Destined by fate 💜

44. Insecurity.

Jungkook stepped out of the washroom, a soft warmth still lingering on his skin from the shower.

Dressed in a pristine white off-shoulder top, layered delicately with a matching coat, and paired with cream khaki pants, he looked effortlessly ethereal. His damp raven locks clung to his forehead, the gentle glow of the morning light casting a golden hue over his delicate features.

As he walked towards the dresser, the faint hum of the hairdryer filled the room. He ran his fingers through his soft strands while drying them, but his eyes never left the figure curled up on the bed. His cupcake. His world.

The baby was still deep in slumber, the steady rise and fall of his chest a soothing rhythm that made Jungkook’s heart swell with love.

Jungkook stood in front of the mirror, the low hum of the hairdryer filling the room. Droplets of water clung to his damp strands, slipping down the curve of his neck, disappearing beneath the loose fabric of his shirt. He ran a hand through his hair, fingers threading through the soft locks as warm air ghosted over his skin.

Yet, despite the mundane task, his mind was anything but calm.

His reflection blurred before his eyes as his thoughts dragged him back—back to the moment that left him breathless, trembling, undone.

The weight of Taehyung’s hands on his bare waist… firm, warm, possessive. The way his fingertips had pressed into the softness of his skin, sending tiny shivers that curled deep into his bones.

Jungkook’s throat bobbed

It was new—this kind of closeness, this slow, burning intensity that seemed to coil around his very being, suffocating yet exhilarating all at once.

It wasn’t just about physical proximity; it was the way Taehyung held him, like he was something precious, something meant to be treasured and claimed at the same time.

His mind drifted further, lips parting ever so slightly as the memories replayed like a haunting melody.

The way Taehyung had leaned in—so close that Jungkook could feel his breath ghosting over his lips, the warmth of it sending a shudder down his spine.

The space between them had been so small, painfully small.

If either of them had moved even an inch…

Jungkook sucked in a sharp breath.

His fingers trembled as he slowly brought them up, cupping his burning cheeks in a feeble attempt to contain the storm raging inside him.

His entire body felt aflame, the heat creeping down his neck, settling in his chest, in the pit of his stomach—where butterflies twisted and turned, restless and wild.

Oh, God

He swallowed hard, a desperate attempt to steady himself, but the thought—the thought—of what could have happened next unraveled him further.

Would Taehyung have closed the distance?

Would his lips have finally, finally brushed against Jungkook’s—gentle yet firm, claiming yet careful, igniting something neither of them would be able to put out?

Jungkook squeezed his eyes shut

He had never—never—felt like this before.

A heat so foreign, so overwhelming, yet so impossibly addictive.

Jungkook let out a shaky exhale, setting the hairdryer down with unsteady hands.

He wasn’t going to survive this marriage, was he?