20
Third Person Pov
It was evening a soft, golden one that bathed the world in a gentle glow. The sky was painted with strokes of pastel orange and lilac, a breeze ruffling through the trees like a whispered lullaby. For a moment, the world seemed kind. Quiet. Safe.
Taehyung stepped out of the pharmacy, tucking the small brown paper bag of Gyubin’s medication into his coat pocket. His eyes lifted toward the horizon, where the sun was just beginning to dip behind the buildings, casting long shadows across the pavement.
Beside him, Gyubin held his hand tightly.
“Appa, can we get ice cream?” he had asked earlier, voice small but hopeful, eyes shining in that way only a child’s could.
So now, here they were. At a cozy little ice cream parlor tucked in a quiet corner of the street.
A red-striped awning flapped above them, the faint jingle of the bell on the door chiming as they exited.
Taehyung balanced a paper napkin around the base of Gyubin’s cone, helping him grip it properly before they stepped onto the sidewalk again.
The child licked happily, cheeks puffed, a little smear of vanilla on his upper lip.
Taehyung glanced down and smiled.
“Appa,” Gyubin said softly, nudging his side with his elbow, “have it.”
He tilted the cone toward Taehyung with both hands. The gesture was so innocent, so pure that Taehyung’s heart fluttered.
“You want me to taste it?” Taehyung asked gently, bending a bit so he could meet Gyubin’s eyes.
Gyubin nodded eagerly, a grin stretching across his face. “You bought it for me… so I want you to have some too.”
Touched, Taehyung leaned in and took a tiny bite from the cone, careful not to eat too much. “Mmm, so sweet,” he said, wiping his mouth dramatically. “Just like you.”
Gyubin giggled, the sound ringing out like music in the evening air. “I’m not ice cream.”
Taehyung chuckled, straughtening up again as they continued walking down the street, hand in hand.
“No,” he said softly, gazing at his son, “you’re sweeter.”
Gyubin swung their hands gently between them as they walked, occasionally skipping a step. He was wearing his little hoodie with ears on the hood, the one he’d insisted on wearing even though it was a bit warm. He looked up at Taehyung with shining eyes and spoke in a quiet voice.
“I was scared yesterday…”
Taehyung’s smile faltered, just slightly. But he didn’t let go of Gyubin’s hand.
“I know, sweetheart,” he said, his voice steady, even if his chest tightened. “Appa is really sorry.”
“You didn’t come…” Gyubin whispered, looking down at his sneakers.
Taehyung crouched again, gently stopping them in the middle of the sidewalk. He cupped Gyubin’s cheeks, wiping away a tiny dot of ice cream with his thumb.
“Appa had some work… but I came back, right?” he said softly. “I’ll always come back for you. Always.”
Gyubin stared at him, then threw his arms around Taehyung’s neck suddenly. “Promise?”
Taehyung hugged him tightly, breathing in the warm scent of sugar and sunshine clinging to Gyubin’s hair. “Promise,” he whispered into his ear.
The city moved around them cars passing, people walking but in that moment, it was just the two of them, frozen in a pocket of peace.
.
.
Taehyung entered the mansion, the grand double doors creaking shut behind him with a soft thud. The scent of polished wood and distant cologne lingered faintly in the air, but otherwise, the place felt… empty. Quiet. Almost too quiet.
His eyes moved instinctively to the marble staircase, then to the hallway on the right...no signs of movement, no voice calling his name in that cold, clipped tone that always seemed to make his spine stiffen.
Good.
He sighed, just a little. Mr. Haenam had mentioned earlier that the CEO had left at dawn, before the rest of the house had even stirred. Some important meeting, or maybe one of his unannounced trips Taehyung hadn’t asked for details. He didn’t want them.
He liked it that way.
His days were better when he didn’t see that man.
Better when he didn’t have to stiffen from that sharp gaze or feel the tension of someone watching his every move, every breath.
On days like this, he could almost pretend the house was just his and Gyubin’s.
Like they were the only ones that mattered.
“Appa,” Gyubin’s soft voice broke the silence as he stepped out of his shoes and made his way into the living room, “can I play?”
Taehyung nodded, brushing the back of his hand over his son’s hair. “Go ahead. Just don’t lose any pieces, okay?”
Gyubin gave a happy hum and climbed onto the couch, his legs curling beneath him as he took out his cube puzzle, fingers already twisting it left and right. The soft clicking of the toy echoed faintly in the otherwise still room.
Taehyung stepped into the adjoining kitchen, rolling up the sleeves of his light cardigan. He placed the pharmacy bag on the counter and reached for a bowl, taking out a few apples and bananas from the fruit basket. The knife moved steadily under his hand, each slice precise, clean.
The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, it was soothing. Healing, even. There were no cold voices, no threats, no eyes filled with sharp intent. Just the gentle sound of Gyubin playing, and the faint creak of the fruit knife gliding through crisp apple flesh.
For a brief moment, he allowed himself to just… breathe.
He placed the cut fruits onto a tray, adding a glass of warm water for Gyubin and one for himself. As he turned to head toward the living room, he paused, his eyes drifting to the hallway again.
Still empty.
He didn’t know when the CEO would return, and he didn’t care. Maybe tonight. Maybe not. But right now, in this sliver of calm, Taehyung let his shoulders drop. He let his mind rest.
He walked back toward the living room where Gyubin was now talking softly to himself, explaining his “cube strategy” as he clicked it from side to side.
Taehyung smiled quietly and placed the tray down in front of him, sitting beside him on the couch.
“Appa,” Gyubin looked up, his face bright, “look! Just one more turn and I’ll solve it!”
Taehyung ruffled his hair. “You’re too smart for me already.”
The boy smiled. Taehyung leaned back into the cushions, his hand gently resting near Gyubin’s small frame.
Dinner had been peaceful
The quiet clinking of cutlery, Gyubin’s animated chatter about his cube-solving progress, and the warm glow of the chandelier above them it all created a domestic calm Taehyung didn’t often experience in this house.
Afterward, he had Gyubin a short bedtime story, and stayed until the boy’s breathing slowed into soft, steady puffs against the pillow.
He lingered a little, brushing Gyubin’s fringe aside and pressing a kiss to his temple before finally stepping out of the room.
He made himself a cup of lukewarm tea, curled up on the reading chaise by the long window, and began reading the book he’d been trying to finish for over a week now.
A novel about second chances and unexpected redemption perhaps a little too close to home, but still, it helped him escape.
The soft light of the bedside lamp cast a warm halo over him, his features relaxed, delicate. He closed the book gently, placing it on the nightstand, then shifted under the covers.
Gyubin had curled up beside his stomach, one tiny arm thrown possessively around him as if protecting a secret world only he knew. Taehyung smiled faintly at the before letting sleep claim him too.
The hour was late when Jeon Jungkook finally returned to the mansion.
The air inside was still, dimly lit—the kind of silence that settled in only when everyone else had long gone to sleep.
His steps echoed softly on the marble floor, measured and unhurried, his tailored coat draped over one arm, his shirt collar slightly loosened from the strain of another endless day at work.
He moved past the halls with muscle memory, eyes tired.
But as he passed by a particular room a room, his steps faltered.
His head turned, just slightly.
Through the crack of the half-open door, he saw it.
The moonlight poured through the sheer curtains, casting a pale glow across the bed. And there, sleeping soundly, was Taehyung.
Hair tousled, lashes fanned across soft cheeks, one arm loosely curled around Gyubin’s small body. The kid lay close, head pressed gently against Taehyung’s stomach, their breathing perfectly in sync. It was quiet. Too quiet. A picture so serene it didn’t belong in a place like this.
Jungkook stared.
His expression didn’t shift not even slightly but his fingers clenched faintly around the coat he held.
He didn’t move.
Just stared at the two sleeping figures bathed in silver light. Taehyung’s lips parted slightly in his sleep, chest rising and falling slowly, his features calm.
For a second, something in Jungkook’s cold gaze wavered.
Just for a second.
Then he looked away not hurriedly, but with sharp finality.
His steps resumed, as if nothing had happened.
As if he hadn’t seen anything at all.
The hallway fell quiet once again, leaving only the sound of the wind brushing against the windows and two peaceful souls sleeping in the moonlight, unaware of the storm silently walking past their door.
The heavy door to the master bedroom clicked shut behind him.
Jungkook entered with the same practiced silence he carried everywhere except now, the weight of the day had begun to settle on his shoulders like a second skin.
His fingers reached for the top buttons of his black shirt, unfastening them slowly, one by one. The collar parted, revealing the smooth line of his neck and the tense curve of his collarbone.
He tossed the shirt aside carelessly, letting it land somewhere on the nearby table before stepping further in.
With a quiet exhale, he sank down into the wide leather chair by the window the only light in the room coming from the moon outside.
His legs parted slightly as he leaned back, strong arms resting on the armrests, head tilted toward the ceiling.
His jaw clenched once, then relaxed.
"I need a drink." he muttered under his breath, voice low and rough, not really asking anyone—not expecting anyone to answer.
Because no one would. No one was there. The room fell into silence again.
It was still. Dim. Cold.
His eyes remained closed, chest rising and falling slowly, like he was trying to calm something or suppress it. Thoughts churned behind his tightly shut lids, but none of them made it to the surface.
Only the silence stayed with him. Unshaken. Unbothered.
And yet somehow, louder than everything else.
.
.
.
The morning sun filtered gently through the sheer curtains, casting soft golden patterns across the floor of Taehyung’s room. He stood near the window, phone pressed to his ear, his voice low and warm.
"Yes, auntie… he's doing well. He just finished his cereal," he said with a soft smile as he glanced at Gyubin, who sat cross-legged on the bed flipping through his storybook, humming quietly to himself.
His aunt’s voice crackled through the phone she lived in a small village far from the city, completely unaware of the luxurious life Taehyung now found himself wrapped in.
And he preferred it that way. He never told her about his sudden marriage to a CEO, about the mansion or the cold man who occupied the same roof but not his world.
"Mhm, he’s growing fast... speaks a lot more now," Taehyung murmured, his tone affectionate.
After a few more minutes of soft chatter, Taehyung ended the call, setting the phone down with a quiet sigh. He turned toward the door, stretching slightly, when his eyes caught the familiar figure entering the mansion.
His steps paused, a smile forming instantly on his lips.
“Taehyungie,” Seokjin’s mother greeted, her tone soft but clearly unsure of herself as though she wasn’t used to arriving unannounced and was second-guessing whether she should even be here.
Taehyung offered a small, respectful bow. “Oh—good morning. I didn’t know you were coming.”
“I didn’t plan to,” she admitted with a small chuckle, smoothing the crease of her purse strap over her wrist. “But I thought... since I was nearby…”
Taehyung replied immediately, his tone warm and respectful. “You’re always welcome.”
Before she could say more, a small head peeked out from behind the hallway wall. Gyubin, holding a half-open book, spotted the familiar face and stilled. His eyes widened a little, flickering with recognition.
Seokjin’s mother softened at the sight. “Gyubin-ah…you remember me, don’t you?”
The little boy hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward, his steps small but confident. He gave her a tiny bow, just like Taehyung had taught him.
she cooed gently, crouching to his level, careful not to overwhelm him. “Still shy, hmm? But so well-mannered. Such a sweet boy.”
Gyubin looked up at her quietly, still clutching his book, but there was no fear in his eyes just quiet curiosity.
Taehyung’s heart tugged at the sight. He took a small breath, looking between the two before returning his gaze to her.
“You seem to get along with him well,” he said softly.
She chuckled as she stood up again, brushing invisible lint from her sleeves. “I’ve only seen him a couple of times… but I really do like him. I actually—” She paused mid-sentence, her expression turning unsure. “Actually, I came to ask something... but I wasn’t sure if it would be alright.”
Taehyung tilted his head slightly, his voice still polite. “Please don’t hesitate,"
She hesitated, her fingers tightening slightly on the strap of her handbag.
“I’m hosting a small gathering this afternoon,” she began slowly, “Some of my old friends are visiting from the countryside and they’re bringing their grandkids. I thought… maybe… if it’s not too much trouble, Gyubin could join us?. Only if you’re comfortable with it, of course.”
Taehyung’s eyes widened faintly. He didn’t speak immediately.
Her voice lowered a bit, more cautious now. “I understand it might be too soon. I’ve only met him twice, and I know he’s very close to you…”
Taehyung smiled faintly the kind that held more emotion than words. He nodded.
“You’re right,” he admitted gently. “He’s never really gone anywhere without me before. Not even to a neighbor’s house. I guess I’ve always been afraid he’d feel unsafe without me.”
She gave a slow, understanding nod, her expression kind. “I didn’t mean to overstep. I just thought it might be good for him… a little fun, new friends.”
Taehyung glanced down at Gyubin, who was now just quietly flipping a page of his book, clearly listening.
He crouched beside him, lowering his voice with soft affection. “Binnie... what do you think? Do you want to go with her today? There will be kids your age… maybe even someone you can play with.”
Gyubin looked up at him, hesitating. His bottom lip poked out thoughtfully as he turned his gaze to the woman again.
“You don’t have to,” Taehyung added softly. “But I think… maybe it’ll be nice for you to meet new people.”
The boy stared for another second… then gave a tiny, careful nod. "Okay appa."
Taehyung smiled, brushing Gyubin’s hair off his forehead and pressing a light kiss there. “Okay.”
Seokjin’s mother’s face brightened with surprised warmth. “Thank you, Taehyung. I promise he’ll be safe and I’ll bring him back soon.”
Taehyung stood and bowed slightly. “I know. Thank you for thinking of him… it means a lot.”
She reached out to gently pat his arm... a quiet gesture of reassurance. “I think you’re doing a wonderful job with him.”
Taehyung simply smiled, eyes soft. “He’s my everything.”
Taehyung carefully zipped up the small navy-blue backpack, checking one last time to make sure he hadn’t missed anything.
A clean set of clothes, a mini towel, hand sanitizer, and even a folded cap in case they stayed outdoors too long it was all there.
He even packed an extra soft cardigan in case it got chilly later in the day.
He placed a small, unused phone on top of everything else one he’d bought just in case Gyubin was ever away from him. The contacts were limited, just Taehyung’s number on speed dial. He slid it into the outer pocket, then quietly knelt beside the boy.
“You remember how to use it, right?” he asked softly, adjusting the little strap of Gyubin’s backpack.
Gyubin nodded firmly.
“Good.” Taehyung gently handed him the phone. “Call me if you need me anytime, anything, okay?”
The boy looked up at him with those wide, trusting eyes, then leaned in and pressed a small kiss on Taehyung’s cheek.
“I will, appa,” he whispered.
Taehyung blinked, caught off guard by the tenderness of it. He gave a small chuckle, brushing Gyubin’s hair with gentle fingers. “Have fun. And don’t forget to eat when you’re hungry.”
Mrs. Kim watched the quiet exchange, her heart softening with a kind of warmth she hadn’t expected.
Taehyung’s care the way he anticipated every need, the way he never once looked annoyed or impatient it was evident that this boy wasn’t just a responsibility to him. He was a piece of his soul.
Gyubin turned, his little hand reaching for hers. The moment their fingers touched, she felt her chest tighten. It was such a simple gesture, but so full of trust. Her gaze drifted to Taehyung again, meeting his eyes.
He gave a gentle smile, small and fond not the performative kind, but the kind born from watching someone he loved walk into a new chapter.
She returned it, equally gentle, before she bent slightly to Gyubin. “Shall we go, sweetheart?”
Gyubin nodded, holding her hand more firmly now.
They walked toward the door together, and Taehyung didn’t stop them. He didn’t say much just stood there, watching them walk down the long hallway. His heart ached a little with the sudden quiet, but he let it ache, because this moment mattered.
He lifted his hand in a soft wave just before they turned the corner, and Gyubin, as if sensing it, glanced back one last time and smiled.
And then they were gone.
Taehyung stood still for a moment, the silence of the house settling around him. He looked down at his empty hands, then to the closed door, and exhaled half-proud, half-nervous but with a full heart.
Just as Taehyung turned around, ready to head back to his room, his steps faltered at the sight of the CEO walking down the stairs.
Jungkook.
Taehyung instinctively looked away, his throat tightening as his feet resumed moving a little quicker this time, like the hallway had become too narrow all of a sudden. But the moment he passed the bottom step, a voice rang out behind him.
"Where's your son?"
Taehyung stopped in place.
He slowly turned, eyes lifting to meet Jungkook’s blank stare from across the hall. His voice caught for a second before he managed, “Mrs. Kim... she dropped by this morning. There was some gathering with friends. She offered to take him.”
Jungkook didn't respond immediately. He just stood there in that half-buttoned shirt, sleeves rolled lazily up his forearms showing off his tattoos, gaze blank yet piercing.
Their eyes stayed locked for a beat too long.
Taehyung tried to look away again, but the stillness between them felt like gravity that kept pulling him.
His mind, unbidden, flickered back to that night—the low lighting, the heat of Jungkook’s touch, the suffocating pressure of fingers pressed past his lips as he’d tried to speak, tried to breathe. A moment he had locked away. Tried to forget.
His stomach clenched.
He blinked rapidly, throat going dry.
Jungkook's brows barely twitched, as if he could tell—as if he knew exactly what Taehyung was thinking. His eyes narrowed, not in accusation, but in something far quieter. Darker. He didn’t say a word, but the way he stared unblinking it was like he was replaying that memory too.
Taehyung swallowed hard.
Breaking the stare first, he quietly moved toward the living room, lowering himself onto the couch like the weight on his chest had suddenly grown heavier.
Jungkook stayed standing. Watching.
But neither said another word.
And the silence in the mansion returned thick, heavy, and unbearably loud.
“Make me a drink,” Jungkook said, his voice sharp and clipped as he settled on the far side of the couch, tablet in hand.
Taehyung frowned, unable to hide his disbelief. He parted his lips, then finally said, voice tight, “A drink… in the morning?”
Jungkook’s eyes lifted slowly, cold. “Don’t expect me to explain my habits to you,” he said flatly. “I drink when I want."
The words hit Taehyung harder than he expected. A slow, burning anger started to coil inside him. He hated how this man’s indifference could stir something so volatile within him. scumbag.
Without another word, Taehyung turned away and walked toward the kitchen, each step weighted with frustration.
His hand shook slightly as he reached for the bottle on the counter, his fingers trembling from a mix of frustration and suppressed rage.
He unscrewed the cap with a sharp twist and poured the liquid into the glass, the faint sound of the drink hitting the bottom breaking the quiet air.
His lips parted just enough to let a low, bitter whisper escape words laced with hatred, venom aimed at the man whose presence haunted every corner of this mansion.
“You don’t deserve a damn thing,” Taehyung muttered under his breath, voice barely more than a hiss. “A selfish, cruel bastard… ruining everything… making my life hell…”
His words were jagged, harsh, spoken with the kind of bitterness that came from deep wounds. The anger fueled him, gave him a small shred of power in a situation where he often felt powerless.
He let the curse slip again, softer this time, almost a prayer for distance for freedom.
But the moment the words left his mouth, a cold weight pressed against his back, stealing the air from his lungs.
Taehyung’s breath caught. His heart pounded painfully in his chest, each beat a thunderclap. His hand holding the glass froze mid-air, the liquid threatening to spill as the world seemed to still around him.
The unmistakable presence of Jungkook was there, looming, suffocating, relentless. His chest was pressed hard against Taehyung’s back, the warmth of his body replaced by an icy chill that spread through Taehyung’s skin.
For a long, torturous moment, silence stretched between them. The quiet was heavy, charged as if the air itself was waiting for what came next.
Then, Jungkook’s voice broke through low, sharp, and dripping with a cold cruelty that cut through Taehyung’s whispered curses like a razor.
“If you’re going to waste your time hating me, you better say it loud enough for me to hear. Otherwise, don’t bother.”
The words were sharp, merciless a challenge and a command all in one.
Taehyung swallowed hard, his throat dry and raw. The glass in his hand felt heavy, like an anchor pulling him down. His knuckles whitened as he gripped it tighter, struggling to steady himself against the sudden storm of emotions humiliation, anger, fear.
Taehyung felt pinned caught between the man he loathed and the truth he could never fully deny.
Jungkook’s voice went low, but the menace never left it.
“Keep talking. Let me hear every word you think about me.”
And in that moment, Taehyung’s hatred mingled with something far more complex a tangled mess of pain, confusion, and an unwilling acknowledgment that this man, cold and ruthless, held pieces of him like a cruel master.
“I—” Taehyung’s voice caught in his throat as soon as he tried to speak. His fingers wrapped tightly around the bottle in his hand, the sound of liquid sloshing inside the only thing grounding him.
“I didn’t mean—”
The moment the words left his mouth, he froze.
Jungkook had already been close too close but now he leaned in further, erasing the breath of space between them.
Taehyung’s stomach met the edge of the counter, his escape cut off. Jungkook’s chest pressed lightly against his back, the heat of him seeping through fabric, each subtle shift brushing them closer still.
His breath spilled against the shell of Taehyung’s ear... warm, slow, and uninvited curling down his spine like a quiet threat.
“Yeah?” Jungkook murmured, voice cold and edged like glass. “You didn’t mean to call me a selfish bastard?”
Taehyung said nothing, but his grip on the counter tightened.
Jungkook’s voice dipped lower, darker. “Or you didn’t mean it when you said I don’t deserve anything in life?”
Taehyung bit his lip hard. He hated the way his heart pounded, not with longing God no—but with anger. And Something traitorous.
“Step back,” he managed to say, forcing the words out through clenched teeth. “Please.”
There was a heartbeat of silence long enough to make him think maybe Jungkook would listen.
But then, does Jeon Jungkook ever listen?
“And if I don’t?” came the quiet reply, calm but malicious, like a match being struck in a dry forest.
Taehyung stiffened, eyes widening as Jungkook’s hands slid down slowly, almost lazily until they settled on his hips. The touch wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t caring.
It was territorial. Arrogant. As if he owned the air between them. As if he owned Taehyung—and, in a way, he did.
Taehyung went still, lips parting as his breath caught, his chest rising in a betraying flutter.
"Make the drink," Jungkook's voice murmured low behind him, cool and detached like the touch meant absolutely nothing.
Taehyung swallowed hard, trying to ignore the warmth pressing at his back Jungkook’s presence towering, close, suffocating. He gritted his teeth and tried to shift, to step to the side, but Jungkook’s hand didn’t lift. If anything, it steadied, fingers curling just a little tighter.
'What do you get from this…” he said again, quieter this time, holding his tone steady even as it thinned. “I asked you to move.”
Jungkook’s hand only tightened around his waist.
“I asked for a drink,” he replied coldly. “But here we are… wasting time.”
Taehyung’s fingers curled around Jungkook’s wrist, a silent plea to pull away, to reclaim some space but Jungkook didn’t shift.
Instead, he tightened his grip, pressing deeper, possessive and unyielding. The heat of his breath swept across Taehyung’s neck, slow and deliberate, igniting a fire beneath his skin.
Jungkook’s control was absolute—quiet, commanding and Taehyung’s body betrayed him, responding despite every protest.
“I don’t like repeating myself.” Jungkook muttered, voice coated in venomous calm.
Taehyung’s hand dropped with a bitter exhale.
He poured the liquor quickly, desperate for the moment to end wishing Jungkook would take the drink and just leave.
One cube of ice slid into the glass.
“More,” Jungkook said from behind him, voice flat.
Taehyung hesitated, jaw tightening. Then another cube clinked into the glass.
“Not enough.” Jungkook’s voice dropped colder, sharper, like ice slicing through warmth.
Teeth clenched, Taehyung slammed in three more cubes at once the sharp clinks echoing in his mind like a countdown he couldn’t stop.
“There,” Taehyung says voice soft.
Drink it and go to hell. His mind spat but he didn't dare to say those words out loud.
He stepped to the side quickly, finally freeing himself from the iron grip. The chill of distance was a relief.
But Jungkook didn’t acknowledge his discomfort.
He stayed still for a moment, then slowly picked up the glass. He took a sip, unfazed, then finally turned, his expression looked full of satisfaction.
“You shake every time I touch you,” he murmured, gaze deliberately averted. “Hate me all you want—your body doesn’t listen.”
Taehyung didn't reply. He just stood there staring at nothing. His fingers were digging into the edge of the counter just to keep from lashing out.
Jungkook’s voice came one last time, colder than ever. “Next time, save your hate unless you’re ready to handle what it brings.”
And with that, he turned and walked away drink in hand, shoulders relaxed like nothing had happened at all.
Like he hadn’t just turned Taehyung’s insides into a battlefield.
Taehyung stood rooted by the counter, eyes fixed on Jungkook as he sipped the drink slowly on the couch. The soft clink of the glass against the wooden table echoed in the quiet room. Every measured movement Jungkook made seemed deliberate, calculated.
Jungkook’s gaze suddenly flicked up, locking onto Taehyung’s lingering stare. The coldness in his eyes was sharp, like a blade cutting through the space between them. Taehyung’s throat tightened, and he swallowed hard, feeling the weight of that icy scrutiny pressing down on him.
His heartbeat quickened, heat rising to his cheeks. Unable to hold the gaze any longer, Taehyung forced his eyes downward and turned away, cheeks burning, his mind a swirl of uneasy thoughts.
The silence stretched, thick and unyielding, leaving Taehyung alone with the lingering tension that seemed to coil tighter with every passing second.