The Space Between Takes

"The pan was cold," Jungkook muttered, scraping the blackened edges of garlic into the trash. His hoodie sleeves were pushed up to his elbows. There was a smear of gochujang on his wrist.

"The pan was warming. There's a concept called patience."

"You have zero patience."

Jin paused. Then pointed the spatula at him. "Valid. But irrelevant."

Jungkook almost smiled. Almost.

The kitchen had become his refuge over the last few months. If he was cooking, he couldn't be in the living room. If he wasn't in the living room, he couldn't accidentally make eye contact across the coffee table.

"You're spacing," Jin said, softer now. He nudged Jungkook's shoulder with his own. "The radish isn't gonna slice itself."

Jungkook picked up the knife and began slicing.

The dining table was already crowded by the time they carried the last dishes out.

Namjoon was at the head, scrolling through his phone with that furrow between his brows that meant he was reading something he'd rather not. Yoongi had claimed the corner seat, back to the wall, spoon already in hand. Jimin was in the middle of a story involving hand gestures so wide he nearly knocked over Hoseok's water.

Hoseok, unfazed, moved the glass six inches to the left without breaking his listening face.

And then there was Taehyung.

He was sitting exactly where he always sat now—diagonally across from the empty chair beside Jungkook.

Not next to him. Not directly across. Diagonal. Close enough to be in the same frame. Far enough to pretend it was natural.

He wasn't looking up.

His chopsticks hovered over the kimchi jjigae. His hair had grown longer. It fell across his forehead in a way that Jungkook had spent six months trying not to notice.

Six months and twelve days, whispered a voice in his head that sounded like his own, three glasses of soju deep.

He shut it down.

"Kook, sit down, you're blocking the rice," Jimin said, tugging at his sleeve.

Jungkook sat. In the empty chair. Diagonally across from Taehyung.

The table erupted into the usual chaos—reaching, passing, clinking, Jimin stealing from Namjoon's bowl, Hoseok complimenting the soup, Jin demanding praise for the japchae even though everyone knew Jungkook had made it.

Jungkook listened to the noise. Let it wash over him. Let it fill the spaces where words used to go.

He was reaching for the water pitcher when it happened.

Taehyung's hand appeared at the same time. Their fingers brushed. Barely. A quarter of a second. The barest whisper of skin against skin.

Jungkook pulled back like he'd been burned.

Taehyung didn't flinch. Didn't pause. Didn't even look up.

He just took the pitcher, poured his water, and set it down exactly where it had been. Then he turned to Hoseok and asked something about a choreography note, voice perfectly even, smile perfectly placed.

Like nothing happened.

Like it never happened.

Jungkook stared at his own hand for a beat too long. The ghost of the touch was still there. Warm. Brief. Devastating.

Across the table, Taehyung laughed at something. The sound hit Jungkook in the chest like a stone dropped into still water.

Six months and twelve days, the voice whispered again.

And you're still counting.

The lunch continued.

Jin told the story about the time he accidentally locked himself in the practice room bathroom. Namjoon spilled soup on his shirt for the third time this week. Yoongi fell asleep sitting up for exactly four minutes, woke up, and asked for more rice like nothing had happened.

Normal. Chaotic. Safe.

Jungkook kept his eyes on his bowl.

He counted the grains of rice left. Forty-three. Then he ate three. Forty. Then Taehyung laughed again—this time at something Jimin whispered—and Jungkook lost count entirely.

Focus. He stabbed a piece of radish.

"You're quiet today," Hoseok said, not accusatory, just observant. Hoseok was always observant in a way that felt like sunlight—warm, impossible to hide from.

"Tired," Jungkook said. It wasn't a lie.

"Hmm." Hoseok didn't push. But his eyes flicked to Taehyung for half a second. Then back to Jungkook. Then to Jin.

Jin gave the tiniest shake of his head.

Hoseok nodded and asked Namjoon about a lyric he'd been working on.

Jungkook hated how well they all communicated without words. Hated it because it meant they all knew. And knowing meant they were all waiting. And waiting meant Jungkook could feel the weight of their patience pressing against his ribs like a second skeleton.

He pushed his chair back. "I'll get the water."

"You just got water," Jimin said, not looking up from his phone.

"I'll get more water."

There were three full pitchers on the table.

The kitchen was empty. Quiet except for the hum of the refrigerator.

Jungkook braced his hands on the counter and breathed. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. The way the vocal coach taught him before stages. Except this stage never ended. There were no curtains to close. No wings to slip into.

He was always on.

The door swung open behind him.

"I forgot the ssamjang."

Jungkook's spine went rigid.

Taehyung's voice was low. Casual. The way you'd speak to a co-worker you saw every day. The way you'd speak to a stranger in an elevator.

Jungkook didn't turn around. "It's on the second shelf. Left side."

Silence.

Then the refrigerator opened. The soft clink of jars. The slide of a container being pulled out.

Jungkook stared at the tile counter. There was a stain near the edge—old soy sauce that never quite came out. He'd made that stain. Seven months ago. Taehyung had been back hugging him while he tried to make their breakfast, he had been distracted when Taehyung's fingers teasingly grazed below his torso, resulting in the soy sauce spill.

Stop.

"Jungkook."

His name. Spoken quietly.

Jungkook closed his eyes.

He didn't know what made him turn. Masochism, maybe. Or hope. That pathetic, stupid hope that had survived six months and twelve days of careful avoidance.

Taehyung was holding the ssamjang. His knuckles were white around the jar.

They looked at each other.

For one second—one real second—Taehyung's face did something it never did on camera. The corners of his mouth dropped. His eyes went blank. And there it was. The thing he hid behind smiles and laughter and perfectly timed jokes.

He looks tired, Jungkook thought. He looks like me.

Then the mask slid back into place.

"Thanks," Taehyung said. And walked out.

The door swung shut.

The refrigerator hummed.

Jungkook turned away and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes until he saw stars.

When he returned to the table, the seats had shifted.

Namjoon was now next to the empty chair. Taehyung was deep in conversation with Yoongi about a track they were working on. Jimin was watching Jungkook with an expression that was trying very hard to look neutral and failing.

Jungkook sat down next to Namjoon.

"You okay?" Namjoon asked quietly, not looking at him.

"Fine."

Namjoon's jaw tightened. But he didn't push. He never pushed. Namjoon pushed himself too hard to push anyone else.

Jungkook picked up his chopsticks. The rice was cold now.

Across the table, Taehyung laughed at something Yoongi said.

Jungkook ate his cold rice and didn't look up again.

Six Months and Twelve Days Ago...

The chairman's office smelled like cedar and old money.

Jungkook had been inside exactly twice before. Once for his contract signing. Once when they'd won Artist of the Year. Both times, he'd felt small but hopeful.

This time, he felt like he was walking to an execution.

Taehyung was beside him. Their shoulders weren't touching, but they might as well have been. Jungkook could feel the heat radiating off him. Could feel the way Taehyung's breathing had gone shallow the moment they got the call.

The chairman wants to see you. Both of you. Now.

No explanation. No warning. Just the manager's tight voice and the way Jimin's face had gone pale when he overheard.

The door was already open when they arrived.

Chairman Bang sat behind a desk that probably cost more than Jungkook's entire trainee debt. He was in his sixties, silver-haired, soft-spoken, and absolutely ruthless. Jungkook had heard the stories. Groups disbanded overnight. Trainees disappeared from the roster without explanation.

"Close the door," the chairman said.

Taehyung closed it.

"Sit."

They sat. Two chairs. Close enough that their knees almost touched. Jungkook kept his hands folded in his lap. Taehyung sat perfectly still, back straight, the way he did for variety shows.

The chairman didn't speak for a long moment. He just looked at them. Back and forth. Back and forth.

Then he slid a tablet across the desk.

The screen was bright. Jungkook didn't want to look. He looked anyway.

It was a fan site. One of the big ones. And on the screen were photos. Blurry, zoomed-in, taken from across a street. Taehyung and Jungkook. Holding hands. Kissing. Taehyung's face turned toward Jungkook's. Jungkook's other hand on Taehyung's waist.

They'd been so careful. So fucking careful.

"Three more sites have similar photos," the chairman said, voice calm. Like he was discussing the weather. "They haven't published yet. They came to us first. For a price."

Jungkook's stomach dropped.

"Shippers," the chairman continued, "are a double-edged sword. They drive engagement. They buy albums. But when it crosses into this—" he tapped the screen, "—it becomes a liability. The hate comments on these photos, even unpublished, are already vicious. Now imagine them everywhere. Imagine the headlines. BTS members in a secret relationship. Fans feel betrayed. Group's reputation at risk."

Taehyung spoke. His voice was steady. Jungkook didn't know how. "We haven't let it affect the group."

"You haven't been caught," the chairman corrected. "Yet. But the company has invested too much in BTS. The other members have invested too much. Do you think the hate will stop with you? It will spread. Every schedule, every interview, every award—they'll ask. They'll speculate. The other five will have to answer for your choices."

Jungkook felt sick.

"So here is what's going to happen," the chairman said, folding his hands. "You're going to end this. Quietly. Completely. No contact outside of work. No romantic rendezvous. No looks that can be screenshotted and analyzed. No touching. No kissing. No circling of the waist. You are colleagues. Friends, if you can manage it without slipping. Nothing more."

Jungkook's blood ran cold. His heart squeezed, and the pain was unbearable.

"And if we don't?" Taehyung asked.

The chairman smiled. It didn't reach his eyes. "Then the company will make the decision for you. And I promise you won't like my version."

The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on.

Jungkook stared at the table. His hands were shaking. He pressed them flat against his thighs to stop.

Taehyung's knee touched his. Just once. A brief press of fabric.

"We understand," Taehyung said.

The chairman nodded. "You have until tomorrow to get your things from each other's rooms. Then it's done. You're dismissed."

They stood at the same time. Walked to the door at the same time. Jungkook's hand reached for the handle.

"Jungkook-ssi."

He froze.

The chairman's voice was soft again. Almost kind. "You're very talented. Both of you. Don't waste it on something that will destroy everything you've built."

Jungkook didn't answer. He opened the door and walked out.

They didn't speak in the hallway.

They didn't speak in the elevator.

They didn't speak until they reached the parking garage, alone, cameras blind, no staff in sight.

Taehyung stopped walking.

Jungkook stopped too. Two steps ahead. His back was to Taehyung. He couldn't turn around. If he turned around, he would break.

"Kookie."

Don't. Don't say my name like that.

"He's right," Taehyung said. His voice cracked on the last word. Just a little. Just enough.

Jungkook turned.

Taehyung's eyes were wet. His jaw was set. He looked furious and devastated and young. So young.

They were both so young.

"He's not right," Jungkook said. "He's just powerful."

"Same thing."

"It's not."

Taehyung stepped closer. One step. Then another. Close enough that Jungkook could count his eyelashes. Close enough that if he leaned forward one inch, he could taste those soft lips he had kissed just a few minutes ago—

"We can't," Taehyung whispered. "You heard him. They'll hurt the others. They'll hurt us. Not just the relationship. Our careers. Our members. Everything."

"So we just—what? Pretend?"

"Yes."

"For how long?"

Taehyung didn't answer.

Jungkook laughed. It came out wet and wrong. "You're really going to let him decide this for us? I fucking love you, Taehyung. I am. crazy about you. How do you expect me to pretend we never had something?"

Taehyung swallowed a sob in his throat. He looked away. "I'm protecting you. Us. The members," he said. "It's for the best, Kookie."

Jungkook poked his cheek with his tongue, his jaw clenched hard. His eyes were red, furious, and hurt. Taehyung reached up. His fingers brushed Jungkook's cheek. Jungkook pulled back, avoiding his touch, not looking at him. Taehyung's fingers froze in the air before he stepped back, turned. And walked towards his car.

His footsteps and sobs followed him.

Jungkook stood there for a long time.

When he finally moved, he walked to the car and sat in the back and didn't cry until the driver pulled out of the garage. And even then, he didn't make a sound.

The music video set was a half-built mansion in the middle of an empty lot.

Chandeliers hung from exposed wires. Grey curtains covered plywood walls. It was supposed to look expensive and haunting—the concept for their new title track was elegant tragedy. Jungkook thought that was painfully ironic.

They'd been filming for fourteen hours.

His feet ached. His contact lenses were dry. And he'd successfully avoided being in the same camera frame as Taehyung for all but two group shots.

Two shots. He considered that a victory.

"Break for lunch!" the assistant director called. "Then we have the BTS behind shoot in an hour!"

The behind-the-scenes. Jungkook had forgotten. Or tried to.

Every music video, they filmed behind-the-scenes content to drop later after the music video has been released. Candid moments. Laughing between takes. Friendship goals. The content fans ate up with a spoon.

It used to be his favorite part.

Now it was a minefield.

The catering table was set up near the green room trailers. Jungkook grabbed a water bottle and stood at the edge of the chaos, watching everyone else move.

Jimin appeared beside him, holding two protein bars. He handed one to Jungkook without asking.

"You haven't eaten," Jimin said.

"M' not hungry."

"Eat anyway," he insisted.

Jungkook sighed and took the bar. He didn't open it.

Jimin sighed. He was wearing a silver jacket that caught the light, his hair styled into soft waves. He looked like an angel. He looked exhausted.

"They sent the run sheet for the behind shoot," he said quietly.

Jungkook's stomach tightened. "And?"

Jimin pulled out his phone, opened a message, and handed it over.

The instructions were numbered. Clinical. The way the chairman's office communicated everything.

1. Jimin and Jungkook will be the primary focus. Physical affection encouraged. Arm around shoulders, whispering, laughing. Natural but visible.
2. Taehyung to focus on interactions with Jin and Yoongi. No prolonged proximity to Jungkook.
3. Namjoon and Hoseok to anchor group dynamics. Maintain energy.
4. Any deviation will result in reshoots.

Jungkook read it twice. Then a third time.

"Natural but visible," he said, voice flat. "So they want us to fake it."

"They want the fans to have something to focus on that isn't…" Jimin trailed off. He didn't need to finish.

That isn't you and Taehyung.

Jungkook handed the phone back. His hand wasn't shaking. He'd learned how to stop that.

"Are you okay with this?" Jimin asked.

Jungkook's smile was small and sad. "Does it matter?"

"It matters to me." Jimin looked at him for a long moment. Then his eyes drifted across the set.

Jungkook followed his gaze.

Taehyung was standing near the fake fireplace, talking to Yoongi. His costume was all black—fitted jacket, loose silk shirt underneath, boots that made him look taller. His hair was pushed back from his forehead. He was laughing at something Yoongi said, hand gesturing lazily.

He looked beautiful. He always looked beautiful.

And he hadn't looked at Jungkook once in fourteen hours.

Jimin's voice was barely a whisper. "He saw the run sheet, too."

Jungkook's throat closed up. "What did he say?"

"Nothing. He just nodded and walked over to Yoongi-hyung." Jimin paused. "Kook, I don't like this. I don't like pretending. I don't like that he's being told to stay away from you like you're dangerous. And I really don't like that I'm being used as a—a decoy."

"You're not a decoy."

"Then what am I?! Because it feels like they're putting me between you two so the cameras don't see the truth!"

Jungkook didn't have an answer.

The behind-the-scenes shoot started at 4 PM.

The staff had set up a small lounge area inside the mansion set—couches, a low table with snacks, soft lighting that made everyone look ethereal. Three cameras rolled. Two more were handheld.

The vibe was supposed to be cozy and intimate. A glimpse into their real friendship.

Jungkook sat on the edge of the couch. Jimin was pressed against his side, exactly as instructed. One of Jimin's hands rested on Jungkook's knee. The other played with a loose thread on Jungkook's sleeve.

It looked natural.

It felt like a cage.

"So Jungkook-ah," the staff writer prompted from behind the camera, her voice bright and encouraging, "Jimin-ssi is being very affectionate today. Are you two always like this?"

Jungkook forced a smile. "Jimin-hyung doesn't know what personal space is."

Jimin giggled, "You love it."

"I tolerate it."

"Same thing."

The cameras caught the exchange. The editors would slow it down later, add heart emojis, caption it Jimin and Jungkook being soulmates.

Across the room, Taehyung was sitting on a separate couch with Jin and Yoongi.

Jin had his arm draped over Taehyung's shoulders. Yoongi was leaning forward, saying something while Taehyung played with his fingers, twisting and turning. Yoongi was unfazed. He kept on talking like Taehyung wasn't busily breaking his fingers.

"Jungkook?" Jimin said softly.

Jungkook realized he'd been staring. He turned back to Jimin. "Huh? sorry. What?"

"I asked if you wanted to try the snacks." Jimin held up a piece of fruit. His eyes were asking something else entirely. Are you okay? Can you do this? Do you need me to stop?

Jungkook took the fruit. Ate it. Smiled. "Delicious," he said to the cameras.

The staff writer clapped. "Perfect! Now let's get a shot of you two walking through the set together. Very natural, just talking."

Jimin stood. Held out his hand.

Jungkook took it.

They walked past the other couch. Taehyung didn't look up. He was too busy giggling at something Jin whispered.

But his heart—stupid, traitorous heart—started beating faster anyway.

Taehyung had perfected the art of not looking at Jungkook.

It took practice. Discipline. The same kind of focus he used to learn choreography, except instead of counting beats, he counted heartbeats. Instead of watching his reflection in the mirror, he watched the floor. The ceiling. The backs of the other members' heads.

Anything but him.

Today, he was doing a masterful job.

He sat between Jin and Yoongi on the couch. Jin's arm was heavy and warm across his shoulders. Yoongi was explaining a production technique in that low, mumbling voice that required Taehyung to lean in close to hear.

Taehyung to focus on interactions with Jin and Yoongi.

He'd read the run sheet two times this morning. Each time, the words blurred a little more.

No prolonged proximity to Jungkook.

As if proximity was the problem. As if staying across the room could stop his brain from cataloging every detail anyway.

Jungkook's hair is longer than last week.
He's wearing that silver ring again—the one on his thumb.
He hasn't eaten since breakfast.
He smiled at Jimin, but it didn't reach his eyes.

Taehyung knew that smile. He'd invented that smile.

It was the I'm fine, don't ask smile. The one Jungkook used when he was anything but fine.

"So then the compressor actually flips the phase—" Yoongi was saying.

Taehyung nodded. "Mm."

He wasn't listening.

Across the room, the staff writer was directing Jimin and Jungkook to walk through the set together. Jimin's hand was in Jungkook's. Their shoulders were pressed together. Jimin was occasionally teasing him, pulling him close, their cheeks touched.

On camera. For the world.

Natural but visible.

Taehyung's chest ached. A dull, familiar throb. Like a bruise that never healed.

"Tae?" Jin's voice was soft. Private. The cameras couldn't hear. "You're doing that thing."

"What thing?"

"Spacing out."

Taehyung's smile faltered. Just for a second. Then he reset it. "I'm fine, hyung."

Jin's arm tightened around his shoulders. Not saying anything. Just there.

That was the worst part. The members knew. They didn't ask, didn't push, didn't demand explanations. They just stayed close and watched and waited. Like they were standing at the edge of a cliff, ready to catch him when he fell.

Taehyung wasn't sure he deserved that.

The shoot moved to the grand staircase.

This was the centerpiece of the set—wide, curved, draped in black, and scattered with rose petals. The concept photos would be shot here later. For now, the behind-the-scenes crew wanted "candid" footage of the members climbing the stairs together, laughing, pushing each other playfully.

Group dynamics.

Taehyung climbed slowly. Yoongi was ahead of him. Jin was behind, hamming it up for the camera, pretending to be out of breath.

At the top of the stairs, Namjoon was already there, leaning against the railing. He caught Taehyung's eye and tilted his head slightly. A question.

You okay?

Taehyung nodded. Short. Sharp. Don't ask.

Namjoon's jaw tightened, but he looked away.

And then—because the universe hated him—Jungkook appeared at the bottom of the stairs.

He was walking up with Jimin. Their hands were still loosely intertwined. Jimin was laughing at something, head thrown back, whole body shaking with it. Jungkook was smiling. That same hollow smile.

Their eyes met.

Don't look.

Look away.

Look at anything else.

Taehyung couldn't.

For one breathless second, the cameras disappeared. The staff disappeared. The velvet and the rose petals and the fourteen hours of filming disappeared.

There was only Jungkook. Walking toward him. Close enough that Taehyung could see the exhaustion under his eyes, the way his bottom lip was slightly chapped, the exact shade of brown his hair had faded to.

Jungkook's expression flickered.

Something raw. Something real.

Then he looked down. Pulled his hand from Jimin's. Climbed the rest of the stairs without meeting anyone's eyes.

Jimin watched him go. Then Jimin looked at Taehyung.

His gaze was heavy.

Taehyung turned back to Yoongi. Opened his mouth to ask a question about compressors—something, anything, to fill the silence.

But before he could speak, a staff member appeared at his elbow.

"Taehyung-ssi, can you move closer to Jin-ssi for the next shot? We want to capture the hyung-dongsaeng dynamic."

Taehyung to focus on interactions with Jin and Yoongi.

"Yes," Taehyung said. "Of course."

He stepped toward Jin. Let Jin put his arm around him again. Smiled at the camera.

Behind Jin's shoulder, Jungkook was standing with his back to everyone, staring at the fake window, hands in his pockets.

He looked like a statue. Beautiful and frozen and unreachable.

The behind-the-scenes shoot ended at 6:47 PM.

The staff called cut. The cameras stopped rolling. The energy in the room shifted immediately—shoulders dropped, smiles vanished, people started checking their phones.

Taehyung stood up from the couch. His legs were stiff. His back ached. He needed to be alone.

"Good work today," Jin said, patting his shoulder. "You did well."

You did well. Like a child who'd performed a recital. Like a puppet who'd moved exactly as the strings pulled.

Taehyung nodded. "Thanks, hyung."

He walked toward the trailers. Past the catering table. Past the wardrobe racks. Past Jimin, who was talking to Hoseok in low, urgent tones.

Jimin's eyes followed him. Taehyung pretended not to notice.

The filming room was small but familiar.

White backdrop. Cushions scattered on the floor. Two cameras on tripods—one wide shot, one close-up. The staff had laid out snacks and water bottles in a neat row, but no one was touching them yet.

This was supposed to be fun.

BTS Reacts to 'DNA' Music Video – Behind the Scenes Special

Jungkook used to love these.

Not for the views. Not for the comments. But because, years ago, he could sit pressed between members, hidden from the cameras, and slide his hand into Taehyung's. The other members would shift to cover them. Jimin would talk louder. Jin would crack a joke. Yoongi would stare at the monitor with his unreadable face and say nothing.

They'd all been accomplices.

Now, Jungkook lowered himself to the floor between Namjoon and Hoseok. His now usual spot. Except Taehyung wasn't beside him anymore. Taehyung was diagonal. Between Jimin and Jin. Far enough that their knees wouldn't touch.

The camera light blinked red.

"Ready?" the producer called from behind the camera. "We're rolling in three, two, one—"

Namjoon waved at the lens. "Hello, we are BTS! Today we're watching our 'DNA' music video reaction!"

Hoseok cheered. Jin made a comment about how he'll be the only one that look too good. Jimin covered his face dramatically.

Jungkook smiled. It felt like stretching a muscle that hadn't been used in years.

The video started.

The opening notes of DNA filled the room—bright, electric, young. Jungkook watched himself on screen.

"Ohhh," Hoseok said, pointing at the screen. "Here we go!"

"Jimin's hair," Jin said, whistling. "Iconic."

Jimin preened. "I know."

Jungkook watched the screen. Watched himself appear in that colorful jacket, hair flopping over his forehead, eyes bright with something he barely recognized anymore.

Happiness, he thought. That's what that looks like.

Then Taehyung appeared on screen.

He was walking through a hallway, the one with glowing lights, his silver hair styled in soft waves, his gaze direct and devastating. The camera loved him. It always had.

Hoseok whistled. "Taehyung-ah, you're not real."

"Ah," Jin breathed. "Our Taehyungie. So pretty."

"Visual shock," Namjoon agreed.

Taehyung ducked his head, blushing. He was shy. Jimin reached over and pinched his cheek. Taehyung swatted him away, laughing, but his ears went pink.

"Stop," Taehyung mumbled.

Jungkook watched quietly.

The scene shifted. Jungkook and Jimin dancing together in the hallway set. The choreography was sharp, synchronized, their bodies moving as one.

"Jungkook's dancing here," Hoseok said proudly, tilting his head. "Whoa. So clean."

"Thanks, hyung," Jungkook mumbled.

The video continued.

Another Taehyung close-up. His face filled the monitor. Silver hair, honey skin, lips parted. The screen practically glowed.

"Seriously," Namjoon said, shaking his head. "How is that a real person?"

Jin clutched his chest. "I'm sitting right next to him, and I still can't believe it."

Taehyung ducked his head again. His ears were fully red now. "Hyungs, stop."

Jungkook's chest ached. He remembered when he couldn't stop staring at him during the set and in the dorms too. The way the members had groaned and yelled anytime he made a mistake or when he took a break just to kiss Taehyung's lips. He had chosen the hair dye to use because he knew silver would look best on his boyfr—ex boyfriend.

He shook the memories away and kept his eyes on the monitor.

Then came the bridge.

The part where the choreography brought Taehyung and Jungkook back-to-back. A brief moment. Barely three seconds. But in the original filming, Jungkook's hand had found Taehyung's waist. Hidden by the other members' bodies. A secret pressed into fabric.

On screen, you couldn't see it.

On screen, they were just professionals hitting their marks.

Jungkook remembered what it felt like. The heat of Taehyung's back against his front. The way Taehyung had exhaled softly, just for him. The way his fingers had held his against his stomach, holding on for one breath longer than necessary.

"I remember filming this," Jimin said, stretching his legs out. "It was so hot. The lights were melting my makeup."

"You cried during break," Yoongi said flatly.

"I was emotional."

"You cried because your ice cream melted."

The members all laughed.

"But that was a good take," Hoseok uttered, nodding at the screen. "We only did that, what, three times?"

"Six," Jin corrected. "Because someone—" he looked at Jungkook, "—kept messing up his footwork."

"The floor was slippery."

"The floor was fine."

"It was slippery."

Jimin cackled. "He's lying. He kept staring at—"

Jimin stopped.

The room went quiet for exactly one beat.

Then Namjoon laughed, too loud, too fast. "At the camera! He kept staring at the camera! Rookie mistake."

"Rookie mistake," Hoseok echoed.

The video ended. The cameras stayed on.

"Now let's read some comments!" the producer said brightly. A staff member handed Namjoon a tablet.

Namjoon scrolled. "Okay, first comment. 'DNA is that songgg. It's so good I can't stop watching.'" He nodded. "Facts."

"Next," Jimin said, leaning over. "'Taehyung in that silver hair changed my brain chemistry.'"

Jin pointed at Taehyung. "See? ARMY agree with me."

Taehyung smiled. Small. Tight.

Namjoon kept scrolling. "'Jimin and Jungkook's chemistry in this video is everything. They should always dance together.'"

Jimin nudged Jungkook's foot with his own. "Hear that?"

Jungkook nudged back. "Loud and clear."

"'The way Jungkook looks at Taehyung in the hallway scene...'"

Namjoon's voice faltered. Just slightly. Just enough.

He cleared his throat. "'...is so intense.'"

Silence.

Then Jin laughed. "Fans are so passionate."

"Very passionate," Jimin agreed. His voice was too bright.

Taehyung reached for his water bottle. Took a long sip.

Hoseok grabbed the tablet from Namjoon. "Okay, next comment—"

But the damage was done.

"Jungkook's high note changed my life.'

"Mine too!" Namjoon said, resulting in a double-over-laugh from Hoseok.

"'Taehyung in that silver hair?? I died, he's so pretty.'"

Taehyung blushed.

More comments scrolled by. Most were harmless. Some were sweet. A few mentioned Taekook—remember when Tae and Kook used to be close?—but the algorithm seemed to be filtering for the most positive ones.

'Jimin and Jungkook should do a subunit.'

'Their friendship is everything to me.'

'Jimin laughing at Jungkook's jokes... protect them both.'

The cameras kept rolling. The members kept smiling.

Jungkook's jaw ached from clenching it.

The director called cut.

"Great work, everyone! We'll post this in two days. Rest well."

The cameras clicked off. The red recording lights went dark. Staff began packing up equipment, chatting amongst themselves, already moving on to the next schedule.

Jungkook unfolded his legs. His knees cracked. He'd been sitting too still.

"Bathroom," he mumbled, already standing. His legs felt unsteady.

No one stopped him.

He was almost at the door when Taehyung's voice floated across the room.

Soft. Casual. Like he was talking to no one in particular.

"The fans really like Jimin and Jungkook's interactions. I suggest the media should show them more often."

Jungkook stopped.

His hand was on the doorframe. His back was to the room. He could feel everyone's eyes on him.

He didn't turn around.

From the corner of his vision, he saw Yoongi stand up.

Yoongi didn't say anything. He just looked at Taehyung. Just looked. For a long, terrible second.

Then Yoongi muttered something under his breath. Jungkook caught only one word, but it was enough.

"Idiot."

Then he walked out. The door slammed behind him.

Jungkook stood there for another second. Two.

Then he walked out too.

The hallway outside the filming room was narrow and fluorescent-lit. The kind of lighting that made everyone look sick. Yoongi was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, waiting.

He didn't have to wait long.

Taehyung emerged two minutes after Yoongi had walked out. His face was carefully blank.

Yoongi had known him for almost six years. The mask had never worked on him.

"Walk with me," he said.

It wasn't a request.

Taehyung followed.

They didn't speak until they reached the emergency stairwell at the end of the hall. Concrete steps. Echoing silence. A single flickering light bulb that cast everything in shades of gray.

Yoongi pushed the door shut behind them.

"Why did you say that?" he asked.

Taehyung leaned against the railing. His shoulders were tense. "Say what?"

"The thing about Jimin and Jungkook." Yoongi's voice was flat. Not angry. Worse—disappointed. "You knew exactly what you were doing."

Taehyung's jaw tightened. "I was stating a fact. The comments—"

"You were provoking him."

Silence.

The light bulb flickered. Once. Twice.

Taehyung's mask cracked. Just a little. Just at the edges. "I wasn't—"

"Yes, you were." Yoongi stepped closer. Not threatening. Just present. Solid. The way he always was when everything else was falling apart. "You've been doing it for six months. The little comments. The careful distance that's so careful it's practically screaming. The way you stare into space and shut out the world."

Taehyung's breath hitched.

"I'm not stupid, Taehyung. None of us are. We've been covering for you both since after debut. We changed positions during photoshoots so you could stand together. We talked louder during interviews so no one would see you holding hands.

"I know." Taehyung's voice was barely audible.

"Do you? Because right now, it looks like you're trying to burn everything down." Yoongi ran a hand through his hair. The gesture was tired. Old. "The chairman gave you an order. A cruel one. An unfair one. But an order. And instead of finding a way to survive it, you're poking at the wound. Both of you."

Taehyung's hands gripped the railing. His knuckles went white. "You think I don't know that? You think I don't lie awake every night knowing I'm the one who walked away? Knowing I followed orders like a—a dog?"

"You followed orders to protect him."

"Same result." Taehyung's voice cracked. "He looks at me like I'm a stranger now. And the worst part? I can't even blame him. I am a stranger. I've been performing so long I don't know where the act ends, and I begin."

Yoongi was quiet for a moment.

Then he said, softer: "You still love him."

It wasn't a question.

Taehyung closed his eyes. The fluorescent light filtered through his lids, red and pulsing. "Every second of every day," he whispered

"Then stop punishing him for it."

Taehyung's eyes opened. "What?"

"The comments. The distance. The way you say things, you know, will hurt him." Yoongi's voice was gentle now. Almost kind. "You're not protecting him anymore. You're pushing him away because it hurts less than hoping. But Tae—" He paused. "He's still hoping. That's why he stays. That's why he hasn't asked to change dorms or change the seating arrangements or request different schedules. He's still here."

Taehyung's lower lip trembled. He bit down on it.

"You have two choices," Yoongi continued. "Either you let him go completely—truly let him go, stop the games, stop the glances, stop everything—or you fight for him. Not the way you've been fighting. The real way. The hard way."

"And if the chairman finds out?"

"Then we fight him too."

Taehyung stared.

Yoongi's expression didn't waver. "You think I'd let that man destroy two of my members without a word? You think Jin would? Namjoon? We've been quiet because we thought it was what you wanted. But if you want to change the rules, Taehyung—" He shrugged, small and fierce. "Then we change them. Together."

The light bulb flickered one last time. Then steadied.

Taehyung's eyes were wet. He didn't wipe them.

"He still wears the ring," he whispered. "The one I gave him. On his thumb. He never took it off."

Yoongi nodded slowly. "I know." Yoongi reached out. Placed a hand on Taehyung's shoulder. Squeezed once.

"Stop hiding," he said. "And go talk to him. Really talk. No masks. Just the two of you."

Taehyung let out a breath. Shaky. Long.

"What if I've waited too long?"

Yoongi almost smiled. "He's been waiting six months and twenty-three days. I think he can wait a little longer."

Taehyung's eyes widened. "How did you—"

"We all know, Tae. Every single one of us has been counting."

Jungkook hadn't gone to the bathroom.

He'd walked past it. Walked past the vending machines. Walked past the practice rooms. Ended up in the storage closet at the end of the hall—the one filled with old props, broken light stands, and cardboard boxes.

He sat on an overturned crate. Elbows on his knees. Head in his hands.

The door opened.

He didn't look up. He knew the footsteps. Soft. Quick. Deliberate.

Jimin.

"I'm fine," Jungkook said into his palms.

"Liar."

Jimin didn't sit. He stood in front of Jungkook, arms crossed, weight shifted to one hip. The same stance he used when the managers tried to schedule too many fan signings in one day.

Jungkook finally looked up.

Jimin's face was flushed. His jaw was tight. His eyes were bright with something that looked like fury.

"You're angry," Jungkook said.

"I'm furious."

"At me?"

"At everyone." Jimin's voice was sharp. Sharper than Jungkook had heard in months. "At the chairman. At the staff. At Taehyung for being an idiot. At you for letting him. At myself for standing there and holding your hand like a prop."

Jungkook flinched.

Jimin saw it. Didn't soften.

"You know I hate it, right?" he continued, pacing now. The storage closet was small. Three steps one way, three steps back. "The forced interactions. The be clingy, Jimin. Touch his arm, Jimin. Look at him like you're in love, Jimin. I'm not an actor! I'm your friend! And every time the cameras roll, I feel like I'm betraying both of you."

"You're not betraying anyone," Jungkook said quietly.

"Yes, I am." Jimin stopped pacing. Faced him. "Taehyung is my best friend. Has been since we were in high school. And I'm standing in front of cameras, holding your hand, while he watches from across the room. Do you know what that does to him?"

Jungkook's throat tightened.

"Do you know what it does to me?" Jimin's voice cracked. "I see the way he looks at you. I see the way you look at him. And I have to smile and giggle and play along like it's nothing. Like I'm not watching two people I love tear themselves apart because some old man in a suit is scared of a few hate comments."

"He said it would affect the group—"

"The group is fine!" Jimin's voice echoed off the cardboard boxes. "The group has survived scandals, injuries, dating rumors, everything. We would survive this, too. But no one gave us a choice. He just decided. And you both just obeyed."

Jungkook stood up.

He was taller than Jimin. Had been for years. But right now, he felt small.

"What were we supposed to do?" Jungkook asked. His voice came out rougher than he intended. "Say no? Get kicked out? Have the company bury us? They have the power, Jimin. They have the contracts, the lawyers, the media. One phone call and our careers are over."

"Then let them be over."

Jungkook stared.

Jimin's eyes were glassy now. But his voice was steady. "I mean it. If it came down to it—if the choice was between this company and you two being happy—I'd leave. So would Hobi. So would Jin-hyung. We've talked about it."

"You talked about—"

"Of course, we talked about it. We're not blind." Jimin stepped closer. Reached out. Grabbed Jungkook's face in both hands. Forced him to make eye contact. "You're not just a bandmate, Jungkook. You're family. Both of you. And I'm tired of watching my family suffer because no one has the courage to say enough."

Jungkook's eyes burned.

Jimin's thumbs wiped under his lower lashes. Gentle. Fierce.

"Taehyung walked away because he thought he was protecting you," Jimin said softly. "And you let him because you thought you were protecting the group. But all you did was protect the chairman's bottom line. And I hate him for it. I hate him for making you believe your love was something to be ashamed of."

A tear slipped down Jungkook's cheek.

Then another.

Jimin pulled him into a hug. Tight. Suffocating. The way they used to hug before debut, when everything was uncertain, and all they had was each other.

"I can't do the forced interactions anymore," Jimin whispered into Jungkook's shoulder. "I won't. They can fire me if they want. But I'm not going to stand there and pretend while you and Taehyung bleed out on camera."

Jungkook's arms came up. Wrapped around Jimin's back. Held on.

The storage closet was silent.

Jungkook wiped his face with his sleeve. Took a breath. Then another.

"He said something," Jungkook admitted. "About the fans liking your interactions with me."

Jimin's expression darkened.

"It felt like a knife."

"It was supposed to." Jimin's voice went cold. "He's scared, Kook. He's been scared for six months. And scared people do stupid things. But that doesn't make it okay."

Jungkook nodded slowly.

"Are you going to talk to him?" Jimin asked.

"I don't know if I can."

"You can." Jimin squeezed his shoulder. "You're the bravest person I know. You just forgot for a while."

Jungkook walked out of the storage closet with no destination in mind.

His feet carried him past the practice rooms, past the empty recording booths, past the water fountain that had been broken since forever. The building was mostly empty now. Most of the staff had gone home. The other members were probably back in the dorm, pretending tonight hadn't happened.

He should go home, too.

He didn't.

He turned left instead of right. Toward the old stairwell. The one no one used anymore because the elevator had been installed three years ago. The stairs were dusty. The lights were dim. The air smelled like concrete and neglect.

Jungkook climbed.

One flight. Two flights. Three.

At the landing between the third and fourth floors, he stopped.

Someone was already there.

Taehyung sat on the top step, back against the wall, knees drawn up to his chest. His head was down. His hands were loose between his knees. He looked small. Smaller than Jungkook had ever seen him.

The fluorescent light hummed. A distant door slammed somewhere below. The building settled around them like it was breathing.

Jungkook should leave.

His feet didn't move.

Taehyung's head lifted.

Their eyes met.

His eyes were red. His cheeks were wet. His chest was heaving. The building settled around them like it was breathing.

Jungkook's heart pounded. Say something, he told himself. Move. Do anything.

Before he could, Taehyung moved.

He didn't walk. Didn't approach carefully.

He ran.

His footsteps echoed off the concrete walls—loud, desperate, uncontrolled. He crossed the landing in three strides and crashed into Jungkook so hard that Jungkook stumbled back a step, almost losing his balance.

Taehyung's arms wrapped around him. Tight. Suffocating. His face buried itself in Jungkook's neck. His entire body was shaking.

Jungkook's arms came up on instinct. Wrapped around Taehyung's back.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. There was just the sound of Taehyung's ragged breathing against Jungkook's collar. Just the feeling of his fingers digging into the fabric of Jungkook's shirt. Just the warmth of a body that had been too far away for too long.

Then Taehyung made a sound.

It wasn't a word. It was something between a gasp and a sob—broken open, raw, honest. The sound of a dam finally breaking.

"I'm sorry," he choked out. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Tears slipped down his cheeks, soaking Jungkook's shirt. His breath came in short, hitching gasps.

Jungkook tightened his arms. Pulled Taehyung closer. Buried his own face in Taehyung's hair.

"I've been so stupid," Taehyung continued, the words tumbling out between sobs. His voice was muffled against Jungkook's shoulder. "The comments. The distance. The way I said that thing about Jimin. I knew it would hurt you. I wanted it to hurt you. Because if you were hurting too, then I wasn't alone."

Jungkook's eyes burned. He blinked, and tears fell into Taehyung's hair.

"That's not—" Taehyung's voice broke. He pulled back just enough to look at Jungkook's face. His own face was a mess—tears streaming, nose red, lips trembling. He had never looked less like an idol. He had never looked more beautiful.

"That's not love. That's not how you treat someone you love. And I do love you. So so much. I never stopped."

His hands came up to cup Jungkook's face. Trembling. Desperate.

"Every day I wake up and reach for you, and you're not there, and I did that. I did that. I walked away, and I kept walking, and I told myself it was for you, but it was for me. Because I was scared."

Taehyung's forehead pressed against Jungkook's. His tears wet both their faces.

"I was scared of the chairman. Scared of the hate comments. Scared of what would happen to the group. But mostly—" His voice dropped to a whisper. "Mostly, I was scared that one day you'd wake up and realize you deserved better. So I left before you could figure it out."

A sob escaped him. He tried to pull back, to hide his face, but Jungkook wouldn't let him. Jungkook's hands moved to Taehyung's wrists. Held them there. Kept Taehyung's palms pressed against his cheeks.

"Don't," Jungkook said. His voice was hoarse. "Don't hide. Not anymore."

Taehyung's lower lip quivered.

"I'm sorry for every time I pretended not to see you," he whispered. "For every time I laughed louder so I wouldn't hear you. For every night I stayed in the studio, because I couldn't stand being in the same building and not knocking on your door. I'm sorry for the comments. For Jimin. For making you think I didn't care."

"You said the fans liked Jimin and me," Jungkook said quietly.

Taehyung flinched. Fresh tears spilled over. "I know. I'm sorry. That was—"

"Why?"

The word hung in the dusty air.

Taehyung's hands trembled against Jungkook's face. "Because I was jealous."

"Of Jimin?"

"Of everyone." Taehyung laughed. It was wet and broken. "Jimin gets to hold your hand on camera. The fans get to compliment you without it being suspicious. The staff gets to tell you where to stand, and I have to stand somewhere else. Everyone gets a piece of you except me. And I gave you up. I gave you up. So who do I even have to blame?"

Jungkook stared at him. "Do you know what that felt like?" His voice cracked.

He pulled Taehyung's hands away from his face. Held them between them. Looked at Taehyung.

"Do you have any idea," Jungkook continued, his voice shaking, "what it's like to sit across from someone you love and have them say something like that? Something designed to cut? I've been bleeding for six months, Tae. Every day. Every time you laughed without me. Every time you walked past me like I was furniture. Every time I reached for you in my sleep and woke up alone."

Taehyung's face crumpled. "Kookie—"

"I'm not finished."

Jungkook's voice was soft. But it wasn't weak. It was the voice of someone who had been quiet for too long.

"I did everything you asked," he said. "I let you walk away in that parking garage. I didn't fight. I didn't call. I didn't show up at your door at 3 AM even though I wanted to every single night. I sat on the other side of every room. I let Jimin hold my hand on camera. I smiled at the fans. I did my job. I was good. I was so good at pretending I didn't love you that I almost believed it myself."

A tear slid down his cheek. Then another.

"But I never stopped," he whispered. "Not once. Not even when I wanted to. Not even when hating you would have been easier. I never stopped loving you, Taehyung. And that's the worst part. Because you left. And I stayed. And I stayed loving you in an empty room."

Taehyung was sobbing. Silent tears streaming down his face. His hands trembled in Jungkook's grip.

"You hurt me," Jungkook said. His voice broke on the last word. "You hurt me so much. I thought if I was patient enough—if I waited long enough—you'd come back. But every day you didn't, a little piece of me died. And I didn't even recognize myself anymore."

He let go of Taehyung's hands.

For a moment, Taehyung looked terrified—like Jungkook was about to walk away.

But Jungkook didn't walk away.

He reached up. Cupped Taehyung's face the way Taehyung had cupped his. His thumbs wiped away Taehyung's tears.

"I'm telling you this," Jungkook said softly, "not to make you feel guilty. I'm telling you because I need you to understand. I can't do that again. The silence. The pretending. The little knives. If you walk away again, Tae, I won't survive it. Not again."

Taehyung shook his head frantically. "I'm not—I won't—"

"Every time you laughed with Jin-hyung and wouldn't even glance my way. It felt like you were erasing me."

Taehyung shook his head frantically again, "I wasn't—n-never Kookie-I'm here," he whispered. "I'm so here. I never left. I was just—"

"Scared," Jungkook finished.

"T-terrified."

Jungkook let out a shaky breath. "Me too. I've been terrified every single day. But I stayed. Even when it hurt. Because you're worth it. You've always been worth it."

Taehyung's face crumbled again. He surged forward, burying his face in Jungkook's neck, arms wrapping around his waist like he was afraid Jungkook would disappear.

"I love you," Taehyung said against his skin. "I-I know I don't deserve to say it. But I love you so much, my love. I'm sorry for hurting you. So very s-sorry."

Jungkook's arms came up around him again. Held him tight. He pressed a kiss to the top of Taehyung's head. "I love you more. You never lost the right," Jungkook whispered. "You just forgot you had it."

Taehyung let out that sound again. His arms squeezed tighter around Jungkook's waist. He wasn't going anywhere. Neither of them was.

The stairwell was quiet.

And for the first time in six months and twenty-three days, Jungkook felt like he could breathe. He felt his chest free of heart aches. He felt his lungs empty from pain. He pulled Taehyung closer, wanting to mound into him. To believe that it was real. That he was in his arms.

Taehyung pulled back just enough to look at him. His eyes were red. His face was wet. His lips were parted.

"Can I—" he started, then stopped. Swallowed. "Can I kiss you?"

Jungkook's heart ached. He looked at him. At the tears still clinging to his lashes. At the hope and fear warring in his eyes.

"You don't have to ask," he said quietly.

Taehyung's breath caught. Jungkook closed the distance himself.

The kiss was soft at first. Tender. Like they were learning each other all over again. Taehyung's lips were salty from tears. Jungkook's were chapped from biting them to keep from crying.

Then Taehyung made a small sound—a whimper, a sigh, something desperate—and the kiss deepened. Taehyung's hands fisted in Jungkook's shirt. Jungkook held the back of his neck to pull him closer. They stumbled back against the wall, and Taehyung laughed against Jungkook's mouth.

A real laugh. Bright and broken and relieved.

When they finally pulled apart, foreheads together, breathing ragged, both of them were crying again.

But this time, it was different.

This time, they were crying together.

"Hi," Taehyung whispered.

Jungkook smiled back. "Hi."

"I missed you."

"I know." Jungkook's voice was soft. Affectionate. Teasing. Wounded but healing.

Taehyung swatted his chest. Weakly. Affectionately. "You're supposed to say it back."

Jungkook caught his hand. Pressed a kiss to his knuckles.

"I missed you, too," he said. "Every second. Every breath. Every time I closed my eyes."

Taehyung's eyes welled up again. But he was smiling.

"I'm not leaving," he said. "Not ever again. I don't care what the chairman says. I don't care about the comments. I don't care about anything except you."

Jungkook pressed his forehead harder against Taehyung's. "Promise?"

"Promise."

They stayed there. Wrapped in each other. The dust settled around them. The fluorescent light hummed.

The world outside could wait.

They had waited long enough.

The backstage room was too large for seven people.

Mirrors lined on the walls, reflecting the chaos back at itself. Clothes racks overflowed with stage outfits. Makeup stations were cluttered with brushes and palettes. The air smelled like hairspray and nervous energy.

Today, the nervous energy was different.

Because everyone knew.

Not the staff. Not the managers. Not the cameras that would soon be filming their behind-the-scenes content.

But the members knew.

Jungkook had told Jimin first. Obviously. Jimin had cried—happy tears, angry tears, a confusing mix of both—and hugged him so hard Jungkook's ribs ached.

Then Jimin had told the others. They were so happy, Taehyung couldn't stop crying about how much they love them.

Now, sitting in the waiting room, Jungkook could feel the shift. He sat in the corner chair, the one nearest the window. His stage outfit was all black—fitted pants, a loose silk shirt, silver jewelry that caught the light. The stylist had spent forty minutes on his hair. He looked untouchable.

He felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest.

Across the room, Taehyung was getting his makeup touched up. His stage outfit was cream and gold, ethereal, almost unreal. His stylist was dabbing powder under his eyes, muttering about lighting and cameras. Taehyung sat perfectly still, eyes closed, looking like a painting.

Then his eyes opened.

And found Jungkook's in the mirror.

It was brief. A second. Maybe two. But it was deliberate. Intentional. Taehyung's lips curved—just slightly, just enough—before he closed his eyes again.

Jungkook's stomach flipped.

"You're staring."

Jimin's voice was low. Private. Teasing. He'd appeared beside Jungkook's chair without a sound, holding two cups of water. He handed one to Jungkook.

"I'm not," Jungkook said.

"You absolutely are." Jimin sat on the armrest. His voice dropped even lower. "But it's okay. Yoongi-hyung is blocking the camera. And Hobi is talking to the staff. They're giving you space."

Jungkook looked around. Sure enough, Yoongi was leaning against the wall directly between Jungkook's corner and the nearest camera. Hoseok was animatedly discussing something with the production assistant, gesturing broadly, drawing attention away.

"They're all doing that?" Jungkook asked, voice thick.

Jimin smiled. "We're a family, Kook. We take care of each other.

The pre-recording was in an hour.

Before that, there was the greeting—the part Jungkook hated most. All the idols from all the groups lined up in the hallway, bowing to each other, exchanging small talk, pretending the competition wasn't brutal.

Cameras followed everywhere. Behind-the-scenes content. Fans love this, the staff always said. They want to see you interacting with other idols.

Jungkook is an introvert. Though he is friendly. He'll just smile and bow to them as they pass.

But today, all he could think about was how close Taehyung was standing.

Three people to his left. Dressed in cream and gold. Talking to a senior idol from a girl group, nodding politely, smiling that public smile.

Jungkook watched him from the corner of his eye.

Don't stare. Don't stare. Don't—

Taehyung's gaze flickered toward him.

Just for a second.

Then back to the conversation.

Jungkook's heart raced.

This is torture, he thought. We're in a room full of people and cameras, and I can't even look at him without it meaning something.

A hand touched his elbow. He turned.

It was one of the younger idols—a boy from a rookie group, barely eighteen, eyes wide with nerves. "Jungkook-sunbaenim, I'm a huge fan. Can I say hello?"

Jungkook smiled. His public smile. Warm and easy. "Of course. It's nice to meet you."

The boy bowed. Jungkook bowed back. They exchanged a few words—compliments about the rookie's latest comeback, encouragement, the usual script.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Taehyung excuse himself from his conversation. Saw him walk toward the water station.

And Jungkook tried his absolute best not to stare at how his ass bounced in his outfit.

The waiting room again. Post-greeting. Pre-recording.

Staff bustled in and out. The other members were scattered—Namjoon on his phone, Yoongi asleep on the couch, Hoseok stretching, Jin stealing snacks from the catering table.

Jungkook sat on the floor with his back against the wall. His knees were pulled up. His chin rested on his arms.

He was tired. Not physically. Emotionally. The effort of not looking was exhausting.

The door opened. Jungkook didn't look up.

But he didn't have to. He knew those footsteps.

Taehyung sat down beside him. Their shoulders didn't touch—there was an inch of space between them.

Jungkook lifted his head.

Taehyung was staring straight ahead. His profile was sharp. Beautiful. His hands were in his lap, fingers laced together.

"Hi," Taehyung said quietly.

"Hey," Jungkook whispered.

Taehyung looked down, a blush tinting his cheeks. They didn't look at each other. The staff was still moving around them. A camera was pointed in their direction, filming B-roll for the behind content.

But Taehyung's pinky found Jungkook's.

Hidden by their bodies. Hidden by the way they were sitting. Hidden by the chaos of the room.

Just the barest press of skin against skin. Jungkook's breath caught.

Across the room, Jin saw. He didn't say anything. He just moved slightly to his left, blocking the camera's view of their hands.

Yoongi, who had been "asleep" on the couch, opened one eye. Looked at them. Closed his eye again. But the corner of his mouth twitched upward.

Hoseok caught Jimin's eye and grinned. Jimin put a finger to his lips, but he was smiling too.

Namjoon just watched. Quiet. Protective. Already thinking three steps ahead about how to keep them safe.

The stage was hot.

The lights were blinding. The fans were screaming—a wall of sound that vibrated through Jungkook's bones. He'd done this hundreds of times. Thousands. His body knew the choreography better than his mind did.

But today, everything felt new.

They took their positions. Jungkook was center left. Taehyung was right. There were four other members between them.

The music started.

Jungkook danced.

He sang. He smiled at the cameras. He hit his marks. He did everything he was supposed to do.

And then came the bridge.

The part of the song where the choreography brought them closer. Not touching—never touching—but close enough that Jungkook could see the sweat on Taehyung's collarbone. Close enough that he could count his eyelashes.

They passed each other.

Three seconds.

Jungkook's hand brushed Taehyung's wrist. On stage. In front of thousands of fans. In front of cameras that would broadcast this to millions.

It was tiny. Barely there. The kind of touch that could be accidental. But Jungkook felt Taehyung's pulse jump under his fingers.

And when they separated, Taehyung's eyes met his.

Just for a moment. But in that moment, Taehyung smiled.

Not his stage smile. Not his performance smile.

His real one.

Jungkook almost missed the next step.

He recovered. He always recovered. But his heart was pounding for an entirely different reason now.

When the performance ended. The fans screamed. The lights dimmed. The members gathered in the center of the stage to bow.

Jungkook stood beside Namjoon. Taehyung was two people away.

But when they straightened from the bow, Jungkook's hand found the small of Taehyung's back.

Just for a second. Just long enough.

Then they walked off stage, separating into the chaos of staff, stylists, and managers.

In the wings, away from the cameras, away from the fans—Jimin grabbed both their hands. His eyes were wet.

"That was beautiful," Jimin said. "You were both beautiful. I'm so happy."

Hoseok appeared behind them, wrapping his arms around all three. "Group hug."

Jin joined. Then Namjoon. Then Yoongi—who grumbled but came anyway.

They stood there, seven of them, tangled together in the dim light backstage.

"We've got your backs," Namjoon said quietly. "Whatever happens. Whatever the chairman says. We're a unit."

Taehyung's hand found Jungkook's in the tangle of limbs.

Jungkook held on.

They walked back to the waiting room together. The staff didn't notice anything unusual. The cameras caught nothing but seven members leaving the stage, tired and happy.

But the members knew.

And that was enough.

The dorm was quiet.

It was almost past midnight. The members were having an all-night movie night. The living room lights were off, the light from the television illuminating their faces. The smell of popcorn and soda filled the room.

Jungkook's room—which he still shared with Jin, despite Jin's constant complaints about his snoring—was dimly lit by a single lamp on the nightstand. The curtains were drawn. The door was closed.

But not locked.

Neither of them had thought to lock it.

Taehyung was on his lap.

Jungkook didn't remember exactly how they'd gotten here. One moment, they'd been sitting on the edge of the bed, talking in whispers, their knees touching. Next, he had pulled him onto his lap

Taehyung's hands were immediately in his hair. His fingers twisted through the dark strands, pulling gently, angling Jungkook's face up toward his. The lamp light caught the curve of his cheekbones, the soft swell of his lower lip, the dark intensity in his eyes.

Jungkook's hands rested on Taehyung's hips. His thumbs traced small circles against the sharp bones there, feeling the warmth of Taehyung's skin through the thin fabric of his sleep shirt.

They were close enough that their breath mingled. Close enough that Jungkook could see the tiny mole beneath Taehyung's left eye, the one he'd kissed a hundred times before. Close enough that his heart was pounding so hard he was sure Taehyung could feel it.

Then he leaned in.

The first kiss was soft. Almost chaste. Just a press of lips against lips, a question more than an answer. Taehyung's mouth was warm and slightly soft, and he tasted like the mint tea he'd been drinking earlier.

Jungkook sighed into it.

His hands slid from Taehyung's hips to his waist, pulling him closer. Taehyung made a small sound—something between a hum and a whimper—and tilted his head, changing the angle.

The second kiss was deeper.

His tongue traced the seam of Taehyung's lips, asking for entry. He granted it immediately, parting his lips, and Jungkook tasted him—slow and deliberate, like he was relearning a language he'd once spoken fluently.

His fingers tightened on Taehyung's waist.

Taehyung shifted on his lap, pressing closer, and Jungkook groaned against his mouth. The sound was low and rough, pulled from somewhere deep in his chest. He'd been empty for so long. Hollow. And now Taehyung was here, warm and solid and his, and Jungkook couldn't get enough.

Their tongues met. Slick and searching. Taehyung's hands fisted in Jungkook's hair, tugging just hard enough to send a shiver down Jungkook's spine. Jungkook's hands slid beneath Taehyung's shirt, palms flat against the bare skin of his lower back, feeling the warmth, the slight tremor that ran through him.

Taehyung broke the kiss just long enough to breathe.

"Missed you," he said, the words ghosting over Jungkook's lips. "Missed this. Missed you."

Jungkook answered by pulling him back in.

This kiss was hungrier. Desperate. Months of longing poured into every slide of lips, every brush of tongue, every small sound that escaped them. Taehyung's hips rocked forward involuntarily, and Jungkook's hands slid lower, gripping the curve of his ass, holding him in place.

Taehyung moaned.

It was quiet. Barely audible. But Jungkook felt it vibrate through his own chest, felt it settle low in his belly, felt it make his head spin.

He kissed Taehyung's lower lip. Sucked on it gently. Taehyung's breath hitched.

He kissed the corner of Taehyung's mouth. The line of his jaw. The soft skin just below his ear.

Taehyung's head fell back, exposing the long line of his throat. Jungkook pressed his lips there—not a kiss, just a press, just the warmth of his mouth against Taehyung's pulse point.

"I love you," Jungkook murmured against his skin.

Taehyung's hands tightened in his hair. "I love you too. I love you. I love—"

He couldn't finish. Jungkook was kissing him again, swallowing the words, and Taehyung didn't seem to mind. He melted into it, body going pliant against Jungkook's, his weight settling more fully onto Jungkook's lap.

Their mouths moved together like they'd never been apart. Like the past seven months had been a bad dream. Like this—this—was the only thing that had ever made sense.

Taehyung bit Jungkook's lower lip. Gently. Just a tease.

Jungkook groaned.

Taehyung smiled against his mouth. Smug. Beautiful. His.

Jungkook chased his lips, pulling him back in, deepening the kiss until neither of them could breathe. His hands roamed under Taehyung's shirt, over his ribs, up his spine. Taehyung shuddered.

The string of saliva between them when they briefly parted was thin and glistening, stretching from Taehyung's lower lip to Jungkook's, connecting them even when their mouths weren't touching.

Taehyung's eyes were half-lidded. Hooded. Devastating.

He licked his lips. Jungkook watched his tongue dart out, watched him taste what they'd created.

He made a low sound and pulled him back in again, and this time there was nothing gentle about it. This was teeth and tongue and the kind of desperation that came from being separated too long. Taehyung's nails scraped against Jungkook's scalp. Jungkook's fingers dug into Taehyung's hips hard enough to bruise.

The world narrowed to this room. This bed. This boy in his arms.

Nothing else existed.

Until the door flew open.

"JUNGKOOK, I FORGOT MY CHARGER—"

Jin's voice died in his throat.

Time stopped.

They were frozen. Caught. Taehyung on Jungkook's lap, legs spread, shirt rucked up to reveal a strip of his stomach. Jungkook's hands still on Taehyung's bare hips. Both of them flushed. Both of them breathing hard. Both of them with swollen lips and dilated pupils.

And between them—

The string of saliva that had connected their mouths stretched for a moment longer. Translucent. Glinting in the dim lamplight.

Then it snapped. Just as they both turned to face Jin.

The little broken strand landed on Jungkook's chin. Neither of them noticed.

Jin stared.

Jungkook stared back.

Taehyung, for his part, looked like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck—except the deer was still sitting on Jungkook's lap and hadn't moved an inch.

The silence was deafening.

Then Jin screamed.

Not a loud scream. Not a frightened scream. A dramatic scream—the kind he used when someone ate his food. High-pitched. Theatrical. Absolutely mortified.

"MY EYES!" Jin shrieked, covering his face with both hands. "MY INNOCENT EYES! I'VE BEEN BLINDED! I'M NEVER GOING TO RECOVER FROM THIS!"

Taehyung finally scrambled off Jungkook's lap. His shirt fell back into place. His face was the color of a tomato.

"Hyung, it's not—we weren't—" Taehyung stammered.

"I DON'T WANT TO HEAR IT!" Jin wailed, still covering his eyes but peeking through his fingers. "I WALKED INTO MY OWN ROOM—MY ROOM, TAEHYUNG—AND I FIND MY TWO DONGSAENGS—"

"We weren't doing anything illegal," Jungkook muttered, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

Jin dropped his hands. His face was red—from yelling or embarrassment, it was impossible to tell. "You were on his lap. In my bed."

Jin clutched his chest dramatically. "I'm going to have nightmares. I'm going to need therapy."

Taehyung buried his face in his hands. "Hyung, please."

"Please WHAT? Please tell me what I just witnessed was a fever dream?" Jin pointed a trembling finger at Jungkook. "You. My roommate. My beloved dongsaeng. You couldn't lock the door?"

"We forgot," Jungkook said weakly.

"You forgot?" Jin's voice went up an octave. "You forgot to lock the door before making out with your boyfriend on my bed? On MY bed, Jungkook? The bed where I SLEEP?"

"It's my bed too."

"NOT ANYMORE. I'M MOVING OUT. I'M SLEEPING ON THE COUCH. I'M SLEEPING ON THE ROOF. I'M SLEEPING AT YOONGI'S STUDIO."

Taehyung finally looked up. His face was still red, but there was a tiny smile tugging at his lips. "Hyung, it's really not that big of a deal—"

"NOT THAT BIG OF A DEAL?" Jin whirled on him. "I JUST WALKED IN ON YOU TWO. I SAW TONGUE, TAEHYUNG. TONGUE. I SAW TONGUE AND SALIVA AND—AND—" He shuddered violently. "I need to wash my eyes with bleach."

Jungkook sighed. He stood up from the bed, walked over to Jin, and put both hands on his hyung's shoulders.

"Hyung," he said calmly. "Breathe."

"I WILL NOT BREATHE. BREATHING IS FOR PEOPLE WHOSE EYES HAVEN'T BEEN TRAUMATIZED."

"We're sorry," Taehyung said, joining them. His voice was soft. Contrite. "We should have locked the door. It won't happen again."

Jin stared at him. Then at Jungkook. Then back at Taehyung.

"Fine," Jin said finally. "But next time you want to—" He waved a vague hand at the bed, "—that. Lock the door. And use YOUR room. Not ours. I don't want to sleep on sheets that have witnessed sin."

"Hyung, we weren't going to—"

"I DON'T WANT TO KNOW WHAT YOU WERE GOING TO DO." Jin grabbed his charger from the nightstand and backed toward the door, pointing at both of them. "I'm sleeping in Namjoon's room tonight. And tomorrow I'm requesting a new roommate. And the day after that I'm writing a memoir about this trauma."

He paused at the door. "Lock the damn door."

The door clicked shut behind him.

A moment later, they heard him yell from down the hallway: "YOONGI! YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT I JUST WALKED IN ON!"

Taehyung and Jungkook stood in silence.

Then Taehyung started laughing. Quietly at first, then harder, shoulders shaking, eyes crinkling. Jungkook joined him—a helpless, breathless laugh that came from somewhere deep.

"I can't believe that just happened," Taehyung wheezed.

"Your face," Jungkook said, still laughing. "When he screamed—"

"My face? Your face." Taehyung giggled, pulling him close. He wrapped his arms around Jungkook's waist. Rested his chin on his chest, looking up at him.

"We should probably lock the door," he said.

"Yeah," Jungkook agreed.

Neither of them moved.

"After one more kiss," Taehyung added.

Jungkook smiled. Leaned down.

This time, they locked the door first.

The living room was dark except for the blue glow of the television. Someone had left it on mute. An action movie played silently—explosions, car chases, none of it mattering.

Jin stood in the center of the room, arms spread wide, face still flushed from his dramatic exit.

"Gather round," he announced. "I have a story to tell. A horror story. A tragedy."

Yoongi looked up from the couch. He was wrapped in a blanket, half-asleep, a cup of cold tea on the table beside him. "It's one in the morning."

"This cannot wait."

Namjoon emerged from the kitchen, a book in one hand, glasses perched on his nose. "Hyung, what's wrong? You look—"

"Violated," Jin finished. "I look violated. Because I have been."

Hoseok poked his head out of his blanket, hair messy, clearly having been woken up. "Did someone die?"

"Worse," Jin said solemnly.

Jimin appeared from the bathroom, rubbing his eyes. "If this isn't an emergency, I'm going to throw something."

Jin waited.

He waited until all of them were gathered—Namjoon on the armchair, Yoongi sprawled on the couch, Hoseok and Jimin sitting cross-legged on the floor.

"I went to get my charger," Jin began, voice low and dramatic. "My charger. From my own room. The room I share with Jungkook. The room where I SLEEP."

"Get to the point," Yoongi muttered.

"The door was closed," Jin continued, ignoring him. "I thought nothing of it. Jungkook is probably asleep, I thought. I'll just grab my charger and leave, I thought."

He paused for effect.

Jimin's eyes narrowed. "Hyung, what did you see?"

Jin took a deep breath.

"I opened the door," he said, "and what I witnessed will haunt me until my dying day."

He let the silence stretch.

"TAEHYUNG WAS ON JUNGKOOK'S LAP," Jin burst out, unable to contain himself any longer. "On his LAP. In my BED. His shirt was—" He gestured vaguely at his own torso. "And Jungkook's hands were—" He made a grabbing motion.

Hoseok's mouth fell open.

Jimin clapped a hand over his own mouth. His eyes were wide. Not shocked. Delighted.

Yoongi just blinked slowly. "That's what you woke us up for?"

"THERE WAS A SALIVA STRING."

The room went silent.

Then Jimin burst out laughing.

It was a full-body laugh—doubled over, hands on his stomach, tears streaming down his face. Hoseok joined him a second later, high-pitched and wheezing. Even Namjoon cracked a smile, though he tried to hide it behind his hand.

Yoongi just sighed. "I'm going back to sleep."

"YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND THE TRAUMA," Jin wailed. "I SAW TONGUE. THEIR TONGUES. TOUCHING."

"Hyung, they're boyfriends," Jimin managed between giggles. "That's what boyfriends do."

"IN MY ROOM. ON MY BED."

"We knew they were back together," Namjoon said reasonably. "You knew too. You said you were happy for them."

"I AM happy for them. I'm also TRAUMATIZED. These two things can coexist."

Hoseok wiped his eyes, still laughing. "Did they see you?"

"They turned around, and the saliva string SNAPPED, Hobi. It snapped right in front of my face. I saw it break. I saw the little piece of it fall on Jungkook's chin."

Jimin howled with laughter. He was lying on the floor now, clutching his stomach.

"You're not helping!" Jin pointed at him accusingly.

"I'm sorry," Jimin wheezed. "I'm sorry. I'm just—the image—" He dissolved into laughter again.

From Jungkook's room, there was a muffled thump. Then a sound that might have been Taehyung laughing into a pillow.

Jin whirled toward the door. "I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME. YOU'RE NOT FUNNY. YOU'RE THE CAUSE OF MY SUFFERING."

The door cracked open wide.

Jungkook stood there, face red, hair still messy. Behind him, Taehyung was visible on the bed, blankets pulled up to his chin like a shield.

"We said we were sorry," Jungkook mumbled.

"You said you would lock the door. You did NOT lock the door."

"We locked it after."

"AFTER. AFTER I SAW EVERYTHING." Jin pressed both hands to his temples. "I need a drink. Someone get me a drink. Where's the soju?"

Yoongi didn't move. "You don't drink."

"Tonight I do."

Jimin finally stopped laughing long enough to sit up.

He looked at Jungkook. Then at the crack in the door where Taehyung was hiding. His expression softened.

"You really couldn't wait, could you?" Jimin asked, not unkindly.

Jungkook's face went redder. "We were just—"

"Kissing," Hoseok supplied helpfully. "On Jin-hyung's bed. With saliva strings."

"WHY DOES EVERYONE KEEP SAYING SALIVA STRING," Jin shrieked.

"Because you won't stop talking about it," Yoongi said.

Namjoon cleared his throat. He was trying very hard to be a responsible leader, but his ears were pink. "Okay, so. Hyung. You walked in on them. They apologized. Can we go back to the movie now?"

"No," Jin said firmly. "I need to process. I need to sit with my trauma."

"You can sit with it in your room," Yoongi suggested.

"I don't HAVE a room anymore. That room is now a CRIME SCENE."

Taehyung's voice came from behind the door, small and sheepish. "Hyung, we'll wash your sheets. We'll buy you new sheets. We'll buy you a whole new bed."

"I don't want a new bed. I want the memory of what I saw removed from my brain."

"Lobotomy?" Yoongi offered.

"Don't tempt me."

Hoseok stretched his arms above his head, still grinning. "Okay, but seriously. Was it at least a good kiss?"

Jin turned to him in horror. "Why would you ask that?"

"I'm curious!"

"Don't be curious. Be disgusted. Join me in my disgust."

Jimin sat up cross-legged, chin in his hands. "Ohh~ I've seen them kiss multiple times during our trainee days, and oh my. I bet it was a goooooodddd kiss."

Taehyung made a strangled noise.

"Jimin," Namjoon warned.

"What? We're all thinking it. I'm just helping."

"I was not thinking it," Yoongi said flatly.

"You're always thinking about music. You never think about anything else."

"Correct."

Jin threw his hands up. "Can we please focus on MY pain? MY suffering? MY emotional damage?"

Taehyung finally emerged from the bedroom. His hair was a mess. His lips were still slightly swollen. He looked embarrassed and defiant and terribly fond all at once.

"Hyung," he said softly, walking toward Jin. "I'm really sorry. We should have been more careful."

Jin looked at him. At the boy he'd known since they were teenagers. At the kid who used to fall asleep on his shoulder during long car rides. At the man who had spent six months looking like a ghost and now looked alive.

Jin sighed. Then he pulled them both into a hug.

"You idiots," he muttered against their hair. "I'm happy for you. I'm really happy for you. But if you ever—EVER—make me see something like that again, I'm telling the chairman myself. Not because of the rules. Because my eyes deserve better."

Taehyung laughed against Jin's shoulder.

Jungkook hugged him tighter.

From the couch, Yoongi muttered, "This is nice and all, but can we go to sleep now?"

"One more thing," Jimin said, standing up. He walked over to where Jungkook and Taehyung were still trapped in Jin's embrace. He looked at them with bright, happy eyes.

"You owe us details tomorrow," Jimin said. "All the details. No skipping."

"Jimin," Namjoon groaned.

"I'm serious. We've been waiting six months. We deserve a full report."

Taehyung pulled back from Jin, face red again. "We're not giving a report."

"Then I'll ask Jin-hyung what he saw."

"I WILL NOT BE USED AS A SOURCE FOR YOUR GOSSIP," Jin announced.

"You literally just gave us a play-by-play," Hoseok pointed out.

"FOR THERAPEUTIC REASONS."

Yoongi stood up, blanket still wrapped around his shoulders. "I'm going to bed. Congratulations on not being miserable anymore. Goodnight."

He shuffled toward his room.

Then stopped.

"Jin-hyung," Yoongi said without turning around.

"What?"

"Next time you walk in on something, don't scream. It woke me up."

"YOU WERE ALREADY AWAKE."

"I was pretending to be asleep. There's a difference."

Yoongi disappeared into his room. The door closed.

The living room fell into comfortable silence.

Eventually, everyone drifted off to their own rooms.

Jimin and Hoseok went together, still whispering and giggling about something. Namjoon retreated to his room with a sigh and a pointed look at Jungkook that said please be more careful. Jin grabbed his charger and a pillow and announced he was sleeping on the couch.

"I don't trust that room anymore," he said.

"We will wash the sheets," Jungkook called after him.

"The emotional damage remains."

Jungkook and Taehyung stood alone in the hallway.

The door to Jungkook's room was open. The lamp was still on. The bed was rumpled.

Taehyung looked at Jungkook. Jungkook looked at Taehyung. Then Taehyung was carried up by the waist. His thighs immediately bracketed Jungkook's torso, arms circling his neck. He bit his lower lip to hold a sigh as Jungkook nibbled his neck. His feet carrying them to his room.

He closed the door.

And this time, he locked it. Because Jin-Hyung wouldn't like what hell see if he were to come back again.

The behind-the-scenes video dropped on a Tuesday.

Jungkook woke up to seventeen notifications. Then forty-three. Then over a hundred. His phone buzzed so aggressively against the nightstand that it nearly vibrated off the edge.

He grabbed it, half-blind with sleep, and squinted at the screen.

YouTube: BTS (방탄소년단) 'Elegy' shoot Behind the Scenes.
12,847 comments
Trending #1 worldwide

His stomach dropped.

Beside him, asleep, Taehyung stirred. His arm was draped over Jungkook's waist, his face buried in Jungkook's chest. His hair was a mess. His lips were parted. He looked soft and young and completely unguarded.

Jungkook's heart ached.

Then his phone buzzed again. Jungkook's stomach dropped further. He slowly pulled out his cock from inside Taehyung with a pleasured hiss, careful not to wake him up. Then he turned his phone screen away from Taehyung's face and clicked the link.

The video was eighteen minutes long.

It started the way all their behind videos started—chaotic, loud, full of members shouting over each other. Jungkook watched himself on the screen, sitting between Namjoon and Hoseok, looking at the floor instead of the camera.

He looks sad, Jungkook thought. I looked so sad for six months. I didn't even notice.

Then the video kept playing.

And he saw it.

The moment at the staircase. The one they'd tried so hard to hide. The editors had left it in—not the full thing, just a few seconds. Jungkook climbing the stairs. Taehyung at the top. Their eyes meeting.

But it wasn't the staircase moment that had the fans losing their minds.

It was the waiting room.

The camera had been filming B-roll. Nothing special. Staff moving around. Members getting makeup touched up. Jin stealing food. Normal, harmless content.

But in the background—

Jungkook froze.

There they were. Him and Taehyung. Sitting on the floor. Shoulders not touching. Faces forward. But their hands—

Their hands were hidden between their bodies. You couldn't see what they were doing. But you could see the angle of their arms. The way they were both leaning slightly toward each other. The way Jungkook's shoulder was tilted, just a few degrees, like he was trying to close an invisible gap.

And then—

Taehyung's pinky moved.

You could see it. Just barely. Just a tiny shift. But it was enough.

Jungkook's breath caught.

The comments had already dissected it frame by frame.

He scrolled down, heart pounding.

12:47 – is anyone else seeing this???

there's no way that's accidental

THEY'RE HOLDING HANDS BEHIND JIN'S BACK

Jin literally positioned himself in front of the camera LOOK AT HIM

he knew what he was doing. the members are ALL in on it

look at namjoon's face at 12:52 he's literally checking if the camera is watching

Jungkook's thumb trembled as he scrolled.

Okay, I've watched this 3 times taekook are definitely hiding something you could SEE it. for months they didn't even look at each other. But look at them now. There's something different about the way Taehyung smiles at 13:04

Jungkook is actually laughing. like really laughing.

THEY TOUCHED DURING THE PERFORMANCE
at 15:22, watch jungkook's hand during the bridge. he BRUSHES taehyung's wrist.
ON STAGE IN FRONT OF EVERYONE and taehyung SMILED

Jungkook put the phone down.

His hands were shaking.

Taehyung stirred again. His eyes fluttered open. His neck was decorated with love bites, his lips slightly swollen. He blinked at Jungkook, slow and confused, still half in a dream.

"Kookie? What's wrong?" his voice was rough with sleep.

Jungkook was startled, "Baby? It's- nothing. Go back to sleep." he smiled, leaning in to peck his lips.

Taehyung looked at him. Eyes turning hard despite feeling sleepy. "Jungkook. Show me."

"Tae-really it's nothing."

But Taehyung didn't back down. Jungkook sighed and handed him the phone.

Taehyung watched the video in silence. His expression shifted—confusion, recognition, dawning horror, then something unexpected.

Relief.

"The comments," Jungkook said quietly. "They know. They figured it out."

Taehyung kept scrolling. Reading. His thumb moved slowly, deliberately.

Then he stopped.

Okay, but can we talk about how HAPPY they look?

i don't care if they're dating or not. i just care that they're smiling again.

The past six months were hard to watch. they both looked empty. whoever fixed that? thank you.

Taekook nation has been through war, but look at us now.

Look at how Jungkook looks at Taehyung at 16:08. That's not a friend. that's someone in love.

Taehyung's thumb hovered over the screen.

"The fans," he said slowly, "are not angry."

Jungkook stared at him. "What?" he whispered.

"They're not angry." Taehyung looked up. His eyes were wide. "They're… happy for us. Or at least, they're happy that we're happy. Read the comments, Kookie. No one is saying we should break up. No one is sending hate. They're just—" He swallowed. "They're just glad we're okay."

Jungkook took the phone back. Scrolled.

Taehyung has his REAL smile back

Jungkook is actually interacting with him again

I don't need to know what they are. i just need them to be happy.

this video made me cry. they went through something. and they're coming out of it.
protect them both

Jungkook's eyes burned.

He hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath. For six months. For six months, he'd been holding his breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for the hate. Waiting for the chairman to be right.

But the comments weren't hateful.

They were gentle.

"We should call Jimin," Taehyung said softly.

Jungkook nodded.

Jimin answered on the first ring.

"YOU SAW IT?" Jimin's voice was high-pitched, almost squeaking.

"We saw it," Jungkook said.

"The fans—they're not—"

"They're not mad." Jungkook's voice cracked. "Jimin, they're not mad."

Jimin was quiet for a moment. "I know. I've been reading comments for an hour. There are a few bad ones, there always are. But most of them…" He exhaled. "Most of them just want you to be okay."

Taehyung leaned closer to the phone. "What about the company?"

"Namjoon is handling it. He sent a message to the chairman's office this morning. Something about 'organic fan engagement' and 'positive public reception.'" Jimin paused. "He's buying us time."

"Time for what?"

There was a pause. Then Jimin's voice dropped lower. "Time to decide what you want. Publicly, I mean. You can't hide forever. The fans have already figured out something changed. The question is—do you want to confirm it? Or keep pretending?"

Jungkook looked at Taehyung.

Taehyung looked back.

They didn't need to speak.

"We'll talk to Namjoon," Jungkook said. "Today."

Jimin's voice softened. "Okay. I love you both. You know that, right?"

"Yeah," Taehyung whispered. "We know."

"Good. Now go back to sleep. You look like you haven't rested in six months."

Jimin hung up.

Jungkook put the phone down.

The room was quiet. The morning light was starting to filter through the curtains, pale.

Taehyung reached for his hand. "What do you want to do?" he asked.

Jungkook thought about the comments. About the fans who had noticed their pain before they'd even admitted it to themselves. About the members who had protected them. About the chairman who had tried to break them.

About the boy sitting beside him, holding his hand, looking at him with those pretty eyes.

"I want to stop hiding," Jungkook said.

Taehyung's breath caught.

"I'm tired, Tae. I'm tired of pretending I don't love you. I'm tired of calculating how many seconds I can look at you before someone notices. I'm tired of being scared."

"The chairman—"

"Let him try." Jungkook's voice was steady. "He can't take you away from me. Not anymore. Not after everything."

Taehyung's eyes welled up. But he was smiling.

"Okay," he said. "Okay."

Jungkook put his phone down.

He didn't need to read anymore.

He had everything he needed right here.

The text came at 7:13 AM.

Chairman's office. 9 AM. All seven members. Do not be late.

No explanation. No greeting. Just the command.

Jungkook read it three times. His hands were steady. That surprised him. Six months ago, a message like this would have sent him into a spiral—heart racing, palms sweating, stomach threatening to revolt.

Now, he just felt tired.

Taehyung was still asleep beside him, his face pressed into the pillow, one hand curled loosely around Jungkook's wrist. The morning light made his skin look golden. His lips were slightly parted. He looked peaceful.

Jungkook didn't want to wake him.

But he had to.

"Tae." He brushed Taehyung's hair back from his forehead. "Baby, wake up."

Taehyung stirred. His eyes fluttered open. For a moment, he just looked at Jungkook—soft, sleepy, unguarded. Then he saw Jungkook's expression.

"What happened?"

"The chairman wants to see us. All of us. 9 AM."

Taehyung sat up slowly. The blanket fell to his waist. His hair was a disaster. His eyes were sharp now, fully awake.

"The video," Taehyung said.

"The video."

They looked at each other.

Neither of them panicked. That was the strange thing. After months of fear, after months of walking on eggshells, after months of hiding and pretending and surviving—

The fear was gone.

The conference room was the same one from seven months and three days ago.

Same long table. Same leather chairs. Same windows overlooking the Han River. Same smell of cedar and old money.

But everything else was different.

Jungkook sat at the center of the table. Taehyung was beside him—not across the room, not diagonally, not carefully positioned to avoid suspicion. Beside him. Their knees touched under the table. Their hands were hidden between, fingers intertwined.

The other members filled the remaining seats. Namjoon at the head, shoulders straight, expression calm but watchful. Jin was beside him, uncharacteristically serious. Yoongi slouched in his chair, but his eyes were sharp. Hoseok sat with his hands folded, steady. Jimin was on Taehyung's other side, close enough to be a shield.

They were arranged like a wall.

The chairman hadn't arrived yet. The staff had filed out after setting out water glasses and notepads. The door was closed. The room was silent.

"You don't have to do this alone," Namjoon said quietly. "Whatever he says, we answer together."

Jungkook nodded.

Taehyung's thumb traced small circles on the back of Jungkook's hand.

The door opened.

Chairman Park walked in. He was dressed in a dark suit, silver hair perfectly combed, expression unreadable. He didn't look at any of them as he walked to the head of the table. He set down a leather portfolio. He adjusted his cufflinks.

Then he looked up.

His gaze swept across the room. Seven pairs of eyes stared back at him. Seven young men who had built an empire with their own hands. Seven people who had learned to trust each other before they'd learned to trust anyone else.

The chairman's gaze landed on Jungkook and Taehyung.

On their hands. Hidden. But not hidden enough.

"I saw the behind-the-scenes video," the chairman said. No preamble. No small talk. "I saw the comments. I saw what the fans are saying."

He paused.

"Would anyone like to explain?"

The silence stretched.

Then Taehyung spoke. "We're back together," he said. His voice was calm. Steady. "We have been together for years. You told us to break up. We tried. We couldn't."

The chairman's expression didn't change. "You tried?"

"We followed your orders," Jungkook said. "For six months, we followed your orders. We didn't touch. We didn't talk. We didn't even look at each other if we could help it. We did everything you asked."

He paused.

"And we were miserable. The group was fine. The album was fine. The fans were fine. But we weren't fine. And everyone could see it. The other members could see it. The staff could see it. Even the fans could see it."

The chairman's jaw tightened. "The fans are speculating. That's different from knowing."

"They know something changed," Namjoon interjected. His voice was measured. Diplomatic. "And right now, they're reacting positively. They're happy to see Taehyung and Jungkook smiling again. If we try to force them apart again, the response won't be positive anymore. The fans will notice. They'll ask questions. They'll dig."

"Is that a threat?"

"It's an observation." Namjoon didn't flinch. "We've spent years building trust with our fans. They've stood by us through everything. If they find out we've been lying—that the company has been forcing us to hide—that trust will break. And it won't just affect Taehyung and Jungkook. It will affect all of us."

The chairman's eyes narrowed.

Jin spoke up. His voice was light, but there was steel underneath. "Chairman-nim, with respect—we're not asking for permission. We're telling you how it's going to be."

The room went very quiet.

"You're telling me," the chairman repeated slowly, "how it's going to be."

"Yes," Yoongi said.

He hadn't moved from his slouch. His eyes were half-closed. He looked bored. But his voice was absolute.

"They love each other," Yoongi continued. "They've loved each other for years. Nothing you say or do is going to change that. You can punish them. You can threaten them. You can lock them in separate rooms and throw away the key. But they're still going to love each other. So the question isn't whether they're together. The question is—what are you going to do about it?"

The chairman stared at him.

The room held its breath.

Then the chairman laughed.

It wasn't a warm laugh. It wasn't a kind laugh. It was short and sharp and cold.

"You've changed," the chairman said. "All of you. You used to ask for permission. Now you issue ultimatums."

"We learned from the best," Hoseok said, and his voice was sweet as honey but sharp as a blade. "You taught us to value ourselves. You just didn't expect us to value each other more."

The chairman was quiet for a long moment.

He looked at each of them in turn. Jin, defiant. Namjoon, steady. Yoongi, unshakeable. Hoseok, sharp. Jimin, fierce. Jungkook, calm. Taehyung, unmoving.

Seven against one.

"You realize," the chairman said finally, "that I could end all of this. Your contracts. Your careers. Everything you've built."

"You could," Namjoon agreed. "But you won't."

"Why not?"

"Because we're worth more to you together than apart. Because BTS isn't just a group—it's a brand. A brand you've invested thousands in. A brand that makes you millions. And if you try to tear us apart, we'll leave. Not just Taehyung and Jungkook. All of us."

The chairman's eyes widened. Barely. Just a flicker.

"We've already talked about it," Jimin added. "If you try to force them apart again, or if you try to punish them for being together, we walk. All seven of us. And you can explain to the shareholders why the biggest group in the world dissolved overnight."

The silence that followed was deafening.

The chairman looked at them.

They looked back.

Minutes passed. Maybe hours. Jungkook couldn't tell. All he could feel was Taehyung's hand in his, warm and solid and real.

Finally, the chairman spoke.

"The company will make an official statement," he said. His voice was clipped. Controlled. "We will neither confirm nor deny any personal relationships. We will state that the members' private lives are their own. And we will not comment further."

Jungkook's heart stuttered. "That's—"

"It's not permission," the chairman cut him off. "But it's not a punishment either. It's a compromise. You keep your relationship private. The company doesn't acknowledge it. The fans can speculate all they want. As long as it doesn't affect the group's reputation, I don't care."

He stood up.

"Do not make me regret this."

He walked to the door. Paused. Looked back at them.

"You're lucky," he said quietly. "Most idols don't get this chance."

"We're not most idols, we're BTS." Taehyung said.

The chairman looked at him for a long moment. Then he nodded. Once. And walked out.

The door closed.

The room was silent.

Then Jimin burst into tears. "I can't believe that worked," he sobbed, covering his face. "I can't believe that actually worked."

Hoseok pulled him into a hug. "You were terrifying. I'm so proud of you."

Namjoon exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. "He's going to make our lives difficult for a while. There will be consequences. But—" He looked at Jungkook and Taehyung. "But you're safe. For now."

Jungkook's hands were shaking.

He hadn't noticed until now.

Taehyung took both of his hands in his. Held them steady.

"Hey," Taehyung said softly. "We're okay."

Jungkook looked at him. At the boy he'd loved for years. At the boy he'd almost lost. At the boy who had run into his arms in a dusty stairwell and cried and apologized and promised to stay.

"We're okay," Jungkook repeated.

Taehyung leaned in. Pressed his forehead to Jungkook's.

In front of everyone.

No cameras. No hiding. Just them.

Jimin was still crying. Jin was patting his back awkwardly. Yoongi was already on his phone, probably texting someone about beats. Namjoon was staring at the door like he expected the chairman to come back. Hoseok was smiling, wide and bright.

But in the center of it all, Jungkook and Taehyung held each other.

Two years later.

The penthouse was warm.

Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the Seoul skyline, a sea of lights stretching into the darkness. The city hummed below—distant, indifferent, unaware that seven of its most famous residents were scattered across a sprawling living room, still buzzing from the aftershock of a world tour.

The tour had ended three days ago.

Three days of sleeping in their own beds. Three days of eating food that wasn't delivered to a hotel room. Three days of stillness.

Tonight, they were celebrating.

Not anything specific. Just the fact that they were alive. Together. Still here.

The dining table was a disaster—half-eaten plates of Korean barbecue, empty soju bottles, a cake someone had bought for no reason, chopsticks everywhere. Jin was still picking at the leftovers, muttering about how the younger members had no respect for food. Yoongi was slumped in a chair, full and sleepy, eyes half-closed. Namjoon was nursing a glass of wine, deep in conversation with Hoseok about a lyric he'd been stuck on for weeks.

"Remember when we used to fight over the last piece of meat?" Hoseok asked, leaning back in his chair, patting his full stomach. "Now there's too much. I can't move."

"You've always been dramatic," Yoongi said, but he was smiling. Small. Genuine.

Jimin was curled up on the couch, feet tucked under him, a glass of wine in his hand. "Remember when we couldn't afford meat at all?"

"I remember ramen for three weeks straight," Jin said, shuddering. "Never again."

Namjoon laughed. He was sitting on the floor, back against the couch, looking up at all of them with something soft in his eyes. "We've come a long way."

They had.

The past two years had been a blur of sold-out stadiums, chart-topping albums, and brand deals that would have seemed impossible a decade ago. Each of them had their own campaigns now—luxury fashion, global brands, things they'd only ever seen in magazines. As a group, they were untouchable. The kind of success that made companies nervous and fans proud.

The chairman had stopped interfering.

Not because he'd had a change of heart. Because he couldn't touch them anymore. Their fanbase had multiplied. Their influence had grown beyond anything the company could control. And the fans—

The fans loved Taehyung and Jungkook.

Not all of them, of course. There were still corners of the internet where the hate festered. There were still comments that made Jungkook's jaw tighten, and Taehyung's eyes go icy. But they didn't matter anymore. They were noise. Background static.

The majority had spoken.

And the majority had decided that whatever Taekook was—friends, soulmates, lovers—they wanted to see them happy.

"I walked twenty thousand steps today," Jimin groaned. "Twenty. Thousand. Just from the airport to the car."

"That's not possible," Yoongi said without opening his eyes.

"It felt like it."

Conversations drifted from topic to topic—tour memories, future plans, Jin's latest obsession with a mobile game, Yoongi's new studio setup. The wine bottle was empty. The soju was half-gone.

Jungkook had pulled Taehyung onto his lap at some point.

Neither of them remembered when. It was just natural now. The way Taehyung fit against his chest, the way Jungkook's arms wrapped around his waist, the way they breathed in sync without thinking about it.

Taehyung's phone was in his hand, scrolling through Twitter with the lazy focus of someone who had nothing to do and nowhere to be.

Jungkook's hands were inside his shirt.

Not doing anything obscene—just resting there, palms flat against the warm skin of Taehyung's waist, thumbs tracing slow, idle circles. A casual intimacy.

No one batted an eye. They were long past that now.

"Stop," Taehyung whined when Jungkook tried to nibble his ear.

Jungkook looked down at the phone. "What are you looking at?"

"Nothing."

"Your ears are pink."

"They're always pink."

"They're pinker than usual."

"The banners!" Jimin said suddenly, lifting his head from the floor. "Did you see the banners at the last show?"

Hoseok laughed. "Which ones? There were seventeen thousand banners."

"The Taekook banners."

Jungkook felt Taehyung's body shift against him—a small laugh, barely a vibration.

"Oh, those," Jin said, waving a chopstick. "I saw at least fifty. Someone had a light-up one. Very committed."

"They're always committed," Namjoon said, smiling into his wine glass. "The Taekookers are the most dedicated subsection of the fandom. I respect the hustle."

"Respect?" Yoongi opened one eye. "Or fear?"

"Both."

Taehyung's cheeks were pinker. He didn't look up from his phone, but the tips of his ears gave him away.

"There's one of me from tonight," Taehyung murmured. "A fan account. They posted a video of the ending ment."

Jungkook leaned his chin on Taehyung's shoulder. "What does it say?"

Taehyung tilted the phone so Jungkook could see.

The video was shaky, filmed from the nosebleed section, but the caption was clear:

TAEKOOK ENDING MENT MOMENT – DID YOU SEE THE WAY JUNGKOOK LOOKED AT TAEHYUNG WHEN HE SAID "I LOVE YOU TO ARMYS"??? HE IS WHIPPED.

"I mean, they're not wrong." Taehyung giggled.

"Shut up."

"You looked at me like I was the last cookie in the jar."

"I did NOT."

"You absolutely did," Jimin called from the floor. "I saw it. I was standing right there. You were not subtle."

Jungkook buried his face in Taehyung's neck. His ears were flaming red.

Taehyung threaded his hair. "They're sweet. The banners. The videos. They've always been sweet."

"Most of them," he mumbled against his skin.

"Most of them," Taehyung agreed.

"The fans brought those to every show," Jimin added on.

Hoseok was laughing. "They're not subtle."

"Neither are these two," Jin said, pointing at Jungkook and Taehyung. "You were attached at the hip the entire tour. I saw you feeding him snacks on stage."

"It was one time," Taehyung protested.

"It was twelve times. I counted."

Yoongi snorted. "You counted?"

"I was bored backstage."

Namjoon shook his head, but he was smiling. "The fans notice everything. They've known for years. At this point, they're just waiting for us to confirm it."

Taehyung's blush deepened.

Jungkook's hands slid higher under his shirt. Just his fingertips, tracing small circles against the warm skin of Taehyung's stomach.

Taehyung shivered.

The conversation shifted.

Hobi was telling a story about a fan who had thrown a Taekook plushie on stage—two dolls holding hands, dressed in tiny replicas of their stage outfits. Jungkook had caught it. Taehyung had taken a picture. The plushie now lived on their nightstand.

"The fans are so creative," Jimin said. "Remember the fanart? The one with the stars?"

"I have it saved," Taehyung admitted quietly.

"Of course you do."

Jungkook's thumbs pressed a little harder into Taehyung's sides.

Taehyung leaned back against his chest. Relaxed into him.

Jimin eventually crawled off the floor and onto the couch, wedging himself between Jungkook's legs and the armrest, stealing Taehyung's phone.

"Let me see," Jimin demanded.

"No—"

"TOO LATE." Jimin was already scrolling. "Oh my god. There's a thread. A thread. With photos. From the entire tour."

"How many photos?" Hoseok asked, leaning over.

"Four hundred and sixty-two."

"That's obsessive," Jin said.

"That's dedicated," Namjoon corrected again.

Jimin held up the phone. "Look at this one. Look. This was from the soundcheck in Bangkok. Jungkook is literally fixing Taehyung's in-ear. And Taehyung is looking at him like—" He gestured vaguely. "Like that."

"Like what?" Jungkook asked, amused.

"Like you hung the moon. Like you invented breathing. Like—"

"Okay, okay," Taehyung said, reaching for the phone. "We get it."

Jimin held it out of reach. "No, let the class observe."

Hoseok squinted at the screen. "There's a hickey."

The room went silent.

"What?" Jin said.

Hoseok pointed. "Right there. On Taehyung's neck. Under his collarbone. You can see it in this photo. It's covered by makeup, but the lighting catches it."

Jimin zoomed in. "Oh my GOD."

"Give me that—" Taehyung lunged for the phone. Jimin dodged.

"THAT WAS FROM THE BANGKOK SHOW," Jimin shrieked. "You had a HICKEY during the BANGKOK SHOW."

"The makeup covered it—"

"Barely!" Jimin was cackling now. "The fans probably saw it. They definitely saw it. There's probably a thread about it somewhere."

Jungkook's hands tightened on Taehyung's waist. His smile was slow. Smug.

"That was a good night," Jungkook murmured against Taehyung's ear.

Taehyung elbowed him. Weakly.

"You're not helping."

"I'm not trying to help."

"We need to know everything. When. Where. How."

"No," Taehyung said firmly.

"Bangkok," Jungkook supplied. "Hotel. After the show."

"JUNGKOOK."

"He was very enthusiastic about the encore."

Taehyung twisted in Jungkook's lap, shoving a hand over his mouth. "Stop talking. Stop. Talking."

Jungkook licked his palm.

Taehyung yanked his hand back, disgusted. "You're disgusting."

"You love me."

"I'm reconsidering."

But he was smiling. And he didn't move off Jungkook's lap. And when Jungkook's hands found their way back under his shirt, he leaned into the touch.

"Good for you," Yoongi said flatly, and took a sip of his soju.

Hoseok burst out laughing.

Jimin was already on his phone, probably texting someone about this. "Hyung, you can't just say 'good for you' and move on."

"I just did."

"The audacity." he cackled

Later, when the others had drifted off to various corners of the penthouse—Jin and Namjoon arguing about music in the kitchen, Yoongi asleep on the couch, Hoseok and Jimin looking out at the city lights—Jungkook and Taehyung stayed where they were.

Taehyung was still on Jungkook's lap. His phone was open to Twitter again. He was scrolling through the tags, reading the comments, the fan edits, the love letters disguised as posts.

taekook really said "we're going to hold hands in every city and there's nothing you can do about it"

The way Jungkook looked at Taehyung during 'Spring Day' in seoul... i'm not okay

They're not even hiding anymore and i LOVE that for them

Some of y'all are still in denial? open your eyes. they're literally in love.

Taehyung smiled.

"They ship us," he said quietly. "Most of them. The comments are mostly positive."

Jungkook looked at the screen.

Taekook are the reason I believe in love

idc what anyone says. They're endgame.

The way Jungkook said "my relationship with Taehyungie hyungie isn't for camera" during that live... that was a confession. He just said it quietly.

Jungkook remembered that live. It had been months ago—a solo live, late at night, just him and a camera. He'd been answering questions, eating noodles, being soft. And then a comment had come through: is V there? Are you two together right now?

Jungkook had looked at the camera. Had smiled. Small. Private.

"My relationship between Taehyungie hyungie and me," he'd said, "isn't for camera."

That was all.

He hadn't confirmed anything. Hadn't denied anything. Just stated a fact. Their relationship wasn't for the camera. It was for them.

Some fans had understood immediately. Had read between the lines. Had celebrated.

Others had been confused. Or angry. Or both.

Jungkook hadn't cared.

"The smart Armys figured it out," Taehyung said now, scrolling through old posts. "They knew what you meant."

"The smart ones always do."

Taehyung put his phone down. Turned in Jungkook's lap so he was facing him. His knees bracketed Jungkook's hips. His hands rested on Jungkook's shoulders.

"So when do we tell them?" Taehyung asked.

Jungkook's hands were still under Taehyung's shirt, warm against his waist. He could feel Taehyung's heartbeat. Steady. Calm.

"When we're ready," Jungkook said.

"And when is that?"

Jungkook looked at him. At the love of his life. At the boy who had run into his arms in a dusty stairwell. At the man who had stood beside him in a chairman's office and refused to bend.

"Soon," Jungkook said. "But first—" He pulled Taehyung closer. Pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "First, let's enjoy being untouchable."

Taehyung kissed him back.

"One day," Taehyung murmured against his lips, "we're going to tell the world. And they're going to lose their minds."

Jungkook snorted, deepening the kiss.

The ring he had bought for Taehyung was in a drawer in their bedroom. A rose gold band. Taehyung had picked it out himself. Well, not picked it up per se, Jungkook had framed a question one time and Taehyung had said he loved rose gold rings.

He hadn't put it on him yet—not publicly. But at night, in the dark, He would reach for it. Slip it onto Taehyung's finger. Slip the matching one onto his own.

Just to feel what it was like.

Soon, Jungkook thought. Soon.

""What are you think about?" Taehyung said against his lips.

Jungkook blinked.

"Your heart rate changed." Taehyung tilted his head back, looking at Jungkook. His eyes were soft.

Jungkook needed to distract him, so he leaned down. Kissed him again. Soft. Slow.

When they pulled apart, Jin was watching them from across the room. He pretended to gag.

"Get a room," Jin said.

"We have one," Jungkook replied.

"Use it."

Taehyung laughed. Stood up. Pulled Jungkook by the hand.

"Goodnight, hyungs," Taehyung said.

"Goodnight," Namjoon called after them.

Jin's voice floated behind them: "LOCK THE DOOR. I DON'T WANT A REPEAT OF TWO YEARS AGO."

"It's not your penthouse, you can equally leave!" Jungkook's said as the door closed.

"Aish! This kid!" Jin sighed.

A giggle resonated the space and then a latch was locked.

"Jungkook's gonna fuck him seven days a week" Namjoon grinned. Jin rolled his eyes but he couldn't disagree.

THE END.

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