The police station was fairly quiet in the early hours of the sunny morning. The violent crimes unit one was seated at their desks by Jungkook’s request. He had informed them yesterday that Taehyung would send him the address of Jin Mo’s side hideout, and he asked them to come early to work. 

They had also surveyed the footage of the CCTV in Daegu and managed to track Jeosun’s moves to a degree. Jeosun had died after he visited the station Ju Hyun — the detective who was in charge around the time Taehyung’s parents were murdered — once worked at. But unfortunately, they found nothing significant that would give them a lead. 

Jungkook tilted his head back as he massaged the sore muscles of his neck. Slumping over the screen of his computer every day and sometimes for many hours always gave him a stiff back and nape. 

He took a puff of air and held it for a couple of seconds, then vacated his lungs with a sigh. He aimed his sight at the screen again, bracing his forearm on his desk, and carried on reexamining the footage in case they missed something. Which was unlikely, but he had to do something at least. 

His attention steered towards a form that bobbed into the enclosed space of their unit’s workplace, and he could only slap a hand over his face, already able to feel the frustration of his mother’s nagging. 

“Jungkookie!” Sa Rang called as she trod closer. “Hello, boys.” She smiled at them once they all greeted her, and she leaned to plant a kiss on Jungkook’s cheek. “How are you? Why didn’t you tell me you were sick? Why didn’t you come home? Why did I find out about this from your father instead? Why—”

“God, mom,” he grumbled with a vexed moue. “I’m fine now. I didn’t want to worry you for no reason.”

“You should always come to me when you’re sick. I made you soup.” She set the bag she was holding on the desk. “Your father told me you didn’t go home yesterday. Where did you go?”

Jungkook avoided her eyes in sudden unease. “Um, to a friend.”

Sa Rang squinted her vision at him. “What friend? You don’t have any friends.”

Seung Ho nibbled his bottom lip to choke back his snicker, but he did a rather poor job since Jungkook, of course, heard it and soured the mirth in his countenance with a glare. 

“I do now. I have one friend.”

Sa Rang studied him as she raked her brain to produce the slightest idea of who could this mysterious friend be. “You don’t mean... that man?”

Jungkook looked up at her quizzically. “Who?”

“The man I had bumped into.”

“Oh.” Jungkook’s expression melted back to neutrality. “Yeah. That’s who I mean.”

A cloud of a latent worry bleared Sa Rang’s gaze as she retired into her thoughts. When Taehyung told her that Jin Mo didn’t kill her son, a part of her believed him. Mostly because she knew they didn’t have proof that Jin Mo was at the scene. But Chae Yeon reassured her that Jin Mo indeed killed her son.

Chae Yeon even showed her a footage from a CCTV that contained Jin Mo’s face — a piece of evidence the police didn’t possess because, as Chae Yeon said, they didn’t start investigating right after Kang Ho’s death because of their devastation. And she was able to get that footage before the police. For her own reasons, which she didn’t elaborate, she kept the footage for herself. 

That footage wore off her doubts and restored her faith that Jin Mo was the one. But a persistent itch had followed her since that day that urged her to talk to Taehyung again. Even though she tried to deny it, Taehyung seemed nothing like how Chae Yeon had described him. A cold-blooded, ruthless killer like Jin Mo, in short. 

If she talked to him again, she could assess him better, deeper, and much more calmly than the previous time. But she didn’t have a way to get in contact with him. 

Sa Rang snapped out of her daze and smiled uneasily once she perceived that Jungkook was staring at her. “How is he?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is he a good friend? Does he treat you well?”

An awkward chuckle erupted from Jungkook’s throat as he glanced away. “Why are you asking?”

“I’m just curious. I want the people you have around you to treat you well.”

Namjoon’s eyes seesawed between Sa Rang and Jungkook, and he soon realized the latter wouldn’t respond. “Don’t worry, Sa Rang-ssi. Taehyung cares for him a lot. He even managed to make Jungkook drink one of these green smoothies he hates.”

Surprise seized Sa Rang’s face, her mouth going slack, as she stared at her son. “You drank a green smoothie? My son, Jeon Jungkook? Because I vividly remember you throwing a fit every time I tried to make you drink this.”

“Yes, I did. For the first and last time, so don’t get any ideas,” he warned sternly. 

Sa Rang cracked a warm smile as he petted his head. Why would Taehyung take care of you so much? Is he really... a good guy? She expelled a muted sigh, carding her fingers through his hair once more. “Okay. Eat the soup at least. I have to go to work.”

Jungkook nodded and splayed his arms when Sa Rang dipped to hug him. He tapped her back twice, and they withdrew. “Bye.”

“Bye, son. Bye, guys.”

They said their goodbyes all together before she left. 

With the remembrance of Taehyung, Jungkook twisted his head towards his partner. He rolled his chair closer, dismissing the look of puzzlement on Namjoon’s face. “Hyung. Is there a difference between liking someone and being attracted to someone?”

“That was sudden,” Namjoon muttered with a shred of amusement. “I haven’t really thought about it, but I believe there are a lot of types of attraction. It doesn’t mean it always has to be romantic or sexual. Maybe you can be attractive to someone’s personality. That doesn’t mean you want to date them. You can be attracted to someone’s appearance, body, intelligence, etc. That doesn’t mean you like them as in you want them to be yours.”

Jungkook nodded throughout the informative speech, trying to memorize it so he could explain it to Taehyung later, too. 

“But,” Hoseok chimed in, “if we’re talking about you and Taehyung, liking someone and being attracted to someone means the exact same thing.”

Jungkook’s features tightened as he narrowed his eyes on him. “What are you implying?”

“That you do like him. And you use the simple, innocent “attraction” as an excuse to not admit it.”

“I don’t like him like that,” Jungkook spat out at once. “I was afraid that he liked me like that and—”

“Afraid?” Namjoon echoed with a bewildered, disapproving look. “Why would you be afraid of that? So what if he likes you like that? What’s the big deal?”

No words teetered on the tip of Jungkook’s tongue as Namjoon’s questions pummeled him into deep contemplation. He’s right. What if he likes me like that? It’s not a big deal. It’s not like he’ll confess or something. We’re not kids. I don’t like him like that, anyway. Right? I don’t... Then why were you about to kiss him yesterday again? Jungkook’s internal delirium paused as he strove to conjure an answer. It was just a weak moment. I haven’t had sex in a while. Doesn’t mean anything. 

Before he could reassure himself some more, his phone beeped. It finally beeped. 

He hastened to unlock it and tapped Taehyung’s new message. Then, he exploded out of his seat. “I have the address.”

“The four of us are enough for this?” Seung Ho asked as they began gearing up. 

“Yes. Taehyung said only two to three people might be there. Or it can even be empty. He doesn’t know.” 

A few minutes later, they scrambled to their cars and drove off. 

A tingling eagerness imposed silence in Jungkook’s car. Just the idea of finally getting a lead in Jin Mo’s case was so overwhelming it held Jungkook mute throughout the ride. 

 
Upon arriving, they realized they couldn’t go all the way there with their cars, and they parked to continue on foot. Jungkook led the way with the GPS’s help, hurrying through the narrow alleys one behind the other. 

When Jungkook turned left at the next corner, he perceived the alley led to an impasse. He signaled his team to slow down, and they walked further carefully. It didn’t take long to spot a rusty, sliding door to his right. “Hoseok.”

The said man advanced, pulling the hammer out of his bag, and banged at the lock twice before it broke open. He slid it back to its place and drew out his gun, stepping aside. 

With their guns poised, Jungkook yanked the door to the side and entered. The lack of light obstructed them from viewing the whole place, but Seung Ho found the light switch soon enough. 

They scoped the average-sized room for any presence, but found none at first glance. Namjoon went to check the single door to the right and returned when he found the confined bathroom empty. 

“There’s no one here,” said Namjoon. 

They holstered their guns and browsed the place. A coffee table was in the center of the room with a whirlwind of sundries on top and even scattered around it, and three mattresses were on the floor at the back. To the left there was a counter with three state-of-the-art computers. 

“How can someone live here?” Seung Ho asked. “This place doesn’t have windows or even a kitchen.”

“It’s a hideout in a bustling area. I don’t think they had many choices,” Hoseok said, crouching over the table to inspect the discarded items. 

“Namjoon, take the hard drives. Seung Ho, search for fingerprints on the counter and computers,” Jungkook instructed and wore gloves, leaning over beside Hoseok to rummage through the junk on the table. 

Hoseok wore his gloves too and took out a zipper bag in case they found something important. Through the plastic cups, wires, scrunched-up papers, miscellaneous tools, and even clothes, Hoseok located a USB and slipped it into the bag. 

Jungkook carefully emptied the useless items from the table. “We should collect the clothes too. Maybe we’ll find DNA on them.” 

“You’re right.” Hoseok fished multiple bags out of his backpack and gathered as many clothes as he could. 

Jungkook handed him a sweatshirt and oriented his gaze back to the table, but what his eyes met sent punches of shock in the center of his chest that paralyzed him. He strove to fathom what lay before his enlarged eyes, though his brain refused to let it sink in. 

Hoseok noticed his stock-still condition and tracked his gaze. A mask of utter surprise akin to Jungkook’s burst onto his face. “What the hell?” he murmured as he reached for the black, wrapped-up item to study it up close. “I’m not seeing things, right? That’s... the symbol of darkness.”

Hoseok’s voice ushered Jungkook back to coherence. He extended his hand in an unspoken request to give him the item. When he complied, Jungkook analyzed it at length and soon concluded it was the exact same symbol as the one on Taehyung’s cube. “Look at this shit,” he spat out in a low voice filled with simmering fury. There was a red ribbon wrapped diagonally on the item with a bow on the top right corner. “They wrapped it like a fucking gift.”

“Do you think... Jin Mo?”

“It’s his hideout, isn’t it? It feels like he knew we were coming.”

The other two approached them and stared with shared startle at the item Jungkook was holding. “What is this?” Namjoon asked. 

Jungkook felt the item, finding it too solid to be a box, and wiggled it close to his ear. “It feels like metal. Maybe a hard drive?”

“Let’s go back to the station,” Hoseok suggested. “You’re done, right?” He aimed the question at Namjoon and Seung Ho, who both nodded seconds later. 

Hoseok quickly finished rummaging through the junk on the table. They gathered all the evidence they found, turned off the light, and went back to their cars. 

. . .

They sent the clothes to the forensic department and took the USB, the hard drives, and the strange “gift” to Seokjin’s separate office. After narrating the process of their search, Jungkook carefully unwrapped the item and, as he had guessed, it was indeed an external hard drive. 

Seokjin connected it to his computer and clicked on the ‘view files’ option. A new window popped up that required a code. “I need to hack it. It might take a while.”

“Why don’t we look through the other hard drives and the USB?” Namjoon suggested when he traced frustration creeping over Jungkook’s traits. 

“Yes, do that,” Seokjin said. “You can use the other computer.”

They settled down in front of the second computer and spent the next few hours examining the files. They found profiles of criminals, lists of numbered stolen goods, written information about time and location of deals, and files of daily reports. Everything, they observed, was so well organized and meticulous. 

They also found a list with puzzling content. It contained descriptions of women like ‘petite, sexy, with blonde hair’, ‘redhead, tall, no preferences on body type’, etc. The more Seung Ho, particularly, read over that list, the more his bizarre foreboding grew. And then it hit him like a turbulent tsunami. Some descriptions matched the profiles of the missing women from Songpa-gu. 

He had secretly gone to the missing persons department and asked for more information about the cases to see if he could help them somehow. They told him that the women who returned on their own didn’t have any recollection of what had happened to them, so they couldn’t do anything about it. 

Seung Ho imparted his discovery to his team, rendering them in a maze. 

“So they request for a woman with a specific appearance and they do what with them?” Hoseok questioned. 

“Ever heard of violent videos?” Seokjin put in as he stretched his back, then rolled his neck to relieve some tension. He deployed the chance to elaborate to take a small break. “Rich people pay to watch people get beaten up. Since the women return on their own, it means they use them to record these videos per request, keep them until their injuries are healed, and then return them.”

“Oh my God,” Seung Ho uttered. “And they keep them drugged so they won’t remember anything...”

“Exactly,” Seokjin said. “I should have figured this out sooner. But finding this list connected all the missing pieces.”

“How pathetic,” Namjoon hissed. “They pay to watch these innocent women get beaten.”

“The world is such a horrific place to live in sometimes,” Jungkook murmured. “How’s it going there?”

Seokjin sighed, knowing the question was directed at him. “It keeps rerouting me. Whoever made this code is a freaking genius. I don’t know when I’ll manage to break it.”

“It can’t be a trap, right?” Namjoon voiced out doubtfully. “Just to make us waste our time or even worse... hack us.”

“The program I’ve set up will attack any threat it detects, so don’t worry about that.” Seokjin cracked his knuckles and went back to work. 

The other four continued to investigate the files. They paused only when their takeout came and resumed while eating. Jungkook heated the soup his mother brought for him and swiftly guzzled it before devouring his jjajangmyeon too. 

   
Two hours later, Jungkook’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and he took it in his hands. 

Taehyung: You’re okay, right? 

The corner of Jungkook’s lips lifted softly.

Jungkook: Of course. We’re waiting for Seokjin to break a code. I’ll come to your apartment when I finish. Need to talk

Taehyung: Okay. I’ll wait for you. With takeout! Text me before coming so I can order

Jungkook curled his lips inwards to conceal his fond smile. 

Jungkook: Okay, little koala

Taehyung: Not funny 😤😣

Jungkook: Are you pouting and I’m not there to see it?

Taehyung: ...... You’re saying you like it when I’m pouting? 

Jungkook: It’s surprisingly cute

Taehyung: So you like it?

Jungkook: No, it makes me cringe

Taehyung: Yah!!!! 

Jungkook: And now you’re scowling at the screen

Taehyung: Did you become a psychic or something? 

Jungkook: No. I just know what expression you’ll make depending on what I say

Taehyung: Make me smile then

Jungkook stared at the screen for a spell, unmoving. 

Jungkook: You’re cute when you’re pouting. And I like seeing it

Taehyung: You failed. Elaborate! 

Jungkook: It seems like you just want to hear more

Taehyung: ... Fine, you’re right. Make me smile again then😉

“Cute.”

Jungkook flinched at Hoseok’s voice, only then realizing he was standing behind him and reading his texts. He locked his phone at once. “Not cool, hyung.”

“Sorry,” Hoseok snickered, obviously not sorry at all. “I couldn’t hold back my curiosity anymore. You were smiling at your phone like a madman this whole time.” 

“Guys.”

Their attention flew to Seokjin, and they hastened to huddle around his computer.

“I’ve been looking at the code of that file for a while now...” Seokjin’s gloomy eyes passed over Jungkook’s face before they dropped back down to his notebook. The process was such that it gave him one number at a time, and he had to repeat it over and over to find all of them. At the end, the finalized code was 131018.

“Is there a meaning to this number?” Seung Ho asked, puzzled. 

Jungkook repeated the code in his head only twice before a terrifying realization thundered down on him, freezing his blood. 

“Jungkook...” Namjoon breathed out when he finally understood why this number was so familiar. 

“What’s wrong?” Seung Ho whispered to Hoseok, his confusion only rising. 

“That’s the date my hyung died. What the fuck is this?” Jungkook’s heart kicked against his ribcage with an atrocious disquiet. 

“Maybe we should open it without you and then—”

“No,” Jungkook objected with a growl, cutting Seokjin off. “Open it. Now.”

Although reticent, Seokjin typed the code into the box. His fingers hovered over the enter key, and with a deep, reinforcing inhalation, he pressed down on it. A recording file began playing right away that had five pairs of eyes bulging and locking their limbs with shock. 

Agonized wailing blasted from the speakers mixed with cries of the word ‘hyung’ and choked, faint groans. That heart-wrenching voice belonged to Jeon Jungkook, and those weak groans were Kang Ho’s last breaths. 

Seokjin broke through the immense startle surrounding his form and pitched forward to shut it off. No one dared to look at Jungkook. No one had the strength to do it. But his low, pain-filled voice perforated their ears only seconds later. 

“Play it.”

Seokjin didn’t move. He couldn’t, as if the impossibly heavy atmosphere bore down on his existence and held him immobile. 

Jungkook swallowed the painful burning in his throat that dangerously choked off his breath and swiped a harsh palm over his cheeks, brushing away the hot wetness. He brought his quivery hand over the enter key and tapped it. 

The room resounded with Jungkook’s shattered voice again, which was screaming for his hyung. A sickening tightness gnarled his stomach and a prickling numbness crazed his skin as each one of the harrowing emotions he experienced that night came surging back with full force. The muddy bruises on his heart flared impossibly until they cracked open, bleeding and aching and throbbing afresh. 

The rill of tears flowing from his eyes quickened its gush towards the end of the two-minute recording, but his hard features remained still and unaffected by the salty water. 

Between Jungkook’s desperate cries that had all of them misting over, an eerie, sickeningly sweet, and low noise akin to a chuckle distorted their sadness with bewilderment. It galvanized Jungkook to restore scraps of his lucidity and spurt forward to replay that part. 

The second time he heard it, it rang loud and clear in his ears as a chuckle. The third time he heard it, he felt the tightness in his gut swell so much it made him nauseous. The fourth time, he didn’t manage to hit play as two strong hands gripped his biceps and tugged him back. 

“Stop, Kook. Please stop,” Namjoon whispered. His face was marked with empathetic sorrow as he struggled to restrain Jungkook, who thrashed about in his hold. “Please!” His voice rose to a trembling scream. He shifted in front of him and crushed him in his embrace, ringing his body with two robust arms. 

And Jungkook’s bulwark of equanimity caved in, leaving him a convulsing, sobbing mess as the breakages impaled his already bleeding heart.

He cried agonizingly, like that day his hyung died. He cried as if his hyung had died for the second time. And in some way he did because of the mockery his wrongfully lost soul received at that moment. 

The pain felt unfeasible to last through, and his knees buckled under its vast weight. If Namjoon weren't holding him so tightly he would have collapsed onto the floor by now. His gasping breaths burned his lungs and caused his whole body to shake. His anguished weeping ripped through the room in broken waves, edging everyone present into spilling the tears they were suppressing. 

Time crawled by in that tormenting, stifling ambiance, with only the sound of crying echoing in their ears until it toned down gradually. 

Seokjin brought a pack of tissues and handed one to each one. He caressed Jungkook’s head, gazing at his reddened, puffy, and wet face through sad eyes. He could only muster a tiny, comforting smile when Jungkook opened his eyes. He held a tissue towards him and patted his head again when Jungkook took it. 

Although his sobbing ended, fresh tears still escaped his bloodshot eyes. He blew his nose, silently asked for another tissue to dry the wetness from his face, and blew his nose once more. An exhaustion coiled around his legs when he walked towards the trash can, slowing down his steps. He discarded the used tissues and turned around, staring at the floor. 

“Copy the file to a USB.”

His request wasn’t directed at anyone, but Namjoon was the one who replied. “So you can stay up all night listening to it? No, Kook.”

“It’s either that, or I’ll stay here all night and listen to it.” There was an apathetic calmness curled around Jungkook’s voice that didn’t match the chaotic turbulence within him. 

“You’ll gain nothing by doing that, Jungkookie,” Hoseok voiced out softly. 

“I don’t care. Give me a USB.”

Seokjin’s shoulders curved forward in defeat. He knew there was nothing they could do to change his mind, so he opened the last drawer and took a USB in his hand. He connected it to the computer and copied the file as Jungkook asked. Then, he neared him, his features still brimmed with gloom. “Please don’t torture yourself more.”

Jungkook wordlessly got hold of the USB and pocketed it. “It’s after ten, right?” he asked, not that he cared if it was or not. “I’m leaving.”

And his team could only watch him. Jungkook had that look that indicated his unyielding decision to be alone — his need to drown himself in alcohol and wallow in his misery. 

And that was exactly what he did when he got home. He listlessly changed into comfy clothes, black like his heart, took his laptop with him, grabbed a six-pack of soju, and sat on the couch. He plugged the USB into the port and opened the file. He clicked the repeat button and let it play, then opened his first soju. 

He believed he didn’t have more tears to shed, but in a few seconds, his vision blurred again. The heartache was so overwhelming it left him feeling numb and empty inside. 

When his phone started buzzing beside him, his teary eyes dropped and spilled more tears upon seeing that Taehyung was calling. He let it buzz until it stopped and gulped down as much as he could from his soju. 

. . .

A detestable apprehension had settled over Taehyung’s face as he called Jungkook for the third time. Sitting on the edge of the couch, his knee bobbed nervously, another pent-up sigh jumping out of him. Where is he? He stared at his phone for a while before he decided to call Namjoon. 

“Hey.”

“Hey, Namjoon. Um...” He faltered. “Sorry for the late hour. Are you home?”

“Yes. What’s up?”

“I just... I can’t get a hold of Jungkook. Did something happen?” A long silence ensued that flared Taehyung’s apprehension. 

Namjoon sighed. “He doesn’t answer even your calls, huh?” he muttered, as if talking to himself. “He’s not that good. Yes, something happened and it shook him. He just needs some time alone.”

“So I shouldn’t... I shouldn’t visit him?”

“Honestly, I thought he’d want to talk to you. I don’t know if it’s a good idea to go.”

Taehyung’s chest sank with discourage. “But I think... I can’t not go. I’m too worried.”

“Just don’t be mad at him if he doesn’t let you in or if he snaps at you.”

“Okay. Thanks. Goodnight, Namjoon.”

“Goodnight.”

. . .

Finishing his third soju in under forty minutes, a mild lightness entered Jungkook’s head. He had listened to the recording so many times by now he had memorized it. He thought that even if he turned it off, he would still be able to hear that loathsome chuckle ring in his ears. 

He lost track of time again and only leaped back to reality when his phone beeped with a notification of someone’s presence outside of the door. The screen lit up seconds later, displaying the view from the security cameras. 

His wet, lifeless eyes widened a degree at the image of Taehyung. 

The doorbell was soon heard. But Jungkook only swigged his soju. He was too much of a wreck to let him in. He couldn’t let Taehyung see him in this state. He would only sadden him. 

His phone began ringing. It was Taehyung again. He didn’t pick up, but his muffled voice sounded through the door. 

“I know you’re here. I’ll break your window if you don’t open the door.”

A mirthless chuckle pushed out of Jungkook’s mouth. The windows are double-glazed, idiot. His eyes fell shut after another sip, a fresh layer of dampness forming along his eyelids as the recording started from the beginning once more. 

A thump from outside made him flinch a bit later, and he twisted his head towards the window. What the fuck was that? The next thump pulled him from his seat, instantly feeling a dizziness cloak his senses at the sudden change of position after so much time. It didn’t take long for that dizziness to abate a little, and he clumsily set his soju on the table, pausing the recording. 

He staggered towards the window and slid the curtain aside, only to see Taehyung ready to throw another rock. 

Taehyung’s brows shot up, and he dumped the rock, scuttling closer. He pointed to the side as he mouthed, “Open the door now.”

Jungkook held eye contact, watching as Taehyung’s expression drooped with sadness. That man came to his house when his injury was still healing. That man attempted to break his window with rocks to get him to open the door. That man had no idea what was wrong, and despite that Jungkook ignored his calls, he came to him. 

Why did he care so much for him? And why were turbulent tears welling up in Jungkook’s eyes when this question ran around his head?

Jungkook plopped against the window, smacking his hands on it to balance himself. His head hung, and the wetness in his eyes poured down his cheeks until it accumulated beneath his chin and eventually dribbled on the floor. 

Taehyung gasped at the sight, his heart feeling as if it were being squeezed by an unexplained sorrow, and placed his hands on the window too. He curled his fingers into a fist and banged against the window as he screamed, “Let me in, please!”

Although the tears refused to stop, Jungkook collected himself and shut the curtain. The banging intensified right away, along with Taehyung’s pleas. He’s still injured. That idiot.

Soon realizing he wouldn’t stop, Jungkook dragged his feet towards the door. He drew in a calming breath and brushed off his tears with his sleeves. Then, he opened the door and stepped back. The banging sounds ceased, and a few beats later, he sensed a tense presence in front of him, but didn’t lift his head. 

Taehyung’s alarmed eyes were riveted on him as he closed the door behind him. The aching heaviness that rolled off Jungkook’s form twisted his stomach and punched his chest with bruising pressure. “Ju—Jungkook.”

The once velvet, cheerful voice floated in the air with a shaky timbre that added to Jungkook’s oppression. He detected two hesitant hands near his biceps, but held them before they could touch him. He stayed unmoving for a stretch, then lowered them. “Why are you here when you’re still injured?”

“Are you... Are you kidding me? I don’t care about that, Jungkook. You’re not okay. Did you expect me to stay home while knowing that?”

“You don’t care, but I do,” Jungkook spoke with a harshness he didn’t think he had the strength to produce. “Are you supposed to throw rocks and bang on my window when you have a fresh fucking stab wound to your stomach or stay home?”

Taehyung’s hands ventured closer, but Jungkook pushed them away again, pulling a stuttering sigh out of him with his actions. “Stab wound or not, I’m supposed to be here and comfort you. I don’t want you to be sad, Kook. Why don’t you let me comfort you? Why don’t you let me touch you?”

“I feel like I’ll cry the moment you touch me.”

“Then cry. It’s okay to cry. You can cry in my arms all you want. But not alone, okay? I don’t want you to be alone,” Taehyung uttered in the gentlest of ways as he spanned the distance between them with three little steps, bringing their chests an inch apart. He smoothed his hair back, smiling softly when he didn’t encounter any protest from Jungkook, and lifted his head with a faint upward push on his chin. 

Taehyung observed his sparkling, red eyes with fondness as he brushed his knuckles against Jungkook’s cheeks to dry the wetness. “See? I’m touching you and you’re not crying.”

Jungkook just gazed at him, mute. He indeed didn’t feel the need to cry anymore. As if the closeness with Taehyung cocooned his wounded heart in a blanket of warmth and comfort. As if Taehyung’s tender touch unburdened some of the insupportable agony that enclosed his existence and filled the emptiness within him with coziness. 

Suddenly, he felt he could breathe again without his chest hurting. And all Taehyung did was wipe his tears. 

He looped his arms around his waist and clutched him to his body. He thought he must have caught Taehyung off guard because of the subtle, sharp inhalation that sounded from him, but he felt Taehyung circle his nape soon enough. 

“Thank you for coming, Tae.”

A smile painted over Taehyung’s lips as he rubbed soothing lines over his back. “I already made you feel better? I’m so awesome.”

Jungkook’s chest quaked with a silent chuckle at the recognition of his playful lilt, almost cloaking his sorrow throughout. “You are.” He pulled back enough to look at him and combed through his locks with his fingers. He filled his lungs with a slow breath, his lips stretched in a little, fond smile, and tinkered with his hair as he expelled the air at the same dragging rhythm. 

“Kiss?” Taehyung asked and broke into soft giggles at how fast Jungkook’s face tensed with something akin to nervousness. “On your cheek.”

The tautness didn’t diminish, though Jungkook gave him a halting, round-eyed nod. A pair of rosebud lips pressed against his cheek delicately, and his stomach fluttered when they ghosted over his skin instead of retreating. Two more quick kisses were planted on the same spot that had Jungkook’s breath rushing in and out of him faster. 

Taehyung felt the speedup of his heart against his chest and reveled in it. Knowing that a few innocent kisses on his cheek had that effect on him really prodded his curiosity about how he would react if he claimed his cherry lips, as he so much craved to do. 

“Let’s sit,” Taehyung uttered against his skin, letting his hot breath graze against it on purpose, and withdrew. 

Still disoriented by the heavenly effect of his kisses, Jungkook nodded slowly. He trudged towards the living room and sat on the couch. He reached for a tissue and blew his still running nose, then tossed it on the pile of used tissues on the table. 

Taehyung perched next to him, inspecting the empty bottles of soju that were scattered on the table beside the whirl of tissues. “What happened to you?” he asked in a whisper as he laid his dismal eyes on him. 

Jungkook didn’t allow the remembrance of today’s events to bereft him of the warmth and serenity he felt by Taehyung’s touch. But he couldn’t obstruct the sting in his chest throughout. “We went to the hideout. And Jin Mo had a fucking gift for me.”

Alarm quickly rose in Taehyung’s gut at the sound of these words. He gaped as Jungkook leaned to his laptop and clicked the repeat icon. His brows cowered in an instant and his mouth hung open in a mixture of bafflement, shock, and distress as desperate cries infiltrated his senses. 

He palmed his gaping mouth as the creases adorning his forehead deepened the more he listened to Jungkook’s agonized voice crying out for his hyung. Goosebumps of something execrable danced mockingly over his form, and the moment he heard that eerie chuckle, his breath abandoned him, as if it were pummeled out of him. 

By the end of the recording, Taehyung’s sight was murky with tears, and he did his utmost to confine them for Jungkook’s sake. That’s not Jin Mo’s laugh. That’s not Jin Mo’s laugh! Why did he have this? Why did he... How? Why? 

“Nice gift, right?” Jungkook murmured with blatant disdain. He paused the recording when it started playing again. 

“Who would... Who would laugh at a moment like this?”

“Jin Mo, obviously.”

“That’s not—” Taehyung squeezed his lips together and exhaled nasally, angling his head away to avoid eye contact. 

Jungkook’s eyebrows twitched downwards at his unfinished remark. “What?”

“I mean...” Taehyung readjusted his posture. “You can’t be sure it’s him.”

Jungkook didn’t oppose him. He knew it was him. “All I know is that this recording file was on a hard drive. The hard drive was wrapped like a fucking gift. And over the wrapping was the symbol of darkness.”

Taehyung’s eyes popped, flitting all over the room. “Wh—What?”

“It had the same symbol your cube had.”

With a scrunched-up expression of pure mystification, Taehyung turned to look at him. “Why? How?”

“Indeed, why? Why was the symbol of your father’s gang on an item that was found in Jin Mo’s side hideout?” Jungkook questioned, though he didn’t expect an answer. Judging by the fog of confusion that shrouded Taehyung’s countenance, he was sure he had no idea.

“I don’t know... what’s going on.” Taehyung fenced in his bemusement at the unexplainable findings and centered on what Jungkook had to endure today. “I’m sorry you had to go through this, Kook.”

Jungkook smoothed a hand over his shoulder in a silent ‘thank you’. “You know, my mother asked about you today.”

A slight unease clenched Taehyung’s muscles, just as he had relaxed. “What did she ask?”

“She asked me where did I go yesterday, and I said to a friend. She asked if I meant you, and I said yes. And then she asked how are you, how do you treat me and stuff.”

Taehyung smiled upon watching Jungkook smile as well, but his own was more of an action to mask his anxiety. Why would she ask about me suddenly? Why hasn’t she said anything to Jungkook yet? Should I try to talk to her again? 

A brush on Taehyung’s shoulder obliterated his trance and forced his smile to widen. “And what did you say?”

“I got a little nervous talking about you for some reason. So Namjoon hyung answered for me. He said you care for me a lot.”

This time, Taehyung’s smile was genuine as it crinkled the corners of his gleaming eyes. “I do. I really do, Kook.”

The flutter in Jungkook’s stomach amplified more and more with every day that passed when he peered at his stupefying beauty, and he became conscious of it only then as he felt a kaleidoscope of butterflies swim around his belly. “I do too.”

Drinks and laptop forgotten for good and sorrow now encapsulated in coziness, Jungkook relished the time he had with that mesmerizing angel, leaving the cruel reality out of their snug bubble. 

He passed him a bag with his clothes after Taehyung expressed his need to sleep. He was so worn-out by the exhausting day he could fall asleep in seconds if he lay down, but he constrained his need to rest. It was too comfortable to be around Taehyung, and Jungkook was running out of excuses to meet him. Would Taehyung find it weird if he for once asked him to meet because... he just wanted to see him?

With the hope that his brain would be able to invent a decent excuse to meet him again tomorrow, Jungkook hugged him goodbye, sucked in a breath when Taehyung pecked his cheek unexpectedly, and was left fighting the raging butterflies in his stomach all by himself after Taehyung left. 

The atmosphere in the house darkened with Taehyung’s absence, Jungkook observed as he lay in his bed, but the mesmeric, warm effect of his company lingered and triumphed over any oppression. 

───⭒───༺🌑༻───⭒───

How bad do you want them to finally kiss? Be honest😂 I don't know how I managed to stop myself from making them kiss in this chapter.

Are you ready for angst? Because it's really close and it'll be the best I've ever written! For now enjoy these sweet, cute moments💜