Yours in Silence

by jeontaephoria

Summary:

"I was just a stillness, warmth trapped outside a door I never dared to open."

"And I waited in that silence, like a house left open in winter, freezing in cold."

Bound by a marriage, they built a life where kisses were soft, but words never came. Taehyung smiled through the emptiness, begging in glances, aching in silence. And Jeongguk, too silent to confess, too gentle to let go, watched the person he loved slowly wither, crushed by being invisible.

This is a story of mismatched love languages, fractured warmth, and the desperate things we do when we need to be loved.

Chapter 1: 1

┏━━━━°⌜ Yours in Silence ⌟°━━━┓

-ˋˏ 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚝𝚑 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 in 𝚞𝚗𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜 ˎˊ-

┗━━━━°⌜ Taekook Fanfic ⌟°━━━━┛

 

╰┈➤ ❝ [𝕊𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕪 𝕀𝕟𝕔𝕝𝕦𝕕𝕖] ❞

 

⇢ Taehyung, beautiful, loyal, hurting but never weak.

⇢ Jeongguk, distant, aching, and too quiet to be saved.

 

[Disclaimer ] ࿐ྂ -- -͙ - - ˚ · * ˚ ✦

✎ᝰ.The idols featured in this story are used as face claims, similar to actors in a film or TV series. They are not meant to represent real-life individuals, and this story does not reflect any real-life scenarios. My intention is to share my passion for storytelling with my fellows Taekooker.

 

✎ᝰ.Please note that this book is not meant to sexualize or fantasize about idols . It is a fictional work that uses them merely as visual references, intended for Taekookers who appreciate creative storytelling.

✎ᝰ.If you're seeking a story that focuses on smut with a meaningful plot, you're on right place.

✎ᝰ. This story is original work of me . Plagiarism will not be tolerated. Please respect the author's intellectual property.

©all right reserved Jeontaephoria

 

  Dedication࿐ •

 

To the person I never was, but always wished I could be. The one I wrote into Taehyung. Confident. Beautiful. Certain of their worth. Soft, even when the world gave them every reason to harden. He is everything I needed to believe I could become. This story is for me. Because I deserved to be seen, to be chosen, and to be loved out loud. And if no one else gives me love, I will.

│ . . . . . . . . . . ✧. . . . . . . . . .

 

 

 

 

𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓽𝓸𝓰𝓸𝓷𝓲𝓼𝓽 𝓼𝓴𝓮𝓽𝓬𝓱

Name: Kim Taehyung

Age: Twenty six

Relationship status: Married

Sub gender: Omega

Career: Financial Analyst

Character:

Taehyung is an omega but strong. He’s soft, yes but emotional, intuitive, and so loyal it aches. But don’t mistake his softness for weakness even when he’s breaking, he stands tall. He has a strength that lets him smile through heartbreak, hold onto dignity when the world forgets to. He loves with his whole heart, and even when love doesn't love him back right, he never lets it make him small. He's career driven, holds tight to his morals, and wears fashion like armor. And even when he's falling apart, he makes it look like grace.

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Name: Jeon Jeongguk

Age: Twenty eight

Relationship status: Married

 Sub gender: Alpha

 Career: Automotive service Technician

Character:

Jeongguk is the hardest character to explain because there’s so much locked inside. He’s distant, quiet, unreadable. He is not cruel, he is not careless, he is just hurting in a way that doesn’t know how to speak. He doesn’t show emotion the way people expect, and that makes it easy to misunderstand him. But if you look close really close you’ll see it, the grief, the guilt, the need. There’s a whole story written in his silence. He’s a tragedy that breathes. And writing him feels like wanting to wrap him in warm duvet and protect him from everything, even from himself.

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Their silence screamed. It was never gentle. It pressed against his ribs, curled around his lungs, and slipped sharp and cold into his heart like the finest blade.

 

‧₊˚✩彡⋆☾ ﾟ

 

"121."

 

"122."

 

"123."

 

"Only 123? Yesterday it was 126," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep, a pout tugging at his lips, the sound of his own voice oddly muffled in the stillness of the room.

 

"Three fell," he mumbled again, almost to himself, his words like whispers caught in the soft morning air.

 

The man beside him was slept in the quiet serenity of the early hours. He was counting the delicate dark lashes resting on his husband's closed eyelids. The sight of him, so still and unguarded, was like a secret only he knew. The beauty beside him was his and his alone. His husband, nestled in warmth, unaware of the world, gently breathing in the soft rhythm of a calm, hazy morning.

 

His fingers itched to touch, to memorize the curve of his husband’s plump lips, the small mole just beneath them, a quiet mark of uniqueness. He leaned in closer, feeling the slight heat of his husband’s skin radiating against him. For a moment, he was completely entranced, lost in the small, intimate details of the man he adored. His breath mingled with his husband's, so close now. Which part of him should he kiss first?

 

Without a second thought, he closed the distance, his lips brushing the honeyed curve of his husband's mouth. The kiss was soft, tender, a fleeting moment of warmth that lingered long after his lips parted. Then, drawn by the little mole that beckoned him, he pressed a gentle kiss there, feeling the smooth skin beneath his lips.

 

"I love you, my alpha, my husband, my Jeongguk," he whispered, so softly the words barely stirred the morning air. A tender smile curled on his lips, touched with the melancholy of knowing those words would not be returned, neither now, while his beloved slept, nor later, when he was awake.

 

The ache settled in his chest like a pin dipped in poison, small, sharp, and quietly cruel. He let it pierce him in silence, swallowing the longing that bloomed like nightshade in his ribs. Then, with one last glance at the man wrapped in peaceful dreams, he turned away. The blanket rustled gently as he pulled it back over the sleeping form. Without a sound, he slipped away, the hush of his steps carrying him into the bathroom.

 

The alpha lying in bed slowly opened his eyes, the inky black of his gaze settling on the door his husband had just slipped through.

 

"I love you, my alpha, my husband, my Jeongguk."

 

The echo of that soft, trembling voice lingered in the silence, a confession he had heard for years, always offered, never demanded. It wrapped around him like a ghost of warmth, and yet he remained still, expression unreadable.

 

How long, he wondered, would his husband continue this silent ritual of love? A stubborn heart, that one devoted, tireless, always hoping.

 

With a slow motion, he pushed the blankets aside, the cool air brushing his skin as he let his legs sway off the edge of the bed. He knew his omega would linger in the bath, humming to himself or lost in thoughts. So, instead, he made his way to another room for his shower.

 

By the time the omega emerged from the bathroom, hair damp and skin glowing from steam, the bedroom stood empty.

 

“He knows how to save time, but he still doesn’t know how to save water.”

 

A soft pout shaped his lips as he imagined what it would’ve been like if they had shared the shower, warm laughter, slippery skin, the closeness they often pretended not to crave.

 

He stood before the mirror, staring at the reflection that greeted him like an old friend and a stranger all at once. One monolid eye, one double-lidded, two different skies sheltering the same soul. His face was a constellation of familiar moles, delicate and known. But it was his neck that caught his breath.

 

Faint purples bloomed like wild violets along the pale skin, mixed with marks not yet faded. Jeongguk’s quiet language written on skin. His chest rose in a stuttered inhale.

 

He sighed and reached for the concealer, dabbing over each telltale mark, painting away passion like a secret too sacred for the daylight. Once the skin looked untouched, he followed with a swipe of sunscreen. And then, finally, his favorite lip balm, the small comfort he never skipped.

 

The door creaked open. He turned instinctively, heart skipping like a stone across still water.

 

Jeongguk stood there, wearing only a pair of soft, low-slung sweatpants. The soft morning light caught the contours of his chiseled chest, the definition of his abs, and the sculpted biceps that rippled.

 

“Taehyung, behave, you horny omega,” he hissed to himself, though his mouth stayed slack, eyes shamelessly drinking in the sight.

 

“I made breakfast,” Jeongguk said, his voice even, stripped of emotion. It cut through the haze, and Taehyung blinked, nodding quickly.

 

Jeongguk gave a timid nod in return, walking to the cupboard with the calm of a tide returning to shore. He pulled out a plain black tee and matching pants.

 

Taehyung glanced once more at his own reflection and hurriedly applied his lip balm, as if it could anchor him, as if the familiar taste might soothe the rising flutter in his chest.

 

Do emotions travel, leap quietly from one soul to another, like shadows following the sun? Perhaps they do. Because somewhere along the quiet, aching line between their hearts, Jeongguk's numbness had spilled into him.

 

Only moments ago, Taehyung had felt light, almost glowing with quiet joy. The sweet ache of last night’s love still lingered on his skin, the marks on his neck like petals pressed into memory, proof of belonging, of being wanted, even if just in body.

 

But now… now there was only stillness.

 

The tone Jeongguk had spoken in, so calm, so distant had drained the warmth from the morning. It wasn’t cruel, not even cold. Just unreachable, like a shore across a fog-drenched sea.

 

Taehyung looked into the mirror, lips curling into a smile. Forced, tight. He watched it falter. Tried again faltered. Then, one more time. This time it caught. This time, it bloomed gently across his cheeks, like dawn breaking behind clouds.

 

There. A real smile, born from the persistence of his heart. If he could coax truth from his reflection, perhaps everything else could be mended too with time, with patience, with trying.

 

But this wasn't his third try. This was his hundredth. His thousandth.

 

He had been trying for years.

 

Jeongguk emerged from the bathroom, dressed simply in black tee and pants clinging to him like shadows. His eyes found Taehyung, who had just risen from the chair, only to flinch slightly, a barely there wince that didn’t escape Jeongguk’s notice.

 

Without a word, he crossed the room.

 

One hand pressed gently to Taehyung’s lower belly, then slid lower, cupping him between the legs with quiet certainty. The other hand cradled his hip, fingers resting with quiet familiarity. Taehyung's toes curled tight inside his shoes, a shiver rolling up his spine at the sudden contact.

 

“Did you apply the soothing balm there?” Jeongguk asked, his voice distant, flat, like a stone skipping across still water.

 

Taehyung pressed his lips into a thin line, then gave a small nod. But Jeongguk's brows pulled together in a subtle frown as his hand moved, slow and soft, rubbing gently over Taehyung’s tender core. The touch was too careful, too knowing.

 

Taehyung’s breath hitched; he clenched his jaw, desperate to keep any sound at bay. His body betrayed him with its tremble, his chest tight with the ache of craving tenderness from someone who gave it with such detachment.

 

“We… we’ll be late,” he whispered, voice thin and cracked, eyes rising to meet Jeongguk’s that were so soft, so innocent. A contrast to the hand that still rested in such a sinful place.

 

Jeongguk nodded slightly, the touch finally fading as he stepped back.

 

Taehyung reached for his wallet and phone, before stepping out of the bedroom. Behind him, Jeongguk followed.

 

As they made their way downstairs, Taehyung’s eyes fell on the breakfast laid out neatly on the low table in the living room. For a fleeting second, a tender thought whispered through his mind perhaps Jeongguk had chosen this spot out of consideration, knowing how rough the night had been.

 

“The chairs are somewhat broken, so I put the breakfast here,” Jeongguk said plainly.

 

Taehyung nodded, his smile tight. Stupid, Taehyung. Stupid heart, he cursed inwardly, silencing the fragile hope that had fluttered too soon.

 

They settled on the couch, plates and bowls between them, the soft morning sunlight slipping through the windows, brushing warmth against the cool air of their quiet home.

 

It wasn’t yet their home, not officially. The house was under mortgage, with one more year until the final payment. Jeongguk had insisted on handling it alone, never once accepting Taehyung’s offers to contribute. Not out of pride, perhaps, but something harder to name. A boundary drawn too deep.

 

It was a modest place, a typical mid Korean home that Jeongguk had purchased before their vows were ever exchanged. But it was Taehyung who had breathed life into its bones, who had chosen curtains and candles, arranged cushions and folded dreams into every corner.

 

The layout was simple, a small living room that bled into an open kitchen, the bedroom tucked upstairs, and a little patch of green lawn outside. Unremarkable to some, but to Taehyung, it was everything.

 

It was home.

 

A space where breakfasts were shared in the hush of morning, where dinners lingered into soft conversations, where weekends were wrapped in blankets and warmth, and nights, nights were painted in passion, in bruised lips and tangled limbs.

 

This house held the rhythm of their life. Even if Jeongguk did not always speak the language of love, Taehyung had carved meaning into the silence.

 

A gentle silence settled over the room, warm and weightless, like a blanket draped over the shoulders. It lingered between them for a breath, then another, until Taehyung, with a soft curve to his lips, broke it like sunlight piercing through morning mist.

 

“Did I tell you yesterday?” he began, voice light, laced with the effort of brightness. “We got the best results in service quality assurance… out of all the departments.”

 

His eyes twinkled, searching Jeongguk’s face for even the smallest flicker of pride, of interest, of something shared. Even if it didn’t come, Taehyung’s smile. This was his ritual too, offering pieces of his day like small, warm stones, hoping they might one day build a bridge.

 

✧･ﾟ:* ─ *:･ﾟ✧

 

The cherry blossoms were in full bloom, their petals fluttering like soft confessions in the breeze, lining the streets with gentle pink. They walked beneath them, side by side, though the space between them felt more like a quiet chasm than a shared path.

 

For Taehyung, this was the most cherished time of year. The blossoms always arrived with a hush of hope, painting his life in pastels. Each petal a memory, a promise. The season that once felt like a beginning, the time when his life had first started to bloom beside Jeongguk.

 

He glanced at the man beside him. His blossom. The one who never opened fully, but who stood tall and silent beside him through every changing season.

 

They reached the bus stop.

 

“Ms. Choi is definitely going to dump a hell of a workload on us. I swear the auditors might show up next week, just a hunch,” Taehyung said with a small huff, speaking in that familiar rhythm. The kind of talk that stitched over cracks, held the silence at bay. He talked of nothing and everything, his voice trying to soften the edges of the quiet.

 

Jeongguk stood still beside him, silent as ever. No nod, no hum of agreement. Just listening or maybe not. Sometimes Taehyung wasn’t sure if Jeongguk heard him at all. But that never stopped him. It couldn’t.

 

Because silence between other couples might say something, comfort, understanding, ease. But their silence? Their silence screamed.

 

It was never gentle. It pressed against Taehyung’s ribs, curled around his lungs, and slipped sharp and cold into his heart like the finest blade.

 

And so, he kept talking. Kept weaving words into the quiet. Because he knew, if he stopped, the silence would shatter him.

 

The bus pulled up with a low hum, its brakes sighing as it came to a stop. Taehyung quieted mid-sentence, smile already blooming on his lips.

 

“Goodbye, alpha. Have a good day. Don’t burden yourself with too much work, and remember to stay hydrated,” he said softly, voice warm with care. He leaned in and pressed a light kiss to Jeongguk’s cheek, a touch so familiar and gentle it barely left a trace.

 

Jeongguk gave a stiff nod, wordless, and Taehyung offered a final wave before stepping onto the bus. He found his usual seat by the window and looked out, his gaze clinging to Jeongguk like the last ray of sunlight at dusk. He didn’t look away until the bus rolled forward and the man he loved slipped out of sight.

 

On the roadside, Jeongguk blinked once, then again before turning his face forward. He tucked his hands into his pockets and began to walk. His workplace was only a short distance away. Unlike Taehyung, whose office sat across the city, tucked between glass towers and noise.

 

This was their quiet ritual. Each morning they walked to the bus stop together, steps in sync. Taehyung would board the bus, and Jeongguk would carry on, footsteps echoing into the morning calm.

 

They had a car. A small, modest vehicle that waited untouched in the driveway more often than not. Jeongguk preferred to walk. Taehyung, ever the practical dreamer, took public transport with earbuds in and thoughts adrift.

 

Even though the company provided Jeongguk with a car, he refused to waste money on fuel for such short distances. Efficiency always over comfort. Function over sentiment.

 

Jeongguk's steps faltered for just a moment, his gaze falling to his open palm. There, delicate and soft, rested a cherry blossom petal, its pink edges still clinging to the memory of Taehyung's hair, where it had landed unknowingly. He had picked it up subtly, his fingers brushing against the softness of it while Taehyung remained lost in his endless stream of words, unaware of the small, fleeting gift from nature that had graced his presence.

 

With a faint shake of his head, Jeongguk flicked the petal aside, the wind catching it as it drifted away. He resumed walking, one step, two steps, three.

 

But then, a pause.

 

He stopped mid-step. He turned, his steps retracing themselves as he crouched down and, with the same quiet reverence, picked up the petal again. He held it in his fingers for a moment longer, studying its fragile form as if it carried some hidden meaning only he could understand.

 

Without a word, Jeongguk tucked the petal into his pocket, its softness now safely hidden away as he stood and walked on.

 

✧･ﾟ:* ─ *:･ﾟ✧

 

Taehyung rolled his shoulders and stretched, the slow crack of his neck followed by a sigh.

 

The hours had slipped by unnoticed, each minute blending into the next. His colleagues had trickled out one by one, leaving the office quiet and empty.

 

It was then that he heard it, the squeal of excitement. Looking up from his desk, he saw Jeongguk standing in the doorway.

 

Sana, always the first to seize a moment, flashed a bright smile. "Jeongguk ssi, is today the lucky day we get to taste your cooking?" Her voice was laced with playful curiosity, and the laughter of a few others echoed softly behind her.

 

"I made it for Taehyung. Just a small portion." he said flatly, his words leaving no room for argument. There was no smile, no warmth in his voice just the hollow cadence of someone who spoke without need for connection.

 

Taehyung swallowed, his heart sinking slightly. His husband, always so blunt, never thinking twice about the weight his words carried. He quickly plastered a smile on his face.

 

"Haha, Jeongguk is like that," Taehyung chimed, his voice light as he stepped forward, wrapping both arms around Jeongguk’s left bicep in a quick, almost automatic gesture of reassurance. "We can share the food, of course."

 

Jeongguk remained impassive. "It’s not for tasting. Brought it so you eat. Share it? You’ll get two, maybe three bites." he said, a strange finality in his words, the lack of sweetness echoing louder than any affection could.

 

A quiet moment before Sana laughed awkwardly, trying to cover the discomfort. "Taehyung, Jeongguk ssi is right... Haha, we were just having a good time chatting," she said, her voice attempting to smooth the situation. One by one his last three collegues went for lunch.

 

Taehyung let out a long sigh, his gaze wandering over the room. He knew Jeongguk disliked crowded places, and in a way, he knew this was the only place they could have some semblance of peace, no prying eyes, no questions, just the two of them.

 

They reached Taehyung's desk, and with a soft pull, he moved his side desk mate’s chair, both of them settling in.

 

Taehyung opened the box, peering inside at the dish Jeongguk had prepared with his usual precision. His eyes softened at the sight.

 

"I could've eaten at the canteen... You didn’t have to go through all that trouble," Taehyung said. He knew how tiring it was for Jeongguk to leave work, head home to prepare food, and then bring it all the way here to his office.

 

Jeongguk didn't respond right away, his focus solely on arranging the chopsticks with a quiet concentration. "It's not spicy," he said, his tone almost absent. "Canteen food is too spicy."

 

Taehyung smiled softly, his eyes crinkling with warmth. "Oh, yes, Ggukkie, I can never eat spicy food,".

 

Jeongguk’s brow furrowed slightly, his voice shifting as he spoke again. "You’re using leave for a friend wedding. But if you get sick now, then what?"

 

Taehyung’s smile faltered as he chewed a bite, the crinkling around his eyes slowly fading. His heart squeezed at the unintended edge to Jeongguk’s concern. He shook his head quickly, trying to brush off the sudden heaviness. It was just a slip, he told himself, nothing more.

 

"There will be a meeting with the daepyo-nim online, so I might get late," Taehyung said softly. He had intended to send a text during his lunch break, but Jeongguk was already here, silently eating beside him. He noticed the pause in Jeongguk’s movements as his hand stopped mid-air. Then, with a barely perceptible nod, Jeongguk mumbled, "Okay."

 

Taehyung bit his lip, his eyes softening as he nodded in return. They both had eaten in silence after that.

 

"Take care, and don’t overwork yourself," Taehyung added, his voice gentle, as he walked Jeongguk to the door. Taehyung wanted to pull Jeongguk close, to kiss him, just a simple gesture of affection. But the thought was fleeting, quickly swallowed by the awareness of the cctv around them. Not here, not now, he told himself.

 

Jeongguk’s voice broke the silence, sharp and distant, as he said, "Goodbye," his tone stiff and almost businesslike as he stepped out.

 

And with that, he was gone. Taehyung stood there for a moment.

 

The next hours had slipped away in a blur, consumed by the urgency of making the presentation. It was an emergency that required a video call with the CEO, who was currently in the States.

 

Taehyung thought to himself, almost whimsically, that it was the warmth of the homemade food Jeongguk had brought him that gave him the energy to put together the presentation so efficiently.

 

The meeting itself had been a series of contrasting emotions, warm encouragement mixed with cold, impersonal remarks, followed by the inevitable discussions about expectations and future goals. Through it all, Taehyung’s mind had wandered, half-focused, his gaze shifting to the window where the daylight had long faded. The city outside was now cloaked in the soft, comforting darkness of evening.

 

As the video call ended, the department head___Han Jun Kyung asked everyone to stay a little longer to discuss some points from the meeting.

 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the meeting wrapped up. The department head gave a slight nod, signaling the end.

 

"Mr. Kim, you have to stay a little longer," the Jun Kyung said, his voice as cold as ever. Taehyung let out a small, almost inaudible sigh, his colleagues' eyes flickering toward him with pity. He hated this, these perfect, control obsessed figures who were always watching, always waiting to catch someone in a mistake. Maybe, just maybe, there was a reason he had accidentally painted the wrong minor detail in his presentation.

 

But he didn’t voice it. He simply stayed, well versed in the ways of corporate life now. He wasn’t going to start a conversation if it was his superior asking him to stay. That wasn’t how it worked.

 

“There are rules and regulations that we must follow for professionals in this company,” Jun kyung said, his tone as distant and matter of fact as a lecture. Taehyung’s eyes flickered slightly, but he said nothing. He could already feel where this conversation was heading.

 

He simply nodded, staying silent. Sometimes, it was better to let the senior speak first than give them an opening to criticize.

 

“And these rules," Jun Kyung continued, his voice growing more clipped, “cover all dos and don’ts, such as when there’s a company canteen. I don’t think it’s appropriate to eat in the office, especially with someone who isn’t even from the company. A completely stranger. Is that clear?”

 

Taehyung bit back the urge to speak, his breath catching. This was ridiculous, but he knew better than to argue. His hands clenched tightly in his lap.

 

“That was my mistake, not following the rules about eating in the office,” Taehyung said, bowing his head slightly, his voice calm despite the fire rising in his chest. He stood from his seat, ready to leave this uncomfortable conversation behind.

 

“Good,” Jun Kyung replied, his tone as cold as ever. "You’re free to go."

 

Taehyung turned to walk out, but then, he stopped mid step. He couldn’t let this slide. Not without a final word.

 

"Bujang nim, Next time, I’ll make sure not to make this mistake again," Taehyung muttered. "I’ll have lunch with my husband at the canteen."

 

With that, he turned on his heel and walked out, his anger simmering beneath the surface, the words stranger echoing in his mind. How dare he say that about Jeongguk? How dare he.

 

 

✧･ﾟ:* ─ *:･ﾟ✧

 

The night air was cool, brushing against Taehyung’s cheeks like a soft apology from the world. As he stepped out of the building, the weariness he carried, the headache pulsing lightly at his temples, began to melt away at the sight before him.

 

There he stood.

 

Jeongguk.

 

As still as the moon above, as familiar as the breath in Taehyung's lungs. Just seeing him rooted there, waiting, brought a quiet warmth that numbed the edges of his frustration.

 

"You came," Taehyung whispered, and without hesitation, he ran into Jeongguk’s arms, those arms that had always been his sanctuary. The scent of his alpha, earthy and grounding, wrapped around him like the coziest of winter blankets.

 

Jeongguk held him, not tightly, not eagerly, but he held him, and that was enough for Taehyung. Even now, even after all these years, he still reached for him like he was water in the desert.

 

"Parked the client’s car on another street." Jeongguk murmured, and Taehyung, gently pulling away, nodded with a small smile. His husband was always honest but Jeongguk’s honesty was like an unsheathed sword. Clean. Sharp. Without adornment.

 

Still, Taehyung stood by him, a tender contentment threading quietly through the cracks of the day. They walked side by side, Taehyung’s hand sliding around Jeongguk’s bicep like second nature, fitting there as though carved for that very space.

 

They reached the bus stop in silence

 

They stood beneath the soft cascade of cherry blossoms, the world around them painted in blushing pinks and whispered whites, petals drifting like forgotten dreams on the breeze.

 

“Doesn’t this season remind you of our first meeting?” Taehyung asked, voice wrapped in nostalgia as his gaze followed a petal's gentle descent. Jeongguk gave a quiet nod, his silence always louder than words.

 

"You know, Ggukie," Taehyung continued, his voice blooming with warmth, “spring wasn’t always my favorite. I used to love autumn, the golden hush, the falling leaves, but after meeting you in a spring like this… it became my season. Life gave me you in the middle of blooming flowers.” He looked at Jeongguk then, eyes glimmering with that same boyish spark, untouched by time.

 

Jeongguk’s gaze remained still, like a still lake untouched by wind. “No one should change their likes for someone else, Taehyung,” he said softly.

 

And just like that, the light in Taehyung’s eyes dimmed ever so slightly. But he smiled, bravely, gently, like always.

 

“Good self love quote,” he quipped with a grin, voice light even as something inside him curled in quiet. “Oh, the bus is here!”

 

He turned, steps brisk as he walked toward it. Jeongguk lingered a moment longer under the falling blossoms, then followed, the petal laced wind brushing past them like an unforgettable memory.

 

Taehyung sat by the window, Jeongguk sat beside him.

 

“I love traveling in the bus with you,” Taehyung whispered, his voice like silk unraveling bare, honest, vulnerable. Another offering laid gently at Jeongguk’s feet.

 

“I do too,” Jeongguk replied with a sigh, his voice a hollow shell of feeling, simple, unadorned. Just words.

 

But sometimes, even empty words can feel like warmth in the cold.

 

And so, with a quiet smile, Taehyung let his head rest against Jeongguk’s shoulder, fitting there like a memory that never quite faded. Outside, the blossoms danced. Inside, Taehyung held on to that sliver of softness, pretending for now that it was enough.

 

The bus exhaled a sigh and came to rest at their stop, its doors opening with a hiss like a lullaby fading into the night. Taehyung had already drifted into dreams, his head nestled against the shoulder, lashes resting like moth wings on his cheeks.

 

"Taehyung we’re here now," Jeongguk muttered. But Taehyung only murmured something lost in sleep, his words melting into the quiet hum of twilight.

 

Jeongguk knelt and gathered him gently, his arms a cradle, his back a harbor for the omega’s slumbering weight. He rose and began the slow walk home, his footsteps soft on the earth as cherry blossoms descended around them like a blessing, like snowfall tinted in blush. For a moment, Jeongguk paused beneath the pale trees, watching the petals spiral through the air fragile confessions from the sky.

 

At the door, he shifted carefully, awkwardly fumbling with the handle, balancing love and gravity. But he managed, and inside, the house welcomed them with familiar warmth. He slipped off his shoes and padded upstairs, carrying the warmth of another heart against his spine.

 

In the bedroom, he laid Taehyung down with the reverence of placing a prayer. Shoes off, blankets drawn to his chin, he looked like a poem resting between pages. Jeongguk let his gaze linger for a beat longer before turning away.

 

Downstairs, silence pressed gently at his shoulders. But hunger nudged at him too, an echo of routine that could not be ignored. He rolled up his sleeves, washed the waiting vegetables, and let his hands begin their dance.

 

A gentle stirring broke through the velvet veil of sleep, fingers brushing over his shoulder, a whisper of motion that roused Taehyung from the depths of dreaming. Jeongguk’s voice was a soft tide lapping at the edge of his awareness.

 

"Morning came too fast," Taehyung murmured, his body curling upward like a leaf reluctant to fall from the branch.

 

"It’s still night," Jeongguk said quietly. "Dinner’s ready. Come wash up."

 

But Taehyung groaned and sank back into the embrace of the blankets, arms splayed like wings folding in. "No, I don’t want it," he mumbled.

 

Jeongguk reached down to coax him up. "Not eating? You’ll get sick. Come." His grip was a tether pulling Taehyung from the lull of dreams.

 

"You’re a bad, bad husband," Taehyung said with a sleepy pout, his steps dragging as he shuffled toward the washroom, the accusation no more biting than a kitten’s paw.

 

By the time he emerged, hair tousled and cheeks still pink from sleep, Jeongguk had already arranged the dinner.

 

The meal passed in a blur quick, simple, like a fleeting moment that begged no explanation. When the last of the dishes were cleared, Jeongguk placed them on the side table, and with a quiet, shared breath, they both settled onto the bed, sinking into the softness of the sheets as if the world outside could wait.

 

"Jeongguk... how many rules did we break today?" Taehyung mumbled, his head nestling against Jeongguk’s chest as if it were the safest place in the world.

 

"We ate on the bed. We left the dishes unwashed, just abandoned there. We're drifting into sleep right after eating... and neither of us thought to brush our teeth," Taehyung’s words were muffled by the rise and fall of Jeongguk’s heartbeat.

 

"We’ll be zombies by tomorrow," he added with a grin. Jeongguk chuckled softly, the sound vibrating beneath Taehyung’s ear. He couldn’t see the smile that accompanied it, but the warmth in Jeongguk’s voice told him it was there perhaps hidden, but present in the tender way Jeongguk’s chest rose and fell with each laugh.

 

"I love you," Taehyung whispered, pressing a kiss to Jeongguk’s chest, a fleeting, tender offering.

 

Jeongguk sighed, the sound deep and full of something that was almost too much to hold.

 

"Good night, Taehyung," he murmured. In that quiet space, their bodies melted into one another’s warmth. Time paused, and together, they drifted, unhurried, into the gentle embrace of sleep, hearts beating in quiet synchrony as the world outside faded away.

 

✧･ﾟ:* to be continue *:･ﾟ✧

 

 

 

Chapter 2: 2

A soul too luminous to be tarnished by gold or dazzle. He deserved the whole world, no matter who offered it.

 

‧₊˚✩彡⋆☾ ﾟ

There are souls who drift into our lives like warm spring breezes bringing nothing but gentleness, never stirring the waters with sorrow. Just comfort, and more comfort, and then still comfort again. The kind that wraps around your heart like a soft quilt, worn with memory and meaning.

Taehyung felt his heart bloom, quiet and bright, at the thought of his friend returning to the city. His comfort his quiet joy was drawing near again. And though distance had stretched between them, he had never truly felt the ache of absence. Their bond, like an ember carefully tended, had remained alight through the quiet passages of time.

The sun poured softly through the windows, painting the room in gold. But the light did little to calm the storm that had already taken over. Clothes lay strewn like fallen petals across the floor, shirts draped over chairs, trousers clinging to the edge of the bed, chaos blooming in every corner.

When Jeongguk stepped into the room, he was met not just with the mess, but with the whirlwind that was Taehyung in the throes of a fashion crisis.

“I have nothing to wear,” Taehyung declared, dramatic and breathless, as he spun in place.

Jeongguk’s gaze swept over the six pristine outfits tags still dangling like tiny flags of protest that Taehyung had bought this month alone and not touched. He said nothing, only blinked.

Taehyung held up a shirt against his chest, his expression contemplative. “This?” he muttered, then shook his head. “No I look like an intern on his first day.” With a frustrated stamp of his foot, the shirt was flung away, fluttering through the air like a defeated flag until it landed squarely on Jeongguk’s face.

Calmly, Jeongguk peeled the fabric from his eyes just as Taehyung was already onto the next.

“A blazer?” he mused, lifting the garment with a hopeful glint. “No, no… I’m not going to a board meeting.” The blazer followed the shirt, cast aside with flair.

“This one is good,” Taehyung finally breathed, still lost in his monologue, unaware of Jeongguk standing there like a quiet witness to the entire tempest.

He turned at last, mid flurry, and there stood Jeongguk quietly gathering the scattered fragments of his storm. Wordlessly, he lifted clothes from the floor and laid them gently on the bed, smoothing out creases with the care of someone who knew this dance all too well.

Taehyung’s face lit with a glimmer of hope. “Jeonggukkie,” he cooed, voice lilting like a note in a forgotten melody, “my offer still stands. You can come with me.”

Jeongguk didn’t pause in his task. “There’s still work left for the weekend,” he replied, his tone gentle but firm, like soft rain tapping against a closed window. “The faucets need fixing.”

Taehyung’s shoulders dipped, his smile fading into a pout as he turned back to the mirror. He knew this about Jeongguk that once his words were spoken, they stood like stones in a river, unmoved by the current of Taehyung’s charms.

He didn’t argue. He only sighed and adjusted the collar of his chosen outfit.

“I’ll be ready soon,” Taehyung said softly, slipping away to change.

Moments passed like slow moving clouds, and then he emerged newly dressed. Jeongguk looked up from where he knelt, folding the last of the chaos into neat lines. For a heartbeat, their eyes met unspoken histories shimmering in that glance.

But just as quickly, Jeongguk looked away, retreating into the rhythm of his task, as if Taehyung were no more than a ghost passing through the room. As if he weren’t standing there, heart quietly reaching.

Taehyung's teeth caught his lower lip, a sting of embarrassment rising like heat beneath his skin. What was I thinking? he scolded himself. That he’d wear the perfect outfit, that Jeongguk would look up and say something—anything? Praise? A smile?

Stupid.
Stupid expectations. Stupid heart.

He drifted toward the vanity in silence. Sitting down, he began to style his hair with practiced grace, brushing it back, taming the strands. His fingers moved, painting softness onto his face, dabbing light into his features. He added the final touches rings on his fingers, a glinting chain around his throatas if building armor from beauty.

But still, he said nothing. And neither did Jeongguk.

Jeongguk moved with habitual grace, folding the last of the clothes and tucking them into the wardrobe.

He sat then, on the edge of the bed, shoulders relaxed but eyes far away. Behind him, in the mirror’s reflection, Taehyung watched. His hands stilled over the vanity, a brush held in midair, his gaze no longer on his face but on the man behind him.

Say something, he pleaded inwardly, the words looping like a whispered prayer.
Say I look beautiful. Just once.
But silence reigned.

Taehyung turned his eyes back to the mirror, blinking at his own reflection. His features were perfect, precise each detail polished with care. Yet doubt lingered in the shadows of his expression.

Am I not?
Even after all this after the shimmer on his skin, the softness sculpted into his hair, am I really not beautiful anymore?

He studied himself with searching eyes, as if the mirror might tell him what Jeongguk would not. There was a quiet ache behind his gaze, the kind that settles in when love turns quiet and begins to fade at the edges.

Across the room, Jeongguk tilted his head slightly, watching him, softly, secretly. He saw the way Taehyung had slipped into one of his silences, the kind where his body stilled but his mind raced ahead.

It was a habit he’d noticed after they married, after life had folded into routines and familiarity. As if Taehyung carried not just thoughts, but a whole sky of storms behind his eyes.

And yet, still neither spoke.

The phone rang once, twice, then again, breaking through the stillness like a pebble dropped into a quiet lake. The sound startled Taehyung, making him flinch ever so slightly before he reached out, his voice gentle and hurried as he answered.

“I’m coming… just in a little while,” he told his friend, eyes flicking toward Jeongguk as if hoping for some unread message in his expression.

Jeongguk was already looking at him, gaze unreadable, still as stone. But the moment their eyes met, he looked away again like always. Like it was easier to turn from the sun than to let it burn.

Taehyung hesitated, lips parting as if to say more, but all he managed was, “I’m going. Eat lunch on time.”

Jeongguk nodded without a word, his movements quiet as he followed Taehyung down the stairs. The air between them felt like a string pulled taut, delicate, trembling, always on the verge of snapping.

At the door, Taehyung turned and smiled bright, hopeful, just a little too wide. One last offering. One last flicker.

Then he stepped into the car, waving enthusiastically through the window, his hand catching sunlight like a ribbon. Jeongguk stood on the porch, watching him go, a figure still rooted while another drifted further down the road.

✧･ﾟ:* ─ *:･ﾟ✧

Fingers danced lightly against the surface of the table, an unconscious rhythm to the waiting heart that beat with anticipation. Taehyung’s lips curled upward, a crescent of joy, as the door to the restaurant swung open and the person he’d been longing for stepped inside.

"Taehyungie!" Jimin’s voice rang out, a burst of sunshine that filled the room with warmth. Without hesitation, Taehyung sprang to his feet, his smile wide enough to light up the space between them, and rushed into his best friend's arms.

The embrace was a perfect moment, the kind that erased the distance of time. Taehyung swayed them gently, his voice soft as he whispered, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too… God, is this real? Am I really seeing you?” Jimin replied, his voice thickening with emotion, his eyes welling up.

They pulled apart, but the smile never left Taehyung’s face, the joy still lingering in his gaze. “How was the trip? You should’ve told me you know I would’ve come to pick you up at the airport.”

Jimin waved his hand with a playful roll of his eyes. “It was good, but jet lag nearly had me knocked out for hours. And how could you come? I know your grumpy manager.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “But enough about me, tell me how are you? Oh my God, did you lose weight?” Jimin’s eyes scrutinized Taehyung, as if trying to find the truth in every inch of his friend.

Taehyung scoffed, laughing as he brushed off the comment. “Don’t try to be my mum. I’ve gained weight, and I’m actually quite healthy,” he teased, his tone light, but the warmth in his words betraying how much he’d missed this.

Jimin’s gaze softened, a wistful sigh escaping him. “I really missed you. How did we ever stay away for a year?” His voice was full of wonder, as if the time apart had never felt so long.

"Dreams, Jimin, dreams," Taehyung teased, shaking his head with a smile that carried both affection and a hint of nostalgia. “And we did video calls every day. You’re being dramatic, okay?”

But even as he said the words, Taehyung felt a tug of something bittersweet, a happiness swelling inside him at the sight of his best friend, and a quiet sadness that lingered at the edges. A year apart had carved a hollow, but now, standing in front of Jimin again, it seemed to fill with the comfort of familiarity.

“Is it because you’re getting married that you’re being so dramatic?” Taehyung asked, a teasing glint dancing in his eyes. His voice was light, but there was an edge of something deeper, something only old friends could share.

"Shut up," Jimin muttered, rolling his eyes in mock annoyance, but the warmth in his gaze never wavered.

“Don’t tell me the great flirt is blushing,” Taehyung teased, leaning forward, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Jimin, for heaven's sake, you’ve been in a relationship with that alpha for a decade."

Jimin’s cheeks flushed ever so slightly, but he quickly waved it off, trying to act unbothered. "Let’s eat first. I haven’t had breakfast yet," he grumbled, settling back into his seat with a huff.

Taehyung couldn’t help but chuckle, his heart light. As they placed their orders, the world seemed to shrink, just the two of them and the comfort of easy conversation, like time had never truly passed.

“How’s he? Is he taking care of you?” Jimin asked, his words cutting through the clinking of cutlery, his eyes sharp yet warm, as though watching for something more than just Taehyung’s response.

Taehyung smiled, a soft curl of his lips that spoke volumes. “He’s good. And he’s taking the best care of me,” he replied, his voice full of warmth, the comfort of knowing someone was looking out for him, even from a distance.

Jimin nodded, chewing thoughtfully, but his expression didn’t change. “I’ve told him to come, you know. But he had work,” Taehyung murmured.

Jimin rolled his eyes. “He doesn’t like me, Taehyung. Why would he come? The guy doesn’t like 99% of the world,”

“Jimin,” Taehyung mumbled, the familiar ache tugging at him. It wasn’t an argument they hadn’t had before, but something about it still stung, even now.

Jimin sighed, his tone softening. “Did he see you coming here?” he asked, his voice laced with quiet curiosity.

“Yes,” Taehyung said, the word slipping out with ease.

“And he didn’t even tell you to change your dress?” Jimin raised an eyebrow, his eyes narrowing with disbelief.

Taehyung groaned, the familiar frustration bubbling up. “Why would he, Jimin?” he muttered, rolling his eyes.

Jimin didn’t respond right away. Instead, he just looked at Taehyung, his gaze pointed and knowing, and then glanced down at his outfit.

“Look at your clothes, Tae. How can he be an alpha and still not get that other people would see you like this?” Jimin asked, his words cutting through the quiet with an edge of concern, a flicker of protectiveness behind his playful tone.

“He’s not toxic,” Taehyung said softly, his voice a little firmer this time like silk pulled taut.

Jimin snorted, resting his chin in his palm. “Well, all that greenery can be sus. If an alpha isn’t possessive, what’s the point? Possessiveness is the crown jewel of an alpha,” he said, eyes glittering with that old stubborn fire.

Taehyung sighed, already familiar with this path. Jimin’s distaste for Jeongguk was never hidden, it lived in the space between their conversations, a thorn neither pulled out nor forgot.

“Jimin,” Taehyung murmured, his tone low, almost pleading. “We don’t need broken windows or dramatic love to prove something. He respects me. He respects my choices, how I dress, how I speak, how I move through the world. He doesn’t try to edit me. That’s love too.”

Jimin leaned back, raising his hands in surrender. “Okay, fine. I’m giving up,” he muttered.

There was a pause then. A deeper silence. The kind that folds around confessions.

“I just feel sad,” Jimin said, voice barely above the hum of the restaurant. “That you, the most hopeless romantic I’ve ever known, ended up with the most emotionally unavailable alpha. He was like that before… and he still is. I can’t forget how he treated you back then, Taehyung.”

Taehyung didn’t flinch. His expression didn’t harden or crack. Instead, it softened, like memory drifting through light.

“My romanticism,” he said, with a faint smile, “fills the spaces where he doesn’t always know how to reach. That was before marriage, Jimin. People grow. He’s a perfect husband now. He’s never raised his voice at me. Never once made me feel small. He’s never said no to my dreams. He doesn’t try to hold me back, he holds me up.”

Taehyung’s eyes grew distant, filled with something warm and certain.

“He feeds me better. He gives me space. He honors me in the quiet ways that matter. You don’t have to see it, Jimin. But I feel it every single day.”

“Did he love you?” Jimin asked softly, a fragile smile playing at the edge of his lips, like a question too careful to be real.

Taehyung’s eyes lifted. “He did. He does. I know.” His voice was steady, but something about the way he said it felt like tracing words into fogged glass there, but fading.

Jimin’s smile flickered, faltered. That wasn’t the answer he was hoping for.

“Do you feel his love, Taehyung?” Jimin asked, his tone gentler now, but insistent. “He never says he loves you. You feel his respect. His care. His honor, yes. But… do you feel his love?”

The words slipped in like a stone dropped into still water. And in the silence that followed, Taehyung searched the surface of his heart, looking for a reflection he wasn’t sure was there.

Did he feel it?

The answer curled behind his ribs. He smiled shakily and shook his head, chuckling to pull the moment off. “Stop putting me in the spotlight. These are your days to shine like the main character, idiot.”

Jimin let it go, not because he believed him.

“I can’t believe you’re getting married,” Taehyung laughed, pushing the conversation gently away from the ache.

“I can’t either,” Jimin giggled, the sound light and boyish. “I still have so much shopping to do. It’s just a week away.”

“You’ve been shopping for a month, Jimin ah,” Taehyung said, shaking his head fondly, his voice soft with affection.
“Well, it’s just a little more shopping, and you’re gonna help me,” Jimin said with a grin that was all sugar and no compromise.

“No, sorry from me,” Taehyung replied, tossing his head with playful defiance.

“Bitch, are you ditching me?” Jimin gasped, dramatically scandalized.

“You’ll spend this day with me,” he declared, like a promise sealed in glitter and old friendship.

“Jimin ah, we had lunch,” Taehyung protested, weakly.

“Oh, come on. You really changed after marriage,” Jimin whined. “Let’s go for a spa, then shopping just like the old days. Remember when we used to blow all our money and still cry for more?”

Taehyung hesitated, tugging at the edge of his sleeve. “Jeongguk doesn’t know. He’ll be waiting at home…”

“Just tell him on the phone,” Jimin scoffed under his breath. “It’s not like he’s gonna throw a fit or even care, right?”

Taehyung sighed, pulling out his phone, thumb hovering before he tapped the call button. The ring barely echoed before it connected.

“Hello, Jeonggukkie,” he said, his voice a little higher, a little softer than usual. “I’m gonna spend more time with Jimin we’ll go shopping and maybe to the spa, too.”

A silence bloomed on the line. Thick. Flat.

Then: “Okay,” Jeongguk replied. A single word, hollow, like a light switched off in an empty room.

Taehyung swallowed, tongue sweeping across his lower lip. He glanced at Jimin from the corner of his eye.

Jimin, who had also heard the call, rolled his eyes with an annoyed grunt. “Emotional unavailable bastard,” he muttered, folding his arms like a shield of loyalty.

“How about the car?” Taehyung asked quietly, his voice brushing the phone like a feather. There was a lump in his throat, one he couldn’t swallow, so he spoke around it, tender and unsure. “You needed it…”

“I can go by bus,” Jeongguk replied, his tone steady too steady. Like stone resting beneath water, unmoved by the current.

“My driver will take the car,” Jimin offered lightly, trying to smooth over the tension as if he hadn’t heard that chilled response.

Taehyung gave a slow nod and raised the phone again. “Jimin’s driver will drop the car,” he said, trying to lace it with calm.

A pause. Then Jeongguk’s voice again, dry as dusk: “Okay.”

“Bye,” Taehyung murmured, fingers curling around the phone tighter than they needed to.

“Bye,” came the echo. Distant. Finished.

The line went dead.

Taehyung exhaled, eyes fixed somewhere beyond the restaurant’s window, at nothing at all.

“He always disappoints me,” Jimin said, shaking his head with that same old frustration. “Even when I expect nothing, he still manages less.”

Taehyung didn’t reply. Not because he disagreed but because defending Jeongguk had become a habit stitched into his skin. And today, it was just too tired to rise.

✧･ﾟ:* ─ *:･ﾟ✧

The mood, which had wilted like a flower under too much heat, was gently revived as they sank into the quiet luxury of the spa. The scent of jasmine drifted, warm stones pressed into their backs, and the world outside faded into a muted blur.

So relaxed.

“He’s a sucky bastard,” Jimin muttered, eyes closed, face scrunched in dramatic distaste as Taehyung recounted the tension from earlier in the week.

Taehyung sighed, voice low and unbothered, like the hum of wind against silk. “Bujang-nim isn’t that bad. Unlike others, he knows boundaries. And truthfully… it was my mistake, not following the rules. I just—” he paused, brows furrowing faintly, “I hate the way he talks about Jeongguk."

Jimin made a sound somewhere between a scoff and a snort. “He’s still unmarried and unmated in his mid thirties. You know that means something’s off. And I heard there’s family drama. The expensive kind.”

Taehyung chuckled softly. “Every rich family in this city has problems, Jimin. Half of them are written in gold. The rest in blood.”

Sometimes, he felt grateful for his middle class roots, no gilded cage, no public scandals whispered in hallways. Too little money brought hunger, yes… but he had seen how too much money brought a different kind of starvation. The kind that devoured trust and love.

“I feel lucky, sometimes,” he murmured. “I had just enough to dream. And not too much to forget how.”

“I’ve told you so many times,” Jimin sighed, sinking deeper like a prince exhausted by his own generosity. “Just come work at my appa’s company. You could still chase your dreams there maybe even faster.”

Taehyung smiled, a little crooked, a little fond. “No way. You and your appa would spoil me so much I’d forget how to grow.”

His laughter was light, but the words were true. That offer had been laid before him like a velvet carpet for years and every time, he stepped around it. He was Jimin’s friend, not a shadow to be carried or a favor to be worn like a borrowed coat.

Jimin rolled his eyes, but there was no real frustration in it only affection.

The evening unfurled like a well worn memory. Shopping, shopping, and more shopping, stores blurred into one another, clothes passed between their hands like secrets. It was as if time had bent, just for a while, and returned them to the days when the only thing they worried about was the color match between their jackets and scarves.

 

Just two best friends, their laughter echoing through boutiques, their arms full of bags, and hearts briefly light again.

✧･ﾟ:* ─ *:･ﾟ✧

Jeongguk sat still in the wicker chair outside, the twilight softening the edges of the day. Shadows stretched long across the lawn. The hum of a engine pulled him from his thoughts.

The sleek sportscar slowed to a purr and stopped at the curb. The door opened, and out stepped Taehyung, radiant, glowing from laughter and the golden remnants of a day well spent. His smile bloomed like spring, effortless and bright.

A second door opened. Jimin stepped out, stylish as ever, like he belonged to another world entirely.

Jeongguk rose from his chair, the movement quiet, precise. He didn’t rush. He never did.

“Jeongguk! Long time no see,” Jimin greeted, eyes scanning him quickly, the way one measures a stranger dressed as someone they once knew.

The driver was already unloading a small mountain of bags from the trunk, each one marked with the name of a luxury label.

Jeongguk nodded once. “Hello,” he murmured, voice wrapped in restraint. His gaze slid briefly to Taehyung.

It was a greeting made of glass: functional, transparent, and just cold enough to not be mistaken for warmth

“Well,” Jimin snapped, bitterness curling at the edge of his voice like smoke. “You could say more than just hello to someone you're seeing after ages. Something like how have you been? Or maybe a simple congratulations on the marriage.”

Jeongguk blinked once, face unreadable. Then, in a tone as flat and polished as marble, he replied, “How have you been? Congratulations on the marriage.”

The words hung in the air—perfectly phrased, perfectly hollow.

Jimin clenched his jaw, his smile twitching with irritation. But before anything else could be said, Taehyung stepped between them, his presence like a warm breeze trying to dissolve a gathering storm.

“Haha, Jimin ah, why don’t you come inside for a bit? I’ll make you tea,” he offered, lightness forced around the edges.

But Jimin shook his head, softening. “Another time, Tae. Yoongi’s mother’s coming for dinner I’ve got to rush home before she starts critiquing.”

He gave a quick, affectionate hug, whispering something only Taehyung could hear, before pulling away.

Behind them, the driver stood, arms full of bags. With a quiet word of thanks, Taehyung took them, one by one, careful not to let them drop or clatter. The driver bowed slightly and returned to the car.

Jimin offered a final wave and disappeared into the sleek hum of his car, vanishing down the street like a punctuation mark at the end of a sentence no one wanted to finish.

And then, silence. Thick and knowing.

Taehyung stood there, arms full, eyes flicking once toward Jeongguk,

Jeongguk stepped forward without a word, his hands gently relieving Taehyung of the shopping bags. The gesture wasn’t dramatic, nor warm it was simply practical, like most of Jeongguk’s tenderness. The kind that didn’t ask to be seen, only done.

They entered the house with the faint creak of the front door and the hush of familiarity.

He set the bags on the table, the glossy paper catching the overhead light. Brand names glared back at him, elegant, expensive, unapologetically loud. Even without looking inside, he could feel the numbers crawling up his spine. Clothes that could pay a month’s rent. Accessories that could feed a family.

Behind him, Taehyung sighed, body sinking into the couch like silk melting into velvet. “It was so good, Jeonggukkie,” he murmured, stretching with a lazy smile. “We went to the spa. Uff, my muscles are in heaven. I feel so refreshed.”

Jeongguk sat beside him, hands resting loosely in his lap. He looked at Taehyung’s glowing face soft, relaxed, so clearly happy and tried to summon a matching memory. When was the last time he had seen Taehyung like this? When had they done something indulgent just for the sake of joy?

His mind searched, but came up empty.

Weekdays were swallowed by work, quiet mornings, quiet dinners. Weekends bled into obligations: visits to their parents, necessary errands, repairs that couldn’t be postponed. Their lives were built around function, not luxury. Around stability, not spontaneity.

Taehyung’s world had color today. Jeongguk’s, by contrast, felt like grayscale.

“See? I love it so much.” Taehyung lifted his hands, palms outward, fingers splayed like delicate petals. His nails gleamed buffed, painted in subtle tones of rose and pearl, edges smooth and shaped with elegant precision. His hands looked like they belonged in a painting, not in a world so ordinary.

Jeongguk stared, longer than he meant to. The manicure caught the light but it was the hands beneath that he saw. The hands that had once gripped his so tightly in quiet crowds. The hands that still reached for him in sleep.

But Taehyung, lit up from within, didn’t notice. “Come on, Jeonggukkie I’ll show you everything I got!” he chirped, scooping up half the bags with giddy determination. “You take the rest!”

Jeongguk obeyed silently, following him upstairs to the bedroom.

And then time blurred.

Outfits flowed one after another structured suits in deep plum and ash gray, soft knits in pale sand, flowing blouses that whispered as they moved. Taehyung twirled, preened, flopped dramatically on the bed and rose again with new fabric clutched to his chest.

Jeongguk sat through it all, wordless. Watching. Listening to the cadence of Taehyung’s joy, the way it ebbed and surged like waves against his stillness.

There were no critiques, no compliments. Only a quiet presence, solid, unmoving, as Taehyung danced in color and fabric and light.

And finally, the show ended not in silk or designer names but in comfort. Baggy pants, and one of Jeongguk’s hoodies, oversized and worn in all the right places. Taehyung tugged it over his head and sighed, arms disappearing into the sleeves.

And Jeongguk still silent looked at him like he might say something. But didn't.
“Time’s nearly up,” Taehyung murmured, glancing at the clock like it had betrayed him. “I’ll make you dinner, Jeonggukkie… but I won’t eat. We had a bit too much on our spree, there was this divine little place, and the chef was Michelin-starred.” His voice was distant, dreamy, caught in the lingering spell of the day. “He knew Jimin from when he was in the States. Normally, people wait months just to get a reservation.”

Beside him, Jeongguk’s jaw twitched. His hand, resting gently on his thigh, curled into a quiet fist.

“I’m not hungry,” he said flatly. “I ate earlier.”

“Oh… okay,” Taehyung replied, his voice dipping into an awkward little hush. He stood still for a moment, rooted in the space between them, then chuckled low, soft, and a little unsure.

Even after years wrapped in the same roof, some nights still grew cold with silence. Some moments still felt like he was knocking on a door that wouldn’t open.

He busied himself with the shopping bags, folding the crinkling luxury into quiet order. Too tired to sort things properly, he left them by the table. Jeongguk disappeared into the bathroom without a word.

Taehyung took his time at the vanity, patting creams into his skin, brushing a little life back into the softness of his features. Then he crawled beneath the covers, phone in hand, letting the artificial light distract him from the quiet beside him.

Then the bathroom door opened, and Taehyung glanced up. His eyes softened with a hint of teasing, only to find Jeongguk not bare chested as he sometimes was but hidden in black pajamas. He pouted a little, setting the phone aside.

Jeongguk moved to his side of the bed and lay down wordlessly.

Taehyung didn’t hesitate. He curled into him like a habit his bones remembered, Nose pressed to his chest, arms wrapped loosely around his waist.

This was his favorite place in the world: right here, in the quiet thunder of Jeongguk’s heartbeat.

Sometimes, when Taehyung let his thoughts drift, he imagined the end of all things. Young or old, sudden or slow, he always hoped his last breath would find its rest here, on this chest, in this warmth, where the world always felt a little less cruel.

“I love you, Jeongguk,” he whispered, lips brushing against skin in a kiss like a benediction.

And as always, the silence swallowed his words whole. No echo. No return.

Just the ache of something that should’ve come back and never did.

Sleep never came.

Jeongguk’s eyes stayed open, fixed on the shadows crawling along the wall.

Slowly, carefully, Jeongguk peeled away from the warmth of the bed. Taehyung didn’t stir.

Jeongguk padded to the corner table, flicking on the lamp. A soft amber glow bloomed across the room, dull and tired like his thoughts. He crouched before the glossy shopping bags and reached in. His fingers brushed expensive fabric, tags still intact, numbers staring back at him like taunts.

More than a month’s salary just for one of them. And there were many.

His jaw tightened. How could Taehyung accept that? But then… he sighed. It was Jimin. It had always been Jimin. Jimin had spoiled Taehyung in ways Jeongguk never could.

He leaned back on his heels, head falling forward with a soft exhale. It felt tight inside his chest.

The house was too quiet. Too soft. It made the noise in his head louder.

Outside, the night was cool and hushed.

He stepped out, walking barefoot until the cold tiles met his skin and the moonlight touched his face. Unlocking the car door, he reached into the glovebox and pulled out a cigarette. He hadn’t smoked in a long time, not since he promised Taehyung he wouldn’t.

He sat on the front steps, the stick resting between his fingers, unlit. He didn't want the smoke. He just wanted something to hold.

His thoughts drifted back to earlier, when Taehyung was trying on clothes, his eyes lighting up, voice full of excitement, skin glowing under the lights as he twirled in front of him like a star desperate to be noticed.

Jeongguk noticed.

He always noticed.

Taehyung had always dressed like the world was his stage, yet never begged for its spotlight. Even in pieces plucked from quiet thrift stores or hidden corners of wholesale markets, he wore his clothes like art woven poetry draped across his frame. There was no hunger in him for brand names or glittering emblems. He simply became beautiful in whatever he touched.

But now, Jimin was back. The friend from childhood, the boy wrapped in silk and sunshine, with pockets deeper than oceans and a heart that sometimes didn’t understand anything. Jimin was a storm, charming, careless, a little too much. And Taehyung, gentle Taehyung, might drift under his sway.

Still, Jeongguk reminded himself, this was who Taehyung had always been. Unchanging. A soul too luminous to be tarnished by gold or dazzle. He deserved the whole world, no matter who offered it.

Jeongguk’s eyes wandered to the car parked in the shadows. It was a company incentive. Not sleek, not premium. Just a vehicle to get him from one place to another. A token. Not like the polished beast Taehyung had arrived in earlier gleaming like something out of another life.

A quiet sigh slipped from Jeongguk’s lips as he placed the unlit cigarette between them. But of course, he’d forgotten the lighter. Just as well. Maybe he hadn’t really intended to light it at all.

The soft creak of the door stirred the silence. Taehyung stepped out into the hush of the night, bare feet padding gently on the wood. Perhaps even in sleep, he had felt Jeongguk’s absence like a missing heartbeat.

His gaze found the cigarette. And despite how magnetic Jeongguk looked with it perched between his lips messy  haired, brooding under the stars Taehyung’s expression darkened. Because he knew. It was a whisper of poison. And no matter how seductive it seemed, he would always choose a living, breathing Jeongguk over a beautiful ruin.

“I didn’t smoke,” Jeongguk said quietly, the words floating up like mist. “I didn’t break my promise.”

“Addiction pulls hard,” Taehyung murmured, sitting beside him, their shoulders nearly touching, both of them wrapped in the hush of shared night.

“But no matter how strong the pull,” he added softly, reaching out and plucking the cigarette from Jeongguk’s mouth, “a bad thing is still a bad thing.”

With a flick of his wrist, the stick was gone tossed into the dark like a discarded thought.

“Humans can be addicted too,” Jeongguk murmured, eyes lingering on the silhouette of the car beneath the dim porch light. “Not just smoke… or chemicals.”

The words fell from his lips uninvited, like petals from a flower unsure of why it blooms. He didn’t know what he meant. Only that something inside him needed to be said.

Taehyung turned to him, eyes crinkling in a smile that held a thousand layers of warmth and quiet ache.

“Just like you are to me,” he whispered, voice as tender as moonlight on water. “You’re my favorite addiction, Jeongguk.”

Taehyung hand rose, slow and reverent, slipping beneath Jeongguk’s jaw, fingers brushing the skin like a prayer. There was no urgency only the reverence of someone touching something sacred.

“I know,” Taehyung continued, his voice carrying the affection and the lightness of laughter, “it probably sounds cringe. But… if you need something to replace those sticks,” his thumb ghosted near Jeongguk’s mouth “my lips are always available.”

He chuckled then, soft and low, like wind through leaves. “Not that I think I can outmatch your addiction. You’ve fought this for years. My alpha’s strong.”

Jeongguk said nothing. His silence wasn’t absence, it was thunder waiting to break.

Taehyung’s gaze lingered, flickering with the vulnerability of someone offering his heart without armor.

“Maybe my lips don’t have that kind of powe—”

But the rest of his sentence dissolved into breath and starlight as Jeongguk closed the distance and claimed his mouth, no hesitation, no calculation, just gravity. As if it had always been meant to happen here, on these quiet wooden steps, under the hush of a watching sky.

Jeongguk’s kiss came like a wave powerful, consuming. Taehyung felt it in the way his breath stuttered, in the way his body instinctively leaned back. But Jeongguk was already there, grounding him his hand firm at Taehyung’s waist, pulling him close again, like the moon drawing the tide home.

They kissed under the faint shimmer of porch lights, where shadows danced and time softened. The taste of one another was slow, like they had all the time in the world and yet not nearly enough. Jeongguk didn’t pause as he rose to his feet, and Taehyung stumbled with him, held by hands that knew exactly where to guide.

With one palm pressed to the small of Taehyung’s back and the other pushing open the door behind them, Jeongguk led him inside without ever breaking the kiss. His teeth caught Taehyung’s bottom lip with a gentle scrape, a tug that made Taehyung gasp against his mouth.

He stumbled backward, never pulling away, lips still tethered to Jeongguk’s as they crossed the threshold. Then swift and sure Jeongguk pressed him to the wall, the kiss finally breaking only so his mouth could trail lower, to the warm slope of Taehyung’s neck.

“Ahh… Jeongguk…” Taehyung’s voice trembled, a breathless moan, as Jeongguk’s teeth sank gently into the tender place where their bond lived right over the mark only they knew. The sting bloomed into something electric when Jeongguk’s tongue followed, soothing the skin like a vow.

And then he returned to Taehyung’s lips more urgent now, more wanting. One hand found the hem of Taehyung’s hoodie, fingers curling beneath it, lifting. The fabric slipped upward in a single fluid motion before being cast aside, forgotten. Jeongguk’s mouth never once faltered in its devotion.

Taehyung’s hands roamed instinctively, his hips rolling forward in need, in longing grinding gently against Jeongguk’s with a gasp that spoke of fire and ache.

Jeongguk groaned low in his throat, then without a word, he lifted Taehyung, strong arms guiding him up. Taehyung’s legs wrapped around his waist like they belonged there, like they always had.

And even as they moved step by step, climbing toward the haven of their room Jeongguk’s lips never left him.

“We’ll fall down,” Taehyung giggled, breath hitching with delight as Jeongguk navigated the stairs, lips still trailing along the delicate line of his collarbone, teeth grazing like a secret.

But somehow, they made it. And once inside the soft sanctuary of their room, Jeongguk gently set Taehyung down, steadying him before gravity could steal the moment. They met again in a hungry kiss, lips seeking, finding, deepening like waves returning to shore.

Taehyung’s fingers were already at work, deft and wanting. Buttons came undone beneath his touch, and he peeled the shirt from Jeongguk’s frame, letting it fall away like discarded armor. His hands traced reverent paths wrist to forearm, up the curve of a strong bicep, then higher, brushing the side of Jeongguk’s neck where heat pulsed beneath skin.

Then Taehyung dipped forward, burying his face in the crook of Jeongguk’s neck, his teeth finding the place that belonged to him alone. He bit gently over the mark, his mark and the low, guttural sound that spilled from Jeongguk made Taehyung shiver to his bones. It wasn’t just pleasure. It was something primal, sacred.

They paused, just for a breath, eyes locking, so much unsaid blooming in that gaze. Love. Hunger. Devotion. And something older than either of them could name.

Jeongguk guided him backward, a tender push, laying Taehyung on the bed with a touch that was both gentle and sure. He followed, one knee sinking into the mattress, the other foot still grounded, like he couldn’t decide if he was entering a dream or guarding it.

Jeongguk leaned down, fingers sliding beneath the waistband of Taehyung’s pants and the soft fabric beneath. He tugged them down together, past his knees, revealing warm honey toned skin that caught the low light like silk.
Taehyung was his omega, his husband, bare, glowing, ethereal. So achingly beautiful it almost hurt to look at him. Otherworldly, and yet entirely his.

The bed dipped as Jeongguk climbed fully atop it, the warmth of his body casting shadows across Taehyung’s skin. They were so close now, chest to chest, nose to nose, their breaths mixing in the stillness.

Taehyung bit down on his lip, trembling as Jeongguk’s fingers slid lower confident, knowing, seeking the place where his need burned hottest and most vulnerable. A shudder tore through him as those fingers deepened their strokes, slick and fast, curling just right to draw out breathy, desperate moans and twitching hips.

Jeongguk’s mouth returned to Taehyung’s collarbone, lips tracing the edge of bone, tongue soothing over skin before teeth nipped gently, a silent promise written in kisses. Then he moved lower, one hand pushing down his own pajamas, freeing himself with a quiet groan as their bare skin finally met, heat against heat.

“Ahh… Jeon…” Taehyung moaned, voice breaking into something sweet and helpless, as Jeongguk guided himself to Taehyung’s entrance and pushed in slow at first, stretching him with a claiming pressure.

Jeongguk stilled for a breath, eyes locked on Taehyung’s, hand brushing over his damp forehead, grounding him in their shared heat. Taehyung’s fingers curled against Jeongguk’s back, legs wrapping around his waist in invitation.

And then, with a deeper thrust, Jeongguk sank in fully filling him completely. A low moan spilled from his lips as Taehyung arched beneath him, taking all of him, just as he always did.

He moved with a slow, grinding rhythm at first pushing in deep, then pulling back only to slide in again, each thrust building heat between their bodies. Taehyung’s head tilted back, exposing his throat, gasps tumbling out with each motion.

Jeongguk watched him, his omega, his husband, mouth parted, hair tousled, eyes hazy with need. He was breathtaking. Every roll of their hips was a silent confession, a promise written in the language of skin against skin, desire blooming between them like firelight.

Their bodies met again and again, the rhythm growing faster, needier until there was no more space. Just the raw, intimate sound of them. Moans, gasps, the soft slap of bodies moving in unison and the aching, beautiful feeling of being known completely.

✧･ﾟ:* to be continue *:･ﾟ✧

Notes:

What are your thoughts? Please tell ne the story is not falling into cliché... I really want this story to be super cool🥹

Chapter 3: 3

He smiles like someone who's used to holding sharp things in his heart.

‧₊˚✩彡⋆☾ ﾟ

 

 

Evening draped itself over the world like a velvet shawl, whispering the promise of night into every shadowed corner. In the gentle hush before darkness fully took hold, Taehyung sat before his vanity, a lone figure bathed in golden lamplight.

His hands painting his face in deep hues, richer, darker than his usual softness as if summoning a different self, one stitched from wild desire and memories that refused to fade.

Tonight was not for subtlety. Tonight was for fire.

His fingers traced shadows onto his eyelids, sculpting mystery and heat. On his neck, the ghosts of last night’s passion were hidden beneath layers of concealer, like secrets tucked behind a curtain. Still, they pulsed faintly beneath the surface reminders of love that bruised and branded.

A delicate cloud of cologne rose around him, mingling with the dusk air like a spell. When he turned, Jeongguk was already there, watching in silence, eyes unreadable, dark and deep as the ocean before a storm.

Taehyung wore black like a second skin shimmering sleeveless shirt, leather pants hugging him like a lover’s grasp, Chelsea boots tapping softly against the wooden floor. He was midnight wrapped in sin.

A smile curved his lips as he walked toward Jeongguk, who waited at the edge of the bed like a shadow stitched to longing. Without a word, Taehyung slipped on his jacket.

“Let’s go,” Taehyung murmured, his voice a soft bell in the silence, and Jeongguk nodded, fingers curling around the cool gleam of the car keys.

The ride passed in quiet companionship, headlights casting fleeting ghosts across their faces. When the car slowed to a stop before the pulsing heartbeat of the club, its neon glow spilling like liquid fire onto the street, Taehyung turned, his eyes shimmering beneath the city lights.

“You could come with me,” he said a delicate plea. “Hmm? It’ll be fun…” His eyes softened into a charm, a pair of gleaming moons begging for yes.

But Jeongguk only shaking his head.
“I’ve got too many assignments for tommarrow. I can’t tonight.”

Taehyung’s pout bloomed like a petal in spring, but he nodded, understanding threaded through his disappointment. He didn’t want Jeongguk stumbling through tomorrow, sleep starved and fogged with the remnants of tonight.

“Don’t wait up for me,” he said gently, reaching for the door. “Sleep early, hmm? I’ll come back with Jimin.”

The door clicked open, and cool air curled around him. He stepped out, but not before casting one last glance over his shoulder. His smile was soft, a promise, a poem and then he vanished into the music and lights, swallowed by the night.

Jeongguk sighed, a quiet exhale that fogged the stillness within the car. With a flick of his wrist, he turned the key, the engine purring awake like a resting beast. He guided the car out of the narrow lane, weaving through until he found a quiet spot in the parking lot, just far enough to escape the thrum of the club, yet close enough to see its entrance glimmer in his rearview mirror.

Unfastening his seatbelt with a metallic click, Jeongguk stepped out and perched on the bonnet of the car. His eyes lingered on the club’s entrance, watching as silhouettes flickered past the light like fireflies.

Taehyung’s happiness had always been radiant, but lately, it carried a different kind of glow, something richer, warmer, like sunlight caught in glass. Jeongguk saw it clearly. The brightness in Taehyung’s eyes, the way he laughed, the ease in his step. And he knew it was Jimin. It was always Jimin.

“Jeongguk?”

A voice called. He turned, blinking at the figure approaching with cautious surprise.

“Oh... it really is you. What are you doing out here alone?” the voice asked, colored with familiarity.

Jeongguk’s lips curved into a soft, polite line. “Yoongi ssi,” he murmured. “Hello.” He bowed slightly, the gesture respectful but distant. “How are you? And… congratulations on your marriage,” he added, with a memory of how even the smallest hello had stirred Jimin like a storm tossed sea.

“Thank you, kid. And don’t be so formal call me hyung,” Yoongi said with a warm grin, his hand reaching out to ruffle Jeongguk’s hair in a casual gesture.

Jeongguk’s spine stiffened slightly at the touch. He wanted to protest, to remind Yoongi that he was no child, but a grown alpha, long past the age of ruffling and patronizing affection. And more than that, they were barely acquaintances. But the words never made it past his lips.

“What are you doing out here?” Yoongi asked, chuckling softly. “Don’t tell me those two troublemakers ditched you already.”

“I was just getting some air,” Jeongguk replied.

They weren’t close, Jeongguk and Yoongi not really. Their connection was tenuous, strung together by Taehyung’s effortless social web. Jeongguk had only met him on  marriage, introduced in passing as Jimin’s boyfriend, like a side note in someone else’s story.

It had been years since he last saw Yoongi in person. And now here he was, speaking to him as though time and closeness had knitted them together. Friendly. Familiar. Too familiar.

Jeongguk knew it wasn’t really about him. This warmth, it was Taehyung’s. Taehyung, who glowed like starlight in the circles of the powerful, who made even the rich and unreachable smile.

Without Taehyung’s name on his lips, Jeongguk doubted Yoongi would spare more than a glance at someone like him just a technician in a grease slick uniform, hands that smelled of oil and engines rather than art or money.

“Come on, those brats must be inside already,” Yoongi said with a casual wave, turning toward the entrance.

But Jeongguk didn’t move.

“I… I can’t go in,” he said softly. His eyes stayed on the pavement, fixed. “I don’t like it there,” he murmured. And he wasn’t ready to see Taehyung. Not when he lie about going home.

Yoongi paused, glancing back with a softened gaze. “We’ll go to the VIP floor,” he offered gently. “It’s quieter up there. Come, let’s go.”

Somehow, Yoongi already understood Jeongguk’s reluctance, his silence, his preference for still corners over crowds. Even with just a few brief meetings, he had read him right.

So Jeongguk followed, wordless.

The club’s entrance swallowed them in a rush of sound and light music like a living thing, moving through the walls, through their bones. Yoongi moved ahead, threading through the chaos without hesitation. Jeongguk trailed behind like a shadow, eyes lowered, every pulse of color overhead blurring the edge of his thoughts.

They reached the staircase twisted metal and chain, and Yoongi climbed it with the ease of someone who had memorized the shape of the place. He pushed open a side door, not like a guest but a man unlocking his own room.

It wasn’t polished or extravagant, not yet. The hall had the bones of something in the hush of renovation.

“I’ve got access here,” Yoongi said, glancing over his shoulder. “I bought the place. This part’s being redone, but I like it up here. It’s quiet.”

He spoke of owning a club the way someone might mention picking up groceries, simple, unremarkable. Jeongguk blinked, a little thrown.

“If you don’t mind the mess, of course,” Yoongi added. “Otherwise, we can head back down, where it’s… louder.”

“No,” Jeongguk said quickly, shaking his head. “It’s okay. This is fine.”

Yoongi strolled further into the quiet room. He gestured toward a low table by the window, and Jeongguk followed, settling onto the edge with cautious silence.

From up here, the club unfolded like a fever dream below them lights shifting like tides, music pulsing in waves. The window gave them a view of everything: the crowd, the rhythm, the chaos.

It didn’t take more than a heartbeat to find him.

There, in the center of it all Taehyung. Laughing, glittering, untouchable.

Taehyung tipped back a shot with easy grace, his throat moving in a familiar arc. Jeongguk could already imagine the dull ache that would throb through his temples by morning. He always got hangovers when he drank too quickly.

Still, Taehyung danced with abandon, his shoulders swaying gently, lips curled in a hum, eyes crinkled with laughter as Jimin leaned close, whispering something in his ear that made them both dissolve into giggles.

His jacket was discarded, hanging carelessly off the back of a chair. The sleeveless shirt clung to him, baring his arms, bare skin gleaming beneath club lights.

A slow fire curled in Jeongguk’s chest. He didn’t move. His eyes stayed locked on Taehyung, even as his hands curled into tight fists in his lap.

“They’re so pure, sometimes,” Yoongi murmured, his eyes soft as they traced the outline of the pair below Taehyung and Jimin, dancing in a world made only for them.

Jeongguk turned to him, puzzled by those simple words.

“The omegas,” Yoongi clarified, his voice slow, thoughtful. “They dress up for themselves. Pretty and free. But we alphas ” he let out a dry chuckle, “we like to think it’s for us. To stroke our pride, polish our egos.”

His gaze didn’t move from the floor below. “Still… our protectiveness, I suppose, isn’t entirely wrong. We know what other alphas think when they see someone dressed like that, someone radiant and soft. It’s instinct.” He shook his head slightly. “But omegas don’t think like we do. Their minds move differently. That’s where the distance begins.”

Jeongguk blinked at him, stunned by how quickly Yoongi cut to the bone of it all. He said things plainly, like truths that had always existed, just waiting to be voiced.

Before Jeongguk could respond, a waiter arrived quietly, placing drinks on the table. Jeongguk’s brow furrowed they hadn’t ordered, but of course, they didn’t need to. Yoongi owned the place. The rules bent around men like him.

Rich people really do live differently, he thought, sighing softly.

Jeongguk picked one up and downed it in a smooth motion, the burn familiar and welcome. He’d always held his liquor well a quiet talent but he rarely indulged. Too many responsibilities. A husband’s role. A worker’s discipline.

“Woah, slow down, little alpha,” Yoongi said with a laugh, eyes dancing as he watched Jeongguk’s quiet urgency.

Jeongguk thinned his lips, casting his gaze down to the floor, embarrassed by his own hunger not for the drink, but for the escape it offered.

Taehyung moved like a dream folded into rhythm. Jimin tugged at his wrist with a wide grin, pulling him toward the heart of the dance floor.

Their movements melted into the crowd, the space around them a canvas of flickering lights and motion. Taehyung’s body danced with fluid grace, a ripple of elegance and fire. He was good at everything. Too good. Too effortless. As if the world existed just to reflect his glow.

But even in beauty, the world had its shadows.

And as it often happened, freedom drew in the wolves.

An unfamiliar alpha drifted close, sly, smooth, emboldened by the haze of liquor and thudding music. His hand found Taehyung’s waist, fingers curling with claim.

Taehyung didn’t pull away.

From above, Jeongguk sat frozen, his expression unreadable, a blank canvas painted in stillness.

Yoongi’s gaze flicked from the dance floor to Jeongguk, watching him carefully. This could create the misunderstanding between them surely.

Below, Taehyung turned slowly toward the alpha, a coy smile blooming on his lips, vixenlike, dangerous. He stepped back slightly, just a breath of space, but the alpha’s grip didn’t loosen.

And still… Taehyung smiled.

Yoongi looked back at Jeongguk again.

Jeongguk lips had curved not in anger, not in pain, but in something stranger. A soft, almost serene smile. It unsettled Yoongi more than rage would have.

It struck him then, suddenly and oddly, how mismatched they looked.  A glowing omega, radiant and wild in someone else's arms. And his alpha who watched with just the barest curve of a smile.

Taehyung’s smile remained in place, a mask of playful confidence as the stranger alpha’s hand clung possessively to his waist. A moment ago, he had come to the dance floor for nothing more than the joy of movement, the freedom to lose himself in the music. But now, this touch a bruise against his skin.

Still, the smile never faltered. It was the kind of smile that invited, teased, and yet concealed a sharp edge underneath.

He pushed his knees back with a quiet force and, in one swift motion, kicked the man on crotch. The alpha gasped, stumbling back in shock, his hand flying instinctively to his crotch.

The space between them was filled with the sudden, chaotic scuffle of motion. Jimin was there in an instant, small and furious, fighting like a wild thing.

The commotion was quick, too loud, too bright, until the guards arrived, pulling the man away from the two of them.

“He’s blacklisted,” Jimin spat, his voice icy and final. “Fucker never let him back in.”

The guards nodded solemnly, quick to obey the order of their owner’s fiancé. Taehyung’s gaze lingered for a moment, his chest rising with a breath that felt too tight for comfort.

"Jimin, let's go to the washroom," Taehyung murmured, his fingers clutching at Jimin’s sleeve with a quiet desperation that only the closest of friends could understand.

Jimin didn’t hesitate. He nodded, his hand instinctively guiding Taehyung away from the now crowded scene.

Yoongi let out a low chuckle, his eyes following the unfolding drama below them. The commotion was over as quickly as it had started. He turned to Jeongguk.

"Did you knew Taehyung would do that? That he would kick the man and protect himself?" Yoongi asked, watching Jeongguk’s reaction closely.

Jeongguk stiffened slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he was about to speak, then hesitated, closing his lips again.

After a moment, Jeongguk nodded silently, his gaze drifting toward the floor.

"Years of being married... mates can really know each other," Yoongi mused.

Jeongguk nodded again, though his lips stayed sealed. He picked up his shot and took a moment to sip it.

Yoongi felt a strange feeling ripple through him. Normally, he was the quiet one in these kinds of situations, the one who didn’t need to speak much. But here, with Jeongguk, he felt almost... talkative. It was an odd sensation one he wasn’t sure how to navigate. It was as if Jeongguk’s silence had drawn him out, made him feel like he had to fill the quiet with words.

The door swung open just then, and Jimin entered, a grin lighting up his face as his eyes swept the room. “Oh, Yoongi! You’re here. The restroom had a long line, so I brought Taehyung here.” He walked over to them.

“Jeongguk!” Jimin greeted, a small nod of his head.

Taehyung, leaning heavily on Jimin, giggled drunkenly. His eyes were half lidded, a dazed smile on his lips. “Jeongguk is at home,” he murmured, the words slipping out as if they were a half remembered dream.

Jeongguk couldn’t help but walk toward him, his arm sliding around Taehyung’s waist without thinking. It was a reflex, a habit. He didn’t mind the closeness. He never did.

“I’m feeling Jeongguk’s touch, Jimin-ah...” Taehyung said dreamily, his words thick with intoxication.

Jeongguk watched as Taehyung’s face bloomed into a slow, dazed smile as he open his eyes looking at Jeongguk. “You’re here really?” Taehyung’s voice was like a purr, his arms snaking around Jeongguk’s neck. “I missed you.”

“Jeongguk,”

“Yes?”

“I need to pee…”

Jeongguk glanced at Yoongi, who subtly gestured to the direction of the restroom.

Without a word, Jeongguk moved, guiding Taehyung  toward the bathroom. The door shut behind them with a soft click, and Jeongguk breathed a quiet sigh of relief. At least the bathroom was fully renovated.

He held the door open for Taehyung, gesturing to the cubicle. “I’ll be here,” Jeongguk said. Taehyung nodded, swaying slightly.

Minutes passed before Taehyung’s voice echoed from within the cubicle. “The zip... it’s not opening...”

Jeongguk could hear the distress, the frustration in Taehyung’s voice.

His brow creased. He stepped inside.

Taehyung stood there, breath shallow, struggling with the tight leather of his pants and when Jeongguk looked into his eyes, he saw frustrated tears threatening to spill.

Without hesitation, Jeongguk moved in close. “Hey… it’s okay.”

His fingers brushed against Taehyung’s hips as he carefully tugged at the zipper, the sound loud in the stillness. The leather gave way, revealing skin.

Jeongguk swallowed. His hands lingered for a beat too long.

He turned Taehyung gently, pressing a hand to the small of his back to guide him. But Taehyung leaned back instead  soft, pliant, until his body rested against Jeongguk’s chest.

A breathless silence followed.

“Let it out,” Jeongguk whispered into his ear, voice low, coaxing.

Taehyung shivered, then obeyed. The shame came after, a choked gasp, a bitten whimper as his body sagged with release. His forehead fell against his arm, hiding his face.

“It’s so embarrassing,” he whispered, voice wrecked. “I’m—”

“Don’t,” Jeongguk murmured, kneeling down. He reached for tissue, and cleaned him slow, tender, reverent like Taehyung was made of porcelain and trust.

Taehyung didn’t look at him. Couldn’t. His cheeks burned crimson,.

At the sink, they washed their hands in tandem. Jeongguk glanced sideways at Taehyung’s reflection, the way his lashes trembled.

And then, without warning, Jeongguk lifted him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Taehyung didn’t protest. He couldn’t. He simply buried his burning face against Jeongguk’s chest, his shame cloaked in the rhythm of the heart that beat beneath him.

Jeongguk walked out, quiet and unfazed, glancing to a couple that was tangled on a couch, too busy in eating each other mouth.

He was grateful they didn't noticed them. It was better this way.

Outside, the night had cooled. Jeongguk opened the car door and gently settled Taehyung into the seat. The engine hummed to life, smooth as breath in the silence.

“Don’t talk to me for forty years,” Taehyung muttered embarrassingly, eyes fluttering shut. “I’m going to hibernate. It’s so embarrassing.”

Jeongguk’s lips curved into the faintest smile, warm and fond.

✧･ﾟ:* ─ *:･ﾟ✧

When Jimin stirred awake, the sunlight pierced through the curtain with cruel honesty. The sheets tangled around his waist felt too soft, too familiar. His head throbbed, and his body ached with the kind of exhaustion that came with sex. Then it hit him.

“Oh god,” he groaned, eyes wide. “Yoongi, what did I do?”

Yoongi, already awake and lounging on the headboard with a cup of coffee in hand, arched a brow. “You slept with your soon to be husband, Jimin. Calm down.”

Jimin flopped back onto the bed with a sigh so deep it shook his ribs. “I was really drunk, wasn’t I?”

“Mm,” Yoongi hummed, setting the cup down. “Slurring your vowels, flirting with me, saying I was more attractive stranger than your alpha, and dancing like you had no bones. I’d say yes.”

Suddenly, Jimin bolted upright, his eyes wide with another realization.

“Taehyung! Oh god, I promised I’d drop him off. He was with me, what if ”

Yoongi reached out lazily, placing a calming hand on Jimin’s thigh. “His husband took him home. Jeongguk was there last night.”

Jimin blinked. “Wait, Jeongguk? Someone called him?”

Yoongi chuckled under his breath, amused at the chaotic spiral. “Called him? Jimin, he was here. You talked to him.”

Jimin let out a strangled noise. “Oh no. I don’t remember anything.” He groaned and collapsed back onto the pillows, burying his face in them. “Ugh, I hate how my brain goes blank when I drink too much.”

“You’re a good fighter, you know,” Yoongi chuckled, brushing a thumb across the bruise forming near Jimin’s knuckle.

Jimin blinked. “Did I beat someone?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Yoongi nodded with a smirk. “You and Taehyung, little storm clouds throwing punches and kicks. It was chaos. Glorious chaos.”

Jimin groaned, burying his head into the pillow with a dramatic sigh. “God… not again.”

There was a pause, soft and still.

“Taehyung’s changed a lot,” Jimin said quietly, his voice muffled in the linen.

“It’s understandable. Everyone changes.”

“No, not like this,” Jimin turned his face, eyes now open and serious. “He’s mature, Yoongi. Like, really mature. There’s something about him. Like life carved him out differently. Like something broke him and he stitched himself back together in silence.”

Yoongi glanced at him, expression softening.

“Not everyone stays a teenage brat like you,” he teased gently.

“Shut up,” Jimin muttered, swatting a pillow in his direction. “I’m serious. He smiles like someone who's used to holding sharp things in his heart. Even when he’s laughing, it doesn’t reach all the way.”

Yoongi was quiet for a moment before responding.

“You’re overthinking, Jimin ah. He’s working for a powerful corporation. That kind of environment matures people fast. Hard edges come with the territory. Doesn’t mean he’s broken. And don’t forget, he’s not alone. He’s got his husband.”

“His husband is more like the reason he’s like this,” Jimin muttered, eyes narrowing as he rolled them skyward.

Yoongi exhaled through his nose. He’d heard the words before, more than once. Jimin’s distaste for Jeongguk was no secret. At first, Yoongi had agreed in passing, letting Jimin’s perspective paint the man in grays. But last night, something shifted. He’d seen Jeongguk with his own eyes, quiet, protective, unreadable, and something about the way he held Taehyung told a different story.

“You’ve misunderstood him, a lot,” Yoongi said, carefully.

Jimin sat up, stiff and bristling. “Misunderstood him?” he snapped, voice rising like heat from a flame. “Yoongi, you didn’t see what I saw. You don’t know how he treated Taehyung before the wedding. That marriage wasn’t even supposed to happen. It was forced. And the way he is with him now, cold, possessive, watching instead of holding, it’s not okay.”

Yoongi’s eyes narrowed, calm but pointed. “We all know what circumstances led them to marry, Jimin. You act like it was a cage only Taehyung walked into, but Jeongguk didn’t come out of it free either.”

“You’re biased,” Yoongi continued, voice low. “Taehyung is your best friend. You’d wage war for him with your bare hands. I admire that. But loyalty doesn’t give you clarity. Tell me, what exactly is Jeongguk doing now that’s unacceptable?”

“You’ve got it backwards, Yoongi. It’s not me who misunderstood anything, it’s you. You want to know how Jeongguk’s behavior is unacceptable?” He let out a brittle laugh, the kind that cracked at the edges.

“He doesn’t even talk to Taehyung. Not really. He acts like speaking would tarnish his pride. Like offering love is beneath him.”

“He holds himself like he’s above everything. Cold. Distant. I’ve seen it. You’ve seen men like that too. You think he’s being stoic, but he’s drowning everything Taehyung is.”

Yoongi’s reply was calm. “I talk little, too, Jimin. To most people, I look like I’ve locked myself behind glass. Does that make me cruel? Distant? Maybe. But those close to me understand the quiet. Maybe Jeongguk’s silence is just misunderstood.”

Jimin shook his head, eyes dark. “No. Your silence is a harbor, Yoongi. His is a weapon.” His voice dropped, soft and bitter. “His silence is a slow poison, and I see it seeping into Taehyung more each day.”

“He doesn’t give Taehyung any words of affirmation,” Jimin continued, now quieter, the fire in him dimming into something more fragile. “You remember how Taehyung used to be, light on his feet, glowing even in the dark. He’s still beautiful. Still radiant. But I see it now. The way his eyes hesitate when no one’s looking. The way he wraps his own arms around himself, like he's holding in the cracks.”

“I don’t even know why Taehyung stays with him,” Jimin spat, his voice tight with frustration. “A man who’s so emotionally unavailable. He doesn’t even value him.”

Yoongi let out a quiet chuckle, but it wasn’t mocking. There was a softness to it, a knowing. “Maybe Taehyung saw his value in Jeongguk’s eyes. Maybe that’s why he’s enduring the silence. That’s the funny thing about love, Jimin. It’s not always how we expect it to be.”

Jimin frowned, but Yoongi wasn’t done.

“I saw his eyes last night,” Yoongi said, voice dipping into something softer, more serious. “That Jeongguk values Taehyung. He knows him, Jimin. Knows him before he even says a word. Even when Taehyung’s smiling at some stranger, Jeongguk can tell. He won’t be some jealous freak. He won’t go running to protect. He’ll know what Taehyung’s next step will be. He’ll know that smile’s just a prelude to the next person. He’ll know Taehyung will protect himself alone even if it means kicking some stranger’s crotch when they step out of line.”

The memory of last night started to filter through Jimin’s mind, the fragments of the fight, the moment when he had led Taehyung to the restroom and met their alphas. He felt the fragments falling into place, but then the sharpness of something else hit him.

“So, you were with Jeongguk,” Jimin said, his gaze narrowing. “What were you doing with him? I get it now, he’s got some spell on you, doesn’t he?”

“I saw him outside the club. He looked like he could use some company, so I kept him company.”

Jimin’s brow furrowed deeper. “But Taehyung said Jeongguk dropped him off. He said he went back home after that…”

Yoongi sighed, his voice growing a bit more serious. “Maybe he was there for Taehyung, in his own way. You know how he is. Silent, but always watching.”

Jimin’s eyes hardened. “Hell no,” he said, a stubborn fire igniting in him. “What if Jeongguk was there for some other reason? Taehyung always comes first to me. I don’t care what anyone says, I will hate anyone who tries to hurt him.”

Yoongi shook his head slowly, a quiet, resigned smile curling at his lips. “You’re too stubborn for your own good, Jimin. Always have been. You can’t see past your own loyalty.”

“I don’t care,” Jimin muttered, his voice quiet but resolute. “Taehyung’s my friend. I’ll always protect him.”

Yoongi leaned back, watching Jimin for a long moment. “Sometimes,” Yoongi said, voice softening, “the hardest thing to protect is the one who doesn’t know how to protect themselves. Taehyung’s tougher than you think, but don’t forget, love doesn’t always come in the way you expect it.”

✧･ﾟ:* to be continue *:･ﾟ✧

Notes:

I just want to give a little more insight into their dynamic.Aaghh, this story is so close to my heart. I only hope I’m doing justice to the characters I’ve imagined. They feel so real to me, and I want readers to feel that too.

Chapter 4: 4

His eyes weren’t shouting. They were watching, drinking Taehyung in like a song he’d never been brave enough to dance to.

‧₊˚✩彡⋆☾ ﾟ

 

 

The private plane descended softly, touching down on the tranquil shores of Jeju Island. One by one, the passengers disembarked.

Jeongguk, lost in the strange dance of the wealthy, felt a harsh discomfort settle within him. He couldn’t quite fathom these people, their wealth, their grand gestures, their elaborate lives.

This whole thing, a destination wedding, made no sense to him. Why fly halfway across the country when you could marry in the comfort of your own city, surrounded by familiar faces, with the ceremony lasting no more than a few hours? Why stretch it out for three days, with its rituals and excess, when vows could be exchanged in a fleeting, honest moment?

And the days, the weekdays, he couldn't wrap his mind around that either. Why hold a celebration of love when people were bound by their jobs, when weekends were made for this freedom.

But perhaps, more than anything, Jeongguk couldn't understand Jimin. He was an enigma wrapped in silk, a loud, brash creature of luxury, one whose laughter rang like the clinking of fine crystal, whose every word seemed dipped in honeyed arrogance. Yet, he was Taehyung's best friend, and there was no denying the bond between them, no matter how incomprehensible it seemed.

Jeongguk’s fingers curled around two heavy bags, lifting them effortlessly in one hand. He tossed them over his shoulder. Beside him, Taehyung walked with that languid grace of his, a hand slipping around Jeongguk’s other bicep.

As they walked along the winding path behind the resort, Jeongguk's mind still swirled in disbelief, as if he were trapped in a dream he couldn't wake from.

His first time flying, his first time on a private jet, he could hardly wrap his head around it. He had known, deep down, that his entire lifetime of savings wouldn’t even come close to affording a flight like that. Yet here he was.

All of it, every glittering detail, was because Jimin had insisted, stubborn as always, that they be there with him.

He had carefully avoided Yoongi during the flight, keeping to the edges, a careful distance between them. And, somehow, it had worked. Maybe Yoongi, sharp-eyed as ever, had taken the hint, understanding without a word what Jeongguk needed.

Now, they stood in the cool, airy lobby of the resort, the murmur of voices blending with the soft rustling of palm fronds outside. The keys were in their hands, and they walked towards their suite through elevator.

Their steps faltered as Jeongguk slid the key into the lock, the door swinging open with a soft creak. Inside felt overwhelming with the scent of rose petals, the flickering dance of candlelight casting warm shadows across the walls. They paused in the doorway, exchanging a glance.

Taehyung stepped inside the suite, then his eyes scanning the room as he walked toward the bedroom. The petals, so carefully scattered, lay across the bed in delicate swirls, like a dream someone had tried to weave into reality.

Jeongguk followed Taehyung. A table near the window was adorned with expensive wine, but it was the other things that caught his eye, the unopened box of condoms, the array of lubricants scattered nearby.

"I think we made a mistake here," Taehyung muttered, his face flushed, the redness creeping from his neck to his ears.

Jeongguk could only stand there, frozen in the bedroom doorway, taking in the chaos of it all.

“Oh god, we’ve come into some couple’s honeymoon room,” Taehyung gasped, his voice rising with realization.

Jeongguk’s eyes drifted numbly from one extravagant detail to the next. Taehyung walked to the phone, his fingers moving quickly as he spoke to the staff on the other end.

“Fine,” he said with a sigh, slamming the receiver back into its cradle. He turned to face Jeongguk.

"The staff checked the information. It’s really our room," Taehyung said.

It had to be Jimin’s doing, Taehyung thought. Ugh, Jimin could be so frustrating sometimes.

Jeongguk, however, seemed unaffected, his expression unreadable as he picked up the packet of condoms, the plastic crinkling softly in his hands. He held it out. “If the staff comes, just give them these. They’re useless for us,” he muttered, before turning and disappearing into the bathroom.

Taehyung was left standing there, a flush creeping deeper across his skin, unsure whether to laugh or groan.

Because Jeongguk was right, utterly, unflinchingly right.

In all their years together, through nights of tangled sheets and whispered gasps, through soft kisses and desperate hands, they had never once used those. Their sex had always been bare, raw, vulnerable in a way.

✧･ﾟ:* ─ *:･ﾟ✧

The earlier embarrassment had drifted away like sea foam carried off by the tide, forgotten, dissolved into the salt, tinged breeze.

Taehyung had quickly shifted his focus to more delightful things. He had a whole list of what he wanted to do during these peaceful, sun drenched days, and he intended to cross off every single one.

Now, they were sprawled on the golden sands of Jeju, the lull of the ocean humming around them like a lullaby.

They’d freshened up not long ago, shedding the awkwardness of their suite mishap, and descended to the beach in search of warmth and calm.

Taehyung remained lounging comfortably in his shirt, its sleeves rolled lazily up his forearms. Jeongguk, however, had abandoned his shirt entirely, stretched out beside him in nothing but shorts. The sunlight kissed every inch of his milky white skin, and Taehyung, behind the safety of his sunglasses, let his eyes roam.

He was gawking, shamelessly so.

His husband, unaware of the gaze that traced the line of his collarbone and the dip of his waist, reached for the sunscreen with quiet diligence

With slow, methodical care, Jeongguk applied it to his arms, then his chest, then down the length of his legs. Every motion was unhurried, his brows knit in focus as if it were a sacred ritual rather than simple sun protection.

Taehyung let out a soft chuckle. Jeongguk was truly hopeless when it came to the sun, always worried about tanning. It was one of those little things, those everyday quirks, that made Taehyung fall in love with him over and over again.

Taehyung tossed the book aside, not even pretending to care about the story he hadn’t read a single page of. The sun was high, Jeongguk was shirtless, and frankly, that was all the plot he needed. He scooted closer, a mischievous glint in his eye as he leaned in, voice dropping into a velvet purr.

“I can help with your back,” he offered, his voice dipped in something soft and suggestive, a smile playing on his lips.

Jeongguk simply nodded, not sparing him a glance, already lying face down on the mat with his arms folded beneath his head. His obedience was effortlessly unbothered.

“Unromantic alpha,” Taehyung muttered under his breath with a huff, though his lips curved into a smirk a moment later.

He straddled Jeongguk’s hips like it was his second nature, his hands slick with sunscreen as he leaned forward and began to smooth it into the broad expanse of Jeongguk’s back.

The alpha let out a low, relaxed moan at the first touch, deep, warm, like the beginning of a storm rolling over the sea. That sound alone sent something fluttering through Taehyung’s chest. His fingers slowed, kneading deeper, not so much rubbing sunscreen anymore as coaxing out more of those quiet sounds he craved.

But before the moment could tilt into something more intimate, Jeongguk’s voice broke through the haze. “It’s enough. The sunscreen will rub off,” he mumbled, eyes still closed, his tone drowsy.

Taehyung scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically as he slid off to the side, plopping down on the mat beside him. “Romance is wasted on him,” he thought.

 

Jeongguk completely unfaze finally pushed himself up to sit, stretching his arms over his head with a soft groan, his muscles rippling beneath sun kissed skin.

“Did you put it on yourself?” Jeongguk asked, his eyes already scanning Taehyung’s sun kissed skin.

“I put it on my face,” Taehyung replied, tilting his chin up with mock pride. “You know I have a honeyed tone. Sunscreen isn’t even that effective on me.”

Jeongguk frowned, quiet for a moment. “That’s a healthy tan,” he mumbled, more to himself than to Taehyung. “But this sun’ll give you a bad one.”

Without waiting for a response, he reached for the bottle, squeezing the lotion into his hands. His fingers were gentle as he began rubbing it onto Taehyung’s arms, smoothing it over his warm, golden skin.

 

Taehyung stretched lazily, sticking out his legs with a grin. “These too. They tan faster than my arms.”

Jeongguk simply nodded, unfazed, and shifted down to apply the sunscreen on his husband’s legs. His touch lingered for a second longer than necessary, his gaze trailing slowly down before he sighed, a soft, quiet sound, as he looked at the legs sprawled before him.

With a thoughtful spank, he watched the soft flesh jiggle slightly under his palm.. He blinked, before flopping down beside Taehyung on the mat.

Taehyung’s mouth parted in silent frustration as he glanced at Jeongguk, who now lay beside him with eyes closed, face kissed by the sun, looking for all the world like he hadn't just left his husband simmering beside him. Seducing this old stone of an alpha is like coaxing fire from marble, Taehyung thought, biting back a sigh.

With quiet resolve, he slipped off his shirt, letting the breeze catch the fabric as he leaned in, voice honeyed and sweet. “Jeonggukkie…”

Jeongguk’s eyes fluttered open. He didn’t say a word, but just that quiet, unreadable gaze sent a chill down Taehyung’s spine. It wasn’t cold, never cruel, but the intensity of it could leave him breathless, like he was being seen too deeply.

“Can you apply it on my back?” Taehyung asked, voice barely above a breath like a siren seduction.

Jeongguk gave a short nod and sat up, patting the spot in front of him. Without a word, Taehyung obeyed, positioning himself with his back exposed. He tried to regulate his breathing, but it grew uneven the moment Jeongguk’s hands made contact, warm, deliberate, slow. Each stroke of sunscreen across his back felt like it was seared into his skin.

When Jeongguk's hands stilled, Taehyung turned, gaze low, lips caught between teeth. “I didn’t put it on the front either,” he murmured, voice coated with something far too dangerous for a public beach.

Jeongguk’s eyes flicked down to Taehyung’s chest, lingering just a moment before he poured more lotion onto his palms. He never looked away, not even once, as he pressed his hands to Taehyung’s chest, spreading the sunscreen across smooth skin, fingers gliding over collarbones, down to the soft dip of his belly.

Taehyung's breath hitched, chest rising high, the rush of heat like summer before a storm. Why did I start this? he thought, nearly groaning aloud. He should’ve known better. Jeongguk didn’t need to be loud or bold, he could burn Taehyung down with just a glance, with just the brush of a calloused hand.

Every time, Jeongguk reminded him, intimacy wasn't for display. It was for them. Sacred, quiet, consuming.

“Jeongguk,” Taehyung whispered, his voice thin and trembling. “I…I’m going to the water.”

He needed it. He needed the cool waves to douse the fire now roaring in his chest, threatening to swallow him whole.

 

Jeongguk gave a quiet nod, rising to his feet without a word. Taehyung glanced at him, torn between the heat still simmering beneath his skin and the wish to be alone, to let the sea take some of this longing from him. But the thought of asking Jeongguk to stay behind felt too harsh, too final. So he said nothing, only walked beside him in silence, his hand refraining from curling around the alpha’s arm the way it usually would.

They reached the shore together, where the sand turned wet and cool beneath their feet. Jeongguk paused, content to simply watch the sea breathe in and out.

Taehyung stepped into the water alone, letting the chill wrap around his ankles, then his calves, drawing out a soft sigh from his lips. The waves lapped at his skin like fingers of comfort, and soon he was laughing, small, free giggles as he danced in the surf.

Behind him, Jeongguk sat in the sand, quiet and still as ever, his gaze never straying far from Taehyung. It wasn’t disinterest, it was just Jeongguk’s way.

Taehyung caught him staring and waved, grinning, water glistening on his skin like stardust. Jeongguk shook his head, a barely there smile tugging at his lips.

With exaggerated exasperation, Taehyung planted his hands on his hips, then waded back to shore, splashing as he went.

“We’ll just walk by the waves,” he coaxed, reaching for Jeongguk’s arm and tugging at it like a child begging for one more story. “Come on, just walk.”

Jeongguk shook his head again, but the resistance was only in gesture, his body rose anyway, following the pull of his husband's hand. He always did. Quietly. Without fuss. Like the ocean following the moon.

Taehyung danced light, footed in the shallows, the waves wrapping around his ankles like silken ribbons. His eyes sparkled with mischief, moonlight mischief in the sunlight, as he glanced over his shoulder at Jeongguk, who, as always, trailed behind.

Splash.

With a sudden grin, Taehyung turned and pushed Jeongguk straight into the waiting arms of the sea. The alpha went under with a surprised grunt, the water swallowing him for a beat before he surged up, soaked and glistening, dark hair plastered to his forehead.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t scold. He just looked at Taehyung.

Silent. Intense.

And Taehyung’s grin faltered.

“No. No, no, no!” he shrieked with a laugh, eyes wide as he spun on his heel and bolted through the surf, water spraying around him.

Jeongguk gave chase without a word, the quiet determination in his steps more terrifying than any threat. He caught Taehyung easily, strong arms wrapping around his waist before he lifted him off the sand and leapt, both of them crashing into the embrace of the sea.

The water welcomed them with cool joy, waves splashing around as they swam and tumbled together beneath the sun dappled sky. Laughter spilled from Taehyung like music, bright and unrestrained, and if the sea could feel, it would have smiled.

And maybe, just maybe, in between the bursts of laughter and splashes, the waves carried something else too. The quiet, profound happiness etched into Jeongguk’s silence. A joy too deep for words, but not too deep for the sea to hear.

 

✧･ﾟ:* ─ *:･ﾟ✧

 

They dressed for the bachelor party, the sky outside painted in deep hues of evening gold and navy.

Jeongguk stepped out of the bathroom, buttoning the cuffs of his dark blue silk shirt, the shirt Taehyung had given him for his birthday last year. It clung to him perfectly, sleek and sharp against the crisp black of his trousers.

And, almost like the universe had a hand in their wardrobe, Jeongguk ended up mirroring Taehyung’s own outfit. Both in black pants, Taehyung’s shirt starry with midnight blue and soft gold swirls, like Van Gogh painted into silk. Together, they looked less like two groomsmen at a party and more like twin constellations.

A narrow tie, clearly more of an accessory than necessity, hung loose around Jeongguk’s neck, the kind stylists swore by but alphas like him rarely understood.

Taehyung chuckled softly, walking over with an affectionate shake of his head.

“These brands are weird,” Jeongguk muttered, glancing down at the tie as if it personally offended him.

Taehyung smiled, catching the hint of sulk in Jeongguk’s voice. He always got like this when he felt out of place, especially in expensive designer clothes he didn’t care to understand. Still, he wore them because Taehyung had picked them.

“You’re pulling it off,” Taehyung said gently, fingers fixing the tie, not tightening it, just settling it neatly so it looked less like a mistake and more like it belonged.

He smoothed it once, his palm brushing over Jeongguk’s chest before lingering for a heartbeat too long.

“Jimin will actually kill me if we’re late,” Taehyung muttered, grabbing Jeongguk’s arm as they hurried out of the suite. His fingers wrapped tightly around Jeongguk’s bicep, part urgency, part habit. “We have to hurry!”

The club floor, reserved solely for the party, pulsed with low lights and soft beats,. Jimin and Yoongi were already there, dressed in deep black that shimmered under the light like polished obsidian. A dramatic pair, as always.

“Only Jimin would throw his own bachelor party and stick to his groom like glue,” Taehyung chuckled softly, and Jeongguk could only nod. If anyone could pull off that contradiction with flair, it was Park Jimin, unapologetically bold and delightfully strange.

“Taehyung,” Jimin called out, dramatically striding toward him, “you ditched me! Unforgivable!”

“I was giving you time with your future husband, you drama queen,” Taehyung replied, laughing as Jimin rolled his eyes and snatched his hand.

“Enjoy the party, come on!” Jimin urged, tugging Taehyung toward the glittering heart of the celebration.

“Let the poor man breathe,” Yoongi chuckled, stepping closer to Jeongguk with an easy smile. “How are you? Hope this whole... paradise thing isn’t driving you too crazy.”

Jeongguk nodded, quiet but polite. “It’s... nice.”

A voice cut in then, warm, deep. “Yoongi.”

Jeongguk turned as Yoongi lit up. “Namjoon,” he grinned, pulling the taller man into a friendly hug. “You made it.”

“Couldn’t miss it,” Namjoon said, his smile calm and genuine. “Congratulations on the wedding, man.”

He turned, congratulating Jimin next, before gesturing toward the man beside him. “And this is Seokjin. My husband.”

Jeongguk took a moment to take them in, both draped in effortless luxury, the kind of people who breathed wealth without ever needing to prove it.

“Meet Taehyung,” Jimin said proudly, tugging his best friend close. “My soulmate.”

Taehyung gave a small, charming wave, and then Jimin turned, hand sweeping toward the man at his side. “And this, Jeon Jeongguk is Taehyung husband.”

Namjoon’s smile widened. “Oh, I know him”

Jeongguk bowed politely. Namjoon extended a hand and Jeongguk shook it, a little stiffly.

“You know each other?” Yoongi asked, curiosity sparking.

“How could I not?” Namjoon chuckled. “He’s one of the sharpest worker at our rival company. His name gets brought up... often.”

Jeongguk bit his lip at that, a flicker of discomfort in his eyes, but Taehyung beside him lit up with quiet pride, his gaze flicking toward his husband.

“Well, come on,” Jimin said brightly, pulling them toward a velvet draped table with glasses already waiting. “The night’s just getting started.”

The table was filled with laughter, clinking glasses, and teasing remarks as everyone settled into their spots. But Taehyung didn’t sit in the chair beside Jeongguk, he slid easily into Jeongguk's lap, as if it was the most natural place for him. There was a small burst of hooting and laughing from their group, and Taehyung simply shrugged, his usual carefree grin lighting up his face.

Jeongguk remained still, his expression unreadable. His grip on Taehyung's waist tightened slightly, an unspoken sign that he was still uncomfortable. Taehyung knew that Jeongguk despised public displays of affection, especially ones like this. But Taehyung did it anyway, the defiance quiet, the challenge subtle. Still, Jeongguk didn’t say a word.

The hoots and cheers grew louder as the lap dancers entered the scene. The dancers moved provocatively, One dancer sat on Yoongi’s lap, and Jimin shot him a sharp, irritated look. Yoongi, unbothered, smirked, meeting Jimin’s glare. "It’s my last night, Jimina," he said, teasing.

Jimin’s eyes flashed with a mischievous glint. "Well, I also need one then," he replied coolly, tapping his thigh to signal another dancer. Yoongi groaned, pulling the dancer gently away and glaring at the one making their way to Jimin. Seokjin, too, shot a disapproving look at the dancer who was getting far too close to Namjoon.

As one dancer approached Jeongguk but then went away as Taehyung didn’t budge, didn’t flinch, didn’t stir, he simply sat in Jeongguk’s lap, a faint smile playing on his lips. He wasn’t sure if Jeongguk was irritated, indifferent, or just... resigned.

The performance had ended, the lap dancer vanished like a secret slipping through fingers

“Let’s have fun our own way,” Jimin said, turning to Taehyung with a playful glint in his eyes.

Taehyung nodded, his smile wide with excitement.

But before Jimin could reach for the bottle, Yoongi was there pulling it away.

“You’re not drinking,” he said. “Tomorrow’s too important. I won’t let a hangover dull your fire.”

Jimin pouted, disappointed but not surprised.

“Darling! divas don’t need drink to feel the burn.” Taehyung added with a wink, nudging Jimin and throwing a glance at Yoongi.

With a lithe motion, he peeled away from where he’d been reclining against Jeongguk, and grabbed Jimin’s hand, pulling him toward the dance floor.

“What the hell was that little lap performance?” Jimin asked with a laugh as they stepped under the lights.

Taehyung smirked. “Let’s just say I may have seen a few lap dancers slipping in through the door.”

“You’re so possessive it’s kind of hot,” Jimin muttered, shaking his head. “Wish your alpha had that kind of fire.”

 

“I never gave him the choice,” Taehyung whispered, the corner of his mouth curling into a secretive smile as he threw a wink toward Jimin.

“Then give it to him now,” Jimin breathed, eyes burning like candlelight in the dark. “Make him watch. Make him ache. Let him feel the fire of losing what he never dared to claim.”

Taehyung shook his head, the beat guiding his steps like a tide pulling him forward. “No,” he said under his breath. “That’s not how I want him. I won’t twist myself just to spark jealousy. Grinding on a stranger just to make him possessive? That’s not love. That’s theater.”

The music rose around them like a wave, and they danced as if tomorrow didn’t exist, weightless, lost in the rhythm, hearts thudding with something more than just the bass.

In the middle of the crowd, Taehyung’s gaze found Jeongguk’s across the haze.

Silent.

Still.

His eyes weren’t shouting. They were watching, drinking Taehyung in like a song he’d never been brave enough to dance to.

 

✧･ﾟ:* ─ *:･ﾟ✧

 

They returned to their suite, their footsteps tracing the path to the bedroom, where the quiet beauty of the petals, those delicate symbols of a honeymoon like night, lay scattered, forgotten.

With a small cough, Taehyung stepped toward the bed, brushing the petals aside as though they were nothing more than the dust of forgotten things.

“You love flowers,” Jeongguk’s voice broke the silence, soft as a sigh, as though it were a confession, not a simple statement. His voice had always been that way, quiet, gentle, never demanding.

Taehyung thought of all the years they had spent together, years where Jeongguk had never once raised his voice, even in the heat of their fiercest disagreements. There was something almost sacred in the way Jeongguk kept his calm, as if his silence was a shield, a promise to protect the fragile spaces between them.

Taehyung’s hand stilled above the petals. He turned to look at Jeongguk then, his gaze tracing the figure standing at the edge of the room, still, distant, unreadable.

“Do you? Do you love flowers?” Taehyung’s voice was soft, a quiet inquiry that was almost fragile in its delivery.

“I love my flower,” Jeongguk replied, like a simple truth wrapped in something colder. There was no sweetness in his tone, nothing that hinted at romance or tenderness.

If this were a scene from one of the dramas Taehyung used to watch, the words would’ve been drenched in passion, the moment dripping with longing. He could imagine it, an intense gaze, a slow caress, the flutter of a kiss. But here, in the stillness of their room, all Taehyung could feel was understanding settling over him. No illusions, no fantasies. He knew better than to let his heart run wild with expectations.

He sank down onto the bed, the soft sheets barely registering beneath him “We never had our honeymoon,” he whispered, as if speaking the words out loud might make them real. “Let’s make it.”

“It’s not a honeymoon, Taehyung. It’s not our honeymoon.” Jeongguk voice, though quiet, carried the finality of truth, like the closing of a door that could never be opened again. Jeongguk moved closer, sitting beside him, the space between them shrinking but never quite disappearing.

“Just treat it like a vacation,” Jeongguk continued, his words clear. “Don’t delude ourselves.”

Delusion. The word struck Taehyung like a shard of ice, sinking deep into his chest. Delusion. Was that what their love had become? A fantasy too fragile to survive the reality?

His heart ached with the truth of it, but before he could dwell on it, Jeongguk closed the fragile space between them, his lips a tender brush against Taehyung’s, a whispered promise suspended on the cusp of dawn, fragile as dew poised on a blade of grass. The kiss was fleeting, soft as a sigh carried on a fragile breeze, a silent vow that might never be fully claimed.

When their lips parted, Jeongguk’s hands moved with a quiet urgency, unraveling the threads of Taehyung’s shirt, peeling away the last layers of hesitation. He laid him down gently upon the bed, laid half bare and half exposed, Taehyung’s breath hitched as Jeongguk’s hands traced the planes of his chest, fingers burning trails down to his hips.

Stripping off his own shirt, Jeongguk revealed a landscape of taut muscles gleaming beneath the soft glow, like a sculpted river carved by moonlight. Taehyung’s gaze traced every line, drinking in the curve of strength that shimmered like molten metal.

Then Jeongguk stepped away, his form a silhouette against the dim light as he reached for the bottle resting on the table.

Taehyung’s pulse drummed a rhythm beneath his skin, anticipation unfurling like a slow bloom within his veins. His fingers trembled as he peeled down the pants clinging to him.

Jeongguk’s eyes turned to him dark, hungry pools. With a soft pop, the cap opened.

Returning to the bed, Jeongguk settled, the mattress dipping beneath him. He tilted the bottle, letting the cool liquid trickle onto the delicate black lace that stretched tight over Taehyung core, a sudden contrast, frost against fire.

Taehyung’s breath faltered, lashes trembling like fragile wings, but he met Jeongguk’s gaze again. Jeongguk’s fingers slipped beneath the soaked lace, exploring with hungry reverence. The coolness melted into heat, sending shocks through every nerve ending. His fingers clutched the sheets as Jeongguk’s touch became more urgent, more possessive,

 

A breathless gasp escaped him sharp, trembling as his spine arched beneath the slow storm. Jeongguk’s fingers found their way deeper, slipping inside, stroking and coaxing with a slow, teasing rhythm.

Leaning down, Jeongguk’s lips followed the path of his fingers brushing, nibbling, marking until his teeth caught the lace and ripped it free in one fierce, swift motion. The panties fluttered away like petals, leaving Taehyung bare, exposed, burning.

Every inch of Jeongguk radiated control wrapped in hunger.

His hand moved to his zipper, slow and final and when his cock sprang free, he slicked it in long strokes. Each one deliberate. Like he was preparing a weapon. Not a gift.

And it was so hot, because Jeongguk never looked away.

And then, with unwavering eyes, he aligned and entered, sudden, all at once.

The stretch hit Taehyung like fire. His moan burst out, high and broken, as Jeongguk filled him to the brim. The burn blurred into heat, into pleasure, his body struggling and then surrendering around the fullness.

Jeongguk reached up, found Taehyung’s hand, and laced their fingers together grounding him, holding him still as he pulled back and thrust again.

And again.

The rhythm came fast, unrelenting but precise like he knew exactly how much to give and when to give more.

They moved together, slick and breathless, lost in the gravity of each other. Taehyung’s hips lifted to meet every thrust, chasing the friction, desperate for more.

He leaned forward, his mouth brushing Jeongguk’s neck before he bit down hard on the mate mark pulsing beneath his skin. Jeongguk growled low in response, biting back, teeth hot and sharp against Taehyung’s throat.

The bed creaked beneath them. Skin struck skin. Their breaths tangled, harsh and wild.

 

There was no softness here, yet no cruelty only the raw, burning honesty of two souls colliding.

Heaven was no distant dream.

It lived here in the space between their bodies, built with every thrust, every whispered moan, every desperate spark of need that raced like wildfire along the fuse of their entwined hearts.

✧･ﾟ:* to be continued *:･ﾟ✧

Notes:

Can i expect a little interaction here🫠🫠🫠

Chapter 5: 5

It was the smile of someone who’d been holding in too much for too long. The smile of someone hurting so quietly, they almost forgot they were bleeding.

‧₊˚✩彡⋆☾ ﾟ

The sun dipped low over the beach, its golden rays spilling like liquid fire across the horizon, kissing the ocean’s surface. The waves danced, swirling and sighing, as though the very sea was celebrating the moment.

Inside the room, where the quiet hum of preparations filled the space, Taehyung stood, his eyes soft, watching as Jimin prepared for his biggest day. The makeup artist stepped back, her work now complete, her smile reflecting the satisfaction of her craft before she quietly slipped away, leaving behind the delicate remnants of her touch.

"I'm so happy for you," he said, his words carrying the sharememories and dreams. "We used to talk about our weddings... and now, Jimin, it's finally happening. Yours is about to be everything we dreamed of."

Jimin met his gaze in the mirror, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, but his eyes betrayed the fight he waged against the flood of emotion rising within him.

"Don't make me cry," Jimin fingers brushing the edges of his suit as if to bracing himself against the overwhelming tide of feelings.

A soft knock on the door interrupted the moment, and before Taehyung could speak, Yoongi entered, his eyes flickering with affection as he caught sight of Jimin.

"Out, out," Taehyung said with a teasing swat, urging Yoongi toward the door.

"Don’t be cruel, let me see my omega," Yoongi protested

But Taehyung was already guiding Yoongi out of the room.

"Jeongguk," Taehyung said softly to his husband. "Take this alpha away. He’s not allowed here. He must wait for Jimin at the altar."

Without waiting for any response, Taehyung turned away, his command final.

Yoongi, unperturbed, let out a low groan, not bothering to hide his frustration. Jeongguk, ever silent, merely glanced at him, his eyes unwavering, as if waiting for Yoongi to make the first move. Yoongi huffed, rolling his eyes at the younger man’s stoic demeanor.

"Waiting for him to come to the altar is such a torture," Yoongi muttered, his voice tinged with playful annoyance, though there was an undeniable softness beneath his words.

Jeongguk’s lips barely twitched, and his brow remained neutral, a thin line of thought etched across his face. He didn’t respond. Yoongi felt it. Jeongguk's silence was a language of its own.

Yoongi almost wanted to comment on it, how Jeongguk's quietness felt like a wall, an impenetrable fortress made of silence. The boy spoke only when absolutely necessary, his words few but always sharp, like a blade sheathed in velvet.

But instead, Yoongi let it go, shaking his head with a small sigh. There were battles better left for another day.

He groaned again, though it was less out of irritation now and more out of a wearied affection for the silent, ever persistent Jeongguk. The younger man followed behind, his steps soft and unhurried.

Taehyung chuckled softly as he stepped into the room, his gaze falling on Jimin, who was standing near the window, his reflection almost ethereal in the soft, golden light. "He's head over heels for you," Taehyung said, a teasing warmth in his voice.

 

Jimin's wedding, in all its beauty, felt like a dream come true. The moment was perfect, everything unfolding as Taehyung had always imagined in his quiet daydreams. They had always been his own the dreams where he stood by Jeongguk, the two of them sharing a life in a way that felt as inevitable as the tide. Yet, here it was. Jimin. And Yoongi.
A sudden, sharp pang of insecurity twisted in Taehyung’s chest, but he quickly pushed it away, the warmth of the moment flooding back.

He shook his head slightly, forcing a smile to soften the ache. This was Jimin’s moment, he reminded himself. He wouldn’t ruin it with the burden of his own feelings.

✧･ﾟ:* ─ *:･ﾟ✧

The sun, a molten gold coin, lingered on the edge of the sky, casting a soft, amber glow over Jeju Island. It was the hour when day, reluctant to part with the earth, touched night with a tender kiss.

The beach, a sweeping stretch of sand that shimmered  beneath the fading light, cradled the gathering. Above, the waves whispered their secrets to the shore, a lullaby only the heart could understand. The sky, still flushed with the remnants of day, bled into a dusky blue as stars began to peek shyly from the heavens, blinking like forgotten dreams.

The guests, a sea of faces, moved like shadows beneath the soft glow of lanterns, their laughter and whispers carried on the breeze as if the very wind were part of the celebration. There were families, friends, strangers all woven together by the delicate thread of love.

At the far end of the beach, where the sand met the wild embrace of the ocean, the altar stood a simple, elegant structure of driftwood.

As the first notes of music rippled , a hush fell over the crowd.

Yoongi stood at the altar, bathed in the soft glow of the moment, his heart a quiet rhythm beneath his chest. Beside him, Namjoon, his best man.

And then, like a breath of spring, Jimin entered . He glided forward, glowing as though the very stars had gathered in his eyes. With Taehyung by his side, they moved together. The guests rose to their feet in a wave of applause, their hands clapping in unison.

As they reached the altar, Taehyung placed Jimin’s hand gently into Yoongi’s. The ceremony began, unfolding like a dream, soft and timeless. Vows were spoken, rings exchanged, a kiss sealed their promises, each gesture more intimate than the last.

But amid the beauty, Taehyung stood frozen, his smile a little too wide, his eyes brimming with tears. His mind, for reasons unknown, wandered back in time. The scene before him shimmered with the warmth of the present, but his heart longed for a past that could never be recaptured.

There, in the blur of his reverie, he remembered his own wedding. His gaze drifted across the room, searching for something, or perhaps someone. It landed on Jeongguk, seated quietly among the guests, a figure cast in shadow. His face, unreadable, a blank canvas.

In that fleeting moment, Taehyung’s heart clenched with a fear he had never dared acknowledge. Was his own marriage just as blank to Jeongguk as that empty look? How much of his life had passed in this same emptiness? Did his love, too, feel void of meaning, like a promise unkept, like a dream that never fully awakened? The silence in Taehyung's heart seemed to echo louder than any vows ever spoken.

Taehyung walked towards Jeongguk. The sounds of the celebration, the laughter, the clinking of glasses blurred around him as he approached, yet it all felt distant, like he was watching the world through a veil. Behind him, Jimin was laughing, his voice bright, as he tossed the bouquet of flowers into the crowd, the unmarried onlookers scrambling with eager smiles. But Taehyung barely noticed. His gaze remained fixed on Jeongguk, whose quiet presence felt like a chasm between them, deepening with every passing moment.
Taehyung exhaled, the sigh carrying  too many memories.

Some were sweet, moments of joy that had once filled his heart. Others were painful, jagged pieces of the past that never quite fit, like shards of glass that still cut when touched. The contrast stung as he stood there, unable to escape the flood of thoughts rushing through him.

He looked back at Jimin, who was talking with Yoongi, his smile wide, his voice light. The scene seemed to glow with warmth, but Taehyung couldn’t help but feel the cold creeping in. His gaze turned back to Jeongguk who was watching him as he always did silent, distant, as if the world around him was just a passing thing.

The conversations he shared had always been like unreciprocated. It was always a one sided conversation, Taehyung giving, giving, and giving some more. And Jeongguk… Jeongguk never seemed to notice, as if it didn’t matter whether Taehyung gave or not. As if Jeongguk heart was a well that could be emptied even Taehyung filling it.

"What’s happening to me?" Taehyung’s mind whispered in a quiet panic. Why am I feeling this now? I’ve accepted the truth long ago... so why am I making this so big?" His chest tightened, the pain a familiar ache, yet one he had never fully learned how to heal.

He turned back to Jimin, watching his friend glow with happiness, caught in the warmth of his own love. Maybe this was their shared dream, this vision of a life with their alphas, the love they’d imagined since childhood. Jimin had found his dream, but Taehyung? Taehyung stood here, surrounded by echoes of what could have been.

A wave of bitterness rose in Taehyung's chest. He hated himself for even thinking it hated the bitterness that tasted so raw and sharp on his tongue. He wanted nothing more than for Jimin to be happy, to live this dream they’d shared. But in seeing Jimin’s happiness, in watching the world unfold in front of him, Taehyung couldn’t help but feel his own life splintering apart, shattered into pieces that he couldn’t put back together.

Everything seemed to have been built for others, for Jimin, for Yoongi, for everyone else, but not for him. Not for the love he had always given so freely and never received in return.

The buffet was open now, a spread of abundance, yet Taehyung found little joy in it. He moved towards Jimin, who stood by the table with a plate of cake slices delicate pieces of sweetness that he and Yoongi had cut just before. Taehyung’s lips curled into a smile, but it was faint, as though it were something he had to force on his face.

He shook his head softly, watching the joy around him, before grabbing a glass and filling it with champagne. The bubbles rose, a fleeting promise of lightness, but it didn’t reach the heaviness inside him. With a quick motion, he gulped it down, the liquid burning his throat as it slipped away, only to be replaced by the same emptiness.

“Stop it, Tae ah,” Jimin said.

Taehyung rolled his eyes, the edges of his lips curling upward in something that resembled defiance rather than joy.

"It’s one of the expensive bottles, and it’s your wedding. Let me enjoy myself," he shot back. He was drowning in a sea of raw pain, and the champagne was his only escape..

His gaze drifted, almost involuntarily, and once again, his eyes found Jeongguk. Why? Why was it that in every feeling he felt, in every emotion that consumed him, his gaze always seemed to seek out Jeongguk? It was as though the very act of searching for him was a plea for something anything that could take away the ache in his chest.

But how could Jeongguk,ever know the depth of the pain that Taehyung held? How could he heal a wound that had never been seen, never been acknowledged?

Taehyung closed his eyes for a moment, wishing that, just once, someone would reach out and heal him as effortlessly as he had poured his heart out, piece by piece, into a love that never seemed to land.

✧･ﾟ:* ─ *:･ﾟ✧

"Oops," Taehyung giggled, drunkenly stumbling into Jeongguk’s arms just as the other opened the door to their suite.

"You shouldn’t drink so much," Jeongguk said guiding him inside.

"Why?" Taehyung slurred. "Am I a burden to you now?"

"No." The answer came instantly, certain, like always. But somehow, that quiet reassurance only made Taehyung feel more raged.

"Then you should shut up. You’re my husband, not my father," Taehyung muttered, his words bitter, edged with something darker than just the alcohol coursing through his veins.

Jeongguk didn’t reply. He never did during their fights and that silence cut deeper than it used to. It used to sting now it burned. A fresh wound where an old bruise had been.

"Why the hell are you so silent?" Taehyung’s frustration clawed at his throat, his voice rising in anger, fueled by something more than the liquor in his blood. He was so tired of it, of him, of this emptiness that stretched between them like an insurmountable chasm.

"Did you ever, ever, feel the need to not treat me like trash?" The words burst from him, a shout, raw and laced with years of feeling invisible, of loving someone who didn’t see him, didn’t care enough to really see him.

"I never did," Jeongguk said, his words clipped, short, as if Taehyung’s pain didn’t even matter to him.

"You’re still treating me like that!" Taehyung growled, pushing against him in a flash of rage, his hands trembling with the force of everything he had never said until now. "Still. Always."

Jeongguk didn’t flinch. Didn’t move. His face, as always, was a mask blank, unreadable. And Taehyung hated him for it.

"I’m no one to you," Taehyung spat, the words like acid on his tongue. "Just a person living under the same roof. My feelings? My thoughts? They don’t matter to you." His heart cracked open, the pain pouring out in each syllable.

"It matters," Jeongguk finally spoke, his voice quieter now, but still devoid of warmth, of anything that might make Taehyung believe him.

Taehyung stared at him, stunned by the emptiness in those words. Jeongguk’s face, still as cold as ever, betrayed nothing, no warmth, no regret, no remorse for the hurt he had caused. It mattered? Then why did it feel like he had never cared? Why did it feel like Taehyung was the only one fighting, always fighting for something that didn’t even exist?

"It never mattered," Taehyung chuckled bitterly, his steps swayed as he stumbled further inside the room. The world swirled around him, a dizzying blur of emotions and alcohol.

He collapsed onto the bed, letting his limbs spread out like he was sinking into the soft sheets, as though they could swallow him whole, take him far away from the suffocating pain that clung to him.

Jeongguk followed behind, his footsteps quiet, almost too calm for the storm that Taehyung could feel brewing inside.

"You'll be uncomfortable," Jeongguk said, a hint of concern hidden beneath the detached tone. But Taehyung only closed his eyes, as if blocking him out was the only way to protect whatever was left of him.

He was so tired. Tired of the silence. Tired of the unspoken words between them. It would always be like this. He would always fight, but Jeongguk would never fight back not with words, not with actions. Just that silence. The kind of silence that screamed louder than any argument ever could. Taehyung knew it all too well. He had accepted it long ago, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt. It always hurt.

Jeongguk sighed, a soft, almost imperceptible sound, and sat down on the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped beneath. He reached out, gently removing Taehyung's shoes, his touch careful, as if handling something fragile. Taehyung wanted to scream, wanted to pull away, but instead, he just lay there.

Jeongguk turned to face him, his fingers brushing over the fabric of Taehyung's blazer, trying to pull it off, but Taehyung stubbornly refused to move, his body frozen, locked in place by some force.

"Taehyung," Jeongguk said sternly, his voice holding a quiet command.

Taehyung's teeth clenched, fury and heartbreak twisting inside him like a storm. Jeongguk was acting like nothing had happened, like the words Taehyung had screamed, the pain he had poured out, had vanished into the walls. It infuriated him. It shattered him.

He sat up abruptly, breath shallow, eyes wild with emotion. Jeongguk reached to slip off his jacket, still quiet, still composed. But Taehyung couldn’t take it, he grabbed Jeongguk’s shirt, pulled him in, and kissed him hard, desperate, pleading for some sign that he mattered.

Jeongguk froze. “You’re drunk,” he said evenly, trying to draw back.

“So what?” Taehyung snapped, the rejection stinging. “We’ve had drunk  kisses even drunk sex plenty of times.”

“You’re angry,” Jeongguk said again, like it was a warning, like it mattered.

“So what?!” Taehyung shouted, then kissed him again, more fiercely this time, as if he could burn the silence away with his lips. Jeongguk hesitated he didn’t push him off. And that flicker of permission, of weakness, was all Taehyung needed.

In the space between gasps and kisses, Taehyung yanked his own shirt off, his hands clumsy with intoxication. He reached for Jeongguk’s blazer, tearing it away, then his shirt, needing to feel skin against skin, to erase the ache clawing inside him.

“We should stop,” Jeongguk mumbled.

But Taehyung didn’t stop. His lips found Jeongguk’s neck, leaving trails of heat and desperation behind. It wasn’t about lust. It wasn’t even about desire. It was hunger, the kind that comes from being starved of affection, of answers, of meaning. It was thirst, the kind that burns in the throat when you've begged for something for too long.

He kissed Jeongguk like the silence could be undone. Like the indifference could be melted. Like he could make himself whole in the space between their bodies, if only for a fleeting moment.

As if intimacy could swallow insecurity. As if love could be carved out of the wreckage.

Taehyung’s lips found Jeongguk’s once more, desperate, searching, trembling with something too fractured to name. His hands moved in tandem with breathless urgency, fingers fumbling at the zipper of Jeongguk’s jeans, then his own, the sound of metal and fabric a sharp whisper in the hush of the room.

"This isn't the right way," Jeongguk murmured, the words barely audible, more ache than protest.

"Shut the fuck up," Taehyung spat, his voice raw, his words sharp as daggers. "If you can't satisfy me emotionally, at least satisfy me physically."

For the first time, there was a crack in Jeongguk’s composed facade. His face shifted, an expression so real, so raw, it made Taehyung’s heart skip a beat. It wasn’t the calm indifference, the impassive mask he usually wore. No, this was something else.

It was pure. It was real. It was dark. There was pain in it. The kind of pain that went deep, that burned in places Taehyung could never see, but he could feel it now, in the way Jeongguk’s eyes darkened and his jaw clenched. It was the kind of pain that twisted inside, the kind that told Taehyung he had said something that cut deeper than anything he had ever meant to.

Then, in a sudden blur of movement, Taehyung found himself on his stomach. The sheets were cool against his flushed skin, the air sharp and expectant. The world tilted, skewed, as Jeongguk’s hands tore his trousers down with a hunger that bordered on violent reverence. A gasp broke from Taehyung’s lips.

Jeongguk’s fingers were inside instantly, rough, insistent, trembling with control held on a thread. No prelude. No warning. Just possession. They finger's were pushing deep with an urgency that made Taehyung’s breath stutter and his eyes flutter shut. The stretch burned, raw and unrelenting, but he welcomed it like an ache long denied.

He tried to turn, to reach back, to catch even a glimpse of Jeongguk’s face. But strong hands bore him down, splayed him wide, held him open.

Moans spilled from him, broken, breathless, bitten off into the pillow. Jeongguk drove his fingers deeper, faster, curling with warmth cruelty, until Taehyung was trembling, muscles taut, body betraying him with every clench.

Then Jeongguk withdrew, and the loss was a wound.

But only for a heartbeat.

The blunt, heated press of Jeongguk cock followed instantly. Slick. Thick. Unforgiving. And then he pushed in one long, brutal stroke that stole the breath from Taehyung’s lungs and carved a moan from somewhere deep and wordless in his chest. No slow easing. No pause.

Just Jeongguk, inside him, all at once.

The pain and pleasure tangled, indistinguishable. Taehyung bit into the pillow to ground himself, to muffle the cry that rose as his body stretched to accommodate every inch. A tear spilled down his cheek, heat tracing heat, but not from pain alone.

He wanted to see him. Needed to. Needed Jeongguk’s eyes, his mouth, the silent tenderness that had always followed the storm. But Jeongguk kept him turned. Kept him face down. Kept him taken.

They had given each other in every way two people could, slow like reverence, fast like wildfire, wild like prayer. But never like this.

Never from behind.

Jeongguk had never claimed him this way.
And Taehyung had never offered it.

Because this position, this angle, held no place for his eyes to find Jeongguk’s, no thread of soul to soul, no anchor in the storm. It was all flesh and breath and sound. It was the absence of face, the absence of gaze, the absence of love made visible.

Taehyung had always needed to be seen. Not just touched, witnessed. And now, his body was open, bare, trembling, but his heart had no mirror to press against. Only a pillow beneath his cheek and a silence behind him that pounded louder than skin ever could.

From behind, he could not trace the furrow of Jeongguk’s brow, could not taste the words that hovered on his tongue, could not read the small trembles that meant I still love you even when nothing was said.

Every thrust was punishing. The sound of skin meeting skin echoed loud and lewd in the hollow quiet. Jeongguk’s grip on his hips turned bruising, thumbs digging in to mark him, brand him.

Taehyung cried out, high and choked, his voice ragged as Jeongguk rocked into him over and over, deeper each time, chasing something neither of them could know.

And then Jeongguk came with a ragged groan torn from his throat, hips stilling deep inside him as he spilled into Taehyung’s trembling body. The fullness, the finality of it, cracked something open.

Taehyung’s breath hitched.

And then broke.

A second tear slid down, hotter than the first. His body was full, aching, used. But not unloved. Not exactly. Just… unmet.

Jeongguk pulled away in silence no lingering kiss pressed to the curve of Taehyung’s neck, no gentle sweep of fingers tracing the familiar map of his back. Without a word, without a touch to soothe the ache, he rose and disappeared.

And Taehyung, still naked and stretched and glistening, lay in the ruins of the moment, listening to the echo of the door as it closed behind him.

What if Jeongguk didn’t come back this time? He had always come back before, always held him afterward, cleaned him, kiss him as if every moment of intimacy was sacred. But now… what if this time was different?

His thoughts were interrupted by the soft, almost imperceptible press of a damp towel against his skin. It was small, but it was enough. Jeongguk hadn’t left him, not completely. And  Taehyung let go, drifting into a haze of sleep, knowing that Jeongguk’s touch had not entirely abandoned him.

Jeongguk, meanwhile, moved. He slipped Taehyung into a pair of pajamas, the fabric sliding over his skin with gentle care, as if he was trying to restore something broken. Then, without a second glance, he disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of the shower a distant, cold reminder of his own isolation.

The chill of the water didn’t numb Jeongguk’s mind. He stood in the cascade of cold, letting the pressure of the stream wash over him, but it couldn’t cleanse him of the knot in his chest.

Jeongguk stood before the bathroom mirror, the glass fogged around the edges, but his reflection painfully clear. The lighting of the luxury resort only made his weariness starker, his eyes hollow beneath the sharp angles of his face. It was inevitable, Taehyung's breakdown was inevitable. He had seen it coming like a quiet tide rolling in. He had known, and still, he had done nothing.

The moment Jimin stepped back into Taehyung’s life, it was like a door to the past had swung wide open. And Jeongguk knew: it had shaken something in Taehyung. Or maybe it had just reminded him of who he used to be before Jeongguk. Before the silence.

He slipped out of the bathroom. His gaze drifted, drawn instinctively to the row of bottles standing like silent sentinels  treasures cloaked in glass. Without a thought, his fingers closed around one, as if the bottle itself called to him. Cradling it, he slipped out of the suite, the door sighing softly behind him.

Inside the elevator’s confined stillness, he twisted the cap free. The liquid poured down his throat in a desperate gulp , fire chasing the cold away, a fleeting warmth igniting the hollow inside.

Outside, the world blurred past as he left the resort behind, footsteps tracing a path to the waiting shore. The sand welcomed him beneath, the same place where memory clung of Taehyung, painted in golden light.

His eyes, rimmed with the sting of too many hurried drinks, lifted to the ocean’s endless breath, waves murmuring secrets only the night could hold.

Lying back on the sand, he surrendered to the vast sky, stars spilled like scattered diamonds across the velvet. Seoul’s city lights never revealed such brilliance; only in childhood had he glimpsed this fierce constellation, and only in Taehyung’s gaze had he ever seen stars burn so brightly, a galaxy held in a single pair of eyes.

Jeongguk’s heart felt like it was burning whether from the alcohol or everything inside him, he couldn’t tell. The bottle stayed pressed to his lips even as he lay sprawled on the sand, the liquor spilling, dribbling from the corner of his mouth down his neck like bitter tears. He didn’t bother wiping it away. Let it burn. Let it sting.

“Slow down, champ.”

The voice was soft, threaded with concern and a trace of amusement. Jeongguk blinked, barely turning his head. Namjoon stood beside him. Without waiting for an invitation, Namjoon sank down beside him, folding his long legs into the sand.

“What are you doing out here at this hour? Without your husband?” Namjoon asked, his tone light but his eyes sharply perceptive.

Jeongguk stared at the sky for a moment, letting the stars blur.

“Had a fight.”

Namjoon tilted his head, quiet for a beat.

“You two always looked like the perfect couple,” he said, the words tentative, like he was testing the ground before walking it. “So happy.”

Jeongguk let out a laugh, soft and hollow. “Perfect,” he echoed, the word tasting like ash. “Happy.” He laughed again, but it curved inwards this time, collapsing into something broken.

Namjoon watched him closely. He saw it that tiny crack in Jeongguk’s usual composure. The way his lips curled not in joy but in pain. It was the first time Namjoon had ever seen the alpha smile like that, and he wasn’t fooled for a second.

It was the smile of someone who’d been holding in too much for too long. The smile of someone hurting so quietly, they almost forgot they were bleeding.

"Fights happens. We fight, too, That’s what married life is, little alpha. There are always peaks and valleys. Sometimes, we forgive. Sometimes, we apologize. But in the end, we’re meant to walk side by side. That’s what makes it real.”

Jeongguk's eyes remained distant, staring out at the horizon like he could see everything but nothing at all. "He always forgives, He always apologizes. He always walks side by side…”

Jeongguk turned his gaze slowly toward Namjoon, his eyes devoid of light, the emptiness in them so deep that it made Namjoon’s chest tighten. There was a numbness there, as if Jeongguk had stopped feeling altogether.

“He’s going to get tired, right?” Jeongguk’s words were soft, almost inaudible.

“Then don’t make him tired,” Namjoon said.

Jeongguk’s eyes fluttered shut, his lashes kissing his cheeks in a soft, defeated gesture. “I can’t,” he whispered, his voice barely a breath. “I never did before… I’m never going to. I just… can’t.”

Namjoon felt a chill settle in his chest. It wasn’t fear for Taehyung. No, it was fear for Jeongguk.

Namjoon watched as Jeongguk’s eyes fluttered shut, the unshed tears held tightly behind closed lids. There was no release, no outward cry only the quiet devastation that sank deeper with each breath. The kind of sorrow that burrowed beneath the ribs, where it festered and ached, but never spilled out. It was the kind of grief that lived in the silence between words.

He knew deep down that Jeongguk was crying. It wasn’t visible, not in the way tears typically fell, but it was there, hidden in the tightness of his face, the stillness of his shoulders.

✧･ﾟ:* to be continue *:･ﾟ✧

Chapter 6: 6

Disappointment from someone you respect, truly respect was a cut too clean to bleed.

 

‧₊˚✩彡⋆☾ ﾟ

 

Past

 

 

Spring breathed softly across the roadside, its sighs carrying the delicate drift of cherry blossoms. Petals tumbled on invisible currents, brushing past the shoulders of those who noticed and those who didn't. Some walked on with eyes wide open to the season's quiet benedictions; others simply moved forward, unaware wrapped in the hush of their own lives.

A boy, of early twenty, ran beneath the flowering trees. A tote bag hung loosely from one shoulder, and a small tower of books pressed against his chest, as if he hadn't bothered to shelter them inside.

 

His hair, the color of warm chestnut, bounced with each stride, tousled and unruly like thoughts at the edge of sleep. He wore a white tee under an open sky blue shirt, its tails fluttering like wings behind him, dark blue jeans clinging to his frame with the honesty of youth.

His voice spilled quick and urgent, from a phone cradled awkwardly between his shoulder and cheek.

"Just...please...make him stay, okay? He can't leave, not now. Swear it. Swear on everything...on all those years we didn't let go."

The plea blurred his attention, and so he didn't see the man until it was too late. Their paths collided.

Books scattered like birds startled into flight, pages fluttering across the pavement. Notes danced away on the breeze, some curling around tree roots, others vanishing underfoot.

"Oh GOD No!" he gasped, stumbling backward, hands out as if to gather time itself.

He dropped to his knees, reaching for the notes.

"Why?" he shouted in frustration.

It was his fault. Of course it was.

A hand brushed his, lightly, fleetingly, before retreating as though it had touched something too delicate to hold. The stranger had crouched beside him, wordless, helping to gather the runaway notes one by one.

"Thank you... thank you," he murmured, breath catching as he cradled the stack of paper close to his chest. Then he looked up and saw him.

Time faltered.

Their eyes met. The boy expected to see irritation. But there was nothing, just a stillness, as if stranger had paused only to memorize something before letting it go.

But in that sliver of silence, something shifted inside him, like a string drawn tight across his chest, humming with a sudden, unfamiliar note.

The stranger___tall, composed, eyes like late autumn dusk gave a small, silent nod. Then the stranger looked away, and the spell broke. Without a word, he rose and turned, his footsteps quiet as he slipped back into the current of morning traffic, swallowed by the world once more.

The boy stood still, a statue among moving things, watching the retreating figure vanish like smoke into the sunlight.

"Yah! Kim Taehyung!"

The sharp voice tore through the hush. His phone, still clutched in his hand, blared with urgency.

"Oh Jimin ah," he gasped, fumbling it back to his ear as reality rushed in to fill the silence.

"I'm two minutes away! Just two...I swear!" he said, voice hurried, already breaking into a sprint.

"You better fly, not run," Jimin's voice snapped through the speaker. "Professor Wook only holding on for damn short time!"

"Shit," he hissed, breath ragged, dodging around pedestrians as he broke into a reckless run, the cherry blossoms spinning wildly in his wake.

Why was he always like this, so maddeningly responsible and recklessly careless in the same breath?

He'd poured weeks into his final project, carving out time from stolen hours, refining every detail with stubborn, sleepless devotion. He cared, that much was certain. He worked with the intensity of someone who had dreams stitched into every word he wrote.

And yet... on the morning of submission, he woke to sunlight far too high in the sky and a headache that pulsed behind his eyes like a ticking clock. The price of champagne laughter and careless dancing still clung to his skin, the consequence of his butterfly soul fluttering too close to midnight.

Because of course! of course! he had said yes to Jackson Wang's party.

Who does that? Who goes to Jackson Wang's rooftop madness when finals are a week away, finals of the final semester, no less?

Kim Taehyung, apparently.

He burst into the university building like a storm untamed, winded and flushed, heart rattling in his ribs. When he sprinted to Professor Wook's office, his chest still heaved with the weight of near failure.

"Professor Wook," he murmured, bowing low, reverence stitched into every motion.

From beside him came the long suffering sigh of Jimin.

"Here are the research papers," Taehyung said, extending the carefully bound project with both hands, like an offering at an altar.

Professor Wook, the man both Taehyung and Jimin quietly admired, took the papers with a frown carved deep into his brow. He was one of the rare ones brilliant, unafraid to be blunt, and yet somehow still misunderstood. The students at SNU often whispered their dislike, but to these two, he was something more. A guide. A fire they wanted to live up to.

"I expected better from you, Taehyung," Wook said, voice low with disappointment. "This is your final project, and you treat it like a secondary task."

The words hit harder than any scolding. Disappointment from someone you respect, truly respect was a cut too clean to bleed.

Taehyung bowed again, eyes lowered. Shame warm on his skin. "I'm sorry."

Professor Wook gave a small nod. Then he turned to Jimin.

"Do well in your exams. Both of you. You can go now."

The boys bowed in unison, quiet as they slipped out of the office. Outside, the hallway echoed with their footsteps, softer now, less hurried.

Behind them, Wook watched their backs with a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Ah... young blood," he murmured, the warmth in his tone at odds with the sternness from moments before.

"God," Jimin groaned, dragging a hand through his hair. "Coaxing him was like warming a stone with bare hands. That man's got a soul carved from granite."

Taehyung snorted, a wicked grin playing on his lips. "More stubborn than your alpha?"

"Don't," Jimin said, eyes rolling so hard it was a miracle they didn't tumble out. "Don't even start about him."

Taehyung clutched his stomach dramatically. "I've burned every last drop of energy in my body. Running miles on an empty soul. I need food, or I'll pass into the next life."

"I swear, you thrive on drama," Jimin muttered, but his lips twitched, amused despite himself.

Taehyung leaned closer, a sparkle in his eye. "But I may have tea for you," he whispered, voice lilting with mischief.

Jimin arched a brow, suspicious and intrigued all at once. "Spill."

 

✧･ﾟ:* ─ *:･ﾟ✧

 

The two of them drifted into the campus cafeteria like regulars in an old dream. Familiar tables, the smell of over sweet matcha, sun filtering through tall glass windows. They found their usual spot two chairs across from one another, like countless times before.

They ordered without thinking, their voices overlapping in a harmony only long time friendship could compose.

Four years. Nearly over. Time had folded in on itself lectures, sleepless nights, caffeine fueled panic, wild joy, hangovers, inside jokes so old they no longer needed words.

They had lived it all together. The stress, the silliness, the chaos. The becoming.

And now, all of that was becoming memory. A soft, golden thing they'd carry long after they walked out of those gates for the last time.

The end was coming, yes. But for now, there was tea to be spilled, matcha to be sipped, and the kind of laughter that stitched itself into the soul.

"What's the tea?" Jimin tapped the table, eyes sharp with curiosity.

Taehyung's face lit up with mischief, a glimmer dancing behind his lashes. "About that..." he drawled, turning toward the counter. "Songwoo-ah!"

The cafeteria waiter turned at the familiar voice.

"One round of matcha lattes for everyone on me!" Taehyung announced, arms wide as if offering the whole world.

Heads turned. Chairs creaked. A few students stared, others grinned.

Jimin nearly choked. "There are over thirty people here. Are you out of your mind? That's your whole month's allowance!"

"Let my wallet die a noble death," Taehyung said dramatically, already signaling the waiter with a proud little flourish.

Then, without warning, he climbed up on his chair, towering over the cafeteria like some unhinged prince of chaos.

"Everyone, listen up!" he shouted, voice echoing off the windows.

All eyes turned to him.

"Kim Taehyung," he declared, forming a finger heart high above his head, "has officially caught feelings!"

Cheers erupted. Some students laughed because they knew him, some just for the free drinks. A few clapped like they were watching a play.

Jimin buried his face in his hands. "God, Taehyung, get down. You're embarrassing all twelve of your ancestors."

Dragging him back into his seat, Jimin scowled. "You? A feelings? You've never even crushed on a celebrity. Not even once."

Taehyung, still flushed with excitement, grinned like a fool.

"Wait a second," Jimin narrowed his eyes. "Did a new idol group debut? Is this about some rookie with sparkly eyeliner?"

Taehyung shook his head slowly, his voice quieter now, almost dreamy. "It's not a celebrity. It's... a real person."

Jimin blinked.

"I don't know if it was love at first sight, Jimin. I didn't hear wedding bells or feel fireworks in my chest. It wasn't like the books. No breathless heartbeat or dramatic slow motion." Taehyung's voice turned thoughtful, softer than before. "But something happened. Like... the world tilted just a little. Like something changed and somehow, everything stayed the same."

There was a beat of silence between them.

Jimin blinked again.

Then he scoffed, "Yah. Jackson Wang definitely served something shady at that party. I knew the drinks were too cheap. He's slipping, used to have a reputation."

Taehyung narrowed his eyes, wounded. "Are you even taking me seriously?"

"Okay, first of all," Jimin began, eyes narrowed in mock accusation, "this is deeply unexpected. You, of all people, catching feelings? I honestly feared you were either a hopeless romantic from a forgotten fairytale or maybe just straight up aromantic or asexual."

He jabbed a finger toward Taehyung. "And now you waltz in here with glitter in your eyes and say you've got a crush? Are you insane, or are you trying to drive me insane?"

Taehyung sighed, wrapping his lips around the straw in his matcha like a man sipping away his dignity. "Jiminssi, we've been friends since middle school. You know I don't joke about stuff like this."

Jimin slumped back in his seat with a theatrical groan. "Fine, fine. Spill. Who is it?"

Taehyung blinked, hesitant.

"Is it a senior? A junior? A professor?" Jimin ticked each off on his fingers. "Please don't say principal. Or the security guard. Or-God forbid-the janitor. Is it someone from outside uni? Who is he?!"

Taehyung bit his bottom lip. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" Jimin stared like he'd just heard the moon was made of tofu.

"I mean, I don't know know," Taehyung laughed awkwardly. "He's human. Two arms, two legs, a face, very symmetrical. Two eyes. I think. I didn't count, I was too busy combusting internally."

Jimin's glare could have melted stone. "You've finally got a crush, and it's on a stranger?"

Taehyung leaned forward, his voice turning soft and distant, like he was speaking from a dream. "We bumped into each other. And... he was strong. Like, concrete pillar strong. My books went flying, and he helped me pick them up. Polite, gentle. And beautiful, Jimin. Not just attractive. Beautiful. The kind of beautiful that looks like it stepped out of a Renaissance painting but has the audacity to walk in sunlight like it's nothing."

"Oh god," Jimin muttered, rubbing his temple.

"His presence," Taehyung went on, undeterred, "he held himself like he knew the earth turned beneath him. Like he didn't have to prove anything, and yet he made the world tilt just by breathing."

Jimin stared, unmoved. "Taehyung. We have finals in two days."

"That's your reaction?" Taehyung pouted like a child denied dessert.

"Yes. Because some of us plan to graduate. Go home. Library. Notes. Now," Jimin commanded, standing with the authority of a man trying to prevent academic disaster.

"Rude," Taehyung mumbled, slurping his drink and sinking into his chair like a wilted flower.

 

✧･ﾟ:* ─ *:･ﾟ✧

 

That night, Taehyung returned home with the sun already folding itself beneath the horizon, its last light washing the city in hues of faded gold. He ate dinner with his parents, half heartedly nodding along to their chatter, his spoon swirling in rice more than lifting it.

Later, tucked into the quiet of his room, he sat cross legged on the floor with his textbook cracked open, the words Financial Derivatives Analysis glaring back at him like a stern old man. But no matter how many pages he turned, his thoughts kept slipping.

They drifted back again and again to that brief collision. A chest like concrete. Eyes like still water. Hands that had touched his without meaning to, and yet still left a print.

"God," he whispered into the hush of his room, clasping his hands together like a child bargaining with the universe. "Please let me meet him again."

The ceiling stared back blankly.

"I have the memory of a goldfish," Taehyung groaned, flopping back against his bed. "What if I forget his face? What if I already am?"

And wasn't it ironic, how the thing that should've terrified him, the looming exam with its soul sucking formulas, sat harmless in front of him, while the idea of forgetting a stranger's face made his chest tighten?

It was ridiculous. It was hopeless.

It was... very him.

Somewhere between textbook chapters and half formed prayers, Taehyung drifted off to sleep still holding onto the image of a stranger he never really got to know

✧･ﾟ:*To be continue*:･ﾟ✧

Chapter 7: 7

Maybe it wasn’t love yet. Maybe it never would be. But it was something close. Something warm. Something worth remembering.

‧₊˚✩彡⋆☾ ﾟ

 

Past

When a chapter of life closes, it leaves behind a bitter sweetness that lingers on the tongue like the last drop of sweat mingled with the faintest trace of honey.

The burden of exams, the long nights folded into endless days, finally faded away, leaving only a delicate fragrance in Taehyung’s mouth___ an aroma of relief, of something completed.

The final paper laid to rest, Taehyung and Jimin wandered through the campus, their footsteps slow, eyes tracing the corners and shadows of a place that had held their youth. The laughter, the chaos, the quiet moments they gathered them all like fragile keepsakes in the soft light of the fading day.

Evening draped its velvet over the sky as Taehyung climbed onto the bus, the hum of the city slipping past the windows like a half remembered melody. Inside, the bus teemed with tired faces, and he found no seat. His hand rose, fingers curling around the metal hanger above as the bus began to move.

A soft jazz tune played in his earbuds.

🎵 Unforgettable...
That’s what you are...
Unforgettable...
Though near or far...
Like a song of love
That clings to me...
How the thought of you
Does things to me...
Never before
Has someone been more 🎵

His eyes landed on a figure seated a few feet away and in that instant, the world around him softened, colors deepening, edges blurring. So maybe, just maybe, the universe had whispered back to his desperate prayers.

The stranger met his gaze for a heartbeat an electric pause before Taehyung, caught in panic, snapped his eyes away. When he dared to glance again, the man was already staring out the window, lost in the fading light beyond glass.

The bus jolted to a stop, and an elderly woman shuffled aboard. Without hesitation, the stranger rose, offering his seat. Now standing just a few paces from Taehyung, he seemed both impossibly close and infinitely distant.

Taehyung’s gaze locked onto him, as if willing the moment to stretch, to hold still, afraid to lose even a flicker of the quiet magic.

Suddenly, the bus screeched sharply, lurching forward faster than expected. A gasp escaped Taehyung’s lips as the world tilted beneath him, sure he would fall but firm hands wrapped gently around his waist, steadying him.

His eyes flew open, wider than ever, meeting the calm strength of the alpha who had haunted his thoughts and dreams all week, solid, real, and right here.

The bus hissed open again, a flood of passengers pouring in like a tide. The alpha's hand slipped from Taehyung's waist, no fanfare, no words, just the ghost of warmth left behind. He stepped slightly away, his presence now just a breath out of reach.

With bodies pressed close and space growing scarce, Taehyung had no choice but to shift, nearly brushing the alpha’s back. His breath stilled, caught somewhere in his chest, as his senses filled with the subtle, grounding scent of the one he couldn’t stop thinking about.

The bus jolted again, sudden and sharp. Taehyung stumbled forward, his shoulder grazing air just inches from the alpha’s.

So close. Too close. Not close enough.

A few passengers trickled off at the next stop, peeling the crowd back like an opening shell. The alpha turned slightly, then wordlessly tilted his chin toward a now vacant seat. Just a small gesture, but to Taehyung, it felt like the moon leaning in to whisper.

Taehyung ducked his head and slid into the empty seat, grateful and bashful all at once.

Trying to look casual, he pulled his phone from his tote, thumbing the screen to life. With the slyest movement, he angled it just enough to capture the boy standing before him, haloed in the amber streetlight spilling through the window. A moment held still. A memory just for him.

Click.

His chest thrummed with the thrill of secrecy, heart pounding with the fear of being caught.

The bus exhaled a long breath of air and passengers spilled out like leaves carried on a breeze. Taehyung’s eyes darted, searching, heart snagging the moment he saw him, the alpha stepping off into the twilight.

Panic pricked at his spine.

Without thinking, without logic, without plan, he followed. Feet moving before his mind caught up, swept up in that quiet, invisible thread pulling him forward.

But as he stepped down into the evening light of Seoul’s fading sun, he looked left, then right, too late. The crowd had folded in, and the stranger was gone.

Taehyung stood still in the middle of the sidewalk, surrounded by motion and yet wrapped in stillness. The scent of city dust, the distant whir of cars, someone laughing a few blocks down. But no sign of him.

He sighed, lips pressed into a soft pout as he leaned back against a lamppost. So this is how a drama ends, he thought bitterly, not with a kiss, but a crowd.

Then, remembering, he pulled out his phone. His thumb hovered for a second before he opened his gallery.

There it was.

A single photo, dim and imperfect but enough. The shape of his face, the way he stared out the window, lost in thought. Even pixelated, even blurry, Taehyung could trace the lines in his mind as if they’d been carved there.

His lips curled into a smile. “At least I won’t forget your face,” he whispered. “No regrets.”

The walk home was long and quiet, lit by warm streetlamps and the soft hum of jazz still looping in his ear. He tucked his phone into his coat pocket, hands buried deep, shoulders lifted against the breeze.

He knew what the world would say. That love doesn’t arrive on buses. That it doesn’t wrap itself in fleeting moments or shy glances. That it doesn’t live in photographs of strangers.

But Taehyung wasn’t convinced.

Because despite everything, logic, time, the stories he’d told himself, something had stirred in him. A gentle ache, a hush of longing that felt realer than most things.

Maybe it wasn’t love yet. Maybe it never would be.

But it was something close.

Something warm.

Something worth remembering.

When he reached home, the stillness welcomed him like an old friend. No clattering of utensils, no soft hum of conversation, just the gentle silence of an empty house. His parents were likely still working, stuck in that quiet hustle of people who lived between enough and not quite plenty. They never lacked, but luxuries were dreamt of, not owned.

Taehyung dropped his bag by the door of his room and collapsed onto the bed. His eyes flickered toward the ceiling, but his mind wasn’t resting. It was buzzing, spiraling back to the bus ride, to that fleeting glance, that hand around his waist, that scent fresh, warm, grounding.

He sat up quickly.

The picture.

Pulling out his phone, he opened the gallery again. There the alpha was, caught in the blur of movement and glass reflection, but still beautiful. Still him.

Taehyung bit his lip and tapped on the share icon, selecting the AI search tool. Maybe just maybe, his phone could do some kind of facial recognition, find a profile, a name, a clue.

But nothing.

No results.

Just a generic "Couldn’t find a match."

His hope deflated like a balloon pricked by reality.

He dropped back against the bed with a groan, covering his face with both hands.

Then half in frustration, half in desperate curiosity he opened his browser.

The questions flowed one after the other like confessions to a late night diary:

How to meet a stranger again?

Is it normal to feel something after one meeting? Or maybe two meeting?

Crush or delusion?

Can you fall for someone after a five minute silent interaction?

Is running into someone again a sign from the universe?

Each hit of the enter key felt ridiculous, but he couldn’t stop. Every result was either a Reddit thread filled with romantics or clickbait articles saying, “If it’s meant to be, they’ll come back.”

Taehyung scoffed. “Universe, you better start showing some efficiency,” he mumbled.

“Manifestation... what even is that?” Taehyung muttered, eyes wide as he scrolled through the forum posts, disbelief tangled with a flicker of hope. Could things like this really happen? Could sheer will pull someone back from the edges of memory into reality?

He bolted to his Polaroid printer, fingertips fumbling as he synced it via Bluetooth. The photo the only trace of the stranger’s face emerged slowly, colors soft and edges curling. Clutching it like a talisman, he dashed down the stairs to the kitchen, rummaging through drawers until he gathered every candle he could find.

Back in his room, the forum’s instructions echoed in his mind:

1. A darkness in the room. Only the flames of candle so it can get the energy constrained.

Taehyung arranged the candles in a loose  star map, their flames flickering like tiny suns.

2. A picture of a human you want to have in your life.

Carefully, he placed the Polaroid of his crush at the center, the face frozen in soft color and grain.

3. Take a long breath as to gather every sigh of your soul.

He inhaled deeply, feeling the air fill his lungs like a tide pulling at his insides.

4. Place your hands together as if gathering the energy.

Fingers interlaced, palms pressed tight, a silent plea in every fold of skin.

5. Now, in the light of the candle, in the silence of your mind, close your eyes after seeing the picture for seven seconds.

He stared at the photo… one… two… three …four…five…six…seven…then gently closed his eyes, the flickering light melting behind his lids.

6. Now think about that person in your mind. Your soul energy would travel the universe to bring that human to you.

He obeyed without hesitation.

And in that moment, he summoned every quiet hope he had, every beat of his soul aching for that connection.

Think of him. The stranger. The alpha. The mystery.

“Taehyung, are you there honey? Open the door.”

His eyes snapped open, wide with panic. Quick as lightning, he shoved the Polaroid picture into the cushion of the couch and hurriedly blew out the candles, pushing them under the bed like a thief hiding evidence.

“What are you doing?!” his father’s voice came again, now with concern.

“Dr…drugs!” Taehyung blurted out, voice cracking as he scrambled to sweep the candles away.

“Drugs? Open the door right now.”

Taehyung threw open the door, forcing a calm he didn’t feel.

"'Drug Addiction Costs and Their Financial Burden on National Healthcare Systems.' Dad, how about this for my post-graduate thesis research topic?” he asked in one breath.

His dad blinked, surprise flickering across his face."You were against the idea of studying more just a few weeks ago," his dad said, giving him a skeptical look.

"I don't know..." Taehyung mumbled, shrugging as he tried to play it cool. "Maybe I changed my mind."

His father sighed but smiled knowingly, ruffling Taehyung’s hair in that way only dads can get away with. "Your graduation is in a few days. Do what you want, okay? Just don’t forget to live your life too."

Then, tapping him lightly on the head with fatherly affection, he added, "Now come downstairs and help your old parents prepare dinner. We’re not letting you escape that easily."

Taehyung smiled, following his dad down the stairs.

✧･ﾟ:* To be continue *:･ﾟ✧

Chapter 8: 8

You are allowed to feel. Just don’t let it swallow everything else that matters.

 

‧₊˚✩彡⋆☾ ﾟ

 

Past

As a finance student, Taehyung knew all the tricks behind those so called discount schemes. He had studied enough consumer psychology and pricing strategies to see through the shiny Classic Thursday Discount banners plastered all over the supermarket walls. It was a trap, cleverly designed to pull in the masses on a weekday lull. The prices were manipulated, the margins cunning.

But try explaining that to his mother.

No matter how many charts, case studies, or receipts he showed her, she wouldn't budge. “I’ve been shopping longer than you've been alive, Taehyung,” she'd always say with a wave of her hand, dismissing his facts with the wisdom of lived experience.

And so here he was once again trailing behind her like a reluctant soldier marching to the rhythm of her grocery mission.

The sliding glass doors whooshed open, letting in a wave of crisp, air conditioned air tinged with the scent of cleaning supplies and ripe fruit.

“Tae ah, you take care of sauces and cooking oils,” his mother called, already veering with laser focus. “I’ll go hunt down the vegetables.”

Taehyung nodded with the solemnity of a foot soldier sent into battle. He stood shoulder to shoulder with other seasoned Thursday warriors battle, hardened moms, aunties with laser sharp focus, and university students on tight budgets.

 

But his eyes were locked onto a single prize: the 1.5L can of premium sesame oil, a rare gem now flashing a 70% OFF sign, just seconds before the discount activated.

Ding!
The discount went live.

Game on.

Taehyung dashed like a man on a mission, weaving through carts, his eyes burning with the fire of financial vengeance.

He lunged

Thud.

His hand collided with another.

He was ready for battle. Raised by Kim Taehee, undefeated empress of discount aisles, Taehyung knew no fear. He had once snatched a half priced kimchi tub right out of an ajusshi's cart. There were no rules in the game of markdowns.

But then he looked up.

And his soul left his body.

There he was.

His alpha crush.

Right in front of him.

Holding the same can of oil.

Taehyung’s body went stiff like a statue. His eyes blinked once. Twice.

“Oh, you can take it,” he croaked, yanking his hand back like it was burned. His heart was sprinting faster than his legs ever could. So the manifestation worked?! Universe, was that you?

He tried to smile but it was more like a twitch.

And then it hit him.

He was in his pajamas.

Cozy, faded, slightly oversized, and dotted with power puff girls character. His hoodie was soft but clearly not “I’m about to meet the love of my life” material. And the worst of all Hello Kitty sandals. Pink. Fuzzy. And squeaky.

Taehyung wanted to dig a tunnel beneath aisle five and vanish forever.

The alpha offered the can to him again, but Taehyung shook his head. Even though he looked like a disaster in his cozy hoodie, pajama bottoms, and Hello Kitty sandals, he figured kindness might leave a better impression than his fashion ever could.

“You can take it, haha. I’ll just grab another one,” Taehyung said, forcing a cheerful shrug as he glanced back at the shelf.

He vividly heard a crow go caw, caw, caw somewhere in the back of him. The shelf was now heartbreakingly bare.

The alpha looked at him again, then quietly extended the can once more.

Taehyung gave a quick wave of refusal. He didn’t want to seem greedy. He didn’t want to lose his cool. And maybe, somewhere deep down, he thought that acting selfless might make him memorable.

The alpha gave a slight bow, a gesture of thanks, and turned to walk away with the can.

“Hey! Wait!” Taehyung blurted, jogging a few steps forward. He slipped in front of the alpha, not blocking his path entirely, just enough to pause the moment.

“I think… you don’t remember me,” he said, breath catching a little. Then, he smiled wide and boxy and hopeful. “We’ve met twice before. This is the third time. Don’t you think… maybe it’s fate?”

He laughed nervously, scratching at the back of his neck. “Thanks, by the way. First for the notes. Then for saving me from eating the floor on the bus. I didn’t get to say it properly.”

The alpha just looked at him. Silent. Unreadable. Eyes deep but guarded.

“We could be friends,” Taehyung said, voice soft, barely more than a whisper. It spilled out like a secret, trembled like a leaf. “I’m Kim Taehyung. And, well... I like you. But don’t worry, it’s a harmless crush. Not obsession or anything.”

He gave a nervous laugh, the kind that doesn’t quite reach the eyes. Obsession? Maybe. He’d spent nights chasing fragments of the alpha’s face in dreams, replaying moments like old film reels. But it was harmless. It had to be. Right?

The alpha’s gaze stayed locked on him still and unreadable. His eyes were dark pools where Taehyung’s words sank without a trace. No smile. No nod. No reaction. Just silence deep and blank, like snow that doesn’t melt no matter how long you stand in the sun.

“Just... friends,” Taehyung repeated, a little more fragile now. He held out his hand, a gesture caught halfway between hope and surrender.

But the alpha didn’t take it.

He took a step back instead. No words. No hesitation. Just distance.

And then he turned quietly and  decisively walking away.

Taehyung stood frozen. His lips trembled, a silent crack in his composure. Was this it? His first rejection?

A bitter laugh swirled in his chest. After years of brushing off confessions from countless alphas, maybe karma had finally circled back__ swift and merciless.

Not even for love.
Just for the smallest hope.

Taehyung turned around, ready to shuffle away with a bruised heart, only to be met with the sharp glare of none other than Kim Tae Hee, armed with two heavy bags of vegetables and an expression that promised consequences.

“Kim Taehyung. Why are you empty handed?” she asked, voice low but lethal.

“I… Eomma…” Taehyung’s voice faltered as his eyes flicked toward the cashier, where the alpha was calmly paying for the oil. Something in his chest twisted painfully. His eyes shimmered, traitorous tears threatening to fall.

“Oh my baby,” his mother’s voice softened instantly. “No need to cry, it happens. It’s just your first time not getting something on discount, right? That’s why you’re emotional, hmm?”

She reached out to pat his cheek, mistaking his heartbreak for competitive frustration, the kind she’d trained him in since birth.

She didn’t know. She didn’t see.

It wasn’t about the discounted oil.

It was about the one thing Taehyung truly wanted, the one thing he couldn't get, no matter how early he showed up, how fast he reached out, or how brightly he smiled.

His heart.

Unclaimed.

Still on the shelf.

✧･ﾟ:* ─ *:･ﾟ✧

Graduation Day.

A strange kind of day, a milestone wrapped in borrowed gowns, staged smiles, and the feeling of goodbye. It is the day when the umbrella of academic life officially folded up, leaving you exposed and slightly unprepared for the downpour of practical life.

But Taehyung wasn’t feeling any of that.

His thoughts were consumed by one thing, or rather, one person,  the silent alpha who had returned his heart with quiet rejection.

Jimin sat in the passenger seat, arms crossed and eyes rolling so hard it was a miracle they hadn’t gotten stuck.

He was furious. Not at Taehyung, but at that alpha.

The audacity.

Who rejects Kim Taehyung?

And in silence? Who turns their back on the human equivalent of a golden retriever?

For days, Jimin had been subject to a tragic opera performed by Taehyung himself: tear stained monologues about fate, love, and cosmic betrayal. Taehyung’s drama had eaten through an entire tissue box, half of Jimin’s patience, and, most criminally, his Spotify wrapped because Taehyung insisted on playing heartbreak jazz every time they were in the car.

"Taehyung, I swear, if you walk into that university and accept your gold medal with that soul rotten face, I will kick your ass," Jimin snapped, barely able to contain his frustration. "You worked your ass off for four years, Tae. You earned this. Your parents are proud, your professors adore you, and I…I … am on the verge of disowning you if you ruin this day over one silent alpha with a jawline."

Taehyung didn’t reply. Just another sigh, long and heavy, like all the air in his lungs was tired of loving someone who didn’t even know his name.

Jimin shook his head. “Unbelievable,” he muttered, staring out the window. "If heartbreak were a skill, you’d graduate with two medals."

But before Taehyung could shoot back a sarcastic comment, the engine stuttered, a quiet cough, then silence. The car slowed and coasted gently to a stop at the side of the road.

Jimin frowned, glancing at the driver. “What’s going on?”

The driver checked the dashboard and turned to face them. “Something’s wrong with the engine. But no worries, young master, there’s a Saebyuk Motors service center just up ahead. I’ll walk there and bring help.”

Jimin nodded. “Thanks. We’ve got time.”

The driver stepped out, walking briskly down the road, leaving Taehyung and Jimin sitting in the sudden stillness.

Taehyung leaned his head against the window, staring out at nothing. Jimin sighed again, softer this time.

“You know,” he muttered, “you are allowed to feel. Just don’t let it swallow everything else that matters.”

Taehyung closed his eyes. He knew Jimin was right.

He just didn’t know how to feel something else when his heart still ached in the shape of a stranger.

Ten minutes later, driver returned with two men in tow.

Both wore grease streaked grey coveralls, their boots leaving faint smudges on the asphalt.

The passenger door opened.

Taehyung looked up and froze.

Even with just a glimpse, he knew.

That profile. The slope of his neck. The sharp cut of his jaw.

Alpha.

The one who had said nothing. The one Taehyung hadn’t stopped thinking about since.

His hair was damp with sweat, slightly curled from the heat, strands clinging to his forehead. Black grease streaked down his forearms, and the coveralls zipped halfway didn’t hide the lean strength underneath. He looked better than Taehyung remembered.

And worse, because he didn’t look at him. Not even once.

His focus was entirely on the car.

Alpha crouched beside the hood. No wasted movements. He didn’t ask questions just flicked the hood open, wiped one hand on his thigh.

His fingers moved confidently practiced, sure, calloused from repetition.

A lock of hair fell into his eyes. He didn’t bother brushing it back.

“Cam sensor glitch. Loose wire. ECU killed ignition. Battery spiked. Fixable,” he said, voice low and even like sun warmed gravel.

Taehyung bit his lip.

Even just hearing that voice stirred something deep in his chest, a dull ache, a sharp pull.

Alpha gently closed the hood and turned to the driver. “I’ll bring it in. Sensor, wiring, thirty minutes, maybe less.”

“Bitch, you’re unbelievable,” Jimin hissed from the side, leaning close to Taehyung. “What about that crush you cried over?”

Taehyung’s voice came barely above a whisper. “Jimin ah… it’s him.”

Jimin’s head snapped toward the mechanic, then back to him, eyes wide.

“You’re kidding. Is he stalking you or something?”

Taehyung scoffed under his breath. “He didn’t even look at me. Honestly, I look more like the stalker here.”

There was a knock on the window, the driver again.

“We’ll need to take the car in,” he said, politely. “They’ll handle it quick, replace the sensor, patch the wire. Should I call a taxi in the meantime?”

Jimin glanced at Taehyung, whose eyes were still stuck on Alpha, like gravity had shifted and that man was its new center.

Taehyung shook his head, almost imperceptibly.

“No,” Jimin said firmly. “We’ll wait. We’re leaving with this car.”

✧･ﾟ:* ─ *:･ﾟ✧

The car rolled slowly into the service bay, guided by the technician’s calm, precise gestures. No one else hovered nearby. They all knew, this one preferred to work alone.

Taehyung and Jimin waited in the after sales office, seated on opposite sides of a sleek desk while the manager spoke enthusiastically. His words were for Jimin, not Taehyung, something about his father eyeing a new model, a custom trim, high demand.

But Taehyung wasn’t listening.

He stood by the wide glass window maybe it was designed that way, to let customers see the work being done.

Maybe it was cruel fate. Because Taehyung’s eyes went wide.

His alpha, the crush who had haunted his dreams and his search history had just untied the sleeves of his coveralls from his waist, pulling the top half down. The upper body revealed wasn’t fair. It wasn’t safe.

He tossed the grey fabric onto a stool, revealing a fitted black shirt damp with sweat, stretched taut across defined shoulders and a lean, cut waist. The fabric clung. The heat clung. Taehyung’s breath caught, and he licked his bottom lip without thinking.

The alpha didn’t glance toward the glass. Not even once.

Inside the office, Jimin nodded absently to the manager, but his attention kept drifting. To Taehyung. To the way his best friend stood frozen, transfixed, as if seeing a ghost he’d loved in another life. And yeah the alpha was hot. Objectively, dangerously hot.

But Jimin's jaw still tensed.

He didn’t care how built or broody someone was, no one deserved to make Kim Taehyung feel that small.

Taehyung watched the alpha slide under the open hood like he’d done it a thousand times. Effortless. Fluid. A kind of grace soaked in grease and heat.

“Jimin, I’m going to check on the work,” Taehyung said suddenly.

Jimin didn’t even look up. Just sighed and gave a reluctant nod.

Outside Taehyung stood at the edge of the workshop, not too close but close enough to see him. Really see him.

Tools clicked with rhythmic certainty. A wiring harness came free with a twist of his fingers. Sparks flew briefly, kissing the alpha’s knuckle. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t pause.

The back of his black shirt clung to him, tracing the dip of his spine. Sweat glistened at the edge of his neck. Oil smudged the curve of his jaw. His hair was damp, messy sticking to his temple, curled at the edges. Still, he didn’t stop. Not once.

Taehyung didn’t breathe.

He watched him unscrew the faulty sensor. Swap it out. Reseat the wiring, as if he were rewiring a heartbeat instead of a car.

The alpha stood fully, wiping his palms on a rag. He didn’t flinch when his eyes met Taehyung’s.

Did he know he was being watched the whole time?

He didn’t say anything. Just looked or didn’t. His gaze slid past Taehyung like it had no meaning at all. Like Taehyung was the ghost.

 

From the office window, Jimin saw it all.

Jimin glanced toward the driver, then walked up to him with that decisive look that meant he’d already made up his mind.

“You’re off now,” he said. “Take the day. When my appa calls, just say you weren’t feeling well.”

The driver blinked, confused. “But young master—”

“I’ll handle Appa. Just go.” Jimin’s voice left no room for protest.

Then he turned to the manager, expression smooth.

“I was thinking,” he began, “why don’t we have the technician drive us to the university? I’m a little worried about the car. If there’s something still off, he’ll notice it on the way. Subtly.”

The manager hesitated just for a second but the name Park carried weight here. The Park family was one of their largest corporate clients. Their company had a long standing deal: every employee drove a Saebyuk Motors vehicle from this very dealership. Their business kept the lights on.

So the manager nodded quickly, almost grateful for the easy chance to please.

Jimin smiled, polite and perfect.

At least this much he could do for his best friend.

Maybe having the alpha nearby even in silence would keep Taehyung from falling too deep into that heartbreak on what should’ve been the happiest day of his life.

The alpha cracked his shoulders with a soft pop, rolled his neck slowly.

Then, finally, he turned the key.

The engine didn’t just start it purred, low and smooth, as if the car itself sighed in relief now that he’d touched it.

He stood there, sweat damp and oil smudged, breathing steady.

Then his eyes found omega’s.

Just a second.

Just recognition.

And then, as if the moment had never happened, Jeongguk turned back to clean his tools.

The manager stepped outside with Jimin.

“Jeon Jeongguk,” the manager called.

Taehyung’s heart fluttered at the sound of the name, it rolled smoothly, a secret melody in his chest.

Jeongguk looked toward the manager in silence.

“Change your uniform. You’ll drive the car today, see if there’s anything else wrong,” the manager ordered.

Jeongguk opened his mouth, then closed it without a word, heading off probably to get changed.

Taehyung glanced at Jimin, who sent him a reassuring wink.

“The bill?” Jimin asked the manager, breaking the moment.

✧･ﾟ:* ─ *:･ﾟ✧

The car hummed softly as Jeon Jeongguk drove in silence, his eyes fixed on the road. Taehyung’s gaze never left him, studying every small movement, every subtle line of concentration.

Jimin sat beside him, awkwardly aware of the thick silence between them. He didn’t know how to break it, maybe bringing the alpha along hadn’t been the brightest idea after all.

Taehyung caught Jimin’s eye and smiled quietly. “Best graduation day gift,” he said softly.

Jimin scoffed but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at his lips. Yeah, his best friend was definitely drowning in this crush.

The car finally slowed and pulled into the university parking lot, the GPS confirming their stop.

Taehyung’s gaze drifted out the window. “Eomma, appa are waiting,” he sighed, spotting his parents by the entrance. He quickly opened the door and stepped out.

Jimin turned to Jeongguk with a sharp look. “You’ll wait here and drive us back,” he ordered.

Jeongguk frowned, glancing at the omega. “That’s not my job,” he said firmly.

Jimin chuckled dryly, pulling out his phone and dialing the after sales manager.

“Hello, I was just saying I don’t have a driver now, so maybe Jeongguk ssi could help us out. I’m happy to pay extra, but he’s refusing. Maybe he’s worried about work at the shop?” Jimin’s voice was sweet but pointed.

Jeongguk’s knuckles tightened on the steering wheel.

“Oh no, Mr. Park, no payment needed. We have a good relationship, after all. Jeongguk can do it please tell him I approved. And I’m asking him personally,” the manager’s voice came through the speaker, audible even to Jeongguk, who clenched his jaw but remained silent.

Jimin smirked as he ended the call. “Wait here. Graduation ceremonies run long,” he said with a dangerous smile, then strode out of car.

Jimin smiled as he hugged Taehyung’s parents warmly.

“Seriously, Eomma, Appa, you didn’t have to wait outside like this,” Taehyung was mumbling.

“Shut up. Don’t start lecturing your parents,” Kim Taehee snapped, half-smiling.

Jimin laughed softly. “Come on, my mom and dad are already inside. We’re a bit late because of the car trouble.”

Taehyung’s parents nodded and started walking toward the ceremony hall.

Taehyung glanced back at the car parked nearby.

“His manager asked him to stay longer,” Jimin said with a shrug.

Taehyung’s eyes lingered on the car a moment more, then he let out a sigh.

“Come on, let’s go. The ceremony’s about to start.” Jimin gently grabbed Taehyung’s arm, pulling him forward.

The graduation ceremony went smoothly. Taehyung wasn’t the same as before, he was happy and he carried a quiet confidence now. When his name was announced as the gold medalist, a proud smile spread across his face. His parents beamed with pride, sharing the moment with him.

He walked across the stage to receive his degree from the dean, gave a brief speech, then tossed his cap into the air with the rest of the graduates. Cheers filled the air as photos were taken, with his parents, teachers, and friends capturing the joy of the day.

After the joyous ceremony, Jimin told his parents they’d be heading back separately in his car with Taehyung.

As they walked toward the parking lot, Taehyung suddenly spotted the alpha standing by the car’s bonnet, waiting.

Without thinking, Taehyung ran up to him, beaming, and proudly held up his gold medal.

“I got it!” he exclaimed cheerfully. He didn’t know why, but he just had to share this happiness with the alpha.

For a moment, the alpha looked surprised. Then his gaze shifted from the shining medal back to Taehyung. He simply nodded.

Unbeknownst to both, Jimin had quietly snapped a photo of the moment. Taehyung in his graduation robe, medal shining, showing off to the silent alpha.

 

✧･ﾟ:* to be continue *:･ﾟ✧

Chapter 9: 9

That gaze held no softness. It was quietly bracing, like someone standing in a storm and pretending not to shiver.

‧₊˚✩彡⋆☾ ﾟ

Past

Evening draped softly over the horizon as Jeongguk unlocked the front door of his house.

The place echoed with emptiness, bare walls, a hollow floor, no furniture except a couch pushed into a corner. He had bought it just a month ago, on mortgage. A long one. The kind that would stretch on for years, maybe decades.

But he didn’t care.

Owning something, anything, that he could call his own, even if just on paper, felt like a quiet kind of victory.

He stepped inside, dropped his keys with a soft clink, and exhaled. The silence felt familiar and safe.

His fingers brushed against the light switch. The bulb flickered to life, casting pale light over empty walls.

The silence welcomed him like it always had, for years now. A still, familiar quiet that clung to his bones.

Jeongguk was used to it. He was a loner, and maybe he always would be.

After losing his parents in the accident, it had just been him and his younger brother who was a student living in a dorm in another city. They spoke occasionally, but the emptiness at home remained constant. Unchanged.

And yet, no matter how hard he tried not to, his thoughts wandered.

To him.

That bright, persistent, clumsy, loud hearted omega.

Jeongguk remembered the first time they'd met: how the omega had clumsily stumbled into him like a gust of spring wind. Their second encounter on the bus, that strange, quiet moment of recognition. The third, that supermarket confession, awkward and sudden. And today… the way the omega had run to him with that gold medal around his neck, grinning like the sun.

He kept playing those meetings over and over in his head. Coincidental, maybe. But the way they looped back into his life made him wonder.

Jeongguk made instant ramen, the hunger from the long day gnawing at his stomach.

The house echoed with emptiness, a single couch in the living room, two mismatched chairs in the kitchen, and the barest of essentials scattered across the counters.

In his bedroom, just one thin mattress lay on the floor. No furniture. No warmth. Just walls and silence.

Maybe when Hyuniee comes, he thought. He’d at least put up a curtain. Or a rug. Something.

He perched on a kitchen stool, slurping noodles with his chopsticks, letting the steam warm his face while his thoughts wandered inevitably, back to him.

Jeongguk clenched his jaw, trying to push the thought away. Spoiled rich kid, he told himself. Why else would he be riding in a luxury car with that attitude?

Rich kids always had their little adventures, picking odd places, odd people, just to feel something. Maybe that omega had picked him for his thrill.

Jeongguk stabbed his chopsticks into the ramen. He didn’t want to think about it. About him.

He just hoped he never ran into that boy again, that bright, eyed university graduate with the unfair smile.

Probably around hyuniee’s age, he thought suddenly, and then shook his head in frustration. What the hell does that even matter?

✧･ﾟ:* ─ *:･ﾟ✧

Jeon Jeongguk had not expected this. Not even in his worst case, half delusional daydreams.

He paused mid step, wrench in hand, when the omega entered the workshop  bright smile, bowing politely to every worker like he belonged there.

“Everyone, meet Kim Taehyung,” the head manager announced, his tone chipper. “He’s joining us as an accounting assistant. Make him feel welcome.”

Jeongguk’s grip on the wrench tightened.

Taehyung’s eyes found his in a heartbeat full of delight, not shame, not hesitation. He waved, that same overly enthusiastic flare of the hand, like they were friends. Like they had always been.

Of course, Jeongguk thought bitterly, jaw ticking.

Just a week ago, he’d let himself believe that maybe finally that would be the last time. Their fourth meeting had felt like closure, like the universe folding their strange little chapter shut.

But no.

Now Taehyung was standing in his workplace. His territory. His world.

And Jeongguk wasn’t stupid. He knew this wasn’t some grand coincidence. He’d seen that look on rich kids before, the hunger, the shine of curiosity when they found something they wanted to play with.

Maybe I really did catch his eye, he thought, the thought curdling in his gut.

Maybe I’m just another toy.

He rolled his eyes hard, turned his back, and walked away before that smile could dig any deeper.

If Taehyung really was here for fun, for some reckless rich kid thrill then Jeongguk wished him luck.

Because this place? It wasn’t made for someone like him.

The workshop was brutal, loud, and unfiltered. Crude jokes flew with oil slicked tools, and tempers snapped faster than bolts under pressure. Only one omega had survived long term here and even people joked that Jay barely counted as an omega. With that sharp tongue and steel spine, he gave as good as he got.

But Taehyung?

That soft, bright eyed, smiling boy?

He’d resign in a week. Maybe less.

Jeongguk didn’t even look back as he retreated into the service bay, chest tightening with something between irritation and something he refused to name.

Meanwhile, behind him, Taehyung’s smile faltered just slightly.

He’d seen Jeongguk turn away. Again.

And this time, it hurt more than it should have.

“So, Taehyung you’ll be starting today,” the general manager said, glancing over as they walked. Taehyung nodded politely.

“Good. Let me give you a quick overview.” The man gestured down the hallway as they moved. “This dealership is one of Saebyuk Motors’ top branches. We operate with three main departments: Sales, After Sales, and Parts.”

“Sales handles all direct vehicle transactions. That’s my area. There’s no standalone finance division instead, you’ll be working under General Management, supporting the accountant.”

Taehyung listened carefully, nodding along.

“The After Sales department is the busiest. They deal with repairs, maintenance, and customer service after purchase. Then we have the Parts and Components section they sell genuine company parts separately.”

The manager stopped outside a modest office space with a desk, a small filing cabinet, and a computer already logged in.

“Here’s your setup. You’ll be assigned to Mr. Jiwoon,” the manager said, gesturing to a man inside who looked up from his screen.

Taehyung quickly bowed in greeting.

Mr. Jiwoon gave a nod back.

“Now he’s your responsibility, Jiwoon,” the general manager said with a pat to Taehyung’s shoulder before walking away.

Taehyung looked around the office if you could even call it that. The space was barely big enough for one person, let alone two. Jiwoon called someone to bring in an extra chair. They would have to share the same desk.

Taehyung sighed.

Still, he found himself liking Jiwoon immediately. The man, probably in his early forties, had a kind smile and the patience of someone who genuinely enjoyed teaching.

Taehyung listened closely as Jiwoon walked him through the basics. It wasn’t difficult honestly, it was far easier than half the complex finance simulations he’d handled in university. He didn't want to sound cocky, but this was child's play compared to some of his coursework.

A few hours passed. Jiwoon left for a departmental meeting, leaving Taehyung alone in the cramped little space.

He finally checked his phone.

Twenty missed calls from Jimin.

Taehyung sighed again, deeper this time.

He’d silenced it for a reason  but he knew, the moment he called back, a storm was waiting on the other end.

“Yah, Kim Taehyung! Have you gone nuts?!” Jimin’s voice exploded the moment the call connected.

Taehyung pulled the phone away from his ear, grimacing. “What happened? Jiminie.”

“You started working at Saebyuk Motors?!”

“Yes,” Taehyung replied flatly. “You should be congratulating me.”

“Congratulate you?” Jimin choked. “Taehyung, you graduated from SNU. With a gold medal. You have a perfect CV and a dozen job offers! And you pick that place?!”

“What’s wrong with Saebyuk Motors?” Taehyung shot back. “It’s one of the top automobile companies in the country.”

“The problem isn’t the company,” Jimin growled. “If it was the head office, fine  that would’ve been amazing! But this? This is just a dealership. You could’ve easily gotten into a top tier firm. You had offers lining up at the last job fair. You said you were waiting for your degree to finalize, was that a lie? Are you playing with your future?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Taehyung said, leaning back in the creaky chair. “The certificate will still have Saebyuk’s name. That’s enough for now.”

“Don’t try to fool me.” Jimin’s voice dropped into dangerous territory. “What’s the salary?”

Taehyung mumbled the number under his breath.

There was a beat of silence.

“Are you joking?! Your monthly pocket money is more than that. Hell, your first internship in second semester paid more!”

“Jimin, please. It’s my decision,” Taehyung said quietly. “I want you to respect it.”

Jimin exhaled, frustrated. “You did it for that Jeongguk guy, didn’t you?”

Taehyung gave a small, helpless smile. “Yes. Otherwise, why would I work here? Even that final assignment Professor Wook gave us had more pressure than this.”

Jimin didn’t laugh. “Taehyung, you know what worries me? You get fascinated by things too easily. You throw yourself in headfirst, obsessed, consumed and then when it burns out, you don’t even look back.”

He paused. “What if this is just like all those times? What if this guy is just another phase?”

Taehyung’s expression shifted, more serious now. “Not everything I care about fades, Jimin. Remember how I loved BTS in high school?”

Jimin blinked, thrown off.

“I still do,” Taehyung said. “That wasn’t a phase. It became a part of me. So why are you so sure that this” he gestured vaguely, “this thing I feel for Jeongguk… why are you so sure it’s not something real? Maybe it’s more than a crush. Maybe it’s love.”

Jimin’s voice softened, but the worry didn’t leave. “Love…” he murmured. “Tae ah, love isn’t lightning. It’s not instant. That stuff the fast, crashing kind that’s not love. That’s illusion.”

“Love takes time. It grows.”
He said to his best friend gently. “And I just don’t want you to break your own heart chasing something that doesn’t grow with you.”

“I know,” Taehyung said quietly. “I’m starting to understand the situation more clearly now.”

He paused, eyes dropping for a second before continuing, “I think… it’s probably just a crush, Jimin. Like, I don’t love him yet. But I could. That’s what scares me a little.”

He exhaled. “It feels like this small bud, you know? Not bloomed yet, but full of potential. And I really like him, Jimin. I think about him a lot maybe too much  but it’s not the same kind of love you have for Yoongi hyung, or like how my mom loves my dad. Not yet.” He smiled faintly, eyes distant. “But I know I could. If I let myself, I could fall for him.”

As he spoke, his gaze wandered through the glass window. And there he was  Jeongguk walking down the corridor with another mechanic. Grease smeared his forearms, tools clinking softly in his hand. Sweat damp hair clung to his temple. And still, to Taehyung, nothing looked hotter.

Jimin’s voice brought him back.

“Just be careful, Taehyung,” Jimin said seriously. “Don’t get too attached to anyone there. I’ve heard things some of the managers are misogynistic jerks. They might’ve hired you because of that new omega inclusion policy, but that doesn’t mean they respect you. And the CEO…” his tone lowered, darkening, “he’s a womanizer. He doesn’t stop at women, either. Male omegas aren’t safe from his attention.”

“I’m serious. Protect yourself. Please.”

Taehyung softened, touched. “I will. I promise. Thank you for worrying, Jimin-ah.”

He glanced again at the hallway, a sudden urgency in his chest.

“I’ve got to go now,” he said quickly, ending the call before Jimin could argue. Sliding his phone into his pocket, Taehyung slipped out of the tiny office, heart thumping, steps light as he hurried after the man he couldn't stop thinking about.

Taehyung jogged after the two mechanics, following them through the corridor that led to the service workshop.

His steps slowed once he reached the bay, eyes immediately landing on Jeongguk, who had already popped open a car's bonnet. Wires were tangled in his hands, his jaw set in quiet focus.

“Hey,” Taehyung called out, a bright smile on his face.

Jeongguk looked up briefly, just a glance before turning back to the wires. No reply. He started reconnecting the harness like Taehyung hadn’t spoken at all.

Unfazed, Taehyung kept going. “I was getting bored at the desk. Not much work yet,” he said casually, stepping closer. “Thought I’d hang out here for a bit.”

Still no answer.

Taehyung pursed his lips but before he could say more, the other mechanic grinned at him and stepped forward. He wiped his hands on a rag and held one out.

“Hey! So you’re the new omega, huh?” the man said warmly. “I’m Hoseok. Came in late today so I missed your intro, but trust me I’ve already heard plenty about you.”

Taehyung chuckled, his expression lighting up as he shook Hoseok’s hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Taehyung.”

“Who was talking about me?” Taehyung asked with a curious smile tugging at his lips. Some part of him hoped Jeongguk had mentioned him.

Hoseok scratched the back of his head. “Oh, I heard from Jay.”

Taehyung’s smile faltered for a second. So it wasn’t Jeongguk.

Hoseok didn’t seem to notice as he leaned casually against the car’s fender. “How’s your first day going?”

“It’s fine,” Taehyung replied. “Mr. Jiwoon’s work is manageable. He explains things well.”

“Yeah, Jiwoon’s a decent guy. Doesn’t stress much,” Hoseok said with a chuckle. “He comes in, works a little, and after that, it’s all phone calls and coffee. Now that you’re here, maybe that work hour will get cut to thirty minutes.”

Taehyung laughed softly but then asked, “Why’d they even hire me then?”

“Company policy,” Hoseok shrugged. “Saebyuk wants every dealership to show diversity on paper. A couple of omegas, a few interns, a balance across the departments, makes for good PR.”

“But there’s so little work. What’s the point?” Taehyung asked, genuinely confused.

At that, Jeongguk’s hand froze where it was fixing a connector inside the engine. He looked over at Hoseok, eyes sharp with warning.

Hoseok gave a sheepish smile and rubbed his neck. “Ah… It’s your first day, huh? Just… take it easy. Curiosity kills the cat, you know?”

Jeongguk didn’t say a word. He cleaned his hands with a rag, shut the hood with a firm clunk, and slung the dirty cloth over his shoulder. Without glancing at Taehyung, he walked past them and out of the service bay.

Taehyung’s eyes followed him, lips parted like he wanted to call out but didn’t.

“You seem like a good kid. Educated. Sharp,” Hoseok said quietly. “If you’re smart, don’t stay here too long. You can do better than this place.”

Taehyung blinked, a bit taken aback. He forced a polite smile and nodded.

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Hoseok nodded once, as if satisfied with saying his piece. Then his tone lightened.

“You should probably head back inside. It’s better not to hang around the service floor too long especially on your first day. Cafeteria serves lunch at twelve. I’ll catch you then?”

“Yeah. Sounds good,” Taehyung said, though the tight pull in his chest remained. It was clear Hoseok was gently nudging him away, whether out of concern or warning, he couldn’t tell.

Before turning to leave, Taehyung’s gaze swept across the workshop.

The engine grease and testosterone, all metal, heat, and the low hum of drills and machines. Painters worked near the back, their faces half covered by masks. A few alphas looked up when he passed, not all of them friendly.

And somewhere in the middle of it, Jeongguk was still working, sleeves rolled up, grease smudged across his forearm like war paint. He didn’t look up. Didn’t say a word.

Taehyung swallowed, straightened his back, and walked toward the offices corridor.

 

✧･ﾟ:* ─ *:･ﾟ✧

 

Lunch hour arrived slower than Taehyung would’ve liked somewhere between level 64 and 88 of Candy Crush. He’d already memorized the sound of the wall clock ticking.

When Jay finally walked into the shared office, Taehyung welcomed the distraction. The older omega had a loud, unfiltered charm about him and before Taehyung could even offer a polite hello, Jay had launched into a monologue about his weekend drama, his nail polish brand, and a very vivid rant about the office air conditioning.

It was Jay who guided him toward the cafeteria, linking arms like they were old friends.

But what Taehyung didn’t expect and definitely didn’t prepare for was Jay leading them straight to the table where Hoseok and Jeongguk were already seated.

Jeongguk didn’t look up. Hoseok gave a warm smile. Jay, however, sat down with flair, kicking one leg over the other.

“This omega,” Jay said, nodding toward Taehyung, “is so elegant and graceful, I don’t understand how he ended up in a lion’s den like this.”

Taehyung froze midnsit, eyes going wide. Jay had said it loud enough for everyone to hear, even Jeongguk, who simply glanced up once, then returned to chewing his food like the comment hadn’t happened.

Jay didn’t stop. “Honestly, he reminds me of Jeongguk. All sharp cheekbones and mysterious eyes, elegant, smart, collected...”

“But unlike Jeongguk, he talks,” Hoseok added with a chuckle.

“I was going to say ‘educated,’ but you’re not wrong,” Jay said with a sly grin.

Taehyung turned his eyes to Jeongguk again, who still gave no reaction as if the entire conversation was happening in a parallel dimension. He sat there quietly, eating, muscles flexing with every movement, jaw tight and unreadable.

Taehyung wondered if he was always like this, unreadable. Or if it was only when Taehyung was around.

Taehyung hesitated, then glanced toward Jeongguk. “What’s your qualification?” he asked softly, curiosity getting the better of him.

Jeongguk’s chopsticks paused mid air. For a second, the only sound was the clatter of trays in the distance.

“High school” he replied flatly, then resumed eating without meeting Taehyung’s eyes.

Taehyung pressed his lips together, nodding.

“Eat, Taehyung,” Hoseok chimed in, breaking the moment. “The cafeteria staff are savages. Blink, and your plate’s gone.”

He grinned, nudging his own tray forward.

Taehyung gave a small laugh and picked up his chopsticks.

“So, Taehyung,” Jay said suddenly, his voice syrupy and curious, “are you single?”

Taehyung almost choked on his rice. “What?”

“I mean, come on  look at you,” Jay went on, waving his hand dramatically. “All that youth and cheekbone. There’s no way you didn’t have someone fawning over you at university.”

Across the table, Jeongguk’s chopsticks stopped again, just for a second, a twitch in the air. But he didn’t look up.

Taehyung smiled awkwardly. “I... didn’t really date. Was too busy trying not to come fall behind in managerial economics.”

Jay gasped. “Tragedy. Wasted romance potential.”

Hoseok laughed. “Let him digest first before you start planning his love life, Jay.”

“Are you single?” Taehyung asked with a playful smile, eyes flicking toward Jay.

Jay chuckled, leaning back slightly. “Nope. I’m mated and a parent, actually. You could say I’ve got two daughters.”

Taehyung blinked, a bit surprised. Jay’s youthful appearance and small frame didn’t immediately suggest parenthood.

“Yeah,” Hoseok chimed in, grinning. “One’s his biological daughter, and the other’s from his mate’s second marriage. Real modern family.”

Taehyung’s eyes widened as he turned back to Jay. “Your mate... married someone else too?”

Jay gave a casual shrug. “I’m infertile. So at the time, he married someone else to start a family. But life’s strange…I ended up getting pregnant anyway. Doctors called it a miracle; I call it fate.”

He paused, eyes distant for a second, then smiled warmly. “Now they’re both my girls. No difference. They drive me crazy, but they’re mine.”

Taehyung’s heart twisted  not just from the story, but from the calm way Jay said it all, like he’d already made peace with what would break others. And yet, some distant ember of rage burned in Taehyung’s chest on his behalf. He masked it with a sip of water.

“Well,” Hoseok jumped in, his voice light and teasing, “before anyone asks me, yes, I’m taken. Beautiful alpha woman, works in tech. She beats me at video games and arguments.”

Taehyung laughed, grateful for the shift in tone. “She sounds amazing.”

Hoseok beamed. “She is.”

Then Taehyung turned, slowly, to Jeongguk. “How about you, alpha?”

Jeongguk looked up at him. His gaze was distant, like he was processing more than just the question.

Before he could speak, Jay interjected with a grin, “Oh, our Jeonggukkie? He’s single. And a total loner. But any omega who ends up with him will be seriously lucky.”

Taehyung smiled brightly, the kind of smile that made people stop and look at open, genuine, disarming.

"Though I'm single," he said lightly, then let his voice soften, letting sincerity bleed through. "But... I'm drawn to someone. Deeply. And I guess I’m just trying to win his heart. I hope one day he realizes how important he is to me. How much I like him."

He didn't look at anyone else. His eyes were fixed on Jeongguk.

And Jeongguk… was already staring back.

But that gaze held no softness. It was quietly bracing, like someone standing in a storm and pretending not to shiver.

Then, without a word, Jeongguk set down his chopsticks. The soft clack on table was louder than it should’ve been.

And just like that, he stood up and walked away.

Taehyung’s smile trembled for half a second before he caught it and tucked it away. It wasn’t a clear rejection. But it wasn’t acceptance either. It was the kind of silence that poisons hope slowly without fanfare, without mercy.

He didn’t know it then, but he would come to taste that silence again and again… and learn just how long its bitterness could linger.

✧･ﾟ:* to be continue *:･ﾟ✧

Notes:

Do comment away your thoughts. Don't give me poison of silence like jeongguk is giving to taehyung 😭😭😭

Chapter 10: 10

Because love, real love, was never about rushing. It was about staying. And Taehyung was staying.

‧₊˚✩彡⋆☾ ﾟ

 

Past

 

 

Love, he believed, was like a lotus flower if it was meant to bloom, it would bloom even in the murkiest waters.

And that's exactly what was happening to Taehyung.

He knew himself well. If there was one thing he could claim with certainty, it was his ability for deep self analysis. And right now, he knew with quiet clarity: his feelings for Jeongguk weren't a fleeting fascination. They were slowly, steadily taking root. Strongly. Inevitably.

But he didn't know whether to be afraid... or to be happy.

There was a strange stillness in his chest not quite hope, not quite fear. Something contemplative. A hesitation that hummed under every heartbeat.

Taehyung was, by nature, a hopeless romantic.

His favorite movie genre? Romance.

His bookshelf, aside from the occasional finance textbook, was a shrine to love stories.

In university, seeing couples walk hand in hand would fill him with warmth. A little ache, too, like his soul had always been hungry for something he hadn't yet tasted.

And yet, for all that romanticism, he'd never fallen in love.
Not truly. Not even a serious crush.
He admired people from afar, appreciated beauty in passing but his heart never stirred.

Until Jeongguk.

It was Jeongguk who first caught his eye, quiet, brooding, closed off Jeongguk.

It was Jeongguk who became his first real crush.

It was Jeongguk he grew to like, truly and deeply.

And now... it was Jeongguk he was falling in love with.

And perhaps that was the scariest part of all not the falling, but the knowing. That love was no longer a fantasy on a movie screen or in the pages of a book. It had a face now. A name.

And that name was Jeon Jeongguk.

In the weeks Taehyung spent working at Saebyuk Motors, something within him began to shift slowly, quietly, like a flower budding in early spring.

His little crush had started to bloom.

It was Jeongguk's presence not his looks, though Taehyung couldn't deny the way his heart stuttered at the sight of those grease smudged forearms or the quiet strength in his hands. No, it was Jeongguk's personality that was changing everything.

At first, Jeongguk's silence felt like a wall cold, uninviting, meant to keep people out. But now... now that silence didn't feel so harsh.

It wasn't icy anymore. It was just there. The kind of silence that didn't demand attention, but somehow made its presence known. Like the stillness of a forest or the hush of early morning before the world wakes.

And Taehyung found himself drawn to it. To him.

With every glance exchanged, every near wordless encounter in the hallway or workshop, his feelings deepened. Not in a rush, not in a dramatic whirlwind but in a soft, unfolding way. Like petals uncurling under the sun.

He was falling. And falling.

Jeongguk always came in early, quiet, focused, starting his work before the others even poured their first cup of coffee. And he left right on time, never lingering, never wasting a second. Taehyung had noticed these things. He noticed a lot more than he ever admitted out loud.

Among all the workers in the after sales department, Jeongguk stood out not by speaking the loudest, not by showing off, but through quiet dedication. He worked hard, without seeking praise or acknowledgment. In fact, he seemed almost allergic to attention.

Jeongguk treated everyone with the same respect regardless of their subgender. When omega customers came in, he was courteous but never patronizing. When other alphas joked crudely, laughing about things Taehyung found offensive, Jeongguk stayed silent. He never laughed. Never joined in.

He simply... existed with dignity.

And that, somehow, made Taehyung's heart ache in the most unexpected way.

He knew it shouldn't be rare to see someone act with basic decency. He knew these were just the bare minimum, respect, equality, quiet professionalism, things that should be a given, not something to fall for. He knew he shouldn't lower his standards for kindness.

But something inside him whispered that Jeongguk wasn't just the bare minimum.

It was a quiet certainty in Taehyung's chest that Jeongguk, if given the space, the chance would not just meet any standard. He would exceed them all.

But love wasn't the only thing Taehyung was learning.

With every passing day at Saebyuk Motors, reality began to peel back its layers, sharp, bitter, and far from romantic. Yes, he knew he was being paid less than average. But he hadn't come here for the paycheck. That much was clear.

Taehyung had always been an observer, a quiet analyst of the world around him. His instincts were sharp, almost intuitive. He could read people, their energy, their psychology. He'd always been that way. Still, there was a difference between hearing about something and witnessing it with your own eyes.

Jimin had warned him. Hoseok too. Even Jay, with a teasing smile and a glint of truth in his words, had told him not to stick around too long.

But Taehyung hadn't understood not fully.

Now he did.

The dealership managers were steeped in quiet misogyny. Their comments, their jokes, their entire way of speaking about female customers or omegas were drenched in disdain. Casual slut shaming, lewd sarcasm, mocking the staff of other dealerships like it was second nature. It made Taehyung's stomach twist.

Taehyung often found himself quietly horrified, wondering what the wives or children of these men endured at home if this was how they spoke at work.

They didn't dare cross certain lines with him not yet. That if they grew comfortable, the more they would push.

And in those moments, he found himself quietly admiring Jay.

Jay, the only other omega in the building. Jay, who stood with his back straight and chin high, who gave back every bitter comment with twice the sting.

Jay didn't just survive in that space, he owned it. There was steel in his spine, fire in his voice. He slapped down filth with sarcasm sharp enough to wound, and Taehyung could only watch in quiet awe.

Jay was made of iron.

And maybe, just maybe, Taehyung needed to start finding his own steel too.
It wasn't just the misogyny or the outdated attitudes that wore Taehyung down.

It was the language. The filth. The crudeness.

The constant barrage of vulgar jokes, curses flung around like casual punctuation, and the disgusting way some of the men spoke about people especially omegas clung to Taehyung's skin like grease. He felt stained by it.

He hadn't grown up in an environment like this.

Even as a middle class child, his parents had raised him with grace, dignity, and deep rooted respect for others. They didn't have much, but they had honor and they had taught him to walk with it no matter where he went.

But here, it felt like that honor was being eroded one comment, one leer, one offhanded slur at a time.

Worse than the words, though, was the manipulation, the subtle, polished rot that ran deeper.

The CEO.

A womanizer, a liar, and something far more dangerous: powerful and careless. The man only showed up twice a week, stumbling in with alcohol on his breath and vape in his mouth, swaggering through the office like he owned the city, not just the building. His eyes made Taehyung feel sick.

And as someone with a sharp mind for finance, it didn't take long for Taehyung to see the truth.

There was corruption in the system. Not just minor things but major fraud. Paper trails didn't match. Numbers were being edited. Fake refunds. Inflated costs. Kickbacks. Deals made under the table. It was like lifting a rug and finding mold growing in every corner beneath.

And the CEO was right in the center of it.

Taehyung had approached Jiwoon once. Quietly. Carefully. Just a hint, just enough to see what would happen.

But Jiwoon had only offered a soft, tired smile.

"We're just salary workers, Taehyung," he had said, shaking his head. "This is between the upper management and the company. We keep our heads down."

That was it.

No outrage. No concern. Just resignation.

And Taehyung realized that this place was built to silence voices like his. To smother integrity under layers of hierarchy, fear, and survival.

Still, Taehyung stayed.

Not because of the job. Not because of the paycheck which was insultingly below average. Not even for the experience.

He stayed because Jeongguk was there.

If Jeongguk had someone in his life, a partner or a mate Taehyung would've forced himself to walk away, heart aching but his integrity intact. He could never bring himself to disrupt someone else's happiness, let alone the quiet life Jeongguk seemed to treasure.

But Jeongguk was alone.

And that simple truth, that fragile, hopeful truth was the anchor that kept Taehyung from collapsing.

He wanted to win his heart. He wanted Jeongguk to look at him the way he looked at the cars he repaired, with focus, with patience, with quiet care.

It was the only thing that gave him strength.

But even that strength had limits.

Jeongguk's silence was a heavy thing. A rejection that never spoke aloud, but echoed louder with each quiet moment. Taehyung would stand beside him at times, pretending to observe the mechanics, asking small questions just to be near. And Jeongguk never told him to go, but he never really looked at him either.

Taehyung didn't know how much longer he could bear that.

And it hadn't gone unnoticed.

The general manager called Taehyung into his office one afternoon, voice thick with condescension, tone laced in passive aggression.

"This isn't a dating place," the man sneered. "You've been lingering in the workshop area a bit too often. You were hired to work not to flirt."

But Taehyung, sharp as ever, didn't flinch. He tilted his head with a polite smile, masking steel beneath sugar.

"I'm just trying to understand our services better," he said smoothly. "After all, if I'm going to be useful to the dealership, I should know the technical side as well. Since I'm not being given any financial reports to review, I thought learning about the cars might be the best use of my time."

His tone was calm, perfectly reasonable, even helpful. And it worked.

The manager backed off, too eager to believe his own lies to question Taehyung's motive any further.

Taehyung knew the truth though. They weren't giving him real work because they didn't want him anywhere near the company's finances. They didn't want an intelligent omega with a sharp eye catching what he already had begun to see those layers of corruption.

But that fake permission, that shallow trust, was all Taehyung needed.

He had learned Jeongguk's daily rhythm by heart now when he arrived, which cars he preferred working on, the way his fingers moved with methodical grace over engines and cables. He could practically time his heartbeat to the sound of Jeongguk's wrench hitting metal.

And yet, every beat came with pain.

Because no matter how near he stood... Jeongguk never reached back.

Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

Sometimes, Taehyung would sneak in early just to slip his favorite protein bar into the pocket of Jeongguk's coveralls.

It was childish, maybe. Silly. But thrilling.

Everyone here walked around with such stiff spines and frozen expressions that even something as small as that something sweet and soft would probably feel like scandal to them.

But Taehyung didn't care. Not when it came to Jeongguk.

This morning was no different.

The changing room was dim and still. Jeongguk's coveralls hung neatly with the rest. Taehyung's fingers trembled a little as he slid the chocolate bar into the chest pocket, careful not to crinkle the wrapper too loudly.

Just as he was about to step back, the door creaked open.

His breath caught. His heart nearly leapt out of his chest.

Was it one of the alpha mechanics? Or worse, one of the managers?

But it wasn't.

It was Jeongguk.

He paused at the threshold, brows furrowing the moment he saw Taehyung standing there. His jaw tightened, and for a second, Taehyung was sure he'd turn around and demand an explanation.

But Jeongguk didn't say anything. He didn't even lock the door.

He just walked inside, quiet as always, and reached for his coveralls.

Taehyung bit his lower lip, cheeks burning. "I-I'll go," he said quickly, forcing a small smile. "You change. Sorry, I was just..."

Before he could finish, he turned to leave but then he heard it.

The faint rustle of fabric.

Jeongguk's hand slipped into the chest pocket... and pulled out the protein bar.

"Taehyung."

It was the first time Jeongguk had said his name.

His voice wasn't cold. It wasn't warm either. It was neutral but it stopped Taehyung like a shot.

He turned slowly, blinking.

Jeongguk stood there, bar in hand, his gaze unreadable.

Taehyung's throat felt tight. "It's just... a chocolate. You skip breakfast sometimes."

A beat passed. The silence stretched.
Jeongguk unzipped his bag slowly and pulled out the chocolates protein bars and sweets alike holding them out to Taehyung with a quiet mutter,

"Don't do this again."

Taehyung bit his lip, a familiar sting pressing behind his eyes. The pain of rejection bloomed, tears threatening to spill as he took all the treats that he was putting for days, nodding silently before turning away.

It was a rejection, yes. But one he understood, one that had to hurt if it was going to either break or build him.

✧･ﾟ:* ─ *:･ﾟ✧

Jeongguk clenched his jaw tightly. He had known all along it was this stubborn omega who slipped little chocolates into his coveralls. Now he'd caught him red handed.

It wasn't just the bars.

Sometimes sticky notes appeared on the bonnets of cars he was working on. Sometimes they were tucked under the seat of his bike. And always always something hidden in his coverall pockets.

Little quotes. Words of encouragement for his hard work. Naïve, soft confessions of a love Jeongguk neither asked for nor understood.

The omega was so stubborn, too stubborn for his own good. Spending long hours here in this toxic place, underpaid, surrounded by narrow minds and cruelty.

Even with Jeongguk's cold distance, Taehyung never backed down.

And that... that was what pierced Jeongguk's carefully guarded silence.

This omega had crashed into his quiet, ordered life and turned it upside down.

✧･ﾟ:* ─ *:･ﾟ✧

One week passed in a whirlwind of quiet routines and silent battles of the heart.

Taehyung, true to his promise or rather, Jeongguk's rejection stopped slipping protein bars into his coveralls. But that didn't mean he gave up.

Instead, he found a new mission.

Each day at lunch, Taehyung would casually pull out a small cupcakes from his bag, placing it on the table with a light shrug. "The menu seriously lacks dessert," he'd say playfully, eyes flicking briefly toward Jeongguk.

With Hoseok's teasing encouragement and Jay's playful nudges, Taehyung would practically float when Jeongguk after a moment of hesitation reached for one and ate it without a word.

It wasn't much. Jeongguk never commented, never complimented the treat, never even looked at Taehyung for longer than a second.

But he ate them.

And to Taehyung, that was enough to keep going.

Jeongguk was a stone wall, stoic, unreadable but Taehyung had always been patient. He didn't know how long it would take to make a home in Jeongguk's heart, didn't know if he'd ever be let in.

But he was ready to walk that long road.

Even if it meant offering sweetness to a man who never asked for it, in a place that didn't know how to hold gentle things.

Because love, real love, was never about rushing.

It was about staying.

And Taehyung was staying.

✧･ﾟ:* ─ *:･ﾟ✧

The weather had shifted swiftly that day, like a mood turning sour without warning. Dark clouds rolled across the sky, darkening the evening into an early night. A low rumble of thunder echoed faintly in the distance.

Jeongguk sighed quietly as he made his way up to the second floor of the building. There were still ten minutes left before the workday officially ended, but he'd decided to wrap up early. He carried a few tools in his arms, specialized equipment used only for rare, intricate repairs and slipped them into the storeroom, tucked at the end of the hall.

The place was almost always empty. Dust lingered in corners. These tools were expensive too valuable to leave out and Jeongguk handled them with his usual precision and care.

He was just about to turn and leave when something made him pause.

A sound.

Soft. Distant. Muffled.

It came from deeper inside, a smaller room nested within the large storeroom. Jeongguk's brow furrowed. No one ever came up here. Maybe it was the wind... or a bird trapped inside?

He moved slowly, instinctively quiet, as he approached the narrow door. His hand hovered near the handle, and for a moment he simply listened. Another faint rustle. A soft breath.

Not the wind.

Not a bird.

Jeongguk's jaw clenched slightly as he opened the door.

Taehyung turned around abruptly, breath hitching the moment his eyes met Jeongguk's. The alpha stood in the doorway.

"Mr. Jiwoon sent me," Taehyung said quickly, holding up the folder clutched in his hands like a shield. "He asked me to store these documents here."

Jeongguk arched a brow, stepping further into the cramped room.

"I couldn't reach the top shelf," Taehyung mumbled, voice softer now. He looked away, embarrassed, fingers nervously fidgeting around the edge of the file.

Without a word, Jeongguk took the folder from his hands and reached up effortlessly, placing it neatly on the upper shelf. Taehyung watched him, his height, his stretched shoulder, the quiet strength in his arms.

Then Jeongguk turned.

Their eyes met again.

And for a second, neither moved.

A loud bang startled them both as the wind slammed the door shut behind Jeongguk, cutting the last bit of light from the hallway and plunging them into dimness.

Taehyung rushed to the door instantly, rattling the knob in alarm."It's stuck," he muttered, panicking slightly. "I-I think it's jammed."

Jeongguk's jaw clenched. "Stop. It won't open from the inside."

Taehyung's hand froze on the knob.

Jeongguk pulled out his phone, pressing the screen. No signal. His expression darkened.

He fired off a quick message to Hoseok anyway and hoped the signal would bounce in eventually.

Behind him, Taehyung stood still, back against the door, heart thudding loud in the silence between them.

Taehyung puffed out his cheeks, exhaling slowly. He was never the anxious type, he'd always prided himself on his composure. But now, something churned in his chest.

His eyes darted to the door, then to Jeongguk.

What if someone found them like this?

Alone. In a locked room. No one here would pause to ask questions. The assumptions would be immediate. Cruel. And he knew deep in his gut that it wouldn't just ruin his image. It would hurt Jeongguk too.

Their coworkers never needed evidence to stain someone's name. Just an excuse.

Jeongguk let out a tired sigh, raising his phone in the air as if hoping a signal might slip through some invisible crack in the wall. Nothing.

Defeated, he finally lowered his arm and sank to the ground, settling with his back against the cool wall. The only furniture in the storage room was rows of metal shelves stuffed with files and spare parts.

Taehyung hesitated for a second, then quietly sat down across from him, folding his knees close.

They sat in silence.

Taehyung glanced at Jeongguk. The alpha's face was unreadable, eyes focused on the floor as if he was far away.

So close, yet so far.

"I used to wonder what love really was," Taehyung said quietly, the corners of his lips pulling into a faint, wistful smile. His fingers toyed with a loose thread on his sleeve as his voice floated in the stillness between them. "I saw it in movies, read about it in books... even watched it around me. But I never truly felt it. Not until now."

Jeongguk looked at him, face unreadable. His expression was calm but his eyes, dark and unwavering, said something else.

Taehyung's breath hitched, but he kept going. He didn't know if he'd get a moment like this again. No crowd. No judgment. Just them.

"But now that you're in my life... I think I'm starting to understand," he said, voice softer now. "Slowly. Gradually. Piece by piece."

He looked up, heart pounding. "I'm falling in love with you, Jeongguk."

The silence crackled between them like static.

"Would you give me a chance?" Taehyung asked, his voice trembling ever so slightly. "Even if not as a lover right away... maybe just as a boyfriend. Let me try. I'll make you fall in love, I swear I will."

He ended with a small, hopeful smile. But Jeongguk didn't return it.

Instead, the alpha stood up, his body rigid, jaw tight. He stared down at Taehyung with eyes that were hard and sharp.

"It's pathetic," Jeongguk said flatly.

Taehyung's breath caught. His smile crumbled.

Pathetic.

The word slammed into him like a slap. His cheeks flushed hot with embarrassment, and he could feel the sting of tears threatening to rise but he held them back. Not here. Not in front of him.

Jeongguk looked away, clenching his fists like he was trying to rein something in anger, maybe. Or regret. It was hard to tell.

And Taehyung just sat there, stunned, trying to gather the pieces of his courage that had just been scattered across the cold floor.

✧･ﾟ:* to be continue *:･ﾟ✧

Chapter 11: 11

Worse than the physical ache was the ache inside, he felt empty, lost, and for some reason, unbearably down. Why did letting go hurt this much?

‧₊˚✩彡⋆☾ ﾟ

Past

 

 

Taehyung felt the burn of searing humiliation in his chest. Just one word. That was all it had taken for Jeongguk to tear through him like a blade.

Pathetic.

He stared at the alpha, hurt and disbelief swirling in his eyes. How could he say that so casually, without a flicker of remorse, like Taehyung’s feelings were just something to swat away?

The sudden sound of the doorknob turning made him flinch.

The door creaked open, and Hoseok appeared, breathless and wide eyed. “Fuck what the hell are you both doing in here?” he muttered, his voice laced with panic. “Thank God I saw the message before I got on the bus.”

Relief flooded Taehyung. Of all people, it was Hoseok someone who wouldn’t jump to conclusions or spread filth behind his back.

“Taehyung,” Hoseok said quickly, “no one’s here anymore. Everyone’s gone for the day. But we can’t let the security guard see you coming out with Jeongguk. You know he’s manager’s eyes and ears.”

Taehyung nodded silently, throat tight. He couldn’t speak if he did, he wasn’t sure if it would come out as words or a sob.

“Jeongguk and I will distract the guard,” Hoseok continued, eyes scanning the hallway. “You slip out the back. Quiet and fast. Got it?”

Taehyung gave a small, grateful nod.

He just wanted to get out. Out of that building. Out of that air. Out of that moment and maybe, just maybe, never turn back.

Getting past the security guard unnoticed wasn’t easy, but Taehyung managed it with the help of Hoseok and Jeongguk's silent distraction. As soon as he was outside, he flagged a cab, climbed in, and gave the address in a voice that barely held together.

He didn’t want to cry. He tried to hold himself together, tried to blink the burning away. But the pain didn’t listen. The tears came anyway slow at first, then trailing down his cheeks silently as the city blurred past the window.

When the cab stopped in front of a familiar, upscale residence, he shoved some bills into the driver’s hand and ran out without waiting for change. He didn’t care. All he wanted was comfort. All he needed right now was Jimin.

And Jimin… Jimin didn’t need words.

The moment he opened the door and saw Taehyung’s face eyes red, breath hitched, pain carved into every line he pulled him in without asking anything.

“Taehyungie…” Jimin whispered, arms wrapping around him gently. “What happened?”

Taehyung collapsed into the embrace, his hands gripping Jimin's shirt like a lifeline. And then only then did he finally let it out. The sobs broke free. Raw, deep, aching sobs that shook his body and soaked into Jimin’s shoulder.

He had held on as long as he could. But now, in the safety of Jimin’s warmth, he didn’t have to be strong anymore.

Jimin quietly guided Taehyung into the bedroom. He didn’t press him with questions, didn’t rush to fix anything. He just let Taehyung curl up on his lap in a trembling ball, gently stroking his hair as the tears kept coming.

The sobs were raw and endless. Taehyung buried his face against Jimin’s thigh, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably.

“He… he called me pathetic,” Taehyung finally choked out between hiccups. “Maybe I really am. Maybe I’ve become pathetic.”

Jimin’s heart clenched, his jaw tightening with a flash of rage. No. He knew Taehyung. He knew his friend’s worth. And hearing him doubt it like this shattered something inside.

“It hurts, Jimin,” Taehyung whispered, voice breaking. “His silence already hurt so much. But now… now it’s unbearable.”

Jimin kept running his fingers through Taehyung’s hair, soothing him, grounding him. He hated that he’d been away, off in Japan for week wrapped in comfort and just returned today while Taehyung was being broken down like this.

“Oh, Taehyung,” Jimin murmured softly, brushing away the tears that refused to stop. “You’re not pathetic. You’re the most intelligent, beautiful, and sincere omega I’ve ever known. You’re not weak for loving someone. You’re not wrong for trying.”

Taehyung just shook his head. “But… maybe I was too pushy. Maybe I kept crossing the line when I should’ve backed off.”

“What happened exactly?” Jimin asked gently. “Start from the beginning.”

And Taehyung did. In shaky breaths, tearful pauses, and broken pieces, he poured everything out.

How Jeongguk every small action, every quiet moment had made him fall deeper. How he’d found out Jeongguk was single and how hope had bloomed in his heart like spring. How he’d tried, in all the small and innocent ways, to be close. The protein bars. The little notes. The cupcakes.

And how Jeongguk never said a word. Just coldness, distance… until today.

Until today when, after finally laying his heart bare, Jeongguk stood tall and called it all pathetic.

“I’m not going back there,” Taehyung whispered, his voice hollow. “I can’t. That place is toxic. It’s all wrong. Even Jeongguk… he’s wrong. He’s so cold. So cruel.”

Jimin held him tighter. “You’re not going back. You’ll stay here with me. We’ll figure things out together. And anyone who thinks your love is pathetic they’re the ones who’ve never known what it means to be truly loved.”

Taehyung didn’t answer. He just cried, even more quietly now, like the tears had become part of his breath. And Jimin held him through it, no solutions, no promises, just presence.

✧･ﾟ:* ─ *:･ﾟ✧

 

Jeongguk walked into the local drench club, the place where the lights were too dim to hide the peeling wallpaper, and the drinks were cheap enough to forget your own name. It was the only spot in town where he could afford to dull his thoughts without denting his already tight budget.

The music was loud. Bodies swayed under flickering strobe lights, but Jeongguk didn’t even look. He went straight to the bar, ordered the strongest thing they had, and downed it in a single gulp. It burned, but not nearly enough.

Why?

Why did Taehyung keep coming back?

Why was he everywhere, slipping into the cracks of Jeongguk’s silence, staining the corners of his life with uninvited warmth?

Jeongguk clenched his jaw, shoving the empty glass forward for another. He was already worn with his life and now Taehyung, with his soft eyes and foolish heart, had confessed again.

Why couldn’t he take a hint?

He didn’t want him. He couldn’t want him.

Taehyung was a rich kid playing games with love like it was something to sample, not something to suffer through. He'd come close, flirt with feelings, maybe even indulge a fantasy of rough edges and then what? Disappear when it became real?

“Pathetic,” Jeongguk muttered to himself, jaw tight. “He’s using the word love like it’s a toy.”

He scoffed bitterly and took another drink. His lips curled, not in a smile, but something that might've once been one in a different life.

Pulling out his phone, he unlocked it and went straight to the hidden folder. A single image.

Low resolution, a bit grainy but he could still see it perfectly.

He and an omega. Arms wrapped around each other. Smiling.

There had been a time when that smile meant safety. When that arm around him meant forever. But now… it was just a dead memory clinging to him like a bruise long healed.

Without flinching, he tapped the screen.
Delete.
Confirm.

The image vanished. The last piece of it. Of them.

He stared at the now empty screen.

It used to sting like acid, looking at that memory. Like someone carving up his chest from the inside.

It didn’t burn like it used to.
It didn’t even ache.
It just… wasn’t.

Was he free?

The drink sat in his gut, and the club buzzed around him like static. He didn’t know if the numbness was freedom or just another kind of prison.

But either way, Taehyung didn’t belong in it.

And Jeongguk was certain, if Taehyung kept trying to find love in him, he’d only end up more broken than before.

✧･ﾟ:* ─ *:･ﾟ✧

The morning sun pierced through the clouds, as if trying to wash away the bitterness of last night’s rain. But Taehyung knew better, sunlight couldn’t clean pain. Not the kind lodged deep in the chest.

Still, he sat across from Jimin at the breakfast table, forcing down toast and eggs.

“You have to quit today,” Jimin said for the fifth time, pushing a glass of juice toward him.

Taehyung sighed. “I know what I said last night. But I need to go back.”

“Why?” Jimin’s voice was sharp, offended for him. “He called you pathetic, Taehyung.”

“It’s not about him,” Taehyung said quietly. “It’s about me. If I don’t go back even just to finish this month, I’ll always carry that feeling. Like I ran away. Like I was weak.”

Jimin stared at him, lips pressed in a tight line.

“I won’t give anyone the satisfaction of watching me fall apart. I’ll walk out with my head high, with whatever dignity I have left. That’s for me, not for hi..”

“Fine. But resign at the end of this month, no later,” Jimin said firmly. “Though honestly, that place should be paying you to forget it ever existed.”

Taehyung gave a halfhearted smile. “I’m not expecting a salary if I resign early. And definitely not an experience certificate. They’re too corrupt to bother with things like that.”

“They’d just taint your résumé with their name anyway,” Jimin scoffed. “That certificate wouldn’t be a mark of experience, it’d be a stain.”

Later that morning, Jimin drove Taehyung to the dealership.

When they arrived, the CEO was already there.

Jimin didn’t let the opportunity go to waste. Under the pretense of requesting a service for his car, he walked in with the kind of presence only someone like Park Jimin could command.

The CEO, true to his reputation, switched demeanors the moment he recognized him. Smiling, tail wagging, bending at every word like a well trained pet. Taehyung wasn’t even surprised anymore.

It was almost funny, watching a man so feared in the company become a sycophant in the presence of real power.

And Jimin didn’t hold back. He made it very clear that Taehyung mattered. That Taehyung was his person. That anyone who disrespected him would be dealing with Parks.

Taehyung watched it all unfold from the small window of his cramped office, the corners of his lips twitching in faint amusement.

Jimin texted him just after stepping out

[Jimin]: I’m leaving. You okay?

[Taehyung]: I’m fine. Go. Thank you. Really.

Taehyung looked away from his phone, hands tightening around his pen.

He was here to finish the month. He’d walk out on his own terms.

Not because of Jeongguk. Not because of heartbreak.

Jeongguk walked down the corridor, their eyes meeting briefly. Both had red eyes, Jeongguk’s from drinking and Taehyung’s from holding back tears. But Taehyung quickly looked away, dropping his gaze to the floor.

That day marked a change. It was the first time Taehyung truly distanced himself from Jeongguk. No more standing silently by his side during work. No more sticky notes left as little messages of encouragement. No desserts shared during lunch. Taehyung wanted the month to end, wanted the nightmare to be over.

He’d already started applying for other jobs, with interviews lined up at his dream company. His mind was elsewhere, his heart reluctantly detaching.

And finally, the last day came. Paycheck day. Instead of the money being deposited into bank accounts, the salaries were handed out in cash, an old trick Taehyung understood well. No paper trail meant no proof against their exploitative wages.

He received his salary early that day but had no intention of formally resigning. He would simply not show up tomorrow. No grand farewell, no explanations. Just silence.

He laid his head on the table, feeling the exhaustion crushing him. Mr. Jiwoon had taken a half day, so the office was quieter than usual.

Taehyung didn’t realize he was coming down with a fever, maybe it was the anxiety of not seeing Jeongguk anymore after these past three months, the bliss of just having Jeongguk near, however silently.

A shiver ran down his spine, cold and unwelcome. He let his forehead press against the cool surface of the desk. He was going to be sick. But worse than the physical ache was the ache inside, he felt empty, lost, and for some reason, unbearably down.

Why did letting go hurt this much?

✧･ﾟ:* ─ *:･ﾟ✧

“Mr. Jiwoon.” Jeongguk’s voice drifted softly into the muted room as he stepped inside. The office was cloaked in a gentle dusk, the dim light barely stirring the shadows. Strawberry fragnance a delicate, sweet fog that wrapped around everything, intimate, almost too close.

Jeongguk’s brow tightened as his gaze fell on Taehyung, curled like a fragile bloom, head resting on the  wood of the table.

He stepped closer, awkwardness tightening his chest. Ever since they were locked in store room, Taehyung hadn’t spoken to Jeongguk  not a word.

Maybe he was asleep. Maybe.

Jeongguk reached out, hand hovering before settling on Taehyung’s tangled hair, fingers brushing back a stray lock from his fevered forehead. But the sudden movement jolted Taehyung awake, eyes wide, panic flickering like a candle flame.

Taehyung’s face was pale, drained of color except for the harsh flush burning his cheeks.

“You’re in heat,” Jeongguk murmured, surprise threading through his voice like a sudden gust of wind.

Taehyung’s eyes snapped wide, disbelief crashing over him like a tide. No no, it couldn’t be. Not now. Not here. His cycle wasn’t due for another two months.

Panic tightened his chest as he rose, but the world tilted, colors blurring at the edges. A sharp ache coiled deep in his stomach, there was no denying it anymore.

Jeongguk’s hands moved fast, curling around Taehyung’s waist before he could falter. Taehyung swallowed, breath catching, eyes locking with Jeongguk’s gaze.

“We’ll go out the back,” Jeongguk said low, urgent. “No one will see you. You can’t get caught. No one can know you’re in heat. They’re cruel filthy people.”

Taehyung nodded, the shame already pressing down, a shadow he’d long feared. The thought of whispers, pointed fingers, was a cage he wanted to escape.

Jeongguk pulled him gently, stepping into the long, dark corridor that ran behind the finance office a place Taehyung had always avoided, the darkness swallowing the narrow space whole.

One hand rested firm on Taehyung’s waist, the other held Jeongguk’s phone, the flashlight slicing through the gloom. They reached the back door, the cold metal cool beneath their fingertips as Jeongguk typed in the password.

Taehyung blinked, surprised, questions bubbling beneath the surface how did Jeongguk know this door existed? The code?

“I knew about the back door,” Jeongguk said softly, sensing the questions flickering behind Taehyung’s eyes. “Years ago, when they repainted the walls. The password... I just happened to stumble on it.”

He didn’t open the door. Instead, he held out his phone, a quiet offering. “Here. Wait here. I’ll change clothes, meet you in the alley behind. When I knock, you open, okay?”

Taehyung took the phone with a trembling hand, wanting to ask, why was Jeongguk doing this? Why was he helping? But the cramps tightening inside him drowned the words before they could form.

He closed his eyes, leaning against the cool wall for support. Then, a cold hand brushed his cheek, gentle, grounding.

“Stay awake. Just five minutes,” Jeongguk whispered. Taehyung nodded, swallowing the haze clouding his mind.

Jeongguk was gone before the word faded, slipping out of the office with the urgency of a shadow. In the cramped changing room, he shed his work clothes like a second skin and pulled on something lighter, something freer. His heart thudded as he started his bike, reckless against the consequences.

Taehyung heard the knock, against the heavy door in dark hallway. His fingers trembled as he typed the password Jeongguk had set. The lock clicked open.

Jeongguk sat on the bike, the engine’s low hum a steady heartbeat beneath them. Taehyung hurriedly closed the door behind him, the faint click sealing away the silence.

“Where to?” Jeongguk asked softly.

Taehyung whispered the address, sliding onto the seat behind him. He pressed his face against Jeongguk’s back, seeking a fragile comfort in the warmth there.

The tears slipped quietly down Taehyung’s cheeks, silent rivers of relief and fear. What if Jeongguk hadn’t come? What if someone else, someone cruel, had found him like this? The thought curled sharp inside his chest. A cruel laughter, whispers turning him into a shadow of shame. Worse still, what if someone had tried to take advantage of his body in that vulnerable moment?

His face pressed closer, stomach twisting with cramps, gripping Jeongguk tighter, as if holding on could anchor him through the storm.

The bike slowed, then stopped, quiet now, in the calm of an ordinary neighborhood.

“Is this your home?” Jeongguk asked softly, his hand loosening just enough for Taehyung to rise from his grip.

“Hmm, hmm,” Taehyung murmured, voice thick and tired. When Jeongguk glanced back, the pale shadow beneath Taehyung’s skin had deepened, fragile as thin ice.

“Thank you… for today,” Taehyung whispered, bowing his head as he stumbled forward into the quiet embrace of his doorway.

Jeongguk licked his lips, surprised by the modesty that cradled the small space. He’d expected the trappings of wealth, wasn’t Taehyung supposed to be a rich kid?

His gaze caught Taehyung’s trembling hands fumbling with the keys, and something stirred deep inside Jeongguk. Without thinking, he killed the bike’s engine and stepped forward.

He gently took the keys from Taehyung, and eased the door open. His hand curved around Taehyung’s waist, steadying him as they crossed the threshold.

A low groan escaped Taehyung’s lips as he pressed a hand to his stomach, the cramps tightening like a silent storm.

Jeongguk’s heart tightened with awkward tenderness, he was a loner, unfamiliar with care like this. How would he look after Taehyung now? How could he, when even his own footing felt uncertain?

“Do you… have any pills?” Jeongguk asked, gently easing Taehyung onto the couch.

Taehyung’s eyes flickered sharp, a quiet edge in his glare. Jeongguk blinked, unsure what he’d said to stir the sudden chill.

“I don’t take pills,” Taehyung said.

“But the heat, it’s painful,” Jeongguk said, swallowing hard, the awkwardness thick in his throat.

“They’re bad for fertility,” Taehyung answered “I want kids someday.”

Jeongguk nodded awkwardly.

“I’ll make some ginger tea,” Jeongguk offered, the words a small gesture of care.

“The cutlery’s in the second drawer, everything else in the fourth,” Taehyung said, voice faltering as another sharp cramp rolled through him.

He stood abruptly, swaying, then moved toward the stairs.

Jeongguk watched him go, blinking against the sudden quiet. What had just happened? How could Taehyung, barely knowing him, just leave him like that in his own home?

✧･ﾟ:* ─ *:･ﾟ✧

The cramps twisted inside Taehyung, relentless and raw yet beneath the ache, something else stirred, unfamiliar and sharp. A heat not just of pain, but of restless lust, a fire that had never danced within him before.

He had always believed that his heat suffering was just that cramps pain. Nothing more. Jimin used to say it was because he found no one desirable. He was invisible to desire. So were his heat.

But earlier riding behind Jeongguk on the bike, a strange mix of lust and hunger twisted inside him, confusing, almost unbearable.

Lying on his bed now, the ache mingled with a fog of want, clouding his thoughts. His mind clung to Jeongguk, a sudden and unfamiliar obsession.

No. He wasn’t like this. He wasn’t… dirty.

Yet the whispers of desire tangled around him, and before he could stop himself, he folded a pillow between his thighs, an innocent rebellion against the chaos inside.

And slowly, hesitantly, he moved, chasing the strange new hunger that wouldn’t let him be.

“Taehyung.” The door creaked open, and Jeongguk stepped inside, a cup cradled carefully in his hand.

He froze, caught off guard by the sight before him Taehyung sprawled half on the bed, a pillow wedged between trembling thighs. His shirt had ridden up, revealing the pale sweep of his collarbone, delicate and vulnerable.

Jeongguk’s footsteps were hesitant, awkward as he moved closer.

Taehyung’s gaze met his, but there was no shame there. Only something darker, a quiet fire burning with lust and fierce in his eyes.

“Alpha,” Taehyung breathed with seduction that shimmered beneath the words, “I need you so badly.”

Jeongguk bit his lip, the flood of pheromones swirling around him, overwhelming his senses.

“Please,” Taehyung whispered, casting the pillow aside and reaching for Jeongguk’s hand with a fierce urgency.

“Drink this first,” Jeongguk said gently, holding out the steaming cup.

Taehyung didn’t hesitate. The warm ginger tea slid down his throat, settling like fire against the cold ache.

“Is anyone else here?” Jeongguk asked.

“My parents appa, eomma they went to the hometown. It’s just me. Just you, Alpha.”

The heat of the tea soothed his cramps, but the restless lust still thrummed.

Then, without warning, Taehyung’s hand moved vixen like, sure, grasping Jeongguk’s wrist.

Jeongguk blinked, startled by the boldness in the touch.

“It’s good,” Taehyung said with a sly wink, “No one will disturb us now.”

Jeongguk almost choked on empty air.

“You could call a heat partner through the app,” Jeongguk said cautiously, but before the words fully landed, a sharp slap cracked across his cheek. His face jerked away, stunned by the suddenness.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry for a slap...don’t leave me, Alpha,” Taehyung’s voice wavered immediately at the edge of tears, fragile and raw. Jeongguk’s jaw clenched tight. It was his own fault that he’d speak so bluntly.

He didn’t flinch when Taehyung reached up with trembling fingers, softly massaging the cheek he’d just slap. his touch, only fear, and a raw kind of need.

“How did you manage your previous heats? Did you… use toys?” Jeongguk asked, now careful to not cross other line. He knew Taehyung was single, that was what he’d said and the way he reacted to the idea of heat partner told Jeongguk everything.

“I’ve never felt like this before,” Taehyung blinked up at him, eyes wide and soft. “Maybe it’s because you’re here now.”

“Alpha,” Taehyung whispered, inching closer, voice low and trembling, “Maybe it’s because of you. Because you’re in my life.”

He slid onto Jeongguk’s lap, thighs parted, breath sultry against his throat. His voice spilled out like honey.drenched sin trembling, wrecked.

“Breed me, Alpha… fuck…please. Fill me up. I need your knot. I need it.”

Jeongguk went rigid beneath him. The words so filthy, so drenched in lust coiled around his restraint like a vice. Every cell in his body screamed yes, but instinct warred with reason. This wasn’t just want, it was the feral fog of heat, where hunger eclipsed hesitation, the edges of consent blurred and instincts howled over reason.

“You’re pure,” Jeongguk rasped, the words taut and trembling, fraying at the edges. “I can’t… I won’t take that from you.”

But Taehyung didn’t stop.

His hips were already moving, grinding down onto Jeongguk’s thigh with filthy intent. His pants were soaked, the scent of slick was heady and dizzying. Every roll of his hips left a wet smear, his swollen hole rubbing against the rough fabric like it was Jeongguk’s cock he was chasing.

“I’m giving it,” he whispered, mouth brushing Jeongguk’s jaw. “I want your cock in me. Knot me. Breed me until I can’t think. Don’t you want me? Don’t I make you ache?” His voice cracked on the last word, velvet wrapped in desperation.

Jeongguk groaned low, involuntary. His cock strained against his pants, painful and hard. Every grind of Taehyung’s soaked cunt over his thigh left a hot smear through the fabric, each movement more frantic, more shameless. The friction was messy, raw, slick spreading in obscene warmth where they met.

Jeongguk's hands hovered uselessly in the space between should and want, fists clenched. Every subtle grind of Taehyung’s slicked core against his thigh sent sparks racing up his spine.

“This isn’t you, It’s your heat not your soul.” Jeongguk choked, hips betraying him with a twitch. “You don’t know what you’re asking”

“I know exactly what I’m asking,” Taehyung whimper. “I want your cock in me. Knot me. Breed me until I can’t think.”

Taehyung’s hands grabbed at his shoulders, grinding harder now, faster, riding Jeongguk’s thigh like it was the only thing keeping him from falling apart. His slick was dripping, obscene, soaking through his panties and pants, leaving a dark, sticky patch where their bodies met.

“You feel that?” he moaned. “I’m so fucking wet, Alpha. All for you. You’re making me cum without even touching me...fuck ”

And then his whole body arched, trembled, and stilled. A loud cry tore from his throat as he rutted desperately through it, grinding down as his orgasm crashed through him filthy and raw.

Jeongguk could feel it. Hot, wet, messy. Taehyung's release soaked through everything, his thighs trembling, his hole fluttering even through the fabric. He collapsed against Jeongguk’s chest, panting, whimpering softly as his hips gave a final, broken roll.

Jeongguk’s thigh was soaked. His cock was throbbing. And Taehyung?

Taehyung’s head dropped against his chest, ruined, radiant, drenched in his own pleasure.

“Where’s your phone?” Jeongguk asked softly.

Taehyung stirred in his arms, a sluggish motion, hand drifting to his pocket but never quite pulling it out.

With a sigh, Jeongguk reached in and retrieved it himself, the device warm from where it had rested against Taehyung’s pocket.

“Password?”

Taehyung’s voice was a ghost of sound. “Zero… one… zero nine.”

Jeongguk stilled. That was his birthday.
Coincidence, maybe. But his heart gave a quiet, startled thump all the same.

He unlocked the phone with careful fingers, scrolling through the contacts until a name caught his eye. Jimin.

Jeongguk pressed the call button.

It rang twice before a sharp voice answered. “Hello?”

“Hello, Jimin-ssi. This is Jeongguk. I.uh. I’m with Taehyung right now. He’s in heat. I thought… maybe you could come over?”

There was silence.

“What?” Jimin snapped, the temperature of the line dropping instantly. “You listen to me. Stay right there. And if you try anything with him, I swear to God I’ll cut your dick off and feed it to the crows.”

Jeongguk’s eyes widened. “N-no, I. okay.” He ended the call before Jimin could say more. The line went dead in his hand.

He looked down at Taehyung, who had shifted slightly, curling into the comfort of Jeongguk’s body, a soft snore whispering from his parted lips.

It was the pre heat, Jeongguk reminded himself. Just the beginning. Taehyung was only grazing the edge of it already slick, desperate, trembling and it was going to get worse. Much worse.

He didn’t even know how much more intense this could get.

But what rattled him more was the slow, telltale burden in his own gut,  the coil tightening, the prickling heat beneath his skin, the way his teeth ached in his jaw. His scent was sharpening. His body was tuning itself to Taehyung’s.

It wasn’t just him reacting.

His rut was coming.

✧･ﾟ:* to be continue *:･ﾟ✧

Chapter 12: 12

Notes:

Your words would mean the world to me 🥹🥹🥹. So please do leave a comment and let me know how it's going!!!

I fell for him. I fell first. I fell hard. But he… he didn’t even look at me.

 

‧₊˚✩彡⋆☾ ﾟ

 

Past

The intense scent of pheromones hit Jimin like a slap the moment he stepped through the threshold.

It clung to the walls. Saturated the air undeniably. From the living room to the doorframe, he moved like a storm brewing,  his silence louder than a shout, his gaze a blade burning straight through Jeongguk.

There was no mask on his face, no attempt to dull the fury. Just disgust raw, scalding, and aimed directly at the Alpha standing motionless in the haze.

And the room. The room reeked. Not just of heat. Not just of slick. But of something deeper. Something wrong.

“What the fuck did you do to him?” Jimin didn’t wait for an answer. Fist curling in Jeongguk’s shirt.

Jeongguk’s eyes went wide. He didn’t fight it. Didn’t lift his hands.

“I swear,” he gasped, voice breaking as it left his throat. “I didn’t”

Jimin let go with a shove, jaw clenched tight. His eyes dropped, slowly, deliberately to Jeongguk’s crotch.

The hard line pressing against his sweats. The unmistakable dampness. The scent of arousal braided together with Taehyung heat.

Jeongguk flinched like he'd been burned. His hands clenched at his sides, shame rising in hot, choking waves.

For the first time, he couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes. He bowed his head slightly, voice barely above a whisper. “Just… take care of him.”

Then he turned, sparing one last glance toward the bed.

Taehyung lay there, his body curled in on itself, breaths shallow, a soft whimper slipping past his parted lips. His cheeks flushed, brows knit, like he was dreaming of something he didn’t want.

And Jeongguk left.

Jimin let out a long exhale as he walked over to Taehyung. He crouched down beside the bed, watching the flushed face of his best friend twist in restless sleep.

This wasn’t normal. He knew Taehyung’s heat cycles every shift, every delay. There were still months to go before the next one was even supposed to happen.

Yet here he was, body trembling under the thin blanket, skin glowing with a fevered sheen.

“Alpha… I’ll be good,” Taehyung whimpered, voice barely above a breath, the plea slipping out like a secret. His thighs shifted under the covers. His face burned red.

Jimin blinked, staring at him.

And then he rolled his eyes. Hard.

Of course.

This was the same Taehyung who once said using subgender terms during intimacy was "cringe" and "so outdated." And now here he was squirming in his sleep, caught in some wild, wet dream, calling out Alpha like it was a lifeline.

Jimin sighed, reaching over to dab a cool cloth on Taehyung’s forehead.

“Whipped,” he mumbled, though his voice was full of affection. “Absolutely whipped.”

He stayed by the bedside, brushing damp hair from Taehyung’s eyes, worry lacing his every movement, even through the eye rolls and biting sarcasm.

Because this… this wasn’t just heat.

This was heartbreak tangled with biology.

And Jimin didn’t know which one was hurting Taehyung more.

 

✧･ﾟ:* ─ *:･ﾟ✧

 

Jeongguk didn’t head straight home. Instead, he turned his bike around and drove back toward the building. Disappearing together even for a short while was enough to spark talk in a place like that. And Jeongguk knew too well how fast rumors turned to poison.

As he parked, the manager was waiting, arms crossed, irritation written all over his face.

“Where the hell were you?” the man snapped.

Jeongguk didn’t flinch. “My neighbor collapsed, heart attack. I had to take him to the hospital,” he lied smoothly, the words stale on his tongue.

“I’ll be taking my rut leave starting now,” Jeongguk said, voice clipped.

The manager huffed, eyeing him with thinly veiled suspicion. And then, his eyes flicked downwards, a lingering look that made Jeongguk’s skin crawl.

That stare.

Jeongguk’s jaw clenched, fists tightening at his sides. For a second, his mind flashed just one push. Off the rooftop. Let gravity teach him a lesson.

But instead, he bit his tongue. Swallowed it down.

The manager sighed. “Fine. You want time off for your rut? Take it. One week. No pay.”

Of course no pay. Bastards like him would dock wages for a funeral leave if they could find a way.

Jeongguk gave a tight nod, fists still curled like anchors. “Fine.”

He left without another word.

Once Jeongguk made it home, he didn’t bother with the lights. He moved through the dark like something hunted, muscles taut, skin prickling, every breath a little too loud in the silence.

The shower was cold. Brutally so. It sluiced down his back in icy sheets, numbing his skin but doing nothing to cool the crawling heat rising inside him. It had settled low in his cock. A dull ache thrummed under his skin, behind his teeth.

He ignored dinner. Pushed the tray aside like it offended him. Sleep wouldn’t come, either, not with his thoughts so tangled, pulled tight with the memory of him.

That goddamn omega had sunk into his brain like sap, sticky and impossible to scrub out. Jeongguk had told himself, convinced himself, that Taehyung was just another spoiled heir soft and pampered, with no idea how the world actually worked. But now the memory of that thought made him feel sick.

"Pathetic." He’d been sorry the second the words left his mouth in the storage room, but the apology had gone unsaid.

And after that for whole month, Taehyung was avoiding him.

And today that soft, wide eyed boy was gone. In his place stood something wilder. A spark behind the gaze, lips twitching with lust, voice dripping with sin.

A vixen. A temptation.

Jeongguk shivered, remembering how Taehyung had said “Alpha” like a spell. Like a curse. How his body had moved with the kind of confidence no innocent should carry. That gaze had stripped him laid Jeongguk bare without touching him. His restraint had frayed beneath those eyes. Every dirty word, every slick grind of Taehyung’s hips, they played in his mind like firelight.

Sweat broke out along his spine. He got up, silent, and opened the cupboard. Pulled out the fleshlight with shaking hands.

He hated this part. The rut before the breaking point. The need without release. That raw edge that turned touch into gnawing, pleasure into punishment. He’d never spent a rut with someone. No warm body. No soft sounds. Just his fist. Just the emptiness.

Until he bought that plastic thing.

He peeled his pants down and sat on the edge of the bed, thighs tense, cock hard against his stomach, already leaking, already angry. The beast inside him paced. Hungry. Howling for a intimacy he’d refused.

Taehyung’s slap flashed in his memory, the sharp sting, the hurt in those eyes, and fuck, it made something twist inside him. Not guilt. Not fully. Something darker. Shame and arousal knotted together.

He pressed the toy to his cock, slicked it quickly, but his mind was elsewhere pinned to the curve of Taehyung’s hips, the way he whimpered through orgasm, the way he looked up at Jeongguk like he was starving.

His fist tightened. His hips jerked. But it wasn’t enough.

Not when he could still smell the ghost of that heat.

Not when he remembered what Taehyung had begged for and what he’d refused to give.

✧･ﾟ:* ─ *:･ﾟ✧

“Ahhhhh!”

 

That was the thousandth scream Taehyung had let out in the past three days each one triggered by yet another memory of something mortifying he had done during his heat.

“What is it this time?” Jimin asked with a deadpan look, pouring milk into his cereal bowl.

Taehyung groaned, his face buried against the kitchen table. “I think I… I might have humped his thigh…”

Jimin froze mid chew, his spoon suspended halfway to his mouth. “You what?”

“I humped his thigh, Jimin. I was delirious! I didn’t know what I was doing. Oh god, please end me,” Taehyung cried, sliding lower into his seat like he wanted to melt through the floor.

Jimin blinked, trying to process. “You humped that arrogant bastard’s thigh?” he asked slowly, voice eerily calm.

Taehyung nodded, face redder than a tomato. “I think I even begged him to breed me—”

“Taehyung!” Jimin stood up, scandalized, cereal forgotten. “You begged that man? That man who rejected you twice, gave you the silent treatment for weeks, returned your gifts like they were garbage, and called you pathetic?”

“It wasn’t me, it was the heat! The hormones hijacked my body,” Taehyung wailed dramatically. “I barely remember anything, I just woke up embarrassed, and with the overwhelming urge to change identities and move to Switzerland.”

Taehyung groaned, dragging his fingers through his messy hair as if that would somehow pull the memory of his heat induced embarrassment out of his brain.

Suddenly, his phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID.

“It’s Gutter Manager,” he muttered with a roll of his eyes, before picking up. He had changed the general manager’s name to that in his contacts weeks ago because honestly, where else did trash belong?

“Taehyung, why aren’t you in the office?” the manager barked. “You left without notice, were absent without notice yesterday, and now you’re late ”

Both Taehyung and Jimin rolled their eyes in sync.

“I’m not coming,” Taehyung said flatly, blowing on his freshly painted nails. “I resign.”

“And who gave you permission?”
The audacity made Taehyung snort.

“I don’t need anyone’s permission,” he replied, casually leaning back on the chair.

“You can’t just resign like this!” the voice on the other end was rising with panic now. “There are procedures to follow!”

“Like what?” Taehyung asked, feigning innocence.

“Like giving notice before resignation, and I didn’t receive any resignation letter!” the man practically screamed into the phone.

“Well, I’m not giving any resignation letter.” Taehyung’s tone didn’t falter.

He had already covered his tracks, deleted his personal data from the manager’s system a few days ago by walking into the office and lying about his system not opening an Excel sheet. He’d erased his identity clean. The joining letter? Destroyed. Their messy, exploitative paperwork was coming back to bite them.

“What the fuck is this behavior?” the manager growled, teeth audibly clenched.

Taehyung sighed. His head was starting to ache. He didn’t need this stress. Not now.

“Well, since we’re being honest,” Taehyung exhaled slowly, then spoke into the phone.

“That place is shitty. And you people? Even shittier.”

He didn’t stop.

“Let me tell you something. You and your brothers, the ones taking over management,  all three of you suck. You think you’re so important by dragging down everyone else's character? Newsflash. you’re not. And honestly? I feel bad for the omegas living in your homes.”

“I know about your corruption. Every little detail. But don’t worry. I don’t care to involve myself in your filthy business. You always badmouth the CEO behind his back, calling him a womanizer, calling him corrupt. But look in the mirror,  you’re no different. You’re the same disgusting breed.”

Taehyung let the silence sting for a beat before continuing, “This office is going to crumble, not just under his leadership but under your management too. Go ahead, do whatever the fuck you want. Sue me. But what proof do you have?”
He smirked.

“Nothing.”

“Don’t ever call me again.”

Click.

Jimin stared at him for a second, then smiled softly. “Well… that was satisfying to witness.”

Taehyung sat back, his chest still heaving slightly. “They thought I’d waste my talent in that dump.”

He looked down, voice cracking.
“I was only there for him. And now… there’s no reason left.”

His throat tightened, and the tears welled up again before he could stop them.

“How am I supposed to forget him, Jimin?” he whispered. “I fell for him. I fell first. I fell hard. But he… he didn’t even look at me.”

Jimin didn’t try to interrupt. He just pulled Taehyung into a warm hug.
“It’s heartbreaking,” he said quietly. “First love always is. Raw. Messy. Painful.”

Taehyung clutched the fabric of Jimin’s shirt, tears spilling freely now.

“You’ll find someone better,” Jimin promised, brushing a hand through Taehyung’s hair. “Someone who’ll love you. Who’ll cherish you.”

“But I want him to love me,” Taehyung choked out. “I want him to cherish me.”

That day passed in a haze of Taehyung’s emotional breakdown and lingering heat cramps. His body still ached, but more than that, it was the hollow ache in his chest that refused to quiet. His heat had ended, almost but the fear remained. The fear of never seeing Jeongguk again.

They say a crush lasts four months.
But it had been four months.
And Taehyung still felt it.
Maybe it wasn’t just a crush. Maybe it really was love.
His first love.
And now… his first heartbreak.

That evening, Jimin went back to his own place.

Taehyung’s heat was nearly over, and his parents had returned from a family wedding in Daegu. They’d traveled by train. Taehyung had planned to go too, especially after quitting his job but his heat came early and disrupted everything, so he stayed back.

At dinner, his father glanced at him with an unreadable expression and said,
“Taehyung, come to the study room after. We need to talk. Something serious.”

Taehyung nodded, feeling a twinge of unease settle in his gut. His father rarely spoke in that tone.

Later, after helping his mom wash the dishes, who also seemed oddly quiet and serious,  Taehyung made his way to the study.

It was a small room, not particularly spacious.

They’d converted it during the COVID days, when both his parents were working from home. Now it served as a space for paperwork, laptops, and serious conversations.

“Taehyung, your mother and I have made an important decision regarding your future.”

“Yes?” Taehyung replied, a little wary.

“You’re going to marry Hyung sik.”

Taehyung blinked.
He chuckled, thinking it was a joke. “Appa… it’s not April 1st.”

“I’m serious,” his father said, calm but firm.

Taehyung’s smile dropped. His fists clenched. “But it feels like a joke.”

“Taehyung,” his mother warned gently, but he was already on edge.

“What, Mom? What is this? You went to a wedding and came back with a whole arranged marriage plan for me?” he snapped, gritting his teeth.

“Watch your language,” his father said sharply. “Is this that job messing with your attitude?”

Taehyung exhaled harshly. “The point is this isn’t some old era where parents decide who we marry. That choice is mine.”

“You remember what you said before going for university?” his father asked, voice tight.

“Yes,” Taehyung said. “I remember. You arranged a potential match with your best friend’s son. But only if I hadn’t found someone myself by twenty five. I’m twenty two, Appa.”

“Hyung sik is a good boy,” his mother interjected. “You follow each other on Instagram. You like his posts. He comments respectfully on yours…”

Taehyung scoffed. “Really, Mom? That’s what counts now? Instagram etiquette?”

“You’re backing out on your own word,” his mother said, folding her arms.

“Do you love someone else?” his father asked.

Taehyung bit his lip. Hesitated. Then whispered, “Yes.”

His father let out a short, bitter laugh. “That’s a lie.”

Taehyung didn’t flinch. He just stared at him, eyes serious.

“Fine,” his father said. “Let me meet him. Otherwise, the Park family will be here by the weekend. Hyung sik will visit. The wedding will be at the end of the month.”

“That’s cruelty,” Taehyung whispered, voice tight with emotion.

“It’s for your own good,” his father replied. “I won’t emotionally blackmail you. I’m simply asking to let us take this step for you.”

“You already did,” Taehyung said coldly. “And I won’t forgive you for it.”

He turned and walked out, leaving silence in the small study room behind him.

He couldn’t believe what his parents were doing to him.

They were perfect in his eyes. The ideal parents. The kind of people who raised him with love and patience, who always guided him gently onto the right path. They never pressured him, never forced him into competition. Even with both of them working full time jobs, he never once felt neglected. His childhood had been beautiful. His teenage years full of laughter, trust, and warmth.

He remembered that one conversation,  he’d been eighteen. His father had brought it up casually, smiling over a cup of coffee. Told him how he and his close friend had once dreamed of their children getting married someday. Taehyung had laughed at the idea, brushing it off with an eye roll.

“I’ll marry someone I choose myself,” he had said, bold and certain.

And his father had agreed, saying, “If by twenty five, there’s no one, then maybe consider Hyung sik.”

Taehyung had nodded. It felt distant and hypothetical back then. Not real.

But now it was real. Too real.

Park Hyung sik… he wasn’t a bad guy. A decent man. Respectful. Two years older, working at a tech firm. They had met many times, at family vacations, New Year gatherings, even weddings. Their thoughts often aligned, they liked the same kind of food, shared a love for clean code and minimalist interiors.

And Hyung sik knew about the arrangement. He had always known.

Taehyung sat down on the edge of his bed, hands limp in his lap. His chest ached.

His parents hadn’t even waited for his first heartbreak to heal.

But he couldn’t blame them not truly.
They didn’t know.
They had no idea how shattered he already was.

✧･ﾟ:* to be continue *:･ﾟ✧

Chapter 13: 13

The boy looked at you like you hung the damn stars. And you? You gave him the coldest shoulder like he meant nothing. And now you’re here falling apart?

 

‧₊˚✩彡⋆☾ ﾟ

 

Past

 

 

The small garden swayed gently with flowers and delicate green shoots, kissed by the soft morning breeze.

Jeongguk had just opened the door of his house. It was Sunday  a day of rest for most but waking early was a habit he couldn’t break.

He stepped out, barefoot onto the cool stone path, but stopped abruptly.

Taehyung was there.

Standing at the edge of the garden, wrapped in a red jacket that caught the sunlight like fire. His hair danced lightly in the wind, messy and soft, and in his hands a bucket overflowing with red flowers.

Taehyung bit his lip, eyes locked on Jeongguk’s. And then, slowly, he walked forward.

It was so soothing, almost surreal, to see Jeongguk again especially when Taehyung’s heart had already begun to mourn the idea of never seeing him at all.

"Hi," Taehyung said softly, a shy smile tugging at his lips. But behind that smile, memories from his heat flooded back, each one more embarrassing than the last.

Jeongguk gave a silent nod, his expression unreadable.

"This... this is for you," Taehyung said, holding out the bucket of deep red roses.

Jeongguk only tilted his head slightly, hands remaining by his sides. He didn’t reach out.

The silence dragged. The flowers were suddenly too much, too bright, too alive. Taehyung’s grip tightened.

"I came here just to see you one last time," Taehyung said, voice trembling slightly as he stepped closer. "Will you date me, Jeongguk? Just one chance. Please."

He laughed a little, short, brittle, breaking.

"I’ll be good. I swear. My parents are arranging my marriage... but I can’t think of anyone else. Only you. I’m just asking for a chance."

Jeongguk’s eyes softened, but his words didn’t.

"I’m sorry," he said quietly.

"For what?" Taehyung asked, still smiling, even as a tear slipped down his cheek.

"I can’t date you."

The words hit harder than they should have.

The flower bucket slipped from Taehyung’s hands, landing with a soft, defeated thud on the ground, petals spilling, just like his hope.

Taehyung wanted to beg, to plead with Jeongguk but he held himself back.

“Goodbye,” he said softly, bowing his head just slightly before turning away.

That was it. Just this.

This was his love story.

He didn’t fight for love. But how could he when the man standing before him wasn’t even willing to give him a chance?

Jeongguk watched Taehyung’s retreating figure for a long moment, then his gaze dropped to the fallen flowers at his feet.

 

✧･ﾟ:* ─ *:･ﾟ✧

Taehyung didn’t say another word against the marriage after that. Two days passed, and then the day came to meet Hyung Sik.

They met at a quiet restaurant. Hyung Sik was just the same, calm, with a soft smile and gentle voice. He didn’t seem fazed by everything happening around him.

“I’ve always held respect for you, Taehyung,” Hyung Sik said quietly. “Maybe one day, you’ll be the one I spend my life with.”

Taehyung smiled politely. On the outside, he seemed confident. Inside, though, he felt awkward and uncertain.

The lunch passed smoothly, Hyung Sik talking enough to fill the silence without overdoing it.

Taehyung shared his upcoming interviews, the hope flickering faintly inside him.

“It must be hard, preparing for both interviews and a wedding,” Hyung Sik remarked kindly.

Taehyung only nodded; how could he explain that he wasn’t really preparing for either? Still, Hyung Sik shared some tips on how to ace the interviews.

Through it all, Taehyung was quietly grateful that Hyung Sik wasn’t pushing the wedding topic, giving him space to breathe.

After lunch, Hyung Sik drove Taehyung back home. His parents were still out working, so Hyung sik didn’t even go inside.

Days passed in a blur meetings between the Park and Kim families, shopping for the wedding, wedding preparations, and Taehyung going to interviews.

But through it all, his heart belonged to someone else. That certain someone who never left his thoughts.

Taehyung found himself replaying their story over and over again. Every time, no matter how he looked at it, he saw only himself, the obsessive, foolish side of him. Jeongguk was just normal, indifferent almost.

Why would Jeongguk even want to date him? Love felt so distant, so impossible. They had met by chance. It was normal for Jeongguk to ignore him.

If Taehyung hadn’t taken that job, their one sided story might never have even started.

Jeongguk had silently rejected his gift, then spoken that hurtful word. And even without an apology, Taehyung had forgiven him quietly, deep inside, especially after Jeongguk had helped him during his heat.

Jeongguk had turned down his last request to date but it was in respectable way.

But it still hurt. It hurt more than Taehyung wanted to admit.

✧･ﾟ:* ─ *:･ﾟ✧

Taehyung met Hyung Sik again just a week before the wedding. He had been going to interviews, more like Hyung Sik was driving him around, cheering him on. The interviews were nerve wracking but went well. Out of all the places, Taehyung especially wanted to get into this prestigious firm.

After the interview, Hyung Sik treated him to ice cream as he drove him back to the apartment, the very apartment they would live in after marriage.

Suddenly, Taehyung felt awkward again. Maybe it was because it was Hyung Sik, a family friend. He could be cheerful with him only when his mind didn’t remind him that this man was going to be his husband. But as soon as reality hit, the awkwardness came rushing back.

“Do you like it?” Hyung Sik asked, showing him around the apartment.

Taehyung smiled, looking at the place. These days, he smiled a lot, but only he knew how much his smile lacked sincerity.

"It's good, hyung, but won’t the rent be too high?" Taehyung raised a concern as he looked around the apartment.

"We’ll split it 50/50. I have a feeling my job will be secure this month," Taehyung said, smiling.

“No way I’m letting you do that. I’ll pay my share. Your money is yours and mine is ours,” Hyung Sik replied with a chuckle.

Taehyung just shook his head with a sincere smile this time. It didn’t take wealth to be rich; it took a big heart. And Hyung Sik had that.

Weirdly, Hyung Sik was exactly the kind of alpha Taehyung used to imagine ending up with. Kind, respectful, generous. But still, he felt nothing.

He let out a sigh.

So this is what it felt like, to be surrounded by everything that should make you happy, yet still feel hollow. Because your heart had already chosen someone else… someone who would never be yours.

“Hyung, can we go back to my place? I’m feeling exhausted,” Taehyung murmured, rubbing at his temple.

Hyung Sik gave a small nod. “Of course.”

They took the elevator down from the apartment complex, Hyung Sik’s hand resting gently on Taehyung’s back in a protective gesture. Taehyung didn’t like the touch not because it was wrong, but because it wasn’t right. Still, he said nothing.

As they stepped out onto the sidewalk, Taehyung’s steps halted.

His breath caught in his throat.

Jeongguk stood near the entrance, handing over keys to a man Taehyung recognized a frequent customer from Saebyeok. The sight alone was enough to stir his heart, but what made it ache worse was when Jeongguk’s gaze found his.

For a moment, the world quieted.

Jeongguk’s eyes flicked to Hyung Sik’s hand resting on Taehyung’s back.

And then Hyung Sik smiled, pulling out his phone to read a message. Oblivious.

“Your mom wants me to have dinner at your place,” he said lightly, brushing Taehyung’s head with affection.

Taehyung bit his lip, forcing a nod. But his eyes, his eyes were still locked on Jeongguk, even as Hyung Sik guided him toward the car.

The door opened. Taehyung slid in. Through the side mirror, he watched Jeongguk’s figure still standing there.

Smaller.

Fading.

Gone.

 

✧･ﾟ:* ─ *:･ﾟ✧

The knocking wouldn’t stop.

It echoed again and again, dull against the wooden door like a metronome ticking at his patience.

Jeongguk rolled his eyes, the cigarette dangling from his lips as he took another long drag. Smoke coiled around him like a shroud. The floor was littered with cigarette butts, ash scattered like dust over cold tile. His shirt lay abandoned somewhere on the floor, he didn’t care.

He scoffed when the knocking continued, harder now, more urgent.

With a groan, he pulled himself up, not bothering to put on a shirt, the cigarette still between his lips. His body ached not from pain, but from everything else. Restlessness. Regret. Anger.

When he reached the door, he unlocked it with a tired flick of his wrist and swung it open.

Hoseok scrunched his nose the moment he stepped inside. The room swam in smoke and the sour tang of cheap alcohol.

“What the hell, Jeongguk? You trying to kill yourself by suffocating?” he grumbled, walking straight to the window and wrenching it open.

A gust of fresh air fought its way in, pushing back the haze. Jeongguk didn’t move. He sprawled on the couch, the cigarette barely hanging between his fingers as he exhaled a long drag.

Hoseok turned sharply. “Seriously, what are you doing?” He snatched the cigarette from Jeongguk’s mouth and crushed it in the ashtray. Jeongguk didn’t protest. He simply reached for the half empty bottle of whiskey on the table and took another swig.

“You’re driving me insane,” Hoseok muttered, running a hand through his hair.

“Taehyung’s getting married,” Jeongguk said quietly, his voice low and hoarse. He didn’t look at Hoseok, just stared ahead like the words themselves had taken the strength out of him.

Hoseok blinked. “Wait, what? Seriously?”

He sat down slowly, his expression shifting from frustration to concern. “Is that why he disappeared? I wondered why he just ghosted the office... I heard he quit without a proper resignation too.”

Jeongguk didn’t answer. He took another drink instead. The burn in his throat was nothing compared to the one in his chest.

He should be glad, he told himself. Taehyung had walked away from that hellhole of a job. He was going to live a proper life, have a decent alpha who would probably treat him like a king.

It was good.

It was supposed to be good.

So why did it feel like something inside him was tearing itself apart?

“And that’s why you’re here, drinking and smoking like a wreck?” Hoseok scoffed, realization dawning.

“I’ve seen it for months, Jeongguk. The boy looked at you like you hung the damn stars. And you? You gave him the coldest shoulder like he meant nothing. And now you’re here falling apart?” Hoseok let out a tired sigh, frustration creeping into his voice.

Jeongguk didn’t respond. Just sat there, drowning in silence.

Hoseok cursed under his breath. “You always do this. Always shutting down. Took me years just to get past that wall of yours and now look at you.”

He leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “Do you love him?”

Jeongguk froze mid drink. A long pause followed. Then, finally, a quiet, almost broken reply.

“I don’t.”

“But...” he added, staring into the distance, “I don’t want to see him with anyone else.”

Hoseok blinked, the words hitting harder than he expected.

“That’s not love, Jeongguk,” he said flatly. “That’s possessiveness. That’s a sheer level of toxicity.”

Jeongguk didn’t argue. He just lit another cigarette, the flame trembling slightly in his hand.

Hoseok stared at him this man who barely spoke, barely showed anything and yet now, his whole grief was bleeding into the silence, into the smoke curling toward the ceiling.

Maybe Taehyung would find happiness. Maybe he would grow to love someone who gave him warmth and light.

But Jeongguk?

He was already sinking, and Hoseok could see it clear as day.

Sinking deeper into his own darkness.

✧･ﾟ:* to be continue *:･ﾟ✧

Chapter 14: 14

He didn’t speak. He didn’t smile. He just looked at him like the silence between them was now a language only they understood.

 

‧₊˚✩彡⋆☾

Past

Two days had passed in a blur for Jeongguk filled with nothing but cigarette smoke and cheap liquor. Time felt stretched and empty. He wasn’t eating, barely sleeping. Just existing.

It wasn’t until the manager called him cursing and yelling for the third time that he finally dragged himself up and decided to return to the dealership.

It sucked.

Everything about being there sucked. The space felt hollow. And worse, it was full of memories.

Every corner reminded him of Taehyung his bright face, wide eyes, and that easy, unforgettable smile. The way he used to talk, ramble, rant about the most random things while still managing to make everyone around him listen.

Now, the silence was loud. The energy gone.

But Jeongguk didn’t have the luxury of quitting. He wasn’t from money. If he kept skipping work, the company wouldn’t hesitate for even a second to fire him. And despite everything, he needed the job.

So, he forced himself to show up. Even if every second felt like a quiet punishment.

As he was riding his bike, he saw an elderly man crouching on the hood of a car. Jeongguk just shrugged it off and rode further. But then he slowed his bike, stopped, pulled off his helmet, and went to the man.

“May I?” he asked calmly, as the man looked confused.

The man nodded his head, giving him space.

Jeongguk crouched down and inspected the car quietly. The elderly man watched him with a mix of curiosity and hope. Without saying much, Jeongguk noticed the problem, the car’s battery terminal was loose and causing a poor connection.

He grabbed a small wrench from his bag and tightened the terminal carefully. After a few minutes of focused work, he stood up and nodded toward the man.

The man smiled, a bit surprised. “You fixed it? Just like that?” he asked.

Jeongguk gave a faint nod, then put on his helmet, ready to leave.

"You look like someone I knew," the man said, his eyes softening as he looked at Jeongguk.

Jeongguk glanced up, meeting the man’s gaze.

"Are you Jeon hwankook’s son?" the man asked gently.

Jeongguk’s eyes widened slightly, and he nodded.

The man smiled warmly, pulling Jeongguk into a brief hug.

“You’re just like your father, always helping others without expecting anything in return,” he said.

“I’m sorry to hear his soul passed away years ago. He was a good man. I knew him well before he went to Busan,” the man added, his voice tinged with sadness.

Jeongguk nodded quietly, unsure of what to say.

“How much do I owe you for the service? I was about to call someone anyway,” the man asked.

Jeongguk shook his head calmly. He bow bow his head respectfully.

“Wait a minute,” the man said, heading to his car.

He returned with a card in hand. “This is an invitation to my son’s wedding. You have to come and bring your brother too. If your father were alive, he’d be here for sure.”

The man smiled again, gently patting Jeongguk’s head.

Jeongguk took the card, bowed slightly, and walked toward his bike. He slipped the card into his bag, thinking to himself that he’d never been to these kinds of gatherings before. Maybe the man was just trying to be kind.

✧･ﾟ:* ─ *:･ﾟ✧

The marriage hall buzzed with a soft undercurrent of voices and laughter, footsteps muffled by plush carpeting as guests found their seats. Above them, crystal chandeliers spilled golden light across the room, warm and flickering like candlelight.

Neatly arranged white chairs lined the aisle, all facing the altar, a vision of white blooms and gentle green. Roses, lilies, orchids, a cascade of petals and scent.

Ivory drapes rippled slightly, their quiet folds mirroring the calm before everything began. A polished wooden podium stood at the center, adorned only with a simple cluster of white peonies, understated but sure.

Guests spoke in hushed tones. Now and then, someone glanced toward the entrance, waiting, wondering, holding the moment in quiet suspense.

Taehyung sat quietly in the room, tucked away from the curious eyes of the wedding guests. He faced the vanity mirror, his fingers nervously fidgeting with a loose thread on his sleeve. Beside him, Jimin's expression was a mix of emotion and hope, while Yoongi stood close, the calm in him anchoring everything around them.

“You promise you won’t forget me, right? Even after all this… I’ll still be your number one,” Jimin said softly, eyes shining with unshed tears.

Taehyung rolled his eyes, but a playful smile tugged at his lips. “I’ll think about it,” he teased.

Yoongi chuckled lowly from the corner, amused by their easy banter.

“Cheater,” Jimin pouted, but there was warmth in his eyes.

Despite everything, Jimin felt a quiet reassurance. Hyung Sik was a good and reliable alpha. Taehyung didn’t love him now, but maybe, just maybe, that love would grow. It was far better than the sting of rejection that had haunted Taehyung’s days before.

Taehyung’s phone buzzed on the vanity table. He smiled faintly, seeing Hyung Sik’s name flash across the screen but inside, his heart twisted. Just an hour from now, he was supposed to stand beside that man as his husband. The thought settled in his chest, dense and unmoving, like it had roots.

“Hello, hyung,” Taehyung said quietly, picking up the call.

He was genuinely grateful that Hyung Sik had never been overly affectionate or romantic during their meetings. It made things easier  or at least, less uncomfortable. With Hyung Sik, it had always felt like being with a good friend, nothing more. No expectations. No messy emotions.

But what came next wasn’t something he expected.

“Taehyung… I’m sorry,” Hyung Sik’s voice trembled slightly on the other end.

Taehyung’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean, hyung?”

“I… I can’t marry you,” Hyung Sik said, exhaling sharply. “I’ve been lying to myself. I like someone else. I thought I could do this for our families, for my duty but I can’t go through with it. Please forgive me. I hope you find someone who truly loves you… someone you choose.”

And then the line went dead.

Taehyung blinked at the screen, stunned. The phone slipped from his hand and clattered to the floor. He looked up slowly, meeting Jimin’s shocked gaze.

Was this his fate?

Rejected by the one he chose…
And now, rejected by the one his parents chose.

It felt like the universe had just turned him into the punchline of some cruel joke.

The door creaked open, and Taehyung's mother stepped inside. Her face was tight with stress, her eyes already glassy. And when she saw him standing there in his wedding clothes, something inside her broke tears slipped down her cheeks as she rushed forward and pulled him into a hug.

“I’m sorry, my son,” she whispered, her voice cracking as she held him tightly.

Jimin and Yoongi stood in stunned silence, watching the emotional scene unfold, their faces clouded with concern.

Taehyung smiled gently, patting his mother’s back. “Mom… it’s nothing. Don’t cry,” he murmured, his voice calm. “It’s really not hurting me.”

Jimin stepped closer, his brows furrowed. “Tae, what’s going on?” he asked, almost afraid of the answer.

“Nothing much,” Taehyung replied quietly. “Hyung Sik just… called it off. He said he couldn’t marry me.”

Yoongi’s eyes widened in disbelief. Jimin gasped, lifting a hand to cover his mouth.

“But it’s okay,” Taehyung said again, trying to sound braver. “Don’t make this harder, please.”

His mother sniffled, pulling away to look at him. Before anyone could speak again, the door opened once more this time, it was his father.

Taehyung’s heart twisted the moment he saw his father’s face.

His head was bowed. Shoulders low. The proud man Taehyung always looked up to was nowhere in sight. Taehyung hated seeing him like this. His father was the kind of man who walked with his chin high, always, always holding the family’s dignity.

Then, suddenly, Mr. Kim stepped forward and brought his hands together in apology.

Taehyung’s eyes widened in shock. “Dad… no,” he breathed, rushing forward to stop him. He grabbed his father’s wrists gently, holding them apart.

“Please don’t do that." Taehyung said, voice trembling for the first time.

“Forgive me, son,” his father said, voice low, eyes still cast downward.

“Appa, don’t…” Taehyung shook his head gently, stepping closer. “You don’t need to apologize. I’m not mad at you.”

His father’s shoulders trembled slightly.

“I’m not even mad at Hyung Sik,” Taehyung added, his voice softer now. “It was good he realized it before things went further. It’s better this way.”

There was a pause.

Then Mr. Kim looked up, his eyes glassy with emotion. “Taehyung… can I ask you something? A favor. Please… don’t reject it.”

Taehyung’s breath caught, but he nodded slowly, unsure.

“Can you… marry today?” his father asked, voice almost a whisper. “To someone I choose for you.”

A stunned silence filled the room.

“Uncle are you even hearing yourself?” Jimin snapped, his voice sharp with disbelief. “How can you ask him that right now?”

But Yoongi placed a  hand on Jimin’s arm, gently pulling him back. “It’s their family matter,” he muttered under his breath, eyes tense.

Taehyung looked between them all, his heart pounding in his chest. His father’s eyes were pleading, desperate.

“Give me a few minutes,” Taehyung said quietly, his eyes meeting his father’s.

Mr. Kim moved to hold his hand again, guilt all over his face, but Taehyung quickly caught his hands in return.

“Never, appa. Don’t do that. Keep your chin high,” Taehyung whispered. “You and mom, go meet the guests with your heads held high and smiles on your faces. I’ll come out in five minutes.”

His parents looked at him, torn between heartbreak and pride, then slowly nodded before stepping out.

Taehyung turned toward the mirror again when Jimin’s voice broke the silence.

“Taehyung, are you out of your mind?” Jimin cried, stepping forward. “He called off the wedding! Why are you tying yourself to a stranger now?”

Taehyung looked at him, eyes calm but sad. “Jimin-ah… my father worked his whole life to earn his place in this society. Unfortunately, I’m not from the elite, where canceled weddings are brushed off like fashion trends. And I’m not from the poor either, where survival trumps appearances. We middle class people, We’re stuck in the middle, this fragile space where one wrong whisper can break everything."

His voice lowered. "There are guests outside. And society always blames the omega. They’ll say I was flawed, that my parents didn’t raise me right. They won’t care about truth. So let me… just do this one thing. A small sacrifice. For them."

Jimin stood frozen, eyes wet. “Don’t do this,” he whispered.

Taehyung smiled faintly, the mirror reflecting the ache behind his expression. “I have to.”

"Don’t cry," Taehyung said softly, stepping toward Jimin with a tired smile. "You really fought with my father just to be my best man. Shouldn’t you be walking me down the aisle? Or should I call appa instead?" he teased gently.

Jimin let out a shaky breath, trying to hold back his emotions.

“Come on, Jimin. Let’s end this,” Taehyung’s words came low and slow, like each one cost him something. “I’m tired now. Or I’ll walk alone.”

Jimin quickly wiped his tears and reached for Taehyung’s hand, squeezing it tightly.

✧･ﾟ:* ─ *:･ﾟ✧

The wedding hall erupted into applause as Taehyung walked down the aisle, his arm linked with Jimin’s. His eyes fell on the back of the groom standing at the altar, a man still a stranger to him.

He looked toward his father, standing quietly at the side. His father wasn’t smiling, only staring ahead with a tense, somber expression. Taehyung gave him a small, encouraging smile.

He reached the altar. The groom finally turned to face him and slowly extended his hand.

“No shit, Sherlock,” Jimin whispered, the words barely making it past his parted lips.

Taehyung stopped walking.

His eyes wide, disbelieving, were fixed ahead. His heartbeat roared in his ears, louder than the music, louder than the claps, louder than anything.

Because the man standing at the altar...

The groom waiting for him...

It was Jeongguk.

In a suit, eyes quiet but burning, hand gently extended toward him.

Time didn’t slow. It stopped.

The breath Taehyung had been holding since morning it never left. It stayed stuck in his throat as he moved forward, feet dragging him without permission.

Jeongguk didn’t speak. He didn’t smile.

He just looked at him like the silence between them was now a language only they understood.

Taehyung’s hand met Jeongguk’s.

His fingers trembled in the other’s palm.

His chest ached.

Was this mercy? Was this a punishment?

The priest’s voice felt like it came from underwater, speaking vows that Taehyung could barely register. All he knew was the way Jeongguk’s eyes stayed on him , unreadable, but never once looking away.

Jeongguk vow first. His voice was low, reverent. Each vow like a thread stitched over a wound.

Then came Taehyung’s turn.

He blinked. His lips moved. The words came hollow, distant but they came.

The rings were exchanged in silence.

And when Jeongguk slid the ring onto his finger, he didn’t just let it settle.

He bent down, kissed the back of Taehyung’s hand.

Soft.

Unhurried.

A moment that felt both like an apology and a beginning.

Taehyung’s eyes stung.

He didn’t know whether to break apart.

Or fall into this madness completely.

✧･ﾟ:* to be continue*:･ﾟ✧

Chapter 15: 15

In the silence, Taehyung belonged to Jeongguk. And in that silence, that fragile, tender pause, he was home.

‧₊˚✩彡⋆☾ ﾟ

Past

 

 

Taehyung felt like he was dreaming.

A dream so delicate it felt like wandering through lavender fields at dusk, the air soft, the world quiet, and everything around him tinted in hues of gentleness. He didn’t want to wake up. Not yet. Not when the ache in his heart was finally still, even if only for a moment.

Throughout the ceremony, he kept waiting for someone to shake him, to call his name, to tell him none of this was real.
But no one did.
The vows had been spoken.
The rings exchanged.
A kiss, light, reverent had been pressed onto his hand.

And just like that, Taehyung had become Jeon Taehyung.

The name sat strange on his tongue. Not because it was foreign, but because it had once belonged to a dream he'd already buried.

Now it clung to him like dew soft and cold, and far too real.

Everything had gone smoothly. The guests had smiled, the parents had nodded, and the society had been fed its happy ending.

But now, seated in the quiet of the car, Taehyung finally let himself look.

Jeongguk sat beside him. Silent. Still. Looking ahead.

His first love.

His first heartbreak.

The man who had once been a page in a chapter Taehyung had closed with trembling hands… was now sitting beside him as the beginning of a new story.

And Taehyung didn’t know if it was fate, or some cruel joke dressed in silk and white roses.

But his heart, traitorous, foolish heart beat a little faster anyway.

The car was cloaked in silence.

Taehyung sat still, his hands resting on his lap, fingers curling and uncurling slowly the only sign of his anxious thoughts. The silence wasn’t loud, but it stretched between them. He didn’t know how to cut through it. He didn’t know if he was even allowed to.

The car belonged to his father. He had quietly asked Jeongguk if they could use it for the ride, and Jeongguk hadn’t refused.

Just like he hadn’t refused the marriage.

And that made it worse somehow.

Taehyung’s mind was a storm of questions, each one spinning harder than the last.

How did his father even know Jeongguk?
Did Jeongguk know it was him, Taehyung, he was going to marry?
Did he agree because he wanted to… or just because it was asked of him?

He didn’t dare voice any of them.

And Jeongguk didn’t offer anything either, no words, no glances. He just drove.

The city lights dimmed behind them, and soon, the car slowed to a stop.

Taehyung looked out the window.

The house stood quietly before him. Familiar. Painfully so.

He remembered this place  the doorstep where he had stood with nervous hope, holding a proposal only to be turned away. The same house where his affection had been rejected before it had a chance to bloom.

And now, he was here again.

This time not with a flower but with a marriage.

His fingers tightened slightly in his lap.

Jeongguk stepped out first. His expression unreadable as always. He moved around the car and opened the door for Taehyung.

Taehyung hesitated, then stepped out into the night. The car door clicked shut behind him, a small sound, but it lingered like an ending.

He stood in front of the house that had once marked his heartbreak.

And now… it was his home. Maybe.

In silence, they walked side by side from the gate, through the garden path, to the front door.

Jeongguk unlocked the door with a soft click, pushing it open. The house was dim, bathed in the soft light that leaked in from the porch, shadows stretching across the floor.

Then, without a word, Jeongguk turned slightly toward Taehyung.

And crouched.

Taehyung barely had time to react before strong arms swept under his knees and shoulders  lifting him into a bridal carry.

His breath hitched.

He felt Jeongguk’s grip, a strength wrapped in care, his scent faint under his cologne, familiar in a way that ached. Taehyung’s heart thudded loudly in his chest.

He knew this tradition. An old one. Alphas carrying their omegas into the bedroom on the wedding night. A symbolic gesture.

But this… wasn’t a traditional marriage.
This wasn’t even a marriage built on love.
So why?

Why was Jeongguk doing this?

Was it obligation?

Some silent promise to his father?

Pity?

He didn’t ask. He couldn't.

Jeongguk didn’t say a word either.

When they reached the stairs, Jeongguk began to climb. Taehyung instinctively tightened his grip, fingers clutching the soft fabric of Jeongguk’s shirt.

The closeness  the scent, the warmth, the feeling of being held, it was too much. Too overwhelming. Too cruelly tender for a heart that had already been fractured in the shape of this very man.

And yet… he didn't pull away.

Maybe part of him wanted to pretend. Just for a moment. That it was real.

Just for a moment… that he belonged in his arms.

The door opened, and Taehyung’s heart pounded loudly in his chest, echoing in the stillness of the room.

Jeongguk crouched down gently, setting Taehyung onto a single mattress lying bare on the floor.

Taehyung’s eyes widened, taking in the sparse room. One mattress. Nothing else. No furniture, no decorations, just the quiet emptiness.

He blinked, momentarily taken aback.

Jeongguk, already seated beside him, began slipping off his shoes.

Taehyung’s gaze flicked nervously around the room before settling back on Jeongguk. The other man crouched down, reaching toward Taehyung’s shoes.

Quickly, Taehyung pulled his foot back.

“I I can do it,” he stammered, cheeks flushing.

Jeongguk simply nodded, expression unreadable.

Taehyung slid off his shoes, feeling Jeongguk’s gaze fixed on him.

He bit his lower lip, looking down at the floor, suddenly overwhelmed.

Jeongguk’s eyes held him, unblinking like a quiet storm gathering just beneath the surface. Taehyung found himself caught in that gaze again, pulled under like a tide he didn’t want to resist.

“I want to be your husband,” Jeongguk said. The words barely left his lips, yet they bore the burden of a thousand silent truths. Taehyung’s breath hitched, caught in the glow of those wide, doe like eyes.

“Not just in the vows,” Jeongguk whispered, his fingers brushing Taehyung’s hand, a light touch that promised more than ceremony.

“But in every way,” he said, one hand moving slowly, reverently, to cradle Taehyung’s face.

“Your protector,” he murmured, Taehyung saw a fierce truth, an unvoiced vow smouldering behind those calm gaze.

“To be your companion,” Jeongguk breathed, thumb tracing gentle circles along Taehyung’s cheek, like a soft prayer whispered against skin.

A single tear escaped Taehyung’s eye, tracing a warm line down his cheek. The alpha he’d longed for, the one he’d feared might never say these words, was here, in this fragile moment, offering everything.

“Do you?” Jeongguk asked, voice gentle as a breeze, searching.

Taehyung nodded, a quiet hope settling deep in his chest.

“May I?” came the quiet question, Jeongguk’s breath a shiver over his skin.

Eyes closed, the last tear slipping away like a fragile secret, Taehyung gave himself over, a slow nod.

And then.

Jeongguk’s lips met his own, hungry and sure, a desperate prayer folded into a fierce kiss. A scorching wish breathed into being.

A slow burning fire ignited between their mouths, no rush, no need for frantic heat. Just simmering, relentless, deep and raw, like Jeongguk himself, controlled but wild beneath the surface.

Jeongguk lowered Taehyung onto the mattress, never breaking the kiss. When his teeth grazed Taehyung’s bottom lip, a raw, breathless moan tore free, ragged and desperate.

Jeongguk hummed against him, a low sound vibrating through the room, full of satisfaction and fierce possession.

Holding Taehyung, tasting the softness and heat of him, he’d never felt peace like this before. Having Taehyung in his life was like finding a harbor in the storm.

Pulling back just enough to breathe, Jeongguk’s dark eyes roamed Taehyung’s flushed face, searching, wondering why this fragile omega had chosen him. He could have any alpha. What was it that made Taehyung’s heart beat for him? And what if fate had taken a different path, if Taehyung had married another?

A low growl rumbled in Jeongguk’s throat as his fingers fumbled with Taehyung’s suit buttons, ripping them open like ripping away doubt and hesitation. His own shirt joined the pile, tossed aside with reckless need.

Taehyung’s hair spilled wild over his forehead, eyes locked onto Jeongguk’s face  as he peeled off his shirt, baring the skin beneath.

Jeongguk leaned in again, fingers tracing the edges of Taehyung’s shirt buttons. Taehyung’s hand caught his wrist, not to stop him but to anchor his racing heart in this quiet, perfect moment.

Jeongguk shrugged free of Taehyung shirt, muscles flexing under smooth skin. The cold air kissed their bare chests, making the heat between them burn hotter. Taehyung’s cheeks flushed deeper, a fire kindling low and slow in places he hadn’t expected.

Jeongguk’s lips trailed down Taehyung’s neck, feather light but claiming, like a vow sealed. Then lower, kissing the hollow of his collarbone, each touch a slow claim marking him.

Taehyung bit his lip hard, swallowing a shaky sigh. Jeongguk was so good at this torturous, delicious foreplay, unrushing and intoxicated, every touch searing.

When he’d come here tonight, Taehyung hadn’t imagined this, that Jeongguk would give more than cold distance, more than a quiet, lonely companionship. But this, this was the secret longing he’d never dared speak aloud.

A fire roared beneath his skin achingly even though his body wasn’t in heat. Jeongguk’s dark eyes flicked over the bruises and marks he’d left behind, a map of devotion etched across Taehyung’s pale skin. His swollen lips, parted and glistening, held a raw hunger.

Taehyung let out a quiet chuckle before leaning in to kiss him, gentle, testing, like placing a hand on still water to see if it welcomes the touch.

A small part of his heart braced itself, braced for a flinch, a push, the subtle recoil of rejection that still lived beneath his skin like old bruises. But Jeongguk didn’t pull away. He accepted the kiss in silence, as natural as breath.

Boldness bloomed inside him. His fingers found Jeongguk’s belt buckle, pulling it free. Jeongguk’s hands mirrored the move, undoing Taehyung’s waistband.

Breathless kisses tangled as buttons flew, leather fell, and soon pants slid down together, leaving them stripped.

Taehyung let out a soft moan against Jeongguk’s lips as he lay back, overwhelmed by the nearness, the tenderness. Neither of them dared look down. It wasn’t about what they would see. It was about what they were feeling, that was too much to fit in a glance.

Jeongguk’s hand traced slow, reverent lines from Taehyung’s waist down, across the soft curve of his hip, trailing over soft skin, brushing past his navel, until it finally cupped the lower of him.

A low, needy moan spilled from Taehyung’s lips. It startled him, flushed him with sudden embarrassment. He sounded like someone untouched. And then he remembered.

He was untouched.

He was about to lose his virginity.

And it would be Jeon Jeongguk, his once distant crush, the cold shouldered alpha who was now his husband, who would be the first to hold him like this.

The thought wasn’t frightening.

It was breathtaking.

Jeongguk’s mouth pressed against the curve of Taehyung’s shoulder, leaving slow, open mouthed kisses that warmed the skin like a lingering hush.

Then Taehyung felt it, fingers, careful and sure, sliding inside with a patience that made his chest ache. No rush, only reverence, like Jeongguk was memorizing him from the inside, curling just so, exploring and claiming.

A shiver rolled through Taehyung, lips parting on a moan that tumbled free before he could catch it. His hips lifted instinctively, chasing the rhythm of Jeongguk’s hand, chasing the sacred bloom of pleasure beneath his skin.

“Ah,” he gasped, voice cracking as Jeongguk’s fingers curled just right, deep drawing sounds from him he didn’t know he could make.

Every touch was a vow, every kiss a promise. Jeongguk wasn’t just learning his body, he was answering something primal, a hunger older than words.

Taehyung was open, trembling, overwhelmed by the miracle of being wanted so fiercely.

His eyes widen innocently as Jeongguk hovered above him, arms braced around Taehyung's head, keeping his weight suspended.

So close now, Taehyung could see the tiny constellation of moles scattered across Jeongguk’s skin, stars he had never been near enough to study until now. They felt like secrets etched in stardust.

“Ahh, fuck, ngh,” the raw moan ripped free as Jeongguk pushed inside, slow and brutal, filling him completely.

His eyes fluttered shut, lashes trembling, the fullness knocking the air from his lungs. Jeongguk moved with fierce control, each thrust deep and grounding. But inside, Taehyung was burning, each deep thrust lighting a fuse behind his ribs that spread heat down to his fingertips.

Jeongguk’s hands slid downward, fingers tracing along Taehyung’s ankle, up the curve of his calf, until his hands found the softness of Taehyung’s thighs. With one sure motion, he lifted them, draping them over his shoulders.

The change in angle stole the breath right out of Taehyung.

He was no longer watching Jeongguk’s moles like constellations. Now, he saw galaxies behind his closed eyes, brilliant, wild, and bursting.

Jeongguk’s pace picked up, hips snapping hard and deep, the room filled with the sharp slap of skin, Taehyung’s ragged moans, and low, guttural growls from Jeongguk’s throat.

They moved in a raw, primal rhythm, old as time, fierce as the wildfire burning between them.

Jeongguk chased his climax with frantic urgency, hips stuttering and pounding as he emptied himself inside Taehyung. Taehyung’s body convulsed around him, every nerve screaming, every breath hitching on the edge of something infinite.

Their chests rose and fell together, sweat slicked hair clinging to forehead. Jeongguk’s eyes found Taehyung’s, wild sparks flying between them, refusing to die out.

Even as Jeongguk movements slowed, rocking in and out with desperate tenderness, Taehyung’s own release crashed over him, his moans dissolving into ragged gasps.

And then softly, like a secret Jeongguk spoke.

“Can you mark me?”

The words pulled Taehyung from the haze of his high. His eyes widened, heart stalling for a beat too long. Of all the surprises this night had brought, this, this one lodged in his chest like something sacred.

Marking.

So intimate, so permanent. A ritual even most wedded couples waited years to reach. Something whispered between the devoted, the bonded. And here Jeongguk was on their first night, not demanding, not expecting,

but asking.

And it wasn’t just anyone asking. It was Jeongguk, an alpha. Alphas rarely offered their necks. Rarer still to omegas. And yet Jeongguk was here above him, open, breathless, quietly offering the most vulnerable part of himself.

Taehyung gave a quiet nod, barely more than a breath. Deep inside, his soul stirred, howling in silent joy.

His alpha, his Jeongguk, was asking to be marked. Willingly, openly. A gesture so rare it felt almost mythical.

Jeongguk truly meant it.

No matter how strange the path that had brought them here, no matter how tangled their beginning, Jeongguk was choosing him.

With that small, sacred nod, Jeongguk shifted onto his side, the quiet strength in his arms guiding Taehyung gently until he was straddling him. Taehyung’s hands found Jeongguk’s chest as he sat up, nerves fluttering in his heart like moths.

He hesitated, heart stammering, eyes sweeping over Jeongguk, laid bare beneath him, golden in the low light.

Then slowly Taehyung leaned down, his lips brushing the warm skin at the juncture of Jeongguk’s shoulder and neck. He lingered there, breathing him in, the scent of salt and sweat and something uniquely Jeongguk grounding him.

And then, he bit.

A claiming, but not a conquest.

A promise.

Jeongguk growled low in his throat, a sound born of pain laced with pleasure, deep and guttural. His hands gripped the sheets, back arching faintly beneath Taehyung’s mouth.

Taehyung’s teeth sank just enough to leave the bond behind, then slowly pulled away, breath trembling as he lifted his head.

And there, etched on Jeongguk’s neck, was the mark.

His mark.

Seeing it made Taehyung’s chest swell. The sight overwhelmed him with something larger than pride, larger than desire.

“I love you, Jeongguk,” Taehyung whispered, breath trembling, lips brushing over Jeongguk’s cheek, his brow, the tip of his nose. “I love you so much. I love you…I love you…”

Each repetition was a thread unraveling from deep in his chest. And with every word, every kiss, his voice grew softer, more fragile. Tears welled, catching on his lashes before they spilled,  down his cheeks.

“I was so scared,” he confessed, voice breaking as he kissed Jeongguk’s lips, lingering there like a prayer. “The thought of marrying someone else, anyone else, while you still lived in my heart…” His voice cracked, “…I felt like a sinner. Like I was betraying something sacred.”

He pulled back, breathless, but his eyes never left Jeongguk’s.

“Mark me, alpha,” Taehyung whispered, voice nearly trembling. “Please… Mark me. I’m yours. I’ll always be yours.”

Jeongguk sat up, his arms still wrapped around Taehyung like he might drift away. Taehyung stayed in his lap, chest bare, eyes wide, neck offered without a trace of fear.

And Jeongguk leaned in, his mouth finding the soft skin of Taehyung’s throat.

He didn’t rush.

He kissed the space once, before his teeth sank in with careful pressure. The bite wasn’t cruel. It was deep, full of meaning.

Taehyung gasped, sharp and sweet, head tilting as his fingers clutched Jeongguk’s shoulders. A sound slipped from his lips, half moan, half confession.

“I love you,” he murmured again, barely audible now. “I love you…”

And Jeongguk held him tighter, as if he'd never let go.

✧･ﾟ:* ─ *:･ﾟ✧

Taehyung didn’t remember when sleep had taken him, only that it came quietly, cradled in the warmth of Jeongguk’s arms, lulled by the rise and fall of his chest and the soft hum of calm that wrapped around them.

But now, morning had come.

Golden light spilled through the bare window, brushing against his skin like a whisper. There were no curtains to soften the glare. The room felt stripped down, almost empty but not hollow. It held something real now. Something lived in.

He stirred beneath the sheets, the soft fabric of pajamas clinging to clean skin.

Taehyung blinked.

He hadn’t cleaned himself… had he?

A flush bloomed across his neck, creeping up to his cheeks as he sat up on the mattress, hair tousled and lips slightly parted in sleepy surprise. His body still ached faintly in the way that reminded him he had been held, not just touched.

A low sound came from somewhere below. The faint clinking of dishes, the murmur of movement in the kitchen.

Jeongguk.

The realization settled over him like a quiet smile.

He let out a sigh, glancing around the room. Sparse. The kind of space that hadn’t yet learned the weight of belonging. No framed photos, no plants, no mess. Just clean lines and bare surfaces.

Still… it didn’t feel empty anymore.

Dragging himself out of bed, Taehyung padded to the small cupboard tucked into the corner. A few shirts, a pair of pants, some folded boxers. Minimalist. Predictably Jeongguk.

He pulled out a simple pair and made his way toward the bathroom.

The day had only just begun.

But something had already changed.

When Taehyung padded down the stairs, the scent of citrus and warm morning air greeted him. The light had shifted, paler now, filtering in like silk through the bare windows, illuminating dust motes that danced in silence.

In the kitchen, Jeongguk stood with his back to the room, sleeves pushed up, pouring fresh juice into two clear glasses.

As if sensing him, Jeongguk looked up.

Their eyes met.

A single, wordless nod. Blank, unreadable. But to Taehyung, it was no longer cold, it was simply Jeongguk. Quiet in voice, quieter in face. He didn’t speak in expressions. He spoke in the stillness between them.

Taehyung’s gaze drifted, casual at first, until it caught on a single detail that hit him like a breath he hadn’t meant to take.

There, in a small glass pot filled with water, sat withered red roses. Fragile now, its petal browned with time. But still standing. Still kept.

Taehyung knew that flowers. He remembered the way his hands had trembled clutching them over a month ago, heart bare, hope flickering.

And he remembered the rejection that followed.

He blinked fast, trying to will away the sudden sting behind his eyes. It was foolish to cry over an old flowers, but something about its survival in that water… something about Jeongguk keeping it… tore his heart sweetly.

He tore his gaze away, heart tightening, and looked up at Jeongguk again.

“Good morning, alpha,” he said brightly, too brightly, letting cheerfulness coat the crack in his voice.

He walked up to him, stole a kiss from the corner of Jeongguk’s mouth, a quick brush, a soft press, more greeting than desire.

Jeongguk froze, just for a breath. Then blinked, eyes flicking to Taehyung’s lips like he was still learning what it meant to be wanted so openly.

“…Morning,” he murmured, voice low, not quite used to softness but trying.
Taehyung took in the space with curious eyes as he wandered into the living room if it could be called that.

A lone couch sat awkwardly in one corner, slightly sunken on one side, and the open kitchen offered only two chairs, mismatched, as if chosen not for comfort but necessity.

The house was quiet, but not in a peaceful way. It felt… waiting. Walls bare, windows naked, the emptiness humming like an unfinished sentence.

Taehyung sat down, pulling one of the chairs toward him with a soft scrape. Jeongguk followed, settling into the other.

“When did you buy this house?” Taehyung asked, reaching for a glass.

Jeongguk slid a slice of bread toward him, the surface already spread with jam, simple and neat.

“Four months ago.”

Taehyung blinked. “Four?”

“And it’s still like this?” he gasped in genuine horror. “No curtains, no furniture, no life, this poor house. It’s starving for color. God, it must cry at night from being so empty.”

He gestured wildly, already mid rant. “We need cushions, lamps, a rug at least. And art. Maybe plants! The echo in here is depressing.”

Jeongguk didn’t flinch. He simply looked at him, quiet, absorbing, unbothered by the flood of words.

“You can fill it however you want,” he said at last, voice even and soft.

Taehyung stilled.

His lips parted, then pressed together again. He cleared his throat, trying to sound casual.

“Well, of course I will,” he muttered, nose in the air, but his ears betrayed him burning pink.

They ate in silence after that.

Taehyung watched Jeongguk from across the table, sunlight catching in the soft curve of his cheekbone. The juice in his glass sat untouched.

“Jeongguk…” he began, voice careful, almost hesitant. “Can you resign from Saebyuk Motors?”

Jeongguk looked up slowly.

Taehyung’s fingers curled into his lap. He bit his lip, uncertain if he was overstepping, if this was too much for a first morning as someone’s husband.

But now that the words were out, there was no calling them back.

He inhaled. And then the dam inside him cracked just enough.

“I know how it must sound,” he said quietly, his eyes drifting to the rim of his glass.

“But I’ve looked into them, Jeongguk. I studied these patterns at university. What’s happening there, it’s not just toxicity. It’s fraud. Embezzlement. The way they treat customers like burdens. The kind that’s rotting the place from the inside.”

“You know it too, You’re one of the few holding that place together just you, Hoseok, and a couple others. But the management… they’ve stopped caring. They're running the company into the ground.”

“I cross checked employee complaints, customer reviews, legal filings. Jeongguk, it’s not just toxic. It’s a rotting foundation. And it’s only a matter of time. The head office won’t wait forever. By year’s end, they’ll either strip the dealership from license  or gut the leadership. When that happens, you’ll lose your job either way.”

He looked up then, eyes wide, not demanding, just… hoping.

“I’m not trying to control anything, I just want you to land before the ground gives way.”

Jeongguk nodded once.

“I’ll resign today.”

Taehyung blinked. “What wait, really?”

He choked on the breath that rushed too fast through his lungs and broke into a cough.

Without a word, Jeongguk rose, poured a glass of water, and came around the table. He tapped Taehyung’s back gently, other hands guiding him to sip.

It was so domestic, so quietly intimate, that it startled warmth in Taehyung’s chest.

He looked up through teary eyes not from the coughing but from something else entirely.

Something like trust.

Something like being heard.

✧･ﾟ:* ─ *:･ﾟ✧

That day, Jeongguk returned to Saebyuk Motors one last time.

The sky was gray, overcast like the mood inside him, but there was no hesitation in his step. He handed in his resignation with quiet finality. No dramatics. No bitterness. Just a clean farewell. Years of dedication condensed into a single signature. They gave him a certificate of experience without fuss, his record impeccable, his hands the kind that machines trusted.

By evening, the burden of that chapter had already begun to fade.

Jeongguk sent out his résumé to every reputable automobile service across the city.

There was no panic, he had saved enough to survive comfortably for a few months, even after letting Taehyung insist on filling the empty house with furniture, curtain rods, and colors Jeongguk would never have thought to choose.

The days that followed blurred into laughter of Taehyung in cluttered home goods stores, measuring tape, and shared glances that said more than words ever could. Jeongguk had never shopped for a life before not like this.

Then came the email from daeson auto group, a company as structured as a well oiled engine. They were expanding. A senior technician had transferred unexpectedly to another branch. And they needed someone now, someone with experience, stability, and hands that knew how to read a car like scripture.

It felt like quiet fate.

The interview was clean, respectful, efficient. No egos, no under the table deals. Protocols were followed. Rules made sense. Jeongguk didn’t have to second guess himself in the way Saebyuk had taught him to. When they offered him the job, they even gave him a choice start this Monday or next.

He chose Monday.

Taehyung’s first day at work was also at that monday. This would be the start of something. Separate roads, yes, but both heading in the same direction.

They sat together on the couch, the hush of evening settling gently around them. Jeongguk’s gaze wandered not at Taehyung this time, but at the world he had quietly created.

The once empty walls now held paintings, not borrowed from galleries or stores, but born from Taehyung’s own hands. Soft strokes of color, wild with emotion, hung like pieces of his soul scattered across plaster.

Every corner whispered him.

The tiny ceramic vases. The patterned rugs that softened the floor. The books on the shelves, bent at the spine. The kitchen, once echoing cold, now cradled polished utensils, spice jars labeled in Taehyung’s soft script. The bedroom glowed with a vanity tucked neatly beside the bed, fresh linens, quiet light. Even the guest room, even the bath, everything had been touched by him.

It wasn’t just a house anymore.
It was a heart with four walls.

And somehow, Taehyung had done it all with grace, careful, thoughtful spending that never once felt lacking. Only intentional. Only warm.

On the couch, Taehyung placed the last flower into the waiting vase, a blush pink bloom and set it on the table like one might place a period at the end of a sentence. He sighed, but not from exhaustion.

It was a sigh that said, Now, it’s home.

His eyes found Jeongguk’s, and before either of them could think twice, Jeongguk crossed the small space between them. One heartbeat, then two and he was there, pressing Taehyung gently back into the cushions, his body curling over him like a question he already knew the answer to.

Taehyung gasped, startled and then giggled, sweet and surprised, his fingers instinctively curling into Jeongguk’s shirt.

Jeongguk kissed him like he was memorizing him again.

Taehyung’s hands rose, cradling Jeongguk’s face with a tenderness that felt like a secret only they knew. His thumbs brushed gently along the jawline he had memorized in dreams, and his gaze, soft as dusk, held no expectations only acceptance.

He was full, not of noise or declarations, but of stillness.

Jeongguk was here. That was enough.

He hadn’t answered Taehyung’s confession. Hadn’t returned those fragile, fluttering words. But he hadn’t run either. He stayed, in the quiet, in the shadowed rooms, in the warm cup of morning tea. He stayed in a way that mattered.

And Taehyung stayed too. With him. For him. Without needing more than what this was.

In the silence, Taehyung belonged to Jeongguk.

And in that silence, that fragile, tender pause, he was home.

✧･ﾟ:* to be continue *:･ﾟ✧

Notes:

The past flashbacks are over now✨

Chapter 16: 16

His heart would always find its way back to this man just like a tide returning to shore, no matter how restless the ocean in between.

‧₊˚✩彡⋆☾ ﾟ

 

Jeon Jeongguk walked with the evening curling around his shoulders like a tired sigh. The air was brushing past him with the hush of leaves and distant traffic. His body ached with tired that seeps into your bones after a long day of labour.

He didn’t mean to slow down, but he did something tugged at him. Just ahead, an old couple shuffled along the pavement, hand in hand, their fingers linked like it was still the most natural thing in the world. They were smiling wrapped in their own warmth.

He saw the creases in their skin, the years etched into their faces like the way soft rain wears down stone.

Was it really that simple? To be old and still with someone? To still like them? How much had they let go, over the years, to stay like this? How many times had they chosen love over being right, over being tired, over walking away?

“If you can’t satisfy me emotionally, then at least satisfy me physically.”

Those words from Taehyung that night had cut through Jeongguk like glass.

He had never been hurt like that before. Because deep down, in some unlit part of himself, he knew it wasn’t a lie.

That was what stung the most, the truth of it. And yet, knowing something is true doesn’t make it hurt any less. If anything, it makes the pain more Cleaner and Realer.

That night, after his drunked breakdown on the beach in front of Namjoon, Jeongguk had let himself slip further deeper into the bottle. The alcohol dulled the edges, but only just. The waves had roared behind him like they were echoing something inside.

He remembers pieces. Fragments. Namjoon’s hands guiding him back to the suite. The way the hallway lights blurred as he leaned into a barely known man shoulder. The soft click of the door unlocking.

He remembers Taehyung’s sleeping face. He remembers crawling into bed beside him, careful not to wake him, like he didn’t want to disturb whatever peace Taehyung had found in dreams.

Jeongguk lay there, wide awake, with everything unsaid wanted to burst through his skin.

But it hadn’t been the same for Taehyung.

He didn’t remember the one side fight the night before. When morning came, Taehyung woke up with the dull throb of a headache and the familiar ache in his back, remnants of what he mistook for passion.

And that’s what hurt Jeongguk the most that Taehyung had read it all so differently.

He’d woken up glowing, mistaking the roughness, the urgency, for some twisted kind of devotion. He thought it had been one of their passionate nights, love burning so hot it left bruises. He smiled through the pain, like it meant tenderness.

But Jeongguk knew better.

Those hard, desperate thrusts hadn’t been about love. They weren’t about closeness or warmth. They were an escape a way to outrun the storm in both of their chests. It hadn’t been love making. It had been pain management. For both of them.

And somehow, that made everything feel even lonelier.

The wedding vacation had come to an end the grooms had flown off to Greece for their honeymoon, and they had returned to their quiet routines, to the rhythm of 9 to 5 lives.

Somewhere in the days that followed, Jeongguk had forgotten or maybe forgiven. At least, that’s what he told himself. But he couldn’t say if his forgetting would ever feel like forgiveness to Taehyung.

He wasn’t sure if time could rewrite memory for both of them the same way.

Still turning that thought over, Jeongguk pushed the key into the door and stepped inside. His eyes landed on the rug, two pairs of shoes kicked off without care.

And then came the laughter. Two voices, light and familiar, floating from the kitchen like the scent of warmth.

He walked further in without word

Taehyung wasstanding in the open kitchen mid laughing, stirring something on the stove. And beside him stood another man. Young. An alpha.

Then Taehyung looked up, and the moment his eyes found Jeongguk’s, his face lit up with a smile so soft it felt like morning light breaking through clouds.

“You’re home,” he said, voice warm and easy. Without missing a beat, he turned and opened the refrigerator, probably reaching for a bottle of water, that small, familiar gesture of care.

The young alpha beside him turned then.

“Hyung!” the boy beamed, stepping forward to close the space between them, pulling Jeongguk into a brief, fond embrace.

“Hyunie,” he said softly as he ruffled his younger brother’s hair and patted his back with affection.

"Hyung, how are you?"

Jeongguk turned his head slightly, watching his younger brother as Junghyun dropped beside him on the stool again.

“I’ve got a project in Seoul,” Junghyun continued without waiting for an answer. “So I thought I’d crash here for a few days. Hope that’s cool.”

Before Jeongguk could reply, a glass of water was quietly placed in front of him like muscle memory of Taehyung. Jeongguk took it with a nod, his fingers brushing the cool glass as he brought it to his lips.

Junghyun kept talking, words spilling easily as he filled the room with his voice. Something about the city, the heat, some coworker’s mistake. Jeongguk half listened, letting the rhythm of his brother’s rambling fill the silence.

Taehyung shook his head now and then at Junghyun’s antics, that familiar fond smile tugging at his lips.

Junghyun and Jeongguk shared the same sharp jawline, the same dark eyes, the same broad frame. The resemblance was striking, almost uncanny. But in temperament, they couldn’t be more different.

Junghyun was sunshine, loud, open, brimming with energy and warmth.

Jeongguk was quieter. A storm held in check. Thoughtful, restrained, always calculating more than he let show.

“Go shower. Dinner will be ready by the time you’re done,” Taehyung said gently, not looking up from the pot he was stirring.

Jeongguk nodded, wordless, and turned to head upstairs.

As soon as he disappeared, Junghyun leaned against the counter with a teasing grin. “You’ve got him wrapped around your little finger, Tae.”

Taehyung rolled his eyes, but a soft laugh slipped out anyway. Their friendship had come easy, same age, same extroverted energy, and a mutual comfort that required no explanation.

“I’ll set the plates,” Junghyun offered, already reaching for the cupboard.

Their familiar chatter picked back up light, overlapping sentences and laughter that filled the kitchen with warmth.

A few minutes later, Jeongguk returned, now dressed in a soft grey hoodie and loose sweatpants, his hair still damp and curling at the ends. He didn’t say much, just took in the scene, the table being set, Taehyung laughing at something Junghyun had said, and quietly slipped into the space, like he was watching life from just a step outside of it.

The three of them had settled around the table. Junghyun and Taehyung kept it alive with easy chatter, stories, teasing, laughter that drifted over the clinking of cutlery.

Jeongguk sat quietly between them, chewing slowly, lost in his own silence.

After the meal, he stood without a word and carried the plates to the sink. He turned the tap on, reaching for the sponge.

But Taehyung was already behind him.

Without a word, he gently placed a hand over Jeongguk’s stopping him mid reach. Their eyes met briefly and Taehyung saw it. The exhaustion in his husband’s face and the slump in his shoulders.

“I’ve got it,” Taehyung said softly. “Go rest.”

Jeongguk didn’t argue. Just held his gaze for a second longer, like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how. Then he nodded and stepped back.

“Should I make you some tea?” Taehyung asked gently, glancing over his shoulder.

Jeongguk didn’t answer at first just gave a faint shake of his head, eyes dull with weariness.

“I’ll go to sleep,” he mumbled, barely loud enough as he turned away.

Taehyung offered a soft smile and nodded. “Okay. Sleep well.”

They watched him go, slow steps, shoulders low, like rest wasn’t something he was walking toward but falling into.

“I’ll make the tea,” Junghyun said, already reaching for the kettle.

Then, after a pause he clicked his tongue. “He should’ve gone for higher education. Who gives a decent job to a high school graduate, anyway?”

Taehyung let out a quiet sigh, fingers scrubbing a dish in circles. He didn’t look up.

He already knew where this was going.

Junghyun didn’t mean harm. But sometimes, his words wound into places Taehyung had spent years learning to protect. Jeongguk’s wounds weren't visible they rarely were, but Taehyung had memorized every one of them like prayers spoken in silence.

“He sacrificed himself for me,” Junghyun said quietly, his voice losing its earlier playfulness. “He shouldn’t have. Maybe then… he wouldn’t come home so tired every night.”

Taehyung paused, hands submerged in warm, soapy water. The dishes had long lost their importance. He glanced over his shoulder, eyes softening.

“Stop blaming yourself,” he murmured. “He made that choice for you. So you could have a future worth something. And you do now.”

He turned back to the sink, rinsing a plate.

“Jeongguk’s… happy,” he added after a moment. “Content, at least. He doesn’t say it much, but I see it.”

Married four years now, Taehyung knew the whole story, how the accident had taken their parents when Jeongguk was just eighteen, and Junghyun only sixteen. How, overnight, childhood was stolen and responsibility took its place.

Jeongguk had dropped everything, his own dreams, his place in school  and started working in a mechanic shop just to keep them afloat. To pay the rent. To keep Junghyun in school. To survive.

There were nights, even now, when Taehyung would catch himself wondering what could’ve been, what Jeongguk’s life might have looked like if fate had been kinder. If he’d stayed in school, gone to university, built something softer.

But he never said it aloud.

Because he’d tried so many times to bring up the idea of Jeongguk going back, getting a degree, starting again. Every time, he was met with the same quiet reply.

“It’s not needed now.”

And maybe to Jeongguk, that was true.

But sometimes, Taehyung still wished life had asked less of him.

“Here, tea’s ready,” Junghyun said with a smile.

Maybe he didn’t want to sit too long in that tangle of guilt and memory the one he often circled back to. So instead, he changed the current, like he always did, letting the routine pull him forward.

They stepped out into the garden, tea in hand, there was gentle rustle of homegrown trees swaying under moonlight.

It was quiet out here. Just the sound of distant traffic and the occasional chirp from something wild and unseen.

Taehyung sipped his tea, then glanced at Junghyun with a playful smile. “When do we get to meet your someone, hmm? Come on, fall in love already. I need a reason to plan another dinner party.”

Junghyun laughed, that bright, boyish sound, his bunny teeth flashing in the dim light.

“I can’t date someone,” he said, still chuckling. “Don’t get your hopes up. I’m not bringing anyone here anytime soon.”

“You’re just boring,” Taehyung huffed, lips jutting out in an exaggerated pout.

Junghyun raised an eyebrow, amused. “Like my brother?”

Taehyung rolled his eyes dramatically. “Jeonggukkie is not boring,” he said, the words leaving his mouth with pure conviction with unshakable truth.

“You’re just whipped.”

Taehyung didn’t deny it, just grinned into his cup, he knew it and wore it proudly.

“Oh, come on, Hyun. Don’t tell me you’ve never found anyone attractive?” he said, nudging his arm with a playful shove. “You’re twenty six, for heaven’s sake.”

He emphasized the number like it carried a deadline.

“Who said I didn’t?” Junghyun raised an eyebrow.

“Wait really?” Taehyung leaned in, practically bouncing where he sat. “Who got Hyunnie’s heart to flutter, huh? Tell me, who pulled the strings?”

He was grinning, voice full of teasing curiosity. But Junghyun didn’t laugh this time.

Instead, he looked away out toward the dark outline of the garden trees swaying under moonlight.

“And what if I told you…it wasn’t just attraction?”

Taehyung blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone.

“What if it’s love?” Junghyun added, and now his face was still, no trace of the usual bunny grin.

Taehyung stared at him, stunned for a moment, then exhaled. “You’re getting very interesting now.”

“It’s a forbidden love, Tae,” Junghyun said softly, each word sliding out like a secret dagger.

“I fell for someone I shouldn’t have, Someone I had watched every day, someone who thought I’m just like his brother.” He paused, smile thin, almost tender. “But I never regret it.”

His gaze flicked to Taehyung’s face so warm, so trusting then slipped away like a shadow in the dark. In that stolen moment, something flickered in Junghyun’s eyes, a hunger, a thrill at his own dangerous secret.

Yet when Taehyung raised an eyebrow in gentle amusement, Junghyun’s lips curved into an innocent grin.

“Don’t tell me it’s your boss’s wife,” Taehyung gasped dramatically, eyes going wide. “Or wait is it your alpha boss himself?”

Junghyun’s lips curved, but there was no warmth in the smile.

“Keep guessing,” he said “Maybe one day you’ll reach my forbidden lover.”

Something in the tone, the way it didn’t quite match his usual sunshine laughter made Taehyung falter. Just for a second, he didn’t smile.

“I’m off,” Junghyun said, standing and brushing invisible dust from his pants. “Night.”

And just like that, he turned and walked into the house, leaving Taehyung in the garden’s hush.

“Hyuuun,” Taehyung called after him, his voice rising in protest. “You can’t leave me hanging like that!”

No response.

He huffed,sipping the last of his tea. The moonlight caught the soft lines of his face as he shook his head, chuckling to himself.

“He was probably just messing with me,” he mumbled. “He has to be.”

Because forbidden love? That was the kind of thing from books, not from Hyun not from the sweet, golden boy who left sunshine in his wake. Taehyung had always seen him as a younger brother, despite being the same age. Always gentle, always safe.

So he laughed it off.

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Taehyung stepped into their room, the dim light casting soft shadows along the walls. Jeongguk was already asleep sprawled on his stomach, face half buried in the pillow, hair a tousled halo of exhaustion.

Taehyung smiled faintly at the familiar sight. He knew this posture well. Jeongguk always slept like this when he was too tired to even dream. And tonight must’ve been one of those nights.

Moving through the motions of his nightly routine, Taehyung washed away the day from his skin, brushing away stray thoughts like sand from his shoulders. And when he finally slipped under the covers, the warmth of Jeongguk’s body welcomed him wordlessly.

He curled into him,  wrapping arms around the broad span of his back, pressing his cheek against muscle worn from years of sacrifice. Maybe he'd never grow tired of holding this man. Maybe his heart would always find its way back to this man just like a tide returning to shore, no matter how restless the ocean in between.

His love for Jeongguk didn’t lessen with time. If anything, it deepened, blooming in places words never reached.

Even on days when the silence between them felt too aching.

Even when his heart pulled taut with unspoken things.

Even when he felt… unloved.

And still, without fail, he found himself here. Always crawling back to Jeongguk. His love had never learned how to stop only how to wait.

Notes:

Finally after ages✨

Chapter 17: 17

 

Peace had a shape, Taehyung realized it a long time ago. And it was Jeongguk. Jeongguk was giving him peace. In all its chaos, Jeongguk had given him peace.

 

‧₊˚✩彡⋆☾ ﾟ

 

 

Bubble tea.

That’s what Jeongguk’s eyes always were to Taehyung. The dark pearls trembling beneath the surface, sugared mystery in liquid calm. Eyes that invited him to fall in.

Alpha, yes Jeongguk was an alpha. But to Taehyung that word was too sharp for Jeongguk, too crude to hold the gentleness coiled in breath. Jeongguk carried quiet like a secret garden, soft vines curling where dominance should’ve grown thorns.

Just like now.

When Taehyung opened his eyes and found those black eyes watching him.

How unfair, he thought that someone could wound with beauty, without even trying.

"Good morning." Taehyung leaned in, brushed their mouths together into the warmth of kiss.

Jeongguk’s reply unfurled against his lips. "Morning." The sound melted into Taehyun's ear like honey dissolving in tea.

"Did you sleep well? Is the tiredness gone?"

Jeongguk blinked and gave a small nod. Taehyung’s smile bloomed. The morning light spilled across the sheets, pale gold, catching the edge of Jeongguk’s lashes.
Jeongguk looked so peaceful there.

In all the chaos, the noise, the expectations, the sharpness of life that asked too much Jeongguk had become his still point.

Peace had a shape, Taehyung realized it a long time ago. And it was Jeongguk.
Jeongguk was giving him peace. In all its chaos, Jeongguk had given him peace.

He chased the warmth like a moth drawn to its own undoing, gathering himself into Jeongguk arms.

It was in this movement, this instinctive seeking of closeness, that his hips pressed forward and he felt it. A hardness against him. Morning wood. A slow smile spread across Taehyung’s face, hidden in the mess of Jeongguk ’s hair.

"Do you want me to help you with that?"

Jeongguk bit his plush lower lip. "I’ll… I’ll manage in the shower," he mumbled out.

The rejection however soft was a tiny pinprick. Taehyung frowned, his arms tightening their hold. He shifted his hand, palm flattening against Jeongguk ’s abdomen before sliding lower, his fingers tracing the straining outline through the soft flannel of Jeongguk ’s pajama.

"I also need you. Don’t you need me?" Taehyung insisted. His fingers pressed down, applying a gentle, circling pressure.

A low, desperate growl escaped jeongguk. "Hyunie will hear us." The protest was weak, a token resistance that was betrayed by the way his hips gave a tiny, involuntary thrust into Taehyung ’s hand.

"We’ll be silent," Taehyung husked, his whisper a hot promise against the shell of Jeongguk ’s ear. He didn’t wait for another second. His fingers found the waistband of Jeongguk ’s pajamas and slipped beneath, past the elastic, into the stifling, intimate heat within. His knuckles brushed against fever hot skin of Jeongguk ’s length. God, he’s perfect.

The effect was instantaneous. Jeongguk ’s own hand shot back to mirror him. His fingers fumbled at the tie of Taehyung ’s Panama before diving inside. They were still fully clothed, buried under the thick comforter.

Taehyung let out a sharp gratified moan as jeongguk ’s questing fingers found their target, sliding in his entrance. His core clenched around Jeongguk long fingers. Yes. More. He wriggled his hips, a silent plea for more pressure, for more friction, for anything Jeongguk would give him.

In a graceful motion, Jeongguk pulled the comforter up and over their heads, plunging them into a private, shadowy tent. In their dim sanctuary, Taehyung nuzzled Jeongguk ’s cheek with his nose, his lips brushing the sharp line of his jaw.

Jeongguk ’s eyes were dark pools of wanting, his pupils blown wide, consuming the pale light looking at Taehyung who looked devastatingly beautiful, his need laid bare.

Jeongguk knew that look. He was close to pulling the moan from Taehyung ’s throat, to shattering the silence they’d promised to keep.

So he moved fast and quickly captured Taehyung ’s lips in a deep, claiming kiss, his tongue sweeping into his mouth. As their tongues tangled, wet and hot, Jeongguk ’s free hand worked frantically, yanking taehyung ’s pajamas down just past the swell of his hips. He freed his own aching cock from its confinement.

They never broke the kiss. Jeongguk hooked a hand behind Taehyung ’s knee, pulling his thigh up and over his own hip, opening him up. Taehyung felt the blunt, insistent head of Jeongguk ’s cock against him, and he arched his back, offering himself, a wordless cry swallowed by Jeongguk ’s mouth.

Then jeongguk was pushing in. A slow, inexorable invasion that stole the air from Taehyung ’s lungs. The stretch was divine, a perfect, burning fullness that made his toes curl. He was so ready, so willing, his body welcoming the familiar intrusion with a series of tight, fluttering clenches.

Jeongguk sunk in to the hilt, a low, guttural groan vibrating against Taehyung ’s lips. They finally broke apart, gasping for air, their foreheads pressed together.

Their rhythm was dance they knew by heart. Jeongguk ’s thrusts were deep rolling push and pull that stroked every hidden, secret place inside Taehyung. The slick wet sound of their joining was loud in their enclosed space, a lewd counterpoint to their stifled breaths. Their bodies were slick with a fine sheen of sweat, the heat between them under the covers becoming dizzying.

Their saliva was still tangled on their chins, their bodies a single, moving entity of pleasure. The friction, the pressure, the overwhelming sense of being completely possessed was hurtling Taehyung toward the edge. He could feel the tension coiling tight in his gut, a spring wound to its breaking point.

"I’m close," Taehyung mumbled. His eyes were squeezed shut, his entire world narrowed to the place where their bodies were fused.

Jeongguk ’s response was to crash their lips together again, swallowing Taehyung ’s impending cries. The kiss was messy, desperate, all tongue and teeth and shared breath.

It was the final catalyst. The coil snapped. Pleasure; white, hot and blinding, ripped through Taehyung, his body seizing as he came. His internal muscles clamped down on Jeongguk ’s cock in a vicious, rhythmic spasm.

The intense, milking pressure tore Jeongguk ’s own orgasm from him. His thrusts becoming erratic, shallow jerks as he emptied himself deep inside with a muffled, shuddering groan that felt like it was torn from his very soul.

For a long moment, they simply lay there, entangled, boneless, and breathless. The only sound was their ragged panting in the hot, damp air under the covers.

The feel of Jeongguk still buried deep, the smell of sex and sweat it was everything. Taehyung ’s hand came up to cradle the back of jeongguk ’s head, holding him close.

Jeongguk finally shifted, his voice a hoarse, satisfied whisper against Taehyung ’s sweat slicked skin. "We were not silent at all." Taehyung chuckle in response.

They stayed that way, breathing in sync, the silence full of pulse and warmth. The morning felt suspended, time itself was reluctant to move.

Then Taehyung stirred, fingers finding the edge of the sheet. He glanced at the clock. His eyes widened.

"Jeongguk… we’re going to be late. Go on get ready,"

Jeongguk nodded quickly, tugging at his pajamas before slipping into the bathroom.

The door clicked shut, and quiet settled again. Taehyung lay back, eyes tracing the ceiling, his hand over his abdomen where warmth of Jeongguk still lingered inside.

Taehyung pulled back the sheet and padded toward the bathroom.

Jeongguk was already there, toothbrush in hand, Taehyung joined him, their reflections standing side by side like two slow heartbeats in the same frame.

"We’ll be late," Taehyung murmured around the foam, a smile tugging at his words. "And I can’t use other bathroom."

Jeongguk’s answering glance was silence.

They brushed in companion, the small sounds of morning running water, the soft clink of porcelain filling the space between them.

Their pajamas lay folded in the laundry basket, discarded, while they leaned beneath the showerhead.

Steam soon curled through the air, softening the mirror’s edges. Beneath the shower’s hum, hands found each other, brushing, rinsing, washing.

Taehyung giggled as he dried Jeongguk’s hair, tugging the towel gently through damp strands. Jeongguk returned the gesture, drying Taehyung’s hair with the same careful attention.

A simple morning. Small moments.

Clothed in soft bathrobes, they stepped out of the bathroom together. Taehyung handed Jeongguk his clothes, and Jeongguk accepted them. He dressed. Taehyung followed, tugging on his own soft fabrics.

Taehyung moved to the vanity, running a hand through his hair, and doing his morning routine. Jeongguk tidied the bed, stripping the sheets and tossing them into the laundry basket then replacing them with fresh linens. Even in these ordinary gestures, there was a rhythm of synchronicity between them.

They moved downstairs together. Junghyun was already preparing breakfast,

"Good morning," he said, placing the plates carefully on the table.

"You didn’t have to," Taehyung murmured, voice soft, his eyes lingering on the effort.

"Oh, come on. I wanted to… You’ll remember me all day as soon as you taste this breakfast," Junghyun said with a playful wink.

Jeongguk chewed on his toast quietly though Taehyung could feel the tension in the subtle way Jeongguk’s fingers curled around the plate, he said nothing.
"Here’s your coffee," Hyunie said, setting the mug carefully in front of Jeongguk. "And a strawberry juice for you," he added, sliding the glass toward Taehyung before easing into the seat beside him.

"When are you going back?" Jeongguk asked bluntly.

Taehyung shot him a sharp glance, eyebrows knitting, but Jeongguk didn’t even seem to notice, eyes fixed on the steam curling from his mug.

"Oh, Hyung… you want me to stay longer, don’t you?" Junghyun grinned like a foolish child "But I have to go today… another city."

"I’ll miss you," Taehyung admitted softly, a small frown tugging at his lips.

"You’ll miss my cooking more," Junghyun said, tapping his finger gently against Taehyung’s nose, and Taehyung let out a short, amused laugh.

Jeongguk’s chair scraped against the floor as he stood abruptly.

"Taehyung, we’re getting late."

Junghyun looked at him, and for a brief moment, a shadow passed over his eyes before he smiled, standing and walking over to Jeongguk. "Honestly… I’ll miss you," he murmured. Jeongguk’s hand rested lightly on his head.

Taehyung chuckled, warmth threading through his voice as he pulled Hyunie into a gentle hug. "Take care. And I’ll be waiting for your forbidden lover reveal," he whispered teasingly, letting his grin linger.

"Never," Hyunie whispered back.

Jeongguk frowned at their exchange of whispers but said nothing.

They waved Junghyun off, the echo of Taehyung laughter folding into the soft hum of the morning, and stepped onto the street, shoulders brushing like two magnets finally aligned.

Taehyung’s hand moved of its own accord, sliding around Jeongguk’s arm claiming him with a casual authority that belied the shiver of intent beneath the gesture.

They walk down to the bus stand
Jeongguk’s eyes flicked to the elderly couple walking hand in hand, familiar from yesterday. Then his gaze fell to his own forearm, pressed into the warmth of Taehyung’s hold, and a strange bloom spread in his chest like sunlight carving through the frost of early morning.

✧･ﾟ:* to be continue *:･ﾟ✧

Notes:

Lets play a poll game

 

Did you feel closer to Jeongguk in this chapter compared to before?

Yes, we saw more of his personality and emotions

Somewhat, I got hints of his inner world

Not really, I still feel distant from him

Chapter 18

It was the day he had been claimed, irrevocably and irrevocably, by the person who had rewritten the contours of his heart.

‧₊˚✩彡⋆☾ ﾟ

 

 

 

The days had bled together. Jeongguk came home mostly hollow, shoulders slumped under the weight of labor, eyes rimmed with fatigue that not even sleep could erase.

Taehyung, no different, moved through his own exhaustion. Projects and deadlins pressing against him from every direction, leaving him ragged at the edges.

Their sex life had had shrunk to stolen fragment; quick touches in morning, hands seeking comfort in the gaps between responsibilities.

Weekends had remained their refuge; warm baths, hours of silent intimacy and walks through the colony park.

Just like any other day, Taehyung sat in his office. But today was not just any day. Today was their forth anniversary.

Taehyung muttered curses under his breath, at the meetings that multiplied like weeds, emails that demanded immediate attention, deadlines that seemed personal in their cruelty. Every second spent here was a second ripped from Jeongguk.

For the past three years, this had always been the day he reserved entirely for Jeongguk, when the time shrank to nothing but the curve of his shoulder, the warmth of his chest, the rhythm of his heartbeat beneath Taehyung’s palms.

To him, this day had always carried more importance than his own birthday. It was the day he had been claimed, irrevocably and irrevocably, by the person who had rewritten the contours of his heart. The first time their bodies and hearts had fused in a way that left him forever altered.

But today here he was, buried beneath spreadsheets and finance reports, every cell and formula more agonizing than the last. He hated his boss. Hated the way he had refused his leave.

The printer hissed and whirred, spitting out the final page of his report like a slap. Taehyung snatched it from the tray and strode down the hall.

Jun Kyung sat behind the desk, fingers flying across the keyboard. Taehyung paused at the door knocked once. When he pushed the door open, it slammed shut behind him, and the sound seemed to carry all the restrained tension coiled in his chest. Jun Kyung looked up, calm and unreadable.

"These reports need your approval," Taehyung said, pushing the file forward against Jun Kyung’s polished desk.

Jun Kyung gestured for him to sit. Taehyung lowered himself into the chair. The chief scanned the pages with speed and gave a brief nod of approval.

"Good work, Taehyung ssi," Jun Kyung murmured a brush of acknowledgment that barely grazed him.

"I’ve sent you a few more files by email," he added, eyes flicking toward Taehyung, noting the faint flush crawling up his jaw. "You’ll need to work on them today."

Taehyung’s jaw tightened imperceptibly, hands clenching just enough that the veins in his wrists whispered under the sleeves.

He inclined his head once. "Anything else?" he asked.

"Nothing… for now," Jun Kyung replied.

Taehyung rose, hands gripping the file like a talisman, nodded once, and turned. His steps echoed punctuated by the hard slam of the door.

Jun Kyung watched him go, expression unreadable, a faint shadow flickering across his features.

"Interesting."

Taehyung was usually flawless, the embodiment of professionalism. But today… today he was a different rhythm entirely brash, taut with frustration, dangerously alive in ways the he ever saw. A rare crack in the polished veneer, and it was magnetic.

Taehyung returned to his cabin and threw himself into the file. Unlike the Boss his colleagues knew better than to provoke him; when anger came. His fingers cut across the keyboard with a dangerous strokes.

He moved through the financial reports. Eyes flicking from cell to cell, catching errors as if they were small betrayals, tiny fissures in an otherwise ordered world. The clock on the wall ticked like a drum, counting down toward a freedom that seemed perpetually out of reach. Each email sent to Jun Kyung was threaded through its sterile phrasing.

If Jun Kyung found a flaw in those reports, or piled another task on him, Taehyung knew the feral edge coiling in his chest would snap loose.

First, Jun Kyung had denied his leave. Now, the thought of more interference cut into him like glass. Taehyung regretted not calling in sick, the half embarrassing performance of coughs, raspy voice, and melodrama that could have bought him even a few stolen hours. A theatre of weakness he could have performed without paperwork, without pity.

Why had he ever thought this company was worth considering? It was not his father’s empire. He owed it nothing. Every spreadsheet, every report, every tiny error felt like a question: why was he bending himself for this?

And then the email arrived, sterile and sharp as a scalpel: Jun Kyung wanted him in the office.

He stared at the screen for a long breath, the cursor blinking like a metronome counting down the seconds to an argument he didn’t want but could feel creeping closer, inevitable as sunrise.

He stepped inside his boss's office. Jun Kyung’s eyes barely lifted from the monitor, fixed on spreadsheets.

"The reports were good," Jun Kyung murmured.

Taehyung slid into the chair. Standing felt too awkward.

Jun Kyung pushed something across the desk. "Here. For you."

Taehyung frowned, seeing the cup. Bubble tea. The simple sweetness made a pulse of warmth crawl up his chest. It reminded him of Jeongguk. Those dark, glossy eyes that held quiet innocence beneath a taut, alpha exterior. Dangerous in the softest way.

"I know today is important to you," Jun Kyung said.

"If it weren’t for the urgency and importance of the department," Jun Kyung added, almost in passing, "I wouldn’t have rejected your leave."

"How do you know it’s important?" Taehyung asked.

"For the past few years, you’ve taken leave on this day," Jun Kyung said, eyes flicking up briefly from the screen. "Last year, you had such a high fever, yet miraculously, you returned the next day, perfectly healthy."

Taehyung’s jaw tightened with a flicker of embarrassment.

"Anyway," Jun Kyung continued, sliding the bubble tea slightly closer, "you can go now. Consider it a token of gratitude, the reports were completed within a tight deadline."

Taehyung’s lips twitched, laughing at the audacity of being granted leave by a mere five minutes. He picked up the cup.

He turned toward the door, pausing for a heartbeat, "Thank you… for giving me five minutes early," he said, teeth clenched. Then he let the door close with thud.

Jun Kyung’s lips twitched just enough to betray a calm exterior. "Really… interesting," he murmured under his breath, eyes returning to the glowing screen.
⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Jeongguk’s hands were under the car, sticky with grease, moving over wires like he knew exactly where they wanted to go. Hoseok landed beside him, palms black, smudges streaking his forearms.

"I don’t get it," Hoseok muttered, voice tight. "Why are we doing all this? Especially you… always more than anyone. Just because she’s a witch firing people left and right, it doesn’t mean she dumps all her mess on us. Existing workers shouldn’t have to do double work."

Hoseok had joined the dealership just a month after Jeongguk. At the time, he’d thought it the best decision he could make the place was professional, calm, almost clean compared to previous.

But in the past six months, ever since the CEO had passed and his daughter had taken over, everything had started to unravel. Toxicity crept in where it hadn’t before, workloads multiplied, and the quiet professionalism they’d relied on began to erode.

Jeongguk kept moving almost hypnotic. Hoseok was habitual to his silence. Jeongguk glanced at the clock, exhaled a long, weary thread of air Thirty minutes remained before the day’s end.

A siren shattered the late stillness.

"Not now," Hoseok muttered irritated, as the tow truck rumbled in. It deposited a battered, unwanted car into their bay like a problem dropped on their doorstep.

The manager stepped out into the crisp light, shoulders stiff, words muffled under the low murmur of officers. Jeongguk felt the inevitable tug of frustration as the manager’s hand rose, signaling him forward.

The officer’s words were clipped. "We need the car repair immediately. The investigation depends on it."

Hoseok’s voice lifted "I can take it."

But the manager shook his head without sparing him a glance, eyes fixed on the ruined car. "No. Only Jeongguk knows this technique," he said.

Jeongguk exhaled softly, the sigh tasting of resignation. The officer’s hand rested on his shoulder. "It’s important, son."

He nodded and stepped toward the mangled car, letting the wreck’s story settle over him.
He crouched examining the first details, already knowing the truth:
This would take at least two hours.
Jeongguk dove into the work, hands moving before his mind could even catch up. The manager herded the officers toward his office.

Hoseok came up behind him. "Are you planning to carry the whole dealership on your shoulders?" he snapped, teeth clenched.

Jeongguk lifted his tired gaze with a message of exhaustion he couldn’t put into words. Then he bent back over the wreck, shutting the world out with the simple flick of a wrench, the only language he trusted.

Jeongguk’s phone buzzed against the metal tray. He froze mid motion, wiped his hands on a rag, and answered, the sound of his own ragged breathing loud in the garage.

"Jeonggukkie… you’re not home." Taehyung’s voice—soft, tentative, fraying at the edges.

"I’ll be a little late," Jeongguk said.

A pause stretched across the line.

"…Okay. I’ll be waiting."

Jeongguk swallowed, shoved the phone harder than intended, and forced himself to move again.

Time slipped past him like oil through fingers. His hands worked; his mind throbbed. Sweat traced paths down his temple, stinging his eyes. Shoulders ached a deep, grinding ache, as if someone had tightened a bolt inside his bones.

He glanced at the clock.

He’d misjudged. Terribly.

The chaos under the hood was far worse than he’d expected.

A soft beep sliced through the rhythm.

Instinctively, Jeongguk fished his phone from the pocket of his overalls. His eyes scanned the message, and for a long, suspended beat, he froze.

"Everything okay?" Hoseok who was assisting him had asked.

Jeongguk blinked, returning to the present. "Hmm…," he said.

A pause. Then, almost reluctantly, he added, "Can you do me a favor?"

Hoseok frowned. "Sure. What is it?"

"There’ll be… a delivery in my name at the shop. Please get it," Jeongguk said.

Hoseok’s phone buzzed. He opened it, scanned the screen, and froze.

"Jeongguk… did you sell your house?!" He shouted

"How… how is it even priced like this? Where did you get the money?" Hoseok’s mouth fell open, incredulity lacing every word.

"I was… saving it," Jeongguk said quietly.

"For how long?" Hoseok’s jaw dropped.

"Four years," Jeongguk murmured, already bending over the car again, fingers returning to wires and hoses.

"Four years…" Hoseok echoed. "Jeongguk… isn’t today your anniversary?"

"Are you… going to gift it to Taehyung?" Hoseok ventured.

"Taehyung likes jewelry," Jeongguk said softly.

"Yes, he does," Hoseok muttered, exasperated, running a hand through his hair. Talking to Jeongguk was like banging your head against a wall.

"I’ll go get the gift, you should finish your work quickly. You should’ve taken a leave," Hoseok said, shaking his head.

Jeongguk said nothing. Under normal circumstances, he would have taken the day off. But Taehyung’s leave had been rejected. So he came in bending his will to necessity.

He could see it clearly, despite the grease and hum of engines: the day that should have been theirs.

Taehyung would cook, the kitchen filled with the scent of something sweet and savory, while laughter of Taehyung spilled between them like sunlight. They stayed wrapped in the silent warmth of their home, baking a cake together, flour dusting their hands and forearms, small smiles of Taehyung tugging at the corners of lips.

While Jeongguk would stay silent as always basking in the presence of Taehyung.

For the first time, Jeongguk was going to give Taehyung a gift for their anniversary; a ring, custom made, crafted for Taehyung.

It wasn’t just four years of saving; it was a lifetime saving. Saving of Jeongguk even before marriage. Each coin set aside, each decision folded into the promise that one day, it would belong to Taehyung.

When he had first imagined a gift worthy of Taehyung, his savings were meager, insufficient to honor Taehyung. Now, after years of quiet labor and patient he could finally give Taehyung something. A gift worthy of the an omega who had become his home.

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Jeongguk had worked the wreck down to its final stubborn bolt. When the last piece finally gave, he let his shoulders sag, just a breath, just enough for the ache to sink a little deeper.

Hoseok’s call cut through it like a jagged note, snapping the quiet.

"They’re not giving me the delivery," Hoseok said, voice taut, frayed with anger. "It’s… ‘not in their policy.’"

Jeongguk closed his eyes.

"I’ll be there," he murmured, checking the time he was already late for.

Stepping outside, the night air slapped him awake. The drive to the Jewelry shop stretched longer than it was due to traffic. His pulse kept jumping. Not from traffic. From the thought of Taehyung waiting alone home.

Hoseok was waiting at the entrance, jaw tight, shoulders stiff. Jeongguk didn’t need to ask; the situation was written in the twitch of Hoseok’s jaw.

He approached the counter, offering the salesperson the card with a quiet nod.

"Apologies, sir," the salesperson said. "Our processing hours are over."

Hoseok’s voice exploded before Jeongguk could inhale.

"What is wrong with you people? First you refuse me, and now you’re hiding behind timing?"

"Sir, it’s the policy," she repeated, hands clasped tightly. "I really can’t override it."

Jeongguk’s voice dropped low. "It’s important."

"Her apologetic smile flickered. "I understand, sir. But we’re not allowed to process deliveries after 10 p.m. Even if I tried, the system wouldn’t let me. I’m truly sorry."

Jeongguk only nodded, a motion so slight it barely disturbed the air. Then he turned, stepping out.

Hoseok hurried after him.

"Jeongguk!" he called.

"It’s okay," Jeongguk said, though nothing in his voice believed it. He slid into the car, shut the door, and drove off before Hoseok could say another word.

Hoseok stood there, exhaling frustration into the road.

Jeongguk’s fingers knotted around the steering wheel. He always took the bus but todat he had chosen the car, had chosen this for Taehyung. He had come for Taehyung.

He’d planned to pick Taehyung up from the company building, maybe steal a long drive through the late night roads. Taehyung loved long drives. Loved the quiet world that existed only when the headlights carved it open.

But now Jeongguk’s driving carried the leftover chaos of the day, a restless residue he couldn’t shake.

He hadn’t meant to rush; he hadn’t noticed the woman stepping into the road until the world snapped open in a heartbeat of terror. Instinct seized him and he jerked the wheel. The car tilted violently.

The world fractured around him. Branches scraping the sky like frantic hands, streetlights melting into long streaks of gold, the blur of panic pressing close. Then came the brutal, uncompromising crack as metal met tree, a sound that carved itself into his bones.

A sudden wash of blankness surged over him. Weight left his body. Time thinned, each heartbeat a fragile, lonely thread. Thoughts scattered, dissolving into the fog of shock until one stubborn ember remained, glowing through the haze:

Taehyung.

He imagined Taehyung waiting near the door, bouncing on his feet, pretending he wasn’t checking the time.

Jeongguk tried to breathe, tried to hold on, but the world slipped like water through his fingers.

And then the darkness claimed everything.

✧･ﾟ:* to be continue *:･ﾟ✧

Notes:

Who is going to be emotionally destroyed in the next chapter?

Taehyung

Jeongguk

Readers😭

Chapter 19: 19

But love that never spoke its name began to feel like a lie told softly.

‧₊˚✩彡⋆☾ ﾟ

Pain woke him gently.

A dull pulse behind his eyes, an insistence that something had gone wrong. Jeongguk opened his eyes to a ceiling its light was too white. His body felt misplaced inside itself.

When he tried to move, the ache answered.

"You’re awake," A woman’s voice rose near him in relief.

"What time is it?" He asked with a voice that sounded borrowed, scraped thin by pain.

"It’s past two in the night," she replied.

Past two.

His hand brushed against the bandage on his arm.

"How much is the bill?" The woman blinked at him in surprise. "You should rest," she said gently.

Ignoring her, Jeongguk pulled the wallet free with clumsy fingers. She told him the amount, and he paid quietly, standing to leave. Pain followed him like a second shadow.

Outside, the night swallowed him whole. He rode in the back of a cab as the city slid by in dim fragments, windows lit and unlit, strangers walking through lives. His phone powered off lay heavy in his hand.

He imagined Taehyung at home alone, maybe asleep, maybe staring into a dark that did not speak back.

Maybe waiting.

Jeongguk pressed his forehead against the glass and closed his eyes.

The pain in his head pulsed like a distant siren, but Jeongguk did not listen to it.

The cab stopped. He paid. He moved through the world on instinct alone, fingers finding keys in the dark. The door opened with a small, familiar sound, and he stepped inside.

The home met him in light.

Fairy lights glowing like small prayers along the walls. Blankets were folded and half forgotten the way Taehyung always left them, cushions tilted at odd angles like they had been waiting for someone to return and disturb them.

A bottle of wine rested untouched.

"Taehyung"Jeongguk called Taehyung’s name.

The house did not answer. And neither had Jeongguk, in all the ways that mattered.

His steps slowed as he passed through the home, a strange unease gathering at his spine. In the dining area, candles burned low, their flames nearly gone. Pooled wax spoke of time that had been waiting too long.

Taehyung was folded into a chair as if sleep had taken him mid breath.

The table before him was untouched. No celebration had happened at all. The cake had not been cut. The food had not been tasted. Everything had been prepared for a joy that arrived too late.

Taehyung’s makeup caught what little light remained, lashes casting soft shadows like secrets. His dress shimmered faintly with every breath, beautiful in a way that hurt. He looked peaceful, terribly unfairly peaceful like someone who had given up waiting and chosen dreaming instead.

Jeongguk’s throat tightened.

This was what silence had made.

He swallowed hard, stepped forward, touched nothing for one aching second and then gathered Taehyung into his arms.

Taehyung did not wake.

He was warm and light and unbearably real.

Up the stairs, Jeongguk moved to the bedroom. He undressed Taehyung, peeling away the waiting, the heartbreak, until all that remained was soft dark violet lace panties against pale skin.

He tucked the covers around him the way one tucks in something precious.

Then Jeongguk lay beside him and forgot everything but Taehyung’s face.

Jeongguk lowered himself until his lips touched Taehyung’s chest, right over the place where his heart went on beating without knowing how loved it was.

The kiss was barely there.

"Happy anniversary," he breathed into the dark.

Sleep came eventually and took them both into its mercy.

 

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

 

The sunlight had hovered at the edges of the room, filtered through curtains. What reached the bed was only a pale suggestion of morning.

Taehyung woke into it.

For a moment he did not move. He lay still in the hush.

Jeongguk slept with his mouth slightly open, lashes dark against his cheeks, hair tangled on forehead. In sleep, there was nothing guarded about him. No walls. No careful distance. Just softness. Just unknowing beauty.

The ache came slowly, then all at once. It gathered behind his ribs, bloomed quietly against his throat. He pressed his lips together to hold whatever it was that threatened to spill. A tear hovered unshed, trembling with its own small weight.

Was this love?

Jeongguk loved him. Or at least, Taehyung told himself he did. He replayed moments in his head the way one replays a song that almost means something; hands lingering too long, glances that seemed to carry more than they should, warmth offered without explanation.

But love that never spoke its name began to feel like a lie told softly.

He moved from the bed, lifting the covers. The air touched his bare skin and he shivered, suddenly aware of himself in pieces instead of as a whole. In the mirror, under the bathroom light, he barely recognized the boy staring back.

He washed slowly, letting water slide down his spine. Steam gathered and disappeared again, the room breathing in and out around him.

When he returned, Jeongguk had not moved at all.

There was something unbearably sad about how peaceful he looked, about how easy it was for him to sleep through the things Taehyung carried awake.

At the vanity, Taehyung paused with a lip gloss in his hand.

The mirror caught him in the act of almost trying.

Almost pretending.

Then, as if embarrassed by the hope in the gesture, he set the gloss down.
Quickly, he grabbed his wallet and phone and stepped out.

A small voice in his head whispered that he should wake Jeongguk but he knew what would happen.

He would melt, break down, maybe even argue. Or perhaps the cruel silence between them would stretch.

So he left instead.

Taehyung did not want to go to the office, not in the way one resists rain or crowds, but in the way one resists continuing to exist inside a body that feels too fragile to carry its own heart. Yet he followed the day because there was nothing else to do but keep moving forward.

Work would be an anchor he told himself.

Reports did not look back at you with eyes full of things unsaid.

The walk to the bus stop seemed shorter than usual, like time had lost interest in accompanying him.

Tears threatened. He blinked them back again and again, refusing himself even that small release. His face remained composed.

When he arrived at the building, it rose before him like a neutral witness.

Taehyung slipped into his role, into a version of himself that hurt less.

The office hummed gently around him, keyboards clicking, paper shifting, footsteps crossing space and meaning nothing.

Yesterday’s ache came with him anyway.

It sat in his lungs.
It rested in his palms.
It refused to be clocked in or out.

 

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

 

The sound that woke Jeongguk was relentless.

He surfaced slowly from sleep, heavylimbed, his body still tangled in the remnants of warmth.

He rubbed at his face, eyes still full of sleep and exhaustion.

He stared for too long at the empty space. Taehyung’s absence was louder than any alarm.

Ten o’clock.

A sigh escaped him. He stood eventually and walked downstairs.

At the door two officers stood there.
"Mr. Jeon Jeongguk?" Jeongguk nodded.

"You need to come with us to give a written statement about the accident," the officer continued.

Jeongguk let out a quiet sigh, nodding again. He followed them sliding into the police car. His gaze drifted out the window, lost in tangled thoughts.

 

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

 

Hoseok found Jeongguk sitting alone in the narrow gray cabin of the station, folded into a hard plastic chair.

He slowed unconsciously when he saw him.

Jeongguk's hands rested loosely in his lap, knuckles pale, his gaze fixed on nothing at all.

Jeongguk bowed to the police officer and stood up. He noticed Hoseok eventually and walked to him.

"You had an accident," Hoseok asked.

"Just a minor crash," Jeongguk replied quietly.

"A minor crash?" Hoseok scoffed, disbelief sharp in his tone. "I’ve seen that ‘minor crash’ your car’s a mess at the dealership!"

He muttered, softer this time, "You’re taking today off. I already talked with the manager."

"Does Taehyung know?" Hoseok asked.

Jeongguk did not answer.

Hoseok let out a heavy sigh. "So… he doesn’t know."

"I… I need a favor from you." Jeongguk mumbled, his voice low, almost hesitant.

 

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

 

The evening wrapped itself around Taehyung.

The sky darkened in stages as he walked home. The whole day no messages arrived, no missed calls lit his screen.

Jeongguk’s name stayed unspoken

It had almost always been him.

The first message.
The soft reminder.
The reaching out.

So when today he didn't reach out, other also didn't bother.

By the time he reached his street, he felt like he had been holding his breath all day without meaning to.

He wanted to unravel. To fold into himself and disappear. To choose anything other than this waiting.

But the truth waited for him beneath it all: He did not know how to exist in a world that did not carry Jeongguk in it somewhere.

 

✧･ﾟ:* to be continue *:･ﾟ✧

Notes:

Thank you all for giving a chance and love to Yours in Silence ✨

Do you think Jeongguk loves Taehyung?

✅ Yes, he just can’t say it

❌ No, he’s confused

🫥 He doesn’t understand love yet

🤔 It’s complicated

Chapter 20: 20

Love by itself feels like standing in a house with the lights off. It’s there. I know it is. But I still stumble.

‧₊˚✩彡⋆☾ ﾟ

Taehyung fumbled with his keys, unlocking the door and stepping inside. He bent down to pull off his shoes, and as he straightened, a chorus of voices shouted:

"HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!"

For a second, he could only stand there.

All day he had been hollowed out by quiet. And now the quiet had been replaced with love that was loud and clumsy and real.

Confetti drifted to the floor like fallen petals.

And in the center of it all stood Jeongguk.

He was holding a cake tilted uncertainly in his hands, shoulders tight, eyes searching Taehyung’s face.

Taehyung felt his chest cave inward in the gentlest way. He let out a small sound; half-chuckle, half-sob stepping toward Jeongguk through the rain of confetti that still drifted lazily down.

"Happy anniversary," Jeongguk’s voice came soft, nearly lost beneath the room. Not for anyone else. Only for him.

"Blow the candles!" Jimin urged them from the side.

They leaned in together.

Two breaths met over fragile fire.

The flames disappeared.

Cheers filled the room, but Taehyung barely heard them. He was too occupied with the way Jeongguk exhaled beside him.

Laughter swelled. Arms wrapped around him. His mother, smelling of home. His father hugged him. He greeted friends and family in gentle succession, smiling where he was touched, nodding where he could not speak.

All of it felt unreal in the most tender way.

His eyes found Jeongguk again across the room.

He was listening to Taehyung’s father with a seriousness.

Taehyung’s smile softened.

"I never thought I'd get a call from your husband," Jimin said, sidling beside him. "Even in my dreams."

Taehyung chuckled. He hadn't thought so either.

"Hello. There will be a surprise party for Tae. Be here at six." Jimin mimicked Jeongguk perfectly-flat tone, low voice, efficient words.

"So cold, I got a chill," Jimin teased with a shiver. "But it was for you, so what could I say?"

Taehyung smiled, because he knew better than anyone that Jeongguk wasn't built for pretty speeches or rehearsed sweetness.

Jeongguk loved the way winter loved.

"Let me go for a minute," Taehyung smiled, moving toward Jeongguk.

"Appa, can I take my husband?" he asked, and his father smiled warmly at him.

Taehyung’s fingers closed gently around Jeongguk’s hand. It was warm.

He guided Jeongguk gently away from the living room. They stepped into a quieter corner of the house

"Did you… not like it?" Jeongguk asked in a low voice, uncertainty lacing his tone.

"I did," Taehyung said softly. "I’m… sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for," Jeongguk murmured, biting his lip as he met Taehyung’s gaze.

Taehyung reached up, brushing his knuckle against Jeongguk’s cheek.

"Hey, come inside! Karaoke's starting!" Junghyun's voice rang out. He paused in the doorway, watching them with something unreadable, before leaving again.

"We'll talk later," Taehyung murmured. Jeongguk nodded, hair falling in soft disarray across his forehead.

Maybe, Taehyung thought with a small smile, in all the excitement of the party, Jeongguk hadn’t even styled his hair.

The party had gone surprisingly well. Karaoke, dancing, the couple had even swayed together. Taehyung’s parents swayed as if they were younger again, drawing everyone into their small orbit of joy. Jeongguk had awkwardly sat with him for a while after Taehyung coaxed him enough to dance.

There were silly games too like the musical chairs, jigsaw puzzles, and more laughter than anyone could count.

After dinner, the house settled into a softer kind of noise.

Plates were stacked somewhere in the kitchen out of sight. Water ran and stopped. Voices blurred into a low domestic murmur. Junghyun and Yoongi lingered in the kitchen with Jeongguk for washing dishes.

In the living room, Jimin was laughing with Taehyung's parents over something on his phone.

Taehyung watched them from across the room, warmth pooling gently in his chest.

Today he wanted to ask his father a question he had never dared to speak aloud in four years.

It had lived in him for four years without language, without permission. Whenever he wondered how he had arrived in this home at all, lucky beyond reason.

How had his father convinced Jeongguk to marry him?

The question felt dangerous. Like touching a scar to see if it still hurts.

But today, something inside him loosened. Maybe it was simply the exhaustion of four years of not asking.

Bravery, he realized, was rarely loud.

Sometimes it was just the simple decision to bleed if you had to.

Hoseok found him before he could move.

"Taehyung… Can I have a minute to talk?" Hoseok murmured, hesitating slightly.

"What’s the matter?" Taehyung asked, concerne threading his voice. He saw something wrong immediately something folded too tightly into Hoseok’s face

"Promise… you won’t freak out," Hoseok said, eyes serious.

"What is it?" Whatever was coming, Taehyung already knew it would hurt.

"Jeongguk… had a little accident," Hoseok finally said.

"What?!" Taehyung’s eyes widened, breath catching in his throat. Panic surged as his body moved before his mind did, turning toward the kitchen, toward the place where Jeongguk stood alive and content.

Hoseok quickly reached out, stopping him.
"See… he didn’t tell you," Hoseok said quietly. "And I know, if too much time passed, you might never have found out."

"Please… calm down. It really was just a little accident," Hoseok added, trying to soothe him.

"How could he not tell me?!" Taehyung exclaimed, struggling to control himself.

He wanted to scream.
He wanted to cry.
He wanted to turn time backward until Jeongguk did not have to be brave alone.

How could he keep this from him?

"He didn’t tell anyone," Hoseok explained gently. "It was just… a coincidence that the car ended up at our workshop."

"Taehyung… just… don’t ruin this moment," Hoseok murmured. "He didn’t want to tell you because he didn’t want you to worry."

Taehyung looked through the doorway and saw Jeongguk bent over the sink, sleeves rolled up, washing dishes as if nothing had happened.

Beautifully, painfully alive.

And suddenly the anger had nowhere to go. It slipped inward instead. Curled into his ribs and stayed there.

"I’m his husband," Taehyung said.

"Okay… ask him later. Not now. See? He did all this for you," Hoseok said gently.

Taehyung stood very still and let the house keep being warm around him.

But the question he had come ready to ask his father dissolved into something else entirely.

The house emptied slowly, guests trickling out.

Laughter thinning into echoes. The warmth of other people lingering briefly in cushions and corners before cooling into stillness. By the time the last goodbye faded, night had slid quietly against the windows.

In the living room, Jeongguk stood alone, reaching for a strand of garland still clinging to the wall.

Taehyung locked the door of home.

Then he crossed the living room and wrapped his arms around Jeongguk from behind.

Jeongguk did not startle. He only stilled, breathing softly.

Taehyung rested his face against Jeongguk’s shoulder and placed a small kiss there, where bone met warmth.

"When were you going to tell me about the accident?" Taehyung asked

Jeongguk froze.

Taehyung turned him gently, hands warm despite the cold that had been living in his chest for hours.

He brushed Jeongguk’s bangs aside without thinking.

A wound trying to pretend it was not a wound at all.

"It was just a little crash." Jeongguk admitted quietly, voice small.

Taehyung took his hand and pulled him to the couch. He sat too close, like he might lose him if there was any space left at all.

"Where else did you get hurt?"

Jeongguk stayed silent.

"Jeongguk," Taehyung said, glaring at Jeongguk.

Jeongguk finally rolled up his sleeve.

"Just a scratch," Jeongguk mumbled.

Taehyung glared again, and Jeongguk shut his mouth, saying nothing further.

"Who am I, to you."Taehyung asked, voice tight, searching for honesty. Jeongguk only looked at him, silent.

Taehyung laughed then but it wasn’t laughter. "A simple nothing."He said a word that did not feel like it belonged to him. A word too empty to hold four years.

"Everything"Jeongguk’s answer followed like the ghost of a confession.

But Taehyung let it pass through him like air.

Because some truths were too terrifying to be touched in the open.

Because believing would have hurt more.

So he pretended not to hear.

Taehyung lifted his hand and laid it against Jeongguk’s cheek.

The warmth there grounded him. Skin beneath his fingertips, real and breathing.

"We’re husbands," he said softly as a plea.

"I love you. I know you love me too… in your own way" Taehyung said quietly.

"You’ve always treated me with care. With respect. You’ve never made me feel small."
A small breath slipped from him, uneven.

Then his voice softened further, thinning at the edges.

"But sometimes… love by itself feels like standing in a house with the lights off. It’s there. I know it is. But I still stumble."

He did not look up when he continued.

"It isn’t enough just to hold someone. You have to… let them in Jeongguk."

"When you disappear into silence," he went on, barely louder than the air between their bodies, "my mind fills the space for you. And it never says kind things."

"I don’t need perfection from you. I don’t need grand things. I just need to hear you. Even when you don’t know what to say."

A pause.

"You weren’t here last night. I kept calling and the only thing I could hold onto was the idea that you were working." His voice wavered. "And somehow that became proof that I never matter."

"You always matter." Jeongguk spoke, soft as breath against skin.

Taehyung smiled faintly at that.

"I know you say that," he murmured.
"…but your silence says something else. It makes my heart wander into places it doesn’t belong."

He swallowed. "Your silence feeds all the worst parts of me."

His eyes finally lifted.

"I was so tired today," he said. "I almost didn’t come home."

Jeongguk’s apology came like a bruise. "I’m sorry."

Taehyung shook his head gently.

"I don’t want an apology, I need you to speak. When you’re breaking. When you’re afraid. When you’re empty."

A small ache beneath every word:

"I don’t want to love you in the dark anymore."

Jeongguk did not answer with language.

He folded into him instead.

His head rested where Taehyung’s heart learned its name over and over again

Taehyung cradled him without thinking.

Fingers brushing through hair with the memory of a thousand smaller moments.

"I got something for you," Jeongguk mumbled.

"A gift?" Taehyung’s eyes lit up.

Jeongguk’s lips curved faintly, a small, hesitant tether to the world around him.

"Oh, I also got one for you! Let me bring mine." Taehyung bolted upstairs, light footed, almost laughing at the absurd joy of anticipation. He returned moments later, clutching his own small secret. Jeongguk remained on the couch, waiting patiently

They settled beside each other on the couch, the world narrowed to the soft space between them.

"Let’s give them at the same time," Taehyung murmured.

Jeongguk pulled a small box from his pocket and handed it to Taehyung, who passed him his own. Then, together, they opened them.

Jeongguk’s lips parted first. Eyes widened at the watch; it was skeleton, mechanical, every delicate gear visible, every detail speaking of patience, of thought, of knowing. He had wanted it. He hadn’t dared to hope. Yet here it was, in his hands.

"Oh my god," Taehyung whispered, voice alive with the same awe, the same joy that mirrored Jeongguk’s.

"It’s… so beautiful," He murmured, gazing at the ring in his hands.

The ring was elegant, crafted from titanium, with tiny tiger lily and Carolina allspice flowers intricately intertwined

Jeongguk silently took the ring and slid it onto Taehyung’s finger. His lips pressed together, a soft bite of concentration and affection.

"Let me wear yours," Taehyung smiles softly. He fastened the watch onto Jeongguk’s wrist. The metal caught the light, casting reflections in his eyes that seemed to swirl with stars.

They sank into each other, side by side on the couch, hands lightly touching, gifts clasped and worn, and the room became a bubble of small contentment.

A silence full of everything. They shared it without speaking.

And for a while, it was enough.

✧･ﾟ:* to be continue *:･ﾟ✧

Notes:

Which moment broke you the most?

The surprise anniversary

Finding out about the accident

Taehyung’s communication

The gifts scene

Chapter 21: 21

 

Jeongguk had learned Taehyung long enough to know that some wounds did not belong to one body alone.

‧₊˚✩彡⋆☾ ﾟ

Dizzy.

Dizzy.

Dizzy.

The world tilted on its axis, drunken turn of a carousel he hadn’t meant to step on. One moment, Taehyung’s eyes were scanning over the neatly typed lines of his report. The next, the letters blurred, melted and the room spun gently, then all at once.

His breath caught.

He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping it would stop the turning, but instead a wave of nausea surged from the pit of his stomach.

His fingers tightened on the desk's edge.

Focus. Breathe.

But then again a sharp tug in his stomach, like something inside had clenched its fist. The pain throbbed with a pulse of its own.

Taehyung exhaled shakily and pressed a palm to his abdomen. The warmth of his hand did nothing to soothe the sudden ache blooming there.

His mind, still spinning, tried to catch up with his body.

Was it stress? The coffee?

For a second, he just sat there, breathing, eyes closed, face pale under the fluorescent lights, trying to will his body back into stillness. But his body had other plans. It was speaking now, in sharp syllables and swirling vertigo.

He stood up too fast.

The chair scraped back. His skin felt clammy, his collar too tight. The sterile, recycled air of the office coiled around him like plastic wrap was so suffocating. He needed real air, warm air, even if it meant stepping out into the heat of noon, sun blazing above the concrete.

His footsteps were uneven, slightly staggered as he walked down the corridor. The world swayed in waves, like he was moving through water.

The elevator doors slid open with a mechanical chime, and instantly, he regretted every decision he’d made that day.

The Chief of Department was already inside, suit pristine, phone in hand, eyes sharp behind thin glasses. Too late to turn back. Taehyung bowed slightly and stepped in.

The doors closed with a soft hiss, sealing him in.

 

The small, mirrored box felt like it shrank around him. His vision blurred around the edges, sweat gathering at his temple.

The elevator jerked as it began its descent.

No. No no no.

His hand found the rail behind him, gripping it with white knuckled fingers. His other clutched at his stomach as a new wave of pain curled and twisted inside him, sharp and mean. His skin felt too tight.

He couldn’t throw up here. Atleast not in front of the Daepyo nim.

Taehyung closed his eyes, jaw clenched, trying to will his body into stillness or at least dignity.

The Chief hadn’t looked up yet.

He was counting on that.

But the way his knees were trembling, the way cold sweat now slid down his spine, it felt like only a matter of time.

Han Joon Kyung finally lifted his gaze from the glowing screen of his phone. His sharp eyes landed on Taehyung, whose complexion was pale, far too pale, and a fine sheen of sweat clung to his brow. His shoulders trembled subtly, his knuckles white where they gripped the elevator rail.

“Mr. Kim, Are you alright?”

Taehyung’s lips moved, barely parting. “Daepyonim…”

Then his eyes rolled back, fluttering shut, and before the Alpha could fully register what was happening, Taehyung’s body swayed then collapsed.

Reflex took over.

Joon Kyung caught him mid fall, his phone clattering to the floor unnoticed. Taehyung’s slumped against his chest, head resting against the crisp fabric of the chief’s suit.

“Mr. Kim?” His voice was lower now, edged with concern. He tapped Taehyung’s cheek gently, but there was no response. The young omega was limp, his breathing shallow against Joon Kyung’s collarbone.

The elevator still hummed around them in eerie silence. Then the doors opened on the ground floor.

Joon Kyung glanced down at the omega in his arms. With a quiet sigh more frustration at circumstance than inconvenience, he adjusted his grip and lifted Taehyung into his arms. Taehyung ’s head lolled against his shoulder, and Joon Kyung instinctively cradled it closer.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, revealing the lobby bathed in cool afternoon light.

Han Joon Kyung stepped out, his arms full cradling Taehyung, limp and unconscious, against his chest. Heads turned instantly. Whispers flared like sparks.

What stopped the chief in his tracks was Jeon Jeongguk.

Standing a few feet away, frozen mid step, holding a lunchbox with careful hands. A lunchbox that now slipped from his grasp and hit the marble floor with a hollow, echoing clatter.

Jeongguk’s eyes locked on his omega. His breath caught, a beat too sharp, too fast.

And then came the growl. Low and guttural and animal.

Jeongguk closed the distance in a blink. His arms reached forward like instinct, yanking Taehyung from the other alpha’s hold with a force that was aggressive.

Han Joon Kyung let go, composed as ever but there was a brief flicker in his gaze. .

“He lost consciousness in the elevator,” he said evenly, brushing a wrinkle from his sleeve. “He needs to be taken to the hospital immediately.”

Jeongguk didn’t answer he was already cradling Taehyung close.

Taehyung stirred faintly, just a breath.

“I’ll take him,” Jeongguk said roughly as he carried Taehyung past the marble columns of the lobby, his heart beating louder than his footsteps. But behind him, that calm voice called out.

“Mr. Jeon.”

“I think you should come in my car, It’s better for Mr. Kim than wasting time looking for a taxi.”

For a moment, Jeongguk hesitated, heart thundering.

A clipped nod.

They moved quickly to the black car outside. Joon Kyung opened the back door himself, stepping aside without a word. Jeongguk slipped in, cradling Taehyung close to his chest, whispering things under his breath like prayers only Taehyung would understand.

The car purred to life.

From the driver’s seat, Joon Kyung’s eyes flicked up to the mirror.

Jeongguk was hunched over, one arm supporting Taehyung’s back, the other hand gently tapping his cheek. His thumb brushed beneath Taehyung’s eye, brushing away sweat or tears or both.

He looked like a man unraveling silently.

And Joon Kyung hated the ache that bloomed in his chest at the sight.

It was beyond being logical and rational.

He’d seen Jeongguk before, many times. In passing, in breaks or picking and dropping Taehyung. The Omega’s husband. A file in HR. But now, in the dim hum of the car, Jeongguk was all rawness and devotion and fear and Taehyung unconscious in his arms.

Joon Kyung looked away from the mirror.

It wasn’t supposed to feel like this.

Taehyung had joined the company four years ago, young, bright eyed, and sharp as flint. He walked into the interview room with confidence, armed with an uncanny grasp of financial systems and a voice that didn’t waver when challenged.

He spoke about numbers, projections, and economic behavior like poetry.

Han Joon Kyung had been part of that panel. And even then, he’d seen it, the brilliance, not yet polished, not yet broken in by corporate monotony. Taehyung was raw in the way a precious metal is raw, unshaped, but gleaming with promise. Critical minded. Fast. Unapologetically passionate about finance.

And Joon Kyung had chosen him for everything he could become.

It had been his decision, one he hadn’t doubted then, and didn’t regret now.

Hiring Taehyung had turned out to be one of the smartest choices he’d made. In just four years, the once raw spark of promise had refined into brilliance. Taehyung had grown into himself, sleek in confidence, quick in thought, and sharp with numbers that left others breathless. He was indispensable.

He should’ve felt pride. Just pride.

But there was something else blooming strangely in his chest.

As the hospital came into view, the car slowed, and Jeongguk was already moving the door flung open before they’d fully stopped. He rushed out, clutching Taehyung as if the world itself might try to steal him away.

Joon Kyung didn’t follow. He simply sat there, still as stone, watching the empty space where Jeongguk had disappeared.

There was no reason for the tightness in his throat.

So he didn’t linger. Didn’t allow the ache to deepen. The moment had already touched too much of him.

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Jeongguk sat on the stiff hospital bench, one knee bouncing restlessly, his eyes locked on the fragile figure lying in the bed just a few feet away.

It had been an hour; a long, stretching hour, filled with Jeongguk’s heart pounding like it was counting down something it couldn't stop.

Earlier, the doctor had spoken in calm tones, “A sudden drop in blood pressure, likely due to hormonal imbalance. He’s stable now. We’ve administered fluids to ease the pain.”

Jeongguk hadn’t asked more. Just nodded. Just stayed.

Now, his back was aching from how long he’d sat in that same position. But he didn't care. All he could do was watch the gentle rise and fall of Taehyung’s chest and wait.

Finally. A flicker. A breath caught. Taehyung’s fingers twitched slightly, and his lashes fluttered open, eyes glassy and slow with sleep.

“Gguk?” he murmured, voice hoarse, as if tasting his name brought him back from somewhere far.

Jeongguk stood instantly, his heart surging into his throat. He crossed the space between them in a blink, crouching at Taehyung’s bedside and taking his hand carefully like it might break.

Taehyung blinked slowly, his gaze drifting upward to the white ceiling. The soft scent of antiseptic told him where he was, even before his memory caught up flashes of dizziness, nausea, the spinning world collapsing under him.

He turned his head toward Jeongguk, his voice a whisper, half wrapped in wonder and fog.

"Gguk… am I pregnant?"

His hand instinctively moved to his stomach, fingers pressing lightly against the softness there.

His heat cycle had been irregular lately also his hormones had been off for weeks.

"Maybe I’m pregnant right," he breathed, a smile cracking through the haze, delicate, like sunlight after a storm.

"I was nauseous, I felt dizzy I fainted and I"

“It was negative.” Jeongguk’s palms cradle Taehyung’s cheeks with aching care. “They ran the test. It it came back negative.”

And just like that, the light that had sparked behind Taehyung’s eyes began to flicker, dimming as his smile faltered. It wilted, like a flower kissed by unexpected frost.

“Like always,” Taehyung murmured, the words brittle, splintering inside his chest.

Jeongguk pulled him close, arms encircling his slender frame, grounding him with warmth, with the desperate that only grows through heartbreak.

“Everything has a time,” he whispered into Taehyung’s hair, pressing his lips.

“And when that time comes… it’ll be yours.”

Taehyung gave a quiet, hollow laugh.

“Yeah… I’m strong.”

He tasted the bitterness of those words like iron on his tongue, the same strength he had to wear like armor, again and again.

He buried his face into Jeongguk’s shoulder, letting his arms tighten around his husband. Letting the silence fill with the soft shudder of breath and the burden of another dream slipping between his fingers.

A single tear trailed down his cheek, soaking into the fabric between them.

Jeongguk had learned Taehyung long enough to know that some wounds did not belong to one body alone.

Jeongguk felt that pain, that helpless longing, like it was his own.

Because maybe it was.

✧･ﾟ:* to be continue *:･ﾟ✧

Chapter 22: 22

In every fight, Jeongguk seemed to be the one left carrying more of the pain.

‧₊˚✩彡⋆☾ ﾟ

The view beyond the window was carefully curated. Taehyung sat curled in on himself, knees drawn to his chest, arms loose and unmoving, as if even holding himself took too much effort. His gaze rested outside, unfocused, slipping past the garden and into nothing at all.

 

It was beautiful. He knew that. And yet it felt unnecessary, almost invasive. Depression had a way of dulling wonder, of making even beauty feel distant, as if it belonged to someone else.

 

Taehyung exhaled. His eyes traced the garden below without really seeing it, searching half heartedly for something to catch on to.

 

The house itself was immaculate. Every line intentional, every space designed to soothe. Perfection built by the best hands Korea had to offer, polished until nothing was out of place.

 

Jimin had poured himself into this place. Every corner held his hope, his belief that love could be shaped into walls and windows and warmth. Taehyung knew that. He did. And still, his thoughts slipped away again, drifting out of reach, swallowed by the familiar fog that never fully lifted.

 

The door opened softly.

 

Jimin paused just inside the room, a tired sigh escaping him before he could stop it. He had left Taehyung alone for only a moment, and already he was gone again, body here, mind somewhere far, somewhere Jimin couldn't follow. It was better this way, Jimin told himself. Better than the hospital. Home was supposed to help.

 

Convincing Taehyung's husband of that had been easier than he expected.

 

"Tae," Jimin said gently, forcing brightness into his voice as he crossed the room. "Come downstairs. Maybe we try a small kitchen adventure?"

 

He smiled, soft and hopeful, reaching the window.

 

Taehyung didn't move. His eyes remained fixed, empty of focus.

 

Jimin breathed out and sat beside him, shoulder to shoulder. He hesitated for a heartbeat then reached out, touching him lightly.

 

"Tae." He shook him just enough to pull him back.

 

"Jimin," Taehyung murmured at last.The name arrived slowly, worn thin by distance, as if it had traveled a long way just to reach his lips.

 

Jimin sighed again, softer this time, and stayed where he was.

 

"Children were never important to you," he said at last directly. He didn't walk around the truth.

 

"They are now," Taehyung answered, just as quietly.

 

"You're young, Only twenty six. It's good that you married early. It's good that you've carried your career and your marriage together. You've done well."

 

"I've been married for four years, Jimin," Taehyung murmured, as if time itself needed reminding. As if the years might argue back.

 

Jimin hesitated. And then the question slipped free, edged dangerously close to fear. "Why do you want a child so desperately, Taehyung?"

 

Because suddenly, he was afraid of the answer. Afraid Taehyung was reaching for a baby to anchor himself. Afraid he was mistaking a baby for salvation. Afraid he was trying to fill a hollow that had grown too deep to name. That kind of longing wasn't love, it was survival. And survival, when misunderstood, could shatter more than it healed.

 

"I want a child, Jimin. And it isn't only me. Deep down, I know he wants it too. Maybe he doesn't say it because he doesn't want to burden me."

 

He paused, fingers curling tighter in his lap.

 

"For the first three years of our marriage, I didn't want one, I wanted things to happen naturally. But now, Now I want to give him happiness. He would be a perfect father. I know that."

 

"So you don't want a child to fill a void," Jimin asked carefully.

 

"What void?" Taehyung's voice sharpened at once. "I don't have any void."

 

Jimin went quiet.

 

Jeongguk had left damage in Taehyung's life. Deep fractures that didn't bleed, that didn't bruise. The cruelest part was that Taehyung couldn't fully see them. Or maybe he could, somewhere buried and untouched, a place he refused to enter. Denial, after all, could be kinder than truth.

 

"I just wish you knew too, Taehyung,"

 

"I don't know. So enlighten me. Is this some kind of psychological analysis involving Jeongguk? If it is, you need to stop."

 

"Okay," Jimin said quietly. "I'm sorry."

 

His gaze drifted downward, landing on the ring circling Taehyung's finger. Maybe it was better to let the moment go. To change direction before the silence turned sharp.

 

"What do these flowers mean?" Jimin asked softly.

 

Taehyung glanced down, and a small, almost private smile touched his lips. "They're our birth month flowers," he said. "Mine and Jeongguk's."

 

Jimin smiled too, leaning closer, studying the ring as if seeing it for the first time. "May I?"

 

He had seen it before. But now, knowing its meaning, it felt different.

 

Taehyung shrugged and slipped it off, placing it into Jimin's open palm. The moment it settled there, Jimin's eyes widened.

 

He turned it slightly, feeling the weight of ring. The truth was immediate. "Taehyung Is this real platinum?"

 

"No," Taehyung answered easily. "Mostly just plating." Another shrug, careless and unbothered.

 

Jimin pressed his lips together. There was no mistaking it. This wasn't plated. It was solid platinum. It was dense, cool, unmistakable. The craftsmanship was flawless, the birth month flowers custom designed, deliberate down to the smallest detail.

 

Taehyung might not recognize the difference, raised as he was in modest means, but Jimin had grown up surrounded by luxury. He knew the weight of real metal, the quiet confidence of true craftsmanship.

 

How had Jeongguk afforded this? And more importantly why hadn't he told Taehyung the truth?

 

The doorbell rang cutting cleanly through the stillness.

 

Taehyung rose at once, his mood turning as if someone had flicked a switch inside him. Jimin watched it happen, the way the fog lifted just enough to let light through.

 

He exhaled slowly and returned the ring with a faint, careful smile. Taehyung slid it back onto his finger and left the room.

 

By the time they reached the stairs, Jeongguk was already inside, the maid holding the door open behind him.

 

Taehyung hurried forward and wrapped his arms around him, clinging as if letting go might undo him entirely. His raw was so visible, written plainly into the way he act subconsciously. It was something no one around them ever failed to notice.

 

Jeongguk returned the embrace, arms closing around Taehyung's slight frame. Taehyung held on too tightly. After a moment, Jeongguk gently eased back.

 

"How was your day?" he asked.

 

"It just passed," Taehyung replied, quietly.

 

"And yours?"

 

"Good."

Jeongguk's gaze shifted to Jimin. "Thank you for keeping him company," he added, his voice low. Jimin nodded. It was more than Jeongguk usually offered.

 

"Can we go?" Jeongguk asked Taehyung.

 

"No," Jimin said immediately. "You're both staying for dinner." He spoke before either of them could protest. "The food's already prepared. I won't let you leave without eating."

 

Taehyung looked at Jeongguk. "We'll stay."
Jeongguk hesitated, then nodded reluctantly.

 

"Let's wait for Yoongi," Jimin murmured.
They settled onto the couch together.

 

"So Jeongguk," Jimin began carefully. "I'm sorry for what you're both going through."

 

Jeongguk looked at him, confusion flickering across his face.

 

"Taehyung said you're trying for a baby," Jimin continued, lips pressing together.

The words tasted wrong the moment they left him. He hated himself for crossing the line, for intruding where he had no right to stand.

 

But he loved Taehyung. And sometimes love made people trespass, made them say things they wished they could take back.

 

"Jimin." Taehyung's jaw tightened. Heat crept up his neck. Across from him, Jeongguk's ears had gone red too.

 

"I know a very good gynecologist," Jimin said, forcing his voice. "Why don't you make an appointment together?"

 

Jeongguk's gaze sharpened. "There's nothing wrong with us," he said too defensively.

 

Jimin frowned. That wasn't what he meant. Not at all.

 

"Of course I didn't mean it that way," he said, carefully. "But seeing a doctor could make things easier. For the child."

 

Jeongguk shook his head. "Baby is just a baby," he said. "If we're meant to receive that blessing, it will come. There's no urgency."

 

Taehyung looked at him.

 

Truthfully, like so many other things between them, this had never been spoken aloud. It had lived in silence another one sided conversation Taehyung had been carrying alone for months. At first, he hadn't thought about children at all. And Jeongguk had never brought it up either. But then again, when did Jeongguk ever speak first?
Was Jimin right?

 

There was a vast hollow in Taehyung's life. He had always known it was there. The truth bled quietly inside him, aching but unnamed. What if he wanted a child to soothe that emptiness? What if that longing wasn't love at all, but need?
And wouldn't that be its own cruelty to place the burden of healing on someone so small?

 

Jimin looked at Jeongguk then, his expression edged with restraint, with anger carefully held in place.

 

"I'm calling Yoongi," he said, already rising. "He's late today."

 

He walked away with his phone in hand.

 

Taehyung ran his tongue over his lips, his gaze locked on Jeongguk. Jeongguk met his gaze, silent, but his eyes spoke in fragments; anger at Jimin, perhaps, hurt at the thought of a child, or maybe hurt that Taehyung had revealed their private life so openly.

 

Jeongguk hated that. Taehyung knew it. His husband had never liked public affection, never liked their intimacy exposed to anyone else's gaze.

 

Still, Taehyung searched his face for something that never came. The guilt he wanted. The small, quiet acknowledgment of having hurt him, of having let him stand exposed in front of a friend was nowhere to be found.

 

Footsteps sounded in the hallway.

Yoongi appeared first, phone still pressed to his ear, and then Jimin walk to him, smiling, leaning in for a brief, gentle kiss. It was a greeting. The affection that asked for nothing and explained everything.

 

Taehyung felt his lips curve into a small smile as he watched them, warmth settling softly in his chest.

 

"We have a guest today," Yoongi said as he approached.

 

Taehyung rose just enough to wrap him in a quick hug. Jeongguk offer a stiff handshake. Yoongi ignored it, pulling him into a full embrace. Jeongguk remained rigid, caught in warmth he didn't know how to return.

 

"I'll be back after I change," Yoongi said when he finally released them.

 

Jimin followed him upstairs, his smile lingering as they disappeared beyond the doorway.

 

Taehyung sank back onto the couch, exhaling quietly. His fingers twisted together in his lap, restless, betraying him. Jeongguk sat beside him, silent, his gaze fixed on Taehyung's hands.

 

He did nothing. No words. No touch. No small kindness to soften the moment. And somehow, that stillness pierced Taehyung more sharply than any argument ever could.

 

Couldn't he see how raw Taehyung felt?
Couldn't he offer even a single word, one small gesture, one brief touch to say I see you. I know this hurts.

 

The host couple descended the stairs, and Taehyung's lips curved into a small, careful smile.

 

Soon after, the maid called them to dinner.

 

The meal, meant to be a form of comfort, felt impossibly heavy.

 

Yoongi sensed the tension but said nothing, filling the air instead with casual chatter aimed at Jeongguk. Jimin tried hard to keep Taehyung engaged, and Yoongi could already see the traces of awkwardness or blunder Jimin must had committed earlier and the dinner had gone like that.

 

"It was a nice dinner," Taehyung said at the door, turning to Jimin.

 

He hugged him briefly, holding on just a second longer than necessary.

 

"Thank you," he whispered, voice soft against Jimin's ear. "For making my day feel less heavy."

 

"Anytime," Jimin replied, his smile small, apologetic.

 

Goodbyes were exchanged, and Taehyung slid into the car. Jeongguk started the engine, his eyes fixed straight ahead.

 

Taehyung watched the world smear past the window in streaks of light and shadow.
Then, almost abruptly, a chuckle slipped from him.

 

"You didn't want a child. And I had to find out in my friend's house. In front of my friend."

 

The words fell into the car like a match dropped into dry kindling.

 

And just like that, the time bomb inside him detonated.

 

Every suppressed emotion, the grief, the frustration, the depression, the hurt compressed into a single, volatile spike: anger.

 

Anger that had been coiling inside, now ready to unravel.

 

Jeongguk glanced at him, confusion flickering across his face. He didn't understand. What even Taehyung was thinking?

 

"I don't not want a child," he said.

 

"You made that very clear. Why didn't you tell me?" His words climbed higher, cracking. "When hundreds of times I talked about our future. About our children. Like an idiot."

 

Jeongguk pulled the car over, stopping it completely. His hands tightened on the wheel before he turned, studying Taehyung as if trying to find solid ground.

 

"What was there to tell?" he asked. Still calm. Still impossibly calm.

 

Taehyung laughed again, carrying everything he had never been allowed himself to say.

 

"Yes! What is there to tell? What is there to communicate? Who am I to you that you even bother to speak?!" Taehyung shouted, his voice shaking with a mixture of hurt and fury.

 

"You're angry," Jeongguk said gently. "Let's talk after you calm down."

 

"When do we talk?" Taehyung shot back, "When was the last time we talked after an argument?"

 

He swallowed hard. "You don't even think I'm worth arguing with."

 

Jeongguk bit his lip, eyes fixed on him. He knew he couldn't meet this with logic. Every word would land like indifference.

 

"It's not like that," he murmured leaning closer.

 

Taehyung recoiled, eyes blazing. "Don't don't touch me! I'm the only one allowed to speak. I'm the only one allowed to argue. I'm the only one allowed to feel this, because Jeon Jeongguk must find it all pitiable!"

 

Jeongguk exhaled slowly, his eyes never leaving Taehyung. "Even one fight between us is never complete," Taehyung spat, his voice sharp, shaking at the edges. "Either I surrender to your silence or you make me surrender with sex. That's it. That's all it ever is."

 

Jeongguk's chest tightened painfully. Was that how it looked to him? Was attempts at closeness coming across as control? Did Taehyung really think he made love to him only to silence arguments, to bend him into submission?

 

Taehyung's gaze cut straight through him. "Who am I to you?" he demanded. "Just a service provider for your rut? For whenever you feel horny?"

 

"TAEHYUNG!"

The name tore out of Jeongguk's throat, violent and loud, shattering the closed space of the car. Taehyung froze instantly.
Jeongguk was unrecognizable,veins standing out along his neck, jaw clenched hard enough to ache, hands gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles blanched.

 

"YOU WILL SHUT UP NOW!"

 

The engine roared back to life beneath his fury.

 

Taehyung blinked rapidly, fighting the burn in his eyes. Jeongguk had never spoken to him like that. Never raised his voice this way. Fear slid into his chest, cold and paralyzing, locking his tongue in place.

 

"Drop me at my parents house," Taehyung said after a long silence.

 

Jeongguk closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them, something distant had settled in.

 

"No."

 

"I said I want to go to my parents house," Taehyung pressed, jaw tight, frustration barely contained.

 

"Don't make me repeat myself," Jeongguk replied, his voice controlled too controlled.

 

Taehyung bit his tongue and turned toward the window, refusing to look at him.

 

When the car finally stopped, Taehyung opened the door and slammed it shut with all the force he had left.

 

Jeongguk stayed where he was for a moment, breathing out slowly. He stepped out at last, following Taehyung as he moved ahead in stiff, hurried strides, every step tight with anger and hurt, every movement pulled taut like a wire about to snap.

 

When Jeongguk reached the front door, it was already closed on his face and locked from the inside.

 

He fished for his key, unlocking it with a soft click, and stepped in. The house greeted him with silence and disarray.

Shoes lay scattered across the floor.

 

Jeongguk crouched, gathering them one by one. He placed them neatly into the cabinet, then removed his own shoes and slipped into house slippers.

 

When he entered the bedroom, the evidence continued. A shirt slung over the chair. Jeans crumpled on the floor. A lace panty draped carelessly over the bathroom mat. Socks dangling like an afterthought.

 

Jeongguk pressed his lips together and moved through the room collecting each piece and dropping it into the laundry basket.

 

Taehyung emerged from the bathroom.
Jeongguk's gaze flicked downward, tracing him from bare feet up long legs, to the soft curve of hips, to the bare waist. Taehyung wore white satin silk shorts and blouse, the fabric catching the light with every step. Jeongguk swallowed hard.

 

Taehyung moved with deliberate indifference, heading straight for the vanity.

 

He uncapped a bottle of lotion, and began smoothing it over his legs, arms, neck. carelessly. Either unaware of Jeongguk's stare or intentionally ignoring it.

 

Jeongguk forced himself to breathe. His eyes lingered on Taehyung's graceful hands movement.

 

Taehyung turned and walked toward the bed.

 

"Taehyung," Jeongguk breathed, his voice low, almost desperate, following him like a tethered dog. His eyes betrayed him, drifting to Taehyung's hips.

 

Taehyung he grabbed a pillow and hurled it at Jeongguk's chest.

 

"Out,"

 

Then he collapsed onto the bed on his stomach closing his eyes.

 

Jeongguk wet his lips, eyes lingering on Taehyung's body one last time. He turned away slowly, lips pouted, and left the room like a wounded dog gently nudged from its place.

 

In every fight, Jeongguk seemed to be the one left carrying more of the pain. Sometimes it settled in his chest, a dull ache that never fully faded.

 

Now it burned elsewhere in the shape of boner.

 

He swallowed it all and headed downstairs.

 

The fridge light spilled into the dark kitchen as he pulled out a bottle of soju. He carried it to the living room and sank into a couch.

 

He stared at the clear liquid, its surface reflecting restless eyes he recognized.

 

Jeongguk uncapped the bottle and drank the soju.

 

The burn anchored him.

 

He thought of Taehyung upstairs, lying on the sheets, arms tucked close, eyes shut against the world. How could someone so near feel so impossibly far?

 

Jeongguk closed his eyes, swallowing frustration, desire, and the deep ache of helplessness.

 

This wouldn't end tonight. He knew that.
Still, he stayed where he was, gulping the bottle, willing himself to endure to wait to find some way back to the omega who had shut him out.

 

✧･ﾟ:* to be continue *:･ﾟ✧

Notes:

What kind of story does this seem like to you all? Maybe an angsty story about their miscommunication?Maybe a sad story full of silence and grief? Maybe a story that feels real because of their real life work?

Tell me what you think and I'll disclose the genre in next chapter ✨

Comment and engage please. I really miss the engagement of readers on this platform 🫠