Jungkook, the powerful mafia king, rules the underworld with an iron fist. His reputation is fierce, and his gaze is piercing. No one dares to cross him.
Taehyung, a bright and charming university student, lives a carefree life, focused on his studi...
As Jungkook disappeared into the night, Taehyung finally exhaled the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. His lungs ached from the tension, his shoulders slumping slightly in relief. The encounter had left him shaken, but for reasons he couldn't quite explain.
"Well, that was... intense," Taehyung muttered under his breath, running a hand through his soft curls. "I feel like I just survived a hurricane."
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
He chuckled to himself, trying to shake off the lingering unease. "I mean, who wears a mask to a coffee shop? Unless... unless he's a coffee-stealing superhero."
A giggle escaped his lips at the absurd thought. The idea of Jungkook in a cape, dramatically swooping in to "save" espressos from exhaustion, was ridiculous enough to make him forget—if only for a second—the unsettling feeling in his gut.
But as the night wore on, Taehyung found himself glancing at the door every now and then, half-expecting the masked stranger to return. Something about the way Jungkook had looked at him—like he could see straight through him—lingered in his mind.
Why had his heart raced like that?
Why did Jungkook’s presence feel both dangerous and exhilarating at the same time?
Taehyung shook his head, forcing himself to focus on work. "Maybe I've been watching too many action movies," he muttered, rolling his eyes at himself. "I mean, who gets that worked up over a cup of coffee?"
But deep down, he knew. It wasn’t just about the coffee. It was about him.
The masked stranger.
The intensity in those dark eyes.
The way his voice had sent an unexpected chill down Taehyung’s spine.
The way his fingers had brushed against Taehyung’s, sparking something unfamiliar—something Taehyung wasn’t sure he was ready to name.
As the night drew to a close, Taehyung locked up the café and made his way home, the city lights blurring into golden smudges against the night sky. He should have been thinking about school, his shifts, his sisters nagging him about eating properly. But all he could think about was him.
And the way, for a brief moment, he had felt like his life was about to change.
A Confused Jungkook
Jungkook sat in the dimly lit confines of his penthouse, staring at the skyline, but his mind was anywhere but the present. His fingers curled into fists against his thighs. His heart was still beating faster than usual—a sensation he hadn’t felt in over a decade.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
He hated it.
He hated not understanding his own body, his own reactions.
A muscle in his jaw twitched as he reached for his phone, dialing a familiar number. The call barely rang once before Namjoon’s deep voice filled the line.
"JK? It’s late."
Jungkook leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling. "Namjoon, I think I have a disease."
There was a pause. "Excuse me?"
"A heart disease," Jungkook said flatly.
Namjoon, ever the logical one, sighed. "Jungkook, what the hell are you talking about? You’re the healthiest person I know—"
"I went to a café today," Jungkook interrupted, his voice eerily calm, "and saw a boy. A beautiful boy. And then—" he clenched his jaw, willing himself to stay composed, "—my heart started racing."
Another pause.
And then—
A loud snort.
Jungkook’s grip tightened on the phone. "Did you just laugh at me?"
Namjoon cleared his throat, trying to contain his amusement. "No, no, of course not," he said, failing miserably. "I just think… maybe, just maybe… you don’t have a disease, Jungkook."
Jungkook’s brows furrowed. "Then what the hell is wrong with me?"
Namjoon sighed, this time with fond exasperation. "Jungkook… it sounds like you like him."
Jungkook blinked.
Silence.
Then: "That’s impossible."
"Is it?" Namjoon asked, his tone gentle but insistent. "When was the last time you felt anything?"
Jungkook didn’t answer.
Because he knew the answer.
Nineteen years.
It had been nineteen years since he last felt anything beyond rage, beyond vengeance, beyond the ice that had settled in his chest the night his parents and sister were murdered.
He had locked himself away, buried his emotions so deep that even he had forgotten what it was like to feel anything beyond numbness.
And yet…
That boy.
That soft smile.
That brief touch.
The way Jungkook had felt like his carefully constructed world had tilted slightly, slipping out of his control.
It made no sense.
It shouldn’t make sense.
And yet…
Namjoon chuckled on the other end. "JK, I think you should visit that café again. Consider it… research."
Jungkook scowled. "I don’t need to research anything."
"Mmhmm. You sure?"
Jungkook opened his mouth to argue but snapped it shut.
Because he wasn’t sure.
At all.
After a long silence, he muttered, "I hate you."
Namjoon laughed. "Love you too, buddy."
Jungkook hung up, throwing his phone onto the couch.
His gaze flickered toward the city skyline again.
After nineteen years, his heart had finally moved.
And Jungkook, the mafia king feared by all, had absolutely no idea what to do about it.
