42
Third Person Pov
The next morning came early. Too early for a boy of Gyubin’s age. Yet, when the alarm rang softly beside Taehyung’s bed, small hands were the first to stir. Gyubin blinked away his sleep, rubbing his eyes with tiny fists before sitting up.
“Appa… time to wake up,” he whispered, tugging gently on Taehyung’s arm.
Taehyung groaned, half asleep. “Binnie, it’s still dark outside…” he said pulling the blankeyt close but Gyubin tugged at it pulling it.
The boy shook his head stubbornly. “I have to go wait for Mr. Jeon.” His voice was soft but firm, the kind of7 determination that didn’t leave much room for argument.
Taehyung looked at him in the dim light. He saw the eagerness in his son’s face, the little spark of excitement that hadn’t been there for months.
It was rare to see Gyubin so animated about anything other than his plushie or the occasional storybook. A fragile smile tugged at Taehyung’s lips as he carressed his cheeks.
“Alright,” he murmured, his heart heavy but unwilling to dampen the boy’s joy. “Let’s get you ready.”
And so it became routine.
Every dawn, Gyubin would pad into the gym, clutching his bunny plushie in one hand, waiting on the mat for Jungkook to arrive.
The boy’s wide eyes would follow the door until it finally opened, and the CEO’s tall, commanding figure stepped in, his hair damp from a quick wash, his gym shirt fitting snugly across his shoulders. .
“Good morning, Mr. Jeon,” Gyubin would say every time, voice polite and a little timid.
A hum. A nod. That was all Jungkook gave him. Yet, for Gyubin, it was enough. His little smile would bloom, his shoulders straightening proudly as if he had been acknowledged by a king.
Jungkook, surprisingly, never sent him away. Instead, he gave the boy small tasks: bringing over gloves, arranging lighter dumbbells, handing him a towel at the right time. Gyubin obeyed quickly, eager to please, his tiny hands fumbling but determined.
He looked like a miniature assistant serious and dedicated, even when his shirt collar was crooked and his bunny plush sat on the bench watching over him.
At first, Jungkook ignored him, focusing on his reps and routines. But gradually, his dark eyes began to follow the boy studying the way Gyubin concentrated so hard on placing the weights in order, or how his brows furrowed whenever he thought he wasn’t doing something right.
The boy was so… earnest.
And Jungkook wasn’t used to it.
And so, the week went on.
Some mornings, Gyubin would trot eagerly beside Jungkook as they jogged the quiet paths, his plush always left behind on the bench in the gym, keeping watch until they returned.
Other mornings, Jungkook would tug on the punching bag, crouch down, and without much expression show the boy how to hold his fists properly, how to stand balanced on his little feet.
“Not like that,” Jungkook said one morning, his deep voice steady as he straightened Gyubin’s tiny wrists with his large hands. “You’ll hurt yourself if you punch wrong.”
Gyubin pouted. “Like this, then?” he tried again, his lips pressing together in concentration.
Jungkook gave the faintest nod. “Better.”
Sometimes, when the workout was done, they would sit on the gym floor together Jungkook drinking his protein shake in silence.
While Gyubin swinging his short legs back and forth, talking softly about little things: how his bunny needed a new bow, how he liked drawing stars, how sometimes he dreamed of flying.
Jungkook never interrupted. He simply sat there, leaning back against the mirror wall, his gaze fixed on nothing in particular, while Gyubin’s small voice filled the empty gym. And though he never said much, his silence was not dismissive it was… steady. Present.
The boy, sensing that, opened up more with each passing day.
Meanwhile, Taehyung adjusted his own mornings. He woke up early with Gyubin now, helping him wash his face and put on his little sneakers before sending him to the gym. Then he would quietly prepare breakfast, the smell of rice porridge and tea filling the kitchen before the sun even rose.
Afterward, the nurse would arrive, as she did every few days, to check his vitals and blood reports.
The updates were… encouraging. His therapy was working, his numbers improving.
The dark circles under his eyes remained, but there was a lightness in his chest each time the nurse told him he was responding well.
Still, worry never left him entirely. One morning, with his hands tightening on the hem of his sweater, Taehyung finally asked, “Is it alright… that Gyubin does so much exercise with Mr. Jeon? He’s only seven. I don’t want him… straining himself.”
The nurse, a kind woman with a calm smile, glanced at him reassuringly. “It’s not just alright... it’s good for him. Exercise, discipline, learning new things---it builds his health, and his confidence too. You should be glad he has something like this.”
For the first time in days, Taehyung’s lips curved upward. The smile was small, hesitant, but genuine. “Confidence…” he repeated softly, almost tasting the word.
After that, he stopped interfering.
He no longer called Gyubin back from the gym. No longer pulled him away with excuses about breakfast or errands. Instead, he lingered at the edges watching through the open doorway, or listening from the kitchen as his son’s voice carried faintly down the hall.
And though part of him feared the growing bond between his son and Jungkook, another part the quieter, softer part felt a strange sense of relief.
Because for the first time in a long time… his little boy was happy and confident.
☆☆☆
It was during one of these runs that Gyubin nearly fell.
The garden path was uneven, and in his eagerness, his little foot caught on a stone. He stumbled forward with a startled gasp, eyes wide, bracing for the ground.
But before he could hit the floor, Jungkook’s hand caught him by the shoulder. A firm grip. Steadying him as if it were second nature.
Gyubin froze, staring up at him with wide, startled eyes. For a moment, he didn’t know what to say. Jungkook simply adjusted his pace, letting go slowly before walking again without a word.
The boy hesitated, then swallowed nervously. His small hand lifted, unsure, before gently clutching Jungkook’s finger.
His touch was featherlight, as though afraid the man might shake him off.
Jungkook didn’t. He kept walking, his stride powerful and calm.
Something flickered in his eyes, but his face remained blank.
And Gyubin’s face lit up. His smile was small at first, shy, but soon it grew brighter, warming his whole expression.
The little boy walked beside him, his tiny hand clutching onto Jungkook’s finger like it was the most natural thing in the world.
From upstairs, behind the curtains of his window, Taehyung stood motionless.
He had woken early too, a habit born of worry. He had wanted to check on his son, to make sure he wasn’t overexerting himself or bothering Jungkook. But what he saw through the glass made his heart twist painfully.
The sight was almost picturesqu...the towering figure of Jungkook, quiet and commanding, and beside him, his small son holding his finger, his little steps trying their best to match the man’s stride.
It was… innocent. Pure. Something Taehyung hadn’t expected to ever see in this house. But his worry grew.
Because with every passing day, Gyubin’s attachment to Jungkook was growing stronger.
Taehyung could see it in the way his son’s eyes sparkled when he talked about “helping Mr. Jeon,” in the way he eagerly prepared his clothes at night just to be ready for dawn, in the way he carried himself with pride just for being acknowledged by Jungkook.
And though a part of Taehyung wanted to be relieved to see his son laughing, smiling, feeling excitement again another part of him was terrified.
Because this wouldn’t last.
When the contract ended, Jungkook would leave. And when he did, his little boy’s heart would shatter in ways Taehyung wasn’t sure he could mend.
Taehyung’s hand pressed against the glass of the window. His throat tightened, and his eyes stung.
He whispered softly, as if Gyubin could hear him from afar. “Don’t fall too hard, Binnie. Please don’t.”
But deep down, he knew it was already too late.
.
.
.
Tonight was important. The collaboration celebration was being hosted in one of the grandest halls in the city an event where every powerful figure would be present. As the spouse of CEO Jeon, Taehyung was expected to accompany Jungkook, standing at his side as the perfect image of elegance.
The red suit Jungkook’s stylist had selected for him clung perfectly to his frame, bold yet dignified, highlighting every curve of his shoulders and the graceful line of his neck. Taehyung adjusted the cuffs quietly before turning his gaze toward the bed.
There, Gyubin lay curled up with Daisy, the tiny kitten nestled against his chest. The boy’s small hands absentmindedly stroked the kitten’s fur as his bright eyes wandered toward Taehyung. For a moment, Gyubin’s jaw dropped slightly, his expression lighting up with innocent awe.
“Appa looks… so pretty,” he whispered, almost shy, but his admiration was genuine, his little face glowing as if he were looking at someone magical.
Taehyung’s lips curved into a soft smile, warmth pooling in his chest. He crouched beside the bed and flicked Gyubin’s chin. “Thank you, my love,” he said, voice low and tender.
He let his palm linger on Gyubin’s cheek before shifting it to Daisy’s tiny head. “Take care of yourself tonight, hm? And don’t forget Daisy.”
Gyubin nodded, clutching the kitten closer, almost as if making a solemn promise. “I will, appa.”
Satisfied, Taehyung tugged the comforter higher, tucking it carefully around his son’s small frame. The boy’s lashes fluttered, but his gaze didn’t leave Taehyung until he finally straightened up.
Turning away from the bed, Taehyung drew in a breath and left the room quietly. His heels clicked softly against the marble floor as he climbed the staircase, the vast mansion unusually silent. He wasn’t heading toward the entrance hall to wait for Jungkook...no.
His steps carried him to the top floor, to the CEO’s bedroom. There was something he needed to talk about before they left, something that had been pressing on his mind for days now.
About Gyubin.
With each step closer, Taehyung’s thoughts grew heavier.
Gyubin’s attachment to Jungkook was deepening with every passing day, and while part of him was glad his son wasn’t so closed-off anymore, another part whispered of an inevitable ache once the contract ended.
He couldn’t let his son’s fragile little heart shatter silently.
And so, straightening the lapels of his red suit, Taehyung stopped before the large double doors of Jungkook’s room.
Two soft knocks.
Taehyung pushed the door open. Jungkook stood by the mirror, sifting through his blazers. His hand paused on a black one, pulling it free. The fabric slid over his broad shoulders, fitting perfectly.
Taehyung hovered near the door, still as stone.
Jungkook finally turned, eyes freezing on him. They trailed slowly down the red suit, then lingered far too long at the exposed curve of Taehyung’s neck. His jaw flexed before he looked away, adjusting his cufflinks with practiced precision.
“Mr. Jeon,” Taehyung’s voice wavered.
No reply. Jungkook slid his watch over his wrist, the faint click of metal echoing in the silence.
“I… I need to talk to you about Gyubin.”
At that, Jungkook lifted his gaze, dark and curious.
“I want you to stop getting too involved with him,” Taehyung rushed, his throat tightening. “This contract... it’s going to end in a few months. After that, we’ll never see each other again. He’s getting too attached and I… I don’t want him to be heartbroken.”
Jungkook reached for his cologne, spraying the bare line of his throat. He set the glass bottle down, the sound sharp in the stillness. His lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile.
“Who told you this contract ends?”
Taehyung blinked, startled. “What…?”
Jungkook stepped forward, slow, every movement carrying weight. “If I can write a contract, I can rewrite it. End it. Extend it. Break it. Bend it.” His eyes narrowed. “I decide when it ends.”
Taehyung stumbled back a half step. “Why… why would you even keep us here?”
Jungkook spoke, his tone dropped, dangerous in its calm. “Because I don’t let go of what’s mine. Not until I'm bored.”
The words coiled around Taehyung like chains. His chest rose and fell unevenly. “This… this isn’t permanent. Your lawyer said it himself—”
“I don’t play by the law,” Jungkook said, voice low and lethal. “The law bends around me.”
Taehyung’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “why? Why do you want me here forever?”
Jungkook leaned in close. “To serve me.”
Taehyung’s breath shuddered. “You—You can’t be serious right now.”
“I'm always serious”
With that, Jungkook turned away and strode to the closet. He opened a drawer and pulled out a velvet box, flipping it open with one hand.
Inside gleamed a gold pendant, catching the light like fire.
Without warning, Jungkook walked back toward him, his pace slow but unrelenting.
Taehyung instinctively stepped back, but Jungkook’s hand shot out, gripping the sleek belt around his waist, yanking him forward until their chests nearly brushed.
“Stay still,” Jungkook ordered, his tone leaving no room for defiance.
Taehyung froze, heart hammering.
Jungkook’s fingers brushed the nape of his neck, cold metal sliding against warm skin as he hooked the chain. The clasp clicked, and the pendant settled heavy against Taehyung’s collarbone.
He let his hand linger there, fingers pressing lightly, possessively, against the charm. “Wear it tonight. Let it remind you.”
Taehyung’s lips parted, a protest dying on his tongue.
Taehyung’s hand lingered at his side, fingers curling as the metal dug against his skin. The thin band clung too tight around his ring finger, leaving an angry redness where it pressed in.
His gaze shifted to the pendant gleaming on his chest, another gift, another chain. Extravagant, beautiful, but hollow.
“You give me all these expensive things…” His voice trembled, though he fought to keep it steady. His eyes dropped to the red mark around his finger. “…but you can’t buy me a proper ring?”
Jungkook's gaze slid over to Taehyung, sharp as glass, then just as quickly dropped back to the phone he had pulled from his pocket. He scrolled like he hadn’t heard him at all.
“A ring?” he repeated flatly, eyes flicking to Taehyung’s hand, to the pathetic little band biting into his skin. “Don’t tell me you actually dream about things like that.”
Taehyung’s throat tightened. He pressed his thumb against the metal as though he could ease the sting, but the mark only deepened.
“Why not?” His voice broke despite himself. “Am I asking for too much? You’ve already taken everything else from me. Is it really that hard to give me… just this one thing that doesn't give me pain?”
Jungkook’s gaze snapped to him then, sharp enough to cut. He slid his phone back into his pocket and stepped closer, shadows pooling around him as if the room bent to his presence.
“Why would I give you a ring?” His words dripped disdain, slow and deliberate.
Taehyung blinked.
Jungkook leaned in, close enough for Taehyung to see the faint curl of his lip.
“A ring means love.” He tilted his head, dark eyes burning with mockery. “Do you really think I see you that way?”
The question struck harder than any slap. Taehyung’s chest rose and fell unevenly.
Jungkook tilted his head slightly as he whispered the final blow.
“I don’t love you.”
Taehyung stiffened, his lashes fluttering as if the words had scorched him. He stood frozen, staring down at the floorboards, too afraid to meet Jungkook’s gaze.
The pendant glittered at his throat, heavy and cold. The ring, too tight to remove. And Jungkook’s words... I don’t love you echoed louder than anything else.
Jungkook was about to walk past him when Taehyung’s hand shot out and gripped his wrist.
His fingers tightened, desperate, nails digging lightly into Jungkook’s skin.
The CEO stilled, his dark gaze dropping to the hand that dared to hold him back. Slowly, he lifted his eyes to meet Taehyung’s. That look alone in Jungkook's eyes was enough to send a shiver through the air... dangerous, patient.
Taehyung’s chest rose sharply, his teeth clenched as he forced down the lump in his throat. His voice came out flat, emotionless, like steel hammered thin.
“I don’t love you either.”
For a heartbeat, silence stretched between them. Jungkook’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes searched Taehyung’s face, as if measuring whether the words were truth or just a fragile shield.
“Is that so?” he murmured, his tone testing, probing, like he was measuring Taehyung’s boundaries.
Taehyung’s glare was immediate and sharp, and he nodded just as quickly, unflinching.
Without a word, Jungkook stepped closer, his fingers curling around the younger’s pendant. He tugged gently at first, then with a controlled firmness, drawing Taehyung toward him manhandling him as if he were both fragile and claimed.
Taehyung yelped "What–"
“Good for you then.” he said at last, his voice cool and cutting, like a blade dragged across glass.
Taehyung wriggled as he freed his pendant from the CEO's grip, Jungkook looked at him with playfulness as if enjoying every bit of Taehyung's discomfort.
He shook his head, adjusting his watch as he walked out without a second glance.
Taehyung stood frozen, his hand still hovering in the air where it had held him. Slowly, his fingers curled into a fist, trembling with the weight of swallowed rage. His gaze followed Jungkook’s retreating back, sharp and burning, until the door clicked shut.
Only then did Taehyung let out the breath he had been holding, his glare fixed on the empty space, a storm swirling behind his blank eyes.
The CEO descended the staircase with that effortless, commanding stride, his presence filling the space.
Behind him, Taehyung trailed, eyes locked on his back, tracing every movement, every subtle gesture.
It was almost instinctual he couldn’t help it.
The heat of his stare burned against Jungkook’s awareness, and the corner of the older man’s lips curved into a slow, knowing smirk.
Shaking his head slightly, Jungkook glanced at him, the faintest glimmer of amusement in his sharp gaze. He didn’t need words; the tension between them spoke volumes.
Taehyung’s fist clenched as he practically burnedd Jungkook with his eyes but he kept pace, careful not to trip over the invisible barrier that Jungkook exuded.
They reached the sleek black car parked at the curb. Jungkook opened the door first, slipping inside with the ease of someone who owned every inch of the space. Taehyung followed, stepping in after him, the leather interior cold against his skin as he lowered himself into the seat.
The driver, standing stiffly, bowed respectfully before closing the door behind them. The engine purred to life, smooth and powerful, and the car slid forward, gliding through the night toward the waiting destination.
The silence in the car stretched comfortably, but it was the kind that made Taehyung aware of every tiny movement, every brush of clothing, every shallow breath.
☆☆☆☆
Thirty minutes later, the car slowed and came to a stop. The driver opened the door, and Jungkook stepped out first, waiting with that commanding presence, eyes scanning for any sign of hesitation from Taehyung.
Taehyung followed, hesitating a fraction before stepping down. As soon as he did, Jungkook moved closer, fingers brushing against the fabric of Taehyung’s shirt.
He adjusted it, straightening it over his chest, but in a way that made Taehyung painfully aware of the exposed skin beneath letting his fingers brush against the bare skin.
“Trying to show off for someone?” Jungkook’s voice was low, sharp.
Taehyung drew in a sharp breath, trying to jerk slightly away, but Jungkook’s grip tightened on his wrist, leading him forward with quiet authority. There was no aggression, only that unmistakable pull, and despite himself, Taehyung sighed, surrendering to the guidance rather than fighting it.
The hall opened up before them, grand and imposing, bathed in light that reflected off polished surfaces and crystal decorations.
Every inch of the space spoke of power, precision, and influence.
Taehyung’s eyes flicked around, drinking it in, but he was acutely conscious of the weight pressing down beside him.
Murmurs rose softly among the guests, their eyes lingering on the power couple as they moved through the space.
Taehyung plastered a carefully practiced smile on his face, though his pulse raced beneath it.
His eyes darted around the crowd, scanning for familiar faces, scanning for threats or just for someone who might see through the mask.
It happened almost instantly. Someone did.
Kim Seokjin, standing slightly apart with a champagne glass in hand, caught his glance.
Taehyung’s stomach tightened, and he quickly averted his eyes, pretending to adjust the cuff of his blazer.
But he felt Jungkook’s hand at his wrist, guiding him forward like a tether he couldn’t escape.
They moved toward Jung Hoseok, who stepped forward with a warm, professional smile. “Good evening,” Hoseok greeted, extending his hand. Jungkook nodded.
“You both look… absolutely stunning together,” Hoseok added, his gaze briefly flicking to the glimmering gold pendant resting against Taehyung’s neck.
Taehyung’s lips curved politely into a smile, but the quick beat of his heart betrayed him.
Jungkook hummed, indifferent, letting his eyes sweep the room. There was a quiet arrogance in the way he moved effortless, dangerous, like the center of gravity around him bent toward him. Taehyung could feel it, and it left him slightly off balance, even as he stood there smiling at Hoseok.
Seokjin’s gaze, however, lingered far longer than polite curiosity should allow. His eyes flicked to the pendant, the sharp lines of Taehyung’s neck exposed by the blazer, the way he held himself beside Jungkook.
He swallowed, the champagne momentarily forgotten, and then looked away, trying to regain composure.
Taehyung caught only the tail end of the look before Jungkook began leading him through the crowd again, hands firm on his wrist, quietly sent a shiver down his spine.
A senior guest from their business circle approached, his eyes immediately locking on Jungkook.
“Ah, CEO Jeon. The man himself,” he said, extending a hand. Jungkook took it smoothly, his posture rigid, commanding the space around him.
The man’s gaze flicked to Taehyung, who bowed politely, lips curved in a tentative smile. “You’ve got an eye for beauty, I must say,” the man remarked, appreciating the sleek red suit and the gold pendant glimmering at his neck.
Jungkook’s lips curled. “I like to capture what catches my eye,” he said smoothly, voice low, carrying that unmistakable edge meant only for Taehyung.
Taehyung’s jaw clenched subtly, his eyes darting just enough to avoid meeting Jungkook’s. He freed his hand from Jungkook’s grip and shifted a fraction of distance away
“I hope the ones you… ‘capture’ get a say in it too,” he said, careful to keep the volume soft, casual, almost deferential so that anyone else nearby would hear only polite words, not the pointed challenge beneath them.
Jungkook’s brow lifted, a flicker of interest crossing his otherwise blank face. He noticed the deliberate poise in Taehyung’s tone, the way he’d claimed a tiny measure of space without outright defiance.
The senior guest, glass of champagne in hand, chuckled softly. “You two make an interesting pair,” he said, oblivious to the undercurrent of tension. “Couples who bicker like this usually last.”
Taehyung forced a polite smile, keeping his composure, while Jungkook merely hummed, eyes still locked on Taehyung as if the crowd and the room didn’t exist.
As the group moved on, Jungkook’s hand brushed Taehyung’s waist not enough to touch, but enough for him to feel the tension coil tighter. Taehyung’s lips pressed into a thin line, resisting the urge to flinch, to respond.
Taehyung’s fingers twitched as he subtly removed Jungkook’s hand from his waist, the smallest motion, almost imperceptible, yet enough to make the CEO’s gaze sharpen.
Nearby, the guests continued their chatter, glasses clinking, laughter spilling over polite conversation, entirely oblivious to the storm brewing in that one corner of the room.
When they moved toward a group raising a toast, Jungkook’s hand brushed against Taehyung again, this time a deliberate, lingering touch against the small of his back.
Taehyung’s breath hitched almost imperceptibly, and he shifted just enough to send a silent countermessage: Don't touch me.
Jungkook’s eyes remained confident.
He let the contact linger, tracing the line of Taehyung’s body with his eyes as if memorizing every detail.
The night stretched ahead, full of polished social facades and quiet seduction.
Even as laughter and music filled the hall, the unspoken war continued: a test of dominance, desire, and restraint. And in that moment, neither Jungkook nor Taehyung blinked.
The CEO’s eyes flickered to Seokjin, who was observing the subtle storm between the two men with barely concealed interest. Jungkook’s gaze was sharp, and it lingered on Taehyung just long enough to assert possession without drawing attention.
His hand then again almost casually, slid lower on Taehyunv's back, brushing against him with the slightest pressure on his hip and butt.
Taehyung gulped but instead of pulling away, he exhaled softly, a faint shake of the head the only resistance he allowed.
Seokjin’s jaw flexed, and he turned his gaze elsewhere, unwilling or unable to fully process the audacity in front of him. Jungkook, however, remained entirely unfazed, the corner of his lips twitching, as if he knew exactly how much control he had.
“Relax,” Jungkook’s voice dipped, rough silk against Taehyung’s ear, intimate enough to curl down his spine. “I won’t bite… unless you beg me to.”
Taehyung swallowed, eyes flicking briefly to the floor before leveling back up at him, expression calm but tense. A subtle tremor ran through him, not from fear, but from the raw, possessive heat emanating from Jungkook.
The guests saw only a polished, composed couple, exchanging smiles and polite conversation, but beneath the surface, every glance, every subtle touch, every shift in posture was a battle a dangerous, sensual duel no outsider could comprehend.