One shots | Kim Taehyung

Dancing in silence Part 3 | KTH

The sky was still dark when you opened your eyes, the early hue of dawn just beginning to stretch across the linen curtains. Soft gray light crept into the room like a whisper, but the world was still asleep.

Your gaze shifted to your side.

There he was.

Kim Taehyung.

Sleeping on his stomach, face buried in the pillow, hair a tousled mess of dark silk. One arm was stretched above his head while the other rested near the center of the bed, palm open, as if reaching for something in his dreams.

His back rose and fell with quiet rhythm, chest pressed against the mattress, breath slow and deep — completely unaware of the heavy list you carried into this morning.

You sat up slowly, careful not to make a sound. You slipped your feet into the slippers resting by the bed, the same ones he'd left out for you last night without a word.

Tiptoeing to the bathroom, you got ready the way your mother had instructed — quickly, quietly, hair tied neatly, no makeup, no noise. By 5:30 AM, you stood in the kitchen, unsure where to even begin.

The kitchen was spotless — sleek white counters, polished wood cabinets, everything too neat, too foreign. You opened drawers with gentle hesitations, trying to find pans, rice, utensils. Some clattered. You winced.

"Why does everything here feel... different?" you whispered to yourself, placing the pot on the stove with trembling hands.

"Focus. Don't embarrass yourself. Cook something decent."

You decided on gyeran-mari, steamed rice, kimchi, and soybean paste soup — simple, respectful. The rice cooker clicked to life. The smell of sesame oil and garlic soon drifted into the stillness of the morning.

Just as you were plating the egg rolls with shaking hands, a soft sound behind you made you jump.

"You're up early."

His voice. Sleep-rough, velvet-warm.

You turned quickly, nearly knocking the ladle off the counter.

Taehyung stood in gray sweatpants and a black oversized t-shirt, his hair still messy, a faint line on his cheek from the pillow. He blinked lazily, smiling softly.

"Good morning," you said quickly, bowing slightly. "I... I wanted to have breakfast ready."

"You should've woken me," he said, rubbing his eyes as he walked in. "I usually cook for myself in the mornings."

"I— I didn't want to disturb you," you murmured. "My parents said—"

"I'm not your parents," he interrupted gently, voice kind. "Y/N... you don't have to carry their rules here."

Your hands froze on the chopsticks. You looked down.

"But I thought... as your wife, it's my job."

He stepped closer. Not fast — slowly, so softly that you didn't even realize the space between you was closing. He stood right beside you now, his voice dropping a little lower.

"Is this what you were taught marriage is?"
His hand brushed lightly past yours to grab two plates from the cabinet. "Obligation before comfort?"

"Obedience before love," you whispered. "Silence before self."

Taehyung's hand paused on the second plate. He placed it down, turned to face you.

"Do you believe that?"

You hesitated. "I don't know what to believe yet."

He nodded, understanding flickering in his eyes. Then, without asking, he took the plate from your hand and set it on the table.