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39: silent reassurance

The street was quiet, as Taehyung walked ahead, his steps slow, while Jungkook followed a step behind, silent but present. They had just buried his mother a few minutes ago.

The others had left because Taehyung had insisted. It was too late, he had told them. Too cold. Too much. Maybe he just didn’t want to be surrounded by people anymore.

Now, standing in front of his house, he stopped.

His fingers curled slightly at his sides, his breath steady but shallow. He stared at the door, but he didn’t move. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the silence waiting inside. Maybe it was the thought of being there, alone, after everything.

It was barely a pause, a hesitation so small that most people wouldn’t have noticed. But Jungkook did.

Before Taehyung could make up his mind, a warm hand slipped into his own. Steady. Certain. His breath hitched slightly at the unexpected touch, and he turned just as Jungkook looked at him—eyes soft, understanding.

“Come,” Jungkook said quietly. He didn’t wait for a response. Just tugged at Taehyung’s hand, pulling him toward his own house.

Taehyung let him.

Because maybe, just for tonight, he didn’t want to be alone.

Jungkook unlocked the door with one hand, the other still holding onto Taehyung’s. He didn’t let go until they were inside, until the warmth of the house settled around them.

His parents had come earlier, had visited Taehyung, too. They stayed for a while, offered quiet condolences, but had to leave early because of work. Now, it was just the two of them.

Jungkook guided Taehyung through the familiar space, leading him straight to his room. He didn't say much, just gently pressed Taehyung down onto the edge of the bed, making sure he sat.

“Wait here,” he said softly.

A few minutes later, he returned with a neatly folded set of clothes in his hands. He knelt in front of Taehyung, placing them on his lap with a care that felt almost reverent.

“I prepared the water for you,” Jungkook murmured, his voice gentle, as if he were afraid of disturbing something fragile. “Go take a bath, yeah? Let yourself relax.”

His gaze was steady, filled with something quiet but unshakable. A silent reassurance that Taehyung didn’t have to say anything, didn’t have to act like he was fine. That he could just exist, and Jungkook would be there.

Taehyung stared at him for a few seconds, unmoving. His fingers curled slightly over the fabric in his lap, gripping it. His eyes, dark and unreadable at first, slowly welled up—tears forming but never falling. He blinked quickly, turning his head away before they could spill, jaw tightening as if willing himself to hold it together.

Jungkook noticed. Of course, he did.

He didn’t say anything right away, just exhaled softly. Then, in one slow movement, he reached out—his fingers brushing against Taehyung’s wrist, warm and grounding. Not pulling, not forcing, just there. A silent offering.

“You don’t have to hold it in,” he said, voice quiet but firm.

And then, as if sensing Taehyung wouldn’t know what to do with that, he stood up. Gave him space. “Go on, I’ll be right here.”

☆☆☆

The house was quiet when Taehyung stepped out of the bathroom, warmth still lingering on his skin. He ran a towel over his damp hair, gaze flickering toward the bed where Jungkook had been—but he wasn’t there.