License to Cuddle

7

—"I need you to help me."

≣

Not much changed for Jungkook over the next four weeks.

Caffeine was still his drug of choice. New assignments still followed him home, keeping him company until he inevitably passed out on top of his computer. Stress was still a constant weight pressing down on his shoulders, growing heavier and heavier with each passing hour. And the card that Taehyung had given him—the one with the hastily scribbled phone number—still remained unused and untouched, hidden in a desk drawer since the day Jungkook had come home from his first cuddling session.

His only cuddling session.

Jungkook had tried to forget about his time at the Cuddle Sanctuary. He had attempted to push the memories of Taehyung's warm touches and soothing presence from his mind. And usually, that wasn't too difficult of a task. Jungkook was constantly thinking of deadlines and meetings and presentations, leaving little room, if any, for his thoughts to wander.

But still, every once in a while, he would find himself recalling those sixty minutes he had spent with Taehyung. Jungkook would remember the way Taehyung's fingertips had glided over his body, tracing his tattoos and carefully running through his hair. He would remember how his tension had melted away and how his worries had faded into nothingness. He would remember that sense of security, the feeling that for just one hour, he wasn't lost in a maze of his own making.

Then, quite unavoidably, Jungkook would remember the suffocating anxiety he had felt once realizing how much time he'd wasted on such a silly distraction—on cuddling. He would remember how his body had become so rigid, so tense, that no combination of gentle touches from Taehyung could get him to relax again. He'd remember how he had run out of the Cuddle Sanctuary like a coward, lying straight to Taehyung's face when promising he'd be back.

So Jungkook didn't schedule another session. He didn't even look at the card in his desk drawer. There was no point. Even if he had wanted to go back to Taehyung—something he only craved in rare moments of weakness—he wouldn't know how to go back. He had left things so awkwardly between them . . . fuck, he had left one month of time between them. And besides, nothing had changed. Jungkook still needed to put his job first. He had to stand by his decision to focus on what actually mattered in life.

And that's exactly what he was doing right now.

Well . . . Kind of.

Jungkook was currently at one of the poshest eateries in all of Seoul, this rooftop greenhouse-turned-restaurant that overlooked the city skyline. Jin had insisted that they dine out for lunch today—and by insisted, dragged Jungkook from the office by his tie—saying they both earned a well-deserved "break." But it wasn't a break. Not truly. Because the second Jungkook sat down with Jin, marveling at the restaurant's glass atrium and admiring the wild assortment of plants filling the space, a familiar ping rang out from his pocket. Then another one. And then another one.

It had been nonstop for the last twenty-five minutes.

Balancing chopsticks in one hand and replying to a message from his boss in the other, Jungkook groaned out, "Why is it that the moment I leave my desk, someone needs something or else the entire world will burn down?"

Jin made a scoffing sort of noise. "Hate to break it to you, Kook, but this is your fault."

That prompted Jungkook to look up from his phone, his eyebrows scrunching together. "What? How is this my fault?"

"Because you haven't set any boundaries," Jin responded, sounding like the observation was the most obvious thing in the world. He twirled a pair of chopsticks in his fingers as he added, "You've trained your team to expect a response no matter where you are or what time it is."