Jungkook’s panic throttled him with severe force as soon as Taehyung tumbled into his arms. He picked him up restlessly and carried him to the couch. A gush of blood spurted from the left side of his stomach, and he made haste to press down on it. 

“Tae? Can you hear me? Tae? Please...” His calls were unanswered. He rummaged in his pocket for his phone and found the number of his friend, who was his doctor for every injury he got from his job. 

The several seconds that crawled by until he picked up were daunting. “Hae Soo-ssi, I need you. Come to my house as fast as possible.” 

“What happened? It’s really late, Jungkook.”

“I’ll give you whatever you ask for, just... Fuck, just come to my house now. Someone’s dying.”

“Okay, calm down. I’ll be there in ten.” Hae Soo wore his bluetooth earpiece and rushed to his car in his pajamas. He had prepared medical supplies in his car for emergencies, such as this, and it always came in handy since he didn’t waste time on preparing his equipment and medicine. 

He soon drove off. “Is the patient conscious?”

“No. He’s not responding.”

“How’s his pulse?”

Jungkook’s trembling hand drew closer to his neck and lightly pressed on it. “It’s fast. Why is it so fast?”

“It could be for several reasons. Is he bleeding a lot? If yes, his body is probably in shock because of the blood loss. Tell me about his injury.”

“It’s a stab wound to his stomach. And yes, he was bleeding a lot, so I put pressure on it.”

“Good. Keep pressing on it. I’ll be there in five.”

Jungkook’s consternation rocketed as he watched the beads of sweat on his forehead roll down his skin. His chest fluctuated with rapid puffs and different muscles in his body spasmed unpredictably. “He’s sweating a lot. And—and his breathing—it’s fast.”

Hae Soo sighed in worry. “He’s definitely in shock. Raise his legs to help his circulation. He’ll need a blood transfusion if he’s bleeding so much. Do you know his blood type?”

“No. Tae? Tae? You need to tell me your blood type. Tae?” Despite his efforts, only short breaths mixed with whines fell from his quivery lips. He grasped two pillows from the other couch and lifted his legs, placing them beneath them. Then he put pressure on his injury again. 

The doctor arrived a few minutes later, and Jungkook dashed to the door to let him in. “Any changes?”

“No. He’s awake, but he’s not responding.”

Hae Soo laid his first-aid kit on the floor and wore gloves. He lifted his bloody shirt and surveyed the injury. “It’s not that deep. Organ damage is improbable. And he’s not bleeding that much, Jungkook.” He shook his head as Jungkook’s panicked behavior had him worrying for no reason. “Take a moment to calm yourself as I clean his injury. Then try to make him talk. We still need to find out his blood type just in case.”

Jungkook arose with no words. He dragged his feet towards the bathroom, only then realizing he was mildly shaking. He stood in front of the sink, staring in a haze at his bloody hands. Flashbacks of the night his hyung died blustered throughout his head, and he couldn’t blot them out. 

Taehyung won’t die. No one else will die in my arms, he appeased himself with what little was left of his sense. 

He washed his hands thoroughly and splashed some ice-cold water on his face. Knowing that Hae Soo was treating Taehyung eased his consternation enough to find his limpidity in its entirety. 

He grabbed a clean towel and plodded back to the living room. He squatted beside Taehyung and rested his hand on his shoulder, giving it gentle squeezes, as he dabbed the towel at his forehead. Once he finished wiping the moisture, he combed through his locks with his fingers, brushing them away from his face. 

“Tae,” he breathed out, tilting closer until his forehead linked with the side of his head. His knees dropped to the floor, suddenly feeling too exhausted to maintain his squat. “You have to tell me your blood type so we can help you. Can you do that for me, please? Hmm?”

Hae Soo had already finished disinfecting his wound, confirming that indeed, it wasn’t deep enough to injure any of his organs. He had put him on an IV, gave him morphine for the pain, but Taehyung’s tremor didn’t abate, his breathing was still shallow, and his heart rate rapid. 

Until Jungkook sat next to him and leaned their heads together. 

The young-looking doctor spectated as Taehyung’s signs of supposed shock by the blood loss drove down gradually with each caress of Jungkook’s fingers through his hair. He smiled. “He’s not in shock. He’s just scared. Keep doing what you’re doing. It’s helping. I have to suture his wound.”

“Scared?” Jungkook wondered in a murmur as he drew back enough to look at Taehyung’s now serene face. “Don’t be scared. I’m here. You’re going to be fine.” The soothing words just rolled off his tongue of their own will. “He won’t need a blood transfusion, then?”

“He’s stable now. He didn’t lose that much blood because, as I said, the wound isn’t that deep. So he's okay.”

“See?” Jungkook uttered as he connected their heads again, still stroking his hair. “You’ll be just fine.”

He stayed by his side as Hae Soo sutured his injury. Taehyung seemed too placid, as though he were sleeping. He kept his hand attached to his chest, feeling waves of relief at its even, slow fluctuations and the sense of his normal pulse. 

Hae Soo successfully completed his task a while later. “He’s all set.”

“Thank you, Hae Soo-ssi.”

The doctor disposed of his gloves and collected his equipment. Then, he wilted in the armchair behind him. He rolled his head back to relieve some of the tension in his neck as a deep sigh spilled from his lips. His eyes positioned on Jungkook, who was still beside Taehyung, caressing his head while gazing at him, in a probing stare. “You sounded rather desperate and worried on the phone, you know.”

Jungkook cleared his throat. “Well, he was dying.” 

“No, he wasn’t,” Hae Soo snickered. “You’re a detective. You’ve seen a lot of wounds and know a lot about anatomy. Couldn’t you tell that he doesn’t have a deep enough wound to die?” 

“I couldn’t—” He cut himself off with a sigh. “I couldn’t think straight, okay?”

“You couldn’t get your shit together in this situation? You’ve been trained to do that.” 

“I couldn’t get myself together enough to think rationally with... with him like that, for some reason. I don’t know why, but my hyung came to my mind. All I could think about was when I was holding him and trying to stop his bleeding, like I did with Taehyung. And I thought Taehyung was dying too. I was scared he’ll die. I don’t want him to die.” The volume of his voice decreased gradually and sank to a whisper towards the end.

“What’s your relationship with him?” 

“That... I don’t know.” 

“What do you mean? How is this possible?”

“I mean, we’re not exactly friends. We’re not lovers. We’re not friends with benefits. We’re not enemies. We’re just... two people who keep meeting under fucked-up situations. And we’ve gotten a bit close. That’s all.”

Hae Soo propped his elbow on the armrest and nestled his chin against his palm. “That sounds complicated.”

“Tell me about it...” Jungkook sighed. “And I hate complicated.”

“Then why are you putting up with this? Why don’t you just stop seeing him?” 

Jungkook didn’t have to think about it. He knew the answer, even though he was clueless about the reason behind it. “I just can’t stay away,” he said in a subdued, breathy tone. “I haven’t said this to anyone, not even to him, but... I’m curious about him. I want to know him. And I want him to be okay.”

“Aww, our dear Jungkookie finally grew up,” Hae Soo cooed. “You like him.”

Jungkook jerked back, scowling at him. “Be grateful that Taehyung is asleep, because if he heard this, I would punch you.”

An amused chuckle vibrated in the doctor’s chest. “You’re in denial, I see. A classic state for those who genuinely like someone for the first time.”

“I don’t take advice from single thirty-five-year-old guys, thank you very much,” Jungkook quipped with crisp sarcasm. “You can leave now.”

Hae Soo raised his hands in defense and stood up. “If there are any changes, call me right away. I’ll leave you some painkillers to give him if he’s in pain later. Change his IV bag after”—he glanced at his watch—“thirty minutes and switch the flow rate to a lower one. You remember how to do that, right?”

“Yes.” 

“Good. Also, it’s better to move him to a bed so he can be comfortable. But be extra careful if you move him.”

“Thank you, really.”

The doctor sent him a smile, fished the painkillers from his kit and an IV bag and set them on the table, then headed towards the exit. 

With the soft click of the door closing came Jungkook’s fluttering exhalation. He laid the side of his head on the couch, his mouth a breath away from the curve between Taehyung’s neck and shoulder. His fingers alternated between tinkering with his silk hair and carding through them. His other hand cradled his left shoulder. 

He had perched on the floor — one leg was outstretched and the other bent, leaning against the couch. Only the sound of their synchronized breathing filled the room for a long time. Although, the palliative quietness was often disturbed by Jungkook’s raucous thoughts. 

What am I doing? Why am I still hugging him? Why can’t I move away? Why don’t I want to move away? 

More time flowed in the same comforting ambiance. This level of relaxation was something Jungkook hadn’t experienced in years. Was it because of the late hour that a consuming sleepiness cloaked his senses? 

Before it could reign over him throughout, he decided to bring a blanket for Taehyung. So he lifted his head and withdrew his hands from him, but one of them was faintly held, immobilizing him. 

His eyes regarded with utmost concentration the fluttering of Taehyung’s eyelids and then his grimace as he swallowed. “Taehyung? Did I wake you?”

“No,” he rasped. “Because I wasn’t sleeping.” He didn’t give him time to assimilate the significance of his remark as he asked, “Are you leaving?”

“I was about to bring you a blanket. Or I can carry you to my bed if you want.” 

“And after that? Will you leave?”

Taehyung’s fragile, hoarse voice rang with a flicker of vulnerability that tugged at Jungkook’s heart in an inexplicable manner. “Do you want me to stay?”

“Yes.” 

The corner of Jungkook’s mouth stretched in a small smile as he took Taehyung’s hand into his. “Then I’ll stay.” He smothered an urge to smooth his hair back like he repeatedly did when he thought Taehyung was asleep—Wait. Taehyung said he wasn’t sleeping, he suddenly realized. “How—How long have you been awake?” 

“I lost consciousness for a bit, I think, but I didn’t sleep. I was just too woozy to answer you.” 

A mask of horror burst onto Jungkook’s face as he drove his chin in his chest in his attempt to conceal his shock. “What? So... So you heard—”

“Yeah,” Taehyung whispered, wanting to reach out and raise his head, but feeling too weak to move. He instead rubbed the back of his hand with a feeble thumb, his eyes resting on him. “Although everything is blurry in my mind from the medication, I remember. Everything. It feels good... to know that you don’t want me to die. I’m not sure why it feels so good. But it does.” 

Jungkook’s shock was replaced by mild mystification. “That’s... what you kept from what I said?” 

“That’s the most important to me. I don’t care how you think of our relationship. Maybe we’re nothing more than two strangers who came to enjoy each other’s company. Maybe we’ll suddenly stop talking and we won’t mind. You can label our relationship however you want. Knowing that you don’t want me to die, knowing that you were scared of me dying, makes me feel all warm inside. Maybe I feel this way because there are still people who are trying to kill me. But whatever the reason, thank you, Jungkook. For wanting me to live.”

A pool of warmth accumulated in Jungkook’s belly and soon expanded all over his insides. “Don’t thank me for that. Of course I want you to live.”

Taehyung’s heavy-lidded eyes closed as he brushed light circles on his hand with his thumb, but the delicate smile on his face faded with a wrenching remembrance. “Also, I’m sorry about your hyung. It must have been so hard for you.”

“Yes, it was. It still is. And unfortunately, you get it more than anyone.” 

Taehyung’s eyes fluttered open. He turned his head enough to gaze at him. “Because of my parents?” A bitter smile budded on his lips at Jungkook’s hum and faint nod. “Either you want it or not, it gets a little better with time. You can’t forget, but you learn to live with it. You have your breakdowns. You can’t sleep well at certain nights. But the unbearable weight of a loss becomes bearable with time.” He took in Jungkook’s gloomy countenance and unfocused gaze, as if he had spaced out, though Taehyung knew he was listening. “Getting closure is more important than we think. It hurts so much because we don’t have that closure.”

Jungkook’s eyes regained their focus and settled on him in a slightly puzzled stare. “How do you know I don’t have closure?”

Taehyung didn’t let the nervousness at his blunder project on his face and rapidly conjured an excuse. “There are tons of articles on the internet because of his job. And because of your father’s position. I’m sorry for searching about it.”

Jungkook gently shook his head. “It’s okay. It’s not a secret.” He underpinned his words with a squeeze on Taehyung’s hand. “How do you feel?”

“I feel like my body is floating on a cloud. I’m still a little woozy.”

“Hae Soo gave you morphine, so it’s reasonable. You’re not in pain, though, right?”

“No.”

“Good.” Jungkook smiled in relief, but his features soon darkened as he recalled Taehyung’s condition earlier. The hesitation in his wandering gaze gleamed brighter. “You were scared before,” he voiced out carefully, throwing him a tentative glance. “Why? Do you want to tell me?”

Taehyung shifted his gaze to the ceiling, gathering his courage to speak. “I’ve never admitted this to anyone, but... I am scared every day. I can’t sleep at night because of that fear.”

Jungkook’s countenance saddened at his quiet words. “What fear?” 

“The fear of dying before finding the answers that will give me the peace I need to stay sane.” Taehyung met his gaze, feeling a sweet palliation trickle through his bloodstream now that he shared his fear with someone — with Jungkook. “The reason my parents were murdered. Who ordered it. And why they’re still trying to kill me. That’s my everyday fear. But earlier I was scared about other things too. I think that’s why I was so out of it.”

“Do you want to tell me?” 

Taehyung smiled weakly. “Maybe later. Can I use your phone for a bit? I have to call someone. It’s really important.”

“Um, sure.” Jungkook reached for his phone from the table behind him and passed it over.

“Can I also have some privacy?”

“Yes, of course. I’ll go... bring you clean clothes to change.”

“Thank you.”

Jungkook fought his curiosity with a vengeance and gave him a smile before rising to his feet. 

Once Taehyung heard a door open and then close, he typed Jimin’s untraceable number, which only he and Yoongi knew about in case they had to call him from someone else’s phone. 

It took a while, but Jimin’s voice soon echoed in his ear. “Tae?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” 

“Since you’re calling this number, it means something bad happened.”

Taehyung could only sigh. “I can’t explain right now. I need you to do something for me. Can you check if Soo Gun is alive?”

“That’s... What? Why?”

“He tried to kill me and I used the needle, but he was on drugs. It can have a lethal effect. So please check on him and tell me I didn’t kill someone today.”

“What the fuck?” Jimin murmured in pure shock. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, don’t worry about me.”

Jimin wasn’t just worried — he was close to panicking. “Are you kidding? He tried to kill you! How can I not worry? Are you hurt? Where are you?”

“I’m fine, Chim. And Soo Gun lives at Songpa-gu. Who else lives there?”

A frown seized Jimin’s traits as he contemplated his question. Then, his eyes bulged. “You’re at Jungkook’s house?” 

“Yes. I didn’t have a choice. I wasn’t wearing my ring because I was just going to meet Jungkook. But they kidnapped me.”

“Oh my God, Tae. Soo Gun is such a psycho.” 

“He is. But he can’t die because of me. So please check on him.”

“Don’t worry, I’m going right now. Should I call this number when I find out?”

“Yes. I don’t know where my phone is.”

“Okay. We’ll talk later, then.” 

“Thank you, Chim. Bye.”

Taehyung ended the call and was about to lock the phone when a thought came to his mind. He typed his phone number, curious about how Jungkook had saved it. His vision narrowed to a pinprick in sheer disbelief. “A question mark? Seriously?” 

The clicking of a door opening urged him to lock the phone and set it beside him. He fixed a hard stare on Jungkook once he slid into view, who was wearing a different sweater and carrying fresh clothes in his hug. 

Jungkook studied his bizarre look as he neared him. He put the clothes on the table and kneeled, bracing his forearms on the couch. Despite the weariness engulfing Taehyung’s face, the sharpness in his eyes was easily visible. He rucked his brows into a pronounced frown. “I didn’t eavesdrop,” he blurted out rather defensively. “The rooms are soundproof. I could only hear a soft murmur. When I couldn’t hear it anymore, I knew you hung up.”

“That’s not why I’m looking at you like this.”

“Then?”

“I saw how you saved my number on your phone.” Taehyung perceived his instant avoidance of eye contact. “A question mark? Really?”

Jungkook shifted to a cross-legged position, mostly to steer clear of his stare easier. “It’s rude to snoop around in someone else’s phone without their consent.”

Taehyung huffed tamely. “Not even my initials? Just a question mark?”

“That’s what you are to me, okay?” Jungkook’s voice traveled with a thread of frustration, though he regretted using that tone, his manner, and opening his mouth in general. “Sorry, but you’re a mystery to me,” he uttered, calmer than before. “When I think about you, I only have questions to ask you.”

Taehyung’s now doe eyes searched for his, but Jungkook refused to look at him. “You think about me?”

His posture visibly tensed at the unexpected inquiry. “Just... sometimes.”

A mild bashfulness raised a smile from Taehyung, but it died out of his face at his next remark. 

“Not in some weird way. I think of you when it’s about work, that’s what I meant.”

Of course it’d be just that. What did you expect? Taehyung sighed inaudibly at his thoughts. “Anyway. I can’t stay with these dirty clothes anymore. I feel too stinky.”

“Oh. I should... help you change, right?”

“If you can.”

“Okay.” Jungkook heaved himself off the floor. He bent over him, gulping in a sudden feeling of anxiety. He removed the tubing — his IV bag had almost emptied, so he disposed of it. Then, his fingers slithered beneath the hem of his thin long-sleeved shirt. He held his eyes fast to the clothing as he pulled it upwards, reminding himself mentally not to glance at his body. Just the thought of seeing it had a blazing warmth gathering in his belly, which was absurd given the situation. 

He peeled it off his arms once Taehyung limply raised them and threw it on the floor beside him. “You want a t-shirt and a sweater?”

Taehyung’s gaze was zoned in on him at all times. A gleam of awkwardness swirled in Jungkook’s evasive eyes as he kept them as far away from him as physically possible. “Is my body ugly?”

Jungkook blinked rapidly, as though in surprise. “What are you talking about? Of course not.”

“Then why are you trying so hard not to look at it?” 

“I just... don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“The only one who’s uncomfortable here is you,” Taehyung said softly. “And I don’t understand why. You’ve seen every inch of my body before. You’ve held it. You’ve kissed it. Made it yours for one night. Why are you uncomfortable now?”

His throat closed with dryness, permitting no response. He folded his fingers into tight fists in his exertion to choke back the memories of that night. “Do you want a t-shirt?”

Taehyung’s expression sank a fraction at the lightly sharper hue of his voice. “No. I want your sweater.”

“You mean... the one I’m wearing?”

“Yes.” 

Jungkook’s perplexed gaze locked on him. “But I got you another one.”

“I want this one.” Taehyung pointed with his head at his body. 

“I’m not wearing anything under it.”

“Even better.”

“Yah.” Even if he wanted to, Jungkook couldn’t get mad at him as his weedy, honeyed giggle curled around his senses sweetly. 

“Just wear the one you got for me.”

“Fine.” Jungkook flung off his sweater and immediately grabbed the clean one from beside him, but it was snatched out of his hold only seconds later. “What are you doing?”

“You should help me wear mine first,” Taehyung said coyly as he dumped the sweater behind the couch. His eyes drifted from Jungkook’s confused frown and landed on the mouthwatering muscles that he so much had missed. 

Jungkook, of course, registered where his gaze lingered. He wasn’t just staring at his body — he feasted on his bare skin, ravenous orbs sucking in every bit of him. While one should feel uncomfortable under such a fiery scrutiny, Jungkook unexpectedly felt hot. 

That brutal fire seared beneath his skin and muddled his thoughts, leaving him mute and motionless, with an inkling of vulnerability under his galvanic stare — the same unnerving vulnerability he had experienced during their night together. To be on the receiving end of such an impassioned look was breathtaking and dreadful at the same time. An avalanche of emotions bubbled up inside him just by Taehyung’s eyes on his body. 

He couldn’t imagine what would happen if Taehyung touched him. 

He imposed on his lucidity to return to him. His hasty hands took hold of the sweater he previously wore and put it over Taehyung’s head. “If you wanted to see me half naked, you could have just said so.” The teasing quip was the only thing he could come out with because what else could he say? If he didn’t joke about the situation, he would faint by the fleet hammering of his heart. 

“Would you let me if I asked?”

Jungkook snorted, slipping Taehyung’s arm through the sleeve, and then the other. “To stare at me like you haven’t seen a man before?”

“Yes,” he chirped. 

“No.”

Taehyung made a vexed moue in jest, clicking his tongue. “Then why would I say it?”

Jungkook finished his task without replying to his quiet remark. He walked around the couch to fetch the sweater and swiftly drew it on. “I have to change your pants too.”

“I’m waiting.”

Jungkook returned to a kneeling position and aimed his attention at the said pants, but he averted his eyes straightaway at the prominent bulge he faced. He glanced all around the floor, his nervousness flaring anew. 

Taehyung frowned at his sudden fidgety behavior, but it soon dawned on him. He tittered. “Sorry. I’m a little hard, for some reason. I can’t help it.”

Jungkook cleared his throat and gulped his unease away. Taehyung’s hard-on wasn’t helping the situation at all. Wordlessly, he worked on the button of his pants, his fingers unintentionally grazing against the swelling. His movements ceased for a second at the shiver of Taehyung’s body, then they sped up, yanking the clothing down. 

“My boxers are stained too,” Taehyung said huskily, feeling the aftermath of his touch vibrate across his insides. 

“You mean... I should change them? Can’t you do it yourself?”

“Well, I can’t bend.”

It was true. But it didn’t scale down the fire in Jungkook’s gut at the thought of accidentally glancing at his erection. “Fine, I-I’ll go get clean boxers.”

Taehyung waited eagerly. God, he wasn’t a little hard, as he said. He was achingly hard. And it started from the simple, unintentional caresses of Jungkook’s fingertips on his body as he peeled off his sweater earlier. 

Jungkook bobbed in his vision soon enough. He crouched beside him, setting the clean boxers on the couch. He hooked his fingers at the sides of his underwear and quickly shed it. Then, he drew the clean boxers up his legs, his head turned away so he wouldn’t accidentally see something. He sensed Taehyung elevate his hips a tad to help him, and he slid the clothing over his bottom. “There,” he muttered and hastened to grab the sweatpants. 

“Jungkook. Can you fix it a little?”

Jungkook’s eyes absently flitted to his crotch to inspect what was the problem. He shut them instantly as the image of Taehyung’s bloated head protruding sent tingling heat all through his veins again. How wrong was it that he wanted to devour him right there and then while Taehyung was lying injured on his couch? “You can—You can do it yourself.”

“I feel too weak to move.”

God, he was impossible! He did it on purpose, Jungkook was sure. He acted as if he wanted to test his self-control, which was so fragile lately when it came to him. 

“That’s not my problem,” he forced the words out, clinging to the haggard remains of his constraint.

Taehyung shrugged off his failed attempt to have it his way and fixed his boxers himself. 

Jungkook put the sweatpants on him rather quickly and straightened his posture. “Before putting the new IV bag, do you want me to move you to my bed?”

“That would be a very tempting offer if the IV bag wasn’t needed.”

Jungkook couldn’t help the chuckle that erupted from him. “Stop with the sexual innuendos.”

He grinned mischievously. “Fine. I think I’ll move around more if I have more space. So I’m fine here. Your couch is comfortable. If you could only bring me another pillow, it’d be great. This one is a bit small and too soft.”

“Of course.” Jungkook headed to his room right away. He grabbed a spare pillow, a fresh pillowcase, and a thick blanket, then returned to him. 

Taehyung observed with a soft gaze as the other changed the pillowcase and glided the pillow beneath his head. “Thank you.”

“Is it better?”

“Yes. It’s perfect.”

Jungkook smiled and prepared the new IV bag. He secured the tubing and adjusted the flow rate of the liquid as he was instructed. He stood still once he finished everything he had to do, his head angled downwards, his lower lip tucked between his teeth. 

Taehyung identified his vacillation and monitored it with a sense of restless anticipation. The first reason behind it that occurred to him was Jungkook’s deliberation of where to sit now. And when he noticed him stepping away, his mouth unfolded rashly, regardless of whether he was right or wrong. “Can you sit here? 

Jungkook froze for a second. He turned around and perched on the floor as before. “I wanted to sit here, anyway.” A tiny smile accompanied his words. “I just thought you’d find it weird.”

“It’s not weird.” Taehyung’s fingers ventured closer to his forearm, that was resting on the couch, and climbed over it, holding it loosely. “So stay. Although, I’m sorry for forcing you to sit on the floor. I bet it’s not comfortable.”

Jungkook shook his head at once. “Don’t worry about that. Lying down with a stab wound is worse, so don’t even mention it.”

“As long as I have painkillers, it’s not that much big of a deal. I’ve already been through this before.”

Jungkook recalled the scar he had seen on his stomach. “Right. You already have a stab wound a little higher than your new wound.”

“You remember.”

Jungkook held eye contact. His tongue itched with an impulse to say, ‘I remember everything about you,’ but he strangled it. His gaze slithered down to Taehyung’s slack grip on his forearm, and his left hand cupped it with little thought. “I told you I care about you and you went and got stabbed.”

Taehyung’s lips formed a smile with the same warmth that broke out into his system. Was it because of his words or actions? It was because of both, he concluded. “I wanted to see if it’s true.”

The corner of Jungkook’s mouth twitched into a crooked smile, snorting gently. But sorrowful solemnity soon overrode his traits. “Who did this to you, Tae?”

“It doesn’t matter.” His voice was barely audible. “The one who did this... might be dead by now.”

Jungkook’s head lifted slowly. The look in his eyes was shadowed by gloom as they centered on him, with something empathetic around the edges. “If it were self defense, you won’t go to jail. Don’t worry.”

“I don’t care about going to jail.” Taehyung’s hold absently tightened a notch with the sobering rush of memories that swept over him. “My father had told me not to become like him. Not to kill people. And I let him down.”

Jungkook firmed up his grasp too in an indication of comfort. “Whatever happened, I know you didn’t do it on purpose. He knows it too. Don’t blame yourself.”

“Thank you for believing in me.”

“Stop thanking me for everything,” he said with a scintilla of mirth, lightening the previously grave atmosphere. “I should thank you for always understanding me. I wanted to say it earlier when you were talking about our losses.”

“I’m the drugged patient here, but it seems like you’re on drugs,” Taehyung teased. “Did you forget all our fights?” 

“No. But you... I don’t know. You just get me.”

Taehyung twisted his head, training his eyes on the ceiling. “I don’t always get you. There are many things that I don’t understand about you. I just don’t ask about them.”

A few minutes of silence crept by at Jungkook’s lack of response. They simply stayed as they were, motionless, with their gaze away from each other. “Are you cold? Do you need the blanket?”

“No. Your house is like an oven. Why is it so hot in here?”

Jungkook huffed a laugh. “Because I have the heat on for a while now. Let me go turn it down a bit.”

Taehyung retracted his hand as the other pushed himself to his feet. He followed him with his eyes as Jungkook wandered away until he disappeared from his vision. 

Soon, Jungkook was back, and he took his seat on the floor again. “By the way, where’s your coat? You were wearing it when you left your house.”

Lines of confusion framed Taehyung’s eyes. “How do you know that?”

“I searched for you. And I asked my hyung to check the CCTV in your neighborhood.” 

“You searched... for me?” Taehyung asked in a whisper. 

“Of course,” he said, as if it were given. “You disappeared. I was worried.”

His fingers twitched with a need to settle over his forearm again. He didn’t give in, though. “If I disappear again,” Taehyung trailed off, his soft gaze filling with a fraction of sadness, “don’t look for me. You’ll get in danger. I don’t want you to be in danger because of me.”

A semblance of a smile surfaced on Jungkook’s face. “I deal with danger every day, Tae. You shouldn’t worry about me.”

A moment of quietness passed as they gazed at each other. “You keep calling me Tae. I like it.”

Jungkook glanced away. “It just comes out.”

“Can I call you Kook too?”

His shoulder pulled up into a faint shrug. “Okay.”

“What about Kookie?”

Jungkook intentionally cleared his throat — something he seemed to do pretty often when he was around him. That certain nickname was attached to a whirl of memories of their night together when it came from Taehyung. And he truly wondered if he would be able to subdue them if he heard it from him often. With another clearing of his throat, he looked at him with pretended nonchalance. “I prefer Kook.”

“Do you?” Taehyung questioned doubtfully. “Because I can swear that you liked Kookie just as much. Not to say more.”

“I let you call me that because you wanted it. I never said I liked it. I don’t like it.”

Jungkook’s brief lack of eye contact betrayed his lie, and Taehyung was seasoned enough to pick up on it. “I know you’re lying. But fine. I’ll call you Kook.”

He suppressed a sigh of relief, although apparently Taehyung had already perceived that he lied. His phone ringing interrupted the awkward moment, and he took it in his hands. 

“Is it someone you know?” Taehyung’s voice sounded with subtle tension. 

“No.”

“Then, can I answer? It’s probably my friend.” The phone was placed in his open palm, and Taehyung recognized the number at a glance. He picked up. “What happened?”

“I hacked into his security system. He’s alive.”

A stuttering breath slipped past his lips. “Thank God I didn’t kill him. But I hope someone else does.”

“Tae... We found blood outside of his house. Was it yours? Are you hurt?”

“Don’t worry. He just stabbed me.”

“He just stabbed you?” Jimin vociferated in his signature screeching voice. “Are you serious?”

“You shouldn’t yell at a patient,” Jungkook stated while tipping closer to the phone, though Taehyung shushed him in an instant. 

“You’re not alone?”

“No,” Taehyung gritted out. “I told you not to worry about me. I’m fine.”

“And I told you, how can I not worry?” Jimin asked in a saddened whisper. “You’re not dying, right?” 

“No, Chim.”

“Okay. That’s good. We took care of everything. But we couldn’t clean the blood in Jungkook’s yard because of the cameras.”

“I’ll do it tomorrow.”

“You will do nothing. You’re injured. Ask him to do it. It’s his yard, anyway.”

“Fine, we’ll see. Thank you, Chim.”

“It’s okay. Also, tell him to take good care of you—you better take care of him, Jeon Jungkook!” His voice rose to a scream in his attempt to be heard. 

Taehyung pulled the phone away from his ear for a stretch as he winced. “Stop scr—” 

“Will do, Chim-ssi,” Jungkook put in. 

A cackle boomed through the phone, and a quiet snort from Taehyung. “His name is Jimin. I just call him Chim.”

“Oh.” Jungkook scratched the back of his neck in mild awkwardness. 

“He’s cute, keep him,” Jimin said through his giggles, but the realization of who he was talking about didn’t take long to thunder down on him. It froze his smiling face and silenced his laugh at once. 

Taehyung, though, chuckled. “I know. He is. Anyway, I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Bye.”

“Bye, Tae.”

Taehyung individuated the slight change in Jimin’s previous cheerful voice, but didn’t comment on it. He ended the call and passed the phone back to Jungkook. “Sorry about my friend. He’s a bit overprotective.”

“If you’re going around and getting stabbed, I would be too.”

“It’s not like I did it on purpose,” Taehyung mumbled, pouting playfully. 

Jungkook’s eyes sparkled at the sight. “I know. How does your friend know me, though?”

“I tell Jimin everything. He’s my best friend.”

“Oh. So you told him...”

“That we had sex? Yeah.” 

“That you’re my informant.”

Taehyung’s brows flinched upwards, as he didn’t expect that. A titter spewed from his mouth. “Yes. Don’t worry. He’s trusted.”

“Okay then.”

Another round of silence started mutually, comfortable and peaceful. Jungkook’s eyes were bloodshot by his fatigue, but he didn’t let it overmaster him. He had to stay awake in case Taehyung needed something, even if that meant he would be like a zombie at work tomorrow. 

“Um...”

Jungkook’s full attention rushed to him at the sound of his unsure voice. “What do you need? Tell me.”

“I know this is awkward,” Taehyung started hesitantly, “but I really need to use the bathroom. I’ll need help to go there.”

“It’s not awkward. Of course you’ll need help and of course I’ll help you. I can just carry you there.”

Fondness crept into Taehyung’s gaze at his willingness. “Really?”

“Of course. It’ll be way faster, easier, and less painful.” 

“What about my IV?”

“I’ll remove it so you won’t have to drag it with you.”

“Okay.” 

Smiling at each other, Jungkook pulled out the tubing. “You have to stay as still as possible.” He received a nod from Taehyung and then leaned over him, hooking one arm under his thighs and the other under his waist. “Wrap only your left arm around my shoulders.” He lifted him gently, trying not to bend his body too much. Little groans floated around them as he took off at a careful gait. “We’re almost there,” he whispered in his attempt to soothe him. 

Taehyung only tightened his grasp with the minimum strength he had. But, as Jungkook said, before he knew it, his feet delicately touched the bathroom floor. 

“You’re okay?” Jungkook’s hands lingered on his waist, holding him securely. 

“My stomach feels heavy. And I’m a little dizzy.”

Worry sprawled on Jungkook’s features, drawing them down. “Call me as soon as you’re done. I’ll help you wash your hands and face, and then I’ll carry you back to the couch.”

Taehyung nodded wanly. “If you carry me to your bed instead of the couch,” he said under his breath, “would you sleep next to me?”

“Wherever I take you, I’ll stay next to you.”

His immediate, soft-spoken answer had Taehyung in awe. His round, puppy-like eyes lifted to his, but he didn’t have time to say anything as Jungkook beat him to it. 

“Don’t say anything. I know you’re surprised by my behavior. Even I’m surprised. But you need someone to take care of you tonight. And I promised it to your friend too. So finish as soon as possible so you can lie down again.”

It’s just for this night. Obviously. Why do you keep having expectations? Taehyung thought in sudden wistfulness, unable to understand himself. “Okay,” he said and twisted around. 

Jungkook’s brows creased at the indecipherable look he caught on his face before Taehyung turned his back to him. He didn’t inquire about it and instead walked out of the bathroom to give him privacy. 

After relieving himself, Taehyung called him as he was instructed. Jungkook was beside him in just a few seconds and fastened an arm around him, ushering him towards the sink. 

“Your house is huge. Why is the sink so far?” 

“It’s right across.”

“Yeah, like a mile away,” Taehyung murmured, clearly exaggerating. 

Jungkook, wordlessly, turned on the faucet, casting him probing glances. He squeezed some soap from the bottle into his open palms and watched him in depth. “I’m a bit confused,” he voiced out falteringly. “Before you were fine. You were a little shy when you asked if I’ll sleep next to you. Then, I think you were sad for some unknown reason. And now you’re grumpy. Am I responsible for your mood swings?”

Taehyung patted his face with his wet hands, feeling the cold, refreshing water diminish some of the dizziness. “It’s not your fault.”

Once he was sure Taehyung had finished, he turned off the faucet and grabbed a clean towel. He mopped his face softly, then passed it to him to dry his hands. 

“Thank you. I’m just a bit sensitive when I’m injured. It frustrates me that I need help with everything. I never relied on anyone except Jimin and my other best friend.”

Jungkook hung the towel once Taehyung was done. “What about your hyung? I know you said you weren’t that close anymore. But you don’t rely on him at all?” He crouched, wrapping his arm around his waist and the other around his thighs. 

Taehyung slipped his arm over his shoulders and winced as he picked him up. “I feel like I don’t know him anymore,” he said through near-silent gasps of pained pressure by his injury. 

“He’s still your hyung. I mean, even I made up with my father. I never thought we could start over and slowly get to know each other again.” Jungkook fastened his gait a tad, wanting to complete the transport as soon as possible. He pushed the door open with his foot and trod into his room. He laid Taehyung on the bed with utmost care and adjusted the pillow for him. 

Taehyung breathed through the pain, his stiffened body mellowing the moment he was placed on the bed. “It’s good to hear that.”

Jungkook offered him a smile. “I’ll go bring your IV and everything else. Be right back.”

Taehyung matched his smile before the other bundled off. He found the large mattress quite comfy and the cotton bedsheets underneath his touch silky soft. He rotated his head to the right where the French doors were and found the curtain partly pulled to the side. His eyes focused on the snowy scenery. That familiar wistfulness bloomed inside him within seconds, but Jungkook’s entrance didn’t give it room to grow. 

Jungkook threw everything that was in his hug onto the bed. First, he put the tubing back in its place. He set the painkillers on the nightstand beside Taehyung, along with two small water bottles. “Do you want this pillow?” He demonstrated the one he was using in the living room. “It has a clean pillowcase.”

“No, I prefer this one. It smells like you.”

“How do I smell like?” Jungkook asked, his face warping in an amused sort of frown. 

“Like the fresh air of a summer night. Floral and fruity.”

His chirpy voice pulled a chuckle out of Jungkook as he crawled into the bed next to him. “Do you smell fruits and flowers in the air in the summer?”

“No. But that’s what summer is all about. Fruits and flowers. You are like summer in other ways too.”

Jungkook rolled to his side, facing him, and propped his elbow on the mattress. “Should I dare ask about it?”

A devilish glint flared in Taehyung’s eyes as the tip of his mouth lifted into a smirk. “You’re hot like summer. And you make me hot. And... wet.”

Jungkook dipped his face into his pillow, a surprisingly timid chuckle rumbling in his chest. “You’re impossible.”

“I know,” he agreed easily, chuckling too. “But at least I make you laugh.” He spectated as Jungkook plopped onto his back, but then his eyes unwittingly traveled to the French doors again. He mused over it, knowing how weird it would sound to him, though he settled on sharing it either way. “Can you close the curtain? I don’t like watching the snow.”

His unforeseen request puzzled him. “Sure, but why?” Jungkook hopped off the bed and swiftly drew the curtain to the side, then returned next to him. 

“I just... Snowy days sadden me. I feel like I miss something I don’t know of. Like I miss someone I haven’t met.” He gazed at him with a shade of shimmering fondness, which stemmed from the unspoken words that circled around in his head. Maybe I’ve met him now. 

His chocolate eyes appeared at that very moment as candid as Jungkook had seen them during their night together. They held him captive, as if they were trying to whisper something to him, but they didn’t reveal their secret, no matter how hard he tried to unearth it. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Taehyung splayed his arm over the mattress, and his fingertips could scarcely reach him. That was how far Jungkook was from him, and he found it rather displeasing. “Can you come closer?”

Jungkook complied and scooted over a bit. He held Taehyung’s waiting hand, interlocking their fingers. 

“Closer.”

A moderate twist formed between Jungkook’s brows, though he slithered nearer again. 

“Still not close enough.”

“Close enough for what?” He sensed Taehyung tug at his hand, and he willingly followed his lead, curious to know what he had in his mind. His chest collided delicately with Taehyung’s side, his arm was found over his chest, and his palm cupped the back of Taehyung’s hand with his fingers hooked between his. 

Jungkook took note of the suave hum that vibrated in his chest and the blithe smile on his lips. “This is awkward. You know I don’t like cuddling people.” There wasn’t a reason behind his statement; he quickly realized he didn’t know himself why he said that. Being cuddled up next to Taehyung was nothing but cozy and soothing. A stream of worry that he had upset Taehyung with his words ran through him, but it evaporated once his velvety voice rang in his ears. 

“I’m injured. You need to comfort me. I only get comforted by hugs.” That was a lie. He always wanted his peace and quiet when he was injured. But Jungkook didn’t have to know that. 

“Okay. It’s not that awkward, by the way. I don’t know why I said that.”

“I know why. It’s because you’re not used to this.”

Jungkook pondered over his remark, finding a solid amount of reasoning. “Yeah, probably.”

A mellow hush enshrouded them. They simply savored the closeness and tender contact, focusing only on each other’s warmth. Taehyung was still and silent for so long Jungkook thought he had fallen asleep. His relaxation — much deeper than before — tugged at his weary eyes, and he surrendered under its placatory effect, allowing his eyelids to fall shut. 

A light ruffling of movement from Taehyung stirred his eyes to split open at once, and they caught him twisting his head in his direction. 

It was breathtaking for Jungkook to peer right into his rich chocolate orbs from that proximity, but it was just as mind-bending for Taehyung as well. 

Taehyung in particular seemed to have lost his ability to speak, since the words he strove to find the courage to say became mangled in his head. An abrupt speedup of his heartbeat agitated him at the thought of Jungkook registering it. 

His pother, unfortunately, came true, as Jungkook released his hand and instead laid his palm on his chest, right over his heart.

Disquiet ripped across Jungkook’s countenance in a split second as he jolted to a sitting position. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? What do you feel?”

God, the situation was absurd, Taehyung thought. Why would his heart pound just by looking at him? It made no sense to him. 

“I’m fine,” Taehyung muttered, dragging his hand away. “I just... I wanted to say something and got a little nervous.”

“Oh.” Jungkook felt a notion of embarrassment at his exaggerating behavior. He held his hand like before and lay down again. “You can tell me anything comfortably. No need to get nervous.”

“Okay.” Taehyung didn’t make the same mistake twice; he riveted his eyes on the ceiling and didn’t dare glance his way. At least not until he would compose himself enough. “Can you... Actually, would you catch the one who did this to me if I asked you to?”

“What? Of course I would. Of course I will.” There was an intense determination cloaking Jungkook’s voice that made it sharper than he wanted. 

“I wanted to tell you about him tonight. But he... kidnapped me when I was coming to you.” 

An unmerciful scowl painted over his traits by the spurt of outrage that broke out into him. “Who is he?”

“He’s Ha Soo Gun. The guy from the bar.”

“That fucker, huh?”

Taehyung espied the low growl in his voice and cast him a glance. “Listen, you can’t arrest him for what he did to me.”

“Of course I can!” Jungkook argued peevishly. 

“No, I mean, you shouldn’t do that, Jungkook. He’ll know I’m the one who told you about him. He’ll know we have some kind of relation. If word gets out that I’m a snitch for the police, they’ll end me in minutes.”

Jungkook expelled a frustrated sigh. “You’re right. So how can I catch that motherfucker then?” 

“He has a crime organization. Drugs, firearms, assassinations. That’s what he’s dealing with the most. But... there’s a problem.”

“What?”

“I don’t know where his hideout is. So I have no proof for you.”

“Then how do you know about his crime organization? How did you meet him?”

“How I met him isn’t important. I know he has deals going on because I’ve heard him on the phone. I just didn’t have time to make him trust me enough to include me in his business. And obviously, I can’t get involved with him again.”

Jungkook’s grip on his hand firmed up. “Of course you won’t. I’ll find evidence and lock him up for good. Don’t worry.”

The palliative hue of his voice brought a tiny smile on Taehyung’s face and a warmth in his chest like no other. “I like how protective you are. And how willing to help me. I really don’t get”—his voice strayed to a whisper—“how you changed in one night. You went from, ‘I can't stand seeing you,’ to, ‘I care about you.’”

Jungkook’s eyes flitted all around his profile in a dance of instability. “It didn’t happen overnight. I was... forcing myself not to care. I was telling myself that I didn’t care. I told you. After I saw you that night at the bar, I couldn’t pretend anymore. I didn’t want to. Either I like it or not, I care about what’s happening to you. And after tonight, I’ll care about you even more.”

His last unforeseen statement reeled in Taehyung’s gaze effortlessly. It locked on him, and although the proximity still messed with him in a torrent of unexplained ways, he couldn’t tear his doe eyes away from him. He espied Jungkook glancing away a couple of times as though in nervousness. He smiled. “I’ll care about you more too. I won’t forget what you did for me. I’ll always be thankful.”

“Don’t worry about it. Anyone who cares about you would have done the same.”

Taehyung didn’t reply, but kept the smile on his face. He studied the weariness in his reddened eyes and sensed a shred of guilt grow inside him. “You have work tomorrow, so you should get some sleep. Your eyes are really red.”

“I can’t just sleep. What if you need something?”

“Then I’ll wake you.”

“I’ll just... wait until you fall asleep.”

Taehyung chuckled. “You don’t have to. It’ll take a while because I’m not comfortable enough to sleep in this position. I usually sleep on my side while hugging something. Now I can’t do either.”

“Oh. Yeah, you shouldn’t turn on your side. At least try to sleep. You need rest.”

“I’ll try. You sleep too.”

“Okay. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Kook.” Taehyung waited for the moment Jungkook would let go of his hand or withdraw, but it didn’t come. Jungkook stayed in the same position and closed his eyes. “You won’t... move away?”

Jungkook tensed at the question. “Do you want me to?” 

“No,” he answered rashly. “I’m just surprised that you won’t do it on your own.”

“It’s only because you’re injured. If you’re even a tiny bit more comfortable with me hugging you, I won’t move away.”

Taehyung fought back a timid smile. “I am a lot more comfortable, actually. So don’t move.”

Jungkook snorted silently. “I won’t. Now rest.”

“You too.”

Neither of them spoke another word. The quietness of the ambiance lulled Taehyung into complete mellowness faster than he thought. Maybe having Jungkook cuddled up next to him was the underlying reason for it. Whatever it was, he drifted off to sleep with the same coziness and content he had experienced in their night together. 

Jungkook was fast asleep in merely a few minutes. He truly strove to wait until Taehyung would sleep first, but his consciousness surrendered against his will. 

. . .

A constant quivering nudged at Jungkook’s bubble of slumber, and it fractured by the pained whimpers that curled around his ears. His mind was too groggy to comprehend what was happening, but with a harsher twitch against his body, that bubble burst at once. 

He sat bolt upright, still holding Taehyung’s hand, and his eyes immediately examined Taehyung’s condition. The muscles in his face were contracted, groans and whimpers spewed from his throat, his body shook uncontrollably, and beads of sweat covered his face and neck. 

“Tae? What—What’s wrong?”

“Hurts,” Taehyung slurred, barely able to form the word on his tongue. 

With his heart prancing in consternation, Jungkook hastened to get out of bed and grabbed the painkillers. He took a morphine tablet in his hand and carefully lifted him a bit. “Open your mouth.” 

Although Taehyung needed a few seconds to process the order, he parted his lips enough for Jungkook to place the tablet on his tongue. He took the bottle of water from Jungkook’s hand and gulped two sips. 

Jungkook left the bottle on the nightstand and laid him down again. “You’ll be okay, Tae,” he uttered as he held his hand, squeezing it. He touched Taehyung’s damp forehead with the back of his hand to check if he had a fever, but thankfully he didn’t. “Try to relax. The medication will kick in soon. You’re okay.”

Taehyung’s trembling abated a notch at his pacifying tone and words, though the shooting pain didn’t. “Too hot. Feel like I’m—I’m burning.”

“You don’t have a fever, thankfully. You’re sweating because of the pain. You have to change your sweater, anyway, so do you want me to take it off now?”

“Yes, p-please.”

Jungkook swiftly removed the tubing and dragged the clothing until he slipped it off his head and arms. He secured the tubing again and leaned over him, brushing his hair back. “I’ll go bring a towel and cold water.” He noticed his tiny nod and hurried to the kitchen. He filled a bowl with ice-cold water and got a towel before returning to him. 

He perched on the bed close to Taehyung, leaving the bowl beside him. His shivering persisted, he observed, though it didn’t worsen. Jungkook’s heart felt impossibly heavy upon seeing him suffer like this — so much that moisture gathered at the corners of his eyes. 

He steeped the towel in the water and squished it. He blinked the wetness from his vision and patted Taehyung’s forehead with the towel, hoping its coldness would soothe him even a bit. His hand crawled to his chin in a smooth slide, and he repeated the action on the left side of his face. 

He dipped the towel in the water, drained off the superfluous liquid, and carried on his ministration in the tenderest of ways at Taehyung’s neck and collarbones. 

“You’re finally l-looking at m-my body,” Taehyung’s strained voice released in an attempt to tease and distract himself from the pain, although Jungkook’s caring treatment helped much more than he thought. 

He gave him a forced smile, mostly because he knew it was Taehyung’s way of taking his mind off the pain. The stinging heaviness engulfing his heart didn’t allow him to reciprocate the joshing with vibrancy as Taehyung tried despite his pained state. “I have to look at it to see what I’m doing.” He dragged the towel over his chest, collecting the drops of sweat. 

“And it doesn’t make y-you feel hot even a tiny bit?”

Jungkook didn’t reply this time. He was relieved to see that his quivering stopped throughout and his muscles relaxed. His voice didn’t come out as broken as before. The pain must have started to subside, he concluded. 

“Don’t look so serious,” Taehyung said, his eyes cruising over his sharp features. “I’m b-better now. And still waiting for an answer.”

Jungkook’s movements slowed to stillness. “You want an honest answer?”

Taehyung knew by his low, slightly strict tone that he wouldn’t like his answer, but nodded either way. “Yes.”

“No. It doesn’t make me feel hot at all. How can I even think about something sexual when you’re in so much pain? The only thing I can think of is finding that guy and beating him to a pulp. I know you’re saying these things to distract yourself. But I can’t play along. I’m too infuriated to do that. Why do you have to suffer like this?” His voice lost its strength and ferocity towards the end and his head hung in dejection. Why did it hurt so much to see him like this? He truly was clueless. 

Taehyung felt his frustration to the bone — he experienced it, too. “I told you I’m fine now. The painkillers kicked in, so I’m fine. I’m sorry for worrying you. But if I can joke in this situation, you can too. At least do it for me. Forget about your anger. And focus on me. And dress me now because it’s starting to get a little cold. Or you can just take off your sweater too and hug me.”

Jungkook couldn’t constrain the smile that tugged at his lips. He was right. He should forget about his rage, the heaviness in his heart, everything. He should do anything in his power to comfort Taehyung and distract him. “You want to see me half naked again?”

“I want to see you fully naked, but half is enough for now. It’d be too tempting to have you fully naked next to me. My hands... would wander on their own.”

Something cunning and fiery swirled in Jungkook’s eyes as he maintained them anchored on him. A subtle smirk touched his lips as he tilted over him, positioning his mouth a breath away from his ear. “Forget it,” he whispered impishly and drew back, his smirk folding out into a taunting grin. 

Taehyung pursed his lips into a pronounced, playful pout. “You’re such a tease.”

Jungkook shrugged a carefree shoulder. “You’re worse.”

They gazed at each other as subdued chuckles from both undulated across the room. When all that was left on their faces were fond smiles, designed only for one another, Jungkook found it impossible to look away. His eyes radiated such soul-soothing warmth, like a lover’s promise of eternal care and affection. 

He realized then. He needed that warmth. His heart was panting for that warmth. Either physical or internal — no matter the reason — he wanted it all. 

With the daunting realization, Jungkook grabbed the bowl and scooted over until his feet touched the floor. He placed it on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed, his palms pressing against the mattress, his back turned to Taehyung. 

Taehyung observed him in depth, a slight frown embellishing his face. He gave him time to share the sudden change of his mood and behavior, but Jungkook stayed silent for too long. Taehyung’s lips parted, ready to question him. His brows then darted heavenwards as he watched in intense shock Jungkook fling his sweater off. 

Jungkook slid into the bed again, dismissing the other’s appalled expression, and reached for the blanket. He draped it over their bodies and snuggled up to Taehyung, holding his hand like before and resting their intertwined fingers in the center of his chest. 

“What—” 

“Shh. It’s just a onetime thing. Just for tonight. Don’t read too much into it.”

Taehyung didn’t expect it to become a regular thing, anyway, but he was dying to know the cause of his change. Only a few minutes ago, he told him to forget it, which Taehyung thought it meant it absolutely wouldn’t happen. And now his naked upper body was gently squeezed against his side. Jungkook didn’t seem willing to provide him with an explanation, though, since he didn’t even let him finish his inquiry. 

“I’m sorry I’m kinda sticky,” Taehyung uttered instead. “I’ve sweated so many times.”

“I don’t mind at all. But you should get used to the stickiness because you can’t shower for forty-eight hours.”

“I know,” Taehyung sighed. “I already can’t stand it.”

“You can wash with your hands. It won’t be the same, but it’s something.”

“Or you can wash me with your hands.” A sly tune colored his voice, the same element that crept into his eyes as he laid them on him. 

Jungkook recognized his loaded stare. Unlike before, he delighted in it and reciprocated it. “If I do that, I won’t just wash you.”

The gleam of amusement in Taehyung’s gaze sparked fiercer. “What else will you do?”

“I’ll leave that to your imagination. Because only there that scenario will take place.”

“Yah,” Taehyung chuckled, closing his eyes momentarily. “Stop playing with me like that. I get my hopes up.”

Jungkook’s smile lost its vibrancy, though it didn’t disappear. He wanly shook his head. “Don’t. It’s fun teasing each other, but there’s nothing more into it.”

The light faded from Taehyung’s eyes, threatening to gloom them. “Nothing?” He detected Jungkook’s gaze swing down and his efforts to keep it away. “Don’t do that. Look at me. And answer me. There’s really nothing at all?”

Jungkook’s breath came a notch faster at the unreasonable pounding of his heart, but he didn’t let it show. His eyes climbed up again, looking at him like Taehyung asked. “I don’t want it to be something more.”

“Why?”

“Sleeping with you won’t be just another one-night stand. I don’t know what it’ll be. And I’m not sure if I want to find out.”

“It’ll be fun. That’s what it’ll be.”

“Taehyung.” His name fell from his lips with a silent sigh. 

“Fine~” Taehyung grumbled. “I’m just saying my offer still stands. Okay?” 

A snort thrust out of Jungkook. “Okay.”

Taehyung smiled then, satisfied. The skin-to-skin contact was everything he could ask for at that moment to alleviate any trace of his discomfort or pain. He relished it in silence while peering into Jungkook’s beautiful traits. Their eyes met a couple of times when Jungkook peeked at him. It seemed like he couldn’t maintain eye contact. It was cute, Taehyung thought. 

“Thank you for doing this for me.” Taehyung’s low voice broke the quietness gently. “And for taking care of me. I’ll never be able to forget it.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not a big deal.” Jungkook copied his smile, squeezing his hand. “Try to sleep again.”

“Will you be here when I wake up?”

“I’ll be here.”

Taehyung’s smile grew bigger, his eyes sparkling with fondness. If he could bend, he would have kissed his squishy cheek a million times by now. His face was just so... kissable, he realized after staring at him from that proximity for so long. He made a mental note to do it tomorrow if he got the chance. 

Taehyung’s eyes closed first as they lost the battle with the exhaustion. His utter mellowed state by Jungkook’s warmth helped his mind empty quicker, and he was soon fast asleep. 

Despite the burning in his eyes, Jungkook gazed at him for a little more. He seemed so peaceful. He was so handsome it was unreal. His heart did that thing again. That ‘thing’ was the sole reason he couldn’t allow himself to sleep with him again. It was too dreadful to deal with. Too intense for him to handle. 

And how could he explain it to Taehyung if he didn’t understand it himself?

───⭒───༺🌑༻───⭒───

If you made it to the end of this 10k words chapter, I love youuuuu and thank you💜 I wanted to split it, but I couldn't decide where since there wasn't a scene change. I hope it wasn't boring.