Speeding Into Trouble || Taekook

45

"You look so good, Tae," Jimin said the moment he rushed into the room, his smile wide but his eyes carrying a quiet worry that he couldn't quite hide.

Taehyung managed a small nod, his gaze fixed on the mirror in front of him. His reflection looked perfect—too perfect.

"Thanks, Jimin." His voice came out hollow, like it belonged to someone else entirely.

It was finally the wedding day. The day that had been hanging over him like a storm cloud, suffocating and dark.

Even when Mr. Lee had quietly suggested postponing—citing that Mr. Kim was in no condition for a wedding after the brutal beating that had left him half-broken—Taehyung's father had refused.

From his hospital bed, his face swollen and his body nearly unrecognizable, Mr. Kim had rasped his orders: the date would not change. His pride had been shattered by the attack, but he would not let the world see weakness. Control, no matter how fragile, was the only thing he had left.

And so the wedding went on.

The police were already circling the family like vultures, sniffing around for leads, for the faceless men who had reduced the once-mighty Mr. Kim to a battered shell now bound to a wheelchair.

But there were no answers—only whispers, rumors that spread through the city like wildfire. Everyone was talking. No one knew the truth.

But Taehyung... Taehyung knew enough. Enough to bite down on his tongue, enough to choke back the truth, enough to guard the secret that could destroy everything.

His fingers tugged at his tie for the hundredth time, trembling no matter how many times he told himself to stop.

The air felt heavy in the room, thick with doubt and dread. What was Jeongguk planning? Would he really come?

Every question clawed at Taehyung until he could barely breathe.

Jimin's smile faltered as he finally noticed the cracks in Taehyung's carefully composed mask—the strain in his jaw, the panic in his eyes, the way his chest rose too fast like he was drowning.

He stepped closer, his voice steady, almost protective. "Hey. Don't worry, alright? If Jeongguk said he'll be here, then he will. He's not the type to break his word. You know that."

Taehyung turned to him then, his eyes glassy, his expression raw, stripped of all defenses. It was the look of a man begging silently for something, anything, to cling to. "When will he come, Jimin?" His voice cracked under the weight of it. "It's almost time."

Jimin exhaled sharply, dragging his hand through his hair as if searching for an answer buried somewhere in the mess of it.

"I don't know," he admitted quietly, "but I'll call Yoongi. I'll find out where the hell he is. Just... please, Tae—stay calm. Don't let them see. Don't let them see how much this is tearing you apart."

Before Taehyung could respond, Jimin slipped out of the room, leaving behind only the silence. A silence so loud it felt suffocating.

And that was when Taehyung's eyes fell to his hand. To the silver band circling his finger. The one Jeongguk had slipped onto him, marking him in a way no one else could ever erase. His chest tightened so violently it almost hurt to breathe. This wasn't just a ring—it was Jeongguk's vow. His claim. His promise.

And yet, in just a few minutes, he was supposed to stand at the altar with Sara. Supposed to smile. Supposed to say "I do" with another man's ring on his finger.

The weight of that betrayal—the betrayal of his own heart—was suffocating.

He squeezed his eyes shut, his lips parting around a whisper so soft it trembled against the air like a plea.