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Taehyung led Jungkook across the street. Jungkook's cheek still burned faintly from the slap, but the ache in his chest was worse—raw, lingering.

He should have been relieved to be out of that house, away from the suffocating presence of his parents. But now, walking beside Taehyung, a new kind of worry settled in his gut.

“Taehyung,” he murmured, hesitating just before they reached the front door. “Are you sure? I mean—your mom—”

“It’s fine,” Taehyung reassured him immediately, turning back to face him. His voice was soft, his expression unreadable in the dim glow of the streetlamp. “She’s out of town. She’ll be gone for a few days.”

Jungkook exhaled, a quiet breath of relief mixing with the night air. He knew how Taehyung’s mother could be, how unpredictable she was. If she had been home… he didn’t want to think about what might’ve happened.

Taehyung unlocked the door and pushed it open, stepping aside to let Jungkook in first. Jungkook hesitated for just a second before stepping past the threshold, a strange feeling settling over him as he took in his surroundings.

Taehyung led him down the hall to his room, pushing the door open. “Come in.” Jungkook did and took a moment to look around him.

The bed, properly made. The books and notes neatly placed on the table. The window, half-open, letting in the cool night air. It smelled like Taehyung—warm and familiar, yet something about it made Jungkook’s chest feel tight.

Taehyung closed the door behind them and gestured toward the bed. “Sit,” he said gently. “You should rest for a bit.”

Jungkook swallowed, glancing at him before quietly obeying, sinking onto the edge of the bed. His hands rested on his knees, fingers curling slightly into the fabric of his jeans.

Taehyung studied him for a moment before tilting his head. “Do you want something to drink?” he asked softly. “Water? Tea?”

Jungkook shook his head, voice quiet. “No. I’m okay.”

Taehyung didn’t push. He just nodded, walking over to sit down beside him—but not too close. Just enough for Jungkook to know he was there.

Taehyung let the silence settle between them, not uncomfortable, just… there. He glanced at Jungkook, watching the way his fingers fidgeted against his jeans, his shoulders tense like he was bracing for something.

After a moment, Taehyung spoke, his voice gentle. “Do you want to talk?”

Jungkook exhaled slowly, his gaze fixed on the floor. His lips parted slightly, like he wanted to say something, but then he hesitated. His throat worked around the words he couldn’t quite find before he finally admitted, “I… I don’t know what to say.”

Taehyung didn’t even blink. He just nodded, his voice steady when he replied, “That’s okay too.”

Jungkook looked at him then, eyes searching, like he was waiting for Taehyung to tell him what he was supposed to do, what he was supposed to feel. But Taehyung didn’t. He just sat there, offering warmth, offering presence, offering himself.

And that was enough.

Jungkook swallowed hard, his fingers clenching into the fabric of his jeans. The weight of everything still pressed heavy on his chest, but there was something else now—a gnawing guilt. He took a shaky breath before murmuring, “I’m sorry.”

Taehyung frowned slightly, tilting his head. “For what?”

Jungkook hesitated, then gestured vaguely between them. “For… for what my parents said. You heard all of it. They had no right to talk about you like that. About your family.” His voice wavered, thick with frustration and regret. “I should’ve stopped them sooner.”