Anger never builds; it only tears down. In the heat of a single moment, it can feel like strength, an armor to hide behind. But when the fire fades, all that's left are the ashes of what once mattered. Anger doesn't solve anything-it devours patienc...
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You are both the storm that shakes me and the shelter that saves me.
Chapter 27: Lust
Taehyung had no choice but to drag Jungkook back to the villa. The man was far too drunk to be left alone, his steps unsteady, his words slurred as he complained endlessly. Even in that state, Jungkook muttered things Taehyung wished he hadn’t heard—half-formed pleas about not wanting the moment between them earlier to end, about wanting to go further than a kiss.
Taehyung tried to ignore it, brushing the drunken rambling aside as nonsense. But the truth was, those words clung to him. He wasn’t sure what to feel. He didn’t hate the memory of Jungkook’s lips on his own; in fact, something about it lingered stubbornly in his chest. It was confusing, almost terrifying, because Taehyung had always been sure of himself, of his preferences, of who he was. Yet that kiss had stirred something he couldn’t name—something that whispered he wanted more, even when he refused to admit it.
By the time they reached the villa, exhaustion weighed on him, not from carrying Jungkook’s body but from carrying the storm of thoughts in his head. With a sigh, he shoved the bedroom door open and all but threw Jungkook onto the bed. The younger man sprawled across the mattress, limbs heavy and graceless, a drunken snore escaping his lips.
Taehyung stood there for a moment, staring down at him. Why am I doing this? he asked himself. He had no obligation to care, no reason to fuss over someone who had done nothing but complicate his life. Yet there he was, kneeling beside the bed, tugging off Jungkook’s shoes and sliding away his belt so he wouldn’t sleep uncomfortably. Each small act felt absurdly intimate, almost domestic, and Taehyung hated how natural it came to him.
When he leaned down to undo the buttons of Jungkook’s shirt, his fingers froze. A sudden warmth encircled his wrist.
Taehyung’s head snapped up, and his gaze locked with Jungkook’s. The alcohol in his system had dulled nothing of the intensity in those eyes. They were sharp, shining, so captivating that Taehyung felt for a moment like his soul was being drawn into them, trapped in a gravity he couldn’t resist.
“Taehyung?” Jungkook’s voice was husky, low, and rough in a way that sent a shiver racing down Taehyung’s spine.
“Yes, it’s me,” Taehyung said quickly, clearing his throat. His tone came out a little too defensive. “I was just trying to change your clothes so you can sleep properly. Don’t worry, I’ll leave as soon as I’m done.”
But Jungkook’s grip didn’t loosen. Instead, he gave a tug that pulled Taehyung forward, and before he could catch himself, Taehyung stumbled against the bed, their faces suddenly only inches apart. The warmth of Jungkook’s breath fanned across his skin, and his chest pressed against Jungkook’s arm.
A crooked smile tugged at Jungkook’s lips. “That’s really you…” He chuckled softly, almost dreamily, the sound laced with relief more than humor.
