64
Third Person Pov
The CEO disappeared for a week after that incident... an official business trip, according to the reports. But Seokjin knew better. Jungkook wasn’t working. He was isolating. Or rather… staying close in a way that made no logical sense.
He had retreated to his other apartment the very one where Taehyung had once stayed.
Seokjin didn’t know what that made Jungkook anymore.
A monster who couldn’t stay without hurting him…
or a man who had realized too late that hurting Taehyung was the only language he ever learned to keep him close.
Taehyung, meanwhile, was healing painfully, silently.
His speech had improved a little. He stuttered less.
But the tremors never fully left his fingers.
When a loud sound echoed in the hallway, his shoulders would jerk up, breath hitching, eyes searching for escape.
The doctor called it PTSD... a simple, clinical term for a kind of terror that didn’t let him sleep with the lights off.
He spent most of his time inside his room. Sometimes curled up, hands gripping the sheets to ground himself. Sometimes staring at the window, eyes unfocused, like he was trying to remember where the world ended and his fear began.
But healing was never linear.
Because even as he feared Jungkook’s footsteps… a part of him listened for them.
Even as the memories made him shake… something inside him longed for those same moments. Longing because deep in the foggy corners of his mind, he had seen something in Jungkook’s eyes that night. Something behind the sharpness. Something behind the cruelty.
Desperation. Desperation to keep him close. Desperation to hear his voice.
His memory might be fragmented but not erased. He remembered Jungkook’s voice the commands, the punishments like a shadow cast too deeply into his bones.
But he also remembered the warmth of a hand on his waist that wasn’t meant to be gentle, yet lingered a second too long.
He remembered that kiss. He remembered those intimate moments when he lost all of his control. He remembered the way his heart had betrayed him pounding as though his body had recognized something his mind couldn’t name.
And he hated that. Hated how his heart raced whenever a figure passed by his door.
Hated that every creak of the hallway could make him whisper:
“Mr.Jeon…?”
Hated that when it wasn’t him… disappointment pricked his heart before relief could arrive.
Taehyung sat quietly near the window that afternoon, fingers pressed to the faint mark on his neck where Jungkook’s lips had been, a reminder that fear and desire could coexist in the same trembling skin.
He closed his eyes.
And he waited... for something he was terrified of wanting. For someone he thought he should never see again.
For footsteps he both prayed for… and prayed against.
Because no matter how much he tried to forget… Jungkook was a wound that never stopped bleeding.
.
.
.
The CEO sat in the VIP lounge of a private club, the kind of room drenched in luxury where powerful men pretended to enjoy life while stabbing deals into each other’s backs.
A low hum of bass trembled beneath the marble flooring, but Jungkook barely heard it.
The whiskey in his glass glowed amber under the dim light, and he downed it like water.
He wasn’t a man who went out. Everything in his life was business, precision, control.
Yet here he was surrounded by his business partners, their voices blurring into a useless drone about stocks and exports and some deal in France. He tuned them out, breath steady, expression detached.
His gaze drifted lazily toward the dance floor.
Women and men moved under neon lights like they had nothing to lose. Perfume, and alcohol... a haze of life he never allowed himself to feel.
Then his gaze stilled.
Pink.
Not just any pink... Taehyung’s shade of pink. The soft one that made him look delicate enough to break yet tempting enough to sin.
Jungkook blinked, hard. But the image didn’t vanish.
There... not ten feet away stood Taehyung.
Pink shirt. Soft hair brushing his eyes. Lips parted like he’d been searching for someone… searching for him.
Jungkook’s fingers tightened around the crystal glass. His jaw clenched. This was… impossible.
He breathed out slowly and looked again.
Taehyung was moving. Toward him. Each step unhurried, confident, arms loose at his sides, eyes only on Jungkook.
Jungkook’s heartbeat was suddenly too loud.
Taehyung reached the table, slipped past the whispering businessmen like they were transparent… and then...
He was straddling Jungkook’s lap, knees on either side of him, hands resting on his shoulders as if the position was the most natural thing in the world.
Jungkook didn’t move. His hands found Taehyung’s waist on instinct, fingers curling into the fabric of that pale pink shirt.
His voice came out softer than he expected, as though speaking too loud might break the moment:
“What are you doing here?”
Taehyung leaned in, cheek settling against Jungkook’s chest, breath ghosting warmly through the fabric of his shirt.
“I… I was missing you.”
The words were barely a whisper. But they hit Jungkook like a punch to the ribs.
His back slowly eased into the couch. His eyes fell shut.
A moment, just one moment where he allowed himself to hold what he couldn’t have because in this illusion, Taehyung wasn’t scared of him.
Taehyung wanted him.
But then...
“Mr. Jeon?”
Jungkook’s eyes snapped open.
His lap was empty. His hands gripped nothing but air.
The room looked the same as before business partners sitting stiffly, confusion flickering in their eyes. No pink shirt. No fragile boy trembling or clinging.
Just reality. A sharp, hateful reality.
One of the men chuckled awkwardly.
“We should head out now. Our wives must be waiting. Can’t leave them for too long, you know how it is.”
Jungkook stared straight ahead, his expression returning to that dead, cold mask as the hallucination shattered like cheap glass.
He gave a single nod.
They filed out one by one, offering polite goodbyes to a man who didn’t bother replying.
Soon, the door clicked shut. And Jungkook remained seated alone in a room far too quiet for comfort.
His fingers lifted to his chest, right where Taehyung’s head had rested in his illusion. The warmth was gone. Yet his chest still felt scorched.
Jungkook exhaled once--hard and tipped the glass back, swallowing the last burn of whiskey like it could erase the ache pressing into his ribs. It didn’t.
He stood. Tall. Unshaken. A man who refused to allow his knees to buckle even if his heart was collapsing.
His blazer hung over the chair, and he snatched it up with a fluid movement flicking the collar straight as though polishing away the moment of weakness he had just succumbed to.
One hand dragged through his hair, pushing back the frustration clinging to him like smoke. L
He stepped out of the VIP lounge.
The dim neon hallway met him perfume, voices and lights too loud for his throbbing head. A woman, clearly emboldened by alcohol and the unmissable aura of money radiating off him, drifted close. She smiled, fingers reaching to touch his arm.
Her nails grazed the fabric...
And Jungkook shoved her. Hard.
She hit the floor with a startled gasp, heels scattering. The music drowned her tiny sound of pain.
People around froze, eyes widening, but no one dared intervene.
Jungkook stood over her, eyes dark and hollow... the kind of gaze that warned that survival depended on silence.
His voice didn’t rise. It was a quiet, lethal blade. “Don’t ever try that again.”
She stared up at him, wide-eyed, trembling, more shocked by the brutality than the words themselves.
Jungkook didn’t spare another second.
He turned and walked away... blazer thrown over his shoulder, steps cruelly calm leaving behind a mess of perfume, fear, and an audience too scared to breathe wrong.
He didn’t look back.
Because looking back would mean acknowledging the ghost that still sat in his lap, whispered in his ear, and haunted every breath.
Taehyung.
The night was cold colder than usual like the city was punishing him with every breeze.
Jungkook’s footsteps were heavy as he walked away from the club, his mind spinning with alcohol and memories he tried to drown. He loosened the top buttons of his shirt, pulling in a sharp breath that refused to calm the restlessness inside his chest.
The VIP room’s noise still screamed inside his head.
Taehyung’s voice.
Taehyung’s touch.
Taehyung’s fear.
He hated it. He missed it.
He hated that he missed it.
His eyes burned. His fists ached with the desire to break something... someone. Maybe himself.
Then… a soft light flickered in his peripheral vision.
A flower shop, small, warm, tucked away behind the chaos. Blossoms in buckets outside, their scent reaching him before he even realized he was walking toward it.
“Flowers,” he muttered.
A soft laugh left the florist. “Well, yes but what kind? For whom?”
Jungkook’s eyes scanned the shop again.
White lilies—too much like funerals.
Red roses—too cliché.
Orchids—too perfect.
Nothing seemed right for the boy he wanted to possess and protect and destroy and worship all at once.
“I don’t know,” he said, irritation leaking into his voice. “Just give me anything.”
The florist shook his head with wisdom that came from years of watching people fall in love and break into pieces.
“Flowers have meaning,” he replied. “If they’re for someone precious, tell me what they’re like. The flowers will choose themselves.”
Jungkook went still.
The guard by the door shifted, confused because Jeon Jungkook didn’t describe people. He ordered them.
But his throat moved as he swallowed.
And without warning...his walls cracked.
“…he’s fragile,” he started, voice low, staring at the flowers like they were memories. “Too fragile.”
The florist nodded quietly, letting him speak.
“He’s soft. His voice is soft. He’s always… careful.” He blinked, eyes unfocused.. lost somewhere far from the shop.
“He doesn’t smile often. But when he does... you forget everything ugly in the world.”
The florist’s hand slowed over a rose.
“And his eyes…” Jungkook breathed out, jaw tensing..“They’re kind. Kind to everyone. Except me.” His fingers twitched. “His eyes fear me.”
Something inside him trembled, not anger, not annoyance something worse. Something fragile.
“And he smells like…” Jungkook’s words slowed, like he was reliving it.
“Like something between Heaven and Earth. Like warmth. Like something I should never touch but always want to ruin.”
The florist stared at him, surprised at the poetry hidden in brutality.
He selected flowers carefully:
Pink peonies--healing, innocence
Soft red roses-- desire laced with longing
White ranunculus-- a love that grows even through pain
Baby’s breath-- fragile but persistent
He wrapped them like they were meant for royalty.
When he handed the bouquet to Jungkook, the contrast looked almost idiotic. Power holding tenderness.
“How much?” Jungkook asked, trying to rebuild his composure.
“No price,” the florist said softly.
Jungkook frowned, offended. “Everything has a price.”
The florist smiled with gentle certainty.
“Not love. At least… real love doesn’t.”
Jungkook froze.
Love?
His heart slammed against his ribs like it wanted out. Like it wanted to run perhaps back to Taehyung. He looked down at the bouquet. Soft. Beautiful. Breakable.
The florist’s voice cut gently through the moment:
“He must be very cherished to move a man like you.”
Jungkook stared, his heartbeat picking up the pace, so subtle only his own sins noticed.
Cherished? No.
He didn’t cherish Taehyung. He consumed him.
Jungkook turned abruptly, shoulders stiff, bouquet held with surprising care.
As he stepped back into the cold night, the city seemed quieter. Lonelier. The flowers trembled in the breeze protected only by his steady, dangerous grip.
His guards hurried behind him.
But for the first time in years… Jungkook wasn’t sure if he was running from something or toward it.
Jungkook reached his car, the cold night air still clinging to him like guilt. He stood there for a second bouquet in hand before he stepped inside the backseat of the luxury vehicle.
His guards exchanged a quick glance.
One of them, the eldest turned back toward the shop.
Inside, the florist was still watching the door, confusion and a strange ache lingering in his expression.
A soft knock on the counter brought him back. The guard placed a folded envelope on the wooden surface.
“For the flowers,” he said.
The florist blinked. “I told him--no charge—”
The guard cut him off smoothly. “Mr. Jeon doesn’t like taking anything for free.”
His tone carried a respect that bordered on fear, the kind you only develop after witnessing too many sides of a man.
The florist hesitated as he looked down at the envelope. It was thick too heavy for just payment. Probably ten times the price.
He looked up again, curiosity pushing through caution. “Is he always like that?” he asked quietly.
The guard paused.
His eyes drifted toward the tinted car where Jungkook was seated inside, head bowed, bouquet pressed lightly against his chest as if it carried a heartbeat he wanted to hear again.
“…He was never like that.” the guard finally said.
The florist frowned.
Without another word, the guard turned and walked away.
The bell chimed behind him, leaving the florist alone in his tiny shop standing under soft lights, holding an envelope filled with money he never asked for.
He looked at the flowers still left on display, delicate things that symbolized love, forgiveness, and hope and wondered: What kind of love makes a man that powerful look so powerless?
Outside, Jungkook’s car drove off into the silence of the night. Flowers resting in his lap. A storm brewing in his chest.
And somewhere far away a boy who smelled like something between heaven and earth… still didn’t know he was loved.
.
.
.
The Jeon mansion was silent unnervingly so.
But as soon as the grand doors opened, the air shifted. Guards straightened in rigid bows, barely daring to breathe as the master of the house strode in. His blazer was still on, flowers still in his hand, soft colors clashing with the cold sharpness he carried everywhere he went.
Jungkook didn’t look at anyone. Didn’t acknowledge how the world seemed to hold its breath around him.
His steps echoed confident, heavy, dangerous. Until suddenly… they changed direction.
Almost like they had a mind of their own. They led him to a door he hadn’t opened in a week. A door he claimed he didn’t care about.
But his fingers curled around the handle with such care… like even metal could bruise. He pushed it open. His chest froze.
Gyubin was curled up on the bed, hugging his bunny plushie close, tiny breaths soft and steady. Daisy, the kitten, lay on the rug below, paws twitching in dreams.
And Taehyung…
Taehyung slept on the edge of the bed, a bandage still taped to his head, lashes resting peacefully against pale cheeks. His lips parted just slightly, a small puff of air leaving them with every exhale.
Jungkook stepped forward, silent as a shadow, the flowers trembling slightly in his grip. Then he just… stared. This close, he could see the faint freckles across Taehyung’s nose. The softness of his hair falling over his eyes.
His heart thudded, slow… then faster… then wild.
Taehyung’s eyelids fluttered.
His brows knit in confusion sensing a presence. A danger.
His eyes opened and fear took over instantly.
Jungkook’s palm covered his mouth before sound could escape. “Don’t,” he whispered.
Taehyung’s breath stuttered under his hand, his gaze trembling, searching Jungkook’s face. For what? Safety? Threat?
Daisy woke, tiny meow, blinking sleepily. She padded toward the tall figure hovering over Taehyung.
Jungkook stared down at the kitten like she was a puzzle he wasn’t trained to solve.
Then... she licked his shoe. Taehyung’s heart lurched. Jungkook remained… still.
Daisy rubbed against his ankle and sat obediently, like she trusted the darkness dressed as a man.
“Don’t make a sound,” Jungkook murmured again, against Taehyung’s cheek.
Before Taehyung understood anything…
Strong arms slid under his back and knees. Jungkook lifted him as if he weighed nothing.
Taehyung gasped silently, fingers gripping Jungkook’s shirt with instinctive desperation, fear and familiarity colliding painfully in his chest.
His mind screamed but his heart whispered. Where have you been…?
But he said nothing.
Jungkook carried him out of the room, steps silent as if stealing something precious.
Behind them, Daisy climbed onto the bed, curling protectively beside Gyubin again.
The door closed with a soft click.
And Jungkook walked deeper into the mansion’s darkness carrying the only light he ever wanted to keep.
Taehyung didn’t dare breathe too loud.
Jungkook’s steps were slow, steady every muscle in his body tense like he was holding back a storm as he carried Taehyung up the stairs. Taehyung kept his eyes on Jungkook’s throat, afraid to look any higher… afraid of what he would find in those eyes.
But he could feel it. The weight of Jungkook’s stare down at him overwhelming his nerves.
The door to Jungkook’s room opened with a nudge of his foot. The scent inside was dark cologne and silence.
He lowered Taehyung onto the bed gently, too gently for the man known to be cruel.
Taehyung instantly scooted back, putting the pillows between them like a shield. His gaze flickered to Jungkook’s hand, to the bouquet he still held.
Jungkook hesitated for the first time in his life.
Then, as if the moment embarrassed him, he extended the flowers carelessly, like he regretted ever picking them.
Taehyung stared, throat tight. He didn’t understand. He didn’t want to understand.
“No…” He shook his head lightly. “I don’t want them.”
Something shifted in Jungkook.
The softness, gone in a blink.
His eyes darkened, a shadow settling over his features. He took one slow step forward, and Taehyung froze… his heart pounding so loud he feared Jungkook could hear it.
Jungkook leaned down.
Not too close but close enough that Taehyung felt cornered, trapped in the heat of his presence. His gaze dragged slowly from Taehyung’s eyes… to his lips… then back again.
Without a word, Jungkook plucked a single red rose from the bouquet.
Thorns snapped.
Then his fingers brushed Taehyung’s hair soft, lingering as he tucked the rose behind Taehyung’s ear. The touch sent an involuntary shiver dancing down Taehyung’s spine.
Jungkook stepped back just enough to admire what he’d done.
Tilting his head… studying him like a dangerous art.
Taehyung swallowed... once, twice breath trapped somewhere between fear and something he couldn’t name.
Jungkook’s voice dropped... low, raw, almost confused at his own words.
“Why…” he began, the rest caught in his throat, struggling. Then, barely above a whisper: “Why are you so beautiful?”
Taehyung blinked, stunned not flattered, not flustered just scared.
Jungkook placed the bouquet gently in Taehyung’s lap. Too gently.
The flowers looked wrong there, too soft, too pure, too scared just like the boy holding them. Taehyung stared at them, fingertips hovering before barely brushing the softness. He flinched at how delicate they felt like they would bruise if he touched too hard.
Jungkook watched every second of that hesitation.
Taehyung’s throat bobbed, eyes lifting slowly... timidly to Jungkook’s.
“Where… where were you?” he whispered.
Jungkook’s fingers twitched, the question caught him off guard. Those wide, curious eyes… he hated how they made his heart race.
“Did you miss me?” Jungkook asked, voice deceptively casual.
Taehyung instantly shook his head. “No,” he murmured, staring back at the flowers as if they could protect him.
A smirk faint, dangerous tugged at Jungkook’s lips.
Lies.
He reached out, hooking a finger beneath Taehyung’s chin, lifting his face again forcing him to meet his eyes. His thumb brushed over Taehyung’s bottom lip, soft but claiming.
“I was on a business trip,” he said, tone flat.
Lies again.
Taehyung looked aside though his face was still trapped in Jungkook’s hold. His grip tightened on the bouquet, knuckles turning white.
“I bought something for you,” Jungkook said suddenly, voice smooth… almost proud.
Taehyung blinked, startled.
Jungkook slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.
When he revealed what was inside, Taehyung’s breath stuttered.
A ring. Blue like the midnight sky holding the moon hostage. A Blue Moon ring. Precious, rare and chosen.
Taehyung’s gaze was locked on the gem.
Jungkook’s was locked on Taehyung.
“This…” Taehyung breathed.
Jungkook removed the ring from the box no hesitation and held it in front of Taehyung like an unspoken demand.
“Why are you–you giving me this?” Taehyung’s voice wavered.
Jungkook didn’t blink.
“Because we are married,” he said simply. As if that alone justified the world.
Taehyung’s heart slammed against his chest. “But… are we in love?” he whispered terrified of the answer, but needing it.
Silence.
Jungkook stared at him eyes dark as if the question offended him.
Then words dropped from his lips like a verdict: “It doesn’t matter.”
Taehyung felt something inside him freeze.
Jungkook leaned closer. “What matters,” Jungkook murmured, voice turning dangerously soft, “is that you’re mine.”
And then his fingers claamped around Taehyung’s wrist. His touch is far too familiar for someone who keeps claiming he feels nothing.
The ring glints between them like a threat.
But Taehyung instantly stands up and snatches his hand away, clutching it behind him as if his palm is the last piece of himself he refuses to surrender.
“I can’t wear it from you,” he whispers, trembling voice wrapped in stubborn courage.
Jungkook’s jaw tightens. Fury tries to mask the brief flicker of something raw fear? hurt? that flashes in his eyes.
“Wear it.” Not a request but a command.
Taehyung shakes his head, stepping backward until the bed hits his knees. The distance isn’t enough. It never is.
“Don’t make this complicated,” Jungkook warns, stepping forward.
His hand darts out again, fingers digging, forceful but before the ring can kiss his skin, Taehyung rasps out.
“One condition.”
Jungkook stills. His grip loosens, but his stare sharpens dark curiosity laced with irritation.
Taehyung tries to breathe. It shakes. Everything shakes. But his words don’t.
“You won’t touch me after this.You’ll pretend I-I don’t exist. This ring—” he swallows, “—means distance.”
His eyes glisten, but his voice still swings the blade. “Put it on and l-leave me alone.”
Jungkook’s lip twitches, mocking, cruel. “And why would I agree to that?”
Taehyung’s breath stutters. Then he lifts his chin, anger finally burning louder than fear: “Because if--if you don’t, I’ll throw that thing away.”
That lands.
Jungkook doesn’t speak. Doesn’t frown. Doesn’t blink. He simply pulls the ring back and slips it into his pocket.
The rejection hits like a punch Taehyung wasn’t braced for. A bitter smile curved his lips. “Of course… a man blinded by lust could never understand love.”
And that stops Jungkook’s heartbeat for one impossible second.
His eyes roar with something sharp.
“I don’t love you,” he replies, voice dead, practiced.
Taehyung nods, tears threatening but refusing to fall.
“You once said a ring means love.”
His voice shivers. “…and now–now look at you.”
Silence. Heavy. Suffocating. The kind that hurts more than screaming.
Taehyung breathes through the ache cutting his ribs apart:
“You claim you don’t care, yet you can’t let go of touching me. And you want me to wear your ring? I will never wear anything from you because you deserve nothing from me.” Taehyung spat, eyes holding rage.
The blade slices deeper.
Then the final wound... soft, but lethal:
“and if I ever had a choice." His voice breaks, but his eyes burn. “... I would choose anyone over you. A stranger even."
Jungkook doesn’t move. He just listens quietly, his expression carved from ice falling apart. Piece by piece.
Taehyung exhales like he’s finally free…
Yet his fingers tremble so badly, the flowers in his hand quiver like they’re grieving too with the man who bought them.
Taehyung turned away, bouquet trembling ready to leave before the tightness in his chest broke him completely. His fingers were curled too tight around the stems, knuckles pale, like he was clinging to the last fraction of dignity he possessed.
But the words he spat lingered in the air like poison.
I’d choose a stranger over you.
They echoed through the room, bouncing off the walls, digging themselves into Jungkook’s chest like a cruel blade twisted slow.
For a moment, Jungkook didn’t move. Didn’t blink but then his eyes darkened. His breath turned feral, a wildfire set loose in a heartbeat.
Before Taehyung could take a third step Jungkook’s hand clamped around his wrist and yanked.
The force was violent enough to spin Taehyung back around, a gasp ripping through him as his back slammed into the wall. The impact rattled a frame beside him.
The bouquet slipped from his fingers, falling in slow, tragic motion, roses crushing under their feet, scattering like spilled innocence… or love that had been butchered long before tonight.
Jungkook pinned Taehyung’s hand above his head grip merciless, bruising thumb pressing against a pulse that raced frantically beneath his skin.
His chest pressed close, radiating heat and alcohol and rage... a dangerous cocktail that made Taehyung’s every instinct scream run, even though his body couldn’t move.
“A stranger?” he hissed, voice dripping with something dangerous. “You’d choose a stranger over me?”
His breath ghosted against Taehyung’s cheek... hot, whiskey-tainted and dizzying.
Taehyung’s pulse hammered painfully. He glared back, but fear trembled behind the surface, pooling in the corners of his lashes.
“Yes,” Taehyung forced out, venomous. “Anyone would be better than—”
Jungkook’s jaw flexed... sharp, rigid. His eyes were wild disbelief tangled with fury.
“So you’d cheat on me?” he growled. “So easily?”
The words punched through the space between them ugly and possessive. Taehyung’s throat bobbed, but he didn’t break eye contact. His chin lifted stubborn, reckless.
He wanted Jungkook to feel it. The same humiliation. The same helpless ache.
“Yes,” he whispered then louder, daring him to hurt. “I’d cheat on you. Not once every chance I get. I would—”
He didn’t get to finish.
Jungkook’s self-control snapped like brittle glass. He crashed forward slamming his mouth over Taehyung’s.
It wasn’t a kiss. It was a warning.
Teeth clashed, lips scraped... the metallic taste of pain spread across Taehyung’s tongue. A whimper small, wounded escaped him, swallowed by Jungkook’s mouth.
Jungkook’s free hand cupped Taehyung’s jaw, not gently, fingers digging in like he needed to feel bone to assure himself Taehyung was really here and other hand gripped his hair... bruising grip.
Jungkook growled the word against his lips.. low and feral: “Don’t.”
Another bite harder... sharp pain blossomed, and Taehyung’s breath stuttered, his eyes clouding with darkness.
“You’re mine,” Jungkook rasped, breath hot and trembling with rage. “You don’t get to say those things. You don’t get to even think of someone else.”
Taehyung’s voice was muffled against Jungkook’s mouth, trembling, fragile:
“You don’t own me.”
That… hit him.
Jungkook jerked his head back, gripping his hair just an inch...just enough to look.
Drunk anger... yes. But beneath it…
Fear. Real fear.
The kind that strips a person bare.
It flickered in his eyes before he could hide it.
“Don’t ever talk about other men,” he warned, voice raw and cracking at the edges. “Don’t ever threaten to replace me.”
Taehyung’s chest rose and fell in frantic rhythm, trapped under Jungkook’s body ribs caged by arms that once held him like he was precious.
“And why?” he whispered, pain and challenge mixing like venom in his voice. “Because you’d die without control?”
For half a second, Jungkook’s breathing broke.
His fingers loosened on Taehyung’s jaw not fully just enough to reveal the fracture in his armor.
Then Jungkook leaned forward foreheads pressed.
"I’d die without you.”
The confession ripped out of him before he could stop it, raw, exposed, humiliating in its sincerity.
And Jungkook himself froze. As if he heard his own words too loudly. As if they betrayed him.
Taehyung’s lips parted... shocked because that was the first truth Jungkook had given him in months.
But Jungkook shut it down fast walls slamming back up in panic. His body remained too close, grip still brutal, but his eyes had gone cold again, like he wished he could swallow his heart back whole.
The room fell still suffocating.
Flowers lay crushed beneath them… wilting slowly… just like whatever hope might’ve lived in this marriage.
And Taehyung breath trembling couldn’t help but wonder if Jungkook meant that truth… or if it was just the alcohol talking.
And then before Taehyung could say anything else or breathe or think
Jungkook crashed his lips against him again.
It was harsher than before.
Desperate. Like a drowning man forcing someone else to breathe for him.
Taehyung shoved hard.. palms slamming against Jungkook’s chest.
But Jungkook looked like a man who would die if he didn’t get it... this closeness, this kiss, this proof Taehyung still existed underneath all the silent hatred.
Taehyung’s fists flew, hitting anywhere he could reach; shoulders, collarbones, jaw... panic turning into violence.
“Stop fighting it,” Jungkook whispered, voice breaking, breath shaky against Taehyung’s mouth as their lips remained tangled.
Taehyung’s tears fell, hot tracks down a face twisted in betrayal.
He bit down at Jungkook's lips sharp punishing. His nails raked Jungkook’s neck, wrists, anything he could tear into.
But Jungkook didn’t stop.
He only deepened the kiss, mouth claiming, consuming, desperate.
“You are mine…” he breathed between the kiss… “And I’m yours,” he completed a confession carved out of drunken truth and months of denial.
Jungkook’s hands slid down, gripping Taehyung’s waist pulling him flush, hips pressing tight against him as if to merge their anger, their heartbreak, their need into one dangerous thing.
Taehyung’s pulse spiked terror and longing colliding.
No. Not again.
He planted both hands on Jungkook’s chest and pushed with everything he had.
Jungkook stumbled back, breath knocked out of him surprise flickering in his dark eyes.
Taehyung’s glare was a storm.
A storm that had been building for months.
He bent down grabbed the forgotten bouquet, the symbol of love that never existed and tore it apart with shaking hands. Leaves ripped apart, stems snapped falling like shattered promises onto the floor.
Taehyung shoved the destroyed bouquet into Jungkook’s chest... roses crumpling against his expensive suit.
Then he snapped.
He grabbed the nearest vase.
It smashed at Jungkook’s feet, glass exploding across the tiles, water splashing up Jungkook’s pants.
Jungkook didn't stop him, he just watched.
But Taehyung wasn’t done. Another vase. This one thrown at the dressing table.
The mirror shattered, splintered reflections scattering Jungkook’s figure into jagged pieces.
"My life... life is fucked up."
Taehyung was no longer crying, he was seething. Every month of humiliation.
Every night of loneliness.
Every hope crushed.
He turned and broke everything he could grab... porcelain, glass, anything that could bleed on the floor.
The room filled with the violent song of destruction.
Finally Taehyung grabbed Jungkook by the collar yanking him forward until their noses nearly touched.
His eyes were bloodshot blazing reflecting every drop of Jungkook’s drunken rage right back at him.
And he screamed voice shattering like the glass beneath their feet:
“YOU FUCKER. How dare you kiss me like that?!!"
Taehyung’s chest rose and fell in harsh, fractured breaths, his fingers still fisted in Jungkook’s collar. His knuckles were white from the force of his grip.
He gritted his teeth so hard his jaw trembled, fury tightening every muscle in his face. His tears made his vision blur, but not enough to hide the man standing in front of him.
Jungkook’s face, in contrast, remained eerily calm.
No flinch. No fear. No apology.
Just… stillness.
He stared right into Taehyung’s wide, desperate eyes, the same eyes he once avoided because they made him feel too much. Now he stared like he was searching for something he lost long ago.
Taehyung’s voice cracked and then broke entirely. “I’m so done with you.”
His shoulders shook. The weight of everything he’d been holding in slammed down at once.
“You’re a nightmare for everyone.”
The words hit like knives. Sharp. Final.
Jungkook’s throat moved, a visible swallow but his expression didn’t change. His fingers twitched at his sides, betraying a shake he couldn’t hide.
“Why are you even alive?”
Hatred. Pure, unfiltered.
So vicious Taehyung wouldn’t wish it on anyone. But he meant it tonight.
He meant every syllable.
He did on his husband.
Jungkook’s hands fisted... the first visible crack.
The room fell dead silent except for Taehyung’s trembling breaths and the faint drip of water from the shattered vases on the floor.
“You said you’d die without me yes?” Taehyung whispered , voice low, trembling, cruel.
Jungkook blinked, once... slow.
That drunken fear returned, naked in his eyes.
Taehyung yanked him even closer by the collar, their noses almost touching, breaths colliding in harsh, uneven bursts.
“Then die.”
The whisper struck harder than any scream could have. It was cold. Final. A death sentence disguised as a soft exhale.
Taehyung suddenly let go... Jungkook’s collar slipping from his fingers like he was tossing away everything they ever were.
His gaze fell on the bed.
A rose. Fresh. Beautiful.
Placed behind Taehyung’s ear by Jungkook just moments ago, romantic in a twisted way.
Taehyung grabbed it. Ripped it apart. The softness fluttered to the ground defeated, like hearts torn without mercy.
He threw the shredded flower against Jungkook’s chest, they slid down the suit, sticking to the damp from broken vases.
Taehyung looked at him one last time.
A hateful glance. One that burned straight through Jungkook’s bones.
Then he turned. And he left.
The door slammed shut hard enough for the walls to tremble.
Leaving the CEO standing alone in the chaos he created. Eyes blank.
Expression blank. But for the first time… he felt something inside him break.
Not loud. Not dramatic.
Just a soft, devastating crack. …like the sound of a heart finally realizing
it lost the only person it was beating for.
Jungkook stood there, alone with his shattered thoughts... until a sound cut through the silence.
A thud.
A low, dull noise that made Jungkook’s heart lurch into his throat.
His head snapped toward the hallway instincts overpowering the alcohol drowning his veins. He took a step… then another… until he reached the doorway.
And his world dropped out from under him.
Taehyung lay on the floor... curled into himself, palms pressed against his skull as if trying to hold it together. Soft whimpers bled through his lips, the kind that tore something vital in Jungkook’s chest.
His head buzzing, breath shallow, eyes blinking against a darkness threatening to swallow him whole.
Jungkook walked forward and lifted Taehyung into his arms without a second thought. Taehyung’s head fell against his shoulder, his voice a broken murmur:
“My h-head hurts,” Taehyung whimpered.
“I know.” Jungkook managed, voice rough, steadying.
He carried him quickly, gripping him like he’d slip away if he loosened even a fraction. He pushed open the door to the guest room sterile, organized… untouched by their chaos.
A clean, cold space.
Jungkook gently laid Taehyung on the bed. The younger shut his eyes immediately, hands still clutching his head as pain twisted his features.
A nurse hurried in alerted by the commotion. She moved with practiced calm, placing a cold compress on Taehyung’s forehead, giving him medication, checking his breathing. Jungkook stood off to the side, hands shoved deep in his pockets... restless.
Every second felt like punishment.
Why are you even alive?
Taehyung’s words echoed viciously in Jungkook’s mind. But strangely… they didn’t burn.
What burned was the sight of Taehyung in pain.
Jungkook was a man who never blinked at suffering. hell, he sometimes enjoyed watching people crumble.
But this… he couldn’t tolerate.
Taehyung’s breathing slowly steadied. His body relaxed against the pillows. The nurse bowed quietly and left, shutting the door behind her with a soft click.
Silence returned.
Jungkook exhaled shaky as he began unbuttoning his shirt. He slipped it off, removed his belt, then his watch — all tossed aside with restless movements.
He didn’t think. He didn’t hesitate.
He just climbed onto the bed over Taehyung bracing his weight on his arms as he hovered above him.
Taehyung’s tired eyes fluttered open exhausted, drained, done.
“What do you want now,” Taehyung let out, voice hoarse, barely audible.
Jungkook’s jaw softened —the anger gone, replaced by something rawer.
“Nothing.” His response was low, almost gentle.
He leaned in... pressing a soft kiss to Taehyung’s forehead. A kiss that didn’t demand. Didn’t punish. Didn’t hurt.
Taehyung swallowed, throat tight.
Jungkook’s lips brushed his temple next lingering. Then his jaw... slow, as if afraid he'd shatter him again.
Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the heat of the moment when Jungkook said.
“I… I’m sorry."
The words trembled.
Taehyung’s breath hitched a small sound, full of disbelief and pain and something far too fragile.
The apology felt like a secret Jungkook wasn’t supposed to say out loud but did anyway, because he couldn’t hold it in anymore.
The room stayed still. Their hearts did not.
His eyes softened, the storm dimming into something unbearably vulnerable.
“How do I deserve you…” Jungkook breathed, voice barely more than air.
The question wasn’t meant for Taehyung to answer. It sounded like Jungkook himself didn’t believe he deserved to.
His forehead pressed gently against Taehyung’s.
In longing. In something he had been too proud to admit until now.
His fingers slid into Taehyung’s hair slow, trembling like he expected
Taehyung to push him away any second.
Taehyung didn’t Not because he forgave him. But because he was too tired to fight anymore.
Jungkook’s voice came again, lower, almost broken: “Every time I look at you… I feel terrified.”
His eyes glimmered in the low light not with rage, but with something dangerously close to love.
Something he didn’t know how to hold
without crushing it.
Taehyung’s lips parted, a breath caught between anger and heartbreak unable to understand why this man could ruin him and still sound ruined himself.
“I’ve seen people shattered by loving someone,” he whispered, kissing near Taehyung’s mouth like he was afraid to go further. “And I think I’m starting to understand why... "
"Because now it’s happening to me.”
That was all Taehyung heard before slumber pulled him in.
---‐-??----