17
Third Person pov
Taehyung chatted softly with Mrs. Kim, his voice calm and respectful.
Gyubin sat quietly beside him, occasionally glancing up at his mother and then at the unfamiliar yet comforting surroundings of the Kim household.
The warm ambiance of the living room, the gentle hum of the staff in the background it all felt strangely peaceful to him.
Seokjin, who had been in a rush just moments ago, now sat beside his mother, his earlier urgency completely forgotten. His gaze naturally drifted toward Taehyung. There was something captivating about the younger's face gentle, composed, but undeniably tired. It made Seokjin want to look closer.
And he did.
His eyes slowly trailed down to where Taehyung's shirt collar sat a little off-center. Just above the fabric, on the delicate stretch of skin near his collarbone, something caught Seokjin’s attention... a faint bruise, bluish and fading, but unmistakable in its implication.
Seokjin's jaw tensed.
His previously relaxed demeanor shifted ever so slightly, and his fingers curled into his lap as he tried not to stare. But he couldn't help it.
The mark screamed of something intimate, something recent.
Taehyung, who’d been smiling gently during the conversation, felt the weight of a gaze on him. He turned to look at Seokjin with a soft, polite smile but the moment their eyes met, he faltered.
He instantly knew where Seokjin was looking.
Taehyung’s hand moved, a little too quickly, to adjust his collar and subtly cover the mark. He looked away then, cheeks warming in embarrassment or shame perhaps both.
Still, he continued the conversation with Mrs. Kim, trying to maintain his composure even as he felt Seokjin’s lingering gaze on him.
Seokjin didn’t say a word. His eyes stayed fixed on Taehyung’s neck for a second longer before he suddenly stood up, posture stiff, hands brushing down the front of his shirt like he needed something to do with them.
Taehyung blinked, confused by the abrupt movement. His hand subtly tugged his collar higher, instinctively trying to hide the faint mark without knowing why it mattered.
“I’m getting late.” Seokjin said flatly, not offering any explanation. His voice wasn’t cold, but it lacked its usual calm warmth.
Mrs. Kim frowned slightly as she watched him go. “What’s gotten into him?” she muttered, more to herself than anyone else.
Taehyung turned toward her with a small smile, brushing it off. “Maybe work stuff?” he offered, though the air felt just a little heavier now.
Gyubin, oblivious to the tension, sat quietly beside Taehyung, clutching the soft toy Mrs. Kim had given him earlier. He leaned against Taehyung's arm, anchoring him gently in the moment.
Mrs. Kim sighed, letting it go, and shifted the conversation back to lighter things. And just like that, the strange pause passed unspoken, unexplained.
~~
Seokjin sat in the backseat of his car, motionless, his gaze fixed on absolutely nothing. The world outside passed by in a blur, people moving, cars honking but his mind felt like it had slammed into a wall. He let out a slow breath, jaw clenched as he tapped twice on the window.
“Step out for a while,” he told the driver, voice low.
The driver glanced back through the rearview mirror, surprised, but obeyed without a word. The car door shut with a soft thud, and silence enveloped Seokjin like a blanket.
He leaned back against the leather seat, head tilted, eyes fluttering closed. His throat felt dry. His hands curled into fists once, then released. What the hell was wrong with him?
It wasn’t jealousy, he told himself. He had no right to feel that way. No reason. No permission. So why the hell couldn’t he get that stupid mark out of his head?
That damn bluish stain on Taehyung’s collarbone.
It wasn’t even obvious, just a faint smudge above the collar but his eyes had caught it instantly, like they were trained to recognize anything that didn’t belong on that porcelain skin.
He inhaled sharply through his nose, like that would settle something. It didn’t.
Some thoughts refused to leave. They tugged at him relentlessly.
Some thoughts made him uneasy. Restless. Angry, even.
And some thoughts... made his heart race in a way it never had. Never.
He rubbed a hand over his face, dragging his palm down until it rested on his chin. He was being irrational. Overdramatic. Stupid.
Taehyung wasn’t his to notice.
But God, the way his smile faltered when their eyes met the way he tugged his shirt up like he didn’t want to be seen, the way he still smiled anyway...
Seokjin exhaled again, this time shakier.
A sudden shrill of his phone tore through the silence like a blade.
Seokjin blinked out of his haze, the name flashing on the screen pulling him back into reality.
He stared at it longer than necessary. His grip on the phone tightened faintly, his jaw ticking. He didn’t know why Jungkook had called him dozens of times.
But today… today, the name brought an odd weight with it. Maybe it was the memory of Taehyung’s eyes earlier. The way he'd looked, tired but kind. Soft. Out of place in Jungkook's world.
He swallowed the strange taste in his mouth and answered, tone clipped and composed.
“Yes.”
Jungkook’s voice was as detached as ever. “I've signed the documents, just review them once."
“Alright,” Seokjin replied curtly.
That was it.
No pleasantries. No wasted breath. Just cold efficiency.
The line disconnected.
Seokjin lowered the phone slowly. His chest rose in a quiet sigh as he ran a hand through his hair, loosening his tie slightly. The silence returned, louder than before.
Without a word, he reached into the compartment beside him, pulled out a cigarette, and stepped out of the car.
The wind was dry against his skin. He lit the cigarette, exhaling a stream of smoke into the air as he leaned back on the door.
He didn’t usually smoke. But today… today, something clung to his ribs like static.
What the hell was wrong with him?
He stared at the horizon blankly, the cigarette burning between his fingers as the thoughts he couldn’t name began to eat at him, slowly.
.
.
.
Taehyung stood up with Gyubin as they both bowed politely.
“We’ll come again soon,” Gyubin said with a gentle smile.
Mrs. Kim beamed, reaching out to pinch the boy’s cheeks.
“I’ll wait,” she cooed, warmth in her voice.
Gyubin giggled quietly, eyes crinkling, before turning back to follow Taehyung.
Taehyung gently took his hand, and together they walked toward the door.
Once outside, Gyubin waved one last time before settling into the car beside Taehyung.
The golden hue of the setting sun bled across the sky, painting everything in a soft glow.
“I like Mr. Kim,” Gyubin murmured, leaning his small head against Taehyung’s side.
Taehyung kept his eyes on the horizon. “Why do you like him so much?” he asked softly.
Gyubin didn’t hesitate. “Because he’s like you.”
A quiet smile pulled at Taehyung’s lips. His fingers gently brushed Gyubin’s hair as he continued to stare out the window, a strange comfort blooming quietly in his chest.
.
.
.
The car rolled to a slow halt outside the building, and Taehyung released a tired sigh, his hand gently brushing over Gyubin’s head.
“Come on,” he said softly.
Gyubin stepped out first, the late evening sun casting a warm golden hue on his cheeks as he looked around curiously, already starting to walk ahead.
“Gyubin, slow down,” Taehyung called, half-smiling, as he stepped out and closed the door behind him.
His heels clicked lightly on the stone pavement as he followed, his mind somewhere else drifting between the calm visit to Mrs. Kim and the storm he knew would follow once they returned home.
The world was quiet around them, just the faint hum of traffic and birds calling in the distance. His thoughts were far away, weighed down with everything he tried not to think about. So much that he didn’t notice the small stone in his path.
His foot caught, and before he could react, he slipped his body hitting the ground with a dull thud.
“Aah—” he hissed, grabbing his ankle as a sharp pain pulsed through it.
Gyubin turned instantly. “Appa?”
Taehyung looked up, wincing. “I’m okay,” he lied, his voice tight. “Just… a little twist.”
Gyubin rushed back, kneeling beside him with worried eyes. “It’s red…” he whispered, looking at the forming swell near Taehyung’s ankle. He reached out to massage it the way he’d seen his father do for him countless times. Taehyung tried to sit up straight, forcing a smile.
“I’ll be fine. I just need—”
“Appa.” Gyubin looked up. “Don’t lie.”
Just as Taehyung placed a hand on Gyubin’s shoulder to steady himself, a bodyguard came forward from the entrance, extending his hand politely.
But the guard immediately froze mid-step.
The sound of leather shoes echoed sharp and crisp against the tiles. The energy shifted in a second, and Taehyung’s heart sank even before he looked up.
He knew that sound. He could feel it like a chill down his spine.
Jungkook.
The CEO approached with his usual air of detachment clad in a black shirt that made him look even more distant in the bleeding light of sunset. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes flicked to Taehyung on the ground, then to Gyubin, then back again.
His voice, cold and clipped, broke the silence.
“Do you ever watch where you’re going?”
Taehyung stiffened.
He didn’t look up. He refused to. The words were enough to remind him that humiliation was always lurking around Jungkook. That even when injured, he’d be spoken to like a burden.
“I didn’t do this intentionally,” Taehyung muttered under his breath, loud enough for Gyubin to hear but not Jungkook.
But the next second, he gasped. Strong arms slid under his back and beneath his thighs, lifting him effortlessly from the ground.
Taehyung instinctively clutched Jungkook’s shoulders to steady himself, his breath catching not because of attraction, but because he hated this.
“Put me down,” he whispered tired, looking away.
Jungkook said nothing. He didn’t even glance at him. His grip was firm, as if carrying him was just part of another duty to be checked off. Like Taehyung was nothing more than a minor inconvenience to be cleared from the path.
Gyubin followed closely, silent, looking up at both of them.
Taehyung tried to breathe slowly, but Jungkook’s scent clean and sharp, just like always lingered too close. He closed his eyes for a second, not to feel it, but to fight the storm of memories trying to crawl back.
He didn’t want to remember.
“You’re not a hero,” Taehyung muttered, loud enough this time.
Jungkook didn’t respond. His expression didn’t even flicker.
The walk to the building felt like it would never end.
Jungkook entered the room after the guard respectfully opened the door for him, his polished shoes clicking against the marble floor as he walked in with his usual intimidating calm.
The room, though warm, suddenly felt stifling to Taehyung, who had only one thing in his mind.
..he needed to get away from this man’s arms.
As soon as Jungkook laid him on the bed, Taehyung instinctively moved back, scooting to the edge of the mattress. His hands clenched the soft bedsheets beneath him, his knuckles paling as he tried to regulate his breathing.
That scent familiar and intrusive still lingered on him, sticking to his skin like smoke.
Mr. Haenam entered silently, holding a first aid kit, bowing politely as his gaze briefly flicked to Jungkook and then to Taehyung’s ankle. Jungkook didn’t speak. He stood still near the foot of the bed, arms folded across his chest, his expression unreadable.
The older man crouched beside the bed and began working quickly spraying the ankle, wiping gently, and then wrapping the bandage with practiced hands. Gyubin sat beside Taehyung on the bed, his small hand gripping his father’s sleeve, worry written all over his little face.
“Thank you,” Taehyung said quietly once the bandage was secured. His voice was low, steady, almost too controlled. Mr. Haenam nodded respectfully and excused himself, bowing once before leaving them in the suffocating silence.
Now it was just the three of them.
Taehyung kept his eyes on the bandage, not sparing a single glance at the man whose presence was too loud, even in his silence. He didn’t want to look at Jungkook. Not when the very idea of being touched by him felt like reopening a hundred old wounds.
Gyubin tugged gently at Taehyung’s sleeve. “Appa, should I bring you water?”
Taehyung gave him a tired smile, nodding slightly. “That would be nice, baby.”
The little boy slipped off the bed and walked out of the room, leaving the two adults alone again.
And suddenly, the air thickened.
As Gyubin leaves the room, the door clicking shut behind him, Taehyung sighs his shoulders dropping just slightly as if a weight had been lifted.
For a fleeting moment, he thinks Jungkook would follow. That he’d walk out behind the boy, leaving Taehyung alone, finally away from his suffocating presence.
But the faint hope dies a quick death.
The unmistakable sound of the lock turning snatches the breath right out of his lungs.
Taehyung's eyes snap open, heart kicking violently against his ribs.
He watches in dread as Jungkook slowly turns around, his face unreadable, his black suit casting a shadow too heavy for the sterile white walls of the room.
The soft overhead light casts a glint over his sharp features cold, sculpted, untouched by empathy.
Taehyung instantly backs away on the bed, clutching the sheets in both fists, as if the thin fabric could shield him from the force of the man who’d made his life a never-ending nightmare.
"Mr. Jeon," he manages, his voice strained, almost a whisper half a plea, half a warning.
Jungkook doesn't stop.
His shoes click against the marble floor as he walks forward, calculated and unhurried like a predator that knows its prey can’t escape.
Taehyung averts his gaze, refusing to look into those eyes that never showed guilt...only dominance. But it doesn’t matter.
The moment Jungkook stands beside the bed, he grabs Taehyung’s jaw, fingers pressing in not harshly, but firmly just enough to remind him who holds control.
"You're the first person who’s hated me this much," Jungkook murmurs, voice calm yet laced with something far more dangerous... curiosity. He tilts Taehyung's face up, as if inspecting a strange creature.
Taehyung swallows hard trying to maintain his composure. "Because I’m the first person you’ve ever treated like this," he replies, the words trembling at the edges, but still spoken. He wants to stay strong.
But his voice carries the history of sleepless nights, humiliation, and helplessness this man had brought upon him.
Jungkook doesn’t blink. His thumb brushes across Taehyung’s cheek, feather-light. Taehyung stiffens subtly but doesn’t pull away.
Maybe he’s frozen or maybe he knows Jungkook doesn’t take rejection well.
His thumb then slowly trails downward, tracing the curve of Taehyung’s lower lip with a maddening slowness. Taehyung’s breathing turns shallow. The air between them thickens, stifling.
Taehyung's lashes fluttered shut as Jungkook's thumb continued dragging slowly over his lower lip, a touch too intimate, too deliberate. He took a sharp breathe, heart thudding violently against his ribs as he instinctively tried to lean back, the air around them growing heavier with each second.
Jungkook’s fingers flex, tightening ever so slightly when he feels Taehyung inching back---a feeble attempt at preserving space that no longer exists.
Their faces hover inches apart now, breath mingling in the charged silence. Jungkook leans in, just a fraction closer not enough to touch, but enough to let the warmth of his presence crawl over Taehyung’s skin like a slow burn.
Taehyung opens his eyes, locking onto those hollow, indifferent orbs deadpan and sharp. His own gaze simmers with barely contained rage, panic and hatred warring behind his lashes like a storm trapped in glass.
Their lips are a breath apart. The air between them crackles...too close, too still. Neither of them moves.
One trembling with silent defiance.
The other exuding cruel, calculated control.
Jungkook doesn’t kiss him.
He just lingers maddeningly close making Taehyung hold his breath, waiting for something he doesn’t want… something that never comes.
Instead, Jungkook watches.
The mole just beneath his eye. The trembling lashes. The slight quiver of his lip as he swallows a breath that borders on a gasp.
Taehyung’s fists tighten in the sheets, clutching until his knuckles drain white.
His hatred screams in the silence.
But Jungkook’s silence roars louder.
Fingers tighten on Taehyung’s jaw not enough to bruise, but enough to anchor fear in the tension. His gaze never wavers, piercing through Taehyung with a chilling, merciless stillness.
“Scared much?” Jungkook’s voice was a low, mocking.
Taehyung swallowed, the weight of Jungkook’s stare pinning him in place. His lips parted slightly, voice barely above a whisper, strained but steady, “I’m not scared.”
Jungkook smirked, amused by the quiet defiance. “You look pretty weak to me.”
Taehyung didn’t respond, only stared back, fighting the urge to push the CEO away.
Jungkook’s thumb skimmed the edge of Taehyung’s jaw not affectionate, but a silent warning, firm and intrusive.
“You think I’m going to kiss you?”
Jungkook’s voice was flat.
Taehyung inhaled slowly, resisting the urge to push this man away from himself.
“I wouldn’t want that.” His tone was steadier than he felt, barely holding.
Jungkook raised a brow, head tilting with casual disdain, as if bored.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” he said coolly, eyes darkening with a cruel detachment.
“Even if you were on your knees, begging me... I still wouldn’t kiss you.”
Taehyung’s fists curled at his sides, nails digging crescent moons into his palms to keep the heat rising in his throat from spilling out... fear tangled with rage.
“I-I’m not even expecting—”
Jungkook leaned in, slow and deliberate, until his breath ghosted cold against Taehyung’s cheek.
“Be careful with that tongue,” he whispered, voice low and sharp, almost amused. “You might just learn how little patience I have for arrogance... dressed in trembling skin.”
Taehyung said nothing, biting back the sharp words clawing at the edge of his mind. He knew how easily Jungkook could weaponize defiance, how quickly resistance turned into fuel in his hands.
So he stayed still, silencing every instinct to fight back, locking away every thought that could tip the fragile balance and set the whole room aflame.
And then, finally, Jungkook pulled away
Taehyung exhaled, barely aware he'd been holding his breath. It left his lungs shaky, like he'd surfaced from underwater.
They stared at each other in heavy silence.
Jungkook’s gaze: sharp, entertained.
Taehyung’s: strained, caught somewhere between panic and simmering rage.
Then came the knock.
Soft. Hesitant.
“Appa?” Gyubin’s voice gentle and small broke the tension like glass.
Taehyung’s eyes darted toward the door, then flicked to Jungkook, silently pleading. But Jungkook didn’t move. He remained leaned against the table, face blank, almost entertained.
"Go ahead," he said, voice low with amusement. "Your son's waiting."
Taehyung clenched his jaw, that familiar voice scraping at his nerves like sandpaper. But he said nothing, swallowing down the fury burning in his throat.
He shifted to stand, pain flaring in his ankle. His fingers gripped the table edge tightly, breath caught in his throat as he steadied himself.
Jungkook watched. Unblinking. Like a predator. Taehyung reached the door and cracked it open.
Gyubin stepped in, clutching a glass of water with both hands...steady despite the tension in the air.
“Appa, why are you standing?” he whispered, eyes wide with concern.
Taehyung gave a tired smile, one hand brushing through his son’s hair as he took in the warmth of that small, familiar gaze. He didn’t need to answer. Gyubin could see it in his face.
The boy stepped closer and gently wrapped an arm around his waist.
With his son’s help, Taehyung made his way back to the bed, lowering himself with care. Each movement was deliberate. Heavy.
Gyubin stayed close, placing the glass on the table before curling his small fingers around Taehyung’s hand.
For a moment, everything felt softer.
And still Jungkook watched. But only for a second. Then he turned without a word, walking out. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving a silence so loud it rang in Taehyung’s ears.
Taehyung exhaled deeply, the tight coil of tension in his chest loosening just a little, but the weight of what had passed between them and what was still to come pressed heavily on his mind.
Gyubin quietly stepped forward, holding the glass of water carefully in his small hands. He placed it gently on the bedside table before wrapping his arms around Taehyung’s waist in a comforting hug.
Taehyung accepted the embrace silently, the warmth from his son a brief but welcome contrast to the cold unease still lingering in the room.
Taking the glass, Taehyung lifted it slowly, his throat dry as he took a few small sips. His heartbeat was rapid, betraying the calm he tried so hard to project those sharp, dark eyes of Jungkook still haunted the corners of his mind, flickering behind his eyelids.
Gyubin’s arms tightened around him slightly, as if sensing the storm raging inside Taehyung. The younger boy’s head rested softly against Taehyung’s stomach, grounding him in this fragile moment.
Taehyung set the glass aside, his fingers trembling just a bit as he glanced toward the closed door. The silence beyond it felt heavy, a reminder of the tension still waiting just outside the room.
He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to steady his breath and push away the shadows of that chilling gaze.
But no matter how much he tried, Jungkook’s presence lingered... an unyielding shadow in the quiet of the room.
.
.
.
Jungkook sat unmoving on the wide leather couch, the soft hum of the shark tank the only sound in the room. The dim bluish light from the water cast strange, shifting shadows across the walls, tranquil, yet cold. It was 2 A.M., but he hadn’t even tried to sleep.
His dark eyes fixated on the slow movements of the creatures inside the tank, deadly and graceful as they circled without urgency. They reminded him of himself, patient, calm, but never harmless.
He leaned back, head resting against the couch, gaze unfocused now. And then, uninvited but not unwelcome, the image came back.
Taehyung.
Those trembling lips… that sharp hitch in his breath… the way his body tensed under Jungkook’s touch like he was fighting every instinct to cry out.
And those eyes watery, terrified, holding something between panic and disbelief.
Jungkook’s jaw relaxed as his lips curved slightly. Not a smile. Something darker. The kind of smirk that didn’t reach the eyes.
He didn’t regret what he said. Not the venom. Not the look he left Taehyung with.
In fact… he wanted more of it.
More of that flicker of fear. That silence Taehyung wrapped himself in. That raw helplessness trying to hide behind pride.
The CEO let out a breath, low and composed, as one of the sharks brushed near the glass, its black eyes unfeeling.
Jungkook watched it
But somewhere inside...somewhere cruel and quiet---he was still replaying the scene in his head.
And wanting to see those eyes again.
Scared. Wet. Desperate.