My Professor Agent

chapter 13

Chapter 13: “In the Quiet Light of Morning”

A weight pressed down on Jungkook’s chest—gentle, but firm enough to stir him from slumber. His limbs ached slightly from the unfamiliar sleeping posture, and his eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the soft light filtering through the curtains.

The first thing he saw wasn’t the ceiling or his phone.

It was him.

Taehyung.

Sound asleep, his arms wrapped tightly around Jungkook's torso, as if afraid the world might snatch him away in the night. His face—serene, delicate, framed with tousled brown strands—rested just below Jungkook’s chin. The boy clung to him like a lifeline.

For a moment, Jungkook forgot to breathe.

This was the first time he'd seen Taehyung asleep in the morning. And in such an intimate state—snuggled against him, wearing the faintest pout on his lips—it carved something warm and fragile deep into Jungkook’s chest.

A soft smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He raised a hand carefully, pressing his palm to Taehyung’s forehead. Still feverish. Still burning.

He didn’t want to wake him.

Slowly, almost regretfully, Jungkook peeled himself out of Taehyung’s grip and stood up, careful not to disturb the peaceful expression on his face. He gently pulled the blanket higher, tucking Taehyung in like he was something sacred, something breakable.

Then he stepped into the bathroom and went about his morning routine. Each action felt slower, softer—like the whole world had quieted to let Taehyung rest.

After dressing himself in one of Taehyung’s oversized sweatshirts, Jungkook made his way to the kitchen. He kept things simple, cooking light and easy-to-digest food. His mind stayed with the boy in the bedroom the entire time, replaying the night’s events—the phone call, the tears, the desperation in Taehyung’s voice.

He arranged everything neatly on a tray and carried it back. Taehyung was now hugging a pillow, the same soft pout still clinging to his lips. Jungkook placed the tray on the bedside table and leaned over, gently brushing a strand of hair from Taehyung’s face.

“Tae… wake up,” he whispered, voice like a breeze. He nudged his shoulder lightly.

A groan.

Then the sound of Taehyung burying his face deeper into the pillow.

Jungkook chuckled, the sound low and warm in his throat. He tried again, this time a little louder, “Tae, come on. You need to eat. Take your medicine, bub.”

This time, hazy brown eyes blinked open, heavy with sleep and fever. He looked up at Jungkook with a dazed, confused expression that made Jungkook's heart ache in the gentlest way.

Carefully, he helped Taehyung sit up, wrapping an arm behind his back for support. Taehyung was so exhausted he could barely keep his eyes open between each bite, but Jungkook fed him slowly, patiently—never once rushing him.

When the last spoonful was gone, he handed over the medicine, then guided him back down onto the mattress, pulling the blanket over him once again.

Jungkook sat beside him for a while after finishing his own meal and washing up. He stared at Taehyung for what felt like an eternity—memorizing his sleeping face, the rhythm of his breathing, the soft rise and fall of his chest.

Then he leaned down and kissed his forehead gently.

“I’m here,” he whispered into the silence.

But the quiet stretched too long. Restlessness crept in.

Jungkook got up and began exploring the apartment. His expression shifted from tired to quietly impressed as he walked through the wide-open space. It was modern, expansive, and elegantly masculine, cloaked in warm browns and cool blacks—an extension of Taehyung’s quiet charisma.

Then something caught his attention.

A door. Tucked away in the far corner.

Unlike the others, this one was locked.

He stood before it for a moment, his hand hovering over the doorknob. There was something unsettlingly still about it. Jungkook pressed his palm to the wood, then backed away slowly.

Not yet.

Later, maybe.

He returned to the bedroom, and almost instinctively, Taehyung—still half asleep—wrapped his arms around him once again, pulling him close.

Two hours passed.

Sunlight pierced through the curtain edges and warmed his face. Jungkook stirred, a hand reaching out instinctively for the body beside him.

But the bed was empty.

Eyes snapping open, he sat up and glanced around. The only sound was the faint splash of water from the bathroom.

A moment later, Taehyung stepped out—skin dewy, hair wet and clinging to his forehead, wearing clothes far too big for his slim frame.

Jungkook blinked slowly.

Beautiful.

“...So how did you end up here?” Taehyung asked, his voice hoarse but curious.

“You don’t remember?” Jungkook asked softly, sitting up straighter.

Taehyung shook his head. His brows creased as he tried to recall, but his memory was a haze.

Jungkook told him everything—the call, the cries, the panic in his voice. How he'd rushed over. How he found Taehyung trembling.

Taehyung listened in silence, the shadows in his eyes deepening.

“So… you were crying that night,” Jungkook murmured, careful not to sound too probing. “Was it something that happened?”

“Just a nightmare,” Taehyung muttered, voice tight. “Nothing more.”

Jungkook nodded, but the silence between them was thick. Heavy with unspoken things.

Then—

Ding-dong.

The sound of the doorbell shattered the stillness.

Taehyung walked toward it, and Jungkook followed.

When the door opened, familiar voices burst into the room.

“Jungkook?! What the hell are you doing here?” Jackson gawked, eyes wide.

“I was just—”

“Hyung! Are you okay? We’ve been calling nonstop! You didn’t answer!” Seojun looked genuinely panicked.

“No, it’s—”

“Oh, please don’t tell me you two were doing something nasty,” Eunwoo grinned, raising a brow.

“What? No! We—”

“Are you guys dating?” Jackson grinned with all the enthusiasm of a gossip-starved teenager.

“N—”

“Oh my GOD, congrats—!”

“Shut the fuck up,”

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