Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It’s not that Jungkook hates people. He just doesn’t like being in the middle of them. Groups are loud, introductions are messy, and too many eyes on him at once make his skin feel too tight. He prefers quiet one-on-one conversations, slow starts, and the corner of the room where he can think without being seen too easily.

So when Taehyung showed up on his second day of university, sunshine incarnate in a half-buttoned shirt and checkered pants, waving like they were old friends, Jungkook seriously considered pretending he was someone else.

“Jungkookie!” Taehyung called across the campus courtyard like it wasn’t embarrassing. Like Jungkook’s ears weren’t already pink.

They’d never met before, but Jungkook knew who he was. His mom had told him the night before, like it was the most casual thing in the world.

“Taehyung will find you,” she’d said. “I asked his mother to tell him to look out for you. He’s in his final year there.”

Which was, of course, horrifying. Like someone had filed a help desk ticket for him: lost and socially underdeveloped.

And yet… Taehyung had found him. Had marched right up, eyes bright, grin easy, and said, “You must be Jungkook. My mom gave me strict orders to adopt you immediately.”

Jungkook had wanted the ground to open and swallow him whole.

“She said you were shy,” Taehyung had added, like he was sharing a secret. “Which is fine. I’m not. I’ve got enough charm for the both of us.”

And then he’d winked.

It should’ve been unbearable. But instead of hating him, Jungkook had laughed, awkward and unexpected, and somehow ended up following Taehyung to the campus café like it was the most natural thing in the world.

That was two months ago.

Now it’s the beginning of November. Midterms loom in the distance like a dark joke no one’s laughing at. The trees are turning burnt gold, and campus smells like wet leaves and overpriced coffee. And Taehyung, somehow, impossibly, is still here.

They’re in Taehyung’s dorm room, lying on their backs on his bed, legs dangling off the edge. Taehyung’s latest design project is taped to the wall in crooked rows, and a half-eaten banana is somehow balanced on top of a water bottle on the desk.

“I think my professor wants me dead,” Taehyung says dramatically, waving a pencil like it’s a sword. “Or worse, wants me to design in Comic Sans .”

Jungkook snorts. “Maybe he just wants you to turn in your assignments on time.”

Taehyung gasps, offended. “Et tu, Jungkook?”​​

“I’m just saying, maybe don’t start your projects the night before.”

“It’s called creative pressure,” Taehyung huffs. “Ever heard of adrenaline? Chaos? Genius?”

“You misspelled procrastination,” Jungkook says, smiling before he can stop himself.

Taehyung laughs, proud and unbothered.

Jungkook looks away, heart doing that weird little flutter again.

They’ve been inseparable since that first week. Somehow, ramen runs and movie nights turned into routines. Somehow, Jungkook let himself get used to it.

It hadn’t been easy at first. Jungkook was quiet, not because he didn’t trust people, but because he never quite knew what to say. Conversations felt like narrow bridges; one wrong word and he’d fall right through. He turned down more invites than he accepted, kept to the edges of group chats, and hesitated in doorways more often than he stepped through them.

But Taehyung never made him feel like he was missing something.

He just kept showing up, patient, bright, effortlessly warm. He asked Jungkook along for everything, even when at first he didn’t say yes. He waited, joked, teased, looped him into conversations without making it obvious.

And slowly, something shifted. Jungkook started saying yes. To lunch after class. To weekend movie nights. To study sessions that turned into midnight snack runs.

And Taehyung, loud, fearless, already more than halfway through his university life, stayed. He didn’t rush Jungkook. Didn’t treat his quiet like a wall. Just filled the space with easy noise until Jungkook wanted to speak again.

Taehyung is older, two years, already in his third and final year. There’s a deadline built into everything he says and everything they do together. Jungkook tries not to think about it too hard.

He doesn’t know when the crush started.

Maybe it was the way Taehyung always saves him a seat. Or how he never pushes when Jungkook goes quiet in groups. Maybe it’s the way he says “Jungkookie” like it’s something soft. Like it matters.

Jungkook hasn’t told anyone here yet, not at university.

His family knows. His one friend from back home knows. He even dated a boy in his final year of high school, quiet and shy like him, the kind of first love you keep tucked away like a secret photograph.

But he hasn’t said anything here. Not because he’s ashamed, just… because it’s new. And fragile. And some truths feel too easy to bruise.

And with Taehyung... he didn’t want to risk the gravity shifting. Not yet.

Taehyung, who’s not just kind and loud, but beautiful, too, in the kind of way that’s hard not to look at. That boxy grin. That sharp jaw. The way his eyes crease when he laughs. His long fingers, always moving, spinning pencils, tapping rhythms, sketching things Jungkook doesn’t understand but still likes to watch.

He knows he’ll tell him. Eventually. Because he doesn’t believe in staying quiet forever. But not yet.

Taehyung turns his head, eyes bright. “You’re quiet. That’s dangerous. Are you judging me?”

“No,” Jungkook says quickly. “Just… tired.”

Taehyung hums. “Wanna nap here? I should probably sleep a little too, before I deal with all this work.”

They settle in next to each other, and Jungkook closes his eyes. His heart’s still awake, still fluttering. But his body relaxes, with Taehyung just inches away, everything feels light.

Chapter Text

The cafeteria is loud.

Voices bounce off the tiled walls, chairs screech across the floor, trays clatter. Jungkook sits tucked into the corner of a too small table, his tray of rice and kimchi barely touched. He pokes at it with his chopsticks, half listening as Jimin recounts something about his photography class and a classmate he’s clearly in love with.

“I’m not in love,” Jimin insists, kicking Yoongi under the table. “I just think she’s… interesting.”

“You think everyone is interesting,” Yoongi deadpans, sipping his iced Americano even though it’s freezing outside.

Jungkook watches them, a little apart from the conversation. They’re easy with each other, quick with jokes and comebacks, the kind of rhythm that only comes from years of knowing someone.

Taehyung throws his head back and laughs, dramatic and warm. “Jimin has a crush on literally every third person he meets. Jungkook, beware. He might fall for you next.”

Jungkook freezes. It’s clearly a joke, but the words still twist something in his chest, reminding him of the truth he hasn’t said out loud. The secret still sitting between his ribs.

Jimin only grins. “Sorry, Kook. You’re cute, but not my type.”

“Tragic,” Taehyung sighs, reaching out to squish Jungkook’s cheek in a ridiculous baby voice. “Guess we’ll just have to find someone else to flirt with him.”

Yoongi raises a brow. “You’re assuming he even wants that.”

They’re being nice. Friendly. The way Taehyung’s friends always are. But Jungkook feels like a foreigner in the room. Not unwelcome, just… not fluent in the way they move, speak, belong.

It’s not their fault. Jungkook just opens up slowly. Maybe too slowly for this kind of closeness.

Back in high school, he’d been quiet too, the kid who got good grades, kept his head down, and mostly hung out with his one best friend, Haneul, who liked video games and hated math. It was fine, it was safe.

Then there was Sejin. Jungkook doesn’t think about him too often, not because it hurts, but because it feels small now. Soft around the edges. A good thing, folded away.

Sejin had kissed him once behind the art building after physics class, eyes nervous and hands colder than they should have been in spring. And something had clicked. Jungkook had kissed a girl once before that, messy and awkward and wrong in a way he couldn’t name at the time. But with Sejin, it was different. It was clear. Like someone turned the light on.

It hadn’t lasted long, a few months of late night texts and shared earbuds and letting their hands wander just enough to feel real. The break up wasn’t dramatic. Just time pulling them in different directions. University applications. Futures that didn’t match.

But it had mattered. Sejin had helped him figure himself out. Had been the first person to really see him, even if it was just for a little while.

Still, even then, even with Sejin, Jungkook never got used to crowds. Never liked loud parties or being the center of attention. Being surrounded by people made him feel like he was always one step behind, like everyone else had been handed a script he never got.

So now, when Jimin leans forward, eyes bright and voice casual, and says, “You’re coming, right?”, meaning the party, the drinks, the noise, Jungkook feels his stomach twist.

Taehyung jumps in before he can answer. “He never comes. I’ve tried, believe me.”

“I don’t,” Jungkook starts, then hesitates. He hates lying. But he hates explaining more. “It’s just not really my thing,” he finishes.

He doesn’t say: I went once. I watched Taehyung kiss a girl in a kitchen while I stood outside with a cup of soda I didn’t touch and a heartbeat that wouldn’t calm down for hours.

He doesn’t say: I didn’t like how it felt. I didn’t like who I was in that moment.

Jimin shrugs, not unkindly. “No pressure. Just saying, we’re fun when we’re drunk.”

Taehyung laughs again. “Speak for yourself. I’m fun all the time.”

Jungkook looks down at his tray. Pretends to eat. Hopes the conversation moves on.

Later, they’re back in Taehyung’s room, sprawled on the floor with sketchbooks and tangled phone chargers between them. A jazz playlist hums from the speaker. The window’s open a crack, letting in cold air and the scent of rain-soaked leaves.

Jungkook’s back is pressed to the floor, hoodie bunched up under his shoulders. He’s staring at the ceiling, counting the cracks in the plaster, his limbs heavy with that soft kind of tired that only comes after a long day and good company.

It’s calm. Easy. The kind of quiet he only ever finds around Taehyung.

“So,” Taehyung says, without looking up from his sketchbook. “You’re really not coming to the party?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Not feeling it.”

“You never feel it,” Taehyung grins, pencil twirling between his fingers. “You’re missing out. Dancing, snacks, questionable beer, people making out in every corner. What’s not to love?”

Jungkook tries to smile. “Sounds like a nightmare.”

“But you could meet someone,” Taehyung presses, eyes sliding to him. “Make a move. I feel like you’ve been hiding all your crushes from me.”

Jungkook’s mouth goes dry. “I don’t,”

“No one?” Taehyung cuts in. “Come on, you must have had a girlfriend in high school. You’re too pretty not to.”

Jungkook huffs a nervous laugh. “I, uh. I mean. Sort of.”

Taehyung perks up. “Sort of? Okay, tell me everything. What kind of girls do you go for?”

And there it is. Jungkook’s heart starts beating too fast. His palms feel clammy against the floor. The words are right there, sitting heavy behind his teeth, but they won’t move.

So he lies.

“I guess… I don’t know. Quiet girls?” His voice sounds weirdly high, like it doesn’t belong to him. “Nice ones.”

Taehyung hums. “Wow. Revolutionary taste, Jeon. You’ve really narrowed it down.”

Jungkook tries to laugh again, but it doesn’t come out right. He stares at the ceiling like it might offer him a way out.

“You ever kissed someone?” Taehyung asks, teasing now. “Or are you a first-year and a romantic virgin?”

Jungkook lets out a thin laugh and rolls onto his side, facing away. “I dated someone in high school,” he says eventually. “Briefly.”

“The quiet girl?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

Taehyung snorts. “Man, I need to get you out more. You need to find your type. Someone who makes your brain go static. That’s how you know it’s real.”

Jungkook’s throat is tight. He wants to say something, he knows he has to. The weight of it is pressing down on him more than the lies are now. It’s not that he thinks Taehyung is the kind of person who’d make a cruel face or say something awful. He doesn’t. Not for a second.

But what if something breaks anyway? What if Taehyung laughs a little less easily? Looks at him a little differently? What if the closeness between them, the shared silences, the casual touches, the late-night comfort, shifts into something cautious?

He doesn’t want to lose this. Doesn’t want to lose him. But the silence is stretching. And it feels like lying now, just to stay in it.

He turns his head slowly. Taehyung is doodling something on the edge of his paper again, a rabbit this time, with floppy ears and a lopsided smile.

“Taehyung.”

“Hm?”

Jungkook hesitates. His heart is loud in his chest. The words press against his ribs like they’re asking permission.

“I don’t like girls.”

Taehyung’s pencil stops mid-line.

“I like guys,” Jungkook says, quiet but clear.

Stillness. No shock, no protest. Just a silence so complete it makes Jungkook feel transparent. And for a second, just a second, he feels a wave of relief. Like something heavy has finally been set down. Like the room just got a fraction bigger. But almost immediately, the fear follows.

Because Taehyung hasn’t said anything yet. And Jungkook’s starting to feel every second of the silence, too quiet, too careful, like something delicate just shifted in the air.

He’s not sure what he’s waiting for, a joke, a breath, the look that will tell him whether or not this changes everything. “I didn’t mean to lie,” he adds, because the silence is starting to burn. “I just… didn’t know how to say it. And I didn’t want it to change anything.”

Taehyung is still quiet. Jungkook glances sideways. Taehyung’s head is bent slightly forward, chin tilted down, his pencil forgotten at his side. A loose strand of hair has fallen into his eyes, casting a soft shadow across his cheek.

Then he moves, just a bit. Shifts the pencil between his fingers like he just remembered it’s there.

“No,” he says. “No, it doesn’t. It doesn’t change anything.” He hesitates, then adds, “You didn’t have to lie.”

His voice is soft. But there’s something uncertain underneath it, something slightly off-balance.

And then, almost immediately, like he also can't stand the silence: “I mean, not that I, I’m not weird about it or anything. I just didn’t know. Not that I needed to know. Or that it matters. It’s just, you know, new info. I process out loud, sorry.”

Jungkook blinks.

Taehyung rubs the back of his neck, cheeks a little red. “I still owe you ramen. You’re still tutoring me in JavaScript hell. We’re still doing tteokbokki on Friday. That’s the law.”

He exhales sharply, like he’s trying to shake something off. “So unless you suddenly hate spicy food or me, which - fair, then nothing’s changing. Okay?”

Jungkook lets out a slow breath. “Yeah. Okay.”

And he does feel relieved. But there’s something else under it too, something quieter, harder to name. Like Taehyung’s playing a part, keeping things light on purpose. Like he’s almost himself, but not quite.

Was this weird for Taehyung too?

Taehyung finally glances at him. “Okay,” he echoes. Then softer: “Thanks for telling me.”

They don’t bring it up again.

Jungkook had left soon after that night, heart still beating somewhere in his throat, skin warm with a kind of panic that didn’t quite feel like fear. Taehyung had let him go with a small, quiet “See you tomorrow,” like they hadn’t just cracked something open between them.

And now it’s tomorrow. Or technically, two days later.

They’re walking across campus on a Wednesday afternoon, and Taehyung is acting like nothing ever happened.

“Don’t let me forget I have to print my final sketchbook by Friday,” he says, bumping their shoulders together. “I swear to God, if I fail because I miss another deadline, I’m going to set the department printer on fire.”

Jungkook manages a small laugh. “You say that every week.”

“Yeah, but this time I mean it.” Taehyung grins, and before Jungkook can react, he’s reaching out and plucking the iced coffee out of his hand. “By the way, this is mine now. I’ve decided.”

Jungkook blinks. “What? You don’t even like this flavor.”

Taehyung shrugs. “Yeah, well. Today I do. That’s how taste works.”

He says it so casually, like nothing is strange. Like the air between them hasn’t shifted.

And maybe it hasn’t.

Maybe Jungkook’s the only one who noticed the crack, the pause that stretched just a little too long, the stillness too sharp, the flicker in Taehyung’s voice right before he caught it and covered it with forced optimism and too much rambling.

Now, Taehyung is bright. Bouncy. Kind of louder than usual. And more touchy too. His hand lingers longer on Jungkook’s shoulder. His arm brushes Jungkook’s when they sit side by side on the bench outside the design building. He ruffles Jungkook’s hair in a way he never used to, fingers curling just a bit too softly near the back of his neck.

It’s nothing. It’s too much. Jungkook doesn’t know.

Maybe Taehyung’s trying to prove that things haven’t changed. That he isn’t weird about it. That he’s still his same warm, chaotic self, just with a new label tucked somewhere in his mental filing cabinet.

And maybe it would be enough.

It would be enough, if Jungkook didn’t have this stupid, impossible crush. If every little touch didn’t light something up under his ribs. If Taehyung's closeness didn’t feel more dangerous now that Jungkook knows exactly what he wants and exactly what he can’t have.

He forces a smile when Taehyung hooks their pinkies together in the middle of some dumb joke. He laughs along when Taehyung leans against him during a story and doesn’t move away.

And he tells himself it’s fine. This is fine. Everything’s fine.

Chapter Text

It starts with a casual invitation.

They run into each other outside the student center, Jungkook seated on the low concrete ledge by the bike racks, half-focused on his phone, earbuds in. The afternoon sun catches in Taehyung’s hair as he walks up, sketchbook tucked under one arm and iced tea in the other.

He doesn’t sit right away, just drops his bag and settles next to Jungkook like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“There’s a party Friday,” Taehyung says, nudging Jungkook’s knee with his own. “You should come.”

Jungkook glances up. “Mmm… probably not.”

“Shocking,” Taehyung says dryly. “Truly stunned by this turn of events.”

Jungkook huffs a laugh.

Then, more casually, like it’s not the real reason he brought it up: “They’re screening some student work. Jimin’s showing some photos. And… they’re playing my short film.”

Jungkook blinks. “Wait, really? Yours?”

Taehyung shrugs like it’s nothing. “Yeah. Just five minutes. No big deal.”

But it is. Jungkook remembers the all-nighters, the broken USB drive, the way Taehyung nearly tore his laptop in half during that color-grading meltdown. He remembers sitting on Taehyung’s floor while he edited, asking if he could see the final cut, and Taehyung saying, “Not yet. I want it to be in a real setting first.”

And now it is.

“That’s so cool,” Jungkook says, unable to hide the smile pulling at his mouth. “You finally finished it.”

Taehyung glances at him, a flicker of something softer in his expression. “It’s scheduled for ten. If you’re not busy.”

“I want to see it,” Jungkook says immediately. “I mean it. I’ve been waiting.”

Taehyung’s brows lift, a little surprised, a little pleased. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool,” Taehyung says. And then, quieter, “It’ll be nice if you’re there.”

The party is already loud when they arrive, bass in the floorboards, bodies everywhere, the scent of cheap beer and cologne and something burning in the kitchen. Taehyung sticks close at first. Wraps his fingers loosely around Jungkook’s wrist as they move through the crowd. Points out people he knows. Which is, apparently, everyone. Jungkook smiles politely. Says hi. Nods. Laughs when he’s supposed to. They grab drinks, Jungkook sticks to soda, and settle near the back wall where the lights are softer. For a moment, it feels okay.

Then someone calls Taehyung’s name from across the room, and Taehyung lights up like he’s been waiting for an excuse.

“I’ll be right back,” he says, already halfway gone. “Don’t go too far.”

Jungkook doesn’t. He checks his phone at 20:45. The film’s supposed to play at 22:00. He still has time.

The balcony is quieter. He needed the air.

The thump of the bass fades to a heartbeat, and the breeze against his face cools his skin. Lights flicker in the distance across the river. Voices come and go. People step outside to smoke or flirt or escape the noise.

He leans against the railing and breathes.

And then someone steps beside him.

“Hey,” a voice says. “You’re Jungkook, right?”

Jungkook turns. The boy is tall, bright-eyed, wearing a loose sweater and a lopsided smile.

“Hoseok,” he offers, seeing the hesitation. “We’re in the same digital systems lecture. Tuesday mornings? You always sit at the back, near the window.”

Jungkook’s shoulders relax. “Right. Yeah, I remember you now.”

Hoseok smiles. “Didn’t expect to see another one of us here.”

“Us?”

“You know, code nerds who hate parties.”

Jungkook lets out a quiet laugh. “Fair.”

Hoseok nods toward the railing. “Mind if I hang out here for a bit?”

“Please,” Jungkook says. “It’s less suffocating out here.”

They start talking. It’s Hoseok who takes the lead at first, light conversation, easy questions, but somehow Jungkook finds himself answering without hesitation. There’s something about Hoseok’s presence that makes it easy. So they keep going. They talk about classes, complain about professors who never upload lecture slides on time, joke about how the cafeteria coffee tastes like regret.

Hoseok is quick with a laugh, never too loud, never pushy. Just... present. And Jungkook realizes, somewhere between a shared groan over their buggy group project software and a half-serious debate about the worst Marvel movie, that this feeling is rare.

It took him weeks to feel this relaxed around his one friend in high school. Even longer with Taehyung. But with Hoseok, it’s like he skipped the awkward middle part entirely. Like something in him simply recognized safe, and let go.

At some point, Hoseok mentions the film screenings in passing. Says he thinks a few have already played, but he wasn’t really paying attention.

When Jungkook finally checks his phone again, it’s 21:47.

“They were supposed to start at ten,” he murmurs, mostly to himself.

Hoseok leans over to glance at the screen. “Something you wanted to catch?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook says. “My friend’s showing a short film.”

“Oh, you should go! See you in class”

Jungkook gives him a grateful nod. And it surprises him, how much he means it. There’s nothing romantic in it. Nothing flirty or electric. Just the quiet relief of finding someone he could talk to without tripping over his own thoughts. Someone who didn’t make him feel like an outsider in his own skin. It’s easy. Unexpected. And for the first time that evening, Jungkook doesn’t feel like he’s just passing time until he can go home. 

He slips back inside a few minutes later, weaving through the crowd, eyes scanning for a familiar face.

He’s warm from the conversation with Hoseok, from the comfort of it. And somewhere deep in his chest, he feels happy, happy about making a new friend on his own, excited about the film, about seeing Taehyung again, about sharing this moment that Taehyung worked so hard for.

He finds Taehyung in the kitchen, surrounded by people, one hand curled around a drink, animated as he tells a story,  his voice rising, fingers gesturing, eyes bright.

Jungkook touches his arm. “Hey, isn’t your film starting soon?”

Taehyung turns, and for a second his smile falters. Just the briefest flicker, like he wasn’t expecting to see Jungkook, or maybe didn’t want to. "What?"

“Your short film. It starts soon”

Taehyung shrugs, his shoulders tight. “Oh. They showed it earlier. Just finished, actually...” 

Jungkook blinks. “Wait… what?”

“They changed the order or something. I dunno.” He sips from his cup, eyes flicking away like he’s bored with the conversation already.

“You didn’t come find me?”

Taehyung’s jaw tenses, just slightly, before he exhales through his nose. “I didn’t know where you were,” he says, voice sharper than usual. “Sorry, I didn’t realize I was on Jungkook-tracking duty.”

The words land hard. A little too cold. A little too fast.

“I was on the balcony,” Jungkook says, confused. “You could’ve texted me. You knew I wanted to see it.”

Taehyung doesn’t answer right away. Jungkook watches him, heart stuttering. Something feels off, not just the words, but the way Taehyung is holding himself now. Arms crossed. Avoiding eye contact. Like he’s balancing something sharp on his tongue.

And then Taehyung shifts, eyes flicking sideways. “You looked busy. With that guy.”

Jungkook’s stomach drops. “Hoseok?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung says, shrugging again, but this one looks forced, tight around the edges. “You two were talking for like an hour. I figured you’d made other plans.”

There’s a flicker of something in his expression, not anger exactly, but something guarded, something clenched. His smile has vanished. His posture is looser now, but in the way people get when they’re trying not to react.

For a moment, Jungkook can’t say anything. His thoughts are folding in on themselves too fast.

He’d been careful. He’d kept checking the time. He wanted to see Taehyung’s film, more than anything. He’d even come to this stupid party because he thought maybe, just maybe, it would matter that he was there. And now Taehyung’s looking at him like none of that counted.

Jungkook swallows. “Are you... upset or something?”

Taehyung scoffs, quick and forced. “No. Why would I be?”

He says it like it’s obvious. Like Jungkook’s imagining the tension. Like his arms aren’t still crossed and his mouth isn’t still tight. And then, just like that, he turns back toward the room, someone grabs his arm, says something too loud, and Taehyung laughs as if nothing happened. He disappears into the crowd before Jungkook can say anything else.

And Jungkook’s left there, in a room full of people, feeling like he was never really invited at all.

Taehyung disappears into the living room, drink still in hand, pulled into a wave of people and light. Jungkook doesn’t follow.

He ends up near the doorway instead, half-hidden between a coat rack and a low shelf filled with empty bottles. The music is louder here, thumping deep into his chest, but he barely hears it.

Taehyung is in the center of it all. Laughing. Dancing. His shirt half-untucked, cheeks pink from alcohol or attention or both. He moves like the music belongs to him, like he’s exactly where he’s meant to be, hands up, head thrown back, someone else’s arms looping casually around his shoulders.

He looks happy. He looks like Jungkook was never even there.

Jungkook watches from across the room, frozen in place, plastic cup forgotten in his hand. The crowd shifts and blurs around him, but all he sees is Taehyung, bright and untouchable in the center of it all. A strange tightness curls low in his stomach. He doesn’t know what he expected after that conversation in the kitchen, but it wasn’t... this.

Not Taehyung dancing like nothing happened. Not the easy laughter, not the way he leans into someone else's touch like he’s weightless.

They make eye contact a couple of times, and every time Taehyung is the one who looks away first. Fast. Too fast. Once, his smile falters just slightly, not enough for anyone else to notice, but Jungkook sees it. Like the fun drains out of his face for a second too long. Like his joy doesn’t quite survive the sight of Jungkook still standing there. And then it’s gone. He turns his head, throws his arm around someone else, tips his drink back like nothing happened.

Jungkook just stands there, watching. And suddenly it feels like he’s intruding. Like Taehyung isn’t just ignoring him, he’s annoyed he’s still here, still watching, still expecting something that was never promised.

Outside, the night is colder than it was earlier. The sky is dark and a little wet, the pavement slick beneath his sneakers. Jungkook walks home alone, his hands in his pockets and his thoughts spinning so hard they blur.

He thinks about the film. About how he checked the time. About how he told Hoseok, “They’re supposed to start at 22.00.” About how he’d been ready. He didn’t mess up. He didn’t lose track. He just… wasn’t invited.

Why didn’t Taehyung come find him?

It wasn’t like he forgot. It wasn’t like he wandered off without checking. It wasn’t like he didn’t care. He’d wanted to see the film. He told Taehyung that. And still, somehow, he’s the one left feeling like he did something wrong.

Maybe Taehyung’s right, maybe he was too busy talking to Hoseok. Maybe he was supposed to magically know the schedule changed. Maybe none of it mattered as much to Taehyung as it did to him.

But then why did it hurt so much?

He kicks a loose stone down the sidewalk. Watches it skitter out of sight. He doesn’t have an answer. Only this cold, unsettled feeling growing heavier in his chest.

Chapter Text

Taehyung doesn’t message him all weekend.

No “what’s up,” no TikToks at 2AM, no photos of his breakfast with captions like this toast is having an identity crisis. Nothing. Jungkook keeps checking his phone anyway.

Saturday morning, he types out a message twice, deletes it both times.

By Sunday, the silence starts to feel heavy in his chest, like it’s been packed in with wet sand.

Not because Taehyung’s busy, Jungkook knows he isn’t. He’s just not talking to him. And that’s what makes it worse.

He knows something’s off. That Taehyung is mad, or weird, or distant, or something, but he has no idea why.

And the more he thinks about it, the more it spins. By Sunday night, he isn’t sad anymore. He’s mad. Mad that Taehyung didn’t think to text him. Mad that he didn’t even bother to say sorry about the film. Mad that he made Jungkook feel like a problem for something he couldn’t have known.

He’d been trying. He’d gone to the party. He’d watched the time. He’d stood there, waiting, ready. And Taehyung left him out anyway.

So Monday morning, when Jungkook sees him from a distance outside the lecture hall, walking with Jimin, talking with his hands, rolling his eyes at something Yoongi said, he looks away before Taehyung can see him. Or maybe Taehyung already did. And just didn’t acknowledge him.

At lunch, Jungkook hesitates by the cafeteria doors. He spots them at a table near the back, Taehyung, Jimin, Yoongi, their trays half empty, Jimin gesturing with a fork as he tells some story. No one’s saved him a seat. Not that they were supposed to.

Still, Jungkook turns and walks out.

He ends up sitting in a side corridor with a triangle-cut sandwich and a bottle of water. He scrolls his phone. Doesn’t taste the bread. Doesn’t see Taehyung again that day.

Tuesday feels quieter.

He’s got a long morning lecture, digital systems, the kind that drags, but at least it’s one of the classes he shares with Hoseok. When Jungkook enters, Hoseok spots him right away and grins. “Knew you’d be early. You have first-period energy.” Jungkook laughs, surprised at how easy it feels.

They sit together, trading quiet comments about the slides and a professor who still doesn’t know how to unmute Zoom. Hoseok is just as friendly as he was on the balcony, maybe even more so, now that there’s no party noise between them.

After class, they linger near the vending machines. “So,” Hoseok says, unwrapping a protein bar as they walk. “How was the film?”

Jungkook slows just slightly. For a moment, he’d forgotten. The morning had felt… good. Easy. Like something normal.

But now the memory comes back fast and sharp, the missed screening, Taehyung’s voice, the way he laughed like none of it mattered.

“I didn’t see it,” Jungkook says, quieter now. “Timing got messed up.”

Hoseok winces. “Damn. Sorry, man. That sucks.”

Jungkook nods, forcing a small smile. “Yeah.”

There’s a pause, not awkward exactly, but enough for the heaviness to settle again.

And then, because he doesn’t want to go back to eating alone, because Hoseok feels safe in a way that doesn’t ask too much, “Hey, do you want to grab lunch? I’ve got a break now.”

Hoseok brightens immediately. “Yeah, totally. Let’s go.”

They find a spot at the far end of the cafeteria, not too crowded, just the steady hum of trays and low conversation. Jungkook feels himself relax a little more with each step away from his usual table.

They talk about classes, weekend plans, a TA they both have who still grades like he’s angry at the world. It’s easy. Light. At one point, Hoseok pulls out his phone to show Jungkook a photo of his dog, a ridiculous, fluffy thing in a crooked Christmas sweater.

“My girlfriend made that,” he says, laughing as he zooms in on the sleeves. “The dog hated it, obviously.”

Jungkook smiles. “She’s got a sense of justice.”

“She’s got a Pinterest board for dog outfits,” Hoseok says. “It’s terrifying.”

Jungkook laughs, genuinely, and it feels good, not explosive or dizzying, just steady. Solid.

A beat later, Hoseok glances at him and says, “You seeing anyone?”

Jungkook shakes his head. “No. I’m, uh. I’m gay, actually.”

The words come easily. No pressure behind them, no breath held waiting for a reaction. Just a simple truth.

Hoseok just nods. “Cool. That makes sense.”

Jungkook blinks. “It does?”

Hoseok grins. “I mean, only in that you give off vaguely tortured indie film protagonist energy.”

Jungkook laughs again, startled, but warm.

It’s so different from telling Taehyung. There’s no weight behind it here. No fear of shifting dynamics, of changed tones, of silence that lasts a second too long.

He never kept it a secret. His family knows. His high school friend knew. He’s always been honest about it, so why had it taken so long with Taehyung? He knows the answer, but doesn't want to think about it now..

From the corner of his eye, he catches a glimpse of Taehyung, sitting in their usual table with Jimin and Yoongi, half hidden behind a pitcher of water. Their eyes don’t meet. Taehyung doesn’t come over.

Jungkook turns back to his lunch and says something about loop optimization. Hoseok laughs again.

It’s not the kind of happiness Jungkook feels with Taehyung, bright and overwhelming, shot through with ache. This is quieter. Simpler. And maybe, right now, that’s exactly what he needs.

By Wednesday, the silence feels like part of the weather. Constant. Inevitable. They still haven’t talked. Jungkook doesn’t know if it’s a standoff or just inertia. All he knows is that he can’t seem to start anything, and Taehyung isn’t trying either.

At lunch, he’s just sat down with his tray near the window, alone again, when Jimin waves him over.

“Yah, Jungkook! Come sit with us.”

He hesitates. The table is familiar: Jimin, Yoongi, Taehyung. Two other design students Jungkook recognizes but doesn’t know well.

Taehyung doesn’t look up. Still, Jungkook stands. Walks over. Sits at the end of the bench across from Jimin, just barely part of the circle.

It’s weird.

Not loud or tense, just… off.

Jimin keeps looking between him and Taehyung like he’s trying to do math without all the variables.

Conversation moves, classes, upcoming deadlines, a broken scanner in the design lab. Jungkook mostly listens, pushing his food around with his chopsticks.

Then Jimin brings it up. “So,” he says casually. “Are you still coming this weekend?”

Jungkook blinks. “What?”

“The cabin trip? You, me, Tae, Yoongi, a couple others? I sent the link to the group chat, remember?”

Shit.

He’d completely forgotten. He hadn’t even decided if he wanted to go before things got weird, and now?

His throat feels tight. “I… don’t think I can.”

Jimin raises an eyebrow. “Still mad at Taehyung?”

Jungkook freezes. There’s a silence at the table, quick and sharp, like someone took the needle off the record. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.

“I’m not,” he starts, but it doesn’t sound convincing even to himself.

Taehyung finally speaks. His voice is light, but not neutral, there’s something tight in it, like he’s trying to make a joke and failing. “You should still come,” he says, not looking up. “Unless you’re too busy talking to someone else.”

The table goes quiet again. Jungkook feels the sting of it, not cruel, but pointed. And when he finally dares to glance over, Taehyung is already looking at him. Just for a second. Then he drops his gaze, stabbing a piece of rice with his chopsticks like it’s done something to him.

Jimin glances between them. “Okay, what is going on with you two?”

No one answers.

“I’ll… think about the trip,” Jungkook says quietly. “I’ll let you know tonight.”

Jimin doesn’t look satisfied, but he lets it drop.

The rest of lunch feels too loud, too long. Jungkook doesn’t remember what anyone says after that.

Afterward, walking down the hallway, Jungkook replays the moment over and over, the way Taehyung said it, too light to be casual, too pointed to ignore. The way he looked at him. Just for a second.

If he was mad, why didn’t he just say it? If he wasn’t, why did it feel like there was still a wall between them? He knows he’s not going on that trip. He knew it the moment Jimin brought it up. But now he doesn’t know what to do with the look Taehyung gave him. The line he threw across the table like a thread, half-joking, half-real.

That night, he tells Jimin he can’t come. Makes up something vague, a family thing, maybe. Jimin doesn’t push.

After he sends the message, Jungkook lies on his bed, phone facedown on the pillow beside him, and stares at the ceiling.

Maybe it’s okay , he tells himself. Maybe this is for the best.

He thinks about Hoseok, how easy it is to talk to him, how there are no butterflies in his stomach, no wondering if he’s being too much or not enough. No weight behind a smile. No ache when he laughs. With Hoseok, it’s just friendship.

But with Taehyung… it was never just anything. Even at the beginning, it was complicated. Laced with hope. With something softer Jungkook was always trying not to name.

So maybe this is good. Maybe it’s better to lose it now, before his feelings get worse, before he builds something in his head that was never real to begin with.

Maybe this was meant to happen.

He turns off the light and closes his eyes. It doesn’t feel any better. But at least it feels quieter.

There’s a knock at the door.

It’s Thursday evening, the sky outside a murky blue, and Jungkook is halfway through rereading the same paragraph of his algorithms textbook for the third time. His roommate’s gone for the week, visiting family in Busan, and the quiet has been both a blessing and a curse.

He’s not expecting anyone. So when he opens the door and sees Taehyung standing there, hands in his pockets, hood pulled up halfway over his curls, his brain stutters.

“Oh,” Jungkook says.

“Hey,” Taehyung says, like it’s nothing. Like he’s done this a hundred times.

Jungkook just stares for a second. “Um... hi.”

Taehyung rocks on his heels. “I heard you’re not coming on the trip.”

Jungkook nods slowly. “Yeah.”

Taehyung looks down at the floor, then back up, eyes bright in a way that doesn’t quite reach. “If it’s because of, you know... our thing, the argument or whatever, you should still come. Everyone wants you there.”

Jungkook blinks. “Our thing?”

Taehyung gives a sheepish little shrug. “Okay, okay, sorry. I was kind of a dick at the party. I didn’t mean to be weird.”

The lightness in his voice, the way he tries to wave it off, tugs at something sharp in Jungkook’s chest.

“That’s it?” he says, voice low. “That’s the apology?”

Taehyung’s smile falters. “I mean, I’m here, aren’t I?”

Jungkook crosses his arms. “You made me feel like I did something wrong. All week. And now you’re just... being casual about it?”

“I didn’t know you wanted a speech,” Taehyung says, defensive without thinking, then immediately softens. “Okay. Okay. You’re right.”

He exhales slowly, glancing around like the walls might give him courage. “At the party… I saw you. With Hoseok.”

Jungkook’s eyebrows lift. “So?”

“I don’t know,” Taehyung says, scratching lightly at his jaw, eyes flicking to the floor. “You were talking for a long time. And I guess I just… I felt weird.”

Jungkook stays quiet, watching him, confused.

Taehyung exhales, frustrated. “I’m so used to you always being with me. Like, we go to class, we eat lunch, we text at night, it just… that’s how it’s been. And then suddenly you weren’t there. You were with someone else. Laughing, talking, looking comfortable without me. And it messed with my head.”

He shakes his head, still not meeting Jungkook’s eyes. “I guess I didn’t realize how much I got used to you wanting to be around me. And when you weren’t, it threw me. I didn’t know how to handle it, so I acted like a jerk.”

Jungkook feels the tension in his chest shift, not completely gone, but looser around the edges.

He thinks about how long he spent replaying that night in his head. How many ways he’d tried to interpret Taehyung’s silence, that comment at lunch, the look he gave across the cafeteria. He’d imagined Taehyung being angry, disinterested, done.

But not this. Not someone scared of being replaced. 

It still doesn’t fully make sense to him. Taehyung has dozens of friends, people orbiting him constantly, why would one new person, one conversation on a balcony, shake him up like that?

But maybe it’s not about logic. Maybe it’s just… Taehyung being human. Messy, emotional, sometimes selfish.

And maybe that’s okay.

“I’m allowed to have other friends,” Jungkook says softly. Not as a challenge. Just the truth he needs to speak.

Taehyung finally looks up. “Of course you are. God. I didn’t mean, I was being dumb. It wasn’t fair to you. I’m really sorry.”

There’s a pause. The room feels quiet in the way it does just after a storm, like the air is still settling.

Jungkook looks at him for a long moment. “You hurt my feelings,” he says quietly.

And he hadn’t meant to say it, not like that, but it’s true, and Taehyung needs to know.

Taehyung’s face softens, eyes wide, like the words landed right where they were supposed to. “I know,” he says. “And I hate that I did.”

Jungkook looks down, picking at the edge of his sleeve. He’s not angry anymore, not really. But the ache is still there, smaller now, dulled around the edges, but still lingering.

He still doesn’t really understand Taehyung’s reaction. But more than that, he wants this weird, slightly broken thing between them to start healing. He misses their rhythm. He misses the way things felt before.

He lets out a breath. “Okay.”

Taehyung blinks. “Okay?”

Jungkook nods. “Yeah. I forgive you.”

Then Taehyung opens his arms a little. “Can I…?”

Jungkook hesitates, just a second, and then steps in. Taehyung wraps him up immediately, arms tight around his back, one hand landing between his shoulder blades and staying there like he doesn’t want to let go.

It’s not a quick hug. Not a polite one. It lingers. Longer than usual. Longer than it should.

Jungkook stands still, letting himself feel it, the warmth, the steadiness, the quiet rhythm of Taehyung’s breath against his neck. He wants to press closer, wants to bury his face in the curve of Taehyung’s shoulder, to inhale the scent of him, detergent and something soft and familiar underneath. He doesn’t. He holds himself still, fists curled lightly in the back of Taehyung’s hoodie, heart thudding too close to the surface.

And when it starts to feel like too much, like something tipping, he’s the one who pulls away. Slow. Careful. Like releasing something delicate.

Taehyung lets him go, reluctantly, hands falling back to his sides.

“Come on the trip,” he says softly. “Please?”

Jungkook shakes his head. “I can’t. Not this time. It still feels weird.”

Taehyung looks disappointed but nods. “Okay. That’s fair.”

There’s a pause. Then Jungkook adds, quieter now, “Hey... could I still see the film sometime?”

Taehyung blinks, surprised.

“I really wanted to,” Jungkook says, not quite meeting his eyes. “You know. Before everything.”

For a second, Taehyung just looks at him. Then he nods, earnest, softer than before. "Yeah. Of course. I’ll show you when I get back.”

Jungkook gives a small smile. “Okay.”

“We can do something after you get back,” he says. “Just us.”

Taehyung’s mouth quirks into something close to a smile. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

They stand there for another moment, close but not touching, until Taehyung gives a small wave and backs into the hallway. When the door clicks shut, the silence settles differently this time. Not so heavy.

They text over the weekend. Nothing heavy. No apologies, no emotional cleanup, just shared memes, a blurry photo of Taehyung holding a burnt marshmallow, and a complaint about how Yoongi somehow managed to clog the sink in a cabin with no plumbing.

It’s not back to before, not quite. But it’s… good. It feels like something mending slowly, word by word.

On Monday, they make plans to hang out. Just the two of them.

Both of their roommates are back, and Taehyung texts: “I need a break from humanity. You included, but slightly less.”
Jungkook rolls his eyes and replies: “I’ll bring snacks.”

Still, as he walks toward the dorm lounge where they agreed to meet, his stomach turns over once or twice. He’s not sure what version of Taehyung he’s walking into. He’s not sure what version of them this is now.

They sit on the floor with a bag of popcorn between them and a laptop balanced on a beanbag. The lights are dimmed low, and there’s a quiet hum from the vending machines in the hallway.

Taehyung scrolls through a few folders on his laptop and clicks one open. “Okay,” he says, a little hesitant. “So here it is. It’s dumb, but I like it.”

The movie is short, barely five minutes, and deeply ridiculous, in a way that clearly took effort. It’s about a haunted blender, a melodramatic narrator, and a heroic cat named Señor Whiskers who saves the day with a surprisingly well-animated jazz piano solo. The lighting is gorgeous. The transitions are sharp. The sound design is way better than it has any right to be.

By the three-minute mark, Jungkook is snorting. By the end, he’s wiping his eyes from laughing too hard.

Taehyung keeps sneaking glances at him, like he’s waiting for the verdict. When Jungkook finally mutters, “This is so stupid,” through a mouthful of popcorn, Taehyung’s grin spreads slow and satisfied.

“Right?” he says. “Stupid. But genius.”

They don’t queue up anything else, there is nothing else, but neither of them moves to leave. The laptop stays where it is, screen gone dark. They sit with their backs to the wall, knees bumping, the last echoes of laughter still soft in the room.

Taehyung starts talking. About the trip, the dorm chaos, how Yoongi almost set the oven on fire trying to make pizza and Jimin screamed like they were being murdered. Jungkook snorts before he can stop himself. “Of course he did.” And just like that, the air between them shifts. It’s easy again. Familiar.

By the time they stand up to leave, the lounge is half-empty, and someone in the corner is dozing off over a textbook. Taehyung stretches with a quiet groan, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay, that’s enough haunted blender cinema for one night.”

Jungkook grins. “You peaked with Señor Whiskers, honestly.”

Taehyung bumps his shoulder as they gather their things. “Shut up. He’s iconic.”

They laugh again, easy and warm, and when they part ways in the hallway, it’s with a simple, “Night, Kook,” and a soft, “See you tomorrow.” And when Jungkook walks back to his room, something in his chest feels lighter. Like things aren’t fixed, not all the way, but maybe they’re getting there.

Chapter Text

The week passes in something close to bliss. Taehyung is warm again, easy again. He texts first. Shares songs. Suggests they meet between classes just to sit and complain about the weather. And it feels like more than just normal, it feels intentional. Like Taehyung is choosing him, again and again, without needing a reason.

By Thursday, Jungkook can’t help the way his chest lightens when he thinks about him. The closeness. The almost.

Taehyung has a late design class that evening, something about expanding his short film into a bigger project. Jungkook’s on campus late too, and when his work is done, he decides to wait. Just to walk back together.

He sits outside Taehyung’s classroom, cross-legged in the hallway, hoodie sleeves tugged over his hands. The building is quiet at this hour, just the low hum of the vending machines, the occasional flicker of fluorescent lights, and the distant sound of someone’s footsteps echoing down the corridor.

Eventually, the door to the lab creaks open. A few students spill out, mid-conversation, laughing quietly as they step into the hallway. One of them forgets to shut the door completely. It swings partway, stops.

Jungkook doesn’t mean to listen. But then he hears it. His name.

A girl’s voice, curious. “Hey, you’re friends with Jungkook, right? Is he… seeing anyone?”

There’s a pause. Shuffling. Then a guy’s voice,  louder, careless, with a laugh behind it. “You mean that fag?”

Jungkook goes still. His pulse stutters. The blood in his ears roars.

Another voice follows, the same guy maybe, or someone else piling on. “My brother went to school with him. Said he was a total weirdo. Never talked to anyone. Just sat alone all the time.”

Someone laughs, hesitant, like not sure if they should.

“Seriously though,” someone says, male, biting, too close. “Taehyung, why do you even hang out with him? You one too?”

That’s when it happens. Taehyung’s voice cuts through, low and flat: “Our moms are friends. It’s just… a favor for my mom.”

Everything in Jungkook goes silent. Just a favor. Not a friend. Not his choice. Just. A. Favor.

There’s another voice, the girl again, surprised and defensive. “God, you’re such a jerks. I think he’s cool.”

But it’s already too late. Because Taehyung doesn’t say anything else. Doesn’t correct them. Doesn’t defend him.

Jungkook stands up too fast. His legs are shaking. His breath is shallow, fists clenched at his sides. He doesn’t remember leaving the hallway. Doesn’t remember the cold until it’s slicing into his cheeks.

By the time he reaches the dorm, his hands are numb. His key slips in the lock once, twice, before he gets it. The door clicks open. Inside, it’s dark. Quiet.

He sinks down onto his bed, still in his coat, still trembling. His hands press hard to his face, trying to stop the tears, trying not to fall apart, but they come anyway. He can still hear it. The word. The voice. Taehyung’s silence. Taehyung’s lie.

Just a favor.

He curls onto his side, hoodie sleeves damp where they brush his cheeks. The room is too quiet, except for the occasional distant door slam somewhere down the hall. His throat aches. His eyes burn. He can’t remember the last time he cried like this, not even after the last party.

But this is different. This isn’t a missed film. This isn’t cold shoulders or mixed signals. This feels like someone opened his ribs and pressed the bruise from the inside.

Just a favor.

His phone buzzes. The screen lights up with Taehyung’s name.

[Tae, 20:13]
class endeddd finally 🙃
wanna come over?? my roommate’s out 🍜🎥

Jungkook stares at it.

He reads it again. And again. It’s cheerful. Casual. Normal .

Like Taehyung didn’t just say he was nothing. Like he didn’t stand in a room full of laughing people and reduce their entire friendship to an obligation.

Jungkook’s fingers tremble as he types.

[Jungkook, 20:21]
not feeling great. think I’m just gonna sleep early tonight.

It takes a few seconds, and then another buzz:

[Tae, 20:21]
oh no?? you okay?
want me to bring anything?? tea?? noodles??

The tears return too fast. Jungkook tries to swallow them down. He can’t do this right now.

[Jungkook, 20:24]
no it’s okay. just tired.
let’s talk tomorrow maybe

Another pause. Then:

[Tae, 20:25]
okay. feel better, let me know if you need something, yeah?
🐰💤

Jungkook locks his phone. Turns it face-down on the floor. He curls tighter under the blanket, every muscle tight, every thought spiraling.

He should have said something. Should’ve asked why . But the idea of hearing more, of Taehyung confirming it, is too much right now.

So instead, he lies in the dark, clutching his pillow like it might keep him from shattering. And wonders how something that felt so safe just days ago could feel so cold now.

And then, after a while, a soft knock at the door. Once. Just once. Quiet, careful.

Jungkook goes still. Holds his breath like even the sound of that might give him away. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t answer.

After a moment, the silence returns, slow and complete. No second knock. No text. Just the sound of the hallway outside, and the weight of what Jungkook now knows.

He presses his face into the pillow, heart pounding, eyes stinging all over again.

Taehyung had come.

But it doesn’t change what he said.

And it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

Jungkook wakes up feeling like he didn’t sleep at all. His head aches, his eyes are puffy, and his chest still carries that hollow pressure, like he’s been cracked open and stuffed with fog.

He doesn’t check his phone. Doesn’t want to see if Taehyung texted again.

There’s a beat of silence in the dorm, his roommate already gone for the morning, and Jungkook stares at the ceiling, blinking against the light.

The words are still there. Echoing. Our moms are friends. Just a favor to my mom.

And the more Jungkook turns it over in his head, the more it starts to feel like maybe it wasn’t a lie. Maybe that’s all he ever was. He thinks about how it started, how their moms arranged it. Taehyung didn’t choose him. And maybe everything since then was just… politeness. Habit.

Maybe Taehyung was annoyed with him at the party, not because of Hoseok, not because of anything complicated, just because he was tired of dragging Jungkook along.

He’s loud. Jungkook’s quiet. He doesn’t drink, doesn’t party, doesn’t flirt. He’s not good in groups. Not good with people. He’s weird. People in high school used to say that, and Jungkook always shrugged it off, always told himself he’d find his place later. But what if this is it?

What if even the person who knows him best is just pretending?

He curls into himself tighter, fists tucked under his chin, trying to push the thoughts out, but they loop on repeat.

Jungkook makes it to campus on autopilot. His head aches, his eyes feel dry and swollen, and the fog in his chest hasn’t lifted.

His phone vibrates twice while he's walking past the sculpture garden. He knows the name on the screen before he even looks.

[Tae, 08:57]
feeling any better?
🥺🍲

[Tae, 09:03]
should I bring you something after class? I can make time

Jungkook locks his phone without answering. He can’t. Not yet.

He makes it through his morning classes in a haze. Doesn’t raise his hand. Doesn’t speak. Just takes notes like a machine, underlines words he doesn’t really read.

At lunch, he chooses a quiet corner of the cafeteria. Tucks into a seat by the wall and stares at his food. He tells himself he just needs a few minutes. Just a few more minutes to get his breathing under control.

And then a familiar voice says, “There you are.”

He looks up and Taehyung is sliding into the seat beside him, grinning like nothing’s wrong. “God, I’ve been trying to find you. Are you feeling better? You didn’t answer this morning.”

Jungkook stares at his tray. His throat tightens immediately. He can’t speak. The words are all there, sharp and heavy and lined up, but his voice refuses to move.

Taehyung keeps going, lighthearted. “Did you actually get sick or was it just a fake sleep text to dodge me?” He bumps Jungkook’s shoulder, teasing. “Should I be offended?”

Still nothing.

When Jungkook doesn't respond, Taehyung frowns and shifts slightly to face him more directly.

“Kook?” he says, softer now. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

Jungkook turns his face away, hoping that will be enough, hoping Taehyung will let it go. But he doesn’t.

“Hey.”

A hand on his arm. Gentle, insistent. “Kook. Look at me.”

Jungkook shakes his head, blinking fast. The sting behind his eyes is unbearable now, hot and sharp. He feels it coming before he can stop it. Taehyung’s grip tightens, voice rising with concern. “Jungkook, seriously. What’s going on? Did something happen?”

And just as the tears slip over his lashes, right as he opens his mouth, desperate to say you said I was just a favor, a voice cuts through the moment: “Yo! There’s our sad little lunch club!”

Jimin drops into the seat across from them, tray clattering. Yoongi follows, expression neutral, eyebrows raised slightly.

In the space of one breath, the air shatters. Jungkook stands. Fast. Taehyung calls his name, reaching up instinctively. But Jungkook is already moving. He doesn’t look back. Doesn’t stop when someone calls after him. Doesn’t care who saw. He just runs, down the hallway, out of the cafeteria, across the courtyard. And doesn’t stop until he’s back in his room with the door locked, his back to the wood, and his hands trembling again.

The second the door clicks shut behind him, Jungkook slides down to the floor. His breath hitches. His hands are shaking. His cheeks are damp and burning all over again. He doesn't even try to stop it this time. There’s no one to see. No one to pretend for. His backpack slips off one shoulder and hits the floor with a thud, but he barely notices. He curls in on himself, forehead pressed to his knees, trying to get his heart to slow down.

Taehyung’s voice is still in his ears. Concerned. Warm. Reaching for him. Like he cares. Like he hasn’t already answered that question behind a classroom door.

Jungkook knows he looked worried. Knows he probably meant the hand on his arm, the gentle Kook, look at me. But that’s what makes it worse. Taehyung doesn’t even know what Jungkook heard. Doesn’t know the damage he caused. Doesn’t realize he already shattered something. And somehow that hurts more than if he had done it on purpose. Because it means he doesn’t think Jungkook is worth the truth. Not then. Not now.

Jungkook draws in a breath, long and shaky.

He thinks of the last few days, the laughter, the long talks, the popcorn on the common room floor. The stupid rabbit doodle. The shared silences. The way Taehyung smiled when they watched the film.

And the whole time… Was it pretend?

Just something Taehyung did out of guilt? Out of obligation? To soothe the awkward gay kid his mom asked him to babysit? Jungkook’s throat closes. He wants to believe it was real. He needs to. But the words, just a favor to my mom, play on a loop, louder than anything else.

Maybe that’s what it’s always been. Maybe that’s all he’s ever been. His chest aches. His limbs feel heavy. And suddenly, through the blur of it all, something inside him hardens. He can’t do this anymore. It’s not just a crush. It hasn’t been for a while. He’s been holding onto a version of Taehyung that only exists when they’re alone, and even that version has the power to undo him.

He doesn’t want to keep hurting like this. And if staying close means staying in this constant state of hurt, insecurities, of begging for scraps of attention, then maybe it’s better to end it altogether. Because Taehyung will keep hurting him. Not out of cruelty, but carelessness. And Jungkook can’t live like that.

He wipes his face with the sleeve of his hoodie. He needs to end this. Whatever this is, it’s breaking him.

The knock comes just as Jungkook thinks the storm might pass. He flinches at the sound, soft, hesitant. Then again. Firmer. His breath catches. He doesn’t move. Maybe if he stays still long enough, Taehyung will go away.

But the third knock comes with urgency.

He knew this might happen. Taehyung isn’t the type to let silence linger. And maybe that’s why he has to do this now. While he still has the courage.

His limbs feel like stone as he gets up and walks to the door. He opens it.

Taehyung stands there, flushed and breathless, eyes wide with worry.

“Jungkook,” he says, voice taut. “What, What happened? Why did you run off like that?”

Jungkook doesn’t speak right away. He’s too busy memorizing the moment. The way Taehyung’s brows crease in confusion. The panic in his eyes. The fact that he looks like he cares. But that’s the problem. He always looks like he cares.

“I heard you,” Jungkook says, voice thin.

Taehyung blinks. “What?”

“Last night,” Jungkook presses. “Outside your classroom. You were talking to that girl and that guy. I heard what you said about me.”

Taehyung’s expression falters. And then, realization. The color drains from his face.

His lips part. “Jungkook, that guy, he just said it out of nowhere, I didn’t... he cornered me. I wasn’t ready,”

“You said it was just a favor to your mom.”

Taehyung winces. “I didn’t mean it like that. I was just trying to get him to shut up. It was a shitty moment, okay? I panicked.”

“You didn’t even try to defend me. That guy called me disgusting, and you just agreed with him”

Taehyung steps forward instinctively, but Jungkook moves back.

“I don’t need a sympathy friendship,” he says, louder now. “I can make my own friends. Hoseok actually likes talking to me. I don’t have to be someone’s charity project.”

“No, it wasn’t like that,” Taehyung stammers. “I didn’t mean it. It all happened so fast, and I...”

He opens his mouth. Closes it.

“Why didn’t you say we were friends?” Jungkook asks, quieter now, the pain slicing clean. “Even that girl said something nice about me. You couldn’t.”

“I did” Taehyung says desperately. “I said it. After”

Jungkook has no way of knowing if this is true, but he doesn't believe Taehyung.

“No, you didn’t,” Jungkook whispers.

“I did ” Taehyung insists, stepping forward again. “I swear, Jungkook. I was just, I panicked. He caught me off guard and I… I said something I didn’t mean. But I told them later. I told them you were important. That we were friends. That you’re..”

Jungkook shakes his head. His eyes are wet again, but he blinks fast, refusing to let them fall.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters,” Taehyung pleads. “Kook, please,”

You’ve hurt me too much,” Jungkook says. He has to say it now, fast, or he never will. “I can’t keep doing this, Taehyung. I don’t want to be friends anymore.”

Taehyung flinches like he’s been slapped. “No, no, Jungkook, don’t say that.”

His voice cracks on the last word, and he steps forward too quickly, eyes wide with panic. “You don’t mean that. You’re just upset. I messed up, I know, but please, don’t say we’re done.”

Jungkook doesn’t look at him. Taehyung keeps going, voice shaking now. “You think I didn’t care? That I was just pretending? Jungkook, no. You matter to me. More than anyone.”

He reaches out like he might touch him, then stops short, hands trembling at his sides.

“Please, let me fix it,” he says, breathless. “Look at me,” he pleads. “Just, look at me.”

Jungkook slowly glances up, and what he sees almost undoes him. Taehyung looks wrecked.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Taehyung says, voice cracking. “I didn’t mean, I didn’t”

There are tears in his eyes. Shining. Real.

And when Jungkook still doesn’t answer, Taehyung pulls him close. Wraps his arms around him. Tight. Desperate.

Jungkook is too stunned to move. He feels the heat of Taehyung’s body, the shudder of his breath, the damp weight of him pressing in close.

Taehyung’s voice is muffled against his shoulder. “Please.”

They stand there, suspended. Taehyung clings to him like he’s afraid Jungkook might vanish if he lets go. His face stays hidden in the curve of Jungkook’s neck, breath hitching, silent tears shaking his frame.

Jungkook doesn’t hug back. He can’t.

This isn’t what he expected. Not after everything. Not after that. He thought Taehyung would argue. Get defensive. Maybe even laugh it off with some careless, sharp-edged joke. But instead, He’s crying. And holding him like he means it.

Jungkook blinks, dazed, barely breathing. His mind is caught in a loop of confusion, pain, and something he can’t name, something sharp-edged and soft at the same time.

Then, slowly, gently, Taehyung’s lips press against his shoulder. Not quite a kiss at first. More like a pause. A breath. A hesitation. And then the pressure increases. A deliberate press of mouth to damp cotton.

Jungkook freezes. He doesn’t understand. Doesn’t move.

Taehyung’s arms tighten around him. Another kiss lands, just a little higher. Then another. Each one deliberate. Anchoring.

And Jungkook can feel the shape of them through the soaked fabric. His breath catches. His heart stumbles. He can’t think.

Taehyung doesn’t speak. Doesn’t ask. Just keeps going, inch by inch, mouth trailing toward the collar of Jungkook’s shirt.

And then, A pause. Longer this time.

Like he’s asking a question without words. Then his lips touch skin. Just the barest sliver, where the fabric gives way near the collarbone.

Jungkook’s whole body goes taut. Heat floods his chest, his neck, his fingertips. He doesn’t know what to do. Because this isn’t real. This can’t be real.

Taehyung’s lips linger, soft and uncertain. He stays there for a moment, then shifts, mouth brushing higher, skin barely touched by breath and nerves. A kiss against his throat. Another. Slow. Measured. Full of something that makes Jungkook’s knees weak. He shuts his eyes, just for a second. Tries to stay upright.

Taehyung moves again, up the line of his neck, then stops at the curve just below his ear. Breath fans warm over the skin. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t kiss. Doesn’t pull away. Just hovers there, trembling.

Jungkook’s heart pounds in his ears. He could end it now. He should. But instead, his hands rise slowly, uncertain, shaking, and come to rest on Taehyung’s hips. A question. An answer.

Taehyung exhales shakily. And then, another kiss. Behind his ear this time. Hot. Soft. Then his lips find Jungkook’s jaw.

And Jungkook, not trusting himself to speak, not trusting the silence to stay unbroken, turns his head and kisses him.

Taehyung responds immediately. Like he’s been waiting for this.

Mouth open, greedy. One hand slides up Jungkook’s back, the other tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. Jungkook lets himself fall into it, into the heat, the ache, the overwhelming sense that this is something neither of them can stop now.

They kiss like they’ve been holding back for too long. Like every breath might be their last. Taehyung gasps against him when their bodies press close, and Jungkook loses whatever fragile grip he had left. He pulls him toward the bed without a word, and Taehyung goes willingly, their lips never parting.

When they fall together onto the sheets, tangled and breathless, Jungkook barely knows where he ends and Taehyung begins. The mattress dips beneath them, sheets crumpling, legs tangling awkwardly, but neither of them laughs. There’s no teasing in it. No playfulness.

Jungkook presses his lips to Taehyung’s like he’s memorizing the shape of them, slow, aching, deep. Taehyung makes a soft sound, something between a gasp and a sigh, and lifts his head slightly from the pillow to chase him closer.

Jungkook feels it everywhere, the way their mouths fit, the way Taehyung exhales when he’s touched, the way his hands clutch instinctively at Jungkook’s waist like he doesn’t know how to let go.

Their hips are pressed together, the heat between them unmistakable. Jungkook moves without thinking, just a slow, tentative shift forward, and Taehyung rises to meet him, breath catching, like he’s been holding himself still for this exact moment.

A stuttered breath escapes both of them. 

Jungkook shudders. His hands find their way to Taehyung’s ribs, holding him there, grounding them both.

They begin to move, barely, just the softest press of body against body, and it’s too much. Every breath, every shift, every pulse feels magnified.

Taehyung’s head tips back, his mouth falling open. A low sound escapes him, needy, breathy, unguarded.

And that sound, that sound, is what undoes Jungkook.

He stops thinking. He buries his face in Taehyung’s neck and moves faster, chasing something he doesn’t know how to name. Their hips fall into rhythm, fast, desperate, messy.

Jungkook doesn’t look at him. He can’t.

If he slows down, if he meets Taehyung’s eyes, sees hesitation there, sees a line he’s not meant to cross, this whole moment might break apart.

So he keeps his eyes closed.

He lets the heat carry him. Lets the friction and breath and sound become everything. Taehyung clutches at him, his back, his arms, his waist, holding tight, like he doesn’t want to be anywhere else.

Jungkook takes what he’s given. Doesn’t ask for more. Just holds on. Takes and gives and burns.

And when Taehyung gasps again, hips jerking up, Jungkook knows he’s close. He presses harder. Faster. A sound slips out of his own throat, ragged and too loud.

They’re both shaking. Their bodies lock up together, thrusts turning frantic, mouths parted with sound, and then Jungkook feels Taehyung break beneath him, heat spilling between them, both of them breathless and shaking through it. He collapses against him, breath still stuttering, sweat slicking their skin.

Jungkook stays still for a long moment, his cheek pressed against Taehyung’s shoulder, their breaths still uneven, still syncing. Neither of them speaks. 

But slowly something shifts. Jungkook feels the tension return to Taehyung’s body. The way his fingers have stopped moving. The slight turn of his head, away from Jungkook’s.

Jungkook lifts himself slowly, propping up on one arm. And just like that, the warmth between them becomes air. He moves off Taehyung and lies beside him, staring up at the ceiling, the space between them now strange and loud.

Taehyung doesn’t look at him. His gaze stays fixed somewhere near the wall.

Jungkook swallows, unsure. His throat feels dry. His mind is spinning, searching for something to say. Something normal.

“You want to shower?” he asks. It sounds stupid in the air. Too ordinary. Too not-what-just-happened.

But Taehyung nods. “Yeah,” he says softly. Still not meeting his eyes.

Jungkook pushes himself up, grabs the clean towel off the hook near his closet, and holds it out without meeting Taehyung’s eyes. Their fingers brush for half a second as Taehyung takes it, too brief to be intentional, too much not to notice. Then he disappears into the bathroom. The door clicks shut.

Jungkook sinks onto the edge of the bed. He presses a hand to his chest like it might help slow his heart down. Did that really happen? It’s already starting to blur at the edges, like a dream half-forgotten. But his body remembers. Every place where Taehyung touched him. Every gasp, every sound, every kiss behind his ear. His skin still tingles with it.

It had been good. So good. Too good. And real. But now…

Now Taehyung didn’t look at him.

Jungkook closes his eyes. Tries to hold onto the warmth, but it’s slipping too fast.

After a while, the bathroom door opens and Taehyung walks back in, towel slung around his neck, face freshly washed, the ends of his bangs damp from where he splashed water.

He avoids Jungkook’s eyes again. Moves slowly, carefully, like everything might shatter if he moves too loud.

Jungkook watches him for a moment. Then quietly, “Are you okay?”

Taehyung hesitates. “Yeah,” he says finally. But nothing more. No smile. No you?

Jungkook nods, more to himself than to Taehyung, his hands are cold. His chest feels tight. He should say something. Ask what that meant. Ask if they’re okay. The words gather in his throat and then dissolve. He tries to come up with anything that sounds right, that sounds like him. But his thoughts are scrambled, running too fast in circles to land on anything solid.

So he takes the easy way out. “I’m gonna take a quick shower too,” he says.

It’s a retreat. An excuse. Something to do with his hands, his body, something that doesn’t require him to sit in this silence any longer. He grabs his towel and heads into the bathroom. The tiles are cold beneath his feet. The water is hot against his skin. He thinks he can smell Taehyung there. He leans his forehead against the wall and tries to find the words. He’ll say something when he gets back. He has to. He’ll ask what this meant. If it changed things. If they’re okay. Even if he’s scared of the answers.

He dries off quickly, ties the towel around his waist, and steps back into the room.

But it’s empty. Taehyung is gone.

Chapter Text

Jungkook stares at the empty room for a long time. The air still carries a trace of something familiar, fabric softener, maybe, or the scent of Taehyung’s cologne. Something that used to be comforting.

He grabs his phone from the desk, hands still damp from the towel. His heart thuds as he types: you left. can we talk?

He sends it before he can overthink. And then he waits. The message sits there, unread. All night. All Saturday. Jungkook checks it too many times, watches the status stay the same, delivered, not seen.

But he knows Taehyung’s been online. The green dot doesn’t lie.

So he sends another. can we meet up later? or tomorrow?

Still no reply. Not even the gray checkmark moving to blue.

He scrolls back to their chat, the older messages, the dumb memes and inside jokes, the half-finished conversations from just days ago. The casual, constant back-and-forth that made everything feel steady. It feels impossible now.

Taehyung touched him like he meant it. He kissed him like he’d wanted to. Pulled him in like he didn’t want to stop.

And now he’s silent. Is he avoiding him? Regretting it?

Jungkook tries to make sense of it, retraces every second of that night. How it started. How it escalated.

Taehyung kissed him . Touched him. Grabbed at him like he couldn’t get close enough.

Was that real?

Or just heat. Just a reaction. Just something that doesn’t mean what Jungkook hoped it meant.

By Sunday afternoon, the knot in his chest is too tight to ignore. His stomach hurts. His head won’t quiet down. He scrolls back to the thread, empty but for his own unanswered words. And above them, earlier, before everything, Taehyung’s worried texts from the night Jungkook said he wasn’t feeling well.

are you okay? do you want me to bring anything? should i come over?

Jungkook reads them slowly, each one like a stone dropped in his stomach.

They feel distant now. Like messages from someone else entirely. He doesn’t know what hurts more, the warmth in those words, or the cold that followed.

And then he thinks about what he said. Not in writing, but in this room, face-to-face. “I don’t want to be friends anymore.”

He said it like he meant it. And he did then. But now he doesn’t want it to end, now he’s the one asking if that friendship is still intact. If the person he pushed away is going to let go for real. The irony isn’t lost on him. He almost laughs, bitter, small, but it catches in his throat.

He types slowly. Carefully. are we not friends anymore? He stares at it for a moment before hitting send. And then he waits.

A few hours pass. He tries not to check, but of course he does. Again and again.

The message pops up just after seven.

of course we are
do you wanna come over and watch a movie or something?

Jungkook stares at the screen. Reads it once. Then again. Relief floods his chest so suddenly it almost hurts. His eyes sting. He hadn’t even realized how tightly he’d been holding himself, how much of him was waiting for this one soft reassurance.

They’re still friends. Or at least, Taehyung is saying they are.

Jungkook presses his phone against his chest, breath catching. It’s not an apology. It’s not an explanation. But it’s something. Something that means Taehyung isn’t disappearing.

His fingers hover over the keyboard. He wants to ask more, are you okay? why did you leave? what does this mean?

But the questions are too heavy for a text box.

So instead, he types: okay. i’ll come by in a bit. And hits send.

Jungkook stands in front of his closet longer than he should. He keeps reaching for things, then pulling back. A nicer sweater. A fitted shirt. Maybe something that makes him look like he didn’t just spend the past 48 hours spiraling. But in the end, he tugs on a pair of black sweats and a plain gray hoodie. The same kind of thing he always wears when he goes to Taehyung’s room. He tells himself it’s to keep things normal. Familiar. Safe. But maybe he’s just afraid of hoping too hard.

The hallway feels too bright as he walks it. Every footstep too loud. He hesitates for a beat in front of Taehyung’s door. Then lifts his hand and knocks. The door opens almost immediately.

Taehyung stands there in his own sweats, faded green, soft with wear, and a loose black tee that hangs off his collarbone. His hair is looks damp, curls falling into his eyes like he’s run his hands through it a hundred times. He looks tired. Flushed. Good. Too good.

“Hey,” Taehyung says, stepping back to let him in. “My roommate’s gone. His girlfriend came to pick him up, which, honestly, I should be charging them rent at this point. They’ve taken over our mini fridge. Like, who needs three brands of almond milk?”

He keeps talking. About the mess in the hallway, about a delivery he never got, about how he tried to make popcorn but burned it. It’s a little too much. A little too fast. Jungkook recognizes it instantly. Taehyung is nervous. It should make him feel better. It doesn’t. He fills every silence before it settles, leaves no space for questions, especially not the one Jungkook brought with him, heavy in his chest since Friday. What did it mean? There’s no room to ask. No pause long enough to let it fall out.

They settle on the bed quickly, like muscle memory, backs against the wall, a laptop between them, movie loading. Something animated, bright. Jungkook doesn’t even catch the title. He hears the dialogue, sees the movement on screen, but none of it lands. Because Taehyung is there. Next to him. Warm. Real. Close, but not touching. And all Jungkook can think about is how it felt to touch him. Taehyung’s hands on his waist. His mouth against his neck. The weight of his body. The way his breath had hitched when they kissed. He shifts slightly, pulls his hoodie sleeves over his hands.

The movie keeps playing, but neither of them is really watching. Jungkook stares at the screen, trying to follow the plot, trying not to notice the shape of Taehyung’s mouth or the warmth radiating from where their arms nearly touch.

Taehyung shifts a little, lowering himself into a more relaxed position, his head dipping down until it’s level with Jungkook’s shoulder. He doesn’t lean, just lets it rest there, light and unspoken. Barely a touch.

But it’s enough. Jungkook’s heart trips over itself. That single point of contact makes his whole body buzz.

He turns his head slightly, glancing at Taehyung out of the corner of his eye. Taehyung is staring too intently at the screen, too still, too focused, like he’s trying very hard not to acknowledge anything. And then Jungkook sees the small movement of Taehyung’s throat as he swallows. The tension along his jaw. The effort in pretending to be absorbed in the movie.

It undoes him.

Jungkook lifts a hand, slow and steady, and gently slips his fingers beneath Taehyung’s chin. Tilts it up, just enough to meet his gaze. Taehyung’s eyes are wide. Waiting. Asking. Jungkook leans in. Kisses him, soft, careful, barely there.

But Taehyung kisses back. And that’s all Jungkook needs. The kiss deepens, slow but growing urgent, like they’re slipping back into a language only they speak. Jungkook shifts again, turning so they’re lying side by side, mouths still moving, hands starting to roam. It’s familiar and electric all at once, like remembering something with his body before his brain can catch up.

Taehyung’s hand slides under Jungkook’s hoodie, warm against the skin of his lower back. Jungkook shivers. Then shifts, slowly, carefully, easing Taehyung onto his back and following him down. His weight half settles on top, their legs tangling, mouths still moving, hungry and hot and open.

Jungkook’s hand slips beneath the hem of Taehyung’s shirt, pushing it upward until smooth, warm skin is revealed. He presses a kiss to Taehyung’s chest, then another, trailing downward to the soft slope of his stomach, the shallow dip just beneath his ribs.

Last time, he’d kept his eyes shut. Afraid to look, afraid that it might shatter. This time, he watches everything. The way Taehyung breathes through parted lips. The slight flush crawling up his chest. The way his skin feels under Jungkook’s hands, soft, too soft, like something he was never supposed to touch.

He keeps kissing lower, slow and deliberate, memorizing the way Taehyung shifts under him with every touch. When he reaches the waistband of Taehyung’s sweatpants, he pauses. Glances up. Taehyung’s head is tipped back. His lashes are fluttering, his mouth open, breath shallow. He looks wrecked already.

And Jungkook needs more. Needs to do this. Needs to taste him. Needs to have this, just this, for a moment. He pushes the waistband down just enough and leans in, taking him into his mouth.

It’s messy. A little clumsy. Wet and unpracticed. But Taehyung makes a sound, raw and soft at the same time, and Jungkook swears he feels it all the way down to his toes. His hands slide up and down Taehyung’s thighs, fingertips brushing over bare skin. It’s silky-smooth and impossibly warm, and he can’t stop touching, can’t stop needing. He listens. To every gasp, every fractured breath. To the way Taehyung whispers his name like it’s a plea.

Taehyung’s fists twist into the sheets, his body twitching under Jungkook’s mouth, every muscle tight and straining. And when he comes, it’s fast and overwhelming, too much to catch, spilling past Jungkook’s lips.

Jungkook pulls back, breathless, swiping the mess away with the back of his hand, chest heaving, heart racing. He’s hard. So hard, kneeling above Taehyung now, watching him fall apart. Taehyung’s face is flushed, lashes damp, chest still rising and falling like he’s just run miles.

Jungkook wraps a hand around himself, doesn’t need much. Just a few rough strokes, one hand still on Taehyung’s thigh, squeezing, and he’s coming with a choked gasp, body curling forward, forehead pressed to the bed.

They lie there. Panting. Sweating. Not speaking.

And slowly, just like before, the quiet shifts. Thickens. Jungkook feels it in the stillness of Taehyung’s limbs. In the way he doesn’t look over. Taehyung stares at the ceiling.

“Do you want to shower?” he asks, voice soft. Almost too soft. The words hit like a déjà vu. Jungkook’s own, from last time, thrown gently back at him.

Jungkook blinks. Nods. “Sure,” he says. Then, trying to lighten the air, “As long as you don’t disappear while I’m in there.” Taehyung’s mouth quirks. Almost a smile. “I won’t,” he says. Jungkook grabs a towel from the chair and heads to the bathroom.

When Jungkook comes back into the room, the lights are lower than before, just Taehyung’s desk lamp glowing softly in the corner. The laptop has been closed, the blanket straightened. Taehyung is sitting on the bed, cross-legged in a fresh t-shirt, hair curling at his temples. He’s clearly cleaned up, his skin still a little flushed, his eyes shadowed with something unreadable.

Jungkook hesitates in the doorway, towel slung over his shoulder. He suddenly doesn’t know where to step, where to sit. The same room that felt so familiar before now feels like it might crack beneath his feet.

Taehyung looks up. Their eyes meet, and hold.

“Hey,” Jungkook says softly. His voice sounds smaller than he meant it to.

“Hey,” Taehyung replies, just as quiet.

Jungkook hesitates again, then crosses the room and perches at the edge of the bed, not too close. His heartbeat is too loud. He presses his palms to his thighs, trying to ground himself.

Taehyung watches him for a long moment, and then speaks. “I’m sorry I left the other night,” he says. “I didn’t know what to say. Everything felt... too much.”

Jungkook nods, eyes fixed on the floor.

“I thought about it a lot,” Taehyung goes on, his voice steady, but soft. “About you. About what happened. About… what I want.”

Jungkook swallows hard. His chest feels too tight. Maybe this is it, he thinks. Maybe he’ll say he feels the same. Maybe he’ll say more than just this .

Taehyung’s fingers twist together. “I like you,” he says. “A lot.”

Jungkook’s head lifts just a little.

“You’re smart and funny and kind. And being around you is easy, and somehow exciting at the same time. You make me feel... safe. But also like I can’t sit still.”

A breath. A pause. And then, “But I’m not ready to tell anyone about this.”

Jungkook feels it like a small crack forming in the air between them.

“I’m not ashamed,” Taehyung adds quickly, though he doesn’t quite meet Jungkook’s eyes. “I just... I’ve only ever been with girls. And this is new. You’re new. And I don’t know how people would react. I’m not ready for that.”

Jungkook looks down again, jaw tightening. 

Taehyung shifts where he’s sitting, fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. “I like you,” he says again. “I like being with you. I want to keep doing this, but…”

His eyes flick to Jungkook, then away again.  “I don’t want to be in a relationship.”

The words hang in the air like something solid. Heavy. Real. Jungkook feels the sting of it, even though he knew it was coming. It still lands like cold water to the chest.

He lets the silence stretch, then finally says, voice low, guarded:  “So what are we doing, then?”

Taehyung opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.

Jungkook looks at him. Really looks. “Is this just… hooking up?”

Taehyung’s face twists. “No, I mean, yes. But not just that.”

He’s scrambling, like he’s trying to make sense of it even as he speaks. “I like being with you. I want to keep seeing you. But… quietly. Without labels. Without pressure.”

Jungkook is quiet for a long moment. He can feel the weight of the words Taehyung just said, pressing down on him like a truth he already knew but didn’t want to hear out loud. I don’t want to be in a relationship.

It hurts.

But not enough to walk away. Not enough to make him say no. Because how could he? He wants this too much. Wants him too much. Even if it’s not everything. Even if it might end in pieces.

If there’s even a chance to kiss him again, he thinks, how could I say no?

So he says, steady but soft, “Okay.”

Taehyung looks surprised again, eyes flicking up like he wasn’t expecting agreement.

“But I need something too,” Jungkook says.

“Okay,” Taehyung echoes, cautious now. “What?”

Jungkook meets his eyes. “If we’re doing this… I need to know it’s just us. That you’re not with anyone else.”

Taehyung shifts. “Jungkook,”

“I know it’s not a relationship,” Jungkook cuts in quickly. “You said that. I get it. But I can’t do this if I’m wondering all the time… who else you’re touching. If it’s someone else next weekend, or some girl at a party.”

Taehyung’s brows knit. “That kind of sounds like a relationship.”

“It’s not,” Jungkook says. “It’s just... basic respect. I’m not asking for promises you don’t want to make. But if you want someone else, if that happens, then you have to tell me. And we’ll stop.”

He pauses. He knows that if that happens, it will kill him. But he doesn’t say that part.

Taehyung is silent, chewing on the edge of his lip.

And then, slowly, almost reluctantly, he nods. “Okay. Just us.”

Jungkook exhales. Not quite relief. Not quite victory. Just... air that had been stuck in his chest.

And still, he wants to reach out. Wants to touch Taehyung again already. But he stays still. Because this isn’t love. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

They did kiss a little more before Jungkook left Taehyung’s room that night. Nothing heavy, just soft, slow presses of lips that Jungkook started because he couldn’t not. Because saying yes to this and not kissing him again would’ve been impossible. They parted with a quiet promise to see each other at school.

The next day was okay. A little awkward, sure. But okay. They sat together at lunch, talked about class and the upcoming campus film showcase. They didn’t touch, didn’t kiss, they were always surrounded by people. Jungkook caught Taehyung’s eye once and saw something there, maybe, but nothing more was said. And nothing happened.

By Wednesday, Jungkook starts to feel the quiet burn of impatience. Not because Taehyung owed him anything, but because he wants. Wants more. Again. They’d hung out every day, texted like always, but no one had brought it up. The thing between them, the part that happened in the dark, behind closed doors, hadn’t come up since.

So Jungkook texts him.

my roommate’s away friday.
wanna come over?

He waits. Fifteen minutes go by. Then his phone lights up.

I promised Jimin I’d go to a party with him on Friday. Come too?
We can go to yours after?

Jungkook stares at the message. He tries not to feel disappointed. But he still does. He doesn’t want to go to a party. Not because he’s tired. Not because he hates people. But because when they’re at a party, he can’t touch Taehyung the way he wants to. Can’t kiss him. Can’t even look at him for too long without giving something away.

He wants quiet. He wants closeness. He wants Taehyung just for himself.

But still, he types out a reply.

yeah. okay.

Because he wants to make Taehyung happy, even if it means ignoring what he wants.

The party is loud, the kind of loud that hums beneath your skin and vibrates in your teeth. The music spills into the street before Jungkook even gets to the door. But when he steps inside, the chaos fades just a little, because Taehyung is already there. He spots him in the living room, leaning against the kitchen counter, laughing at something Jimin just said. His smile is bright, his hair tousled, his shirt half-tucked like he didn’t even try and still looks devastating. Jungkook’s breath catches in his throat.

Taehyung sees him and lights up. He breaks away from the group with an easy grin. “You made it.”

Jungkook nods, slipping out of his shoes. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

For a while, it’s fine. The three of them talk together, Jimin, loud and animated, Taehyung leaning into Jungkook’s side just slightly when the crowd presses in. At one point, Taehyung rests a hand on Jungkook’s back. It lingers. It makes Jungkook’s heart stutter.

And when Jimin gets swept away by a group from class, Taehyung stays. They drift toward the back of the apartment, talking over the music, laughing about how weird the playlist is, one minute it's house, the next it’s early 2000s boy bands. Jungkook feels warm, not from anything he’s drinking, but from Taehyung beside him. Their arms brush now and then. Their eyes meet more often than not, holding for just a second too long before one of them looks away with a soft smile. It’s easy. Familiar. Jungkook thinks maybe, maybe this night will be okay.

Something pulls Taehyung away, a familiar face, someone who greets him with a wide smile and an easy joke. Jungkook doesn’t mind at first. Taehyung’s popular. People know him. It's natural. So he steps back, gives them space, finds a spot on the couch nearby. At first, he thinks it'll just be a minute. But then ten minutes pass. Then twenty.

Jungkook glances over. Taehyung is still talking. Laughing. His body turned toward the guy now, animated in a way Jungkook knows well, engaged, fully there. Something tightens low in Jungkook’s chest. He crosses his arms, leans back against the couch. The lights seem harsher now. The music louder. He scrolls aimlessly through his phone for a bit, but the reception is bad and the feed won't load.

Twenty-five minutes. Thirty. Taehyung hasn’t looked over once.

Jungkook stands up to get a glass of water from the kitchen just to have something to do. On his way back, he passes Jimin, but Jimin’s caught in a conversation too. Everyone’s busy. Everyone belongs here. Except him.

By the time it’s been forty minutes, Jungkook doesn’t even try to watch them anymore. He’s back on the couch, hunched over, fingers twisting around the hem of his sleeve. That warmth he felt earlier is long gone, replaced by something cold.

He gets up. Moves across the room toward the front door, weaving through the crowd. He doesn’t want to interrupt, doesn’t want to say anything dramatic. He just wants to leave before it gets worse. But when he reaches the entryway and starts looking for his coat, a hand catches his sleeve. Taehyung.

“Hey,are you leaving?” he asks, breath slightly fast like he’d rushed to catch up.

Jungkook nods. “Yeah.”

Taehyung glances toward the room behind them, then back at Jungkook and starts pulling on his own coat without another word. And they leave together.

When the door to Jungkook’s room clicks shut behind them, Taehyung is on him before the silence even settles, hands in his hair, mouth hot and open, body pressed close like he’s been waiting all week for this exact moment.

They kiss hard. Jungkook pulls Taehyung’s hoodie over his head. Their hands fumble, grip, slide. Jungkook backs them into the bed, and they fall into it like it’s instinct, like they never forgot how.

It’s fast and desperate, all breath and skin and finally Jungkook undoes the button of Taehyung’s trousers, shoves them down in one motion, touches him without hesitation and when Taehyung moans, Jungkook swallows the sound with his mouth.

After that night, a rhythm begins.

Whenever one of them is alone in the room, the other shows up. There’s no schedule, just looks exchanged in the hallway, messages sent in the middle of the day.

They learn each other’s bodies. What makes the other shiver, what pulls the sharpest breath. Jungkook learns how Taehyung likes to be touched, how he likes to be kissed, how sometimes, Taehyung goes quiet after, but always stays close.

And somehow, they find the ease again. They joke. They laugh. They walk home from class with their backpacks brushing and shoulders bumping. They talk about dumb things and serious things and everything in between. But now, underneath all of it, there’s this. One thing more. Something that feels like a secret tucked in the space between breaths, quiet and burning and theirs.

Chapter Text

Time slips forward. November fades, and December arrives with its sharp wind and early darkness. Snow gathers in quiet corners across campus, on benches, windowsills, the rooftops. Jungkook only notices when he’s walking to class too early or heading home too late.

And the thing between them continues. It becomes steady. Familiar. Taehyung sends a half-smiling emoji when he’s free, a clipped “u up?” when it’s late and Jungkook hasn’t texted first. Jungkook doesn’t overthink the timing anymore. He just goes. Sometimes Taehyung comes to him. Sometimes they don’t speak at all, just fall into each other’s space like it’s been waiting for them all day. There’s a rhythm now, bodies and breath, tangled blankets and quiet exhales, the flickering desk lamp casting long shadows across the room.

The more Jungkook has him, the more he wants him. It doesn’t settle. Doesn’t cool. He never gets used to the way Taehyung touches him, like it’s the first time, like it matters every time.

And during the day, they’re still themselves. They sit side by side in the cafeteria. Trade drinks, steal fries, bicker about professors and grades. Taehyung draws doodles in the margins of Jungkook’s notebooks, lopsided flowers and sleepy bears. Jungkook rolls his eyes, but never tears the pages out.

Nothing has changed. Everything has changed. Sometimes, when Jungkook walks through the snow-dusted quad, breath fogging in the cold, he catches himself smiling for no reason. Sometimes, when Taehyung says his name, just his name, it sounds like something he doesn’t want to lose.

It happens on a Sunday afternoon.

They’re tangled together in Taehyung’s bed, under a blanket that doesn’t quite cover both of them. The sky outside is pale and slow-moving, full of heavy clouds and soft light. A playlist murmurs from Taehyung’s speaker, low and unobtrusive, mostly acoustic, mostly sad. Taehyung says it helps him focus.

They’re not really doing anything. Jungkook has his head on Taehyung’s shoulder, one hand resting on his stomach. Taehyung’s fingers trace idle shapes along Jungkook’s arm.

Then, without warning, Taehyung goes still. Jungkook notices immediately, the way his hand stops moving, the slight shift in his breathing. His voice, when it comes, is quiet but deliberate.

“Hey… can I ask you something?”

Jungkook tenses. His heart kicks once in his chest, sharp and uncertain. “Yeah?”

Taehyung hesitates. His fingers twitch against Jungkook’s skin. “So, uh… my roommate’s moving out. After Christmas. He got an apartment with his girlfriend or whatever.” Taehyung clears his throat. “Which means, uh… there’s gonna be an empty bed in my room.”

Jungkook looks at him, eyes widening slightly, like he’s catching on, but not fully trusting what he’s hearing yet. Like he thinks he knows where this is going, but doesn’t dare to assume.

“And I just thought, I mean, we’re together all the time anyway. And it’s kind of a pain to keep texting and waiting around for roommates to leave. So… maybe you’d want to move in here?”

He says it fast, like if he rushes through it, it won’t sound as big as it is. And then, before Jungkook can even react, he’s already adding on: “Only if you want. No pressure. It just makes sense, right? And it’d be nice. Easier. You wouldn’t have to sneak over late or wait for my ‘hey, room’s clear’ text.”

He laughs a little. Nervous. Awkward. Like he’s trying to sound casual about something that means a lot. Jungkook doesn’t say anything at first. He can’t. Because his brain is stuck on move in. On with me.

His chest swells with something warm and giddy and afraid. It feels like flying. It feels like falling. Because this, this sounds a lot like a relationship. And they’re not in a relationship. He’s not allowed to think that they are. But now Taehyung is asking him to move in. To share a room. A space. A life.

Jungkook wants to say: Do you even hear yourself? Wants to say: Do you realize what this sounds like?

But he’s afraid if he points it out, Taehyung will take it back. Get spooked. Say never mind. And Jungkook wants it too much. So he swallows the thousand questions spinning behind his teeth and says, softly, “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Taehyung exhales. Relieved. Smiles wide. “Yeah?”

Jungkook nods. Tries to smile too. “Yeah.”

And Taehyung reaches out, hooks a finger under Jungkook’s jaw, and pulls him into a kiss, soft and slow and sweet. Jungkook kisses back, eyes closed, heart racing. He doesn’t say what he’s thinking. He almost never does.

Winter break drags. Two weeks of polite family dinners and halfhearted holiday movies. Jungkook’s childhood bedroom feels too small. The snow too quiet. His phone too important. They text constantly. Call most nights. Jungkook sends short voice notes from walks in the snow, and photos of the neighbor’s cat who keeps trying to sneak into his room. Taehyung replies with too many emojis and once calls just to hear the story out loud.

But none of it’s the same. Not without touching. Not without Taehyung’s thigh pressed against his under the blankets or his hand sneaking under Jungkook’s hoodie just because he can. Jungkook misses him more than he thought he would. More than he’s ready to admit.

They see each other again when Jungkook brings his bags back to campus. It’s snowing, soft, slow flakes that stick to their coats and hair. Jungkook has a duffel bag and a backpack, and Taehyung meets him at the door, grinning like it’s been two years instead of two weeks. They manage about five minutes of pretending to be helpful, dragging bags into the room, moving the old desk chair, before Taehyung grabs Jungkook’s face and kisses him like he’s been starving. Jungkook kisses back just as hard, arms around his waist, body flush against his.

They pull apart only long enough to catch their breath. “We’ll unpack later,” Taehyung says. Jungkook nods. “Later.”

Later ends up being after dinner.

Which they eat cross-legged on the floor, takeout containers open between them, chopsticks resting on napkins. There’s still a bag half-zipped in the corner and Jungkook’s laundry bag shoved under the desk, but the room already feels different. Lived in. Shared.

Taehyung takes a slow sip of water. Then he says it, not shy, but not exactly casual either.

“I was thinking…” He glances at Jungkook over the rim of his glass. “Since we’re celebrating your move-in… maybe we could try. You know. All the way.”

Jungkook pauses mid-chew. Swallows. His pulse skips. “Oh.”

“Only if you want,” Taehyung adds quickly. “It doesn’t have to be tonight, or at all. I just… I’ve thought about it. Over break. A lot.”

Jungkook exhales slowly. He’s thought about it too. More than once. He nods. “Yeah. I want to.”

Taehyung’s gaze flicks to his, searching. “You’re sure?”

Jungkook offers a small smile. “I’ve never… with anyone. Not like that. Not even with my high school boyfriend.”

Taehyung nods. “I’ve… with girls, yeah. But not like this. Not... receiving.”

Jungkook’s breath catches. For a second he forgets how to think. Taehyung wants him to top.

“So…” Jungkook starts, voice low and slightly unsteady, “do you want me to…?”

Taehyung cuts him off gently, his eyes not quite meeting his. “I was thinking I’d… I want to try. I’ve been wondering what it would feel like.” There’s a faint flush rising on his cheeks, not shame, but clear, vulnerable embarrassment. Like it’s hard to admit that this is something he wants.

“We can try switching later,” he mumbles.

“Okay,” Jungkook says softly. “Okay.”

Their hands find each other between the takeout boxes. Taehyung squeezes once. “No rush. Lets go slow.”

Jungkook nods. “Yeah.”

But he already knows: he wants all of him. He always has.

They clean up dinner slowly, almost deliberately, like neither of them wants to rush what they’ve already said, but neither of them wants to leave it hanging either. Taehyung tosses the empty containers in the bin and wipes his hands on a towel. Jungkook dries the last plastic cup and sets it gently on the desk. They move around each other easily now, like they've learned the shape of shared space. But tonight, the air is different. Quieter. Thicker.

Jungkook's heart is already beating too fast. Not from fear. From wanting. He catches Taehyung looking at him, eyes a little soft, a little unreadable.

“You sure?” Jungkook asks, voice low.

Taehyung nods. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

Taehyung steps forward, closer, and places a hand lightly against Jungkook’s jaw. He leans in, kisses him, slow, not quite hesitant, but not hungry either. It feels like a question. Like a beginning. Jungkook answers with a kiss of his own, hands settling at Taehyung’s waist, thumbs brushing the hem of his hoodie. They move to the bed without a word.

It’s familiar, but not. They've kissed before. Touched. Fallen into each other in the dark. But this time it’s different, no roommate to hurry for, no ticking clock. Just them. Just now. Taehyung sits first, legs crossed loosely, hoodie sleeves pushed up to his forearms. He looks up at Jungkook with a half-smile, then reaches out, tugging lightly at his wrist.

“Come here.”

Jungkook climbs in beside him, and they lie facing each other, hands resting between them, fingers brushing but not quite laced.

Neither of them speaks. There’s no need. Taehyung leans in again, kisses Jungkook with a little more pressure this time. Jungkook kisses back, sliding a hand up under Taehyung’s shirt, just resting it there against warm skin. Feeling the slow, steady rise and fall of his breath. They pull apart, barely, foreheads almost touching.

“I want it to be good for you,” Jungkook murmurs.

Taehyung's hand finds his, squeezes. “It already is.”

And then slowly, with care, they begin to undress each other, not greedy, not rushed, just exploring. Jungkook pushes Taehyung’s hoodie up, kisses the exposed skin of his chest, then his collarbones. His fingers move over familiar territory, but each touch feels new now. Taehyung watches him, breath shallow, lips parted. He doesn’t speak. Just lets it happen. Lets himself be seen. Jungkook’s thoughts are a quiet hum under everything: This is real. This is happening. And I want to make it good. And I want all of him.

He kisses Taehyung again, deeper this time, and the rest, the rest is still waiting. Taehyung shifts onto his back as Jungkook kisses down his chest, slow, reverent, like he’s relearning every inch of him. Taehyungs hand rests on Jungkook’s shoulder, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt.

Jungkook pulls back, sits up just enough to strip off his own hoodie. He feels Taehyung’s gaze, warm and unflinching, and for once he doesn’t look away. The air between them feels charged. Quiet, but electric. When he leans down again, Taehyung’s hand finds the back of his neck, grounding. Pulling him in. Their mouths meet, slower now, more deliberate. Jungkook’s hand slides along Taehyung’s waist, fingers tracing the line of his hipbone.

Taehyung lets out a soft breath.

“You okay?” Jungkook asks.

Taehyung nods. “Yeah. Just… nervous.”

“Me too.”

That makes them both smile, small and genuine. Their clothes come off in pieces. Taehyung’s shirt first, then Jungkook’s. Then pants, socks, everything else, until they’re skin to skin beneath the thin dorm blanket, warmth pooling in the quiet space between them. Jungkook watches the way Taehyung breathes. The way his lashes flutter when their hips meet. He touches carefully, like he’s memorizing a language written in skin.

He’s never done this before. Not like this. But he isn’t nervous. He just wants to get it right. He wants to be gentle. He wants to make Taehyung fall apart just from being seen, from being wanted.

“Tell me if anything’s too much,” he whispers.

Taehyung nods, voice barely there. “Just… go slow?”

And Jungkook does. The preparation is clumsy, uncertain, but never awkward. There’s too much trust between them for that. Too much care. When it finally happens, when they come together for real, it feels perfect. it’s not just physical. It’s too much and exactly enough. It’s skin and breath and trembling hands. 

They move together, messy and breathless, filled with everything they haven’t said aloud. Taehyung clings to him, hands on his back, his arms, his shoulders. Every kiss feels like a vow. Every touch, a question and an answer all at once.This is more than he ever thought he’d have. He’s overwhelmed by the feeling of Taehyung all around him, the tight heat, the way he clings, the soft gasps against his ear. It’s too much and not enough. Jungkook doesn’t want it to end. Taehyung says his name, hoarse and shaking, like it means something. Jungkook says his back like a vow. It’s over too soon. Neither of them lasts long, not with the way it feels, not with how raw and new and burning it all is.

They lie there, tangled up, holding each other. Jungkook watches Taehyung’s skin shimmer faintly with sweat, his own heart still pounding. Taehyung’s hand rests over his chest like he’s trying to keep it in place. Their legs are still hooked together under the blanket.

And in that moment, Jungkook knows. He loves him. Not just the way he moves or touches or kisses, but the way he breathes beside him, the way his fingers twitch in his sleep, the way his voice went soft when he said Jungkook’s name. He loves him, and he doesn’t know what to do with it.

Chapter Text

The next few months were the happiest of Jungkook’s life. Living with Taehyung felt strangely effortless, like slipping into something he'd always been meant to wear. They were together most of the time, their days full of quiet routines and easy laughter. They joked constantly, shared late-night snacks, and had a lot of sex, sometimes slow and sweet, sometimes messy and fast, always grounding. They helped each other with schoolwork, Jungkook explaining loops and logic trees while Taehyung muttered about visual balance and typography grids, and talked about everything from childhood memories to the weird dreams they had after eating ramen too late.

At home, it felt perfect. Like this was it, the life Jungkook had always dreamed of but never thought he’d get. Outside, though, things were different. They acted like friends. Just friends. Even when no one they knew was around. They touched less in public than they did when they were just friends. Jungkook noticed it, felt the absence of it like a shadow on his chest. But he didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to push.

Taehyung didn’t go to parties much anymore, just occasionally, when Jimin insisted. The first time he left, Jungkook had felt a flicker of fear, wondering if Taehyung might drink too much, slip up, kiss someone else. But the fear only lasted a moment. In his heart, he believed Taehyung wouldn’t do that. And when Taehyung came home early, too early for someone who was having a good time, looking flushed and a little tipsy and immediately crawling into bed with Jungkook, it removed even the last doubt.

Jungkook only told one person about what was really going on. Hoseok. Their friendship had grown fast, faster than Jungkook thought possible. There was something easy about Hoseok. Like breathing. Like he’d always been there. Jungkook trusted him, and he needed to tell someone. He couldn’t keep it all to himself.

Just once, carefully, one quiet evening after class when they were sitting in the library café, surrounded by the low murmur of other students and the hiss of the espresso machine. Hoseok had listened, eyes kind, nodding slowly like he’d already known. He didn’t make a big deal out of it. Just said, “Thanks for trusting me,” and changed the subject when Jungkook’s voice got too tight.

Taehyung was still a little weird about Hoseok. They’d only met once or twice in passing, but there’d been a moment, when Jungkook mentioned something funny Hoseok had said, and Taehyung had gone unusually quiet.

Then, too casually, he’d said, “You talk about him a lot.”

Jungkook tilted his head. “What do you mean ?”

Taehyung shrugged, fiddling with the drawstring of his hoodie. “Nothing. Just… didn’t realize you two were best friends now.” There was a teasing edge to it, but it didn’t land like a joke. It had sounded almost like a challenge, like he was trying to keep his voice light, but something sour was underneath. Jungkook had actually liked that, in a twisted way. It felt like proof, that he wasn’t the only one overthinking everything, that Taehyung could be a little unreasonable too. Later, when he mentioned that Hoseok had a girlfriend, Taehyung made a face. Scrunched his nose like it was somehow offensive. Jungkook had laughed.

So he didn’t tell Taehyung he had shared their secret with Hoseok. He didn't tell, because knew Taehyung wouldn’t take it well, that he’d get angry and weird about it. That it would somehow make him pull back. And Jungkook didn’t want to risk that. Not when things were finally, finally good. So he kept that part quiet, too. Just like everything else.

And still, he thought about it often. About how this felt like a real relationship. How it was a relationship, in all the ways that mattered, except the one that lived in the open. He thought about bringing it up. Maybe Taehyung’s feelings had changed. Maybe now, he’d want to call it what it really was. But for some reason, Jungkook never said it. He kept telling himself: Soon.

His feelings only grew stronger. Each day, each touch, each night tangled up in Taehyung’s arms, it all built into something bigger. Something that ached to be named.

When spring came and the snow melted off the sidewalks, they started spending more time outside. It was nice. But it was also harder. Harder to pretend. Harder not to reach for Taehyung’s hand when they walked. Not to kiss him when the sky went golden and the air smelled like rain. Jungkook held himself back. He didn’t want to rush Taehyung. He knew this wasn’t easy, coming out never was. He remembered what it felt like, the knot in his stomach before telling his parents. The fear of disappointing them. For Jungkook, that fear had been unfounded, his parents love had never wavered.

Still, school had been harder. People talked. Some boys mocked him. But he’d learned to keep his head down, to hold tight to the people who mattered.

He knew Taehyung hadn’t had to face that yet. And maybe he wasn’t ready. So Jungkook tried to be patient. But time made it harder. Not because he was impatient, but because everything about being near Taehyung felt right. Natural. Easy.

So the more time they spend together, the more Jungkook forgets to be careful. Even in public, he lets his touches linger, his hand brushing Taehyung’s wrist when they stood side by side, knees bumping under tables, fingers ghosting along the back of his neck when he leaned in to whisper a joke. Little things. Just enough to feel like more. And Taehyung doesn’t tell him to stop.

In the first week of May, they went to an outdoor spring market held just off campus, the kind with hand-painted signs and mismatched stalls, fairy lights strung between trees, and the scent of fried food drifting on the breeze. Students wandered in loose clusters with paper cups of lemonade or warm pastries in hand. There was a small stage set up on the grass where someone was playing acoustic covers, their voice low and husky over soft guitar.

Taehyung had wanted to come. Jungkook had said yes before he even knew what it was. They wandered slowly, shoulder to shoulder, brushing hands every now and then, never quite locking fingers. They bought one cinnamon bun to share, pulling it apart in sticky pieces. Eventually, they drifted away from the main crowd. Found a low wall near the edge of the park, under a tree that still held early blossoms in its branches. The glow of the festival was behind them now, distant enough to blur.

Taehyung was in the middle of telling a story about his sculpture class, something absurd about a professor breaking a student’s project and then trying to call it “a study in impermanence.” Jungkook was laughing too hard to breathe. Without thinking, still laughing, Jungkook reached out, let his hand rest lightly on Taehyung’s thigh. A moment later, he leaned in, head briefly touching Taehyung’s shoulder. And then, gently, he pressed a kiss to the side of Taehyung’s neck. Soft. Familiar.

Taehyung tensed immediately. A beat later, he pulled back, just a few inches, but enough to feel like miles. His voice was low and sharp. “What are you doing?”

Jungkook froze. His heart dropped. He looked around, a few people lingered nearby, sprawled on picnic blankets, leaning against trees, voices low with the ease of early summer. No one was watching. No one seemed to care.

“There’s no one here” he said quietly, almost defensive. “No one we know, I mean.”

Taehyung stared at him. The silence between them stretched too long. “That’s not the point,” he said finally, and his voice was tight. Distant.

Jungkook’s throat closed up. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I was just caught up in the moment.”

Taehyung didn’t answer. He looked away. They left not long after. And things weren’t the same.

In the days that followed, Jungkook felt the shift. Taehyung was still polite. Still smiled, still laughed sometimes. But there was space between them now, quiet and constant. He was out more, came home later, and when they were together, he avoided Jungkook’s eyes, especially in public. Like looking too long might give something away. But every night, he still climbed into Jungkook’s bed. So Jungkook told himself it was just a phase. A mood. That by morning, the air between them would clear. That Taehyung would roll over, press into him like always, and everything would settle back into place. But it didn’t. It was like something delicate had cracked, not shattered, but split just enough to hurt, and Taehyung was pretending not to see it. And Jungkook didn’t know how to reach for him without risking it all breaking open.

Then one night, Jungkook came back from the library and found Jimin in their room. Taehyung was sitting on the edge of his bed. Jimin stood by the mirror, adjusting his rings, his expression light and unbothered.

Jimin looked up with a grin. “There he is,” he said. “We’re heading out.”

Jungkook looked at them, caught off guard. “Where?”

“Double date,” Jimin said, like it was obvious. “You remember the girl from my photography class? She has a girlfriend. I finally got this one to say yes.” He gestured toward Taehyung with a wink. “Took months.”

Jungkook’s eyes flicked to Taehyung, still sitting on the bed, lacing his boots. He didn’t look up. Jungkook felt like the air had gone out of the room. He wanted to say something. Ask something. But Jimin was standing right there, humming under his breath and fixing his collar in the mirror.

So Jungkook just stood there, silent, while his chest burned. Taehyung didn’t say anything either. And then they were gone.

Jungkook stayed in the dorm after they left, alone in the dim light of the desk lamp. He hadn’t bothered to turn on the main light, it felt wrong to, like pretending everything was normal. He sat on his bed, knees pulled up, phone in his hand but untouched. The room was too quiet. Every time he tried to focus on something else, his thoughts circled back to the same place.

Why would Taehyung go on a date?

Was he still mad about the kiss? Was this some kind of payback? Maybe he just gave in to Jimin’s pressure. But wouldn’t he have said something, anything, if that were the case? Jungkook couldn’t make sense of it. Taehyung hadn’t said a word. No warning. No explanation. He hadn’t even told him he was going. And things had been... not exactly okay. But still. They still came home to each other. Still touched in the dark. Still kissed like they meant it. So why? Why like this?

The door opened around midnight. Jungkook looked up sharply. Taehyung walked in, slightly damp from the rain, smelling like the outside. He moved casually, slipping off his jacket and hanging it by the door. Jimin wasn’t with him.

Jungkook watched from the bed, heart thudding. “So,” he said, voice low and stiff, “how was your date?”

Taehyung paused, just for a moment. His expression was unreadable, but there was something sharp in it, something like a challenge. “Fine.”

Jungkook’s fingers curled around his blanket. “What did you do?” he asked, though he didn’t want the answer. He didn’t know what else to say.

Taehyung shrugged. “Just went to a bar.”

Jungkook swallowed. The next question slipped out before he could stop it. “Did you hook up with her?” He didn’t even know why he asked. He didn’t believe it. Not really.

Taehyung turned toward him, eyes flat. “We kissed,” he said.

And that was it. He turned away, crossed the room, and disappeared into the bathroom. The door closed. Jungkook stayed frozen on the bed, chest tightening like something inside him had been quietly, efficiently cut loose. Kissed. It echoed in his head like a punch. He hadn’t even considered it before. He thought Taehyung might’ve gone to be polite, or out of guilt, or to prove something. But kissed? His stomach twisted. He tried to convince himself it didn’t matter. But it did matter. Because Jungkook had loved him quietly and fully, and Taehyung had kissed someone else without even telling him why.

The sound of the shower ran faintly in the background. Jungkook sat in the silence, staring down at his lap, his vision blurring. He blinked hard, refusing to cry. Taehyung came back out eventually, towel-drying his hair, skin still damp from the steam. He didn’t say anything at first, just moved around the room, pulling on a hoodie, tossing the towel into the corner.

Then, like it was nothing, he stood in the middle of the room and said, “Do you wanna have sex?”

Jungkook stared at him, stunned. “What?”

Taehyung looked at him calmly, almost blank. “I’m just asking.”

“You just kissed someone else,” Jungkook said, voice hollow with disbelief. “And now you want to fuck me?”

Taehyung’s expression shifted, caught off guard. Then he chuckled. “Didn’t know you could talk like that.”

“Are you serious?” Jungkook cut him off, standing now too. “Taehyung, what about us?”

“There is no us!” Taehyung snapped, his voice rising. “You keep acting like we’re something we’re not!”

Jungkook’s breath caught. “You were supposed to tell me if you wanted someone else!” His voice cracked. “That was the only thing we agreed on!”

“No,” Taehyung shot back, stepping forward. “No, Jungkook, we agreed this wasn’t a relationship! And you’ve been acting like it is since day one!”

Jungkook’s hands curled into fists. “Because you made it feel like one! You asked me to live with you!”

“So what?!” Taehyung shouted. “You think cuddling makes us soulmates? You think just because we live together and hook up that it means we’re in love?”

“Then you should’ve told me that!” Jungkook shouted. “Why did you have to kiss her? Why couldn’t you just talk to me?”

“Because you never fucking listen!” Taehyung shouted back, cutting over him. “You have this idea in your head about me, about us, and you just keep pushing!”

“You’re the one who wanted to spend every second together,” Jungkook fired back. “You’re the one who gets pissed when I talk to anyone else. You literally got jealous because I spent ten minutes on a balcony with Hoseok.”

Taehyung threw his hands up. “What was I supposed to do? You’re the one who made it complicated! You started acting like we were dating, even in front of other people!”

“Because it felt like we were!” Jungkook yelled. “And you didn’t say anything! You didn’t stop me, Tae!”

“Yeah, maybe I liked it. Maybe I fucking needed it. But that doesn’t mean I owe you a relationship!”

The words hit like a slap. Jungkook’s breath caught in his throat.

“I never asked for all this,” Taehyung said, quieter now, but no less bitter. “You dumped your feelings on me and expected me to carry them.”

“And you used them,” Jungkook whispered. “You used me.”

Taehyung didn’t respond at first. He just looked at him, jaw tight, expression unreadable. Then he said, flatly, like he was tired of the whole conversation, tired of him, “Whatever.”

The word landed like another slap. Final. Dismissive. Like none of it had mattered. Jungkook froze. For a second, he couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. His chest felt cracked open, raw and hollow. He turned away without another word and went to his bed. Sat down hard, like his legs didn’t quite work. He wanted to say something, anything, but nothing came. What was there left to say, after that?

Taehyung climbed into his own bed, pulled the blanket over himself, and picked up his phone like the conversation had never happened. The silence that followed was worse than the fight. Jungkook lay down, turning his back to the room. Tears slipped silently from his eyes, wetting the pillow. He wiped them away with his sleeve, jaw clenched tight. He didn’t look over. But he didn’t hear anything from Taehyung’s side of the room either.

It was the first night they didn’t sleep in the same bed. And Jungkook knew, without any doubt, that he had to leave.

Jungkook barely slept. When he did, it was restless and shallow, waking at every shift of fabric or creak of the bunk. His body ached like he’d been through something physical, like grief had weight and muscle. He got out of bed around seven, quietly, like always. Taehyung was still lying down, turned to the wall, the blanket pulled high. Jungkook didn’t know if he was asleep or just pretending. He brushed his teeth in silence. Washed his face. Got dressed slowly. When he turned back toward the room, Taehyung was sitting up, rubbing at his face. His eyes were puffy. He didn’t look at Jungkook right away.

Neither of them spoke at first. Then finally, Taehyung said, voice rough and low, “Listen… I’m sorry. About last night. I shouldn’t have kissed her. It didn’t mean anything.”

Jungkook looked at him. Something in Taehyung’s tone sounded like a truce. Not warm, but tentative. A step. But Taehyung’s face was closed off, guarded. His hands tugged at the hem of his hoodie like he didn’t know what to do with himself.

Jungkook stared. “We had one rule,” he said quietly. “If you wanted someone else, we’d stop. You agreed to that.”

Taehyung shook his head. “And you’ve been acting like we’re something we’re not,” he said, a little too quickly now. “You bring me coffee, you wait outside my classes, you touch me like… like I’m yours. That was never the deal.”

The shift was subtle but sharp. His walls were coming back up.

Jungkook’s voice cracked. “I thought we were building something.”

“You were building something,” Taehyung snapped, too fast. “I was just trying to keep up.”

Jungkook looked down at the floor. His chest was tight, every word pressing harder against his ribs. Last night’s fight echoed between them, the shouting, the hurt, the stubbornness. And here they were again. Same battlefield. Same wounds. Still, he had to try. One last time.

He lifted his head. “Why don’t you want a relationship?” he asked softly. “Don’t you like me like this?”

Taehyung’s jaw clenched. He looked away, exhaled hard. “I like you,” he said finally, reluctant but honest. “I do. I have feelings for you, Jungkook. I’m not pretending I don’t.” Then his voice dropped again. Sharpened. “But I don’t want a relationship. I don’t want to come out. I don’t want people staring or talking or assuming things. I’m not ready for that.”

It hit like ice water down Jungkook’s spine. He waited for a but. A maybe. A pause. Something. But it didn’t come.

“I want that” Jungkook said, voice cracking. “I want to be with you. Not just in secret, not just when it’s easy. I have strong feelings for you, Tae. I can’t keep doing this like it’s nothing.”

He felt his heart pounding. His whole body humming with nerves. Hope. But the silence that followed was like a door being slowly, gently closed in his face.

Taehyung exhaled through his nose. His eyes flicked away, then back, tired, conflicted. “It’s not that simple, Jungkook.”

And just like that, something in him let go. Jungkook’s chest caved in. He felt hollow. Done. He didn’t want to hear it again, the hesitation, the pushback, the excuses. He didn’t want to beg for something that wasn’t being offered. He just wanted to leave.

He swallowed. Nodded once. “I’ve got class,” he said, voice dull and flat. He grabbed his bag and walked out. Taehyung didn’t stop him.

The sun outside was bright. Too bright. Jungkook walked across campus like a ghost, he barely heard his professor during lecture, couldn't concentrate enough to take any notes. All he could think about was the dorm, and how he couldn’t stand to go back there and pretend everything was fine. When he stepped inside after class, it felt like walking into someone else’s room. His things were still in their places, his books, his clothes, his chargers and sketchpads, but they looked wrong now. Like they belonged to someone else. Like they had no business being here anymore. He sat down on his bed and stared around the room. He doesn’t want me. I confessed, and he didn’t want me.

Taehyung hadn’t said a word. Hadn’t even tried. Hadn’t met him halfway. Not once. Jungkook felt cold. Numb. Like he’d finally hit the wall of what he could endure. He picked up his phone and called the one person who had been kind without expectation.

“Hoseok-hyung?”

“Hey, Kook. You okay?”

Jungkook’s voice was hoarse. “Can I stay with you? Just for a little while.”

There was no hesitation. “Of course. Come whenever. I’ll be home.”

Jungkook packed quietly, methodically. Not just a few things, most of them. Clothes, his laptop, notebooks, chargers, sketchpads, toiletries, even the framed photo his mother had given him when he moved in. He folded everything with care, fitting it into his backpack and a duffel bag he hadn’t touched since the semester started. The closet grew emptier with every minute, drawers left half-open and hollow. The room felt less like his with every zipper pulled shut. The rest, the things he couldn’t carry, he left out on his bed in a neat stack. He’d come back for them later, when he knew Taehyung wouldn’t be here.

Jungkook didn’t hear from Taehyung. Not that night. Not the next. Three days passed, and the silence said everything, Taehyung was angry, or hurt, or just done. Jungkook told everything to Hoseok, about the kiss, the argument, the way Taehyung had barely looked at him that morning before he left. Hoseok listened without judgment, pulled him into a hug, and said, “You did what you needed to do.” He told Jungkook he could stay as long as he wanted. No pressure. No questions.

At school, Jungkook did his best to avoid Taehyung. Luckily, they didn’t share any classes this semester. He stopped going to the cafeteria, eating sandwiches alone in the library just to avoid the risk of running into him. Still, every day, Jungkook checked his phone. Every morning. Every evening. Hoping. Dreading. Wanting and not wanting.

Then one evening, it came.

[Tae, 23:36]:
I’ve been thinking about everything.
Would you talk with me? About us. I’m sorry for how I acted.

Jungkook’s heart kicked hard against his ribs. He read it once. Then again. His fingers hovered over the screen. This wasn’t just small talk. This wasn’t a “hey.” This was something real. Something he hadn’t dared hope for. He didn’t let himself overthink.

[Jungkook, 23:41]:
Okay. When?

He watched the typing bubble flicker and disappear, then return again.

[Tae, 23:42]:
Tomorrow after class at 16? The benches behind the art building?

Of course. Their spot. He could almost see Taehyung waiting there, could almost feel the air between them already, full of too many words.

[Jungkook, 23:42]:
Yeah. I’ll be there.

He didn’t know what he’d say. What he’d want to hear. But he’d go. He had to. Then, one more message.

[Tae, 23.43]:
Thank you.

Jungkook exhaled. His fingers trembled. He typed slowly, deliberately.

[Jungkook, 23.43]:
Me too.

And that was it. No hearts. No emoji. No smiley faces or nervous over-explaining. Just honesty. And still, it was enough to keep him awake half the night, wondering what “us” meant now.

The next morning, Jungkook was a mess of nerves. He hadn’t been able to sleep much, his mind kept circling the messages from Taehyung, the words talk with me… about us , over and over like a loop he couldn’t shut off. He wanted to see him. Needed to. But there were still hours to go before they’d meet, and trying to focus on anything else felt like walking underwater. Still, he had class. And deadlines. Life hadn’t paused just because his heart had decided to spin itself inside out.

Somewhere between gathering his things and trying to find his charger, he realized he’d left his hard drive back at the dorm. Of course. It was the one thing he needed for the media assignment due that weekend. His first instinct was to text Taehyung. Hey, could you bring it when we meet? It would’ve been easy. Natural. But something about it felt too… familiar. Too comfortable. Like asking a favor from someone whose hands you hadn’t shaken off your skin just a few nights ago.

What if it made things awkward before they even saw each other again? So he decided to go himself. He knew Taehyung had afternoon classes, he’d checked the schedule a hundred times already. He could slip in and out without having to see him. No surprises. No early collisions. Just grab the hard drive. Breathe. And wait for 4 p.m to arrive.

The dorm hallways were mostly empty. Jungkook moved like a shadow, hood up, headphones on without music, just to block out the noise in his head. He reached the room quickly. Found the hard drive. He looked at the rest of his things, the few he hadn’t taken before, but left them untouched. Just in case. He didn’t want Taehyung to come back and see more stuff missing. Didn’t want him to think Jungkook was still mad, still walking away. Not when they were supposed to talk later. Not when there was a chance, however small, that things could still shift. He slung his bag over his shoulder and turned to go.

But as he passed the common room, he paused. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe instinct. Maybe something colder. He stepped closer, glanced inside, And saw him. Taehyung. Sitting on the couch, his body angled toward someone Jungkook didn’t recognize. A tall, blonde guy, leaning in, way too close. Taehyung wasn’t laughing. He looked serious, focused. But not uncomfortable. Jungkook froze.

The guy leaned in even further, tilted his head like he was going to whisper something, or maybe kiss him. It was hard to tell. But it looked like something. Jungkook’s backpack slipped from his shoulder and hit the floor with a dull thud. Both heads turned. Taehyung’s expression cracked instantly. “Jungkook,”

But Jungkook was already moving. Back down the hall. Out the door.

“Jungkook!” he heard. “Wait, please”

He didn’t stop. Down the stairs. Through the front doors. His chest was already heaving, his throat already tight.

Footsteps pounded after him. “Jungkook, stop! It wasn’t what it looked like!”

Jungkook turned around so suddenly that Taehyung nearly collided with him.

His voice came out sharp, breaking apart at the edges. “How could you?! You acted like touching you in public was some kind of sin, and now you’re… you’re kissing someone else right there in the dorm? Like it’s nothing?

Taehyung’s eyes widened. “I wasn’t kissing him! He leaned in, I didn’t..”

“Do you think that matters? ” Jungkook shouted. “Do you think that changes anything?!”

Taehyung reached out. “Please, just let me explain”

“Get off me!” Jungkook shoved him back.

Taehyung stumbled, caught himself. “Jungkook, please!”

But Jungkook wasn’t listening anymore. His breath was ragged, His face was a mess of tears and trembling. He didn’t understand how he could’ve been so stupid. To think they could fix anything. To believe that just talking could somehow undo everything that had been broken between them. Taehyung hadn’t even wanted him, not really. And now he was already finding someone else. And worse, not even trying to hide it. While Jungkook had never been worth being seen with.

The bitterness rose in his chest like fire. He shoved Taehyung again, harder. Taehyung fell back onto the grass, stunned. Jungkook stood over him, shaking, fists clenched.

“I hate you!” he shouted, voice cracking. “I never want to see you again!”

And then he ran. The way back to Hoseok’s was a blur. He didn’t remember the turns. Didn’t remember how he got up from stairs. When he reached the apartment, he knocked once and then the door opened, and he collapsed.

Hoseok caught him instantly. “Jungkook, hey, hey, what happened?”

But Jungkook couldn’t answer. His face was soaked with tears, and he couldn’t breathe. Hoseok wrapped his arms around him, held him tightly. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “You’re safe now. You’re okay.” Jungkook cried. Deep, shaking sobs that wouldn’t stop. The kind that emptied you out. And Hoseok stayed with him. All night. Saying nothing more than he needed to. Holding him when it got too heavy to carry alone.

Chapter Text

Taehyung stood in front of the mirror, staring himself down. He smoothed a hand over his shirt, then checked his collar again. Too much? Not enough?

He looked fine. He looked good. But his heart was thudding like it hadn’t in years.

Today’s the day. I see him again.

Three fucking years. Three years, and still, sometimes he lies awake wondering how he could’ve been so stupid.

Picking fights. Kissing a girl he didn’t even know or like. Acting like he didn’t care when all he ever did was care too much. It didn’t even make sense. He’d had everything. Jungkook, looking at him like he meant something. Telling him, straight up, I want this. And what did Taehyung do? He had thrown it away for what? To stay comfortable? To stay scared? It still made him sick to think about. Even now, he didn’t have a good excuse. Just fear. Pride. Whatever the hell had twisted up inside him back then and convinced him to run from the one thing that had felt real.

He still thought about him more than he’d ever admit out loud. Not just in passing, not just when a song came on that hit too close, but really thought about him. What they’d been. What they hadn’t been. What he should’ve said when it actually mattered.

He remembered walking into the dorm after their fight and feeling like he’d been punched in the chest. Half the room was gone. Drawers open. Sheets stripped. A neat little pile of Jungkook’s things on the bed, like some fucked-up goodbye letter. At first, he was pissed. What the hell? No message. No warning. Just… gone.

But the anger didn’t last. The silence settled in that same night. At first, it was just background noise, something he could drown out with music or mindless scrolling. But it grew heavier. Sharper. Regret didn’t hit him all at once, it seeped in, disguised as memories. The way Jungkook used to hum while doing homework. How he always left space on the bed, even when they weren’t speaking. The half-finished playlists they’d made. The hoodie Taehyung still hadn’t returned.

And then, after just a couple of days, it hit like a punch to the ribs. Hard and unforgiving. He missed everything, even the things he used to complain about. The clinginess. The quiet texts asking where he was. The way Jungkook waited for him after class. The way he handed him coffee in front of others, like they were already something real. Back then, those soft expectations had made Taehyung feel boxed in, like he was being pushed toward something he hadn’t agreed to yet. It had scared him. Made him lash out.

But without it? Without Jungkook? He kept thinking about the words he’d said before it all fell apart. I have strong feelings for you. I want a relationship. And Taehyung had brushed it off. Too scared. Too tangled in his own pride and confusion. Defensive. Angry. Cowardly. But fuck,  Jungkook had meant it. Every word. And Taehyung knew now that it had mattered. That it still mattered.

So he reached out, asked to meet. And Jungkook said yes.

Taehyung was going to tell him the truth. That he wanted him, too. Maybe not for grand declarations or constant PDA - not yet. But for something real. Quiet. Intentional. Steady. A beginning. He was going to ask to meet halfway. To take the first step. They’d be together, but private, for now. And maybe, with time, they'd talk about telling people. Maybe just the closest ones first. A slow kind of coming out. A soft kind of beginning. He hoped Jungkook would understand. That he’d be willing to wait. To try again. Taehyung was ready this time.

But none of that happened. Because then came the common room. The other guy. That fucking moment.

Taehyung closed his eyes. Exhaled slowly.

He hadn’t seen it coming. Jihwan, his partner in programming class, had always hovered a little too close, friendly in a way that sometimes felt uncomfortable. They’d been working on the same assignment for a few weeks now, and that day he’d asked to meet early to go over a bug they couldn’t crack. Taehyung had said yes without thinking much of it. His head had been elsewhere. Wrapped in the mess he’d made, the apology he was planning, the hope he barely dared to name.

So when Jihwan leaned in, voice soft, smile lingering, it caught him completely off guard.

And, of course, that was the exact fucking moment Jungkook walked in.

Because that was the thing with Jungkook. He always had the worst timing. Like he was cursed to see every moment Taehyung didn’t mean to show. Like back then, when he overheard the stupidest sentence Taehyung had ever said, a half-lie meant to protect himself, and took it as truth. Now this.

The timing was cruel. But maybe that wasn’t the problem. Maybe it wasn’t about Jungkook’s timing at all. Maybe it was him. Maybe he was the one who never managed to say or do the right things at the right time. Who kept hurting the person he most wanted to protect.

And this time, he really had fucked it beyond repair. The shock on Jungkooks face. The hurt. The betrayal. Taehyung had chased him, begged him to stop. But outside, it had already unraveled. The yelling. The shoving. The tears.

“I hate you. I never want to see you again.”

Jungkook’s voice still echoed in his head. Loud. Final. Taehyung had sat on the ground for a long time after Jungkook ran.

Taehyung tried to contact Jungkook. But Jungkook had blocked him everywhere. No messages went through. No calls rang. Just silence. He waited after Jungkook’s lectures, but Jungkook was never there. No class. No glimpse. It was like he’d disappeared. Once, Taehyung even waited outside the lecture hall during finals week, camped out behind the exam room door for hours. But Jungkook never came out. He started to worry, had he dropped out?

And then, suddenly, it was graduation. Taehyung didn’t know how he made it to the end of the year. That last month had been the worst of his life.

He couldn’t tell anyone the truth. No one knew. No one knew about them. Jimin noticed something was wrong, of course. He asked why Taehyung always seemed to be fighting with Jungkook, why he looked like he hadn’t slept in days. But Taehyung had no answer. None he could say out loud.

There was a point he even considered asking his mom for Jungkook’s mom’s number. But what would he say? “Can you ask your son to talk to me? I broke his heart, and I’d like another shot.”

He was desperate. Convinced that if he could just reach Jungkook, just get through somehow, he could explain everything. He could fix it. But he hadn’t paid enough attention. He didn’t know where Hoseok lived. Didn’t know his number. Didn’t even know what he was studying. Taehyung had been too busy being jealous to ever ask. He sent Hoseok a message on social media. Typed and deleted and typed again. Sent it. Weeks passed. No reply.

Summer had come and gone, and it hadn’t healed anything. If anything, the missing had gotten worse. Louder. More unbearable with every day that passed. After graduation, Taehyung went home. Couldn’t sit still. Couldn’t sleep. He ended up checking his mom’s phone when she wasn’t looking, found Jungkook’s mom’s number in her contacts. He called, pretending to be someone else. Said it was for school.

When Jungkook answered and Taehyung said his name, the call ended instantly. He tried calling again. This time the number was blocked.

In September, he started working at a design company. Something stable. Something creative. But even work couldn’t distract him. Not really.

So when Jimin’s birthday came in October, he saw a chance, any chance and he asked Jimin to invite Jungkook. Jimin said he would, but a few days later, he told Taehyung that Jungkook replied: “Sorry, I can’t make it.”

And then he asked the question Taehyung had been avoiding for months: “What’s going on with you two?”

There was no point pretending anymore. Taehyung finally told him everything. Jimin listened in silence. He was shocked, he had no idea. Taehyung had hidden it too well. Worn the mask too convincingly.

And coming out to Jimin? It was nothing like he expected. There were no judgement. No dramatic moment. Just questions and a quiet acceptance. Taehyung had been terrified before. Convinced that if he came out, things would change. That people would see him differently. Like he’d ruin the version of himself they liked. But Jimin didn’t flinch. Didn’t hesitate. Just nodded. And Taehyung felt small. Ashamed that he’d cared more about what people thought of him than about the boy who had once given him everything.

Coming out to Jimin had been the first step. But it gave Taehyung the courage to take another, to tell his mother. The next time he went home, he told her everything. Not just that he was gay. Not just that he had fallen for someone. But who that someone was. What he’d done. What he hadn’t done.

She listened quietly, her expression calm, her eyes shifting in that soft, knowing way only mothers have. She didn’t interrupt. Didn’t judge. When Taehyung finally stopped talking, there was a long silence.

Then he asked, tentative, “Did you already know?”

She smiled faintly. “I had my guesses. Especially after all your stories about Jungkook.”

Taehyung hesitated. “So… did his mom say anything? About us? About what happened?”

He thought she must have. He’d assumed she already knew everything, and just hadn’t said anything out of respect. Waiting for him to be ready.

But his mother shook her head. “No,” she said softly. “She never mentioned anything. Not about the fight. Not even about the two of you being close.”

And just like that, something in Taehyung sank. Even after everything... even after the fight, the heartbreak, the mess, Jungkook hadn’t said a word. Hadn’t outed him. Hadn’t told the truth, even to his own family. He had protected Taehyung’s secret. Carried the silence, all on his own. Taehyung had always known Jungkook was soft-hearted. Gentle. Loyal in the way people write songs about. But this? This was something else. And Taehyung didn’t know if he’d ever be able to make it right.

So Taehyung lived. Years passed. He stopped trying to find ways to reach Jungkook. Stopped texting Hoseok into the void. Stopped hovering on old social media pages. But he didn’t forget.

Sometimes, his mother would mention things in passing. “Jungkook graduated.” “He got a junior developer job at a local company.” “I saw his mom the other day. She says he’s doing well.”

Taehyung didn’t ask for details. But he held on to every scrap of information like it was oxygen. Eventually, he looked up the company online. He Googled it more than once. Checked their site. Their open positions.

And then, two months ago, he saw they were looking for a designer. He loved his current job. Had no reason to leave. But because he was sick of carrying around what if like a second spine. He needed to know. He needed to fucking try. So he applied. And somehow, he got it. Fate, maybe. Or karma giving him one more shot. Or just dumb luck.

He packed his apartment. Started over. For a chance. Not a guarantee. Just the possibility that Jungkook might see him again.

So now, here he was. In front of the mirror. Heart pounding like it was trying to climb out of his chest.

Today’s the day. I see him again.

And he has no idea what Jungkook will say when he does.

Chapter Text

Taehyung arrived at his new workplace with his heart thudding like he’d run the whole way there. Jin, his new manager, greeted him at the entrance, warm and professional, and walked him through the open office space, pointing out desks, meeting rooms, the kitchen. Everything blurred together.

“We’ve got a staff meeting in about half an hour,” Jin said with a friendly smile. “It’s a good chance to meet the full team.”

Taehyung nodded. Tried to smile. “Great.” But his chest tightened at the thought. He didn’t know what department Jungkook worked in. Didn’t know what floor, what desk, what schedule. He didn’t even know for sure if he’d see him today. But the possibility alone made it hard to breathe.

The staff meeting room buzzed with low conversation when Taehyung and Jin stepped inside. People sat in loose rows, chatting quietly, some finishing their coffee, others scrolling through their phones. The room smelled faintly like printer toner and pastries. Taehyung followed Jin in, heart pounding harder with each step. His eyes flicked over the faces automatically - open, unfamiliar, unfamiliar.

And then, there he was. Jungkook.

Seated in the second-to-last row, head tilted just slightly as he explained something to the person beside him. His voice low, his expression calm, his hands moving in that way Taehyung remembered, precise, expressive.

Then Jin cleared his throat at the front of the room, signaling the start of the meeting. Conversations began to quiet. Jungkook looked up.

Taehyung saw the exact second it hit him. Jungkook’s eyes widened, just slightly at first, then all at once. His entire expression shifted, open with shock, like someone had yanked the ground out from under him. The smile he’d worn a second ago disappeared completely. His spine straightened. The pen in his hand slipped and clattered onto the table. Their eyes met. And for a moment, everything in Jungkook’s face said: No. It can’t be you.

Taehyung felt the air thin around him. He tried to look surprised too. Like this was all just a coincidence, a weird twist of fate. But something in him cracked, and the smallest smile slipped through, hesitant, involuntary, hopeful. Jungkook didn’t smile back. His jaw tightened. His mouth flattened into a thin, unreadable line. And his eyes, once so warm, were sharp now. Cold. 

Still, he looked good. Familiar. Too familiar. Taehyung wanted to go to him. To hug him. To hold him. Then Jungkook looked away. Taehyung felt the sting, sharp and immediate. But he stood a little straighter. Okay. That’s fair. He deserved worse.

Meanwhile, Jin had started speaking. “We’ve got someone new joining the team today,” he said. “This is Kim Taehyung, he’ll be working on the visual design side of the product. Make him feel welcome.”

A few scattered greetings followed. Someone smiled. Someone waved. Jungkook didn’t move. Jin said something else, Taehyung wasn’t sure what. The words passed over him like static. He said hello. A few lines about himself he wouldn’t remember. He didn’t take his eyes off Jungkook. When Jin clapped him on the back and thanked him, he nodded politely to the room and took a seat near the edge. Hands folded in his lap. Heart still thudding against his ribs like it hadn’t finished trying to escape.

He didn’t let himself look for Jungkook again. But he’d seen enough. That flash of surprise. The flicker of recognition. The way it had disappeared beneath ice. He’d come here knowing it wouldn’t be easy. But now, more than ever, he knew: He had to try.

Taehyung caught up with him just outside the meeting room, calling his name softly. “Jungkook.”

Jungkook turned, mid-step, clearly already halfway to the stairs. His expression shifted the moment he saw him - not surprise this time, not warmth. Just stillness.

Taehyung managed a nervous smile. “Hey. What a… weird coincidence, right?”

Jungkook nodded once. “Yeah.”

“How are you?” Taehyung asked, trying to keep it light, steady.

“I’m good,” Jungkook said. Too fast. Too polite. His face was blank, voice perfectly even. Like they were strangers. Like they hadn’t once shared a bed, a secret.. . People were still filtering out of the room around them, some chatting, some waving goodbye. Taehyung knew Jungkook wouldn’t make a scene. Wouldn’t let it show.

Taehyung cleared his throat. “How long have you been here?”

“Almost a year.”

“Oh. Wow.” He nodded, like that meant something. “It’s a good company. From what I’ve seen. I mean, I haven’t seen much yet, obviously, but…”

He gestured vaguely toward the hallway. “Jin seems really cool. Chill, but, like, put together? Which is rare in managers. And the team looked super friendly and professional. Like, competent but not scary? That’s a good vibe, I think. I’m excited to start.”

Jungkook didn’t say anything.

“And you, you must like it here, right? A year’s a long time. But you wouldn’t stay if it was bad. So I guess it’s good. That’s..” He gave a small, breathless chuckle. “That’s good.”

Jungkook just watched him, silent. The hallway had mostly emptied. Just the two of them now, standing in the quiet echo of their past. Taehyung shifted on his feet. He didn’t want this moment to end yet. He didn’t know how to let go of it. So he said the one thing he probably shouldn’t have.

“Are you… seeing anyone?”

Something flickered in Jungkook’s expression. The first real crack.

“Yes,” he said. Just one word. But it hit like a drop from a height Taehyung hadn’t prepared for. He swallowed hard, nodded too quickly. “That’s..  That’s good. I’m… I’m not seeing anyone. Not that it matters. Just, yeah.” He laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. His pulse was loud in his ears. “I, uh… I came out, by the way. To Jimin. And to my mom.”

For a second, Jungkook’s expression shifted, just a flicker, something unreadable in his eyes. Then: “I’m glad,” he said. Flat. Almost sarcastic. Like it didn’t matter anymore. Like it had come too late. Taehyung winced, heat crawling up the back of his neck. Why was he saying this now? Why was he blurting out all the wrong things at the worst possible moment? It was the first time they’d seen each other again, and already he was unraveling. Rambling. Trying to make things right when nothing about this moment was right. What the hell is wrong with him?

The silence between them stretched, thick and uncomfortable. Taehyung’s pulse thudded in his throat. He hated this, this awkward, hollow space where something used to live.

“Let’s have coffee sometime,” he said, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You know. Catch up properly.”

Jungkook hesitated. “I’m pretty busy right now… with project work.”

“Yeah, of course.” Taehyung nodded too quickly, too eagerly. “Whenever you have time. Maybe some evening, after work.”

He could see the discomfort in Jungkook’s face, like he was searching for words he didn’t want to say. Finally, Jungkook mumbled, “Maybe later. If I have more time.”

Then he glanced at his watch. “I have to go. Another meeting’s starting.”

Taehyung nodded again, even though Jungkook was already turning away. He stood there long after the elevator doors had closed, heart bruised and thudding. He almost wished Jungkook had yelled. Said something sharp. Told him to fuck off. At least then it would’ve been honest. At least then he could’ve apologized. Could’ve explained.

But this cold distance? This wasn’t the Jungkook he remembered.

The days blurred. Weeks passed. Taehyung settled into the new job like he always did, quietly competent, friendly with everyone, quick to pick up the tools and rhythm of the team. He liked the project. The people were kind. Jin checked in often and made him feel welcome.

But Jungkook worked from home. He only came in on Mondays, just because of the staff meeting, then vanished again like a ghost for the rest of the week. And Taehyung couldn’t help thinking: what the hell? Was it because of him? Had it always been like this?  He didn’t know. He hadn’t asked. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that it hadn’t. Still, maybe he was overthinking. Maybe Jungkook had always worked from home. He didn’t know what had been normal before he showed up.

So one afternoon, while grabbing coffee in the lounge, Taehyung tried to ask Jin casually, too casually.

“Do a lot of people work from home?” he said, aiming for idle curiosity. “Like, has Jungkook always worked remotely? Or is that just a thing people start doing once they’ve been here a while?”

Jin smiled, misreading the question. “Yeah, most people do a mix. If you’re thinking about it for yourself, feel free. You can always talk to me or RM. It’s really chill here.”

Taehyung forced a polite laugh. “Ah, right. Good to know.”

That hadn’t been what he meant. But he didn’t ask again. He just nodded, thanked Jin, and walked back to his desk.

He tried. God, he tried. A few Mondays, he lingered by Jungkook’s desk after the meeting, tried to catch him at lunch, offered a polite smile in passing. Jungkook was always too busy. Mid-email. On a call. In a rush, always just out of reach.

Then one Monday, there was supposed to be a smaller project team meeting after the all-staff. Twenty minutes between the two. Taehyung spotted Jungkook leaving the main room and heading toward the hallway that led to the bathrooms.

Without thinking, he followed.

“Hey,” he said, catching up just before Jungkook reached the door. Jungkook paused. His expression was tight, not surprised, not cold exactly, but weary. Like he was bracing himself. Like he didn’t have the energy for this again.

Taehyung smiled, nervous. “I was just thinking, maybe we could finally grab that coffee? I mean, I barely see you, and..”

Jungkook’s features tightened, sharpened. And when he spoke, his voice was quiet, firm, and colder than Taehyung had ever heard.

“Listen,” he said, “I don’t want to have coffee with you.”

Taehyung flinched.

“We have to work together. I can’t do anything about that,” Jungkook went on, tone clipped. “But I’m not interested in being friends. Or catching up. Or spending time with you. Do you understand?”

The words landed like a slap.

Taehyung’s mouth opened. “I - I just thought..”

“Well, don’t,” Jungkook snapped. His eyes were flat. “I’m asking you to leave me alone.”

And with that, he turned. Walked the other way. Not toward the bathroom anymore, just anywhere else. Taehyung stood there frozen for a second, heart hammering. Taken back by the sharpness in Jungkook’s voice, by the cold finality of it. Then he pushed into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. He cried. Silently, furiously. His face pressed into the sleeve of his jacket, breath shaking, fists clenched. Shame and heartbreak coiled tight in his chest, making it hard to breathe. 

He didn’t know how long he stayed there, long enough for the worst of it to pass. When he finally checked the time, it was five minutes to the meeting.

Shit.

He splashed water on his face. Tried to blink the redness away. But the mirror didn’t lie, his eyes were glassy and puffy, nose a little pink. He didn’t have time to pull himself together properly, and staying there any longer would only make it worse. So he left.

When he walked into the small conference room, everyone was already there. RM, the lead developer, glanced up first.

“You okay?” he asked, brows knitting. “Your eyes look a little red.”

“Allergies,” Taehyung said quickly, forcing a small smile. “Something in the air, I guess.”

RM nodded and let it go. The meeting started. Taehyung sat at the edge of the table, kept his head down, took notes he wouldn’t remember later. Jungkook didn’t say a word. But Taehyung felt his eyes on him.

Afterward, when everyone was packing up, Jungkook approached. His voice was quiet. Careful. “Taehyung… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.” Taehyung looked up. Jungkook’s face was open, genuine, maybe even a little regretful. Like he hadn’t expected to cut so deep. Taehyung tried to hold himself together. “It’s fine.”

“I’ve just… moved on,” Jungkook said, softer now. “I hope you understand.”

Taehyung nodded. But the tears were already threatening again, hot behind his eyes. He didn’t trust himself to speak. Jungkook lingered for half a second, like he might say something more. But in the end, he just gave a short nod and walked away.

After that, Taehyung left him alone. No more hovering by his desk. No more waiting for eye contact in meetings. Jungkook still worked remotely most of the time, and Taehyung stopped looking for him in the office even on the days he might be there.

And maybe that should’ve been the end of it. But something shifted. Not overnight. Not obviously. But gradually, like a door opening an inch. Jungkook started saying hi again when they passed in the hallway. Quietly. Almost awkwardly. And when he had a work-related question, he messaged Taehyung directly instead of looping in RM like he had been. He even cracked a small, dry joke in a shared Slack thread once, nothing pointed, nothing intimate, but the kind of thing he would’ve avoided just weeks ago. He didn’t smile exactly. But he didn’t look through him either. And the coldness that had once lived in his tone, blunt and cutting, had softened just a bit.

It felt like guilt. Or maybe regret. Like maybe Jungkook had gone home that night and realized how hard his words had landed. Like maybe he hadn’t meant for it to be quite that final. Taehyung felt the change. Noticed it like a breeze under a closed door. And for a moment, for a day, a week, he wanted to chase it again. But he didn’t. Not this time. Not when the smallest step forward felt like the only thing holding them in orbit.

Chapter Text

The company Christmas party was announced at the start of December, tucked casually into a team-wide email, but Taehyung had been quietly excited ever since. By now, he’d settled into the team, familiar faces, shared lunches, inside jokes whispered with Jin over coffee, quiet brainstorming sessions with RM that sometimes turned into full-blown debates about typography versus legibility.

The party was set to be held in the main auditorium of the building, a space usually reserved for presentations and quarterly meetings, but tonight, it had been completely transformed. Lights zigzagged across the ceiling in warm lines. There were round tables dressed in white linen, centerpieces glowing with tiny golden bulbs and sprays of pine. A small bar was set up in the back, serving wine and cocktails. Soft music hummed from a nearby speaker. Everything gleamed with just the right amount of polish, formal enough to feel like an occasion, relaxed enough not to feel stiff.

Everyone had dressed up. Jin wore a velvet blazer and looked unfairly confident in it. Even RM, who normally leaned toward hoodies and jeans, had traded them for dark slacks and a pressed shirt. Taehyung couldn’t help but admire how different everyone looked outside the usual routine of office lights and screen glare. Taehyung took it all in as he arrived, cozy yet polished, like the party had been curated for just the right amount of sparkle. It was the kind of night where people leaned closer to talk, laughed too loud, touched arms without realizing it.

He felt good. Put together. Fitted black pants that flattered his legs and hugged just right in the back, he’d checked twice in the mirror. The dark shirt he chose was soft and fitted, top buttons undone, sleeves rolled. His hair had cooperated, curling at the temples in loose waves. He walked in with a quiet confidence, only barely ruined by the way his pulse kicked when he spotted Jungkook. Because he was here. Standing few steps away beside RM, nodding along to something he was saying. His hair had grown out, soft and long now, brushing his jaw in delicate waves that caught the light. A slim black pinstriped blazer framed his shoulders perfectly. Taehyung had to swallow once, slow and careful, because seeing him like this, real and near and painfully beautiful, hit harder than he expected.

He almost didn’t go over. Almost detoured toward the bar just to give himself a moment. But RM caught sight of him and waved him over enthusiastically. “Taehyung! Just the guy, we were talking about that carousel interaction for the mobile view. What did you end up testing?” Taehyung smiled, tried to make it seem casual. “Yeah, actually, I think the horizontal scroll might be stronger than we thought. But it needs an anchor animation to not feel floaty.”

Jungkook’s eyes were on him the whole time. Taehyung felt them. Heavy. Direct. Like he was trying to read him inside-out without a single word. He fought to keep his hands still, to keep his voice even. He nodded at the right places, let RM and Jin fill in the gaps, even made a self-deprecating joke about JavaScript ruining his life. People laughed. Jungkook didn’t. But he didn’t look away either. Taehyung could feel the way his gaze lingered, unmoving, almost physical. Like a hand on his neck. It made him warm and unsettled all at once.

And it wasn’t just once. Throughout the evening, even after the initial conversation faded and they drifted apart, Taehyung caught Jungkook’s eyes across the room again and again. A glance over someone’s shoulder. A slow look held just a second too long. Like a conversation happening without words. Like a habit neither of them had fully broken.

And the way Jungkook looked at him, it wasn’t polite, it wasn't neutral. It was familiar. It was exactly the way he used to look at him three years ago, when they’d still been everything and nothing. When a single brush of the hand meant something. When Taehyung would turn just right so Jungkook could see him walk away.

He remembered that, and so, stupidly, shamelessly, he did it again. When he walked toward the drinks table, he slowed just a little. Tilted his hips when he reached for a glass. The pants he wore made his ass look good, he knew that. He’d chosen them for that very reason. It was pathetic. High school-level ridiculous. But he couldn’t help it. He remembered how Jungkook used to love it. How he’d once said, in a voice gone hoarse from kissing, You don’t even know what that does to me, do you? So maybe he leaned into it a little. Maybe he turned at an angle that made the most of the lighting. Maybe his skin tingled with anticipation. And sure enough, when he looked up, Jungkook’s eyes were on him again. Not guarded. Not distant. Hungry.

A couple of hours into the party, after too many glances across the room and too many unsaid things tightening in his chest, Taehyung saw Jungkook slip out. Not toward the bathrooms. Not toward the bar. Toward the stairs.

Taehyung hesitated for half a second, heart thudding, and then followed. He found him upstairs in the office wing, dimly lit now, silent. Jungkook was at his desk, already packing up his laptop and slipping it into his bag. His coat was folded neatly over the chair.

Taehyung blinked, confused. “Are you… leaving?”

Jungkook glanced up briefly. “Yeah.”

There was no warmth in his tone. No explanation. No apology. Taehyung felt the sting of it like cold water.

“Oh,” he said. “Okay. I just..” he exhaled, unsure. “I thought you were enjoying yourself.”

“It was fine,” Jungkook said, avoiding his eyes now. He zipped his bag and slung it over one shoulder.

Fine?

Taehyung’s chest tightened. He took a step forward. “So you were just gonna leave without saying anything?”

“I didn’t think I had to,” Jungkook said quietly, brushing past.

That did it. The tightness inside Taehyung snapped. He was tired of this quiet chase. Tired of never getting enough time. Tired of watching Jungkook slip through his fingers again and again. He’s always leaving. Always too busy. Always one step away from gone. Taehyung felt the heat rise in his chest, his pulse thudding in his ears. I barely get to see him. I barely get to talk to him. And now, when he’s been looking at me all night like he remembers what we were, he’s just gonna leave again?  No. Not this time.

He stepped forward and grabbed Jungkook’s sleeve, not roughly, just enough to stop him.

“Don’t leave,” he said, quieter now. Almost pleading.

Jungkook froze. Slowly, he turned. Their eyes met, and Taehyung’s heart thudded so loud he could barely hear anything else. Jungkook looked at his hand, then at his face again. His expression unreadable, cautious, like he was teetering on the edge of something he didn’t know how to name.

“Taehyung…” he said, voice low. He tried to pull free.

But Taehyung didn’t let go. He stepped in closer, the space between them shrinking. His hand slid from Jungkook’s sleeve to the curve of his neck, thumb brushing the corner of his jaw.

“Don’t go,” he whispered again. And then, slowly, heart pounding, lips parting, he leaned in.

The kiss was strong. Not wild, not unthinking, but full. Like it had been aching to happen. Like it had been held back too long and finally broke loose. Taehyung tried not to devour him. He wanted to, but he didn’t. Jungkook's mouth opening against Taehyung’s, hands lifting as if unsure where to land. Their bodies pressed close, breath mingling, the room tilting slightly around them.

For a second, Taehyung thought: This is it. We’re finally here. But then, Jungkook’s hands pushed at his shoulders, not hard, but firm.

He broke the kiss, lips flushed, breathing uneven. “Someone might see.”

Taehyung blinked, dazed. Looked around. Then, without thinking, he grabbed Jungkook’s hand. “Come with me.”

He half-expected resistance. A shake of the head. A refusal. But Jungkook followed. Down the hallway, past darkened desks and the echo of muffled music from downstairs. They didn’t pass anyone. No footsteps. No voices. Just the sound of Jungkook’s shoes beside his, quick and sure. Taehyung reached the bathroom door, pulled it open, and stepped inside, tugging Jungkook in after him.

The door clicked shut behind them, and before Jungkook could say anything, Taehyung was already kissing him again. Hard. Desperate. Jungkook stumbled back against the sinks with a sharp inhale, hands gripping Taehyung’s waist like he didn’t know whether to pull him closer or push him away. Taehyung made the decision for him, climbing into his space, pressing their chests together, slotting their hips until there was no distance left.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t neat. It was the kind of kiss that tasted like longing and recklessness, like years lost and too many things left unsaid. Taehyung could feel it in Jungkook’s fingers as they curled tighter into the fabric of his shirt, the way he kissed back like he’d been holding his breath for months.

He ground their hips together, friction sharp, intoxicating, and he felt it. Jungkook was already hard. Taehyung’s breath caught. His whole body flushed hot. He dropped to his knees without thinking, fingers fumbling with Jungkook’s belt, urgency buzzing under his skin. The sound of the buckle was loud in the tiled room, the slide of the zipper even louder.

Jungkook exhaled sharply, fingers twitching like he wanted to stop him, but didn’t. Taehyung tugged his pants down just enough, palmed him through the fabric of his briefs first, pressing his mouth there, breathing in deep like he needed the scent, the heat, the reality of him. He heard Jungkook shudder above him. A quiet, helpless sound.

When Taehyung peeled the underwear down and took him in hand, Jungkook let out a stifled moan, knuckles white where they gripped the edge of the sink. Taehyung didn’t tease. He didn’t have it in him. He closed his mouth over him, taking as much as he could, one hand steadying Jungkook’s hip while the other curled around what his mouth couldn’t reach. Jungkook’s hands went straight into his hair, tight, trembling, holding him there. But he didn’t push. Didn’t pull. Taehyung almost wished he would.

It was messy and fast. Breathless. Jungkook bit back a curse and came hard, hips jerking once before he stilled, his hands gentle again as if afraid he’d hurt him.

Taehyung stood slowly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes locked on Jungkook’s, searching, waiting. Jungkook looked wrecked. Pink cheeks, parted lips, pupils blown wide. But he didn’t say anything. Taehyung leaned in again, kissed him, soft now, full of something quieter. Then pressed their bodies close, rubbed against him with no shame, his hips stuttering forward once, twice, until he was coming too, breath caught on a choked groan against Jungkook’s throat.

They stood there, pressed together, hearts thudding in sync. Neither spoke.

Jungkook was the one who moved first, reaching for his pants, pulling them up with slow, steady hands. He tucked himself away, zipped up, then pulled a tissue from the dispenser and handed it to Taehyung. Taehyung took the tissue, wiping himself off with slow, careful motions, eyes flicking up now and then like he was hoping, desperately, that Jungkook might still be looking at him. But Jungkook was already buttoning his pants, fingers moving too fast, too sharp. His jaw was tight. His chest still rising and falling like he hadn’t caught his breath.

He didn’t say anything right away. He didn’t even look at Taehyung. Just stood there, back half-turned, one hand gripping the edge of the sink like he needed something to hold him upright.

Then, finally, his voice low and flat: “Don’t read into this.”

And without waiting for a reply, he left.

Chapter Text

The weekend felt endless. Taehyung kept trying to distract himself, laundry, emails, a half-finished sketch he couldn’t bring himself to look at, but everything kept looping back to that night. To Jungkook’s mouth. His hands. The sound he made when Taehyung touched him. The way he didn’t stop him.

He replayed it all, frame by frame, until it was practically burned into his brain. The way Jungkook had kissed him back, held onto him, fucked into his mouth like he’d been waiting for it. Like he still wanted him.

He still wants me. The thought hit him low in the gut, electric and dangerous. He knew what Jungkook had said, don’t read into this , but how the hell was he supposed to not read into it. Because that wasn’t casual. That wasn’t meaningless. That was heat and ache and desperation.

Taehyung lay back on his bed Saturday night, hand slipping under the waistband of his sweatpants before he even realized he was touching himself. He let the memory take over, the taste of Jungkook’s skin, the low, raw sound of his moan, the way his body arched. He came hard, breathing Jungkook’s name into his pillow.

Afterward, guilt curled low in his stomach. He lay still in the quiet, sweat cooling on his skin, heart still thudding. And that’s when the memory crept back in: “Are you seeing someone?”

Jungkook’s eyes. That tiny shift in his expression. And then his answer: "Yes.”

Taehyung sat up slowly, a cold weight settling in his chest. Had Jungkook… cheated? The idea didn’t sit right. Jungkook wasn’t like that. He was thoughtful to a fault. Honest, almost to the point of self-sabotage. He would’ve pulled away. Would’ve said no. Wouldn’t he?

But maybe they’d broken up. It had been months ago. People split up. Things change. Please let it have changed. Still, the question wouldn’t stop ringing in his head. Did I do something wrong? Did we both?

By Sunday evening, the anxiety had burrowed in deep. The want was still there, burning low and constant, but now tangled up in worry and uncertainty. He didn’t know what he’d say on Monday. Didn’t know what Jungkook would do, would he pretend it never happened. But he had to try. He couldn’t let it sit in silence again. He had to say something. Even if he didn’t know what yet.

Taehyung hovered near Jungkook’s desk after the staff meeting, pretending to read something on his phone. He wasn’t subtle. He didn’t care. When Jungkook finally stood and headed toward the kitchen, Taehyung followed, heart in his throat. Jungkook was making coffee, his posture stiff. When he saw Taehyung approach, his jaw tightened.

“We should talk,” Taehyung said quietly.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Jungkook replied without looking at him. “It happened. That’s all.”

Taehyung blinked. “That’s all? Jungkook, come on. That wasn’t nothing.”

Jungkook finally turned, eyes sharp. “I let the mood of the party get to me. That’s it. It didn’t mean anything.”

“It meant something to me,” Taehyung said, softer now.

Jungkook opened his mouth, but before he could respond, footsteps echoed in the hallway. Jin and RM entered, mid-conversation about a bug in the staging environment.

Jungkook took the opportunity like a lifeline, coffee in hand, face unreadable. “See you later,” he said flatly, already turning.

Taehyung didn’t follow. He stood frozen for a second, staring after him like the answers might be hidden in the back of Jungkook’s shoulders. Then he sat, trying to act normal while RM and Jin kept talking, their voices muffled under the roar of his thoughts. He barely heard a word.

Until the sharp buzz of a phone cut through everything. The vibration came from the counter by the coffee machine. A phone left behind in the rush. Jungkook’s.

Taehyung stood, walked over, checked the screen.

Hoseok 🐣 calling.

He stared at the screen. Jealousy surged hot and immediate. That damn Hoseok. Of course he was still in Jungkook’s life. Of course he got to stay. Got to be there for the quiet days, the little victories. Got to know the version of Jungkook that Taehyung never got to see grow.

And then, worse. A thought that landed heavier than the rest: Was he the boyfriend?

Taehyung’s grip tightened. His chest twisted. Was the jealousy from all those years ago actually justified? Had he seen it coming even then? He knew he shouldn’t ask. Shouldn’t say anything. It wasn’t his business anymore. Or was it, hadn’t things changed? After the party? After the way Jungkook kissed him. The question had already formed in his throat, bitter and burning, and he couldn’t swallow it back.

He turned back toward the table, holding the phone up, showing the screen.

“Hey,” he asked, keeping his tone casual. “Hoseok… is that Jungkook’s boyfriend?”

RM looked up, eyebrows lifting. Jin blinked, surprised. Shit. Maybe he’d just outed Jungkook. Maybe he crossed a line. Too late now.

But then RM shook his head. “No way. He’s not dating anyone.”

Taehyung blinked. “You’re sure?”

Jin grinned. “Trust me. I’ve tried to set him up like five times. He always says he’s too busy or not interested. He’d definitely say something if he was seeing someone.”

Jin kept going, launching into a story about some friend from high school he still swore was perfect for Jungkook, but Taehyung wasn’t listening anymore. Relief hit first. Quick and dizzying. Then confusion. And beneath it all, something he didn’t want to name, hope, curling low and warm like smoke under his ribs.

Jungkook had lied. Said he was seeing someone. Said he’d moved on. But that wasn’t true. So why say it? To protect himself? To shut Taehyung down? Or maybe, just maybe, to hurt him a little. Payback for the past. For the silence. For everything Taehyung had never said until it was too late. It stung. Of course it did. He picked up the phone, forced a polite nod, made some excuse about a bug ticket he had to double-check and slipped away.

Back at his desk, he sat down, opened his laptop, and pulled up his email.

To: Jeon Jungkook

Subject:
your phone

Body:
You left your phone in the kitchen. Come by my desk to get it.

He hit send. He wasn’t letting him get away that easily.

Jungkook didn’t come over. Didn’t reply to the email either. Taehyung kept glancing at his inbox for the next hour, but nothing changed. No footsteps. No message. No Jungkook. It surprised him. He’d expected Jungkook to want his phone enough to push through and come get it, even if he was cold and distant doing it. But the silence stayed.

As the day wound down and the office emptied out, Taehyung finally walked over to Jungkook’s desk. Empty. Chair tucked in. Laptop gone. He was gone. Taehyung stood there for a moment, Jungkook’s phone still warm in his hand, unsure what to do. Then he spotted RM across the room and made his way over.

“Hey,” he said, aiming for casual. “Have you seen Jungkook? I’ve got his phone, thought he might stop by.”

RM glanced up. “Yeah, he left a while ago. Around two, I think.”

Taehyung nodded. “Right. Okay. Thanks.”

He walked away, slow at first, then with more purpose. And then he did something he probably shouldn’t have. But he couldn’t wait until next Monday to see him. Also, he justified it to himself, Jungkook needed his phone. He couldn’t go a whole week without it, right? So he went to HR.

He had the whole lie rehearsed. Lines prepared. Backup excuses ready in case they asked anything. But when he stepped into the office and explained, “I was supposed to meet Jungkook later for something work-related, but he left his phone, and now I can’t contact him,” the woman behind the desk barely blinked.

“Oh, Jeon?” she said, already typing. “One sec.”

He held his breath. Tried to act like this was all perfectly normal. Just a little work mix-up. She didn’t question it. Didn’t even ask why Jungkook hadn’t given him the address himself. Just printed out a slip and handed it over. And just like that, he had it. Taehyung stepped out of the building, the slip of paper in one hand, Jungkook’s phone in the other.

Chapter Text

Taehyung reached the building and stood outside for nearly fifteen minutes, heart hammering. He knew the apartment number from the slip HR had printed for him, but he didn’t dare ring the buzzer. Jungkook might not let him in. Might not even open the door. So he waited, anxious and pacing, until someone exited the front door and he slipped in behind them.

His palms were damp. His throat dry. When he finally knocked, he nearly hoped Jungkook wouldn’t answer.

But then the door creaked open, and there he was. Jungkook blinked at him, visibly startled. “Taehyung?” Like it was the last possible person he expected.

“I,” Taehyung cleared his throat. “You left your phone.”

Jungkook’s eyes flicked downward, but Taehyung didn’t hold the phone up. Not yet. Just in case Jungkook took it and shut the door without another word.

“Okay,” Jungkook said stiffly. “Can I have it?”

Taehyung hesitated. “Can I come in? Just for a second.”

A long pause. Then Jungkook stepped back, wordless, and let him in.

Taehyung entered slowly, heart in his throat. “I came by your desk, but you’d already left. RM said you left early.”

Jungkook shut the door behind him. “Yeah. I had a job interview.”

The words hit like a punch. Sharp and deliberate.

“A… what?” Taehyung blinked, stunned.

“A job interview,” Jungkook repeated, his voice flat but challenging now. “I’m thinking about leaving.”

Taehyung reeled. The pieces clicked together too fast. Jungkooks words knocked the breath out of him, not because of what Jungkook said, but because of what it meant. What it revealed. The work-from-home. The distance. The silence. The cold politeness. All of it.

“Because of me?”

Jungkook didn’t answer.

It hit all at once, shame flooding his chest like a wave he hadn’t seen coming. He’d thought he was trying. Thought he was chasing something real. But in truth, he hadn’t thought at all, not really. He’d only seen his side of the story. What he wanted. What he missed. He hadn’t stopped, not once, to consider what it might feel like for Jungkook. To see him suddenly appear at work, in his world, at his desk, in his orbit again, like a ghost from a chapter he’d tried so hard to close. Taehyung had bulldozed into his life again. Uninvited. Unthinking. He had thrown memories into Jungkook’s face every Monday, every meeting, every hallway run-in.

He hadn’t even considered how cruel that might feel. He thought he was showing up to make things right. But maybe he’d just been tearing open a wound Jungkook had already stitched shut. His chest tightened. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the phone. His voice was quiet now, small in a way it hadn’t been in years.

“You don’t have to leave,” he said, holding the phone out like an offering. “I’ll go.”

His throat bobbed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you hated me that much.” And then he turned, before his voice could crack, before his knees could give. He walked toward the door, something breaking open inside him with every step.

But then he heard it, quiet, almost unwilling. “I don’t hate you.”

Taehyung froze.

“I just…” Jungkook sighed like he was trying to explain why he couldn’t be near Taehyung. But he couldn’t let him leave thinking he was hated. Like he was trying to part with peace. “I’ve moved on. I don’t want to go back to the past. I’m seeing someone now.”

That stopped Taehyung cold. He turned slowly. “I know you’re not.”

Jungkook’s face shifted, surprise, then discomfort. Like he didn’t know what to say. Like he hadn’t expected to be caught in the lie. Taehyung didn’t press. He didn’t say how he knew. Didn’t mention the phone, or RM, or Jin. Just stepped a little closer.

“I know you,” he said quietly. “You’d never cheat. That’s not who you are.”

Jungkook’s eyes sharpened, his voice cutting through the quiet before he could stop it, bitter, impulsive, aching. “Like you didn’t?”

The words hit hard. Deserved. But Taehyung didn’t flinch. This was the moment he’d waited for. The one he thought he’d never get, the chance to finally say the things he should have said years ago.

“In my head…” he began, voice rough, unsteady, “we weren’t in a relationship. Not officially. Not… labeled.”

He shook his head at himself, jaw clenching.

“I know how that sounds. I hate that that’s what I thought. I hate how I acted, how I dismissed what we were, what you meant to me. I didn’t understand then.”

He swallowed hard, stepping in, slowly, carefully, until only inches separated them.

“But that’s not an excuse,” he added, softer now. “I just need you to know… if we were together now, really together, I would never touch anyone else. Not ever.”

Jungkook looked down, jaw tight, breath shallow. And Taehyung raised his hands, soft, trembling, and rested them behind Jungkook’s neck, thumb brushing lightly over his skin.

“Please,” he whispered. “Just tell me what to do. If there’s anything I can say, anything I can prove to you, I will. I’ll do anything.”

Jungkook didn’t move. His eyes stayed down, lashes low, but he doesn’t pull away either. Taehyung can feel the tension under his hands, held breath, clenched jaw.

“I didn’t come here to mess up your life,” Taehyung continues. “I didn’t mean to make everything harder. I just… I want to make it right, I want you”

“You always say the right thing when it’s already too late.” Jungkook is still not looking at him.

Taehyung flinches. “I know.”

But Jungkook doesn’t step away. And that, God, that tiny mercy, is all the hope Taehyung needs. His hands move slowly along the nape of Jungkook’s neck, brushing over warm skin. Familiar. Intimate. Dangerous. He knows how easily Jungkook could be swayed by touch, they had done this before. Him messing up, then asking for forgiveness through his body, through his need. It isn’t fair. But Taehyung doesn’t know how else to ask for what he wants.

And right now, it feels like there is a real possibility. How could he not reach for it?

He leaned in, voice low, breath shaking. “I never got over you,” he whispered. “I still..” The word caught. His throat closed around it. “I still have feelings for you.”

His forehead came to rest against Jungkook’s, breath warm between them. “I’m sorry for the pain I caused. I can’t take it back. But I swear, if you let me… I'll never hurt you again. I want this. I want you. ”

He pressed a soft kiss to Jungkook’s lips. Pulled back just enough to see his face. Jungkook didn’t move. Didn’t speak. His eyes were wide, unreadable, like he was stuck between wanting and fear. So Taehyung kissed him again. And then again.

He didn’t ask the question burning on his tongue, Do you still feel something for me? He was too afraid of the answer. Instead, he kissed him once more. Slower this time. Deeper.  Jungkook’s hands hovered at his sides. Not touching. Just like the first time they kissed. When Taehyung had whispered, Please. When Jungkook had hesitated, and then given in.

So now, once more, he whispered: “Kiss me back.” And Jungkook did. Their mouths met fully, hungrily. And for a moment, nothing else mattered.

Taehyung knew they should talk, really talk. About what this meant, whether Jungkook had forgiven him, whether anything between them had truly shifted. But with Jungkook’s hands finally touching him again, soft and certain, all of that slipped to the background. Just one more minute, Taehyung told himself. One more kiss. One more moment.

But then Jungkook kissed him deeper, hands curling into the fabric of Taehyung’s shirt, pulling him closer like he didn’t want to let go. And suddenly Taehyung didn’t want to stop. Not yet. Not when Jungkook was still here, still kissing him like this meant something.

He pulled away, breathless, their foreheads pressed together. “Where’s your bedroom?” he whispered.

For a second, he braced himself, half expecting Jungkook to flinch, to step back, to remember everything that still hung unspoken between them. But Jungkook just looked at him, eyes dark and hot, and turned without a word. He led him down the hall. The bedroom was dark, sheets half-rumpled like they’d been abandoned early that morning. Taehyung didn’t stop to think. He kissed Jungkook again as the door closed behind them, deeper now, hungrier, his hands slipping beneath the hem of his shirt.

Clothes came off slowly, clumsily, T-shirts tugged over heads, pants undone with shaking fingers. Skin met skin in brief, electric touches. Jungkook’s body felt so familiar it nearly broke Taehyung. His warmth, the way he arched into every kiss, the way he exhaled when Taehyung mouthed along the edge of his jaw like he used to.

They sank down onto the bed, Taehyung guiding them there, straddling Jungkook’s hips with intent, palms pressed to his bare chest, pinning him there for just a second. The air between them was charged, hot and loaded. Taehyung could feel the heat of Jungkook’s skin, the tension in his breath. He rolled his hips down once, slow and deliberate, and felt Jungkook’s cock already hard beneath him.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” Taehyung said, voice low, hands sliding down Jungkook’s sides. Jungkook didn’t answer, just pulled him down into a kiss. Deep. Needy. It made Taehyung groan. Their bare chests met, skin against skin, and the contact made something sharp twist in Taehyung’s gut. He moved fast after that, hands mapping every inch of Jungkook’s torso like he was trying to memorize him from scratch. He licked along his collarbone, bit lightly at his shoulder, kissed the corner of his mouth between gasps. Jungkook responded with quiet moans and hands clutching at Taehyung’s back, nails biting in.

When Taehyung ground down again, their cocks aligned, separated only by denim. The friction made them both gasp. Taehyung leaned over, chest to chest, and whispered, “I need you.” He fumbled open the drawer in the nightstand, almost dizzy with need, and nearly sighed with relief when he found lube inside. He slicked his fingers quickly, then sat back and shoved his jeans and underwear off completely.

Jungkook’s eyes were all over him, wide, a little dazed, lips parted. Taehyung held his gaze while he brought his fingers between his legs and pushed one inside himself. Then another. It stung a little, but he didn’t care. He rocked into them, stretching himself open, gasping softly at the pressure, at the burn. Jungkook groaned, eyes glued to the way Taehyung’s hand moved. His cock twitched where it lay against his stomach. Taehyung licked his lips, straddled him again, and reached down to line them up.

Then, slow, so fucking slow, he sank down. The stretch made his thighs tremble, made him curse under his breath. Jungkook’s hands flew to his hips, gripping hard, trying to keep him steady.

“Fuck,” Taehyung gasped, head falling forward. “So full… god.”

Jungkook bit his lip, eyes blown wide, hands smoothing over Taehyung’s thighs now, gripping wherever he could. Taehyung paused when he was fully seated, catching his breath, loving the feel of being wrapped around him again.

Then he started to move. He rode Jungkook hard, no rhythm at first, just desperate rolling thrusts, chasing friction, chasing more. His hands braced on Jungkook’s chest, fingernails scraping down. Jungkook met him halfway, hips snapping up, jaw clenched with the effort to hold back.

Taehyung was loud, gasping and cursing as he fucked himself on Jungkook’s cock, sweat dripping down his spine. “Feels so good,” he moaned. “God, I missed you.” Jungkook’s hands roamed, gripping his hips, then his ass, then slipping up his back, pulling him closer, trying to meet every thrust. Their foreheads knocked together. Their breaths came in sync.

When Taehyung came, it was sudden and hard, his whole body tensed and shuddered, cum spilling between their stomachs. He nearly collapsed, chest heaving. Jungkook followed seconds later with a sharp groan, hips bucking up, pulling Taehyung flush against him as he came deep inside him.

They stayed like that, Taehyung slumped over Jungkook, sweaty and boneless, lips pressed to his neck. After a while, Taehyung rolled off to the side, letting Jungkook slip out of him. One leg still tangled over Jungkook’s thigh, his fingers wandered over the rise and fall of Jungkook’s chest. He couldn’t stop touching.

He leaned in and kissed him again. Slow. Possessive. “That was so good,” he whispered, lips brushing Jungkook’s. Jungkook only hummed in response, eyelids heavy, skin flushed. Taehyung smiled and pressed his nose to Jungkook’s jaw, breathing him in. He hadn’t meant for this to happen. But now that it had, he will never let it go.

Chapter Text

Taehyung must have drifted off, because when he opened his eyes again, he was alone. The bed beside him was cold. Sheets rumpled. His clothes were folded neatly in the corner of the room. He sat up, stretching a little, the ache in his body blooming slow and sweet, a reminder of what had happened, of how close they’d been.

Still smiling, he pulled his clothes on and padded out toward the living room. Jungkook was standing by the sink, drying a plate. He looked domestic, messy hair, soft pajama pants, a too-large t-shirt that hung loose around his shoulders. Comfortable. Familiar. Taehyung’s heart swelled.

He crossed the room quietly. “Hi,” he said, voice light, warm with something almost shy. Jungkook turned from the sink, still drying the plate. Taehyung leaned in without thinking, seeking that familiar closeness, wanting to kiss him like it was already theirs again.

But Jungkook turned his head. Taehyung froze mid-motion. The rejection hit like a jolt, sharp, immediate. His heart dropped. Shit. Did I misread everything? Did I ruin it already?

“…What?” he started, barely a whisper.

Jungkook set the plate down, wiping his hands on a dish towel before stepping back a little. “I just think… we moved too fast,” he said, voice careful, like he didn’t want to hurt him but couldn’t pretend either.

Taehyung blinked. “What?”

“We didn’t even talk,” Jungkook said. His thumb rubbed nervously over his knuckles. “I let it happen. And in the moment, it felt… right. But now, I don’t know what to feel. What it meant. Or what it should mean.”

Taehyung’s smile wilted, slow and silent. He’d thought they were past this, past uncertainty. That the sex had been the start. A turning point. He knew they still needed to talk, sure, but he’d believed that this part, them, was settled now.

“I know we need to talk,” he said quickly. “I’m not trying to rush things again. Let’s just… sit. Talk. I’ll keep my hands to myself,” he added, trying for a joke as he gestured toward the table. “I’ll even stay on my side.”

Jungkook gave him a look, but relented. They sat at opposite ends of the table, Jungkook angled slightly away, guarded.

Taehyung tried not to take it personally. “What makes you doubt this?” he asked.

Jungkook exhaled, long and tired. “I don’t know how to trust you.”

That landed like a punch. Taehyung dropped his gaze. “I meant every word I said.”

“I want to believe you,” Jungkook admitted. “But I’ve heard the right words before. You’re good with words.”

There was a beat of silence, heavy between them.

Then Jungkook groaned suddenly and buried his face in his hands. “Ugh, we didn’t even use a condom. What the hell was I thinking?”

“I’m clean,” Taehyung said immediately. His voice was quiet but sure. “I haven’t... I haven’t been with anyone since you.”

And it was the truth. No touches, no flings, no one. Not even once. The only hands that had touched him intimately these past three years had been his own, with nothing but fading memories of Jungkook behind every thought.

Jungkook’s head snapped up. “What?”

Taehyung swallowed. “I haven’t wanted anyone else. I haven’t even tried. It’s only been you.”

Jungkook stared at him, stunned into silence.

“I…” Jungkook ran a hand through his hair. “I’m clean too. I got tested after the last time I was with someone.”

Taehyung nodded, the words settling heavily. He’d known Jungkook might have been with others, of course he had, he was beautiful, magnetic, and he’d had every reason to move on. But still, hearing it out loud stung more than he expected. But he pushed away the thought of anyone else touching Jungkook, tried to stay in this moment.

“I can’t believe you haven’t…” Jungkook trailed off, like he genuinely didn’t know how to finish the sentence. His eyes searched Taehyung’s face, wide and unreadable. “Three years is a long time.”

“I couldn’t,” Taehyung said, voice tight. “It never felt right. Not without you.”

Silence stretched between them, quiet, but charged. Taehyung couldn’t stay seated anymore. The distance felt unbearable. Against the promise he’d made minutes earlier, he dropped to his knees in front of Jungkook and took his hands, slow and deliberate.

“I meant what I said,” he whispered. “I missed you. I wanted you. Every single day. And not just the sex, not just the memories, I missed you . The way you think. The way you look at me. The way I feel when I’m around you. There hasn’t been anyone else, not even close.”

Jungkook’s eyes were wide, unreadable. His fingers twitched in Taehyung’s grasp, but he didn’t pull away.

Taehyung stood, still holding his hands, and gently pulled him up too. “Let’s talk,” he said, voice steady now. “Everything. No more hiding. No more pretending we’re okay when we’re not. Let’s lay it all out.”

Jungkook hesitated, just a second. Then he nodded.

And they talked. About what had happened. About Jungkook’s hurt. The misunderstanding, seeing someone leaning in to kiss Taehyung. About how Jungkook had wanted something real, something Taehyung had been too afraid to give.

It was hard, at some points. Taehyung wanted to protest, to defend himself, but he didn’t. He held back. Let Jungkook speak. Learned how to listen. How to really understand him.

Then it was Taehyung’s turn.He spoke about his fear. His slow unraveling. How it took him years to say the things he should’ve said from the beginning. He told Jungkook about coming out to Jimin. And later, to his mom. He told him about the years he missed him. How no one else ever came close. He didn’t hold anything back.

And then Jungkook listened.

Hours passed. The light in the apartment shifted. The silence between them changed shape, no longer heavy, no longer sharp. Just quiet. And when the conversation finally settled, Taehyung felt lighter than he had in years.

Jungkook still wasn’t smiling, not quite. But the frown he’d worn since the day Taehyung walked back into his life was gone. Now it was him holding Taehyung’s hands, thumbs moving on his skin. Steady. Solid.

But there was one more thing left. And Taehyung knew he couldn’t move forward without saying it. “I need to tell you something,” he said quietly. “But you have to promise not to get mad.”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow. “I can’t promise that.”

Fair.

Taehyung winced. “It’s about how I ended up working at your company.”

Jungkook’s expression shifted. “What do you mean?”

Taehyung bit his lip. “I… knew you worked there.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened. “You..what?”

“I didn’t plan to stalk you or anything,” Taehyung rushed. “It just… happened. My mom mentioned where you worked. I looked it up. And then I saw the designer job posting. And I thought, maybe this was a sign. Maybe it was my chance to see you again.”

He left out the part about checking the website every week for months. That was… probably too much for now.

Jungkook stared at him. Silent. And then, he laughed. A loud, surprised, disbelieving laugh.

Taehyung blinked. “You’re laughing?”

“You’re actually insane,” Jungkook said, shaking his head, but he looked relieved. Like he thought it would be something else, worse..

“Probably,” Taehyung admitted, sheepish.

Jungkook leaned in, hand finding Taehyung’s hoodie and tugging him close. “Insane,” he said again, but he was smiling now, really smiling, and then he kissed him. And Taehyung kissed back, relieved, giddy, smiling into it. Because maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning he’d been hoping for. A second chance. And this time, he wasn’t going to waste it.

Chapter Text

After that night, things started to shift slowly. At first, Taehyung was scared to leave. He lingered longer than he should’ve, reluctant to walk out the door, afraid that once they were apart, Jungkook might start doubting things again. That he’d pull away. That the fragile bridge between them would collapse before it fully rebuilt. But Jungkook didn’t backtrack. He didn’t talk about quitting the company anymore, though he still worked from home most days. He said he wasn’t ready for big changes, didn’t want their being together to suddenly rewrite his whole routine. It would be too much pressure all at once. And Taehyung understood.

It wasn’t what he hoped for, not seeing Jungkook every day, but he tried to accept it. Still, every time they met, his stomach twisted with nerves, like maybe this time Jungkook would look at him differently. Decide it was a mistake. But it didn’t happen. Jungkook didn’t push him away anymore. He wasn’t quite the same, though. Not like before, when he was all warmth and clinginess, texting at midnight, waiting for Taehyung after class, looking for excuses to be close. That version of Jungkook was gone. Maybe he’d just grown up. Maybe life had made him quieter, more cautious. Taehyung missed that. Still, he stayed hopeful. The ease, the openness, it would come back in time. He believed that.

The morning after, when Taehyung left Jungkook’s apartment to go to work, there was an awkward pause at the door. A quiet smile, a see-you-later that felt a little too careful. At the office, Taehyung sat at his desk and stared at his phone, wanting, needing, to send something. Just a simple message. Something to let Jungkook know he was thinking about him.

He typed:
I can’t stop smiling. Can’t wait to see you again.

Hit send. And it bounced. Blocked.

Right. Jungkook had blocked his number three years ago. Neither of them had remembered.

So Taehyung did the only thing he could think of, he opened his laptop and wrote a short, heartfelt email to Jungkook’s work address. Not dramatic, just honest. Warm. A little shy. Romantic, in his own way.

Subject:
Still smiling

Body:
I know it’s not the most poetic medium, but I needed you to know…
Last night meant everything. I’m so happy I found my way back to you.
Even if you’re working from home, even if I only get to see you sometimes-
I’ll take every second.
Also, unblock me, please. I need to text you embarrassing things.

He hit send, heart racing. Two minutes later, an email pinged back:

Subject:
Unblocked 😒

Body:
Don’t make me regret it.
And stop using work email to flirt.

A second later, his phone buzzed.

New text message from Jungkook:
❤️

And just like that, Taehyung’s whole day changed. They were finally okay.

They didn’t say I love you that day. Or the day after. It took time.

Jungkook never turned back into the boy he’d been three years ago, all soft edges and open hands. But this version of him was even better. Grounded. Steady. The love they shared now felt stronger, more intentional.

Because there was no halfway between them anymore. It was real. And it was everywhere, not just behind closed doors. They hadn’t exactly announced it at the office, but it was obvious soon enough. Maybe Taehyung tried a little too hard to prove it wasn’t a secret, lingering touches in the hallway, glancing smiles across meetings, fingers brushing as they passed each other coffee. But Jungkook didn’t pull away. He liked it. Liked that Taehyung was the one who wanted to be seen.

Their parents were happy for them. Their friends were, too.

One evening, after dinner, they were curled up on the couch. Jungkook sat scrolling on his phone, Taehyung lying sideways, his legs draped over Jungkook’s lap. They were comfortable now, no more fear of rejection, no more tiptoeing. Everything felt solid.

Taehyung watched him for a long time. Watched the fall of his hair, the soft curve of his mouth, the little crease between his brows when he was concentrating. And that quiet, overwhelming feeling came again, the kind that made his chest ache with happiness.

He had him. Jungkook wanted to be with him.

“Hey,” he nudged Jungkook with his toes.

Jungkook looked up, eyebrows raised. “What?”

“How come you didn’t get mad when I told you I followed you here?” Taehyung asked. “To your work. When I applied.”

Jungkook blinked, a little surprised. “Did you think I would?”

“I thought you might,” Taehyung admitted. “I was scared to tell you.”

Jungkook was quiet for a second, then said softly, “Honestly.. that was the moment I believed you. Like, really believed it. All the things you’d said… that was when they stopped feeling like words.”

He glanced down at Taehyung’s legs across his lap, smiled faintly. “You don’t do something like that unless you mean it. It’s kind of stupid, I know, but it erased the last of my doubt.”

He laughed, a little sheepish. “Weird, right? Getting touched by someone lowkey stalking you.”

“I didn’t stalk,” Taehyung protested, laughing, poking Jungkook with his foot. Jungkook laughed too, catching his ankle. “I guess I just liked knowing you’d do something a little reckless for me. That you wanted me that much.”

Taehyung sat up, shifting close. His hands found Jungkook’s face, fingers brushing the curve of his nose, the ridge of his cheekbone, the softness of his lips, like he hadn’t already memorized every inch of him during the past weeks.

“I’d do anything for you,” he said. And then he kissed him. Soft. Steady. Certain.

When he pulled back, he didn’t look away. “I love you.”

Jungkook didn’t hesitate. He pressed a kiss to Taehyung’s wrist, then his mouth, firm, grounding. His voice was warm, unwavering.

“I love you.”

The next kiss was deeper. Slower. It curled around them like a promise, wet and unhurried, full of want and certainty. The kind of kiss that would end in the bedroom. But not yet. Because right now, they weren’t rushing toward anything. Right now, they kissed like they had nothing to prove. Because the love was already there, quiet and real and earned. And finally, they had all the time in the world.