46
Third Person Pov
It was one of those nights when the CEO couldn’t sleep.
The clock on the wall blinked 1:30 a.m., the sound of its ticking echoing through the stillness like a quiet taunt. Jungkook sat in the living room, posture languid yet restless, his gaze blankly fixed on the ceiling as if it held answers he’d been chasing all his life.
He had come home earlier than usual today, but as expected Taehyung had closed the bedroom door again. The rejection was silent, wordless, but sharp enough to be felt.
Jungkook leaned forward, poured himself a drink, and let the burn of liquor slide down his throat. His life had been painted in dull shades of monotony for as long as he could remember.
After his parents’ deaths, there was no youth left to enjoy... no stolen afternoons, no carefree nights. While others of his age had experimented with love, laughter, and mistakes, he had buried himself in books, lectures, and strategies.
He remembered cold libraries and long hours, where ambition replaced affection. He remembered signing his first deal before he even knew what friendship truly felt like. Jungkook had built himself into a fortress of steel and glass, an empire. But in the process, he had never learned how to live.
Relationships? He never sought them. His tone was always sharp, business-like. His charm was polished enough to close a deal, but hollow enough that no one lingered after the handshake.
He became the perfect workaholic... the man who could never rest, even on days when he had nothing to prove.
So here he was, sprawled on the couch, his legs propped on the table, head tipped back, the rim of his glass catching the faint glow of the lamp. A restless man with no pause button, whose mind buzzed with ideas, strategies, numbers yet whose heart beat in a lonely, mechanical rhythm.
And yet, somewhere beyond the walls of this hollow empire, down a quiet corridor, lay another world.
In one bedroom, Taehyung slept curled up with his son. The littl Gyubin, clutched Daisy wrapped in a small blanket.
Taehyung’s arm draped protectively over him even in sleep, his face softened, unguarded, painted in a peace Jungkook could never find.
Two different worlds under the same roof. One drenched in silence, whiskey, and loneliness. The other fragile, tender, brimming with warmth Jungkook had never been taught to touch.
"Appa..." a small voice.
Taehyung stirred awake at the soft sound of shifting beside him. At first, he thought Gyubin was merely turning in his sleep, but then he heard it... low, broken groans.
His eyes snapped open. “Binnie?” he whispered, pushing himself upright.
“Appa…” Gyubin’s small voice trembled, his face scrunching up in pain.
Panic clutched Taehyung’s chest. He leaned close,. “What happened, baby? Tell appa.”
Gyubin’s lashes fluttered, eyes red, pupils glassy. “My head… it hurts.it hurts.” His little hands clutched at his temple, trembling.
Taehyung’s heart dropped to the pit of his stomach. He felt tears sting his eyes immediately no matter how many times he tried to be strong, moments like these stripped him bare. “Shh… it’s okay, it’s okay,” he whispered, his voice already breaking as he quickly tugged the blanket away.
He didn’t even think about himself, didn’t care how disheveled he looked in his loose shirt and tangled hair. He just grabbed Gyubin’s hand with one of his own and used the other arm to hold him up, supporting his trembling body.
“Hospital,” Taehyung muttered to himself, more like a desperate mantra, his voice tight. “We’re going right now.”
Gyubin whimpered, his tears rolling down his flushed cheeks. It felt like knives to Taehyung’s chest. He clutched him tighter, almost crushing, as if that alone would ease the pain.
His footsteps hurried down the corridor, almost stumbling, his breathing harsh, frantic. But the moment he stepped into the living room, his pace faltered.
There, on the couch, sat Jeon Jungkook. His posture perfect, his laptop open, the faint glow reflecting on his sharp features.
He looked like a man pulled out of a glossy magazine.
.. calm, composed, powerful. But Taehyung didn’t have the patience or strength to process that.
Not when his son was crying in his arms.
So he ignored him. He walked faster toward the door, his grip on Gyubin trembling from both fear and urgency.
But then a firm hand caught his arm.
Taehyung froze, eyes wide, his body coiled like a trapped animal.
“I—please don’t stop me,” he choked out, turning his head sharply toward Jungkook.
“Gyubin sometimes gets these headaches and I always—I just—please—” His words came out rushed, stumbling over each other, his voice breaking in desperation.
But before he could finish, Gyubin whimpered again, burying his face in Taehyung’s chest. And in the next heartbeat, Jungkook had moved.
His hands strong, large, steady slipped beneath Gyubin’s frame, and before Taehyung could even register what was happening, Jungkook was holding him. Effortless. Secure.
“Wha—” Taehyung’s breath caught, his body jerking forward, instinctively unwilling to let go. But Jungkook’s hold was firm, protective, like Gyubin weighed nothing.
“Let's go,” Jungkook’s voice was low, clipped, but not cold.
Taehyung exhaled shakily, his chest rising and falling fast. For a moment, he just stood there, staring at the sight of his son, his everything in Jungkook’s arms.
The CEO adjusted Gyubin’s head against his shoulder, a hand instinctively rubbing circles on his back as though he’d done this a hundred times before.
The world tilted strangely.
Taehyung followed close behind as Jungkook strode out of the mansion, the air biting and sharp outside. The car doors unlocked with a soft beep. Jungkook gently placed Gyubin in Taehyung’s lap in the backseat, making sure he was secure, before shutting the door.
“Appa’s here… it’s okay,” Taehyung whispered as he kissed his son’s temple, brushing away the sweat from his skin. His voice wavered, but he kept speaking, trying to ground Gyubin.
The engine roared to life. Jungkook gripped the wheel tightly, his knuckles pale as he pulled the car out with swift precision. His eyes flicked once to the rearview mirror, catching the sight of Taehyung whispering soft reassurances, his own shoulders shaking with quiet sobs.
Jungkook focused his gaze ahead.
The silence inside the car was thick, only broken by Gyubin’s weak whimpers and Taehyung’s trembling whispers.
But beneath it all, there was something else too, a strange, unspoken thread tying them together in that tense, desperate drive through the night.
The car screeched to a halt in front of the hospital entrance. Before the engine had even stilled, Taehyung was out, clutching Gyubin in his trembling arms. His feet barely touched the ground as he rushed inside, chest heaving with fear.
Behind him, Jungkook followed at a steady pace, his expression unreadable, eyes sharp like steel cutting through the chaos.
Wherever he walked, the air shifted. Nurses and orderlies who noticed him instantly straightened, bowing out of habit, their gazes flickering nervously.
“The kid,” Jungkook’s voice cut, low and authoritative, as he gestured toward the boy in Taehyung’s arms.
The doctor on duty hurried over, eyes widening at the sight. “What happened?”
Taehyung’s throat worked, his lips quivering as he tried to speak. He looked down at his son’s pale face, those long lashes pressed against flushed skin, his hand limp against Taehyung’s chest. The sight cracked something inside him.
“H-he…” Taehyung stammered, words breaking with the weight of fear. “He was having a headache… and then he‐-he fainted. Please, just check him!” His voice trembled, the desperation raw.
The doctor gave a short nod, signaling for them to enter the emergency room.
Taehyung carried Gyubin inside, his steps hurried, his arms aching but refusing to let go.
He laid him gently on the examination bed, his trembling fingers brushing over his son’s forehead again and again, as though that alone could ground him.
Meanwhile, Jungkook had turned toward the reception desk. His tall frame and piercing gaze silenced the room.
Leaning forward, he spoke a few words to the receptionist, low, calm, but firm. She immediately nodded, bowing before rushing off to make calls. Without sparing anyone another glance, Jungkook made his way toward the doctor’s cabin.
Inside, the physician examined Gyubin carefully, noting his vitals, checking his eyes, then reaching for the file Taehyung had brought with him. He scanned the notes and the prescribed medications. His brows furrowed slightly.
“Did you administer this medicine tonight?” the doctor asked, looking up.
Taehyung nodded quickly. “Yes. It was the first time. It said once a week… so I gave it to him tonight.”
The doctor exhaled, closing the file. “The dosage was too heavy. It didn’t suit him. His system reacted badly.”
Taehyung’s jaw locked. His chest tightened as the words sank in. Slowly, he stepped forward, eyes flashing. “What… did you just say?”
The doctor hesitated. “It happens sometimes with new prescriptions—”
“You don’t know the dosage for a child?” Taehyung’s voice snapped, louder now, the sharpness cutting through the sterile air of the room.
His hands trembled, but his anger burned hot and clear. “What kind of doctor are you? Because of you—” His voice broke as he glanced at his unconscious son, tears brimming. “Because of you, he suffered!”
The doctor faltered, swallowing nervously.
The door opened. Jungkook walked in, his presence swallowing the room whole. His eyes flicked to Taehyung, then to the doctor.
Taehyung turned toward him, his anger spilling over. “He should resign! People like him shouldn’t be allowed to treat anyone—he doesn’t even know how to do his job!”
The doctor’s face paled, his eyes darting between the furious young man and the composed CEO who had just entered.
Jungkook’s gaze lingered on the doctor for a long moment. Then, in that calm, commanding tone, he said simply, “Do your work.”
There was no shout. No curse. Just a statement that carried the weight of an order no one dared to disobey.
Then he reached out, his hand firm on Taehyung’s arm. “Come out.” he murmured.
Taehyung stiffened at the contact, trying to pull free, but Jungkook’s grip was unyielding. He was led out of the room, every step a clash of resistance and control.
The moment they were in the hallway, Taehyung twisted sharply, prying Jungkook’s fingers off his arm. His breaths came fast, uneven. “Don’t touch me,” he said, his voice raw, eyes blazing.
He stepped back, creating space between them, as if even the brush of Jungkook’s skin left burns. His chest heaved as he glared, grief and fury mixing in his expression.
Jungkook’s face remained calm. His gaze lingered, dark and steady, as if silently weighing every ounce of Taehyung’s trembling figure.
The distance between them felt fragile like glass ready to shatter at the faintest push.
Taehyung sat slumped in the waiting chair outside the room, his head bowed, fingers tangled together so tightly they had turned white.
Every sound inside the faint beeping of the monitors, the shuffle of nurses made his chest tighten.
He could only stare at the door, as though his gaze alone would will it to open with good news.
When the nurse arrived, she held out a clipboard. Her voice was gentle. “Sir, could you please sign here?”
Taehyung barely glanced up. His hand shot out, trembling as he scribbled his name in a rush. His eyes were glassy, unfocused. He didn’t even bother to read the details.
The nurse lingered, her gaze flickering toward Jungkook who stood a few steps away, hands buried in his pockets, his broad frame leaned casually against the wall. She seemed almost hesitant, as if expecting him to check or take over.
But Jungkook didn’t move. He didn’t even look at her. His eyes were locked elsewhere on the faint crack of light slipping out from under the door. On the boy lying inside. On Taehyung, whose shoulders trembled every now and then despite his efforts to appear composed.
The nurse, sensing the silent command in his stillness, bowed slightly and left.
Moments stretched heavy and long.
Then, finally, the door opened.
The doctor stepped out, removing his gloves with a tired sigh. His gaze softened when he saw Taehyung.
Taehyung jumped to his feet, eyes wide. “How is he?” His voice cracked, desperation spilling through every word.
The doctor gave a small nod. “We’ve stabilized him. He should regain consciousness within an hour or so. There’s nothing to worry about anymore.”
Taehyung’s chest heaved as relief flooded him. He bowed his head low, words tumbling out. “Thank you. And… I’m sorry for before. I—” His voice broke. He took a shaky breath. “I shouldn’t have lashed out like that.”
The doctor shook his head, offering a reassuring smile. “I can understand. You were scared. Any parent in your place would’ve reacted the same way.”
Taehyung’s lips pressed together tightly, his eyes dropping. The knot in his chest eased, but shame still burned faintly in his veins.
Behind him, Jungkook remained quiet, his gaze sharp. He hadn’t spoken once, hadn’t moved but the silence around him was deafening, as though the entire corridor existed only to hold his presence.
Taehyung then waited for Gyubin to wake up, his leg bouncing faintly before he forced it still. The sterile smell of the hospital clung to his lungs, making every breath heavier than the last.
The cold tiles beneath his feet grounded him, but barely.
Then, out of nowhere, a shadow fell across him.
A hand extended into his line of vision, holding out a bottle of water.
Taehyung got startled before he even looked up. His lashes lifted slowly, meeting Jungkook’s gaze. The CEO stood over him like an immovable statue.
Taehyung’s throat bobbed. He looked away, pretending he hadn’t seen, but the next moment fingers caught his chin. His face was held firmly, jaw forced open as the cool rim of the bottle pressed against his lips.
His eyes widened.
“Drink,” Jungkook ordered, voice like tempered steel.
The command settled heavy in the air. Taehyung hesitated, lips clamped shut for the briefest second before the bottle was tilted, water threatening to spill, leaving him no choice.
Cool liquid rushed into his mouth, too much, too sudden. His throat worked furiously, gulp after gulp echoing in his ears. His lashes trembled, his breath caught, but his gaze sharp, desperate, unwilling remained locked on Jungkook’s.
“Don't test my patience.” Jungkook murmured, tilting the bottle higher.
The warning was enough.
Helpless, Taehyung swallowed silently, the cool liquid rushing down his throat, his pride burning hotter than any flame.
And just when he thought it was over, Jungkook pulled the bottle away only to raise it to his own lips.
Their eyes did not break.
Jungkook drank from the same bottle, his Adam’s apple shifting with every swallow, gaze fixed on the younger as if the act was more intimate than a kiss.
Taehyung felt heat crawl across his skin, his throat tightening, as though Jungkook had stolen more than just a drink.
He turned away sharply, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, desperate to sever the connection that left his insides twisting.
The cap clicked shut. Jungkook tossed the bottle into the trash, the hollow clatter echoing like punctuation in the silent corridor. Then, with all the calm in the world, he lowered himself into the chair beside Taehyung.
Taehyung shifted instantly, his body instinctively trying to put space between them. But then....
A heavy palm landed on his thigh.
He froze.
The warmth seeped through fabric, grounding him, yet burning him at the same time. His pulse thudded violently in his ears. He didn’t dare move, didn’t dare breathe too loud. His hands curled into fists in his lap, nails biting crescents into his skin.
“Stay.” Jungkook said quietly, not looking at him, as if the order were a casual aside.
Taehyung’s lips parted soundlessly but he didn't resist anymore.
Jungkook leaned back in his chair, as if Taehyung’s silence and tension were nothing more than expected outcomes.
His thumb pressed the slightest fraction deeper into Taehyung’s thigh, not a caress, not quite pain just enough pressure to remind him who held the reins.
The seconds dragged.
Taehyung swallowed, the sound loud in his own ears. His eyes flickered toward the doors, toward the hope of escape, toward his son. Anything but the weight beside him. But even without looking, he felt Jungkook’s presence like a shadow curling around his skin.
And when Taehyung finally gathered the courage to move, to shift even an inch Jungkook’s fingers tightened.
The message was clear.
You're not going anywhere.
.
.
.
The nurse’s voice cut through the stale corridor like a small, bright bell. “Mr. Jeon, he’s conscious now.”
Taehyung didn’t register the motion of his body at first; he only felt the word conscious land in his chest and flood him with a sudden, irrational hope.
He rose so quickly the chair scraped and his knees protested, fingers fumbling at the door handle as if the act of opening it could hurry the world along.
When he stepped into the room, Gyubin looked smaller than he had imaginedl rubbing the sleep from his eyes, blankets pooled around his legs. The boy’s face was raw at the edges, but the little smile he offered as Taehyung appeared made something in Taehyung’s chest unclench.
“Appa,” Gyubin said in a voice that still held the fragile wobble of someone who’d been very frightened.
Taehyung crossed the few paces between them in three hurried steps and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling his son close until the child’s head tucked into his shoulder.
He breathed him in cinnamon and the faint antiseptic tang of the hospital and let the sound of Gyubin’s small, steadying heartbeat slow the rhythm clawing at his own ribs.
“Are you okay?” Taehyung asked, because the words needed saying out loud to be true.
Gyubin nodded against him. “My head doesn’t hurt so much, Appa. I’m okay.” He blinked up at Taehyung, eyes still glossy.
Taehyung pressed his forehead to his son’s crown. For a second he could only murmur, “I’m here. I’m right here.”
The doctor adjusted his glasses nervously, trying to avoid the weight of the CEO’s gaze.
But Jungkook walked forward, closing the distance with slow, deliberate steps. His expression was calm, his tone quieter than the hum of the air conditioner yet it chilled the doctor’s blood more than a shout ever could.
“You won’t be prescribing anything again.”
The doctor blinked, confused. “M–Mr. Jeon, I—”
“Your license is already revoked,” Jungkook cut in smoothly, his gaze sharp and unblinking. “I spoke to the board while you were scrambling inside. By morning, you won’t be allowed to touch a single patient chart.”
The man’s face drained of color. “What? That’s not possible, I—”
Jungkook stepped closer, towering, his tone still quiet but final. “Possible? It’s already done. You nearly killed a kid under my roof. Do you know what that means?” He let the words hang, then added with icy precision, “You’re done. Leave.”
The doctor’s lips trembled, eyes darting down the hall as if searching for escape. But Jungkook’s stare pinned him in place until he stumbled backward, bowing shakily before rushing off.
Jungkook stood by the door, hands crossed, his posture rigid as ever, but his eyes softened slightly as they fell on Gyubin.
Taehyung was crouched beside his son, adjusting his small jacket and smoothing down the collar, his movements precise but gentle.
The boy’s sleepy eyes flicked between the two men, unaware of the unspoken tension.
“The patient can go home now,” the nurse said, and Taehyung’s shoulders eased slightly.
Jungkook walked towards them as he stepped closer to Gyubin. Taehyung instinctively moved aside, giving him space, though his eyes never left the CEO.
Gyubin blinked up at Jungkook with hesitant trust, his small hands wringing the hem of his jacket. Slowly, Jungkook extended his own, larger hands toward the boy. "Come on," he said.
There was no pressure, no force just a silent invitation. Gyubin glanced at Taehyung, seeking reassurance, and then placed his tiny hands carefully in Jungkook’s.
The CEO lifted him effortlessly, his movements calm, almost protective. Gyubin’s head rested lightly against Jungkook’s shoulder, and for a brief moment, the world outside the stress, the fear, the past arguments faded.
Taehyung froze for a heartbeat, staring at the gentle scene, his heart racing with conflicting emotions.
Taehyung followed silently, careful to match Jungkook’s pace but not interfere. He glanced down at his son’s face, relaxed and peaceful in the CEO’s arms. The way Jungkook adjusted the boy slightly on his shoulder, the subtle care in his hold, these were things Taehyung had never imagined from him.
As they walked toward the car, Gyubin nuzzled closer to Jungkook, and the CEO’s arm shifted around him instinctively, protective yet unspoken.
The car door opened, and Jungkook eased Gyubin into the back seat first, securing him safely. Taehyung followed, their eyes meeting for a fleeting second before Taehyung looked away.
Jungkook sat behind the wheel, the low hum of the engine filling the car as he drove them back to the mansion. His eyes flicked to the rearview mirror repeatedly, catching Taehyung adjusting Gyubin’s beanie, the boy’s small hands fidgeting as he settled against his father.
Taehyung felt those piercing, unrelenting eyes on him but didn’t dare meet them. He leaned back, closing his eyes for a moment, letting the silence stretch between them like a taut string.
The city lights flickered across Jungkook’s face, harsh shadows softening in places Taehyung wasn’t used to seeing. Every so often, the CEO’s gaze lingered in the mirror but beneath it Taehyung felt it, the intensity of that stare.
The car came to a halt. Jungkook pressed the brakes, and Taehyung’s eyes fluttered open. He stepped out, gently holding Gyubin’s hand, guiding him softly toward the mansion. Behind them, Jungkook parked smoothly and followed, silent as a shadow.
Taehyung reached his bedroom door, fingers brushing the handle when a foot slid between the frame.
He froze, looking up to see Jungkook’s hand holding the door effortlessly open. The CEO stepped inside with quiet authority, his presence filling the room without a word.
Taehyung exhaled, surrendering silently. There was no point in trying to force Jungkook out.... the man was impossibly stubborn.
“Appa… don’t be sad. I’m fine now,” Gyubin said softly, trying to show strength, but his eyes betrayed the lingering tiredness.
Taehyung’s chest tightened. “Yeah, very strong,” he said playfully, offering him a sip of water. Gyubin drank carefully, leaning into his father for reassurance.
“Don’t scare Appa like that again,” Taehyung murmured, cupping his son’s soft cheeks in both hands. Gyubin pressed closer, wrapping his arms around Taehyung’s stomach, his little face buried in the warmth of him. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
Taehyung smiled gently, laying his son down on the bed, smoothing the blanket over him. Gyubin’s eyes drifted toward Jungkook, and they softened. The CEO didn’t smile, didn’t move, but his quiet presence made Gyubin’s shoulders relax.
“Sleep,” Jungkook said quietly, his voice calm yet commanding, as he stepped beside Taehyung. Gyubin nodded, a soft yawn escaping him.
“He’s my son,” Taehyung said under his breath, his voice low, sharp as he glanced at Jungkook.
“I'm aware.” Jungkook replied, his tone equally low and measured, turning smoothly to sit in the armchair opposite the bed. His posture relaxed, but his eyes never left them, observant and possessive.
Taehyung climbed onto the bed, sitting beside Gyubin, feeling the weight of the moment pressing gently against him. He watched Jungkook, and then lowered himself, letting the warmth of the room
Gyubin’s small hand found Taehyung’s as he settled, and Jungkook leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, eyes on them both. The room fell silent but comfortable, a fragile truce of sorts.
Taehyung gave one last glance at Jungkook, the man who infuriated and confused him, and finally closed his eyes, letting exhaustion and the fleeting sense of peace take him.
The night stretched on, quiet yet charged with unspoken ownership and tentative trust, a rare warmth spreading in the cold corridors of the mansion.
.
.
.
Taehyung drifted in and out of sleep that night, his nerves refusing to let him rest fully. Every time his eyes fluttered open, he found Jungkook there. Sometimes seated in the armchair, scrolling through his phone in silence, his expression sharp
Sometimes standing by the window, as though even he couldn’t decide what to do with the restless energy inside him. And sometimes checking on Gyubin.
Each time their eyes met across the dimly lit room, Taehyung’s heart stuttered, and he quickly looked away, pretending to rub at his own eyes.
It was 5 a.m when Taehyung finally stirred again, the weight of drowsiness still heavy on him. Rubbing his eyes, he slipped out of bed and padded toward the washroom, walking half-asleep. The light inside spilled out faintly from beneath the door. He pushed it open.
And froze.
Jungkook stood there, tall frame relaxed as he was about to unzip his pants. The casualness of it made Taehyung’s eyes widen.
“What the heck—” Taehyung blurted, blinking rapidly, suddenly wide awake.
Jungkook looked up, unbothered, his expression cool and indifferent. His hands stilled on the zipper. “What?” he asked flatly, as though Taehyung was the intruder.
“Can’t you close the door?” Taehyung hissed, his voice sharp with embarrassment.
Jungkook’s gaze lingered on him for a moment steady, piercing before he dropped it back to the task at hand, continuing what he was doing as if Taehyung hadn’t spoken.
Taehyung’s jaw dropped. His face burned.
He spun around, muttering furiously, “Shameless man,” before stepping out and yanking the door closed behind him.
He leaned against the wall outside, running a hand over his heated face, heart hammering in his chest. He waited there, still half flustered, still half angry, until the door clicked open.
Caught off guard, Taehyung stumbled forward but quickly steadied himself. Jungkook stood in the doorway, gaze steady.
For a moment, neither spoke. Then Jungkook stepped closer, his presence swallowing the space between them. Taehyung’s hand tightened around the doorknob behind him.
“It’s not like you haven’t seen everything.” Jungkook whispered, his voice low and edged with quiet amusement, though his expression didn’t shift. His eyes glinted, dark and deliberate.
Taehyung’s breath hitched, his throat dry. “Y-you’re such a pervert,” he spat out, though his voice wavered.
Something flickered in Jungkook’s gaze mockery, challenge, something before he stepped back just as smoothly as he had approached. Without another word, he returned to the armchair, sinking into it with the same cold composure as before, as though nothing had happened.
Taehyung stood frozen, pulse racing, cheeks burning. He finally pushed into the washroom, slamming the door shut behind him. His reflection in the mirror stared back, wide-eyed and flustered. He shook his head furiously.
“I can't with him.” he muttered again under his breath, though the image of Jungkook’s calm, glinting eyes refused to leave his mind.
After a while, Taehyung finally stepped out of the washroom, still rubbing his damp hands against his pajama pants.
His heart hadn’t calmed yet, not fully not after what had just happened. The corridor light cast long shadows across the floor, spilling into the room, and for a brief second, he hesitated by the doorframe.
Jungkook was there.
The CEO sat in the armchair, head tilted back, eyes closed. His posture was deceptively relaxed, one arm draped on the armrest, the other resting against his chest as if he had drifted into sleep but Taehyung wasn’t fooled. The man never really let his guard down. Not fully.
Taehyung’s throat went dry. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to walk past him. His steps were soft, almost soundless, but still, every creak of the wooden floor made him tense, worried Jungkook would open his eyes again and pin him down with that heavy, unshakable gaze.
He reached the bed, slipped under the blanket, and pulled it up to his chin. Gyubin was still sleeping soundly, his little breaths warm against Taehyung’s arm. Taehyung wrapped himself protectively around him, but his own eyes refused to close.
Instead, they wandered back just slightly, just for a moment.
Jungkook looked… different like this. The sharpness gone, the shadows across his features softening the usual harsh lines.
The bloodthirsty CEO who had threatened a doctor only hours ago… the same man who had pressed a gun to someone’s head… looked almost human, almost tired, almost breakable.