Pretend • Vmin

"Misunderstanding"

[Edited]

♔

Chapter Eight

"Misunderstanding"

Taehyung didn't know why he'd agreed to this.

Meeting Jimin alone.
In his apartment.
With no crowd to hide behind.

They weren't actually boyfriends. The rules had been clear from the start—an arrangement, an act, something convenient. Yet somewhere along the way, he'd let himself believe it was harmless.

That was the problem.

"What do you mean we should stop seeing each other?"

Hyorin's voice cut through his thoughts as she dropped her handbag onto the couch like she owned the place. Taehyung didn't bother looking at her right away.

"Hyorin," he said flatly, irritation creeping into his tone, "you know exactly what it means. I don't need to spell it out." His gaze flicked to her briefly. "And you shouldn't come here uninvited."

She laughed, sharp and disbelieving. "Uninvited? You always liked it when I surprised you."

Taehyung closed his eyes for a second, jaw tightening. "Not anymore." He exhaled slowly. "I told you it was the last time. Back at the club. I thought I was clear."

"But why?" she demanded.

He dragged a hand through his hair, frustration flashing across his face. "Because I'm done. With this. With playing around."

She scoffed. "Playing around?" Hyorin laughed again, shaking her head. "Don't kid yourself. An asshole will always be an asshole. And you, Kim Taehyung, are one hell of an asshole."

He finally turned to face her, eyebrow arching lazily. "And you're what?" he shot back coolly. "Before you run your mouth, maybe take a look at yourself." His tone hardened. "Now leave. I've got things to do."

He turned his back on her without waiting for a response.

The sharp clack of heels followed as she stormed toward the door. Taehyung glanced at the clock absently, trying to remember what time he was supposed to pick Jimin up. It slipped his mind.

At the doorway, Hyorin paused.

"Oh—and thanks for last night," she added lightly. "It was... good. As always."

Taehyung frowned and moved toward the door. It was still open. Then he stopped.

Jimin stood there, frozen on the threshold, a paper bag held tightly to his chest. His eyes were fixed on the floor.

"Ji—"

Jimin startled, then forced himself to move, slipping past Taehyung and into the apartment. "I brought jajangmyeon!" he announced, voice too bright, too practiced.

Taehyung turned slowly.

Jimin was already in the kitchen, leaning against the counter. "It's probably cold now," he said, smiling despite the tremor in his voice. "Sorry."

"That's... fine," Taehyung muttered, distracted. He hated this. The pretending. Jimin was always good at it—too good.

Jimin's lips quivered before he smiled wider. "Have you eaten breakfast yet?"

Taehyung felt something snap. "Stop," he said sharply.

Jimin blinked. "Stop... what?"

"The act," Taehyung growled. His hands curled into fists. "You saw her, didn't you? So say something."

Jimin stiffened. "I—I'm not supposed to," he said carefully. "I mean... we're still pretending, right? So we should keep our feelings out of it. We should."

Still pretending.

They echoed in his head, over and over, until his thoughts blurred.

Before he could react, Jimin stepped closer and suddenly wrapped his arms around Taehyung's neck. The collision knocked the breath from his lungs.

Taehyung stiffened, heart slamming against his ribs.

"Touch me," Jimin whispered.

The words weren't seductive, they were desperate. And that was what terrified him.

Taehyung's gaze dropped, catching the way Jimin's lashes trembled, the way his mouth quivered as if he was already bracing himself to be rejected. Panic surged through Taehyung's chest. He had caused this. The tears welling in Jimin's eyes weren't because of Jungkook—they were his fault.

"J-Jimin—"

"Please," Jimin pleaded, voice breaking. He guided Taehyung's hand to his lower back. "Like how you touched her. I can be good too. I'll be a good substitute."

Substitute?

The word tore through him.

Something twisted violently in Taehyung's chest. This wasn't control slipping. This was fear.

Because for the first time, it hit him: he was falling. Genuinely. Stupidly. And he had no idea how to survive it.

For a fleeting second, regret clawed at him. Maybe he should have agreed. Maybe he should've played along—kept Jimin close, soothed him, touched him just enough to make the tears stop. Maybe when everything calmed down, when Jimin wasn't shaking like this, he could have talked to him. Explained. Fixed it.

But Taehyung knew himself.

He knew the way his control snapped when emotions got involved. He knew that if he touched Jimin now there would be no restraint left to pull him back.

And that scared him more than losing Jimin altogether.

"No." He pushed Jimin back gently but firmly.

The look on Jimin's face—hurt, shattered—cut deeper than any accusation ever could.

Taehyung's breath stuttered. Fuck. This wasn't what he wanted. This wasn't how it was supposed to end.

"Don't say anything," Jimin choked out as tears spilled down his cheeks. "I know. I should've known. I keep doing this to myself." His voice cracked. "I hate you. You're such an asshole."

The words burned, but the tears were worse.

Taehyung stepped forward instinctively, hand lifting—he didn't even realize he'd moved until Jimin recoiled.

"Don't," Jimin snapped. "Don't touch me now."

Jimin rushed toward the door, Taehyung following without thinking.

"Jimin, wait—"

Taehyung grabbed his wrist, only to be shoved away.

"Don't!" Jimin screamed.

The sound echoed violently through the apartment.

Taehyung stopped. He watched Jimin turn back one last time, eyes swollen, expression lost, wounded beyond repair before the door slammed shut.

The noise rang through the silence. Taehyung didn't move.

His hands curled slowly into fists at his sides. He had broken the rules he'd set for himself. He'd underestimated what this meant. What Jimin meant.

And this time, there was no one else to blame.

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