Work Text:
TAEHYUNG wandered through the long hallways of the college, but his mind was nowhere near the present. It kept slipping back to last night, to a memory that refused to loosen its grip on him. It had been unforgettable, not because he wanted it to be, but because his body still remembered every second.
He had met a very young Alpha in a bar he barely remembered walking into, a place low enough that he would never have expected someone from the university to step foot in. He had tried to resist him, had told himself again and again that it was a mistake, but something deep inside him had leaned forward instead of away. One drink had turned into another, words into touches, and somehow they had ended up in a hotel room where his resolve finally gave in. Even now, the memory of that touch was vivid, burned into his skin, impossible to shake.
The next class loomed over him like a storm. It was a section notorious across the campus, loud, unruly, full of Alphas who pushed limits just because they could. As an omega, he had always been wary of teaching there, but fear had never been a valid excuse. He straightened his posture and stepped inside anyway. The uproar greeted him instantly, voices overlapping, chairs scraping, laughter ringing too loudly. Trouble, he thought. He cleared his throat and began calling attendance, his voice steady despite the tension curling in his stomach.
When he reached the name Jeon Jungkook, his breath caught. That name had been on his lips all night, whispered and cried and gasped into the dark. He looked up before he could stop himself.
Their eyes met.
The Alpha sitting near the back lifted his head slowly, recognition flashing across his face before settling into something dangerously amused. It was him. Sweet and infuriating and far too young. For a second, the room seemed to tilt. This city was huge. The odds of meeting again should have been impossible. A student from this university should never have been in that bar. And yet there he was, watching him with a knowing smirk, as if he had expected this moment all along.
Jungkook leaned back in his chair, gaze roaming openly over him, unashamed.
The omega fumbled with his pen, the sharp click echoing louder than it should have. He marked the attendance quickly and forced himself into the lecture, words flowing from memory alone. The subject was complex, but his focus kept slipping. He could feel the Alpha’s eyes on his body, heavy and deliberate, like a touch he could not escape. When the class finally ended, he left as fast as professionalism allowed, heart pounding, thoughts tangled and loud.
He spent the rest of the day buried in papers, grading essays with a mind that refused to cooperate. None of it made sense. Chance encounters were one thing, but this felt deliberate, like fate playing a cruel joke. By the time he locked his office, night had already settled over the campus, the corridors dim and quiet.
He stepped out and froze.
Jungkook was there, leaning against the wall beside his office door, bathed in the golden spill of a distant light. He flinched before he could stop himself.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded. “Students are not allowed in this area.”
The Alpha straightened slowly, unfolding his arms as he took a few unhurried steps closer. He invaded his space with ease, bending just enough to meet his gaze head on.
“Oh,” Jungkook said softly, lips curving. “So students are not allowed here.”
His voice dropped, intimate, teasing. “What about somewhere we are both allowed? Do you think the bar would be more appropriate? The one we went to before.”
The omega’s pulse thundered in his ears. He hated how his body reacted, how memory stirred so easily under that gaze. Jungkook smiled wider, clearly pleased, as if he already knew the answer.
“You screamed my name all night,” the Alpha murmured. “Did you really think I would forget yours.”
The hallway felt too small, the silence too loud. And in that moment, he realized this was far from over.
Taehyung’s resolve wavered for a heartbeat, his body betraying him before his mind could catch up. Then panic surged, sharp and humiliating, and he snapped back into himself. He took a hurried step away, voice rising as he said, “If you come near me again and talk to me like that, I will report you. I mean it.”
Behind him, Jungkook laughed.
It was not the kind of laughter meant to be shared. It echoed down the hallway, low and amused, like Taehyung had just said something profoundly entertaining. When he dared to look back, his stomach dropped. Jungkook was watching him with a smile that did not reach his eyes, something twisted glinting there.
“Did you really think complaining would work,” Jungkook said calmly, “against an Alpha like me, when you are an omega in this university?”
Taehyung stared at him as if he were insane. “Stay away from me,” he said, each word trembling despite his effort. “I do not want to see your face again.”
Jungkook closed the distance in two easy steps. “But that’s not what you wanted last night.”
Taehyung looked around, the hallway suddenly too open, too quiet. His hands curled into the fabric at his sides as if grounding himself. “You should stop,” he said, voice shaking now. “You are not allowed to say things like that. Please. Just stop.”
For a moment, Jungkook studied him. Then he raised both hands slowly, mock surrender written all over his face. “Okay,” he said lightly. “Okay. Calm down. I won’t do anything.”
He stepped back, gave Taehyung a lazy smile, and blew him a careless kiss. “But you will be seeing a lot of me,” he added. “I can’t get you out of my head.”
Then he turned and walked away, leaving Taehyung standing there with his heart hammering painfully against his ribs.
The next morning, Taehyung found a small box of chocolates and a single flower placed neatly on his desk. A folded note rested beside them.
I hope you like this. I did not know what kind of chocolate you prefer. I also heard your car is out of service. My driver will be waiting downstairs to take you home and bring you back. Take care.
Taehyung stared at it in disbelief. “What the hell,” he muttered, already knowing exactly who it was from. He rolled his eyes, but the unease settled deep in his chest. He was thirty eight, divorced, and entirely unprepared for this kind of attention. This had never happened to him before, and he did not know how to make it stop.
In class, Jungkook behaved. He did not speak out of turn, did not smirk openly, did not cross any obvious line. And yet Taehyung could feel his gaze constantly, like a weight pressing against his skin. When the lecture ended, Taehyung took a steadying breath and said, “Jeon Jungkook. Stay behind. We need to talk.”
The room emptied quickly. As soon as they were alone, Taehyung rounded on him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded. “All of this. The gifts. The car. Are you out of your mind?”
Jungkook looked at him as if he were missing something obvious. “Have you looked at yourself?” he said. “You leave late. It’s dangerous to take public transport alone at night.”
“I am not your responsibility,” Taehyung snapped. “Who do you think you are to do things like this for me? I do not want it. Especially not from someone like you.”
Jungkook’s expression hardened. “Why not from someone like me?” he asked quietly. “You mean you would take it from someone else.”
The look on his face made Taehyung’s skin crawl. “What is wrong with you?” he whispered.
Jungkook’s lips curved, unhinged and unsettling. “You are my problem,” he said, stepping forward and gripping Taehyung by the waist.
Taehyung flinched, shock flashing through him. “Don’t,” he said, breath unsteady.
“You want me to,” Jungkook murmured. “Admit it. Your scent tells me everything. I see how you react when you feel me looking at you.”
Something snapped.
Before he fully understood what he was doing, Taehyung’s fist connected with Jungkook’s face. The impact stunned them both. Taehyung spat, the action fueled by rage and fear, the spit landing against Jungkook’s cheek.
For a split second, Taehyung expected violence in return.
Instead, Jungkook smiled.
Slowly, deliberately, he wiped the spit away with his fingers and brought them to his mouth, licking them while maintaining unbroken eye contact. Taehyung felt sick.
“I really wanted a piece of you,” Jungkook said softly. “After that night. So I should thank you for this.”
Taehyung grabbed his bag, hands shaking with fury. “You are fucking insane,” he said hoarsely. “Come near me again, do anything for me again, and I will report you. I swear it.”
He turned to leave.
Behind him, Jungkook pressed a kiss to his fingers which held Taehyung's spit a second ago which he apparently licked off of those, still watching him. “Go ahead,” he said calmly. “Do whatever you want. Just remember this. The place you’ll end up is either my bed or my arms, omega.”
Taehyung did not look back. Again as he ran away.
The next few weeks passed in a way that was almost peaceful, and that was what unsettled Taehyung the most. Jungkook did not appear again. Not in class. Not in the hallways. Not even as a distant presence he could feel watching him. And yet, he never truly left.
Every morning, Taehyung unlocked his office, a room only he had the key to, and found something new placed carelessly on the same corner of his desk. One day it was an impossibly expensive watch. The next, a sleek car key with the emblem of the latest Mercedes. Another day, a gift card to a luxury brand he had only ever seen in magazines. There were no notes anymore, no explanations. Just proof that someone had access to him in ways he could not understand.
What frightened him most was that Jungkook was nowhere to be found. His name no longer appeared on class lists. His student record did not exist. It was as if he had never been enrolled at the university at all. Taehyung spent nights digging through databases, calling administrative offices, chasing shadows that led nowhere. The man who haunted him had erased himself completely.
That was when fear finally outweighed pride.
One night, hands shaking, Taehyung called his cousin Yoongi, a police officer he trusted more than anyone. He told him everything. The bar. The class. The gifts. The way Jungkook looked at him, spoke to him, knew things he should not have known. When Yoongi asked for the name, Taehyung gave it.
There was silence on the line.
Then Yoongi spoke, his voice low and urgent. “You need to leave this city.”
Taehyung’s heart dropped. “What do you mean leave? Hyung, what are you talking about?”
Before Yoongi could answer, sharp sounds cracked through the night outside his apartment. Gunshots. Taehyung froze, blood draining from his face. A second later, heavy pounding shook his front door, violent and desperate, as if someone was trying to break it down.
“Wait,” Taehyung whispered into the phone. “Something is wrong. I’ll call you back.”
“No,” Yoongi said quickly. “You need to listen. He is not—”
Taehyung ended the call.
His legs felt weak as he moved toward the door. The knocking continued, uneven now, followed by a low, strained breath. He peered through the peephole.
Jungkook stood on the other side.
His face was smeared with blood, cuts lining his cheek and jaw. One eye was swollen, his lips bruised. His hand pressed tightly against his abdomen, blood soaking rapidly through the white shirt beneath his dark suit. He looked barely upright.
Taehyung’s panic overrode every rational thought. He unlocked and pulled the door open.
“What the hell is happening?” he demanded, voice breaking. “Why are you here? What happened to you?”
Jungkook staggered forward. Before Taehyung could react, a blood stained hand came up to cradle the back of his head. Jungkook leaned in, a faint, crooked smirk on his face, and pressed a brief kiss to Taehyung’s forehead, leaving warmth and blood behind.
“Missed me, didn't you?” he murmured, his voice rough with pain.
Taehyung shoved him back hard. “Stay away from me, you sick bastard.”
Jungkook hissed, clutching his wound, his expression twisting before settling back into something unsettlingly calm. “Fuvk, never though cursing omega could appeal to me this much. I am getting hard while suffering from the shot wound.” he said quietly, breath uneven, “oh, how much of trouble you are for me, My Omega.”
Taehyung stared at the spreading blood in horror. “You were shot,” he said, the words coming out like a scream.
**
“We need to get you to a hospital, you bastard.” Taehyung muttered, as Jungkook forcefully entered the apartment and made himself home in his living room.
Jungkook’s smile widened at the curse. He met Taehyung’s eyes, something warm and unsettling flickering through the pain. “You keep cursing me in that sweet voice of yours,” he said softly, “and I’ll be better in no time.”
Taehyung dragged a hand down his face, breath uneven, panic and frustration crashing together. “You need medical attention,” he said hastily, already dropping to his knees in front of him. His hands moved on instinct, fingers shaking as he opened Jungkook’s suit jacket, then his shirt, pushing the fabric aside.
And then he saw it.
Something inside him cracked. The gunshot wound was deep, ugly, blood still spilling steadily, staining his fingers red. His hands went cold. As his gaze lifted, it only got worse. Scars. Old ones. Stitch marks crossing Jungkook’s chest and ribs like a map of violence, like proof of a life spent surviving things no one should. He did not even realize he was crying until tears blurred his vision and fell onto Jungkook’s skin.
A blood smeared hand cupped his cheek. Jungkook wiped at his tears clumsily, smearing red across Taehyung’s clean skin, his eyes softening as he smiled. “This is the second time you’re crying while looking at my body.”
Taehyung blinked, startled. “Second time?”
Jungkook nodded, catching Taehyung’s trembling hand and lifting it to his lips, pressing a slow kiss to his knuckles. “You cried that night too. Wouldn’t let me kiss you until you were done kissing all these scars. Pretty strange experience for me.”
Something snapped.
Taehyung yanked his hand back and stood abruptly. “Shut the fuck up,” he spat. “Stop making shit up with that fucking mouth of yours.”
Jungkook threw his head back against the couch and let out an exaggerated moan. “Ah,” he said lazily, “yes. Like that. Keep cursing me like that. Feels so good.”
That almost did it. Almost pulled a laugh out of Taehyung, sharp and hysterical, but he swallowed it down and turned away instead. “I’m calling an ambulance,” he muttered, grabbing his phone.
The next second, the phone was ripped from his hand and hurled across the room. It hit the wall and shattered with a sickening crack.
Taehyung whirled around, fury exploding. “What is your problem?” he shouted. “You have got to be kidding me. I bought that phone two months ago.”
Jungkook stopped him mid sentence by pressing his blood covered lips to his.
The world tilted.
Heat rushed through Taehyung’s body as his mind went blank, frozen between instinct and disbelief. Jungkook pulled back just enough to press another brief kiss to his lips, then looked straight into his eyes.
“Bring the first aid kit,” he said quietly. “I’ll handle it.”
Taehyung stared at him like he had lost his mind. “How?” he demanded. “How would you take care of a gunshot wound at home? You were fucking shot. Be serious.”
Jungkook shrugged slightly, wincing. “If I do it myself,” he said calmly, “I get a kiss from you.”
Taehyung rolled his eyes hard. “I’m calling the ambulance from my house phone.”
“My doctor is already on the way,” Jungkook replied. “You don’t need to worry. We just need to deal with the wound right now. Get the bullet out. He’ll be here soon.”
Taehyung hesitated, heart pounding, every instinct screaming that this was wrong, insane, dangerous.
But Jungkook was still bleeding.
Grinding his teeth, Taehyung turned and went to grab the first aid kit, hands shaking as he brought it back, knowing full well that once he crossed this line, there would be no going back.
Taehyung sat close to Jungkook, far closer than he realized. Inch by inch, without conscious thought, his body kept drifting nearer, drawn in by the tension, by the blood, by the man in front of him. Jungkook had already sanitized the tweezers. His jaw tightened as he twisted his wrist and pressed the metal into the wound. The moment he did, a soft, broken sound slipped out.
It was not Jungkook.
Taehyung gasped, a sharp, helpless sound, like the pain had been his own. Jungkook froze for half a second, then smiled despite himself. He turned his head slightly, amused and warm all at once.
Taehyung’s hands wrapped around Jungkook’s arm instinctively, gripping hard, almost stopping him mid motion. He leaned in, close enough that their breaths tangled. Jungkook looked at him then, properly looked at him.
Taehyung shook his head, eyes wet. “Don’t,” he whispered. “Please. We can take you to the hospital.”
Something softened in Jungkook’s chest. He let go of the tweezers, leaving them where they were, forgotten. His hands came up to cradle Taehyung’s face, thumbs brushing over damp skin. Then he kissed him.
It was not gentle. It was desperate and heated, like he had been holding back for too long. His fingers slid into Taehyung’s blond hair, gripping, pulling him closer as if he wanted to swallow him whole. Taehyung did not push him away this time. He kissed him back, clinging, hoping it would distract him, hoping it would stop him from doing something reckless and stupid.
And it worked.
Jungkook melted into it, hunger taking over, his touch possessive, sure, like he already knew Taehyung’s body by heart. He moved them back, guiding him until Taehyung felt the couch behind his legs. Jungkook was just about to press him down, about to close the distance completely, when something shattered in the living room.
Both of them froze.
Taehyung looked up sharply and saw a man standing there among the broken glass, smiling like he had walked into a private joke.
“I tried coughing,” the man said casually. “But you two were too busy to notice. Not my fault. I’ll pay for the vase though. Also, the door was unlocked. So really, again, not my fault.”
Taehyung shoved Jungkook away hard. Jungkook hissed in pain as he stumbled back, hitting the armrest and sitting upright instantly. Taehyung wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, breath ragged, eyes blazing.
“Now who the fuck are you,” he demanded.
Jungkook clenched his jaw and turned his head toward the man standing in the living room. “You’re late, Namjoon hyung,” he said through his teeth.
Taehyung’s eyes flicked to the stranger’s hands. He was carrying a large suitcase, the kind that looked heavy even before it was set down, the kind that promised things Taehyung did not want to imagine. He looked between them, unease settling deep in his chest. “Is he still… a doctor?” he asked quietly.
Jungkook nodded without hesitation. “Yes.”
Namjoon walked over and dropped onto the other couch like he owned the place, already opening the suitcase. “Just so you know,” he said casually, “I do not get paid for overtime. I drove all the way from home, and I left my husband alone on his birthday night. You should consider yourself lucky I came at all.”
He started working on the wound with practiced efficiency, his movements calm and precise. “Does everyone you know happen to be a maniac like you,” Taehyung asked, watching the two of them with disbelief.
Before Jungkook could answer, Namjoon spoke instead. “Is he your omega? The one you kept talking about.”
Jungkook answered instantly. “Yes. He is my omega.” His eyes sharpened as he added, “Drop your gaze and do not look at him. I will gouge your eyes out.”
Namjoon pushed a needle into the wound, making Jungkook hiss sharply. “Shut up,” Namjoon muttered. “I have my omega waiting for me at home. I had to leave him—”
Jungkook rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes. On his birthday. As if you were not planning to spend it together anyway.”
“What we do is none of your business, you asshole.”
“Stop fighting in my house,” Taehyung snapped, voice breaking through the tension. “You shitty Alphas.”
Both of them froze.
Taehyung turned to Jungkook, his breathing uneven, chest rising fast. “Can you tell me what is going on?” he asked. “You were gone for weeks. There are no records of you at the university. It is like you do not exist. And are you stupid? What were you thinking, sending me all those gifts? Did you really think I would accept them?”
Jungkook frowned, genuinely confused. “Your records did not tell me what you liked,” he said simply. “So I made a list and started sending everything. From small to big. Now that we are talking, you can tell me what you like. What gifts you would accept. I will give you those instead.”
Taehyung stared at him as if he had grown another head. “Are you even human? What do you mean records? You checked my records?”
Jungkook shrugged. “How else was I supposed to know?”
Taehyung sucked in a breath. “You are insufferable,” he muttered. “I cannot do this.” He stood up abruptly. “Leave my house. Right now.”
He barely took a step before Jungkook’s hand closed around his wrist, pulling him back down. Taehyung landed against his chest, solid and warm despite the injury.
“Stay,” Jungkook said, voice low and commanding. “Do not move until he is done.”
“You cannot give me orders,” Taehyung protested weakly.
Jungkook’s tone shifted. His arm tightened around him, protective instead of forceful. “Please,” he said softly. “My omega. The only existence above me. I am begging you.”
Namjoon paused for a fraction of a second but said nothing.
Jungkook rested his forehead against Taehyung’s, eyes closing. “I will beg you my whole life just to let me hold you for a moment,” he whispered. “My body is not listening to my mind right now.”
Taehyung’s breathing slowed despite himself. His body settled, instinctively calming in Jungkook’s arms. “What do you mean,” he asked quietly.
Jungkook brushed a gentle kiss to his lips. “I am tired,” he said. “I wanted you. Wanted to be here. See you. Touch you. But I could not come. So please. Let me hold you.”
For the first time, Taehyung did not fight.
His fingers slid into Jungkook’s hair, brushing through it slowly. “Do not think this means I am giving in to you,” he murmured, pressing an unconscious kiss back, eyes closing. “You begged like a pathetic Alpha. I am just taking mercy on you.”
Jungkook smiled, something achingly soft crossing his face. He nodded, kissing Taehyung’s nose, his forehead, then his lips once more. “Yes,” he said quietly. “I am a pathetic, hopeless Alpha who will beg and whine like a puppy dog for his omega.”
Warmth bloomed painfully in Taehyung’s chest, so intense it almost hurt. He did not believe those words could ever truly be meant for him. Devotion like that was never supposed to belong to someone like him.
And yet, held there in Jungkook’s arms, he felt it anyway.
He barely remembered it later, only fragments drifting back to him like warmth after a long fever. Jungkook’s voice had dropped low, rough around the edges, mumbling words that did not fully form, words meant only for him. Soft praises, half prayers, half confessions, pressed into the space between their breaths.
Taehyung remembered the way his name was spoken like something precious, the way Jungkook’s forehead rested against his, his lips brushing skin as if afraid he might disappear if he pulled away. He did not remember the exact sentences, only the feeling they left behind, steady and aching, as if someone had wrapped his heart in their hands and promised, without saying it clearly, that he was not alone.
When Taehyung woke up, the first thing he felt was warmth.
Not the vague kind that came from blankets or sunlight, but something solid and deliberate. Arms wrapped around him, firm and protective, holding him close like he might disappear if loosened even a little. Sunlight poured in through the window, bright enough to sting his eyes as he blinked awake, slowly realizing they were still on the couch.
Jungkook was there.
His body was clean now. The blood that had soaked his clothes the night before was gone, his wound carefully bandaged, neat and professional. There was no dried red on his lips, no bruised mess on his face. That was when it hit Taehyung, belated and strange, that Jungkook’s mouth had been bleeding while they kissed. And yet he had not noticed. Had not cared. All he remembered was the overwhelming thought that kissing Jungkook had felt like the best thing that had ever happened to him.
The realization startled him enough that he stiffened.
He tried to sit up and immediately realized he was still trapped in Jungkook’s arms. Legs tangled with his, hands wrapped around him like restraints he had never asked for. His face was pressed to Jungkook’s chest, eyelashes brushing warm skin. Jungkook was asleep.
Taehyung hesitated, then slowly relaxed again, closing his eyes and pressing his face back into Jungkook’s chest. Just for a second, he told himself. Jungkook would never know.
Maybe he could take advantage of it. Jungkook had sounded exhausted last night, completely drained. There was no way he was awake.
He wrapped his arms around Jungkook’s waist and burrowed closer.
The reaction was immediate.
Jungkook’s heartbeat picked up beneath his cheek. Heat bloomed where Taehyung was pressed against him, sudden and unmistakable. Taehyung froze, dread spiking through him as he lifted his head.
Jungkook’s eyes fluttered open.
He was biting his lip, clearly trying not to laugh.
Taehyung smacked his chest. “You are so fucking insufferable,” he snapped. “I cannot do this. I am not doing this. Get up and leave.”
Jungkook lost the battle entirely and laughed, loud and unrestrained, the sound filling the room like something bright and alive. He finally sat up, crossing his arms and tilting his head. “What?” he asked, grinning. “Nothing’s funny. I should go back to sleep. I promise I will. You can do whatever you want with me. Use me as your blanket.”
Taehyung grabbed a pillow and threw it at his face. “I will fucking kill you one day.”
Jungkook’s laughter followed him all the way into the kitchen, echoing through the apartment. And Taehyung hated how warm it made him feel. How beautiful it sounded, even when it had no right to.
He started making breakfast before he could think too hard about it.
When Jungkook appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed, he asked casually, “What are you making for me?”
“I’m not making anything for you,” Taehyung replied. “I’m making food for myself.”
Jungkook just smiled and stayed where he was.
A few minutes later, he watched Taehyung set two plates on the counter. Omelette, bacon, half fried eggs, toast.
Jungkook sat down on the stool. “Thank you, my omega, for the breakfast.”
Taehyung rolled his eyes and sat beside him, eating in silence.
After a moment, Taehyung spoke. “I’m still not done,” he said quietly. “You owe me answers. Or just leave me alone. Don’t keep appearing and disappearing and making me question everything.”
He stopped himself, realization hitting hard. Was he really about to give Jungkook a chance?
“No,” he corrected, shaking his head. “You know what? Don’t answer anything. Just leave. Leave my life. I don’t want you.”
Jungkook set his fork down.
He turned his stool so they were facing each other and stepped closer, placing his hands on Taehyung’s knees, forcing him to look up. “There are things I cannot tell you,” he said calmly. “Things you cannot find answers to. But my feelings for you are real. Every single one.”
Taehyung frowned. “We met for one night,” he said. “How do you fall for someone like that?”
Jungkook’s gaze did not waver. “Some things only need a second,” he said. “To know you want them for the rest of your life. You are that for me. Not one of those things. Just you. Only you. ”
Taehyung exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “This is unreal.”
“I will work my whole life to make you believe in my feelings, but…”
Taehyung lifted a brow, unimpressed, his shoulders rising in a careless shrug. “But?”
The word broke something open in Jungkook. His face twisted, not with anger but with a kind of quiet devastation that looked too heavy for his body to carry. Whatever he was thinking pressed so hard against his ribs that it seemed to hurt him physically. His gaze fell to the floor, lashes trembling, before he stepped forward and buried his face against Taehyung’s chest. His arms wrapped around Taehyung’s waist like he was holding on to the only solid thing left in the world.
“My fear,” Jungkook said, his voice cracked and uneven, every word dragged out of something raw. “Once you know everything about me… I am afraid you will not be the same. You will not curse at me anymore. You will not hit me when I deserve it. You will not look at me with those angry eyes. And I will lose the version of you I fell for.”
For a second, Taehyung only stared at him. Then he laughed, a short breathy sound that cut straight through the tension. He smacked Jungkook lightly on the head. “Are you stupid?” he said, amused and sharp at the same time. “Who do you think you are to believe I would get scared of you?” He hit his knee, then his chest, then pressed his palm flat against Jungkook’s heart. “Stop thinking so highly of yourself, Alpha.”
Jungkook froze. Then he smiled, helpless and warm, like something inside him had finally been allowed to breathe. He pulled Taehyung closer without thinking and kissed him, soft but certain. “Yes,” he murmured against his lips. “Please. Stay exactly like this for me.”
Taehyung shoved him away, cheeks warm, and turned to gather the empty plates from the counter. “So what is it then?” he asked, pretending his hands were not shaking.
Jungkook watched him for a long moment before answering quietly, “I cannot tell you.”
Taehyung turned back sharply. “I ended up calling my cousin because of you,” he said. “I had to. Someone I have not spoken to in years.”
Jungkook frowned. “Your cousin?”
“He is a police officer,” Taehyung continued. “A famous one. Min Yoongi. Everybody in Seoul knows him.”
The name hit Jungkook like a bullet. His entire body went rigid, eyes widening, breath stopping halfway in his chest. Taehyung noticed immediately. “What?” he asked. “What is wrong?”
“Min Yoongi,” Jungkook said slowly. “The police officer who is also a private investigator?”
Taehyung blinked, then nodded. “Yes. See, I told you he is famous.”
Something dark and feral surfaced in Jungkook’s eyes. He crossed the space between them in a heartbeat, gripping Taehyung’s wrist and pressing him back against the kitchen cabinet. The distance vanished, replaced by heat and panic. “You told him about me?”
“Yes,” Taehyung said, startled.
“What did you tell him?”
Taehyung shrugged, confused. “Everything. The gifts. The way you came here.”
The air left Jungkook’s lungs like it had been punched out of him. His grip tightened, not in anger but in terror, as if Taehyung might be taken from him at any second. “Did he know I came?”
“No,” Taehyung said quickly. “I cut the call when you arrived.” He paused, then frowned. “Wait. He was supposed to tell me something. I should call him back.”
Jungkook’s arms wrapped around him fully this time, possessive and protective, his voice barely holding together. “What did he tell you?”
“He told me to leave the city,” Taehyung answered. “Out of nowhere. I did not understand why.”
The sirens began almost immediately after. Sharp. Close. Unmistakable. A voice echoed from outside the apartment, amplified and cold. “The apartment is surrounded. Jeon Jungkook is to come out immediately. There is no route for escape.”
Taehyung’s eyes widened, his heart slamming painfully against his ribs. He barely had time to turn before Jungkook’s hand came up to his neck, fingers pressing a precise spot. The last thing Taehyung saw was Jungkook’s face, shattered with grief and apology, before the world went dark and he slipped into unconsciousness.