...Three years ago...

After spending time with his two best friends, Taehyung returned home late at night. In the dimly lit living room, he found his father sitting on the couch, drinking a glass of whiskey and watching TV. “Why aren’t you sleeping?” he asked as he shuffled closer.

“I want to relax a bit first,” Woosung said, his eyes locked on the TV, and sipped his drink.

Taehyung sank into the armchair to Woosung’s right, observing him with a notion of hesitation and sullenness. The talk he had with Sung Ryung earlier roamed furiously in the dark of his mind, dazing him and making his chest feel so tight, as if a ruthless strap had been laced around it. But the memory of Jiyu crying in his arms was what left him in shreds, oppressing his existence so devastatingly.

“Dad,” Taehyung uttered, his voice muted but heavy with the weight of his despondency. “Why didn’t you tell me Jaesuk died?”

Woosung’s breath froze mid-beat as a frost of stiffness dropped over his frame. His heart pranced at the question, though he disguised any tittle of anxiety behind his composed facade. “You were basically locked up in your room for two years, Taehyung. You didn’t want to talk to us. And you were already devastated. I didn’t want to sadden you more.”

Taehyung received his explanation with no suspicion — after all, Woosung was right. Taehyung had barely left his room in the past two years, and the few times his parents tried to talk to him, he shut them out. The isolation had been a cocoon of numbness, and breaking free felt like an impossible task with the torture of Jungkook’s absence.

“Did you talk to him that day?”

“Yes,” Woosung responded, still looking away from him. “We talked on the phone. I invited him to come over to our house. But he never made it.”

A spasm of bewilderment shot across Taehyung’s features, replacing the blanket of melancholy with hard creases. Why... is he lying? Taehyung’s pulse quickened at this gnawing thought, the consecutive waves of distress that toppled over him altering his calm breathing into a strained panting.

Taehyung folded his fingers into fists, striving to muffle his uneasiness. He gulped, his throat dry. “Did you fight over the phone? I remember there was some tension between you two.”

“No, of course we didn’t fight,” Woosung said, his tone calm and measured, accompanied by a reassuring smile. “We had some arguments here and there about our business, but I always loved him. It’s sad that he died, but we have to keep living, right?”

Silence descended upon the room like snow, cold and thick with tension. Taehyung’s restless eyes stayed rooted to his father’s face, absorbing the serenity of his expression and the faint smile tugging at his lips with ever-increasing agitation. He’s talking about his best friend who died and... he’s smiling. As if... he doesn’t care.

Taehyung heaved himself off his seat without another word, the vortex of unanswered questions and his father’s baffling behavior propelling him towards his room in hurried steps. A wildfire of disquiet roiled inside him, brisking his heartbeat as he closed the door behind him. Sitting at his desk, he switched on his laptop with a tremor of urgency, the soft buzz of its startup vibrating in the quiet space.

He tapped his foot against the floor impatiently, waiting for the familiar glow of the screen to illuminate his face. As the desktop finally appeared, he navigated swiftly to the search engine, the cursor hovering over the Google icon. He typed Jaesuk’s name into the search bar and hit the enter button.

The search results flooded in, though with a quick inspection, he realized there was only one article about Jaesuk’s death. His stomach shriveled as he read the headline that stood out among the rest: “Jeon&Kim’s CEO died in a car crash.”

Taehyung clicked on the link, his body clenching as the page loaded and he was greeted by a photo of Jaesuk. The realization hammered him like a blow to his chest. Jungkook had lost his father, and he had no idea. How much Jungkook must have suffered from his loss, and Taehyung couldn’t even be there for him. He truly couldn’t fathom the amount of pain Jungkook must have been in.

Taehyung scrolled further down with a shaky sigh. With a thorough review, he concluded the article only contained information about the company and his personal life, but not a word about the accident. No information about the time, the place, or the circumstances of his death.

A gruesome suspicion clasped Taehyung’s being, a knot tightening in his chest as he fumbled for his phone in his pocket. With trembling hands, he yanked it out and tapped on his recent calls, locating Jimin’s name. He pressed the call button, his heart pounding with apprehension.

The phone rang once, twice, before Jimin’s voice answered on the other end. “Hey, Tae. What’s up?”

“Chim... Do you remember Jaesuk’s car? The Jeep Avenger?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Can you find out where it is?”

There was a moment of silence on the line as Jimin’s forehead filled with a pattern of twists. “I can, but why?” He wore his wireless earpiece, connecting it via Bluetooth, and accessed a program to search for information about Jaesuk.

“Something doesn’t feel right,” Taehyung muttered, his voice shaky with unease. “My father is lying to me.”

“About what?” Finding the car plate, Jimin copied the number and pasted it into the search bar. “It says it has been sent to a vehicle recycling facility two years ago.”

Taehyung chewed on his lower lip as he processed the information. “Can you track the car’s last route from the traffic cameras?”

“It’s been two years, Tae. I doubt I’ll find something.” Despite his words, Jimin opened another program and typed the plate again. The screen flickered with anticipation, displaying a progress bar as it searched for a match. “I’m on it. Tell me what happened.”

“I told you guys I went to Sung Ryung’s house today and talked to Jiyu too. She said my father had called Jaesuk the day he died, and she heard his voice because he was screaming. I found it weird, but I didn’t mention it to you because I didn’t think much of it. I just asked my father if they had fought, and he said no. He also said he had invited Jaesuk to come over that day. But Jiyu said her dad had told her he was going to the company.”

Jimin’s impatient eyes held fast onto the screen, waiting for a match to pop up, though Taehyung’s revelations were disturbing enough to steal his focus for a moment. “If he’s lying, it means he has something to hide.”

“Exactly.”

A few seconds of charged silence later, the program beeped. Jimin jolted closer, scanning the results that had appeared on the screen. “Oh my God, I found it,” he breathed out. “It was last seen two years ago, and it’s... Fuck, it’s going towards the company.”

Taehyung’s heart gave a leap of pure anxiety, the same vile emotion coursing through him like a rush of electricity. “Tell me if you find something else.”

Jimin tapped the enter key to move to the next CCTV footage that showed Jaesuk’s car. “He drove into the company’s parking lot. The car isn’t visible anymore.” He pressed enter again, and the screen transitioned to the footage of the parking lot’s exit. He squinted his eyes at the screen as he located the car driving out of the parking lot. “Tae...” Jimin’s voice trailed off, filled with disbelief and growing apprehension. He zoomed in on the driver’s seat, the image sharpening to reveal a startling detail. “Someone else is driving his car.”

Taehyung’s breath caught in his throat, his eyes staring at a blank spot in the air blindly. “That means... My father...” The agonizing disgust that gnarled his stomach at the speculations his chaotic mind conjured robbed him of his words. 

“He had something to do with Jaesuk’s death,” Jimin uttered, appalled. “The next time the car appears is when that guy went to the vehicle recycling facility.”

“Fuck, what do I do?” Taehyung whispered in overriding despair, as he let his head collapse onto his desk. Tears stung his eyes, his breath rushing in and out of him as he grappled with the realization that his father was involved.

“Nothing,” Jimin said. “Don’t say anything to your father. He can’t know that you know he lied.”

“How am I supposed to live with a—” He piped down as the word tasted so, so horrid he couldn’t let it out.

“Tae, calm down. Just avoid him, okay? You saw him barely five times the past two years. Avoid him again. He never goes to the club you’ll work at. If what we’re thinking is true, he’s capable of everything. He can hurt you if he finds out that you know something.”

The tsunami of shock and devastation crashed over Taehyung, drowning him in its merciless waters. His suffering spilled from him in countless tears before he even realized it, his curled-up form convulsing with anguished weeping. “This can’t be true...” he choked out between gasping sobs, his mind refusing to accept the brutal reality unfolding before him, a reality where his father stood accused of unspeakable betrayal.

How could his father do this and lie to him? Did Jungkook know about it? Was that the true reason he left? If what Taehyung was suspecting was true, did Jungkook hate him for his father’s actions? So many questions bombarded his head, and he couldn’t find even an inkling of an answer to any of them.

. . .

Taehyung stirred awake from his restless sleep. An oppression girdled his chest as he stared at the ceiling, the sudden memory feeling like a nightmare. The constrictive mass over his form only intensified at the remembrance that he was in Jaesuk’s house.

Sung Ryung knows about this. That’s why she was so agitated when I implied I knew the truth about Jaesuk’s death. So Jungkook has to know as well. And he doesn’t hate me at all. How is this possible? My father ruined his family.

A hoarse sigh flowed through Taehyung’s lips, his brain an incoherent mess of winding thoughts. But then Sung Ryung’s words entered his frazzled brain like a sweet remedy. “Exactly, your father did everything, so why do you and Jungkook have to suffer? Don’t blame yourself for anything.” Maybe that’s what Jungkook believes too.

Another sigh jumped out of Taehyung, deeper this time, as if wanting to unburden himself even a fraction of the oppression surrounding him. He threw the blanket off him, the only light in the room being the rays of the dull sun seeping through the curtains. He sat upright, rubbing his face with his hands to slough off the remnants of sleep and the haunting dreams that had tortured him throughout the night.

He pattered to the door and slid it open. He only managed to take a step before he jolted in his spot, barely able to silence his startled gasp. Beside his door, Jungkook was sitting with his back propped against the wall and his legs outstretched. His head hung heavy to the side, eyes closed, mouth open with subdued snores flying off it.

This stupid man... Taehyung shook his head slowly in frustration, though the tiniest of smiles came to enliven his drawn features.

After Taehyung’s confession yesterday, the two barely talked to each other. They preoccupied themselves with Jiyu, and even when they were alone again when Jungkook drove him to his work, they didn’t say a word about it. Jungkook sat on a chair beside the counter so he wouldn’t be in the way of Taehyung’s work and only made a few playful quips about the men and women who called him pretty or even hit on him.

He drove him back to the house, heated up the food Minji had cooked, and they sat in the living room to watch TV as they ate. The only words they exchanged were ‘thank you for the food’ and ‘no problem’. Then Jungkook led him to the guest room, that was just across Jungkook’s room.

They stood still for a bit, awkwardly looking anywhere but each other, until Jungkook cleared his throat to dispel the torrent of things he wanted to say. He instead simply said goodnight, and once Taehyung parroted him, he retreated to his room.

How the hell Jungkook ended up sleeping beside his door was a complete mystery to Taehyung.

Taehyung squatted down beside Jungkook, his gaze tender as he took in the familiar lines of his face. The creases of worry and gloom that usually etched Jungkook’s features since his return were smoothed away in sleep, replaced by an expression of peaceful innocence. It was crazy how much he had missed his sleeping face. Or to watch the even fluctuations of his chest. Or simply him.

Taehyung’s heart fluttered like fragile wings, memories whooshing into his mind of nights spent in each other’s arms on the bed just across, nestled in a cocoon of love. How many times had he watched Jungkook sleep, marveling at how someone so strong and determined could look so gentle and vulnerable? It always amazed him.

Taehyung’s hand crept closer, hovering over a stray lock of hair that fell over his forehead. After a moment’s hesitation, he brushed the strand away with a light touch, his smooth hair feeling like silk in his palm. The simple act ignited something deep within him, a longing he had tried to bury but now surfaced with a vengeance.

He let his hand linger for a moment longer, fingers tracing the edge of Jungkook’s temple, down to the curve of his cheek. But then he wrenched his hand away at the lurch of Jungkook’s body, soaking in his alert, fretful eyes. Jungkook had always been a heavy sleeper; even when Taehyung squeezed him in his embrace or drew delicate kisses on his cheek or toyed with his hair, Jungkook didn’t even stir. And now he woke up with the lightest of touches.

Taehyung watched the agitation in Jungkook’s wide eyes melt away, mellowing his own startle. “Good morning?”

Jungkook huffed weakly at the coltish hue of his tone. He rubbed his face, trying to discard his disorientation and any vestiges of his surprise, and yawned as he stretched his sore body. “Good morning.”

“Mind explaining why you’re sleeping here?”

“I couldn’t sleep so far away from you. I have to protect you.”

Taehyung’s brows slid up with a notion of scorn. “Your room is right across, and you said no one will enter this house.”

Jungkook cast him a glance, his gaze wandering over Taehyung’s features with an undercurrent of solemnity, and pushed himself off his seat. “I’ll go change.”

A mild scoff emitted from Taehyung at his hurried evasion. He straightened his posture and visited the bathroom to freshen up. After changing into casual clothes as well, he headed downstairs, the aroma of freshly cooked breakfast wafting through the air.

He smiled upon finding Sung Ryung sitting on the couch and joined her. “Good morning.”

Sung Ryung’s dull expression brightened at his presence. “Good morning, Taehyung,” she said, carding her fingers through his hair in a gentle caress. “Did you rest well?”

“Not really. But I’m okay.”

“Why didn’t you rest well?” Sung Ryung frowned, her concern shining through the faint twists on her forehead. “Was the bed uncomfortable?”

“No, it was perfect,” Taehyung hastened to say, wanting to ease her worry. “I just... I kept thinking about everything that’s going on. And I woke up often during the night.”

A sympathetic smile emerged on Sung Ryung’s face as she placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it in a gesture of reassurance. “Don’t worry. Nothing will happen to you, and all this will be over before you know it.”

“I’m not worried about me.”

Sung Ryung perceived his disquiet in his muted voice and how his traits saddened, as if a constant distress resided within him. “You’re worried about Jungkook, huh?”

Taehyung hesitated, then nodded slowly. “It must be so stressful for him. Didn’t you see him? He even slept in the hallway.”

“I saw him when I went to wake up Jiyu. He wasn’t sleeping, though. He was just sitting there.”

Taehyung’s eyes enlarged slightly at the revelation. He didn’t even have to guard his room since, as Jungkook had said, no one could enter the house. And he just sat outside of his room the whole night. “He only slept for three hours, then?”

Before Sung Ryung could reply, quick footsteps sounded on the stairs, drawing their attention.

Jungkook trod around the couch and dipped down to place a little kiss on his mother’s head. “Good morning, mom.”

Sung Ryung smiled at his sweet gesture, her hand reaching up to pat his cheek. “Good morning, Jungkookie. Go have breakfast with Taehyung. Minji made waffles.”

Jungkook’s view passed over Taehyung in a fleeting glance before he shuffled away towards the kitchen.

Sung Ryung’s brows drew together at her son’s bizarre behavior as she watched him leave. “Why did he look at you like that?”

“Because he knows I’ll scold him for sleeping on the floor and he’s damn right,” Taehyung said, his discontent about Jungkook’s actions still twisting his guts.

Taehyung gave a caress to Sung Ryung’s shoulder and rose from his seat, retreating towards the kitchen. He greeted Minji with a warm smile as she bustled about, and she returned it with a nod. He moved to the table and took a seat across from Jungkook, who was listlessly serving himself a portion of waffles and fruit.

The table was a spectacle, laden with an array of delicious foods; fluffy waffles, fresh fruit, and a variety of spreads and syrups. Yet all Taehyung could see was Jungkook’s colorless cheeks and the dark shadows under his bloodshot eyes.

Taehyung crossed his arms firmly over his chest, his jaw tightened in reproach, the same emotion that spewed from his gaze as he silently observed him for a beat. “You look awful.”

Jungkook’s hand paused mid-air, the syrup bottle hanging over his waffle as Taehyung’s biting comment cut through the tense silence. His gaze snapped up to meet Taehyung’s, instantly recognizing the stern look on his face. “Okay,” he said, his voice edged with a touch of sarcasm, “and you look gorgeous.”

“Jungkook,” Taehyung grumbled, souring his playful behavior with his glare. “You only slept for three hours? Really?”

The twinkle of mischief in Jungkook’s eyes darkened, diffusing into resignation as he set the syrup bottle down. He looked away from the mixture of disapproval and seriousness in Taehyung’s eyes. “Two, actually. But it’s okay! I’m fine.”

“Yah,” Taehyung groaned, his frustration deepening by the tide of concern that spiraled within his chest. “Don’t do that again. No one will enter this house, anyway. You need sleep, Jungkook. Go sleep for a few more hours.”

“No,” Jungkook opposed strictly. “My job is to never leave you alone for the next three days. I can’t just sleep.”

“Your job is to protect me. How will you do that if you’re all sleepy and tired? Please go to sleep. I won’t go anywhere without you. Promise.”

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Minji chimed in, “but don’t forget we have guards surrounding the house, Jungkook-ssi.”

“She’s right. Thank you, Minji-ssi,” Taehyung smiled, thankful for her support.

Jungkook stared at the waffle on his plate, considering his words. His eyes truly burned from his lack of sleep, and his body felt so cumbersome by his exhaustion. “You promise you won’t go anywhere?”

“I promise,” Taehyung answered right away, his brows raising in hopeful expectation.

Jungkook peeked at him, the firmness enclosing his mouth softening with the heavy sigh he expelled. “Okay. I’ll just sleep for three more hours.”

“Sleep as much as you want.”

“Three hours,” Jungkook repeated, a thread of sharpness tightening his voice. “Eat now. I’ll be back.”

“Okay,” Taehyung uttered, smiling softly as he regarded him trudge away. Even after so many years spent apart, Taehyung still had his ways to change his mind, and Jungkook still listened to him more than his own stubbornness. It was a fond realization that lit up Taehyung’s eyes with a gentle gleam — one only Jungkook could trigger.

True to his word, Taehyung remained in the house, spending his time watching TV and chatting with Sung Ryung. The cozy ambiance between them warmed his soul, creating a bubble of familiarity and comfort as if they had never been apart.

They had spent so much time together when Jungkook was away on missions. Taehyung had missed this more than he thought. For a moment, he was happy, freed from heartbreak, worries, and secrets. Like the old times, when everything was luminous and untainted by sorrow.

It was a while later when Taehyung’s phone buzzed, interrupting the blithe moment he had been sharing with Sung Ryung. He swept the device from the coffee table with a mild frown, and when he saw Jimin’s name on the screen, he excused himself politely and hurried up the stairs. As he reached the guest room, he stuttered to a stop, the buzzing phone long forgotten in his hand.

Jungkook’s bedroom door was wide open, and for the first time after five years, Taehyung found himself gazing into the room that had once been so familiar. Memories flickered in his head — the countless hours spent there, the tender merging of their bodies, the warmth of Jungkook’s presence beside him.

The room appeared both unchanged and yet different. The double bed where Jungkook lay at the moment had witnessed their love blooming and becoming the strongest form of a promise. The armchair in the left corner of the room was cluttered with memories of a stubborn, sulking Taehyung, pretending to be mad at him because he thought Jungkook had forgotten their third anniversary. He hadn’t, of course; Jungkook had prepared a staggering surprise, a romantic night at a summit restaurant, where they dined under a starlit sky with a panoramic view that stole Taehyung’s breath away.

Taehyung’s eyes drifted to the small desk by the window, where a line of framed photographs captured moments frozen in time. The day of their graduations, their first day of work, and their first vacation together — all precious moments when they were the happiest.

Taehyung returned his focus to Jungkook’s sleeping form. Jungkook was settled on the left side of the bed as usual, as if he was waiting for Taehyung to fill the right side with his presence. His eyes fell closed, remembering the countless times Taehyung had woken up latched onto Jungkook’s back, his limbs clutching him as if Jungkook was a human teddy bear.

The tornado of emotions blustering through Taehyung’s being paused as the phone in his hand buzzed anew. Startled, he snapped his eyes open and withdrew from Jungkook’s room, leaving behind a piece of his heart where he had felt the safest.

In the guest room, he sank onto the edge of the bed, the oppression of recent memories and wistful emotions boring down heavily on his existence. With a sigh, Taehyung glanced at the phone screen, where Jimin’s name flashed insistently, and answered the call. “Hey, Chim.”

“Hey. Is everything okay? We were supposed to meet at the park.”

“Yeah, Tae. Did you forget?” Hoseok added, staring down at the phone that was on speaker.

“Oh, shit,” Taehyung murmured, his tone tinted with realization. “I’m under protection for a few days. My father said he made a mistake, and he’s afraid I’ll pay for it.”

“What? And who is protecting you?” Jimin asked.

“Jungkook. I’m staying at his house until all this ends.”

“Wow,” Hoseok snickered. “I didn’t expect you’d agree to that.”

A light sigh cartwheeled from Taehyung’s lips. “I didn’t either. But Jungkook would follow me around even if I didn’t agree.”

“And how is it? Living with him again?” Jimin asked with a tinge of hesitation mixed with curiosity.

“I don’t know... To be honest, I keep making up these little scenes in my head.”

“What do you mean?” Hoseok asked, frowning at the phone.

“Like, we’re the two of us alone. We just sit and talk and laugh. We’re having a good time. Then somehow we get close. Time stops. My heart beats faster. And our lips touch. Lightly at first. Then we kiss hard and long.”

“Aww, that’s so sweet,” Jimin cooed with starry eyes.

“Yeah...” Taehyung whispered, a bitter smile embellishing his face. “But I’m scared to spend time with him alone.”

“Why?” Hoseok questioned.

“Because I’m scared my feelings will suffocate me. It’s already hard for me. I’ll remember everything we lived more vividly and how he made me feel and... I’ll get attached again.”

A heavy silence ensued as Taehyung’s chest fell with a deep exhalation, melancholic eyes staring at the floor in a haze. He longed to simply hang out with Jungkook, feel him close, remember their precious moments, laugh and cry about them. Craved to wrap his arms around him, spend the whole night cuddling in comfortable silence or pleasant chatter, kiss him until dawn.

But he couldn’t lower the walls he had built around his heart yet. Not until Jungkook would tell him the truth.

“These scenes don’t have to stay in your head, you know.”

Jungkook’s smooth voice convulsed him out of his reverie, and he spectated in unbearable embarrassment as Jungkook pushed the door open.

“I can make them happen,” Jungkook continued through smirking lips, reveling in the mask of absolute shock that engulfed Taehyung’s expression. “As for the feelings, we’ll see what we can do about them.”

Taehyung threw his head down, the speedy rhythm of his pulse roaring in his ears. “Shit, he heard me,” he whispered into the phone, his grip around it tightening.

“Good luck with this one, Tae,” Hoseok managed through his outbreak of chuckles. “We’ll talk later. Bye!”

“Bye,” Taehyung murmured in despair and let his hand fall to the side as if it were lifeless. He stayed rooted in a cesspool of shame, his head firmly curved downwards, his restive eyes bouncing all around the floor.

The smirk on Jungkook’s lips softened with fondness at Taehyung’s endearing frown. “Let me make them happen, Tae.”

“No, thank you.”

“But you want that too. You want to hang out and chat.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You don’t want to hang out, or you just don’t want to be the one who will propose it?”

“Go away,” Taehyung grumbled as he shinnied up the bed, lying with his back turned to him. “You weren’t supposed to hear this.”

Fuck, Jungkook could swear his stomach did tiny flips at the sound of Taehyung’s sulky voice, filling him with ultimate adoration for that cute man. “But I did. So come hang out with me.”

“No.”

Jungkook snorted, shaking his head at his stubbornness. He viewed his form in a few moments of silence, contemplating his next move. With the corner of his mouth tilting upwards, he shut the door and approached him. Jungkook flung himself onto the bed, causing it to bounce lightly under their combined weight. Taehyung’s body stiffened at the intrusion, but before he could protest, Jungkook’s hand was on his shoulder, turning him around with ease.

“Yah, what are you doing?” Taehyung mumbled, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably as his voice wavered.

“I’m this close to tickling you until you cry. So if you don’t want me to do that, stay right here. And let me stay right here as well.”

Taehyung’s weak fight slowly drained away as he found himself face-to-face with Jungkook. The closeness was overwhelming; he could feel Jungkook’s breath against his skin, warm and steady. The mischievous glint in Jungkook’s eyes was now overshadowed with something deeper, a tenderness that launched Taehyung’s heart into turbulence.

Taehyung gulped, his nervous eyes struggling to maintain eye contact. Jungkook’s hand was still on his shoulder — it was a delicate touch that usually flooded him with comfort, yet now it only festered the pool of anxiety in his gut. “It’s not cool to—to blackmail me,” he drawled, unable to control his stammer at the proximity of their faces and bodies.

“Fine. But stay either way. You don’t even have to talk.”

Taehyung sent him a string of glances, his brows drawn together. “And what, we’re just going to lie here and stare at each other?”

“Yes,” Jungkook said, grinning playfully. “Like good old times. Just without the hugging and kissing thing. Unless if you want to add that too.”

The warm teasing in Jungkook’s voice assuaged Taehyung’s anxiety enough to pull a hushed chuckle from him. “I think just lying like this together is already a big step for me.”

“You’re right,” Jungkook whispered, giving the gentlest of squeezes on his shoulder. “Thank you.”

Although Taehyung couldn’t keep eye contact for more than two seconds, he relished Jungkook’s soft gaze on him and the loving touch on his shoulder. A torrent of memories surged through his mind like a vehement cascade just by looking at him, but he sensed no tears well up in his eyes. Instead, he felt wave after wave of sweet wistfulness wash over him. It was like finding an old song you used to listen to all day, years ago. That was how it felt to lie with Jungkook and gaze at him.

A gentle quietness enveloped the room. The closeness after five years of heartbreak and agony, previously fraught with tension, now felt like a palliative comfort. Taehyung allowed himself to relax, his body sinking into the mattress. His eyes could rest on Jungkook’s face for longer now, without his stomach knotting and lurching with anxiety.

Jungkook’s chest ballooned with a long inhalation and rippled to a plodding drop a beat later, his lips fixed on a delicate smile. He longed so achingly much to destroy the little space between their faces and claim his lips, soothe all the anguish Taehyung went through because of him, and make him happy again as he deserved.

And it hurt so achingly much as well because he couldn’t. Because he had to explain himself before they could even talk about fixing them, and he could do nothing until all this mess was over.

Being so close to Taehyung, though, was more than enough for now. Was more than he could ask for with how things were. Jungkook dragged his palm over the curve of Taehyung’s shoulder and neck, inching his way to his gorgeous face. He noticed Taehyung closed his eyes as his hand smoothed over his jawline, but the moment he embraced his cheek, the door swung open with a sonorous sound.

“Taehyungie oppa!” Jiyu screeched as she burst into the room. Her beam transformed into a semblance of shock as she spotted the two lying on the bed so close to each other, her breath quickening. “My—My oppas made up! Yay!” she cried out, running toward them. She jumped onto the bed, dropping her full weight over the two, and caged them in her arms.

Soft chuckles from both enclosed them as each curled an arm around her, melting at her cuteness. Although Jiyu shattered their intimate moment — a moment both thirsted for — they could never be mad at her.

“We’re just talking, baby,” Jungkook let out between his now diminished laugh. “We haven’t made up yet, but we’re really close, right, Taehyung?”

Taehyung snorted, fumbling for Jungkook’s arm that was laced around Jiyu, and pinched his forearm, smirking at the whine that exploded out of his mouth. “How was school, love?”

Jiyu turned her head in his direction. “It was great! We played lots today with Bomin because our teacher had to leave an hour early.”

“I’m glad, baby girl. Did you play with Hyunwoo too?”

“Um, yes.” Unlike before, Jiyu’s voice came out in a murmur, deprived of its usual exuberance.

“Why are you whispering, Jiyu-yah?” Jungkook asked, poking her side on repeat. He grinned as Jiyu’s dulcet giggles coiled around his ears and intensified his tickle attack. “You thought I wouldn’t hear you, hmm?”

Jiyu wheezed, her giggles stealing all her breath, as she pleaded her oppa to stop. Seeing he was merciless with his playful behavior, Jiyu climbed over Taehyung to get away from him.

Chuckling, Taehyung pushed himself to a sitting position, holding Jiyu securely in his embrace. “You’re still so ticklish, hmm?” he uttered as he rubbed caresses over her back, feeling the scurry of her breath against his form.

“Yes,” Jiyu said. A gleam of hesitation sparked in her eyes as she laid them on Jungkook. “You’re not mad at me for playing with Hyunwoo too, oppa?”

Jungkook adjusted his posture, sitting beside them. “No, angel. I told you. I don’t mind if you want to hang out with him. I just want you to be careful and not let him kiss you until you’re twenty.”

Taehyung perceived how Jiyu’s features saddened, her once bright smile now reduced to a pout. He frowned as he locked his eyes on Jungkook, the disapproval swirling in them pinning him to his spot. “Jungkook, tell us when your first kiss was.”

The muscles in Jungkook’s face stiffened, his gaze sharpening at his question. “We’re not the same, if that’s where you’re getting at.”

“Why? Because she’s a girl?”

“Because she’s my sister.”

A round of fierce eye contact began, and Jiyu just watched them for a stretch, her doe eyes darting between the two. “When was your first kiss, oppa?”

Jungkook broke his stare, hesitating. He swallowed hard. “At seventeen.”

A scornful huff escaped Taehyung, his chest juddering with its release. “Liar.”

“I’m not a liar,” Jungkook snarled. “That’s the kiss that mattered to me. At sixteen, I just got a peck. It doesn’t count.”

“Why can’t I get a peck at sixteen, then?” Jiyu asked, her pout still deep-rooted on her face.

Jungkook sighed, reaching out to brush her brown locks back. “What if he breaks your heart and you regret kissing him, hmm?”

As Jiyu lowered her head with nothing to respond, Taehyung sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, risking a peek at Jungkook. “You broke my heart,” he said, voice utterly gentle and quiet. “But I don’t regret kissing you.”

The words pinwheeled around Jungkook’s senses, numbing him with surprise. He stared dumbly, as if his brain malfunctioned, trying to remember how to form words. “You—You don’t?”

“No. I don’t regret anything,” Taehyung said with the same tenderness as before and redirected his attention to Jiyu in his embrace. “And you, baby girl, listen to me. Even if that boy breaks your heart, don’t regret anything. You shouldn’t be afraid of getting hurt or regretting something in the future. Everyone gets hurt. And everything passes with time.”

“Thank you, Taehyung oppa.” Jiyu buried her face into the crook of his neck, squeezing him. “And I’m glad you don’t regret the time you spent with Jungkookie oppa because he still loves you so much and it would hurt him if you did.”

Taehyung’s eyes flickered to Jungkook, who was already gazing at them with a blend of wistfulness and fondness. “I still love him too. So much.”

Their tender eye contact broke as Jiyu lurched back, grasping Taehyung’s shoulders. “You do?” she asked with wide, hopeful eyes. “Then why haven’t you made up yet?”

Taehyung chuckled silently, planting a kiss on her forehead. “There are some things we still need to discuss. Some adult things. Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay, oppa,” Jiyu said, smiling at Taehyung’s soft kisses. “Let’s go eat because I’m hungry.”

“We’ll join you in a bit, Jiyu-yah,” Jungkook said, still in a trance by Taehyung’s easy confession.

Jiyu hopped off the bed and pattered out of the room, leaving the two alone in a taut atmosphere with a ponderous silence fueling it. They sat still for a while, the room suddenly feeling much larger and quieter without Jiyu’s exuberant presence.

“Can I...” Jungkook cleared his throat in his effort to dissipate the knot of awkwardness and vacillation wedged into it. His gaze cruised Taehyung’s timid expression, absorbing how he nibbled on his bottom lip. “Can I say something about it now?”

Taehyung’s view plunged to the space between them. “I don’t think I want you to.”

“Because you’re scared you’ll remember everything we lived and you’ll get attached again?”

“Yes,” Taehyung admitted in a fragile sough, his voice carrying the heaviness of uncertainty and past sorrow. “I can’t get attached again before I find out the truth. I can’t let myself forgive you yet.”

Jungkook nodded slowly, his expression soft and understanding. He respected Taehyung’s honesty, knowing that rebuilding trust would take time, effort, and patience. He was willing to do anything to fix their ravaged relationship — anything Taehyung wanted him to do.

“I get it,” Jungkook uttered. “I won’t even ask you to forgive me, Tae. You know how I feel about you. All you need to do to let me know you forgive me is... kiss me. I won’t pressure you about it.”

A little smile bloomed on Taehyung’s features, his eyes glowing with that familiar fondness Jungkook had missed so much. “Thank you.”

They remained there for a moment longer, gazing at each other like old times, with stars in their eyes, comfort, and mutual understanding. The surrounding air was light despite the raging emotions that flitted all through their existence.

They felt a sense of peace nestle beside them, a fragile yet hopeful beginning to something they both wanted deep down. And they welcomed it, embraced it, retained it close to their hearts like a precious gift after a long, harrowing absence.

They allowed themselves to believe their love was strong enough to forgive, remedy their scars, and knit the shredded strings of their hearts back together.

After all, they were made for each other, and there was no life they could envision without the other by their side.

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I hope you enjoyed taekook's moments in this chapter!! Thank you for the support💜