Professor is "MINE" || Taekook

Part3

Smack! The sharp crack of a slap rang through the vast, marble-lined hall, the force reverberating like a thunderclap. The older man stood tall, his imposing figure framed by the grand surroundings, his eyes wild with fury. His breath came in shallow, ragged bursts, the veins in his neck bulging as he glared at the young man before him.

Despite the fiery red handprint blooming on his cheek, Taehyung didn't flinch. He stood motionless, his posture lax, hands resting casually at his sides. The pain barely registered. It was routine by now, just another part of his life. His father's temper, the violence—it had all become background noise.

"KIM TAEHYUNG!" His father's voice boomed, the authority in it sharp enough to send a shiver down anyone's spine. Taehyung's fingers twitched, clenching tightly before releasing again. His head hung low, but not out of fear. No matter how many times this happened, he knew one thing: he could never meet his father's expectations.

"I asked you for one thing," Mr. Kim hissed, voice venomous. "ONE SIMPLE THING: never to bring shame to my name. And look at you!" His fist slammed into the side table beside him, sending a vase crashing to the floor. Taehyung's body reacted, flinching involuntarily at the loud crash, but his face remained expressionless. He'd seen it all before—broken objects, shattered glass, and his father's endless, unbridled rage.

Taehyung bit down on his lip, hard enough to draw blood. The taste of iron filled his mouth, grounding him, keeping the tidal wave of emotions at bay. He met his father's eyes with a hollow stare, every ounce of feeling drained from him long ago. He had learned early on that nothing he said or did would ever be enough.

"Why?" Mr. Kim growled, stepping closer, his breath hot and laced with anger. "Why did you attack Joon-hyun? You know who he is—the son of my business partner. You understand how much damage this could do to me, to my reputation?" His hands found Taehyung's shoulder, gripping it tightly, the pressure almost painful.

"He insulted my mother," Taehyung replied quietly, his voice monotone, devoid of the fire that used to come so easily.

"Because of that dead woman, you nearly killed him?" His father's voice rose again, his hand flying to Taehyung's jaw, squeezing it so hard that his nails bit into the skin. The sharp sting brought a moment of clarity, but it wasn't enough to rouse anything more than fleeting discomfort. Taehyung's eyes remained distant. He felt pathetic to not being able to fight for his mother respect from his own father.

"My son," his father cooed, his voice suddenly soft, filled with a twisted sweetness. The grip on Taehyung's face loosened, his father's thumb brushing over the red mark he had left behind. "You know I love you, don't you?" The words were syrupy, almost sickening. Taehyung nodded, just as he always did when his father said this.

It was part of the script, a performance they both played out with precision. "And you know," his father continued, "I only act harshly for your own good. I want what's best for you." The words were hollow, rehearsed. "If that professor hadn't stepped in, you would have killed the boy."

The mention of the professor sent an unbidden thought through Taehyung's mind, a flicker of something softer. His mind drifted to that face—the calm, unbothered expression of the man who had stepped in during the fight. There was something about him, something that eased the constant pressure in Taehyung's chest.

Mr. Kim leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Taehyung's forehead, the gesture as cold and mechanical as ever. "Go on, son. Get some rest. I know you've had a long day."

Without a word, Taehyung turned and headed up the stairs, his steps heavy, his mind distant. The emotions that once raged within him had long since been silenced. Now, he felt nothing at all.