Taehyung looked particularly dashing tonight in his purple satin frill shirt, his fitted pinstripe waistcoat and his matching emporium trousers. Jungkook couldn't take his eyes off his friend as he handed his tailcoat and trilby to the valet. But that didn't prevent him from noticing the Maitre d' showing much deference to the young man who was obviously a regular. "We have your table ready, sir. Right this way please."

"Thank you Arnaud. By the way, this is Jungkook."

The man bowed. "Welcome to Romao's Kitchen."

"Treat him well, Arnaud. He's London's finest sleuth."

Taehyung winked at the flustered Jungkook before heading toward a single booth.

"It's an honor to serve the cream of Scotland Yard's detectives," said the Maitre d' before proceeding with the lighting of the silver candlesticks sitting on the table.

Jungkook couldn't seem to get rid of the smirk that had formed on his lips the minute he had spotted Taehyung stepping out of the fancy steam-powered carriage which had dropped him off in front of the restaurant. The other casually placed one elbow on the table and let his head rest on his hand. "What is it Jungkook?"

The young detective shook his head. "Nothing."

He looked around, taking in his surroundings. The dimly lit dining room with its red-brick walls, its wrought-iron structure, its bare light bulbs and its leather sofas, was oddly cozy.

"Tell me," insisted Taehyung.

"This place. It's just — so — romantic."

"Well, isn't that the whole point of a date?"

"So this is a date—" It was his turn to place his chin on his folded hands.

"What did you think it was?" asked Taehyung, leaning forward.

"I—"

"May I take your order?" interrupted the waiter, to Jungkook's relief.

"The usual," said Taehyung.

"I'll have what he's having."

Mesmerized as he was by his date, Jungkook hadn't even looked at the menu. Besides, he trusted his friend's taste buds. As kids, they would fight over the same food and scrunch their nose at similar veggies. "How did you find this place?" he asked, still glancing around.

"I used a process you should be quite familiar with, called elimination."

The younger frowned, unsure what the other meant by that, prompting Taehyung to add, "I guess you don't know what it's like to be related to Lord Arenes. Half of the city's restaurants know me as the son of— To be honest, it was quite a hassle to find a place that was both decent and unaware of my — unfortunate pedigree."

"Unfortunate? How so?"

"Let's not talk about this."

"Taehyung, hold on. Before you change the subject, can I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

"It's been over a month since your father's passing."

"He wasn't my father," interrupted Taehyung coldly.

"No, he wasn't. I'm sorry. But you know what I mean."

"What's your point, Jungkook?"

"It's just that, well, you don't appear very affected by his death. He did provide you with a decent life, it would seem."

"Why do you insist on ruining this lovely evening we were having?"

Taehyung was obviously annoyed. Jungkook gently grabbed his hand, which the other tried to retrieve, to no avail. "Tae, I'm sorry. I just want to understand — I feel like I'm missing something here."

"You're saying I should express sadness. And gratitude. Because after all, he did provide more than a roof over my head. He bequeathed me this lavish lifestyle I'm living."

"I'm not saying you should do anything. You just seem full of — bitterness."

The other sighed, defeated. "And because of this investigative blood now ruining through your veins, you would like to know why, am I right?"

Those words stung. "I want to know, not because of what I do for a living, but because I'm your goddamn friend!"

"Do friends date? Is that what we are, Jungkook? Friends?"

"Tae, don't change the subject. Just answer the question."

"You want the truth?" he asked leaning further, eyes filled with something Jungkook could only identify as fierceness.

"Yes."

"I'll never forgive him — for taking me away from you."

The young detective gulped. "Tae—"

"I gather that's one answer you weren't expecting."

"I'm flattered I guess. But you have to know something."

"What?"

"You really shouldn't hold a grudge against him, because we still would have been apart. Someone came for me a week after you had left."

"A week?"

"Yes. It was Dr. Watson."

"Watson?!"

Taehyung's eyes went mad as he started breathing heavily. Jungkook felt a tinge of panic rise in him. "Tae! What's wrong?"

The other gripped his hair, shaking.

"Sir? Are you alright?" The food had arrived, along with a concerned waiter.

"He'll be fine, I think," said Jungkook, pulling a handkerchief out of his inside pocket to wipe the beads of perspiration dripping from his friend's temples.

Lucky for Jungkook, the waiter soon recognized the symptoms. "I'll get him something to calm his nerves."

"What's happening to him?"

"He's having a panic attack. It's not the first time."

Jungkook shifted toward his friend whose eyes had turned white. "Tae! TAE, look at me!"

But the other wasn't responding.

"Oh please Taehyung — don't — don't do this to yourself!"

Jungkook was now sobbing onto his shoulders. "I'm sorry — I'm so sorry — I'll never bring this up again."

The Maitre d' put a glass on the table. "Sir, this is for him."

"You want him to drink this?" Jungkook eyed the blue liquor suspiciously.

"No, just have him inhale it. It usually helps."

The young man did as told and soon after, Taehyung collapsed in his arms, all tension gone from his now limp limbs. Jungkook placed his head on his knees and began mindlessly stroking the other's brown locks.

The food had long turned cold when the passed-out boy stirred. Jungkook didn't have the energy to hide his distress. "Tae! You scared me witless, you know!"

"Can we now change the subject?"

The young detective couldn't help but chuckle, relieved. "Anything for you."

—

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