Speeding Into Trouble || Taekook

25

Taehyung stood stiffly in front of the full-length mirror like a mannequin that desperately wanted to commit tax fraud and disappear.

A tape measure draped over her shoulders, Sara's favorite stylist—a woman who smelled like lavender and quiet judgment—was currently circling him with the intensity of a shark preparing for a final bite.

He was wearing an ivory suit, crisp and perfectly tailored, which should've made him feel elegant. Instead, he felt like a freshly gift-wrapped lie.

Nearby, Sara twirled. Like, full spin-twirl. Dress flowing, hair bouncing, the whole "I'm living my best Pinterest life" fantasy.

"Doesn't this just feel perfect, Tae?" she asked with that sugary smile that made Taehyung want to scream into a throw pillow.

"Yeah... perfect," he replied flatly, glaring at his own reflection like it had personally betrayed him.

He tugged at the sleeve, as if adjusting it would make the entire situation vanish. It did not.

Sara, meanwhile, was admiring her reflection like she was starring in a bridal commercial directed by a narcissist.

"You're not excited," she said, narrowing her eyes at him through the mirror. "You haven't smiled once."

Taehyung forced a grin that looked like he was being held hostage. "I'm just tired. Students. Deadlines. You know."

Sara giggled. "Well, don't worry. Once we're married, you won't have to work anymore."

That sentence made Taehyung blink in slow horror. He smiled tightly. "Right. Every man's dream."

Another spin. Another internal scream.

As soon as she turned around to examine the shimmer of her veil under the boutique lights, Taehyung ripped the jacket off like it was doused in poison.

"You look amazing," the stylist chirped.

Taehyung didn't answer. He was already halfway out the door with the urgency of someone who had just remembered they left the stove on.

Outside, the cool air hit his face. He leaned against the brick wall of the boutique, closed his eyes, and immediately speed-dialed Jimin.

The line clicked.

"Taeeee?" Jimin greeted, all sunshine and concern. "How'd the nightmare go?"

"Jimin," Taehyung sighed like he aged 42 years in one hour. "If I have to be told one more time how magical I look in a jacket I want to set on fire, I'm going to fake my own death."

"Oh, honey," Jimin whispered. "That bad?"

"I looked like an unpaid actor in a luxury perfume ad, and not in a hot way. In a 'this man doesn't know where he is' way."

"What did Sara say?"

"She said we'll be stunning. Like, Instagram-influencer stunning. I wanted to cry."

"I'm so sorry," Jimin said gently. "You hate this, don't you?"

"Hate is too weak a word. I loathe this. I despise it. If this engagement were a person, I'd sue it for emotional damage."

Jimin let out a sympathetic noise. "Tae, you don't have to do this. You deserve to be happy."

Taehyung's voice dropped. "I don't really have a choice, Chim. My dad's suspicious. I've run out of 'school commitments' and 'sudden colds'. He's going to start showing up with tracking devices next."

Jimin was quiet for a beat. "But Tae... you're gay. You know this isn't right."

"I know," Taehyung whispered, finally saying the words out loud again, and they hit him like a truck full of unresolved feelings. "And she's not who I want."