Forbidden Threads Of Fate | TaeKook

41

“I don’t really want to talk to you.”

Yoongi’s voice was cold, cutting straight through Jungkook’s already fragile resolve as he approached him.

“Yoongi, at least listen to me,” Jungkook said, lowering his voice, ashamed. He felt small—not like a king, not like a leader—but like a boy who had let everything fall apart.

Yoongi scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Listen to what? How grand you want the engagement to be? The perfect decorations for a marriage you don’t even believe in?”

He kept walking toward the palace gate, clearly done with the conversation.

But then—

“No.”

Jungkook’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

“I want to cancel the engagement.”

Yoongi froze.

He turned slowly, disbelief etched on his face. His eyes widened like saucers, lips parting slightly in stunned silence.

“Am I... hallucinating?” Yoongi said with a half-laugh, trying to mask the sudden surge of hope inside him. But the moment he looked into Jungkook’s serious eyes, the smirk dropped from his face.

He saw it—the storm of guilt, pain, and a love that had been buried too deep for too long.

“You... you’re serious?” Yoongi asked quietly, voice no longer sarcastic but cautiously hopeful. “You finally realized it, didn’t you?”

His voice dropped to a whisper as he leaned in slightly, “You love him too.”

Jungkook didn’t deny it.

He didn’t need to.

“Can we talk about it?” Jungkook asked, glancing toward the hall behind him.

“In my sanctum.”

Yoongi gave a short, silent nod and quickly followed.

There was finally something worth hearing.

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“Are you done packing?” Jimin asked softly, watching Taehyung, who looked like a ghost of himself—soul absent, heart clearly somewhere else.

“Hm…” Taehyung hummed as he zipped up his bag, not looking up.
His fingers trembled slightly at the edges.
Last night’s conversation had carved something deep inside him.
He was bleeding, not from wounds—but from words.

He needed time. Space. Air.
Anything to forget the way Jungkook had stood silent when he begged for love.

“Taehyung… how long will you be gone?”
Hana’s gentle voice echoed from the doorway. She stood there watching him, concern written all over her face.
She didn’t know what was wrong—but she could feel the heaviness in the air around her son.

“Just a week. Maybe two,” Taehyung answered, trying to smile. “Don’t worry, eomma. I always said I wanted to stay at Jimin’s place. His mother’s been inviting me for a long time.”

The smile didn’t reach his eyes.
It didn’t even try to.

Hana stepped closer and hugged him tightly, as if she could hold the pieces of him together.
He hugged her back, eyes shut, exhaling quietly like he was bracing himself for something even worse.