29
Third Person Pov
For the first time, Taehyung couldn’t close his eyes.
Not when Jungkook’s bandaged hand was locked tight around his waist, the rough heat of his palm pressing against his skin through the thin fabric, not when the man’s steady breath fanned across the side of his neck as if he belonged there. It was too much, far too much.
Every shallow rise and fall of Jungkook’s chest against his back only reminded Taehyung of the chains he couldn’t see but could feel tightening. He lay there frozen, gaze fixed on the ceiling above him where shadows danced in the dim light of the room.
And ironically for the first time, Jungkook was sleeping like a man who carried no burdens. And that peace came while he was holding onto Taehyung, clinging to him as though letting go would cost him his life.
But for Taehyung… it was suffocating. His lungs burned with the weight of being trapped.
He let out a slow, quiet sigh, careful not to disturb the man behind him. His eyes flicked down toward the bandaged hand locked around his waist.
Tentatively, almost trembling, Taehyung reached for it, fingers brushing lightly against Jungkook’s rough knuckles.
Careful. Slowly. Don’t wake him.
Bit by bit, Taehyung pried the grip away, sliding Jungkook’s arm across the sheets until the pressure on his waist lessened. His breath stuttered when Jungkook stirred faintly, shifting but not waking.
Free.
Taehyung straightened up, body stiff and cautious as though he were escaping a trap rather than a bed.
His ankles burned where the belt had restrained him earlier; the memory itself made him shiver. Without hesitation, he bent forward and untied the leather strap from around his ankles, rubbing at the faint marks left behind.
Just one more step. Just leave.
But as he turned his body and began to slide off the bed, his movement was halted.
His shirt wouldn’t move.
His eyes widened slightly as he glanced back over his shoulder. The hem of his shirt was pinned, caught beneath Jungkook’s weight where he lay sprawled across the mattress. Taehyung’s stomach sank. Of course. Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy.
He pressed his lips together, holding back the urge to groan aloud. His heart hammered inside his chest as though it might give him away.
He tugged lightly, but the fabric wouldn’t budge. His mind raced, debating whether to yank it and risk waking him, or abandon the thought and wait till morning. But no, he couldn't.
With a small, controlled breath, he leaned back down, moving with the silence of a shadow. His fingers ghosted over the sheets, slipping beneath Jungkook’s side, brushing dangerously close to his hip.
The heat radiating from Jungkook’s body made Taehyung falter. His throat bobbed as he tried to ignore it, focusing only on freeing the stubborn fabric.
Slowly, carefully, he slid the hem out from under the weight, pausing every time Jungkook shifted slightly in his sleep.
His lashes trembled, his jaw clenched. It felt like hours before the shirt finally came free with a faint rustle.
Taehyung exhaled softly, relief washing over him. Without daring to give Jungkook a second glance, he rose from the bed and tiptoed across the room. Each step was measured, his bare feet making no sound against the cold floor.
His hand lingered on the doorknob for a moment, chest rising and falling unevenly. Then, without another pause, he slipped out of the room, leaving behind the man who, for the first time, slept more peacefully than ever.
As soon as Taehyung stepped out of Jungkook’s room, he felt like he could finally breathe again. His chest rose and fell in uneven waves, as though he’d been underwater too long and only now reached the surface.
He closed his eyes briefly, shaking his head to clear the heavy fog that lingered after the night. The corridor stretched ahead of him, quiet, dimly lit by the faint glow of the early morning.
The clock on the wall read six o’clock. Too early for the mansion to be awake, too late for him to find rest. He paused before his own bedroom door, his hand lingering on the knob for a moment before pushing it open with quiet care.
Inside, the air was soft and still. His gaze immediately fell on the small figure curled up on the bed. His son. His little boy, chest rising and falling in peaceful rhythm, eyelashes resting gently against his cheeks, completely untouched by the storms raging in the adult world.
A smile tugged faintly at Taehyung’s lips, tender and aching all at once. For a moment, everything else fell away, the contracts, the weight of Jungkook’s presence, the darkness pressing against him.
All that mattered was this small body asleep under warm blankets. He moved closer, brushing a stray lock of hair away from the boy’s forehead without waking him, his heart softening in ways he didn’t have words for.
He let out a quiet sigh and pulled back, carefully closing the door behind him so as not to disturb the child. His steps took him to the window, where a pale slice of dawn light had begun to break the horizon.
Outside, his eyes caught the sight of the peonies in the garden, their heads drooped low just as Gyubin had told him. They looked tired, worn down by rain and wind, yet still alive...still holding on.
Taehyung’s lips parted slightly as he watched them. Something about their fragile resilience tugged at him.
“Just like me,” he whispered under his breath, though the words dissolved into the quiet morning air.
.
.
.
The mansion was beginning to stir awake--the faint clatter of utensils in the kitchen, the shuffle of cook preparing the morning tea, footsteps echoing faintly in the hallways. Yet Taehyung found a strange kind of peace outside, where the air was crisp, still carrying the damp chill of dawn.
He was kneeling in the yard, hands buried deep into the soil. His palms were already stained brown, dirt lodging under his fingernails as he carefully loosened the ground around the withered peonies. The petals, once vibrant, had drooped in defeat, their colors bled out under the weight of neglect.
Beside him, Gyubin crouched down, pretending to help but mostly making little hills with the extra dirt.
“Binnie,” Taehyung sighed, shaking his head as the boy shoved a handful of dirt onto his shoe instead of the flowerbed. “That’s not helping.”
“It is, appa” Gyubin said softly “I’m making… um… a mountain. The flowers need mountains, right?”
Taehyung let out a soft laugh, though he tried to keep his voice stern. “Mountains? For flowers? Yah, if they needed mountains, they wouldn’t grow in our yard, silly.”
Gyubin puffed his cheeks, then suddenly picked up a tiny pebble and held it out.
“Okay then, this is the king rock. He’ll protect the flowers. They won't die this time.” He placed it proudly beside the stem.
Taehyung shook his head, lips twitching into a smile. “You’re unbelievable. Protecting flowers with rocks now?”
“Yes.” Gyubin beamed, then darted forward to smear a little dirt on Taehyung’s arm. “See? Now you’re part of the garden too.”
“Yah!” Taehyung’s eyes widened, swatting gently at him. “You little troublemaker.”
Gyubin squealed and ran a few steps away, laughing so hard he nearly tripped. Taehyung stood, brushing soil off his pants, and called after him with a mock glare. “Come here! If you keep playing instead of helping, no pancakes for breakfast.”
“Nooo!” Gyubin gasped dramatically, rushing back to hug Taehyung’s waist.
Taehyung chuckled, ruffling his son’s hair as he crouched down again. “Then behave, hm? Flowers first, pancakes later.”
Gyubin nodded solemnly, though his mischievous grin betrayed him as he reached for another pebble to add to his “flower guard army.”
And then he knelt besid Taehyung, holding the small basket of new seedlings. His little hands were clumsy but eager, brushing dirt off his trousers with every move.
“Appa,” Gyubin puffed his cheeks, watching as Taehyung pulled out an old peony root, “why are you throwing the flowers away? Aren’t flowers supposed to be pretty?”
Taehyung glanced at him, a smile tugging his lips. “They were pretty… but sometimes flowers get tired too. Their roots stop drinking water, and then no matter how much you care for them, they can’t bloom again.”
Gyubin tilted his head, frowning as though trying to understand. “So… they die?”
“Mm,” Taehyung nodded softly, patting the soil flat. “But when one flower dies, you plant another. That way, the garden never stays empty.”
Gyubin’s little hands gripped the spade as he copied his father, stabbing the dirt clumsily. “Then I’m gonna help you plant new ones! That way the garden won’t feel lonely.”
A quiet laugh escaped Taehyung. He reached over and fixed the way Gyubin was holding the spade. “Careful. You’ll hurt yourself like that. Hold it steady.”
“Like this?” Gyubin asked, holding it awkwardly again.
“Close enough.” Taehyung ruffled his hair, shaking his head fondly. “We’ll work on it.”
For a moment, they worked side by side the father pressing roots into the ground, the son dropping handfuls of soil with exaggerated seriousness.
Then Gyubin broke the silence with another question, his voice small. “Appa… do flowers get scared? When they die?”
Taehyung’s hand paused over the earth. The question lingered, heavier than it should’ve been coming from a child. He looked at his son, those wide, innocent eyes blinking up at him. Slowly, Taehyung brushed dirt from his palm and placed it gently on Gyubin’s head.
“No,” he whispered. “They don’t get scared. They just… go to sleep. And wake up again as something new.”
Gyubin’s lips parted in wonder. “Like me?”
Taehyung chuckled softly. “Yes. Exactly like you.”
The boy beamed, satisfied, before dropping another fistful of dirt on the sprout. “Then this one will wake up and be the prettiest flower ever! You’ll see.”
Taehyung smiled like really smiled as he looked at his son’s dirt-smeared cheeks, the way his little fingers worked so hard for something so simple. The early sun stretched across the yard, bathing them both in golden light.
.
.
Gyubin had long disappeared inside with his playful treasures, his laughter faintly echoing through the hallways. The silence that followed was thick, heavy, pressing down on Taehyung as he sat alone, staring at the emptiness before him.
His mind drifted blank yet aching until the faint, measured sound of footsteps pulled him back.
He didn’t glance back. Not at first. He stayed still, as if moving would shatter the fragile calm around him. But then…
A soft purr broke the silence.
His brows furrowed. That sound… he knew it. Slowly, almost unwillingly, Taehyung turned his head.
And there he was. Jeon Jungkook. Standing only a few steps away, dressed in tailored black that made him look distant yet in his hand rested something small. Something fragile.
A kitten.
Taehyung’s eyes widened instantly. His breath hitched when recognition sank in. It was the same kitten.
The tiny creature he had found injured, trembling in the cold that night. The same one Jungkook had heartlessly ordered the guard to throw away as if it were nothing. Yet now now that same man stood there holding it.
The kitten looked healthier. Its fur glistened faintly under the light, no longer matted with dirt, and its eyes shone clearer. Its soft purr filled the space between them.
“Don’t hold it like that,” Taehyung muttered, his voice low but sharp, breaking the silence.
His eyes were fixed on Jungkook’s hand, the way the kitten dangled awkwardly in his grip. He extended both his hands, palms open, instinctively protective.
But Jungkook didn’t move.
He just stood there. Staring. Dark eyes, glued to Taehyung’s face as if searching for something buried deep within him. His silence was louder than words, colder than rejection.
Taehyung’s jaw tightened. He let out a breath and pushed himself up from the seat, brushing the dust from his pants with sharp, irritated motions. His chest rose and fell with restrained impatience as he finally closed the distance between them.
Jungkook lifted the kitten slightly, as if presenting it not to Taehyung, but almost to himself. His gaze shifted between the tiny creature and the man now standing inches away from him.
Taehyung’s hand extended again, slower this time. His fingers trembled faintly, not from fear, but from the strange pull of the moment.
The kitten’s ears twitched, and then, as if it recognized him, it stretched its tiny paws forward reaching. Towards him. Towards Taehyung.
The breath Taehyung didn’t know he was holding escaped in a shaky exhale.
And then Jungkook finally moved.
With a small shift, he placed the kitten into Taehyung’s waiting hands.
Taehyung instantly cradled it against his chest, the motion so natural, so protective, as if his body had been waiting for this.
His palm slid gently over its fur, caressing each soft strand.
The kitten nestled closer, pressing its tiny face against his shirt, and began licking faintly, its purr growing louder, warmer.
Taehyung’s lips parted, a faint, almost invisible smile tugging at the corners gentle, fleeting, gone as soon as it appeared. His eyes softened as he looked down at the small life he held, fingers moving in slow circles on its back.
Taehyung looked up only to meet Jungkook’s stare, and the faint smile lingering on his lips died instantly.
He shifted his gaze away as though the sight of him burned, stepping to walk past, but Jungkook moved faster.
An arm slid suddenly around Taehyung’s stomach, halting him in place.
Taehyung’s eyes dropped to the tattooed hand pressed firmly against him, his body going rigid. Slowly, he turned his head toward his side, and before he could react, Jungkook pushed him back a step, the motion rough, deliberate.
The small cat in Taehyung’s arms purred at the movement, oblivious, while Taehyung was forced closer against the man he least wanted near.
“What?” Taehyung asked, thrashing slightly, his brows furrowed, annoyance sharpening his tone.
Jungkook’s gaze didn’t waver, his voice low, mocking. “You think I’ll just give you that thing… like that?” His eyes flicked toward the cat, then back to Taehyung with a curl of his lips.
“I— I never asked for it,” Taehyung stammered, his voice caught between anger and confusion, his hands tightening protectively around the small creature.
Jungkook’s grip around his waist only tightened, pulling him closer until there was barely any space left. “Shall I take it back, then?” he asked coolly, his tone carrying the threat of someone who enjoyed watching Taehyung squirm.
Taehyung’s head jerked in a sharp shake, eyes flashing as if the thought alone pricked something raw inside him.
Jungkook hummed, amused at the reaction. “Then what do I get in return?”
Taehyung froze, staring at him with a mix of disbelief and resentment. “What could I even give you?” he shot back bitterly. “You already have everything.”
Jungkook’s lips curved as he leaned in closer, the weight of his words pressing down as much as his arm around Taehyung. “Not everything.”
Taehyung stiffened. He dared a glance at him, half-expecting the demand he’d heard so many times before, something degrading, something that would leave him raw and trembling. But Jungkook’s next words twisted his stomach in a different way.
“Tonight,” Jungkook murmured, “you’ll drink with me.”
Taehyung blinked, stunned. “...What?”
“You heard me,” Jungkook said, his gaze sharp as glass. “Sit across from me, pour my glass, pour yours, and drink until I say stop.”
The demand rang in Taehyung’s ears, replaying itself like a cruel echo he couldn’t shut out. His brows twitched, lips parting to refuse but then his eyes flickered down.
The small kitten clawed at his shirt, its round eyes blinking up at him innocently, completely unaware of the storm gathering between the two men. Taehyung exhaled shakily, biting the inside of his cheek before forcing himself to look up again.
Jungkook stood there, tall and unyielding, waiting like a predator already sure of its prey. His words hadn’t been a suggestion. They were a verdict.
Finally, with a reluctant stiffness, Taehyung gave a slow nod.
Jungkook’s brow arched, the faintest curve of his lips twitching as if mocking the surrender.
“Good,” he murmured, voice low, dripping with satisfaction that made Taehyung’s stomach knot. He finally stepped back, the tension in the air stretching thinner but never breaking.
Taehyung refused to meet his eyes again. Instead, he adjusted the kitten in his arms, shielding it almost as though Jungkook’s demand had stained the space between them.
Without another word, he turned on his heel, shoulders rigid, and walked away. His footsteps were steady, but every nerve in his body screamed at him for yielding, for allowing Jungkook’s shadow to press that close.
Behind him, Jungkook didn’t call out. Didn’t move. He only stood there, hands buried in his pockets, dark eyes locked on Taehyung’s back. Watching. Waiting.
.
.
.
The night came earlier than Taehyung expected. The agreement he had given to Jungkook earlier gnawed at his chest like a restless insect.
The words kept replaying, his mind circling back to that sharp gaze, that smirk, the way Jungkook had demanded instead of asking. His stomach twisted every time the scene replayed.
But then his eyes landed on Gyubin, who was giggling softly while playing with the tiny kitten on the bed. The sight loosened the knot in Taehyung’s chest for a moment.
He crouched down, brushing Gyubin’s hair back and murmuring, “Slow down, or you’ll tire him out.”
Gyubin pouted but obeyed, hugging the kitten gently against his chest. Taehyung smiled faintly at the sight, even though the heaviness of the upcoming night pressed on him. He cooked something light for Gyubin.
Afterwards, he measured the boy’s medicines with practiced precision, making sure he took them on time.
The kitten meowed, pawing at Taehyung’s ankle as if reminding him not to forget its share. With a small chuckle that felt foreign even to his own ears, Taehyung poured milk into a shallow bowl and placed it down. The kitten purred happily, lapping it up.
Soon, Gyubin’s energy drained as the medicines kicked in. He climbed into bed, pulling the kitten close like a favorite plush toy. His breathing slowed, his lashes brushing his cheeks as sleep claimed him.
Taehyung lingered at the bedside, watching them both the child and the tiny creature curled in his arms. His throat felt tight. They looked so fragile.
Yet, no matter how long he stood there, the thought of Jungkook’s demand clawed back into his mind. A drink. At night. With him. The thought of it made his chest burn with unease.
He cast one last look at Gyubin, tucked the blanket snugly around him, and stepped out of the room.
Taehyung knocked lightly before pushing the door open. His breath hitched as his eyes fell on Jungkook, seated at the table, liquor bottles lined in front of him like soldiers.
The sight made Taehyung falter mid-step, his chest tightening. But he forced his legs to move, each step measured, until he reached the chair beside the CEO and sat down.
“I… I’m ready,” Taehyung murmured, his voice soft but steady.
Jungkook finally turned his head, gaze sharp. Without a word, he picked up one of the bottles, twisting the cap open. The sharp sound echoed in the room before he placed it on the table with a dull thud.
“Pour the drinks,” Jungkook instructed, his tone calm but carrying a command that left no space for refusal.
Taehyung swallowed and nodded, his fingers trembling slightly as he filled the glasses one for himself, one for Jungkook. He slid the CEO’s glass toward him, trying not to notice how steady Jungkook’s hand was when he picked it up.
“Do not stop before I do,” Jungkook said, taking a slow sip as if the liquid burned nothing inside him.
“Yes…” Taehyung whispered, gripping his own glass. The sharp, bitter scent of alcohol clawed at his senses. He brought it closer to his lips, his nose wrinkling, and his stomach churned.
But he didn’t dare hesitate. He shut his eyes, tilted his head back, and swallowed in one desperate motion. The burn was immediate, searing down his throat and making his body shudder. He coughed softly, gagging at the taste, but forced it down anyway.
When he lowered the glass, his lips were trembling. Jungkook’s eyes lingered on him briefly, something between satisfaction and cold amusement before he lifted his own glass again.
Taehyung wiped his lips quickly and lifted his glass once more, waiting for the next cue, his heart pounding like a trapped bird in his chest.
Jungkook, however, sat with maddening calm, his broad shoulders relaxed against the chair, eyes never once leaving Taehyung. He lifted his own glass, swirling the amber liquid lazily before downing it in a single gulp expression steady, unfazed, as though he’d just swallowed water.
Taehyung forced himself to follow, clutching his glass tighter this time, lips parting just enough to let the fiery taste slide in. His eyes watered but he blinked rapidly, trying to mask the sting.
“You’re already struggling,” Jungkook muttered lowly, his gaze sharp, almost amused. “And that was just two.”
Taehyung’s jaw tensed. He didn’t want to give Jungkook the satisfaction of seeing him weak. So he reached again, filling his glass to the brim, determined. “I can keep up.”
Jungkook’s lips curved not quite a smile, more like a dangerous challenge. "Fair enough."
Taehyung tilted the glass back again, lips parting for another mouthful. The sharp taste clung to his tongue, sliding down his throat, leaving behind a fire that made his chest both ache and loosen.
He laughed softly almost bitterly as he set the empty glass down with a clink, his fingers trembling. “It’s… not that bad,” he muttered, words slurring slightly, as though he needed to convince himself.
Jungkook didn’t answer. He just leaned back in his chair, elbow propped on the armrest, chin resting against his hand as he studied him with that maddening calmness.
The bottle in front of them caught the dim light, the amber liquid shimmering as though mocking Taehyung’s resolve.
“Another,” Jungkook finally said. Not a suggestion...an order.
Taehyung hesitated, his lashes lowering as his hand reached for the bottle again. His grip was clumsy, spilling some as he tried to pour, but Jungkook didn’t move to help. He wanted to watch him struggle, watch him sink deeper.
The liquor dripped over the edge of the glass, splashing onto Taehyung’s fingers. He brought it up anyway, swallowing it greedily, the excess trailing down the corner of his mouth. It slid across the curve of his jaw, down the elegant line of his throat.
Jungkook’s pupils darkened, his chest rising and falling heavier as his gaze followed that drop of liquid until it disappeared beneath Taehyung’s collar.
Taehyung laughed again, softer this time, his voice hazy. “You’re… staring.”
“I am.” Jungkook admitted, his voice low, thick, unashamed. His hand slid down his abdomen, stopping at the zipper of his black trouser.
He rubbed the heel of his palm against his crotch, his eyes never leaving Taehyung’s lips as they wrapped around the rim of the glass once more.
The sound of Taehyung swallowing, the delicate bob of his throat, the way he leaned back with flushed cheeks, it was all too much.
Jungkook sucked in a sharp breath, his jaw tightening. His chest ached, his body restless, but he stayed rooted, drinking in the sight as though Taehyung himself was the drug.
Taehyung, oblivious, muttered something incoherent under his breath before laughing again, his head tilting back slightly. His voice carried a strange, fragile melody that only made Jungkook’s grip on himself harsher.
The night was collapsing into something dangerous.
The burn had become a strange comfort, dulling the edges of his thoughts, loosening the tight coil of tension in his chest. His eyelids felt heavy, his vision a little hazy, but he couldn’t stop.
He gulped down another mouthful, letting the liquor coat his throat, letting it blur the sharp edges of the world.
Jungkook mirrored him across the table, glass raised with the same steady hand, eyes dark and unreadable. There was no hesitation in his movements, no sign of drunkenness on his part, yet his gaze lingered on Taehyung in a way that made the younger man’s heart hammer.
“Still holding on?” Jungkook’s voice was low, almost teasing, but there was an edge of something darker under the smoothness.
Taehyung blinked, trying to focus, and felt his face flush as the heat of the alcohol spread through him. “I—I’m fine,” he slurred, but the words were weak. His hands shook, spilling a little on the table, the scent of liquor sharp in the air.
Jungkook leaned back slightly, letting his eyes roam over him.
“Is that so?” he murmured.
Taehyung’s lips pressed into a thin line, defiant despite the haze clouding his mind. He poured another glass, raising it shakily. “I—I can,” he said, though the words came out breathless.
Jungkook didn’t move to stop him. He just watched, cold and patient, as Taehyung tipped the glass back again.
Taehyung’s eyes were droopy now, his head tilting slightly as he laughed softly, a sound that was both unsteady and strangely captivating. “Y-you’re… relentless,” he muttered, swaying slightly in his chair.
Jungkook’s gaze darkened. “I’ve been patient,” he said smoothly, voice low. “Now I get to watch how far you can go.”
Taehyung’s fingers shook as he lifted the glass one last time. The warmth of the liquor spread through his veins, making his pulse quicken and his thoughts blur. His vision flickered, and for a moment, he almost forgot where he was.
The younger man’s defiance was fading, his resistance crumbling with every swallow, and Jungkook could see it feel it even if Taehyung didn’t fully realize it yet.
And in that silence, in that haze, the unspoken hunger between them grew darker, more dangerous, wrapping around Taehyung like the heat of a fire he couldn’t touch…