Engage people with what they expect; it is what they are able to discern and confirms their projections.
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The Art of War
Sun Tzu

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One long, silent hour passed and yet Jungkook wasn't able to fall asleep. He remained in bed, hopeful that the relentless stream of thoughts holding his mind captive would trickle away, leaving him blank and numb. If he could just get some rest, maybe the future wouldn't seem so bleak.

But it was bleak, wasn't it?

Fuck.

He didn't want to dwell any longer. He didn't want to feel any longer. It was times like this that Jungkook wished he could drink away the pain, to fall into that seductive darkness that soothed away all worries. But there were reasons why alcohol was never going to be his escape. Valid reasons why that vice couldn't be the answer.

Maybe it was a silly and juvenile, but he made a promise. And regardless of how he felt now, he knew he'd feel ten times worse if he broke a vow he'd been upholding for years:

Jungkook would not drink alcohol; he would not end up an alcoholic like his father.

Despite the hardships he experienced throughout his life, he hadn't broken this promise to himself yet. And sure, the grief was suffocating and all-consuming, but he would not cave. He was stronger than the need to blur out his sorrows.

So he was at a standstill as to what to do. Trapped in this tiny room, he wasn't able to turn to any of his other coping methods. In the past, the most beneficial way to dull his overactive mind was through physical exertion. There was something about pushing his body past its breaking point that gave Jungkook a strong sense of calm. It was easier to focus on the burning of his muscles rather than let memories of the past swallow him whole.

The most readily available form of physical exertion was, of course, working out. Lifting weights, boxing, you name it. If it required an obscene amount of stamina and endurance, Jungkook was eager to partake in it. Back when he was able to go to a gym, he'd spend hours fatiguing his body until he reached a state of mental clarity. He'd often come home with split skin on his palms or knuckles, a physical reminder of his strength and capabilities.

His other form of physical diversion was admittedly one he hadn't indulged in for years. Sex wasn't the easiest to come by when he had to second guess everyone's motives; it would be quite distracting to worry about getting his brains blown out in the midst of fucking. Once he learned that people could be out to get him, he determined that the pleasure of the loins wasn't exactly worth the risk of getting a bullet between his eyes.

No, it'd been just him and his hand for a while now.

With no practical way to work out - and no desire to jack off in Namjoon's old room - Jungkook resolved himself to snooping. Sure, a small remnant of guilt was a quiet companion as he sifted through the boxes Jin recently packed. But with no one left to chastise him for being nosey, he let his curiosity take over.

There weren't too many items in the half-full cardboard boxes, just a random assortment of clothes, books, and useless knickknacks. It was saddening to see how few belongings Namjoon had kept here. The elder had always been a simple man, with no interest in material possessions, though it made Jungkook frown upon realizing this house was never a home for Namjoon.

It took no time at all to filter through the items, with Jungkook efficiently unpacking then repacking the contents. He took a few things for himself - a couple of worn-out sweatshirts and heavy books - and neatly placed them into a spare backpack he found.

And then there were the photographs.

It was a small collection, really, showcasing some of Namjoon's happiest moments and favorite people. One photo was of Namjoon and Jin, taken on the day of their wedding almost two years back. Others included Namjoon showcasing a diploma, shooting targets with his favorite gun, and snuggling a small white dog.

One final photo brought a smile to Jungkook's lips, his first genuine grin in days. It was a picture of him and Namjoon, arms slung around each other and mouths open in joyous laughs. From what Jungkook remembered, this was the last picture they ever took together.

With the corners of his lips falling in grief again, he slipped the photo into the back pocket of his pants. He wanted to always keep this one close.

His snooping now complete, Jungkook was back to having nothing to do. He supposed it would be alright to do a couple of mundane tasks, like use the bathroom and get some water. The cautionary words Jin left him with repeated in his mind, however, Jungkook knew he couldn't hold out until morning. A quick loop around the house wouldn't kill him, even if Jin might if he learned his orders were directly disobeyed.

Okay, scratch that. Jin's wrath wasn't worth wondering about the house. He'd just go to the bathroom and back.

Feeling confident in his plan, Jungkook made his way out of the room and into a nearby bathroom. He took care of his business as quickly as possible, not wanting to remain far from the safety of his room for too long. He wasn't nervous, though the silence of the house was a little unnerving.

He studied his appearance while washing his hands, grimacing at the tired face looking back at him. His dark eyes were heavily hooded, offset by shadowy under-eye circles. The skin on his lips was broken and raw from his constant biting, and his cheeks appeared colorless and sullen. And his hair, once lustrous and silken strands, hung down to his jaw in soft tangles.

Growing up, his mother always complained about his long hair, which was one of the many reasons he refused to cut it. There was a certain satisfaction Jungkook received from seeing her disapproval, her open hatred of his appearance. So for a very long time - for years - he kept the locks long and unwieldy.

But he guessed his defiance didn't really matter anymore.

Jungkook pushed the fringe out of his eyes, idly wondering how long it'd take for him to feel normal again. If he was permitted time to grieve - if he could attend a funeral and be surrounded by old friends - maybe then his healing process could begin. But he wasn't stupid. There would be no funeral. Not a proper one at least. It simply wasn't safe.

That was the one fact Jungkook had to come to grips with: his world wasn't a safe place any longer.

After sticking his head under the faucet to drink some water, he trekked back to the bedroom. He watched every step he took, knowing full well he could accidentally trigger a hidden alarm system. And since he was supposed to be laying low, alerting the whole neighborhood to his presence wasn't the smartest idea.

His footsteps fell silent against the carpeted hallway as he re-entered the brightly lit room. As carefully and quietly as possible, he closed the door and secured the lock in place. Now he just had to figure out how to entertain himself for the next five or six hours until Jin came to rescue him.

But before he could so much as turn around, a soft click sounded right by Jungkook's ear, signaling that he was no longer alone.

"Don't move," a deep, male voice ordered, a clear threat coating his words.

A hard and unyielding object pressed against Jungkook's skull; a gun. He inhaled sharply, knowing one wrong move on his part could cost him his life.

"Hands against the door," the unknown man said, pushing the gun more forcefully against Jungkook's head. "Now."

Jungkook complied immediately, bringing his hands up as requested. His palms flattened over the smooth wood of the door, hoping his compliance bought him a couple of extra moments to think. If only he could run and hide, maybe he'd be able to call the police.

But the pressure from the gun was so intense, he was forced to rest his forehead against the door. All abilities to think clearly were eliminated at the moment.

Really, this was just his luck. And of course, he brought this onto himself. If he listened to Jin and came in the morning as requested, he wouldn't be in this position. If he listened and didn't leave the room either, this probably could've been avoided.

This was just more proof of how much of a fuck up he really was.

"Do you have any weapons on you?" The man's voice tumbled into Jungkook's ear, sounding much closer than before.

"No," Jungkook answered, wishing he at least knew the size of his opponent. Not that he could outmatch a gun, but maybe if he threw a hard enough punch . . .

A large hand felt up one of his arms, squeezing and searching for any concealed weapons. He wasn't lying when he said he was unarmed. He had no idea how to use a gun, nor was he particularly interested in learning. If it came down to it, Jungkook always planned on using his strength if he needed to defend himself. Not that his muscles could win in this type of fight, but he liked to dream.

"I said I didn't have anything on me," he retorted, heart racing so fast it made him dizzy.

"Quiet," the guy snarled, the sound coming out through his teeth.

Jungkook bit his tongue as his other arm was felt up, trying to determine whether or not jabbing an elbow back would make contact with the guy's face. But before he could make any sudden moves, the man continued with his search, running down his back and along his hips. And blame it on the adrenaline, but all Jungkook could think of was how this seemed so similar to one of those cheesy porn plots he watched back in the day.

Especially so as the man's hand drifted down over his ass, making sure there weren't any weapons hidden there before checking his thighs and calves.

The touch caused Jungkook to flinch. He hated that; he hated appearing vulnerable and weak. But at this moment, pressed against the wall with a gun grazing his head, that was precisely what he was.

"Turn," the man instructed, lifting the gun incrementally so his request could be completed.

Jungkook kept his arms raised as he spun around, moving slowly as not to appear threatening. His eyes instantly locked on the barrel of a gun, centimeters in front of his face. It was impossible to tear his gaze away from the weapon; even though he knew he should be analyzing the attacker, he was frozen.

The man quickly resumed his search, his free hand gliding all over Jungkook's chest and pelvic region. He didn't appear fazed as he grazed over Jungkook's dick either, making sure there was nothing lethal stored anywhere on his body.

And even though he was still held at gunpoint, Jungkook was never very good at keeping his mouth shut. "Is this the only way you can get action, buddy? Feeling a guy up while threatening his life?"

The attacker straightened up, holding the gun with both hands now. "Maybe not the wisest thing to say while staring down a gun, buddy."

A tense silence filled the room as Jungkook gulped, finally tearing his focus off of the gun to look up at his assailant. He met a dark and angry set of eyes, narrowed as they locked with Jungkook's. He felt the incredible and demanding need to look away, to save his soul before this person drained the life out of him. But he couldn't. He remained locked in place, transfixed by brown eyes as they quickly flitted all over Jungkook's face.

"Who the fuck are you and what are you doing here?" The guy asked in that deep and smooth voice of his. The sound of it was deceiving; Jungkook felt warm and comforted by the melodic tones and low timbre, but knew there was a guaranteed danger roughing up its edges.

Jungkook didn't know what to say. Say too little and he'd get shot. Say too much and he'd put his family at risk. And then get shot. Really, this was a lose-lose situation.

"I'm . . ." He steeled his own eyes, figuring he could at least appear brave before he died. "I'm . . ."

"I'll ask one more time," the man said through his teeth, aiming his gun right at Jungkook's forehead. "Who are you?"

"Jungkook," he choked out as the gun came in contact with his skin. How much trouble could he get into by revealing just his first name?

But that was a stupid question. He knew giving out any identifiable piece of information was the wrong move. And it was too late now to provide a fake name.

The man didn't show any sign of recognition. He was so silent, it was almost as if he didn't even hear Jungkook's admission. The guy just continued to assess him, jaw clenched and nostrils flaring. And if this was how things were going to go, Jungkook decided he should at least know what - who - he was dealing with.

Training his focus entirely on the man - and not the gun still connected to his forehead - Jungkook breathed in slowly through his nose. This man, a young guy maybe a couple years older than him, was the most attractive person he'd ever seen. So instead of using the few seconds he had to size up his opponent like he very well should be doing, Jungkook let himself gape at his assailant in awe.

Fuck, Jungkook thought he'd seen beautiful men before. Figured he'd slept with his fair share of them when he was younger, too. But none of them could ever compare to this guy.

The man seemed dangerous, and not just because he was poised and ready to kill Jungkook. It came down to the intense stare, sharp cheekbones, pink lips spread into a thin line. Sex appeal oozed out of him, though it was evident the guy wasn't trying to be seductive. He just was.

What an inopportune way to meet.

If Jungkook was any other person, and if this guy wasn't trying to kill him, he'd like to imagine he'd be trying to flirt with him right about now.

But since they were not meeting at a bar like two ordinary people, Jungkook decided that this guy's ethereal beauty just made him detest him even more. Seriously, did his potential killer have to look like this? How was that fair?

A sigh from his opponent prompted Jungkook to swiftly scan over the rest of his features, assessing his size and stature. They were about the same height, so there'd be no physical advantage there. It was also impossible to determine the mass of the guy through his loose clothing, so he couldn't make assumptions about his strength.

"Why are you here, Jungkook?" The man asked, his voice caressing his name in such a way that it almost disarmed him completely. Almost.

If these were his last few moments, he wasn't going to go by being a whimpering pushover. "Tell me why the fuck you're here. You and I both know this isn't your home."

The guy smirked, a corner of his mouth lifting in a way that made him even more appealing. No, unappealing. "Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but this house is under my direction now. In fact, I've been here all afternoon, under direct orders from my boss. And this is the first time I'm seeing you."

The arrogance this guy spoke with was aggravating, to say the least. And paired with the cocky grin, it was almost like this person thought he had every right to be here. For all Jungkook knew, he might have been waiting to attack all day now that Namjoon was out of the picture and a blubbering newbie was going to step into his role.

Wait. This guy couldn't be . . . ?

"What did Kim Namjoon want to be when he was younger?" Jungkook asked, knowing this was a considerable risk. But it wasn't like he had much to lose at this point. Asking those stupid security questions couldn't possibly get him into more trouble . . . right?

The only reaction from the guy was a small cock of his head. "Excuse me?"

Oh, shit. Jungkook thought that maybe this guy was the newly hired bodyguard Jin mentioned, the one who wasn't supposed to arrive until the morning.

He began shaking his head, all hope going out the window, when the guy whispered so softly the words were almost lost on Jungkook.

"A dad. Kim Namjoon wanted to be a father."

"Oh, thank fuck," Jungkook exhaled deeply, a relieved smile pulling his lips fractionally upwards. His heart still hammered away in his chest, but at least he knew he was safe now.

This guy wasn't going to hurt him.

But the man didn't lower his gun. "What was Namjoon's IQ?"

Jungkook laughed at the easy question. "His IQ was 148. And before you ask the other question, his nickname was the God of Destruction. There. You can put your gun down now. We're both cleared."

"Up until me, only two people knew the answers to those questions," his opponent said, eyes still boring into him. "Kim Namjoon is dead. So are you telling me that you're the second person? That you are, in fact, the son of and heir to this massive corporation, Jungkook?"

Now probably wasn't the best time to tell the guy that Jin was looped into these answers, too.

"I'm not confirming who I am until you tell me who you are. Are you the new security detail?"

An unreadable smile twisted the guy's mouth upwards. "Kim Taehyung. Hired by Korean National Oil to protect the last remaining family member of the corporation's CEO."

Taehyung. The name felt fitting for the guy; it made sense in a way not much else did.

"I've told you who I am, Jungkook. Now tell me who you are. Are you the person I just signed on to protect?" Taehyung kept his gun pointed at him, waiting for an answer.

And even though Jungkook was almost certain the company hired this Taehyung guy, his instinct was to run away and hide from the world. That was what he was taught. God, Namjoon was probably cursing him out from the heavens above for getting himself into this situation in the first place.

He had to make a decision. He could either tell the truth or attempt to piece together a lie. Which option was less likely to get him killed? If he told the truth, Taehyung - if that really was his name - could turn on him and lodge a bullet securely into his skull.

And in no world did he want that to happen.

At the end of the day, he just wanted to make it out of here alive. And if Taehyung could be trusted, maybe Jungkook would make it to the morning. But that was the question - could Taehyung be trusted? Was he truly a bodyguard working for the same company Jungkook's family pledged their lives to?

Something in his gut told him the answer, so he took a deep breath and nodded his head.

"Yes," Jungkook answered at last, hoping he wouldn't regret this. "I'm Jungkook, son and heir to Korean National Oil."

Before Taehyung could make his move - either agree to protect him or pull the trigger of his gun - a new sound disturbed their amicable tête-à-tête.

The distinct shattering of glass.

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》 V A L E N W R I T I N G 《

Soo . . . What did we think of Taekook's first interaction?

Also, to organize everyone's theories, feel free to start chains here! If people like this idea, I'd be happy to continue adding theory sections in the following chapters.