking legs—blinked in surprise and fascination as he watched the cum start to slowly leak out of him.
"Wow..." he murmured, still half-breathless, with a completely shameless grin. "It’s coming out like you’re a cream-filled pastry."
"Shut the fuck up, idiot!" Taehyung turned his head slightly, still unable to straighten up. "What the hell did you do to me?! It won’t stop coming out!"
"You asked for it! I was literally about to pull out, and you told me twice you wanted it inside!" Jungkook laughed. "You can’t blame me, this is on you."
He straightened his back and another, thicker drop slid down his thigh, making him jolt and let out a desperate noise from his throat.
"Oh my god, it’s on my leg! It’s on the floor! It’s on my dick...!"
Jungkook burst into laughter. He leaned back, placing one hand on his hip, watching the scene with total pride. Taehyung’s legs were shaky, his cheeks flushed, and from his ass, thick white streams were still dripping. Jungkook was seconds away from asking for another round because damn, it was insanely hot—but he held back when he saw Taehyung starting to panic.
"Fuck, don’t laugh, bastard! This isn’t funny! I’m dripping like a goddamn fountain!"
"It is funny!" Jungkook could barely speak through his laughter. "You’re leaking my cum, Tae... it’s so fucking hot."
"I’m going to kill you," Taehyung growled, burying his face back against the table with a muffled whimper. "This is so gross... oh god, why does it feel like it’s still coming out?"
Jungkook laughed again and stepped closer to Taehyung, leaned down, kissed one of his ass cheeks, then gave the other a gentle slap and caressed it.
"Don’t move! I’m getting wipes," he said as he walked away, still completely naked, heading up the stairs.
"You’re fucking kidding me! Hurry up, idiot! My floor!"
As he heard him going upstairs, Taehyung remained there, trembling, legs apart, feeling the heat trickle down slowly. He closed his eyes in frustration, letting out a pitiful groan, unable to stop himself from thinking what the fuck was I thinking, asking him to come inside?
Another drop slid down the inside of his thigh, and this time he actually screamed:
"Jeon! I’m leaking!“
Although... it was strange. What he said earlier about it being disgusting wasn’t entirely true—it was just new. Maybe, just maybe, he could get used to it. But not today.
A few seconds later, Jungkook came bounding down the stairs two at a time with a pack of wipes in one hand.
"I’m here, I’m here! Hang on, I’m coming to the rescue."
Jungkook knelt behind him and began cleaning him up carefully, though not without letting his fingers linger longer than necessary, taking the opportunity to stroke Taehyung’s trembling thighs and give him a couple more affectionate slaps and soft kisses.
"It’s still coming out, goddamn it," Taehyung whimpered, trying to lift himself enough to look back at his own ass. "This isn’t normal!"
"It’s totally normal, hyung."
"It feels so weird!"
Jungkook chuckled again and kissed one of his ass cheeks before cleaning him more thoroughly.
"You’re fine. You’re just... full of love. Very full, actually. I’m gonna have to clean you in stages."
Defeated, Taehyung let his forehead fall against the table for the third time, releasing a resigned groan.
"I feel... like a fucking flan."
"A delicious flan I happen to like very much," Jungkook said, gently wiping the last bits still trickling down. "You look gorgeous."
"Shut up," Taehyung grumbled, but a few seconds later he sighed. "I like you too, and... yeah, it does feel weird, but... it’s not that bad. It’s just the shock of the first time."
"Does that mean there’ll be more creampie?"
"...Maybe."
"Yes!" he said in a childish tone. Taehyung tried to kick him. Of course, easy for him to celebrate—it wasn’t his ass.
And there they were, one standing with shaky legs, the other kneeling on the floor, laughing and cleaning up the aftermath of something way too good, way too wild, and definitely unforgettable.
Chapter 42: Chapter 41
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
"What’s this?" Jungkook asked with a lazy smile tugging at his lips, running his thumb over the small paper bag decorated with teddy bears and moons, tied with a clumsy ribbon.
They were in Taehyung’s room, the lights still on, both of them wearing only towels wrapped around their waists, hair tousled and bodies still buzzing from what they'd just done minutes ago. Jungkook was sitting at the edge of the bed, thighs spread as he looked at the package with the curiosity of a little kid. Taehyung, on the other hand, stayed on the far side of the room, leaning against the wall to keep himself steady.
"Open it, it’s not a bomb," was all he said without looking at him, voice sluggish and cheeks a little red. Jungkook raised an eyebrow with a growing smile, shooting him a glance before complying. He carefully undid the ribbon, unfolded the paper, and when the soft fabric landed in his hands, he fell completely silent.
They were pajamas. Three sets, carefully folded, made of soft cotton, with simple and adorable patterns in the same muted colors he liked to wear at home. They were exactly his type.
"Are these for me?" he asked, looking up with a kind of wonder that completely disarmed him, his eyes sparkling with excitement.
Taehyung scoffed and rolled his eyes as he pushed off the wall, attempting to walk toward the dresser. His legs trembled with the first step, but he stayed upright purely out of pride.
"No, Jungkook," he said dryly, bracing a hand on the dresser to avoid collapsing. "They’re for the fucking ghost living in my closet. Of course they’re for you, dumbass." Jungkook let out a soft laugh, still gently touching the clothes. Taehyung ran a hand through his hair, feeling awkward and not knowing how to hold the moment without looking like a complete idiot. "It’s just… you were stretching out my pajamas with those giant arms of yours," he said, trying to keep a light tone. "So I bought you three sets to keep here and leave mine alone. They’re for when you sleep over. And… I got the same type you have at your apartment, figured you’d like them. I also bought myself some matching ones, but in less sad and emo colors."
That last part was hard to say, and he didn’t even look at him as he spoke it, too embarrassed. Jungkook didn’t answer right away. He stayed quiet for a few long seconds that made Taehyung start to feel anxious—so much so that he began to think he’d screwed up. Then he heard the bed creak, followed by the soft sound of bare feet on the floor. When he looked up, Jungkook was already in front of him.
"Tae…" he whispered, smiling so warmly it hurt. Before he could say anything else, he pulled him into a tight hug. "Thank you. I love it, I really do. I really like you." He murmured the last part against his neck.
Taehyung froze, arms awkwardly floating at his sides, not sure if he should return the hug or shove him into the wall. Panic surged through him like a hot wave, and he couldn’t stop his first response from coming straight out of his throat.
"Jungkook!" he blurted out, face bright red and eyes darting away. "Don’t say things like that so directly! I’m going to have a stroke or something!"
"I mean it," Jungkook whispered, even softer now. "I really like you."
"I like you too. Okay, dummy?" he finally said, chewing on the words in embarrassment. "Don’t make a scene."
He gave him a light smack on the arm before pulling away, forcing himself to act as if his cheeks weren’t about to explode.
"Go shower already," he snapped as he turned away to hide his tomato-red face. "Then I’ll shower, and we’ll make dinner or something chill."
He walked away with effort, trying to breathe again, and Jungkook was still laughing when Taehyung glanced back at him. He noticed that, although Taehyung was trying to hold himself together, he was still trembling slightly and leaning heavily against the wall.
"Hey…" Jungkook said in a more serious tone. "You can barely stand. It’s not safe for you to shower like this."
"I’m fine," Taehyung replied instantly, jaw tight. "It’s just… the muscle… you know, you fucked me like you were trying to split me in half, so a little weakness is normal, right?"
Jungkook tilted his head, amused, but his gaze softened as he took a step closer.
"What if we shower together?"
"Not a fucking chance," he said immediately. "I know exactly what kind of indecent things you’re thinking about doing to me in there."
"No, I swear! It’s not sexual, I promise. I just want to help you shower properly without slipping or falling. That’s it. Pure and innocent, I swear."
"You don’t have a single innocent cell in your body."
"That’s offensive, but fair," Jungkook chuckled. "Still, I mean it. I just want to help, Tae. I won’t do anything, I promise. Do you trust me?"
"No."
"Okay, trust me a little. I promise I just don’t want you cracking your head open in the shower."
Taehyung looked at him in silence. He studied his face, his eyes, his tone—saw that he meant it, that he was genuinely worried. That it wasn’t just an excuse to grope him.
Well… maybe a little. But there was real sincerity there too.
"Fine," he finally relented with a sigh. "But if you touch me in the shower, I’m breaking your teeth with the soap."
"Deal," Jungkook replied immediately with a grin. "I accept the terms. Come on, let’s go. I’ll hold your hand."
"I’m not a fucking grandpa."
"No, but you’re a freshly fucked idiot who walks like his legs forgot how to function."
Taehyung didn’t resist anymore.
The dark-haired boy stepped closer and gently took his hand, lacing their fingers together and slowly guiding him toward the en-suite bathroom. Taehyung walked in slowly, thighs still trembling slightly.
Jungkook, meanwhile, walked in completely relaxed. Once inside, he undid the towel around his waist and hung it up with zero shame, standing completely naked.
"You too, Taehyung," he said with a mischievous grin as he turned to him. "You’re not gonna shower wrapped up like a mummy, right?"
"What? No! I mean… yes! I mean… I’m not taking it off just like that!" Taehyung was definitely panicking way too easily.
Jungkook raised an eyebrow and stepped closer, wearing that smile he only used when he knew he’d already won. Taehyung instinctively stepped back, gripping his towel with one hand in front and the other at his side.
"I’ve seen everything already," Jungkook said playfully, trying to tug at the towel from the sides while Taehyung struggled. "I’ve seen more of you than your own damn bedroom mirror. Why are you acting like you’re a virgin again?"
"Because you’re not looking at me through the sex filter right now. Now you’re seeing me in this bright, traitorous bathroom light—it’s different!" he squeaked, spinning abruptly and bumping into Jungkook’s chest, who took the opportunity to tug the towel off.
It fell to the floor with a soft plop.
Taehyung immediately tried to cover himself with his hands, arms, anything he could—he even clamped his thighs together at an odd angle to minimize exposure. His face flushed dramatically red, eyes practically shaking from embarrassment.
"You're such a fucking pig!" he yelled.
"And you're completely insane," Jungkook replied, overflowing with amusement as he picked the towel up from the floor and hung it neatly back in place. "Do you realize how absurd this is? We just had sex! I had you in every position imaginable less than thirty minutes ago. I swallowed every single moan you made! And now you're covering up?"
"It's not the same!" Taehyung repeated.
Jungkook stepped closer, still smiling. Taehyung backed up until his damp skin met the wet wall of the bathroom. The younger tilted his head slightly and added in a softer voice:
"You know I already know every inch of you, right? I’ve memorized your body."
"That’s a lie," Taehyung scoffed, which made Jungkook narrow his eyes.
"Yeah? Let’s see... You have a mole on your forehead, right here," he said, pointing with the tip of his finger and brushing his skin gently. "Another under your right eye, one on your left cheek, one on your nose, another on your lower lip—where I love to bite you. On your arm, there are two, and if I stretch your skin like this—" he mimed the motion in the air, as if pinching softly, "—it looks like an elephant." Taehyung stared at him, mouth slightly open. His eyes involuntarily scanned down his own body, trying to confirm the marks Jungkook listed. "You've got one on the front of your left thigh, where your legs tremble when I kiss you there. One on your right pinky finger, two on your left shoulder blade that only show when I’m hugging you—or fucking you from behind. And one on your right hip bone. That last one’s my favorite."
Taehyung couldn’t even speak. He just looked at him, his eyes slightly watery from a mix of embarrassment and tenderness. Jungkook leaned in, cupping his face with both hands and making him look directly into his eyes. His voice dropped to a whisper:
"You don’t have to cover your beautiful body in front of me. I love every part of it. There’s nothing about you I don’t adore."
"...Fine," Taehyung sighed heavily, his shoulders dropping slightly as he nodded.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, baby. But only because you said so many sweet things that I’d feel like an idiot if I didn’t relax now."
Jungkook smiled and leaned in to give him a soft, tender kiss. Once Taehyung finally lowered his hands, Jungkook looked at him more calmly—and that’s when he noticed the obvious: marks. On his neck, there were faint hickeys. And on his ass, there were very clear handprints. Jungkook’s gaze dropped, and he couldn’t help but let out a low laugh, quickly covering his mouth with a hand.
"What?" Taehyung asked, instantly on alert.
"You’ve got marks," Jungkook said, his smile widening. "Hickeys here—" he touched his neck gently, "—and… wow, that is definitely a hand. I literally left finger marks on your ass."
"Goddammit!" Taehyung groaned, burying his face in his hands. "I just wanted a peaceful shower, not a public humiliation."
"It’s not public if it’s just me," Jungkook said through laughter. "Come on, let’s get in before you die of embarrassment."
They stepped into the shower and warm water began to fall as Jungkook turned the knob and adjusted the temperature, filling the space with steam. The glass door instantly fogged up, blurring the reflections of their bodies just inches apart. Taehyung’s muscles were tense, but his body slowly began to relax—maybe because of the warmth of the water, or maybe because of Jungkook’s relentless tenderness.
The younger said nothing at first. He just stepped closer, wrapping his arms around Taehyung’s waist and holding him securely.
"Don’t slip," he murmured, releasing a soft sigh as he simply enjoyed having him close. "Stay still for a moment."
Taehyung closed his eyes. The water beat against his shoulder blades with a comforting heat, and even though part of his mind still protested at how vulnerable he felt, he couldn’t deny how soothing this closeness was. Jungkook moved carefully, turning to reach the shampoo.
"I’m gonna wash your hair, okay?" he said, as if he needed permission for that too. Taehyung nodded slowly, letting him do it.
The younger poured some product into his hand and lathered it gently between his fingers before bringing both hands to the older’s scalp. Jungkook’s fingers were warm—strong yet gentle—and they massaged with the perfect pressure, slow and meticulous. Taehyung parted his lips slightly, saying nothing, the pleasure of that soft touch spreading all over his skin.
"You’re awfully quiet," Jungkook commented. "You didn’t fall asleep, did you?"
"...No. It just... feels good," Taehyung murmured, eyes closed, breathing slow. Every time Jungkook massaged, he let out a small approving sigh.
"I knew you’d like it… you’re making the cutest little sounds right now. You’re like a cat."
"I’m not making sounds, idiot."
"Yes, you are, Tae-Tae."
Taehyung would have protested, but Jungkook’s hands moved slightly lower, massaging the base of his skull—and his brain completely shut off. Jungkook knew him so well, damn it. He knew exactly how to touch him to make him forget everything.
He closed his eyes, surrendering to the firm yet sweet rhythm of Jungkook’s fingers. He couldn’t remember the last time someone took care of him like this. Actually, he wasn’t even sure anyone ever had. He was always so independent, so resistant to being touched, so used to not trusting. And yet here he was, letting someone wash his hair in silence, and the only thing going through his mind was: How the hell did I ever deserve this?
"Is the pressure okay?" Jungkook murmured from behind.
"Yeah... it's perfect."
"I’m gonna rinse now," the younger warned, and gently tilted Taehyung’s head back so the water could rinse the foam away. He held his chin carefully to keep his neck from bending too far. He looked at his face from that angle, with droplets sliding down his nose, his soft lips, and his soaked eyelashes clumping together.
Jungkook leaned in and placed a quick kiss on his forehead.
"All done," he whispered.
Taehyung couldn’t help it: he smiled. Small and silly, but genuine.
"My turn now," he said, straightening up and reaching for the loofah and soap.
"No," Jungkook protested immediately. "You should be resting."
"I’m not an invalid," Taehyung replied, pushing him with his hip until he made him turn. "Turn around. Come on."
"Tae, you don’t have to—"
"Jungkook!" he interrupted with a firm voice. "I’m fine. Let me do this or I’ll get shampoo in your eyes."
The younger raised his hands in surrender, though he had a smile on his lips. He turned around, exposing his back, and shivered slightly when the wet loofah touched his skin. Taehyung worked with care, scrubbing gently down to his waist and up to his shoulders. It wasn’t just about washing him—it was about giving something back. He wanted Jungkook to know how much he appreciated the way he took his time with him, how he looked at him like he was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, even covered in suds, messy-haired, or completely exhausted. And to Jungkook, that made it all the more valuable.
Jungkook chuckled when the loofah tickled his waist and turned to face him.
"Hey!"
"Don’t be dramatic."
"You’re cruel, Kim Taehyung."
"And you’re a ticklish baby."
They looked at each other and smiled, both completely soaked. Taehyung ran his fingers across Jungkook’s face, wiping away a bit of soap that had clung near his eyebrow. And without thinking twice, he gave him a kiss on the cheek. Jungkook responded with one on the tip of his nose, then another on his chin, and finally one on his lips, as if to say: I'm happy to be here with you.
And he was.
“Thank you,” Taehyung whispered, so softly it was barely heard over the sound of the water.
“Always,” Jungkook replied just as softly, brushing a wet strand from Taehyung’s forehead. “Always, Tae.”
They stayed there a little longer, simply sharing the space. Then, once they were both clean and relaxed, Jungkook turned the handle to shut off the water, opened the shower door, and the cold of the bathroom greeted them instantly, a stark contrast to the lingering warmth on their skin. Without wasting a second, Jungkook grabbed Taehyung’s towel from its hook and unfolded it.
“Come here, before you catch a cold,” he said, wrapping the towel around him completely, making sure it covered his shoulders. Surprised, Taehyung let him, watching as Jungkook carefully dried him off. Then Jungkook grabbed his own towel and tied it around his waist. “Shower mission: complete.”
Taehyung let out a soft laugh and walked out of the bathroom wrapped in the towel Jungkook had placed on him. His hair was still dripping warm water, and he walked barefoot across the room, taking a deep breath. Behind him, Jungkook followed, rubbing his hair with a smaller towel.
They both changed into matching pajamas that Taehyung had bought. The blond had his damp hair messily stuck to his forehead, and a droplet of water slid down his neck, disappearing beneath the round collar of a lavender t-shirt. The pajamas were soft, loose, ridiculously comfortable, and had tiny embroidered puppies on the chest pocket. Jungkook noticed when he put on the exact same pajamas but in black. Taehyung looked adorable, with his half-lidded eyes heavy with exhaustion—it was too much for him.
“Don’t look at me like that,” the older one protested in a whisper, lowering his gaze with a shy smile, though he made no move to step away. Jungkook pulled him into his arms and held him tightly, pressing his nose to Taehyung’s cheek and beginning to pepper his face with short, gentle kisses.
“You’re fucking adorable,” he said against his skin. “You’re the cutest thing I’ve ever seen, goddamn it.”
Taehyung just laughed, trying to cover his face with his hands while letting himself be kissed. Jungkook’s kisses did nothing to calm him down; he felt his heart pounding in his throat.
“Jungkook, stop! Let me breathe,” he protested between giggles, but didn’t move away. “You’re going to smother me with all this love.”
“That’s the whole point, dummy,” Jungkook replied with a goofy smile before planting one last kiss on the tip of his nose. “Okay, we can go downstairs now.”
“Do you want something to eat?” Taehyung asked as they left the room.
“Yeah, I could eat. And you definitely need to eat something,” Jungkook replied as they walked down the stairs together. “What do you have?”
“The basics,” Taehyung shrugged, “but I stocked the pantry with stuff I know you like… or that I know you know how to cook.”
Jungkook stopped in his tracks and turned to look at him, narrowing his eyes.
“You went grocery shopping with me in mind?”
“Well, you cook better than I do, so I figured if you came over, you might make something delicious. I didn’t want you missing any ingredients.”
“You’re a hopeless romantic,” he muttered just loud enough to hear, then stepped forward to hug him from behind, wrapping his arms around Taehyung’s waist.
“Go on,” Taehyung said with a little nasal laugh, gently pulling away. “Go pick what you want to make.”
When they got to the kitchen, Taehyung sat on one of the high stools facing the island and watched as Jungkook opened drawers, checked cans, moved packages around, and cupped his chin with one hand while mumbling to himself, evaluating his options.
“I’m going to make gimbap,” Jungkook finally announced. “I’m craving it, and you need something tasty but easy to digest.”
“I’ll help.”
“You shouldn’t. Just rest.”
“I’m not going to sit around doing nothing while you do all the work.”
Jungkook clicked his tongue but didn’t argue. Instead, he started pulling out ingredients and placing them quickly on the island: rice, nori sheets, water, sesame oil, sugar, a carrot, spinach, sesame seeds, three eggs, an onion, chicken breast, soy sauce, salt, and pepper.
Taehyung leaned forward a bit, resting his elbows on the counter, his eyes wide as he watched everything.
“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You look like a professional chef,” Taehyung said in a low voice. “I love watching you cook, baby.”
Jungkook felt a little tingle in his chest but swallowed it down with a confident smile.
“Then listen up, because here’s your part,” he said, using the carrot as a conductor’s baton. “You’re going to wash the rice. I want you to rinse it until the water runs clear, got it? When you’re done, put it in the rice cooker with two cups of water. High heat to start. Once it boils, cover it, lower the heat to the minimum, and wait about ten minutes. Got it?”
“Got it,” Taehyung grinned with excitement and walked around the kitchen island to start doing what the younger had instructed.
While he handled the rice, Jungkook started making the omelet. He cracked the three eggs into a bowl, beat them with a pinch of salt and a bit of sugar, then poured the mixture into a nonstick pan. The sound of the eggs sizzling filled the kitchen—warm, comforting. The smell rose quickly, and Taehyung inhaled it with a look of genuine joy.
The blond couldn’t remember the last time he felt so at peace in his own kitchen. It finally felt like his house was becoming a home.
Jungkook finished cooking the omelet, carefully removed it, and sliced it into thick, long strips, arranging them neatly on a wooden cutting board. Taehyung was so absorbed in watching him that he didn’t notice someone had rung the doorbell until Jungkook turned off the stove and headed toward the door.
He didn’t think much of it—until it hit him that the only people who could knew that Jungkook was there were Jimin and Yoongi. And he doubted it was them.
“Wait!” Taehyung shouted. “Jungkook, wait!”
But it was too late.
Jungkook had already turned the knob and was opening the door.
There, standing on the threshold, was Jiwoo. She wore an oversized white jacket, and her crooked beanie barely covered her tousled hair. She wasn’t looking up and didn’t even notice Jungkook standing in front of her, her gaze fixed on the ground. Her shoulders were tense, car keys tangled in her fingers, and she started speaking with an urgency that had clearly been building up for hours.
“Tae, I’m sorry for showing up unannounced, but... I needed to see you, I just... I thought of you,” she blurted all at once. “Minhyuk texted me again and I don’t know why the hell I still feel like I need him, even though I know he’s toxic. And I know this is stupid, I know I shouldn’t be coming to you about this, but you always know how to calm me down. You always make me feel safe. You know exactly what I need when I feel like this. And I swear, I don’t want to think about him for another second, I want to forget him. I just... I just need to be with you tonight, okay? I need to focus on you and how good you make me feel or I swear I’ll end up texting him, and neither of us wants that.”
...Huh? What?
He frowned instantly, his lips pressing into a hard line, and the warmth that had lingered from Taehyung’s soft laughter minutes ago was replaced by a completely different kind of heat. Because Jiwoo, without even looking up, had just launched into a monologue that—any outsider would agree—sounded like a direct invitation to consolation sex. And to make things worse, she said it with such casual confidence, such routine ease, like they hadn’t ever stopped doing it.
It wasn’t just confusion he felt. More than anything, it was anger. His jaw clenched so hard a small twitch rippled through the muscle in his cheek. She wasn’t even looking at him—and for some reason, that pissed him off even more. Was this kind of thing so common between them that she didn’t even bother to check who had opened the door? Did she just show up certain that Taehyung would be available for her with a snap of her fingers?
"Tsk," Jungkook muttered under his breath, pressing his tongue against his teeth. His gaze slid inside, where Taehyung was now rushing toward the door.
Jiwoo looked up, confused, a slight frown forming on her face. When she saw Jungkook, her expression tensed with surprise.
"This is…?" she said hesitantly. "Am I at the right house?"
She stepped back a little to glance at the house's front. She double-checked, unsure if she’d made a mistake, but no—this was the place. So why was Jungkook opening the door in pajamas this late at night?
Taehyung reached Jungkook just as Jiwoo turned back to look at him—and Jungkook turned his angry face toward him. Taehyung didn’t need more than a second to realize Jungkook had completely misunderstood something. He didn’t know exactly what Jiwoo had said, but the look on Jungkook’s face said it all.
Jungkook just needed an explanation, something clear. Because what he’d overheard was pretty damn compromising. He wasn’t the type to storm off without giving someone a chance to explain. So he waited—silently, patiently—for the blond to speak. Because he trusted him. But could anyone really blame him for feeling insecure?
Jiwoo had said things like, 'I need to see you, I could only think of you', You always know how to calm me down', 'You know exactly what I need when I feel like this', 'I just need to be with you tonight', 'I need to focus on you and on how good you make me feel'. And he knew for a fact that Jiwoo used Taehyung—or his dick, her words—to forget about her ex for a while.
"It’s not what you think!" Taehyung threw both hands up in a desperate gesture. "Jungkook, I swear, it’s not like that. She… Jiwoo and I haven’t… we haven’t done that in a long time. We’re not sleeping together—I swear we’re not. She’s just my friend," he rushed to say, stumbling over his words. "I swear on whatever you believe in, Jungkook, there’s nothing going on between us anymore—nothing! Please."
Jungkook’s body hadn’t moved a muscle. His arms were crossed, eyes unreadable. Jiwoo observed the scene in silence, tilting her head slightly. Her gaze flicked between the two of them, unable to understand why Taehyung looked so desperate to explain they weren’t having sex.
Then her eyes landed on the matching pajamas—and the faint marks on Taehyung’s neck.mHer eyes widened, and it took her barely half a second to piece it together.
"Oh…" she breathed, drawing out the vowel like someone who’d just watched a telenovela plot twist. "Oh… oh… oh." She started pointing between them with outstretched fingers, first Taehyung, then Jungkook, back and forth, like she was connecting invisible dots. "Oh!" she said again. "I see. Holy shit." Her whole face changed, a mischievous grin curving her lips. She seemed to have completely forgotten her own emotional mess. "You guys…" she pointed again. "You’re together. Damn, of course you are!"
"Jiwoo, please…"
The brunette didn’t take long to recover. Even with the confusion still fresh on her face, she turned straight to Jungkook with a serious look now.
"Okay… I really fucked up explaining myself," she said bluntly. "What happened is, my ex texted me. Stirred up a bunch of old shit. I came looking for a distraction because my brain’s a fucking idiot and works against me on nights like this. But that doesn’t mean I came here to fuck, okay?" Jungkook blinked. He hadn’t expected her to speak so directly. "I know how it sounded, I know how I said it," Jiwoo continued, running a hand through her hair. "But if I don’t clear it up right now, the wrong idea’s gonna stay hanging in the air—and I don’t want that. I don’t want to be that. Taehyung and I have a healthier thing going now. No physical stuff, no hooking up to forget past bullshit. We cook ramen, we order junk food, we watch crappy movies and talk about my ex so I can remind myself why I need to move on. And it helps. He reminds me of what I deserve. We’re just friends. I mean that."
Jungkook didn’t respond right away. He was still tense, his mind tangled in a knot of conflicting thoughts he couldn’t yet untangle. But Jiwoo’s words had begun to echo inside him, slowly loosening the frown on his face, making space for reason to push past the tangle of insecurity and the sharp stab of jealousy still lingering in his chest.
"And if you think I’m a problem—if you feel like I’m just a walking insecurity for your relationship with him—then tell me. I’ve got no issue setting boundaries, or not coming around on nights like this. I don’t want to be an obstacle for anyone."
He looked at her in silence for a few seconds, then slowly turned his head toward Taehyung, who was still standing beside him with a desperate expression, eyes wide, brows drawn tight with worry.
There was no lie in him. Just the fear of being misunderstood, of having something that was finally working fall apart over a stupid misunderstanding. Jungkook saw all that and more in Taehyung’s eyes—and just like that, all the bad feelings disappeared.
"I believe you," he murmured. "I believe you, Tae. I’m obviously not gonna ask you to stay away from a friend, sweetheart. I trust you. Sorry I got a little upset, but… it was kind of a lot."
The relief was instant, and Taehyung let out the breath he had been holding. A small but genuine smile curved his lips as his shoulders dropped, visibly more relaxed. His eyes sparkled slightly, and he raised a hand without thinking, as if to touch Jungkook, but he stopped halfway.
"Thank you… thank you for believing me," he whispered, swallowing hard. "Really, thank you. You… you have no idea how much this means to me."
But before Jungkook could reply with something like 'How could I not believe you or trust you?', Jiwoo let out a mildly exasperated huff and smacked Taehyung lightly on the arm.
"And you, what the hell? Why didn’t you tell me anything?" she scolded, though it was clearly not serious—she was excited for him. "I just found out. Right here, in front of your boy. Does that seem fair to you?"
"Jiwoo!" Taehyung turned crimson immediately, his eyes wide as he looked at Jungkook. "Don’t just say ‘my boy’ like that! He’s not… well, yes, but…"
"Obviously, yes! Look at you!" she pointed at him firmly. "You’re wearing matching pajamas, you’ve got hickeys on your neck, and you’re looking at him like you’re melting with love! I mean, come on."
Taehyung awkwardly brought a hand to his neck, his face burning red. Jungkook looked away, rubbing the back of his neck, just as flustered. Jiwoo, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying the whole scene.
"Sorry I didn’t tell you…" the blond murmured. "I want to keep it a secret a little longer, so I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t say anything. We want to be the ones to share it when we’re ready."
"I get it," Jiwoo replied, calming down. "And don’t worry, I won’t say a word, I swear. But I’m really happy for you. Honestly. You two look… I don’t know, adorable. This is such a plot twist—from fighting over Sana to this."
"That wasn't in the plan," Taehyung laughed softly. "We definitely didn’t plan any of this."
"Thank you, Jiwoo," said Jungkook, stepping forward a bit to take Taehyung’s hand. "Seriously, thank you for not reacting badly and for clearing things up."
"How could I react badly? I’m proud of you," Jiwoo said sincerely. "I’m just… really happy you found someone who looks at you like you’re the fucking sun. You deserve that, seriously. Just don’t break his heart, okay?" She looked directly at Jungkook with those last words. It wasn’t a threat, not even a stern warning—it was an honest plea.
"I don’t intend to," Jungkook nodded gently.
"Good," she said with a smile. "I won’t interrupt your little love nest any longer. I swear, I’m really happy for you guys. You look… good together. And now that I understand the whole secrecy around your ‘special someone’, Taehyung, I swear, everything makes sense."
She stepped closer one last time, hugged them both quickly in turn, and before either of them could say anything else, she waved dramatically and turned to leave.
"I don’t want to be a nuisance, so I’m heading out. Take care, and please don’t kill each other in the kitchen. Or the bed. Or the living room. Or, well—do whatever you want, but clean up after yourselves."
"Jiw—!"
"Bye!" she shouted over her shoulder before vanishing.
Taehyung closed the door behind her and leaned his forehead against the wood for a moment, letting out a long sigh.
"God…" he murmured, his voice tired. "I almost died, literally. I felt like my chest was going to explode."
Jungkook sighed as well and leaned his back against the wall, looking up at the ceiling for a few seconds before turning his eyes toward him.
"Are you sure she won’t say anything?"
"Absolutely sure. Jiwoo’s not like that," Taehyung replied, turning to face him. "She can be intense, yeah, but she doesn’t go around telling other people’s business if you ask her not to. And now that she knows how important this is to us…"
The black-haired boy nodded silently. Then he took a couple of steps forward and hugged him without saying a word, wrapping both arms around his waist and resting his head on Taehyung’s shoulder. Taehyung returned the gesture, burying his nose in Jungkook’s hair and closing his eyes in relief.
The guitar rested awkwardly in Taehyung’s arms. Jungkook’s long fingers curled around from behind, firmly placed over his in a near-desperate attempt to guide him through a simple chord pattern. They were on Taehyung’s bed, one’s back pressed to the other’s chest, and although the scene had all the ingredients to be romantic—maybe even a little sensual—it was slowly falling apart.
"No, no, no. You’re killing the chord there," Jungkook said through laughter, once again adjusting Taehyung’s index finger. "You don’t play an E minor with your thumb, Taehyung."
"And what if I want to innovate?" Taehyung protested, looking offended. He knew he was a disaster, but pretending to have an avant-garde style was way more fun than admitting his complete incompetence.
"Well, then you’re going to revolutionize music with the worst execution in history," Jungkook joked.
Taehyung huffed in frustration as his fingers tried once again to form the chord. Every time he thought he had it, a finger slipped or hit the wrong string. The guitar sounded like it was crying in pain, and Jungkook—who had tried to hold it together at first—now had tears in his eyes from laughing so hard.
"I don’t understand how you can make it sound this bad," he said between laughs, leaning a bit more into Taehyung’s back as the other rolled his eyes.
"Sorry I don’t have magic fingers, Jeon Jungkook," Taehyung grumbled. His cheeks were flushed—he couldn’t even tell if it was from embarrassment, laughter, frustration, or the dangerously comfortable way Jungkook was wrapped around him.
"Your fingers are magic, just for other things," Jungkook whispered lowly in his ear, his tone sly. Taehyung let out a stifled laugh and elbowed him.
"Shut up, idiot. This thing won’t cooperate!" Taehyung groaned, blowing out an exasperated breath. "It pisses me off how easy it looks when you do it, and when I try it sounds like a cat stuck in a blender."
"That was… very graphic," Jungkook laughed out loud this time, letting his chin rest on Taehyung’s shoulder for a moment as he gently squeezed his fingers. "Okay, focus. One, two, three… there. Now strum, slowly."
Taehyung did his best. The note came out crooked, tense, and clumsy—a high-pitched squeal that left an awkward silence hanging in the room.
Jungkook blinked.
"Wow."
"Wow as in ‘I’m amazing’ or wow as in ‘how did you manage to screw it up that badly’?" Taehyung asked, turning his face just enough to glance at him out of the corner of his eye.
"A bit of both, honestly," he squeezed his hands playfully. "I respect you more as a visual artist now. This is definitely not your thing."
"And how would you know? Maybe I just need some time. A few months from now I could be performing concerts on campus, hair in the wind, pink mic in hand. I’ll have tons of fans throwing bras and underwear at me."
"Uh-huh, if that happens, I swear I’ll be one of the ones tossing panties from the front row."
"Mhm... promising," Taehyung nodded slowly, pretending to consider it seriously. "But you would definitely get the confidentiality agreement."
After one last disastrous attempt where the guitar literally sounded like something out of a horror movie, Jungkook let out a long, defeated sigh. Carefully, he slid his hands along Taehyung’s arms until he could grip the guitar by the neck.
"Just give it up already. This is an attack on my strings," he declared, pulling the instrument from Taehyung’s lap and sitting upright on the bed. The blond flopped back onto the mattress with a dramatic sigh, legs stretched out, then propped himself up on his elbows.
"And why did you even bring the guitar today? It’s not like you carry your instrument around all the time."
"Oh, that..." Jungkook glanced up for a second. "I had to present a piece for class. A harmonic accompaniment exercise for vocals. Really simple, actually. A standard progression with a minor modulation in the bridge. The prof asked us to perform it live, so I brought it along."
"God, can you say that in human?"
"It means I played and sang in class."
"That’s what I wanted to hear," Taehyung smiled. "So, are you going to play it for me now? I want to hear it."
"Are you sure?" he looked at him with mild horror. "Wouldn’t it be like... I don’t know... Ken singing Push to Barbie, all cringe and stuff?"
Taehyung burst out laughing so hard he clutched his stomach.
"What the hell?" he said between laughs. "Even if it is, I don’t care, I still want to hear you. And if you have to look into my eyes while doing it, even better. I want to be Barbie, got it, baby?"
Jungkook let out a dramatic groan and rolled his eyes, though his smile betrayed any real complaint. He shifted his body into position, adjusted the guitar, and began to play. The room seemed to wrap itself in sound. He strummed a few intro chords, simple yet elegant, and then started to sing. Jungkook’s voice filled the space with a warmth that surprised even Taehyung—who had heard him sing before, but never in a setting this intimate, this... domestic. It sounded different here, in the bedroom, without karaoke mics or an external audience. Just for him. The notes flowed softly, with a casual control that showed how long he’d been doing this.
Taehyung watched him without blinking. He was completely absorbed. He couldn’t stop thinking about how fucking good he looked, so natural, so talented. When Jungkook finished, the final chord vibrated for a second before slowly fading out.
"So?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. Taehyung clapped enthusiastically, slapping his palms together with a wide grin.
"Amazing! Seriously, that was amazing! I loved it. I didn’t know I could get turned on by someone playing guitar, but here we are."
Jungkook chuckled under his breath, looking down.
"Don’t be an idiot."
"I mean it," Taehyung scooted forward on the bed to be closer. "You looked really sexy."
The dark-haired boy looked up, surprised, though a shy smile was forming on his lips.
"Then I should play more often, huh?"
"Definitely."
Taehyung smiled, his eyes glowing with admiration, and without saying anything more, reached out and gently held Jungkook’s jaw, guiding him forward until their mouths met in a quiet kiss.
When they pulled apart, Jungkook felt the emotional equivalent of an earthquake in his gut from seeing him up close like that, looking so damn pretty.
"I feel like I'm really into you,*" Jungkook said, with such clean, honest clarity that the air around them seemed to pause for a second. Okay, Taehyung hadn’t expected that. Jungkook hadn’t expected to say it out loud either, but it was too late now.
He looked him straight in the eye, unwavering, holding his gaze with an intensity that hit Taehyung square in the chest.
The blond blinked twice, feeling a sudden warmth spread from the base of his neck to his ears like a wave. Did he hear that right? His heart leapt, leaving him breathless.
"For real?" he asked, voice low, almost disbelieving. "Seriously?"
Jungkook nodded, swallowing. He looked nervous now, as if just realizing what he’d actually said. He dropped his gaze for a moment, then brought it back up.
"Yeah... but I don’t know if it’s too soon to say it," he admitted. "I mean, we’re not even officially dating, technically. Doesn’t that make it weird?"
He fell silent—not because he was unsure or didn’t know what to say, but because he was too busy feeling like his chest was being squeezed, like his eyes were starting to sting and his whole body was vibrating. The silence lasted only a moment, but to Jungkook it felt endless. Finally, Taehyung took a deep breath, never breaking eye contact.
"I'm into you too," he said.
Jungkook, after watching him for a few seconds, gently set the guitar down on the floor beside the bed, never taking his eyes off Taehyung.
He leaned in a bit, closing the small distance between them, and took his hands.
"Really? You’re not just saying it because I said it first?"
"Don’t be an idiot," Taehyung replied with a crooked smile, squeezing his fingers. "I mean it. I have no doubts. And I also know I want us to be together."
Jungkook let out a soft, nervous laugh, almost in disbelief—but not because he didn’t want the same. On the contrary, he wanted it so much his heart was pounding in his chest.
"I want to be the one to ask," he said. "You were the first to confess, so now I want to be the one to ask you out. In a special way."
"But we’re already saying we are into each other and want to be together. You don’t have to do anything else. Just the question is enough for me, Jungkook."
"No," he cut him off, eyes still locked on his. "I don’t want you to settle, you don’t deserve that. I want to do something special, something that means something to you—something we’ll both remember. Because you’re not someone people just... settle for. You’re so much more than that. I don’t want you settling for anything in life, Taehyung. Especially not with me."
Taehyung’s heart flipped. How many of those could he take in one night before collapsing?
That idiot. That damn adorable idiot.
How dare he say something so beautiful and devastating with that serious face and those shiny Bambi eyes?
A crushing wave of tenderness hit him all at once. He didn’t know what to do with it, how to contain it, how to translate it or channel it. He felt that thing they call cute aggression. So he did the only honest thing he could: he threw himself at Jungkook. He hugged him tightly and held him close while making soft little noises.
"Thank you," Taehyung whispered by his ear, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for wanting to do things this way. You have no idea how much that means to me."
Jungkook smiled against his neck, wrapping his arms around him too, sliding a hand gently down his back.
"You're worth it, Tae. You always have been. I'm going to give you the best relationship proposal you've ever seen," he promised softly.
"So competitive, baby," Taehyung murmured with a smile against his skin.
"You deserve something like that," Jungkook replied, pulling back just enough to look him in the eyes. "I don't want our story to start with a ‘well, we're together now.’ I want it to begin with a moment you'll never forget."
Taehyung looked at him, eyes glassy, and couldn’t help but think that no matter how Jungkook did it—even if he asked him out on a damn rooftop with a mariachi band or in a hallway full of yelling professors—it would be unforgettable just because he’d be looking at him like that. Because he’d be saying it with that voice. Because it would be Jungkook.
"You're an idiot."
"But one that is really into you," Jungkook replied, leaning in again to kiss his cheek.
They stayed like that, wrapped in each other's arms on that bed. Taehyung had never felt so loved, so chosen, so… seen. Never. And Jungkook, for his part, thought he had never said anything truer in his whole damn life.
The trembling started in his left leg—barely noticeable at first, but it grew stronger by the second until the bench he was sitting on began to vibrate slightly. Taehyung couldn’t take his eyes off his phone screen. He had the brightness set to the lowest so he wouldn’t get caught by the Interactive Audiovisual Production professor, who was currently explaining something about nonlinear narratives and interaction points in video game development.
He couldn’t have cared less at that moment. On his screen was a message from Jungkook:
Biggest Idiot of the Century 💘
Good morning, hyung. My parents just got here, they’ve settled in well, and they’re super excited for dinner tonight. Dinner’s at 7. No need to be nervous, they’re going to love you even if I just introduce you as a friend. I miss you. I can’t wait to see you. <<
Part of him melted at how sweet the message was. Jungkook had this ridiculous ability to calm him down and freak him out at the same time. Because seriously, what the hell did 'they’re super excited for dinner' even mean? And worse: how screwed was he going to be if they didn’t like him?
Taehyung swallowed, his throat dry like cardboard. To his right, Keeho was glancing at him with growing concern. The guy was paying more attention to Taehyung than to the professor’s explanation, which now featured a massive flowchart on the giant screen.
"You okay?" Keeho finally whispered, leaning in a bit.
It took Taehyung a few seconds to process he was being spoken to. He looked up slowly and met his classmate’s genuinely worried expression. He hesitated before answering, then looked back down at his phone, turned off the screen with a trembling tap, and sighed.
"Yeah, I’m fine. Just… thinking about some stuff," he said with a forced smile. Keeho stared at him a few more seconds, as if weighing whether to believe him or not. Finally, he shook his head.
"Dude, you’re pale. You look like you’re about to throw up. Want me to tell the professor you need to step out? Or I can walk you to the Wellness Center?"
"No, that’s not necessary," Taehyung replied quickly. "But… I do need to get out for a moment. Just some air."
He stood up before Keeho could offer again. He stuffed his phone into his coat pocket and left in quick strides without looking back. The professor was too immersed in her presentation to stop him. The hallway of the faculty building was nearly empty—just a few students passing between rooms or chatting near the windows.
Taehyung walked to a corner where a bench sat and dropped down with a long sigh, burying his face in his hands. He was scared—real, throbbing, concrete fear. A fear unlike anything he’d ever felt before. It was the fear of ruining something that finally felt important.
Even though he’d be introduced merely as a friend and not as the boyfriend, that first interaction could define everything going forward—and it would clearly influence how they reacted when they eventually learned the truth. He wouldn’t have anyone on his side; he just wanted Jungkook to have that support. That’s why he had to make a good impression.
He mentally reviewed everything he’d practiced the day before. Jimin had been a relentless coach for hours, teaching him how to shake hands firmly, how to smile without looking nervous, how not to interrupt, how to seem genuinely interested in what they said. Jimin was famous for always being adored by his in-laws. And surprisingly, Yoongi had been incredibly helpful too—he’d known Jungkook’s parents for years. He respected them, but he also trusted them. He’d provided specific details: what the dad liked, what kind of humor the mom had, what topics to avoid, and which ones were safe bets.
"Don’t talk too much about politics," Yoongi had told him without looking up, peeling a mandarin in the kitchen. "Not for or against. They’re not closed-minded, but they don’t like debates at the dinner table either."
"And make eye contact," Jimin had added from the couch. "But not too much. If you stare, you look like a serial killer with those sharp-ass eyes. But if you don’t look at them at all, you look like a liar."
"No dark humor—Mr. Jeon can’t stand it. And talk to his mom gently and politely. She loves it when people care about Jungkook, so you can use that, but don’t overdo it. If you cross the line, she’ll catch it and give you the look. Trust me, you don’t want the look."
Taehyung had laughed back then, but now he didn’t find it funny at all. He felt deeply insecure. And there was another factor—he had never wanted to impress anyone before.
Whenever he’d met the parents of past partners, it had always been a chore, forced and uncomfortable. He had never been emotionally invested like he was now. He had never cared whether they liked him or not. He had never wanted to be part of someone else’s life the way he did now.
But now he was completely screwed—because he did want to be part of Jungkook’s life, and that included his parents. That meant showing the best version of himself. And damn it, he wasn’t even sure what that was.
He heard footsteps approaching down the hallway and lifted his head quickly. Keeho peeked around the corner with a 'keeping an eye on you' kind of look.
"You sure you’re okay?"
"Yeah. I’m just… scared," Taehyung gave him a tired but sincere smile. "I’m meeting the parents of someone important."
"You’re dating someone?" Keeho raised an eyebrow, surprised.
"No, well, kind of," he replied, because he didn’t have the brain capacity to explain the whole thing.
"And you care about their parents?"
"A lot," he nodded, staring at the floor. Keeho stepped closer and gave him a pat on the shoulder.
"Then I’m sure you’ll be fine. People can tell when you genuinely care. Even if you don’t know what to say. Just… be yourself, but like, your least aggressive version," he added with a soft laugh. Taehyung laughed too, just a little, but it helped. He needed it.
Keeho walked back into the classroom, and he stayed in the hallway for a few more minutes. He still had a couple of hours to get ready, to breathe, to go home and figure out what the hell he was going to wear to make a good impression.
He considered going back into the classroom and pretending like nothing was wrong… but the tremble in his fingers betrayed him. And honestly, he couldn’t care less about today’s class. He pulled his phone out of his pocket again, opened his contact list, and dialed Jimin’s number without thinking twice. As soon as he heard the ringing tone, he closed his eyes, leaned his head back against the wall, and took a deep breath. The moment his friend’s voice came through, it was cheerful and bright:
“Hello, love of my multiple lives.”
“I’m so fucking nervous, Jimin,” he burst out immediately.
“Taehyung, breathe,” Jimin said gently, trying to calm him down. “Yoongi-hyung already told you, Jungkook’s parents are good people, remember? You’ve got nothing to be scared of.”
He bit his lower lip, clenching his teeth as he stared ahead.
“That’s not it, Jimin,” Taehyung replied, lowering his voice to almost a whisper. “It’s just… I don’t know, I have this feeling something’s going to go wrong. And I can’t get it out of my head.”
There was a brief pause, and Taehyung heard Jimin sigh on the other end of the line.
“There’s no reason to believe anything’s going to go wrong, Tae. You’re just overthinking it, you know how you get. You’re only going to meet his parents today, and you’re going to do great, even if you’re just being introduced as a friend. They’re going to see you for who you are. You don’t have to impress anyone—just be yourself.”
“What if they don’t like me? What if I say or do something stupid? What if...?”
“No ‘what ifs,’” Jimin cut in firmly. “You’re not an idiot, Taehyung. Yesterday Yoongi-hyung gave you more intel on his parents than an FBI agent would, and I basically trained you like you were auditioning to meet Obama. You’re going to be fine.”
“But, Jiminnie...” he murmured, his voice low and raspy. “I’ve always sucked with in-laws. Remember Yunjin’s mom?”
“The one who called you ‘emotionally unstable’ after you asked if she believed in soulmates? Yeah,” Jimin replied with a snort. “But she also thought black cats were satanic. Doesn’t count.”
“This time… this time it matters. Back then I didn’t give a damn what Yunjin’s mom thought. I wasn’t planning to stick around long anyway. But this is about his parents. This isn’t just some fling or casual thing. Fuck, Jimin, it’s Jungkook.”
Jimin went quiet for a few seconds, and when he spoke again, his voice was soft, tender, filled with a kind of warmth that seeped into Taehyung’s bones.
“That’s exactly why it’s going to be okay—because you care, because you’re trying, and it shows. When the time comes and you both tell them what you really are, they’re going to be grateful it’s you. Believe me, Tae-Tae.”
“You’re right,” Taehyung sighed. “Thinking everything’s going to fall apart doesn’t help. But… I’ve got this awful feeling in my gut. Something’s off. I have a bad feeling.”
“Sometimes our bodies mess with us when we’re anxious. Don’t dwell on that feeling. It could just be fear talking. Don’t feed it more than it deserves.”
Taehyung bit down on his lower lip, hard enough to nearly leave a mark. Then he shook his head, trying to push the feeling aside.
“Okay, you’re right. I’m in Interactive Audiovisual Production and I should probably head back. I’ve been out here for a while now.”
“Is that the class with Keeho, the cute one?”
“Jimin!” Taehyung laughed. “You have a boyfriend, don’t be an idiot.”
“What boyfriend?” Jimin sang. “Yoongi-hyung is a delusion you two made up, don’t even start.”
“Delusion or not, he’s still your boyfriend, so show some respect.”
“Fine, fine,” Jimin sighed. “Although, I’ve got to tell you, Yoongi-hyung’s been... I don’t know, a little more attentive than usual lately. He texts me all the time, asks if I’ve eaten, if I’ve slept... Today he brought me coffee in class without me asking. I don’t know if he did it just to keep up the act since Hoseok-hyung was there, but... it felt sincere?”
“Oh, so the cliché works, huh?”
“No, it doesn’t!” Jimin protested through laughter. “Don’t start with your cheap theories.”
“Do you seriously not like Yoongi?”
There was a beat of silence on the other end. Then Jimin’s voice came back, softer.
“Everything’s confusing.”
“That’s not a no,” Taehyung sat up a little straighter.
“It’s not a yes either,” Jimin shot back quickly.
“You two are going to fall for each other, I just know it. And when you do, remember you heard it here first.”
“Shut up and go back to class, Kim Taehyung,” Jimin said.
“I’m going, I’m going. Thanks, Jimin. Really.”
“Love you, Tae. You’re going to be fine. Good luck with Jungkook’s parents.”
Taehyung smiled and hung up. He stared at the screen for a moment before opening his chat with Jungkook. The message was still there, waiting for him. He swallowed hard again and typed with fingers that were just a little steadier:
>>Hope the trip wasn’t too rough. I’ll be there, baby.
He left it at that. It felt simple enough not to sound anxious. He tucked his phone into the inside pocket of his jacket, took a deep breath, and stood up. He walked back to the classroom with slower steps. Keeho looked up when he entered and smiled at him. Taehyung gave a brief nod and a small smile in return before dropping into his seat.
Taehyung’s legs were shaking. Literally shaking.
He was holding a thick paper bag with a bottle of red wine inside—expensive and ridiculously elegant, with a label he couldn’t pronounce and a vineyard from some place he’d never heard of, but that Yoongi had sworn was worth every damn won. All he knew was that it hurt to pay for it, but it didn’t matter, because right now he was fighting for his dignity, his image, his integrity—and honestly, even his lung capacity.
“Breathe,” he murmured under his breath, glancing around the sleek lobby of Jungkook’s building, trying to ignore how his heart was slamming against his sternum with every damn second that passed. “You’re fine. You’re fine. You’re fi…”
But he wasn’t fine.
He hadn’t been fine since the night before, when he barely slept, going over what to wear for the tenth time, wondering if the wine was the right choice, if he should trim his bangs a bit more, or if looking too polished would make Jungkook’s parents think he was desperate. What if they thought he was a lazy good-for-nothing like his own mother did? What if he said something dumb and completely screwed up and the Jeons ended up hating him forever? What if...?
He shook his head, exhaling hard through his nose. He couldn’t keep going like this.
He tightened his grip on the wine bag. Yoongi had told him that bringing something was just good manners, but if he really wanted to score points with the Jeon family, he had to focus on the father. Wine was a winning move—Mr. Jeon was a wine lover. He had an entire room in his house in Busan just for his personal collection.
He had already texted Jungkook a few minutes ago, sending a simple message that didn’t reflect the inner panic consuming him: “I’m here :)” Jungkook had replied that he’d be down in a second.
He looked at his phone screen for the fifth time in two minutes, but there was nothing new—just a couple of supportive texts from Jimin and Yoongi that he had already replied to. He tried not to wrinkle his shirt too much—a white linen one he’d put on after trying it three times in front of the mirror. His hair was also carefully styled back, a few strands deliberately falling onto his forehead, as if he’d effortlessly combed it that way, when in truth, it had taken him more than twenty minutes.
At that moment, he heard the soft mechanical hum of the elevator stopping, followed by the click of the doors sliding open. He looked up, and there was Jungkook, flashing a huge smile and eyes that were actually, truly shining.
He felt stupid for having been this close to running out through the revolving door.
"Thanks for coming," Jungkook said as soon as he was in front of him, still smiling wide. Taehyung swallowed hard. His legs were still shaking, but he forced himself to step forward and return that smile with one of his own.
"I told you I’m a man of my word," Taehyung replied, doing his best to sound steady. He couldn’t let how fragile he felt show. He raised the bag a little. "I brought wine. It was Yoongi-hyung’s idea. He said your dad’s a wine lover and that... that I should win him over first since he’s the harder one."
Jungkook let out a soft snort, clearly amused, and shook his head.
"That definitely sounds like Yoongi. But he’s right... My dad is a bit more... demanding."
"A bit?" Taehyung joked, though he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer.
"Just a little," Jungkook chuckled. "Still, thanks," he said again, then reached out his hand. "Shall we?"
Taehyung looked down at that warm, large hand held out to him. He hesitated for a second—not because he didn’t want to take it, but because he knew the moment he did, there’d be no turning back.
But he did. He took it.
Jungkook’s skin was warm, and his grip was firm. He knew exactly what Taehyung needed.
They walked together to the elevator. The button for the seventh floor was pressed, the doors closed, and Taehyung fought the urge to lean against the wall. He tried not to look up at the ceiling. Tried not to focus on the mechanical noises vibrating behind the elevator walls. He locked his eyes on the digital screen marking each floor, one by one. One... two... three...
"Are you ready?" Jungkook asked softly, turning just slightly toward him. Taehyung kept his eyes on the screen for a few more seconds. The number four flickered.
His stomach was a swirl of acid and his head felt like it was floating above his body. But then he turned, looked at him. And there they were again—those big, warm, sparkling eyes.
It made him think of everything he’d accomplished and how much had changed since that idiot barged into his life, trying to compete with him for a girl who wasn’t even part of the story anymore.
So he took a deep breath, and with a knot still tight in his throat, he said:
"Yeah."
Jungkook smiled again and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, as if to say, 'Me too'.
The elevator reached the seventh floor. The sound was so soft it almost went unnoticed. The doors slid open smoothly, and the nerves came rushing back.
They were going to walk through that door together. And whatever happened on the other side, whatever happened with Mr. and Mrs. Jeon... at least he wasn’t alone.
Notes:
*In Spanish, the original meaning is that they would say "te quiero," but the thing is, there's no translation for that in English. In English, it would be translated as "I love you," and that's a very strong expression. "Te quiero" in Spanish is a feeling that precedes loving someone; it's the first step, so it doesn't feel as strong as "te amo" I translated it as "I'm really into you," but that's not what they would actually be saying to each other.
Chapter 43: Chapter 42
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
"Just breathe... just for now, okay?" Jungkook murmured, glancing at him sideways as their fingers remained laced together.
The cold air in the hallway did little to ease the tension weighing down his back, but that simple gesture managed to lift some of the burden. Taehyung looked at him with gratitude, and that made the black-haired boy smile.
"Thank you," Jungkook said, turning fully toward him. "Thanks for being here."
Taehyung took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a moment, and then nodded firmly.
"I'm ready."
Only then did they slowly let go of each other's hands, reluctantly, as if neither of them truly wanted to. Jungkook stepped forward, entered the code to the door, and pushed it open gently. Taehyung stepped in first, and that was when the sensory hit took him by surprise.
It smelled amazing—really amazing. His hunger kicked in instantly, but so did a strange, hollow feeling. It wasn't like he had never smelled home-cooked food before. Of course, he’d eaten at friends’ houses and even cooked with them. But this was different—it wasn’t just food. It was atmosphere.
"Tae," Jungkook murmured softly, touching his back. "Come on, don’t just stand there."
Jungkook's voice snapped him out of his trance. Taehyung turned his head slightly and offered a small, uncertain smile. Then he stepped further inside. Jungkook moved ahead and helped him with his jacket, something he’d done like a thousand times before. He hung the coat neatly on the rack beside others, then turned toward the kitchen.
"Mom, Dad," he called out cheerfully. "We’re here!"
Jungkook’s parents looked up from the stove. They were standing close, giggling softly over some private joke. It all felt so domestic, so normal. Was this what real families looked like?
Neither his house nor his childhood had ever felt like this. These smells, this warmth—none of it existed in his memories. His mother never cooked during her rare visits, never laughed with anyone in the kitchen. Her presence always felt like an audit, not a gesture of care. This warmth… it felt foreign.
Jungkook’s hand brushed his back again, gently guiding him forward. When his parents saw their son and then Taehyung, they both smiled at once. It didn’t feel forced—it felt real.
"This is Taehyung," Jungkook said, pausing just a second before adding, "The friend I told you about who was coming."
Jungkook's father was the first to approach. He was tall, calm-looking, with the same strong jawline and nose as his son. He extended a firm hand. Taehyung shook it respectfully.
"Hajoon," he introduced himself with a deep but kind voice. "Welcome."
"Nice to meet you, sir," Taehyung nodded. Jungkook’s mother, for her part, smiled brightly. She wiped her hands on her apron before reaching one out to him.
"Wonkyung," she said warmly, and in her smile and eyes, Taehyung saw Jungkook. "So you’re Taehyung. Jungkook’s told us about you, but he never mentioned his friend was this handsome. It’s such a pleasure to have you here."
The comment made Taehyung’s cheeks burn. No matter how many times he’d mentally rehearsed the perfect entrance, the polite greetings, the well-mannered behavior he was supposed to maintain—he hadn’t prepared for that kind of compliment. And definitely not from the mother of the boy he liked. What was he supposed to say? Thank you, ma’am, you look stunning too? No. That would be weird. Ridiculous, even.
"Ah… Thank you very much, Mrs. Jeon," he finally replied, offering a slight bow, his shoulders a bit tense. "That’s very kind of you."
He extended the wine bottle with both hands, gripping it tightly. But as he handed it over, doubt crept in. Maybe the wine wasn’t good enough. Maybe it was obvious he was trying too hard to make a good impression—one that didn’t come naturally to him. What if they thought he was a pretentious show-off?
"I brought this... I thought it might go well with dinner," he said, not entirely confident in the tone he’d used. Too formal? Too uncertain?
Mr. Jeon received it with a smile. He examined the label with interest, gently turning the bottle as if inspecting a rare find. Then he looked up with an impressed expression.
"Wow… This is an excellent wine. Hard to find even in some specialty stores," he said, smiling with a nod of approval that made Taehyung feel a small wave of relief. "A man who appreciates wine is never bad company."
Taehyung felt like he could finally breathe again. He even let out a small laugh—just a breath through his nose—as he nodded. Jungkook, beside him, seemed to relax as well, seeing his parents reacting so positively. He hadn’t moved much since they entered, but he remained close.
"Mom, Dad, should we help set the table?" Jungkook asked, stepping toward the dining room.
"Of course, sweetheart. Almost everything’s ready," his mother replied, returning to the kitchen. "You can start placing the placemats. Your dad and I will bring the rest."
Jungkook nodded and gently touched Taehyung’s arm, inviting him along with a glance. He led him down a hallway to a side cabinet near the dining area, where they kept their 'special occasion' items: fancy dishes, gleaming silverware, perfectly folded cloth napkins, and rigid placemats with golden edges.
"We only use these when they come over," Jungkook said as he opened the top drawer, pulling out a couple of placemats and handing them to Taehyung. "I never understood why they make me keep them here. I’d put everything in the kitchen."
Taehyung didn’t respond right away. He was focused on the contents of the drawers and began pulling out the silverware. He arranged forks, knives, and spoons in the correct order, even measuring the distance from the edge of the table. The few times he’d eaten with his mother, the dinners were always formal events with rules and protocol. Back in Daegu, the rules were everything. He’d learned how to properly set a table. He never did it at home now, but this was a dinner—it felt appropriate.
Or at least, he thought it did... until he saw Jungkook on the other end of the table tossing utensils around like he was dealing playing cards.
He stared at him with slightly squinted eyes, as if he’d just witnessed a crime. The silverware was scattered with no logic—some on the wrong side, some with the blades facing out. He wanted to scream and take over, but held himself back. What if correcting everything made him seem obsessive? He didn’t want to come off as that kind of person. And he might even make the Jeon family uncomfortable with his rigidity.
Still, he felt like he was going to have a heart attack, so as soon as Jungkook turned away to fetch the glasses, he began fixing the silverware one by one. He left them exactly where Jungkook had placed them... just properly. He corrected the order, the angle, and the alignment with the plates.
"Everything okay?" Jungkook asked, glancing back at him.
"Yeah, all good," Taehyung replied, swallowing his discomfort with a smile. "Just… making sure everything’s even."
Right then, Mr. Jeon’s voice echoed from the kitchen.
"Make room! I’m coming in with the Japchae!"
Both of them turned toward the kitchen. Taehyung reacted immediately, removing the centerpiece—a small arrangement of dried flowers in a matte vase—clearing space for Mr. Jeon, who stepped in carefully, carrying a large steaming dish filled with dark noodles, onions, carrots, and glistening chunks of meat coated in sauce. Jungkook stepped forward to help, took the vase, and placed it on the side table.
His mother followed behind, carrying a tray of meat and several smaller dishes with side items. It was a serve-yourself kind of dinner. She set the final plates on the table, then turned to Taehyung with a pleased expression.
"I asked Jungkook what kind of food you like," she said while removing her apron. "He told me your favorite is Japchae, so I thought I’d make it. I hope you like it."
"Thank you so much for the gesture, Mrs. Jeon," Taehyung replied clearly, bowing his head slightly in an automatic show of respect. Wonkyung couldn't help but smile at the sight.
"Oh, don't be so formal, Taehyung. This isn't the embassy," she joked, winking warmly.
That managed to loosen his shoulders a bit—not completely, but enough to allow for a more natural breath. Formality had been drilled into him for as long as he could remember; it was a reflection of his upbringing and all the times he'd been told what was “proper.” But this woman didn’t seem interested in trapping him in manners or demanding anything beyond him being himself. And that felt as foreign as it was heartwarming.
They all took their seats. Mr. and Mrs. Jeon sat together on one side of the table. Jungkook guided Taehyung to the chairs across from them, seating him to his left. And when the four of them were finally settled, with the clinking of plates and cutlery filling the air in that comforting murmur that precedes a good meal, Taehyung felt Jungkook’s fingers seeking his under the table. First, their knuckles brushed, and then the younger boy’s hand slid naturally to interlace their fingers. Thanks to the wooden table, nothing was visible from the parents’ side.
That simple gesture said: 'I’m with you', 'Don’t worry', 'You’re not alone'.
The blond swallowed hard, lowering his gaze toward Jungkook’s grip, trying not to smile too broadly. He didn’t want Jungkook’s parents to notice anything unusual, but he also couldn’t help feeling... completely seen, but in the best way possible.
“So, Taehyung, tell us,” Hajoon began as he served himself some meat, “What did you study, or what are you studying?”
He looked up at once, swallowing the tension that tightened in his chest again. He straightened his back—always perfect posture—and responded in the tone he always used when he knew his major was going to prompt more questions than praise.
“I’m studying Audiovisual Creation, also at Yeoreum University, same as Jungkook.”
“Oh, that sounds interesting,” Mrs. Jeon commented with a smile as she served herself a generous helping of Japchae. “What exactly does that involve? Is it more like film? Production? Sorry if I ask too much, it’s just that I don’t know much about the subject.”
He licked his lips, taking a breath before answering. He knew exactly what to say. He’d been explaining his major for years—unfortunately, more often with caution than with enthusiasm.
“It’s a bit of everything, really. We study everything from screenwriting to directing, cinematography, post-production, video editing, photo editing, sound editing… We also study film theory and audiovisual analysis. The idea is to be prepared to handle any part of the content creation process, whether it’s for film, TV, digital platforms, or even advertising.”
“Wow, that’s quite comprehensive,” Jungkook’s father murmured, watching him attentively. “I had no idea the program covered so much. Honestly, I find it fascinating. These are the careers of the future, aren’t they? Everything is visual nowadays.”
Taehyung looked at him, slightly stunned. Was he complimenting the major? Without sarcasm? Without that patronizing tone he’d heard so many times from his own family? He couldn’t believe it. For a moment, he stayed silent, thrown off by how unusual this felt.
“And do you like it? Are you happy with what you do?” Wonkyung asked, her smile warm.
“Yes, very much,” Taehyung nodded slowly, honestly. “I like being able to tell stories visually. I like how you can evoke emotions, make someone think—or just take their breath away—with a single image.”
“That’s the most important thing,” she said genuinely. “You’re going to work your whole life in what you study, so what matters is being happy doing it.”
Mr. Jeon nodded, setting his glass down after a sip.
“Although sometimes, people end up not doing what they love—or not even what they studied. But as long as you prioritize your well-being and what makes you happy, you’ll be alright. That’s a good path.”
Is that what unconditional affection felt like? Was that what love without threats sounded like?
That’s when everything inside Taehyung began to tremble a little. All those defensive walls he’d built over the years started to crack. He was so used to justifying his choices, to hearing passive-aggressive remarks, to explaining over and over why he hadn’t chosen a “more profitable” degree. He was used to awkward silences, to people changing the subject. Not this. Not praise. Not support so direct and unfiltered. Not warmth that didn’t feel forced.
And just as he was still trying to process that, Jungkook stepped in again.
“And he’s really good at what he does,” he chimed in enthusiastically, smiling with pride. “He has one of the best GPAs in the whole university. Seriously, it’s amazing watching him work. He’s meticulous, he has brilliant ideas, and on top of that, he knows exactly how to execute them. He’s knowledgeable in so many areas, he leaves me completely amazed—and not just me, his work is often used as an example by the professors.”
Taehyung turned toward him, eyes narrowing slightly in embarrassment. His heart raced again. He hadn’t expected Jungkook to speak about him like that, with such pride.
“Don’t exaggerate, please. It’s not that big of a deal. It’s just the bare minimum expected of me,” he muttered with a small smile, already blushing to the tips of his ears. Jungkook talked about him like he was some kind of prodigy, and it melted him inside—but also made him want to crawl under the table.
Mrs. Jeon shook her head with a gentle expression.
“Not at all. You have to stop downplaying your achievements, Taehyung. If you work hard, you deserve to acknowledge it.”
Jungkook raised an eyebrow at him and glanced sideways with a teasing smile, as if to say: See? Do I have to keep telling you or do you need a whole family committee to convince you?
“He’s right,” Mr. Jeon added. “You don’t need to be modest when it comes to the things you do well. We bust our asses studying, creating, racking our brains—and then we go around saying it’s no big deal? Why? Just to seem more humble? Nah. Show off a little, be proud of your efforts. Tell us more—Jungkook said you’re one of the top students in your program?”
"Well..." Taehyung began, swallowing slowly. "Yeah, I have a high GPA. I... won the academic excellence scholarship in my major several times. Three, to be exact." As he said it, he felt a pang of discomfort in his stomach. Not from embarrassment, but because he had learned to tread carefully when it came to talking about his achievements. He was too used to people misunderstanding them, dismissing them, or brushing them off as trivial—especially those who had never really tried to understand him. "But I didn’t accept it..." he added cautiously, glancing sideways at Jungkook’s parents, trying to read their expressions. "I know I can afford to pay the full tuition, but there’s a classmate in my program who can’t. He really needed it. So... the university gives the scholarship to the second place. He’s graduating this semester, thanks to that."
Silence.
He braced himself for someone to say it was a dumb decision, that college wasn’t a charity, that it was an idealistic and unnecessary gesture—maybe even a classist remark, like his mother used to make. He had heard it before, many times, and that’s why whenever he spoke about it, he prepared himself for a blow disguised as logic.
But what he heard instead was a warm, light, and sincere sound of admiration. Mrs. Jeon let out a small sigh, placing a hand over her chest, her face glowing with a soft smile.
"Taehyung, you're handsome, smart, and incredibly kind," she said, her eyes shining with tenderness—God, they really were just like Jungkook’s. "You're the full package. Your parents must be so proud of you."
A sharp pain pierced through his chest like a needle straight to the heart.
This was recognition and validation. Words Taehyung wasn’t used to hearing from adults—let alone a mother figure. It left him thrown off, surprised, vulnerable. He immediately lowered his head, partly to hide the tears forming in his eyes, partly because he didn’t know where else to look. His fingers trembled slightly, but under the table, Jungkook squeezed his hand again.
How could he explain to this woman that his mother had never looked at him that way? That not even with all his achievements, all his medals, flawless grades, or perfect behavior, had he ever been able to pry a single word of pride from her lips. That every step he took felt like a race to catch a love that always slipped through his fingers.
Wonkyung furrowed her brow slightly as she noticed the subtle shift in his expression, the faint shadow that dulled his eyes.
"Is everything alright, Taehyung?" she asked gently. He nodded quickly, still not lifting his gaze all the way.
"Yeah, it’s nothing," he replied with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Jungkook glanced at him sideways. He knew. He knew it wasn’t "nothing." He recognized that tense curve at the corner of Taehyung’s lips, that forced tone he used when trying to hide his emotions. He knew him better than anyone else—and that’s exactly why he held his hand tighter.
"Speaking of which, what about your parents?" Hajoon asked suddenly, interested. Jungkook shot him a warning look right away. It wasn’t a safe or easy topic for Taehyung, and he was about to step in to change the subject, but Taehyung beat him to it.
"My mom’s a doctor—general surgery, to be precise," the blond said in a mechanical tone. "She’s chief of surgery at Dongsan Medical Center in Daegu. She also teaches at Keimyung University."
"Wow," said Mrs. Jeon, nodding in admiration. "She must be really busy, huh?"
"Yeah," he replied, and his voice dropped, unintentionally harsher. "That’s why we’re not that close... unfortunately."
Another truth thrown into the air like a blade. Another wound laid bare.
"Well, I’m quite busy too, I’m a lawyer after all. And Hajoon is the Executive Director at Hyundai Mipo Dockyard. We’re lucky that it didn’t affect our relationship with Jungkook."
"And your father?" Mr. Jeon asked then, without any ill intent.
Jungkook closed his eyes for a second. Fuck, no.
"My dad was an architect," Taehyung said, swallowing again. "He owned a firm called Kim & Co. Architects."
Hajoon furrowed his brow, tilting his head.
"Was your father Kim Youngsoo?"
"Yeah... did you know him?" Taehyung looked at him, puzzled.
"Of course!" he exclaimed, turning to his wife. "He’s the architect who designed our summer house over twenty years ago! I never forgot him! Brilliant guy—meticulous, incredibly detail-oriented. I’ve always admired his work."
"What?!" Jungkook’s mother exclaimed with a surprised laugh, placing a hand on her chest. "I can’t believe it. What a small world. What a wild coincidence." She smiled, but Mr. Jeon leaned in slightly, lowering his voice a bit.
"I’m very sorry for your loss, son."
Mrs. Jeon looked at him, confused for the first time.
"Sorry? Loss?"
"My dad died in an accident five years ago," Taehyung said, trying to keep his composure.
Wonkyung’s expression changed instantly. Surprise gave way to genuine, sincere compassion—the kind only someone with children could express so authentically.
"I’m so sorry, Taehyung," she said, placing her hand over her chest again. The boy only nodded, and for the fourth time, Jungkook’s hand tightened around his under the table.
"It’s okay..." the blond replied with a faint smile, his voice barely trembling. "I carry my dad in my heart, so I never feel alone."
His tone was soft, convincing without sounding fake. And though he felt a small tremor inside his chest, he forced himself to meet Jungkook’s parents’ eyes with calm. It wasn’t a lie—or not entirely. His father lived on in him, in every one of his values, his work ethic, in the way he liked to take care of others.
But saying he didn’t feel alone... well, that was a bit more complicated. He had learned to live with that loneliness, to make it part of his routine. It’s not like he didn’t feel alone when his dad was alive either. He had high expectations too, although he always defended him when his mother became too harsh.
"You’re very strong, Taehyung," Wonkyung said warmly. "Your dad would be proud of you. And I would be too, if you were my son."
Taehyung blinked a couple of times, lowering his gaze for a second. He didn’t say anything, but he nodded subtly.
Dinner continued after that without any more difficult questions or painful memories. Slowly, the atmosphere relaxed again and the soft clinking of cutlery, light laughter, casual toasts with wine, and comments about the food filled the dining room once more.
Stories began to flow naturally: Jungkook’s mom shared how she nearly set the kitchen on fire the first time she tried to make rice, and his dad told a story about a failed hiking trip that ended with rain and instant noodles. Jungkook, of course, tried to stop his parents every time they threatened to share embarrassing teenage anecdotes—but with little success.
"I can’t believe you told him that," he protested, covering his face with both hands. "I’m going to pretend I don’t know you."
"Oh, come on, baby," his mom laughed. "No one ever died from knowing you used to pee yourself from nerves before school performances."
"Mom!"
Taehyung laughed heartily, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. It was in that very moment, while everyone was laughing, that something inside him cracked just a little. His gaze drifted across the scene in front of him: the warm faces, the easy laughter, the unfiltered comments, the cozy space that wasn’t trying to impress anyone—and yet somehow made him feel safe.
And there it was again. That damn automatic comparison that never asked for permission to show up.
He had never had this. Not like this. Never a dining room full of warmth and jokes. Never a mom cooking at home, greeting him with a gentle hand running through his hair. Never a dad laughing with his mouth wide open, not worrying about his posture, not pretending to care. His childhood, though wrapped in luxury, had been a fucking museum: quiet, orderly, with no trace of tangible affection. A big house filled with empty rooms, dinners at long tables where the sound of silverware was louder than words. A mother who was present on the calendar, but never in gestures. A father who, yes, loved him—but spent more time designing buildings than building moments with him. And now he was gone.
He forced himself to take a deep breath and chew slowly. He turned to look at Jungkook and felt that strange warmth again—that peace that always came just from being near him.
He was okay. Really. He could handle this.
It was time to leave. Taehyung had helped clear the table right after dinner, carrying plates into the kitchen and washing a few dishes without being asked. Maybe it was his way of saying thank you. The conversation flowed effortlessly as he dried glasses or folded napkins, and in that hour, he had laughed so much his jaw actually hurt. The food had been spectacular, but the atmosphere… that had been something else entirely.
"The Japchae was delicious, Mrs. Jeon. Honestly, it might be the best thing I’ve eaten in weeks," he said sincerely as he grabbed his coat from the hanger.
"You’re such a charmer, Taehyung," she replied with a warm smile. "But please, call me Wonkyung. 'Mrs. Jeon' makes me feel old."
"Alright… Wonkyung," he tested the name with an almost mischievous smile. "Thank you for everything, really."
"Wait," she added, disappearing into the kitchen for a second. She returned with a glass jar in her hands, tied with a ribbon. "Here, homemade cookies. My special recipe."
"No way!" Taehyung exclaimed, taking the jar in his hands. "These cookies are famous, seriously. Hoseok-hyung, Yoongi-hyung, and Namjoon-hyung are always talking about them. I have to take a picture and send it to the group right now so they can die of jealousy."
Wonkyung let out a laugh that crinkled her eyes.
"Tell them I’ve got their jars ready too. They can come by tomorrow if they want."
"I will! They’re going to scream, I’m sure of it. Thanks again… Wonkyung," he added warmly.
"It was a pleasure having you here, Taehyung. You’re lovely. And you know our home is open to you anytime. We’ve been telling Jungkook to invite his friends to Busan since he started college."
"I promise I will, mom."
Jungkook’s father stepped forward as well to offer a firm, genuine handshake. He didn’t say much, but his gaze said plenty. There was respect there—even approval.
"I’ll walk him to his car. I’ll be right back," Jungkook announced, grabbing his own jacket.
"Of course, of course. Don’t take too long, son," his mom teased playfully.
"Yes, mom," Jungkook smiled before opening the door.
"Good night, everyone," Taehyung said politely.
"Good night," both parents echoed in unison, and with one last respectful nod, Taehyung stepped outside with him.
The hallway was calm. Jungkook pressed the button for the elevator, and they waited together. Taehyung held the cookie jar with both hands, like it was a delicate treasure. When the elevator arrived, they stepped in, and the soft beep marked the doors closing fully.
As soon as the sound faded, Jungkook threw himself at Taehyung without hesitation, wrapping him in a hug he’d been holding back all dinner long. Taehyung let out a surprised laugh, his arms responding instinctively, wrapping around Jungkook’s waist, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against his own—quick and excited.
"Thank you! Fuck, Tae, thank you, seriously," Jungkook said, his voice pressed against Taehyung’s neck. "It was amazing. I told you they’d like you. There’s no way anyone could not like you—it’s impossible."
Taehyung let his head rest gently on Jungkook’s shoulder, breathing in his delicious scent.
"Impossible? You were the first one to hate me," he muttered between his teeth, a teasing smile on his lips. He pulled back just enough to meet Jungkook’s eyes. "And not just a little—you wanted to bury me in the damn backyard of your building."
"Because you were a son of a bitch in every sense!" Jungkook burst out laughing, throwing his head back. He hit Taehyung’s arm—not hard, but with clear intent. "You had that look like you knew everything and were about to ruin my life."
"Well, you were right about the second part. Here I am, ruining your life with my irresistible charm," Taehyung raised an eyebrow and dramatically placed a hand on his chest.
Jungkook snorted, shaking his head as he laughed, still glued to him. Holding hands, they stepped out when the elevator doors opened, walking toward the lobby.
It was right then, just before reaching the main door, that it hit him. He hadn’t panicked in the elevator. His chest hadn’t tightened, his throat hadn’t closed, his mind hadn’t filled with trapped images or silent screams or anything. And that… that only happened when he was with Jungkook.
"Thank you," Taehyung said suddenly, turning to him and giving his hand a final squeeze before letting go. "For inviting me. For… everything. I’ve never had a dinner like that. I didn’t know you could eat with love. I thought it was going to be a disaster, you know? I had this shitty feeling in my stomach. I’m glad it was just my head messing with me again."
The dark-haired boy looked at him for a moment, saying nothing. Without asking, he pulled him into another hug, holding him tightly with one hand on the back of his neck—like he was protecting something precious that he didn’t want to break.
"You’ll always have a dinner filled with love with me," he whispered in his ear, voice rough. Taehyung laughed nervously, lowering his gaze as they pulled apart.
"God, that’s so cheesy," he huffed, cheeks so red they burned. He tried to hide it, badly, by looking away.
"So what?" Jungkook replied, shrugging with a crooked smile. "You like it. Admit it."
Taehyung feigned indignation, turning toward the door.
"I’m not going to feed your ego more than necessary, Jeon."
But before he stepped outside, he stopped. He spun on his heel, closed the distance between them in two quick strides, and pressed a quick kiss to his lips.
"See you tomorrow," he said with a lopsided grin, then turned and walked out of the building—leaving Jungkook with his mouth slightly open and his eyes shining like the damn winter sky.
It took him a second to react. He stood there, frozen in the lobby, smiling like an idiot.
“Son of a bitch,” he whispered fondly, scratching the back of his neck before heading back to the elevator.
He went up to his apartment again and pushed the door open with his shoulder. Everything still felt warm and quiet. His father had a towel slung over his shoulder and gave Jungkook a simple smile when he saw him.
“I liked your friend,” he said bluntly. “You’re lucky to have someone like him.”
“I know,” Jungkook replied, not entirely sure if he had sounded too... hopeful.
“I’m going to take a shower,” the man added, heading upstairs to the second floor of the apartment without another word.
His mother appeared behind him. She walked over silently and, once close enough, gently placed a hand on Jungkook’s forearm.
“Taehyung is a good boy,” she murmured softly. “And anyone who makes you smile like that... deserves to stay. Take care of him. He looks so broken—I don’t know what’s going on in his private life, but that boy is suffering a lot. A mother always knows.”
Jungkook immediately looked up, surprised. His mother wasn’t looking at him with judgment. Her eyes were full of immense tenderness. The black-haired boy felt a tightness in his chest.
“I will,” he answered quietly. He didn’t dare say anything else.
Taehyung was driving calmly, a wide smile dancing across his face. He decided to roll down the window. The night wind ruffled his golden hair and brought in a fresh, clean breeze that matched the lightness he felt in his chest. It was one of those rare nights when everything seemed to fall into place—no traffic, everything just flowing.
He was so happy.
Dinner with Jungkook’s parents had been... perfect. He had no better word to describe it. Everything had gone so well, so fucking well he could barely believe it. He had been waiting the whole time for something to go wrong—for a bad impression, a poorly timed comment, or one of his trademark nervous laughs at the worst possible moment—but no, none of that happened. He felt loved and welcomed. For a few hours, he even felt the warmth of a real home.
And fuck, that never happened to him.
That night, no one judged him. No one threw hurtful insinuations. No one looked at him under a microscope, searching for flaws. He hadn’t screwed up. He hadn’t embarrassed himself.
He hadn’t disappointed anyone—and that was the most important part. For the first time in a long while, he felt like he had done something right.
Of course, he would’ve loved to stay a little longer with Jungkook. Just a bit more. Laugh a bit more, hold hands a bit longer. Maybe lie on his bed together without saying a word, just breathing in peace. But he knew Jungkook needed to be with his parents, and that was okay. It had been a perfect night. He didn’t need anything else. He could settle for that.
He was humming along to a song from his playlist, playing through the car speakers, almost home now. He’d take a bath, call Jimin and tell him everything while squealing like a teenager on video call, and go to bed happy after texting Jungkook for a while.
Or so he thought—because as soon as he turned onto his street, he saw a sleek, expensive black car parked in front of his house.
The smile fell off his face instantly. His mouth went dry, the humming stopped, and his chest tightened with a sudden pressure.
“No... no fucking way...” he muttered, pulling over the best he could.
There was no mistaking it. He’d recognize that car anywhere. It was the perfect reflection of its owner: dark, expensive, flawless.
Kim Seohee never visited unannounced—least of all her son, whom she hardly ever visited anyway. And certainly not if she thought she might find him in conditions she deemed unacceptable, like, for instance, with some immoral half-naked girl, which she was always accusing him of. She liked to have absolute control over every situation, made sure everything was in order before even stepping across a doorway. Spontaneity terrified her. And above all, she didn’t tolerate mess.
What the hell was she doing there?
He got out of his car and cautiously walked up to the entrance of his house. His heart, once light and joyful, now pounded for entirely different reasons. It was beating hard, with an anxiety that rose from his stomach like the onset of nausea.
He took a few more steps, swallowing hard. He pulled out his keys with trembling hands, clumsily inserted the key into the lock, turned it, and pushed the door open, his stomach churning.
The inside of the house greeted him with thick gloom. It felt dark, cold, lifeless.
He took a few steps in and closed the door behind him—and there she was.
Sitting upright on the sofa, legs crossed, wearing the iciest expression Taehyung had seen on her in months—maybe even years. God, her eyes were full of rage, of disappointment, and something else he couldn’t yet decipher, but it made something shrink inside him.
Shit... I think I did disappoint someone after all. But what did I do?
She was wearing a dark wool coat—perfect, not a wrinkle in sight—her makeup flawless, her hair perfectly styled. The only movement came from her right hand, tightly gripping a manila envelope. The slight crinkling sound of the paper seemed deafening.
“Mother...” he greeted, his voice barely steady.
No reply. Not even a glance. The woman kept her eyes fixed on the empty space in front of her for another second, then, without a word, tossed the envelope onto the coffee table with a sharp movement.
Taehyung stood frozen for a few seconds, staring at the envelope.
“What’s going on?” he asked, afraid. “What is this?” he forced himself to ask again as he reached out toward it.
He opened the envelope with clumsy fingers and pulled out what looked like printed sheets. He looked at them closely—and his heart sank to the floor.
Photos.
One picture, then another. His fingers slid through the pages slowly, and with each new photo, he felt the ground crumble beneath him. One of them walking through the park with drinks in hand. Another crossing the street, Taehyung looking at Jungkook with a smile he didn’t even remember making. One holding hands as they left the cinema. Another with their arms around each other’s backs in front of Jungkook’s apartment building. A particularly clear photo showed the sign of the gay nightclub they’d gone to, and the two of them just outside—hugging, foreheads together, eyes closed, completely lost in their own world.
And then, the worst one.
One photo. One single frame that shattered everything inside him. Him and Jungkook, kissing.
There was no denying it. It was a real kiss. Their mouths pressed together, faces relaxed, Taehyung’s hands gripping Jungkook tightly. The image was from that forest clearing, that night that still made him smile when he thought about it. The scenic restaurant, the artisanal pizza, the nighttime walk, the whispering wind through the trees, the crickets, the deep conversations.
“No...” he whispered without realizing it, his voice barely a broken thread.
The envelope slipped from his fingers. The photos scattered across the table, some falling to the floor—now spread out like evidence of a crime. His chest began to ache in a way he had never felt before.
What was that? Who had given those photos to his mother? Who had taken them?
He remembered Sungchul and the way he had found him in the woods—it had to be him. The certainty ignited in his mind left no room for doubt. He had been following him, watching him from Jimin’s house. He had hunted him down like an animal, like he was a trophy to display, a threat to expose.
But... he didn’t even know him. Why would he do something like that? How did he even know about his mother? He was a complete stranger Taehyung had seen just once in his life!
A sharp pain in his chest forced him to look up. His mother was still there, as unmoving as a marble statue, but with eyes blazing.
"Y-You...? Who gave you this? Who took these pictures?" he tried to ask, though his voice cracked on the last word.
Seohee stood up. The movement was so sudden and violent that Taehyung instinctively took a step back. She crossed the distance between them and, without any warning, raised her hand and slapped him across the face.
The impact jerked his head to the side, and his cheek burned instantly. He instinctively covered his face with one hand, eyes wide, and when he looked back at her, his legs were trembling so badly he could barely remain standing.
"What the hell is this shit, Taehyung?!" she screamed, her voice laced with a fury so acidic it tore at his ears. "What the fuck is this?! Are you a faggot now?! From a promiscuous womanizer to a goddamn queer! What the fuck is wrong with you?!"
"I... It’s not what it looks like..." he tried, but his voice betrayed him. It sounded pathetic. Guilty. Weak.
"Don’t you dare lie to me! Look at these photos!" she spat, stepping closer, grabbing a few pictures off the floor and throwing them in his face. "This is disgusting! This is shameful! I raised you to be a man, to make me proud, not to go around hooking up with some other freak just as sick as you!"
Each word was a dagger. Taehyung felt his throat closing up, as if swallowing blades. She was looking at him like he wasn’t even her son anymore—like he had become something dirty, something that had to be purged.
"Your father would be rolling in his grave if he saw you," she hissed, her voice so cold it froze the air in the room. "And to think he spent his life defending your decisions, your ridiculous dreams of studying art instead of something useful, all your stupid ‘ambitions.’ And this is how you repay him? Dragging the family name through the dirt over a confused teenager’s whim?! You are a disgrace!" Seohee roared, her face twisted into a mask of rage. "Look at what you’ve done! Look at what you’ve become!"
Taehyung swallowed hard, feeling the world collapse around him.
"No... that’s not true, I..." he tried again, but couldn’t get the words out.
Another slap. Harder this time, from the opposite side.
The blow knocked him off balance and he stumbled backward, hitting the back of one of the chairs. His eyes welled up with tears from sheer physical reaction. The sting was unbearable, but the humiliation was even worse. The hollow, sinking feeling in his gut. His mother’s words were breaking him apart, syllable by syllable.
"All you had to do was finish that stupid degree you’re so obsessed with! That’s it! Then marry the woman I choose for you! Fulfill your duty, like every man in this family! But no! You’d rather waste your time, jerking off with that idiot!"
Taehyung clenched his teeth. His whole body tingled. His breathing became erratic. It wasn’t just anger—he was terrified and desperate. Everything he had worked so hard to build was crumbling in front of him, shattered under his mother’s high heels.
"Mother..." he said quietly. His throat was tight, but he managed to say it. "I’m not wasting my time... I’m being happy."
The silence was so abrupt, Taehyung’s ears started ringing. Yeah, maybe he shouldn’t have said that. Seohee wasn’t Wonkyung—his happiness meant absolutely nothing to her.
"Happy?" she repeated, almost mockingly. "You think that’s happiness? That’s a delusion. A disease. I’ll rip it out of you if I have to." More blows followed—this time on his arms, his chest, his back. "I don’t know what kind of witchcraft he used on you, but I won’t let him ruin your life. I won’t let you become... this." She pointed at him with a gesture full of disgust. "You’re not throwing everything away over some whim, over some hormonal impulse from a weak little boy!"
He felt his heart bleeding inside his chest.
"Jungkook is not... he’s not a bad person," he mumbled at last, his voice barely a whisper, trying to defend him, unwilling to let her insult him. "He... he respects me..."
"Are you going to talk to me about respect?!" she shouted and slapped him again, harder than before. The blow knocked him off balance again and he had to cling to the chair to stay upright. The impact brought tears to his eyes, and he tasted blood in his mouth. He stayed there, cheek turned, breathing heavily, tasting the burn that spread across his face. "I raised you to become someone important, Taehyung!" she continued, her voice now overflowing with contempt. "To grow into a respectable man! To marry, to have children, to carry your father’s name with pride! Youngsoo would be disgusted if he saw you! Ashamed to death!"
The mention of his dead father pierced through his chest like a blade. Taehyung lowered his gaze, struggling to hold back his tears.
"You don’t know what you’re saying..." he whispered, voice trembling.
"Oh, I know exactly what I’m saying!" she snapped, pointing a finger at him like he was a criminal. "You’re a disgrace! A shame to this family! You grovel over some boy! A boy who’s just using you for his own amusement!"
"That’s not true..." Taehyung raised his head, looking at her with desperation. "It’s not true, Mother, this is real..."
"Real?" she sneered, laughing bitterly. "What’s real is what I’m telling you now. And I’ll make this clear: either you choose me... or you choose him." The silence that followed was deadly. Seohee crossed her arms, ice in her voice. "You decide. If you choose me, all of this is forgotten. What you’ve done can be fixed. It can be cleaned up. I’m giving you one last chance to straighten up, to redeem yourself, to become the son I raised." Taehyung looked at her, eyes bloodshot, lips parted, breathing ragged. "But you’ll have to cut that boy off immediately. Not a single word, not one message, not one call. And I’ll put security on you if I have to. You will never see him again."
The world shrank to a single point. Taehyung’s legs felt like ice. He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. He just stared at the woman who had raised him, who had been there for every stage of his childhood... now turned into an unmovable wall. A cold, merciless wall.
"But if you choose that boy," she continued, her voice grave and steady, "then forget about me."
Taehyung’s soul shattered in that moment—something inside him broke. He couldn’t believe that just an hour ago, he had left Jungkook’s apartment with a dumb smile on his face after making a good impression on his in-laws. An hour ago, he had felt at home. An hour ago, he had felt loved. Now, his own home was collapsing around him like a trap.
And still... still, he couldn’t answer her. He couldn’t give her the response she was waiting for. He wanted to beg, to plead with her not to make him choose, to ask her to understand, to listen... but he knew none of that would matter, because she had already made her choice before he even had the chance to, and there was no way she’d care about pleas she never intended to hear.
Silence was the only answer he could give, and that was enough. His mother looked at him like he was a broken object that had lost all its worth.
“I see,” she said at last. She picked up her purse and stood tall, chin held high, her face turned to stone. “Don’t count on me for anything,” she snapped. “You won’t receive another won from me. I won’t pay for your studies. You’re out of my will. What your father left you—I can’t legally take that away. But from me, don’t expect a thing. You’re dead to me. Forget about this family. You have two hours to get out of this house—it’s mine, I pay for everything. I hate you, I despise you, you disgust me. You are no longer my son. I will not support a filthy little faggot bastard.”
And without a final glance or another word, she turned and walked to the door with confident strides.
The sound of the door slamming echoed like a gunshot.
Taehyung didn’t realize when the weight of the world had started crashing down on him. He collapsed to his knees immediately—he couldn’t stay standing, couldn’t even try. He didn’t know if the heat on his cheeks came from the physical pain of the slap or from his tears, but soon, everything blended into one.
Despair swallowed him so forcefully he could barely breathe. His chest struggled to take in air, tears pouring down uncontrollably, one after the other, relentless. The sobs tore out from the depths of his being, desperate, broken, like the cries of a child who just lost the only family he had left, no matter how dysfunctional it had been. She had been the only family who hadn’t completely abandoned him.
But now, even that was gone. And he didn’t know how to survive it.
He covered his face with one hand, tracing the exact spot where his mother had struck him. He felt the burn on his skin and the dampness of his tears falling onto the same place. His other hand dropped to the center of his chest, where his heart was pounding frantically. He’d felt anxiety before—many times, in fact—but never like this. Not even inside an elevator.
His mother’s words echoed in his mind. It wasn’t enough that she told him she hated him—now she had erased him from her life for good.
He looked around his tiny home, something that once held meaning. Not anymore.
The lamp he had picked out with Jin—the same one they had argued about countless times, trying to figure out what kind of bulb would save energy without ruining the aesthetics. The picture frame Jimin had helped him hang, with trembling hands, while the two of them bickered about whether or not it was crooked. The fake flowers Hoseok had left on the table, trying to bring a little life into the place. And the photos—those fucking photos with his friends on the shelf, now stripped of their worth. Everything he had built no longer felt like his. His life was disappearing, disintegrating right before his eyes.
A dizzying sense of rootlessness hit him hard. His mother’s betrayal was so cold, so absolute, he couldn’t focus on anything but the emptiness around him. Every object, every corner, every shared moment in that apartment had lost its meaning. His life no longer had a foundation—no meaning at all. He didn’t even understand how he had ended up here, why he had spent years living inside a bubble of privilege, luxury, material comfort that now meant absolutely nothing without love, without support. He had been incapable of receiving the affection he so desperately needed, and now his mother hated him. She had let him go. She had let her son go.
Why? Why can’t I do anything right? he thought, while his tears kept falling. She always said I was a failure. But I… I didn’t want this. Why does she have to hate me so much?
With trembling hands, he took out his phone. He had no idea what he was going to say—he just needed to hear someone who didn’t look at him the way his mother just had. His pulse quickened as he searched for the one contact he already knew he needed: Jimin.
He thought about calling Jungkook, but he didn’t want to ruin his night with his parents. Besides… he knew Jungkook would either feel guilty or get so angry he might do something he’d regret later.
So he called Jimin—the only one, aside from Jungkook, who still felt like a safe place. The phone rang a couple of times before Jimin answered. His friend’s voice came through, cheerful and innocent.
“Oh my god, Tae! Tell me everything! How did it go with Jungkook’s parents?”
He cried harder.
Notes:
I'm handing out tissues here.
I wasn't sure whether to add a warning at first, as it would be a bit of a spoiler, but I decided not to so you could have a genuine reaction and feel it more. I'm sorry if it affected anyone too much.
If anyone is going through something like this, I want to tell you that you are strong, brave, and deserve to be loved. You deserve to be loved unconditionally. I'm sorry that life has thrown so many curveballs your way, but in the end, it will always reward you if you're a good person <3
Chapter 44: Chapter 43
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“Tae?... Taehyung?” Jimin’s voice came through the phone. At first, it was excited, but it quickly shifted to a tone of alarm. “Tae, what’s going on? What’s happening?”
Crying was the only response he got—brutal, raw, and broken sobs. On the other end of the line, there were no words, just shattered whimpers. Taehyung's uneven breathing mixed with relentless tears, and his throat could barely produce coherent sounds.
Jimin had been lying on his bed, but he shot up and began frantically searching for his car keys.
“Tae… please, tell me where you are. Are you okay? Are you at home?” he asked again, his voice trembling with anxiety.
Taehyung managed to put the phone on speaker and let it drop to the floor. He didn’t have the strength to hold it up to his ear anymore. His back was still pressed against the cold floor of his living room, and his arms clung tightly to his sides, his nails digging into his skin, leaving marks.
His throat tried to form words, but only choked, jumbled sounds came out, a desperate mixture of gasps and guttural pain. His eyes burned and his face was puffy and wet from crying.
“Taehyung? Are you at home?” Jimin repeated, more urgently now. “Just tell me that, please. I need to know if you’re home.”
“Y-Yes…” was the only coherent thing Taehyung could force out.
“I’m coming over,” Jimin said firmly. “Don’t hang up. You’re not alone, do you hear me? Stay with me. I’ll be there in just a few minutes. I’ve got you, Tae. I swear I’m coming.”
Jimin finally found his keys and grabbed his jacket from the hook without even turning off the lights. His heart pounded like a war drum as he flew down the stairs with his phone in hand. His chestnut eyes already glistened with tears, even though he still didn’t know exactly what was happening. He just felt fear and anguish. All he knew was that Taehyung needed him—and that he would get there no matter what.
He jumped into the car and put the phone on speaker so he could drive and talk to him at the same time. He had to calm him down somehow.
“Breathe with me, Tae,” he said as he sped through intersections and traffic lights without hesitation. “Inhale… slowly, like I showed you. One, two, three… hold it… one… two… exhale. That’s it, again, I’m right here.”
But nothing seemed to reach Taehyung—not the words, not Jimin’s gentle tone, perfected over the years to get him through his worst breakdowns, not the breathing exercises, not even the emotional grounding techniques that usually helped him feel safe.
Because nothing felt safe this time. There was nothing to hold on to.
Taehyung couldn’t climb out of the pit he’d fallen into. His chest ached like something had burst open inside. He was still curled up on the living room floor, knees drawn to his chest, arms wrapped around himself like a desperate anchor. His cheeks were swollen, his face bruised and splotched, small wounds where he had scratched at his arms without noticing. He was trembling, not just from the cold. His insides burned from crying so hard.
“Do you want me to call Jungkook?” Jimin asked suddenly, thinking maybe he would have better luck.
“No…” The response was instant, though muffled. “No, please… don’t…”
“Okay, I won’t. Just you and me, Tae. I’m almost there. Stay with me, just a little longer.”
Jimin slammed to a stop in front of the house. He jumped out, leaving the car door open, and had to run back quickly to shut it. He sprinted to the front door and reached for the emergency key Taehyung had given him years ago with a goofy smile and a 'just in case something ever happens and I can’t get out of bed'. Back then, it had seemed like a joke. Now… that key burned in his palm.
He unlocked the door and what he saw was something he would never forget.
Taehyung was there, collapsed in the middle of the living room, curled into a human ball that barely looked like it was breathing. His whole body was taut, arms still clawing at his skin, desperately trying to feel anything other than the hollow pain in his chest. His face was red, swollen, soaked in endless tears. A faint line of dried blood marked the corner of his bottom lip. The expression on his face… was indescribable—pure agony.
Jimin shut the door firmly behind him. His heart clenched the second he saw him. He rushed over, dropping the keys on the floor, not caring to pick them up. He dropped to his knees beside him, eyes wide, struggling not to let the panic overwhelm him at the sight of his best friend in such a devastated state. He tried to grab his hands to stop him from hurting himself more.
“No, don’t do that. You’re bleeding. Please, look at me. I’m here. I’m here now, Tae. I’ve got you,” he said, as softly as he could, despite the way his own voice threatened to crack. “I’m here. Just breathe with me, okay? Just… just breathe.”
But Taehyung couldn’t. His body wouldn’t respond. Everything was chaos—he gasped, whimpered, his back jolting with involuntary spasms, his chest heaving without rhythm or control. The pain in him was so intense it seemed to pour out from every part of him. Jimin tried again, going through the cycle he knew by heart, the one that had worked dozens of times before, even on Taehyung’s darkest days.
“Inhale for four… one, two, three, four. Hold it… exhale for six. Come on, Tae, look at me… Inhale again…” he guided him with a steady voice, hands trembling as they brushed through his friend’s tangled hair. But there was no connection—it was like trying to speak to someone trapped underwater.
Taehyung’s broken sobs only grew louder. He curled in tighter, pressing his knees to his chest, his fingernails once again digging into already raw, marked skin. Jimin tried to hold his hands again, gently, without forcing him, hoping to ground him—but even that was useless. Taehyung was too far gone, so goddamn lost, that every attempt to help seemed to drag him down further.
“What happened, Tae?” he asked, still gently stroking him, heart shattering at the sight.
Taehyung didn’t speak or raise his head. He simply lifted one trembling arm and pointed weakly toward the table. Jimin didn’t understand at first, but then followed the direction of his arm, turning his head cautiously.
That’s when he saw the papers. He hadn’t noticed them before, too focused on Taehyung.
“What is… that?” he sat up slightly, crawling toward the table—and his heart stopped when his eyes finally focused on the images. Papers scattered across the surface and floor, messy and disorganized. They were color prints. Photographs of Taehyung and Jungkook. Pictures of them together.
Too many. Far too clear. There was one where they were walking through a park, each holding a drink, smiling. Another where they were crossing a crosswalk—Jungkook looking straight ahead, and Taehyung looking at him, with an expression that could only be described as lovestruck. Another where they were leaving a movie theater, holding hands. One more, just outside Jungkook’s building, with their arms around each other’s backs. Another one in front of the gay club they’d gone to, foreheads pressed together in an embrace. And the last one… Jimin felt a punch to the gut when he saw it. It was nighttime, they were on a picnic, probably at a lookout point, and they were kissing.
All of them looked like they had been taken secretly.
"What the fuck…?" Jimin muttered, running a hand down his face. "Where did these come from? Who the hell…?"
Taehyung tried to speak, but his voice cracked before he could even start. He covered his face with both hands, pressing the skin with his fingers like he wanted to wipe it off entirely. Only after several seconds did he manage to stammer:
"They were sent... to my mom..."
A chill ran down Jimin’s spine.
"What?"
"She came from Daegu out of nowhere, I found her here with the envelope full of photos. She threw them in my face, screamed at me, said I was a disgrace, that my dad would die all over again if he could see me. She said… she said so many things..." The words came out broken, scattered between sobs, barely understandable. But enough to grasp the essential truth. "She hit me," he whispered, and that made Jimin freeze. Taehyung reached a hand up to his cheek, where the marks were now clearly visible. That explained the blood at the corner of his mouth. "She disowned me, Jimin. She told me she never wanted to see me again. That I had two fucking hours to get my things out of her house. She said... she never wanted to see me again. I’m dead to her. I’m not her son anymore."
And that was it. That broke him completely. Saying it out loud felt like setting fire to the ground beneath his feet. He screamed—literally screamed—a sound of anguish that tore through Jimin’s soul. He curled into himself again, and the sob that came out of his throat was sharp, his face now an absolute mess. He looked worn out. Shattered. Drowned in the deepest part of the abyss.
"She kicked me out, Jimin… she kicked me out," his voice was barely a whisper between hiccups. "I don’t have a home anymore. I don’t have a family."
Jimin couldn’t hold back his own tears. He tried to stay strong for him, to cry in silence, lips pressed tightly together. But he felt helpless, furious. He placed the photos on the ground, one by one, without daring to look at them again. Something beautiful had become a threat. Those photos should never have existed like that—not because they were wrong, but because they were beautiful. They perfectly captured the love between them. They should’ve been in an album, proudly shown to the world… now they were practically a weapon.
He took a step toward Taehyung, still collapsed on the floor, completely undone. He tried the cycle again. He knew it hadn’t worked before, but he couldn’t give up. He wasn’t going to leave him alone in that black hole.
"Inhale for four... one, two, three, four..." Jimin murmured, sitting beside him, then slowly moving behind him, gently and without sudden movements. "Hold... now exhale for six..."
No reaction. Taehyung was somewhere far away, trapped in a twisted version of his reality—where his mother had destroyed him with words and blows, where his home no longer existed, and where the photos that were supposed to be warm memories were now damning evidence of something that should never have been condemned in the first place.
Jimin wrapped his legs around him from behind and, with no other options left, resorted to the technique they used with patients in deep crisis: deep pressure therapy. He hugged him tightly, closing his arms around him with just enough firmness to make sure Taehyung didn’t feel like he was floating in a void. He needed a solid anchor. Jimin took his wrists too, stopping him from hurting himself.
He simply rocked him, forward and back, like in a small boat. He whispered words between the breathing cycle, using distraction and grounding. He spoke softly, reminding him of what he still had, what was still his—of the people who were there, of the days yet to come, even if right now everything felt like fucking hell. He told him he was safe, that no one could hurt him in that moment, and that he wouldn’t let anything like this happen again.
And little by little—very little—something in Taehyung began to loosen. Not all at once; he didn’t suddenly stop crying or sit up with resolution. But he stopped tensing. His breathing began to sync, not perfectly to Jimin’s count, but at least it was no longer erratic gasps. He started to respond to the rhythm, letting himself be rocked, soothed by the steadiness of those arms that didn’t let go and didn’t judge.
"That’s it... you’re here," Jimin whispered. "Just that, Tae. You’re here, you’re with me. Everything’s going to be okay, yeah?"
Taehyung didn’t reply, but his shoulders lowered just a little. Something deflated inside him. He was still crying, of course he was, but at least he didn’t feel like he was drowning anymore.
Once Jimin felt it was safe, he slowly loosened the embrace, careful not to scare him or make the pressure vanish too suddenly. He scooted around to face him, gently lifted his face with both hands. Taehyung’s eyes were bloodshot and swollen, his skin stained with old and fresh tears—but at least now, they were looking at him. Lost and in pain, but present.
"I’ll take care of everything, do you hear me?" Jimin said seriously. "But I need help to pack your stuff before time runs out. Do I have your permission to call Yoongi?" The blond hesitated but gave a small nod. "Good. And... do you want to call Jungkook now?"
Taehyung lowered his gaze, lips trembling.
"No," he whispered, barely audible.
Jimin didn’t push it. He simply stood up, grabbed his phone, and walked to the kitchen as he dialed. Taehyung watched him go. He couldn’t hear what he was saying on the other end—he only saw him stop near the counter, his back turned, and then shift slightly to glance back at him from across the room. His face carried that painful combination of helplessness and compassion.
Taehyung curled up again, wrapping his arms around his torso, forehead pressed to the cold floor. He felt dizzy and hollow, like his spine had been ripped out and all that was left was a soft, shapeless body. His mind, though a little calmer, was still trapped in the endless replay of his mother’s words—the shouting, the hits, the final threat.
Two hours. He had two fucking hours to leave her house. That wasn’t even his house. It never had been, really, since she paid for everything. Had he ever actually owned anything?
And now what the hell was he supposed to do?
He didn’t understand how a woman who raised him could do this. How her love could be so conditional. Did everything he was, everything he gave, everything they shared mean absolutely nothing in the face of simply being happy with Jungkook?
Jungkook…
The pain cut deeper. He didn’t want to think about him—because if he did, he would break even more.
He heard footsteps on the stairs. Jimin must have been packing already. Or trying to decide where to start. His arms were burning from the marks, and his throat felt raw. Everything hurt—his body and his soul.
He had no idea how much time had passed—it could've been ten minutes or an hour. In his mind, there were no clocks. Then the doorbell rang, and a shiver ran down his spine. For a moment, panic set in. What if it was her? What if she came back? What if it wasn’t over?
But he heard Jimin’s voice as he went downstairs, quick and confident. The door opened, and then Yoongi appeared, unmistakable, juggling three suitcases that were clearly too much for him. The first thing he did when he stepped in was look for him. And when he found him there—crumpled on the floor, defeated, twisted up on the living room carpet—his expression softened without saying a word. He walked over, knelt beside him, and gave him a couple of light pats on the head. Taehyung couldn’t meet his gaze. He silently thanked Yoongi for not speaking and not asking questions.
Then he watched them carry the suitcases upstairs. Heard doors opening, drawers shutting, the zipping of bags. Everything was happening in a different dimension. His body had been left behind in a separate timeline, one where nothing made sense.
At some point, Yoongi had tried giving him water. Taehyung drank a little, but he couldn’t take much without wanting to vomit. So Yoongi just left the glass near him and told him to drink when he could. Then he went back upstairs to keep packing.
Taehyung only blinked when he felt a warm hand on his shoulder. His eyes, lost and buried in the floor, slowly lifted until they met Jimin’s.
"Everything’s ready, Tae," Jimin said gently. Taehyung didn’t answer right away.
His gaze wandered to the entrance, where five suitcases stood lined up—bulging, misshapen, packed to the brim. Something in his chest clenched violently as he looked for the framed photos of his friends. The ones that used to sit on that corner between the stairs and the living room. Jimin and Hoseok at the beach. Jin and him making faces at a party. Him, half-drunk, hugging a cat that wasn’t even his. The four of them together on one of their outings. There were none left.
"The photos...?" he muttered, though his voice broke before he could finish the sentence.
"We packed everything we thought was important. They’re in one of the suitcases," Yoongi replied. "The clothes might be a mess when you open the bags, but that giant-ass wardrobe of yours didn’t fit no matter how we tried. We did what we could."
Taehyung nodded, without humor, without much of anything, really. The edges of reality still felt blurry; his head, detached and floating somewhere else.
"And the car?" Jimin asked then. "Is your mom gonna take that too?"
Taehyung shook his head, barely a movement.
"It’s under my name. She can’t touch it," he said, voice low and raspy. "My dad left it to me. It’s mine."
"Can Yoongi drive it?" Jimin asked carefully. Taehyung didn’t answer with words—he just reached into his pocket and pulled out the keys. They jingled softly as he handed them to Jimin with trembling hands. The brunette took the keys and immediately passed them to Yoongi, who received them in silence. "We’ve got ten minutes to get the hell out before the two hours your mom gave us are up," Jimin said quietly. "It’s time to go."
He had no strength, no willpower, but he knew he couldn’t stay collapsed on the floor like a discarded rag. He felt Jimin’s firm hands under his arms, and Yoongi’s steadying him from behind as they tried to lift him. His body was heavy, rigid, off balance. He was exhausted—not just physically, but in some deeper, unexplainable way.
"Slowly now," Jimin murmured as they guided him toward his car.
They sat him gently in the passenger seat, like he might break with the wrong movement. Taehyung didn’t resist. He barely adjusted himself before letting his head fall to the side, pressing his forehead against the window glass. He didn’t even fasten his seatbelt—Jimin did it for him. Then he watched, from the corner of his eye, as they loaded the five suitcases between Jimin’s and Taehyung’s cars.
Once everything was ready, Jimin got in the driver’s seat and closed the door with a long sigh. He turned the key, the engine purred, and with one last glance in the rearview mirror, they drove away from the house.
Five suitcases. My whole damn life packed into zippered bags. Is that all I’m worth?
He felt a sting under his cheeks and on his lip. His cheeks were still red, swollen, with finger-shaped marks on his arms—a sharp, pulsing pain from self-harm that his brain hadn’t known how to stop in time. The trail of dried tears stained his face down to his chin.
He was thinking of everything and nothing all at once. His mind jumped from memory to memory without control—happy moments with Jungkook, childhood images with his dad, a few with his mom, and what had just happened. He didn’t know which voice was loudest; sometimes he thought his own wasn’t even there anymore.
Jimin glanced at him every few minutes. His hands gripped the wheel tightly. He wanted to say something—anything—but no words felt enough. Nothing could fix the destruction that woman had left behind. Nothing could rebuild in seconds what had taken Taehyung years to learn to love about himself.
Seeing him like this, so dim, so stripped of humanity, was worse than watching him scream on the floor.
"Fucking miserable bitch! Goddamn worthless cunt! She can rot in hell! I swear to God, hyung! How the fuck can someone do that to their own kid?! What the actual fuck is going on in that piece of shit’s head?! What’s in her chest, a damn block of ice or a fucking rock? No—worse, ‘cause even a rock’s got more heart than her!"
His eyes were glassy, full of helpless rage over a pain that wasn’t his—but had stuck to his skin like a second layer. Yoongi sat on Jimin’s couch, legs spread, elbows on his knees, watching him without interrupting. He knew Jimin needed the space to curse out the world.
"What a fucking disgrace!" Jimin shouted, stopping in front of the window with clenched fists. "What a fucking excuse for a woman! How the hell do you live with yourself knowing you treated the person you gave birth to like that?! Fucking bitch!" He turned around, glaring at Yoongi with furrowed brows and a clenched jaw. "She’s fucking sick. A narcissistic soulless egomaniac, that’s what she is. Who the hell does that?! To her own son, hyung! To Taehyung! How messed up do you have to be in the head to throw your kid out just for loving someone?!"
Yoongi patted the space next to him. Jimin huffed, but walked over anyway and let himself drop beside him. Yoongi wrapped an arm around his shoulders and began to gently stroke his arm.
"It's not worth wasting your energy on someone like that," he said softly, though not condescendingly. "She’s already fucked up his life enough. She’s not going to ruin yours too."
"I just don’t get it..." Jimin murmured, letting his head fall onto Yoongi’s shoulder. "When I was helping him get dressed, he clung to this purple pajama set like it was his last lifeline. I think it was dirty, but he insisted on wearing it anyway. He was shaking, and when I touched him, he flinched. He wouldn’t eat either, not even when I offered him pizza from his favorite place. He’s dead inside, hyung. Do you know what it’s like to see your best friend that broken?"
The older one closed his eyes for a second, pressing his lips together. He had seen it too. He helped him into the shower while Jimin got towels ready. He noticed the way his legs trembled, how he struggled to breathe once he was alone in the bathroom, and how Jimin had to go in after a few minutes when he heard sobbing from behind the door. Seeing him like that was... fuck.
"Jiminnie..." Yoongi murmured in a gentle tone, hoping to soothe him. He slowly caressed his thigh, which hadn’t stopped trembling. "It’s okay to be furious. I am too. But breathe, yeah? He’s here now. He’s safe. You helped him get out of that hell, and that’s what matters."
"Safe?!" Jimin exclaimed, though with less force than before—his voice cracked halfway through. "He’s a wreck! I barely touched him to wash the shampoo out of his hair and he looked at me like he was about to faint. I told him everything was going to be okay, that he could stay as long as he wanted, that we were all going to take care of him... but I felt so useless. I couldn’t do anything else—I couldn’t get that fucking expression off his face."
Yoongi nodded slowly, not taking his eyes off him. He knew Jimin too well. He knew that, deep down, Jimin felt responsible. Not because he’d done anything wrong, but because he couldn’t stand seeing the people he loved in pain. And he loved Taehyung like a brother—maybe even more, like someone who had become essential to his life story. That’s why the rage burned so deeply.
"Listen to me, Chim. You already did so much. You got him out, you convinced him to leave, you bathed him, calmed him down, got him to rest. That’s more than anyone else could have done. And yeah, he’s broken. But he’s not alone. You’re not leaving him alone."
Jimin squeezed his eyes shut and let his head fall onto Yoongi’s shoulder again, releasing a long sigh. The older boy wrapped an arm around him and pulled him closer.
"You know what the worst part is?" Jimin continued. "He still thinks this is all his fault. That he deserved it. That bitch filled his head with so much shit over the years, and now that he was finally starting to bloom, she shows up and rips him out by the roots!"
Yoongi nodded, but then looked down at the floor.
"Yeah... but we also need to focus on what we can do now. We can’t change what happened. But we can find out who the hell started all this. Who sent those photos to his mom? How did they do it? Why?"
"I asked him a few minutes ago," Jimin said, frowning as he sat up, his face still flushed with frustration. He took a deep breath, lowered his head, and ran his hands over his face, still trembling a little. "It was hard for him, but he told me the photo of the kiss was taken at that hilltop restaurant. He heard something in the woods and went to check it out. He said there was a guy there, introduced himself as Sungchul, and he had a camera. Tae said he also noticed a car following him all the way from here to the restaurant. He’s sure it was that bastard."
"Sungchul?" Yoongi repeated, frowning. "Who the fuck is that?"
"I don’t know. I’d never heard the name before, and neither had Tae. He has no idea why that guy would do something like this or how he even got his mom’s contact info. We don’t know a damn thing about him."
The name didn’t ring any bells, not even vaguely. Yoongi closed his eyes and tried to connect the dots, but he had nothing.
"And that’s all you know?" he asked.
"It’s all I could get out of him," Jimin replied with regret. "He’s so fragile. He can barely string two thoughts together. I’m really worried. He looks... he looks so fucked up, hyung. It’s breaking my heart."
Yoongi clenched his jaw, then took Jimin’s hand firmly, forcing him to look at him.
"We need to talk to Jungkook."
"Tae said he didn’t want to ruin things with his parents," Jimin replied immediately, shaking his head. "He doesn’t want Jungkook going through something like this when he has a good relationship with them. He doesn’t want him to feel guilty either."
He raised his eyebrows, clearly incredulous.
"And you’re going to leave him out of this? Out of the worst thing that’s happened between them since they got together? No, Jimin. That’s not right. Jungkook has to know. He has the right to know, and Tae needs him. Fuck, he needs to know he’s not alone! He’s minimizing everything, he’s so fucked up he doesn’t even realize how deep he’s fallen."
"I know," Jimin admitted softly. "But he told me he didn’t want Jungkook to find out because he didn’t want to cause trouble with his parents. He didn’t want them hearing about any scandals, not so soon, not when things were going so well."
"But this isn’t just some scandal," Yoongi countered. "This was assault. He got kicked out of his house, Jimin. His fucking house. His mother stripped him of everything. Left him on the damn street with five suitcases and a body full of bruises and fear. And he’s just going to stay silent about it? Suffer in silence so Jungkook’s parents don’t look at him sideways? No, he can’t do that. Jungkook needs to know. He’ll know what to do. And trust me… maybe he’ll freak out at first seeing him here, but once he does, he’ll be better for it."
Jimin nodded, swallowing hard. What Yoongi said made sense, but he still worried about Jungkook’s reaction. He knew he’d go mad with rage, with helplessness, with the urge to act. But not telling him would be worse. It would mean denying him the chance to support the man he cared.
"So... should we call him now?"
"Yeah, we shouldn’t wait. The sooner he knows, the sooner he can do something. And if there’s anyone who can bring some light back into Taehyung’s life, it’s him."
"Okay..." Jimin murmured after thinking about it for a few seconds. "I’ll tell Jungkook."
He reached into the back pocket of his pants to pull out his phone, and just as the screen lit up in front of his face, it vibrated in his hand with a notification. And he wasn’t the only one.
Beside him, Yoongi checked his phone at the same time. Both of them frowned and opened the group chat. The first thing they saw was a message from Hoseok, along with an Instagram link.
The brown-haired let out a sound that could only be described as horror.
Anonymous Alcoholics United by Queen
Hobiii-hyung: Why is there a photo of Jungkook and Taehyung kissing on the university confession account? <<
At that exact second, both of them instinctively brought their hands to their heads, a pure stress reaction.
"No way..." Jimin muttered, feeling his stomach twist in knots.
"They posted it in front of thirty thousand people, Jimin. Thirty. Thousand." Yoongi ran a hand down his face. "What the fuck is wrong with this world?"
Above the image, there was a caption that read: “The two most desired boys in the university caught ‘experimenting’ with each other. Is it real or just a curious phase? We’re just reporting!”
They hadn’t even processed the image fully when the WhatsApp group chat they shared with the other five—Jin, Namjoon, Hoseok, Taehyung, Jungkook, Yoongi, and himself—started blowing up with messages.
Jinnie-hyung: What the fuck is this?"<<
Namu-hyung: Is this real? Taehyung and Jungkook? When? Why didn’t anyone say anything? <<
Hobiii-hyung: Who took that photo? Who the hell uploaded it? Why isn’t anyone answering?"<<
"I need to call him now," Jimin said, already pressing on Jungkook’s contact. The phone barely rang once before Jungkook picked up.
"What the fuck is going on?" he snapped immediately, his voice laced with confusion and fury so intense that Jimin was briefly at a loss for words.
"Listen..." Jimin began, but Jungkook didn’t let him speak.
"What the hell am I supposed to tell the guys, huh? What the fuck do I do now? I don’t know! And Taehyung isn’t answering—he’s not replying to my texts or calls. I’m going to his house."
"No!" Jimin cut in quickly. "He’s not at his place. He’s with me."
"What? Why?" Jungkook asked, his voice desperate. Jimin glanced at Yoongi for support, and Yoongi nodded seriously.
"Before I explain everything… I want you to think carefully," Jimin said firmly. "You need to tell the others. Jin-hyung, Namjoon-hyung, Hoseok-hyung. Tell them the truth."
"What? No... I don’t know if I can, Jimin. I have to talk to Taehyung first—fuck!" Jungkook let out a harsh sigh on the other end. "This is all out of control. It’s on a public account with thousands of people!"
"I know! That’s exactly why you can’t keep hiding it. There’s no point in lying if they’ve already seen the photo. Leave that part to Yoongi," Jimin said, shooting the older boy a quick glance.
"Why should I leave it to him? I’m the one who’s basically in a relationship with Taehyung, damn it!"
"Because… you might not think clearly after I tell you what I’m about to say," Jimin replied, heart racing, knowing he was about to ruin Jungkook’s night.
"What are you talking about? You’re scaring me."
"Let Yoongi talk to them, please," he insisted, biting down on his lower lip. Jungkook growled in frustration.
"Fine! Fine! But tell me what the fuck happened already."
"Someone... we don’t know who..." Jimin began slowly, "sent photos to Taehyung’s mom. Pictures of you two hugging at the park, going into your building together, going on dates... even the one of you kissing. We don’t know since when, but it was planned." There was silence. Jimin could hear how Jungkook’s breathing was growing heavier. "She..." he continued, his voice trembling a bit. "She traveled from Daegu, entered the house without warning, confronted him, insulted him, hit him. She said all kinds of things—so much vile shit I don’t even know if I can repeat it. She screamed that she was disowning him, that he wasn’t her son anymore, and told him to leave the house right then and there."
"What...?" Jungkook’s voice came out in barely a whisper.
"She kicked him out," Jimin took a deep breath. "She legally disowned him, removed him from the family, left him out on the street. I had to go and pack up all his things with Yoongi because he was in such a state... fuck, I’ve never seen him like that." The line went completely silent. The only thing Jimin could hear was Jungkook’s ragged breathing. "He didn’t want to call you," he continued with sadness. "He said he didn’t want to ruin your night with your parents. He didn’t want to bother you. He’s trying to downplay everything, but I swear, Jungkook... he had a full-on anxiety attack. I had to calm him down for over an hour. I just got him to relax a little while ago, but he’s... destroyed."
The silence deepened. For a moment, Jimin thought the call had dropped, but it hadn’t. He could still hear Jungkook breathing—more and more erratic.
"I’m on my way," was all Jungkook said before hanging up.
Jimin stood there with the phone still pressed to his ear, listening to the final beeping tone of the ended call. Slowly, he lowered it and let out a long, tired sigh. Meanwhile, Yoongi had already sent the message he was asked to deliver:
Yoonie: Guys, Taehyung and Jungkook are together, yes, it’s real. They truly like each other. They hadn’t told you yet because they weren’t ready and wanted to get to know each other better before taking the next step. But... today Taehyung’s mom kicked him out because of it, and now the photos have been leaked to the university confession account too. Taehyung is with us now, but he’s not okay. We need your support. We’ll explain more later. They’ll tell you everything themselves when they’re ready. <<
Jungkook couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this desperate. He was banging on the front door of Jimin’s house with red knuckles, not even thinking to text or call ahead to say he was coming. He didn’t care. Nothing mattered except him.
"Jimin! Please open up!" he cried out with a broken voice, his throat raw from anxiety. Jimin opened the door in just a few seconds, but to Jungkook, it felt like an eternity. The moment it swung open, he didn’t waste time with greetings.
"Where is he?"
"Upstairs," Jimin said, nodding toward the second floor. "In the guest room."
Jungkook didn’t answer. He was already crossing the threshold, climbing the stairs two at a time, feeling like his body couldn’t move fast enough. He reached the white door to the guest room, grabbed the cold doorknob with trembling fingers, took one deep breath, and pushed it open.
The room was dim, softly lit by the small bedside lamp. Taehyung was sitting on the bed with slumped shoulders, legs crossed, his phone shaking in his hands. He was wearing the same purple pajamas they had worn just two nights ago—the matching ones.
Jungkook noticed his swollen cheeks, a bruised lip, visible scratches on his arms, and a face completely drained. A surge of rage coursed through him. How could someone do this to Taehyung?
The older boy hadn’t looked up yet, still thinking it was Jimin who’d entered.
"They posted us on the university confession account," the blond whispered, his voice completely shattered. "Why would someone do this to us...? Why does it matter so much to people whether we’re together or not?"
His tone was the worst part—sadness, devastation, pure resignation. Jungkook stepped forward but stopped when he saw Taehyung sniff the air, and then those dull eyes slowly lifted, finding his. He had recognized his scent. And there he was—his Taehyung—only, he wasn’t quite the same anymore.
"What are you doing here?" he asked in a weak voice, not moving. "I told Jimin I didn’t want anyone to bother you... You should be with your parents, being the perfect son I never could be."
Jungkook couldn’t take it anymore. All the pain, all the anger he felt toward himself for not being there, for letting him go home alone… it all piled up in his chest, and there was no way to hold it in. In two steps he crossed the room, dropped to his knees in front of him, and wrapped both arms around him, burying his face in his neck, clinging to him like he might disappear into thin air at any moment.
“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry, Tae…” he whispered over and over between choked sobs. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there, sorry I didn’t defend you, sorry I didn’t go with you or ask you to stay. I’m sorry…”
Jungkook’s hands were trembling on his back and waist, gripping him tightly. He wanted to merge with him, to make the pain that radiated from his skin disappear. He had never seen him like this, and he felt like the worst piece of shit in the world for not protecting him—from his own mother.
Taehyung didn’t hug him back. He just stayed there, frozen, staring blankly at the ceiling. He was so tired, so empty… he had no strength left.
“You still have time, Jungkook…” he murmured. “To not disappoint them, to do things right, to be what I couldn’t be. That’s why you should be with them, not here with me…”
“Don’t say that,” Jungkook said softly, pulling back a little so he could look into his eyes.
The blond was wrecked. His eyes—once full of curiosity and light—looked dim. There were tears, but they didn’t even seem capable of falling; they were still and cold, like frozen puddles. Jungkook held him by the shoulders, firmly, trying to make him stay there and listen.
“Don’t say that shit,” he repeated through clenched teeth. “You have no idea how much you mean to me. Do you really think I’d sit around watching movies with them, pretending everything’s fine when you’re here, alone, broken, thinking you’re worth less because of a deranged woman?”
Taehyung squinted, trying to keep another tear from falling, but it was useless.
“It’s not just her,” he whispered. “It’s everything. Everything that’s happening. Those pictures, the comments… they filled the post with completely homophobic crap. Some of them are from people I know from my major, people I’ve worked with, even done projects with, and now they’re insulting me on Instagram. Then there’s my mom, and I don’t know what to do now that I’m on my own. She threw me out. I don’t have a home. I don’t know how to survive this…”
“You don’t have to survive it alone,” Jungkook said, his voice thick as he swallowed hard. “Look at me, please.” Taehyung lifted his eyes with effort. “I swear, if I could take that pain and keep it for myself, I would. Without hesitation. But I can’t. So the only thing I can do is be here with you through all of it until it passes.”
“You need to save yourself, Jungkook…” Taehyung whispered, voice cracked. “If your parents don’t find out, if you stay out of this mess, you can… you can still be the perfect son. You don’t have to sink with me. I’m already too far gone. I don’t want you to go down too. With the post, we could… we could try to deny it’s us… I don’t know… we could…”
Jungkook looked at him, unblinking, his heart twisting in his chest, beating with fury. What hurt the most wasn’t what Taehyung said—it was how he said it. Like he didn’t even believe he was worth saving anymore.
“Taehyung,” Jungkook said, after clearing his throat. “They already know.”
The silence that followed hit like a punch. Harsh and dry. Taehyung looked at him, eyes wide, almost forgetting to breathe. He sat up straighter on the bed, his phone falling onto the wrinkled sheets, forgotten.
“What…? What did you say?”
“I said my parents already know.”
“No… no…” Taehyung began to mutter, crawling toward him clumsily, grabbing his arms with desperate strength. His fingers frantically searched the fabric of his shirt for signs of blood, bruises, or anything hidden beneath. “No… tell me they didn’t hurt you. Please. Jungkook, if my mom’s slap hurt, your dad’s must’ve been—no. Tell me he didn’t touch you! Tell me he didn’t do anything!”
Jungkook shook his head immediately, but Taehyung wasn’t listening. His hands were already inspecting Jungkook’s arms, neck, and face with trembling fingers. He was so out of it he was panting, anxiety pouring out of him in waves. He couldn’t bear the idea that Jungkook might’ve gone through what he had.
“Did they get the photos too?” he asked, voice barely a whisper.
“Taehyung,” Jungkook said calmly, cupping his face in his hands to stop him. “Look at me. Really look at me.” Taehyung did. His chest rose and fell unevenly, his face drawn with panic, but he obeyed. Jungkook took a deep breath and nodded. “Yes, they got them. But in Busan. Before they came.”
“I don’t understand,” Taehyung blinked, confused. “But… at dinner, they were nice to me. They were… they were so kind…”
“I know,” Jungkook said with a sad smile. “Because they already knew. When Jimin told me what had happened with your mom, I ran through the apartment like a maniac. I was desperate, all I could think about was finding you. But my parents stopped me before I could leave. They asked what was going on. And… and I didn’t even think, I was so out of it I told them. I told them you and I… that I’m with you.” His throat tightened at the memory. “They looked at me, looked at each other, and said they already knew. They said that the day before they came, my dad got an email with the photos, with a disgusting message explaining everything. They read it together and decided to come anyway, with the intention of meeting the boy who makes me happy. They told me they just wanted me to feel ready to say it. That’s why they didn’t pressure me.”
Jungkook swallowed hard. He hadn’t allowed himself to fully process any of it, because all he’d cared about was getting to Taehyung. But now, saying it out loud, it overwhelmed him. It felt like a miracle.
“So…” he whispered, barely able to find his voice. “They didn’t hit you, didn’t insult you, didn’t kick you out or disown you…”
“No,” Jungkook said firmly. “They didn’t do any of that. They hugged me. They supported me. And they told me they were proud of me.”
Taehyung looked down for a moment. A single rebellious tear slid down his cheek. He couldn’t help but feel like that kind of love belonged to a world he had never known. Something he’d always been denied.
“That’s good,” he said, nodding with a resigned voice. “I’m glad that at least one of us still has his family.”
Saying those words hurt more than he’d expected. Not because of Jungkook—but because of himself. He couldn’t help but feel like dead weight.
“Taehyung…”
“It’s fine,” the older boy said, shaking his head with a small, hollow smile. “It’s really fine. I’m glad, I mean it. I don’t say it out of bitterness. It hurts, but it also brings me peace. Because if you’re okay, if you still have your family, then maybe this wasn’t a total tragedy.”
Jungkook frowned and pulled him against his chest again.
“Don’t talk like that. Don’t ever say that shit again, like you’re some fucking burden. Do you hear me? I don’t care if the whole damn world turns its back on us, as long as you don’t let go of me.”
Jungkook’s voice vibrated in his ear. Taehyung squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted to believe it. God, he wanted to cling to those words with everything he had. But the wound was still open.
"It's not that easy, Jungkook. Not all of us are that lucky. And no matter how much you want to stay, I don't want to be the reason you lose everything you have."
"Your mother is the one losing here, not you," Jungkook said, pulling back slightly so he could look at him again. "She’s the one missing out on having an incredible son. A son who’s worth everything, who’s brilliant, who’s a damn gift from the universe, and she doesn’t even realize it." Jungkook’s tone wasn’t just comforting—it was full of conviction. He wasn’t just trying to calm him down, he genuinely meant every word. "You’re amazing, Taehyung," he continued, fingers gently brushing along the line of his jaw. "You have a heart so big, sometimes it doesn’t even fit in your chest. You’re funny, you’re kind, you’re talented, and you’re brave in ways you don’t even recognize. You’re the kind of person who leaves a mark, you know? The kind that walks into a room and changes it. Makes it warmer, more alive. Your mom doesn’t see it, but the rest of us do." Jungkook didn’t look away as he went on. "You have me. You’re not alone, Tae. You have Jimin, you have Yoongi, somehow even Minho, Jiwoo, and now Jin, Hoseok, and Namjoon too. We’re all with you. And so are my parents."
"Your parents?" Taehyung frowned, confused.
"Yeah," Jungkook nodded. "When I told them everything, the first thing they said was that you could count on them for anything. Not just as a family, but legally too. My mom’s a lawyer, and she said that if you ever need anything—any support, any kind of action against your mom—she’s got your back. No conditions."
"But… why? They only know me from one dinner. Why would they do that?"
"That’s the effect you have on people, Taehyung," Jungkook said with a small smile. "You have no idea what you make people feel. You’re special. My mom told me she had never seen someone look at her son the way you look at me. And because they know I’m in love with you, they’ll do anything for you too. Because they understand that you are my person."
Taehyung’s eyes widened slightly, a sudden spark lighting up like a flare in the darkness. Jungkook noticed it right away, saw how a flicker of life came back into his eyes.
"You're in love with me?" Taehyung asked softly, almost afraid to hear the answer. Jungkook nodded firmly, again and again.
"So much. Too much. I don’t even know when I crossed that line, but I want to be with you. I want to be with you forever, Tae. For a lifetime, if you let me do it."
The older boy stared at him, unblinking, his chest overwhelmed with a storm of feelings that didn’t quite have a name—relief, fear, joy, and…
"The reason my mom kicked me out..." he began, his voice trembling just a little, "was because she made me choose between her… or you." Jungkook stopped breathing for a second. "And I chose you," Taehyung added after a pause. "Because I’m in love too."
A smile broke across Jungkook’s face. He finally sat down on the bed, closing the gap between them, and pressed his forehead to Taehyung’s. His hands cradled the older boy’s face with reverent softness.
"Then let’s do this together," Jungkook whispered. "No more hiding. No more letting go of each other’s hand when people are around. If you chose me, I’m choosing you right back."
Taehyung hesitated—not because he didn’t want it, but because the fear was still there. The loneliness, the uncertainty, the echo of his mother’s voice yelling that he was a disappointment… all of that still lived inside him. But Jungkook looked at him differently now. He held him with his gaze. So, with a slight tremble, Taehyung leaned forward and pressed a tender kiss to his lips.
In his mind, there was only one decision: to surrender to this moment, to let himself believe—even if it hurt, even if it was terrifying—that life was a little more beautiful with Jungkook in it.
Notes:
I didn't want to leave you with just the previous chapter and make you anxious, so I decided to publish two in a mini-marathon.
This has been a pretty strong theme that completely contrasts with the humor of the fic. Rather than comedy, this story is realistic, which is why it develops slowly and gives time to each person's journey. It's no surprise that her mother reacted this way; throughout the story, we get a glimpse into her true nature, even though she's never seen beyond phone calls.
What do you think will happen next? I'll read you.
Chapter 45: Chapter 44
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
"Please, Tae, just a bit of rice," Jungkook pleaded softly, his cheek resting against the older boy’s collarbone while his arm remained wrapped tightly around his waist. "Or soup, at least. Just come downstairs with me and I’ll serve it for you. I promise it’s nothing heavy, and you won’t throw up."
The blond didn’t answer. His eyes were fixed on the cookie jar resting on his lap—the same one Jungkook’s mom had handed him with a warm smile during dinner the night before, which now felt like it had happened in another lifetime.
For obvious reasons, neither of them had gone to university that day. In fact, all of their friends had taken that Friday off.
Taehyung held the jar with both hands, leaning against the padded headboard of the bed, his legs stretched out under the sheets and his expression completely blank. He felt like his body was heavier than it was supposed to be, like gravity had decided to be cruel.
Jimin’s guest room was large and bright, but the thick curtain covered almost the entire window, letting in just a faint strip of light that barely brushed the edges of the bed. Even though it was past noon, the room remained dim.
"I'm fine," he mumbled at last.
It was a blatant lie—everyone knew it. Taehyung was not fine. He hadn’t eaten a thing since dinner. Since before his world had shattered and left him completely alone.
"Tae... this isn’t ‘fine’," Jungkook said softly, raising his hand slowly to caress the older boy’s arm. "You’re living off cookies, you’re going to get sick if you don’t eat something real."
Taehyung pressed his lips together slightly and opened the lid of the jar without any urgency. He took out a butter cookie and brought it to his mouth, biting into it slowly and without any real interest. It wasn’t that it tasted bad—it was actually delicious—but his taste buds had gone on vacation, and that was the only thing he could tolerate without feeling nauseous.
"Food would keep me alive, and I don’t want that," he said with a shrug. Jungkook straightened up immediately, pulling back just enough to look at him with a deep frown.
"Don’t say stupid shit," he snapped, more serious now. "You’re going to live anyway because you’re eating the fucking cookies my mom made! Don’t give me that crap about not wanting to live."
Taehyung didn’t reply, nor did he seem offended by Jungkook’s tone. He simply shrank a little, curling further into the embrace that Jungkook offered, seeking warmth in his presence. Silence settled between them for a few seconds, broken only by the sound of another cookie crunching between his teeth.
Jungkook watched him intently, his jaw tight with sadness. Seeing Taehyung like this—so broken—felt like watching a beautiful building collapse in slow motion. The night before had been chaotic. They had slept together—or something close to it—because Taehyung hadn’t had a good night at all. When he couldn’t sleep, he would start thinking about what had happened and cry; and when he finally did fall asleep, the nightmares were so awful that he cried even in his dreams. Jungkook had spent most of the night awake, comforting him. And now, with all the tears dried up, what remained was a still body and a mind that seemed completely disconnected.
"I already bathed you, dressed you, combed your hair… now it’s time to actually eat," Jungkook said gently, running his hand through Taehyung’s blond hair.
"I’m tired."
"I know."
"I don’t want to go downstairs."
"I know, hyung, but you have to eat."
A soft knock interrupted the conversation. Three short taps on the bedroom door. They both froze, and Jungkook turned his head toward the entrance.
"Yeah?" he called out.
"It’s me," Jimin replied from the other side. "Can you come down for a minute, Jungkook?"
"I’ll be right there," he said, shifting slightly on the bed to sit up. But before he could actually get up, he felt Taehyung’s fingers gripping his clothes, pulling him back. The cookie jar was carefully placed on the nightstand, and the older boy pressed himself even closer, his arms wrapping tightly around Jungkook’s torso, his face buried in his chest.
"Don’t go," Taehyung whispered. "I don’t want to be alone, please."
Jungkook swallowed hard. The tremble in those few words and the way Taehyung clung to him like letting go might kill him… he couldn’t say no. But he also couldn’t ignore that Jimin had asked for him.
He brought his hand to Taehyung’s face, gently caressing his cheek.
"I’ll be back, sweetheart, I promise. Just for a moment. As soon as I’m done, I’ll come right back here with you. I promise, okay, Tae?" Taehyung looked into his eyes—exhausted and sunken—but eventually sighed and slowly loosened his grip, letting him go. Jungkook kissed his forehead. "Thank you. I love you*," he whispered, and then, carefully, gave him a soft kiss on the lips.
Taehyung closed his eyes as he received it, letting that brief contact anchor him to something real. Jungkook pulled away reluctantly, left the bed, and walked to the door where Jimin was waiting.
He opened the door and paused at the threshold before leaving the room completely. He turned slightly, his eyes locking onto the bed.
Something in his chest twisted violently at the sight—Taehyung had wrapped himself completely in the blankets, buried up to his neck, his face hidden in the pillow that had belonged to Jungkook just moments ago, his slender fingers gripping the wrinkled fabric, clutching it to his chest desperately. The slight movement of his body as he inhaled made it clear he was smelling it, trying to hold on to the warmth Jungkook had left behind. It seemed like even the scent of him could keep Taehyung going while he was gone, even if only for a few minutes.
He looked so small, so broken, so fragile… and at the same time, so sweet. Damn it, he looked so fucking adorable and devastated at once that Jungkook wanted to say fuck it all, climb back into bed, and hold him for the rest of the day, never letting him be alone for even a second.
"Come on," Jimin whispered from the hallway. Jungkook nodded slowly, lips pressed into a thin line, and finally took the step he’d been avoiding. He closed the door gently behind him.
The stairs creaked under their feet as they walked down together. Jimin was a little ahead, but didn’t stray too far. There were voices downstairs, not loud, but murmured conversations—and Jungkook’s chest tightened instantly.
He saw them as soon as he stepped off the last stair. Hoseok, Namjoon, and Jin, all sitting on the couch, waiting. Yoongi was there too, curled up in the single armchair, wearing one of Jimin’s oversized sweaters.
Jungkook swallowed and took a deep breath, trying to gather the strength to speak now that all eyes were on him. But before he could say a single word, Hoseok stood up abruptly and walked over to him with determined steps.
He didn’t say anything—he just wrapped him in a strong, warm hug. Jungkook couldn’t help but let out a long breath, resting his forehead against his friend’s shoulder. He still couldn’t quite believe that everything was out in the open now, that his secret wasn’t a secret anymore.
"I'm sorry," Hoseok murmured, his voice barely trembling. "I'm sorry for everything you're going through, really. I'm so angry. Taehyung didn’t deserve this, neither of you do. None of this."
Jungkook nodded, swallowing the surge of emotion rising up his throat. He barely had time to react before Namjoon also stepped forward and pulled them both into a hug.
"You don’t have to carry this alone, Jungkook," he said softly. "Everything that happened was unfair, but this isn't the end. It’s the beginning of something that could be better. You have each other. That’s more than most people can say."
Jungkook’s throat tightened again, even harder this time. To top it all off, Jin joined the hug too, wrapping his arms around them.
"I spent the whole night fighting in the comments under that post," Jin blurted out. "Half the damn university blocked me, but I don’t care. Who the fuck do these people think they are to talk about you like that, huh?"
"Hyung..." Jungkook let out a soft laugh when he heard him.
"I mean it, I still can’t believe it," Jin continued, his voice full of passion. "People always say arts students are inclusive and tolerant. What a fucking lie. They can all go to hell. My hand actually hurts from replying to so many idiots."
"Thank you... really, thank you guys," Jungkook murmured, lowering his gaze when they finally pulled apart. "I’m sorry for not telling you sooner. We didn’t want to hide it, but we weren’t ready to say it out loud. We were waiting to be… boyfriends, so we could talk to you."
Jin frowned, opening his mouth immediately.
"What do you mean you’re not boyfriends yet?"
"I mean... yes and no. Not officially. We're seeing each other, we’re exclusive, and we’re in love, but..." He sighed, eyes fixed on a spot on the floor. "I wanted to ask him in a special way. Something sweet, something that would make him happy. The perfect moment just hasn’t come. And now, after all this, I think it’s not the right time anymore."
Namjoon nodded with a look of understanding.
"You have our full support, you don’t have to apologize for anything. And to be honest..." He tilted his head. "It’s not that I saw it coming, but I’m not surprised either. You suck at hiding things, Jungkook."
"Hyung!" the dark-haired boy protested, though he couldn’t help laughing too.
"No, seriously, but I didn’t want to assume anything. I thought it was just me—or like, my schizophrenia or something. I don’t know."
"It happened to me too," Jin jumped in, laughing louder now. "Lately, Taehyung would only listen to you, and that made absolutely no fucking sense. But I didn’t imagine you two were that involved."
Jungkook lowered his gaze again, then gave a soft smile.
"We’re... really into each other. Yeah."
"How is he?" Hoseok asked then, referring to Taehyung.
"Devastated," Jungkook answered honestly. "He hasn’t eaten anything since yesterday, he won’t come downstairs, he doesn’t want to be alone, and overall... he’s not himself." His voice cracked a little as he said it, but he forced himself to stay strong.
"And how are you?" Jin asked this time. Jungkook considered lying—saying he was fine, that Taehyung was what mattered, that he could handle it. But his friends’ eyes didn’t leave him, and they looked just as concerned.
"I’m..." he inhaled deeply. "I’m angry and sad, but I’m here. I feel bad about being exposed, but on my side, I also feel relieved because the only opinion that really matters to me is my parents’—and they supported me. The thing is, Taehyung is not okay, and that’s killing me."
"Totally understandable," Jimin said. "I feel the same way about Taehyung."
"And when did it... I mean, when did it all happen? Between you two, I mean," Namjoon asked, his tone calm but inquisitive, arms crossed and eyes focused on Jungkook.
Jungkook felt his stomach tighten. His friends were right in front of him, looking at him with eyes that didn’t hate him, didn’t judge him—just the same eyes they’d always had.
"At the cabin... during Mina and Yoongi’s birthday. When we went to sleep together, that night..." He swallowed hard, remembering the stupid desperation with which they had reached for each other, even though neither of them really knew why. "We were drunk. Like, really drunk. And... we kissed."
"No wonder you two were acting so weird afterward," Jin said, laughing. "You couldn’t even be in the same room without looking like one of you was about to strangle the other or burst into tears."
Jungkook smiled, a little embarrassed.
"And after that?" Hoseok asked. "Because you were both chasing Sana for a while too. Were you seeing each other in secret?"
"Yeah," he admitted, barely raising his eyes, a hint of guilt in his voice. "I know it was wrong. We were both still trying to woo Sana while... stuff was already happening between us. But at the time, we were just exploring. We didn’t know what it was exactly, not even sure what we wanted. We just knew that... it felt fucking good. That something about it felt right. And that scared us more than we expected."
"And when did you stop competing over Sana? How did that happen?" Namjoon asked after a few seconds of silence.
"When we realized it wasn’t about her. That we were using her as an excuse to stay close to each other. That we didn’t really care about her—we just wanted... to see each other, to provoke each other. Everything revolved around the other person, it was absurd. If it hadn’t been Taehyung competing for her, I wouldn’t have even ‘accepted the challenge’ of trying to win her over."
"Shit..." Hoseok muttered under his breath—not judgmental, just surprised. "That sounds intense."
"Yeah, a little," Jungkook laughed bitterly. "That’s when we decided to cut everything off. We agreed we couldn’t keep living in that farce. That if we were going to do this, it had to be real, and just between the two of us." He paused, seeing empathy in their eyes. "I spent twenty-one years believing I was one hundred percent straight," he said, this time with more certainty. "I couldn’t just accept that overnight, that a guy... a man attracted me like that. Not when everything I’d known was different. It was too much, all of it, and I denied it because it didn’t make sense. And yet now..." He looked toward the staircase. "...I’ve never been so sure of anything."
"Damn," Hoseok murmured, exhaling hard through his nose. "I get it, I really do. And I’m sorry if I ever... if I ever made you feel like I wouldn’t support you if you were bi or... whatever."
"It wasn’t that," Jungkook shook his head immediately. "I never doubted you guys, seriously. It’s just... we weren’t ready. We still aren’t, actually, but some psycho took pictures of us and sent them to our families and to that damn university confessions account. We got outed before we even had the chance to name what we had."
There was a collective murmur. Jin clenched his fists, Namjoon frowned deeply, Hoseok shook his head in frustration, Jimin grimaced, and Yoongi let out a low, furious growl. Of course, they hadn’t forgotten—that was exactly why they were there.
"Well," Jin said firmly, suddenly straightening up. "Then we need to focus on that. On finding the motherfuckers who did this to you. Because we’re not just here for moral support."
"Let it all burn, I don’t give a shit," Hoseok added. "They messed with the wrong people."
"They're fucking useless," Yoongi muttered with a scowl, arms crossed, sitting on the edge of the single couch where he had been for a while. "I tried talking to the dumbasses who run the confession account to get the username of the bastard who sent the photos... and they hit me with that crap about protecting the identity of their informants. 'We promote a safe space for expression,' they said. Safe space my ass."
"What kind of bullshit protocol is that when they're clearly covering for someone who almost ruined two people’s lives?" Jungkook added through clenched teeth, arms also crossed, a vein visibly pulsing in his neck.
"And what about that Sungchul guy?" Jimin asked, brow furrowed. "Tae mentioned him earlier."
Jungkook opened his mouth, made a surprised face, and let out a long, low 'oh' as the memory hit him like a slap to the back of the head, but the expression didn’t last long. His face hardened, his eyebrows drew together, and the muscles in his jaw tensed visibly.
"That asshole..." he muttered darkly. "That was the guy we found in the woods, hiding with a camera, the day they took the photo of the kiss."
"What? When?" Hoseok asked.
"We went to a lookout point, it was nighttime and it was a date. Apparently, there was no one around, so we got affectionate. Taehyung and I heard noises coming from the woods. We thought it might be animals, but we went in anyway—well, actually Tae stormed in full of rage, and I had to follow him. The point is, there he was, hiding among the trees with a camera. Taehyung caught him immediately and pinned him down. The guy panicked, said he wasn’t doing anything wrong, but Tae still demanded to see the pictures. He only let us see the first five. They were all blurry and crappy, pictures of squirrels, birds, random forest stuff. He told us he was a Biology student. We couldn’t check the rest because he refused, and since we had no way to hold him, we let him go," Jungkook continued, anger rising again in his chest. "But on the way out of the woods, just as we were about to leave, Tae noticed a car parked near the restaurant. One that, according to him, wasn’t there when we arrived. He said he was sure it was the same car that had followed him from Jimin’s house to mine before our date."
"That’s super creepy," Jin murmured, visibly uncomfortable, rubbing his arms like he had chills.
"Creepy doesn’t even cover it," Hoseok muttered, pacing with his hands behind his head. "I don’t know any Sungchul. Doesn’t ring a bell at all."
"Me neither," Jimin added. "I’ve been searching social media since Tae mentioned him, and nothing's come up."
Jungkook felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out almost by reflex and saw it was a message from Taehyung.
Little prince
You're taking too long. Everything okay? <<
He stifled a smile and typed back quickly:
>>Yeah, love, just wait a little longer, I'm with the guys.
He put the phone away and sighed. He didn’t want to worry him more than he already was. Taehyung had been taking the worst of the blow from the whole situation.
"We didn’t know him," Jungkook said. "We’d never seen him before. That was the first and only time we ever heard of Sungchul. Plus, Taehyung told me that every time we went out together, he felt like someone was watching him, and he thinks it was him too."
"So..." Namjoon's voice broke the dense silence that had settled after Jungkook’s last comment. "Why would someone who’s apparently a stranger go through the trouble of following you on all your dates and exposing you like that?"
"That’s not even all of it," Yoongi scoffed with disdain, crossing his arms tightly. "How the hell did that bastard get your parents’ contact info?"
"And what was the goal exactly? Like, yeah, expose them—but for what?" Jimin insisted, his brow furrowed. "I don’t think it was just about outing them. It’s too elaborate. That’s way too much work just for that."
"Maybe they wanted to break them up," Jin suggested, though it sounded more like a theory thrown into the air. But Jimin shook his head again.
"And for what?" he repeated, more frustrated. "What do they get out of that? A prize for breaking up happy couples? A round of applause?"
"That’s not all," Jungkook pressed his lips together. Everyone looked at him, alert.
"What else?" Namjoon asked, frowning.
"The day Taehyung and I dropped the girls off at the agency... we saw him," he said in a grave tone. "Sungchul, going into NOVA."
"What? There?" Hoseok asked. "Doing what?"
"Maybe he’s a trainee?" Jin suggested with a shrug.
"Yeah, because that makes perfect sense," Jungkook replied in the driest tone he could muster. "A Biology student doing an internship at an entertainment company."
"Maybe he was visiting someone?" Jimin tried, but Jungkook shook his head immediately.
"He was wearing workout clothes, just like the girls. He had a gym bag. He didn’t look like a visitor or staff, most likely a trainee. And if they let him in that easily, then he’s definitely part of the company."
"If he’s a Biology student, he can’t be a trainee," Hoseok pointed out, crossing his arms. "Those schedules are insane. You don’t get to study or even breathe. You can’t be in college and be a trainee at the same time."
Namjoon nodded slowly.
"And that’s not all. If he’s a trainee, he wouldn’t have that much free time to follow you around, to plan all this. So there’s no way he’s acting alone. It’s impossible."
"Fucking hell!" Jimin shouted, slapping his thigh with an open palm. "What kind of psychos do this shit? What the fuck do they want? Don’t they have a life?"
Jungkook looked down. He couldn’t shake the feeling of exposure. His privacy, his relationship, his personal life... all of it felt within reach of complete strangers. And now they couldn’t even tell how many people were involved.
"There’s more than one," he muttered through clenched teeth. "He can’t be acting alone. He has accomplices, and I want to know who the fuck else is part of this."
"That’s where we need to go first," Jin said with an unusually serious tone. "To the agency."
"They won’t let you in if you don’t work there, and they won’t give out personal info about anyone. It’s locked down tight," Hoseok shook his head, but Jin raised an eyebrow with a defiant look.
"Who said anything about going in? I’m talking about waiting outside. When he comes out or goes in, we intercept him."
"I’m going today," Jungkook snapped. He felt like he was about to explode. "I’m so fucking done with this."
"We’re going," Yoongi corrected him, leaving no room for debate.
"Yeah," Namjoon added, blunt and firm. "You’re not going alone. With that temper, odds are you’ll punch him or worse. You need someone to hold you back if it comes to that."
Jungkook didn’t respond right away, but something in his expression said he appreciated the support. Still clenching his jaw, he gave a slow nod.
"I’ll stay with Tae and Jimin," Jin said, looking at the two of them seriously. "We can’t leave Taehyung alone either."
Hoseok stayed quiet for a few seconds, first looking at Jungkook with his lips slightly pursed, then slowly turning his head to glance at the rest of the group.
"I don’t know who to go with," he finally admitted in a low voice.
It made sense—Hoseok had always been the bridge between the two groups, the core that had connected them in the first place. He was the only one with deep roots on both sides, the glue, the link. Choosing between going with Jungkook or staying with Taehyung was hard; he didn’t want to leave either of them alone. Namjoon nodded slowly, seeing the conflict clearly reflected in his friend’s eyes.
"I think Yoongi and I can keep Jungkook under control," he said in a calm tone. "Stay with Taehyung. He definitely needs a ray of sunshine right now... and you're the damn sun, Hoseok."
Hoseok let out a soft laugh, the unexpected compliment lifting the guilt off his shoulders for a moment.
"Yeah," he nodded with more determination. "You’re right. Tae needs me. Plus, I can use the chance to text Momo, ask what she knows about Sungchul. Maybe she and the girls can dig around. They’ve gotta know something if they’re in the same agency."
Jungkook nodded instantly.
"That could help," he replied in a faint voice. And right then, he felt another vibration in his pocket. His phone buzzed against the fabric of his pants, and he didn’t even need to check it to know who it was. Still, he pulled it out, unlocked the screen quickly, and let the notification confirm what was already obvious: it was Taehyung again.
Baby, it’s been too long. Are you gonna take much longer?<<
Hoseok peeked at the screen and let out a soft laugh.
"Is he clinging to your leg like a little kid?"
Jungkook pressed his lips into a half-smile, glancing at him with a touch of resignation.
"More or less. But it’s normal. He just went through some really fucked up shit with his mom. The last thing he needs now is to feel abandoned."
"He’s just clinging to what makes him feel safe... which is you," Jimin added quietly, a hint of sadness in his voice.
Jin crossed his arms and nodded.
"Maybe if the three of us go with you, it’ll help. We’re not you, but... maybe with us there, he’ll calm down enough to let you leave for a few hours. At least get him to eat something. I don’t know," he hesitated for a second, pulling a face. "I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that you two are in love after all that time trying to tear each other’s heads off..."
"I know," Namjoon chuckled softly. "It’s weird, but not in a bad way. Just... unexpected. Like no one saw it coming, and now we can’t unsee it. It was right in front of our faces and we missed it."
"Yeah," Jungkook added with a short laugh. "It took us a while to get used to it too, trust me."
There was a brief pause. Not uncomfortable, but definitely charged with something. It felt strange to share something that now seemed so obvious, yet had once been pure hatred. Sometimes even he didn’t know when exactly he’d stopped hating him. Or if he ever truly had.
He took a deep breath and turned to Jimin, Jin, and Hoseok.
"Let’s go. Come with me to convince Taehyung." The three of them nodded without another word. They followed him up the stairs in a quiet, determined line.
Convincing Taehyung to let him go for a few hours had been, without exaggeration, a fucking odyssey. Jungkook didn’t want to make him feel worse, but he needed to go. He needed answers. He needed to know what the hell was going on, and most of all, he had an overwhelming urge to punch Sungchul in the face.
But Tae didn’t make it easy.
Sitting on the bed with a hardened expression, his eyes practically glowing with sadness and insecurity, he held Jungkook’s gaze with a stubbornness that completely disarmed him. Jin, Jimin, and Hoseok tried to talk him into it with their own methods, but Jungkook knew that at the end of the day, he was the only one who could move that mountain. So he promised. He swore he’d text back immediately, call if necessary, come straight home the second it was done. No detours, no distractions, not even a bathroom break if he could help it. And in the end, after a heavy silence, Taehyung nodded. He didn’t say 'yes', or 'okay'—just nodded. But it was enough.
What he didn’t expect was that while he was rummaging for a clean shirt to change into something more decent, Taehyung would sneak up behind him and snatch the shirt he’d worn all morning right out of his hands.
"What the...?" Jungkook began to ask.
But Taehyung had already turned around, hugging the shirt to his chest like a damn security blanket, shamelessly burying his nose in it.
"Seriously...?" Jin muttered, raising an eyebrow. "You look like an omega in heat, sniffing your alpha’s scent."
There wasn’t even time to laugh before Taehyung launched a kick straight into Jin’s stomach, knocking him off the bed with a pained groan. Jungkook blinked in surprise, but then he caught the faintest curve of Tae’s lips, the smallest smile—a genuine one—for the first time since the night before. His heart clenched.
There you are, he thought.
Before leaving, he leaned in to kiss Taehyung’s forehead, then his lips, slow and soft. Jin huffed dramatically, yelling at them to get a damn motel, but Taehyung didn’t even look at him. He just flipped him off without breaking the kiss.
Now, with the car in motion and the city sliding past the windows, reality hit hard. They were on their way to NOVA Entertainment, going to look for answers—and for Sungchul. And with each passing mile, Jungkook could feel his blood boil hotter, bubbling beneath his skin.
"I’m gonna say this once, because I know you," Namjoon began from the passenger seat. "We’re not going to NOVA to kick the door down, smash someone’s face in, or start a scandal. We’re going to gather information. Get facts. Evidence. Don’t go beat him to death as soon as you see him."
"I don’t plan on killing him," Jungkook muttered, even though he knew he was lying.
"Sure," Yoongi said from the backseat. "That’s why you’re gripping the steering wheel like you’re about to break it. Chill out, killer."
"Look," Namjoon continued, using that therapist tone that sometimes drove him crazy. "I get the anger. I really do—I feel it too. But if you lose your head now, everything’s going to fall apart."
"And if it turns out he’s there the moment we arrive," Yoongi added, not bothering to hide the slight excitement in his tone, "do not punch him in the throat, alright? We kinda need him alive to question him."
"What Yoongi-hyung meant to say..." Namjoon sighed, closing his eyes for a few seconds, "...is that we need answers. Not revenge. If you go at him with violence, he’ll shut down, and we’ll lose him."
"Namjoon’s too soft, but what he’s saying is we need him conscious while we get the info out of him," Yoongi added with a shrug. "We can decide whether or not to kill him later."
"We’re not killing him," Namjoon growled.
"Technically, I haven’t promised anything," Yoongi shot back. There was a moment of silence. Only the engine’s hum and the distant screech of other cars filled the air. Then Yoongi cleared his throat. "You know, it’s fucking wild to think that not too long ago, you two were staring each other down like mortal enemies—and now you’re ready to go to prison for him. Adorable."
"I’m not going to prison," Jungkook said, rolling his eyes.
"That’s the spirit. You won’t if we make sure there are no cameras," Yoongi said casually.
"Oh my God," Namjoon groaned, rubbing his forehead. "When did I become the responsible adult in this group? hyung, you’re the oldest, act like it. Don’t encourage the impulsive kid."
Jungkook shook his head, laughing as he turned onto the street where the company was located. He slowed down and took a moment to analyze the area. He tried to recall where he had seen him arrive that day—since the company building was on the left side of the street and he had seen him crossing from the right. He’d arrived on foot; if he had come by car, he would have gone straight into the underground parking lot. So the most likely scenario was that he’d used the bus stop one block back.
Between the alley and the pedestrian path, there was a small side street, so Jungkook figured that was probably where he would walk through if he left or arrived by bus. He stopped the car a few meters from the alley’s entrance, right at the edge of the sidewalk. As soon as he parked, the three of them got out without exchanging a word. Jungkook slammed the door shut and looked up once they were inside. From there, they had a clear view of the NOVA Entertainment building across the street. But from where the security guard stood, unless he walked several meters away from his booth, he wouldn’t be able to see what was going on in the alley. And at that hour, there was no doubt—Sungchul should already be inside if he had a schedule similar to the girls’. If he went in or out, they would see him. That much Jungkook was sure of.
"So now what?" Namjoon asked, stopping next to him with a frown. "How long are we going to stay here?"
Jungkook shrugged without taking his eyes off the company entrance.
"I didn’t think that far. He could be in there all day… or not show up at all. We don’t know anything about his schedule."
"Excellent planning, Detective Jeon," Yoongi muttered as he dropped down dramatically onto a concrete stairway leading to a door. "I’m so glad we’re in such efficient hands."
"Shut up, Yoongi-hyung," Jungkook grumbled.
"I’m serious. You guys better get comfortable. This could take hours."
Namjoon looked down at him, arms crossed.
"You’re sitting there like some damn mob boss waiting for his victim. All you’re missing is a cigarette and a bat with nails."
"If that son of a bitch doesn’t cooperate, that might become true," Yoongi smiled without lifting his head, one leg bent on the step.
"Great, so now I have to stop Jungkook from murdering someone and deal with your damn Tarantino character," Namjoon sighed, long and dramatically.
"Oh, come on, Shakespeare," Yoongi replied mockingly. "It’s not murder if they don’t find the body."
"Actually, it’s not murder if no one gets killed. It is still homicide with or without the body being found."
"And how would you know? Since when are you a prosecutor?"
"Since I got stuck with two idiots who can’t think long term," Namjoon snapped.
"And since when do you think morals apply when someone like Sungchul is out here breathing air he doesn’t deserve?"
"Oh, excuse me, nighttime vigilante. What should I call you? Batman?"
"It’s not night."
"It’s a damn expression."
Jungkook rubbed his temples, staring up at the sky. God. Why him? Why these two, of all people?
Before he could say anything, his phone vibrated in his pocket, so he pulled it out. His heart skipped a beat the second he saw the name: Taehyung. His fingers didn’t hesitate for even a second—he had the phone to his ear before saying a word to the other two.
"Wait here," he said to the air as he took a few steps away. He didn’t expect them to listen—and he was right; they were still arguing. "Taehyung?" he asked urgently, walking further into the alley, looking for a quieter spot to hear. "Is everything okay?"
There was a silence that lasted only a few seconds but felt like an eternity.
"Yeah…" came the soft voice on the other end, with a hint of a whine hiding beneath it. Jungkook narrowed his eyes and smiled to himself. Taehyung did that when he was pouting. He could picture it clearly—scrunching his nose and puffing out his lips.
"Why are you talking like that? What happened?"
"I’m locked in the bathroom," the other murmured.
"Seriously? What did you do now?" Jungkook laughed, though his tone was warm. His body relaxed a little. Now that he knew Taehyung was okay, the tension melted away.
"I didn’t do anything," Taehyung complained. "It’s Jimin, Jin-hyung, and Hoseok-hyung’s fault. They haven’t left me alone since you left. Oh, wait—so it’s your fault!"
Jungkook leaned against a wall with a half-smile. He ran a hand through his hair and let his back rest comfortably.
"What are they doing to you?"
"Hoseok-hyung keeps hugging me like crazy, he won’t let go. Every time I try to go to my room, he pops up behind me like some kind of spy and jumps on me. Jin-hyung’s using his entire arsenal of bad jokes, and I can’t take it anymore, Jungkook, I’m dying inside. And Jimin… that bastard wants us to do a thousand activities. He suggested yoga, embroidery, karaoke, movie marathons... He said what matters is keeping me ‘stimulated.’ What am I, five?"
Jungkook laughed effortlessly. He closed his eyes, picturing it all.
"It's because they care about you, Tae."
"I know..." he replied, voice softer now "But they’re treating me like a little kid," Taehyung added with a sigh.
"You are acting like a little kid," Jungkook said with a crooked grin. "All complaints and pouty faces."
There was a second of silence on the line. Not long, but just enough for Jungkook to picture him perfectly—lips pushed out in that signature pout he wore whenever he wanted to complain.
"How do you know I’m pouting?"
"Because I know the man I’m in love with," Jungkook’s smile widened. Silence again, and Jungkook knew exactly what was happening on the other end of the line. "And I know you so well I’m sure you’re blushing right now."
"Idiot," Taehyung muttered at last, and both of them burst into laughter at the same time. Jungkook lowered his head a little, now resting his shoulder against the cracked wall of the alley. "I’m coming out," Taehyung said suddenly. "I don’t want my friends’ efforts to go to waste… plus, I’m pretty sure they’re all standing outside like soldiers, waiting for me to come out."
"Jimin’s probably doing choreography from a musical in front of the door," Jungkook chuckled. "You should come out and eat something, yeah? Out of mercy, at least."
"Ugh... fine," the other replied, reluctantly, though his voice still held that spoiled, sweet edge. Then, silence again. "I miss you," he added after a moment. "Come back soon. Don’t ignore me," he said with a more playful tone. "Or I’ll punish you."
"I’d love to see that."
"Fucking pervert."
"That’s how I made you fall for me."
Taehyung laughed—short, but genuine. And that was enough. Jungkook felt a tightness in his chest. He closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and lowered his voice just a little.
"I miss you too, beautiful. So much. But I’ll be back soon, I promise." His eyes reflexively darted toward the end of the alley, where he could just barely see the entrance to the company building—where he saw Sungchul stepping outside. "I have to hang up," he said suddenly, urgently, cutting off Taehyung who was just about to reply. "Sorry. I’ll call you later, okay? I love you*, Tae."
He hung up without giving him the chance to answer. Shoving the phone into his pocket like it was in the way, he jogged over to his friends, veins burning with determination.
"He’s coming."
Namjoon lifted his head from where he was leaning against a metal railing.
"Remember, we’re just going to talk to him," he said firmly, raising an eyebrow. "No punches, no drama, no arrests, okay?"
Jungkook didn’t answer. His eyes were locked on Sungchul, who walked calmly across the street with his briefcase slung over one shoulder and his phone in one hand. With every step that bastard took, something else inside Jungkook hardened.
Yoongi, watching from the cement steps, tilted his head. He could see the way Jungkook’s shoulders tensed, the way his jaw clenched, how his hands curled into fists at his sides.
"Relax," he said in a dry voice. "Jungkook, are you listening to me?"
But no—Jungkook couldn’t hear him. All he could see was Taehyung’s tear-stained face in his mind, that broken voice telling him he had no family. The insomnia, the guilt, the anxiety tearing him apart, the wounds left by his mother, the fucking scratch marks he made on his own skin. All of it. Because of him.
"That asshole made Taehyung cry," he muttered through clenched teeth.
Sungchul passed right in front of the alley entrance, just a few steps away from them. Jungkook took a deep breath—not to calm himself, but to throw himself forward with full force. He took two strong, rapid strides. Before Sungchul could even turn his head, Jungkook grabbed his arm and yanked him violently into the alley, dragging him in without hesitation.
The sharp thud of his body slamming against the wall echoed in the narrow alleyway. Jungkook had slammed him there with all the fury in his body. He pinned his arm with one hand, using the other to press him against the shoulder and hold him in place.
Notes:
*This is the same thing as a few chapters ago, where I explained that English doesn't have the distinction between "te quiero" and "te amo" that there is in Spanish. This "I love you" here is meant to say "te quiero" so until I make it clear that it's really a pure and hard "te amo" the rest of the "I love you"s just mean "te quiero."
Chapter 46: Chapter 45
Chapter Text
"Jungkook, use your words, not your fists," Namjoon said, stopping a few steps away, watching as Jungkook had Sungchul pinned against the alley wall. "Breathe. Don’t do something stupid. Calm down."
But Jungkook wasn’t hearing a thing. Or rather, he was hearing everything as if it were a distant murmur. The only clear sound echoing in his head was the memory of Taehyung crying, eyes red, throat tight, trembling. And all because of this bastard in front of him. This idiot who was now breathing hard between his arms had hurt the most precious thing he had right now.
Sungchul’s face was pale and sweaty, radiating nothing but fear. He could barely hold the gaze of the tattooed giant gripping him.
"Why did you do it?" Jungkook growled through clenched teeth, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "What the fuck did you get out of it, huh?" Sungchul didn’t answer. His eyes darted back and forth, desperate, breathing like a fish out of water. Jungkook needed him to talk. He needed him to take responsibility for everything. "Answer me, dammit!" he shouted, and Sungchul flinched, shutting his eyes like he expected a blow that never came.
"W-what...? What are you talking about...? I didn’t..." he stammered, voice shaking, eyes scanning for an escape route that didn’t exist.
Yoongi approached slowly, never taking his eyes off Jungkook’s clenched fists or Sungchul’s growing terror. He placed a hand on the younger man's forearm, the one holding the other boy.
"Let him go, Jungkook. Let hyung handle this."
Yoongi’s voice was calm. Jungkook turned his head, eyes still blazing with fury, but when they met Yoongi’s composed gaze, he slowly loosened his grip.
As soon as Jungkook let go, Yoongi stepped in. In less than a second, Sungchul’s body was slammed back into the wall—this time with Yoongi’s fingers twisted into the collar of his shirt, his face only inches away.
"You think it’s funny to fuck with people’s lives, you piece of shit?" Yoongi hissed, voice low and cutting. "Who the hell gave you permission to mess with something that’s none of your business, huh? Do you even realize what you put him through, you moron? Do you get what you did to him?"
"I-I don’t know what you’re talking about!" Sungchul cried, voice trembling, eyes wide with panic.
"You don’t know? You don’t fucking know?" Yoongi let out a dry, humorless laugh. "I swear to God, if you keep playing dumb, you won’t be walking out of here."
"Enough!" Namjoon moved fast. He stepped away from Jungkook and went straight to Yoongi, grabbing the back of his neck with a sharp, precise pinch. Yoongi recoiled in pain. "Why is it always me? I have to do everything, it's incredible," Namjoon muttered.
"Ugh, let go!" Yoongi complained, squirming.
"Out," Namjoon ordered, voice like iron. He literally shoved Yoongi aside and turned back to Sungchul, who was barely staying upright.
"Namjoon, this asshole—"
"I said out."
Yoongi huffed, spun on his heel in frustration, and took a few steps back, arms crossed. He muttered something definitely not poetic under his breath and kicked a rock on the ground, but didn’t return.
Namjoon exhaled slowly and turned his attention to Sungchul. The boy had tried to stand up straight, grateful to be released, but didn’t get far before Namjoon placed a firm hand on his shoulder and shoved him right back against the wall, pinning him there with authority.
"Stay still," he commanded.
Sungchul swallowed hard and gave the tiniest of nods. At least Namjoon seemed more civilized.
Namjoon took out his phone, unlocked it without a word, and opened Instagram. His fingers flew as he searched until he found the post exposing them. He held it up in front of Sungchul’s face.
"Did you take this photo?" he asked in a neutral but firm tone.
Sungchul looked at the image, then glanced toward Jungkook, who was still breathing through his mouth. You didn’t need to be a genius to tell he was seconds away from losing it. Sungchul swallowed again. His shoulders slumped like he was trying to disappear into his own clothes, and in a tiny voice, barely audible, he whispered:
"Yeah…"
It was instant.
"You son of a bitch!" Jungkook roared.
He lunged forward without thinking. He was going straight for him, not even knowing what he was going to do once he had him in reach—just that his hands weren’t going to stay idle.
"Jungkook!" Namjoon yelled, throwing out an arm to block him.
Jungkook’s body slammed into Namjoon’s, and that was enough to stop him—but not to calm him. He struggled. Tried to move around him, but Namjoon was big.
"Yoongi-hyung!" the silver-haired man called without turning around.
"Oh, for fuck’s sake...!" Yoongi groaned, but moved toward them reluctantly. "You really make me work, you know that?"
Rolling his eyes, Yoongi still obeyed. He approached and grabbed Jungkook from behind, locking his arms and holding him tightly. Jungkook thrashed again, teeth clenched and muscles tight.
"Let me go, hyung! I’m gonna kill him!"
"No, you're not, dumbass. As much as I want that too, it's still technically illegal," Yoongi growled from behind, struggling to hold him steady. "Fucking breathe!"
Namjoon exhaled sharply, eyes locked on Sungchul, who looked like he was shrinking by the second. The guy was trembling, barely breathing properly. The shadow of the three men in front of him was swallowing him whole. Jungkook was still staring at him like he wanted to rip his head off with his bare hands.
"Do you know the people you took this picture of?" Namjoon asked in a voice that sounded straight out of an interrogation room. Sungchul blinked several times, his eyes nervously flicking between their faces.
"No... I don’t know them," he finally replied, voice barely a whisper. "I know one of them is the guy who wants to kill me right now," he added, pointing shakily at Jungkook.
Jungkook didn’t answer, but his knuckles cracked audibly. He felt a burn in his chest, a thick fire climbing up from his stomach. He understood why he was this angry—what he didn’t understand was how he hadn’t already smashed this asshole’s face in.
What the fuck was he even saying? That he didn’t know them and still took pictures? And that was normal to him? Stalking strangers and ruining their lives was just normal?
"Then explain this," Namjoon said in a lower voice, frowning deeply. "If you don’t know them, why did you follow two complete strangers for weeks? Why did you take those photos? Why did you send them to their parents? Why did you send that picture of the kiss to Yeoreum Confessions on Instagram?"
Sungchul’s brow furrowed hard, a genuine expression of confusion. He opened his mouth but needed a couple of seconds to form words.
"No... no, no, no. I didn’t do that! I... yes, I followed them that day in my dad’s car to the lookout point, but it was only that one time. I only took pictures that day. I have no idea what you’re talking about—weeks? Parents? That account? I don’t know any of that. I don’t know them! I don’t have that kind of information!"
A beat of total confusion filled the alley, the silence broken only by an incredulous exhale from Yoongi.
"What the hell are you saying, then?" he asked, eyes narrowing.
Jungkook felt dizzy. The information was entering his mind, but it just bounced around without settling. Hadn’t he followed them for weeks? Then…? His brain struggled to make sense of something that only seemed to grow more fucking surreal by the second.
"They paid me," Sungchul blurted out.
"What?" was all Jungkook could manage.
"That," Sungchul repeated, now sounding more confident. "It was a girl from the company I’ve been trying to hit on because she’s really cute, so when she asked me for a favor, I said yes. She told me to follow two guys and take pictures of them. Romantic ones, if possible. She said it was for a surprise photo album."
"A fucking surprise album?" Jungkook spat in disbelief, taking another step forward, which Yoongi quickly blocked again. Sungchul nodded frantically.
"Yes! That’s what she said. That she already had some photos but couldn’t follow you that day, so she asked me to keep an eye out in case you two went out together. She told me not to say anything, that you shouldn’t find out. She paid me in advance and I said yes—why wouldn’t I? It was money, and I was trying to score some points with her. I didn’t know this was going to blow up like this! I swear it was just that one time! That day at the lookout, it was me. I got lucky you happened to meet up. I followed you and took that photo. But after that… I realized I couldn’t leave without being seen. I had come in through the back trail, and going back that way wasn’t safe. The main path was too exposed, so… just to be safe, I took pictures of animals or… anything that made me look legit. And when you found me… I improvised. I said I was a biology student. I didn’t know what else to do."
"And you don’t know anything about the parents? The confessions account?" Namjoon pressed.
"Nothing! I swear. I took that photo, sent it to her by message, and that was it. She didn’t tell me anything else. She paid me to take pictures, not to ask questions. I don’t know what she did after. I didn’t know she was going to post it or contact the parents. I swear I didn’t!"
Jungkook felt a tight pressure in his chest, and his throat burned. He had been so sure that idiot was the direct culprit—the one who had ruined everything. But now… now there was another piece. A woman.
His eyes didn’t leave Sungchul’s nervous, sweaty face. His heart pounded so hard he could feel it in his fingertips, his temples, and his churning stomach.
Part of him didn’t want to ask, afraid of the answer. But the other part… was stronger.
"Who was it?" he asked, tension radiating from every syllable. Because he only knew three people from that agency—and they were his friends. Supposedly, his friends.
Mina.
Sana.
Momo.
His brain repeated the names like a prayer. He clenched his fists tighter. Please, don’t let it be any of them.
If one of them had anything to do with this…
He didn’t want to know.
Sungchul didn’t answer right away. He looked down and started fidgeting with his hands, visibly uncomfortable and nervous. Jungkook noticed the hard swallow, the slight tremble in his shoulders.
"I don’t want trouble with anyone," he finally said, his voice high and shaky. "I just did a favor, that’s all. Let me go or I’ll scream."
"Oh, you’ll scream," Yoongi snapped, stepping forward with a half-smile so dangerous it made the air bristle around them. "But it won’t be for help—it’ll be from pain if you don’t open your damn mouth and give us names. Talk, you piece of shit."
"I said I don’t want any trouble!"
"And you think you’re not already in it?" Namjoon cut in.
Sungchul glanced around at all of them, on the verge of collapse. Jungkook hadn’t taken his eyes off him for a single second. With every moment of silence, his rage rose another level.
"Shit… I just wanted to get laid," Sungchul said, defeated. "It was a girl. She’s a trainee, works with me, we have overlapping schedules sometimes. I just… she told me if I did her the favor, she’d make it worth my while. That’s it. I didn’t know it was that serious."
"Who?" Jungkook growled. "Say her name."
"Sana," Sungchul finally said. "Her name’s Sana. I don’t know if you know her."
The silence was brutal.
The three of them froze. Only the distant sound of a car horn and the electric hum of a nearby transformer broke through the thick air. Jungkook felt a violent throb explode at the base of his skull.
Sana.
It was Sana.
His breathing turned erratic, barely able to draw in air. Rage filled him so quickly it was hard to contain. He stepped back. He couldn’t keep looking at that guy without imagining his hands wrapped around his neck—but there was no real reason to hit him. He didn’t even know what he was part of. He was just a pawn.
Jungkook spun around and kicked a trash can with all his strength. The metallic clang echoed through the alley, the bin rolling away until it crashed against a brick wall.
"No fucking way…" Yoongi muttered, nearly breathless.
"Sana?" Namjoon whispered, running his hands through his hair. "That can’t be…"
"Goddamn it!" Jungkook shouted. Everything was a storm cloud of rage, betrayal, and rotting disappointment. "Sana, fuck!"
"What the hell was she getting out of this?" Namjoon asked no one in particular. He didn’t expect an answer. "I don’t get it. What the fuck was she trying to do?"
Jungkook paced, back and forth. How the fuck could it be Sana? She had laughed with them, eaten with them, shared dinners, hugs, moments he wanted to hold on to. She had earned their trust—for fuck’s sake, his trust. All of them.
"What the fuck was the point?" Jungkook spat, stopping in front of his friends, eyes burning with fury. "Did she want to ruin our lives because we didn’t play along? Because we didn’t throw ourselves at her? Is that it? Is it revenge because we didn't want her?"
Yoongi started to step closer but thought better of it. This wasn’t the moment. Jungkook was boiling from the inside out. Touching him now might just cost someone a hand.
Namjoon looked at Sungchul and nodded for him to leave. The guy muttered something under his breath about them being insane and practically ran out of there. Suddenly, Namjoon’s phone vibrated insistently. The silver-haired man checked the screen, squinting.
"Hoseok says the girls are at Jimin’s place," he said, raising his gaze to Jungkook with a note of concern. Jungkook didn’t even hesitate. He spun on his heel and started walking toward the alley’s exit without looking back. "What are you doing?" Namjoon asked, following after him. "What should I reply?"
"Don’t reply," Jungkook said, not breaking stride. "We’re going there now."
The older one let out a dry, disbelieving laugh.
"You’re about to do something reckless," he warned, though he was already walking after him.
"I’m going to ask for an explanation," Jungkook growled, pulling his keys out of his pocket. "And she’d better have one."
They got in the car in silence. The engine roared to life as Jungkook turned the key, the tires screeching a little as they sped off. Namjoon, from the passenger seat, glanced sideways at him but said nothing.
Sana hadn’t just betrayed them. She had toyed with their trust, their privacy, their personal lives. She had exposed their most intimate moments without shame or hesitation. Jungkook didn’t just feel hurt. He felt outraged.
The knocks on the door shattered the relaxed atmosphere in the living room. Jin, sitting on the couch with a card in hand, flinched. Everyone did. Hoseok had just rolled the dice and was left frozen, his hand suspended over the board. Jimin whipped his head around, frowning. Momo and Mina exchanged uncomfortable glances, and Taehyung lowered his eyes to his game pieces with a faint sigh, wondering who the hell could be arriving with such urgency.
"I’ll get it," Jin muttered, carelessly placing the Monopoly property cards on the table.
He stood and walked toward the door. The knocking didn’t stop—if anything, it grew louder. When he opened it, the figure on the other side pushed past him without saying a word.
It was Jungkook.
He stormed into the house like a hurricane in full fury. Behind him came Yoongi and Namjoon, visibly tense, trying to catch up and hold him back before he did something he’d regret. Jin barely managed to shut the door when Jungkook’s deep, broken voice echoed through the room.
"Where the fuck is Sana?" he burst out, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "Where is she?" he repeated, scanning every corner of the room. She wasn’t there. Sana wasn’t there.
A chill ran down Taehyung’s spine. The way Jungkook had barged in wasn’t normal. It wasn’t just anger—there was something else. Something that deeply worried him.
"Jungkook…" Hoseok said, raising both hands in an attempt to calm things down. "What’s going on?"
"Where the fuck is she? Just tell me where she is!" Jungkook demanded.
"She didn’t come!" Momo raised her voice. "She didn’t come, Jungkook. Ever since we found out about what happened with Tae and his mom, and the confession page stuff… she hasn’t left her room."
"What?" Jungkook froze for a few seconds, trying to process it.
"Hoseok asked us if we knew someone named Sungchul," Mina chimed in. "We don’t know him, other than the fact that he’s a trainee at the company. We’ve never talked to him. But when Sana heard that name… she went weird. All the color drained from her face, she started shaking, she looked terrified. She didn’t say anything, just locked herself in her room, and we haven’t been able to get her to come out. We don’t know what’s going on with her."
Jungkook’s heart pounded violently in his chest. He looked around the room again, noticing Taehyung sitting by the game board. Their eyes met. There was something in Taehyung’s gaze that disarmed him for a moment: calm, confusion, but also a silent plea for answers.
He swallowed hard and walked toward him without another word. His body moved on instinct, barely aware of anyone else. He dropped down next to him on the couch and pulled him into a tight hug, squeezing his eyes shut and burying his face in Taehyung’s neck, as if that were the only place he could hold himself together.
Taehyung tensed for a second, startled by the sudden gesture, but then slowly raised a trembling hand to gently stroke his back. He still didn’t understand what was happening.
"Kook…?" he whispered, unsure. Jungkook didn’t respond.
Behind them, Namjoon sighed and ran a hand down his face. He stepped forward and spoke in a deep, tired voice.
"Apparently… the person behind all of this is Sana."
"What?" everyone said in unison, almost perfectly synchronized after a few seconds of stunned silence.
Yoongi stepped forward, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets.
"We found out this afternoon. The picture of the kiss… it was taken by that Sungchul guy. Since we knew he was from the company, we waited for him at NOVA. We found him, cornered him, and questioned him."
"It wasn’t easy getting him to talk," Namjoon added, crossing his arms, his jaw tight with tension. "But he finally admitted Sana paid him. Apparently, she had followed you both before and taken other photos, but that day she couldn’t go, so she asked him to follow you and take the pictures. She told him it was for a surprise gift, a photo album… but it was all complete bullshit."
"The guy thought he was just helping her with a 'sweet little detail' for her friends, but no. She was the one who made sure both your parents got the pictures, and she’s the one who contacted the confession page. It was all her."
Taehyung felt a strange dizziness, like the ground had just collapsed beneath him. He couldn’t process it. Sana? Had she really gone that far?
Jiwoo had warned him. But he hadn’t believed it could be that serious.
"That can’t be," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else.
Jungkook was still holding him. His chest rose and fell rapidly, like he couldn’t breathe properly. He felt disgusted. Betrayed. He had believed in her. He’d let her into his world, he had trusted her. Hell, he’d even fought with Taehyung over her in the beginning.
Momo stared at the floor, her breathing uneven. Mina, beside her, clutched the edge of a cushion on her lap, hands trembling.
"No way…" Momo finally whispered. "There has to be a mistake. Are you sure it was her…?"
"I don’t get it," Mina added, shaking her head, her eyes red and on the verge of tears. "Sana? Our Sana? No… how could she have done something so… so awful?"
Jungkook still sat beside Taehyung, and every word Mina and Momo said felt like it clawed at his insides.
"Are you absolutely sure?" Momo insisted, her voice shaking. "Was it really her? How did she even get your parents’ contact info?"
"We didn’t know she was that upset…" Mina murmured, still in shock. "We did notice she didn’t like that you were drifting away from her, but… we never thought she’d do something like this. I never imagined…"
Hoseok, who had been sitting silently with his head down until then, swallowed hard. His body was tense, his expression weighed down with guilt. Suddenly, it was like he couldn’t stand the distance anymore. He stood up, walked over to Taehyung with heavy steps, and knelt in front of him, eyes glassy and face twisted in pain.
"Hyung…" Jimin muttered, alarmed.
"I’m so sorry, Tae. I think this is my fault," Hoseok said, reaching out and taking Taehyung’s hands in his. "A few days ago… Sana asked me your mom’s name. I thought it was odd, yeah, but I never imagined… I had no idea that… shit, I’m so sorry, Taehyung," he continued, his voice cracking. "I swear I’m sorry with all my heart. If I had known… if I’d had the slightest clue… I never would’ve told her anything. This is on me. Part of this is my fault."
Taehyung looked at him for a few seconds, but not the way Hoseok expected. He didn’t look at him with hatred, or resentment, or even anger. He looked at him with calm eyes and, slowly, released one of his hands to gently run his fingers through Hoseok’s hair.
"It wasn’t your fault, hyung. How could it be?" he murmured, barely more than a whisper. "You had no way of knowing. You couldn’t have imagined it. You’re not to blame."
Hoseok’s body trembled slightly, and with a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of a thousand regrets, he nodded. Then he sat on the floor beside Taehyung, leaning his back against his legs.
"Alright, fine, that’s how she found out Tae’s mom’s name," Jimin said, looking around at the others. "She’s a well-known doctor—just that was enough to search online. She probably found the hospital, her profile, her professional history, even institutional emails. With that info, she could’ve sent whatever she wanted. But… what about Jungkook’s parents?"
"She didn’t need to ask about them," Taehyung replied, his voice hoarse. As soon as he spoke, everyone turned to look at him. "Unlike me, Jungkook has a good relationship with his parents. He always has. There are photos, videos, social media posts. It wasn’t hard to find them. If you searched ‘Jeon Jungkook’ and knew what face to look for, that was enough. He’s never had to hide for being the family disappointment."
Jungkook felt a pull in his stomach. Not just because what he’d heard made perfect sense, but because of the way Taehyung said it—with resignation. That quiet kind of sadness made of exhaustion and acceptance. Something inside him twisted with rage—rage at the world, at the damn injustice, at that despicable woman who had shattered Taehyung’s heart and made him feel like he was never enough.
So he held him tighter.
Momo let herself fall forward, covering her face with her hands.
"I can’t believe she did this. Do you know how much we loved her? How many years we’ve known her? How can someone so… so close…?"
Mina’s eyes were brimming with tears, but she didn’t let them fall. She kept her posture straight, though her body trembled slightly.
"She wasn’t like this…" she whispered. "At least, not the version of her we knew. When did she change? Why didn’t we notice?"
"Some things only come out when someone feels threatened, cornered. Insecurity, jealousy, the need to control..." Namjoon said.
"Now it all makes sense..." Mina murmured again, her eyes fixed on an undefined point on the floor. "The calls in the middle of the night… the late nights out… the nighttime returns. She looked so exhausted lately," she added. "So… irritable. More and more distant."
"No wonder she changed so much," Momo added, nodding slowly. "She didn’t talk like she used to, and when she did, she was… weird."
"What calls?" Jin asked, frowning. "What exactly are you talking about?"
Momo turned her head toward him.
"Sana was on the phone a lot in the middle of the night. We thought she was seeing someone… maybe a new love interest. She didn’t seem ready to talk about it, so we didn’t push. But now…" she paused, "now with all of this… I don’t know. Maybe it wasn’t what we thought."
"Then what if someone else is involved?" Namjoon suggested, looking at the entire group. "If Sungchul’s telling the truth, if he really didn’t know what Sana was planning and just took the photo of the kiss because she asked… then maybe she didn’t do all of this alone, not if she’s been calling someone."
The thought made Jungkook’s stomach knot instantly. He pulled away from Taehyung and turned to Momo and Mina, his eyes dark.
"What do you two know?" he asked, jaw clenched, eyes locked on them. "I want the truth. How much did you know?"
Momo and Mina exchanged a visibly uncomfortable glance.
"That’s all we know," Mina said. "We swear."
Jungkook narrowed his eyes. He didn’t believe them—he couldn’t. His trust had been fractured.
"Seriously? You’re gonna tell me you didn’t know your best friend, the one you live with, the one you’ve known for years… was behind all this?"
His voice shook, but it wasn’t from fear—it was pure rage. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, eyes wide with an intensity that seemed like it could pierce through walls. Momo stood up from her seat so abruptly that everyone turned to look at her.
"Believe us," she demanded, raising her voice slightly. "We feel betrayed too! We thought she was our friend. We didn’t know she was doing this. Do you really think we would’ve let it happen if we knew?"
"And why the fuck should I believe you?" Jungkook snapped. "I’ve only known you for a couple of months and look, one of you already turned out to be a fucking traitor. Why the hell shouldn’t I think the same about you two?"
Hoseok’s eyes locked on him instantly. He stood halfway and gave him a stern look.
"Dial it back, Jungkook," he warned. "You’re insulting my girlfriend."
Jungkook clicked his tongue in frustration and looked away with a scowl. He didn’t want to fight his hyung. Taehyung reached out and took his hand. His fingers intertwined with Jungkook’s, squeezing gently, grounding him in the middle of the chaos. Jungkook looked down at their hands for a few seconds, and the contact steadied him a little. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
Losing his cool wouldn’t help.
Mina, in a nearly desperate gesture, pulled her phone from the back pocket of her jeans. Then she reached into Momo’s jacket and pulled out hers too. She walked over to Jungkook and held both devices out to him.
"Here, take them," she said with unwavering confidence. "If you really think we’re involved, check them. Read our messages and look for proof. If there’s anything that incriminates us, anything that shows we knew or helped, you’ll find it there."
Jungkook looked at the phones, then up at Mina. Her face held a determination he hadn’t seen before. Momo, standing behind her, met his eyes without a trace of guilt.
He felt the pressure in his hand—Taehyung was squeezing his fingers. The warmth of his skin and that firm grip forced him to take another deep breath.
"It’s not necessary," he said at last, his voice rough from the effort it took to say it. "I lost it. I’m sorry."
He turned back to Taehyung. The older one gave him a soft smile, raised his free hand, and gently ran it through his hair. His fingers combed through the dark strands tenderly, trying to soothe him.
"Don’t apologize," Momo murmured after Mina sat back down beside her. "Really, if it were the other way around, if I were in your shoes… I’d doubt every new person in my life too."
Jungkook nodded, unable to say anything else. He still didn’t fully trust them, but he didn’t want to be unfair. It just stunned him how someone who had entered their lives so quickly could also destroy them just as fast.
"So what the fuck are we gonna do now, huh?" Jimin burst out, his voice thick with anger. "Are we just gonna sit here looking like dumbasses? Because I’m done."
He didn’t bother to hide his rage—it burned in his eyes, seared across his skin, throbbed at his temples.
"I don’t know about you guys," Momo said, her voice so cold it sounded like someone else’s, "but I want Sana as far away from my life as possible. To me, she’s done. She doesn’t exist anymore. She betrayed us and there’s no going back." She turned to Mina, who was still silent. "You agree, right, Mina? Or are you planning to keep sleeping next door to a fucking snake?"
Mina swallowed hard, her face tense, but unlike Momo, her expression was more tinged with sadness than rage. She nodded—barely, just a weak tilt of her head.
"I don’t recognize her anymore. Sana’s not... she’s not the same. I lost her a long time ago and didn’t even realize it."
Jungkook felt his chest tighten at her words. He looked at Mina more closely; her eyes were wet and her lips were trembling. Jin, without a word, gently patted her back in a quiet show of support. Maybe he had been too harsh—maybe these girls were grieving a loss too. Sana had lied to them as well.
"If she was capable of fucking up Taehyung and Jungkook’s lives just because they stopped fighting for her stupid attention," Momo continued, her expression twisted in disgust, "then that woman is seriously sick. I mean it—mentally unstable. People like that can hurt anyone, and I don’t want her anywhere near me. I don’t feel safe living under the same roof as her."
Mina nodded again, more firmly this time, though a single tear slipped silently down her cheek. Jin gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
"Then," Jin spoke up, turning to face everyone in the room, "what the hell do we do now? Because it’s pretty clear this doesn’t end here. If we’re starting to think there might be someone else involved besides Sana..."
"I know exactly what I’m going to do," Jimin said immediately, rising to his feet. His face was contorted with such intense rage that even Jungkook couldn’t remember ever seeing him like that before. "I’m going to tell that bitch the fucking truth to her face. I’m done."
He reached into his pocket, pulled out his keys, and headed for the door.
"You’re going now?" Hoseok asked, frowning in confusion. "To her apartment?"
"Isn’t it obvious?" Jimin shot back without slowing down. "She’s the one who made my best friend suffer. I’m not going to just sit around and let her get away with it."
The phrase 'best friend' echoed loudly in Taehyung’s chest. He looked up. His expression—until now blank, lifeless, lost—shifted. He pressed his lips together and stood up from the couch. Silence fell over the room as everyone turned to look at him.
Jungkook watched him with curiosity. Taehyung was standing tall, his face hardened, his eyes burning. He wasn’t the fragile guy who had hidden away, not the Taehyung who had been shattered by betrayal. This was someone else—someone closer to the original version of himself. The one who didn’t let anyone step on him, the one who bit back when provoked.
"I’m going with you," Taehyung said. His voice didn’t shake, not even once. He walked over to Jimin as everyone’s eyes followed him closely. "I have to do this. I need to look her in the face and hear it. I need her to say it. I need her to admit it without hesitation."
His eyes now blazed with a fury that came from deep within. His entire body had shifted in energy. He wasn’t curled in on himself anymore, he wasn’t in shock, he didn’t look like he was about to fall apart, and he no longer felt like a hollow shell. Jungkook felt a surge of pride—because this was his Taehyung. The one he loved. The one who didn’t let himself sink without a fight.
Taehyung fought back. He never gave up. He always responded. He didn’t let fear silence him. That defeated guy wasn’t him.
Almost without thinking, Jungkook’s legs carried him forward. He reached out and gently took Taehyung’s hand, lacing their fingers together.
"I’m going too," Jungkook said, his voice leaving no room for doubt.
The blond looked at him with glistening eyes and smiled, grateful.
One by one, the others began to move. Hoseok stood up after casting a worried glance at Momo. Namjoon sighed and walked over to join them. Yoongi, without saying a word, headed to the door and opened it. Jin helped Mina to her feet. No one seemed willing to stay behind.
They left the house without another word. Outside, they split up into the available cars. Taehyung climbed into the passenger seat of Jungkook’s car and, for the first time in hours, took a deep breath—not to hold back tears.
He wasn’t going to just stand by and watch the wreckage from a distance anymore.
He wasn’t going to keep being the guy who cried alone under the blankets.
He wasn’t going to let Sana win. He wasn’t going to give her that power.
He was standing, he was awake, and he was ready to face her.
Chapter 47: Chapter 46
Chapter Text
"I honestly don't get what the hell that witch was trying to do," Jin spat, arms crossed in the back seat of Jungkook’s car. His brow was furrowed like he was chewing on something bitter. "Break them up and then what? Did she think that after screwing them over like that, one of them would just fall at her feet like nothing happened? Did she think she’d walk away unscathed after all this crap? I hate her, I swear on my fucking life I hate her. I can’t understand how someone can be so damn poisonous, so manipulative, so twisted... What the fuck was her game?"
The car rolled down the avenue. The sun was starting to set, but there was still about an hour left before it disappeared completely. Jungkook was driving, of course—his hand gripped the steering wheel firmly, while the other rested on Taehyung’s thigh, an automatic gesture to make sure he was still there.
Taehyung sat in the passenger seat, arms relaxed at his sides, but his eyes were burning. He hadn’t said much yet, but not because he had nothing to say—his mind was a storm of thoughts, all crashing like lightning through his rage. He was tired of feeling like a victim. He was tired of swallowing the pain.
"Maybe she only wanted Taehyung," Namjoon commented from the back seat beside Jin. "The attack was more directly aimed at him, wasn’t it? She knew his mom would react badly. With you, Jungkook, even though she sent the photos—and yeah, it’s serious—she knew beforehand your parents wouldn’t make a fuss because you’d already told her they weren’t conservative."
"Could be," Jin replied with an annoyed huff. "Tuesday, when we were talking about going to Lotte World… which, by the way, is now more cancelled than our emotional stability, I saw Sana acting super flirty with you, Tae. It struck me as weird, 'cause she’s usually more ambiguous, but that day she was… pushy."
"I noticed too," Namjoon nodded with a crooked, teasing grin. "And I don’t know if that’s why, but Jungkook was fucking pissed that day. I thought you were jealous… and in my naivety and infinite ignorance, I figured you still had a thing for Sana and that’s why you were acting all defensive."
Jungkook let out a heavy sigh and briefly glanced at Namjoon through the rearview mirror, a clear grimace of irritation on his face. Taehyung turned his head to look at him. His eyes narrowed, full of mockery. A sly, cocky smile spread across his lips—the kind of smile that said I see you.
"Was I that obvious?" Jungkook groaned, lips pressed tight, though a slight blush crept onto his face.
"Too obvious," Jin replied with a sarcastic laugh. "You looked like you were about to grow horns with how intense your stare was. I wanted to take a picture for the memories."
Taehyung laughed loudly and reached out toward Jungkook’s face, catching him by the chin. With his long, elegant fingers, he stroked his skin in a playful tease.
"Poor jealous boy," he murmured with a mischievous tone. "You’re such an idiot, Jungkook."
"She really was annoying though," Jungkook replied, letting out a nervous chuckle.
"Which is exactly why it’s funny," Taehyung shot back. "You acted like Sana was some real threat. I just thought you were a jealous dumbass—adorable, but still dumb. I’ll admit it was kind of cute. I don’t know… seeing you that stupid."
Jungkook lowered his head for a second, biting back a smile. He could feel the heat rising to his cheeks, but he didn’t complain.
"Me? Stupid? Why is everyone picking on me now?" he asked, only half-pretending to be annoyed.
"Because you deserve it," Jin and Taehyung said in unison. "And because you’re easy to mess with," the oldest added.
The black-haired boy rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. He couldn’t be mad about being the target now—not when he could see that Taehyung was slowly starting to regain some of his spark. He’d rather be called an idiot than see him crying again.
"Even if Sana had succeeded… even if she had managed to separate me from Jungkook, I still never would’ve looked at her again," Taehyung snapped. Jungkook blinked, quickly glancing sideways at him.
"Not even if I didn’t exist?" Jungkook asked with a barely-there smile. Taehyung turned his head, raised an eyebrow, and clicked his tongue in disdain, as if the mere suggestion offended him.
"Please. That woman could reincarnate in the body of someone with wings and a goddamn halo, and I still wouldn’t be interested. Not after this—not in this life or any other."
And he wasn’t exaggerating. He wasn’t speaking out of spite, or trying to sound tough, or putting on a front—he meant it from the bottom of his soul. Taehyung had spent hours in a bottomless pit, dragging himself through the wreckage of his own self-worth, wishing he could just disappear. But now… now, no. Now his blood boiled with fury.
The car kept moving through the city, and the traffic wasn’t heavy. Taehyung closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. He could smell the leather seats, Jungkook’s cologne mixing with his friends’ in the closed air, and the faint metallic tinge of the air conditioning.
How the hell had it come to this?
Sana, that bitch, hadn’t been satisfied with just trying to get between him and Jungkook—she had actually taken the time to follow them, take pictures, and dig into their personal lives until she found their weak spots. She messed with their families, their stability, their privacy.
She had sent those fucking pictures to Jungkook’s parents, knowing they might not react badly, but still trying anyway. And with his mother… his mother… the rage rose in his throat like acid. She had destroyed him. Taken away everything he once believed was secure. He no longer had a home, no support, no mother. At least, not a real one—because the woman who gave him life had slammed the door in his face, disowned him, and worst of all, stripped him of the right to call her mom.
Taehyung remembered crying so much that night he felt hollow, like he’d dried out from the inside, like his soul had dehydrated and turned to dust. He felt like a ghost, a fucking shadow of himself. The only thing keeping him sane was that Jungkook hadn’t left—and that he’d held him, even when Taehyung didn’t have the strength to hold back.
But he wasn’t going to cry anymore. Not now.
Now, the hollow space in his chest had been replaced with fire. He was fucking furious. What kind of psychopath did something like that? What kind of person followed two people who were clearly falling in love just to tear them apart? Sana wasn’t just a liar—she was cruel and dangerous. And Taehyung had no intention of sitting back and doing nothing.
He wasn’t a fucking martyr.
Taehyung didn’t give up, he didn’t stay quiet—he had a razor-sharp tongue and ironclad pride. He enjoyed crushing people with words, leaving them staring at the ground with nothing to say. And he was going to do it. He was going to tear Sana apart, letter by letter. Because he wasn’t going to let anyone—absolutely anyone—take away the one thing that had truly felt his: the love he was building with Jungkook.
Jungkook stopped the car at a red light. The crimson glow reflected in his eyes, and that was when he looked over. Taehyung’s brow was still furrowed, his eyes burning like embers, his jaw tight and defined. He looked beautiful. Not in the classic way, but in that raw, unapologetic kind of way that unraveled Jungkook’s chest. And the best part—the thing that eased the tightness in his lungs—was that there were no tears.
There was fire.
Taehyung was coming back. The real Taehyung.
The wave of relief that surged through Jungkook nearly made him smile. He reached out with one hand and briefly brushed Taehyung’s leg again, trying to offer some kind of reassurance, certainty—something.
The roar of the engine returned, filling the tense silence between them as Jungkook stepped on the gas, leaving another intersection behind. Taehyung slipped his hand into his coat pocket and pulled out his phone. The screen lit up with a downpour of unread notifications. He hadn’t had the headspace—let alone the emotional bandwidth—to look at them the night before. He scrolled lazily through the list, his eyes scanning the names: Minho, Jiwoo, a few classmates, and several unknown numbers he hadn’t even saved. Some messages were curious, others empathetic, a few clearly voyeuristic, and others were filled with hate.
And those were the ones he chose to reply to first.
What kind of sick freak does that in front of everyone? You should be ashamed. That’s not love, it’s disgusting. <<
>>And what do you do with your time, besides stalking people who clearly don’t give a shit about you? Go do something useful, you bitter waste of space.
Send.
The next one was shorter, but no less aggressive.
That was disgusting. You two are trash. You should hide. <<
>>And you should learn to write without projecting your own misery. If I’m trash to you, then I suggest using toilet paper instead of your cheap-ass prejudice.
Another one:
Everyone’s talking about you. You’re destroying your reputation. I thought you were different, Taehyung. <<
The difference is I don’t pretend to be someone I’m not just to please cowards like you. If a kiss is enough to shatter my reputation, then I never wanted it in the first place. Thanks for your opinion—I’ll stick it in my pocket and sit on it. :)
And more:
Gross, seriously. No one wants to see f*gs at university. You should be ashamed. <<
Lucky for me, I wasn’t born to please you. Lucky for me, your standards are worth as much as your opinion: total shit. The block button is right there, use it if your homophobia’s got you so triggered. Though honestly, if I’m so disgusting, why are you the one messaging me? Curious, isn’t it?
And as if that weren’t enough:
I’ve got nothing against anyone, but it’s disrespectful to do stuff like that in public. There are families, kids, and decent people in those places. Keep it in your homes. <<
Oh sure. Because a kiss between two people is the real problem here—not murder, corruption, or abuse. Yeah, the world’s gonna collapse because you saw two mouths touching. What a tragedy. The trauma. Poor children. Poor you.
Jungkook, although not looking directly, could see from the corner of his eye how fiercely Taehyung was typing, nonstop. Should he ask…?
Taehyung ignored the supportive messages for now—not because he didn’t appreciate them, but because he simply couldn’t process them yet. He scrolled upward until he found Minho’s name.
Minho the Cripple
Holy shit, Tae! Are you okay? Who the hell did this to you? <<
Don’t f*cking disappear on me. Say something, I’m losing it over here. <<
Any idea who it was? I swear, if I find out, I’m going to their house with a damn torch. <<
That son of a bitch—are you okay? Please tell me you’re okay. This is so fucked up. I can’t believe someone would do this to you. <<
Taehyung swallowed thickly, sighed through his nose, and finally replied:
>>It was Sana.
The double blue checkmarks appeared in less than two seconds—Minho was already there—and the reply came so fast Taehyung barely had time to lock his phone again.
What? Are you serious? Sana? No way, Tae! Are you sure?! <<
>>Yeah, it was her. She followed us multiple times, took photos of us, found stuff out about my mom and Jungkook’s parents. She sent the pictures to them and apparently, she also sent the photo of the kiss to the confession page.
But why would she do that? I thought she cared about you! I thought she was your friend! <<
>>I guess she wanted to split us up because she was obsessed. My mom got furious after seeing the pictures and, unfortunately, she cut me off and kicked me out of the house.
A few seconds passed.
Fuck. Holy fuck. She’s dead to me. Dead. That’s disgusting and such a betrayal. How could she do that? This is insane. Are you okay? <<
Taehyung hesitated for a moment, then typed:
>>I’m furious. But I’m still standing.
You better be. Because if you ever need to set something on fire, I’ll bring the gasoline. <<
>>Thanks, Minho.
Taehyung let out a short sigh and stared at the open conversation for a few seconds. Beside him, Jungkook glanced over again—this time for longer.
"Everything okay?"
The blond swallowed hard, lowered his phone a little, and turned to face him.
"No. But I’m handling it," he said, voice low and steady. Then he added, with a twisted, dangerous smile, "I clapped back at a few assholes. Want to read my best lines?"
"You’ll show me later. I love your sharp comebacks, but... are you really okay?"
"I’m starting to feel like myself again." He twisted his wrist until his knuckles cracked. "And that’s really bad news for the people who wanted to see me broken."
He looked back down at his phone. Jiwoo’s name appeared just beneath Minho’s, along with a borderline absurd number of messages: 50. And as if that wasn’t enough, she’d tried to call him 10 times.
She was clearly frantic and deeply worried. She’d asked repeatedly who had done it, and what caught his attention the most was that she had her own theory—it might have been Sana. She didn’t want to accuse her without proof, but she felt it in her bones. Taehyung furrowed his brows and let out a disbelieving whistle.
Jungkook slightly turned his head—not taking his eyes off the road—but catching his expression from the corner of his eye.
"What happened?"
"Jiwoo texted me like a thousand times," he said with a hint of astonishment. "And in one of those messages… she said she thinks it was Sana."
"What? Seriously?"
"Yeah." Taehyung nodded slowly, dragging his thumb across the screen. "She says she feels it in her bones."
"I swear, women have that sixth sense," Jin said, amazed.
He kept reading the messages. Jiwoo told him she had gone to his house, knocked several times, but no one answered. The anxiety was palpable even in her rushed texts, full of typos from typing too fast. Then she explained that she had called Jimin and he assured her that Taehyung was okay, alive and in one piece, though he hadn’t given her many details. Calmer after that, Jiwoo begged him to text her as soon as he could.
Before the poor girl could tear her hair out from worry, he hit the call button. At the first ring, Jiwoo’s voice burst through the phone, full of emotion and relief.
"Taehyung! Goddammit! Where are you? Are you okay? I’ve been going out of my mind with worry, you idiot! Who the hell did this? You have no idea how furious I am! I’m going to kill whoever it was!"
"Jiwoo, wait—"
"I’m so pissed, Tae! I swear I was about to go to the police, but then Jimin said you were alive and—"
"Jiwoo, Jiwoo, stop, stop, please."
"No! I just can’t believe this!"
"Ji! Jiwoo, let me talk for a second!" Taehyung insisted, raising his voice a little.
"Oh… yeah, yeah, sorry. Go ahead, tell me. What happened?"
Taehyung took a deep breath, his eyes fixed on the dashboard in front of him, not sure where to begin. The line went quiet, tense and expectant.
"They didn’t just send the photo to the confessions account..." he began, his voice more serious, heavier. "They also sent them to our parents. My mom, and Jungkook’s. Along with other pictures. From when we went out together."
On the other end of the line, Jiwoo didn’t respond right away. There was a long silence, broken only by the sound of her sigh—one full of frustration.
"Taehyung... are you fucking kidding me?"
"I wish I were."
"Your parents...?"
"Jungkook’s took it pretty well," he added with a hint of relief, glancing slightly toward the driver, who kept his eyes on the road. "But mine... she kicked me out."
"She kicked you out?" Jiwoo repeated, her voice lower now.
"She cut me off. Said she was disappointed. That she didn’t want to see me again."
"That fucking bitch!" Jiwoo exploded, unleashing all her fury. "Fuck this, Taehyung! She can’t do that to you! You’re her fucking son! This is insane!"
"Lower your voice, please," he asked, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
"I don’t give a shit! I’m sick of this! What the hell is wrong with people? Who in their right mind thinks it’s okay to stalk you, take photos, and then send them to your parents? What do they get out of that? What kind of monster does that? Who did it?" Jiwoo asked, for like the tenth time.
Taehyung let out a long sigh, heavy with exhaustion, frustration, and defeat. He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes for a few seconds, trying to find the right words.
"You might already know who it was," he answered quietly.
Jiwoo didn’t respond immediately. The silence lasted only a few seconds before she let out another breath.
"It was Sana, wasn’t it?"
"Yeah."
And then came the explosion.
"Fuck, I knew it!" Jiwoo snapped, unable to hold back. "I knew it, Taehyung! I told you to keep an eye on her because she gave me bad vibes the second she approached me with that fake-ass smile and that passive-aggressive bullshit tone trying to get information about you. It was obvious! So damn obvious! She was trying to dig up whatever she could about you because she’s insane and wanted to use it for something. She’s fucking sick!"
Taehyung ran a hand over his face, goosebumps spreading across his skin with every word his friend spoke. She was right—about everything. Every warning, every suspicion. And he… he had ignored it. Not because he was naïve, but because he was stubborn, convinced the world couldn’t be that twisted.
"I know," he admitted, his voice rough. "But I didn’t think it would go this far. I never imagined she’d be capable of something like this..."
"Where are you?" Jiwoo asked, making Taehyung blink. "Because I can hear you’re in a car. Where are you going?"
"Well, we basically just found out it was Sana," he said, slumping a bit more into the seat. "We figured it out because in the picture of me and Jungkook kissing, I managed to spot the person who took it. It’s a guy named Sungchul, a trainee at the same company as Mina, Momo, and Sana. So Jungkook went to wait for him outside the company with Namjoon and Yoongi. They confronted him, and he admitted he took the photo… but he had no idea about the confessions account or our parents. Sana told him it was for a photo album, a gift for us. And he agreed because, well… he wanted to sleep with her, basically. So," Taehyung continued, "now we’re all heading to the girls’ apartment, because she locked herself in there once she realized we were on to her, I think."
Another silence followed on the phone. Jiwoo seemed to be processing everything carefully.
"Give me the fucking address," she said firmly.
"For what?" Taehyung asked, tensing up.
"It’s in your best interest to have me there," she said without hesitation. "Honestly, it really is."
"I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jiwoo," he murmured.
"I do think it’s a good idea," she shot back. "So give me the address."
"Jiwoo…"
"Give it to me."
"I don’t know how Sana would react if you show up," Taehyung tried to argue, his voice dragging with weariness. "I don’t know if that’s going to calm things down or blow them up even more. And this isn’t your responsibility. I don’t want you to get caught up in something that could escalate."
"I’m already caught up, Tae," she snapped. "I’m your friend, remember? This affects me too, okay? It breaks my fucking heart to imagine you going through this, and now having to deal with the person who caused it all. So yeah, I’m pissed. And yeah, I want to get this off my chest. I want to look her in the face and tell her—and do—what she fucking deserves. But whatever. If you’re not going to give me the address, fine. Just promise me you’ll call if you need anything, anything at all. Because I’m your best friend, okay?"
Taehyung lowered his head and rested his forehead in his palm, eyes closed.
"I will," he whispered. "Of course I will. You really are my best friend. And you have no idea how much I appreciate your support."
"You’re my best friend too," she said quietly, clearly holding back tears. "If anything goes wrong, anything spirals out of control, you call me. I’m one phone call away, you hear me?"
"Yeah... okay. But I have to go. We’re almost at Sana’s apartment," he replied, his voice low.
"Call me the second it’s over," Jiwoo ordered. "I need an update on all of this, Tae. You can’t leave me hanging. Besides, there’s something that’s been on my mind."
Taehyung frowned and shifted slightly in his seat.
"What is it?"
"I don't think she's working alone," Jiwoo stated bluntly. "It doesn't add up. There's no way she pulled all this off by herself. She doesn't have the time, and you know she's always stuck to Mina and Momo like glue. If neither of them noticed her slipping away... that only means one thing: she asked someone for help. And not just once, like you guys think." She added, "And how did she even find out? How did she know about you and Jungkook in the first place?"
"I don't know," he finally admitted, voice low. "I really have no idea. I don't know how she found out. Mina and Momo did notice that she was getting back late sometimes, but they never said it was happening every day."
"All the more reason to press her," Jiwoo insisted. "Because someone else is involved. And that person needs to pay too."
Taehyung nodded again, biting his lip. Jiwoo was right. And even though the idea that this could be bigger than they'd thought terrified him, he couldn’t ignore it.
"I will," he murmured. "I’ll call you later. Thanks for everything, Jiwoo. You're the best."
"I know, idiot. This hurts like hell, so don’t leave me out of it," she said, her voice breaking faintly at the end.
"I won’t," he promised, then hung up.
"Jiwoo? How is she?" Namjoon asked from the back seat, leaning forward slightly.
"That’s her," Taehyung replied with a sigh. "She was on the verge of a panic attack because I didn’t pick up earlier."
"And you’re okay with that?" Jin jumped in, the mocking tone in his voice impossible to miss. He twisted slightly in his seat to shoot Jungkook a sly smile. "I mean… Taehyung's best friend being also his ex-friend with benefits. They used to screw like rabbits. Doesn’t that make you jealous?"
Oh, fucking Jin.
Jungkook didn’t answer right away. He tilted his head slowly and pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek, letting out a long sigh. His eyes never once left the road.
"Don’t bring up that shit, hyung," he said at last.
The laughter that followed was almost instant. Jin burst into a loud, unfiltered cackle, elbowing Namjoon, who chuckled more discreetly.
"Oh, come on! Look at him. Jealous baby," Jin cooed, placing a hand dramatically over his chest. "So cute when he’s mad."
"Jin-hyung, knock it off," Taehyung called from the passenger seat, not fully holding back his laugh, but still trying to calm things down. He glanced at Jungkook with that soft warmth in his chest that always bubbled up whenever he saw him clench his jaw like that. Without thinking much, he leaned toward him and gently tapped his nose with a finger, letting out a playful little sound. "Hyung, you know I’m really faithful. Don’t mess with Jungkook about that," he said sweetly.
Jin recoiled with an exaggerated grimace.
"Ugh, disgusting. Save that for later, please."
Jungkook huffed under his breath, but the pull at his lips was a half-smile he couldn’t completely hide. That little sting in his pride was still there, but Taehyung’s closeness chipped away at it.
He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but yes, he was jealous—way more than he wanted to be. Sometimes it was hard to remember that before all of this, Taehyung had a past. People who’d known him in ways Jungkook could barely imagine without his stomach burning.
"We’re here," he said suddenly, voice turning serious again. He slowed down as he turned the corner and recognized the building where the girls lived.
"What a shame," Taehyung pouted dramatically. "I was just starting to feel better."
Namjoon gave a dry laugh and shook his head.
"Time to get serious," he said as he stretched his shoulders and shifted in his seat. Jin raised a brow, looking out the window toward the building.
"Only she would be dumb enough to mess with rich people."
"Why do you say that?" Namjoon asked curiously.
"Because on the way over here, I thought of at least five different ways to destroy her life without lifting a finger. And all of them require money, connections, and influence," Jin replied, glancing back with a cold smile. "You’ve got to be either really stupid or really brave to pull this kind of shit with someone who can literally wipe out your social existence in a day."
"You’re horrible. You’re a horrible person," Namjoon said with a nervous laugh. "Remind me never to piss you off."
Jin winked at him, and then silence settled over them as the car came to a stop in front of the building. Jungkook turned off the engine with a sharp flick, and the sudden silence inside was deafening.
Jimin’s car growled to a halt behind theirs, then the engine cut off. In the rearview mirror, Jungkook caught a glimpse of his friends getting out one by one: Hoseok stepped out first, followed by Yoongi adjusting his jacket; then Momo and Mina, and finally Jimin, who slammed the driver’s door a bit too hard.
The nine of them walked into the building and then headed toward the elevator. No one said it aloud, but they all knew the ride up was going to be hell. Nine people didn’t fit comfortably—everyone would be crammed and tense.
But the one who was going to suffer the most was Taehyung. That day, with his mind in chaos and his heart pounding like a goddamn hammer, anything that felt suffocating could trigger a meltdown.
The doors opened with a sharp chime, and one by one they started stepping in. Jin grumbled about the lack of space as Hoseok squeezed against the back wall next to Momo. Jimin, seeing Taehyung tense up immediately, looked at him with concern—but Jungkook was already moving.
He pressed up against him from behind, gently trapping him against the wall, wrapping his arms around him without a second thought. He lowered his lips to his neck, just brushing it at first, then kissed it softly. He felt Taehyung’s heart pounding against his chest. He also felt his breathing shorten, quicken—and so he held him tighter, one hand on his waist, the other at the back of his neck.
"Just breathe," he whispered against his skin. "Focus on me."
Taehyung closed his eyes. Let himself melt into that warmth, into that voice that always quieted the storm. His back was stiff at first, like a steel rod, but then he let his shoulders loosen just a bit.
Jin glanced at them sideways with a smirk.
"How romantic. Can’t you two wait until you’re alone to lick each other’s faces?"
"Shut up, hyung," Taehyung snapped without opening his eyes. "You’re just jealous because you can’t do this with Joohyun. Because you’re a cowardly asshole who won’t make a move because you’re afraid of rejection. You’re gonna die alone, and the only company you’ll have is that cat you’re allergic to and adopted just to have something to talk to her about."
The elevator dropped into a brutal silence. Jin blinked, mouth open, offended. His lips trembled, and for a second, it looked like he was going to reply—but he didn’t. He had no idea what to say, no way to argue with it.
"Holy... shit," Namjoon murmured.
A laugh bubbled in the pit of everyone’s stomach, but no one dared to let it out. It was hilarious—but they couldn’t forget why they were there, and laughing like that might be pushing it.
The elevator reached the eleventh floor and the doors slid open.
Mina was the first to move, pulling the key from her pocket. She walked toward the apartment door with hesitant steps, the others following closely behind.
"She’s locked in her room," Mina murmured, her voice tight. Her hand trembled as she inserted the key.
The door opened with a sharp click.
The apartment was shrouded in thick darkness. The curtains were still drawn, shutting out the last sliver of sunlight as it disappeared beyond the horizon. Everything was silent, except for a faint beam of warm light leaking from beneath Sana’s bedroom door.
Jungkook felt Taehyung tense again beside him. No one moved at first, but a second later, the blond stepped forward, crossing the threshold like a storm about to explode.
The sound of his shoes against the wooden floor was the only thing breaking the silence. Jungkook followed closely behind, jaw clenched and eyes locked forward. Jimin moved with steady steps too, and then the rest of the group entered.
Taehyung reached the hallway that led to the bedrooms, planted himself in front of Sana’s door, grabbed the handle and tried to push it open with force, but it didn’t budge. It was locked.
"Open the fucking door, Sana!" he roared, slamming his fist against the wood—once, twice, three times—with such brutal force that the frame shook. "Open up, damn it! I know you're in there! Come out already! You can't hide! Not after everything you did! Come out right now!" he kept shouting, still gripping the handle and pounding the door with his fist.
Startled by the screams, Momo rushed to the apartment’s main door and slammed it shut, glancing nervously down the hallway, worried that a neighbor might come out to see what was going on. She quickly returned, lips pressed together and face pale.
"Open the damn door!" Taehyung roared again, hitting the wooden surface with so much strength that his hand was already red from the repeated blows. "How long are you going to keep hiding, huh?!"
Jungkook stared at him for a moment—Taehyung’s fury echoed his own. That same burning feeling, that need for answers was boiling inside him too. Without thinking, he stepped forward and positioned himself right behind Taehyung, and without holding back, began to pound on the door with both hands. The wood groaned, but it didn’t give in.
"Come out and face us, for fuck's sake!" Jungkook shouted this time.
Mina, seeing that the door remained shut and that no one was responding from the other side, let out a tense gasp and said hurriedly, "I’ll go get the key," and spun around almost desperately, disappearing down the hallway toward the kitchen.
But Jungkook didn’t want to wait. He was beyond reason now—there was no way he was just going to stand there.
"Fuck this," he muttered through gritted teeth. Without another word, he gently pushed Taehyung aside. The blond turned to him, surprised, but said nothing.
Jungkook took a deep breath, then lifted his leg and kicked the lock with brutal force. The impact was so violent that the crack of splintering wood echoed through the apartment, followed by the metallic snap of the lock breaking off. The door flew open, slamming into the inner wall with a loud, jarring bang.
Everyone behind them froze for a moment. Hoseok and Jin’s eyes were wide open. Namjoon let out a soft, barely audible "shit." Momo covered her mouth. Jimin, not blinking, just stared at Jungkook as if he’d just watched lightning strike through the ceiling. And Taehyung looked at him with pride.
He was breathing heavily, chest rising and falling as if he’d just run a marathon. The door handle was now hanging loosely to one side, twisted, and the frame had a visible crack. In the distance, hurried footsteps approached and Mina returned, holding a silver keychain in her hand, her face completely confused.
"Did Sana open the...?" she asked uncertainly.
"No," Momo whispered. "Jungkook has a really strong leg."
Hoseok immediately stepped forward, shame written all over his face. He ran a hand through his hair and spoke in a low voice to the girls.
"I’ll take care of the door. I swear I’ll pay for whatever it costs to fix it. I'm sorry."
But neither Momo nor Mina seemed to be paying him any attention. In fact, it didn’t seem to matter at all that Jungkook had practically kicked the door down. That wasn’t what mattered right now.
Without wasting a second, Jungkook crossed the threshold into the room. Taehyung followed, his face hard. Jimin and Yoongi stepped in after them, and the rest of the group slowly moved closer—some staying just at the entrance while others formed a sort of semicircle inside the room.
And there she was.
Sana.
Standing in the middle of the room, shoulders raised, arms stiff against her sides, her jaw trembling. Her eyes darted from one person to the next, as if searching for a kind face in a sea of judgment. But there was no mercy.
She took a couple of steps back until the backs of her legs hit the edge of the bed. She swallowed hard and raised her right hand, pointing toward the door.
"The… the…"
"The door?" Taehyung spat, letting out a dry, humorless laugh as he gestured toward it. "You think I give a shit about the door?" Sana frowned and opened her mouth to reply, but the blond wasn’t willing to listen anymore. "Do you know why we’re here?" His words were sharp blades, dripping with venom. "You followed us around for weeks. You took pictures without permission like some fucking stalker. Do you realize how messed up that is?"
"I… I just..." Sana stammered, but she didn’t get to finish.
"You sent those pictures to his parents!" he shouted now, losing what little patience he had left. "And to my mom! You thought that would score you points? That it would ruin what we have so I’d go running into your arms, right?"
Jungkook looked away for a second. There was such a tight knot in his throat, it was hard to breathe. He let Taehyung speak first—he was the one most affected.
"She kicked me out," Taehyung said, his voice breaking. "She screamed at me that I was dead to her and that she never wanted to see me again. Do you have any idea what that’s like, Sana? Do you even grasp what it means to lose your family over a fucking whim disguised as revenge?" Jungkook’s whole body tensed. Hearing it made him feel even more helpless. "You felt powerful, didn’t you?" Taehyung went on. "You thought you were in control? You left me without a family, damn it! Do you have any idea what you’ve done?! Do you have any fucking clue what that means?!"
Sana could barely blink, and even though she tried to keep her composure, the trembling in her lips and the paleness of her face gave her away. There was no defense, no justification that could clean up what she had done—yet she tried anyway.
"It wasn’t my intention! I... I didn’t want it to end like this! It got out of hand, I swear it got out of hand! I didn’t want this to happen! Not like this!" Sana shrieked, raising her hands in a defensive gesture. She was shaking, her ruined makeup streaking down her cheeks in thick black lines, like polluted rivers dragging away what little dignity she had left. Her words came out choppy. "It spiraled out of control, I... I didn’t think it would go this far," she whimpered, curling her shoulders in a display of weakness that felt more disgusting than pitiful. "I didn’t know it would cause so much damage, I swear, please listen to me... I just... I just wanted..."
"Wanted what, Sana?" Taehyung’s voice cut through her like a knife. He was so tense that his hands looked like they were on the verge of spasming. "Did you want to destroy us? Is that what you wanted? Do you even hear yourself?" he spat, voice low and deep. "Do you really think crying is going to fix anything now?"
Sana cried harder, covering her face with her hands. The words she tried to articulate were nothing but a jumbled mess of broken sentences, useless excuses, and pleas no one wanted to hear.
"It was for love..." she muttered between sobs. "I... I didn’t think it through... I didn’t think this would happen. I didn’t think they’d kick you out of your house, Taehyung, I..."
"Shut the fuck up, you bitch!" Jimin roared suddenly, stepping forward, unwilling to tolerate another second. "You have no fucking idea what you’ve done! Not a fucking clue! You’re a manipulative, selfish piece of shit!" His eyes blazed with indignation. His hands trembled, his chest heaved, and his face was flushed with his jaw clenched tight. "You played with everyone," he spat, glaring daggers at her. "With Jungkook, with Tae, with your so-called best friends, with us—people who opened our doors to you... with everyone! You’re not a victim, Sana. Don’t you dare cry like this isn’t your fault. Don’t you fucking dare, you idiot!"
Taehyung swallowed hard, his stomach churning. Hearing Jimin scream like that stirred something inside him. Jungkook, on the verge of exploding, took another step forward, eyes burning.
"You’re sick," he said, voice low and heavy. "Obsessive, unhinged, totally out of touch with reality. How the fuck can you justify what you did with that lame-ass excuse of ‘love’? You call that love? Ruining someone’s life because you couldn’t handle not being chosen?" Sana sobbed and shook her head, muttering something else that didn’t make any sense. Jungkook stared at her with nothing but contempt. "No one with self-respect would do what you did. No one with a shred of dignity would sink this low. And now you cry? Now you’re hurt? Now you regret it? After everything you did, you have the fucking nerve to stand there and act like the victim?!"
"I just wanted to be seen!" she screamed, drowning in her own drama. "I wanted to be noticed, to... to make someone feel something for me!"
"And that’s why you tried to ruin our lives?" Jungkook snapped back, his furious shout echoing off the walls. "Is that it!? Do you realize how fucking messed up that is?"
At the doorway, Mina broke into tears, one hand flying to her mouth.
"Why, Sana?" she cried out between sobs. "Why did you do this to us? I trusted you. I thought we were friends! I thought you were different! And this whole time you were just... using everyone! Even me!"
Momo, her voice low but laced with disappointment, slowly shook her head.
"You’re a piece of shit," she murmured. "I can’t believe you’re the same person I grew up with. What the hell happened to you?"
Sana shook her head over and over again, stammering apologies, but her words were nothing but noise.
"That’s enough!" Jimin yelled at her. "Enough with the lies! You’re a fucking manipulator! You played everyone just for your own selfish crap!"
"Jimin, no! I never..."
"Shut up! Just shut the hell up!" Jimin was shaking with fury, his eyes blazing. "Do you even know what Taehyung went through? Do you know what’s going to happen in his life now because of your bullshit?!"
"It was for love, Jimin! I—"
"You’re pathetic! You don’t know the first fucking thing about love, Sana! You have no goddamn idea what it means to love someone! Love is about caring and protecting, not destroying someone’s life just because they didn’t choose you!"
No one else said a word for a moment. Jin and Yoongi remained silent, but their eyes said everything. Jin’s expression was cold with rage, merciless in its judgment. Yoongi didn’t even bother hiding his contempt—he looked at her the way you look at something you wish you could erase from existence.
Namjoon and Hoseok didn’t speak either, but the tension in their bodies said plenty. They were holding back, because deep down, they knew Taehyung and Jungkook needed to be the ones to speak now. They were the ones who had been hurt.
"Why did you do it?" Jungkook roared. "What the fuck did you want to ruin us for? What were you even trying to accomplish?"
"What did you gain?" Taehyung added, his voice broken. "What the hell made you take it this far?"
Sana, cowering from the shouting, burst into fresh sobs and looked down.
"That’s enough, please!" she cried. "Please! I... I wasn’t alone!"
They all looked at each other, confused.
"What did you say?" Taehyung asked.
"I wasn’t alone..." Sana repeated between sobs. "It wasn’t just me... it was Soojin, it was her. She’s behind all of this too..."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Jungkook snapped, his brows furrowing.
"It was Soojin who came to me," Sana said hoarsely. "She messaged me weeks ago, said she’d seen you two kissing by accident... she manipulated me, pressured me, helped me follow you when I couldn’t. She’s the one who sent the pictures to your parents—I had no idea she’d also send them to the confession account... I found out the same time you did."
The mention of Soojin was the spark that lit the bomb Jungkook had been holding back. He felt the rage rise in his chest like a searing wave.
"Soojin?!" he shouted, and the whole room seemed to freeze. "Of course it was her! I always knew she was a fucking piece of shit, but I didn’t think she was this goddamn twisted! I didn’t think she’d go this far!"
His voice thundered off the walls. It felt like electricity shot through his chest, his arms, his throat. He wanted to scream more, to break something, to shake off the feeling of breathing poison. He was seriously giving it his all not to lose control, but this had pushed him to a dangerous edge.
"Fucking psycho!" he went on, teeth clenched, his mind filled with the image of his almost-ex. "Obsessive freak! Who the hell does shit like this? Who stoops so low just to destroy others? You disgust me!"
Every word was soaked in venom, and his rage was so intense that his hands trembled. Jungkook genuinely wanted to break something. He wished Soojin was standing right there so he could scream in her face.
In front of them, Sana sobbed harder, desperate, gasping for air, looking for a way out—but there was none.
"I swear I didn’t think it would go this far!" she sobbed between hiccups, her voice in shambles. "Soojin manipulated me! I didn’t know Taehyung would get kicked out of his house! I never imagined his mother would react like that, I swear! I didn’t know Soojin would send the photo to that account!"
Jungkook let out a bitter laugh, dripping with contempt.
"Oh, right, now you’re the poor victim, huh?" he spat. "Don’t fuck with me, Sana! You knew exactly what you were doing! You played with us! You played with him! And now you want us to feel sorry for you? Fuck that!"
Taehyung, who had been silent until then, crossed his arms over his chest. His eyes were fixed on her—blank, cold. He struggled to breathe calmly, struggled to keep his thoughts straight. The disgust boiling in his stomach was so intense he couldn’t tell if it was rage or nausea. And then Sana opened her mouth again.
"The original plan wasn’t like this!" she cried out, desperate. "It all started with the idea of separating you! I... I always wanted you both, but Soojin told me I had to choose, and stay with you," she said, pointing at Taehyung with a trembling voice. "That was the only condition—she wanted Jungkook to go back to her. Once I agreed, I just wanted you, Tae... I just wanted you to stop making that mistake and go back to how you used to be, to be normal again."
The room fell silent. Jungkook felt something explode inside him. His mind struggled to process what he had just heard.
"Normal?" Taehyung spat, finally. "That’s what you wanted? For me to be 'corrected'?" Sana shook her head, but the words had already been spoken, and the damage was irreparable. "You thought my mom would scare me straight," he continued, laughing bitterly. "That I’d run to your arms just because a backward old woman screamed at me that I was a disgrace. Did you really think that after all this I’d look at you and say, ‘Oh yeah, great idea, let’s pretend I care again’? You thought I was a puppet with no will of my own, that you could shove me into some absurd script and I’d make it work? You’re completely insane! You wanted me to choose a ‘normal life’?" he repeated, voice heavy. "Well, my mom wanted that too. And you know what? She made me choose. She made me choose between your idea of 'normalcy'... and Jungkook."
He took a deep breath.
"And I chose him. I choose him over and over again, do you hear me? Because what I feel for Jungkook is real. Because he cares unconditionally. Because he’s worth more than both of you combined."
Sana whimpered something, but no one listened.
"And you? What do you have?" he went on, eyes blazing. "Nothing. No integrity, no honesty, no courage. All you know how to do is manipulate. All you know is how to grovel for attention like a clingy fucking shadow. Did you really think you had a chance?"
"Taehyung... please..." Sana whimpered, barely audible.
"No." His voice was like a blade. Then his gaze hardened even more. "You’re pathetic and fake. Trash wrapped in sweetness to hide your rot. You know what? I pity you."
The words hit Sana like knives to the chest. She was broken, drowning in her own tears, but no one looked at her with pity. No one wanted to comfort her.
Beside Taehyung, Jungkook felt his chest swell and his cheeks heat up. Hearing Taehyung say he chose him... seeing him so sure, so strong and brave in the face of all that bullshit... it undid him. Fuck, he adored him so much, loved him in a way that...
Sana froze completely. She was stuck in the eye of the storm, her body trembling with every blast of contempt hitting her from every side. She swallowed hard, her throat so dry it nearly refused to work.
"You know what pisses me off the most?" Taehyung said. "Not just that you betrayed me—but that you did it in the most cowardly way possible. You didn’t even have the guts to be direct. You played dirty. You attacked from the shadows. You went after my family, my stability, the only thing that made me feel safe. What you wanted..." he spat the words like venom, "...was even more disgusting. You wanted someone who doesn’t care about you. Someone who’s rejected you over and over again. And still, you degraded yourself for this, for this bullshit. Don’t you have any dignity?"
"I... I really didn’t think... it would go this far," Sana stammered through her tears. "I swear, I just... Soojin... she told me that—"
"Are you really still going with that?" Jungkook interrupted this time. "You really think that’s gonna wash the shit off you?" He couldn’t stand another second of her cheap victim act. "I’ve seen awful people before. Manipulative, egocentric, rotten to the core. But you... you’re on a whole other level, Sana. What you did wasn’t just a lapse in judgment. It wasn’t just, ‘Oops, I didn’t think it through.’ It was a conscious decision. Several, actually. You planned this. You sat down with Soojin and talked about us like we were chess pieces."
Sana shook her head in desperation, covering her face with her hands, as if that could shield her from the hatred surrounding her.
"You called yourself my friend," Jungkook went on. "And yet you agreed to hurt me just because you couldn’t handle a fucking no. Because your ego couldn’t take being rejected. There’s no forgiveness for that. You literally tried to destroy us. And with Taehyung, you actually succeeded. You got his mom to kick him out. And now you show up crying and saying you didn’t know this would happen? Fuck you."
"I... I never thought his mother would react like that..." Sana sobbed. "I thought... with pressure, he’d give in... I thought he’d drift away from you, Jungkook... that he’d go back to being the obedient boy he always was... I did it out of love... I just wanted a chance..."
"That was love?" Taehyung echoed bitterly, letting out a laugh that had nothing funny in it—it was shattered. "That was your way of loving? Then for the sake of the world, Sana, never get close to anyone again." He looked her up and down, with not a trace of the affection he might have once had. His gaze was made of ice. "What you felt wasn’t love. It was obsession dressed up as desire. What you did doesn’t even have a name. You disgust me. You make me want to vomit for ever trusting you, for ever calling you a friend. How the fuck can someone be so rotten on the inside to do what you did? How can someone so empty try to justify it with something as pathetic as ‘I just wanted a chance’?"
Jungkook didn’t say a word, but his eyes met Taehyung’s. He was thinking about him. About everything they’d been through. About how he had cried in Jimin’s guest room. About how he had held him when it felt like the world was against him. And the more he remembered, the more certain he became that what this woman had done was beyond forgiveness.
"You didn’t just try to separate two people who care about each other, Sana," Jungkook said hoarsely. "You tried to destroy something you and Soojin can’t even comprehend. Because to you, love is control. It’s manipulation. It’s about winning. But what we have..." he looked at Taehyung, eyes full of love, "...it’s not about that. He chose me. I choose him. Over and over again. And no matter how much you cry and scream, that isn’t going to change."
Sana didn’t even try to respond. The silence stretched out for just a few more seconds, until Jimin stepped forward.
"For weeks..." he began sharply. "I suspected it, I swear. Ever since I heard you talking about other girls like that at Hongseok-hyung’s party just for dancing with Jungkook and Taehyung. It struck me as weird, but I kept quiet because you were part of the circle, because you were Hoseok’s friend, because I didn’t want to cause a scene over something I thought I might be misinterpreting. And now I feel like a fucking idiot, because if I’d spoken up earlier, maybe this wouldn’t have gone this far. Maybe someone would’ve seen you for what you really are."
"I'm... sorry," she tried again. "I don’t know what happened to me, I... I’m not like this... Soojin found me when I was at my worst, she convinced me that I could... that I could at least get Taehyung back, even just a little. She told me that if I managed to separate them, maybe he’d... go back to how he used to be. I... I didn’t think that... shit, everything got out of control..."
Jungkook clenched his fists, feeling bile rising in his throat. He couldn’t believe she was still trying to justify herself, still coming up with excuses, still talking about 'vulnerability' like that somehow made everything okay.
"I don’t give a fuck how many times you repeat that bullshit," Jungkook growled. "Being ‘vulnerable’ doesn’t justify fucking up other people’s lives. You and Soojin are the same kind of trash. Actually, you're worse, because at least with her, we knew what to expect. And that ‘at least Taehyung’ you said... do you even realize what that means? That it wasn’t about love, that you didn’t care whether it was Taehyung or me—it didn’t matter to you. You did it out of ego, because you couldn’t stand being rejected, because you couldn’t handle the fucking fact that someone didn’t choose you. That’s what hurts, right? That you weren’t enough. Well guess what, Sana: you weren’t, you never were, and after this, you never will be." Jungkook looked at her with disgust, then turned away. "I hope I never run into Soojin, because I swear I don’t know what I’d do to her."
Taehyung slowly turned to Jungkook, looked at him for a second, and murmured in a low tone, "I do hope I run into Soojin, because she deserves her own reckoning too."
"I just wanted... I just wanted a chance... I just wanted to be enough... I’m tired of always being the one left behind..." the brunette lowered her gaze, already defeated.
"Enough?" Taehyung repeated. "Sana, you were never even an option. There was a time when I saw you differently, I won’t deny it, I thought you were interesting and pretty. Maybe I got confused. Maybe I thought I could feel something... but it was an illusion. It was shallow and empty. You mean nothing to me—you never did."
The impact was cold and brutal. Sana seemed to shrink even further, like she was collapsing in on herself. Then, for the first time, Momo moved. She had been frozen in place, eyes glassy with tears, lips tightly pressed together.
"You're no longer welcome here," the blonde said, her voice trembling but firm. "We can’t keep living with someone who lied, who manipulated, who hurt so many people. It’s hard to believe I ever called you a friend. It hurts so much... but I can’t look at you without feeling sick."
Sana looked at her, pleading.
"Momo, please..."
"No. Not anymore. Not after what you did."
"I feel betrayed too," Mina said quietly. "We trusted you. We defended you. We stood by you. And it was all a lie."
"I should give you two hours to get the fuck out," Momo added. "Two hours—just like the two hours Taehyung had to leave his own home because of your decisions, so you could feel what it’s like to try and pack up your life on a deadline. But I’m not a fucking monster like you."
Mina, still trembling, stood to the side without looking at her directly, biting the inside of her cheek to hold back another sob. She was hurt, deeply disappointed, but not sad anymore. Something in her had broken a while ago, and now only emptiness remained—the certainty that there was no going back. Momo continued, now with an icy calm.
"We're sleeping at Hoseok’s tonight. We’re not spending another night under the same roof as you. We don’t feel safe. And yeah, I know we can’t kick you out right now because it’s late and you’re a woman... but that doesn’t change what’s going to happen. Tomorrow morning we’re coming back and we don’t want to see you here. Pack your things and leave."
Every word was a mercilessly hammered nail. A final verdict, not open to negotiation. Sana pressed her lips together, but didn’t protest. She knew she no longer had the right to ask for compassion.
Momo and Mina looked at each other. The exchange was brief, but enough—they walked out of the room. They were heading to their rooms to pack the essentials for the night. They weren’t coming back tonight, and both knew this farewell was symbolic too. They were leaving, yes, but also closing a chapter of their lives. Leaving behind a friend who no longer existed. A bond that had rotted beyond saving.
Taehyung, for a second, considered saying nothing and simply walking away. But then he looked at her. He saw her crushed, shattered, yes—but also aware. Aware of the damage she had caused. That woman didn’t deserve silence.
"I despise you," the blonde said without raising his voice. "I’ve never met anyone so vile, so rotten inside. You’re an emotional parasite, a shadow that crawls through other people’s lives. You use affection as bait, smiles as traps. Everything about you is a lie. Even your sweetness, that fake display of vulnerability. All you managed to do was show how fucking rotten you are inside. And you know what? I’m glad I saw it before it was too late."
Jungkook watched him. He knew how hard it was for Taehyung to stay standing, how much it cost him to say those words. And yet there he was, firm, cutting her out of his life.
Taehyung turned on his heels, not waiting for a reply—and not really wanting one. The contempt was absolute. He didn’t even allow himself a final glance. He walked toward the hallway without looking back. Jungkook watched him go and took a step to follow, but then he stopped. He turned his head and looked at her one last time.
And that look spoke a thousand words. There were no insults—he simply looked at her the way you look at something rotting that someone forgot in a corner. Something that needed to be cleaned out, removed, and forgotten. He looked at her with pure hatred and disgust. He didn’t say a word. Sana didn’t deserve any. It was pointless to waste breath on something so empty. Then, without losing his composure, Jungkook turned and walked after Taehyung.
Jimin was next. The boy stopped in front of Sana, and for a moment, he said nothing. He looked at her with such brutal intensity that the girl had to look away, swallowing hard. But he never stayed quiet when it came to Taehyung.
"I’ve never met a bitch so cruel in my entire fucking life," Jimin spat. "What you feel isn’t love, it’s pure bullshit. I don’t know if you were ever a decent person—maybe you were, maybe at some point you were—but you lost yourself along the way. Now you’re not even worth the air you breathe, and I don’t give a damn if that sounds too harsh, because what you did... that was disgusting." He paused briefly. "Your entire existence is a fucking bad joke. I truly hope I never see you again, you fucking whore."
Jimin stared at her for one more second—just a blink—but the hatred in his eyes was so palpable that Sana squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t have the strength to withstand it.
"You can’t even get attention when you scream," he added with a bitter scoff. "And that must be eating you up inside."
He turned on his heel and walked away without looking back.
Then came Jin, walking forward with his usual graceful air.
"You managed to do something almost impossible, you know?" he said in a calm, steady voice. "You got everyone to turn against you. That’s not easy to accomplish. Not even in my darkest stories did I imagine someone so pathetically narcissistic." Jin continued, "If one day you meet someone who can stand you for more than five minutes without throwing up, let me know. I want to send them flowers. Or a medal. Or better yet—a statue."
He didn’t wait for a reply. He didn’t need one. He turned in a nearly theatrical motion and walked out through the same door Jimin had used.
Yoongi was more direct, more blunt. He didn’t beat around the bush or deal in subtlety. He walked up to Sana and didn’t even bother to hide the disgust on his face.
"Your very presence makes me sick," he spat. "If you ever come near any of us again, I won’t be using words. Take that however you want." Sana opened her mouth, maybe to try and say something, but he raised an eyebrow in disdain. "Keep your tears. Shove them wherever they’ll fit. Lies come at a high cost, and you’re already deep in the red."
He turned and walked out—just as dry and cold as when he’d arrived. His words scared her so much she lost her balance and fell back onto her bed. What was Yoongi capable of?
Hoseok took longer. His steps were slow, like his legs weighed him down. And when he stopped in front of her, he didn’t yell. There was no rage in his tone—only pain.
"I’m completely disappointed," he said quietly. "I believed in you. I trusted you. I thought you were... important. I even considered you part of my life. I opened my arms so you could get closer to the people who are like family to me." Sana looked at him with wide, unblinking eyes, her heart lodged in her throat. "What hurts the most isn’t just what you did to Jungkook or Taehyung," he added. "It’s what you did to yourself. You ruined everything out of jealousy and pure selfishness. I don’t even recognize you anymore. I can’t look at you without feeling secondhand embarrassment. I hope that someday you understand that this is inexcusable. There’s no context that can justify it. There’s no way to defend it."
And with nothing more, he walked away.
Namjoon was the last. He lingered a bit longer, unhurried. He looked at her closely, with a calm so sharp it was more intimidating than any shout.
"There’s no greater disappointment," Namjoon finally said, his voice low but steady, "than watching someone fall whom you thought was decent. I thought you were complex—maybe even brave, in some way." He tilted his head. "But now all I see is someone shallow, insecure... cruel. You had chances. It could’ve been different. It could’ve been beautiful—with your friends, with us, with anyone. But you chose to lie, to manipulate, to hurt. You chose the easy way: to destroy. I’m not telling you this to save you," Namjoon added dryly. "Consider it a sentence: if you ever want to rebuild anything in your life, you’ll have to start from scratch. Don’t count on us."
He then walked to the door and disappeared. His exit was so final, it left behind an emptiness that was hard to ignore.
Sana didn’t move. She wasn’t even breathing audibly. She just sat there in the middle of the wreckage she had created. She had no words left. She was completely drained.
A few minutes later, almost soundlessly, she heard light footsteps in the hallway. It was Momo and Mina. They had their backpacks slung over their shoulders. Sana followed them with her eyes, her shoulders hunched, her mouth slightly open as if to say something. But she didn’t say a word. She didn’t have the courage. Or maybe she already knew it wouldn’t be worth it.
They walked slowly, without stopping. They didn’t look into Sana’s room. They didn’t say goodbye. They just passed by.
The sound of the front door opening was as soft as a sigh. Its closing, as final as a gunshot.
Now Sana sat alone at the edge of her bed, her eyes blank, arms hanging at her sides. There were no more excuses, no kind faces left to cling to. Only the echo of her failure and the void of the abyss she had dug with her own hands. Alone. Completely alone.
Chapter 48: Chapter 47
Chapter Text
"So… you guys really think she didn’t know about the photos?" Jin asked, letting his back sink into the couch at Jimin’s place.
After telling Sana off properly, they’d decided to head back to Jimin’s and have a sleepover. No one wanted to leave Taehyung and Jungkook alone after everything that had gone down, and besides, it had been a while since the seven of them had some real quality time together. The only one missing was Hoseok—Jimin had lent him his car so he could drive Momo and Mina to their apartment after they'd all arrived and agreed to spend the night there. It wasn’t that they didn’t want Momo and Mina to stay too, but the girls clearly needed their space after everything that happened.
Jungkook was sitting cross-legged on the floor, his back against the sofa, hugging a pillow tightly. Taehyung was beside him, resting his head on the younger’s shoulder.
"You really believe that? That she was just manipulated by Soojin?" Jin pressed.
"Don’t be dumb," Yoongi said, crossing his legs. "That girl isn’t ten years old—she’s twenty-two. She’s more than old enough to know the difference between right and wrong, for fuck’s sake." He scoffed. "Look… I could maybe buy that she didn’t know about the confessions account. I’ll give her that tiny benefit of the doubt. But going straight to ask about their parents? That’s not innocence. She knew what she was doing. She asked if they were conservative—that’s when she knew exactly what she was aiming for."
Taehyung let out a low sigh, one that Jungkook felt vibrate through his shoulder.
"Yeah…" Namjoon murmured. He’d been quiet, sitting in the corner of the couch with a deep frown on his face. "I think she knew too. There’s no way she didn’t understand what her intentions were. She cried because she got caught, not because she was sorry. She was trying to make us drop it, to get us to forgive her."
"And because she always thought being pretty was enough, right?" Yoongi added. "Pretty, sweet, charismatic… all that stuff that makes her think no one’s ever gonna call her out on the shitty things she does."
Jin raised his eyebrows like that thought had just clicked for him, then nodded slowly.
"Makes sense," he murmured, still nodding. "You’re right. Asking about your parents was way too specific."
"So what do we do about Soojin?" Jimin cut in from one of the armchairs, sitting curled up with his legs crossed. "Because Sana’s done. She can rot. But Soojin… this shit’s not over yet."
Taehyung sat up slightly, eyes blazing as he looked around at all of them.
"She’s not getting away with anything," he said firmly. "I’m going to say everything I need to say. She’s not going to be left wondering."
"Are you sure?" Jungkook whispered beside him, turning to meet his eyes. "She’s not like Sana, Tae. That one doesn’t cry—she spits venom. She’s like a fucking scorpion." To make his point, he made a terrible impression of the insect, using his arm as a tail and curling his hand into a stinger.
"I’m worse than that," Taehyung interrupted with a bitter smirk. "I’m not scared of her. I’m not going to let some tattooed girl in red lipstick shake me."
Jungkook sighed but didn’t push further. Deep down, he admired him. But he also worried, because he knew just how hot the fire under Taehyung’s skin burned—and how, when that fire got out of control, it could consume everything. Even him.
"How far do you want to go with all of this?" Jin asked more seriously. "I mean… how far are you willing to take it to make sure Sana and Soojin actually learn their lesson? Are you going to settle for words? Or do you want something more?"
"Something more like what?" Taehyung asked, raising an eyebrow.
Jin smiled slowly. He’d been waiting for that question all night. Sitting up straighter, he rested his elbows on his knees and laced his fingers together.
"What I said in the car—I meant it," he continued, and to Jungkook, his tone suddenly sounded like something straight out of a mafia movie. "I’ve already thought of ways to ruin them. It’s not that hard. People with way less money have destroyed others for way less. All I have to do is pick up my phone, make a few calls, and they won’t have a way out. They’ll regret everything they’ve done."
"You can really do that?" Jungkook asked, looking at him with disbelief.
Jin gave him a smug little glance. "You do know who my father is, right? He’s high up in the government. Has connections with top executives in all the major Korean companies. In this country, if I want, I can make sure your name never appears on a single résumé again—and no one will even question it. I can turn a last name into a red flag. It’s not hard. It’s just a matter of deciding to do it."
Jimin’s eyes lit up with a gleam that seemed almost childlike—but there was nothing innocent in his expression.
"I want blood," he said bluntly.
"Same here," Yoongi added, completely unfazed.
Namjoon raised a hand to stop the revenge-hungry duo, because at the end of the day, this wasn’t their decision to make.
"The only ones who get to give the green light are Taehyung and Jungkook. They’re the ones who took the hit, who were exposed, who lost the right to choose when and how to tell their story. I’ll support whatever they decide. No matter what."
"And what if they fight back? What if they sue or something?" Taehyung asked, crossing his arms.
"Sana’s a foreigner," Jungkook said, looking straight at him. "Filing a lawsuit in a country that’s not yours isn’t easy, Tae. And as for Soojin… her parents are barely scraping by to pay her tuition. They don’t hold any important positions, they don’t have connections, and they sure as hell don’t have the money to afford lawyers who can go up against Jin’s family. They can’t win. They can’t even try."
Taehyung swallowed hard. He knew Jungkook made sense, but a part of him still resisted the idea of using power like that. He came from a powerful family too. He knew that life was often about enduring while at a disadvantage. Were they becoming that kind of people now? The kind who used their privilege to crush others? Then again… those others had done the same, hadn’t they? Used what power they had to hurt them when they had the chance.
"Fucking system, or whatever this shit is," Yoongi growled from the other side of the room. "It’s disgusting. A whole damn structure where the rich crush the poor, where locals have more power than foreigners. It’s all bullshit."
"You’re a rich, privileged boy too, asshole," Jimin teased from his solo couch, flashing a sly smile as he toyed with the edge of the blanket draped over his legs. "You’re part of the system, don’t kid yourself."
Yoongi raised an eyebrow, eyes barely open as he replied with deadpan sarcasm:
"I’m a rich, privileged man, thank you very much. But that doesn’t mean I like it. I can’t exactly opt out of the system, Jimin. Who can, in this fucked-up world? Everything’s rigged to keep itself going. Even if you feel guilty about being at the top, it’s already too late. This whole society’s built so that some get to fuck others over—and some just get fucked."
Namjoon rubbed his temples with a tired grimace.
"I’ll say it again..." he said in a low but firm voice, casting a meaningful glance at Jin. "I really hope you never get mad at me, Seokjin-hyung."
Jin let out a soft chuckle, sinking deeper into the couch where he was sprawled with his legs crossed, one foot swinging absentmindedly.
"So what then?" he asked lightly, though his gaze was sharp. "Are you guys actually willing to let me do that?"
Taehyung looked away. His hands were clasped on his lap and his jaw was tight. Something churned inside him. Was it really worth all this effort for them? Did he truly want to waste energy, call in favors, use his connections, invest time—just to see them suffer? Would that actually satisfy the anger that had been building in his chest since he found out the truth?
"I'm not sure it's really worth it," he muttered, not looking at anyone.
But then he felt Jungkook's thumb brushing gently across the back of his hand, and when he looked up, he saw him staring back with unwavering determination.
"I think it is," Jungkook said without a hint of doubt, not even for a second. "I do want the worst for them. Besides, with her past, Sana’s an easy target," the younger continued, turning slightly to face the group. "All we’d have to do is wait until her career hits a high point and then open a Twitter account, expose her, show evidence, tell the truth, and then sue her. She’d be torn apart in days. Her image would crash, her career would die. To hell with everything. That was my original plan, actually, but it was long-term. I was playing the long game. If Jin can speed it up, great."
Jin straightened up, his smile dangerous—equal parts pride and amusement.
"Leave it all to me," he said, spinning his phone between his fingers casually. "Really, you guys don’t have to worry about a thing. I’ve got this."
The silence that followed was brief, interrupted by Taehyung’s soft voice. He had turned slightly toward Jungkook, looking at him with tenderness and awe.
"You seriously want to do all that?"
"Obviously," Jungkook said with a smile, tilting his head just a little. "And even more if it’s for you."
Then, without breaking eye contact, he raised a hand to Taehyung’s face, gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear, and softly caressed his cheek. Taehyung felt his heart clench in his chest. Jin pulled a face and dramatically tilted his head.
"Ew," he said. "How the fuck were we all too stupid to realize you two were fucking?"
Jungkook shrugged with a smug smile.
"We’re not just fucking," he corrected, not moving an inch away from Taehyung. "We’re in love."
"That’s even worse. Disgustingly cheesy," Jin groaned, pretending to gag. Then he narrowed his eyes with a mischievous glint. "But okay… who’s the top and who’s the bottom?"
Taehyung and Jungkook looked at each other, visibly caught off guard. They definitely hadn’t seen that question coming.
"Uh..." they both said almost in unison. "What kind of question is that, hyung?" Taehyung followed up.
"A perfectly valid one," Jin replied, raising both eyebrows. "People want to know."
"What people?" asked Jungkook.
"Me. I’m the people," Jin said, placing a hand on his chest.
"Does it matter?" Jungkook added. "It’s none of your business."
"Of course it matters," Jin insisted, pointing at them accusingly. "Look at those puppy eyes. You’re definitely the—"
"Jin-hyung!" Jungkook cut him off, shoving him with his foot. "Shut up!"
Namjoon crossed his arms and shook his head.
"And to think this all started because of a party..."
"And a dumb girl," Jimin added with a crooked smile. "But hey, at least we got a juicy story out of it."
The silver-haired man glanced at Jungkook and Taehyung, scanning them from head to toe. He made a face and let out a low "mhm" once he reached a conclusion.
"I’m betting Taehyung’s the bottom," Namjoon said with almost offensive certainty.
"What? No, no, no," Jin jumped in immediately, raising a hand theatrically and turning to Namjoon with a mocking expression. "You’ve got it completely wrong. I say Jungkook’s the bottom. Come on, look at him. He’s basically a baby—huggable and soft—with that face that screams ‘do whatever you want to me, hyung.’"
"Excuse me?!" Jungkook raised his voice, clearly and theatrically offended as his face turned red.
A baby? Huggable? ‘Do whatever you want to me, hyung’? he repeated mentally, horrified and confused. Where the hell did they even come up with this stuff?
"Yes, yes," Jin insisted, now turning fully toward the others with his eyes gleaming like he was defending a thesis. "He gives off that whole vibe. He’s sweet, quiet, but with this lowkey sexy energy. And Taehyung has that dominant air—laid back but provocative. It makes more sense for him to be the top. Jungkook, you're super emotional, and that kind of personality usually lines up with more submissive roles in bed."
"That’s such a fucking cliché, hyung," Jungkook snapped, completely outraged.
"Nah, I still say Taehyung’s the bottom," Namjoon chimed in thoughtfully. "He’s got that confident attitude, yeah, but like, it’s more of a ‘catch me if you can’ kind of vibe. Total brat bottom."
"Brat bottom?!" Taehyung echoed.
"Exactly," Namjoon said seriously. "That feline stare you do... it screams ‘I like to tease so I can be tamed.’ And besides, look at that waist, those long legs—don’t get me wrong, I’m super straight, but Taehyung’s got a damn good ass—"
"Can we please stop debating who’s taking dick and who’s giving it?!" Taehyung interrupted, red as a tomato. His voice came out strained, but it was clear he’d had enough.
"I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation," Jungkook muttered, covering his face with both hands. "Never in my life did I think two of my friends would be arguing over whether I’m a top or a bottom..."
"Life’s full of surprises, Jungkook," Jin replied with a shameless grin. "Come on, just tell us the truth."
Jimin and Yoongi were practically dying of laughter in the back, nearly doubled over. Namjoon noticed and pointed at them.
"Hey! They know the answer!" he shouted. "You guys knew all along they were dating, ugh... and you didn’t tell us anything."
"Yeah! You robbed us of the fun!" Jin added, clearly offended. "This should’ve been a community event."
"If it helps, Yoongi-hyung and I used to debate about them too. Like, who would confess first," said Jimin, smiling proudly.
"And who was it?" Namjoon asked with interest.
"It was Taehyung," Yoongi answered with a resigned grimace. "Much to my dismay, Jimin won."
"See?!" Jin exclaimed, raising his hands like he’d just won a lawsuit. "That proves Taehyung’s the top. He’s got more balls."
"I disagree," Namjoon shot back instantly. "Just because he confessed first doesn’t mean he’s the top."
"Oh, please!" Jimin laughed, glancing at Taehyung and Jungkook. "Just tell them already, for the love of god. End our suffering."
Taehyung and Jungkook looked at each other. The blond just sighed, rolled his eyes, and gave a subtle nod—his way of saying go ahead, say it. There was no reason to be embarrassed anyway. These were their closest friends, the people who wouldn’t judge them for something so natural. And honestly, with everything going on between them... it was inevitable that curiosity would arise.
Jungkook took a breath and cleared his throat.
"The bottom is..." he paused dramatically, slowly lifted his hand, and pointed to his left. "Taehyung."
The reaction was immediate.
"I knew it!" Namjoon shouted, jumping to his feet with his fist in the air like he’d just scored the winning goal in the World Cup. "I knew I was right! I told you! Damn it, I regret not betting money on this."
Jin dropped onto the couch with his arms flung out and his head tilted back, letting out a long groan.
"Taehyung! Now Namjoon's going to be unbearable! Why would you do this to me?!"
"Sorry... I guess," Taehyung replied, raising his eyebrows with a defeated grimace.
"Don't you want to be versatile like Jimin?" Jin asked.
Taehyung tilted his head, genuinely thoughtful. Jungkook looked at him immediately, watching every little movement. He didn’t respond right away. Honestly, it was something he’d never really considered with Jungkook. He had always taken the bottom role after losing that bet they made, and, well, he ended up really enjoying it.
But... before that, back when he’d been with girls, he had always been the top, obviously—dominant, in control, and he liked it. It gave him power and confidence. Why couldn't he enjoy that with Jungkook too?
The idea wasn’t unpleasant. In fact... it was tempting.
"You're thinking about it, aren't you?" Jin asked, amused by his reflective pause.
Before he could answer, Jungkook sat up straight, alarmed, clearly nervous.
"No, no, no, no. That's not happening," he said, shaking his head insistently. "Zero. One hundred percent off the table."
"Why not?" Jimin asked between laughs. "Jin's right. If you never try it, how do you know you really prefer being a bottom? There's nothing wrong with being versatile. Honestly, it’s the best—you never get bored."
"I don't want to know!" Jungkook growled, burying his hands in his hair. Just the thought felt like a threat. Taehyung looked at him with devilish amusement, raising and lowering his eyebrows in a shamelessly flirty way, lips curved into a mischievous smile. Jungkook sank deeper into his seat, lips tightly pressed together. "No! Don’t you even think about it!" he repeated, pointing a finger at him.
"Why so scared, Jeon?" Taehyung murmured with a grin. "Afraid you might like it?"
"No, it's just... no!" Jungkook replied, folding his arms across his chest.
"You're not even going to let me try, baby?" Taehyung asked in a soft voice, full of teasing as he leaned a little closer.
"No!" Jungkook shouted, louder than necessary. "You're not putting your thing anywhere. Back off, Kim Taehyung!"
Everyone burst out laughing. Jin nearly fell off the couch, while Yoongi gently pounded the table with his knuckles from laughing so hard. Namjoon clutched his stomach, trying to catch his breath.
The idea that Taehyung might seriously consider switching roles sent Jungkook into full-blown panic. Not because he had a problem with being a bottom… well, technically, yes. He did have a big problem with it. But it wasn’t just that. Specifically with Taehyung, it meant losing control. Surrendering something he wasn’t used to giving up—it was symbolically stupid, but also deeply real.
He liked having the upper hand with him. He liked Taehyung’s soft, trembling reactions beneath him, the way he gave in after resisting, the needy, desperate look in his eyes. He liked it so much that just thinking about reversing the roles completely threw him off.
"Never say never," Jimin said wisely, giving Jungkook a pat on the leg.
Taehyung, in his mind, was already seriously considering it. It didn’t have to be now—or even soon—but... the idea of seeing Jungkook in that position, trembling beneath him, lips parted, cheeks flushed... God. That would be interesting.
And if Jungkook was scared? Well, that only made it even more tempting.
Which led him to think of something else. He couldn’t help wondering... had Yoongi already fulfilled the bet? See, Yoongi had bet that Jungkook would be the first one to confess. So that meant Yoongi had to bottom at least once for Jimin, right? Had it already happened? Had Yoongi followed through?
He concluded no. If it had happened, he would know—Jimin would’ve told him. Jimin wasn’t the type to keep something like that to himself, especially not when he could recount it with juicy details. He would’ve told him everything—the whole journey, the sensations, the way Yoongi’s face looked, even the damn color of the sheets.
The sound of the doorbell pulled him out of his thoughts.
"I’ll get it!" Yoongi said, getting up without much urgency.
Taehyung turned his head just in time to see Hoseok’s silhouette walking through the door, wearing his signature wide smile and carrying both arms full of pizza boxes, which looked like they were practically steaming from the heat.
"Salvation has arrived!" the newcomer shouted triumphantly. "I brought four large ones, and two pepperoni with extra cheese, just how Taehyung likes them."
"You’re an angel," Jin said, appearing with Namjoon behind him to help carry the boxes. "You literally have a spot reserved in heaven—right next to Jesus and the lady who invented instant ramen."
Taehyung got up off the floor with the others and headed toward the dining room. He’d gone the whole day without eating; between the anxious thoughts about his mom, the chaos of discovering her betrayal, and the emotional rollercoaster, food had been the least of his priorities. But now, with the warm, buttery smell of the dough, the melted cheese dripping off the edges, and the mix of crispy salami and sweet tomato thick in the air, hunger hit his stomach like a punch.
He served himself two slices of the closest pizza. He didn’t even wait for someone to suggest they start. He took a massive bite, closing his eyes for a second and nearly moaning in relief. Everyone else started eating too, letting out little satisfied noises. It was good—like really good. It was from his favorite pizza place.
"Taehyung," Hoseok called suddenly, chewing on a slice of quattro stagioni. "Have you thought about what you're going to do now that your mom cut off your financial support?"
The pepperoni slice stopped halfway between his plate and his mouth. Every pair of eyes turned toward him—some more subtly than others. Taehyung swallowed hard.
"Don’t worry, hyung. I’m fine," he answered with a calm smile, though his fingers tightened around the edge of the plate. "I’ve already paid this semester’s tuition, and all I have left is my final internship. So… yeah, I’m going to work my ass off to get a scholarship, and with the inheritance my dad left me, I’ll cover the rest. Tuition, graduation fees... And with a little luck, I’ll be able to rent a small place and survive until I find a job."
"Hey, if you need money, count on me," said Hoseok seriously, setting down his slice of pizza and reaching across the table to pat him on the shoulder.
"Me too," added Namjoon.
"Whatever you need," Yoongi chimed in. "Really. We're not talking charity, Taehyung. We're your friends."
"Thanks, seriously. But it's not necessary," Taehyung replied, keeping a polite smile but lowering his gaze slightly. "It’s time I start standing on my own. No more comfortable life, no more midnight cravings, fancy drinks, or impulsive outings. Now I have to think about every single won. Though… I do kind of regret not studying what my parents wanted me to. I’d be making more money as an architect, a lawyer, or a doctor."
"You don’t have to stop going out with us," Jin interrupted, his expression stern. "You really think we can’t cover you? Come on, you’re not going to stop enjoying life because of that."
"I don’t want to be a burden, Jin-hyung. I really appreciate what you’re all saying, but I need to learn how to live with what I have. The real world is already beating the crap out of me, and I have to deal with it."
"You’re such a stubborn asshole," Jin scoffed, throwing a napkin at his face. "Let the people who love you worry about you for once."
Everyone laughed, including Taehyung, who caught the napkin before it hit him. Jungkook watched him in silence, his eyes full of admiration and concern. Taehyung’s decision was understandable—mature, even—but it still hurt to see him willing to sacrifice so much without accepting a helping hand.
Beneath the table, he gently caressed Taehyung’s leg in a discreet gesture. Taehyung glanced sideways and gave him a grateful smile.
"If you want, you can move in with me," Jimin said casually. "You know I’ve got space, and I don’t mind. In fact, I’d love it."
Taehyung shook his head as he wiped his mouth.
"Thanks, Minnie, but no. I don’t want to depend on anyone. I’ll be fine."
"You say that now," Yoongi muttered under his breath with a half-smile.
"And I’ll say it tomorrow too, just wait. I’ll figure it out. If I survived Jin drunk, singing ballads at three in the morning, I can handle anything."
"Hey!" Jin protested. "I sing with soul, okay?"
"With your liver, more like," Namjoon quipped, earning a burst of laughter from the group.
Their warmth wrapped around him like a blanket, and he allowed himself to relax a little. Jungkook, still gently touching his leg under the table, smiled at him. If he had already loved Taehyung down to the bone before, now he did so even deeper—because seeing him fight, even when everything was against him, only made him want to protect him more.
About thirty minutes later, Taehyung climbed the stairs at a slow pace, barely dragging his feet, his body slightly lighter thanks to the pizza that had finally filled the pit in his stomach. He held his phone in his hand, though it was out of battery, and he remembered with irritation that he’d left the charger in the guest room where he was currently staying.
He entered the room without turning on the light, guided only by the soft glow from the hallway. He found it where he expected—plugged in near the bed, tangled halfway through the blankets. He bent down to grab it, and then heard the door close behind him.
"Jungkook?" he asked, turning to find him standing there, back against the closed door, and flicking on the light. Jungkook didn’t answer immediately. He just looked at him, jaw tight, eyes steady. Taehyung stood up, holding the charging cable between his fingers, frowning slightly. "Is something wrong?"
Jungkook took a deep breath. He didn’t beat around the bush.
"I want you to live with me."
"What?" Taehyung blinked, unsure if he’d heard him right.
"I want you to live with me," Jungkook repeated, softer this time. "I know it sounds sudden and kind of crazy, but I mean it. I want us to live together."
Taehyung let out a nervous laugh and set the charger on the bed, not taking his eyes off him.
"Are you even listening to what you’re saying?"
"Yes," Jungkook said, taking a step toward him. "And I mean it. I don’t want you to be alone. I don’t want you to go through all of this on your own."
"I already said no to Jimin because I don’t want to be a burden. It’s not that I don’t want company, Jungkook. It’s that I need to solve this myself."
"But it’s different. Jimin’s your friend. I’m your…" He paused, just for a second. "Boyfriend… Well, not officially, but we are, right? Kind of, technically."
Taehyung stared at him wide-eyed, not knowing whether to laugh or get mad. He ended up letting out a disbelieving chuckle, shaking his head.
"So now we’re moving in together? What are we, lesbians? Where’s the cat, Jungkook?"
"I don’t care if it seems too soon. Some people take years and still never take the leap. I want to. I want this with you."
The blond boy fell silent and lowered his gaze, clenching his jaw. Of course he was thinking about it. His mind was chaos. He wanted to say yes, but he also felt that damn pressure in his chest—a constant mix of guilt and fear that he was throwing his entire world onto someone else’s shoulders.
"I don’t know," he murmured.
"Look, so you don’t feel like a burden," Jungkook continued, lowering his voice, "for the first few months, I won’t ask you for rent until you finish the semester or find a job. After that, yes, but not half—just something proportional to what you make. I want it to be fair."
"Jungkook…" Taehyung shook his head, taking a few steps back. "That would just make me feel worse. Knowing I’m living there for free, that you're the one supporting me on your own..."
"Don’t be so damn stubborn and proud. Let yourself be helped. Let yourself be loved, for fuck’s sake," Jungkook said through gritted teeth, watching as Taehyung bit his lip, conflicted. "Yes, I plan to charge you rent eventually, just so you feel at ease. I’m giving you a good deal, that’s all."
"It’s not just about the money," the older one started. "It’s everything. You’ve already done too much for me—way too much. I don’t even know how the hell you always manage to be there, to hold me up when I don’t even know if I want to keep standing. And don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I don’t want to be with you—I swear I do—but I don’t want to drag you into a relationship where you give everything and I have nothing to give back. I feel useless, do you understand? I feel like I’m not enough. That no matter how much I care about you, no matter how hard I try, I have nothing to offer you right now. No stability, no money, no certainty about my future."
He took a deep breath, trembling slightly. The younger one stepped forward and wrapped him in a tight, warm hug. He didn’t say anything for a few seconds—just held him close. Taehyung closed his eyes, breathing in that familiar scent he loved so much.
"Tae," Jungkook whispered, his mouth close to his ear. "You're not a burden, you're not useless, and you're not dragging me into anything. I'm walking with you because I want to, because I choose to—every single day. Do you know how many times I’ve felt lonely even when I was surrounded by people? But not with you. With you, I feel like I’m home. You make me laugh when I’m on the verge of a breakdown. You hear me even when I don’t say a damn thing. You put up with my moods and all my crap. No one’s ever shown me the kind of love you do, not even when you don’t realize you’re doing it."
He pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes, cupping his face with both hands.
"You give so much, Tae, so damn much. I don’t care about material things. What you give me is your time, your affection, your energy. You send me those dumb messages at three in the morning, you touch me when I can’t sleep. You’re honest, even when it hurts. You make me feel seen and loved, and there’s nothing more valuable than that. If I can help you now, I want to—not out of obligation, but out of love. Because I want to build something with you. By my side, not behind me, not dependent. Together."
Taehyung looked at him with those big, deep eyes—the ones that made Jungkook feel like he was floating and burning at the same time. They were the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen, the most alive, the purest. Entire galaxies. Jungkook knew he had 'Bambi eyes'—as Taehyung often said—but to him, they couldn’t compare to the sparkle in Taehyung’s gaze.
And then Taehyung moved toward him.
Without a word, he hugged him tightly, almost desperately, like he needed to make sure Jungkook was real, that what had just happened had truly happened. His arms wrapped around him with purpose, clinging to his back, his nose buried in Jungkook’s neck, his body fitting perfectly against his. Jungkook welcomed him gladly and held him close in return.
"Does this mean you're actually going to live with me?" he asked.
Taehyung snorted, shook his head without letting go of him, and murmured against his neck:
"You’re such an idiot, you know that?" he huffed, still pressed to him. "Yes, I’m going to live with you, goddammit."
Jungkook felt a warm wave rush through him. He laughed—a low, joyful sound. Taehyung pulled back just enough to look at him again, to meet his eyes, and without saying another word, he kissed him.
Taehyung took Jungkook’s face in his hands. His fingers brushed over his cheekbones, one hand sliding down his neck, the other trailing over his chest, seeking more points of contact. Jungkook parted his lips and leaned into him. His hands found Taehyung’s waist and pulled him closer, until their torsos were pressed together. It wasn’t rushed, but it was intense.
They pulled apart slowly, just by a few centimeters. Their mouths still open, breathing the same air. Taehyung’s cheeks were flushed, his eyes half-lidded. Jungkook’s heart was pounding so hard against his ribs, he was sure it could be heard aloud.
"You know what the best part of this is?" Jungkook said, still holding onto him with a crooked smile. "That we’re going to sleep together—all night. And I get to have you for myself forever. Right now I don’t want to fuck you while the other idiots are downstairs, so I guess I’ll just have to hold it in."
"Are you stupid or what the hell is wrong with you, you pig?" Taehyung grumbled, smacking him in the chest with an open palm. "What kind of shit are you saying?"
"Honest shit," Jungkook replied, laughing as he rubbed his chest, clearly enjoying Taehyung’s reaction. "I’m glad your color’s coming back. And your spirit."
Taehyung let out a long sigh and stepped back a little, though he didn’t break the contact between them.
"The shock of suddenly not having a family anymore messed with my head. I’m still really fucked up. I feel sad all the time. I’ve got anxiety the moment I open my eyes, and sometimes I don’t even know if I have the strength to keep going. But… I’ve decided to try to fix things, to try to move forward. Because if I let myself get stuck, if I let it eat me alive, I’ll destroy myself. And I don’t want that. I don’t want to stay trapped in that place. And having you close… having you like this… makes me feel a little stronger."
It hurt to hear it. It hurt to imagine everything Taehyung was carrying inside, all the things he didn’t say. But at the same time, Jungkook felt proud. So fucking proud of him.
"I’m glad I’m helping you that way, and that you’re not letting it defeat you, Tae," he whispered softly. "Because you’re never going to be alone again. Never. Even if you don’t believe it, you do have a family—and they’re downstairs. And right here, standing in front of you. I’m your family, too."
The blond looked at him, his eyes shining again—but this time, not from sadness.
"You’re right, those five idiots downstairs are my family…" he smiled faintly. "And you’re my family too, Jungkook. Just not in an incestuous way. I don’t want to fuck a family member—that’s disgusting, ew."
Jungkook couldn’t help it. He burst out laughing, throwing his head back with a wide, toothy grin.
"God… you’re so fucked up," he said between laughs, then leaned in again. "Come here."
He kissed him again. This time it was slower, softer. Taehyung closed his eyes and melted into the kiss, letting his lips mold to Jungkook’s. His tongue barely appeared, timidly exploring. There was no rush. Only that moment. Only the two of them.
But of course, peace never lasted long.
Three quick knocks echoed on the bedroom door, followed by Jin’s sarcastic voice:
"Come downstairs already! Stop fucking! We want to watching movies, for fuck’s sake!" he yelled from the other side. "You’ve got five minutes before I come in!"
Taehyung broke away from Jungkook and turned toward the door with an annoyed growl.
"Fuck off, Jin-hyung! Shut up!"
Jungkook couldn’t stop laughing.
"I really fucking like you," he said, taking Taehyung’s hand.
Taehyung scoffed but laced their fingers together without another word. They left the room together, heading down the stairs, toward the noise—and the five idiots below, also known as their family.
It had been a few days—almost a full week—since the course of his life had completely changed.
The sun was mercilessly beating down on the asphalt when Taehyung left the university with his best friend. His arms were overloaded to his chin with folders, crumpled notes, and a half-open water bottle threatening to spill everywhere.
He had his glasses on—he didn’t wear them often, but the headache had been constant, so he had finally decided to listen to his optometrist. He walked quickly, reading what seemed like three different documents at once, his eyes squinting and his eyebrows tightly furrowed. His gaze darted from one page to another, trying to decipher the neon green-highlighted notes sticking out from the edges.
"You're gonna crash into someone, idiot," Jiwoo said beside him, a smirk tugging at her lips as she watched him juggle the chaotic pile of papers. She took the water bottle from him to prevent a disaster.
"I already ran into two tables today and I think I sprained my ego," Taehyung grumbled, not lifting his eyes from what he was trying to read. He awkwardly tucked the papers under one arm. "But I have to finish this. If I don’t get perfect grades, I won’t earn the excellence scholarship. And without the scholarship, there’s no internship. And without the internship, I don’t graduate."
Jiwoo sighed and nodded, her tone softening.
"Yeah, I figured. I’ve barely seen you this week…" she said, watching him with a touch of genuine concern. "I really hope you get it. You don’t deserve one more shitty thing."
"Thanks," he replied without sarcasm, sparing her a tired glance. His eyes looked dull, but beneath the dark circles and tense brows was something steady and resolute. "I’m doing what I can. I don’t have the financial support I used to, and I’m not asking Jungkook for a single won—not even if he pulls that damn pleading seal face."
"I get it," she said gently, glancing sideways at him. "If anyone can win that scholarship, it’s you. But… you really should sleep."
Taehyung let out a dry, weary laugh.
"Sleep is for the weak. I have anxiety, insomnia, and sheer willpower. That’s how I survive."
Jiwoo rolled her eyes but didn’t push further. She knew Taehyung was running on fumes—barely holding himself together with paper clips, reheated vanilla cappuccinos, and the obsessive affection of an almost-boyfriend who probably had to beg him to eat even half a piece of bread. Living together helped; Jungkook would just cook something and Taehyung couldn’t resist—not just because the food was delicious, but because it made him feel guilty knowing how much effort Jungkook put in. She watched him in silence for a few seconds before changing the subject.
"So, how was going back to class after… you know?"
Taehyung knew exactly what she meant. He folded one of the documents—almost violently—and shoved it between two folders, sighing as his shoulders sagged slightly.
"Well… we walked in that Monday holding hands," he explained, a slow smile forming on his lips. "We entered together. Most people weren’t paying attention—nobody really cares. But the ones who know us… yeah, they stared. Some looks were nasty, others surprised, and a few had that jealous spark… I mean, I don’t blame those girls. They were waiting for a chance with me or Jungkook, and now we’re both taken. With each other."
"Did it get to you?"
"A little, at first. But then I thought, why keep hiding? Why should I keep caring what they think? I’m happy with Jungkook, and that’s enough. I’m done looking down or apologizing for it. So I held his hand tighter and we walked in with our heads high. A couple of idiots mumbled something under their breath, but Jungkook gave them one of those death glares and they shut right up."
"I’m proud of you," Jiwoo said with a warm, sincere smile, lightly touching his arm. "Of both of you, really."
Taehyung tilted his head toward the street, and his expression immediately lit up.
"Speaking of that idiot… there he is. He’s picking me up today," he said, lifting his chin with a soft smile. Jiwoo followed his gaze. Jungkook was leaning against the car, ankles crossed, arms folded across his chest, wearing a calm smile that seemed to exist only for Taehyung. "There he is, ready to open the door for me. If I don’t let him do it, he throws a fit. He’s like a spoiled baby with muscles," he added with mock exasperation, though it was obvious he was completely smitten.
Jiwoo chuckled under her breath.
"I’ll go say hi and then head home."
"Don’t you want a ride?" Taehyung asked, turning slightly toward her without slowing down.
"I don’t know if Jungkook would want that…"
"Jungkook does what I say," he replied without thinking.
"Alright, dictator," she teased with affection.
As they reached the car, Jungkook immediately pushed off from where he had been leaning—he’d been waiting for this moment since the second he saw Taehyung appear. He walked up to them, took the folders from Taehyung’s arms, and then leaned down to receive a quick, soft kiss that tasted like heaven to Jungkook. He had missed him all day.
"Hey," Jiwoo greeted sweetly.
"Hey, Jiwoo," Jungkook replied with a smile. He also took the water bottle from her when she handed it over.
Taehyung turned toward him, blinking dramatically and putting on his best puppy face.
"Can we take Jiwoo home? Please? Pretty please?"
Jungkook stared at him for a few seconds, pretending to resist—but it was pointless. That face, that voice, and that damn power Taehyung had over him crushed any barrier of dignity he tried to maintain.
"Fine," he gave in, rolling his eyes but smiling fondly.
"That easy?" Jiwoo said teasingly.
"He makes that damn face," Jungkook muttered, glancing away.
"Works every time," Taehyung said proudly. "I knew you wouldn’t resist," he added before leaning in for another kiss.
They were about to open the car doors when a female voice interrupted them.
"Jeon Jungkook!"
All three of them turned at once. The voice left no room for doubt—it was seething with fury.
Just a few meters away, Soojin was storming toward them, her face twisted in rage. Her eyes burned with resentment, her brows drawn tight as if she were about to breathe fire, and her breathing came in ragged bursts.
Taehyung’s expression darkened. His posture shifted immediately—taller, defensive. His jaw clenched, and a cold gleam passed through his eyes. He had been waiting for this moment, really. After tearing Sana apart with words, he’d been longing for the moment he’d get to do the same to Soojin. He hadn’t had time to go find her himself, so the fact that she came to them? Perfect.
"You're fucking kidding me," Jungkook muttered under his breath, then narrowed his eyes. He could feel the anger rising in him like boiling bubbles. That idiot had the nerve to say his name and storm toward them in a rage? He had been happy to see Taehyung just moments ago—now he was furious. He wanted her gone.
Jiwoo blinked, confused, caught between them.
"Who is she?"
"Soojin," Taehyung murmured, not taking his eyes off the girl who was advancing toward them like a missile.
"That's the bitch Soojin?" Jiwoo said, pointing at her. "Oh well, looks like today might finally be the day I let out all the unresolved rage I've been holding in."
"So now you think you’re so brave, huh?" Soojin spat, her voice dripping with venom, only a few meters away now. Her makeup was a mess, as if she'd been crying before she got there. "All manly now that you’ve got your fucking boyfriend holding your hand?"
"What the fuck are you doing here?" Jungkook snapped, dropping the folders and his water bottle onto the car roof with a loud thud, eyes locked on her. He stepped forward, shoulders tense, brow furrowed, his jaw clenched so tightly it looked carved in stone. "Get the fuck out of here, you piece of shit. You don’t want me standing in front of you right now because I swear I’m holding back. What the fuck do you want now, Soojin? Wasn’t everything you already did enough?"
Soojin let out a dry, poisonous laugh.
"Me? Leave? After everything you did to me? Do you even realize how hard it was for me to fit into that goddamn university?! All the time, effort, and money I put in just because it's private?! And now I’m out. They kicked me out because of you, you asshole! I got expelled, you fucking faggot!" she shrieked, her voice shrill and cracked with rage. "You ruined my life! It’s your fault! And your little pet's! I don’t know what the fuck you two did, but they expelled me from the university!"
Taehyung, who had been watching with a deep frown, felt a chill crawl down his spine. His first thought was clear and resounding: Jin. That was Jin. He said he would take care of it—and he did.
"You brought this on yourself," Taehyung spat, plain and simple. He stepped forward until he was standing right beside his boyfriend, eyes locked on hers. His heart was pounding like a war drum in his temples. Just seeing her face, just remembering everything she'd done… it was enough to make him want to scream until his voice gave out. "We ruined your life?" he said with a sarcastic smile. "You’re unbelievable. Really. A masterpiece of hypocrisy. We ruined your life? After you leaked our photos without consent? After you sent them to that fucking confession account? After you sent those images to our families just to destroy us?" He placed a hand on his chest. "And you still have the nerve to stand in front of us and play the victim?"
Soojin’s eyes sparked with fury, but Taehyung didn’t stop. He was burning up—inside and out.
"What a tragedy," he muttered sarcastically, crossing his arms. "It must’ve hurt so much… to finally face the consequences of your actions. Are you actually surprised?"
"Shut up, Taehyung! You, of all people, should keep your damn mouth shut after ruining Jungkook’s life! You turned him gay, made him a target for harassment! I was trying to save you both, actually!"
"Ruined his life?" he repeated with a raised eyebrow, laughing at the absurdity of it. "You really think I’m the problem here? No, Soojin. The real problem is that you’re a self-loathing bitch who thought your little trashy plan could manipulate everyone into giving you what you wanted. But you’re nothing more than a pathetic idiot with a control complex and a desperate need for validation. Am I supposed to thank you for what you did just because you tried to 'save us'? No one asked you to be our savior, dumbass."
"Shut the fuck up, you bastard!" she screamed, her hands trembling as she took a step forward.
"You made up an entire story just because you couldn’t stand that Jungkook didn’t want you anymore. It hurt that he chose someone you couldn’t control," the blond said with disgust. "And the worst part? Your brilliant plan only did one thing—it brought us closer. It pushed us together more than ever. So congratulations, Soojin. You put on a whole damn circus for nothing."
"Fucking faggot!" Soojin shouted.
Jungkook clenched his fists at the sound of it. He couldn’t believe she had the audacity to stand there and blame them. After everything she had done? The photos, the messages, the shit she sent to their parents and the confession account? He was boiling. Not just from his own anger, but because of what she had caused in Taehyung’s life—because he had to watch Taehyung’s family turn their back on him.
"You’re not just manipulative, Soojin. You’re cruel, toxic, and so pathetically selfish you actually thought you had the right to destroy someone’s life just because they didn’t want you back," Jungkook continued. "All you’re doing now is making a fucking fool of yourself."
Soojin’s lower lip trembled and her eyes welled up—but it wasn’t sadness. It was pure, volatile rage. Suddenly, her gaze flicked to Taehyung and something in her face shifted. Maybe it was humiliation, maybe the helplessness of not being able to refute what they were saying. Maybe it was the fact that deep down, she knew they were right. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that, in an instant, she lunged toward Taehyung, arm raised with every intention of slapping him.
Taehyung didn’t even flinch. He saw it coming, and he wasn’t afraid. In fact, part of him hoped she’d do it—he just needed an excuse to...
Unfortunately—or well, maybe fortunately—Jungkook moved first. In a flash, he stepped between them and grabbed Soojin’s wrists, holding her firmly but without hurting her, stopping her cold.
"Don’t you fucking dare," he growled through clenched teeth, his eyes dark as night. "If you so much as lift a finger at him again, I swear on what’s left of my patience—you’ll fucking regret it."
"Let go of me, you son of a bitch!" she screamed, writhing in his grip. "I swear, if you don’t let me go, I’m gonna tell everyone you hit me!"
"See, Tae? This is why you needed me with Sana too," Jiwoo suddenly said, her gaze fixed on Taehyung.
He turned to her, confused, trying to make sense of what she had just said.
"What do you mean?" he asked, frowning.
But Jiwoo didn’t answer. Instead, she slid her hand to the wrist where she wore a black scrunchie, pulled it off with an unsettling calm, and began tying her hair into a tight ponytail. Her face had turned cold—ice cold.
Jungkook wasn’t watching her. His eyes were still locked on his almost-ex, fighting the primal urge to do something—to get that bitch out of their lives once and for all. But even the thought of touching her, even in defense of Taehyung, made his stomach churn. He didn’t do that. He wouldn’t do that.
Which was why, when he finally noticed Jiwoo striding toward Soojin like a brewing storm, it brought him a strange, unsettling sense of relief.
Soojin took a step back when she saw the way Jiwoo was approaching. Her sharp tongue tried to keep up her usual arrogant posture as the girl shoved her away from Jungkook.
"Stay out of this," she snapped with disdain, raising an eyebrow.
"Jungkook is too good to hit you," Jiwoo said, stopping right in front of her, arms crossed, standing tall and confident. "He knows it wouldn’t be fair. Not in strength, not in morals."
Soojin clicked her tongue.
"I don’t need a fucking explanation from you, you dumb bitch. Get out of my way."
But Jiwoo didn’t move.
"It’s clear that neither he nor Taehyung are going to put you in your place physically," she went on, a bitter half-smile curling her lips. "Because they’re men, and they have boundaries. They wouldn’t hit a woman, even if you deserve it. Even after everything you did, they carry that conscience."
Then she paused—very deliberately. She looked her up and down with pure contempt. Her face took on an eerie calm as she stepped closer, making sure Soojin could see her sharp gaze in full HD.
"But I’m not a man, am I?"
That hit hard. Soojin took an instinctive step back, as if her body had understood before her mind what was about to happen. Jiwoo stepped forward once, then again—and on the third step, her hand shot up with surgical precision and exploded into a sharp, resounding slap across Soojin’s cheek.
"That’s for Taehyung."
Jungkook’s mouth dropped open in disbelief. Taehyung barely blinked, frozen as he processed the moment. Soojin, on the other hand, stared wide-eyed, as if she couldn’t quite comprehend what had just happened. But Jiwoo didn’t give her time to catch up. The second slap came so fast it almost felt like it had happened at the same time.
"And that one’s for Jungkook."
This time, Soojin staggered. She brought a hand to her face, her eyes glassy from the impact, mouth parted and breathless. Her expression, already twisted by wounded pride, crumpled further into a mix of rage and humiliation. She let out a voiceless scream before lunging at Jiwoo, nails ready to strike.
"Fucking bitch!" she screamed, going for her hair.
But Jiwoo blocked her easily. She grabbed Soojin’s wrist and let out a low laugh.
"So predictable… You all go for the hair. That’s all you know how to do, huh?"
Then, without the slightest hesitation, she punched her. Not a slap this time—a solid, clean punch, directed straight at her cheek. The force of it sent Soojin crashing to the ground awkwardly, barely catching herself with her hands at the last second to avoid a worse fall.
Jungkook swallowed hard, paralyzed, watching with a morbid satisfaction burning hot in his stomach.
"I’m going to report you!" Soojin screamed from the ground, spitting out her words like poison. "You won’t get away with this! You’re getting expelled too, you fucking whore! You can’t hit another student on campus!"
Jiwoo scoffed like what she’d just heard wasn’t even worth a proper laugh.
"One," she began, holding up a finger. "We’re not on campus. We’re outside." Then she turned her head slightly and nodded around. There was no one else there—just the four of them. "Two: there’s no one else here. No one. Three: you’re not a student anymore. You can’t come in, can’t speak to the dean, can’t file a fucking report. And four..."
She looked at Jungkook and then at Taehyung, who still stood rooted in place, eyes locked on Soojin, silent and unwavering.
"I’ve got two witnesses. And if anything happens, I’ll say it was self-defense. Who the fuck is gonna believe you? I’m a Performing Arts major—and one of the best. I can cry on command and everything."
"And don’t fool yourself, Soojin," Jungkook added, finally snapping out of it. "You can’t afford a lawyer."
Soojin whipped her head toward him, eyes wide with raw fury, fists clenched tightly at her sides. She refused to accept the obvious. A guttural scream of frustration tore from her lips, full of impotent rage. She knew he was right—of course he was. Her only option was to leave before she ended up even more humiliated than she already was.
Taehyung stepped forward. His eyes locked onto hers with a dangerous calm.
"Stay away from us, Soojin. If you try anything again, you’re not going to like the consequences. And believe me, it wouldn’t take much for me to make sure you don’t just stay banned from campus—but that your parents lose their jobs too. It’d be a real shame if they were left without income because of you."
The black-haired girl froze. Fear flickered in her pupils, uninvited and immediate, just before she growled under her breath and pushed herself to her feet. She brushed off her skirt like it could somehow wipe away the shame she’d just swallowed, then turned on her heel and took off running without looking back.
Jungkook watched her retreat with tense shoulders. What he felt now wasn’t anger—it was… relief. He turned to Jiwoo, who at that moment seemed to be inspecting something on the ground with the tip of her shoe, as if she hadn’t just beaten the hell out of someone. Jungkook couldn’t help but smile.
"I’m buying you ice cream," he said softly—and he meant it. It was the least he could do after what she’d just done for them.
Jiwoo looked up at him, and her face lit up with a smile so genuine and childlike, it was hard to believe she’d just left someone on the ground with a swollen face.
"Yay!" she chirped with a sweetness that made Taehyung let out a small, disbelieving laugh.
He walked over and ruffled her hair affectionately, like patting a little sister, and said, unable to hide how grateful he was:
"Thank you, Jiwoo."
"Don’t thank me," she replied, still smiling. "I needed that. I’ll always stand up for my friends, you know? That’s how I was raised."
Jungkook couldn’t stop smiling either, because that was Jiwoo—an adorable hurricane with fists of steel. She walked over to the car and picked up the folders and water bottle Jungkook had left on the roof. She hugged them to her chest and climbed into the back seat, softly humming a tune to herself.
Still in good spirits, which were slowly taking hold of him, Jungkook walked around to the passenger door and opened it for Taehyung with a small theatrical bow.
"Your carriage awaits, my lord."
Taehyung rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t stop the smile tugging at his lips. That idiot always found a way to make him smile.
"Idiot," he muttered without malice, climbing in.
Jungkook closed the door gently, walked around the car, and got into the driver’s seat. He started the engine, and within seconds, the vehicle pulled away, leaving behind the tension, the violence, and the unpleasant presence of Soojin.
For the first few minutes, there was a peaceful silence. Jiwoo was murmuring something in the back seat, probably dreaming up the flavor of ice cream she’d soon be devouring. Taehyung stared out the window, though he wasn’t really seeing the view. There was a restless beat pulsing beneath his ribs.
Jungkook was driving with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on his thigh, only lifting it to change gears. It was something they had both started doing without even realizing it. The blond did the same whenever he was the one driving. It made Jungkook a little nervous, which only made it more endearing.
Taehyung lowered his gaze to his phone and searched for Jin’s number without thinking too much. He needed to know. He needed to understand how far the pieces had moved behind his back.
Jin’s voice answered after the second ring, his mouth clearly full.
"Taehyung? Give me a second, I’m eating."
"We just ran into Soojin," he said bluntly, straight to the point.
Jin seemed to swallow before replying.
"And did she tell you about the little gift I gave her?"
He let out a soft laugh. Jin sounded absolutely calm and satisfied—almost proud.
"How did you get her kicked out of the university?" he asked, his tone more curious than accusatory.
"My father’s friends with the dean," Jin replied casually. "He invited him to one of those weird restaurants where the food looks like art and costs more than half a semester’s tuition. We also blacklisted her. For the next ten years, no university in or outside the country will accept her. She won’t be able to find a job either, because of the same reason."
Taehyung let out a low whistle, impressed.
"So... that wasn’t the only gift she got. I was with Jiwoo. The sweet girl knocked her to the ground. I had no idea that tiny body held so much strength."
"Shit, I missed it!" Jin burst out laughing. "I would’ve loved to see that. Watching Jiwoo punch that bitch Soojin must’ve been beautiful."
Taehyung laughed too, but soon toned it down.
"And what did you do about Sana?"
"Let’s just say NOVA has very strict policies. Zero tolerance for bullying, and trainees aren’t allowed to have sexual or romantic relationships with each other. So… both Sana and Sungchul had their contracts terminated. I don’t know if they actually slept together, but I couldn’t leave loose ends, and whether that guy knew or not, he helped make the plan work."
"Was that all?"
"Of course not," Jin continued. "Sana’s probably going back to Japan, since there’s nothing left for her here. And since what she did is now part of her record, even if she denies it, she won’t get past the second round of any audition. Basically… her dream of becoming an idol is dead. I don’t know if I can get her banned from reentering Korea, but I can try."
A part of him felt satisfied. Another part, a certain sadness for what could have been if things had gone differently.
"Fuck… you really know how to play your cards."
"That’s why no one should mess with me," he said with a chuckle. "Or with the people I care about."
And Taehyung felt a warmth in his chest. He liked knowing Jin had moved heaven and earth for them, because he cared.
"Thank you, hyung. Seriously."
"You don’t need to thank me, Tae. Just take care of each other, okay?"
The call ended soon after, and Taehyung lowered the phone onto his lap. He looked out the windshield. The city stretched out before them, the sun slowly setting. Beside him, Jungkook glanced over, and he would ask later what Jin had said. From the back seat, Jiwoo was softly humming something, and the car smelled like vanilla from the air freshener Jungkook always used.
The week had been chaos, but now, finally, things seemed to be calming down. And for the first time in days, Taehyung felt like they could breathe. And then he thought, his heart a little lighter, that maybe—just maybe—things were finally starting to fall into place.
Chapter 49: Chapter 48
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
"Don't you think you should do something about that woman?" Jungkook said, breaking the silence that had settled in the room after he came back from university and found Taehyung in the exact same position he'd been in when Jungkook had left earlier that day.
They were in their apartment, specifically in Jungkook’s bedroom, with the door slightly ajar and the midday light filtering in through half-open curtains. The bed was a mess, with the blanket hanging off one side and a pillow dangerously close to falling. Jungkook was sitting on the edge, one leg bent, elbow resting on his knee, his eyes fixed on Taehyung, who hadn’t even looked up from his laptop.
The desk, set in a spacious corner of the room, was cluttered. Though they'd agreed to divide it—Taehyung’s side on the right, Jungkook’s on the left—it was clear that the blonde's stuff had slowly taken over more than half of the space. Not that Jungkook really minded. Taehyung’s side was covered in colorful post-it notes, books, scribbled notebooks, pens, and a tiny succulent plant Jungkook had bought him, which, miraculously, was still alive.
His laptop glowed in front of him, displaying a document that was already over a thousand words long. Taehyung was hunched over, jaw clenched, eyes glued to the text, typing quickly. He was working on an essay for a class Jungkook honestly couldn’t remember.
"Are you even listening, Tae?" Jungkook pressed, crossing his arms. "You should do something about that woman. It’s not fair that everyone else paid the price for her bullshit, and she didn’t."
Taehyung let out a long, quiet sigh but didn’t take his eyes off the screen.
"I don’t want to," he finally said, his tone neutral.
"You don’t want to...?" Jungkook raised an eyebrow. "Tae, she hit you, kicked you out, disowned you. She found out you’re bi and instead of having a grown-up conversation, she hit you. And you don’t want to do anything?"
Taehyung typed a few more words before stopping. He pressed his lips together, then scrolled back through the document to fix a typo. Then, slowly, he turned his chair to face Jungkook. He had dark circles under his eyes, messy hair, and wore an oversized hoodie that belonged to Jungkook. But even with that tired face, his eyes looked clear and determined.
"I’m not going to waste more energy than necessary, Jungkook," he said calmly. "I know it sounds stupid, and I know after everything she did, I should at least report her for assault. But... she’s my mom."
Jungkook frowned, his fists clenching as he heard those words. He opened his mouth to argue, but Taehyung didn’t let him.
"Even if she doesn’t love me," he continued softly, cutting him off, "I still do. I don’t know why, honestly. I don’t know if it’s just habit, or that twisted bond you can’t break even when it hurts you, or if I’m just not strong enough to hate her. Maybe it’s fear, maybe it’s respect. I don’t know. The only thing I know is I can’t lift a finger against her. Not because I don’t have reasons—God knows I do—but because I’m tired, Jungkook."
He exhaled more forcefully, lowering his gaze as he squeezed his knees with his hands.
"I’m tired. I’m stressed with everything I’ve got going on right now. College, work, the scholarship, the internship, all the deadlines piling up... supporting myself and living alone for the first time—well, with you," he corrected himself with a small, grateful smile. "I don’t want to spend weeks talking to lawyers, going to hearings, and reliving all of that."
"You can’t just forgive her that easily, Tae," Jungkook said gently. "Not after what she did."
Taehyung nodded slowly.
"I didn’t forgive her. I just want to close that chapter of my life. I want to focus on me, on us, on my new life. I already have enough shit in my head, I don’t have time or energy to fight another battle. Just let me have a little peace, at least."
For a second, Jungkook just looked at him in silence. He felt helpless, frustrated... but he also felt something close to admiration, because even if he didn’t agree with that way of dealing with things, he knew the decision came from a deep place—and that it hurt Taehyung more than he let on. He had lost more than just a home or a family; he’d lost a part of himself, and only now was he beginning to piece it back together.
He couldn’t take away his desire to move on.
"Okay," Jungkook finally said in a lower voice. "I get it."
He stood from the bed and walked over to him in a couple of strides. He cupped Taehyung’s face with both hands and leaned down just enough to press a long, warm kiss to his forehead.
Taehyung closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, before turning his chair back to the laptop. The essay was still there, waiting for him, and he needed to submit it soon. He was about to refocus when—
"Did you eat breakfast?" Jungkook asked, turning back toward the bed.
"Uh..." Taehyung mumbled, clearly not wanting to answer.
"Taehyung, did you eat breakfast?" he repeated more firmly, turning back toward him.
"I was busy," he finally admitted. "And really stressed. I didn’t have time."
Jungkook looked at him with utter disapproval. He let out an audible scoff, crossing his arms again.
"Do you even know what time it is? It’s fucking twelve-thirty. That’s not breakfast anymore, that’s lunch. Why the hell didn’t you tell me anything when I left for class?"
"I’m sorry," Taehyung paused his typing for a second and looked up to meet his eyes. His gaze was tinged with guilt.
"You’re so irresponsible," Jungkook said with exasperation. "How many times do I have to tell you not to skip meals?"
He didn’t wait for an answer. Jungkook rolled his eyes, turned on his heel, and left the room. The sound of his footsteps echoed through the apartment as he headed down the stairs to the kitchen.
The warm smell of freshly made ramen slipped into the room before Jungkook had even fully crossed the doorway. Steam floated lazily above the two bowls of steaming ramen, and the tteokbokki gleamed in a soft, non-spicy red—just the way Taehyung liked it. He also carried two lemonades with ice cubes dancing inside the tall glasses. Jungkook closed the door with his foot, walked silently to the desk, and carefully placed the tray beside Taehyung.
"It's not gourmet or anything special," he said, pushing aside a notebook to make space. "But it was the fastest thing I could grab so you wouldn't starve."
Taehyung looked up from his computer, blinking a few times to refocus his vision and shake off the dizziness from so many hours of work. His eyes drifted down to the food, then slowly rose to meet Jungkook’s—and suddenly, his entire face softened.
His mouth curved into a small, slightly tired but warm smile. And those big, dewy eyes, shining with gratitude, completely melted Jungkook from the inside out like butter left under the sun.
"Thank you, you're the best," Taehyung murmured sweetly, tilting his head a little and puckering his lips into a soft pout. Jungkook didn’t hesitate for even half a second before leaning down and planting a short, delicate kiss on them.
Then, with a smile that refused to fade, he grabbed his bowl of ramen and sat cross-legged on the bed.
"Be careful, don’t make a mess or spill food all over the bed," Taehyung warned, picking up some ramen with his chopsticks while refocusing on the keyboard. "I don’t have the energy to clean up after."
"Yes, mom," Jungkook scoffed sarcastically, but he made sure to set the bowl securely on his lap, using the pillow—barely saved from falling—as an improvised table.
From his spot on the bed, he watched him in silence for a few seconds. Taehyung was eating and typing at the same time, which Jungkook found somewhere between miraculous and infuriating. Part of him wondered how the hell he managed to do both without burning his tongue or spilling soup all over the keyboard. The other part… was just worried again. Because, of course, that had become the constant lately: looking after Taehyung.
He worried about him. He always did. Ever since everything blew up, Taehyung had been a mix of resilience and exhaustion, but more than anything, he was disciplined—though only when it came to academics, because when it came to taking care of himself, he was absolute shit.
He forgot to eat, to sleep, to even pause for five minutes and breathe. Jungkook had to remind him of the time, cook for him, sometimes even force him into the shower if he noticed he hadn’t moved from his little work bubble in over a day. One time, he even helped him edit a damn audio file for one of his videos, adjusting levels and cleaning up noise like the most committed freelance producer. He did all that just so Taehyung could get three damn hours of rest in a row.
And even with all that, Taehyung still didn’t stop. The stress was eating him alive. Jungkook saw it in the way his leg subtly trembled, in the way his eyes narrowed while reading the screen, and in how it got harder and harder for him to sleep without jolting awake. It frustrated the hell out of him. What else could he do to ease the weight off his shoulders?
"Are you almost done?" he asked from the bed, stirring the noodles with his chopsticks.
"The essay?" Taehyung spoke without stopping his typing. "Yeah, almost. Why? Feeling needy?"
Jungkook scrunched his nose and pulled a kicked-puppy face.
"Yeah," he answered softly without thinking, his lips forming a small pout. Taehyung let out a short, genuine laugh. Then he turned his head just enough to glance at him from the corner of his eye.
"I’ll give you attention soon, baby," he said in a sweet tone. Jungkook smiled, feeling his whole damn body melt on the spot.
He went back to his noodles, but before he could take another bite, both their phones started vibrating at the same time. Taehyung grabbed his first. He unlocked it with facial recognition, and his eyebrows lifted a little.
"It’s from the seven group chat," he announced, glancing quickly at the flood of messages before setting it aside again. "You check it while I finish this paragraph—I don’t want to lose my rhythm."
Jungkook carefully placed his bowl on the nightstand and pulled his phone from the back pocket of his jeans. Notifications kept flashing relentlessly, one after another. He opened the group chat and was immediately hit with a sea of stickers and all-caps messages that made little sense at first glance.
"Hoseok’s saying we should go to Lotte World," he read aloud while scrolling through the screen. "That it was the original plan before the storm... well, before everything went to shit."
"Right..." Taehyung murmured. "We couldn’t go because of Sana and Soojin."
"Everyone seems to be on board," Jungkook said as he kept reading through the messages. "Do you want to go?"
There was a small silence—just long enough for Jungkook to look up from his phone and study Taehyung, who was still hunched over his desk, chewing a bite of ramen distractedly while working on his essay. Every now and then he’d stop, frown, go back, delete, add a word.
"I don’t know... I’ve got too much to do," he murmured in a slow, dragging voice. "I can’t afford to take a whole day off. Besides, that shit costs 64,000 won. I already paid that once and we didn’t even go in the end," he huffed under his breath. "Not really in the mood to throw money away twice."
Jungkook felt something twist in his stomach in pure frustration. He knew that tone and that attitude. It wasn’t that Taehyung didn’t want to go—it was that he wouldn’t allow himself to go. Always the same story: the pressure to perform, to not owe anyone anything—not even his closest friends. Not even him.
"Don’t worry about that," he replied without missing a beat, his voice gentle. He forced himself to sound casual, as convincing as possible. "Hoseok and his contacts talked to the people at Lotte World, they postponed the tickets. We don’t have to pay anything, it’s all covered. We don’t need to buy new ones—they saved our entry with the same tickets."
A lie. It was all a lie. Hoseok hadn’t done a damn thing.
The tickets had expired, end of story. If they wanted to go again, they’d have to pay another 64,000 won per person. But Jungkook had already decided he would cover it—and he’d never tell Taehyung. If he ever found out Jungkook was paying for him, he’d throw a fit, refuse, they’d argue for hours, and he’d end up transferring the money back—through the bank or even in coins, if he had to. That was the level of stubbornness he was dealing with.
"Seriously?"
"Of course," he nodded. "It’d suck if you missed out on it over something they’ve already sorted out. Plus, it’ll do you good. You’re burned out and need a damn break. Don’t you think you could use a day to clear your head? Just one day. You don’t have to worry about anything. You’re killing yourself, Tae."
Taehyung paused, his index finger hovering for a second above the spacebar, eyes fixed on the screen. He was thinking about it, and Jungkook knew that was a good sign. If he had wanted to dismiss it outright, he would’ve just said a firm 'no' and that would’ve been it. But silence meant doubt, and doubt meant there was a crack—just enough to slip through.
“Mhm… I don’t know…” he finally muttered, turning slightly to glance at him from the corner of his eye. “Are you sure we don’t have to pay?”
“I swear,” Jungkook lied without blinking. “Everything’s taken care of. Besides, if you go, I’ll want to go even more. Come on, please.”
“...Alright,” Taehyung murmured after a sigh. “I guess so. If it’s already paid for and… if it’s on the weekend, I could get the rest done before then.”
“Yes!” Jungkook threw a fist into the air like he had just scored a goal and grinned like an idiot, flashing all his teeth. Something in his chest eased, and at the same time, something tightened. Because lying to him didn’t feel great, but if that was the only way to get him to go out, relax, and be happy for a little while… it was worth it. “You’re gonna have the best time, just wait. I’m gonna win all the shooting competitions, too.”
“In your dreams,” Taehyung scoffed, turning back to his laptop, though the corners of his lips were still curved. “I’m gonna win them. You're not that good.”
An hour later, the dishes and glasses were empty, and the essay document was finally closed. Taehyung stretched his arms above his head with a long sigh that ended in a low, raspy groan. The chair creaked as he pushed it back and stood up slowly, his legs still stiff from sitting too long.
Jungkook, who had been working on some sheet music from the bed for a while, set everything aside on the nightstand the moment he heard him. He lifted his head and watched him stretch, his shirt riding up a bit around the waist to reveal a sliver of soft, pale skin. He had taken off Jungkook’s hoodie because he’d gotten too warm. Jungkook’s gaze dropped without shame to take it all in, then returned to his face.
He opened his arms without saying a word, just motioning for him to come closer. And when Taehyung saw him like that, he smiled effortlessly. He walked slowly to the bed, and when he reached it, he dropped onto Jungkook with a sigh that sounded like relief. His body settled on top of him, arms wrapped around Jungkook’s torso, cheek resting on his chest, eyes closed.
“Did you finish everything for today?” Jungkook asked softly, running his fingers through his hair. Taehyung shook his head, still hugging him.
“Not really, I still need to get ahead on some stuff. If we’re going to Lotte World this weekend, I need to clear my schedule. But... I can be with you for a couple of hours.”
Jungkook smiled and kissed the top of his head, right where a little swirl of hair formed at his crown, where his hair smelled faintly like floral shampoo and something uniquely his that Jungkook couldn’t describe but loved way too much.
“I’ll take that. Two hours sounds perfect,” he murmured.
The room grew quiet for a few seconds. Taehyung’s breathing slowed. His chest rose and fell gently. Jungkook could feel the exact rhythm of his heartbeat against him, and every time he exhaled, the warmth of his breath tickled his collarbone. It was comforting and fucking beautiful.
“Does your back hurt?” he asked in a low voice.
“A bit, I’m all knotted up. I’ve been sitting for like five hours.”
“I can give you a little massage, if you want.”
“A little massage with a happy ending?”
Jungkook snorted a laugh.
“You always have such a dirty mouth.”
“And you always sound so sweet,” Taehyung lifted his head just enough to look him in the eye, noticing the sparkle there. “Thanks for the ramen.”
“No problem, pretty boy.”
“And for convincing me to go this weekend.”
“I’ve got a feeling this weekend is going to be amazing—even if you don’t win the games.”
“Already talking smack?” Taehyung scrunched his nose and laid his head back on his chest.
“Me? Never.”
The high-pitched buzz of a phone vibrating on the desk cut through the calm in the room. Taehyung barely lifted his head and let out a soft grumble, like a cat annoyed at being woken from the perfect nap spot. Jungkook looked at him silently, arms still wrapped around him, waiting to see if he’d just ignore it. But Taehyung stretched, mumbled something unintelligible, got up lazily, and shuffled across the floor to the desk.
He grabbed the phone with one hand, eyes still on the screen, and flopped back down onto the bed, lying sideways next to Jungkook, who instinctively pulled him back into his arms.
Taehyung looked down at the screen and saw an unknown number. Normally, he wouldn’t answer calls like that—they were usually a waste of time. Could be telemarketers, dumb mobile service promos, or even scams. But he remembered he’d sent his resume out to several companies. Maybe it was one of them.
He thought about it for just a second more, then slid his finger across the screen and answered, bringing the phone to his ear while Jungkook watched his every move with curiosity.
“Hello?”
“Good morning. May I speak with Mr. Kim Taehyung?”
The voice on the other end was formal, clear, and polite. A woman, probably in her thirties, spoke without hesitation. Taehyung furrowed his brow slightly.
“Yes, this is him speaking.”
“Pleasure to speak with you. My name is Han Yeseul, I’m a representative from the Human Resources Department at NOVA Entertainment. I apologize for the intrusion—I’m calling to verify some information with you. Do you have a moment?”
The name of the company hit him like a bucket of ice water. Taehyung sat up straight on the bed, still stunned. Jungkook looked at him with a questioning expression, propping his elbows on the mattress, and when he saw Taehyung’s eyes widen, he raised his eyebrows in surprise. The other boy didn’t say anything at first, but then, without thinking much about it, he put the call on speaker so Jungkook could hear too.
NOVA Entertainment? He hadn’t sent anything to them. He mentally reviewed every application he’d submitted. They were all to smaller agencies, low-profile production companies, cultural channels… but NOVA? That was way too big for him. He didn’t feel remotely qualified.
His heart pounded against his chest, hard. What if it was about Sana? What if there had been a legal issue?
“Yes... of course,” he said, though his stomach twisted painfully. He managed to keep his tone neutral, but mentally, he was hanging by a thread. His eyes flicked quickly to Jungkook, who was still watching him intently and scooted closer to offer support, wrapping his arms around him and resting his chin on his shoulder.
“Perfect. So, we’re currently undergoing an internal review process of several recent audiovisual projects involving our trainee talents. Specifically, we reviewed a video submitted to us by Miss Hirai Momo, Sana Minatozaki, and Mina Myōi for their audition. Your name appears in the credits as the editor. Could you confirm whether you were responsible for editing that material?”
“Ah... yes,” he said, unable to hide a hint of surprise. “Yes, I edited that video. Is... is there a problem?”
"None at all. In fact, we're reaching out because the visual media development team at NOVA was very impressed with the quality of the editing. The music selection, the rhythm, the color grading, the transitions... truly outstanding. We had the chance to speak with Miss Hirai and Miss Myōi, who spoke very highly of your collaboration. Unfortunately, we couldn’t speak with Miss Minatozaki, as she is not currently affiliated with the company."
Jungkook’s eyes widened in surprise and he turned to look at Taehyung. The older boy, for his part, was frozen in place for a moment. His mind, which had been swimming in anxiety just seconds ago, was now spinning in a completely different direction. Were they complimenting him? Were they really impressed with his work?
"Thank you…" he said, a small smile forming on his lips, still not quite believing it. "That makes me really happy to hear."
"For that reason, we’d like to offer you an interview for a potential internship in our audiovisual production department. This year, we’re opening positions for students who are about to start their academic internships. We wanted to confirm if you're currently pursuing formal studies in that field."
Taehyung couldn’t help it. He bounced slightly where he sat on the bed, holding the phone tightly between his fingers. He couldn’t stop the huge smile that spread across his face. Jungkook looked at him and instantly smiled as well. He made a quick gesture with his hands, as if to say answer, you idiot!, and Taehyung nodded automatically before speaking again.
"Yes, yes. I’m studying Audiovisual Creation at Yeoreum University. Actually, I’m supposed to start my internship next semester," he explained quickly, trying to sound professional, though his legs were jittery with nerves.
"Perfect, we’re glad to hear that. At NOVA, we value emerging talent and love to offer opportunities to young people with potential. Your work really caught our attention. If you're interested in becoming part of the NOVA family, we can schedule an interview in the coming days. So, Mr. Kim, allow me to explain exactly what the internship entails."
Jungkook had an arm wrapped around Taehyung’s waist, his chin resting on his shoulder so he wouldn’t miss a single word.
"The internship will initially last seven months, with the possibility of extension based on performance. In fact, depending on how things go, you could even be offered a permanent position," the woman continued. "The areas of focus include video postproduction, color correction, editing for digital platforms, and eventually, assistance in audiovisual marketing projects. We’re looking for people with initiative, proficiency in professional editing software like Premiere, DaVinci Resolve, and After Effects, and with a strong aesthetic sense, teamwork skills, and a sense of responsibility."
Taehyung nodded along while his thoughts swirled in a storm of disbelief and excitement. Beside him, Jungkook couldn’t stop staring at him, biting his lower lip to keep from yelling with joy.
"The stipend is one million eight hundred thousand won per month," the woman added. "There’s an additional three hundred thousand won for transportation and expenses. Interns are also entitled to two days off each month, and if the internship is extended, a week of paid vacation is included. It’s a formal offer, under a university-endorsed internship contract."
Taehyung felt a jump in his chest—and quite literally, another one in his body—as he bounced in place again, unable to stay still from the excitement. His face lit up with joy as he turned his head to Jungkook. The younger boy burst into silent laughter, his eyes almost closed from the size of his grin.
"So, now that you know all this, would you like to continue with the process?" the woman asked politely.
"Yes, absolutely yes, I’m very interested," Taehyung replied without hesitation.
"Perfect," she responded. "Then, are you available for an in-person interview this Thursday at 2 p.m.?"
"Yes, I’m completely available."
"Then it’s scheduled for Thursday. You’ll need to go to the main entrance of the Gangnam branch, check in at the front desk, and give your name. Someone from Human Resources will meet you there."
"Thank you so much for the opportunity," said Taehyung, doing everything he could not to scream with excitement during the call.
"Thank you for your interest, Mr. Kim. We’ll see you on Thursday. Have a great day."
"You too."
The moment the call ended, Taehyung let out a euphoric scream, covering his face with both hands before throwing them up toward the ceiling like he’d just won the lottery. Jungkook sat up immediately, clapping loudly, laughing out loud as he pulled Taehyung toward him in pure excitement.
"Tae, holy shit, I told you! I told you you’re a fucking genius! You’re amazing!" he exclaimed, hugging him tight against his chest, his arms wrapping around him like he never wanted to let go.
Taehyung let himself be pulled in, his whole body buzzing with emotion. He couldn’t stop laughing, couldn’t stop kicking his legs against the mattress, as if the energy had nowhere else to go.
"I can’t believe this, Jungkook…" he panted through laughter, his eyes shining. "Did you hear all of that?"
"I heard everything! And I swear, I’m so proud of you!" Jungkook said, kissing his temple, his cheek, and his jaw with urgent tenderness. "You did it, Tae. You did it all on your own! Because you’re talented and you’re worth so much."
"They’re offering me a fucking internship at NOVA! Is this seriously happening!?"
Jungkook cupped his face in both hands, gently holding his cheeks.
"Of course it’s happening. Do you know why? Because you’re incredible. Because everything you create with your hands and your mind is gold. Even the most seasoned professionals can see your value and your brilliance. Don’t you ever doubt yourself again."
Taehyung looked at him with trembling lips, eyes narrowing in deep emotion, feeling like his chest couldn’t contain everything he was feeling. Joy bubbled in his veins, made his skin burn, and the way Jungkook was looking at him made him want to cry, laugh, and kiss him all at once.
So he did.
He leaned in without thinking and kissed him with overflowing emotion, clutching his face, pressing their lips together with hunger. Jungkook kissed him back with equal force, wrapping his arms around his waist and digging his fingers into his lower back, pulling him closer.
"I’m so happy…" Taehyung murmured against his mouth, between quick, noisy kisses.
"And I’m happy for you," Jungkook replied just the same.
Taehyung’s eyes sparkled. He pulled away for just a second to look at him, and a mischievous glint lit up his expression. Jungkook barely had time to raise an eyebrow before Taehyung tore his shirt off with surprising skill.
"Are we going to celebrate?" he asked, biting his lip with a devilish smile as he tossed the shirt aside without a care.
"This is how you plan to celebrate?" Jungkook replied, laughing as he fell back onto the mattress when Taehyung shoved him down without mercy.
"This is exactly how I plan to celebrate," the older one said, straddling Jungkook's hips, his knees planted firmly on either side of his body. "You’re gonna let me celebrate, right?"
"I have no objections," Jungkook whispered.
Taehyung didn’t answer with words. Instead, he bit his lower lip and lowered his gaze to the bare chest in front of him. His fingers brushed the edges of Jungkook’s muscles, gliding up to his collarbones. Then he leaned down and kissed him again, this time dirtier. The movement of his lips was slow, yet aggressive and demanding. His tongue slipped in without asking, exploring, licking, and sucking with shameless intent. His hips moved subtly, grinding down against Jungkook’s, pulling a deep growl from him that vibrated between their mouths.
Jungkook’s hands didn’t stay idle for long. They slid up Taehyung’s thighs, gripping the skin and feeling the heat radiate through the touch. He grabbed his waist, then his sides, pulling him closer, desperate for more contact. One hand moved up to the nape of the older boy’s neck, tugging him in harder to deepen the kiss.
They were both panting between kisses, biting, licking, and chasing each other without pause. Taehyung’s body rubbed against Jungkook’s in an addictive rhythm. Their tongues clashed, tangled, their lips pressing together, wet and desperate.
"Your happiness is mine," Jungkook murmured when he pulled back to catch his breath, gazing at him with nothing short of adoration, his hands cupping his cheeks while the taste of Taehyung’s wet kisses still lingered on his lips.
"You have no idea how happy you make me," Taehyung whispered in return.
He kissed him again with a sense of urgency, his tongue moving freely while his hips continued grinding down on Jungkook’s in a rhythm that was quickly starting to resemble something dangerously erotic. The friction was driving them insane.
Jungkook moved his hands to Taehyung’s waist and then further down, gripping his thighs firmly as he pushed him forward, seeking more of him. He broke the kiss just enough to look at his face—flushed, lips red and slick, chest rising and falling fast.
"Let me touch you the way you deserve, Tae," Jungkook murmured, his voice rough and trembling with desire.
Taehyung swallowed hard, eyes shining as they locked onto his, and nodded silently. He sat up slowly, still kneeling on either side of Jungkook’s body, and began lifting his shirt in one smooth motion, letting the fabric slide up and off his torso. Jungkook watched him, slack-jawed, like he was witnessing something sacred.
"You’re so fucking beautiful," he whispered, sitting up straighter to kiss his chest, his lips trailing down the center of his sternum before he licked Taehyung’s nipples until he heard a quiet, breathy moan.
Taehyung arched his back, eyes closed, letting Jungkook’s large hands explore every inch of his skin. He let go completely, surrendering to the touch, to the warm lips traveling from his chest to his neck, from his neck to his jaw, from his jaw back to his nipples, repeating the cycle over and over.
The bites Jungkook left on him made him extra sensitive, and by this point in his life, he didn’t even bother asking him not to leave marks. Not only because Jungkook would just say 'don’t tell me what to do' and leave them anyway, but because they didn’t bother him anymore—he actually kind of liked them. Especially when they came from Jungkook. Yeah, he could definitely say he was in deep.
"Take off my pants," he said, unable to hold back any longer.
Jungkook obeyed instantly. His hands moved down to the waistband of Taehyung’s cotton pants, and with skilled fingers, he unfastened them. Together, they pulled them down, and then did the same with Jungkook’s. Now they were both left in nothing but their underwear, their hard erections clearly visible beneath the fabric.
Taehyung let out a moan as he sat down fully on Jungkook’s covered length, feeling the full, throbbing pressure beneath the fabric, so intense it almost hurt. The direct friction against his own bulge made him tremble, his eyes closing as his hips rolled forward, then back, creating a slick, intense, and maddeningly frustrating grind for both of them.
He placed his open hands on Jungkook’s bare chest, feeling the muscles tighten beneath his palms. His fingers clutched harder as his hips began to move faster. Jungkook’s breathing turned erratic, and his hands, acting on instinct, slipped under Taehyung’s white boxers without hesitation.
The hot skin of his ass met Jungkook’s palms, which grabbed him firmly, squeezing without shame, kneading him hard. Taehyung let out a gasp as Jungkook’s fingers dug into his flesh, completely taking control of the rhythm. He wasn’t moving on his own anymore—Jungkook was guiding him, pushing him forward and back with rough, relentless motions, fingers pressing in deep, dominating the movement from the base.
"Just like that..." Jungkook growled. "Move like that for me."
Taehyung let out a breathy laugh, panting, sounding almost like a moan.
"You like having me on top of you, huh?" he whispered, tilting his head back in pure bliss.
"I fucking love it," Jungkook answered without hesitation, eyes fixed on the way their bodies rubbed together, as if they were already fucking. "I love seeing you like this… so goddamn provocative."
"Jungkook…" The way he said it changed everything. It was almost a plea—pure want wrapped in soft desperation. His hips stilled, and his eyes locked onto Jungkook’s. "Prep me," he murmured. "Do it right."
The reaction was instant. Jungkook lifted him effortlessly and laid him gently down on the mattress. He immediately turned to the nightstand, opening the drawer with one hand to grab the lube. But when he turned back to the bed, the sight that greeted him knocked the air right out of his lungs.
Taehyung had already removed his underwear. He was completely naked, on his knees on the bed in a perfect cat-like pose: forearms and hands pressed into the mattress, back arched, ass lifted high, exposed and trembling. Still, his face was turned to the side, visibly flustered, ears bright red and his brow furrowed from the fierce blush that covered his face.
"Don’t say anything," he said in a tight voice, hiding his face between his arms. "Just… do it."
Jungkook swallowed hard, his brain struggling to catch up with the view in front of him.
"Oh, fuck…" he murmured with a crooked grin. "And what’s with this sudden act of total surrender, huh?" Jungkook knelt behind him and ran his hands up Taehyung’s thighs, slowly sliding them up to his hips. He leaned in to kiss the small of his back, leaving a trail of heat down his spine. "Don’t worry—I’m gonna do it right. Just the way you like it."
From his place on the bed, Taehyung groaned, face still buried.
"Shut up," he snapped, his voice muffled by embarrassment, even if the curve of his back remained maddeningly perfect, silently begging for it all. "Just do it before I change my mind."
Jungkook let out a low, husky laugh as he approached with the bottle in hand. He set it aside and positioned himself behind him, his hands slowly gliding from Taehyung's lower back down to his thighs, savoring every inch with his fingertips. He squeezed one ass cheek, then the other, his thumbs sliding toward the center, stopping just where the heat began.
"So bold all the time… and now trembling for me."
Taehyung squirmed a little beneath him, wanting to disappear into the sheets.
"If you don’t start now, I swear I’m getting dressed."
"Don’t even think about it," Jungkook growled, opening the lube with a plup and spreading some of the slick substance onto his fingers. "You’re not getting away from me now."
And with that, his fingers slid between those soft cheeks, spreading the gel slowly, with dedication, while Taehyung trembled under him.
He applied a new dose of lube once the first layer was evenly spread, and started with the first finger, pushing it in slowly. Taehyung’s body reacted with an immediate shiver; his arms trembled and a muffled moan slipped from his lips as he clenched the sheets tightly under his hands.
It had been a while since they last did this—everything that happened, and then Taehyung nearly killing himself with academics—they hadn’t had many chances to fuck.
Once the first finger no longer made him tense, Jungkook carefully slid in the second. Taehyung’s gasp was louder, his hips instinctively shifting away from the contact. But Jungkook held him firmly by the waist, twisting his wrist as he eased those long fingers in deeper.
"Just breathe," he murmured, leaning down to kiss one of his cheeks. "Just a little more."
Taehyung took a deep breath, cheeks flushed, eyes tightly shut. The sensation was more intense now, his body trembling under every push. The blond panted with his mouth slightly open, lips swollen and wet as his forehead brushed the sheets.
"Fuck, Tae… you’re so tight," Jungkook whispered in awe, eyes locked on the movement of his fingers and the way Taehyung’s body responded—so willing, so fucking ready.
The third finger came slower. Jungkook waited, caressing his hips. When it finally slipped in, Taehyung whimpered, fists clenched tight against the bed. Pain flickered across his expression, but he didn’t pull away. And when his muscles started to relax again, when pleasure filtered back onto his face, a soft smile crossed his lips.
"I’m good," he whispered hoarsely. "That’s enough."
Jungkook pulled his fingers out slowly, almost reluctantly, and just as he was leaning toward the drawer to grab a condom, Taehyung’s voice stopped him.
"Wait."
In the blink of an eye, Taehyung turned over, abandoning the cat-like position entirely. He sat back on his knees, face still flushed, chest rising and falling quickly.
"Let’s go back to how we were before. I want to… ride you," he said, the defiant look in his eyes tinged with wounded pride. "I need to get back a bit of my dignity."
The younger burst out laughing.
"Dignity? After the way you moaned with three fingers inside you, hyung, that’s long gone."
"Shut up!" he snapped, red as a tomato.
Jungkook fell back onto the bed, still laughing, arms resting behind his head.
"Alright, come on. All yours."
Taehyung shot him a murderous glare, but the sparkle in his eyes gave him away. He crawled over the bed until he was on top of him again.
Jungkook’s sculpted torso rose and fell with each breath. When he reached out to the drawer again for a condom, Taehyung was quicker. He smacked Jungkook’s wrist hard enough to make the wrapper fall back into place.
"No condom," he said, almost like a command, without hesitation.
Jungkook raised his eyebrows, his tongue wetting his lips as he let out a low whistle.
"Wow… Do you even realize how hard you’re tempting me right now?"
"Shut up," Taehyung whispered, knees settling on either side of Jungkook’s waist, taking control with an expression that tried to be dominant… but the trembling in his fingers betrayed him.
He took Jungkook’s cock in a firm hand, gripping it at the base. It looked thick and pulsing, all for him. He poured a generous amount of lube over it, wrapping his hand around it and stroking a few times before carefully aligning himself.
"Look at me," Jungkook said, almost breathlessly.
And Taehyung did. He looked straight into his eyes just as he began to lower himself slowly, feeling the head begin to push him open again—this time larger, hotter. His face contorted into a mix of pain and pleasure, eyelids heavy, brows drawn together, lips parting in a moan.
Jungkook couldn’t look away. Taehyung looked devastatingly beautiful as he sank deeper onto him, his whole body teetering on the edge of delirium.
Once he was fully seated, Taehyung let out a long breath. He braced his hands on Jungkook’s abdomen, head bowed as he tried to adjust to the feeling.
"Fuck…" he muttered, lips curving into a breathless smile, pupils blown wide. "You’re huge."
Jungkook stared up at him, eyes wide, drinking in every inch. He couldn’t stop watching the tiny contractions of his face, every tremor of his body as he wrapped around him.
Taehyung began to move, rolling his hips with a rhythm that was anything but innocent. He rose slowly, feeling every thick inch slide out, then dropped back down hard, pulling deep groans from Jungkook each time he swallowed him whole.
He placed his hands on Jungkook’s thighs next, for balance and for control. He had complete command of the pace—and he was using it mercilessly.
Each time he dropped down, his mouth opened wider, releasing a moan that echoed through the room. It was filthy and beautiful. He looked so smug, so desperately sensual, Jungkook felt like he could come just from watching him.
"Am I riding you that well?" Taehyung asked with a wicked grin. "Is this what you wanted, baby?"
Jungkook’s hand wrapped around Taehyung’s cock—hard and throbbing—and began stroking in sync with his thrusts. The blond let out a rough moan, abs tightening as his hips kept slamming down against Jungkook’s.
The wet sound of their bodies colliding mingled with their increasingly irregular breathing.
"Yeah… fuck, yes, just like that," Jungkook panted as he started rubbing him with his open palm, moving up and down in firm strokes.
Taehyung arched his back, a loud moan breaking free, and his hips moved faster. He rose and fell like his body knew it by heart, like muscle memory was guiding him, and his body knew exactly how to make Jungkook fall apart.
He sped up, his movements both precise and chaotic as he rocked on top of him. Sometimes he rolled his hips in slow circles, chasing more friction; other times, he dropped down hard, making a loud slap echo against Jungkook's thighs and drawing a strangled cry from his lips.
"Taehyung... don't stop, don't stop..." Jungkook whispered, eyes shut, his face tense with sheer need. One hand stroked his own cock with growing pressure while the other gripped Taehyung’s hips, guiding him to move faster.
Moans quickly replaced heavy breaths. Curses tangled with their names as Taehyung leaned down to kiss him, still moving on his length with devastating skill.
But just when they were both teetering on the edge, Taehyung came to a sudden stop.
"I want..." he panted, struggling for breath. "I want to feel you in different ways."
Without waiting for a response, Jungkook slid out of him with a groan that made both of them shudder. He gripped Taehyung’s waist firmly and gently pushed him down onto the bed.
"Then let me show you."
Jungkook gently coaxed him onto his side. Taehyung complied, laying on his right side, facing the right wall of the room. The dark-haired man positioned himself behind him in a spooning position, their bodies fitting together perfectly. His right arm slipped beneath Taehyung’s shoulders, wrapping around him to pull him close. His left hand slid down to grip the inner thigh of Taehyung’s left leg, lifting and spreading it to gain full access.
And without wasting a second, he slid back in.
Taehyung let out a deep, guttural moan as he felt himself being filled again—but this time from a completely different angle. Every thrust hit deep and teased new spots that made him tremble. Jungkook held him tight, his entire body pressed flush against the older man's. His chest brushed against Taehyung’s back, his nose buried in the crook of his neck, where he left wet kisses and ragged breaths.
"Shit..." he breathed against the nape of his neck. "You're so fucking tight like this. So hot..." Jungkook's hips moved with steady rhythm, burying deep with each thrust. Taehyung could only moan, pressing back against him, digging his nails into the arm that held him.
Taehyung’s face was a vision—eyes squeezed shut, mouth open in a constant whimper, cheeks flushed, and skin glistening with sweat. Jungkook looked at him like nothing else in the world existed.
His grip on Taehyung's thigh tightened—hard enough to leave marks—as he held him open and thrust into him with sharp, measured movements. From this angle, every push landed deep and direct, making Taehyung writhe and cry out whenever Jungkook hit that perfect spot.
"Kook... don't stop... fuck... right there..." he murmured.
"Did I find it?" Jungkook whispered against his neck. "You like it when I fuck you like this?"
Taehyung let out a breathless moan and nodded clumsily, too far gone to form words. Jungkook’s hips snapped with force but never lost precision. The spooning position gave him total control over the pace, but more than that, holding him like this—so close, so tight—felt intimate. He could feel every moan vibrate through Taehyung’s chest, every spasm ripple through his body. He could see the way he trembled each time he hit that spot again.
But then Taehyung gasped louder, let out a high-pitched whimper, and turned his face just enough to murmur:
"I want to see you..."
Jungkook didn’t need to hear it twice. He stopped instantly. He caressed Taehyung’s thigh as he slowly withdrew, the sudden emptiness making the older man’s body tremble. He helped him turn over gently, and Taehyung let himself fall onto his back, still panting. Jungkook lifted both of Taehyung’s legs into the air, keeping them together. He knelt on the bed, placing both legs over one of his shoulders. His breathing was shaky from the sight in front of him: Taehyung, completely wrecked but still craving more, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his firm thighs trembling slightly with effort, and an expression that was both full of desire and vulnerability.
"God... Taehyung."
Jungkook wrapped his right hand around Taehyung’s legs, holding them together and upright. His other hand braced against the mattress for support, and with a slow, precise motion, he slid back inside.
This new position made him feel even tighter and more sensitive. Taehyung arched instantly, his nails clawing at the sheets, head thrown back with a strangled scream.
"Ah... Jungkook!"
"That's it... look at me," the younger man growled, panting heavily as he began to thrust again, using that deep, tight angle only this position could offer. "I want to see every fucking expression you make when I have you like this."
Taehyung gritted his teeth, hands clutching the sheets on either side of his head, teary eyes locked on Jungkook’s.
"Ah... yeah, like that..." he moaned, "Harder… more…”
The thrusts were deep, the pace increasing, making the entire bed shake. Jungkook never broke eye contact, each of Taehyung’s reactions acting like fuel. The way he bit his bottom lip, how his eyes fluttered shut right as a new wave of pleasure crashed over him, the tremble in his abs—Jungkook was completely mesmerized.
The room was sweltering. Taehyung’s cheeks were flushed, lips parted, eyes half-lidded as he clung to the wrinkled sheets beneath his head like they were the only thing tethering him to reality.
His other hand reached down to his cock—hard and throbbing—and began stroking himself with shameless desperation, matching the rhythm of Jungkook’s relentless thrusts. The combined friction—internal and external—was too much. His whole body trembled uncontrollably, his thighs shaking in the air, still held up by Jungkook’s tight grip.
"Look at you..." the younger man murmured, voice raspy, soaked in sweat and on the brink. "Me fucking you like this and you’re still touching yourself… You’re so fucking sexy, Taehyung, I’m so into you, I’m falling for you."
Then he let go of Taehyung’s legs—but they didn’t drop. The older man kept them raised, trembling but obedient, just as needy as he was receptive. Jungkook lowered his right hand and placed it flat on Taehyung’s abdomen, just below his navel. He pressed down and felt it—his own cock moving inside Taehyung, thrusting, sliding, pushing deeper. His pulse spiked.
"I can… feel myself inside you…" he groaned, voice shaking with the intensity of his unraveling control.
Just saying it nearly made him lose it. His pelvis slammed harder against Taehyung’s ass, his left hand still grounded on the mattress to hold himself up in that position.
Taehyung’s back arched sharply.
"Ah, Jungkook!" he cried, somewhere between a moan and a sob, his hand jerking faster on his cock, his hips thrusting down to meet every one of Jungkook’s. He was hitting his prostate dead-on, and he couldn’t take it anymore. "Don’t stop, don’t stop... I’m so close..."
And Jungkook didn’t stop. His thrusts turned erratic. Sweat ran down their bodies, their skin slapped together relentlessly, and their breathing was a delicious mess.
Taehyung came first.
His back arched off the mattress, his abs tensed, and his mouth fell open as a high-pitched moan escaped his throat. Warm cum spilled between his fingers and his stomach, painting his skin. Tae’s face was pure ecstasy—his eyes had rolled back for a second before shutting tight, brows drawn together, lips trembling like the intensity of his orgasm had stolen his voice.
That was it for Jungkook. Watching him come, feeling him clench so tightly around his cock… it pushed him over the edge.
With a guttural groan, he buried himself one last time, his whole body shaking as the orgasm tore through him with brutal force. Taehyung felt every pulse, every spasm. He felt Jungkook gripping his thighs, holding on as he emptied himself deep inside, hot and raw, with nothing between them. He felt himself being filled with that thick, throbbing heat, and his body responded with a tiny involuntary shiver.
Jungkook rode out the last wave of his orgasm as it shot down his spine. His hips pressed closer to Taehyung’s, like he could sink even deeper, like he needed to give him everything. And that’s what he did. Jungkook came hard, with no restraint, spilling deep inside, pulsing against the soft, welcoming heat that still wrapped around him.
Tae barely opened his eyes before Jungkook leaned in, resting his forehead against his. Both of them were sweaty, panting, faces pressed together and hearts racing wildly. The younger boy leaned in and kissed his soft, damp lips slowly. Not rushed, just with the honest need to connect again, to savor. The kiss was long, warm. But eventually, Jungkook pulled back just enough to rest their foreheads together again.
"I like you like this," he whispered. "Your face right after you come is… well, you’re fucking gorgeous."
Taehyung let out a low whimper and chuckled under his breath.
"Shut up… I feel like jelly."
When Jungkook finally pulled out gently, it was one smooth motion, and he let Taehyung lower his legs.
And right then, he felt something thick and warm start to leak from inside him. Slowly at first, then more noticeably. He tensed immediately. He still wasn’t entirely used to the feeling of cum inside him, but honestly… it didn’t feel bad. Not that he’d admit that to Jungkook so easily—his ego was already big enough.
"Ah! Wait, wait! It’s coming out!" he cried, his hands flying to his groin.
"Tae… baby… that’s normal. It’s not like you can bottle it up and put a cap on it," Jungkook laughed, running a hand through his sweaty hair. Taehyung curled in on himself, cheeks red all the way to his ears. "Watching it drip out of you is so fucking hot…" Jungkook sat up slightly, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. "Don’t move. I’ll grab something."
He stood up slowly, still naked, and quietly grabbed some wipes. He came back quickly and began cleaning him with a tenderness that was almost reverent.
"You’re so swollen down here…" he murmured as he carefully wiped between Taehyung’s legs with a damp cloth.
Taehyung shot him a glare, cheeks still flushed. "Don’t tease me. It’s already embarrassing enough being like this… open, soaked, and feeling like it's about to drip out of my damn ears."
"Then relax and let me take care of you, pretty boy," Jungkook smiled, tending to him with quiet devotion.
Once he was done, he tossed the wipe aside and lay down beside him again, wrapping his arms around him. Taehyung immediately curled into his chest, letting the warmth of the other boy’s body surround him.
For a while, neither of them spoke. They just breathed, holding each other. The sweat was starting to dry, and the silence between them felt soft and intimate. Jungkook’s hand stroked Taehyung’s bare back slowly, up and down.
"You okay?" he whispered close to his ear.
"Yeah… too okay," Tae replied, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. "But I hate you."
"Huh? Why?"
"Because I had to work after this… and now I can’t even feel my legs. My thighs have been trembling for like ten minutes."
Jungkook burst into laughter, burying his face in Tae’s hair.
"I’m sorry, little prince. Let’s say… it was a productive distraction."
"It wasn’t productive! It was destructive—you destroyed me, you rabid dog."
"And you loved it."
"Unfortunately, yes."
They both laughed, curling even closer, legs tangled together, feeling exhaustion settle into their bones.
"But you, Jeon Jungkook…" Taehyung murmured, eyes fluttering shut, "You’re going to have to make it up to me. You’re gonna cook for me, charge my camera, and read my whole essay to check for mistakes."
"Deal. I was going to cook anyway," Jungkook said, kissing his forehead again. "And I’ll do the rest if you let me destroy you all over again afterward."
"Fuck you."
They both cracked up laughing.
Jungkook leaned in to nibble softly at his chin, and then they settled again, fitting together perfectly—still touching, still warm. And right in that moment, Jungkook knew… maybe it was finally the right time to ask him to be his boyfriend.
Notes:
Hello, my beautiful people.
First, about the previous chapter where the opportunity opened up for Tae to be a top and Jungkook a bottom... canonically it happens, meaning they'll definitely try the reverse at some point, but Tae specifically likes being passive with Jungkook (because Taehyung clearly enjoys being active and dominant with girls more). It'll be a bit... swapping roles at least 3 times a year for a change. Now, this is a KookV fic, so I won't narrate this in the main narrative. I might allude to the fact that this happened in some extra, but I don't know if I'll narrate that sexual occasion where they decided to swap roles in some other extra because I know many of you are uncomfortable with Tae being a top and Jungkook being bottom.
Second, I'll have to keep you waiting for the last two chapters for several days because I have to travel and won't be back until Tuesday. From there, I'll have to start preparing the last two, but I'll bring them to you together in the form of a mini marathon. I hope you understand; I have no way to advance them on the trip.
Chapter 50: Chapter 49
Chapter Text
"Can someone explain what a sidechain compressor is and what it's used for, especially in mixes where the bass and the kick drum compete for presence?"
The professor’s voice bounced off the classroom walls.
Some keyboards clicked softly here and there, others simply stared at the projected PowerPoint, trying to memorize the information as if they were too good to take notes. Jungkook, however, wasn’t really there—well, technically he was. His body was sitting in the chair, and his notebook lay open in front of him, doodles crowding the corners; but his mind and full attention were consumed by one single question that had been drilling into his head for days now.
How the hell was he supposed to ask Taehyung to be his boyfriend?
It wasn’t that he didn’t know what he wanted—he did. He wanted it with every cell in his body. He wanted to make Taehyung his, in every possible way, not just in the ones they already knew by heart. He wanted him as a partner, to be able to say it out loud with pride, to call him my boyfriend and introduce him that way to the world.
But he couldn’t just show up with a bouquet of flowers and drop a “will you be my boyfriend?” No, that was the bare minimum, the most generic approach, the kind of thing anyone could do. And Taehyung deserved a hell of a lot more than a cheap Pinterest gesture.
And that was the damn trap: wanting to do something unique, meaningful, unforgettable… without making it so overwhelming that Taehyung panicked, fled to Poland, shaved his head, and started a new life raising sheep. The last thing Jungkook wanted was for Taehyung to feel pressured. He wanted him to feel safe. To feel special.
The professor kept talking, now about automation in mixing, but Jungkook barely heard him. On his right sat Yoongi, fully focused and typing away on his laptop. On his left was Wonyoung, a girl from his semester with a sweet face and a binder filled with pastel-colored highlighters. Jungkook didn’t really talk to her, but he didn’t mind her. They exchanged a few words now and then, either entering or leaving class, and that was about it.
He didn’t have this class with Namjoon or Hoseok—just Yoongi and him.
Suddenly, he felt a light tap on his shoulder, delicate, almost as if asking for permission. He turned slowly and found Wonyoung looking at him with a kind half-smile.
"Yeah?" he murmured.
"Sorry…" she said softly, leaning a little closer. "What did the professor say a moment ago? About the sidechain... I didn’t quite catch it."
Jungkook looked at her for a second, making a slight grimace. He’d completely zoned out during that part, lost in his mental Taehyung-stratosphere.
"Uh… ask Yoongi, he’s actually paying attention," he replied honestly, jerking his head toward his friend without even trying to pretend he had a clue.
She didn’t seem offended, thanked him with a small smile, and leaned over toward Yoongi. He let out a quiet sigh but still gave her an explanation without much fuss, since Jungkook was sitting between them. The black-haired boy turned his eyes forward again, but his mind refused to return to class. Once more, he sank into the only thing that truly mattered that morning.
Jungkook rested his elbow on the desk, letting his cheek settle into the palm of his hand. His elbows were a little sore—he hadn’t slept well. Not because he was uncomfortable, but because he’d stayed up late watching Taehyung edit some photos until the guy practically passed out in his chair, eyes half-closed, head tilted. Jungkook had almost had to carry him to bed.
He smiled without meaning to.
He could take him to a themed café—one with more options than just coffee... No, that was too ordinary. Maybe he could recreate their first date or rent a cabin like when they first kissed… though that was already a little too predictable.
It had to be something private, but intimate. Somewhere Taehyung wouldn’t feel exposed or watched. Somewhere he could be honest without panic closing up his chest.
Maybe... a quiet afternoon at home, just the two of them, cooking something together? Taehyung loved when Jungkook taught him how to cook. And then ending up lying on the living room floor with soft music in the background. He could make his favorite dish, buy a wine that made his cheeks pink, play his favorite jazz record and...
Another tap.
This time on his arm, a little more direct. Jungkook clenched his jaw before turning around, slightly annoyed, but still in control.
"What do you need, Wonyoung?"
"Sorry again, really. It’s just that the professor said something about 'harmonic saturation'—do you know what that is? It sounds familiar, but I’m not sure."
Jungkook blinked. He wanted to say, 'seriously, you’re in Music Studies and you don’t know that?' but bit his tongue. It wasn’t his problem, and he didn’t have the energy to get into a conversation about academic expectations.
"Harmonic saturation is a kind of soft distortion that adds extra harmonics to an audio signal. Basically, it makes the sound feel warmer or richer. It was used in analog recordings and now we emulate it with plugins," he explained in a gentle tone.
Wonyoung nodded with an 'oh, interesting' face, but her eyes lingered on his face a bit longer than necessary. She tilted her head slightly, playing with a strand of her hair, and her mouth curved into a somewhat flirtier smile. He didn’t notice—or maybe he chose not to.
"Thanks. You explain things really well—you should be a tutor."
Jungkook barely gave a small, awkward smile and turned his attention back to the front of the room, just as the professor switched slides and began speaking with a bit more enthusiasm.
"…and that’s why your next project will be to produce and compose an original song for a vocal duet. One of the vocalists will be you, and the other has to be someone outside the program—someone who’s never been in a recording studio. So, no classmates. The idea is for you to develop your skills as producers, directing someone with no experience and guiding them through the entire recording process."
A small murmur spread through the room. Some students grimaced; others exchanged glances that screamed 'who the hell am I going to bring?' But not Jungkook. He straightened his back, eyes widening.
"There must be vocal interaction between both voices. We want to see structure, balance, and connection. You can use all the tools you want—autotune, compression, delay, harmonies, layering, whatever. We want to see how far you can take someone who’s had zero musical training. Think of this as a mock real-world scenario."
And that was the moment Jungkook’s eyes lit up—literally and emotionally.
As soon as the professor announced the end of class, Jungkook gathered his things with almost suspicious speed. He closed his notebook without checking if he’d written anything useful and stood up so fast that the chair creaked in protest.
He sensed Wonyoung turning toward him, probably trying to start a conversation. But he wasn’t in the mood for flirty smiles or to keep entertaining a girl who clearly hadn’t picked up on his complete lack of interest throughout the entire class. So, without even sparing her a glance, he slipped out of the classroom, walking briskly right beside Yoongi.
They stopped just outside the building, where the air at least felt a little more breathable. Jungkook stretched his shoulders and let out a sigh. He knew Taehyung would look for him there to have lunch—he’d texted him right before class—and just thinking about seeing him made his chest flutter a bit. Partly from hunger. Partly because his mind was still a mess trying to figure out how the hell to ask him to be his boyfriend.
"So, do you already know who you’re going to use for that duo project?" the younger one asked.
"I'll see if Jimin wants to do it," Yoongi replied without looking at him. "Though who knows—knowing him, he might even charge me for it."
"And how are things going between you two?" Jungkook asked innocently, though his eyes gleamed with pure curiosity. Yoongi clicked his tongue and turned his face even further away.
"Don't start."
"I'm just curious about that shady back-and-forth of 'we’re friends but we hook up.'"
"There's nothing shady about it," Yoongi said with a pout. "It's sex. Period."
Jungkook let out a low laugh.
"Come on, I’m just asking. Friend question. Casual interest. Zero judgment."
"You’re judging me with your eyes," Yoongi growled, crossing his arms.
"Lie. I’m looking at you with love," Jungkook smiled, slipping his hands into his jacket pockets. "Come on, tell me. What’s going on between you two? Give me the update."
Yoongi rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything at first. He just took a deep breath—he knew this conversation was inevitable and was weighing how much of a fight to put up before caving. He decided he didn’t have the energy for that, so he just talked.
"It’s just that… ugh, fuck. I was at his place the other day. You know, the usual. We chatted, had a few drinks, kissed, started getting hot and heavy, he got on top of me, clothes started getting in the way… so far, so good. But when we were about to fuck..." he trailed off for a few seconds, pressing his lips tightly together.
"What? Didn't your dick get hard?" Jungkook tilted his head. "That’s your age showing, you decrepit old man."
"No, asshole," Yoongi growled, frowning. "Something weird happened. It was like... my chest filled up with fizzy acid. My hands got all sweaty, I felt like I was going to have a goddamn heart attack. This fucking weird pressure hit my chest—like a giant hand was squeezing my heart and wouldn’t let go."
"What the hell? Did you get butterflies? Is that it?" Jungkook asked, laughing.
"Don’t say butterflies, you idiot!" Yoongi smacked him. "It wasn’t butterflies. It was... lizards or something. I don’t know, it was just uncomfortable and sticky."
"I’m dying," Jungkook kept laughing, wiping an imaginary tear from the corner of his eye. "I’m dying of laughter. So what did you do? Did you say anything?"
"No, I didn’t say a word. I just bailed."
"What do you mean you bailed?"
"Exactly what it sounds like. I got up, literally dressed in five seconds, pretended I had to take a call and bolted out of his house like the fucking cops were after me. I ran for my damn life. And since then, I’ve been avoiding him."
"No way!"
"Yes way."
"You coward. You always said I was the weak one for catching feelings from casual sex," Jungkook teased him. "You gave me shit for a long time for not being able to admit how I felt about Tae, and now look at you, doing the exact same thing. You're such an idiot."
"I stand by the whole 'that makes you weak' thing!" Yoongi snapped, though he didn’t sound so convinced. "But your situation was different, dude. Taehyung looked at you like you were a damn cupcake after a three-month diet. It was obvious from miles away that he felt something too. You were being a coward, sure, but you knew he’d feel the same."
Jungkook couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips as he looked down for a second.
"Yeah, I guess from the start it was... something else. Although now that I think about it, we were still idiots. We decided to be exclusive while 'experimenting.' What kind of twisted logic is that?"
"A very you kind of logic," Yoongi grumbled.
"And what are you going to do now?" Jungkook said, steering the conversation back before the older one could change the subject. Yoongi shrugged, pulling a piece of gum from his pocket and rolling it between his fingers.
"I don’t know. I’m scared of screwing it up, because I don’t want to break what we have. Jimin’s important to me, seriously. He and I have talked—he doesn’t want a relationship, he has emotional blocks, he’s said it like a thousand times. And besides, we’re not exclusive. He likes freedom, independence, fleeting things. And I... well, I used to think the same. I was seeing other people too, but I gradually stopped. If I tell him how I feel, that I’m really starting to like him, I know it’ll all go to shit. And then what? How the fuck do I keep seeing him? How do we stay in the same group without everything getting awkward?"
He could understand that. Even though his story with Taehyung had taken a turn he never expected, he’d had those same fears in the beginning. And sometimes, he still did. There was no guarantee that what they had wouldn’t blow up in their faces, but he also knew that losing him without even trying would hurt a thousand times more.
"Are you going to talk to him?"
"I was thinking about telling him we should stop fucking."
"And why’s that?"
"Because if I don’t, I’m just going to keep getting more attached and that’s going to fuck me up. But if I cut that part out, maybe I can go back to seeing him just as a friend. Maybe I can take away the closeness, the skin. It’d be like rewinding everything."
"That sounds like shit," Jungkook said bluntly.
"Got a better idea?"
"Nope. Still sounds like shit, though."
Yoongi huffed and finally popped the gum into his mouth.
"Thanks, Dr. Jungkook. Real helpful."
"Shut up. You swallowed your own words, now you have to live with it. You owe me."
"Yeah, yeah. Fucking karma."
"Hey, but you said you’d probably ask Jimin to do the project with you," Jungkook said, leaning back against the nearest column in the hallway. "Are you sure that’s the best idea?"
"I want to," the older one admitted, staring ahead with a neutral expression. "I know it’s not the smartest move and it could go wrong a thousand different ways, but... I want to do it with him. I want his voice next to mine. He has something no one else does. But if it gets messy, I’ll tell Jin. He’s my emergency backup plan."
Jungkook was about to reply—probably with some smartass comment—when a high-pitched, sugary voice interrupted them from the side.
"Jungkook!"
They both turned. It was Wonyoung. She walked toward them with a quick, confident stride, her hair perfectly loose over her shoulders, her eyes locked onto Jungkook with such precision that anyone would’ve sworn Yoongi didn’t even exist.
"I was looking for you!" she sing-songed. Yoongi simply raised his eyebrows and stepped aside, crossing his arms with a clear intent to enjoy the show.
"Oh... hey, Wonyoung. What’s up?" Jungkook answered a bit tensely.
"Nothing, I just thought... such a shame we can’t do the project together. I would’ve loved to record something with you. I’ve been dying to for so long..." she said in a voice dripping with flirtation, tilting her head and looking up at him from beneath her lashes.
Jungkook let out an awkward chuckle and looked over at Yoongi for a lifeline, but of course, found none. The other just raised his eyebrows again and smiled, clearly amused.
"Yeah... it’s a shame," the younger replied clumsily, feeling the discomfort crawl up the back of his neck.
The girl kept talking about God knows what—how she wanted to go to a studio, about that time Jungkook improvised in class and how good he was at keeping the rhythm—but the black-haired boy wasn’t listening. His eyes darted around uneasily, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He didn’t want to be rude, but he wanted to get out of there.
"And who are you going to record with, then?" Wonyoung suddenly asked, leaning toward him boldly.
"I was thinking about Taehyung… I don’t know if you know him."
The mention of the name seemed to make her uncomfortable. She wrinkled her nose, and before Jungkook could react, her hand was already on his chest, starting to slide upward with a slowness so intentional it froze him in place. His skin prickled with discomfort. Every fiber of his body screamed for him to move away, but damn his manners, they wouldn’t let him respond fast enough.
"Yeah, I know him. He’s the guy you’ve been getting linked to lately, right? But I used to say it was just some ex of yours trying to sabotage you so no girl would dare get close," she pouted dramatically. "I didn’t think it was true."
"Mhm… well, it was kind of like that, but yeah, it’s true. I like guys, and also…"
"I could make you like girls again," she murmured with a crooked smile. "Just say when and where."
Yoongi, standing nearby, looked like he was struggling not to burst out laughing. Then, suddenly, his expression changed completely.
He wasn’t looking at Wonyoung or Jungkook anymore.
He was staring at someone right in the center. Someone striding toward them with firm steps, dark eyes, and a clenched jaw.
Jungkook’s mouth fell open in horror, ready to step back, push her away, and tell her he wasn’t interested and didn’t appreciate this kind of persistence. But he didn’t get the chance.
"Do you have no basic decency, or what the fuck?"
The question wasn’t directed at him.
The tone was so deep and laced with anger that even Yoongi widened his eyes in surprise and took a step back. Wonyoung blinked a few times, clearly not processing right away that the voice was aimed at her. Taehyung was standing right beside her, glaring at her with pure hatred.
"Excuse me?" she said, visibly thrown off, turning toward him.
"Jungkook’s taken," Taehyung continued, not acknowledging her confusion. "Is that so hard to understand?"
With that, he firmly grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand away from Jungkook’s chest like he was removing a dirty napkin from a table.
"Who do you think you are?" the girl tried to protest.
"Get lost."
Wonyoung opened her mouth to respond, likely to defend herself or complain, but Taehyung wasn’t even looking at her anymore. His attention had shifted to Jungkook, who stood completely frozen, eyes wide, his soul practically leaving his body under that piercing stare.
Taehyung was glaring at him, visibly furious. Seriously, Taehyung being jealous wasn’t cute. It wasn’t some sweet or half-funny scene. It was intimidating, and required immediate caution. Sometimes it could be kind of hot—but not this time.
"T-Taehyung…" the younger stammered, throat dry and back pressed against the pillar as if he were trying to disappear. He was desperate to say something that wouldn’t sound stupid. But, of course, everything that came to mind did sound stupid.
Yoongi was doing everything humanly possible to keep a neutral expression, but his bottom lip was trembling. It trembled from how hard he was holding back the laugh bubbling up in his chest. And he couldn’t anymore. His body jerked in a spasm and, after a sharp inhale, he let out a loud, short, and absolutely mocking laugh.
"I’m leaving before you get castrated, Jungkook," he said through his teeth, laughing without a shred of remorse as he backed away, pointing at them with an accusatory finger and eyes shining with pure amusement. "And honestly, you’d deserve it. Dumbass."
"Hyung, shut up," Jungkook growled, ears burning all the way down to his neck. His gaze turned frantic as he watched Yoongi’s back disappear around the corner, still laughing his ass off.
He turned back to Taehyung, who hadn’t moved an inch since Wonyoung had backed off with an indignant look—though she still hadn’t left completely. She was still there, standing a few steps away, lips pursed, chin raised, and eyes darting between the two boys, clearly not understanding how anyone could have dared to ignore her.
"What did I tell you about your survival instincts?" Taehyung snapped, arms crossed over his chest and brow furrowed harshly.
Shit.
"It’s not like… I mean…" Jungkook tried to explain, lifting his hands slightly in a desperate, defensive gesture. "I was just trying to be polite. I didn’t know how to react without being rude, and…"
"Polite?" Taehyung interrupted, raising an eyebrow sharply. "Polite is letting her touch your chest while she’s coming on to you right in your face? Didn’t you see what she was doing? Didn’t you catch her intentions? Or did you like the attention?"
"No! Of course not!" Jungkook answered quickly, flustered, feeling a tight knot in his chest that made it hard to breathe. "It just… happened so fast, it threw me off, I didn’t know what to say."
"Seriously?" Taehyung repeated with a cold smile. "She put her hands on you, Jungkook. Did you need a formal invitation to push her away?"
He didn’t seem angry that Wonyoung had flirted or even touched him. He was angry because Jungkook hadn’t done anything. Because he had let her get close, let her touch him, flirt with that exaggerated smile and that sickly-sweet tone.
And damn it, he was right. He always froze like that.
"I was uncomfortable, I swear. I was going to push her away, I was going to tell her no."
"Before or after she put her hand under your shirt?" Taehyung shot back, not raising his voice, but sounding so deadly serious it sent a chill down Jungkook’s spine.
The hallway was starting to fill up. Some students were coming out of class, others were just walking by at the absolute worst time, and even Wonyoung was still lingering there.
Jungkook felt a sharp pang in his chest, an urgent, damn near painful impulse to fix this, to make things right, to prove to Taehyung how he felt, to leave no doubt. He wanted to erase the anger from his face and stop him from feeling insecure.
He took a deep breath. He didn’t think about it much longer—he stepped forward, and before his brain could question it or reason could stop him, he grabbed the back of Taehyung’s neck with one hand and kissed him. Just like that. Straightforward, head-on. Right there, in the middle of the university hallway with everyone watching.
At first, Taehyung resisted. It wasn’t a direct rejection, but his body was tense—he didn’t know what to do or how to react. Jungkook noticed, and for a second that felt endless, he wondered if he had made a mistake.
But then, slowly, he felt Taehyung’s lips begin to move and his body relax.
His arms, which had been firmly crossed, opened, and one hand settled on Jungkook’s waist—and that’s when Jungkook knew he hadn’t completely screwed up. He felt the smile against his lips, the barely-there curve that completely disarmed him.
The murmurs around them were clear. People were stopping, staring, reacting with surprise. A few phones were lifted into the air—because this wasn’t the kind of scene that went unnoticed, definitely something worth documenting for the confession page. But in that moment, Jungkook didn’t care about any of it.
All he could feel was Taehyung’s warm body pressed against his, his steady lips, and his heart pounding at the edge of his throat. They pulled apart slowly. Taehyung was still looking at him seriously, but there was no judgment in his eyes. Just a hint of amused resignation and a familiar gleam Jungkook knew all too well.
Jungkook turned his head and looked straight at Wonyoung. The girl had her mouth slightly open, cheeks flushed red, her brows furrowed—whether from anger, confusion, or just a bruised ego was unclear.
"I still like girls, in case you were wondering," Jungkook said firmly, without hesitation. He held her gaze without fear, without apology. "I’m bisexual. But right now... I really, really like Taehyung. And you? I don’t like you at all. So stop implying you could somehow make me ‘go back to liking girls,’ because even if I weren’t with him, I wouldn’t be interested in someone who says that kind of crap. Don’t come near me again."
Wonyoung froze, literally. She just stared at him, eyes wide, jaw clenched, while several people around them tried to pretend they hadn’t heard, though everyone had.
Jungkook didn’t wait for a reply—he didn’t want one. He took Taehyung’s hand, lacing their fingers together, and gently pulled him away from that shitty hallway.
Taehyung finally let out a soft, relieved laugh as they walked.
"Idiot," he murmured, but he squeezed his hand tightly. "You’re so impulsive."
"I know," Jungkook confessed with a half-embarrassed smile. "But you were getting so mad… and I didn’t want to lose you over something stupid. I wanted you to know that you’re the only one who matters. I’m sorry for not pushing her away sooner—I freeze in those situations. I’ll work on it."
"It’s okay, baby," Taehyung whispered, soft, almost just for him. "As soon as you kissed me, my anger disappeared. And then you told that bitch off perfectly. I just hope it doesn’t happen again—you not knowing how to say no."
"It won’t. I promise, pretty boy."
The desk lamp was the only light on in the room. The rest of the apartment was silent. Night had fallen hours ago, and both of them were already in their pajamas.
Taehyung wore an oversized white T-shirt that reached mid-thigh and a pair of loose gray cotton pants—both belonged to Jungkook. Now that they lived together, Taehyung could wear his own pajamas, but he still preferred sleeping in something that smelled like Jungkook a thousand times more. Jungkook, on the other hand, wore a black sleeveless shirt and dark pants.
He was sitting at the desk, brows furrowed, gently biting his lip as he scribbled disconnected phrases into his notebook. He hadn’t looked up in several minutes. He couldn’t just write any random nonsense—it had to be good enough.
Behind him, Taehyung was making the bed for the two of them. He’d decided he wanted to sleep in fresh sheets that night, so he was changing them at that hour. He kept glancing over his shoulder at Jungkook while slipping pillowcases on. He’d been talking for a while, more rambling than actually conversing—or rather, Taehyung had been doing the talking.
"I’m telling you, he won’t have to stay away," he said, referring to what Jungkook had told him earlier about the conversation with Yoongi. "There’s no point in keeping distance if... if the feeling’s mutual. And I’m convinced it is."
"Yeah?" Jungkook didn’t lift his head.
"Yeah." Taehyung walked around the bed to straighten the top sheet. "I know Jimin. I know that look, I know the way he acts. Yoongi… he got him to let his guard down completely. And that’s a big fucking deal, coming from Jimin, you know? He doesn’t let anyone near his heart that easily."
Jungkook only gave a grunt in response. A sort of "mhm" from deep in his throat.
"Besides," Taehyung went on, pacing a little around the room, "just between us, I think he even stopped sleeping with other people. I mean, at first he still did—he’d come and tell me who he’d hooked up with, how it went, everything. But he hasn’t said a thing in weeks. And Jimin never shuts up about that stuff. I’m pretty sure it’s just been him and Yoongi-hyung for a while now."
He stopped in front of the bed, thoughtful, his eyes slightly glassy.
"I can already predict what’s going to happen," he added with a soft nasal laugh. "Yoongi-hyung’s gonna say he doesn’t want to keep going, Jimin will get pissed and demand an explanation. Hyung will dodge the question because he won’t want to admit he’s in love, so they’ll fight, and then when everything explodes, they’ll confess everything, kiss… and finally start dating for real."
He looked back at Jungkook, expecting some kind of reaction. All he got was another short, almost indifferent:
"Mhm."
Taehyung pressed his lips together, feeling a small pang of disappointment grow in his chest. He walked to the other side of the bed, grabbed the last pillow and slammed it into place with more force than necessary.
"It was fun when we told the others everything between them had been a lie to cover for us, wasn’t it? Hoseok seemed like he suspected something, but Jin…"—he paused, smiling to himself—"Jin went completely pale. He kept saying ‘I knew it!’ and then ‘No, no, I didn’t!’ Didn’t you think his face was hilarious?"
"Mhm…" Jungkook mumbled again, barely louder this time.
Silence stretched between them. Taehyung stood still, staring at Jungkook’s hunched back at the desk. It felt like talking to a wall. There was a knot in his throat that bothered him—especially because of how stupid it felt to be upset about something like this. He knew Jungkook was focused, but still… he couldn’t help feeling ignored.
Still, instead of walking away or crawling into bed, he quietly approached him. He stopped just behind the chair, eyes tracing the line of Jungkook’s neck and the subtle movement of his shoulders. Then, gently, he placed his hands on them, giving a soft squeeze, offering a massage like he used to when he spent hours in front of his computer.
"Is there anything I can do?" he asked quietly. But as soon as his hands touched Jungkook's shoulders, the younger’s body went stiff. Without a word, he slammed his notebook shut and pushed his chair back, putting sudden space between them. Taehyung pulled his hands away instantly, like he’d been burned. "I'm sorry..." he mumbled, unsure whether he should step back further or just stay still.
Jungkook sighed, tilting his head to the side, eyes closed as he exhaled.
"It's not... it's not that. You just startled me," he finally said in a low, dragged-out tone. "Sorry, I was really focused on this."
Taehyung nodded slowly, arms hanging by his sides, chest feeling a little tight. There was something about the way Jungkook had avoided him that stung more than it should, even if he knew rationally it wasn’t rejection.
"Tae," Jungkook called softly, but Taehyung didn’t respond right away. "Tae, I'm sorry. Really. It wasn’t that I didn’t want... you to touch me. I just get overwhelmed sometimes and it’s hard for me to snap out of it when I’m like that."
"It’s okay," he murmured.
"No, it’s not. I... I forget how to be a person when I get too into something. But I don’t want you to feel ignored."
Taehyung rubbed his hands together slowly, maybe searching for warmth—or maybe it was just a physical excuse to calm himself down. That restless feeling sat heavy in his chest, like a tiny stone lodged there. Then he moved his hands behind his back, fingers interlaced, and tilted his head slightly to the side as he looked at Jungkook.
"In that case, is there anything I can do for you? Maybe if I help, you’ll finish faster and we can go to bed together," he asked in a soft tone.
"Don’t worry," Jungkook said in a low voice. "It’s just some assignments. Nothing major. You should go to sleep, take advantage of your free night. Who knows when you’ll get another one."
He stood up, grabbed his notebook, the pencil he’d been using, and unplugged the lamp from the wall with one hand. He hugged everything to his chest, ready to leave.
"Are you going to the dining room?" Taehyung asked, frowning slightly.
"Yeah. I don’t want to bother you—get some rest," Jungkook repeated as he walked to the door.
"What’s wrong with you?" Taehyung asked, not moving from where he stood. His voice was more serious this time. "Are you okay?"
Jungkook hesitated for just a second. His fingers tightened around the notebook. He nodded, but his answer came out short and dry.
"Yeah."
Silence settled between them for a few seconds that felt unnecessarily long. Taehyung watched him quietly, studying his expression, trying to find a clue about what was going on inside his head. Jungkook avoided his eyes.
"Are you mad about earlier?" he asked with a resigned sigh. "About the girl, I mean... I acted like an idiot. Sorry about that, I know it was childish. I hate feeling jealous, but... I got like that. I’m working on it, okay? I really am trying."
"It’s not that," the younger finally said, turning to face him. "That didn’t bother me. If it had, I wouldn’t have kissed you in front of everyone. I wouldn’t have made that whole scene just to show we’re together."
"Are you sure?" Taehyung lowered his head slightly.
"Yes," he said firmly, but didn’t elaborate.
Taehyung nodded slowly and took a step forward, still determined not to let the night end with that kind of distance between them. He reached for the things Jungkook was holding.
"Then... let me help you anyway. I want to do something for you, even if it’s just being near you while you work. I don’t mind. I want to be there. You’re always helping me—I want it to be my turn to help you. What are you working on exactly?"
Jungkook stepped back, moving the items out of Taehyung’s reach. His gaze stayed calm, but tension showed clearly in his shoulders.
"No, really, there’s no need. Like I said, just some assignments, don’t worry," he said with a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
Taehyung frowned slightly as he watched Jungkook pull away even from his attempt to be close. Jungkook leaned in just a little, pressed a brief kiss to his lips, then opened the door and walked out without another word, closing it gently behind him.
The room fell completely silent.
Taehyung stayed still for a moment, staring at the door with a slight frown, lips pressed together and arms dropping slowly to his sides. He took a deep breath. Once, twice. Then he exhaled sharply and let his shoulders fall heavily.
"Not like I wanted to help him anyway," he muttered under his breath, turning around with a huff of frustration.
He walked to the bed and dropped onto his side with exaggerated movements, flopping noisily onto the sheets, yanking the blankets like they were his personal enemy, and wrapping himself up in them in a mess of clumsy, tight motions. He squeezed his eyes shut and turned his back to the door, burying his face in the pillow.
"Stubborn idiot..." he grumbled through clenched teeth as he shifted to his side, facing the wall.
But in the silence of the dark, when the warmth of the blankets failed to calm his frustration and the tightness in his chest only grew, a thought began to creep in.
What if something was wrong?
He bit his lip, trying to quiet his mind. It wasn’t fair to think that. Jungkook wasn’t like that. But the way he had left... rejecting his help and even his presence... it just didn’t sit right. And if it wasn’t about what happened that afternoon... then why was he pulling away?
His heart gave a small jolt. It felt like when he was a kid getting scolded without understanding why—anxiety curling deep in his stomach.
"What if he’s tired of me?" he whispered very softly.
The thought hit like a stone in his gut. It didn’t make sense, of course it didn’t. Jungkook cared about him. They’d been sleeping together every night for weeks, sharing every part of their day. But then... why the sudden coldness? Why that need to put space between them?
He brought a hand to his chest and clutched the fabric of his pajama shirt. There was a pressure there, right in the center.
Just a little bit.
The notebook was so close it almost felt like it was mocking him.
Taehyung stared at it from the bed, eyes half-lidded. He’d been lying there for several minutes, doing nothing but looking at the desk where Jungkook had left it right before stepping into the shower.
From the bathroom, the raven-haired boy’s voice filtered through the poorly closed door, tangled with the sound of running water, turning into a melody that, to Taehyung, sounded sad. Or maybe it was just him—maybe he was the one feeling sad, and that made everything sound dull.
He rolled onto his back and let out a long sigh filled with frustration. Jungkook had been acting weird for a few days now.
It had started with small things: not replying to his messages during the day, not telling him what he was working on, no longer sharing the same workspace, or hanging out in the same room—one in bed while the other sat at the desk—exchanging silly comments between moments of concentration and laughter, fighting over the volume of the music or debating whether to order food or cook.
Now Jungkook literally left the room.
He’d just say he had to work, grab that notebook, and disappear into another room—the dining area or sometimes the balcony. In short, anywhere Taehyung wasn’t.
Taehyung shifted in bed, completely annoyed. He missed him. And he missed feeling like a part of whatever Jungkook was doing or creating. He used to show him everything, even when he pretended to be shy or scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment. But not anymore. Now he couldn’t even touch that damn notebook without Jungkook tensing up.
And there it was now, sitting alone. Almost like it was waiting for him.
Taehyung sat up slowly, never taking his eyes off the desk. The leather cover of the notebook was a bit worn at the edges, probably from being carried around so much.
He stood up carefully, barefoot, his heart pounding against his ribs. He walked toward the desk with slow, hesitant steps—each one a moral debate. He could still hear Jungkook singing in the shower, so he was safe for now.
When he was finally standing in front of the notebook, he looked at it like it might explode. He reached out with a trembling hand until his fingers hovered just inches from it. It wasn’t the first time he’d wanted to open it—he’d thought about it more than once, especially every time Jungkook gave him excuses or dodged him. But he’d never had the chance before. It also wasn’t the first time he’d opened it, because, as mentioned, Jungkook used to let him be part of all his creative processes. He’d shown him the contents more than once. Until now, obviously.
He bit his lip and picked it up. He didn’t open it—he just held it in his hands. He pressed it to his chest and closed his eyes for a moment, trying to decide if he really wanted to know the truth. If he was ready to see what Jungkook didn’t want to show him. If he even had the right to invade that space. I mean, it was supposedly just a notebook, just work. How much could he possibly be hiding?
He could still hear Jungkook singing. That gave him a bit of time and a small bubble of privacy pushing him to make a decision before Jungkook came out and caught him red-handed.
And even though part of him felt like opening it might help him understand what was going on—maybe it wasn’t even a big deal, maybe he was just overthinking—he imagined Jungkook catching him. He imagined him stepping out of the bathroom and seeing Taehyung holding the notebook, open, invaded. He imagined those wide, incredulous eyes and the wounded expression. Because no matter what was inside, the real issue was that Jungkook hadn’t wanted to show it to him. And that, whether it made sense or not, had to be respected.
"Shit..." he muttered.
The distance between them hurt like hell. It was slowly killing him, driving him a little crazier every day. But even so, he didn’t want to be that person. He wasn’t going to betray the trust they still had.
Because if he broke it, there’d be no going back.
Jungkook’s singing suddenly stopped, and a few seconds later, the water shut off. Taehyung panicked—his heart practically stopped. He dropped the notebook on the desk immediately, took two steps back, and turned toward the bed, giving himself just a second to make sure his face didn’t give anything away.
He sat on the edge of the mattress, unlocked his phone, and pretended to scroll, though his hands were visibly shaking. When he heard the bathroom door open, he didn’t look up. He knew exactly what he’d see if he did. Jungkook came out with a towel slung low around his hips, drops of water sliding down his wet torso, his black hair sticking to his forehead, his expression relaxed—or it would’ve been, if he hadn’t immediately looked toward the desk. Jungkook frowned right away. The notebook was still there, yes, but it was slightly tilted, a few centimeters closer to the edge of the desk, not exactly where he’d left it before his shower.
"Did you touch my notebook?" he asked bluntly, pointing at it. Taehyung looked up slowly, feigning confusion, calmly lowering his phone to meet Jungkook’s gaze.
"No," he answered evenly. Taehyung had years of theater training—he knew how to control his expressions. But Jungkook didn’t look convinced. He stepped closer to the desk, eyes still fixed on the notebook.
"It’s moved," he said. His voice was more tense than angry at first, but it quickly escalated. "I left it right here. Perfectly aligned."
"I didn’t touch it, Jungkook," Taehyung repeated with a frown, this time with real irritation. Okay, yes, he had touched it, but if he was saying no, why didn’t Jungkook just believe him and stop acting so defensive? It was just a notebook.
"It’s moved, Taehyung. Are you telling me it moved on its own?"
"I’m telling you I didn’t grab your stupid notebook. Are you telling me I’m lying?"
"I don’t know. Lately, you seem way too interested in something that clearly isn’t your business."
"You’re such an asshole."
"Don’t insult me."
"Oh, really? And what did you just do?" Taehyung sat up straighter, not breaking eye contact. He could feel the anger burning in his chest. He was sad, yes—deeply hurt by how Jungkook had been acting, by how he’d been pushing him away without any explanation. But now, on top of that, he was pissed. "Something that isn’t my business? Seriously? For months you shared everything you were working on with me. You showed me your songs, your projects—even when you were embarrassed. You asked for my opinion, for my help. And now suddenly everything’s a secret? And I’m the one invading your privacy?"
"Because there are things I want to handle on my own now! Not everything has to go through you. Not everything is your damn business."
"No, of course not," Taehyung snapped, full of sarcasm. "But do you know what is my damn business? The fact that you’re avoiding me. That you don’t even want to be in the same room when you’re working. That you leave without saying anything and spend the whole day locked away, not letting me in, not talking to me. And when I try, you… you shut yourself off even more."
"I don't owe you an explanation."
"No, you don’t. But don’t treat me like I’m some kind of intruder in your life when you used to show me the exact opposite. What happened?"
Jungkook clenched his jaw, and for a moment it looked like he was going to say something else, but he held back. He ran a hand through his damp hair, visibly frustrated, unsure of how to spit out what was truly stuck in his throat.
"I just want you to respect my things," he said finally, his voice lower now. "What I’m writing... it’s private."
"And why is that?" Taehyung snapped back, standing up from the bed. He was forcing himself not to raise his voice, but it was hard to stay calm when he was angry. "Why am I suddenly someone you can’t even trust with a fucking piece of paper? What did I do to become that? You’re being distant and now you’re treating me like a thief just because your precious notebook moved two goddamn centimetres."
"I’m not treating you like a thief. I’m just asking—"
"Jungkook, you’re questioning me like you have no fucking clue who I am!"
"It’s not ready to be shared, can’t you get that?"
"That doesn’t justify the fucking secret you’re making out of it! It’s a damn notebook, Jungkook! What the hell are you writing in there that you have to hide it like it’s some cursed diary?"
"That’s enough, Taehyung! Fuck, this is so annoying. No means no—you need to respect that. But maybe it’s my fault for allowing too much. Now you don’t know where the line is!"
Jungkook’s voice echoed off the walls of the room, louder than ever, and that’s when both of them realized how far the argument had escalated. Taehyung shut his eyes tightly, his throat pulsing with anger and pain.
He was about to say it, to blurt it out, to scream at him that if Jungkook was so bothered by his presence, if he needed to hide whatever the hell he was doing that badly, then maybe he just didn’t want him in his life anymore. That maybe—just maybe—what they had didn’t make sense anymore if he was going to keep treating the person he claimed to care about like a fucking stranger.
But he didn’t. Because the moment that thought rose to his throat, he knew it would be cruel. It would be too much, too far. That kind of thing would end everything between them, for real. And he didn’t want that. He especially didn’t want to be that kind of person. Even if Jungkook was hurting him a little, he didn’t want to do the same in return. He had to hold himself back, because he knew himself—he was impulsive, and anything that came out of his mouth now would wreck him later.
Instead, he bit his tongue—literally. He took a deep breath and lowered his gaze, his chest heaving.
"This argument went to shit way too fast," he muttered at last, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with disappointment and exhaustion. "We’ll talk when we’ve both calmed down."
And without waiting for a response, he walked out of the room.
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Jungkook standing there, towel still wrapped around his waist, fists clenched at his sides, and a sharp sting of guilt twisting in his chest.
He collapsed onto the bed and covered his face with both hands, feeling like the biggest idiot in the entire universe.
He didn’t want to lie to him. But damn, it was hard to keep a secret from Taehyung. He definitely didn’t want to make him feel that way. But he had to—if he wanted his plans to work out.
"I don’t know, Jimin... he’s acting weird. Really weird lately—it’s been weeks, and I’m losing my mind," Taehyung’s voice sounded tired.
He had the phone pressed to his ear, his other hand resting on his stomach, absentmindedly stroking the fabric of his T-shirt while lying down. He’d been on the phone with Jimin for over thirty minutes now, in a call that had started as a simple "How are you?" and ended up turning into an excuse to vent, thinking maybe Jimin could help.
"Weird how?" Jimin asked from the other end of the line.
"Distant," he answered, his voice dragging along a frustration he no longer knew whether to label as sadness, anger, or disappointment. "He doesn’t tell me what he’s doing. He used to tell me everything. Literally everything, Jimin. He used to send me voice notes telling me even what he had for lunch, describing the flavors just to make me jealous, and now... he just says he’s busy or that he’ll ‘tell me later.’ We haven’t done coworking in days, he won’t let me help with anything, and he doesn’t reach out like he used to."
"Did you talk to him about it?"
"Not directly, I mean, we did but... well..." Taehyung shifted and bit his lip nervously. "We had a fight. A pretty bad one. It was something dumb, but it escalated really fast. He said things, I did too—it was one of those moments where you’re so pissed off that you just say whatever comes to mind. He came to me afterwards, apologized, of course, and we talked about it. But even so... I don’t know, the sting’s still there, because his behavior hasn’t changed. He’s still cold and evasive."
"And do you think it has something to do with you?"
"I don’t know," he admitted in a thread of a voice that barely held itself up. "But... what if it does? What if I’m doing something wrong and he just won’t tell me?"
"Taehyung," Jimin sighed. "Look, I know this is really affecting you, and that’s valid—I’m not saying don’t feel what you’re feeling. But... don’t assume everything revolves around you. Maybe Jungkook’s just dealing with some stuff and doesn’t know how to do it without shutting down."
"But he’s always trusted me," he murmured, eyes drifting toward the ceiling. "Always. He used to tell me even what didn’t need to be said. He always let me be there for him. And now... he won’t even give me a sliver of that. He doesn’t include me in his days at all. Isn’t that weird?"
On the other end, Jimin sighed again, louder this time. Not because he didn’t want to be there for him, but because he knew the truth. He’d had it stuck in his throat for days now. He knew exactly why Jungkook was acting this way—but he couldn’t tell him. He couldn’t mess everything up. Plus, he’d promised. They’d made a pinky promise. That couldn’t be broken. So he swallowed hard and came up with the kindest lie he could think of.
"Tae... you’re buried in work too," he said carefully. "Don’t you think Jungkook notices that? Don’t you think he sees you constantly exhausted, locked in your room for hours in front of the computer, skipping meals or barely sleeping? Maybe he doesn’t want to add more weight on your shoulders. Maybe he’s dealing with stuff and thinks it’s better not to burden anyone else. Not everyone knows how to ask for help. Not everyone knows how to speak up when they’re not okay."
Taehyung felt something tighten in his chest. He wanted to believe that. He wanted to believe it with every fiber of his being. But that annoying knot in his stomach was still there—that lingering feeling that something wasn’t adding up.
"I’m not mad at him, Jimin. I think I kind of understand, I swear. It’s just... it hurts," he admitted at last, letting his voice break just a little. "Because I would trust him with any shit I was going through. It just doesn’t feel fair that he won’t do the same."
"He trusts you, I'm sure of it. Don’t take this so personally, okay? Really. Jungkook isn’t the kind of person who pulls away for no reason. Something’s going on, yeah, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want you around."
"Then why won’t he talk to me?" Taehyung asked, frustration seeping into his voice.
"Maybe he’s trying to protect you," Jimin offered cautiously. "Maybe he’s going through something complicated or planning something important and wants to sort it out before involving you. It might have nothing to do with you, Tae. Jungkook adores you."
"Well, it sure doesn’t feel like it."
"Tae..."
"I know, I know," Taehyung said more quietly. "I know he cares about me, I do, but like I told you, it hurts that he won’t let me in. He’s always been there for me. Every time something’s wrong, he’s the first to come running to take care of me. But I can’t do the same for him because he won’t let me. Do you know how awful that feels? It’s like he doesn’t trust me enough. Like he sees me as someone too weak to handle his shit."
"You’re not weak, and he doesn’t think that," Jimin said firmly. "And honestly, I swear, I don’t think it’s about distrust. I’m sure there’s something else going on, but it’s not something bad. Just give him a little time. Don’t get mad at him, okay? Try to understand."
"I want to believe that," Taehyung said at last. "I want to believe there’s something I just don’t know yet. But I also don’t want to get used to making excuses for him. That’s not healthy. Not for me, and not for him either."
"You’re right," Jimin agreed. "But sometimes, loving someone also means trusting them even when you don’t know everything. There’s always a reason behind things."
Taehyung sighed. He nodded slowly, even if Jimin couldn’t see it.
"You’re good at giving speeches," he muttered with the faintest smile.
"It’s because I love you, idiot. I hate seeing you like this. Give him a chance, okay?"
"Okay. I’ll try to trust him. Just... I hope I’m not wrong."
At that moment, the door opened and Jungkook stood there, holding the frame with one hand. His expression was so nervous it made Taehyung frown in concern.
"Are you free?" he asked.
Taehyung looked at him. Jungkook had that look, like a kid asking permission to talk or to request something, knowing full well he’d messed up.
"Jimin, I’ll call you back," he murmured. "Jungkook’s talking to me."
"Good luck. And be gentle, I know you," Jimin said before the call ended.
Taehyung lowered the phone, placed it on the bedspread, and took a deep breath. Jungkook was still standing at the door, unmoving, unsure if it was safe to step in.
"Yeah, I finished everything I had to do today," Taehyung replied, trying to sound relaxed.
He had decided—for his own peace of mind and because Jimin was right about more things than he liked to admit—that he was going to try trusting him. Not blindly, of course. He wasn’t about to walk off a cliff with his eyes closed, but he would at least stop scanning Jungkook’s every move like he had been for the past few weeks. If he didn’t ease up a little, he was going to drown in his own assumptions, and that didn’t help anyone.
"And you? Everything okay?" he asked, tilting his head slightly. "Do you need something?"
Jungkook hesitated for a couple of seconds before nodding. He stepped further into the room, crossing it with careful steps.
"I wanted to ask you for a favor… it’s for one of my final projects."
Taehyung raised an eyebrow. Inside him, an alarm immediately went off. He wasn’t stupid—it didn’t seem like a fucking coincidence that right after he vented to Jimin about Jungkook ignoring him, acting weird, and keeping things to himself, he suddenly showed up all friendly, asking for a favor.
He couldn’t help but feel the timing was suspicious. Had he heard him, maybe? Read his mind? Was his frustration that obvious that Jungkook had decided to do something about it?
"A favor?" he repeated, trying to sound curious instead of cynical.
Jungkook took a deep breath before sitting on the edge of his bed, finally meeting his eyes.
"I have to produce and compose a song. It’s for a creative production class and… well, the professor makes us present everything as if we were debuting with a real record label," he explained carefully. Taehyung nodded. He knew that guy lived to make them bleed with every assignment. "The brief is... complicated but interesting. We have to compose and produce a song for a duo, but one of the two has to be someone outside of our major. Someone who doesn’t study music and has never been in a professional studio before. Part of the challenge is that—guiding someone with no vocal training and helping them record a full piece. Directing them, writing for them, arranging if needed. And well... I want you to be that person."
His body, which had been tensed with doubt just a second ago, relaxed unintentionally. His lips parted slightly in surprise at the proposal.
"Me?"
"Yeah," Jungkook said, shifting a little closer to him. "I know you sing well. What am I saying? Not just well—you have a very expressive voice, Taehyung. It’s beautiful. Deep, airy, a clean lyrical baritone. Your voice is rich and full—I’d describe it as sensual or warm. Plus, you’ve got great control and you transition easily between chest voice and falsetto, which lets you hit high notes even though your tone is low. I really love how you sound, I’ve told you that before. I feel like in harmony with mine—since I’m a tenor—it’d sound amazing. We tested it once at the cabin."
Taehyung looked away, feeling his cheeks heat up. He had done musicals in front of hundreds of people, held long notes while crossing a stage built from cardboard props, and sung a cappella in karaoke bars full of strangers. He knew he had a good voice. But hearing Jungkook say it out loud and describe it like that… it made him soft.
"Ah… I don’t know. I know I sing well because I did it all through my teens, but I’m not a professional. Are you sure you don’t want someone who…?"
"No, I want you," Jungkook interrupted firmly. "The project is also about connection, you know? About how you communicate with the other person, how you convey something. It’s not just about being in tune or sounding pretty together. And you have that. We complement each other. I can’t think of anyone else but you singing this with me."
Taehyung scratched the back of his neck, swallowing hard. His face was definitely warm now. Damn it, why did Jungkook know exactly what to say to make his stomach twist?
"Alright…" he finally said. "If you’re sure, then okay."
Jungkook smiled, and somehow that eased a bit of the doubt still dancing in Taehyung’s head.
"Thank you," Jungkook murmured, standing up. "I thought you were going to say no."
"And why would I?"
"I don’t know… I thought you were mad at me."
He wanted to say yes, that he was mad and that he still didn’t understand why Jungkook had pulled away, why he was keeping him at arm’s length, and how it made him feel insignificant when they used to share everything.
But instead, he took another deep breath.
"I'm a little tired, but not upset. Or at least, not upset enough to say no to something like this," he said, making a slight grimace.
The black-haired boy nodded slowly, without replying. There was something in his eyes, maybe a shadow of guilt.
"So… when are we recording?" Taehyung asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Now. We have to go to the university," Jungkook explained. "Yoongi-hyung can’t lend me his studio, so we’ll be using one of the smaller rooms there. I already booked it."
"Already?" Taehyung raised an eyebrow. "And you're telling me now?"
"Only if you’ve got the energy. We can go tomorrow, but I know myself. If I don’t start today, I’ll end up putting it off until I’m doing it at three in the morning the night before the deadline. You know how I am."
"Yeah… yeah, I do," Taehyung said, shaking his head, unable to hold back an incredulous laugh. "But I want you to know you’re an idiot," he added softly.
"I know," Jungkook replied, smiling again.
Taehyung looked at him for a few seconds. He still had doubts and felt a little broken inside, but he was there. Jungkook was there, asking for his help, choosing him. And he... he wanted to believe that meant something.
So he nodded.
"Give me fifteen minutes to change," he said, standing up. "I’m not singing looking like a hobo."
"Alright, I’ll wait downstairs," Jungkook replied, already heading for the door. "Oh, and… bring water. We’ll be there for hours, and I need your throat hydrated."
"Hours? You didn’t tell me this was a torture session," Taehyung complained, though he was already smiling. Jungkook turned slightly, with a crooked grin.
"It won’t be torture if you sing nicely."
And he walked out.
Taehyung ran a hand over his face, muttered a curse under his breath, and walked to his closet. He'd see what came out of that recording session. For now, at least, he’d been offered a crack in that wall Jungkook had built, and he intended to take advantage of it.
Chapter 51: Epilogue: Chapter 50
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
"This way," Jungkook said as he walked down the hallway.
The neon lights flickered slightly, creating an almost cinematic atmosphere as they walked in silence. Taehyung followed right behind Jungkook, curiously eyeing every door they passed, each sign indicating a room number or a different studio.
He had never been in that part of the building. He knew that was where the recording rooms for music students were, but his major rarely took him anywhere near there.
"This is the one," Jungkook announced suddenly, stopping in front of a wooden door with a small metal plaque that read 'studio 6'.
He opened it with a magnetic card he pulled from his wallet, and Taehyung stepped in once Jungkook entered—and instantly froze.
The room was... impressive.
There was a thick glass divider separating the recording booth from the production room, a large control panel full of buttons, sliders, and blinking screens. The walls were covered in geometric-shaped acoustic foam in muted tones that gave the place an elegant feel. There were massive monitors, microphones hanging from adjustable arms, an ergonomic chair that looked like it belonged in a spaceship, and a couple of dark sofas off to the side.
Taehyung didn’t say anything for a few seconds. He just looked around, slowly turning on his heels, lips slightly parted.
"Wow," he finally exhaled. "I had no idea this was here. Do you come here often?"
Jungkook nodded with a small smile and dropped his backpack on the floor next to the main desk.
"Yeah, this is one of the rooms we advanced production students have access to. When Yoongi-hyung can’t lend me his studio, I come here. Sometimes the guys and I rent it out just to work on stuff that has nothing to do with music, but the place is quiet."
The blond walked toward the glass, looking into the booth on the other side. He approached the door and opened it, peeking inside. The room was much smaller, completely soundproofed, with a suspended microphone in the center and a stand in front. Everything smelled like metal, wires, and a faint synthetic scent from an air freshener.
"I’ve never recorded in a place like this before…" he confessed, turning to face Jungkook, who was already plugged into his laptop.
"Never? Not even for the musical plays?"
"Everything was live. Headset mics, straight to the audience. This… this is something else," he looked around again, still in awe. "It’s like… a music lab."
Jungkook chuckled quietly while he connected his computer to the studio’s equipment.
"That’s a good way to put it," he replied, dropping his bag beside one of the chairs once he was done. "Come here, I’ll show you."
Taehyung followed him through the space while Jungkook explained every element of the studio. He showed him the monitors, the outputs, the mixing desk, the software, the connections to the booth, the recording channels. It was obvious he was trying to sound relaxed, to not seem like an obsessive nerd, but the spark in his eyes gave him away.
Taehyung listened attentively, asking small questions here and there, nodding as he took it all in, but his mind was running a different noise.
"Is this what you’ve been doing these days?" he asked in a neutral tone, though his eyes studied him carefully. "Is this why you’ve been so busy?"
Jungkook only took half a second to answer, but in that brief moment, Taehyung saw him blink, swallow hard, and lower his gaze before replying.
"Yeah… yes, actually," he said, turning to look at the monitor in front of him. "A big part of the grade depends on this."
"Oh…" Taehyung murmured.
He didn’t push further. He stood there, saying nothing, but inside, his emotions were all over the place. Of course he was happy Jungkook was working hard, and of course he understood he had projects… but on the other hand, he couldn’t help but feel a little stupid.
He’d been going over a thousand theories in his head—maybe Jungkook was pulling away, maybe he didn’t want to talk to him anymore, maybe he was distancing himself—and it turned out he was just… busy, like Jimin had said. That didn’t mean his feelings were unfounded, but... it hurt a little to have been so defensive over something that maybe wasn’t that serious.
"Do you want to hear the instrumental?" Jungkook asked suddenly, breaking the silence.
"Sure," Taehyung answered immediately, shaking off his thoughts.
Jungkook opened his music software, and the interface appeared on both of the studio’s screens. He moved the mouse, found a file, and dragged it onto the main track. The cursor trembled slightly as he did. Taehyung noticed his nervous hands. Even the way he sat seemed stiffer than usual.
When the track began to play, Taehyung held his breath and fidgeted with the rings on his fingers.
The instrumental was soft and atmospheric, with a melancholic electric guitar repeating sustained chords, accompanied by a subtle but enveloping bassline. The percussion was slow and almost hypnotic, with a synthetic sound that suggested nostalgia. Hovering above it all was an ethereal layer of synths, so delicate it felt like it brushed the skin rather than pushed it.
It sounded like youth.
"This is so good," he murmured. "It has that... I don’t know... that 'walking in the rain with headphones on' vibe, or like 'seeing someone you once loved from a taxi window and they don’t see you'... You know those kinds of playlists on Spotify? Or those YouTube songs with random titles where you don’t even know what the lyrics are until you click it. It sounds like..." He started mimicking the instrumental with his mouth, adding exaggerated hand gestures. "Ta-taaaa-tin-tin… and then it goes like... shhhh-bom... you know? That part feels just like that."
Jungkook burst out laughing, bright red—actually red. He even scratched the back of his neck with one hand while adjusting a fader with the other that didn’t really need adjusting.
"And the lyrics? Do you already have them?"
That’s when Jungkook froze for a second. He looked toward his bag, then at Taehyung, as if weighing whether it was a good idea. Finally, he crouched down, pulled out a folder, and from there, some printed pages. But when Taehyung reached out to grab them, Jungkook took a step back and shook his head.
"Better... better get in the booth. I want to adjust levels and stuff."
"What? But I haven’t even read the lyrics..."
"It’s just a test, nothing serious."
"Shouldn’t we rehearse first? I don’t know any of it."
"Improvise. I just want to hear how your voice sounds with this mix of effects. Come on, go."
Before he could argue further, Jungkook was already grabbing his wrist. His warm fingers guided him gently toward the booth. Taehyung entered, resigned.
Jungkook placed the pages on the stand, adjusted the mic height, then returned with a pair of large headphones in his hands.
"Put these on," he said softly, right before slipping them over Taehyung’s head himself. Taehyung squinted.
"This is a trap. You know that, right?"
"Just sing, Tae-Tae."
The door shut, leaving him alone with the mic and the booth’s soft lighting. Taehyung huffed, settling in front of the stand. He barely had time to glance at the lyric sheet before the track started playing again.
Taehyung watched him through the glass. The younger one was on the other side of the booth, in the control room, adjusting levels with a seriousness that barely masked his obvious anxiety. His lips were slightly parted, quietly counting, one, two, three, four... and at the exact moment, he raised a hand to cue him in.
The blond barely had time to turn his face to the page. His eyes scanned quickly, reading the first lines. He parted his lips with a hint of hesitation, but still let the words flow, following them instinctively, feeling the pulse of each syllable against the music’s base. The song was titled "That wasn't in the plan"
Your shadow walks in before you do, without a word,
Doesn’t have to ask—everything shifts when you're there.
Sunlight in your hair, a gaze like an eclipse,
The world slows down the moment you care.
Moles trace constellations across your warm skin,
And I memorized them all without even trying.
You speak and the room falls quiet,
You say so little... but no one ever forgets.
The first verse knocked the air from his lungs. Taehyung sang the words naturally, but his mind was five steps ahead, catching details that didn’t sound general at all. Sunlight in your hair? He was blond. A gaze like an eclipse? He had that—metaphorically speaking. Moles memorized? Jungkook had done that. A tingling sensation crawled up the back of his neck, and he furrowed his brows, confused. His eyes dropped to the next lines.
Skin like honey, your royal little tantrums,
Like a little prince who rules without commands.
You are art in its most vivid form,
A storm that taught me how to dance.
Always ready to run straight to you,
Even if you don’t know my hands are full of things, just in case.
You don’t ask—but I always want to give you everything.
You say “no,” but your eyes whisper yes,
And I’d leave the world if it meant one more smile from you.
The lyrics grew clearer, almost personal, especially that “little prince”—a nickname he used to hate but now warmed his chest. “Royal little tantrums” made him snort through his nose, but there was no escaping the certainty tightening around his ribs: that song was about him.
Everything he’d read as simple lyrics now felt like a confession. Jungkook had been writing this for him all that time he’d seemed distant, locked away in his own world and avoiding eye contact. It all made sense now.
He swallowed the lump in his throat and kept going, though his voice had started to tremble. His eyes glistened, and it wasn’t just the dim lighting in the booth.
You… you're the calm that softens my fire,
The rain that won’t let me burn.
And I… I’m the flame that chases your silence,
Even if it kills me by dawn’s return.
We weren’t made to give in,
But finding you felt like winning by surprise.
And I swear… that wasn't in the plan, but here I am.
He remembered their first date, when the old Japanese man had said Taehyung was water and Jungkook was fire. He also remembered when Jiwoo realized there was something between them, and the phrase “that wasn't in the plan” came up. He had never felt a song hit him so personally.
We tested each other, dared each other,
Played to see who would break first.
You so stubborn, me such a fool,
Arguing over glances that lingered too long.
Water that burns, fire that heals,
So different, yet always finding each other the same.
If this isn’t love, then the world is lying,
Because I never knew how to write without thinking of you at the end.
Taehyung felt his throat burn. He blinked several times to clear his vision, but it was no use.
The song wasn’t just beautiful—it was real. It was him. It was them.
And then I saw you,
Humming a melody you didn’t know was yours.
Sitting at the piano, unaware that every note
Was an I love you I couldn’t say out loud.
You’re not easy, not sane, not fair—
But you’re you.
And me… I turned myself into a song,
In case that’s the only way you know how to love.
His voice was barely a broken whisper by then. It didn’t matter; at this point, he wasn’t even thinking about the recording. Technically, it was just a practice take—but every line felt like an arrow sinking straight into his chest.
Because you... you're the reflection where I no longer hide,
The beginning of what’s left of my voice.
And I... I’m still learning not to fear your world,
And to love you, even if it’s fierce.
We weren’t made to give in,
But finding you felt like winning by surprise.
And I swear… that wasn't in the plan.
But I’m so lucky it happened that way.
Taehyung sang almost with his eyes closed, shaking, nearly voiceless. And then, just when he thought he couldn’t take any more, he read the last lines.
If you let me stay right here,
I’ll wait for you wherever you go…
And even if it started all differently,
I just want it to be you, and no one else.
Slowly, Taehyung turned his face toward the booth window. Outside, right in front of the glass, Jungkook stood watching him, completely nervous, holding a small black box tied with a red ribbon.
He froze.
Jungkook stepped into the booth in silence, slowly pushing the door open. His boots thudded softly against the carpeted floor as he walked in, his eyes trembling slightly.
"I didn’t want you to know until you had sung it all the way through," he finally said, his voice quiet. "I didn’t know how to ask you this without making a mess." He lifted the small box between them. "But you... you weren’t part of the plan. And yet, fuck, Taehyung... please, let me be your boyfriend."
He had rehearsed this part in his head a hundred times, and still, when he slid his fingers to open the lid, his heart was pounding so hard from nerves that he thought it might burst.
The lid gave with a soft click.
Inside, resting on a small cushion of black velvet, lay two identical silver bracelets. They weren’t flashy, didn’t have any stones or overly intricate designs. They were simple, discreet, and delicate in appearance—but clearly built to last. Each one bore a tiny engraved symbol: a flame on one, a water droplet on the other.
Taehyung brought both hands to his mouth. It was instinctive, a reaction to cover his lips—he didn’t know how to contain the wave that suddenly crashed inside his chest. His eyes landed on the bracelets. Then on Jungkook. Then on the bracelets again.
And then he just stared at him in silence, throat closed up.
"You’re such a bastard," he whispered, barely audible, his eyes slightly glassy but smiling like an idiot. "Of course. Of course I’ll let you be my boyfriend, you idiot."
Jungkook let out the breath he’d been holding for what felt like an entire year. He closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them again, the expression on his face was so overflowing, so undeniably happy, that for a moment Taehyung felt like he was witnessing the birth of a new version of him.
And the truth was, Jungkook felt the same.
He couldn’t remember ever being this fucking happy in his life. And that was saying something—he was someone who smiled easily, who genuinely enjoyed life and appreciated the little things. But this—having Taehyung in front of him, accepting him, saying yes with those eyes—was a whole different level.
"I hate you," Taehyung added with a soft sob, lowering his hands to wrap them around Jungkook’s neck. "You’re the worst, asshole. But thank you. Thank you for this."
Jungkook nodded, hugging him tightly, pressing a kiss to his temple.
"Let’s put them on, come on," he murmured, pulling back just slightly.
He took one of the bracelets and held it carefully. With clumsy fingers, he tried to fasten it around Taehyung’s wrist, which was raised silently, so still and soft it was like all his bones had melted from feeling too much.
Then Jungkook extended his arm and handed him the other one.
"Your turn."
Taehyung didn’t say anything. He fastened the bracelet without taking his eyes off their hands. When he was done, he looked up. And then, without either of them knowing who moved first, they leaned in.
It was gentle at first—lips barely brushing, recognizing one another. Then deeper, more certain. Taehyung slid a hand around the back of Jungkook’s neck, pulling him closer, and the kiss became deeper, more real. A couple’s kiss. Their first kiss as boyfriends. And it felt so fucking right it hurt.
Jungkook caressed Taehyung’s waist, their lips parting just enough to breathe. They looked at each other, but suddenly, Taehyung pressed his lips together and gave him a serious look.
"Wait, there’s something I haven’t told you," he murmured, voice low.
"What is it?"
"It’s something important." Taehyung took a step back. The smile had completely faded from his face, and now he looked at him with a somber, distant expression. "I have a genetic disease," he began, eyes fixed on the floor. "It’s called Multiple System Atrophy type C. It’s degenerative and incurable. It’s already active, though the symptoms aren’t too noticeable right now, but over the years it will progress. First it’ll mess with my motor skills, then my cognitive abilities. By the time I’m sixty, I probably won’t be functional anymore. Or… well, maybe I won’t even make it to that age."
Jungkook stared at him in complete silence.
The world stopped. Just like that. Without warning. His heart dropped so violently that for a moment he thought he might throw up.
"No..." he whispered, breathless. "No, wait, what?"
Taehyung looked up. There was sadness in his eyes, the kind of sadness that said he’d already gone through this pain a thousand times in his head. And Jungkook felt his chest tighten.
"There’s nothing to be done. It’s genetic and hereditary. Every man on my mother’s side has had it. I got tested a couple years ago and it came back positive. I’ve known since before I met you. I didn’t want to... scare you, I didn’t know how long we’d last, but now that it’s official, you deserve to know."
Jungkook wanted to scream, but he had no air. He opened his mouth, closed his eyes, shook his head.
"Tae..." Jungkook took a step toward him. He cupped his face with both hands. "That… that’s a problem for the Jungkook thirty-nine years from now," he said, voice hoarse. "Not for the one who’s lucky enough to have you today. I still have all those days with you. Every single one. I’m not walking away now that I know—this just makes me appreciate the present more." He started speaking faster, words spilling chaotically from his chest. "We’ll find ways to live with it, okay? At your pace, whatever’s needed, I don’t care if one day you can’t move or if your body starts giving out, I don’t care—I’ll be there, you hear me? I’ll be there every day. Whatever you give me, I’ll take it. I’m not going anywhere."
"Jungkook…"
"No, listen, don’t give me that ‘push me away’ crap. Not now, not after this. Don’t tell me I should find someone better, someone who’s not doomed, or some shit like that. Not when I finally have you and—"
"Jungkook!" he cut him off sharply. And he looked at him... smiling. Just a small, crooked, mischievous smile. "It was a joke."
"What?"
"A joke," Taehyung repeated. "For revenge. Because I spent days thinking you were bored of me, that you didn’t want to see me, that you were avoiding me—and I nearly lost my mind. So… I just wanted to scare you a little."
Jungkook didn’t react. He stayed frozen until he simply rubbed a hand over his face.
"Are you mentally ill or what the hell is wrong with you?" he said at last. "You think it’s funny to tell me you’re dying?! What kind of fucked-up joke is that, Taehyung?!"
"A fair revenge," he said, shrugging with a guilty smile still on his face. "You made me think you weren’t into me anymore, dumbass."
"It was for the song! I was trying to make it a surprise!"
"Well, you surprised me, alright," he shot back with sarcasm. "You surprised me with your absence, asshole. I thought you were sick of me."
"I was killing myself trying to write something that actually meant something to you! Something you could sing and feel like it was just yours! Do you know how hard it was not to touch you, not to hug you or look at you too much for fear I’d give it away? I was losing my mind trying to hide it all."
"You did great," Taehyung replied, arms crossed. "You made me feel like shit. Congrats, songwriter of the year."
"You're out of your mind!" he shouted. "How the hell can you joke about something like that, you asshole?!"
"Oh, now I'm the messed-up one? What about you? You made me think you hated me!"
"I didn't hate you, idiot! I was trying to figure out how to ask you to be my boyfriend!"
"Well, I didn’t know that! I’m not psychic!"
"And I’m not immune to a fucking heart attack, Taehyung! You just killed me inside!"
"You're so dramatic!"
"And you're a fucking demon who almost murdered his almost-boyfriend!"
"We are boyfriends now, you rabid dog."
"Oh, right. Well, not anymore, little prince. We're over because you're heartless. I feel faint."
"Fucking bastard."
They shoved each other, grabbed at their shirts, and Jungkook tried to pin Taehyung against the wall, but Taehyung slipped away and lightly kicked his ass. The fight went on—silly, childish, and ridiculous. Full of groans and swear words.
Until Jungkook finally stopped and let out a long sigh, defeated.
"I'm sorry," he said. "Really. I was being distant because I was afraid you'd figure it out. I wanted it to be a surprise, I wanted to give you something meaningful for both of us. I couldn’t focus with you around because the second I see you, all my locks and filters disappear. And I was scared you’d see it by accident and ruin the whole thing. Thank you for saying yes to being my boyfriend."
Taehyung took a deep breath.
"I forgive you for being a dumbass," he said, stepping closer. "Because it was worth it. I loved it. No one has ever made me feel like that before."
The dark-haired boy scoffed but moved in quickly, cupping his face in both hands and kissing him again. This time it wasn’t sweet—it was hungry. A kiss full of relief and reconciliation. A kiss between two idiots who had scared the shit out of each other and just wanted to stay together forever. Because despite everything, yeah—it hadn’t been part of the plan, but it was the best thing that had ever happened to them.
The day had finally come.
After weeks of postponing because of schoolwork, the group had finally managed to coordinate their long-awaited trip to Lotte World Park. It was Saturday, the sky was clear, with high, wispy clouds like brushstrokes. The weather was especially hot, which meant everyone had to carry a water bottle and sunscreen.
The excitement had been building since early morning. Hoseok had literally started texting the group at six a.m., followed by a voice message of him screaming the Lotte World jingle at the top of his lungs.
Jungkook had woken up tangled in bed with his boyfriend, the audio playing from a nearby phone. He groaned in annoyance, but the second he turned and saw Taehyung's face—the culprit behind the off-key singing of their hyung—his irritation vanished.
He thought about staying like that a little longer, breathing calmly, feeling Taehyung’s warm skin pressed against his own. But Taehyung let out a groggy sound as he set the phone aside and forced Jungkook to move.
"I don’t want to get up," Taehyung mumbled in a sleepy, hoarse voice, curling up beside him.
"That’s cute, but you were so excited yesterday," Jungkook reminded him, pressing a small kiss to his bare shoulder. "You can’t back out now."
"I said I wanted to go… I didn’t say I wanted to wake up early," Taehyung grumbled, turning over to hide under the sheets.
Jungkook laughed, kissed his messy hair, and after wrestling with him for a while to get him out of bed, they finally managed to get ready and ran out to meet the rest of the group at the station just in time.
It had been a week and a few days since they officially started dating. Not that they weren’t affectionate before, but now... now it was different. Now everyone knew. They could kiss without needing a pretext, take pictures without hiding glances or deleting the ones that looked too intimate.
They posted stories almost daily. Sometimes they were blurry pictures of the other sleeping, sometimes cheek-to-cheek selfies, and often snapshots of daily life—like when they cooked or worked together. Taehyung had added a heart link on Instagram that led to Jungkook’s profile. Meanwhile, Jungkook—who had sworn he’d never do something like that—ended up writing “taken” with “@thv” in his bio. They were ridiculous, even kind of cringe, but they didn’t care. They were happy, and that was all that mattered.
And that love felt more real than ever as they walked toward Lotte World with fourteen other people, forming a loud, chaotic mess. It wasn’t just the seven of them—Momo and Mina had joined, and they’d also invited Minho, Jeongin, Jiwoo, Joohyun, and Jihyo. Momo had brought an entire bag of themed accessories "because that was part of the experience," and no one escaped.
"Why the hell are there so many animal ears in this group?" Jungkook muttered, watching Hoseok stroll around wearing squirrel ears while Jimin struggled to keep Yoongi from taking off a pair of cat ears.
"God, we look like a grade school club," Yoongi said. "A grade school club with problems."
"Stop acting all high and mighty. You look super cute," Jimin laughed. "You don’t even seem old."
Taehyung and Jungkook dug through Momo’s bag of accessories and both grabbed a dinosaur hat at the same time. Immediately, they started tugging at it like two little kids.
"This one’s mine," Taehyung said, pulling the hat toward himself. "Let go."
"Not a chance, I saw it first," Jungkook argued, pulling it back. "You let go."
"It looks better on me."
"No, it looks better on me."
Seeing that Jungkook wouldn’t give in, Taehyung moved on to Plan B—his guaranteed win. He simply lowered his head, looked up at him, and put on a pitiful abandoned puppy face. He didn’t even say anything, just pouted in the most exaggeratedly adorable way.
Jungkook clicked his tongue, resisting with all his might... for about three seconds.
"Fuck... fine," he groaned in defeat. "But I’m putting it on you."
He took the hat, gently placed it on Taehyung’s head, and adjusted it so his blond hair wouldn’t cover his eyes. Taehyung grinned and stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.
"Thanks, baby."
"You always take advantage of me, damn it," Jungkook muttered, but he was still smiling. "You're such a bastard. You always pull this crap."
Everything escalated the moment they passed through the park gates and security. Within minutes, Namjoon lost the map they’d given him at the entrance. Literally—two minutes. Everyone saw him put it in his backpack, but no one ever saw it again. Jeongin, meanwhile, went into full panic mode when his fox ears mysteriously vanished on the walk from the subway. Minho tried to calm him down, asking every staff member if they had seen a pair of orange ears with white tips.
"Are you sure I had the fucking map?" Namjoon asked, setting his backpack on a ledge to search more thoroughly.
"Yes, you had it!" Hoseok shouted back.
"You put it in your front pocket," Jihyo said, walking over to help her boyfriend. "I saw you."
"Which front pocket? I have six!" Namjoon was two seconds away from giving up on life.
Meanwhile, Jeongin was almost stomping his feet in a tantrum that looked more fitting for an eight-year-old.
"I lost my fox ears! Minho!"
"You were still wearing them when we got off the subway," Minho said, rubbing a hand down his face. "I don’t understand how you managed to lose them in just two hundred meters."
"I was hot! I took them off so I wouldn’t sweat my forehead."
"And where exactly did you leave them? In the goddamn air?"
"Don’t yell at me, Minho. Please find them."
"I’m trying!" he snapped, then walked up to a nearby security guard. "Excuse me, sir…"
A few steps away, Jin was fighting with Yoongi and Jiwoo over a discount coupon for a new themed restaurant he had printed out a few days ago.
"I found the damn coupon! It’s mine!" Jin shouted, waving the paper in their faces.
"I paid for your breakfast, this should be my compensation," Yoongi replied, arms crossed.
"And what about me? I gave you the last drops of my super expensive sunscreen!" Jiwoo added. "It was a special edition Strawberry Shortcake for the 40th anniversary."
"I have a solution," Joohyun chimed in sweetly. "I’ll offer homemade warm coffee for a week if you give it to me."
"I’ll share it with you," Jin said. "But it’s still mine."
Momo already had her phone in vlog mode, recording everyone, especially Mina, who had gotten distracted by a balloon shop and ended up dragging Jimin along with her. He, of course, didn’t resist at all.
"I’m tying this balloon to your backpack," Mina said. "You’re so tiny I could lose you in the crowd."
"You’re shorter than me, shorty, don’t start," Jimin replied, offended. "I’ll tie it to you and add a little bell."
Both of them ended up with balloons, gently hitting each other as they laughed. Jungkook watched them and thought the whole thing looked like a badly written comedy movie.
"You know what’s the worst part?" Taehyung leaned into his ear with a mischievous smile. "We haven’t even entered the actual park yet. This is literally just the entrance."
Jungkook snorted, unable to hold back a laugh.
"I don’t think we’re gonna survive the day," he said. "I can already see it. Someone’s gonna get lost in the roller coaster line and no one will even notice."
"My bet’s on Jeongin."
"No, Jeongin survives. Jimin disappears—flies away with his balloon."
"And no one notices until nighttime."
Eventually, Namjoon found the map at the bottom of his backpack, right in that compartment where Jihyo had told him to check from the very beginning. Not once, not twice, but at least three times. He had already reached into that pocket more than once, even pushing aside the water bottles, sunscreen, and his glasses case, convinced there was nothing there. But there it was, neatly folded. Jihyo didn’t say 'I told you so', though she definitely thought it. Instead, she took it from him with a calm smile.
"From now on, this is my responsibility," she said quietly, and before he could reply, she leaned in and pressed a warm kiss to his lips that left Namjoon slightly stunned. He immediately felt his ears heat up.
As soon as he looked up, he was met with absolute chaos. Fourteen adults—sixteen, counting the two of them, though they didn’t usually count—in wild mode. A worrying number of people talking at the same time, walking in circles, arguing, or just wandering aimlessly. Jeongin was still half-crying over his lost ears and Minho was trying to comfort him by promising to buy better ones. It was total anarchy.
Namjoon took a deep breath and decided to take drastic action. He clapped loudly. Surprisingly, everyone turned to look.
Even Jeongin stopped complaining. Mina froze mid-motion, balloon raised like a weapon toward Jimin. Jin and Yoongi halted their bickering. Taehyung even stopped joking with Jungkook to see what was going on.
"Did you just tame a group of adults with a clap?" Jihyo said, visibly impressed. "That was incredibly sexy."
Namjoon coughed softly, trying to hide the smile creeping onto his face. God. He should’ve been used to his girlfriend by now, but every time she said things like that, with that cheeky and charming tone, it scrambled all his internal wiring. But he couldn’t let himself get flustered—if his friends saw him all nervous, they’d absolutely wreck him. He knew them too well.
"Listen," he said, raising his voice just enough for everyone to hear. "I suggest we start the day all together by picking a couple of attractions we all want to try. Then we can split into smaller groups depending on preferences, and finally meet up again in the food court for lunch. Sound good?"
Everyone agreed. It seemed like a great plan, and they decided to go on the monorail first to see the entire park from above and make decisions more easily. Even though he had lost the only map just minutes earlier—only for it to magically reappear after thoroughly embarrassing him—he was smart enough to organize his group of idiots.
Once they finally started walking toward the monorail station, the vibe shifted. There was a little more order.
Taehyung walked up behind Jungkook and naturally took his hand. Their fingers laced together, and Jungkook gave a gentle squeeze in response. He loved being able to hold his boyfriend’s hand without fear. Sure, they did get—more than occasionally—some dirty looks or nasty stares. Someone had even said something once. But they didn’t give a damn anymore. Not that they kept quiet, of course, they were both short, tempered as hell. But at least they didn’t get sad, just angry. And eventually, the person making rude comments would end up shrinking under the flood of insults and arguments those two could dish out.
Lotte World stretched out before them like a fantasy come to life. There were giant rounded structures, pastel colors in bright shades, neon signs spinning to the rhythm of cheerful music that floated in the air. Everything smelled like candy, popcorn, and other sweet treats. Multicolored balloons floated above eye-catching ice cream carts. To their left, a two-story carousel spun slowly, with golden horses and blinking lights. Beyond that, the ice rink extended beneath the massive glass dome at the park’s center, reflecting sunbeams like a shaken snow globe.
Without warning, as they moved toward the central area, they stumbled upon a fair-style game section: hoops, baskets, darts, stacked bottles, and giant stuffed animals hanging from the ceiling. It had blinking lights, playful music, electronic sounds, and bells ringing every time someone won a prize.
Jungkook came to a dead stop and tugged his boyfriend with him.
"Shit," he whispered, turning to Taehyung with sparkling eyes. "We can’t just walk past this."
Taehyung looked at those pretty eyes, then turned to the games with a tilted smile that promised war.
"You’re right, I was just about to say the same. These kinds of games are meant to be played. It’s a rule."
"I’m gonna beat you," the black-haired boy said, teasing the older one.
"And what if I win, huh?" Taehyung challenged, stepping closer. "Are you gonna cry?"
"Are you gonna pout when I win?" Jungkook stepped closer too, just inches apart now. "Because you’d look so cute."
"You’re not gonna win."
"We’ll see about that."
Taehyung pulled away with a grin and turned to look at the others, who were already several steps ahead. They’d all chosen to ignore the boyfriends once they saw them standing that close, tension between them thick enough to cut with a knife.
"Come on, just one quick stop! Just one!" Taehyung exclaimed, pointing excitedly at the arcade games with a smile far too charming for anyone to say no.
"Yeah, it's basically illegal to walk past a fair without trying at least one game," Jungkook chimed in with the same enthusiasm.
The others exchanged resigned looks before giving in. It was obvious neither of them was going to let this opportunity pass. Namjoon sighed, shaking his head with patient amusement as Jihyo dragged him by the hand toward a nearby bench, clutching the folded map to her chest.
The group scattered in different directions—some headed for the shooting booth, others stood around watching, and a few tried out other games.
Taehyung and Jungkook then began what would be dubbed the 'ultimate showdown' in three challenges: ring toss, target shooting, and duck fishing. The winner would be the one who won at least two out of the three.
Jungkook stretched his shoulders like a boxer getting ready for a fight and eyed the first game—ring toss. This was the kind of stupid competition he secretly loved more than he'd ever admit. It wasn’t about the prize, it was about beating Taehyung. About seeing him frustrated, growling when he missed, probably blaming the rigged rings or claiming the wind interfered (even though they were indoors). And, fuck, okay—maybe it was also about impressing him a little.
"Three tries," he declared, raising an eyebrow as he grabbed a ring. "Ready to lose?"
"Lose? Jungkook, please. I’m going to humiliate you so sweetly you’ll be begging for mercy."
The black-haired boy rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the way his mouth curved up. He took a breath and threw the first ring. His wrist flicked with precision, and the plastic circle spun through the air before landing cleanly around one of the bottles.
"Boom!" he shouted, turning to the group with his arms in the air.
"Beginner’s luck!" Taehyung muttered, pursing his lips as he picked up his own ring.
He threw it.
And missed.
"Oh, come on!" he grumbled, tossing the next one immediately like speed might fix his aim. Another miss—the ring clipped the edge of a bottle, bounced into the air, and hit the ground.
"That’s gotta hurt," Jiwoo sang, stepping closer with her phone already recording. "And here comes the third attempt and…"
The last ring flew from his hand in a tense arc and—yep, nailed it right into the bottle. The score was now one to one, and Jungkook still had two throws left. If he landed just one more, he’d win the game.
And that’s exactly what happened. One more toss, one more hit, and just like that, he claimed victory.
"Should I help you pick your punishment, or would you rather cry first?" Jungkook said, holding up the prize the attendant gave him: a ridiculously fierce-looking dinosaur plushie. "Look! It even matches your little hat."
Taehyung stared at him with wounded puppy eyes for a second… then smiled.
"That was just the warm-up. You’re going to choke on that grin in the next round."
They kept walking toward the next booth while the rest of the group surrounded them like reality show judges. Jimin was particularly loud, commentating everything as if it were a world championship match. The target shooting booth had a row of tin cans lined up on a shelf, and the challenge was to knock them all down with an air gun. Jungkook already felt like the winner. He had good aim, steady hands, coordination—what could possibly go wrong?
"Let me show you how it’s done," he said confidently, taking the gun.
His first shot took down two cans. Not bad. The second shot got another one. But the third… just barely missed, wobbling one can without knocking it over. Three out of five.
"Is that all you’ve got, champ?" Taehyung teased, picking up his own gun with a glint in his eye that Jungkook really didn’t like.
The first shot was dead-on. So was the second. And the third took down the last two cans in one go. Jimin screamed.
"What the hell was that? Since when do you know how to shoot?" Jungkook yelled, genuinely shocked.
Taehyung shrugged like it was no big deal. "There are things you don’t know about me. I was a sniper in a past life."
"Or a cheater in this one," Jungkook grumbled as he watched him receive a red Power Ranger action figure as a prize. Ugh, he wanted that one! Well… they lived together, which meant he could probably play with it whenever he wanted or something. But still, the feeling of winning it himself was irreplaceable.
"That burn must sting."
Final round: duck fishing. The dumbest, most childish game—but also the most infuriating. A small pool filled with plastic ducks floating in circles. The goal: catch as many as you could in one minute. If you scored more than twenty points, you won. They had to use tiny fishing rods, hook the ducks as their mouths opened using a magnet, and lift them out.
Taehyung leaned in toward Jungkook with a grin that was half playful, half challenging.
"Ready to lose, little baby?"
"Call me that again and I’ll rip your head off with the hook," Taehyung replied—but he didn’t mean it. Not when his ears were burning from the nickname.
The timer started. Both of them launched into action like they’d trained their whole lives for this. Meanwhile, the rest of the group screamed ridiculous strategies from the sidelines.
"Left! That one’s golden!" Jiwoo shouted to help Taehyung.
"It’s not golden, it’s yellow!" Jeongin protested between laughs.
Taehyung caught one, Jungkook got another, then another, and another. By the end, when the timer buzzed, both were staring at each other with their hands full of plastic ducks.
A tie.
But neither of them passed the twenty-point threshold, so technically, neither won the game—and the suspiciously low-quality penguin plushie went unclaimed.
They looked at each other, both a little disappointed, but said nothing. Instead, they each automatically held out the prize they’d won to the other. Taehyung had noticed the way Jungkook’s eyes had sparkled when he first saw the action figure, and the plushie just happened to match Taehyung’s outfit that day. That was reason enough for both to trade.
"So you’ll remember I was better," Taehyung said, handing him the Power Ranger. "Say thank you, dummy."
"Thanks, cutie," Jungkook replied with a grin, passing him the dinosaur. "Here’s your child."
The cheesy comments didn’t take long to rain down.
"God, that was so romantic I want to throw up," Jiwoo said, clutching her chest.
"They’re at it again," Yoongi added, glancing at Jimin, who let out a sharp laugh.
Both boys blushed, but silently tucked their gifts into their backpacks.
They started walking again, laughter echoing between them as they made their way toward the monorail. The noisy chaos of the games faded behind them, replaced by a calmer vibe—well, as calm as it could get with hundreds of people around. The group felt more relaxed. Some pointed out their favorite attractions on the map Jihyo had unfolded again, while others sipped water and chewed on snacks as they waited in line.
The wait wasn’t long, and once inside the monorail, the sixteen of them settled into a long carriage all to themselves. Through the wide windows, the park stretched out like a living postcard, and they could see everything with perfect clarity. They all got excited spotting new rides they hadn’t noticed the last time they visited.
Jungkook sat next to Taehyung, setting down both his and his boyfriend’s backpack on his lap. For a second, he thought about how all of it felt. Slightly unreal. Almost perfect.
Then Jin stood up.
"Attention!" he announced, stepping into the center of the train car. "I have something important to share..."
"If you're about to sell us Herbalife, get off," Yoongi cut in without even lifting his gaze.
"Oh, shut up, grump," the eldest wrinkled his nose but then smiled and pointed excitedly at the black-haired girl in front of him. "Joohyun and I are officially dating!"
The screams came instantly. Applause, shrieks, Jimin pretending to faint, and Jihyo shaking an empty bottle like it was a confetti cannon.
"Holy shit, I thought this day would never come," said Hoseok. "I didn’t think I’d live to witness the moment you finally made a move, Jin-hyung."
"It was about time!" Namjoon exclaimed, raising his arms toward the sky as if thanking a god he clearly didn’t believe in.
"Even I was waiting for progress," said Minho from the seats in the back.
"How did it happen?" Jimin asked. "Give me details!"
"Well, since you all want to hear my master plan..." Jin bit his lip as he began pacing back and forth inside the cabin. "It all started on Tuesday afternoon. It was a beautiful day with clear skies. I was reading a very interesting 15th-century book for one of my classes, titled Cárcel de Amor by Diego de San Pedro, a Spanish poet and narrator from the Pre-Renaissance period. The story was published in 1492 and revolves around a young man named Leriano, who is imprisoned by Desire in the jail of love. There, he falls in love with Laureola, daughter of King Gaulo of Macedonia, and then..."
"Why did you even ask him?" Yoongi said, defeated, glancing at Jimin with a look of regret.
Joohyun covered her face with her hands before grabbing Jin's and pulling him down to sit beside her.
"Why am I dating someone this dramatic?" she muttered with a laugh.
"Because you like literary men," Jin replied, not dropping his gallant tone for a second.
Jimin and Yoongi exchanged a look and then, with much less flair, made an announcement of their own.
"We..." Jimin began, lowering his voice a little. "Yoongi-hyung and I are trying something. For real this time."
Jungkook nearly jumped from his seat when he heard that.
"I knew it! I always knew it!" he shouted, wide-eyed. "Shit, I want to build a time machine and go back so past Yoongi-hyung can admit I was right and call me a genius."
"Can someone shut him up?" Yoongi muttered, rubbing his temples.
"No! This is karma, Min Yoongi, for not listening to me, for not—"
From behind, Minho shoved a handful of popcorn into his mouth—the ones he’d bought before boarding the monorail. That kept Jungkook quiet for a moment.
"Let me guess what happened," Taehyung said. "Yoongi-hyung told Jimin to stop hooking up. Jimin got mad and asked for an explanation. Hyung didn’t give one because it would’ve exposed him, they argued, blew up, kissed, and bam! They’re trying it out."
Jimin and Yoongi stared at him, eyes wide and barely blinking.
"That was... that was scarily accurate. What the fuck?" Jimin tilted his head. "How did you do that?"
"Should I be worried you were spying on us or that you’re secretly psychic?" Yoongi added.
"You’re just now noticing?" Hoseok cut in. "Taehyung is scary persuasive."
"He terrifies me," said Namjoon.
A few minutes later, everyone was glued to the windows, marveling at the view of the attractions below.
"Is that the ride that spins over water? And that one over there drops fifteen meters?" Hoseok asked, pressing his forehead against the curved glass of the monorail and pointing with his index finger, fogging up the spot.
"That’s right," Namjoon replied with a dry chuckle, not lifting his eyes from the map he had spread open. "The one that spins is the closer one. The other one… well, it looks like a death sentence."
"Oh my god, look at that!" Jihyo interrupted, covering her mouth with one hand and pointing with the other. "We have to ride that one, no matter what."
"I’m gonna pass," said Jiwoo flatly, crossing her arms. "I like my internal organs where they are, thanks."
"Not a chance I’m getting on that," Mina added with a nervous laugh.
"That thing looks deadly!" shouted Jeongin from the back, nearly crushed between Minho and the window. "I’m ready to die. I don’t know about you guys, but if I go today, I’m going without regrets."
"You’re ready to shit yourself, that’s what you are," Minho teased, elbowing him hard enough to make him stumble.
Jungkook leaned back in his seat, arm draped behind Taehyung as he peered through a small opening left by the others, not moving much since he wanted to stay close to his boyfriend. There was something hypnotic about seeing the park from above. Beside him, Taehyung kept his head tilted toward the window, his expression relaxed even though his fingers fidgeted restlessly with the edge of his jacket, which Jungkook noticed from the corner of his eye.
It amazed him how someone could look so calm and so tense at the same time. He watched the way his shoulders rose and fell with each slow breath.
"Everything okay?" he asked in a low voice, quiet enough for only Taehyung to hear. Taehyung turned his face slightly but didn’t take his eyes off the window.
"I’m mentally preparing myself."
"Didn’t you say a while ago you weren’t a fan of heights? Are you sure you want to get on any of these? We can check out other rides, babe."
"Yeah, but I’m not a kid," he replied, sitting up straighter and raising an eyebrow. "It’s time I face my fears. Besides, if something happens..." he turned to him again, "I’ll just take your hand."
Jungkook blinked. That damn line had been delivered so casually, so boldly. He felt a shiver run down his spine, hyper-aware of the warmth creeping up his neck.
"Look at you, all brave today," he finally replied, trying to sound unfazed even though his mouth had gone dry. "I hope you don’t have a panic attack because if you do, I’m gonna squeeze your hand really hard, and then you’re gonna complain."
"That sounds more like a threat than support," Taehyung said with a smirk, stretching his legs out in front of him.
The rest of the group kept chatting, taking pictures, and pointing out different attractions. Jin was explaining in an expert tone the kind of rails used in the most modern roller coasters—though no one could tell if he was being serious or just spouting technical words he’d heard in a documentary to impress his girlfriend.
When the monorail finally stopped and the doors slid open with a soft hiss, the group poured out in a loud, laughing, chaotic mass. The sun was still blazing, but a pleasant breeze helped ease the heat.
"To Atlantis Adventure!" Hoseok shouted, throwing both arms up.
"Is anyone else about to cry or is it just me?" Mina asked, grabbing Jiwoo’s hand, who was already muttering 'we’re gonna die'. Since they were the only single girls and everyone else had come with a partner, they naturally ended up sticking together most of the time. Being third wheels and violinists wasn’t really their thing.
Besides, Mina had a ton of admiration for Jiwoo after hearing what she’d done to Soojin. She found it fascinating that someone so sweet could also be so fierce and decisive. Mina thought Jiwoo had 'vitamin energy'—and because of that, they’d become close friends quickly.
The road to the ride was loud, filled with chatter, debates over which game they'd go on next, and wild guesses about who would be the first to scream like a maniac. When they finally reached the towering sign that read 'Atlantis Adventure', they all paused for a second to take in the structure.
"Wait, we go up there? And then drop that straight down?" Jeongin said, pointing at the steepest rail.
"I don’t want to do this anymore," Jimin said in a deadpan tone. "I refuse."
"You’re already here. No backing out now," Yoongi reminded him, wrapping an arm around his waist like he was tying him to his fate.
"Not another word. I’m in mourning."
The line was long, sure, but the mood was too good to complain. They slid into place without any trouble and began chatting as they slowly moved forward. It was one of those moments where time stretches, and the wait becomes part of the experience. Sunlight filtered through the metal framework, the sound of rails and distant screams blending with the quiet murmur of the people in line.
Jungkook stood right behind Taehyung, flanked by Minho and Jeongin on one side, and Mina and Jiwoo on the other. Every so often, the line would inch forward, and with each step, Jungkook felt the flutter in his stomach grow stronger. Not from fear. Not entirely, at least. It was adrenaline and anticipation.
"I’ve got respect for this one," Taehyung murmured to himself.
"Did you say something?" Jungkook asked.
"Nothing, just… that roller coaster looks intimidating, that’s all," Taehyung replied, crossing his arms.
"Intimidating, for you? Come on, I thought you were the brave one in the group. You've been bragging about it all day."
"I already regret everything I said."
Jungkook laughed and pulled him into a side hug for support, which Taehyung appreciated. The shaking settled slightly in his boyfriend’s arms. Only slightly—because he was still a little scared shitless.
"Remember, the seats are doubles," Joohyun called out from ahead. "Let’s organize now so we don’t waste time when it’s our turn."
"Easy," said Jin. "I’m going with my dazzling girlfriend."
"Stop saying dazzling," Joohyun scoffed. "You make me sound like a brand new car."
"You’re better than any regular car. You’re luxury."
"Oh my God, he’s never gonna stop," Namjoon muttered, smacking his own forehead.
"I’m going with Momo," Hoseok chimed in.
"I’ll take Jihyo," Namjoon added.
"We’re going together!" Mina and Jiwoo said in unison, raising their hands.
"Jeongin, if you cry, I’m filming it," Minho warned.
"That’s not gonna happen," Jeongin said through clenched teeth, though the twitch in his left eye told a different story.
"Good thing you said that, ’cause I am filming everything. So if you pee your pants on the ride, there’ll be evidence," Momo joked, pointing her phone at Jeongin.
"You’re so dead," was all the younger boy managed to say, trying to keep his cool while Minho burst out laughing.
Taehyung was only half-listening. His mind was focused on the slight churn in his stomach. He hated to admit it, but yeah, he was a little scared. It wasn’t panic or dread, but that annoying kind of anxiety that settled behind the chest right before something too intense. Jungkook noticed and gave him a soft look before pulling him a bit closer.
"Are you actually nervous?" he asked quietly. Taehyung turned just enough to glance at him out of the corner of his eye.
"What if I am?"
"Then it’s fine. You know you can hold my hand."
"I know," he replied, then turned his gaze back to the front.
Jungkook wanted Taehyung to feel safe, above all. But he also wanted him to push through things, so he didn’t suggest backing out. He just stayed close.
The line kept moving. They were only minutes away from their turn now, while the group continued chatting, planning their next rides, and debating between churros or cotton candy.
"Let’s make a bet," Taehyung said, just as the staff waved them forward. He needed something to focus on, something to cling to—and competing with Jungkook always helped. Jungkook looked at him, both curious and intrigued.
"What kind of bet?" he asked as they walked toward their seats.
"Whoever screams more during the ride has to pay for the group’s snacks."
"Alright, deal," Jungkook said with a short laugh. "You’re gonna go broke, Tae."
"Uh-huh. We’ll see who shits himself first," he said as he sat down, buckling his seatbelt with slow but steady hands. Sure, he said that—but he secretly believed he’d be the one shitting himself first.
Jungkook took the seat next to him, the chair already vibrating faintly as the machinery kicked into gear. Around them, the metallic clink of the cart locking onto the tracks filled the air. The operator gave the usual safety instructions, but neither of them was really listening.
Without a word, just as the cart gave its first jolt forward, Jungkook stretched out his hand and placed it palm-up on Taehyung’s thigh. He waited, and Taehyung took it without hesitation.
They didn’t speak again. They just held hands tightly as the cart began its slow ascent, click by click. The sound of the chains dragging the weight of the train up the tracks was nerve-wracking. It made Taehyung’s anxiety spike. Second by second, the angle grew steeper, the height greater, and the ground farther away.
Jungkook swallowed hard but didn’t let go of Taehyung.
"I’m fine," Taehyung whispered to himself, repeating it as he stared at the metal framework around them and the shrinking world below. He didn’t like heights—and yet, here he was. He forced himself not to close his eyes. He needed to push past this. "It’s not that high," he tried to convince himself, but his stomach was already doing flips, and the tightness in his chest reminded him that he was stepping way out of his comfort zone powered only by pride and sheer stupidity.
Jungkook, on the other hand, wasn’t scared. The flutter in his chest was more like the one he felt before stepping on stage—a mix of anxiety, excitement, and the kind of adrenaline that made him feel alive. But he knew Taehyung was scared.
That’s why he’d agreed to the bet. For two reasons, actually—but mostly because he already planned to lose on purpose. First, so Taehyung wouldn’t feel embarrassed about screaming. Second, so Taehyung wouldn’t have to spend any money. He wanted to lose so he could pay for everything.
Then, without warning, the cart detached from the mechanism and the drop began. Wind slammed into their faces, and in a dramatic impulse, Jungkook let out a long, high-pitched scream that echoed louder than anyone else's on the ride. He wasn’t nearly as scared as he made it seem. In fact, he was exaggerating on purpose—shouting more to lose the bet than anything else.
Taehyung clearly wanted to scream too—and he did—but kept holding back. Still, every time Jungkook screamed louder, Taehyung felt a little more encouraged to let go too. He just made sure never to scream louder than Jungkook.
When the roller coaster finally came to a stop and the cart stilled, they were still holding hands. The ride photo popped up on the screen in front of them: a frozen shot of their wind-blown faces, completely distorted from the force of the drop.
"You still alive?" Taehyung asked between heavy breaths, turning his head toward Jungkook. The black-haired boy let out one last dramatic exhale, unbuckling his harness.
"I’m good. But I think I screamed so much I’m gonna shit blood."
Taehyung burst out laughing, finally relaxed.
"You’re such an idiot," he muttered, still breathing hard.
They both got off, their legs still shaky and muscles tense, but with smiles painted in pure adrenaline. The rest of the group was already waiting for them in front of the photo booth.
There, they saw the picture up close.
Jungkook’s mouth was wide open, his eyes bulging, hair messy from the wind. Taehyung’s jaw was clenched, his eyelids slightly lowered—but the most striking thing was that they were holding hands.
"Look at these two!" Jimin shouted, laughing like crazy. "Not even the roller coaster could break them apart!"
"What happened to your face, Jungkook? You look possessed," Jeongin added.
"I tried to be strong," Jungkook replied, feigning annoyance. "But fine, I admit it—I screamed louder than everyone."
"You screamed louder than me!" said Mina.
"You screamed like someone was murdering you," Jiwoo added. "I saw a guy in the row ahead turn around with a terrified look."
"Alright," Jungkook interrupted, raising his hands. "A deal’s a deal. Snacks are on me."
"That’s our king!" Hoseok shouted, throwing an arm around his shoulders. "You’re about to see me eat like I’ve been starving for days."
"Wouldn’t expect anything less," Jungkook laughed, glancing sideways at Taehyung, who simply offered him a small, discreet smile.
They continued walking through the park. They rode the bumper cars, where Namjoon proved to be a public threat behind anything that wasn’t a bicycle. Hoseok screamed every time someone hit him. On the spinning tower ride, Yoongi immediately regretted getting on, and when they got off, he swore his intestines were in his throat. The 4D simulator, on the other hand, was a hilarious disaster. Between the poorly rendered visuals and the off-beat moving seats, they all ended up crying with laughter.
By the time they took a break at a hot dog stand, the sun was already starting to dip. Jungkook kept his word and paid for everything without complaint—and even bought some candy for later. They sat on a row of benches near an artificial fountain, sharing cold drinks and food, since everyone had ordered different types.
But the peace didn’t last long.
"We have to go to the haunted house," Mina declared with conviction.
"Ugh, no, no, no," Jin replied instantly. "That’s not my thing. I’d rather see cute stuff—lights, colors... not fake corpse props."
"Yeah, plus I’m getting hungry again," Hoseok tried to justify.
"We just ate!" Jiwoo protested, arms crossed.
"Those are just excuses from those two. Don’t listen to them," Namjoon chimed in.
Jin and Hoseok were about to keep protesting, but Joohyun had already grabbed Jin by the arm, and Momo, mercilessly, pulled Hoseok with a sweet smile that promised nothing good.
"Don’t be cowards," Momo said. "Have some dignity."
Once inside the haunted house, they had barely crossed the first room when Jin jumped at the sight of an unmoving figure in a corner, letting out a short scream that echoed off the walls. It wasn’t even an animatronic, nor did it have any lights—it was just a damn statue standing still. Hoseok burst into laughter.
"It didn’t even move, Jin!" he shouted, doubling over with laughter.
But karma is fast—and petty.
A gust of air blasted him in the face from a hidden vent, making him jump so high he almost fell backward. He screamed like someone had lit a firecracker between his legs and grabbed Jin’s arm in a panic.
"Fuck!" he yelled.
Joohyun and Momo were wheezing with laughter. Jin was bright red.
Jungkook walked steadily beside Taehyung, trying to keep up a façade of absolute composure. He felt like, more than fear, what was really on the line at that moment was the image he wanted to project in front of Taehyung: someone who didn’t scare easily, someone who could keep his cool, who wouldn’t shrink back from a well-done haunted house.
However, just as they turned a narrow corner, a figure dropped from the ceiling in front of them with a loud thud. Jungkook couldn’t help but let out a small, sharp squeal—brief and nearly stifled—that escaped without warning.
Taehyung immediately glanced at him, a crooked, amused smile curling on his lips, and the playful glint in his eyes was so clear that Jungkook felt a wave of heat rising up his neck.
"Want me to hold you?" Taehyung said in a soft voice, laced with that teasing tone that was so hard to resist. Jungkook looked at him for a second, wondering if accepting the offer would make him look weak or smart. In the end, the need not to look like a coward was defeated by the comfort that came with that simple gesture. Without saying a word, he pressed up against Taehyung, wrapping his arms around him from behind in a tight hug. It felt strange—vulnerable but safe.
As they moved forward, Jungkook grew curious about how Taehyung could stay so calm. He kept stealing glances, wondering if he, too, felt that nervous tingle inside, even if on the outside he seemed unshakable.
On the other side of the group, Minho had stepped in front of Jeongin, gently pushing him back at every suspicious corner. He had become some sort of human shield, ready to absorb any scare. Jeongin seemed to mutter small complaints, but Minho just ignored them, always alert to protect his boyfriend. The whole thing made Jungkook smile uncontrollably at how sweet it was.
Further ahead, Namjoon, distracted, accidentally veered through a door that looked like part of the decor, slightly off from the main path, and nearly disappeared from the group. Yoongi followed right behind him, only to find one of the actors standing behind the set, calmly eating a sandwich with a bored, non-threatening expression.
Yoongi said goodbye to all credibility before leading Namjoon back to the right path.
The dim lighting cast shadows that shifted with the irregular movement of their steps, and the sound effects distorted noises that could’ve been anything: a whisper, a loud thud, or a distant moan. Fake doors opened into hallways that ended in dead ends or mechanical figures that activated with sudden noises, while the costumed actors popped in and out, screaming or acting so over-the-top that they sometimes made people laugh more than scream.
Taehyung walked steadily, exuding that effortless confidence—until a mechanical figure leapt from a nearby wall. He immediately reacted, spinning instinctively to bury his face in Jungkook’s neck. Jungkook felt a smile tug at his lips before he could stop it. It was so... adorable that he couldn’t resist wrapping his arms around Taehyung and squeezing gently.
"Were you scared?" he whispered, trying not to break the moment. Taehyung shook his head, but the embarrassed smile on his face was answer enough.
From a little further back, Jimin watched the scene with mockery and whispered something to Jiwoo, who was also looking at them. Jungkook caught their shared giggle.
A bit later, the path took a sharp turn, and Jeongin tripped over a wrinkled rug. He fell forward and crashed right into Jin, who reflexively pushed him back. The shove sent him stumbling into a loose prop, which collapsed with a loud metallic crash. A fake beam rolled across the floor and struck one of the hollow walls, echoing through the hallway. Yoongi stopped dead in his tracks, irritated, pressing a hand to his chest.
"What the hell was that?"
Notes:
I don’t even know where to begin.
Maybe I should start by saying thank you. Thank you, truly, from the bottom of my heart. Not just for making it this far, for reaching the end of this story, but for staying, for reading, for commenting, for feeling so much along with me.
"That wasn’t in the plan" started as a random idea, one of those little sparks that seem insignificant at first. It came about because... well, I love writing. And aside from my favorite fic (shout-out to Capitanes of tae-cutie on Wattpad), I couldn’t find a rivals to lovers fic that really grabbed me—so I made my own!
Since January, this story completely took over my life. It pierced through me, challenged me, made me laugh, frustrated me, made me fall in love, second-guess myself, rewrite entire paragraphs just because something didn’t feel quite like Taehyung or quite like Jungkook. It kept me up at 3 a.m. writing. And now that it’s over, I feel this strange emptiness. Like I’m saying goodbye to someone I love very deeply.
Because I do. I love this story, and it makes me so emotional to know that, on the other side of the screen, there are people who’ve loved it with me. I love you, the ones who encouraged me to keep writing with your comments. I admit I check EVERY single comment you leave—I read them all, and I reply to some. Every time I post a chapter, I’m glued to the screen waiting to see your reactions. And some of you... I keep you so close in my mind that if you don’t comment, I actually get worried.
I never imagined this would go so far. That I’d be writing these words with tears in my eyes. That so many of you would show up for this story and take this journey with me. That you'd leave such beautiful comments, filled with emotion and anticipation. That you’d worry about the characters like they were real people. That you’d ask me what’s going to happen, if they’re okay, if they’ll make up, if they kiss. That you’d suffer with the misunderstandings, the jealousy, the painfully human awkwardness of two boys who didn’t know how to tell each other they were in love—until they finally did.
Writing this has been an incredibly emotional process for me. At times, it was cathartic. At others, completely exhausting. Many chapters were written with a lump in my throat. Others with a dumb smile on my face. But what never faded was the care I poured into every scene, every line of dialogue, every tiny gesture. The same care that came back to me in the form of kudos and comments saying “thank you for this,” when all I could think was, “No, thank you for reading.”
Even on bad days, your kind messages made me cry. In the best way.
I feel like I grew with this story. It forced me to look closer at my own fears, my insecurities, my desires. It taught me that there’s beauty in slow progress, that there’s love in the things that weren’t planned.
And if I’m this sentimental, it’s not just because of what this fic meant to me, but because I know it meant something to you too. Because beyond the ships, the plot, the twists—this fic became a way to connect. To feel a little less alone. To remember that love can show up in the most unexpected places. And that sometimes, you have to take the risk. Sometimes, you have to say it. Sometimes, you just have to let it happen.
I’m crying while I write this. I’m not even ashamed to say it. Because this isn’t just the end of a fic. It’s the closing of something we built together, step by step, chapter by chapter. And while it hurts to shut that door, I feel full knowing that now it’s complete. That this was the ending it was always meant to have.
Thank you. Endless, endless thanks for being here.
And now, after all this collective crying, I want to tell you that this isn’t a forever goodbye. I’m going to keep writing—I’ve got a long list of fics I want to try (there will be a new one sometime soon). And about That Wasn’t in the Plan—I’m thinking of writing some extras, so please let me know what kind of bonus content you’d like to see!
You can follow me on X (formerly Twitter), I go by freakinavi there. We can keep in touch while I get started on my next project—please stay tuned!
Once again, thank you for everything.
Don’t forget to comment, leave kudos, and bookmark the fic. Every bit of support is so appreciated. Lots of love and kisses!
Chapter 52: EXTRA 01
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
[This extra contains depictions of childhood anxiety and graphic scenes involving blood. If you're in a sensitive moment or feel that this kind of content might affect you, I recommend proceeding with caution or skipping this chapter altogether.]
Taehyung had always been a sweet kid—one of those who asked for permission even to use the bathroom in his own house, and who felt guilty whenever he accidentally dropped something.
His black hair fell in soft natural waves. It was thick and silky—good genes ran in the Kim family. His eyes were wide and expressive, like tiny galaxies, and his mouth was small, almost always caught in the habit of nervously biting his lips, which earned him constant scolding from his mom and the frequent application of lip balm.
By the time he was five, he’d already heard more times than he could count that he had to be perfect. He’d been told that he represented the Kim family and had to become somebody in life. And for that, he had to try hard, obey his parents, and—most importantly—toughen up. Because while Taehyung was smart and very good at following rules, he was far too soft for his parents’ taste.
He didn’t quite understand that. What was wrong with crying when you got hurt? It really hurt! He couldn’t help it! Why did adults get mad when he cried? They said men didn’t cry, but he was just a kid—not a man.
That day in Daegu was sunny. They were at Grandma Mingyong’s house—a petite woman with snow-white hair, always-cold hands, and a scent of herbal ointments and ginger. Her house seemed enormous to Taehyung’s little eyes, with many staircases, old furniture, and paintings that watched him from the walls. But what he liked the most was the garden, because it smelled like wet trees and freshly cut grass, and he could always find weird bugs under the stones.
His parents were downstairs, having adult conversations with Grandma, Aunt Unyoung—his mom’s sister—and Uncle Junghoon. Those conversations always lasted hours, and he wasn’t allowed to interrupt or make any noise. So, as usual, they sent him upstairs with his cousins. Kyunsoo was eleven and seemed so grown-up that Taehyung genuinely thought he was nearly an adult. Kongsu was nine, and though he was younger, he was the loudest and laughed at everything.
Taehyung thought his uncles had no creativity when naming their kids. He often ended up mispronouncing one of their names or mixing them up, which made his cousins laugh at him.
They treated him like a nuisance, taking advantage of the fact that he was smaller and shy, but Taehyung didn't care, he admired them—especially Kyunsoo. He wanted to be like them: brave, strong, funny, and—more than anything—he really wanted his cousins to like him.
They were sitting cross-legged on the thick rug in Grandma’s room, a massive binder of CDs spread out on the floor. The brothers had brought their movie collection to Grandma’s house so they wouldn’t be bored while the adults talked for hours.
Most had color-printed covers; others were just labeled with marker. Taehyung felt special because he could read almost all of them, even though he was only five. He was the only one in his class who could read! His mom reminded him all the time—he was advanced, which meant he had to study more than the others and do well in the tutoring sessions he’d always had after class. So he tried his best, even if he didn’t always understand what he read.
He looked at one of the covers in black and white and read the title aloud.
"What does… Psycho-sis mean?" he asked, pointing with his tiny finger, his voice timid.
The two cousins went silent. Kongsu made a weird noise with his mouth in mockery. Kyunsoo scoffed and glanced at him sideways, visibly annoyed.
"You don’t know what that means?" the older one asked, raising an eyebrow. "Seriously?"
"I can read," Taehyung mumbled, lowering his gaze and rubbing his arm. "I just don’t know what that word means."
"Are you dumb or what?" his cousin snapped. "You’re such a loser! That’s what you are!"
Taehyung genuinely felt like he had said something wrong. He didn’t want to disappoint them. His face burned all of a sudden, and he bit his lip instinctively. It was automatic—every time he felt like he’d messed up, he bit his lip.
"Sorry," he whispered, shrinking into himself.
"Aish! So dumb. It means… it means… it…" Kongsu began, dragging the sentence as he turned slightly toward his brother and whispered, thinking Taehyung wouldn’t hear, "What did it mean again, Kyunsoo?"
"It’s like when someone’s crazy," the older one said dismissively. "But really crazy—the kind that kills people and talks to themselves."
Taehyung pressed his tiny fingers into his knees and stared at the turned-off TV. He didn’t want to watch a movie about people killing others. Not just because he didn’t like it—but because it was forbidden. He wasn’t allowed to watch or play anything violent.
Not that they were going to ask his opinion anyway. He never had a say when it came to choosing movies, games, or activities. He simply stayed quiet and nodded, accepting whatever they decided.
Kyunsoo quickly flipped through the binder full of discs. The plastic crackled with every page turn, sending tiny chills down Taehyung’s spine, but he said nothing. He just watched quietly from his spot on the floor, sitting up straight with his legs folded to the side, just like his mom had taught him he should sit when around others.
"Check this one out," Kyunsoo said suddenly, pointing to a dark cover with red letters that gleamed a little under the lamp light. "This one just came out and I really want to watch it. My classmates said it’s amazing. They played it at Sungho’s house when I couldn’t go because my mom didn’t let me. All because of stupid Haneul’s birthday. I don’t even like her!"
"I don’t like her either!" Kongsu chimed in. Taehyung made a small face. Taehyung made a slight grimace, he couldn't say bad words... and he did like cousin Haneul, she was ten and always gave him cookies.
Taehyung tilted his head to read the title better. His eyes focused with effort on the letters—they looked more stylized, but he knew how to read them. He scooted closer and carefully sounded it out in a quiet voice.
"Fi…nal Des…tin..ation… Two."
His eyebrows furrowed in concern when he spotted a small number on the bottom corner of the disc. It read “17+.”
That… wasn’t right. His mom had taught him those warnings were there for a reason. Those rules were meant to be followed. They weren’t suggestions—they were limits.
"It says it’s for people over seventeen…" he quickly said, glancing at his cousins with a nervous lump in his throat. "We shouldn’t watch it. We’re not old enough."
"Don’t be a buzzkill, Taehyung," Kyunsoo scoffed with a mocking expression.
Kongsu burst out laughing, slapping his forehead like his cousin had just told the funniest joke ever.
"Did you seriously say that?" he laughed. "God! Who even cares about those warnings? Don’t be so boring!"
Taehyung felt the heat crawl up his neck and flush his face. He lowered his gaze in embarrassment, wishing he hadn’t said anything. Rules were important—wasn’t that what his mom kept telling him over and over? Why did they like breaking them?
"What, are you scared, Taehyung?"
"It’s not because I’m scared," he tried to explain quickly. "It’s just… we didn’t watch the first one. And you can’t watch the second movie without seeing the first one because then you don’t understand the story. That’s not the right order! First is one, then two. It doesn’t make sense if there’s no continuity."
"Con… what?" Kongsu repeated through laughter.
"Con-ti-nu-i-ty," Taehyung said again, as if it was obvious.
"Don’t be such a chicken," Kyunsoo scoffed.
Kongsu let out an exaggerated "cluck" and then another, louder. He started flapping his elbows like wings.
"Look! It’s Taehyung the little chicken! Cluck, cluck!"
"Chick-en, chick-en, chick-en…" Kyunsoo chanted, dragging the word out mockingly.
Taehyung’s stomach shrank—literally. Tears were already stinging behind his eyes, but he blinked rapidly to keep them from falling. He couldn’t cry. If he cried, they’d laugh harder. And he didn’t want them to see him cry—he wanted them to respect him, to be like them.
"I’m not a chicken," he murmured, barely audible.
"Oh no?" Kyunsoo said as he moved toward the TV. "Then let’s see about that. Because only fags are scaredy-cats, and no cousin of mine is a little fag." He spat the word with disdain. Taehyung didn’t know what those words meant. He didn’t know what that was—but it sounded like a bad word. And he definitely didn’t want to be called that.
"Yeah, let’s see if you can handle it," Kongsu added, searching the binder for the DVD.
The little boy simply nodded.
Kyunsoo popped the disc into the player. The screen flickered blue, then the studio logo appeared with a metallic sound. The three of them climbed onto Grandma’s bed, which was perfectly made with a white quilt and two embroidered pillows. Taehyung climbed up slowly, trying not to mess anything up. He grabbed one of the decorative pillows from the back and hugged it like a shield. He sat in the middle, between the two of them, without looking at either.
He knew his mom would punish him if she found out he was watching a movie for older kids. He knew he wasn’t supposed to. But he also knew that if he didn’t do it, his cousins would hate him forever—or worse: think he was a baby. And he couldn’t be a baby. He was five! Five! Practically a big kid already—he didn’t even need training wheels on his bike anymore.
So his little head came up with a plan. If his mom came upstairs and saw what they were watching, he could just pretend to be asleep thanks to the pillow he was hugging—and that way he wouldn’t get in trouble! He was a genius!
The movie began. The first few minutes were just cars, people on a highway, a girl with a bad feeling. Then came the accident. A truck full of logs tipping over, wheels flying, glass, twisted metal, bodies… blood. So much blood. Screams, explosions, people getting crushed—too many bad things.
That’s when fear won.
He squeezed his eyes shut, buried himself against the pillow, and his back trembled slightly. His breathing was short and shaky. He didn’t like this!
The pillow covered most of his face. He left just a small gap to peek through, but he shut it every time he sensed something bad coming. The problem was that everything looked bad—there were no happy parts, no nice music, and everything was especially bloody. He didn’t understand how his cousins were okay with it—how they even screamed excitedly whenever someone died in horrible ways.
Minutes passed. Maybe a lot, maybe just a few. Taehyung had lost track. From time to time, he’d peek through the gap in the pillow just to make sure his cousins weren’t looking at him. When he saw they were too focused on the screen, he’d hide again.
That’s how he managed to go unnoticed. He just felt like the movie was taking forever—like it would never end. He didn’t watch the scary parts, but he heard all of them, and just hearing them was bad enough.
But then, near the end, a voice betrayed him.
"He’s not even watching!" Kongsu accused suddenly. Taehyung slowly lifted his face in terror. "He’s hiding! Look, look, his face is buried in the pillow! He’s cheating!"
"Really?" Kyunsoo said, looking at him with disgust.
Taehyung tried to shake his head and defend himself, but he didn’t get the chance. Kongsu yanked the pillow from his arms with such force that it made him stumble sideways. Taehyung let out a small, choked cry.
"No!" he protested, reaching out for the pillow.
"No more hiding," Kyunsoo said, grabbing his shoulders to stop him from turning away. "Look at the damn screen, Taehyung. Be brave."
"I don’t want to…" he said, his voice trembling.
"Look!" Kyunsoo shouted again, grabbing his face and forcing it toward the TV.
Taehyung tried to close his eyes and turn away, but Kyunsoo didn’t let him. He held his face in one big, clumsy hand, squeezing his chubby cheeks and making him look straight at the screen in front of them.
"I said look!" the older cousin growled. "It’s almost over—don’t be such a girl."
The scene on screen showed a blonde woman in an elevator with two other people. A strange man was sniffing the woman’s hair, and the other man scolded him. Then the woman got a call—someone told her that 'someone with a hook was going to kill her'. Apparently, she panicked, and something Taehyung didn’t understand got stuck in her hair. The three of them struggled, and before he knew it, the woman’s body was outside the elevator… but her head was still inside.
There were screams. So many screams. They were horrible.
And then—without warning—the elevator cut off her head. Her body collapsed outside, crushing a girl who had tried to help her. Inside, only her head remained. The disgusting sound of it being sliced off was something Taehyung knew he’d never forget.
He screamed and jumped off the bed, stumbling, shoving his cousins in his attempt to escape. His heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest. His ears rang. For a second, he thought he was going to throw up.
"Tae!" Kongsu laughed, pointing at him. "He’s crying! He’s crying like a little baby!"
"You’re gonna get us caught, idiot!" Kyunsoo hissed, jumping after him as Taehyung ran toward the door. "Don’t go out, you dumbass!"
But Taehyung had already grabbed the handle. His hands trembled so much he couldn’t turn it properly. When he finally managed to open it a little, he felt another hand grip his arm—tight and angry.
"You’re not seriously gonna go tattle to your mommy and daddy now," Kyunsoo snarled, his eyes hard and mean. "If you snitch, I swear it’ll be worse for you. Got it?"
"Yeah, better keep your mouth shut. Or we’ll say you asked to watch it. And you know what my aunt will think? That you’re a liar and a crybaby. You know she likes us more," Kongsu added from the bed.
Something inside the little boy cracked.
"I won’t say anything," he whispered with a broken voice. "Just… let me go. I don’t want to watch anymore."
Kyunsoo stared at him for a second that felt endless. Then he scoffed and shoved him hard out of the room. Taehyung stumbled a little, but he didn’t fall.
He ran down the hallway and down the stairs. It smelled like old flowers and tea. At the end of the living room, where the sunlight poured through the window, his parents were sitting on the couch with Grandma Mingyong and his aunt and uncle. They were all drinking tea and chatting quietly. He crossed the room and threw himself into his father’s lap.
"What’s wrong?" Youngsoo asked, startled. "What happened, son?"
He didn’t answer. He just wrapped his arms tightly around his dad’s waist, let his perfume wrap around him, clung to his clothes, and buried his face in his chest, trembling.
──── ∗ ⋅✧⋅ ∗ ────
With time, Taehyung stopped crying when he remembered the rolling head.
But the fear of elevators didn’t go away so easily. It wasn’t the kind of fear that made him scream or froze his legs. It was something more internal—like a shiver down his spine every time the doors opened, or a pressure in his chest every time they closed.
Of course, his parents never found out what he had seen, so they didn’t understand why he suddenly seemed to shake whenever he had to take an elevator. They just told him he needed to stop being so dramatic, that elevators weren’t a big deal. But he couldn’t help it.
Sometimes he got in without a word. Other times he clung to his mother’s pant leg with his head down. Once, he told her he preferred the stairs, but she just replied that they didn’t have time for nonsense.
That particular day seemed like a quiet one. It was one in the afternoon on a Friday, and he had just gotten out of preschool. He was still in his uniform—light blue shirt neatly ironed, shiny shoes, and his tiny backpack hanging on his back like a sleeping animal. He had already had lunch and felt a little sleepy, but he knew he couldn’t nap because his tutor would arrive soon.
They were at his dad’s company: Kim & Co. Architects. A tall building with many floors, giant windows, and the scent of expensive wood and coffee.
His mom was waiting for him in the office on the third floor. That’s where she went on days when her work involved papers rather than saving lives. She was dressed in one of her formal outfits and speaking on the phone with a fast, efficient tone. As soon as she hung up, she turned to him with a serious expression.
"Give me your bag, Taehyung," she said. Taehyung nodded, carefully taking off his backpack and handing it to her. She set it on a chair and handed him the other, more elegant bag—one with gold zippers, books, exercise notebooks, and, of course, a change of clothes. "You’re working on math today."
Taehyung nodded silently. That was fine. He didn’t mind math. It was just that his stomach felt weird—like he’d eaten too much. He touched his belly over the uniform and gave it a few gentle pats. He didn’t want to get sick. His mom would get mad.
"Go get changed. Mr. Haeseong will be here soon," his mom ordered, barely looking at him, her eyes already fixed on the pile of papers waiting for her. Taehyung nodded dutifully. His mom didn’t have much patience, and she wasn’t like his dad—she didn’t repeat herself.
He took the bag from her and slung it over his small shoulders. It was heavy for his little body, but he didn’t complain. He never did.
The office door clicked shut behind him with a soft metallic sound, and Taehyung was left alone in that bright, cold, and spotless hallway.
His dad’s company was an imposing building—modern, full of glass, steel, and plants hanging from the corners. The walls were white, the lighting warm but not cozy. Taehyung walked slowly down the hall, his shoes echoing against the marble, his shadow stretching long across the glossy floor. Everything was so tall—the doors, the windows, the framed drawings of buildings outlined in black ink.
His mom always told him that one day this place would be his. That when he grew up—when he became a real man—that company would belong to him. That’s why he had to behave, study, be the best, and prove that he could do it.
But Taehyung was only five years old.
And sometimes, when he heard that, it felt like they were shoving something heavy inside his chest. Because even though he studied more than the other kids, even though he could read before his classmates, even though he memorized the whole alphabet, all the numbers, all the rules… it never felt like enough. There was always something missing. He was always afraid of disappointing them—because he always did. His mom always found something wrong.
"Good afternoon, young Kim," said a woman in a black suit, bowing with a very kind smile.
"Good afternoon," he replied, giving a small bow.
"You look very sharp today," commented another man, one who smelled like coffee and printer ink. "Heading to tutoring?"
Taehyung nodded, smiling shyly. Whenever someone greeted him, he always answered politely. Because he was Mr. Kim’s son—the owner of the company.
He reached the hallway of the elevators. There were three of them, side by side, all identical. The doors were light gray metal, clean enough to reflect a blurry image of his face. The buttons to call one were higher than his head, so he had to stand on his tiptoes, stretch his arm as far as it would go, and press the button with the tip of his finger. Then he lowered his arm and stood still.
His tutoring session with Mr. Haeseong was at two in the afternoon. They always studied either at his house or at the company, if they weren’t home. Fridays were always here. He had class on the sixth floor while his mom worked on the third—which was always quiet. His dad, of course, was on the top floor. He was the boss, after all.
Around him, the hallway felt bigger than usual. The ceilings were very high, the air conditioner blew constantly, and the sound of a phone ringing in a distant office mixed with the ticking of a wall clock.
Ding.
One of the elevator doors slid open quietly, and two people stepped out: a woman holding a large folder in her arms and a man talking on the phone. Both greeted him as they passed, offering polite bows and smiles.
And then he was alone in front of the open elevator.
The doors were completely open, revealing the inside: a square cubicle, mirrored walls, white light from the ceiling, and a small metal railing in the back. The floor had a dark gray carpet—very clean. The button panel was glowing, as always.
But Taehyung’s hands started to sweat. His eyes locked on the thin line between the hallway and the elevator. It was barely a gap—a tiny divide—but it felt like an abyss.
He had taken that elevator many times. It was modern for 2003, safe, fast. It went up and down hundreds of times a day—two people had just gotten out of it. But his brain didn’t hear any of that.
All it remembered… was the movie.
"You have to be brave," he whispered to himself. "Brave, brave, brave…"
He told himself that three times, took a step forward, and just as the doors started to close, Taehyung forced himself to get in.
The elevator smelled like metal and disinfectant. He stood very straight, reached up with difficulty, and pressed the button for the sixth floor. The red light turned on and the elevator started moving.
A low humming filled the space.
It was fine. It was fine. It was only a few seconds. He could count. One, two, three… He thought about numbers, about additions, about the multiplication table of threes he had reviewed with his tutor. He told himself he had to be a smart boy, a strong boy, a proper boy, a brave boy. A boy worthy of being a Kim.
And then... the elevator stopped.
It didn’t reach the sixth floor. There was no ding. It just... stopped suddenly. It was stuck somewhere between the fifth and sixth floors. The air didn’t feel the same anymore, the motor's hum had vanished, and the light went out.
Something inside him snapped. Fear surged from his stomach up to his throat like a tidal wave, and the bag hanging from his back dropped to the floor.
"No… no, no, no, no…" he murmured, his voice trembling.
He backed into the corner, pressed his back against the mirror, and shut his eyes, covering his ears tightly.
I don't want to die!
──── ∗ ⋅✧⋅ ∗ ────
The clock’s needle pointed at 2:15 in the afternoon. Sunlight streamed through the large windows on the third floor of the building, painting the beige tiles with a warm glow that contrasted with the chill exhaled by the central air system.
Kim Seohee was flipping through the pages of a report, adjusting her glasses on the bridge of her nose as she marked errors with a black pen. The sound of rustling paper and the dry click of the pen were the only things breaking the intense focus she had maintained for nearly an hour.
She wasn’t expecting any interruptions, let alone a call, so she frowned in surprise when her cellphone rang, buzzing loudly against the wooden desk. It was a thick, heavy model, one of those with an antenna and stiff buttons.
She glanced at it in annoyance. The number wasn't saved, but the area code showed it was a local line. She answered with a brisk, authoritative click.
"Yes?" she said, not bothering to hide her impatience.
"Mrs. Kim? Good afternoon, this is Mr. Haeseong. I’m Taehyung’s tutor..."
She rolled her eyes, already sensing trouble.
"What did he do this time?" she huffed. "Is he misbehaving again? Not focusing? Not working properly? That poorly raised child..."
"I’m sorry, Mrs. Kim... it’s not that he did anything. It’s just that... he hasn’t arrived yet. I’ve been on the sixth floor since two, and I haven’t seen him. I assumed he might still be with you, but... it’s been fifteen minutes."
Seohee frowned. She pushed the papers aside sharply and straightened in her seat.
"What do you mean he hasn’t arrived?" her tone immediately sharpened. "You’re telling me he’s not there? Oh my god! That child! Always the same!" her voice now exploded with frustration. "He probably ran off to play some nonsense. I told him to get ready an hour ago! How irresponsible! He acts like life is just a game! He’ll never get anywhere like this! Unbelievable!" she muttered. "Five years old and already testing my patience. I can’t believe he went off to play like some brat without saying a word. How shameful..."
The poor tutor mumbled something on the other end, but Seohee wasn’t listening anymore. She stood up abruptly, heart pounding with irritation. She took a few steps toward her office door just as it was suddenly thrown open from the outside.
An employee—young, out of breath, with a crooked tie and a pale face—stood in the doorway. He looked like he’d been running.
"Mrs. Kim!" he called, visibly shaken.
"What is it now?" Seohee snapped, furious at the interruption. "I’m busy! I need you to go find Taehyung right now! He didn’t show up for tutoring. He’s probably hiding in a break room or the bathrooms, playing explorer or some other nonsense."
The young man didn’t move. He swallowed hard.
"Mrs. Kim... it’s about the boy. It’s about little Taehyung. You need to come now. It’s urgent."
──── ∗ ⋅✧⋅ ∗ ────
Time wasn’t passing—or maybe it was—but Taehyung couldn’t feel it anymore. How long had it been? An hour? More?
He was curled up on the floor, arms wrapped around his legs, forehead resting on his knees. He had cried so much at first that his throat burned. His eyes stung, but he couldn’t cry anymore—there was nothing left—though his body still trembled with the same panic as when it had all started.
He felt sick, dizzy, and exhausted, not to mention utterly terrified. His breathing was erratic, his heart pounded so fast it hurt. He couldn’t feel his toes or his fingers. Everything was a blur, a buzzing kind of static. His body was shaking so violently it felt like he had a fever.
But his mind wouldn’t stop. The image of the decapitated woman played on a loop. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her. He was trapped inside the elevator just like she had been.
"No... I don’t want to die," he whispered, his voice a mere thread of sound, words stumbling out of his cracked lips—cracked from all the biting. "I don’t want to... I don’t want to..."
His muscles wouldn’t respond. He felt trapped inside himself. His arms burned from where he had scratched at them with his tiny hands in the middle of his panic attack.
He was terrified. He had stepped into that elevator repeating that he had to be brave, but there was no bravery left in him. Only fear. A fear so massive, so overwhelming, it took up all the space. He couldn’t think, couldn’t scream. He was just paralyzed and trembling.
And then he heard voices.
"Kid! Little boy! Are you in there?" The voice was deep, masculine, strong—but distant.
"We’re the firefighters! We’re going to get you out, okay? Just hang on!"
The firefighters had come! Taehyung liked firefighters. He knew firefighters saved people. They were the good guys.
But he couldn’t move.
His body was stiff, frozen. He wanted to get up, to say something, he really did—but he couldn’t.
The sounds began—banging, tools, machines, vibrations, and the metal groan of something forcing the doors.
Taehyung wanted to cover his ears. Every noise made him flinch. His young mind could only think one thing, if they forced it open wrong, if they pushed too hard, the elevator was going to fall with him inside.
He was so scared. He wanted to scream for them to stop, but no words came out of his little mouth.
"Almost there, champ! Don’t move! We’re going to open it!"
The elevator shook slightly, and the doors cracked open. Not fully—just about fifty centimeters. From below, a firefighter’s face appeared through the gap. He was wearing a helmet, red uniform visible behind him.
"There he is! I see him!" the man said, a hint of relief in his voice. "Hey, kid! I’m Sergeant Kang. Are you okay? Can you come closer?" Taehyung didn’t move. The firefighter looked at him with a mix of concern and heartbreak. He reached out a hand but couldn’t quite reach him. "I need you to come over here, okay? You can do it. Just crawl a little bit, we’ll help you..."
Nothing.
"Taehyung!" yelled a familiar voice—his mother's. "What do you think you're doing?! Stop making a scene and get out of there already! You're wasting everyone's time!"
Taehyung didn’t understand why they were yelling at him. He couldn’t move—it wasn’t his fault. He then heard his father’s voice, a little farther back.
"Seohee, don’t shout at him like that, he’s scared." But then his voice rose too, firmer now. "Taehyung, come out. Come on, son. That’s enough. Just crawl a little."
But he didn’t move. He didn’t understand why they couldn’t see that he couldn’t. His small body kept trembling, drowning in an anxiety he couldn’t name, with a fear so huge it filled every inch of space.
The younger firefighter—slender build but long, skilled arms—lowered his helmet with resolve. They had spent nearly ten minutes trying to coax the child out without success. No one had managed to make him budge—not his mother screaming, not the father pleading, not the firefighters calling to him with soft voices. The little one wasn’t speaking, wasn’t blinking, and was barely breathing. He was trapped in a state of crisis that no one there seemed to know how to handle.
"I’m going in. I’ll get him out," said the firefighter.
The sergeant tried to stop him.
"Hyunwoo, no. The gap’s too narrow—it could be dangerous."
"We’ve already wasted too much time. He’s in shock, he’s not coming out on his own," he shot back, and without waiting, moved toward the opening. Since they were on the fifth floor and the elevator was stuck between there and the sixth, he needed help from his colleagues to get inside.
The original plan had been for Taehyung to crawl out while they caught him easily. But now they had to give Hyunwoo a hand to place his foot on and push himself up.
"Kiddo... Come on, little one! I’m coming in! I’m going to help you, okay? Don’t be scared. I’m going to grab you and get you out of here. You’ll be back with your mom and dad."
Taehyung barely lifted his eyes. From the narrow gap—just wide enough to barely fit an adult—a figure dressed in red leaned in carefully, speaking to him in a kind voice. He was trying to get his head through first, then his arms. Taehyung didn’t react. He just stared at him with wide eyes, his body completely still.
The firefighter smiled hard through the sweat.
"Everything’s going to be okay, alright? I’m coming in for you... just hold on one more second..."
The firefighter had already gotten his head, shoulders, and part of his torso through when it happened—a noise. A guttural crack, a groan of metal complaining, vibrating through the walls, as if the elevator had awakened from its slumber.
The elevator dropped suddenly, like someone had released an invisible cable from above. It fell for just a second, but it was enough for Taehyung to feel the entire world escape through his throat.
"Hyunwoo, get out now!" the sergeant shouted.
The firefighter shoved his body back with all his strength. He managed to pull away just in time... or almost.
Taehyung saw the firefighter’s terrified face, saw his hand still inside, saw the brutal closing.
The doors slammed shut over the hand that didn’t make it. The firefighter screamed. There was a thud against the gap—a sickening sound, like a melon bursting—and then the worst human scream the boy had ever heard in his life.
Taehyung wasn’t just scared by the drop that made him think he was going to die—he was horrified by the screams. He looked down, and on the floor in front of him... was a red puddle. Very red. Spreading in an irregular shape.
And inside that puddle... fingers. Real fingers, cut and severed from a body.
The little boy started screaming in terror, a terrible, raw sound of fear, shock, and the crushing guilt that landed on him immediately. The firefighter’s screams were growing more distant, and he heard another man shouting for help.
His tiny body convulsed, and his legs kicked backward to push him away. He was already pressed to the wall, but he wanted to get even farther, even though it was physically impossible.
He was screaming at the top of his lungs. At some point, he wet himself from the fear—he didn’t know when. He just felt the warmth running down his legs, soaking his preschool uniform. The yellow puddle mixed with the red stains in front of him.
The elevator was now stopped at the third floor like nothing had happened. The doors opened, and everything seemed calm—but it wasn’t.
Because little Taehyung was falling apart.
He screamed and sobbed with his throat torn to shreds, his eyes bloodshot, and his trembling hands clutching his chest. He cried because the firefighter had lost his fingers because of him—because he took too long. His mother had yelled at him to come out, and he hadn’t listened.
The firefighter lost his fingers because he hadn’t been brave enough. He had been a cowardly little boy, and now he was in trouble for misbehaving. His mom told him not to make a scene, and he didn’t obey.
It was all his fault. He had disappointed everyone again.
──── ∗ ⋅✧⋅ ∗ ────
An entire week.
A whole week in which Taehyung didn’t say a single word.
Not one.
His lips remained shut, tight, cracked from dryness. His eyes, always big and bright, now looked as if covered by an invisible film of sorrow. They were dim.
He didn’t eat properly either. He barely touched a few spoonfuls of rice, stirred his cereal until the flakes turned mushy and slimy, drank a few sips of water. He didn’t sleep well—only for short bursts, waking up screaming.
Taehyung had stopped going to preschool. His mother kept him at home, using the excuse that he was acting "too sentimental" and that it needed to be corrected before the other kids noticed.
The little boy developed fear even of doors. He didn’t want to cross them normally. Any closed space made his shoulders tense. He wouldn’t even go into the bathroom alone because of it. He couldn’t be in a room with the door shut without his heart racing.
And he couldn’t sleep without the light on. Every night, a small cloud-shaped lamp glowed in the corner of his room—he begged for it through tears. If someone turned it off, he would scream.
That morning, during breakfast, Taehyung was sitting at the table. In front of him, a bowl of cereal with milk. The spoon turned slowly between his fingers, pushing the chocolate flakes. His little feet didn’t reach the floor, so he swung them gently back and forth.
His mother watched him from the other end. She had tried to keep her composure the first few days. But she was reaching her limit.
"Taehyung, for God’s sake," she said at last. "Stop acting like a martyr and eat. It’s not that serious. It’s over. You’re fine now."
The boy didn’t respond. Didn’t look at her.
"Are you ignoring me?"
Nothing.
"Taehyung!" she shouted, slamming her hand on the table. "Answer me! I’m talking to you!" He lowered his head even more, his eyes fixed on the edge of the spoon. Seohee stood up abruptly. She walked around the table and raised her hand. "I’ll give you a real reason to cry!"
But before her hand came down, a voice stopped her.
"Seohee, no!" It was his father, standing in the doorway to the dining room. "Don’t you dare lay a hand on him!"
"He’s asking for it! An entire week acting like the world ended!"
"He’s five years old!" Silence fell over the three of them. Taehyung didn’t look at either of them. He just stirred his cereal. His father approached slowly. "We need to take him to therapy. He’s not okay."
Seohee stared at him sharply.
"And this is how you think he'll become stronger? Taking him to cry in front of a stranger? To be told it's okay to be weak? What will people say when they find out our perfect son is seeing a shrink? It was hard enough to cover up that shameful incident!"
"It's not weakness—he's traumatized! He needs help!"
"What he needs is discipline," she spat. "He needs to understand he can't act like that every time something goes wrong. He has to get over it! Nothing even happened to him!"
"Nothing happened to him because he got lucky! And he saw things no child should ever see! Don’t you get that?!"
They started yelling at each other, but Taehyung didn’t register it. He just sat there, still stirring his cereal without taking a single bite. The only sound he made was the spoon scraping softly against the bowl.
And in his mind, the elevator scene played again.
Once.
Then again.
And again.
──── ∗ ⋅✧⋅ ∗ ────
Since then, Taehyung had a phobia of elevators.
The mere sound of that metallic ding made him tense up. Everything he’d gone through was etched into his memory like invisible scars. And they weren’t the kind of things he could explain easily—not when every attempt to talk about it was shut down by his mother with a sharp "It’s over" or "Stop being so dramatic."
Seohee never agreed to send him to a psychologist, even though her husband suggested it dozens of times. Every argument ended the same way: with her standing her ground, claiming that 'they weren’t raising a weak child', that 'trauma is just an excuse', and that 'life doesn’t give you time to feel sorry for yourself.'
"You’re spoiling him," she told Youngsoo one night while folding Taehyung’s clothes. "Look how you hug him all the time, how you treat him like he’s made of glass. He can’t grow up like this."
"Seohee, a man lost his fingers in front of him. He’s five years old. Do you seriously expect him to react like nothing happened?"
"I’m not raising a coward, and you’re babying him too much. It’s enough. He needs to be away from you so he can learn independence and how to overcome things like a proper Kim. Send him to Busan with your parents next year. Maybe being away from home will teach him some character."
That night, they argued for hours, but she always won. Youngsoo was a balanced man... but that didn’t help with a wife who confused rigidity with strength, and perfection with love.
So there was no therapy. no comfort, and certainly no arms to hold him when he woke up crying in the middle of the night, his back soaked in sweat. It was just him, his dinosaur blanket, and the teddy bear he kept hidden under his pillow so his mom wouldn’t see it.
Eventually, over the months, he did it. He started talking again, eating again, sleeping again. But nothing was the same. On the outside, it looked like things had gone back to normal—but inside, he was still fractured in places no one ever saw.
The years went by, and life moved forward. The boy grew up. He did go to Busan and only saw his parents on weekends. He learned how to shape his words, his demeanor, his very existence to fit into expectations. He learned to fake it—to smile when he was supposed to, to lower his head when he was scared, to act the way people expected him to.
Eventually, he started using elevators again. Not every day, and never with ease, but he managed to be inside them, holding his breath and counting in his head while his heart pounded so hard it made his jaw ache. He still had panic attacks—but he had learned how to hide them.
When he rode with his mother, she never even looked at him. Sometimes she had her eyes glued to her phone or her folders. When Taehyung’s body trembled or his hands clung to the metal rail, she never acknowledged it, never offered her hand, never asked if he was okay. She said nothing, acted as if he wasn’t having a panic attack right next to her.
At twenty-two, Taehyung had figured things out. He could ride certain distances without panicking, and he avoided elevators when he could, preferring stairs. But when he was with his friends—with Jimin, Hoseok, and Jin—it was easier. They didn’t know everything, but they would simply hold his hand so he wouldn’t feel like dying. Even at Hoseok’s place, his friends would come down to meet him so he wouldn’t have to ride up alone—because it was a long way.
And then came Jungkook.
After everything they went through to become a couple, the boy would always hold his hand when they got into an elevator together. He would hug him, talk about silly things to distract him, kiss him on the cheek and on the lips. Taehyung didn’t know how to explain it, but in those moments… everything disappeared. His chest felt like a refuge, his voice like a warm lamp, his presence like an open door that wasn’t scary anymore. And little by little, without realizing it, Taehyung stopped feeling that suffocating tension when he was with him in an elevator. Sometimes, he didn’t even need to hold his hand—just having him there was enough.
Of course, the blond wanted his kisses.
Jungkook didn’t know the whole story yet, but just one of his touches, one soft word, a single 'I’ve got you' was enough to stop Taehyung’s chest from hurting.
Eventually, he told him everything. And Jungkook didn’t say, 'It’s in the past', or 'You’re overreacting'. He didn’t look at him with pity—he looked at him with tenderness.
"Thank you for telling me," he said that night, holding him in silence with Taehyung curled against his chest. "You’re not alone, and you don’t have to carry this by yourself anymore. It wasn’t your fault, sweetheart."
And Taehyung, for the first time in years, cried about it. And he did it not because of what he used to do before—out of fear and guilt—he did it because finally someone understood him, because someone embraced him without wanting to change him, because Jungkook never tried to 'fix' him, he just wanted to take care of him.
When they decided to move in together—after his homophobic mother kicked him out—Jungkook had a plan. He didn’t say anything at first, but then, without making a big deal of it, he found a new apartment in the same building he already lived in—but on the second floor. Taehyung hadn’t asked for it, knowing how much his boyfriend loved his apartment, so he was stunned when Jungkook handed him the keys with a shy smile.
"But… but the city view you love so much..." the blond murmured, unable to believe it.
"Yeah, I liked the view from the seventh floor… but I like you calm and safe more," he said, shrugging. "So the second’s perfect. Besides, the best view I’ve got is right here." He touched his chest, where he felt Taehyung’s heartbeat.
Taehyung didn’t know what to say. He just looked at him, his eyes full of something he couldn’t describe—and kissed him. Because there was no better way to say thank you.
"I love you so much, Jungkook."
"I love you more, Taehyung, my little prince."
"Stop it! That nickname makes me shy, you rabid dog."
And on the worst days, when the past came back to hurt or the fear returned without warning, all it took was for him to squeeze his hand, hug him, or say:
"I’m here, Tae."
And everything was okay again—even inside elevators.
Notes:
Welcome to the first extra! This one is about why Taehyung has a trauma with elevators. It wasn’t something he was just born with—there’s a reason behind it.
We got to see a tiny five-year-old Taehyung, what his relationship with his parents was like, and a little something that happened with Jungkook that you didn’t know yet. Indeed, some time after they moved in together, Jungkook made sure they lived on a lower floor so Taehyung could go up peacefully even when he’s not there to hold his hand.
I hope you liked it SO MUCH, because many more extras are coming—of all kinds! Some will give more depth to the characters, others will show scenes that happened in the fic but were originally left out, others will focus on different characters (Yoonmin, hehe), and of course, there will be some spicy ones and some set in the future. Can you guess which one’s next?
By the way, I recommend updating the fic and maybe rereading it from the start. I’m not done yet, but I’m currently editing the chapters one by one, because what I had originally planned is nothing like what I ended up doing. I’m fixing the grammar, adding scenes, removing others—basically, I’m almost rewriting the whole thing. The chapters that have pretty separators (like the ones in this extra) are the ones that have already been edited and corrected.
I also want to start a section in the extras called "Today’s Fun Fact," where I’ll share little things about the fic that you may have missed, or ideas I originally had but later changed.
Today’s Fun Fact:
Taehyung’s phobia was actually accidental—I hadn’t planned it at first. In fact, I was originally going to give Jungkook a phobia, but I realized Taehyung needed to show some vulnerability to break down those walls. If it had been Jungkook, things would’ve gone very differently, because Tae would definitely have used that information at the time to embarrass him (unlike Jungkook, who never does because of everything he’s seen and how much he now sees Tae as more human—he genuinely worries for him and feels compassion). That change happened last minute, during the elevator scene itself. That’s why, in the older version, Taehyung seemed “normal” at first (but in the newly edited version, I added more details that show our blondie was struggling from the very beginning).If you have any questions about this topic, feel free to leave them—I’ll answer!
Don’t forget to comment a looot, leave kudos, and follow me on my socials if you haven’t yet! Here’s my Twitter, go follow: https://x.com/freakinavi
Kisses!
Chapter 53: EXTRA 02
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Jungkook’s uniform was perfectly ironed—there wasn’t a single wrinkle on his short-sleeved white shirt, neatly tucked into his gray pants, held up by a fine leather belt. He wore the top button undone, but no one said anything about it since the ethics teacher adored him, and she was the one in charge of checking student uniforms. His grades were more than decent, so he had been granted a few aesthetic liberties.
It had become a habit of his, a way to make it clear he felt comfortable in his skin and that he was growing.
He had always been ahead of the curve—a prodigy in elementary school. He’d skipped a grade without question. But things had gotten tougher in middle school. The subjects became heavier, the teachers colder, the competition fiercer. And although he still performed well and the teachers adored him, he was no longer number one. Jungkook was well aware of that, and even though his parents didn’t technically demand perfection, he imposed it on himself.
He was now in ninth grade, surrounded by fifteen- and sixteen-year-old classmates who at first referred to him as “the little one,” but eventually accepted him thanks to his charisma, his athletic talent, and most of all, his social skills. That made him popular without even trying, despite being one or even two years younger than most of the students in his grade.
At just fourteen, Jungkook was already over 1.70 meters tall and had the kind of body that stood out effortlessly among kids his age. He had started practicing taekwondo at the age of seven and had recently switched to boxing and some calisthenics. In his spare time, he played basketball and soccer with his friends. They were actually good at it—good enough to represent their school in local tournaments.
His mom always said he had a model’s body, but he hated when she said that in front of other moms. It felt awkward, like she was trying to sell him. Still, he liked being liked. He enjoyed being watched, knowing his classmates sought him out to join their groups, and that the girls in the hallway greeted him with flirty smiles.
But despite what many thought, none of that had made him arrogant. Jungkook knew attention was fragile—that one slip-up could turn him into a joke. He didn’t think he was untouchable; he’d just learned to navigate that world smartly.
Daewon International Academy, with its modernist aesthetic and pristine walls, was massive. It had sports fields, auditoriums, digital classrooms, cafeterias with international menus, and language labs equipped with interactive screens. As its name suggested, it was an international school with a strong focus on languages. English was mandatory, but every student had to choose an additional language. Jungkook had chosen Japanese because he’d always liked anime and video games. Plus, the teacher was young and fun.
His parents hadn’t minded his choice. They only cared that their son was happy. They were never the type of parents to scream over a bad grade. His mom, Wonkyung, was a lawyer at one of Busan’s most powerful firms; his dad, Hajoon, worked as an executive director at HD Hyundai Mipo, a South Korean shipyard specialized in building chemical tankers, container ships, LNG carriers, and car carriers.
They were highly respected in their fields, but they also knew how to laugh, how to compromise, how to ask their son how he felt after an exam. That combination made Jungkook feel loved and watched over. He carried high expectations—mostly self-imposed—but never a whip over his head.
It was break time, and as usual, Jungkook and his group of friends headed to their favorite spot: the corner behind the science block, next to the gardening sheds. At first glance, it looked like a useless, forgotten area, but they knew better.
No one really went there, so they could talk freely about whatever they wanted. They had learned how to climb up onto the small metal shed roof and from there, they could see the streets outside the school. It wasn’t a particularly great view—it was just a street with mid-sized trees, hanging wires, and modest buildings in the distance. But to them, it was a boundary between the real world and their world of rules and schedules.
From up there, they could hear what was happening outside. They saw ice cream vendors, little kids playing on the sidewalks, workers stepping out for a smoke. They had witnessed breakups, new couples forming, heated arguments, and once, they even saw two teachers kissing out there. The funny part was realizing those teachers were supposed to be married—to other people. It caused a massive scandal when they got caught.
It was their way of spying on freedom from behind the safety of a wall. They loved the feeling of being above it all, watching from that height as the calm streets unfolded around their school. The sidewalks, the shops, the slow-moving cars, the occasional pedestrians. Sometimes nothing happened at all, and they still enjoyed it. It was their breather between classes. Their little bubble.
Jungkook walked through the halls with his group of friends, each carrying their lunch bags or food containers, chatting with the kind of ease that only came from years of shared lunches, inside jokes, and after-school practices on the court.
Yugyeom had thrown his arm around Jungkook’s shoulders like he always did, hanging onto him like a monkey. Jungkook didn’t mind. In their group, physical contact was just part of the vibe—shoulder bumps, teasing, yanking backpacks, a well-placed kick under the table. That’s just how they were, and it worked for them.
"So?" asked Mingyu, already halfway through a ham and cheese sandwich. "What’s the deal with the new Thai girl? What’s her name again… Minnie?"
"Minnie, yeah," Bambam replied, smiling with obvious satisfaction. "She just joined my class this week. And it’s a blessing to finally speak Thai with someone who’s not my mom."
"And what are your intentions with her?" Eunwoo chimed in, raising an eyebrow.
"There you go again," Bambam groaned, rolling his eyes as he peeled a tangerine. "I haven’t even done anything. We’re just talking. She’s cool."
"You say that about all of them," Yugyeom muttered with a teasing tone.
"Can you not project your shit onto me, Yugyeom?" Bambam shot back, tossing a piece of tangerine peel that landed right inside Mingyu’s backpack.
They all burst out laughing and kept walking until they reached their usual spot. The group was made up of five: Yugyeom, Mingyu, Eunwoo, Jungkook, and Bambam. Jungkook was the youngest—just fourteen. Eunwoo and Mingyu were sixteen, Bambam and Yugyeom were fifteen. Bambam was the only international one in the group. They’d basically adopted him years ago when he moved to South Korea from Thailand. His nickname was simple because his real name was impossible to pronounce. Even the teachers had given up—during roll call, they just said 'Bambam', Kunpimook Bhuwakul was too much.
The benches they had salvaged from the old storage room were already in place. They had painted them a few months ago, though the paint had started to chip from the rain. Still, the space had its own kind of charm: a few planks, a small table, and the shed beside it that gave them a partial view of the street when they climbed up. It was theirs, and no one dared to intrude. They sat down, unwrapping napkins, opening their lunch containers, tearing open wrappers.
"Alright, alright," said Yugyeom, already chewing a mouthful of rice. "And what about you, Jungkook? What happened with Saerom?"
"Nothing," he said, shrugging and glancing up from his bowl of teriyaki chicken with rice and veggies. "It didn’t work out. We didn’t click."
"Again with that word?" Bambam scoffed. "You always say that."
"Because it’s true, hyung," he replied, crossing his arms and leaning his back against the wall. "She wasn’t a bad person or anything, but I don’t know… she was really easily influenced."
"What do you mean, easily influenced?" asked Mingyu, setting his sandwich aside. "Like, she was getting bullied or what?"
"No," Jungkook shook his head, furrowing his brow slightly while trying to find the words. "I mean, she didn’t have her own personality. Everything she said or did was just a reflection of what I said or did."
"That sounds intense," Eunwoo murmured.
"It was actually the opposite," Jungkook corrected. "She was empty, like there was no one on the other side. It felt like I was dating a doll. Everything was just ‘yes’, ‘whatever you want’, ‘I don’t mind’. It was frustrating. She never had her own opinion or argued about anything. She even stopped telling me stuff about herself because, according to her, I was more interesting. And that… that freaked me out." Jungkook lowered his gaze to his food. He poked the rice with his chopsticks half-heartedly. "She stole the things I liked," he added. "She took the stuff I was into and made it hers. It made me feel like they weren’t mine anymore."
"Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic, Koo?" Bambam said between laughs as he licked honey off his fingers from his fried chicken sandwich. Jungkook popped a piece of chicken into his mouth. "That whole ‘she stole my interests’ thing sounds kinda paranoid, man. And honestly, a little weird."
Jungkook shrugged while chewing. His brows were still furrowed, but it wasn’t anger—just deep thought.
"It’s not that," he said in a softer tone. "It’s nice when someone takes an interest in what you like, I get that. Or when, out of love or care or whatever, they get curious about your world... that’s fine. I like that."
"Then what’s the problem?" asked Eunwoo, genuinely curious, leaning forward. "I actually like it when a girl’s into the things I like," he added casually, grabbing a grape from his lunch container. "It means she cares, right?"
The younger one sighed and lowered his head a bit before looking back up at his friends, trying to explain himself better. He didn’t want to sound like an asshole, because he knew it could all sound exaggerated.
"Yeah, I mean… like I said, hyung, sharing stuff is nice, of course it is," he said with a shrug. "When someone gets you into new music or movies because of them, that’s cool. But every thing? Every. Damn. Thing. That’s not cute, that’s... weird. Kinda obsessive, even."
"You think she did it so you’d like her? To impress you?" Yugyeom asked.
"That’s what I think," Jungkook nodded. "But it was too much. There wasn’t a single thing I liked that she didn’t suddenly adopt as her own, and it was obvious she was faking it. I remember once I told her I liked Marvel. She said she loved it too. I tried to talk about it and she didn’t even know who Wanda was. She just said stuff like ‘I like them all.’ The next day, she showed up with a Superman pin on her backpack."
"Superman is DC!’" Yugyeom burst out laughing.
"She definitely thought it was all the same!" added Mingyu through his laughter. "Saw a superhero and went, ‘Ah, close enough.’"
The group laughed for a few seconds, all except Jungkook, who only smiled out of secondhand embarrassment and mild disappointment.
"And that part about her saying ‘yes’ to everything?" Bambam asked as he unwrapped the rest of his lunch. "You said it was frustrating."
"It was," Jungkook said, resting his elbows on the table. "I had to decide everything. Where to go, what to eat, what to do. She never said what she wanted. And at first, yeah, it was kind of convenient having someone go along with everything I suggested… but eventually, it got boring. We never argued, she never challenged me—not in a healthy way like ‘we get along,’ but like she had no opinion on anything. Everything was… flat and dull. No debates, no excitement, not even minor disagreements. And it’s not like I wanted to fight, but I did want her to have a mind of her own, some edge, something that showed she thought differently and for herself. Like… I don’t know, something more. I like it when someone pushes back a little, has ideas, thoughts—something to bring to the table. Saerom wasn’t dumb or bad, I’m not saying that, but she was way too... I don’t know how to put it. Dull? Passive?"
"Dependent?" Eunwoo offered.
"Submissive?" added Mingyu.
"Maybe," Jungkook nodded. "I just felt like she had no essence. She wasn’t a full person. Or at least, she never showed me that side. Everything was a copy of whatever I said or did, and that’s not what I want. I want someone who complements me, not someone who follows me around. I want something exciting and unpredictable, not someone who just says ‘yes’ to everything without question. That’s boring."
"You like the difficult ones," Mingyu said right away with a playful smile, nudging his shoulder.
"No, dumbass," Jungkook laughed and shoved him back. "I just want someone who makes me feel alive. I don’t want chaos, but I do want… emotions. Something that pulls me out of my comfort zone. Like, a rollercoaster—that’s it. Exactly that."
"So, you want a relationship with strong emotions?" Yugyeom tilted his head.
"Yeah," Jungkook replied with a small smile. "I don’t want it to feel monotone. I want to feel like being with that person is something different. Something that’s worth it."
"So you like girls who are the opposite of you?" Bambam asked.
"Not necessarily the opposite," Jungkook clarified. "Just… complementary. Like water and fire. Something that balances you out, but also shakes you up a bit."
"God, Jungkook, you’re fourteen," Eunwoo said, laughing. "We’re just getting started. Maybe the girl of your dreams isn’t even at this school. You might meet her later, so don’t stress. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you."
"Yeah, you’re right, hyung," Jungkook shrugged. "I’m not gonna stress about it. She’ll show up eventually, I guess."
The boys kept eating, and their conversation drifted into dumb stories, TV shows, video games, and inside jokes. But then, suddenly, everyone fell silent at once, because at that exact moment, they heard voices on the other side of the wall.
"Shhh," Yugyeom whispered, holding up a hand to quiet them all.
The group fell silent instantly. They always paused when they heard people outside. It was their thing—they were nosy as hell. You never knew what little gem of gossip you might catch from the other side. Jungkook tilted his head, tuning in.
"I can’t believe we actually ditched school," said a male voice on the other side of the wall. It sounded nervous, like a mix of guilt and panic that was instantly recognizable.
"Don’t be so dramatic, Jimin," replied another voice—deeper, slower, with a different accent. "You know I’m doing this for you."
"Taehyung," the first boy said, and just like that, they had both names now. "If your mom finds out, she’s gonna kill you."
"I don't care about that," the other one replied without hesitation. "She’s not in Busan anyway, I don’t even know when I’ll see her again... and no matter what I do, she’ll always end up disappointed. So why not make it count?" There was a brief pause. "Alright, don’t look at me like that. No one’s gonna catch us, everything’s under control, Jimin. Today, you’re seeing Yuna for her birthday. End of story."
Bambam raised an eyebrow. The rest of the group turned to look at him when he whispered, "Isn’t Yuna the one from our class? The one whose birthday is today?"
Eunwoo nodded immediately. Yugyeom, Mingyu, and Jungkook did the same, all recognizing the girl right away. She was pretty, sweet, and came from a wealthy family. She had a reputation for being quiet, but well-liked.
"So that’s the mysterious boyfriend from another school," Mingyu murmured, half-excited. "The one nobody’s ever seen. She always says he’s perfect and doesn’t study here."
"I thought she made him up," Yugyeom whispered, visibly more intrigued now. "The way she described him... he sounded like a character from a drama. I didn’t think someone like that actually existed."
The voices on the other side continued, now accompanied by footsteps—quicker, heavier—and a bit of panting.
"Taehyung, wait, I need a break," said the tired voice. "My feet are killing me. This street has more incline than my life. We’ve been climbing for like three hours."
Jungkook stifled a laugh—the comment had genuinely caught him off guard.
"You’ll waste your whole break and then you’ll regret not using your ten minutes with Yuna," Taehyung replied, his voice both teasing and winded.
"You’re right, fuck," Jimin sighed.
Silence followed. Then a noise—someone getting up awkwardly, a groan. A few seconds later, a third voice cut through the moment, more distant but sharp:
"Hey! You two!" That shout didn’t sound friendly. It came out harsh and pissed. Everyone in the group instantly tensed.
"What the hell was that?" Bambam whispered, eyes wide.
On the other side, a voice answered, full of exasperation:
"You’ve got to be fucking kidding me… that bastard really followed us." It was the deep voice—Taehyung’s—but now it had lost all its calm and playfulness. It was sharp. "Gwanhee, what the fuck are you doing here, you pathetic piece of shit?"
"I saw you sneaking out over the wall. Thought I’d be useful and follow you... in case you needed a real man or something," the newcomer said sarcastically. "’Cause from what I’m seeing, there’s no man here. Just a little slut… and his lapdog."
The whole group back at school froze. Jungkook’s eyes widened in surprise and intrigue. Every one of them wore matching expressions of shock and intense interest.
"Now this is getting good," Yugyeom whispered, setting his lunch container aside. He then pointed toward the shed—the low structure they always used as a lookout when they wanted to spy. "Quick, let’s get up there," he whispered as he stood up.
Everyone in Jungkook’s group dropped their utensils, their lunchboxes, even their water bottles, and rose almost simultaneously. The five of them knew this wasn’t just some ordinary schoolyard spat—this had a different kind of energy, and since they were already there, no way were they going to miss what was clearly about to blow up.
Mingyu was the first to climb up. He didn’t even have to ask—Jungkook and Eunwoo stood on either side of him, cupped their hands as a base, and gave him a solid boost. Mingyu pulled himself up easily, crawling forward just enough to stay quiet. Then they helped Yugyeom and Bambam up next, both launching with ease thanks to years of perfecting the move. From above, Mingyu and Yugyeom reached down to grab Eunwoo, who jumped and climbed up smoothly. Jungkook went last.
Once they were all up, the five of them crawled until they lay side-by-side in a row across the sloped roof in the order of Eunwoo, Yugyeom, Jungkook, Bambam, and Mingyu. They’d done this way too many times before. They knew exactly how far to crawl and how to lean on their elbows without being spotted.
There were the streets on the other side of the wall, and on it stood three boys, all around their age, wearing the Haneul Elite Institute uniform. Jungkook recognized it immediately: navy-blue blazers with gold trim, thick gray trousers, and that ridiculous river insignia embroidered on the left chest—because the school had a view of the Nakdong River. The place had a reputation for being elitist, expensive, strict… and honestly, a little pretentious. They weren’t direct rivals, but they’d crossed paths at interschool competitions.
All three boys had black hair. The two standing together had it longer, kind of wild, unstyled and free. The third one—the one clearly stirring shit up—had a buzzcut that did nothing to improve his already unpleasant face. Gwanhee, Jungkook remembered hearing him be called like that.
"The short one just hid behind the other guy," Bambam whispered, nudging Jungkook’s shoulder with his elbow to make sure he didn’t miss it.
He nodded silently. Based on the voices, he already knew who was who. The boy with the deep voice, the one defending the smaller one, had to be Taehyung. He couldn’t see his face clearly since he was turned away, shielding the shorter boy—who had to be Jimin—but his body language said it all. He was tense, fists half-clenched at his sides, posture firm. Every part of him looked ready to strike. Or defend. Or both.
"They’re probably gonna fight," Yugyeom whispered from the far left, barely moving his lips.
Jungkook didn’t reply, but his pulse sped up. He didn’t know why—he’d seen fights before, even some pretty brutal ones. But something about this one made him feel… on edge. It was strange.
"Leave us the fuck alone," Taehyung growled at the buzzcut boy.
"Did you already tell Jimin’s girlfriend she’s being played?" Gwanhee sneered, raising his chin with a twisted smile. "That she’s dating a faggot?"
Everyone on the rooftop scowled instantly. That wasn’t just some petty teenage insult. That was cruelty. Straight-up hate.
"I’m not cheating on Yuna," Jimin said, voice trembling, half-hidden behind his friend’s body.
"Did she already find out you’re a dick-loving whore?" Gwanhee pressed, stepping forward. "Don’t kid yourself. You’re either normal or you’re a fucking faggot. Can’t be both. Cut the gay shit."
Jungkook felt something churn in his stomach—something hot and awful. It felt like rage. Like disgust. He stared down from above, unable to do anything, but the urge to jump and shut Gwanhee up burned in his fingers.
"For the millionth time…" Jimin said, "I’m bisexual. And there’s nothing abnormal about it."
"You don’t need to explain shit to this idiot, Jimin," Taehyung cut in, visibly angrier now. "The only thing going on here is that Gwanhee’s jealous that you’re charismatic, attractive, and desirable to everyone," he said simply. "And he… he’s a piece of shit. No one in their right mind would give a second look to a beast with that face and that Neanderthal personality."
"Boff," Mingyu whispered, clearly impressed from the rooftop.
"He said it to his face," added Bambam, half laughing, half tense.
Gwanhee tensed up—it was obvious even from above—as he took two steps forward, clearly ready to strike. But Taehyung was prepared, and Gwanhee hadn’t counted on that. The boy lifted one leg with force and landed a clean kick to the chest. It wasn’t enough to knock him down, but it made him stumble two steps back.
"Did you see that?!" Bambam whispered excitedly, grabbing Mingyu’s shoulders and shaking him.
"What hurt more? The kick or your ego?" Taehyung spat, standing his ground.
The buzzcut guy recovered, stepping forward again with a twisted grin and wild eyes.
"Don’t fuck with me, Kim. Don’t act like some hero for defending your little slut. What, are you fucking him or something?"
"One, I’m straight. Two, I don’t need to fuck him to defend him—I just need common sense and a brain. But now that you mention it, at least Jimin isn’t repressed, looking for excuses to bully others just because he doesn’t know what to do with his own frustration," Taehyung replied, still unmoving, his voice calm in a way that only made his eyes burn hotter.
"Frustration?" Gwanhee scoffed, almost like a laugh, though there was nothing funny about it. "What frustrates me is having to watch dumbasses like you parade around in the street thinking you’re something special. Pathetic fags acting like they’re superior because they claim to be ‘free.’ You think that makes you more of a man?"
"No," Taehyung said, tilting his head slightly. "It makes them more human. But you wouldn’t understand that, would you? And let me tell you something else. If it bothers you that a guy is with another guy, that’s called jealousy. Because there’s no reason it should affect you otherwise."
"Shut the fuck up!"
"Why? Does it make you uncomfortable when someone tells it like it is? Because yeah, Gwanhee, you’re not fooling me. This whole act isn’t just to ‘bother us.’ Some people pick fights to feel powerful, but you do it to get attention."
Gwanhee went silent for a fraction of a second. His eyes flicked over to Jimin’s face, and there was something strange in that look—not just hate or disgust, maybe something else Jungkook couldn’t quite read from the roof.
"I don’t need anyone’s attention. Least of all a couple of worthless pieces of shit like you."
"Funny, since you went out of your way to ditch class just to find us. What, don’t have any friends? Or do you just come running every time you see us, like a dog hearing food hit the bowl?"
Jungkook choked on a laugh. He wasn’t the only one—next to him, Yugyeom had to cover his mouth to keep from making a sound.
"That guy... he really knows how to defend himself," Bambam whispered.
He didn’t know what was happening to him, but he was hanging on every word, every movement from the boy. He figured it was probably because he’d always wished he could defend himself like that—with just words. He was more of the "I’m gonna hit you" type… and he really would.
"Why don’t you just leave, Gwanhee?" Taehyung continued, his voice low and threatening. "No one called you. No one wants you here, not at school and not anywhere else. This isn’t courage, it’s just you being annoying and insecure."
"You don’t know shit about me," Gwanhee growled, but his voice was shaking.
"I know enough. Like how every time you look at Jimin, you wanna claw your eyes out, but at the same time, you can’t stop staring. You know how I know? Because you can’t stand that he’s not afraid to be himself, and you can’t hurt him the way you wish you could. It burns you that someone else is happy. It eats at you that others can be free and you can’t. What is it? Do they hit you at home so you take it out on everyone else? Go to therapy, seriously. You need it."
"I’m gonna fucking kill you!" Gwanhee’s threat didn’t sound nearly as strong as he probably wanted. But his body lunged forward, furious, and in an instant he was inches from Taehyung’s face. The buzzcut bully was taller than him, and that worried Jungkook a bit.
"Should we do something?" Jungkook asked suddenly. His stomach was twisting—he really didn’t like where this was going. Gwanhee didn’t seem like he was thinking straight.
"I don’t think we should get involved," Eunwoo replied, eyes glued to the scene. "We could get into trouble."
"Exactly," Mingyu agreed, shrugging. "Besides, it’s not that bad. He’s just bullying them for being gay, that’s all. Happens all the time." The other four turned to him with pure murder in their eyes. Bambam, who was closest, flicked him in the forehead with his index finger. "Ow! What the hell?" Mingyu said, rubbing the spot.
"Are you an idiot or what? What does that have to do with anything? Can you imagine being told every day that you’re worth less just because of who you’re into?" Bambam snapped at him.
"I didn’t say it was okay, I just..." Mingyu blinked. "I just meant it happens."
"And that doesn’t make it any less fucked up," Yugyeom said with frustration. "Being gay isn’t wrong," he added almost sadly, his eyes still locked on Taehyung, who was now shoving Gwanhee back as they argued.
"He said he’s bisexual, not gay," Jungkook added. "But it doesn’t matter. Nobody should be getting shit for that."
"You’re right," Mingyu muttered, rubbing his forehead and frowning. "It’s just... it’s weird for me, okay? But yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry, I just... I don’t know. Sometimes it’s hard to get it."
"Then start trying," Jungkook said seriously. "What matters is, we should do something."
Gwanhee was starting to lose control. You could see it in the way his movements became jerky, in the tension in his shoulders, in his clenched fists. And the thinner frame of Taehyung was already beginning to show signs of fatigue. After a hard shove, he staggered back, but stayed standing. Then another—this one more furious. And then, with no time to react, the blows came. Raised arms, angry shouts that turned into snarls.
"Stop! Please, enough! Taehyung, let’s go!" Jimin cried out. The poor boy felt useless, unable to break them apart. But the truth was, he was completely traumatized—just Gwanhee’s presence, his voice, was enough to paralyze him. He’d been through too many awful things with him.
"No!" Taehyung shouted, still locked on Gwanhee, trying to restrain him. "I’m not letting this asshole get away with it!"
"He’s going to kill you!"
"Let him try—if he’s such a real man. Or is he too much of a bitch to even do that?"
The buzzcut boy roared, swinging his arm with brutal force. His fist landed on Taehyung’s cheek, and the smaller boy crashed to the ground with a sickening thud that made Jungkook flinch hard. Taehyung tried to get up, but Gwanhee bent over and punched him again—in the stomach. Then again. In the ribs, in the side. Jimin rushed toward them in a total panic.
"Gwanhee, stop! Please!"
"Don’t even think about coming closer," Gwanhee snapped without looking at him, raising a hand in his direction. "Or your little pet's gonna get it worse."
"Jimin, no," Taehyung said hoarsely. "Don’t come any closer. I’m fine. I can handle this."
He wasn’t, and he couldn’t. Jungkook couldn’t see his face clearly, but there was already blood at the corner of his lip, and his fingers were clawing at the ground, trying to push himself up. Each attempt was cut short by another kick or a wild blow. Still, he didn’t stop trying. He was blocking as best as he could, but he wasn’t as strong. The other guy was bulkier, had more mass, and was clearly blinded by something deeper than anger.
The punches were clumsy but powerful. Taehyung turned his face and managed to scratch Gwanhee’s neck, pushed at him with his arms, but it was hard to shake him off. Jimin was spiraling into full panic, torn between jumping in to help or staying back—because interfering could only make things worse for his best friend, and he’d been warned. Jimin could take the beatings. He could be the one bullied. But he couldn’t bear to watch Taehyung suffer the same just for being his friend, especially when he had nothing to do with any of this. He was straight, and yet they were calling him slurs just because he stood by Jimin.
Jimin had tried to talk to him, told him maybe they should stop being friends to keep him safe. But Taehyung refused. He wouldn’t leave him alone. The boy would fight with everything he had to protect the one person in this world who truly cared about him, who loved him. Jimin was his true family. He didn’t care if he lost, if he got beaten too, or if people started rumors about them dating. If it were up to Taehyung, he'd take every hit instead of Jimin without hesitation.
Jungkook couldn’t look away. Gwanhee was still on top of the boy from Haneul, hitting him relentlessly, with no remorse, no respect for the body underneath him. God, even while getting beaten, that boy was still throwing back words and resistance the best he could.
He was either brave or insane. Maybe both. Jungkook swallowed hard. He couldn’t just keep watching. His throat burned with rage and helplessness. His friends weren’t bad people—none of them really were—but they were so used to watching, to whispering, to staying out of trouble. He didn’t blame them... not entirely. They were just teenagers. But he couldn’t sit there anymore after seeing Gwanhee raise his fist again like he was pounding meat instead of a living person.
He moved carefully, crouching low on the rooftop, making sure not to make noise. The sheet metal groaned slightly under his sneakers, but it was barely audible. He tapped Yugyeom’s leg gently to get his attention.
"Yug-hyung, come here," he whispered, and Yugyeom crawled over.
"What are you gonna do?" he murmured, worried.
"Something," Jungkook said through clenched teeth. "I can’t let him keep hitting him."
"Jungkook…" Eunwoo turned his head toward him. "Don’t do something that’ll screw us all."
That wasn’t the plan, he’d stay within limits. Jungkook slid to the edge and climbed down the side of the shed. He placed his hands on the rim of the metal sheet, pushed off, and landed on the dry ground with bent knees, barely making a sound. He looked toward the shed’s side window—old, covered in grime. He pushed it open slowly. The hinge creaked a little, but the wind helped cover it, and he slipped inside without effort.
The inside of the shed was layered in thick dust and the scent of damp wood. There were old tools, buckets, straw brooms—random crap the school staff had stored and forgotten about. His eyes caught something in the corner: a lidless, empty paint bucket. He grabbed it without thinking.
"This’ll do," he muttered, inspecting it for damage.
He slipped back out through the same window and made his way toward the corner where they usually rinsed the tarps and buckets after games. He knew the place well—it was a semi-open space between trees, where the cleaning lady sometimes sat to drink water. But right now, it was empty. Thank God. He didn’t have to come up with some lie to get her to leave.
There it was—the black water tank, huge, with the lid half off. Inside, filthy water. He opened it and the stench hit him like a brick. He nearly gagged.
Holding his breath, he dunked the bucket in and filled it with that brown, murky liquid—so thick and full of things he didn’t even want to identify.
"Fuck," he whispered, wrinkling his nose. "This smells like someone took a shit a sewer."
He ran back with the bucket, balancing it carefully so as not to spill a single drop—he didn’t want to stink like shit for the rest of the day. He dodged branches and dry grass, avoiding the staff yard, and looped around the back fence to get to the base of the shed again.
Yugyeom peeked over the edge.
"What the hell is that?" he whispered, face twisting in disgust at the thick, reeking mess. "Yah! What the fuck is that shit?"
"Help me up," Jungkook ordered quietly, handing the bucket up first. Yugyeom grabbed it with an expression of pure horror.
"What the fuck is even in this thing? It smells like Satan’s asshole."
"Don’t ask. Just lift it, hyung."
Carefully, he set the bucket aside, then reached down to grab Jungkook’s arm as the younger boy jumped to climb up. It was a bit of a struggle since he had to do it on his own, but he managed. The stench was so strong it snapped the others out of their morbid fascination with the fight below, making them turn away from the street to gape at him.
"What are you planning to do with that?" Bambam asked, eyes wide as he stepped closer. But Jungkook didn’t answer.
He crouched toward the middle of the roof, kneeled at the edge with the bucket beside him, and muttered, "Move away from the edge. And get ready to run."
"Huh?"
"Just do it, guys."
They all stepped back a few inches, still watching him closely. Jungkook picked up a small rock that had been lying there God knows how long. He held it between his thumb and index finger, then looked down.
Taehyung was still on the ground, flat on his back with Gwanhee straddling him, fists swinging like a damn psychopath. He couldn’t see his face clearly. Just the mess of black hair and the smaller body beneath it, still fighting to hold on. But if he did this right…
He calculated the distance, the angle, the wind, even the direction of the shadows cast by the tree branches. Physics class had to be good for something, so he threw the rock.
It bounced off the pavement with a sharp clack, landing right next to Taehyung’s head. Gwanhee, blinded by rage, didn’t even flinch—but Taehyung did.
His eyes lifted, searching for the source of the impact. And then he saw him for the first time.
The bruised face of a boy who’d just been nearly crushed against the pavement, nose bleeding. But even with all that, there was something there… something that made his stomach drop for a second. Despite the beating, he was handsome—not in that generic way the popular boys at school were, but with a kind of intensity that couldn’t be erased. His gaze was stubborn, furious, fierce… alive.
That second of connection completely threw Jungkook off. It felt like an eternity, and he nearly forgot what he was doing—until Gwanhee’s furious voice cut through the air and brought him back to reality.
He swallowed hard, still staring at him, and then pointed to the bucket beside him. Taehyung looked down at the bucket and then back up, locking eyes with him again.
Jungkook didn’t know if he was hallucinating or if that boy really had understood him exactly. Because he watched him tense his arms, pulling strength from somewhere deep in his back. He took a sharp breath, pressed his lips together, and using the last bit of energy left in his battered body, he slammed both feet into Gwanhee’s chest.
With all the strength he could muster, Taehyung kicked hard, and the other boy fell back with a dry grunt, stumbling a few steps before regaining his balance.
It was the moment. Without thinking twice, Jungkook grabbed the bucket with both hands. The weight of the putrid water hit his arms, the smell was suffocating. He looked at Gwanhee—now a few meters away from Taehyung, standing right in the middle of the perfect target.
That’s when he poured it.
"With love, asshole!" he shouted from the top of his lungs.
The liquid fell like a waterfall, splashing in all directions and completely drenching the attacker in that foul, thick sewage water that dripped like oily tar. Gwanhee screamed, his hands flailing in desperation, trying to wipe the gunk off his face, his hair, and his now-soaked clothes.
Still on the ground, Taehyung shielded himself with his arms, and Jimin took a step back, stunned.
"AAAAAHHH! WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!" Gwanhee shrieked, swinging wildly in the air, soaked from head to toe with the filthiest, most disgusting water that could exist in the entire fucking world.
The boy didn’t waste time. He pushed off the ground with a grunt, stood up, and searched for his friend with his eyes.
"Jimin!" he called and grabbed his arm tightly.
The shorter boy blinked and followed him instinctively. Taehyung turned his head just briefly toward the rooftop—right where Jungkook was still kneeling—and their eyes met a third time. Taehyung gave him a single nod—short, firm, and full of respect. A silent thank-you that hit Jungkook square in the chest. And then he ran, dragging Jimin behind him.
Jungkook barely managed to move away from the edge before Gwanhee lifted his head and began to scream.
"WHO WAS THE SON OF A BITCH?! I’M GONNA FIND HIM! I’M GONNA KILL HIM! I’M GONNA—!"
The echo of his fists slamming against the concrete wall was deafening. He pounded with rage, his sneakers squishing in the dirty water as he kicked and cursed like a rabid bull. He even tried to climb the wall, scrambling with all his strength.
"Run!" Jungkook shouted to his friends, already sliding down the edge of the shed’s roof.
Bambam, Yugyeom, Mingyu, and Eunwoo wasted no time following him. One by one, they jumped down with ease, grabbing their stuff from the ground in a rush, now laughing uncontrollably.
Jungkook’s heart was pounding so fast he swore he could feel it in his fingertips. He didn’t know if it was the adrenaline, the satisfaction, or that strange feeling left lingering in his chest after seeing that boy—but it was hard to think straight.
Once they were far from the scene, down one of the side paths leading to the soccer fields, the five of them stopped to catch their breath.
Yugyeom was the first to react. He came up behind Jungkook and threw an arm over his shoulders, giving him a warm squeeze.
"Jungkook… you’re amazing. That was epic!"
"Did you see that?! It landed right on him!" Mingyu said, bursting into laughter.
"And that scream! Ugh, I almost puked from the smell!" Bambam waved his hands dramatically.
Jungkook smiled, still panting. His hair was stuck to his forehead, his hands damp from the bucket, but he didn’t say a word.
Suddenly, one by one, they surrounded him and started clapping. They grabbed his hands, shook him excitedly, celebrating like he’d just scored the winning goal in the school finals. Except for Eunwoo, who stood with his arms crossed, one eyebrow raised.
"You probably shouldn’t be touching his hands," he said dryly. "Don’t you remember he carried that bucket of literal shit water?"
An awkward silence fell over them.
Everyone looked at their hands, just remembering that they were covered in radioactivity.
"Oh, fuck," Bambam muttered.
"My hand! Oh no, I touched my face!" Mingyu cried. "I’m gonna have to cut it off!"
"I grabbed it with both hands!" Yugyeom added in horror.
"Gross!" Bambam yelled, shoving him with his shoulder.
Jungkook burst out laughing, completely losing it.
"You guys were the ones who grabbed me!"
"Go wash your hands, you filthy animal!"
And they all ran to the nearest bathroom, shouting, laughing, smacking each other, trying to wipe their hands on each other’s shirts.
──── ∗ ⋅✧⋅ ∗ ────
Months passed since that day.
The air had grown colder over time. School uniforms switched from short sleeves to long, and Jungkook hadn’t seen those boys again since. Life moved on with exams, homework, practice, and the usual teenage drama. The thrill of that afternoon faded gradually, like any memory does when the present starts yelling louder.
There were days when he thought about him. Wondered what had happened to them. If they’d made it out okay after the beating, if they got caught, if someone had figured out they snuck away, if that Jimin guy got to see his girlfriend. He thought about asking Yuna, but his friends had warned him that the best thing was to stay anonymous—because a lot of bad things could happen if anyone found out they’d been up on a shed roof and dumped shit water on a boy from another school. Jungkook listened. They were right. His curiosity wasn’t stronger than his desire not to get in trouble.
So school, responsibilities, friends, and distractions filled his mind. And eventually, that memory began to blur. Before he knew it, he was sixteen.
One of those massive school events rolled around—the interschool tournaments that gathered hundreds of students from all over Busan. Crowds, flags, cheer squads rehearsing, boys in uniform walking around like hot shit, and teachers who looked one step away from a breakdown.
Jungkook was in his final year of high school. He felt taller, stronger, his voice had settled, and there was a more grounded confidence in his chest. He was with his usual group, cheering on their soccer team, joking around and sucking on popsicles under the sun.
Walking through the stands to grab a bottle of water, he noticed a few faces—but it wasn’t immediate. In fact, at first, he ignored them. What caught his attention was Yuna, his classmate. She was laughing and touching the arm of a boy with an angelic face and a warm smile. Next to him stood a taller boy, hands tucked in his pockets, silently observing the scene.
It took Jungkook a moment, but he assumed that was the same boy who’d been with the other one that day on the street—the one who’d been getting beaten.
His hair was shorter than Jungkook remembered, and his Haneul Elite uniform was worn messily, giving him a rebellious edge. Jungkook froze in place for a second, staring, trying to activate his memory—but he wasn’t entirely sure. Memory was a tricky thing, especially when what you were trying to remember was a face you’d barely seen beneath the shade of branches and in the middle of a scuffle two years ago.
He watched him for a few seconds, but there was nothing—no recognition in his eyes, no flicker of 'it’s you'. He was just another boy in the crowd.
So Jungkook didn’t approach. He just watched them walk past, blending into the sea of students, laughing, talking, mixing with other boys from their school until they vanished among the expensive uniforms and spotless white sneakers. He saw them a couple more times during that tournament—watched them for a second or two each time—until he eventually lost interest.
Jungkook graduated high school, said his goodbyes to his friends, and they all promised to keep in touch, though they all knew deep down that probably wouldn’t happen. Yugyeom went to study abroad. Mingyu enrolled in a technical university there in Busan. Bambam returned to Thailand. Eunwoo chose medicine in another city. And Jungkook moved to Seoul to attend Yeoreum University. As usual, life went on without asking for permission.
As the months passed—and then the years—the image of that boy faded into a silhouette. Jungkook no longer remembered his face, his voice, and certainly not his name. Even the event itself had stopped being something he thought about. Over time, his brain had sent that episode to the recycle bin. And one day, just like that, it was deleted.
Then came university, and with it, another world. It was during that time that Jungkook grew closer to Hoseok, Namjoon, and Yoongi, with whom he shared his major and musical interests.
Hoseok talked a lot about his other friend group. He mentioned Jimin often, said he was one of the best dancers he knew. Sometimes he’d talk about Jin and Taehyung. He’d say things like how Taehyung had insane schedules, that he was a genius, always drowning in deadlines and barely sleeping. Jungkook would just nod. That name meant nothing to him. To him, Taehyung was just one of Hoseok’s friends—just another name. He didn’t even have a clear image of his face. He’d seen him a few times from afar, talking with Hoseok, walking through the arts building, or sitting on the front steps with the rest of his friends.
And on the other side, Taehyung had no clue either.
He remembered the incident very differently. For him, that fight with Gwanhee was just one of many. He only recalled that time someone had helped from above, throwing down a bucket of god-awful water that allowed him and Jimin to escape that day.
At the time, he’d felt grateful—it was a noble gesture from a stranger—but in the end, it didn’t help much. The very next day, they were ambushed anyway. Gwanhee and four other guys cornered them after school, dragged them to a camera-free alley, and beat the crap out of them. Taehyung ended up with a split lip and a dislocated finger. Jimin, as always, took the worst of it—his face swollen, lip busted, nose bleeding, arms and legs covered in bruises. The teachers, as usual, pretended not to know a thing.
Taehyung never learned the name of the boy who helped them, never saw his face clearly, and definitely never saw him again. When he entered university, he buried that memory along with so many others. So when he crossed paths with Jungkook or heard Hoseok talking about him, it meant nothing. Taehyung would glance at him for a few seconds, but he was just another person—someone outside his world.
And yet, they breathed the same air. Walked the same halls. Sometimes stood only meters apart at the same party or on the same campus. But their memories were dead, and the threads that once connected them were severed.
Or so they thought—because the past has a curious habit of not staying where you leave it. It just waits patiently, and eventually, it finds its way back. Jungkook officially met Taehyung at Hoseok’s birthday party in Gyeoul, and everything that happened afterward was history. They did know they’d both grown up in Busan and attended schools that weren’t too far apart, but they never imagined that they were those boys from their blurry memories.
Not until a random night at Yoongi’s place.
The lights were dim, the beer had already made a few rounds, and laughter filled every corner of the room. Everyone was lounging however they could—on the couches, on the floor cushions, with random playlists playing in the background and the kind of mess that only formed when the seven of them had free time and zero motivation to do anything remotely productive.
Jungkook was leaning against the arm of the couch, with Taehyung nestled between his legs, resting back against him. One of Jungkook’s hands was tucked under his sweatshirt, just to touch the skin of his waist. The others were talking nonsense.
"Alright, new game," Hoseok announced from the other couch. "Tell me your craziest, most embarrassing, or most... I don’t know, memorable school story."
"Does that include boner accidents in class?" Jin asked wickedly, earning a pillow to the chest courtesy of Namjoon.
Laughter spread around the room as they took turns.
Yoongi shared how he once fell asleep during a final exam and woke up to a blank sheet of paper—but played it off as a rebellious protest against the educational system. Jin choked laughing as he recalled the time someone found him crying on the rooftop because his middle school crush rejected him for being a lesbian. Namjoon admitted he once fell off the bleachers during a spelling bee in front of four schools. Hoseok confessed he’d once ditched school to see an idol at the airport and ended up running from the police.
"What about you, Taehyung?" Jin asked, pointing at him with the bottle. "Your turn."
"Mhm… well, Jimin might remember this, I imagine…" Taehyung said, sitting up a bit straighter. "Once, I skipped school with him so he could go see his girlfriend at the time. We were around fifteen, I think. And since I’m an amazing friend, I went with him. We walked this endless uphill path in full uniform, and when we were close to the girl’s school, this asshole showed up… Gwanhee."
"Ugh, that name gives me hives," Jimin groaned, curling up a little.
"That bastard had followed us from school. He found us and started insulting Jimin, saying horrible things. And of course, we started arguing, then pushing, and then it turned into a full-on fight," Taehyung said, pausing dramatically as he looked up at the ceiling. "I really thought I was going to lose. He was stronger and bigger than me, I was tired, and he had me pinned to the ground—literally. And then, from the top of a high wall near the school, some boy started signaling at me."
"A boy?" Hoseok repeated, curious.
"Yeah, but I didn’t really see him. I just know he was up there, probably on some rooftop or something, and... I don’t know, it was weird. We locked eyes for a second, and we just understood each other, like for real. He told me with his eyes, 'Push!' and I... I pushed. And right then, Gwanhee got drenched with a bucket of disgusting water—like actual trash water. It smelled like a sewer."
"He reeked for an entire week! You have no idea how awful it was to sit behind him in class the next day. I thought I was going to puke," Jimin laughed. "I still remember the smell. Horrendous."
Jungkook had gone completely still. His mind was spinning, digging up buried memories at full speed. The image hit him with shocking clarity: him, kneeling on a rough rooftop, holding a paint bucket filled with rotten water, dumping it over a bully. He remembered a boy with a bloody nose looking back up at him from the ground. His heart skipped a beat.
"Was Jimin’s girlfriend’s name... Yuna?" he asked, his voice a little shaky.
"Uh… yeah. Why?" Jimin replied, frowning. "Wait—how do you know that?"
The black-haired boy ran a hand through his hair, scratching his head nervously as a stupid grin spread across his face.
"It was me! I was the boy with the bucket!"
All six of them froze.
"What?" they all said at once.
"Yes, yes! I was up on the shed roof with my friends—we saw the whole thing. Gwanhee was beating him up, and I... I just couldn’t stand there. I ran to find some nasty water from this tank and dumped it from above. That was you!" he said, pointing at Taehyung, his eyes shining. "I signaled you and you shoved that asshole! I soaked him!"
Taehyung was frozen, mouth slightly open.
"You’re not fucking with me, are you?"
"No! I’d completely forgotten—but now that you told the story, it all came back. That was me!" Jungkook said, still smiling in disbelief. He took Taehyung’s hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed it firmly. "We were meant to be," he added in a low voice, just for Taehyung, looking at him with so much tenderness it made the older boy’s heart go soft.
"Gross," Jin muttered from the other end of the couch, clearly not low enough since everyone heard him. "This sounds like a fanfic—I can’t believe this."
Taehyung was blushing. Blushing, like a full-body flush. He stared at Jungkook for a few seconds, unsure of what to say, just feeling his chest pounding like a drum.
"You’re really not lying?"
"I swear I’m not. I’d completely forgotten… but it was me. I never thought that was you."
"God... I always thought the boy with the bucket was some hero. And now that I know it was you… it all makes so much more sense." Taehyung hugged him tightly, not caring that Jin was gagging dramatically in the background. Jungkook hugged him back, gently running his hand along the back of his neck.
"You saved us that day, Kook," Jimin said, though his smile shifted slightly. "But... it got worse the next day."
"What do you mean...?" Jungkook asked, voice suddenly guilt-ridden. He looked at Jimin with wide, worried eyes, then pulled back slightly to look at his boyfriend.
"Oh, yeah…" Taehyung shrugged. "The next day they beat the crap out of us in retaliation. It wasn’t just Gwanhee—he brought his whole gang of idiots. But still… I never forgot that someone tried to help us without even knowing us."
"Shit, my love... I’m so sorry. I didn’t think it could make things worse by helping," he murmured, his big eyes full of regret. He cupped Taehyung’s face and made a tiny pout. "I… I’m really sorry… I feel awful. I wish I had known you back then so I could’ve protected you guys always."
"Baby, seriously, it’s okay, alright? I really appreciate what you did. It was just one beating among many—you know I got my revenge later anyway. Even if they got us back afterward, I never forgot what you did."
Jungkook stared at him a second longer before leaning in to kiss him slowly, overcome with emotion at the thought that they had actually met before. Even back then, without knowing what the future held, something had clicked when he locked eyes with that boy.
It made him wonder if in a different timeline—even without Sana putting them in that ridiculous 'competition' from the start—they would’ve still found their way to each other. Honestly... they were meant to be.
"Enough!" Jin cried out dramatically. "I’m vomiting butterflies over here!"
"Oh, now you’re whining? Then I’m gonna make it even worse for you," Jimin said shamelessly, and without warning, he grabbed Yoongi by the collar and kissed him too. Unlike Taehyung and Jungkook’s sweet kiss, that one was long, messy, and full of tongue with zero shame.
Namjoon and Hoseok burst out laughing while Jin shouted:
"Ugh! I miss my girlfriend! I’m leaving to call her!"
──── ∗ ⋅✧⋅ ∗ ────
They were back in their room. It had been about an hour since they’d returned from Yoongi’s place. They had showered and now lay curled up in bed, watching a movie before falling asleep. The only light came from the TV screen, and outside, the night stretched slow and quiet, framing the windows in soft shadows and the occasional patter of rain.
Jungkook couldn’t stop looking at Taehyung, who had his head resting on his shoulder and one hand on his chest, hugging him. The older boy let out quiet little laughs at the movie they were watching, causing his shoulders to bounce up and down.
He still couldn’t fully believe it. It had happened so fast, so naturally, and yet it felt like something the universe had carefully woven together over time. Now that they understood everything, it all made so much more sense. You could even say their story hadn’t started the day they officially met at Hoseok’s party, but way before—back when they were just two teenagers living separate lives.
He lowered his gaze and let it settle on the blond's fingers, which were absentmindedly playing with the fabric of his shirt. A wave of tenderness washed over him, and as he pulled him a little closer into his embrace, a memory surfaced.
"Hey, babe," he said softly. "Do you remember the fortune cookies?"
"The ones from the Japanese restaurant on our first date?" Taehyung turned slightly to look at him. Jungkook nodded, and that made the older boy smile. He remembered perfectly.
"My cookie said, 'The bond you can’t see is the strongest. Those destined to meet will find each other over and over again.'"
"You seriously remember what it said?" the blond looked at him in surprise.
"How could I not remember?" Jungkook smiled. "It was our first date, and everything that happened that night screamed that we were meant to be together forever."
"Ugh, you’re so disgustingly cheesy. I’m gonna die," Taehyung scrunched his nose and pulled a face, but a few seconds later, he bit his lip and locked eyes with Jungkook. "Mine said, 'Fate finds its way, even between strangers who’ve crossed paths a thousand times without ever seeing each other.'"
"You called me cheesy and you memorized yours too!" Jungkook laughed, poking his sides and making the blond twist and writhe with laughter.
"Ah, stop! Jungkook!" the boy squirmed from side to side, trying to turn and escape his boyfriend’s evil fingers, laughing hysterically. But it was no use—he knew exactly where all his weak spots were. "I give up! I’m sorry! Show mercy, I can’t breathe!"
Jungkook stopped tickling him and laughed too, watching as Taehyung struggled to catch his breath. When the pressure in his chest finally eased, the blond reached out and smacked Jungkook lightly on the arm in protest.
They both fell into silence for a few seconds, until Taehyung was convinced he wouldn’t be attacked again. He snuggled back into his boyfriend’s side, curling up close.
"Do you remember what the owner said?" Taehyung asked.
"I do," Jungkook replied immediately. "He said he’d seen a lot of connections in his life, but very few as clear as ours."
"'You are like yin and yang,'" Taehyung quoted, imitating the old man's deep, slow voice with a comical Japanese accent. "He told you, 'You are fire, but you hold water in your mouth.' And he told me, 'You are water, but you have fire on your lips.' Or some crap like that."
"And then he said we balanced each other out," Jungkook added. "That we provoked each other, pushed each other, calmed each other... that we made a good couple."
Taehyung sat up slightly, leaning on one hand against the mattress so he could look at him. He had that serene expression on his face, that peaceful look that made him seem timeless. Jungkook thought he had never seen someone so simple and yet so complex at once.
"Do you think he was right?" the older boy asked quietly.
Jungkook didn’t hesitate for even a second.
"Yes," he said, looking straight into his eyes. "Because you make me think before I explode. And I push you when you get stuck. You speak when I go quiet. I act when you hesitate. And somehow... it just works. I don’t feel empty with you, I don’t feel like I’m in some boring relationship—I feel alive, full of emotion. It’s like a rollercoaster where everything feels right and exciting. We’re so alike and so different. You’re the best boyfriend I could’ve ever had."
The blond smiled that sweet, sincere smile that Jungkook loved so much. He leaned in to kiss him, and Jungkook received it with his lips, but also with his heart—and the certainty that everything had been worth it.
Because deep down, they both knew. They could’ve passed by each other a thousand more times. They could’ve lived entire lives without ever learning each other’s names. But something in the universe had pulled them back together.
And now that they were here—so present, so real—they knew they would never let go again.
"Fate finds its way. I love you," Taehyung whispered against his lips, right before kissing him again.
And Jungkook, with no need to say anything—because his mouth was definitely occupied—answered with a soft nod, eyes closed, hands firmly gripping his waist like someone who’d waited a long, long time to finally come home.
Notes:
Here it is, as promised: the second extra of many more to come. I really hope you loved it, because I loved writing it. I’m dying of love, honestly. Jungkook and Taehyung met once as teenagers, but forgot. They met again as adults—and we all know what happened after that.
Can you guess what the next extra will be about? Hint: it’s spicy.
Today’s Fun Fact:
Originally, Gwanhee was just going to be another school bully. But then I thought making him a repressed, self-hating character gave more depth than simply writing him off as a homophobe. That’s why his crush on Jimin isn’t as obvious in the first few scenes—but I’ll fix that during edits!Got questions?
Just a heads-up: over the next few days I’ll try to drop news about the next fic. It’ll be military-themed, so I’ll try to put out a “coming soon” post so you can bookmark it. I might even release some trailers on Twitter, so follow me: @freakinavi
(Also on TikTok, in Spanish, as @freakynavi)I’ve already mapped out the whole premise—I don’t want to spoil anything, but honestly, I haven’t seen anything quite like it yet. Although... maybe there are similar fics out there and I’m just the clown who hasn’t read them. But anyway. All I’ll say is: one will be a sergeant, the other a medic (so far it sounds generic, I know—but the magic is in the details and the story). Oh, and yes—it’ll be omegaverse.
Don’t forget to leave tons of comments and kudos if you haven’t already! Big kisses!
Chapter 54: EXTRA 03
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
[If you don’t like or care about the Yoonmin ship, feel free to skip this extra.]
Yoongi wasn’t exactly sober, but he wasn’t drunk enough to lose awareness of his surroundings either. If anything, the alcohol only heightened the electricity he felt around a certain brown-haired boy. He’d stopped pretending not to notice a while ago.
Jimin’s cheeks were flushed, whether from the liquor or the growing warmth spreading through his body, he didn’t know. Maybe it was the drinks. Maybe it was the fireplace heating the place. Or maybe—maybe—it was the way Yoongi had been looking at him for the past two hours.
He wasn’t stupid, and even though the looks were subtle, they were constant. Sometimes Yoongi’s gaze would drop to his lips, sometimes to his neck, and other times it seemed like he was about to say something—but then didn’t, maybe out of respect for where they were.
"So of course I can sing, you jackass!" Taehyung snapped, full of indignation.
“Then prove it.”
“He’s provoking him again,” Yoongi muttered to himself more than to anyone else, though he caught the soft laugh from Jimin beside him.
“They’re so pathetic,” the younger whispered, leaning a little closer with that voice of his that always sounded like a whisper in your ear, even when he spoke normally.
Thanks to the black-haired boy’s provocations, Taehyung was already holding the mic and scrolling through the song list, ready to pick the next duet. Jungkook had a special talent for pushing him into doing whatever he wanted.
"Already picked," Taehyung announced.
"What? Seriously? You're choosing the song without telling me?" Jungkook huffed.
"Just shut up and sing."
"I’m not singing any random crap."
"It’s not random crap." the blond growled and shoved the mic into his chest.
Yoongi raised an eyebrow, slightly intrigued. From where he sat, he couldn’t see the screen, but judging by Jungkook’s expression, it looked like the song choice had hit the mark. Jimin let out a small sigh when he recognized the intro—he had to admit, it was an unexpectedly good choice.
It was A Daily Song by Hwang Chi Yeul. He really liked it. He and Taehyung had sung it in the car several times with way too much feeling, like two guys going through a messy divorce.
The melody was soft and melancholic—one of those songs that scratch at your chest and dig up memories even when you don’t want them to. Taehyung’s voice came in with such depth that the entire room went still.
"At the end of a hard day, I wander the streets in front of home..."
A shiver ran up the black-haired boy’s spine. The heat radiating from Jimin next to him was now unbearable with that song playing in the background. The space between them was almost nonexistent. Their arms and legs were touching—and that made everything a thousand times harder.
"In the midst of this emptiness, that song echoes..."
Jimin turned his head just a little, stealing a glance at Yoongi from the corner of his eye. Everything about him was driving him insane. The brown-haired boy wasn’t the type of LGBT guy who felt attracted to every other fruity guy he met. He had plenty of gay and bi friends, and there was nothing between them. He didn’t like falling into that stereotype… but holy shit, ever since he’d first laid eyes on Yoongi, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about devouring him someday.
Of course, he hadn’t done anything about it at first because of Hoseok. He was his friend, and Jimin knew damn well that if anything went wrong, no matter how small, the one who’d suffer the most would be Hobi. It had taken a lot of effort to bring the group together, and he wasn’t about to wreck it over a horny impulse.
Still, it got harder and harder to control himself around Yoongi. The teasing, the flirtation—Min Yoongi just got to him. And now, with the dim lighting, a bit of booze, and that song playing in the background… he was one step away from throwing all his caution to the wind.
What made it worse was that he knew it was mutual. He was one hundred percent sure that if he told Yoongi right then and there, “Kiss me,” the older one would jump him before he could even finish the sentence. The sexual tension between them had become painfully obvious, and the brown-haired boy needed to let it out—desperately.
"In the world, this was the best song we used to hear together..."
"The song we used to listen to, so sad, this song..."
The younger swallowed hard, his thoughts a mess. Yoongi could kiss him right now and he wouldn’t move a muscle. Hell, he’d lean in, grab him by the collar of his shirt, and climb on top of him, no question.
Yoongi was thinking the exact same thing. He was done pretending that Jimin wasn’t a damn spectacle, and tired of doing nothing when he had him so close, so willing, so fucking irresistible. The older boy didn’t even know when exactly his feelings had changed, but he did know he couldn’t keep fighting them anymore.
Jungkook’s voice floated through the room—soft, emotional. The duet was too good. It sounded intimate, personal. They both seemed moved by it.
Jimin licked his lower lip slowly, leaving a glossy, wet line behind that made Yoongi swallow hard. He didn’t even try to look away when Jimin turned his head completely to face him.
“You okay?” Jimin asked innocently, catching him mid-trance.
“I’m thinking,” Yoongi answered, quickly looking forward again with a slightly clenched jaw, trying to play it cool. “Didn’t expect them to sing that well together.”
“That’s what you were thinking?” Jimin tilted his head with a teasing smile. “’Cause it looked like something else. You were pretty distracted, actually.”
Yoongi chuckled under his breath, because Jimin was right. His mind wasn’t on the performance in front of him. It was busy picturing all the ways he could finally make the tension explode. Most of them involved shutting Jimin up with his mouth and letting their bodies do the talking.
The room felt hotter with every line the others sang. When Jungkook hit the high note and Taehyung followed with his deep baritone, Jimin bit his lip—and Yoongi felt it. Saw it.
That was it.
He tilted his head toward the hallway in a silent gesture. Jimin understood immediately and had no intention of saying no. He flashed that crooked little grin he always wore when accepting a challenge. Both of them stood carefully and made their way to the hallway. Luckily, no one noticed. Everyone else was too caught up in the two idiots singing their hearts out.
"This song I hear every day, echoes every day, this song reminds you..."
"Everything seems to be about us, no matter how hard I try to cover my ears..."
As soon as they turned the corner into the hallway, where the shadows wrapped around them, Yoongi pinned Jimin without giving him a second to think. He gently pushed him against the wall and kissed him for the first time.
It was a fucking wet and deep kiss—intense, all tongue and no judgment. The alcohol made everything bolder, more unrestrained. Jimin let out a low moan, grabbing him by the nape and pulling him closer, seeking friction. The red lipstick ended up smeared across both of their faces, dragged by saliva, hungry lips, and tongues that didn’t know how to stop. Neither of them seemed to remember it was even there.
They savored each other shamelessly, kissed with the urgency of something they’d postponed for far too long. Jimin could feel their mouths slipping, wet and moving against one another. Their noses bumped, their hands tightened, fingers slid under shirts, and gasping became inevitable. The older one took full control, moving him however he wanted—Jimin simply yielded and let it happen.
Yoongi kissed him without a shred of delicacy. It was like he was claiming territory. The younger responded just as fiercely, legs trembling, breath quickening.
“Fuck…” Yoongi murmured against his mouth without pulling away. “This is…”
“Shut up,” Jimin panted between kisses, gripping his neck. “Do it more often.”
They both laughed, breathless, and shared one last kiss. When they returned to the living room, they looked the same as before—but they both knew they weren’t.
They made it back just in time for the end of the song. Applause erupted, and Jungkook and Taehyung broke eye contact just as Yoongi and Jimin sat down again, leaving a little space between them. They knew they wouldn’t be able to hide it if they sat too close.
"Holy shit!" Jimin said, clapping with a wide grin and a mischievous gleam in his eye. "That was amazing!"
"That was incredible," Mina added with a bright smile.
The older one simply crossed his legs calmly and pretended to sip from the glass he had left on the table. But his gaze slid over Jimin’s profile as the latter chatted with Mina, and he couldn’t help but smile.
No one knew a thing—but the two of them did, and that was enough.
“You sing well,” Jungkook said suddenly, looking at Taehyung.
“You too, idiot,” Taehyung shrugged with a faint smile before flopping back down on the couch.
Jimin could barely focus on the conversation he was supposed to be having. His pulse was still racing from what had happened just minutes earlier in the hallway with Yoongi. He could still feel the heat of his lips, still crave their touch. He ran his tongue along the corner of his mouth, trying to taste what was left. Yoongi saw him do it just before looking away, but it was enough to reignite that tingling in the younger’s stomach.
He was trying to act normal, chatting with Mina, but it was hard to concentrate. Then, when Hoseok and Namjoon jumped in to sing and everyone turned their attention to the screen, Jimin felt a tug.
“Come here,” Taehyung ordered as he grabbed his wrist. Jimin didn’t even have time to set his drink down before he was being dragged toward the kitchen.
“What’s going on?” he protested, stumbling after him. “Why the rush?”
Once they reached the kitchen, Taehyung let him go abruptly and crossed his arms. His eyes were fixed on him—but more specifically, on his mouth.
"I know you made out with Yoongi-hyung."
“...What?”
"Don’t make me say it twice, bastard."
"I don’t know what you’re talking about," he lied, raising both hands in innocence.
He had no clue how his best friend had figured it out, but he was going to deny it until there was undeniable proof. Until then, he was innocent.
Still, he was very confused. Had Taehyung developed a sixth sense specifically designed to detect when he’d made out with someone? How the hell had he noticed, especially when he was busy singing?
“Jimin, don’t lie to me.”
"I’m not—"
"God, are you stupid or did you just level up?"
“Excuse me?” he frowned, but then Taehyung pointed straight at his mouth. Jimin brought his fingers to his lips. At first, he didn’t get what he meant… but then his expression changed. "Shit… the lipstick… right, it’s smudged."
"You're so drunk you didn't even notice, did you?"
“Maybe.”
“Idiot.”
“Shut up.” Jimin pulled out his phone, turned on the front camera, and used the screen as a mirror. His face twisted in horror in less than a second. "Fuck my life."
"Yeah, sure," Taehyung said sarcastically as he leaned against the counter, eyes fixed on him. "Are you going to tell me what the hell happened?"
"There’s not much to say... we kissed. End of story." Jimin was a bit flushed and couldn’t look him in the eye. God, this was embarrassing. No one else had noticed, seriously? He’d been inches from Mina, talking to her, and she hadn’t caught on.
And people tended to look at his lips—he couldn’t deny they were one of his most attractive features. Any girl or boy who likes men would definitely look there.
“That simple?”
“That simple.”
"When the hell did that happen? I didn’t even notice you two were gone."
"It was during your song, actually. It was so emotional we looked at each other, slipped out into the hallway, one thing led to another..." he gestured vaguely with his hands.
Taehyung scoffed, incredulous.
"I hate you. You complimented me but weren’t even paying attention," the blond huffed. "You’re lucky the lights are low and it barely shows. As far as I know, no one else has noticed."
"And you noticed? Were you checking out my lips, you perv?" Jimin raised his eyebrows suggestively as he leaned in and teased, "Mhm?"
“Jimin!” the blond snapped, giving him a light shove on the shoulder.
The brown-haired boy let out a low laugh and placed his glass on the counter.
“I’ll be right back,” he whispered almost under his breath, and walked out with all the confidence in the world.
Jimin crossed the room like a cat—silent and agile—and stopped right behind Yoongi.
“We forgot about the lipstick,” he whispered in his ear with a half-smile. “It’s all smeared. Taehyung already noticed. It’s only a matter of minutes before everyone else does too.”
“Shit,” Yoongi muttered, bringing a hand to his lips. That only made Jimin grin wider, feeling that rush of adrenaline he loved so much. He placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a light squeeze.
“Come on, let’s go find some makeup remover in the girls’ rooms. Because there’s no way we’re getting away with this looking like this.”
Yoongi let out a sigh, shaking his head with amused defeat, and stood up. The two of them walked calmly toward the hallway, then tiptoed upstairs to where they knew the rooms would be empty, laughing quietly as they tried not to make a sound.
By that point in the night, the alcohol had loosened their bodies, their tongues, and their sense of restraint. Jimin led the way, wobbling with grace, and Yoongi followed close behind, practically stepping on his heels.
Mina had said earlier, when they were putting on the lipstick, that if anyone needed remover, they could grab hers from her room—and now that’s exactly what they needed: to clean their lips and erase the evidence.
The brunet could still feel the burning on his lips from the kisses and the hands that had touched him just minutes earlier. The tingling hadn't left his body, not even when he tried to walk straight or attempted not to think about what he had just done with Yoongi.
The bedroom door was slightly ajar. They walked in, turned on the light, and closed it behind them. The light wood vanity stood out at the back, topped with a round, flawless mirror framed by soft lights. Sitting on it, next to a pink comb and a makeup bag stuffed with cosmetics, was the bottle of makeup remover along with some cotton pads.
“There it is,” Jimin murmured with a relieved sigh. He stepped forward, grabbed the bottle and the cotton. Everything was neatly arranged, as if Mina had known someone would come for them—she had mentioned it, after all. “Come here, hyung,” he said to Yoongi without looking at him.
The older one approached slowly. His shadow fell over him as Jimin pulled out a cotton pad, soaked it in remover, and lifted it toward him. He raised his hand to the other’s lips and looked up, noticing Yoongi was already watching him—shamelessly, without a trace of guilt. His pupils were dilated, black and deep like endless wells. Jimin felt his stomach clench at the way Yoongi was looking at him—bold and hungry.
He brought the cotton to the corner of his lip and began to wipe gently. His hand moved softly, but his fingers trembled ever so slightly. Jimin could feel the heat radiating from Yoongi's body, the scent of his skin invading his senses.
“Don’t move,” he whispered, and Yoongi obeyed.
He kept staring at him. Now and then his gaze dropped to Jimin’s lips, and that alone was enough to make Jimin feel like his heart was pulsing in his throat. He looked at his lips too—under the excuse of cleaning properly—but all it did was fuel the urge to kiss them again, to get messy again. What did it matter? Who had to know, anyway?
He finished wiping away the last trace and stepped back slightly, swallowing hard.
“All done. Now it’s my turn,” he said in a low voice.
He turned to face the mirror, cotton pad still in hand, but didn’t get a chance to see himself clearly. Yoongi was already behind him, giving him no time to react. One hand went to his waist, the other reached for his wrist, stopping him before he could bring the pad to his face.
“I’ll help you,” he whispered right into his neck, and without giving him a choice, turned him around.
Jimin ended up with his back against the vanity, the wood pressed against his ass, trapped between the piece of furniture and Yoongi’s body. The older one was so close he could feel his breath.
He grabbed a new cotton pad, soaked it in remover, and leaned in silently. Jimin closed his eyes for just a second when the cotton brushed his plush lips. It was a soft, almost tender touch, but the context made it feel like a provocation.
“You’re all smudged,” the older one murmured, barely audible.
“Mhm...” Jimin replied breathlessly, barely managing a sound.
He opened his eyes and found him right there—so close he could count his lashes. When Yoongi finished cleaning him, he didn’t pull away. Instead, he took his chin with the same hand that had held the cotton, tilted his face up slightly, made him look at him, and ran his thumb slowly over his lips.
The younger stayed still. That finger wasn’t cleaning anything—and they both knew it.
“All done,” Yoongi said, not moving an inch. Jimin couldn’t think of anything except: kiss me again.
Maybe it was the alcohol, or the fact that all of this was a secret, that no one knew and they could do whatever they wanted here without immediate consequences. Maybe it was the way Yoongi used those silences, and how he was so fucking hot that Jimin felt completely at his mercy. That’s why the brunet figured that a casual fuck didn’t have to be a bad idea—no one had to find out.
And the idea of sneaking around with Yoongi, when he was like this, was driving him insane.
“Kiss me, hyung,” Jimin whispered in a sultry tone that made Yoongi smirk with the corner of his lips.
“Are you sure about what you’re saying?” he murmured in the same tone. “If I kiss you, I’m not going to stop—and that… could complicate things for us.”
“I don’t give a fuck,” Jimin looked at him without hesitation and, in one motion, wrapped his arms around his shoulders, pulling him in and closing the distance with a kiss that was ravenous from the very first second.
The black-haired didn’t need anything more. He held him tight, hands firm and restless, sliding down Jimin’s back, exploring. His lips didn’t just return the kiss—they dominated it, led it, dragged him boldly to a place with no return.
He grabbed him by the nape to keep him from pulling away even for a second, as if afraid the younger might change his mind. But Jimin had no intention of stopping.
They crashed against the wall without breaking the kiss, amid gasps and bites. Jimin ended up between the cold concrete and Yoongi’s heated body. The older one grabbed his thigh and lifted him effortlessly, making him moan into the kiss as they pressed even closer. Their hips moved slowly at first, but soon the grinding became more demanding and rough.
Their bodies recognized each other in every shameless thrust that left no doubt about what they both wanted. They were already burning, already hard—it was obvious and impossible to ignore through their clothes.
Yoongi pulled back just enough to lower his lips to Jimin’s neck, leaving wet kisses as his hands roamed boldly. They slipped under his clothes, found bare skin, and gripped his firm ass with absolutely no shame, kneading it roughly.
Jimin moaned softly, his voice sweet and broken at once. His lips were red, swollen, and damp. He clung to Yoongi’s shoulders, trying to stay upright. He tried not to seem desperate, but it was impossible with the older one like this: dominant, confident, dangerous—and unbearably attractive.
“Get on your knees for me,” the deep whisper in his ear sent a shiver down his spine.
His legs nearly gave out. That tone, that phrase—it ignited everything inside him. He almost came just from hearing it. He nodded without protest, breath shaky. He unbuttoned Yoongi’s pants first, then knelt in front of him, never breaking eye contact.
As he pulled the jeans down, he was met with a sight that burned itself into his memory. The bulge was clearly outlined through the fabric of his boxers. It was big—just the way he liked—and even though Jimin was versatile, in that moment, there wasn’t a shred of control left in him. Everything about Yoongi made him want to surrender, to give in, to obey.
He brought a hand to the center of that tension, caressing over the fabric, feeling the heat and hardness beneath. He bit his lip hard in response. Yoongi didn’t say a word, so Jimin looked up—and met the black-haired man’s dark, unwavering eyes. There was something in that gaze that made him swallow thickly.
Yoongi dropped his gaze just for a second, straight to his own crotch, then looked back at him with slightly raised brows. It was a small gesture—but enough for Jimin to understand exactly what was expected of him.
With hands slightly trembling from the excitement, he lifted Yoongi’s shirt a bit, and the older man helped by pulling it up further to give him more room. He also finally pulled down the boxers, which until that moment had been the last barrier between them.
What was revealed before his eyes caused an immediate reaction—a dizzying heat rose up his neck, and his mouth watered uncontrollably. It wasn’t just the size—although it was quite substantial—it was the thickness, the skin flushed with arousal, the neatly trimmed pubic hair, and that happy trail that he found ridiculously attractive. It was a lot—all of him was too much.
He stuck out his tongue slowly, letting his saliva do the initial work, gliding gently over the entire length while he heard a faint gasp escape Yoongi’s lips—a sound that made him shiver. Encouraged by that reaction, he opened his mouth as wide as he could and wrapped his lips around him, starting a firm and dedicated rhythm.
He had experience, he knew what he was doing. He knew his own body and how to move it to give the other a rich, satisfying experience. He’d always received great feedback about his blowjobs. But with Yoongi, it was different. Because while he wasn’t the biggest he’d ever seen, he was the thickest—and that made it a bit challenging. He focused on relaxing so he could take him deeper, feeling his senses ignite with every inch he managed to take into his mouth.
The black-haired braced his right forearm against the wall behind him—the same wall where he had pinned Jimin just minutes earlier—and rested his forehead on his arm. From there, he looked down and took in the exquisite view of the younger one taking all of him in. His other hand went to Jimin's hair after bringing the shirt to his mouth so it wouldn't get in the way of the brunette. He stroked it gently, sometimes guiding the rhythm.
Jimin accompanied his movements with one hand, giving attention to his balls as well, making sure everything was as pleasurable as it could possibly be. He could feel the deep sounds Yoongi let out groans and heavy breaths, like a low, constant purring—and each one of those sounds ran over his skin like electric caresses.
He was completely turned on—more than that, he was wrecked.
But just when he was most immersed in the act, Yoongi slowly pulled out of his mouth. Jimin couldn’t help the frustrated whine that escaped him, looking up at him with swollen lips and flushed cheeks. He was so deep in the moment that he didn’t want to stop.
"I don’t want to finish yet," Yoongi explained in a rough voice. "I want to please you too."
The younger one blinked a few times, this time feeling a different kind of heat. He nodded with a smile that formed almost involuntarily—shy and sweet.
Yoongi helped him up carefully. Jimin could barely coordinate his steps, but he let himself be guided without resistance, letting out a soft giggle when he stumbled against the corner of the bed. He sat down on the mattress with his legs slightly parted, his cheeks flushed and his eyes sparkling—somewhere between drunkenness and the arousal Yoongi stirred in him.
"Stay right there," the older one murmured.
He obeyed without hesitation, watching as Yoongi calmly pulled his pants down and stepped out of them completely, letting them fall to the floor. But he didn’t remove his boxers—he simply adjusted them. Even without being fully undressed, Yoongi looked so fucking sexy it took Jimin’s breath away.
For a second, some flicker of awareness passed through Jimin’s mind, and he opened his mouth to say maybe this wasn’t the best place, maybe they should move to another room... but he never got the chance. Before he could speak, Yoongi already had his right knee between his legs, effortlessly spreading them further apart, and was holding his face between both hands. He made him look up, held him firmly—and kissed him.
God.
It was such a filthy kiss. Yoongi devoured him completely, pushing his tongue into his mouth like he was claiming it, conquering it. The taste of alcohol mingled with their ragged breaths and the moan Jimin let out when Yoongi fully invaded his mouth.
Yoongi even dared to pull back just slightly—to spit into the brunette’s mouth. And instead of being disgusted, Jimin welcomed it and kissed him again.
He clung to his arms and felt how they slowly fell back onto the bed, the mattress giving way under the weight of both of them until he was fully lying down with Yoongi on top, pressing their bodies together, grinding in a way that drove him crazy.
The older one supported himself on his right arm while his left hand traveled down Jimin’s torso, reaching the button of his pants. Without taking his mouth off his, he unfastened it with insulting ease and slipped his hand inside. Yoongi’s hand touched his erection over the underwear first, sending waves of pleasure that made his skin crawl. Jimin arched his back, moaning against his lips.
Then his hand went further, sliding his fingers under the boxer briefs until he was wrapping his hot palm directly around him. He stroked him with slow movements that made the younger tremble from head to toe. His moans were soft and broken—Yoongi thought they were the loveliest sounds he’d ever heard, good enough to sample and use as background in a song.
Jimin wanted to touch him too. He slid his hand down in a rush, eager to return the favor—but Yoongi pulled away immediately. He removed his hand from his pants and grabbed both of Jimin’s wrists, pinning them firmly to his chest.
"I didn’t give you permission to touch me," he said in a tone that walked the line between commanding and playful. Jimin frowned, about to protest, but Yoongi didn’t let him. With unexpected swiftness, he flipped him over, leaving him face down. Jimin let out a surprised gasp and buried his face in the pillow.
He felt his pants and those heart-printed boxers being yanked down in one swift motion, leaving him completely bare from the waist down. He was only wearing the shirt, which had ridden up to mid-torso, leaving his ass fully exposed. He bit his lip, embarrassed… but more turned on than ever.
"Just look at you..." the older one whispered behind him, voice so heavy with desire it sent a chill down his spine.
Yoongi’s hands immediately went to his ass. He grabbed and squeezed it without mercy, shamelessly kneading the flesh. Jimin gasped, feeling him massage roughly, his fingers leaving imprints on his skin. Then came the smacks—one, two, three. Firm and direct, just how he liked it.
They were having too much chemistry for this to be their first time fucking—and they hadn’t even talked about preferences or kinks yet. Couldn’t just have that with anyone.
The sharp sound filled the room, followed by the moan that escaped the younger, who clung to the sheets with clenched fists. The sting on his skin was instant. His ass burned, but it only turned him on more.
"You have the most fucking perfect ass I've ever seen in my life," Yoongi said to him. "So soft, so round… do you know what I want to do to you when you move it like that?"
Because yes, Jimin was moving it—he couldn’t help it. He began to sway his hips from side to side in a provocative way, like he was offering his body with every motion.
"Please…" he begged hoarsely. "Touch me more… I want more."
"You're that desperate?" Yoongi asked, dragging out the words as his hands roamed over him again with desire.
Jimin nodded with his face buried in the pillow, legs spread and trembling.
"Do whatever you want to me, hyung," he said with a broken voice.
The older one smirked and let his fingers trail slowly down Jimin’s hip.
"I don’t plan on making you wait."
He adjusted himself calmly, lowering his body until he was at just the right level. One hand rested on Jimin’s thigh, while the other held his throbbing erection. He admired it for a second before shifting his focus to his true goal. He placed his right hand on one of Jimin’s cheeks and gently pulled it apart with his fingers, exposing that most intimate part of him.
Without wasting another second, he lowered his face and let his tongue explore. The first touch was a soft caress, but it was enough to make Jimin release a muffled moan and clutch the sheets tightly. Satisfied, Yoongi started moving with more purpose. He licked with expertise and hunger—he had plenty of experience. Every stroke of his tongue was precise, and when he wrapped his lips around Jimin’s entrance and sucked lightly, the younger one shuddered.
Yoongi’s left hand didn’t stay idle, starting to stroke him in sync with the movements of his mouth. The brunette couldn’t stop himself—he kept pushing his hips back, seeking more contact, wanting Yoongi to go deeper with his tongue, and the black-haired man gave him exactly that.
He began using his saliva as the only lube—they had nothing else. First one finger, slowly pushing in until Jimin opened up for him. Then two, moving steadily inside, stretching him. By the time the third finger slid in, Jimin couldn’t form a coherent sentence. His whole body shook with spasms, his hips jolting, his moans becoming higher-pitched.
"Hyung… I’m gonna cum," he panted out. "No… I don’t want to make a mess…"
He didn’t have time to finish. Yoongi didn’t stop. Instead of pulling away, he slid his head down, guiding his mouth to Jimin’s cock. His left hand lined it up with his lips and took him in just as Jimin's breathing turned ragged. His fingers kept working him with perfect rhythm and pressure, while his tongue worked its magic from the tip all the way to the base.
Jimin let out a muffled cry like his soul had slipped from his body, and he came hard. His back arched, and his thighs trembled. Yoongi didn’t pull back—he stayed there, swallowing naturally as Jimin’s body began to calm and his breathing slowed.
Only then did he pull away slowly, letting Jimin’s now semi-hard cock fall damply onto the bed. He looked at him with a satisfied grin.
"Jimin…" he murmured, caressing his thigh. "You’re such a mess, and you look gorgeous like this. Shit, you seriously look fucking hot," he said, his eyes drinking in every inch of Jimin’s body.
Moving away, he reached into the back pocket of his pants—which he picked up from the floor—pulled out his wallet, opened it, and took out a condom. Jimin, still lying there with his breath uneven, let out a breathy laugh watching him.
"Do you always carry one around or what?"
"You never know when the opportunity will strike," Yoongi answered with a crooked smile.
He slid his shirt off smoothly, revealing his pale skin. He was slimmer than Jimin, but toned, with defined muscles beneath soft skin. The sharp line of his pelvis drew downward like an arrow, impossible to ignore. And just below that, the trail of dark hair—that happy trail—led straight to the spot where Jimin’s attention was already entirely, hopelessly fixed.
Jimin sat up instantly, like spring-loaded. He took off his own shirt without taking his eyes off him and positioned himself on all fours at the edge of the bed. He looked over his shoulder, eyes half-lidded, brown hair tousled, and swayed his hips slightly in a teasing motion.
"I want you to fuck me hard, hyung. Don’t go easy on me."
Yoongi let out a deep, genuine laugh.
"You’re fucking shameless…" he replied, not even bothering to hide how much he liked hearing him talk like that.
He tore off his boxers in one motion, rolled the condom on with practiced ease, eyes never leaving the sight in front of him. He stepped closer, placed both hands on Jimin’s ass, and gripped hard, kneading the firm flesh with delight. He moved them side to side, then let go, laughing under his breath at how they still jiggled for a few seconds on their own.
"You were made for this, you know that?" he whispered in a deep voice. "I’m dead serious when I say you have the best ass in the world."
The boy just chuckled, pushing his hips back to provoke him even more, and finally Yoongi adjusted him—gripping his waist to lift and align him better, making him spread his legs wider. Thankfully, Jimin was incredibly flexible and didn’t complain.
Yoongi leaned in slightly, spit directly onto his entrance, and used his finger to spread it. Then he lined up the tip of his cock with the hot, tight hole, gripped Jimin’s hips firmly, and slowly began to push forward. Jimin’s mouth opened in a perfect 'O', his brows knit together, eyes rolling back momentarily as a breathy moan escaped.
"Oh... fuck," he whimpered, voice trembling.
Once Yoongi was fully inside, he held still. His right hand slid down to Jimin’s cock and stroked it gently, while the left explored along his back, his sides, and his thighs, trying to soothe him.
"You’re so fucking tight," he said, biting his lip. "You feel so good..."
"Y-You’re really big," Jimin murmured between gasps. "I feel everything... absolutely e-everything."
"Tell me when you’re ready," Yoongi closed his eyes briefly and licked his lips, trying to hold back.
But he was in luck—Jimin started moving on his own, slowly at first, rocking his hips backward, seeking more, taking him in completely and making it clear with every motion. Yoongi grinned lustfully.
"That’s what I thought…"
He began thrusting, each movement deliberate at first, savoring the effect it had on him… but it didn’t take long before he was going deeper and faster.
Jimin’s arms began to give out—not from weakness, but because the pleasure was so intense his body simply couldn’t hold itself up any longer. He collapsed with his chest pressed into the mattress, gasping into the messy sheets. His knees were trembling, spread apart, and he couldn’t believe he was already like this… and they had just started.
The thrusts became firmer, more brutal—in the best sense of the word. The wet, carnal sound of their bodies colliding filled the room, mixed with Jimin’s broken gasps, his voice reduced to a high-pitched whimper every time Yoongi slammed into him with his hips. And not just that—every few thrusts, Yoongi’s palm came down hard against one of his ass cheeks, making him moan even louder.
"I like it," Jimin whimpered, his voice cracking. "I-I like it so much, hyung… I love the way you do it…"
Yoongi smirked, arrogant and satisfied, landing another slap on his skin before driving into him even harder, making Jimin bounce against his pelvis.
"Yeah, I know, your body doesn’t lie, sweetheart," he said, voice rough. "Let hyung give you what you deserve."
Jimin nodded, unable to respond in any other way, and reached one trembling hand down to his own cock because he needed more. He began touching himself desperately, fingers sliding over the precum already coating him, while behind him, Yoongi let out a soft laugh.
"You really need more? My cock isn’t enough for you?" he asked in a tone that was both sarcastic and dripping with lust.
Before Jimin could defend himself, Yoongi pulled out abruptly. The brunette gasped, suddenly feeling empty, just before he was shoved hard against the mattress. Yoongi flipped him over without warning, leaving him on his back. He grabbed his thighs and pushed them up toward his chest, folding him nearly in half. His breath caught in his throat—and then Yoongi drove back in with one violent, precise thrust that made his voice shatter in a loud, choked moan.
"A-Ah… Yoongi-hyung!"
The position was brutal, open, intimate. Jimin felt completely exposed—and Yoongi loved him like that. Yes, the older one was dominant, but he was attentive too. Every time Jimin begged, Yoongi responded. Every time he pleaded for more, he gave it to him.
"Don’t stop looking at me," Yoongi ordered between pants, now gripping his hips and lifting them, forcing his back into an arch. Jimin’s legs rested on the older one’s shoulders as Yoongi leaned forward, still moving, still filling him deeply and intensely.
Jimin looked at him like he was the only thing that existed in the world, while Yoongi held onto him with both hands, fingers digging into the damp skin of his hips, pulling him in with every thrust, plunging into him relentlessly, making the bed creak beneath them. The connection between the two of them crackled like an electric storm.
Too perfect to be just coincidence.
The brunette could barely hold it in. He had to press his own mouth tightly shut, fingers trembling against his lips as he tried in vain to silence the moans rising from his chest. If it weren’t for the music pounding downstairs, they would’ve been caught long ago. And even though Yoongi loved hearing every sound Jimin made, he knew they needed to be discreet. So he made a different choice.
He slowly lowered himself on top of him, brought Jimin’s hips back down to the bed without stopping the deep, steady rhythm that was driving them both to the edge. He shifted his position slightly to maintain movement, grabbed both of Jimin’s wrists in one hand and pinned them above his head. With the other, he dared to slide it up to his neck, applying just enough pressure to make Jimin lose his breath—in the best possible way.
When he saw the flushed cheeks, the eyes glazed over with pleasure, and the parted lips silently begging for more, Yoongi knew he’d hit the mark. Jimin didn’t need words—his body spoke for him. The black-haired man devoured him with his eyes, like he was his favorite toy, his weakness, and his most delicious addiction.
He leaned in and kissed him hungrily. In that kiss, he felt the moans Jimin couldn’t let out—he felt them in the vibrations of his lips. And when he found that exact spot inside him, that place that made Jimin lose his mind, the younger arched his back, pulling away just slightly.
"Right there… right there, please, hyung," he said with difficulty. Yoongi smiled, increasing the pressure around his neck just a bit more, never taking his eyes off his face.
He released Jimin’s wrists, and the younger reacted immediately, bringing his hands to Yoongi’s back, digging his nails in with desperation. Yoongi used his free hand to reach down between them and began stroking him mercilessly. He was driving him insane.
Jimin warned him with a broken voice, as best he could, that he was close. And Yoongi only murmured against his lips, with a husky tone that cut through him:
"Do it. I’m close too—because being inside you is fucking paradise, Jimin."
Yoongi didn’t stop his movements. On the contrary, he picked up the pace. He kept kissing Jimin, not giving him space for anything but the heat of their mouths. And when the brunette moaned loudly, it was directly into Yoongi’s lips.
Jimin’s whole body trembled when he came for the second time in just thirty minutes. A spasm arched his back, his thighs closed tightly around Yoongi, clenching around him. Yoongi broke instantly—he let out a deep, guttural moan, thrusting one last time as he came into the condom, a violent shiver running down his spine.
The seconds that followed were slower. Yoongi gradually eased his rhythm, panting against Jimin’s mouth, who couldn’t stop trembling—overstimulated, still shaking from the orgasm.
When Yoongi finally stopped, he brought one hand to Jimin’s face and stroked it gently. His fingers traced over the flushed cheek, the edge of his jaw, and then brushed along his lower lip, as if trying to memorize every detail before pulling away. The younger’s breathing was ragged, lips parted, lashes wet, his gaze unfocused—still floating. But he couldn’t help but smile too, cheeks glowing.
"That was… incredible," Jimin whispered, voice still trembling, half-laughing. "You fuck really well, Yoongi-hyung. You exceeded my expectations."
"Oh yeah?" Yoongi said, laughing softly. "I think it felt better than when I imagined it… or dreamed about it."
Jimin squinted at him, grinning sideways.
"You dreamed about fucking me?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Obviously," Yoongi replied without hesitation. "Look at yourself in a mirror for one second. You’re way too fuckable."
Jimin let out a choked laugh and gave him a soft slap on the shoulder. Then, carefully, Yoongi pulled out, making sure not to hurt him. Jimin let out a soft sigh, closing his eyes for a moment at the sudden emptiness.
Yoongi sat on the edge of the bed, took the condom off carefully so nothing spilled, and got up to head to the bathroom connected to the room. There, he tossed it in the trash, washed his hands quickly, and returned to the bed with a few sheets of toilet paper.
Without saying a word, he leaned over Jimin and began to clean him up gently. His touch was soft, almost affectionate. Jimin watched him silently with pressed lips, not knowing how to handle that sudden tenderness.
Once he finished, Yoongi turned to place the tissue on the nightstand, but just as he did, Jimin reached out and caught his arm.
"Don’t go," he said in a low voice, his eyes shimmering. "I want to cuddle and be affectionate. Is that okay?"
"You? Post-sex cuddles? You don’t strike me as the sentimental type after an orgasm," the older one said, amused.
"I’m not. You’re right about that," Jimin wrinkled his nose. "But alcohol makes me weird."
Yoongi let out a condescending chuckle, placed the tissue on the nightstand, crawled back over to him, and pulled him into a hug. He settled his body against Jimin’s, letting the blond rest his head on his extended arm, using it as a pillow. His other hand rested on Jimin’s chest, drawing slow circles over the warm skin.
"But only for a while, okay?" Yoongi murmured. "We need to clean the room down to the last detail, clean ourselves up, and go back downstairs like nothing happened."
Jimin didn’t open his eyes, his face nestled in the crook of Yoongi’s neck, breathing in the faint scent of perfume, sweat, and warmth. His smile was slow and half-asleep.
"I bet you anything no one’s noticed we’re missing. Everyone’s too drunk… and too busy doing their own thing."
The older one couldn’t help but laugh as he nodded, his hand gliding over Jimin’s bare chest, fingers splayed, brushing over his ribs. Jimin loved that touch, even if it was unintentionally lulling him to sleep.
"True," he said, tilting his head to rest it gently against Jimin’s, his nose buried in the brown strands. "For example, Jungkook is probably too busy bothering Taehyung to notice we’re gone."
"And Taehyung gives Jungkook all his attention when he’s around," Jimin replied immediately, barely opening one eye. Then he shut it again. "That guy’s got him on high alert… he drives him crazy, but at the same time, he can’t ignore him. It’s… weird."
There was a brief pause, as if their thoughts had suddenly aligned in the same direction. They looked at each other slowly, both clearly thinking the same thing.
"Don’t you think that ‘hate’ relationship between Jungkook and Taehyung is a little… suspicious?" Yoongi asked.
"Yeah," he admitted. "But they seem too straight for anything to actually happen between them. I don’t know, there’s tension, sure, but the kind that feels like it would explode into a fight, not in bed. Although… I’ll admit I like teasing them, that’s why I suggested spin the bottle, I wanted things to happen. But they flat-out refused, came up with a thousand excuses. The only reason they agreed to go into the closet together—like you suggested—was because they could barely walk properly anymore. And when they came out… they were so fucking mad, they went right to bed."
In Yoongi’s mind, the image of the closet replayed. Apparently, Jimin hadn’t caught the angle from where he had been watching. Jungkook and Taehyung had rushed out, both of their faces flushed, and not just from the alcohol. When the door opened, they’d been very close. No one seemed to notice, not even Namjoon, who’d opened the door for them.
Of course, everyone had it so ingrained in their heads that Jungkook and Taehyung were just too straight and were fighting over Sana’s love. No one would have imagined their friends being that close for any reason other than a fistfight.
But Yoongi… wasn’t that easy to fool. And now he wondered what would’ve happened if he had stopped Namjoon from opening the closet, when he said he was trying to prevent a murder. Maybe the exact opposite of what everyone expected would’ve happened. Who knows.
"Time will tell," he finally said, sliding his hand to the nape of Jimin’s neck and gently caressing the hairs there with his fingertips. "I just hope no one gets hurt. Those dynamics… are messier than they seem."
Jimin sighed, his smile starting to fade from his lips, drowsy from the steady effect of the caresses.
"You’re right…" he mumbled. "I couldn’t stand seeing Taehyung with a broken heart and ego if Sana doesn’t choose him or something. It hurts to see him upset. Ever since we were kids, I’ve always cried when he cried, even if it was something physical and not emotional. It’s like I feel his pain."
Yoongi stared at him, noticing how the words began to drag in his mouth. The way Jimin was slowly giving in to sleep was too adorable, even as he tried to keep talking.
"You know what does surprise me?" Jimin suddenly said, eyes slowly opening. "That Mina didn’t notice the smeared lipstick I had earlier. I mean, it was obvious. If Taehyung noticed from across the room..."
"Maybe she didn’t look at your lips," Yoongi raised an eyebrow. "The dark lighting helped, too."
"There’s no straight, bisexual, pansexual woman—or any penis-loving man—who doesn’t look at my lips," Jimin rolled his eyes, then closed them again. "You know it."
"You’re such an idiot," Yoongi burst out laughing.
"That’s very possible. But I’m a charming one," Jimin replied with a flirty smile that didn’t last long. Sleep was starting to win the battle against his eyelids.
Yoongi leaned in closer and placed a slow kiss on Jimin’s forehead.
Their bodies were starting to cool down, sweat drying gradually on their skin. Yet neither made the slightest effort to move, even though they knew they should. Time was still ticking. In a couple of hours—or maybe less—someone would come upstairs and find them in the most obvious post-fuck scene of all time.
Still, sleep crept in steadily. First, in the way their breathing deepened. Then in the hands that stopped moving. In the lips that no longer replied. And in the thoughts that began to dissolve into the sweet fog of that moment.
Jimin was the first to fully drift off, his head still resting on Yoongi’s arm, a peaceful, happy expression on his face. Yoongi stared at him a few seconds longer, thinking about how much he wanted to do all of that again. His body might’ve been satisfied for now, but he didn’t want this to be a one-night thing. He needed more of Jimin.
Seconds passed, and the black-haired man also lost the battle against sleep. It didn’t take long before he was out too.
They didn’t notice it, of course, but hours later the party downstairs wound down, and everyone started heading to bed. What they found was exactly what Jimin and Yoongi had not wanted to happen. Their plan to keep it a secret went to shit fast.
Mina opened the bedroom door and choked on a scream. A scream loud enough that Hoseok, protective instincts fully activated, rushed over to see what was happening.
"What? What happened?" he asked, worried, hurrying to the girl. She didn’t respond right away, so Hoseok peeked inside. And his reaction said it all. "Oh my God!"
They were lucky they’d gotten under the sheets and didn’t have their asses or dicks out, at least.
Notes:
Welcome to the first extra of this secondary couple.
I have to admit, it was a bit hard to write at first because I got so used to writing Taehyung and Jungkook fucking, and thinking about other people doing it felt weird. But I pulled through, and I’m satisfied with how it turned out.
Two little things—first, for those of you who might not know because you don’t follow me on social media or anything like that, I posted a teaser on my profile of what will be my next fic. It’s called "My Beloved Sergeant" and, of course, it’s KookV. This time it’s an omegaverse, and I suggest you go check it out to read what it’s going to be about. Bookmark it, leave a kudo, and comment on it. The more comments and support it gets, the more motivated I’ll be, because I’ll be able to see how much love it’s receiving even before I officially publish it.
The second thing is that I thought the one-shot KookV I wrote would be published on the 12th, but unfortunately, that didn’t happen. The dates had to be pushed back a lot because people started reporting the account, and it’s literally been taken down like twice already. I’ll let you know when it’s available, but in the meantime, here’s a little preview:
Their bodies were still slick with sweat from rehearsal, making every touch feel sticky, intoxicating. Jungkook slid one hand under Taehyung’s shirt, palm grazing the heated skin and tracing the curve of his waist. Taehyung was panting into his mouth, feverish.
"I didn’t think you kissed like this," he murmured. "I know how you kiss when you’re drunk, but sober is even better."
Jungkook answered by grinding their hips together, pressing so hard Taehyung arched and let out a needy moan.
"You haven’t seen shit yet," he growled, voice rough. "You’re going to pay for being such a goddamn brat."
Let me remind you that the fic will be published first in English here on Ao3 as part of a claim (I honestly don’t really know how it works, it’s my first time joining something like this and I’m not super familiar with how Ao3 works), and then once the author reveal happens, I’ll be allowed to post it on Wattpad too—and in Spanish, for those who prefer to read in that language. I suggest you follow me on Twitter (I’m also @freakinavi there) so you can stay updated.
And don’t forget to leave a loooot of comments, even if it’s just pure smut, okay? Also remember to give kudos and share the story. Kisses!
My Twitter: https://x.com/freakinavi
My Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/user/freakinavi
Chapter 55: EXTRA 04
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Mina had her legs tucked up on the couch, hugging a pillow as she watched the newly released series that everyone was already talking about. Next to her, Momo was a bit more stretched out, her back resting against the cushions, swinging a bare foot lazily in the air. The blonde was restless because it was already later than she wanted. They had been given the morning off and yet they were still running late for afternoon training.
Sana still hadn’t come out. She had said a while ago that she was going to get ready, but she was taking forever. For weeks now, they had noticed she took much longer to get dressed, get ready, and even to respond when they spoke to her.
She seemed distant and more serious, and neither Mina nor Momo managed to get a clear word out of her. They had tried several times with jokes or direct questions, but nothing. Sana just seemed to close herself off more and more.
Momo remembered all those nights when she had heard footsteps on the balcony and the girl’s voice speaking to someone, probably on the phone. Every time they asked her about it, Sana denied it. She would say she wasn’t talking to anyone, that she was just getting some air. And although they didn’t fully believe her, they didn’t push either.
Between them, there was a pact to respect each other’s timing. Momo herself had taken months to confess that she was in love with Hoseok. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust them, but she needed to be ready to let it out, since her initiative to drag them into the idea of auditioning in South Korea and starting from scratch in a new country wasn’t only about fulfilling her dream of being an idol, but also about being with him.
The sound of a door opening was heard, and seconds later Sana appeared in the living room with a neutral expression. She was already in her training clothes, a small backpack slung over one shoulder.
"I'm ready," she announced softly, glancing briefly at her friends.
The black-haired girl got up immediately, leaving the pillow on the couch, but Momo stayed seated for another second because, right at that moment, her phone vibrated in her lap accompanied by a distinctive tone. They all knew who it was—Hoseok had a custom sound set for when he texted or called her.
With a small smile, Momo unlocked her phone, ready to read the message, but the moment she did, her face changed instantly. She frowned, her forehead wrinkling, which made Mina stop in her tracks.
"What happened?" Mina asked, leaning closer.
"Do either of you know Sungchul?" the blonde said, lifting her gaze.
"Sungchul?" Mina repeated with some confusion.
"Yeah," Momo replied, looking back at the chat where Hoseok had just asked her that question. "Hoseok just asked if any of us know him."
Mina crossed her arms, thinking for a moment.
"I think I heard that name at the company, in the boys’ section…" she furrowed her brows, searching her memory. "But I don’t remember his face. I never really pay attention to the guys, especially the ones who look so generic."
"I don’t know much either," Momo admitted with a nod. "I only saw him in some trainings, but I never talked to him. I know he’s a trainee too, but that’s it."
"And why is Hoseok asking?" Mina leaned in a bit.
"I don’t know," Momo replied as she typed what Mina had said into the chat along with her own opinion. "He only asked that, if we knew him. Sana, do you know anything about him?" she asked distractedly.
She got no response, so both girls turned to look at her. The one in question quickly shook her head.
In her mind, Sana felt like everything was collapsing all at once. She was struggling even to keep her composure in front of Momo and Mina. The name Sungchul made her extremely nervous. Why the fuck was Hoseok asking about Sungchul? Had Soojin already gone through with it and sent the photos to Taehyung and Jungkook’s parents?
Sungchul had been the one who helped her once when she couldn’t go follow them. The company had reprimanded her for skipping trainings, she was on the edge, and that day she couldn’t go out to keep an eye on Taehyung. Usually, that task fell on Soojin since she had a much more flexible schedule, but that time it was supposed to be her turn. So she turned to Sungchul, knowing full well the guy was smitten with her—a couple of flirty words were enough to make him agree.
The guy hadn’t asked much. She only gave him a vague explanation, saying it was for a gift, and he immediately agreed, under the promise of a date. She didn’t know if he had been found out since he hadn’t told her anything, because she assumed that if Taehyung or Jungkook had caught him, Sungchul wouldn’t be dumb enough not to say something… right? And he definitely wouldn’t give his real name or let himself be followed… right?
"But why would Hoseok ask about someone so random?" Mina’s voice broke into her thoughts.
"Wait," Momo said, frowning. "He’s typing…"
The sound of another message came, and as soon as she read the first lines, her expression shifted from surprise to visible concern, which immediately alarmed Mina.
"What is it? Why that face?" Mina asked.
Momo swallowed and glanced sideways at Sana, who remained stiff and pale in the same spot. Then she looked back at Mina.
"Taehyung and Jungkook…" she inhaled deeply before blurting it out. "They’re in some sort of romantic relationship."
"What?!" Mina shouted, bringing her hands to her mouth before rushing back to the couch to sit beside her. She leaned in anxiously, trying to peek at the message over Momo’s shoulder. "I did not see that coming…" she let out a nervous laugh and shook her head in disbelief. "My gaydar didn’t work on them at all."
"Your gaydar doesn’t exist, Mina," Momo shot her a sidelong glance, raising an eyebrow. "That only works if the person is queer. Straight people don’t have that power. Mine failed, though—I’m bisexual but with zero instinct. Fucking useless."
"Oh… right, yeah," Mina replied awkwardly. "You’re right."
"Let’s not get sidetracked, it’s not just that," Momo leaned closer, showing her the phone screen more clearly. Mina fixed her eyes on the text and, little by little, her expression shifted from curiosity to a shadow of sadness.
"He said someone’s been following them," the blonde murmured. "They took pictures, and those got to both their parents… and the university’s confession page."
"No… no, it can’t be…" Without thinking, Mina searched her own phone in her pocket and unlocked it in a rush. She opened Instagram and found the account, staring at a striking photo of the two boys. "It’s on the front page…" she said, her voice breaking. Momo leaned in to see, and Mina scrolled through the comments with her finger. "No… no, this is full of shit," she murmured angrily. "Look what they’re saying… almost no one is supporting them. Oh! Jin is fighting half the world in the comments…"
Mina tried to smile at seeing their friends backing them, but sadness took over. It was painful to read so much cruelty directed at two people who were only just beginning to discover themselves.
The sound of another notification chimed, and Momo immediately looked at her phone, her eyes scanning quickly through the new message Hoseok had just sent her.
"God…" she murmured, swallowing with difficulty.
"Don’t scare me, Momo."
"Hoseok says…" she paused, checking the message again, almost as if she needed to confirm she had read it right. "He says Taehyung’s mom kicked him out of the house. She cut him out of her life and broke ties with him."
"Huh? His own mother? How… how could she do that to him?" Mina’s eyes widened as she covered her mouth with one hand.
"They’ve got a name, and it’s Sungchul. Taehyung and Jungkook caught him with a camera the day they were photographed kissing…" the blonde read aloud. "And Hoseok says Jungkook is already on his way to the company to try and find him."
"But why?" Mina asked, her voice thick with anguish as she slowly lowered her hand from her face. "Why would Sungchul do that? He doesn’t even know them! I don’t understand. I really don’t."
"I don’t get it either," Momo admitted, looking away from the screen to gauge her friend’s reaction. Then she turned her head slightly, seeking Sana’s opinion as well. "What about you, Sana? What do you think?" Momo blinked, but the spot where the girl had been just minutes ago… was empty. "Sana?" she asked, confused.
"Sana!" Mina called out, but there was no answer.
The two girls exchanged the same uneasy look. Momo shot up from the couch, and Mina followed close behind. Walking quickly, they reached the hallway and stopped in front of Sana’s bedroom door, which was closed. Momo knocked softly at first.
"Sana, are you in there?" On the other side, there was nothing but silence. She tried turning the handle, but it didn’t budge—the door was locked. "Sana…" Momo spoke more gently now. "I get that you want your space, but we don’t have time to waste right now."
"Come on, open up. Taehyung and Jungkook need us," the black-haired girl intervened. "Did you hear what just happened? Taehyung lost his home and his mother’s support. And Jungkook is already on his way to the company looking for Sungchul. You can’t just lock yourself away right now." She paused, waiting, but there was still no response, which made her sigh. "I know we have training today, but if we have to skip it, so be it. I don’t care if we get scolded. What matters is being there for them. Taehyung fought like hell so that we could be here and chase this dream of becoming trainees. We owe him a lot—and I don’t mean that in a debt kind of way, like we need to repay him as compensation. I mean it because we care about him. We care about them both."
Momo nodded firmly, making a small approving sound at Mina’s words.
"Sana, I know this must be hard for you," the blonde continued. "I know what you felt for them—for both of them—and of course it hurts to find out they’re together after all that time they spent chasing after you. It’s a shock, I won’t deny that. But you can’t be selfish now, this isn’t the time to think about that. They’ve been exposed, violated, and Taehyung especially is broken. He doesn’t deserve to carry this alone. Put aside what you feel for them, Sana. Be a good friend."
Silence. Sana was barely breathing inside the room. Mina looked at Momo and shook her head slowly in defeat, which made the blonde let out a heavy sigh, resigned.
"Fine, if you don’t want to come out, don’t," she said, stepping away from the door and looking at Mina with determination. "In a few hours, after checking on them, we’ll go to the company. I don’t care if we get scolded—we’ll go to Jimin’s place first. They need us right now."
"Is it safe to leave her alone?" Mina asked, doubtful, biting her lip.
The blonde slipped an arm around her shoulders and began guiding her toward the door.
"Nothing’s going to happen. She’s upset, but we’ll talk to her later. We’ll find out what’s going on with her once and for all and settle it—no more waiting until she’s ‘ready.’ We’ll drag it out of her if we have to, I can’t stand seeing her this withdrawn another day. But we’ll do it after. Right now the priority is Jungkook and, especially, Taehyung. I can’t imagine how hard what he’s going through must be."
Mina lowered her head, nodding silently. One last glance at Sana’s closed bedroom door left a strange hollowness in her stomach, but there was no time for hesitation. Minutes later, the two of them left the apartment.
Sana was leaning against the door, breathing in ragged gasps. She felt like every breath scraped her throat raw, her lungs tightening more and more until she thought she was going to suffocate right there.
"Fuck, fuck…" she whispered, covering her face with both hands. "Sungchul, you cowardly bastard, why didn’t you tell me anything?"
The name slipped from between her teeth, full of anger, because Taehyung and Jungkook had caught him with the camera—he should have warned her, told her something. But he kept quiet, and that silence was now her sentence, because she was sure that if Jungkook threatened him, he would spill everything.
She grabbed her phone and tried calling him to warn him not to go out or say anything, but the call went straight to voicemail. Of course—it was training time, and most of them kept their phones off by rule.
Momo and Mina’s words still echoed in her mind. Apparently, Taehyung had been thrown out of his house.
"No…" her voice came out trembling and incredulous as she let herself slide down to sit on the floor. "That… that wasn’t how we planned it."
What she had designed with Soojin was different, much more controlled. The plan was for Taehyung’s mother to pressure him, to threaten him with disapproval of the relationship, and for that pressure to force him to break up with Jungkook—nothing more. They hadn’t planned for it to go any further. They even sent the photos to Jungkook’s parents despite knowing they weren’t conservative, because the truth for many people was that they supported the community as long as it wasn’t someone in their own family. If they got lucky, Jungkook’s parents would also intervene to separate them.
After that, she would appear at just the right moment to comfort him, to offer herself as the refuge he needed. She had even imagined how that first approach would go—how she would flash her best smile and make him feel she was there to hold him up. Hell, she had even practiced the words she’d use.
But then the image of Taehyung’s mother kicking him out of the house burned into her mind, and it made her shiver. Had Taehyung chosen Jungkook over his own family? Or had his mother not even given him a chance to make amends and simply thrown him out with no other option?
Guilt started to invade her, brutally. She hadn’t foreseen that a guy like Taehyung could lose so much all at once, that his entire life would fall apart. She had only thought about a scolding or some limit imposed by his mother, something that would push him to cut things off with Jungkook. But no… what happened was a thousand times worse.
And then she remembered another detail they had never discussed with Soojin—the photo on the university’s confession page.
She and Soojin had only talked about sending the evidence to the parents. Soojin had drafted a message to go with the photos, saying that they had to separate them and make them return to 'normal', giving plenty of reasons for the parents to intervene.
But the photo on the confession page… that hadn’t been her. Which meant only one person could be behind it: Soojin.
Sana hadn’t wanted things to end that way; she just wanted Taehyung to look at her again, the way he used to, with that devotion that once made her feel like she was the very center of his world. She didn’t need Jungkook to look at her—though deep down, she wished he would. But Soojin had made sure to remind her that he wasn’t hers. Jungkook belonged to her, and Sana had to settle for Taehyung. She had accepted it without a fight, because with Taehyung, she already had more than enough.
Taehyung was her dream, the promise of a perfect future, of a love straight out of a novel, of a life that would be complete. Soojin had opened her eyes to make sure she didn’t doubt it; she told her that with someone like Taehyung by her side, she’d never lack anything, that no one could deny her a place on stage, and that her debut would be guaranteed. And Sana had believed her.
She remembered the first time she imagined introducing herself to Taehyung’s mother. She had planned to arrive with humility, smile sweetly, behave like the ideal daughter-in-law. She wanted his mother to see her as a good girl, the right choice for her son. She wanted her to say herself, 'stay with Sana, she’s the one'.
Hope had burned in her chest.
That day when both of them rejected her at the same time, everything had collapsed. She felt like she was losing her mind, like she was being ripped in half. How was it even possible? They had been crazy about her, to the point of fighting each other over her, and suddenly all of that turned into 'we’re together, even though we’re both guys'. It was almost a cruel joke.
She tried to convince herself over and over that Jungkook and Taehyung couldn’t possibly be in love. It didn’t make sense. They were just confused, experiencing something fleeting. They were guys, at that age where everything got distorted by monotony. They weren’t gay. They couldn’t be. In her mind, everything had to be fixed. She and Soojin would be the ones to help them get back on track. She only needed to regain control before it all blew up.
But with how things ended, the illusion of that perfect future was shattering before her eyes, and all that was left was panic racing through her body. Sana had never received that kind of attention before—not the way Taehyung and Jungkook had once looked at her. Thinking about it was what was breaking her mind into pieces while she hugged her knees on the floor of her room. Her entire life had been a constant reminder that she was never enough, that there was always someone else who shone brighter, deserved more, someone people always chose instead of her.
Since she was little, she had witnessed Hoseok’s love for Momo grow. She saw it in every detail and gesture that made her feel small in comparison. Hoseok had crossed seas for Momo, traveled to Japan just to see her, bought her flights so she could come to South Korea, sent her gifts on dates that weren’t even important—simply because he wanted to remind her how much he thought about her. He didn’t even feel it as a sacrifice; it came straight from his soul, it was natural for him to want to have those gestures with the girl he loved.
Even now, when Sana’s parents refused to support her dream, saying she should dedicate herself to anything but becoming an idol, it was Hoseok who had opened his wallet without hesitation and bought plane tickets for the three of them—because he didn’t want to leave Mina out either. For him it wasn’t a burden; it was a grand gesture, but to him it was just another simple detail. They were his friends too, after all. They weren’t just 'his girlfriend’s friends'. Hoseok genuinely was her best friend, and he saw them the same way.
And in the middle of all that, Sana kept asking herself over and over: Who would ever do something like that for me?
The answer was almost always no one—and never.
She compared herself to Mina too. Even though her friend had never had a boyfriend, she always had guys orbiting around her. Boys trying to win her over, following her with flowers, with messages, with constant attention. And of course, Mina brushed them off without giving them much importance.
Sana saw it all with envy and emptiness, because she knew she wasn’t ugly—she had a pretty face and an attractive body. Several guys had tried to sleep with her, but it was only that, just a desire to pass the time, a shallow craving that disappeared as soon as they got what they wanted. Nobody had valued her, nobody had stopped to really see her.
Until they showed up. Taehyung and Jungkook.
They were the first ones to look at her differently, to seem genuinely interested in her beyond just one night. The way they competed for her, the way they fought each other just to earn a spot by her side, had awakened something inside her. For the first time, she felt wanted, she felt important, she felt like she could choose. She didn’t want to lose that, so she clung to it with everything she had, trying to keep both of them tied to her with the idea that when the time came and she made it into NOVA, she could finally decide which one of them would be hers.
But everything had twisted, something had come between them, and without realizing it, they had stopped looking at her to look at each other. That betrayal had hit her right in the ego, tearing away in one blow the security she had been so excited about. She felt like they were stealing from her, rejection burned hot against her skin, and the helplessness of not understanding how it had happened ate her alive from the inside. It was that open wound that had allowed Soojin to slip so easily into her head.
She covered her face with her hands and broke down in tears. Her nerves were shredded; she couldn’t think straight, her brain was like a swarm of voices screaming at her all at once, leaving no room for a single coherent thought. She tried to look for solutions and found nothing.
For a moment, she thought about calling Soojin, but she stopped before unlocking her phone again. Calling her would mean warning her, and deep down Sana knew that if she went down, Soojin wouldn’t lift a finger to save her. On the contrary, she’d step aside and let her drown alone. And if it were the other way around, if Soojin had been the first one caught, she wouldn’t hesitate to say Sana’s name just to try and save herself. That was why she decided not to dial her number.
Loneliness was worse than anything else. It made her feel trapped, cornered by her own mistakes. She thought about running away, throwing a few things in a bag and disappearing, finding some place where no one could find her. But the moment she thought it, she knew it was useless, that they’d find her sooner or later. And even if they didn’t, where could she even go? She had no one to turn to.
She had no idea how many hours she spent there, crying. Time had turned endless. She didn’t know how long she had spent trying to put her thoughts in order when no clear idea ever came.
Until she heard the front door opening.
Sana’s heart skipped violently, pure fear rushing through her veins. Adrenaline shot through her, forcing her to her feet in an instant.
She looked around desperately, searching for an escape or something that could save her from the inevitable. The window was there, open—but they lived on the eleventh floor. There was no way to jump without signing her own death sentence. There was no escape. They were already inside, the sound of footsteps echoing down the hallway.
She had her hands tangled in her own hair, pulling at the strands without even realizing it. They tried to open the door, but the lock was on, so they pounded on it so hard that it startled Sana.
“Open the damn door! How long are you going to keep hiding, huh?!” roared Taehyung from the other side.
Sana squeezed her eyes shut, tears streaming uncontrollably. She covered her mouth with both hands to muffle the sob that slipped out. She felt like she couldn’t breathe, like her heart was about to burst out of her chest. She wanted to scream at them to leave her alone, but her throat refused to respond.
The next blow against the door was even stronger, rattling the frame. Sana stumbled back clumsily, tripping on the corner of the bed and hitting her knee. The pain didn’t matter—she was too terrified to feel it.
“Come out and face us, for fuck's sake!” Jungkook shouted this time.
She heard her friend say she was going to get the keys, and her trembling worsened.
Mina… no… don’t look for anything, don’t open it, don’t come in. Please.
Would her best friend really open the door so they could hurt her? Had they chosen to believe them—and Sungchul—over her? Maybe they had enough proof, but… why wouldn’t they give her the benefit of the doubt? They were supposed to be her friends.
Then came the crack of wood splintering, the sheer violence of a kick slamming against the lock.
The impact made her jolt and let out a strangled cry. She clapped her hands over her ears and crouched slightly. She froze, eyes trembling as tears streaked down her cheeks, smudging her makeup.
They all burst inside with violence, surrounding her, each wearing a different expression of fury, disappointment, and disbelief. She instinctively backed away, but there was nowhere to run. Not a single face offered her refuge—no one was on her side. Not her best friends, not Hoseok, and least of all Taehyung and Jungkook.
──── ∗ ⋅✧⋅ ∗ ────
The hurricane had already passed, and it had swept everything away.
Momo had told her to leave, that they didn’t want her there, that they would sleep at Hoseok’s that night and when they came back tomorrow, they didn’t want to see her in that house. They weren’t friends anymore; now she was nothing but a nuisance and a traitor, a burden they wanted to get rid of.
She had spent hours staring at the apartment walls, her eyes dry from crying so much, not even realizing when night had turned into dawn. She was terrified of staying and facing their looks of contempt—or something even worse—so at sunrise, she began to pack. She stuffed everything into the wheeled suitcase she had brought from Japan, trying not to make noise, though there was no one left to hear it.
When she stepped out and closed the door behind her, leaving her copy of the keys on the living room table, a shiver ran down her spine. It was the feeling of losing something she was never going to get back. She took the elevator down with her heart clenched, and when the doors opened in the lobby, she found herself alone, dragging her suitcase through a neighborhood that, at the very least, had the decency of being safe. She walked aimlessly for a long while, her eyes red.
“And now what?” she whispered to herself, stopping at a corner and looking around.
She had no one to call.
She pulled her phone from her jacket and slid the screen with trembling hands. She had a few contacts, but they were all people from the company, girls she barely exchanged words with during rehearsals and choreography. Who was she supposed to ask for help? Who would take in someone her own friends didn’t even want at home?
Her only option was the savings she had brought from Japan. It wasn’t much, but at least it would help her survive for a while until debut came. She had saved them with discipline, resisting the urge to spend them on whims or unnecessary things, always thinking the day would come when she’d need them.
Up until then, she hadn’t needed to spend much. The company covered lunch, dinners were shared with Momo and Mina, and when that wasn’t enough, Hoseok always showed up like an older brother with his wallet open and his heart willing. She had hardly ever needed to reach into her own pockets. One of the rare exceptions was Mina’s birthday, at the cabin, when she had wanted to give it her all to celebrate her. The irony. Now she didn’t even have a place to sleep.
Her mind was a whirlwind. She thought about looking for a cheap motel but feared burning through her money too quickly. She even considered going back to the apartment and begging, but she knew it would be pointless.
She covered her face with both hands and let the tears fall, though she knew she couldn’t spend the whole day in that state. She had to move, had to make decisions, because life wasn’t going to stop.
In the middle of that storm, only one name surfaced in her mind: Soojin. The last person she wanted to talk to, but also the only one she had left. She hesitated for long minutes, but she had no other options.
Her fingers trembled so badly she could barely press the phone screen. The call rang… once, twice… and just when she thought no one would answer, Soojin’s voice came on the other end.
“What do you want?”
“S-Soojin… I…” She stopped to swallow hard and hold back a sob. “They found out about everything we did, they came straight to me… they confronted me, they yelled at me, they attacked me… and… and Momo and Mina threw me out of the apartment. I have nowhere to go… please, can I stay with you for a few days? Just until I figure out what to do.”
There was silence on the line. Sana waited, clinging to the hope of at least hearing a sigh of compassion, the smallest hint of support. But what came instead was a lash.
“Are you out of your mind?” Soojin spat. “You want me to get involved in your fuckups? You ruined everything yourself, Sana. You let yourself get caught like an idiot. You’re a disaster, you can’t even lie properly.”
The words hit her like a slap. Sana pressed her lips together, fighting not to break down in tears at the voice that had once sweetened her with promises.
“I… I just wanted help… I don’t have anyone else left…”
“Help?” she laughed without humor. “The only thing you deserve is to be slammed against the ground so you’ll learn not to be such an idiot. Did you really think I was going to pick you up like some abandoned puppy?”
“But…” Sana tried to respond, her voice choked. “If you hadn’t called me… if you hadn’t dragged me into this, I wouldn’t have done anything. I just… I just trusted you…”
The other side of the line let out a huff full of contempt.
“Don’t give me that cheap excuse. You can’t even take responsibility for what you do. If you don’t have the guts to face the consequences, you shouldn’t have gotten involved. You’re an adult, I didn’t manipulate you—you were fine with it from the start, you were fully aware and you accepted it. Don’t try to play the good girl now.”
“Please, Soojin… just a few days, I don’t have anywhere to sleep…”
“Forget it. Better yet, answer me one thing—did you tell them my name?”
Sana blinked, confused.
“What…?”
“I said, did you tell them my fucking name?!” she roared through the phone. “Answer!”
“Y-Yes… I told them that…” She thought there was no point in lying, but regretted it the second after.
"You’re a fucking idiot! The worst accomplice on the planet! Not even a rat sells out that easily… you’re going to ruin everything! If you haven’t already. You screwed up my chance to get Jungkook back!" Soojin’s scream was so fierce that Sana had to pull the phone a few inches away from her ear.
"I’m sorry… I didn’t—"
"Shut up!" Soojin cut her off. "Your apology is useless. If I see you face to face, I swear I’ll kill you. Kill you, Sana! You took Jungkook away from me, and I’ll never forgive you for that. I’m not supposed to lose."
"Soojin… please, don’t say that… I just—"
"Get out of my sight, don’t ever look for me again!" she finished with venom, and without giving Sana the chance to reply, she hung up.
Slowly, Sana lowered the phone, feeling the world collapse around her. Her legs gave out, and she dropped down next to her suitcase in a crouch, resting her forehead against her knees. A sob tore from her chest until she couldn’t stop the flood of tears, feeling like the loneliest, most despicable person on the planet.
──── ∗ ⋅✧⋅ ∗ ────
The hostel Sana ended up in wasn’t all that bad, considering it was a narrow building with walls painted white that had long since lost the battle against time and dust, with posters in different languages plastered across the hallways, stating the basic rules: no noise after eleven, wash your dishes after using them, turn off the lights.
The rooms were small and shared, the metal bunks creaked with the slightest movement, and the thin mattresses were covered with worn sheets that smelled of cheap detergent.
The atmosphere wasn’t unpleasant—there was, in fact, a certain sense of community in the hallways, where backpackers with tired faces crossed paths with volunteers spending weeks in the country on limited budgets. Sana heard voices in French, German, Spanish, and others she couldn’t even identify. Everyone seemed to have a story to tell and a purpose to fulfill. She felt like an intruder there.
She kept her suitcase under the bottom bunk assigned to her. She shared the room with three girls: an Colombian redhead who spent her days typing away on a laptop, a German girl who spoke way too loudly, and a Thai girl who always smiled, even when she didn’t really understand what the others were saying. Sometimes they tried to include her in their conversations, but Sana only offered polite smiles, retreating into her silence and pretending to sleep.
She knew she had to save every last coin now—she had to endure. She woke up early, went to train with the same discipline as always for two days, and tried not to cry when Momo and Mina ignored her. At night she searched for jobs on classifieds websites, wondering if she’d end up at a Seven-Eleven restocking drinks and instant noodles. That fate felt like a fair punishment—she truly believed she deserved it.
But nothing prepared her for what happened that Monday.
She was standing in front of the small mirror in the shared bathroom, trying to fix her hair in a decent way before heading to NOVA. She had slept badly, but she clung to the thought that things would get better if she just focused on her future.
That’s when she heard a notification ping on her phone. Still holding her brush, she walked back to her bed and unlocked the screen, seeing that it was an email. The sender: NOVA. She finished brushing her hair, gathered her things from the bathroom, and sat down on the bed to read.
She thought maybe it was about another partial day off like Friday’s, due to maintenance—but as soon as she read the first lines, her face went pale.
They were informing her that she was not to return—she had been expelled. For supposedly inappropriate behavior and dating a fellow trainee, something strictly forbidden by contract.
The phone trembled in her hands, her fingers went slack, and the device slipped onto the wrinkled sheets. She froze for a few seconds, trying to process what she had just read, until the shock exploded inside her.
"No, no, no, no!" she screamed, clutching her head, tugging at her hair in desperation. "This can’t be happening, it can’t be happening! No!"
Her outburst alarmed the girls sharing the room. The Australian looked up from her laptop, the German pulled off her headphones, and the Thai girl straightened up in her bed—all of them wearing worried expressions.
"¿Estás bien? (Are you ok?)" the Colombian asked softly in Spanish, but Sana didn’t hear her.
She collapsed onto the bunk, slamming her fist into the pillow. Her screams grew louder, more raw.
"くそースジン！あなたのおかげで、あなたのいまいましい罪悪感のために私はここにいます！そして、あなたも、テヒョン、ジョングク、雌犬の息子たち！彼らは私からすべてを奪いました、すべて！ (Damn you, Soojin! Because of you, because of your fucking guilt, I’m here! And you too, Taehyung, Jungkook, you sons of bitches! You took everything from me—everything!)"
The other girls exchanged confused looks, unsure whether to approach her or not. But she didn’t stop.
"そして私は...私は最悪です！私は愚かです！自分の手で彼の人生を台無しにしたバカ！ゴミ、私は！ (And me… I’m the worst of all! I’m stupid! An idiot who ruined his life with my own hands! Trash—that’s what I am!)"
The Colombian tried to take a step closer, raising her hand.
"Oye, cálmate... (Hey, calm down…)"
"Don’t talk to me!" Sana roared, tears streaming down her face. "I don’t want to see anyone!"
Silence fell in the room. The three foreigners backed away, exchanged a look of concern, and finally decided to leave, shutting the door behind them.
Sana curled up against the wall, clutching her phone in her hands, breathing unevenly, until little by little her sobs weakened into a haunting silence.
──── ∗ ⋅✧⋅ ∗ ────
Her eyes stayed fixed on the screen, where she had the airline’s website open. She searched for flights back to Japan—there was nothing left for her here.
The prices were steep, far beyond her reach. She was close, but not close enough. The cheapest flights were months away, and even those had to be paid in advance. If she booked one now, she’d have no money left to survive until then. It all depended on whether she could find a job, but who knew when she would, or how long she could hold out with what little she had left.
So she thought about her last resort—her parents. She didn’t want to, but she had no choice. With trembling hands, she pulled up her father’s contact and pressed call.
Her parents were her final card to play, though she knew exactly what it meant—facing the inevitable scolding for disobeying them. With a shaky sigh, she finally pressed the button.
The line took its time to connect, and when she finally heard her father’s deep voice on the other end, speaking in Japanese, her entire body tensed.
"なんでしょう？ (What do you want?)" he said first, without a shred of warmth.
The sound of those words alone was enough to fill Sana’s eyes with tears. She covered her mouth with her hand so he wouldn’t hear her trembling breath, but the emotion overwhelmed her, and a sob escaped.
"お父さん… (Dad…)" she stammered, her voice breaking.
"再び泣いていますか？ (Crying again?)" he scolded immediately. "あなたはいつも泣きます。他に何かをする方法を知らないのですか？ (You’re always crying. Don’t you know how to do anything else?)"
She squeezed her eyes shut, hating herself for showing such weakness and confirming exactly what he thought of her.
"私は...彼らは私を解雇しました...会社から。(I… they fired me… from the company.)"
There was a brief silence, but not one of compassion. She knew he was judging her. Then her father let out an annoyed sigh.
"私はあなたに言った、私はそれを何度も繰り返した。その人生はあなたのためではありませんでした。あなたが最初から私を聞いただけなら、あなたはこの失われた時間とそのすべてのお金を節約できたかもしれません... (I told you, I repeated it so many times. That life was never for you. You could have saved all this wasted time and all that money if only you had listened to me from the beginning…)"
"私は...私はそれができると思った... (I… I thought I could do it…)" she whispered, painfully aware of how pathetic she sounded.
A second voice suddenly cut in — her mother’s — confirming the speakerphone was on.
"あなたはひどく考えました。あなたは必要、健康を持っていませんでした。そして今何？敗北を返すように称賛してほしいですか？ (You thought wrong. You never had what it takes, Sana. And now what? Do you want us to applaud you for coming back defeated?)"
"両親...私は家に帰りたいです。いいえ...フライトに十分なお金がありません。私は少し恋しいですが、...私は助けが必要です。(I want to come home. I don’t… I don’t have enough money for the flight. I’m close, but… I need help.)"
Her father let out a bitter laugh.
"いくら？(How much?)"
Trembling, Sana glanced at the calculation she had done in won on her phone, then converted it mentally into yen, murmuring the amount under her breath.
"あなたはあなたの話を聞いていますか？(Do you even hear yourself?)" her mother snapped, her voice rising. "たくさんのお金です。あなたの気まぐれをカバーするためにそのような量があると思いますか？あなたは信じられないほど無責任です！(That’s a huge amount of money. Do you think we have that lying around just to cover your whims? You are unbelievably irresponsible!)"
"あなたが戻りたいなら、ボートでそれをしてください。(If you want to come back, then do it by boat.)" Her father added flatly.
Sana blinked several times, unsure she’d heard him correctly.
"何で？(In… what?)"
"ボートで。 (By boat.)" her father’s voice grew even harsher. "たぶんあなたはあなたが持っているものを大切にすることを学びます。(Maybe that way you’ll learn to value what you have.)"
"どうやってそれをするつもりですか？あなたは何について話しているのですか？ (How am I supposed to do that? What are you even talking about?)" she demanded, outraged. Her? By boat all the way to Japan? And not just anywhere — she needed to get to Osaka. How was she supposed to make it?
"ソウルから釜山までバスに乗ると、フェリスがいます。福岡に行くと、約4時間かかります。大阪に直接送られる別のものがあります。つまり、私たちはテノジクーと過去15時間にいるので、ほぼここにあります。お好みのものを選択してください。(You take a bus from Seoul to Busan, there are ferries. One goes to Fukuoka, it takes about four hours. There’s another that goes straight to Osaka, practically right here since we’re in Tennōji-ku, and that one lasts fifteen hours. Pick whichever you prefer.)"
Her mother cut in again, her tone bordering on mockery.
"うまくいけば、その旅行中に、あなたはそれがあなたの両親に注意を払うことを意味することを理解していることを願っています。私たちはあなたがその世界のために作られていないことを何千回も言いましたが、いや、あなたは去り、逃げて逃げなければなりませんでした。それがあなたがあなたの両親を称えるべき理由です。(Hopefully during that trip you’ll understand what it means to listen to your parents. We told you a thousand times you weren’t made for that world, but no, you had to leave, disobey, and run away. That’s why you’re supposed to honor your parents.)"
"本当に...彼らは私にこれを言っているのですか？(Are you seriously… are you really saying this to me?)" she whispered in disbelief, tears now fueled not only by grief but by raw rage and helplessness.
"あなたはすでにあなたの決定を下しました、今彼らと一緒に暮らしています (You already made your choices, now live with them,)" her father said coldly. "私たちはあなたを愛しているので、私たちはこれをします。(We’re doing this because we love you, Sana.)"
"少なくともこれがレッスンとして機能し、あなたが人として改善できることを願っています、私の愛する娘 (At least let this serve as a lesson so you can grow as a person, my dear daughter,)" her mother added, her tone suddenly sweet.
When they finally hung up, Sana remained frozen for several seconds, the phone trembling in her hand until she let it fall onto the bed.
She was drowning in her misery, her dreams reduced to ashes. She had no future left. She thought about how different everything could have been if she hadn’t let herself be dragged down by Soojin, if she hadn’t acted out of that selfish craving for validation. That had been the root of her downfall, the chain that had pulled her into a pit with no way out.
And the worst part — she didn’t even know it yet. She would only discover it once she returned to Japan and tried again, this time with a company there. What she didn’t realize was that her name was already stained. She was on the industry’s blacklist. No agency would ever hire her again, and life would prove her parents right.
For the first time in her life, Sana admitted she had never regretted a decision this much. Deep in her chest, with unbearable pain, she understood that maybe she would never truly rise again.
Notes:
HELLO! It’s been a while since I last brought you an extra, so to make up for it, I brought you two.
Many of you asked a lot about what happened with Sana. You knew she was kicked out of the company, but you didn’t know the details. Some of you will find satisfaction in it, others might even sympathize with her, who knows. In this extra, a few doubts were cleared up about her mindset and what exactly she wanted to do.
The following part is mostly for the Wattpad community (because that’s where it happened), but it doesn’t hurt to leave it clarified here as well:
I wanted to say a few things I’ve been meaning to bring up for a while. It’s not that it really bothered me, but it felt a bit… I don’t know, annoying. Clearly, you all know the kind of person Sana is. You knew all of her plans and her true personality because you read it; but the characters in the story didn’t. Up until the moment of the reveal, NOBODY had any idea about anything. Yes, Jiwoo warned that she was strange, but no one would ever believe Sana was capable of doing something so horrible.
It bothered me a little when some of you got annoyed whenever Sana was invited to hangouts with the rest. CLEARLY THEY WERE GOING TO INVITE HER. She was friends with everyone; there was no way they wouldn’t invite her when nobody knew her real intentions and, in everyone else’s eyes, she was their friend. Another thing I want to clarify is that, for Hoseok, Sana isn’t just “his girlfriend’s friend,” she’s also one of his best friends. That’s why Hoseok would, of course, invite Sana and Mina to join in on everyone’s plans.
Anyway, I hope you understand.
Fun fact of the day: Originally, when I was just writing the first chapters, Sana wasn’t going to be the villain of this story. She was only going to be the love interest of the guys, but she wasn’t actually going to pay attention to them because she liked someone else—that someone was going to be Jimin. But Jimin wasn’t going to pay attention to her because Yoonmin was always intended to be the secondary pairing. She would have ended up with another guy in the end. Soojin was always planned as the bad one, and I had planned for the accomplice to be Gwanhee. But while writing, I realized I needed Sana for certain things, so her role shifted.
In the edits I’m currently making, there are new dialogues and actions from Sana that make her true nature clearer. I made Sana a love interest because I love her—she’s literally one of my favorites in Twice. I’m not an Once, but that woman is fascinating. Do I regret my choices? Yes, definitely. If I could go back in time, I would rewrite everything without making her the bad one.
I already published the one-shot “behave (or don't)”. I promise you’ll like it; it’s very hot and pretty explicit. It’s a canon-compliant OS where Taehyung is a brat and Jungkook is his brat tamer. Please go check it out.
On my profile you can also find my most recent fic: My Beloved Sergeant. It’s a KookV omegaverse fanfic with a military/medical theme, so I highly recommend (and kind of beg you) to go read it too and show it some love.
Don’t forget to comment a lot. Remember to leave kudos and follow me on my socials if you haven’t yet (I’m on Twitter as freakinavi). Kisses!
Chapter 56: EXTRA 05
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The apartment door closed behind them with a soft click. Taehyung walked in with calm steps, holding in his hand the little dinosaur hat he had worn at Lotte World, while Jungkook carried the bag full of things they had bought or won at the games. He looked like a happy kid after a festival, and it made Jungkook melt.
They were both laughing as they recalled the most memorable moments of the day. It was almost ten at night, and although they were a bit tired, they still had some energy left. Taehyung left the hat on the dining table and stretched his arms upward, letting out a groan. Jungkook set the bag down on the table as well and came closer to him. He took his jacket, slid it carefully off his shoulders, and went to hang it up. Then he did the same with his own.
"Are you happy?" Jungkook asked when he looked back at him, with the soft smile that always appeared when he saw him like this.
"Very," Taehyung replied, and Jungkook smiled in delight, moving a little closer to his boyfriend.
"I love seeing you like this," he said in a low voice.
Taehyung arched a brow and bit his lip playfully.
"Do you only love me when I’m happy?"
"No," Jungkook denied immediately, taking his hand gently. Around Taehyung’s wrist was the silver bracelet with a water drop engraved, the same one Jungkook had given him that day he asked him to be his boyfriend. Jungkook caressed it with his thumb, looking at his own matching bracelet as well. "I also love you."
"You’re so damn cheesy," Taehyung scrunched his nose and let out a soft laugh.
Jungkook leaned in and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.
"Well, now you have to give me back the ‘I love you.’"
"I’m not saying it," Taehyung denied dramatically.
"Come on, Tae…" Jungkook pleaded, giving his hand a small tug. "Just say it."
"Mhm… I like you," the blond looked at him with a teasing smirk.
"No," Jungkook pouted instantly in a tantrum. "That doesn’t count. I don’t want you to just like me, I want you to love me."
Taehyung blushed and dropped his gaze slightly.
"I already told you you’re cheesy."
"And you’re stubborn. Come on, say it properly."
"Jungkook…" he murmured.
"I’m not leaving you alone until you say it," he insisted.
The older one tried to resist, but Jungkook was making such adorable faces that it was impossible to hold out for long. In the end, he sighed in defeat.
"Fine… I love you."
Jungkook’s eyes widened as if he had just won a prize, but that wasn’t enough for him.
"A lot or just a little?" he asked, wrapping his arms around him in a hug that pressed him close to his body.
"Don’t be annoying," Taehyung grumbled. But Jungkook pouted again, exaggerating the gesture with so much determination that Taehyung ended up smiling. "A lot," he admitted, his ears burning.
Jungkook’s happiness exploded in an impulse; he cupped his face with both hands and kissed him on the lips, with a rush of enthusiasm that left Taehyung breathless. It was an intense kiss that ended as quickly as it had started, but it left him weak in the knees and with a blank mind.
When they pulled apart, Taehyung was still frozen, trying to process what had just happened. Jungkook, on the other hand, acted like nothing had happened. He walked over to the bag, opened it, and began pulling things out calmly, as if he hadn’t just left him half-dead there.
"Look," he pulled out the dinosaur plushie and the red Power Ranger figure, lifting them into the air. Also on the table were the mugs, the printed photo booth strips, a couple of keychains, and other souvenirs. "Where should we put these?"
Taehyung blinked, slowly coming back from the haze that kiss had left him in. He shook his head, still a bit dazed, and cleared his throat.
"On your desk, in the room. They’ll be fine there," the blond swallowed as he regained his bearings.
Jungkook nodded calmly, accepting Taehyung’s idea about where to place the plushie and the figure. After that, he picked up the mugs they had bought and walked to the kitchen. He had to wash them before putting them away—who knew how long those cute animal mugs—one with a rabbit and the other with a bear—had been sitting on display.
Taehyung watched him for a moment from the dining table, but after a few seconds, he walked over and approached from behind, wrapping his arms around the younger’s waist. He pressed his torso against his firm back and let his chin rest on his shoulder, breathing slowly against his neck.
"What is it?" Jungkook asked, his tone light as he smiled without stopping rinsing the mugs before giving them the first pass with soap.
"If someone here really loved me, they’d make me something to eat and then give me a nice massage," Taehyung said in a tender tone.
"Oh, really?" the black-haired one said sarcastically, raising his eyebrows. That tone made Taehyung purse his lips and let out a small whine, faking a tantrum.
He tightened his hold around the younger’s waist, resting his cheek against his shoulder, staring at his boyfriend’s profile.
"I mean it, Koo," he growled under his breath.
"We ate a ton today, didn’t we? And you’re still hungry?" Jungkook set the rabbit mug down to dry and continued with the other one.
"Walking so much makes me hungry," Taehyung complained, puffing out his cheeks.
"You’re a hopeless case, seriously. You stuff yourself like a cow at a fair, and five hours later you’re already crying for more food," he said in a mocking tone.
As revenge for being called a cow, the arms that were still clinging to Jungkook’s waist suddenly slid upward, reaching the younger’s firm pecs. Before Jungkook could react, Taehyung squeezed with both hands and drew circles, shamelessly massaging.
"Hey!" Jungkook startled, eyes going wide. "What the hell are you doing? Stop that."
"You’ve got some nice tits," Taehyung said with a mischievous tone, his lips curving into a wicked smile.
Jungkook’s eyes widened even more, and he shoved him slightly with his hip to push him away.
"Don’t say things like that!" he protested.
But instead of stopping, the older one doubled down on his mischief. He squeezed his chest again, this time more insistently, changing the motion from circles to vertical strokes up and down, experimenting to see what rhythm would get him more reactions. Jungkook pressed his lips together and shut his eyes, his hands frozen over the sink since he was still soaping the damn bear mug, and a faint sigh slipped out of him.
"Taehyung… stop," he murmured, both warning and pleading, trying to keep his composure.
The older one watched him with bright eyes, taking in every detail of his expression. He smiled wickedly when he noticed the slight tremor in his lips and the taut line forming in his neck.
"Do you like it?" he asked, raising a brow.
"It’s… strange and weird," Jungkook admitted. "No one’s… no one’s ever touched me like this."
"Strange and weird isn’t always bad," Taehyung muttered. "That’s almost always how I describe the things you do to me that I like, just so I don’t admit right away that I actually like them."
Before Jungkook could pull away, Taehyung slipped his hands under his shirt, finding the hot, smooth skin of his torso. His fingers traveled over his firm abs until his palms pressed directly against his pecs, kneading them even more shamelessly, delighting in the immediate reaction it drew from the younger, who dropped the mug and gripped the countertop with both hands as if he needed support.
"Fuck…" Jungkook muttered, his voice lower.
"You’re so sensitive, huh?" Taehyung grinned, squeezing more to provoke him. "Who would’ve thought my boyfriend melts when his tits get played with?"
Jungkook didn’t respond much, only breathed harder, trying not to give in to the tingling that spread across his chest. Taehyung remembered, in an instant, all the times Jungkook had touched him there, pinching and playing with his nipples until he shivered. And he thought maybe the logic was the same. If he liked it, maybe Jungkook would too.
So he tried.
With both hands, he brought his thumbs and index fingers to the younger’s nipples, pinching them with a bit of pressure. The reaction was immediate—Jungkook let out a loud moan. Taehyung’s eyes widened and he bit his lower lip, he liked hearing that.
It was in that instant that Jungkook straightened, freeing himself from the counter. He spun around sharply, grabbed Taehyung firmly by the shoulders, and shoved him until his back hit the kitchen island. His breathing was ragged, his cheeks flushed, and his eyes dark with intensity.
“You’re a fucking brat,” he spat hoarsely. “I told you to stop.”
“And why should I?” Taehyung shot back, shrugging innocently. “I want to discover things about you, Jungkook. You’re always too focused on me… I want to know you like this too.”
“I like focusing on you,” the younger confessed. “It gives me pleasure to see you full of pleasure.”
Taehyung’s eyes glimmered with mischief, even though his lips pouted slightly. Jungkook didn’t know if Taehyung was aware of how much that particular expression drove him insane.
“That moan was so hot,” whispered the blond in a teasing tone, leaning closer to him. “I love hearing you like that.”
“Weren’t you supposed to be hungry?” Jungkook glared at him, catching on to his intentions.
“I am hungry…” Taehyung tilted his head. “But now I’m craving something else.”
His gaze dropped shamelessly to Jungkook’s crotch. Then he looked back up, directly into his eyes, and the damn spark shining in them forced the younger to follow that path with his own.
When he looked down, he noticed what his boyfriend was referring to. He was hard, a visible bulge straining against his pants.
“Ah… fuck…” he muttered, unable to stop the furious blush spreading across his face.
Taehyung chuckled softly, almost tenderly.
“Did you really get hard just because I touched your tits?” he asked, biting his lower lip.
Jungkook snapped his head up, trying to defend himself, but all it did was make him look even more flustered.
“Shut up…” he mumbled.
“You’re adorable, you look like a nervous little teenager,” Taehyung added, fascinated.
“Taehyung, I told you to shut up.”
The older raised a brow, not moving an inch, and with surprising skill his fingers went straight to Jungkook’s waistband. He unbuttoned it quickly, letting the metal clink softly.
“Weren’t you tired?” Jungkook asked with a small smile.
“I’m never tired for this,” Taehyung answered with absolute certainty, and instantly his hand slipped inside his pants, stopping just above the fabric of his underwear.
“Mghm…” the younger moaned.
The blond watched him with delight, almost hypnotized by the way his boyfriend unraveled under his touch.
“You know what’s funny?” Taehyung asked with a crooked smile, still moving his hand. “This feels a lot like the first time we touched each other.”
Half out of it, Jungkook let out a low, nervous laugh.
“It’s true… you were like this… against the island. I had you cornered, and we ended up giving each other a mutual handjob after kissing sober for the first time.”
“Yeah… I still can’t believe we did that,” Taehyung laughed. “For our first time touching another man, we handled it pretty well, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, you’re right… but there’s just one thing missing,” Jungkook said.
Taehyung arched a brow, his hand already slipping lower, under his underwear, touching him directly. Jungkook’s throbbing hardness fit perfectly into his palm, and the younger let out a groan.
“And what’s missing?” Taehyung asked curiously, squeezing a little tighter, which made Jungkook gasp loudly. He bit his lip before answering.
“We’re missing a kiss… and also you letting me touch you.”
The words lingered in the air. Taehyung’s eyes fell to his lips, tempted, and Jungkook did the same. For a few seconds, there was only that tension, that magnetic pull dragging them inevitably closer.
It was Jungkook who broke the distance. He leaned in suddenly and kissed him hungrily, a clash of mouths filled with urgency. His lips moved forcefully, demanding, biting, tasting everything Taehyung offered.
At the same time, his hands worked on his boyfriend’s lower clothes, unfastening, tugging, and pushing fabric down until both were halfway undressed. In the blink of an eye, their pants were on the floor and both their erections were exposed, pressed close.
They panted against each other’s lips, sharing spit and heat, while their hands sought one another to wrap around what was between their legs, jerking each other off.
The moans were messy, swallowed into each other’s mouths, interrupted only by broken words. Jungkook’s chest burned every time Taehyung moaned his name, or whenever that deep voice cracked against his lips.
Between kisses, they told each other they were doing good, seeking validation, but more than anything, desperate to make sure the other knew how much they liked it.
Taehyung clung to Jungkook, and between a strangled moan, he let slip in the middle of it all:
“I love you…”
Jungkook froze. His fingers stopped, his wrist hung suspended in the air, and in consequence, Taehyung’s hand also halted, staring at him in confusion.
“What’s wrong?” the older asked, brows furrowed, lips still swollen. “Why did you stop?”
“Repeat what you said,” the tattooed one said with a grin.
“That I love you…” he replied, a little uncertain. “But I don’t get why you’re being so dramatic, idiot, we’ve said it before, don’t make a sce—”
He didn’t get to finish. Jungkook suddenly lifted him up, carrying him bridal style. Taehyung’s strangled scream echoed through the room as he clung to his neck.
“Jungkook, put me down! This is embarrassing, for fuck’s sake!” he kicked a little, completely in vain. “Put me down, bastard!”
“No. I’m carrying you like a little prince, my little prince.”
“Put me down, you rabid dog!”
But Jungkook didn’t listen—or rather, he didn’t want to. He walked firmly toward the stairs and carried him up to the bedroom. The door closed with a soft thud and Taehyung fell onto the bed with a bounce.
Jungkook’s lips caught his immediately, greedy and desperate.
“Hearing you say you love me in the middle of this…” Jungkook whispered against his mouth, barely pulling back for a second. “It’s the hottest and fucking cutest thing I’ve ever heard. Say it to me a lot.”
Taehyung pushed him a little by the chest, his face red to the tips of his ears.
“You’re an idiot.”
“I don’t care, think whatever you want about me, but say it again anyway,” the younger insisted before diving back into his lips.
Despite pretending to be mad, he kissed him back, clinging to his shoulders. He spread his legs, letting Jungkook settle between them, feeling how their bodies began to grind together with a slow rhythm that drew moans from both of them.
Taehyung’s shirt disappeared in one rough pull, leaving him breathless from the suddenness, and almost immediately the older returned the gesture, tearing the garment off the younger until both were naked on the sheets.
In the middle of the kiss, Jungkook pulled back just enough to brace himself on the mattress, his gaze drinking in the sight of Taehyung laid beneath him, chest heaving and lips wet.
“Wait a second,” he said in a low voice. “I’ve got something I bought that I want to try with you.”
“What is it?” asked the blond, still panting.
He got off the bed, leaving the older curious, and headed straight to the wardrobe. Opening one of the top compartments, he stretched up, barely reaching, and pulled out a burgundy-red bag he had hidden with excessive care.
Taehyung burst out laughing, sitting up and leaning back against the headboard while he watched.
“Seriously? You kept it stashed all the way up there? You’re such a mess. What the hell are you hiding up there when you can’t even reach it properly?”
Jungkook lowered the bag clumsily in his rush, holding it in his hand with a mischievous, nervous smile. He set it down on the bed in front of him and carefully opened it. Taehyung scooted a little closer to see. He wasn’t expecting much—maybe a toy or something—but what came out of that bag left him literally speechless.
The moment he saw the first piece, his eyes widened and his jaw slackened. His breath caught in his throat. Jungkook, entirely unfazed, pulled out a shiny black set made of latex-like material—three damn pieces that looked like they’d been lifted straight from a catalog Taehyung never imagined his boyfriend would look at. He held up a tiny crop top with straps wrapping around the torso, a thong of the same latex-shiny fabric, and a pair of semi-transparent black stockings that could attach to the bottom piece. Jungkook proudly raised it high so Taehyung could get a good look.
“Check this out, hyung. Tell me this isn’t fucking hot and amazing, I dare you,” he said shamelessly.
The older opened his mouth to answer, but not a sound came out. All he could do was swallow hard and feel the heat rise violently to his cheeks.
Contrary to what Taehyung wanted, Jungkook didn’t stop. With almost childlike excitement, he pulled out the second outfit. This one was gray, inspired by a schoolgirl uniform but reduced to the most provocative version possible. A shirt cut so short the chest would be entirely exposed, a huge white bow at the collar, a gray thong, and a tiny skirt that would barely cover half his ass. Jungkook waved it in front of him, letting the fabric sway in the air, and nearly choked on his own saliva.
“Look at this one…” his voice dripped shamelessness. “It’s a classic, isn’t it?”
“What…?” the older murmured hoarsely. He pressed a hand to his forehead, because this couldn’t be real.
The third was even more baffling—a short, loose, almost angelic babydoll-style dress made of sheer white fabric, accompanied by nothing less than a black thong.
“This one too… don’t you think it’s like a dream come true?”
And finally, he pulled out a short black skirt with large slits on the sides, held together by thin strips of fabric, paired with fishnet stockings. At least this one was longer than the schoolgirl skirt, but it was still scandalously revealing.
“This one’s simpler, but fuck, you’d look so sexy in it.”
Taehyung was so red he could swear his blood was boiling in his face. Jungkook, meanwhile, radiated enthusiasm, though in his eyes there was also an innocent spark, like he didn’t fully grasp the impact those outfits were having on his boyfriend.
“So…” Jungkook turned to him with a wicked smile, licking his lips with desire. “Which one do you want to put on now?”
Silence. Taehyung was in shock. Not in a million years had he imagined Jungkook capable of buying something like this. In all the times they’d fucked, the most he had ever worn was his boyfriend’s clothes. It was hot being fucked in one of Jungkook’s shirts, but this? This was too much.
So he snapped.
“Are you insane?” he finally blurted. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Jungkook? How the hell could you think I’d… I’d put on this ridiculous shit?!”
“Ridiculous?” Jungkook repeated, feigning offense. “Hyung, don’t be so dramatic.”
“This isn’t being dramatic!” Taehyung snatched the black skirt from his hands, shaking it like evidence. “This is a direct attack on my masculinity, damn it! What am I to you, some girl you buy skirts for so you can play dress-up? I’m a man! I’m a big man, very masculine, actually. Just because you’re the top, stronger than me, and have a dick two centimeters longer than mine doesn’t mean I’m any less masculine—and I have a big dick! Very big, in fact, bigger than the Korean average for obvious reasons. Girls loved my dick, sometimes I didn’t even have to touch them anywhere else because they came just from my dick. It’s a great, fantastic dick. You love my dick too—you get all eager when I put it in your mouth, so I hope you’re not doubting my masculinity!”
Jungkook could barely hold back his laughter. He watched him rant, flail his arms, and flush deeper and deeper. Whenever Taehyung got nervous about sex-related stuff, he always turned into a chatterbox, and it was ridiculously endearing.
“No, no, no, I don’t doubt you’re a very masculine man,” he raised both hands, moving closer until he sat at his side, his voice syrupy. “All I want is to see you gorgeous, perfect, and fucking sexy. I picture you in this, and seriously, I lose my mind. And I want to see it on you with all those masculine muscles you’ve got. They may not be as big as mine, but believe me when I say never in my life would I compare you to a woman. I like you exactly as you are.”
Taehyung’s fatal mistake was picturing himself in one of those outfits, and he almost died on the spot.
“Shut up!” he shouted, throwing the skirt back in his face, flustered. “How can you say things like that so easily? You shameless bastard!”
“Because they’re true.” Jungkook caught the skirt before it hit the floor and laughed again, tossing it back with the rest of the outfits. “You’d be incredible, hyung. Hot, sexy, perfect… oh, I just fell in love with you all over again.”
“Idiot!” Taehyung buried his face in his hands, covering himself completely. “I’m not putting that shit on, ever!”
It’s well known Jungkook was stubborn, so he didn’t give up.
“Look, I know the idea terrifies you, but think of it this way,” he said in a lower tone. “It’d be just for me. No one else would see it or ever know about it, only me.”
“No!” Taehyung shoved him in the chest, though not very hard. “Besides, how much did you even spend on this? It must’ve cost a fortune, because I know this kind of shit is expensive—you can tell it’s high quality, not the cheap crap from Shein. You can’t just be throwing your money away!”
"It's my money!" he shot back, rolling his eyes. "And I decide what I spend it on. If I want to spend it on you or on something I want to see on you, then I will, period. I'm rich, remember?"
"Being a spoiled rich kid doesn’t mean you shouldn’t understand the concept of saving and not wasting," the blond crossed his arms and glared at him. "Learning that is fundamental in case you ever end up broke and without support like me."
"Oh, are you gonna play that card?"
"Of course, my traumas, my jokes."
"Very mature of you."
Taehyung clicked his tongue, tired of the pleading, but he didn’t budge an inch. Jungkook, however, didn’t give up and started throwing a tantrum—rolling his eyes, puffing out his cheeks, and crossing his arms like a spoiled child. The younger’s childish act was so absurd that Taehyung almost laughed, but he held it back.
"Actually, why don’t you explain to me what the fuck this is?" He pointed accusingly at the gray set—the schoolgirl one. "Did you really walk into a store and think ‘oh, perfect, Taehyung would look amazing in… schoolgirl clothes’? Do you hear yourself? Do you realize how weird and questionable that sounds?"
The younger frowned, like the words themselves disgusted him.
"Hey, don’t think stupid shit!" he defended himself quickly, shaking his head hard. "It’s not about anything creepy, okay? It’s just…" He paused, lowering his voice. "I just thought of you in a skirt and I got hard right there in the store. I had to think about horrible things to calm down before I paid, hyung. Do you know how awkward that was?"
The blond eyed him with obvious suspicion, then glanced back at the outfits. Against his will, his mind began to race. Would he really look that bad? He didn’t know, but Jungkook looked so damn excited about it that… no, no, no—he had pride. The heat in his cheeks wouldn’t fade, and between the anger, his urge to protect his dignity, and that gnawing curiosity eating at him, he stayed silent too long. Jungkook, sensing the silence, saw a crack in his defense and went straight for it.
"Come on, do it for me, at least try it once…"
"I already told you no," the older repeated, but Jungkook pouted dramatically, wrinkling his nose in frustration.
"Tae-Tae, don’t be like that," he whined in a pleading tone, stretching his hands toward him as if to draw him closer.
"No."
"Pretty, come on, please…" he whispered even more desperately now, his voice dripping with anxiety. He took his hands and began to caress them.
This time, Taehyung stayed quiet, analyzing every thought racing through his mind, and that silence only drove Jungkook further into madness. That’s when, completely desperate, Jungkook opened his big mouth.
"If you put on one of those outfits…" he blurted out, "I promise… I’ll be bottom at least once."
The air in the room thickened instantly, and the spark that lit up in Taehyung’s eyes was so immediate Jungkook wished he could swallow his words the second they left his lips.
The older slowly turned his head toward him, the curve of his smile pure malice.
"What did you just say?" he asked, his voice low and dripping with mischief.
"N-No… nothing… forget what I said. It was stupid…"
"No, no, no," Taehyung cut him off, grabbing the first outfit within reach before standing up from the bed. "You said it. There’s no going back now."
"Wait, wait!" Jungkook flailed, trying to catch him. "You don’t have to do it, really. I don’t want you to wear anything anymore."
Taehyung let out a low, rough laugh, so deep and dangerous it ran through Jungkook’s skin like a current of electricity.
"Oh, I’m definitely doing it. And you’re going to keep your promise. You’ll be mine, you’ll bottom at least once. You signed that with your own mouth, Jungkookie."
"Hyung, seriously, you don’t have to wear that. Forget what I said, you don’t—"
"No," Taehyung cut him off with crushing certainty, his eyes gleaming like a predator’s, freezing Jungkook’s blood. "I’m going to do it. And you better start preparing yourself, because one way or another, you will bottom for me."
The younger stammered, and Taehyung leaned in slowly, bending closer until their faces were inches apart. Jungkook, sitting naked on the bed, instinctively shrank back like a cornered animal.
"Do you want me to tell you how this would look on me?" he murmured, his voice low and sensual. He glanced at the piece he’d grabbed blindly, then locked eyes with him again. "Imagine my body in this short skirt, the stockings hugging my legs. Picture me standing in front of you, showing skin through every opening. You’d see my thighs flexing, the thin straps barely holding the fabric, and you’d know that with one tug, you could rip them off and leave me with nothing." Jungkook listened, hypnotized, pupils blown wide. "Think about my hips moving with this on," Taehyung dragged out the words. "The skirt riding up, showing you exactly what you want. You pushing me onto the bed, grabbing me by the stockings, and me moaning while you fuck me breathless. Isn’t that what you want? That every time you slam into me, with your hands or your hips, the skirt bounces with it? Don’t you want to see just how filthy I can get?"
Jungkook’s heart pounded so hard he thought it might break his chest. He couldn’t tear his eyes away; he was trapped, lost in the images Taehyung painted so vividly. Instantly, he was hard again, and he knew he was doomed.
"Tell me, Jungkook…" Taehyung leaned even closer, brushing his lips against his without kissing him. "Do you want me to wear this damn skirt with the stockings?"
"Yes," the younger answered without hesitation, and Taehyung smiled triumphantly.
"Perfect, because the moment I put it on, you’ll bottom for me whenever I want, at least once. Got it?"
"Y-Yes…" Jungkook stuttered, trapped and with no way out.
Taehyung smiled, giving Jungkook’s cheek a few light pats before gripping his chin firmly and suddenly crashing their mouths together in a wet, tongue-filled kiss. Jungkook barely had time to gasp into it before Taehyung pulled back with a satisfied smack.
Then, without another word, the older straightened up and strolled shamelessly into the bathroom, his naked body on full display, making it impossible for Jungkook not to stare. The bathroom door slammed shut, echoing in the room, leaving the black-haired one with his heart racing and his cock throbbing, more aroused than ever.
His mind went into overdrive, replaying every detail of the scene Taehyung had just described, and fuck, just thinking about it had him on the verge of coming.
With trembling hands, he gathered up the lingerie Taehyung hadn’t chosen, stuffed it back into the bag, and tossed it at the foot of the bed as if it were in the way. He couldn’t let himself get distracted. He hurried, opened the nightstand, and pulled out the lube, setting it on top. His fingers hesitated a moment over the drawer, where the condoms were too, but he slammed it shut. No way in hell was he going to waste the chance to feel him raw. He wanted Taehyung to be filled, wanted that image carved into his memory forever.
When he finished, he returned to the bed and let himself fall onto the mattress, trying to look patient even though inside he was about to explode. Time stretched unbearably until he heard the click of the bathroom door opening. Jungkook lifted his head immediately, completely thrilled, but saw nothing—the frame was empty.
"Taehyung…" he called, his voice frustrated.
"Close your eyes," said the blond from inside.
"What? Why?"
"Because I’m embarrassed, fuck," the older replied with an audible sigh. "This looks weird."
"And where the hell did the confidence you had exactly thirty seconds ago go? You’re so bipolar, shit," Jungkook laughed.
"Bipolar? First of all, the term you’re looking for is duality. Bipolarity has nothing to do with this," he corrected him from inside, his tone petulant. "And second, that confidence disappeared the moment I realized this skirt is shorter than I thought."
Jungkook let out an incredulous laugh, throwing his head back.
"Don’t be an idiot. I’m going to see you anyway when I open my eyes. And believe me, I’m going to fuck you in that, so stop acting all shy."
"Fuck off," Taehyung huffed from the bathroom, though his tone revealed more than just annoyance—there were nerves.
"You probably look fucking gorgeous and hot," he said, his voice thick with desire. "I bet even better than what I imagined."
"You can’t know that if you haven’t seen me," Taehyung shot back.
"I don’t need to see you to know," Jungkook insisted, straightening up on the bed. "I love you, Taehyung. And to me, you’re always beautiful. Now come out, please, let me see you. You’re fucking gorgeous in everything you wear, and I want you to step out so I can prove it. Please, don’t torture me any longer."
The older took a deep breath, swallowed hard, and finally, after a few seconds that felt like an eternity, decided to come out. Taehyung’s steps were slow and hesitant, every inch forward a battle with himself. Jungkook lost his breath the second the figure appeared before him.
Taehyung’s chest was bare, his smooth honey-toned skin glowing under the room’s dim light, the perfect contrast to the black skirt that barely covered him. The slit on the side revealed even more skin, and to make matters worse, the fabric lifted slightly in the front thanks to the obvious bulge of his erection straining against it. The fishnet stockings climbed high up his hips, clinging perfectly to his thighs, making them look thicker, firmer, and so fucking appetizing. His silhouette lengthened with the line the stockings drew, giving him an even more provocative air.
Jungkook devoured him with his eyes from head to toe, his mouth went dry, and his cock pulsed so hard it hurt.
"Fuck…" he barely muttered, like the air had been knocked out of him. "You have no idea what you’re doing to me."
"I told you it looked weird…" Taehyung crossed his arms over his chest, nervous, lowering his gaze.
"Weird?" Jungkook laughed again in disbelief. "No, this isn’t weird. This is perfect."
"You look like a damn pervert staring at me like that."
"That’s because I am a damn pervert when it comes to you," Jungkook shot back with a crooked smile, letting his voice turn rougher. "And I’m not even a little ashamed to admit it."
Taehyung was trembling more than he wanted to admit. His hands stayed hidden behind his back, fingers tightly interlaced, and the tip of his right foot dragged nervously against his other shin. He couldn’t look him directly in the eye, shame had him cornered, and the blush coloring his skin was burning hot.
"This…" he murmured, swallowing hard, his deep voice unusually insecure. "It’s a little uncomfortable because… I’m not wearing underwear. The netting rubs against my… you know. And it feels… strange."
Jungkook’s eyes crawled over Taehyung’s body again. He had never seen anything so fucking arousing in his life. His fingers twitched restlessly, the only thing he wanted was to sink his hands into him.
He made a gesture with his hand, telling him to turn around. Taehyung lifted his gaze for a second, saw him, and rolled his eyes in annoyance, but still obeyed, spinning clumsily.
When he turned his back, Jungkook barely held back a growl. The black skirt hugged the curve of his ass, shamelessly highlighting the round, firm, and generous shape. The fabric ended a few centimeters above where his cheeks began, giving just a teasing glimpse of what it wanted to hide. Every inch was an insult to his self-control—the younger had to clench his fists against his thighs to keep from lunging forward.
When Taehyung finished his turn and faced him again, Jungkook gestured once more, this time asking him to come closer. The older frowned, biting the inside of his cheek, but his feet moved almost on their own, carrying him forward in slow steps until he stood between Jungkook’s spread legs.
He lifted his hands and placed them on Taehyung’s thighs, feeling under his palms the texture of the netting and the burning heat of his tense muscles. He caressed them slowly, fascinated, tracing upward along his thighs with devotion. His fingers slid toward the inner part, ascending with cruel calm, savoring every shiver he pulled out of the older.
He didn’t stop there. One hand slid around his thigh until it reached his ass, gripping it hard enough to draw an involuntary gasp. His other hand moved forward, pressing against the fabric stretched tight over his erection. Feeling him hard, trapped beneath the mesh, lit Jungkook’s blood on fire instantly.
"Aren’t you going to say something?" Taehyung cleared his throat nervously, avoiding his eyes so he wouldn’t collapse.
"I have a lot to say, actually," Jungkook said. "You ruined me, hyung. You’ve left me a mess. You look too good." He squeezed his ass tighter while stroking his erection at the same time, making the older flinch with a low moan. "You look perfect. And tonight, I’m going to fuck you like I never have before."
"Idiot…"
"I love you, I love you so much, I’m so in love with you," Jungkook murmured, finally making Taehyung lower his gaze and meet his eyes.
The older bit down hard on his lower lip.
"I love you more, bastard. I must be really in love with you and love you way too much to go along with this shit," Taehyung grumbled. "Now let’s get to the fun part before I regret it."
The younger let out a low laugh and, without giving him a chance to pull back, grabbed him firmly by the waist, pushing him gently down. He laid him back onto the bed, Taehyung sprawled beneath him with his legs open at the perfect angle. Jungkook settled between them, gazing down at him with eyes heavy with desire.
His lips sought Taehyung’s hungrily, and the blond responded with the same need, moaning softly into his mouth every time Jungkook squeezed his thigh.
Jungkook’s left hand was planted firmly on the mattress, holding his own weight so he wouldn’t crush him, but his right hand roamed freely, tracing Taehyung’s left leg from knee to inner thigh, squeezing shamelessly. He didn’t just caress his leg, he grabbed it, pulled it, and adjusted it however he wanted to feel him closer, to force him to grind against his pelvis. Every movement drew a gasp from the older, and it drove him insane.
"Jungkook…" Taehyung’s voice broke between a sigh, but there was no time for more because Jungkook lifted his leg higher, grabbing his ass with force. Feeling that muscle beneath his palm made him growl low and press even closer.
The kiss broke in a second and Taehyung opened his eyes just in time as Jungkook flipped him without warning, leaving him face down against the sheets, chest pressed against the mattress.
"What… what are you doing?" he asked with a breathless voice, turning his head just enough to try to look at him.
The only 'warning' was a loud smack that echoed through the room. Taehyung let out a muffled whine and his body trembled beneath him, the skirt fluttering with the bounce of his ass. Jungkook grinned like a bastard, utterly entranced by the sight.
"Definitely… this was the best purchase ever."
His fingers settled on the curves and began to play with them, squeezing, spreading, forcing Taehyung to squirm under his touch. The elder buried his face in the pillow, cursing under his breath, far too aware of every caress.
He had no idea how long Jungkook spent doing whatever he wanted with him, but he felt the fabric give way. The sound of tearing sent a jolt of panic through him.
"What the fuck did you do?!" he protested, trying to cover himself, but Jungkook was already fascinated, staring at the opening he had created exactly where he wanted. "Those stockings were new!"
"I’ll buy you another pair," Jungkook said calmly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "In fact, if you want, I’ll buy you the whole damn factory, but I had to do it. Ripping those stockings turned me on so much I’d repeat it a thousand times. Besides, you were the one who mentioned I should do something like that before."
"But that was just to get inside your head and convince you, it wasn’t an actual request or anything."
"I don’t care, I loved doing it."
"You’re a pervert." Taehyung glared at him, still blushing to the tips of his ears.
"Perfect," Jungkook laughed. "Believe it even more, because I want to go down on you. I want you to sit on my face."
Silence stretched for a couple of seconds. Taehyung slowly turned his torso to look at him, still propped up on his elbows, eyes wide open.
"What did you just say? Say it again."
"I want you to sit on my face. I want to—"
He didn’t get to finish because Taehyung cut him off, half scandalized.
"Are you insane? Do you want to die?"
"I don’t care," Jungkook said without hesitation. "I don’t care if I can’t breathe."
"You’re weird, way too weird," Taehyung shot back, turning his face away so his boyfriend wouldn’t see him burning red.
"Please," the younger begged. "Let me do this for you, Tae. Do it for me."
"You’re fucking insane, you know that?… fine, I’ll do it, and I hope you don’t die or I’ll bring you back with black magic just so I can kill you myself."
Jungkook’s smile was immediate, and he dropped onto his back on the bed, resting his head on the pillows.
Taehyung crawled forward slowly. His knees sank into the mattress as he moved up toward the headboard, settling over him with his legs on either side of his head. He wasn’t facing the wall but the rest of Jungkook’s body.
"Are you sure?" Taehyung swallowed hard.
From below, Jungkook had the perfect view of his long legs, what was under the skirt, and the tempting skin mere centimeters from his mouth. His teeth caught his own bottom lip, savoring the anticipation.
His hands gripped Taehyung’s hips tightly and pulled him down without leaving room for protest, guiding him lower.
He caressed his hips with both hands. The skirt shifted, revealing glimpses of his ass, and Jungkook squeezed hard, delighting in how round, firm, and perfect it felt.
Taehyung lowered his gaze, bit his lip, and braced his hands on Jungkook’s bare chest to keep his balance. Jungkook wasted no time, slowly spreading his cheeks, opening space until he saw his entrance waiting just inches from his face. He licked his lips at the thought of tasting him.
"God, look at you…" he murmured before pulling Taehyung down and dragging his tongue across him in one slow, wet, shameless stroke that ripped a muffled moan from Taehyung’s lips.
"J-Jungkook…" his voice came out thick with reproach.
"Shh…" Jungkook didn’t let him say more. "Trust me. Let me make you feel good."
"Oh, fuck…" he muttered, breathless.
Jungkook licked with more insistence, alternating between pressing his tongue and tracing circles. His hands never stopped playing, squeezing, massaging, and forcing him to move. Every time Taehyung tried to pull back so he could breathe, Jungkook tugged him further down.
Taehyung tried moving his hips forward and back, slowly at first, testing the effect. The wet heat that welcomed him with every rub tore a louder moan from his throat, impossible to contain.
At one point Jungkook even moved him a little higher so his mouth reached the tops of his thighs, biting them and then sucking directly through the gaps in the mesh, leaving hickeys in that spot. Then, once satisfied, he positioned Taehyung again to eat him out completely.
The elder bit down on his lip hard. The rocking became more desperate, and the air escaping his throat was no longer under control. He felt Jungkook’s tongue following him with every movement, insistent and eager, as if he were devouring him. The skirt swayed with each shake, and from his angle, Jungkook couldn’t get enough of that view.
Jungkook was lost in Taehyung’s taste. His tongue moved hungrily, alternating between broad licks and more focused suction that made the elder’s muscles tremble above his face.
"Don’t stop… don’t stop…" Taehyung pleaded in a thin voice. "More, I want more."
His hand groped blindly at the side of the bed until it found the lube. With one hand he kept Taehyung spread open and with the other he uncapped the bottle, spreading the cool liquid over his fingers.
He pushed a finger in slowly, still licking insistently, and felt Taehyung shudder.
"Relax for me…" he whispered, almost like a plea, as the finger slid deeper and his tongue kept playing everywhere.
Taehyung panted hard, arching his back. He was on the edge of falling apart, he knew it, and that’s why he leaned forward, no longer strong enough to stay upright. He practically lay down over Jungkook’s body, and right there his eyes were filled with the sight of the younger’s hard cock pointing at his face. He swallowed, hesitating only for a moment, until the need overtook him and he wrapped his hand around it, starting to stroke.
The raw groan Jungkook let out in response made him smile. He wasn’t about to give him all the control, so he opened his mouth wider and took him in slowly, while his fingers worked to stimulate what his mouth couldn’t reach.
The tattooed man nearly lost his mind. He felt the wet heat of Taehyung around his cock and, at the same time, the delicious tightness gripping his fingers. He didn’t know where to focus.
Taehyung moaned around him, vibrating against his cock, and Jungkook spasmed lightly with pleasure. Doing sixty-nine was new for both of them, and so far they loved it. Jungkook had him spread open, tongue and fingers working inside him, and still all Taehyung could think about was how good it felt to have the younger’s dick throbbing in his mouth.
His lips slid slowly from the tip to the base of the cock, leaving a wet trail, wanting Jungkook to feel it. When he pulled away, a strand of saliva connected them, and Taehyung smiled with his mouth still wet.
Meanwhile, Jungkook pushed another finger inside him, preparing him with patience, because even in his desperation he still thought about not hurting him.
The blond responded by sucking hard on the tip again, playing with it against his palate before taking him all the way down. He did it slowly, then fast, alternating rhythms. Each time he pulled it out of his mouth, he tapped it twice against his tongue before swallowing it down again. Jungkook was losing all control.
“Keep opening up for me, fuck…” Jungkook murmured, now moving three fingers with more firmness, twisting them and searching for the spot he knew would make him tremble.
Taehyung arched suddenly, moaning around the cock still in his mouth. The sound vibrated against Jungkook’s sensitive skin, making him curse out loud as he pushed his fingers deeper, turned on by every reaction.
The older one didn’t stop. He started bobbing his head with a more intense rhythm, swallowing him again and again while his tongue massaged him inside. Taehyung didn’t know how much longer he could resist with Jungkook’s fingers and tongue working inside and out like that.
At one point, he couldn’t take it anymore. He pulled off the erection abruptly, panting, saliva dripping down his lips and chin. He lifted his torso to free himself from the position and climbed off the younger one, settling at his side.
“Enough…” his voice came out almost pleading. “Fuck me already, Jungkook… I can’t take it anymore.”
The younger barely had time to react when Taehyung turned around, settling on all fours on the mattress. His knees and palms sank into the sheets, and that damn skirt now rode up a little, showing the bounce of his ass as he swayed his hips provocatively. The skirt shifted in a hypnotic rhythm, and the torn stockings at the back made the scene even filthier.
Jungkook swallowed hard as his eyes followed the movements his boyfriend made to tease him. His cock throbbed painfully hard, and seeing Taehyung offering himself like that only fueled his heat. He caressed that ass with both hands, squeezing, spreading him apart a little to savor the view.
The younger reached for the lube he’d left at the side of the bed. He uncapped it quickly, poured a generous amount into his hand, and coated the length of his cock, groaning at the slickness against his skin. Then he smeared more at Taehyung’s entrance, massaging patiently as he watched him shiver.
“I’m going to make you scream, Tae,” he whispered, stroking his back with his free hand.
After making sure there was enough lube, Jungkook positioned himself behind him, resting his right knee on the mattress while his left leg stayed bent, supported by his foot. That stance gave him the perfect angle to line his erection up with Taehyung’s exposed entrance through the ripped mesh. With one hand, he gripped his hip, and with the other, he guided himself to press against him.
He pushed slowly, the head of his cock forcing its way in, and both of them let out simultaneous moans. The pressure was intense, a delicious burn Taehyung couldn’t ignore, while Jungkook felt his mind go completely blank from being welcomed so tightly.
“Relax… just a little more,” Jungkook whispered, stroking his ass and waist, kissing his back to distract him as he slid in, inch by inch.
Taehyung clenched his teeth, his arms trembling with the effort of keeping himself up, but the sensation was destroying him. The stretch was slow and painful, but that didn’t mean he liked it any less. When Jungkook finally pushed all the way in and stilled, Taehyung let out a long moan as small spasms ran through him.
Jungkook closed his eyes, sweat dripping down his temples. He was completely inside, and he had to restrain himself. He wanted to move, wanted to pound him until the skirt flew off, but he knew he had to give him a moment.
“You’re so tight, it feels so fucking good…” he said against his skin, stroking Taehyung’s sides. “You’re swallowing me whole, I’m really all the way inside…” he murmured. “Tell me when to move, pretty.”
The blond only nodded, focusing on the sensation of having him fully inside. Then came a few endless seconds where Jungkook did nothing but stroke him, waiting for the older one’s signal. Suddenly, Taehyung started moving his ass, swaying from side to side at first, then pushing back and forward just enough to make Jungkook’s cock slide inside him.
“I’m ready,” Taehyung said, pushing back deliberately against his erection. “Wreck me, Jungkook.”
The younger smirked perversely, tightening his grip on Taehyung’s hips to still him for a second, just to savor the control he had. Taehyung’s body was begging for movement, and having him desperate like this made Jungkook feel like he owned everything.
He started thrusting, but not with slow, shallow strokes—Jungkook gave in completely, grabbing Taehyung’s hips to slam into him with all the force his body had, not bothering to measure the impact of each collision. Every thrust made Taehyung’s ass bounce violently, and Jungkook couldn’t get enough of watching the skirt rise and fall with each movement, exposing the stocking and the skin reddening under his spanks.
Taehyung moaned shamelessly, eyes shut tight as drool slipped from the corners of his mouth from screaming so much. His face twisted between pain and pleasure, his mouth open begging for more even as his body trembled.
“Harder…” Taehyung gasped, his voice wrecked but dripping with lust. “Fuck me harder, goddamn it.”
“That’s what you want? Then that’s what you’ll get.” The tattooed one let out a rough laugh, slamming into him brutally, marking his ass with another stinging slap. “I told you, I said I was going to make you scream, and what are you doing now? Exactly, screaming like a desperate whore. I fucking love it.”
Taehyung’s body shook with every crash of hips, his moans spilling out uncontrollably, mixing pleas and obscenities with ragged breaths.
Jungkook’s hand clamped hard on one of his cheeks, squeezing until his fingers left deep marks, before landing another harsh slap that made Taehyung let out a broken laugh mixed with a moan. It hurt—and that was exactly why he loved it.
“S-Son of a bitch,” Taehyung rasped, his voice hoarse and raw. “You’re gonna kill me and I don’t care… keep going…”
Jungkook held him with brutal strength, the friction burning his body, but he loved it. Taehyung could feel every inch of cock inside him, stretching and filling him, knocking the breath from his lungs.
Jungkook’s eyes were glued to that back, to the way the older one kept pushing his ass back for more, provoking him with every shake. It was sickening how good he looked with that skirt bouncing, sweat dripping down his nape, and his blond hair sticking to his skin.
"You’re mine, do you understand?" Jungkook growled, thrusting without mercy. "I love you, I really do. I like you so much, I fall harder for you every single day."
"I… I love you more… ah!" Taehyung couldn’t finish his words, a cry tearing from his throat so loud it broke into a sob heavy with pleasure. His nails clawed at the sheets as his body surrendered to the brutal rhythm Jungkook was forcing into him.
The younger groaned at the feel of Taehyung’s muscles clenching around him with every thrust. He had him on all fours, spread open, and yet he still wanted more—especially now that he’d heard him confess he loved him. With one sharp tug, Jungkook pulled his arms back, forcing him upright without pulling out, until the older’s back was pressed flush against his sweaty chest. Taehyung let out a muffled moan, startled by the sudden shift, but his hips kept trembling when Jungkook rammed into him again with raw force.
The black-haired boy’s right hand wrapped around Taehyung’s throat, squeezing just enough to keep him under control. His other hand clutched his waist, dragging him back onto his cock.
"That’s it…" Jungkook whispered against his ear, voice low and wrecked with lust. "You like being used like this, don’t you? Look how your body’s shaking."
Taehyung could barely nod through strangled moans. Jungkook slid his left hand from his waist up to his face, forcing him to turn his head toward his right shoulder where his own face was waiting. Once he had him close enough, he devoured him in a hungry kiss.
The younger sucked hard on Taehyung’s tongue, tearing a guttural moan from him that got swallowed between their lips. He only pulled away when air became necessary, leaving them connected by a shimmering string of spit trembling between their mouths, and it made both of them smile.
Almost immediately, Jungkook brought the fingers of his left hand to the older’s swollen lips, and Taehyung accepted them eagerly, sucking and licking them down with obscene hunger. That submission and provocation only drove the younger wilder.
"Fuck…" Jungkook growled, tightening his grip on his throat. "Look at you, choking down my fingers while I fill your ass. I fucking love it."
Taehyung’s body trembled, unable to handle the tension tearing through him.
"Jungkook," he gasped as the younger pulled his fingers free from his mouth so he could speak. He looked him straight in the eyes, giving him the most desperate gaze he could muster. "I want to come. Touch me, please."
The younger smirked against his neck and obeyed without stopping his thrusts. His right hand stayed locked on his throat, applying that delicious pressure, while his left—still slick with Taehyung’s spit—lifted his skirt and tugged his stockings down just enough in the front, trapping them under his balls so his cock could finally spring free. It was hard, swollen, and dripping with pre-cum. Without hesitation, Jungkook wrapped his hand around him and started jerking him with brutal force, combining the wet pressure of his fingers with the relentless pace of his thrusts slamming into his prostate.
Taehyung’s cry was almost a sob. His body arched violently against Jungkook’s, trembling and moaning shamelessly as tears welled in his eyes from sheer pleasure. The younger’s hand pumped him mercilessly, and the older’s body didn’t take long to break.
"That’s it, scream for me," Jungkook whispered between ragged breaths, squeezing his throat a little tighter. "I want you to come in my hand while I fuck you."
And Taehyung did, his body snapping tight as his head fell back against Jungkook’s shoulder and a raw, tearing moan ripped from his throat. His cock throbbed in the younger’s fist, spilling thick streams that coated Jungkook’s fingers, the lifted skirt, and part of the bed. The orgasm was brutal, wracking him with violent contractions that shook his entire body, his inner muscles clamping down around Jungkook, dragging a guttural growl from him that nearly pushed him over the edge too.
Jungkook held him firmly, savoring the sight of Taehyung trembling through the most intense orgasm he’d had in ages. The younger bit down on his lip, barely restraining the urge to come himself.
Taehyung could hardly stay upright after coming that hard. Jungkook finally released him, and the moment he lost that support, the older collapsed forward, falling face-down onto the mattress without Jungkook slipping out. His knees sank into the bed, legs spread, chest pressed into the sheets, mouth open and gasping as his body shook so violently it seemed his arms and legs refused to obey him. The orgasm had wrecked him completely, leaving his body twitching uncontrollably.
Jungkook stayed still for a few seconds, watching with triumph and hunger. His eyes dropped to his left hand, slick with hot semen, and without a thought he brought it to his mouth. He licked it clean, sucking between his knuckles, savoring the salty taste with a twisted smirk on his lips. The sight of Taehyung trembling beneath him, completely undone, only turned him on more.
"I’m not done—since I haven’t come yet," he warned hoarsely, leaning down over him. "Hold on, because I’m going to keep fucking you."
Taehyung shrieked when the first thrust hit through his post-orgasmic spasms, the oversensitivity making him shiver with every move. But instead of pulling away, he bit the sheets and arched his hips higher.
"Jungkook, fuck!" he cried with a broken voice, burying his face in the mattress. "It’s too much… I’m too sensitive."
"You want me to stop then, let you catch your breath, pretty boy?"
"No, use me."
The younger growled with satisfaction and grabbed his hips again, slamming into him violently. Each thrust made Taehyung’s ass bounce against his pelvis, the skirt riding up and falling with every movement, giving him a perfect view of how the older’s body took him.
"You’re perfect, you know that?" Jungkook panted, eyes locked on the sway of his ass. "This little skirt and your fucking ass drive me insane… how they move, how they squeeze me… you feel so damn good, Taehyung. I like you so much."
The blond was being pushed past overstimulation, letting out a cries and broken breaths, tears pooling at the corners of his eyes. But despite it, his body responded quickly, his cock hardening again, trembling with raw need. He had just come, but Jungkook made him feel so fucking good he couldn’t stop it.
Jungkook felt the pressure burning low in his abdomen, like fire igniting his muscles, each thrust more desperate than the last. And when pleasure finally overtook him, he stiffened with a guttural growl, burying himself to the hilt inside Taehyung.
The orgasm ripped through him, his cock pulsing deep as he spilled into the heat of his boyfriend, flooding him without restraint, emptying every drop. The force made him grit his teeth, his arms trembling as his hands clamped hard on Taehyung’s hips.
The other felt it all, every surge of warmth filling him until it spilled over. The sensation of being stuffed full tore another strangled moan from him. He buried his face into the sheets, arching his ass higher to take it all, his body shuddering with pure bliss at every pulse he felt inside.
When Jungkook finally stopped, panting with his forehead beaded with sweat, he slowly pulled out. His cock slipped free from inside, and Taehyung didn’t lower his hips; instead, he kept his ass up, his back arched and his knees firmly planted.
He couldn’t look away. Taehyung’s entrance was stretched, swollen, and still throbbing, and the younger bit his lip hard as he caressed his ass—it was too hot to watch. And then it became even more arousing, because Taehyung, completely on purpose, clenched and squeezed, making the cum spill out, staining his stockings and sliding down the inner sides of his thighs.
“Look at me,” Taehyung panted in a provocative tone, rocking his hips side to side, making the skirt sway and the liquid drip even more. “You said it yourself, I’m all yours, Jungkook.”
A shiver ran down the younger’s spine. Seeing him provoking, playing with what in other moments would have made him nervous, turned him on even more. That alone was enough for his cock to react immediately, hardening all over again.
When Jungkook noticed that Taehyung had also regained his erection, the younger smirked mischievously, licking his lips as he leaned forward to land another sharp smack on his ass, making the older moan.
“Hyung…” he murmured with malice, caressing the reddened skin. “That means we’ve got another round left.” His eyes locked on Taehyung, still with his ass up, dripping provocatively over the stained sheets. The image drove him insane with desire. “Ride me, I want to see you bouncing on top of me.”
Taehyung barely turned his face with a blissed-out smile that betrayed the pleasure ruling his body. His legs were trembling, sore, but the arousal was stronger than any exhaustion.
“Alright…” he whispered hoarsely, biting his lip as he pulled himself up with difficulty, using the crumpled sheets for support until he was sitting upright.
The younger leaned back, lying flat on the bed with his arms stretched behind his head. He watched him as if waiting for the best show of his life. Taehyung climbed on top of him with evident effort, placing his knees on either side of Jungkook’s hips and reaching for the base of his cock. He held it firmly, feeling how hard and throbbing it was, and aligned it with his stretched, sensitive entrance.
Jungkook swallowed thickly, mesmerized, and at that very moment a thick drop of cum slipped out of Taehyung, landing right on his own cock. The liquid slid down slowly, mixing with the leftover lube. He bit down hard on his lip, growling at the sensation of that warm dampness spreading over his tip.
The older lowered himself slowly, sinking down on him again, letting Jungkook’s thick, hard cock fill him completely. Both of them moaned in unison—the blond because of the stretch as he was opened up again, and the younger because of that warm, throbbing tightness wrapping around him once more.
Taehyung braced his hands on Jungkook’s thighs and began to move, first testing with a couple of slow descents, then bouncing with agility, riding him with a rhythm that soon had them panting shamelessly.
The view for Jungkook was perfect. He had Taehyung’s broad, sweaty back in front of him, the muscles tensing with every motion, his ass bouncing violently against his pelvis, the skirt rising and falling unevenly, and the black mesh stretched to the limit over the curves he adored. Every time Taehyung dropped down, the younger could see his cock disappearing inside him to the hilt.
“That’s it, move like that and fuck yourself hard, I love how you do it, it feels so fucking good,” Jungkook groaned, lifting his hips to meet every drop, thrusting powerfully from below.
“Shut up… don’t provoke me, I’ll come too fast if you talk like that, baby,” Taehyung replied through breathless laughter, though he didn’t slow down one bit.
Jungkook brought his hands to his ass, first landing a couple more slaps that made the flesh bounce deliciously. Then, unable to resist, he grabbed both cheeks and spread them wide, pushing his thumbs outward to get a direct, obscene view of his cock sliding in and out of Taehyung.
The sight knocked the air out of him. Taehyung’s insides were still full of cum, and every thrust made it spill over, staining the base of his cock, creating a wet, sticky sound every time their bodies collided. Whitish strands stretched and snapped with every bounce, clinging to their skin and leaving translucent stains on the skirt.
The blond, completely gone, tilted his head back slightly. With his lips parted, unrestrained moans spilled from his throat. He knew he was a mess and that Jungkook was watching him with that sick devotion, but it only turned him on more.
His hands gripped Jungkook’s thighs tightly, using them as leverage as he bounced on top of him, panting uncontrollably. Jungkook growled and thrust harder from below, lost in the sight of that body riding him so wildly, convinced there was nothing more erotic than having Taehyung this wrecked, this desperate, yet still hungry for more.
Sweat ran down their skin. Taehyung was still on top, riding him with an erratic rhythm that spoke more of endurance than energy, but he still looked beautiful. Jungkook watched him like he was seeing something sacred, fingers digging into the flesh of his ass, pulling him down to keep him moving.
“Tae,” he said, slamming up into him harder. “Turn around, I want to see your face.”
Taehyung trembled and obeyed, shifting until he was straddling him face-to-face. His chest heaved uncontrollably, his cheeks burned with blush, and yet he smiled through his panting. He placed his hands on Jungkook’s torso for support, but the younger gave him no break, still thrusting up into him without pause, knowing he was already exhausted and that he could handle the rest.
“I love you so much,” Taehyung whispered.
Jungkook felt the hit land straight in his chest, stronger than any spasm of pleasure. His eyes narrowed and he let out a shaky laugh, his breath broken.
“I do it even more… fuck, I love you so fucking much,” he replied, gripping his ass to lift and drop him harder.
That exchange set them ablaze again. Taehyung leaned in until their lips met. The kiss was desperate and messy, their tongues searching for each other like they wanted to devour. Taehyung stopped moving on his own, surrendering completely, so Jungkook took over with relentless thrusts, making him bounce without mercy.
Taehyung moaned into his mouth, losing his mind, and a sudden spasm shook his body. His orgasm crashed over him in waves, spilling between their bodies, streaking Jungkook’s stomach as he clung to his shoulders. The younger growled into his mouth and couldn’t hold back any longer. He pulled him tight against him, moving faster, until he also came violently, burying himself deep as he spilled inside him again, filling him up while his pelvis trembled with each shudder of climax.
Both of them collapsed in a knot of sweat and panting. Taehyung slumped over his chest, face buried in Jungkook’s neck, still trembling and too weak to hold himself up. Jungkook welcomed him, wrapping him tightly and stroking his back in slow circles to help him come back to himself.
“You’re shaking,” Jungkook whispered, still catching his breath.
“I’m dead,” Taehyung murmured with a muffled laugh, unable to move.
The younger waited a moment before pulling out, and as soon as he did, he heard Taehyung’s soft moan when he felt cum start to spill from inside him. Jungkook hugged him tighter, chuckling low.
“Good thing I can’t see it…” he said with amusement, brushing through his damp hair. “Because if I did, I’d get hard again, and that would be a fucking problem.”
“You’re an idiot,” Taehyung muttered, lifting his head just slightly to meet his eyes. “I love you.”
Jungkook smiled, still breathing unevenly, and kissed his lips softly.
“I love you more.”
The heat in the room was suffocating, the sheets damp with sweat and sticky with everything they’d done, and the air reeked of sex. Still, there was nothing more comfortable to him than having Taehyung resting on his chest.
Carefully, he shifted him to lie at his side, pressing a kiss to his forehead and then to his lips with tenderness.
“We have to clean up this whole mess before we sleep,” Jungkook murmured, caressing his cheek gently. “We’re too sweaty, covered in cum… and don’t even get me started on the bed.”
Taehyung scrunched his nose and let out a tired huff, barely opening his eyes.
“I don’t want to… I’m exhausted,” he replied with a hoarse voice, burying his face into the pillow.
“I know, but if we don’t, we’ll end up creating an ecosystem in these sheets,” Jungkook said in a playful tone.
“You’re disgusting.”
“And you love me anyway,” Jungkook shot back shamelessly, giving him a quick kiss before sitting up a little. “Come on, I’ll help you. We’ll shower together, and I’ll take care of changing the sheets.”
Taehyung watched him with narrowed eyes, as if evaluating him. In the end, he sighed heavily, accepting defeat.
“Fine…” he grumbled, slowly shifting to sit up. The pain in his body was obvious—he even winced when he pressed his hands against the mattress. “Fuck… everything hurts.”
“Easy there, champ,” Jungkook joked as he got up too. “I got you.”
With effort, Taehyung sat at the edge of the bed, groaning at how sore he was.
“What time is it?” he asked, running a hand through his sweaty hair, trying to fix it though he knew it was completely messy. Jungkook stretched his arm toward the clock on the nightstand and glanced at it.
“Almost one-thirty in the morning.”
Taehyung’s eyes flew open.
“What? That late?”
Jungkook burst out laughing, crouching to grab his waist and help him stand.
“Yeah…” he nodded between chuckles. “We fucked for like three hours. We’ve got great stamina, huh?”
“Shut up…” Taehyung muttered, but the corners of his lips curled up despite himself.
The younger held him firmly as he began to undress him slowly, first pulling down the skirt that was already twisted, then peeling off the fishnet stockings, which now had an obvious tear right around his ass.
“Well… these stockings officially died in combat,” Jungkook said after tossing them aside. The black-haired boy looked at his boyfriend’s bare body, noticing how marked up he was. Not only were his ass cheeks wrecked and bruised, but his waist was red from being grabbed so tightly, and there were a few hickeys on his thighs near his sensitive spot. He loved seeing him like this—it screamed 'mine' all over. Taehyung blushed, lowering his gaze with a shy smile. “Was it good?” he asked quietly.
“Yeah… I really liked it,” he admitted timidly.
“Are you going to wear the other pieces I bought you some other time?” Jungkook asked with a mischievous glint in his eyes as he helped him walk slowly toward the bathroom.
“Maybe…” the older bit his lip.
Jungkook practically lit up with excitement, squeezing his waist slightly as they walked together.
“Perfect. And since I already know how much you love being the bottom, I don’t see why I’d need to be one, right?”
Taehyung stopped in his tracks, turning his head to glare at him.
“You’re not getting out of that, Jungkook. You’re going to bottom at least once, when I say so. And when you enjoy it—which you will—then we can be versatile.”
The younger paled a little, laughing nervously as he shook his head.
“No, no, no… Taehyung, let’s talk about this, come on.”
“Don’t even try, Jungkook.” His tone was final, though the mischievous smile he flashed showed he was enjoying the power he held in that moment.
The older resumed the slow walk toward the bathroom, and Jungkook had no choice but to follow, laughing nervously under his breath, thinking that maybe that night he’d created a monster.
Notes:
I brought you two extras not just because it’s been a while, but also because it’s been some time since you last read something with these two together.
Since I’m super autistic about order, I need to publish the extras in the order they happen or I’ll die. That’s why I hadn’t posted anything about the two of them before, but from this moment on there will be more KookV and Yoonmin extras, just focused on them. If in the future I want to publish something on a date that has already passed chronologically… I will kill myself.
Fun fact of the day: They will be versatile, no discussion. There will definitely be an extra with Jungkook being the bottom. The thing is, yes, Jungkook will like being bottom and Taehyung will obviously like being top… but they actually enjoy it more the other way around. So, they’ll end up agreeing that Jungkook will top most of the time, but they can switch whenever they feel like it, which usually happens once every three or four months. I don’t want complaints or insults about 'breaking traditional values', this is canon and it happens. You don’t have to read that extra if you don’t want to—I know it makes some people uncomfortable. So when I upload it, I’ll leave a little note at the top like I’ve done before, as a warning.
I already published the one-shot "Behave (or don't)." I promise you’ll like it—it’s very hot and quite explicit. It’s a canon-compliant OS where Taehyung is a brat and Jungkook is his brat tamer. Please go check it out.
On my profile you’ll also find my most recent fic: My Beloved Sergeant. It’s a KookV omegaverse fanfic with military/medical themes, so I recommend (and beg you a little) to go read it and show it some love too.
Don’t forget to comment a lot. Remember to leave kudos and follow me if you haven’t already on Twitter (I’m there as freakinavi). Kisses!
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Manu1 on Chapter 1 Tue 17 Jun 2025 05:47PM UTC
Last Edited Tue 17 Jun 2025 05:49PM UTC
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Sunshine437 on Chapter 1 Fri 27 Jun 2025 09:40AM UTC
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forgive_me_taekook on Chapter 1 Mon 30 Jun 2025 05:37AM UTC
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