45
Third Person Pov
The next few days slipped by in a haze of silence and careful avoidance. Taehyung made it a rule unspoken, but firmnot to let Jungkook catch him off guard again. He moved like a shadow inside the mansion, adjusting his routines around the CEO’s.
If Jungkook woke early, Taehyung stayed in bed until the sound of the car pulling away confirmed he was gone.
When evenings came and the low growl of Jungkook’s engine echoed in the driveway, Taehyung was already locked in his room, curtains drawn, lights off, body curled beside Gyubin as if in sleep.
Even mornings, when Gyubin would bounce awake, eager to follow Jeon to the gym, Taehyung kept himself quiet, detached. He buttoned Gyubin’s shirt, tied his shoelaces, made him wear a cap and sent him off with nothing more than a small smile. “Go on, Binnie. Don’t be late.”
And when avoidance wasn’t enough, he changed direction entirely.
If Jungkook was walking down one corridor, Taehyung took another.
If Jungkook entered the living room, Taehyung excused himself to the kitchen.
His gaze never lifted when Jungkook passed by; his lips stayed sealed.
He refused to give him acknowledgment, even a glance.
But the effort weighed on him. Each time his heart raced at the sound of footsteps each time his hands trembled while holding a cup, worried he might cross paths, he reminded himself of that morning.
Check your account. Payment received. The words cut deeper than the bruises still fading along his skin.
Jungkook, of course, noticed.
His eyes followed Taehyung whenever he appeared in the periphery, sharp and unreadable. Sometimes he smirked faintly, as if amused by Taehyung’s little dance to escape him. Other times, his jaw flexed, the cigarette between his fingers burning slower, heavier.
But Taehyung didn’t let himself think too hard about what the CEO felt or didn’t. His only thought was survival, and survival meant distance. Even if it gnawed at him to pretend he didn’t ache every time he turned away.
.
.
The private gym was silent except for the faint hum of the air conditioning. The machines sat untouched, the mats perfectly aligned, as if time itself had paused.
Jungkook was seated on the floor, one knee bent, forearm resting lazily on it. He wasn’t dressed to work out; the polished watch on his wrist gleamed faintly under the lights, a cigar unlit at his side. His sharp gaze wasn’t on the room, though, it was fixed on the boy a few feet away.
Gyubin lay on his stomach, tracing slow, uneven circles into the varnished wooden floor with his fingertip. His lips were pursed, brows knitted as though trying to make sense of something bigger than himself. Jungkook waited. He didn’t press. He had already sensed the boy was carrying something.
When Gyubin finally spoke, his voice was quiet, almost hesitant. “Appa seems so sad nowadays.”
The words lingered, cutting into the stillness. Jungkook’s jaw tightened, but his expression didn’t shift. He sat unmoving, his gaze steady.
Gyubin’s finger stilled, then he continued, softer. “He doesn’t even read me bedtime stories anymore. And…” his lips trembled, “…he stays sick.”
For the first time, Gyubin looked up, his eyes wide, searching Jungkook’s face for an answer. For something.
But Jungkook gave nothing away. His face was carved in stone, as they locked onto the boy’s. He leaned forward slightly, resting both elbows on his knees.
The faint exhale through was the only sound he made before he spoke, voice deep and controlled. “He’ll manage.”
Gyubin blinked at him, the answer too short, too cold. “Manage what?” he asked, confusion written all over his small face.
Jungkook’s lips curved into the faintest ghost of a smirk, one without warmth. His words came slow, deliberate, like the drop of water in a silent cave. “Whatever’s breaking him.”
The boy’s shoulders hunched, unsure what that meant, but Jungkook didn’t elaborate. He picked up the protein shake, eyes never leaving Gyubin, as though weighing the child’s innocence against the heavy truths about this marriage he would one day learn.
Silence pressed down on the room again. Gyubin lowered his gaze, going back to dragging invisible shapes on the floor. Jungkook leaned back against the wall, the weight of his presence filling the space, saying nothing more.
After the session, Gyubin hopped down from the bench, his cheeks flushed. He reached into the small pouch he always carried and fished out a single mango candy.
His tiny hands unwrapped it halfway before hesitating, then he turned to Jungkook.
“Mr.Jeon,” he said softly, his voice almost shy, “this is for you.”
Jungkook looked down, brows faintly knitting as his gaze fell on the bright orange candy. It was such a childish, insignificant thing, yet Gyubin held it out with complete sincerity. For a long moment, Jungkook didn’t move. His sharp eyes stayed fixed on the candy.
Finally, he reached out and plucked it from the boy’s hand.
Gyubin’s lips curved into a small, satisfied smile, and he bowed politely before running out of the gym, leaving the CEO standing alone with the candy sitting in his palm.
He slung the jacket over his arm and walked out. His strides echoed in the corridor, sharp and unhurried.
Taehyung, who had been coming down the same hall with Gyubin's folder in hand, froze the instant he spotted him.
He sighed.
Instinctively, he turned on his heel and slipped into the nearest guest room, closing the door softly behind him. He leaned against it, trying to steady his breathing. His heart drummed against his ribs... loud, accusing.
He stayed there. One minute. Two. Five. Silence. Maybe Jungkook had already passed by. Maybe it was safe.
Taking in a slow breath, Taehyung tightened his hold on the folder, and carefully opened the door.
Only to stumble back with a soft gasp.
Jungkook was there. Leaning against the wall directly across, one shoulder resting lazily against the wooden paneling, arms folded across his chest. His dark eyes locked onto Taehyung the second the door cracked open, as if he had been waiting.
Taehyung’s pulse jumped. His grip on the folder tightened until his knuckles whitened. He felt exposed, caught.
Jungkook tilted his head slightly, a glint of amusement curling in his gaze. His voice came low, smooth, dangerous.
“How long will you keep hiding?”
Taehyung swallowed hard, forcing his voice not to shake. “I—I wasn’t hiding.
A shake of head, that's all Jungkook gave before he pushed off the wall.
“Is that so?” he murmured, his tone laced with quiet menace.
Taehyung instinctively retreated a step into the room, his back brushing against the edge of the door. Jungkook followed without hesitation, slipping inside and closing the door behind him with a slow click. The air in the room shifted instantly heavier, suffocating.
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
It wasn’t a question.
Taehyung’s spine stiffened. His jaw locked tight as if to keep the trembling inside from spilling out. Slowly, he forced his eyes up, meeting the CEO’s gaze.
“And what if I have?” he whispered. The defiance was there, clinging stubbornly, but his voice cracked beneath the weight of unease.
Jungkook’s lips curved not into warmth, never into kindness, but into that dangerous smirk that stretched without ever touching his eyes. “Then you should try harder.”
Before Taehyung could react, Jungkook’s hand moved, deliberate, brushing against his waist as if it belonged there.
The contact was light, fleeting, but it shot through Taehyung like electricity, leaving his skin prickled with goosebumps.
Jungkook’s gaze lowered, following the rise and fall of Taehyung’s chest. His voice dropped, each word dragging like silk and steel.
“Because no matter how many doors you close…” He leaned in, his lips hovering dangerously close to Taehyung’s face, his breath warm enough to make him flinch. “…I’ll always be on the other side.”
Taehyung’s grip on the table beside him tightened until his knuckles blanched. His body screamed for distance, yet his legs felt rooted, useless. He took one step back just one thinking he’d found a sliver of escape.
But Jungkook’s hand caught him instantly, tightening around his waist, pulling him back until their bodies nearly touched.
“w-what—”his lips parting on instinct.
The CEO’s eyes darkened at the sound, at the way Taehyung trembled between resistance and surrender.
Without warning, Jungkook’s other hand slipped into his pocket. When it emerged, the familiar glint of orange shone between his fingers.
The mango candy.
Taehyung barely had time to comprehend before Jungkook shoved it past his parted lips. The sweet pressed against his tongue, stealing his protest.
“Close it,” Jungkook ordered, his tone low, commanding. His fingers brushed Taehyung’s jaw as he forced his mouth shut, sealing the candy inside.
Taehyung’s wide eyes fluttered with panic. He could taste the sharp tang of mango melting over his tongue, unwanted and cloying. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, the humiliation burning hotter than the sweetness dissolving in his mouth.
Jungkook leaned back just far enough to watch him watch the way his lips pressed shut, the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed. His gaze burned with satisfaction, like every second of Taehyung being forced to suck on that candy was his personal victory.
“Remember that taste,” he said, low and lethal. “Because every time it melts on your tongue… it’ll be me you think of.”
Jungkook’s finger brushed against Taehyung’s lips, wet with spit, and he grazed it before tasting it himself.
Taehyung’s eyes widened, a mix of shock and disbelief flashing across his face.
“You’re impossible,” Taehyung muttered, stepping back, trying to push past him.
But Jungkook didn’t let him. His hands shot out, gripping Taehyung firmly by the abdomen, preventing his escape. "Am I?"
"Let go–" Taehyung hissed, Instinctively, Taehyung shoved against him, adrenaline and frustration fueling him, and bolted. He rushed out of the room, heart hammering, leaving the faint smell of sweat and the lingering heat of proximity behind.
Jungkook shook his head almost lazily as he stepped out, gaze sharp, following Taehyung with slow, deliberate steps.
“Where do you think you’re running?” His voice carried, low and amused, almost teasing, yet threaded with authority.
Taehyung risked a glance back and froze for a fraction of a second at the sight of Jungkook steadily gaining on him. Panic curled in his chest, chest tightening with every step. He pushed himself faster, slipping into a different room and, with trembling fingers, locked the door behind him.
He pressed his back against it, heart pounding, hands clutching at his chest. “What does he even want from me?” he whispered, voice barely audible. He tried to steady his breathing, reminding himself this was only a game, a dangerous, infuriating game.
Outside, Jungkook leaned casually against the doorframe, hands shoved into his joggers, eyes dark and ficused “Open the door,” he said softly, almost coaxing, yet the weight in his voice made the command undeniable.
“Go away,” Taehyung shot back, voice shaking with equal parts defiance and dread.
Jungkook didn’t move. He simply waited, calm, unmoving, letting the silence stretch unbearably between them. Then soft, hesitant footsteps echoed from the corridor. Gyubin.
“Where’s Appa?” the boy asked, small voice carrying curiosity and concern.
“Behind the door, hiding,” Jungkook replied bluntly, tone as cold and direct as ever.
Gyubin furrowed his brows, tilting his head. “Are we playing a game?”
“He is,” Jungkook said smoothly, eyes never leaving the door, voice a calm statement of fact.
A small smile spread across the boy’s face. “I’ll help you win,” he murmured, walking forward with purpose.
Jungkook’s brow lifted, and a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. He stepped closer to the door as Gyubin’s little feet padded ahead, and then called softly, “Appa.”
Taehyung, sitting on the floor, head bowed, looked up immediately. His heart jolted at the boy’s voice.
“I’m hungry,” Gyubin added mischievously, glancing at Jungkook with a little sparkle of playfulness, as if testing boundaries too.
Taehyung exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face before pushing himself up, adjusting his shirt carefully. He inched toward the door and slowly opened it.
Gyubin stepped aside, giving space and there, standing in the doorway, was Jungkook. Calm. Dominant. Unwavering.
Before Taehyung could even protest or think, Jungkook’s hands shot out, lifting him effortlessly. His eyes widened in disbelief, mirrored in Gyubin’s wide-eyed stare.
“You can’t run from me,” Jungkook said smoothly, voice low and firm, as Taehyung’s teeth clenched in frustration.
“Why… why do you keep lifting me up? What do you want?” His voice cracked, laced with desperation, with raw, unguarded emotion.
Gyubin watched silently, fascination glimmering in his small, innocent eyes almost admiring the scene unfolding.
“A kiss,” Jungkook murmured near Taehyung’s ear, a whisper meant to unnerve and tempt all at once.
Taehyung glared, jaw tight, heart thudding. “Never,” he spat, voice sharp, fierce in its finality.
Gyubin watched them, his eyes glowing with awe. “Can you spin Appa around like that in your arms?” he asked almost innocently.
Taehyung’s sigh was sharp and exasperated. “Binnie…” he muttered, glaring up at Jungkook.
But Jungkook only looked down at him and held him tighter, calm and unbothered.
The world spun. Taehyung’s stomach lurched as he instinctively wrapped his arms tighter around Jungkook’s neck clinging to him. Gyubin’s giggles rang out like bells, his tiny hands clapping in delight.
“Again! Again!” Gyubin requested bouncing on his feet.
Before Taehyung could even argue, Jungkook spun once more. Taehyung’s glare cracked into a look of pure panic as dizziness washed over him, but then his eyes softened.
Gyubin was grinning ear to ear, joy spilling out of him, and for a fleeting moment Taehyung let himself breathe into that sight.
Just then, Daisy came padding down the corridor, tail flicking. Gyubin scooped her up, holding the kitten aloft as he twirled clumsily in circles, mimicking Jungkook.
Daisy meowed in protest, but Gyubin only laughed harder.
The corridor turned into chaos... childish giggles, the kitten’s cries, and Taehyung’s frustrated groans.
“Ah—stop!” Taehyung gasped, fingers digging into Jungkook’s shoulder as he gritted his teeth.
“I’m just fulfilling your son’s request,” Jungkook replied smoothly.
“Put me down,” Taehyung hissed, face burning.
Finally, Jungkook slowed, halting the spin. He bent slightly, setting Taehyung back on his feet but as soon as his soles touched the floor, his knees buckled. The dizziness hit too sharp, sending him stumbling forward.
A strong arm curled instantly around his waist, hauling him back against Jungkook’s chest.
Taehyung froze, breath catching. His body pressed flush to Jungkook’s, his shirt brushing against the CEO’s workout clothes. He hated how safe that grip felt.
“Careful,” Jungkook said.
Taehyung’s fists clenched against Jungkook’s chest, pushing lightly. “I said put me down.”
“You’re already down.” Jungkook countered smoothly, not moving an inch. His hand pressed firmly against Taehyung’s lower back, holding him caged in place.
From a few feet away, Gyubin twirled Daisy again, completely unaware of the silent battle crackling in front of him.
Taehyung glared at him, eyes sharp with the kind of annoyance that had become second nature around Jungkook. But Jungkook didn’t flinch. His gaze stayed locked on Taehyung’s, intense as if daring him to pull away.
Taehyung shifted uncomfortably, his breath uneven. He slowly moved his hands down to peel away the large ones still resting against his hips, and for a second, he swore Jungkook’s grip tightened.
It wasn’t forceful... it was subtle, almost desperate, as if Jungkook’s body betrayed something his mind didn’t want to admit.
The younger’s throat went dry. He gulped, freeing himself at last and stepping back with measured calmness, though inside his chest, his heart thundered.
His eyes darted down to where Gyubin sat on the floor, pecking Daisy’s tiny head with feather-light kisses. The kitten glared back at the boy with narrowed eyes, clearly unimpressed with his affection.
“She’s just like you.” Jungkook’s voice came casual, but laced with meaning. He was referring to the cat, but his eyes never left Taehyung.
Taehyung pressed his lips into a thin line, not giving him the satisfaction of a reply. He simply reached for his son’s small arm, guiding him.
“Come on,” he murmured, voice soft but firm, as if reminding himself as much as Gyubin.
They began to walk, Gyubin holding Daisy protectively, still smiling from all the earlier chaos. Taehyung’s steps were steady, but against his will, curiosity tugged at him.
Just before he turned the corner, he glanced back.
Jungkook was still there, rooted to the spot. His tall frame leaned lightly against the wall, but his posture was far from relaxed. His eyes followed them, dark and unwavering, as if there was something left unsaid between them, something pressing against the silence.
Taehyung’s chest grew heavy, and he exhaled sharply, whipping his head forward again. He tightened his grip on Gyubin’s arm and guided him left toward their room. He didn’t dare look back again.
.
.
Jungkook’s steps were unhurried as he climbed the stairs, the faint buzz of his phone pulling his attention. The screen flashed Lawyer. He accepted the call without hesitation.
“Mr. Jeon,” the lawyer’s voice was crisp, professional. “I’ve modified the contract, as per your instructions.”
Jungkook hummed low in his throat, unzipping his jacket as he reached his room. “Go on.”
“The child, Kim Gyubin, will remain under your supervision once the agreement expires. The clause ensures there’s no… separation from you, regardless of circumstance.”
Jungkook hummed as he shrugged the jacket off, tossing it carelessly across the chair.
“As long as that kid stays with me,” Jungkook said slowly, “everything else will fall in line.”
“Understood. I’ll have the final papers sent tomorrow.”
Jungkook ended the call with a simple hmm, dropping the phone onto the desk. Rolling his sleeves up, he exhaled, a quiet satisfaction simmering beneath the surface.
It was no longer a contract. It was a leash.
Jungkook would always keep what was his. He wasn’t the type to share, not with the world and especially not with anyone who dared to cross his path.
Love had never been a part of his life; it wasn’t something he sought, nor something he believed in. Affection was weakness, and weakness had no place in his world.
But Taehyung… Taehyung was different.
It wasn’t love.. Jungkook didn’t even want to name it that but an addiction.
He was hooked on the younger’s scent, on the way his presence seeped into every corner of a room, leaving Jungkook restless when he wasn’t there.
Nights without Taehyung beside him had become unbearable, sleep slipping further from reach no matter how hard he tried. His body had grown too used to him, his warmth, his soft breaths, even his infuriating silence.
Taehyung’s stubbornness, his endless resistance… Jungkook would endure it all. He would handle every glare, every shove, every desperate attempt to run.
As long as Taehyung stayed with him.
But not with love. Never love.
For Jungkook, possession was enough.
.
.
.
It was night.
Taehyung checked the locks twice before retreating to his room, heart settling only when he glanced at Gyubin curled up in bed, breathing softly in his sleep.
But then shuffling. A sharp thud. Raised voices, muffled but loud enough to crawl under his skin.
Taehyung froze, his hand suspended mid-air. His breath hitched. Something was wrong.
Slowly, he padded across the floor, every step careful, hesitant. His fingers trembled as they hovered over the doorknob. The sound outside grew clearer, low, commanding, laced with menace. Jungkook’s voice.
Taehyung gulped and opened the door.
The sight hit him like a blow.
In the living room, under the dim golden light, Jungkook sat on a chair like a king in judgment.
His posture was calm, but his eyes… his eyes burned with a cold fury.
On the floor before him knelt a man, bound at the wrists, his face pale but defiant.
Jungkook’s hand gripped his jaw, tilting his head back cruelly.
“You think you’d betray me,” Jungkook said, his tone low, almost quiet yet it carried the weight of a storm. His lips curled into something deadly. “And I’d let you walk free?”
The man glared, but Taehyung saw his shoulders tremble. He tried to mutter something, but Jungkook’s palm cracked against his face before he could.
The sound of slap echoed like a whip, and Taehyung flinched, his entire body jolting. His eyes widened as blood trickled from the corner of the man’s mouth, glistening under the light.
Taehyung’s feet rooted to the spot. He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. He only stared.
Jungkook’s expression didn’t shift from rage. His knuckles whitened as he grabbed the man by his collar and yanked him forward. His fist collided with the man’s jaw, a sickening thud filling the silence. The man choked, groaned.
“I fcking hate betrayals.” Jungkook snarled. His words sliced through the air.
Behind him, Mr. Haenam stood stiffly, his hands clasped in front of him, eyes downcast. Taehyung’s throat worked as he forced his voice out. “Wh-what happened?”
Mr. Haenam flicked his gaze at him briefly, then lowered it again. “Business matters… nothing you should concern yourself with,” he murmured, almost soft, almost apologetic.
Taehyung’s chest heaved as he nodded faintly, though his legs threatened to buckle.
Jungkook extended his hand without a word, and one of his men immediately pressed a gun into his palm. The movement was seamless, like a ritual they had performed countless times.
The cold metal gleamed as Jungkook pressed it against the man’s forehead. The man’s eyes widened, his composure crumbling as he began to plead, voice shaking.
“Please—don’t… don’t do this, I—I can explain—”
Jungkook’s jaw flexed. He didn’t blink. His finger tightened around the trigger.
Taehyung’s heart slammed against his ribs. He wanted to scream, to step forward, but his voice strangled itself before it could leave his lips.
And then. The shot.
The deafening crack tore through the house.
Taehyung gasped sharply, his hands flying to his ears as he stumbled back.
His eyes squeezed shut, his body curling in on itself as if to shield away the horror.
He dared not look, dared not move, but the coppery smell of blood seeped into the air, unavoidable, undeniable.
When he finally blinked through the shock, he saw Jungkook lowering the gun, his face carved from stone. Not a hint of remorse. Not a flicker of hesitation.
Only silence followed, broken by the sound of Taehyung’s shaky breath.
“Take him away.”
The command slipped from Jungkook’s lips like ice, smooth but absolute.
His men obeyed without hesitation, dragging the broken body across the floor.
Shoes scraped against marble, leaving behind faint streaks of red that glistened in the lamplight.
The coppery tang of blood lingered in the air, sharp and metallic.
Jungkook stood still for a moment, shoulders squared, the gun still heavy in his hand. He set it on the table with a dull clink, as though discarding something trivial. His face, streaked with red, was unreadable half in shadow, half in the glow of the chandelier.
That’s when he felt it eyes on him.
Slowly, he turned.
Taehyung stood at the edge of the hallway, barely illuminated, like a ghost who had stumbled into the wrong world. His posture rigid, his lips parted in disbelief. He looked so utterly out of place in that scene of violence like a fragile painting hung in a battlefield.
Their eyes met.
Jungkook’s breath stilled for the briefest second. A predator catching sight of something too delicate to touch, yet too tempting to resist. His expression didn’t change, but something flickered in his gaze danger, hunger, possession.
He began to walk.
Each step echoed faintly on the marble, heavy, unstoppable. Taehyung’s heart pounded in his chest, each beat loud in his ears. He wanted to run, to vanish, but his legs felt rooted in place, frozen by those dark, merciless eyes.
He only moved when the blood caught his gaze.
A smear across Jungkook’s cheekbone, stark against pale skin. A faint drop at the corner of his lips. Jungkook stood just in front of him now.
Taehyung’s breath trembled out of him. His hand rose hesitant, slow, as if moving through water. He didn’t know why he did it, why he couldn’t stop himself. Maybe it was instinct. Maybe madness.
His fingertips brushed Jungkook’s skin.
Warm. Wet. Sticky.
The blood clung to him, smearing faintly as he wiped it away. His chest tightened at the sensation, the metallic scent sharper now. His stomach churned, but he didn’t pull back until the smear was gone.
Jungkook didn’t move. Didn’t blink. He only stood there, letting Taehyung’s fragile hand erase the evidence of his violence. Something dangerous coiled behind his eyes.
When Taehyung finally drew his hand back, his palm was streaked with red. He looked down at it, trembling, horrified. A sound caught in his throat, small and broken, but he swallowed it down.
And in that moment brief, imperceptible Jungkook’s eyes softened for some seconds.
A flicker of something raw, as he watched Taehyung trying so hard to stand steady, to look brave, when everything in him screamed with fear.
It wasn’t bravery. It was fragility pretending to be strong, and it was devastatingly beautiful.
“Sleep with me tonight.”
The words were low, rough. Not a request, not even lust. It was a claim. A demand laced with the faintest tremor of need he would never admit.
Taehyung’s eyes widened, his lips parting. His entire body tensed, as if the hallway itself had frozen over.
“…No.”
It was a whisper, but it landed heavy. Defiance in its purest, rawest form.
He stepped back quickly, fumbling until his hand found the door.
Jungkook’s gaze never left him, dark and consuming, as if those two letters had been a blade plunged into his chest.
The door creaked as Taehyung pushed it open. For a moment he lingered in the frame, his head turning, giving one last glance over his shoulder. His expression was a war terror and defiance, weakness and stubbornness colliding all at once.
And then the door closed with a soft thud.
Silence returned to the hallway.
Jungkook stood there, his breathing deep. His eyes remained fixed on the door long after it shut, as if he could see through it, as if he could burn his presence into the very air Taehyung breathed. His chest rose, fell, a faint tremor betraying the storm inside.
Blood still clung faintly to his skin. But where Taehyung had touched, there was only warmth.
~~~
Taehyung pressed a hand against his chest. His heart was pounding, wild and erratic, as if it no longer belonged to him. The sound filled his ears, drowning everything else, making it hard to breathe. Why--why was it beating like this? For him. For a man he hated.
He shut his eyes, willing the rhythm to calm, but it only seemed to grow louder, each thud echoing the memory of Jungkook’s bloodstained face, the weight of his gaze, the way his voice had commanded sleep with me tonight.
Taehyung exhaled shakily, dragging the blanket higher over himself as though the fabric could shield him from the memory.
He shifted his gaze toward the door closed, silent, and yet it felt like Jungkook was still standing there, lingering, pressing his presence through the wood and into Taehyung’s chest.
He hated it.
Hated the fear, the heat, the confusion curling inside him.
Why couldn’t it just be simple? Why couldn’t he only hate him, cleanly, purely, the way Jungkook deserved? Instead, there was this pull. This invisible chain that kept dragging him closer, even as every part of him screamed to run.
He curled his fingers into the blanket, gripping until his knuckles ached. “I hate this, ” he whispered to himself, his voice raw.
His hand pressed harder over his heart. The beat hadn’t slowed.