85
I was supposed to drop a double update, but my mother dumped a lot of work on me /3
I’ll update the next chapter tomorrow though.
Third Person Pov
The car idled outside Taehyung’s house, engine humming softly like it didn’t want the moment to end either.
Taehyung shifted in the passenger seat, fingers twisting together on his lap. When he finally glanced sideways, he froze.
Jungkook was already looking at him.
One arm rested on the steering wheel, his head tilted slightly against it, gaze steady.... unblinking. Not soft. Not warm. Just… intent. Like he was committing something to memory.
“W-Why,” Taehyung muttered, swallowing, “why are you staring at me like that?”
Jungkook didn’t look away.
“In my thirty-eight years,” he said calmly, almost lazily, “today ranks inconveniently high.”
Taehyung blinked. “Inconveniently…?”
“I don’t like days I don’t want to end,” Jungkook continued. “They make me reckless.”
His eyes flicked briefly to Taehyung’s lips before returning to his eyes. “So I’m stretching it.”
Taehyung’s throat went dry. He shifted again, flustered.
“You’ve… gotten soft with your words,” he said quietly. “This—this version of you wasn’t exactly what I expected at the start.”
Jungkook’s lips curved... not into a smile, but something sharper. Amused.
“You smiling because of me,” he replied, “wasn’t expected either.”
He straightened slightly, turning his body just enough to face Taehyung more fully.
“You agreeing to spend a day with me?” he went on. “Unlikely.”
His gaze dipped, then lifted again, deliberate.
“And yet,” he finished, “here you are. Sitting in my car. Flustered. Avoiding my eyes.”
Taehyung scoffed weakly, cheeks warm. “You talk like everything’s some kind of calculation.”
Jungkook hummed.
“It usually is.”
Then, quieter but no less controlled:
“You just keep ruining my equations.”
Silence filled the car again... heavy, charged.
Jungkook finally reached for the door handle, breaking eye contact first.
“Go inside,” he said. “Before I decide to extend this day improperly.”
Taehyung’s heart skipped.
Taehyung swallowed, fingers curling into the edge of the seat.
“W-what do you mean… improperly?” he asked, voice betraying him even as he tried to sound steady.
Jungkook’s gaze didn’t soften. If anything, it sharpened, like he was deciding how much truth Taehyung could handle.
“I mean,” Jungkook said calmly, “something that would remind you why people have always misunderstood me.”
Taehyung’s breath hitched.
“And why’s that?” he whispered.
Jungkook let out a low, almost amused breath through his nose.
“Because I don’t pretend I’m harmless.”
His hand moved—not rushed, not hesitant. It closed around Taehyung’s wrist, warm and firm, pulling him just close enough for the air between them to thin.
“I have restraint,” Jungkook continued, voice even. “A lot of it. I’ve built my life on control.”
His thumb pressed lightly against Taehyung’s pulse.
“But you,” he added, eyes darkening, “are the one variable I don’t bother lying about.”
Taehyung’s lips parted, words failing him.
“You—you’re shameless and lustful,” he managed, heart racing.
Jungkook’s mouth curved... not into a smile, but something more dangerous.
“No,” he corrected quietly. “I’m honest.”
He leaned in just enough for Taehyung to feel his breath.
“Lust doesn’t disappear just because you give it a prettier name,” Jungkook murmured. “When it mixes with love, it doesn’t weaken. It deepens.”
His grip tightened a fraction... never crossing the line, but standing right on its edge.
“And right now,” he said softly, “I don’t mind being exactly what you’re afraid of… because I know you’re not pulling away either.”
Silence flooded the car.
Taehyung stayed still.. shaken, flustered, very aware of how close they were.
Jungkook released him just as easily as he’d taken hold, leaning back like nothing had happened.
“Relax,” he said lightly, shaking his head.
“I said improperly, not recklessly.”
Taehyung stared ahead, cheeks burning.
And Jungkook watched him from the corner of his eye... amused, controlled, very much aware of the effect he had.
Taehyung lingered for a second, fingers fidgeting.
“Uh… I should leave,” he said softly, cheeks still warm, voice a little breathless from everything the day had been.
Jungkook didn’t move. He only hummed, leaning back against the seat, head resting on the steering wheel, eyes closed—as if the moment would stretch longer if he refused to look at its ending.
“Thank you,” Taehyung added after a pause. “I… I enjoyed everything you did.”
That earned another low hum. Jungkook’s lips curved faintly, not quite a smile, more like quiet satisfaction.
Taehyung frowned, glancing at him. “Why aren’t you looking at me?”
Jungkook didn’t open his eyes.
“Because,” he said calmly, “I don’t want to watch you leave.”
A brief pause.
“And you wouldn’t like it if I asked you to stay.”
Taehyung let out a small sigh, shaking his head. “This man is dramatic,” he muttered under his breath.
He opened the car door and stepped out, cool evening air brushing his flushed skin. For a moment, he looked back—Jungkook was still in the same position, eyes closed, unmoving, like he was memorizing the day from the inside.
Taehyung narrowed his eyes at him, half-annoyed, half-soft, then turned away.
Mrs. Han was stepping out of the house just then, pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “Oh, Taehyung, you’re back,” she said warmly.
He smiled immediately. “Yes. Thank you so much for taking care of the kids.”
“They’re asleep,” she replied with a fond nod. “Both of them. In the bedroom. Daisy’s curled up beside them like a little guard.”
Relief settled into Taehyung’s chest. He bowed slightly. “Thank you again.”
“I should head back,” Mrs. Han said. “Jiwoo will be waiting for me.”
Taehyung nodded, watching her walk off down the lane.
He turned once more toward the car. Jungkook still hadn’t looked at him.
Taehyung rolled his eyes lightly. “Unbelievable,” he murmured, though there was no real bite to it.
He walked to his gate, pushed it open, and stepped inside
—and then everything went dark.
The streetlights blinked out. The porch lights died. Every house on the lane sank into sudden darkness.
Taehyung froze mid-step.
The quiet felt heavier without the glow, the familiar outlines of the neighborhood swallowed by shadow. He looked around instinctively, heart giving a small, startled thud in his chest as the silence pressed in from all sides.
For the first time that evening, the warmth lingered but something else crept in with it.
Uncertainty.
A low hum followed... an engine idling.
Taehyung turned.
Jungkook’s car was still there, headlights cutting through the blackout like a blade through skin. The driver’s door opened unhurriedly, as if the darkness hadn’t surprised him at all. Jungkook stepped out, posture loose, composed—annoyingly so for someone standing in the middle of a power cut.
“Power cut,” Jungkook said calmly, lighting a cigarette. The flame briefly carved sharp lines across his face. “Happens here?”
Taehyung swallowed. “Sometimes. Usually comes back in a few minutes.”
Jungkook nodded once and stepped closer.
“Terrible timing,” he remarked.
Taehyung instinctively took a step back. “Y-yeah.”
Jungkook didn’t stop.
“What—what are you doing?” Taehyung asked, voice dipping despite himself.
Jungkook closed the distance until Taehyung had no choice but to lift both hands and press them flat against the older man’s chest.
Jungkook’s gaze dropped to Taehyung’s hands, then lifted again, unreadable.
“You always leave when things get quiet,” Jungkook said evenly, almost conversational. “You notice that?”
Taehyung frowned. “That’s not—”
“When there’s noise,” Jungkook cut in smoothly, “chaos, kids crying, work, responsibilities—you stay.” His eyes sharpened just a fraction. “But the moment it’s just you and me? You run.”
Taehyung’s chest tightened. “I-I don’t run.”
Jungkook tilted his head slightly. “You open doors very fast for someone who doesn’t.”
Silence settled between them. Not awkward. Not loud. Just heavy... like a held breath neither of them wanted to release.
“I… I don’t know what to say,” Taehyung muttered. “You always make me… blank.”
Jungkook waited. He didn’t interrupt. Didn’t rush him.
“You’re not normal,” Taehyung added finally, exasperated.
“I never claimed to be,” Jungkook replied.
Taehyung sighed, frustrated, then looked up again. “You always have some sharp reply ready, don’t you?”
Jungkook studied his face.... the furrowed brows, the tight mouth, the defiant confusion.
“I like it when you make that face,” he said.
Taehyung stiffened. “What face?”
Jungkook lifted two fingers and pressed lightly between Taehyung’s brows. “That one. Like an angry kitten trying very hard to look threatening.”
Taehyung gasped. “How-how dare you!”
Jungkook’s lips curved... not warm, not gentle. Entertained. “See? Even better now.”
He leaned back a fraction, voice dry. “I should get you cat ears next time.”
“You will not,” Taehyung snapped.
“What color?” Jungkook continued calmly. “Pink. Black. White. I’ll get whatever matches your mood, wildcat.”
That did it.
Taehyung looked around agitated, scowling into the darkness, then bent down and pulled off one shoe, gripping it tightly.
“Stop-stop provoking me or else—”
Jungkook’s eyes flicked to the shoe. A short breath left him... almost a laugh. “I was just thinking of dressing you up—”
The shoe flew.
Jungkook who knew this was coming already dodged on instinct, smooth and effortless. The shoe sailed past him and struck Kang Mina, who was walking by on her phone.
She shrieked and ran.
“Oh my god—I’m so sorry!” Taehyung shouted, panic flooding his face.
Too late. She was gone.
Jungkook watched the direction she fled, lips curling slightly before his gaze returned to Taehyung.
Taehyung glared at him.
“This is your fault.”
He marched forward and grabbed Jungkook by the collar, fists clenched, breath uneven. “You are always—always—getting on my nerves.”
Jungkook didn’t flinch. He leaned in just enough for his voice to drop.
“Then stop standing so close,” he murmured. “Or stop pretending you don’t like it.”
Taehyung’s cheeks burned. “Sh-shut up.”
Jungkook didn’t smile this time. He simply looked at him.... steady, assessing, dangerously focused.
“Have I ever told you,” he asked, “that you’re beautiful?”
Taehyung blinked. “Twice. Maybe three times.”
“Not enough,” Jungkook replied.
He lifted a finger and tilted Taehyung’s chin upward, precise—no rush, no force.
“I should fix that,” he continued coolly. “Because you’re far too beautiful to be this unaware.”
Taehyung’s chest fluttered despite himself. His grip on Jungkook’s collar loosened just a little.
The darkness pressed in again. The power still out. The street quiet.
And Jungkook didn’t move away.
Taehyung’s fingers were still knotted in Jungkook’s collar, breath uneven, chest rising too fast for someone who had been ready to throw shoes a minute ago. He could feel the tension humming under Jungkook’s skin.
Jungkook didn’t move at first.
He just looked at him.
Not amused.
Not teasing.
Something darker. Measured.
“You have no idea,” Jungkook said quietly, voice low enough that it felt like it belonged only to the dark, “how much control this is costing me.”
Taehyung’s breath hitched.
The words weren’t loud, weren’t dramatic.... but they landed heavy. His grip tightened unconsciously, knuckles brushing Jungkook’s throat.
He swallowed, lips parting, then pressed together again as if reconsidering everything he’d planned to say.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Jungkook’s hands hovered, not touching, not yet—like he was giving himself one last chance to step back.
Taehyung didn’t.
He stepped closer instead.
It was slow. Careful. As if he was testing the ground before a fall. His forehead nearly brushed Jungkook’s now, the warmth undeniable, familiar in a way that made his heart rwace.
“Maybe…” Taehyung started, then stopped, breath shaking. He lifted his gaze, eyes shining even in the near-dark. “Maybe I don’t want you to control it.”
The words came out softer than he intended. Honest. Dangerous.
Jungkook’s jaw clenched.
“Don’t,” he warned, but his hands betrayed him... sliding to Taehyung’s waist, firm, claiming, fingers digging in just enough to make Taehyung gasp.
“Fuck,” Jungkook muttered under his breath, like a curse he’d lost the battle against.
Taehyung barely had time to inhale before Jungkook pulled him in... harder now, decisive and crashed their mouths together.
The kiss wasn’t gentle.
It was restrained violence. All the things Jungkook hadn’t said, all the things Taehyung had been provoking, colliding at once.
Taehyung gasped into it, hands sliding up automatically, arms wrapping around Jungkook’s neck as if his body already knew where it belonged.
Jungkook deepened the kiss without hesitation, one hand still firm at Taehyung’s waist, the other coming up to cradle the back of his neck—steady
, grounding him there.
Taehyung melted into it despite himself.
The frustration. The teasing. The running.
All of it dissolved into that moment... darkness, breath, heat.
For once, Jungkook wasn’t chasing.
And Taehyung wasn’t leaving.
A broken moan slipped out of Taehyung before he could stop it... soft, breathy, betraying.
Jungkook froze.
Not pulled away. Not startled. Just… still. His lips hovered a breath away from Taehyung’s, their foreheads almost touching, the space between them charged and unforgiving.
“Don’t,” Jungkook murmured, voice low, restrained, brushing against Taehyung’s mouth. “Don’t make that sound.”
Taehyung’s lashes fluttered. His fingers trembled where they were curled into Jungkook’s collar, knuckles tight like he was holding on to the last thread of his resolve.
“W-why…?” he whispered, even as his body betrayed him—leaning forward again, closing the distance he shouldn’t.
Jungkook’s jaw clenched.
“Because,” he replied calmly, dangerously, “if you do it again, I won’t stop.”
The honesty in it hit harder than any raised voice ever could.
Taehyung swallowed. His lips curved, faint and reckless, eyes glazed with frustration and something dangerously close to want.
“Maybe…” he breathed, barely audible, “maybe I don’t want you to.”
For half a second, Jungkook shut his eyes.
Just half a second.
When he opened them, the restraint was gone.
He kissed Taehyung again... harder this time, deliberate but burning. Not rushed. Not messy. The kind of kiss that felt like a decision.
Taehyung gasped softly as Jungkook guided him back, the iron gate cool against his spine when he was pressed into it. The contrast made him shiver.
Jungkook’s hand settled at his waist... roaming on his body shamelessly. Every little dip, every curve... The CEO grazed it with his fingers casually.
Taehyung’s back arched instinctively, a breathy sound slipping out again before he could swallow it down.
Jungkook’s mouth shifted, his teeth grazing Taehyung’s lower lip—brief, warning, controlled.
Taehyung whined softly despite himself.
Jungkook didn’t deepen the kiss again right away.
Instead, he stayed there... mouth hovering, breath warm against Taehyung’s lips, eyes dark and unwavering—like he was reminding them both just how thin the line was.
And how easily he could cross it.
Jungkook drew in a slow breath, chest rising once. His grip on Taehyung’s waist tightened for a second before easing, like he was testing himself.
“I—”
He stopped.
Taehyung waited, heartbeat loud in his ears. Jungkook rarely paused. When he did, it meant something dangerous was being held back.
Jungkook’s hand slipped away entirely.
“Go inside,” he said quietly.
Taehyung blinked. “What?”
Jungkook took a step back, creating distance that felt far more jarring than closeness ever had. At the exact same moment, the streetlights flickered back to life. One by one, the neighborhood illuminated, the darkness retreating like it had never existed.
Taehyung flinched at the sudden brightness.
Jungkook stood there with his hands in his pockets now, posture relaxed again—too relaxed. His face was unreadable, eyes steady on Taehyung as if nothing had just happened.
“Wh—what was that?” Taehyung asked, confusion bleeding into his voice. “You just—”
“I wanted to show you something,” Jungkook interrupted calmly.
Taehyung frowned. “Show me what?”
“Myself,” Jungkook replied. A faint curve touched his lips. “Not crossing a line. And proving that it's not just lust.”
Taehyung stared at him, realization dawning slowly. His brows knit together, jaw tightening.
“Oh,” he said flatly. "So you can control yourself around me...”
Jungkook tilted his head. “Looks like I finally managed it.”
That did it.
Taehyung’s eyes sharpened, the softness from moments ago evaporating into something brittle. “Good to know.” he said, voice edged now.
Jungkook didn’t respond immediately. He simply watched.
Taehyung clenched his teeth. “Congratulations on your little achievement, ” He turned sharply on his heel. “You must be very proud.” He spat.
And then stalked toward the house, steps sharp, shoes clicking against the pavement—loud, dramatic, unmistakably irritated.
Behind him, Jungkook remained frozen for a beat longer than he intended.
“…That wasn’t the reaction I expected,” he muttered under his breath.
Taehyung didn’t look back.
The door creaked as it swung open, then slammed shut with finality.
Jungkook exhaled slowly, staring at the closed door like it had personally offended him.
What the hell just happened?
For the first time that night, control didn’t feel like a victory.
His eyes stayed on the iron gate long after Taehyung disappeared behind it, as if something might come undone if he looked away too soon. He exhaled slowly through his nose, once. Then again.
He replayed the moment not emotionally, but precisely like a problem he hadn’t solved correctly.
He had stopped himself. That was the point. He had exercised control. Proven it. He should feel satisfied.
So why did it feel like a miscalculation?
Jungkook frowned, barely noticeable, annoyance flickering behind his eyes not at Taehyung, but at himself.
He had read rooms full of hostile investors with a glance. Predicted betrayals before they happened. Controlled outcomes to the decimal.
Yet with Taehyung, the variables never stayed where he placed them.
He had expected relief when he stepped back.
What he got instead was… tension. Sharp. Lingering. Like leaving a sentence unfinished on purpose and still hearing it echo.
Was he supposed to let it go further?
No.
That wasn’t the mistake.
Or was it?
His jaw tightened. He hated this part.... the uncertainty. The way Taehyung made him hesitate where he never did. Made him second-guess actions that were usually instinctively correct.
Taehyung didn’t respond the way others did. Didn’t follow patterns. Didn’t bend under pressure or react predictably to restraint.
Instead, he’d looked at Jungkook like that. Annoyed. Flushed. Challenged.
And then he’d walked away.
Jungkook scoffed quietly under his breath, walking back... leaning back against the car.
“Ridiculous,” he muttered... though whether he meant the situation or himself, he didn’t clarify.
He closed his eyes briefly.
Regain control.
That was all.
He straightened, and slipped inside the car... still wondering.... what went wrong?
.
.
.
Inside the house, Taehyung shut the door a little harder than necessary and leaned back against it.
He stared at the ceiling.
Then scoffed.
“What a dumbass,” he muttered, kicking off his shoes. “Stupid… annoying… self-controlled Mr. CEO.”
He ran a hand through his hair, pacing once—twice....before stopping himself.
A smile crept onto his lips despite his best effort.
“…Dumbass,” he repeated, quieter this time, almost fond.
Shaking his head, he walked toward the bedroom.
The moment he stepped inside, everything softened. Both kids were asleep.....small bodies curled under blankets, breathing slow and even. Daisy lay between them, one paw draped protectively over a tiny arm.
Taehyung’s expression melted.
He moved closer, brushing a gentle hand over their heax, his frustration dissolving into something warm and steady.
And somewhere outside, a man with too much control and too little peace was still standing under a streetlight.... thinking about him.
Taehyung smiled to himself.
Still a Dumbass Mr.CEO
But…..one worth smiling about.
.
.
.
The morning sun was still soft, barely warm, when Gyubin walked up the familiar lane leading to the CEO’s house.
His stomach was full from the breakfast Taehyung had made.... eggs cut too neatly, toast shaped like stars but his chest felt oddly tight, like he’d forgotten something important back at the table.
That was when he saw Jiwoo.
Jiwoo sat outside the house on the low stone ledge near the gate, one crutch resting against his shoulder, the other laid carefully beside him.
His legs were stretched out in front of him, marbles scattered between his fingers as he rolled them across the ground with slow movements. He looked smaller like this. Quieter.
Gyubin stopped without meaning to.
For a few seconds, he just stood there, watching. Jiwoo didn’t laugh the way other kids did. Didn’t shout. Didn’t run around the neighborhood. He moved carefully, like the world needed to be handled with caution.
Gyubin swallowed and walked closer.
The soft crunch of gravel made Jiwoo look up. His eyes met Gyubin’s for a brief second.... dark, guarded—before he looked away again, attention returning to the marbles as if Gyubin hadn’t appeared at all.
Gyubin hesitated, then sat down beside him on the ground. Close, but not too close.
Jiwoo didn’t react.
The silence stretched.
“Jiwoo…” Gyubin said quietly.
No response.
Gyubin stared at the marbles instead, tracing the lines in the dirt with his fingers. “I’m… I’m sorry for that night,” he mumbled. His voice was small, unsure. “When I—when I pushed you against the wall.”
Jiwoo’s fingers paused for half a second. Then they moved again.
Gyubin shifted a little closer without thinking. Immediately, Jiwoo scooted away just enough to put distance between them.
That small movement hurt more than any shout could have.
Gyubin’s lips trembled, but he tried to smile anyway. “I said I’m sorry,” he whispered again, louder this time, like repeating it might make it work.
Jiwoo finally turned his head.
“Go away,” he said flatly.
Gyubin blinked. “Huh…?”
“I said go away.” Jiwoo grabbed one of his crutches and pushed himself up slowly, awkwardly, marbles clinking as some rolled away. Gyubin jumped up too, instinctively reaching out.... then stopping himself.
“You’re a bad kid, Gyubin,” Jiwoo said, standing properly now, both crutches steady under his arms. His voice didn’t shake, but his grip tightened. “You hit people. Go around saying weird things. And think that's okay.”
Gyubin’s eyes widened. “I didn’t mean—”
“And you say you want to marry me,” Jiwoo continued, staring straight at him.
Gyubin gulped hard. He nodded anyway, stubborn even through the sting. “I do,” he said quickly. “I want to marry you. We’ll watch stars together, I'll protect you and—”
Jiwoo pushed him lightly in the chest. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to stop him.
“I told you that day too,” Jiwoo said, brows knitting together. “I will never marry you.”
Gyubin froze.
“I’ll marry a girl,” Jiwoo added, voice firm, almost rehearsed. “Are you going to hit me again for that?”
Gyubin shook his head immediately. “No. I won’t. I promise.” His eyes burned, tears pooling no matter how hard he tried to blink them away.
Jiwoo noticed.
For a moment, his expression softened. Just a little. Then he looked away again, jaw tightening like he’d decided something.
“You should marry a girl too, Gyubin,” he said quietly.
Then he turned, moving carefully with his crutches toward the house, leaving behind the marbles, the dust, and a very still boy standing in the sun.
Gyubin didn’t follow.
He stayed where he was, fists clenched at his sides, staring at the ground until his vision blurred.
“But I want to marry you,” he whispered to no one.
This time, he didn’t fight back the tears.
The marble lay a little apart from the rest.
Black, smooth, with a thin silver vein running through it like a crack in the night sky.
Gyubin noticed it only after Jiwoo disappeared around the corner, his crutches clicking faintly against the pavement until the sound faded. He stood there for a moment, unsure, then slowly bent down and picked it up.
It was warm from the sun.
He turned it between his fingers, staring at it blankly, before curling his hand into a fist and slipping it into his pocket. Like proof.
His nose burned.
Gyubin wiped at his eyes quickly with the back of his sleeve, pressing his lips together the way he’d learned to do when crying wasn’t allowed. He took a breath, turned around...
—and froze.
Jeon Jungkook stood by the iron gate.
Leaning against it casually, arms crossed, posture relaxed in that intimidating way adults had. His expression was detached. Sharp eyes. Still. Watching.
He had seen everything.
Gyubin’s shoulders stiffened immediately. His head dropped on instinct, gaze fixing on the ground as he took a few hesitant steps forward. Each one felt heavier than the last.
They stood there in silence.
Gyubin stared at the concrete. Jungkook stared at the boy.
No questions. No reprimand. No comfort either.
Just presence.
After a moment, Jungkook uncrossed his arms.
Gyubin fidgeted with his fingers, then finally forced himself to straighten up. His chin lifted just enough. When he looked up, his lips trembled despite his effort to stop them. His lashes fluttered rapidly, eyes glassy and overfull.
It hurt.
Not in a loud way. In the quiet, pressing way that made his chest feel too small.
Then Jungkook lifted two fingers and curled them once, a small gesture.
That was all it took.
Something in Gyubin snapped—not loud, not dramatic, just a quiet break inside his ribs. His lips trembled. His lashes fluttered, fighting tears he had already lost control over. A shaky breath escaped him, uneven and thin, and then.
“Dada…”
The word came out cracked, desperate.
Jungkook reacted instantly.
He dropped to one knee and wrapped his arms around Gyubin, pulling him in firmly—secure, solid, unyielding. Gyubin crashed into him, clutching at Jungkook’s coat like it was the only thing keeping him upright.
“I’m not a bad kid,” Gyubin sobbed into his chest, voice muffled and broken. “I didn’t hit him… I didn’t… I tried…”
Jungkook’s face remained controlled, eyes sharp even now.
But his hand moved on its own.
Slow, steady circles against Gyubin’s back. Once. Twice. Again.
Natural. Instinctive.
“It’s fine,” Jungkook said quietly, voice low and even. Not indulgent. Not dramatic. Certain. “You’re not.”
Gyubin hiccupped, gripping him tighter.
Jungkook didn’t rush him. Didn’t tell him to stop crying. Didn’t pull away.
He simply stayed there, solid as a wall, while the boy broke against him—because sometimes that was all control really meant.
Holding on.
After some time...
“Stop crying, little man,” Jungkook said quietly.
Gyubin’s shoulders jolted at the voice—not harsh, not loud, just firm enough to steady him.
He sniffed once, then leaned back from the hug, scrubbing at his eyes with both fists like he was embarrassed to be caught breaking down.
Jungkook watched him with a blank expression, though the slight curve at the corner of his lips gave him away.
“Come,” Jungkook said, already straightening. He reached down and took Gyubin’s hand, his grip sure, grounding. “I bought you something.”
Gyubin let himself be pulled along, feet dragging at first before curiosity crept in and quickened his steps. They walked into Jungkook’s house.
Across the street, unseen by them, Taehyung stood by his window. His gaze followed the two figures with quiet warmth, a softness settling in his chest as a small smile touched his lips.
Gyubin stopped near the center of the room, clasping his hands behind his back the way he did when he didn’t know where to stand. He watched Jungkook disappear briefly, then return carrying a large black box like it weighed nothing.
Gyubin blinked.
Jungkook set it down and opened it.
Black boxing gloves rested inside, sleek and new, the leather still stiff. For a second, Gyubin didn’t move—just stared, eyes slowly widening as if his brain needed time to catch up with his heart.
“…For me?” he asked, voice small but hopeful.
Jungkook nodded once. “Try them.”
That was all it took. Gyubin lunged forward, grabbing the gloves with both hands. They were a little big, swallowing his fingers, but when he slid them on, they fit just right... heavy in a way that made him feel solid.
His face lit up, something bright and unguarded blooming there. “Thank you,” he said quickly, then threw his arms around Jungkook again without thinking.
Jungkook stiffened for half a second before patting Gyubin’s back, awkward but accepting. “Don’t suffocate me,” he muttered.
Gyubin pulled back, grinning. “How do I wear them properly?”
Jungkook shook his head in amusement. Then he took the gloves from him anyway, crouched slightly, and fastened them one by one with practiced ease.
When he was done, he tapped one glove lightly. “There.”
Gyubin lifted his hands, staring at them like they were something precious. He clenched his fists. Unclenched them. A slow smile spread across his face.
“This feels… good,” he said, almost in awe.
“It does,” Jungkook agreed. “You’ll start boxing classes tomorrow.”
Gyubin’s head snapped up. “Really?”
“Yes.”
He nodded so hard it was almost comical. “I will go. I promise.”
Jungkook straightened, looking down at him. His voice lowered.... not unkind, but serious. “Don’t cry like that again just to be heard. Don’t give anyone that power.” He paused. “Be the one people look at. Not the one begging to be seen.”
Gyubin absorbed every word, eyes shining with admiration as he nodded. “I understand,” he whispered.
Jungkook didn’t ask if he truly did.
Because as Gyubin stood there.... gloves too big, heart still tender—the black marble with the silver vein sat heavy in his pocket.
A quiet reminder of someone he hadn’t let go of.