Taehyung filled his lungs with a long inhalation as he stood beside his car and bloated his cheeks when he pushed the air out.

After the bewildering call he overheard yesterday, a pother of unease hunted him at all times with the scheme his brain conceived. And he couldn’t blot it out of his mind in the slightest throughout his shift.

So there he was right after he finished work at his parents’ house, steeling himself to sweep his father’s office for any clues about his connection to the underworld.

It was still early, and he knew Mi Sung wouldn’t be home yet. Usually he came home around eight, so he had about two hours to find anything, if there was something to be found.

With his apprehension a notch calmer now, he advanced to the door, that was already open for him. “Hello, mother.”

“Hi.” She enclosed him into her hug. “I didn’t expect your call, but I’m glad you visited me again so soon.”

Taehyung smiled his awkwardness away as he pulled back. “I wanted to see you.”

They made their way to the living room and settled down on the couch next to each other. “Do you want something to drink?” Hee Jin asked.

“No, I’m okay.”

“How’s work going?”

“Good.”

A shadow of doubt crossed Hee Jin’s elegant characteristics at his plain answer. “Just good?”

Taehyung glanced away from her probing view. “I’m just... I’m struggling a bit financially at the moment. But I’m sure I can overcome this.”

“Baby.” She took his hand into hers and cradled it. “You know I can help you—”

“No. I don’t want to take money from you. You helped me enough with the opening of the store.”

“But that’s what parents are here for. To help their children.”

Taehyung’s stance sank a little, just like his features. “I can’t take any more money from you. I... I already feel bad because you didn’t even want me to be an artist, but you still helped me in everything. And now... I’m struggling financially and I’m disappointing you and father.”

Hee Jin released a nasal sigh, hesitating. “I know I didn’t want you to follow this profession. But I remember how happy you were every time you talked about your dreams. That’s why I helped you, even if I was against it. At the end of the day, I just want you to be happy.”

Taehyung reveled in the pool of warmth that blossomed in his gut, intense enough to make his eyes glimmer and distort the gloom in his face with a soft smile. “Thank you, mom. I’ll try very hard to make you proud.”

“Don’t worry about that, son. I’m already proud because you’re the kindest boy ever.”

Taehyung giggled. “I’m a man now.”

Hee Jin shook her head, smiling playfully. “You’ll always be my little boy.”

Taehyung caressed the back of her hand as a response. “You didn’t call Na Min-ssi again, huh?”

“No, it was a slow day, so I’m not that tired.”

“Do you need help with anything since I’m here?”

“Hmm, I think I only have to do the laundry.”

“Okay. How about you make something for us to eat and I do the laundry?”

“Okay. Thank you,” Hee Jin said, and patted his nape before she vanished towards the kitchen.

Taehyung’s smile fell off his face with the sudden tide of anxiety that crashed over him. This was his only chance. He headed to his father’s office, glancing above his shoulder to ascertain that Hee Jin wouldn’t appear. Once in the hallway, he sped up his pace until he reached the double sliding door. He slithered it open at a creep and closed it behind him.

In one sweep of his hawk-like eyes, he raked the luxurious office and quickly decided to start with the desk. He flicked through binder after binder, but only found medical stuff written there which he didn’t understand.

He shut the last binder with a sigh, and his gaze landed on a drawer with a lock, while the rest didn’t have one. He immediately searched for something sharp to use to open it and located a bowl of paperclips. He pulled on its pointy edge to straighten it and grabbed the lock, then stuck it inside. He dug it in further, twisting and pushing, as he chewed on his bottom lip.

A low groan burred in his throat at his inability to complete his task, though he kept trying, rotating the paperclip harder until a click rang in his ears along with the hammering of his heart. His movements froze, round eyes staring at the open lock. With a surge of nervous overexcitement, he hastened to unhook the lock and tugged the drawer open.

What... the fuck? Was all he could think as he gaped at the content. There was a handgun in there, stacks of cash, and two big button type phones. Not once in his life he had the suspicion that his father used guns, and it could only mean he was right. Mi Sung was involved in some shady shit, for sure.

With his trembling hand, he took out the one phone and opened the call history. It was filled with a single number, as he saw with a quick search, and he went back to the most recent call. The time the call was made matched with the time Taehyung heard him talk on the phone, leading him to believe this was Kang Soo’s number.

He swiftly checked the messages too, but he found nothing there. Then, he placed the phone back in its place and took hold of the other one. Small creases of mystification etched on his forehead as he observed the empty call history. And as expected, there was nothing in the messages. That’s weird. But everything is fucking weird right now.

He made sure to leave everything as he found them before he fastened the lock again and scurried out of the office. He staggered to a halt once he reached the living room at the presence of his mother and broke into a titter. “I thought the laundry was in the bathroom at the end of the hallway.”

Hee Jin chuckled, all confusion melting out of her face. “No, sweetie. It’s in the bathroom upstairs.”

“Okay. I’ll be quick.”

“Do you want sour cherry juice or orange juice?”

“Sour cherry for change.” He aimed another smile at her and ascended the staircase behind him. His legs still quaked by his bottled-up fright of getting caught and everything he discovered. He was never close to his father, but fuck, even the few things he knew and thought about him could be invalid now.

The rest of the evening was consumed with lighthearted chatter with his mother while they ate the pancakes she made. He left a little after seven thirty, as he didn’t want to encounter his father, and called his friends over to his apartment. Although they were swamped with work because of their two-week vacation, they dropped everything to meet their friend.

Taehyung could feel how worried they were for him, even through their text messages. It was reasonable since he was going through a heartbreak for the first time in his life, but to be honest, with the few discoveries he made about his father, he managed to forget about his wretchedness for a while.

Jungkook’s existence and all their memories were persistent, though, and they didn’t take too long to flood his head, bringing back that ocean of misery and devastation that engulfed him since their parting.

 
Dressed in comfy clothes, Taehyung buzzed his two friends in and opened the door. Soon, they slid into his vision, and an unconscious smile curled the corners of his lips. “Hey, guys.” He outspread his arms and hummed blithely as they sneaked into his embrace.

“Hey, Tae. How are you?” Jimin asked.

“Okay, I guess. I missed you.”

“We missed you too,” Hoseok said as they broke apart.

They entered the apartment and seated themselves on the large couch. “How are you guys?”

“Busy,” both said and exhaled a chuckle.

“My father doesn’t let me rest at all after our vacation,” Hoseok sighed.

“Same. At least with the load of work, I keep myself occupied.”

Taehyung smiled sadly as he cottoned on to what Jimin was referring to. “He still doesn’t answer your calls?”

“Yeah. I called him today and texted him, but nothing.”

“Maybe you should... give up, Chim,” Hoseok uttered.

“I can’t. I can’t forget him. I miss him so much.”

Taehyung offered him a pat of sympathy on his back. “I feel you.”

“You really seem okay, though, Tae,” Hoseok observed with a little smile. “I’m glad.”

Taehyung’s chest deflated with a subdued exhalation as he sank back into his seat. “Every time I remember him, it hurts. But... something happened, and it took my mind off him for a bit.”

“What happened?” Jimin asked, face warping in a frown.

Taehyung faced them, crossing his legs on the couch. “My father. There’s something weird happening. I overheard one of his calls yesterday when I went to my parents’ house. It seemed like he was planning a meeting.”

“With who?” Hoseok asked.

“That’s not important. The thing is, the guy he was talking to yesterday deals drugs.”

“What?” A chock-full of surprise huff jumped out of Jimin’s mouth. “That can’t be true. Your father never associated with this kind of people. You know, criminals.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, guys.”

“How do you know that guy deals drugs?” Hoseok questioned.

Taehyung peeked at him and drove his chin into his chest. “I can only tell you that Jay had mentioned that guy. That’s how I know him.”

Hoseok released a contemplative sound. “I still don’t get why would your father know a drug dealer. He doesn’t use drugs.”

“Well, he can be... selling them.”

Taehyung didn’t react to Jimin’s speculation because he had thought about it too a myriad of times. “I went to my parents’ house earlier, and I sneaked into his office. I found a locked drawer and opened it. Guys. I found a gun in there.”

“Fuck, that means he’s indeed involved with the underworld,” Hoseok muttered.

“Yes. I also found lots of cash and two other phones. You know, these ancient little things like what Jay had.”

“That’s not good,” Jimin commented with a sigh. “What are you gonna do?”

Taehyung’s eyes flew over his friends in a swing of hesitation. “I want Yoongi’s number. To tell him about what I found out.”

“Okay. But you can tell us what’s Jay’s connection with that guy, Tae. He won’t know you talked to us,” Jimin said.

“Still... It doesn’t feel right. He opened up to me. And even if I don’t see him again, I don’t want to betray the trust he showed me.”

“I get it,” Jimin smiled. “He would be so lucky to have a man like you beside him.”

“Yeah, except he’s a criminal and that would do no good to Taehyung,” Hoseok spat out, a sudden edge of vexation hardening his tone.

“I won’t see him again, anyway,” Taehyung mumbled. “Give me Yoongi’s number.”

Jimin typed the number and passed the phone to him. “I hope he answers.”

“Me too. I’ll be back.” He arose and retreated to his room for privacy.

Taehyung sat on the edge of his bed. He gulped as he took in the time, unease braising in his gut. It was a little after nine, and he knew all four would be together. The thought of hearing Jungkook’s voice knotted his stomach in little intricate twists of eagerness and a dose of restlessness.

Ignoring the thumping of his heart, he tapped the call button and put the phone to his ear. Each beep echoed in his senses — in his very woozy senses from the unrelenting battering of his pulse — and his throat felt more and more dry at the lack of response.

Taehyung’s eyes swelled and his breath glaciated for a second at the sound of Yoongi’s voice.

“Yes?”

He swallowed again, then cleared his throat. “Don’t hang up. It’s Taehyung.” A throaty sigh was heard through the phone — a sound hinting at Yoongi’s frustration. A fraught quietness sifted through the air right after, though he soon realized Yoongi hadn’t ended the call. “Are you with your friends?”

“What do you want?”

“I found something. It’s about Han Kang Soo.”

Yoongi’s body went rigid as his enlarged eyes roamed around his friends in quick little flicks. “I’ll put you on speaker.” He pressed the speaker icon and set the phone on the table.

Taehyung cleared his throat once more. “Um, hi.”

An agonizing wistfulness clasped Jungkook’s heart instantly. The organ felt as if it bled at the sound of his voice. Memory after memory whooshed into his mind, muddling it with sorrow, just when he had told himself he got this. Just when he had accepted his doom and had prepared himself to live without Taehyung. The dreamy sound of his voice wrecked it all.

“I’m Taehyung,” he continued after a moment’s pause. “I found out something about Han Kang Soo.”

“What?” Seokjin spluttered as he pitched forward. “How?”

“I visited my parent’s house yesterday, and I heard my father talk to Kang Soo on the phone. He had left his regular phone on the coffee table, so I figured he had a different phone to talk to him. I visited them again today when I knew my father wouldn’t be there and searched his office. I found a locked drawer and opened it. There was a gun in there, cash, and two ancient phones like—” Taehyung expelled a sigh instead of the words he wanted. Jungkook was probably there too. Could he recall that memory so vividly like Taehyung? It made him wonder...

“Um, I mean these old phones with buttons. I checked both. The call record on one phone was empty. It was like he hadn’t used it before. The other had only one number on the recent calls, and the time I heard him talk matched the time of the last call.”

Yoongi perceived Jungkook’s doleful state at a single glance, but he disregarded it for now. “What did you hear?”

“He was planning a meeting. He asked what time Dong Myun will be at the spot on Sunday. And then he said something about five big ones. I didn’t get that part.”

“They were talking about money,” Namjoon informed. “A big one is one million won.”

Taehyung’s jaw dropped, mouth quivering at its attempt to articulate words. “So—So he’ll give him five million?”

“It’s not really that big amount for drugs,” Yoongi said in response to his shocked voice. “Do you know where they’ll meet?”

“No. My father also said, ‘Thank you, Kang Soo-ya. I hope to see you soon.’ Then I returned to the living room.”

“So they’re meeting in five days,” Seokjin reflected. “Is there a way you can find out about their meeting spot until then?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

A heavy silence washed over the four in the storage room as they dove into their brains for what they could do about this information.

“But I can follow him,” Taehyung added with no inkling of vacillation.

Jungkook jolted to the edge of his seat, agitated eyes gouging holes into Yoongi, as he shook his head frantically.

Yoongi registered the unspoken meaning of his restless actions. “Don’t follow him. It’s dangerous.”

“But I want to help,” he said. “Maybe they meet at the same spot every time.”

“We don’t need your help. Stay out of it,” Yoongi stated.

Taehyung grimaced at his strict tone. “Why should I listen to you? I can do whatever I want.”

Jungkook’s head collapsed onto the table as he drew in a jerky breath. Taehyung was stubborn — he knew it from the start and hated it wholeheartedly at that moment.

“Don’t be so childish,” Yoongi grunted. “You helped us enough with what you found out. Now you stop here. We’ll handle it.”

“I want to know why the fuck my father is buying drugs. And I will. I’m going.”

“Taehyung.” Jungkook’s voice left him before he could do anything to constrict it. His name rolled off his tongue in a grave undertone, but rushed and shaky, while he stared at the phone so intently, as if peering into his eyes.

Taehyung clutched the phone in his hold with the tension that coiled around his muscles. God, he had missed him. His face, his voice, his touch, his kisses, everything. So much. So fucking much he felt like a vacant mess without him. And he was.

There was a burning heaviness lodged in Jungkook’s throat and his attempt to disperse it with a swallow failed miserably. “Don’t go. Hmm? It’s dangerous.”

The agony of their separation crawled up every inch of his form until it throttled him. But beside that wrenching emotion, spikes of bitter anger emerged that punched words out of him he couldn’t control. “Oh, you remember me? I thought I didn’t exist anymore for you.”

Jungkook let his head hang as his vision prickled with a vile dampness. “Taehyung. Don’t get involved in this shit. Please.”

“I’m already involved,” Taehyung shot back with a trembling element, which originated from the churning of conflicting emotions blustering in his gut. “And not because of you. I was involved even before I met you without knowing it. Because of my father.”

“Pretend you don’t know anything and continue living your life.”

“My life?” Taehyung drawled and huffed a meek sound of taunt. “My life is ruined. I’m ruined. So I don’t care what will happen to me.”

“I care!” Jungkook roared as he banged his fist on the table hard enough to shake it off its place. The deafening thud carried far in the room, reverberating through the silence that followed. With the sudden tsunami of melancholy that toppled over him, his stance drooped, chin digging into his chest again. “Don’t make me regret what happened between us. Please. If you get in danger, I’ll regret it. I’ll regret everything. And I don’t want to.”

Dark sorrow crazed Taehyung’s features as his eyes gathered suffocating tears. The hot wetness was so thick it poured down his face in rivulets, but he scrubbed it away with a harsh swipe of his hand. “Do whatever you want. Regret it or don’t regret it. I don’t care.” He wanted to force an indifferent, stern tone into his voice, but it came out light and unsteady, tangled with his choked breaths.

At the comprehension that Taehyung was crying, a new despondency seized Jungkook’s existence that transfixed him, leaving fatal wounds of resignation all over his poor frame. Because this time, he wasn’t there to soothe his sobs and hold him. He wasn’t there to run his fingers through his hair and kiss his poignancy away. And it pained him more than he could handle. Truly so much that droplets formed along his lower lids that clouded his vision. And before he could do anything — before he could process what was going on — he was silently crying with him. For him.

Taehyung picked up on a strangled noise similar to his and palmed his mouth to constrain himself from making any other sound so he could focus on it. He heard a broken inhalation and some sniffling, then utter stillness ensued. “Are you... Are you crying?”

Jungkook brushed the unwanted tears away when he registered how wet his cheeks had gotten. “Listen. Okay. Do whatever and I’ll do whatever. But know one thing, Taehyung. If something happens to you because of me... I’ll die with you.”

His damp eyes turned into two chocolate blank holes that gaped at the floor as his brain strove to make sense of the words Jungkook spewed. Tears still dripped down his cheeks, but he could feel nothing — he could see and hear nothing except for these damn words pounding in his ears. “Wh—Why would you say this if... if you don’t feel... if you’re not...”

“Because I feel. And I am.” Although his confession was vague, it was enough for Taehyung to understand it, he believed. He couldn’t secrete his emotions any longer. The thought of Taehyung getting hurt festered them, coercing him to vocalize them in his efforts to keep him safe.

The revelation, even though unclear, whirled throughout his existence, bringing a lull to his mind. His logic warred with what was said, unwilling to believe him. “You just... You just don’t want me to go. You can’t be... You wouldn’t have let me leave otherwise. You wouldn’t have pushed me away when I came back.”

Jungkook wiped the next stream of tears with his sleeves. Now that his emotions surfaced again, it felt impossible to tame them or leash them. “I am,” he croaked out. “And that’s why I let you leave. That’s why I pushed you away. That’s why I didn’t get in touch with you. I thought it’ll hurt too much. And fuck... It does.”

Taehyung threw a hand over his mouth, teeth clamping on his bottom lip. He was a wreck of tears and downtrodden sobs, but still, in all that agony, a twinkle of joy budded along with a dram of hope. Jungkook felt the same. Jungkook was in love with him, too. It pained him just as much to be away from him. Fuck, so many questions rose in his head again, spinning in furious circles that dazed him. But only one prevailed. One that sparked from his immense need for confirmation in hopes of soothing his bleeding heart.

“You’re in love with me?”

The single word of agreement was right on the tip of his tongue, teetering, dangling, but it couldn’t slip out. “Promise you won’t go.”

“Are you in love with me?” Taehyung asked again, anxious desperation leaking from his pitch.

Jungkook’s chest plummeted with a shuddering breath. “Promise me you’ll stay away from everything. Away from any danger. Away from my messed-up life. Until I fix it.”

Taehyung accepted defeat without protest this time. For whatever reason, Jungkook didn’t want to admit it, but his obscure confession was enough for him for now. He dabbed at his wet eyes with his shirt and sniffled. “I’ll help you fix it.”

“Fuck, Taehyung,” he let out in a breathy voice coated with pure hopelessness. That gruesome feeling triggered flames of rage within his chest that soon erupted from him in a screaming tirade. “You can’t do anything to help me fix it! Do you want me to go fucking crazy? Don’t get involved with your father’s business. We’ll deal with it.”

Taehyung screwed his eyes shut at the torturous sound of Jungkook’s forcefully muted pants. He drew in a wavering drag of air meant to impound his own sobs. “Okay. I won’t go,” he lied to assuage his crying state. “Forget what I said, hmm?”

Jungkook wiped his tears, but fuck, they carried on showering down his face against his will. “You really won’t go?”

“Hmm. I won’t.”

A fitful exhalation thrust out of his hoarse throat. “Okay. Take care.”

“You too. And Yoongi?”

“Yeah?”

“Accept Jimin’s calls. I don’t get why you can’t talk over the phone.”

The corners of Yoongi’s lips hung as his eyes prowled over the floor. “I don’t want to give him false hopes.”

Taehyung scoffed weakly. “You have no idea how much he’s in love with you, huh? He won’t give up on you. Even if you have given up on him.”

A thick silence leaped out that lasted for a while. Seokjin studied Yoongi for any sign that he would respond, but found none. “Thank you for everything, Taehyung. Stay safe.”

“You too.” Taehyung knew that was his cue to hang up the phone, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instead, he nibbled on the inner side of his lip as his pulse brisked. “Jungkook...” A deep efflux of air escaped him, his eyes drowning in fresh tears just at the thought of phrasing the words his brain produced. “I miss you.”

The wetness spilling from Jungkook’s eyes increased to an outpouring that had him slumping over the table. “Don’t—Don’t do this to me, Taehyung.”

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung choked out. “Stay safe for me, hmm?”

Jungkook furiously dried his face with his drenched sleeves and wore a firm facade with devastation snaking out of the cracks. “You too.”

───⭒───༺🎭༻───⭒───

Jungkook half confessed!! 😅 I can't wait for them to meet again💜