Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

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The rain is relentless, pouring down in thick, silver sheets over the city of Paris.

It’s supposed to be summer. But Jeongguk hasn’t felt summer in years.

He leans against the open window of his old apartment, cigarette dangling between his fingers. Below, the city moves on, oblivious, streetlamps turning the wet cobblestones gold, laughter spilling from late-night cafés, a saxophone crooning from a bar where lovers and liars drown themselves in cheap whiskey and jazz.

Jeongguk should be at the estate right now. Watching from the shadows. Guarding what doesn’t belong to him.

He walked away a week ago. He had too. It was probably for the best.

But as he takes another drag from his cigarette, a sharp knock comes from the door behind him.

He doesn’t move at first. It’s late. Too late for visitors. His eyes drift to his drawer instinctively.

Another knock. Harder this time.

Jeongguk exhales, crushing the cigarette against the sill before crossing the room. Fuck it, he thinks, reaching for the handle.

The door swings open, and... Taehyung?

He's drenched, breathless, eyes dark and so wild. His white tank is soaked, clinging to every inch of his body, blonde hair dripping onto the floor. He looks like he ran through the entire city in the rain. Maybe he did... What for, though?

Jeongguk leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. “What the hell are you doing here?” His voice is low, rough, finally informal.

Taehyung exhales, his chest moving so fast. “I left.”

Jeongguk’s eyes narrow. “Left what?”

Taehyung swallows, shaking out his wet hair, sending droplets across the floor. “The party. The fucking champagne. The meaningless conversation. Her.” His lips part slightly, voice quieter. “I don't give a fuck about the union.”

Jeongguk’s fingers twitch. 

He was never more than a shadow to Taehyung. A body between him and the world, between him and every threat money couldn’t silence. Five years of watching over him, pulling him from wreckage, from the arms of people who didn’t deserve him. Five years of standing behind him at every event, watching him play prince to a kingdom of vultures.

Five years of pretending it didn’t destroy him. Especially when he found out Taehyung was supposed to get married to a politician’s daughter. For leverage, power, money. 

It's funny… Jeongguk came to Paris from Busan thinking his job was gonna be just that. Another job. 

It wasn't.

Taehyung steps closer and the scent of rain and expensive cologne invades Jeongguk's nose. “I wanted to be here.”

Jeongguk exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “You could’ve called.”

“Would you have answered?”

Jeongguk sighs. “You should go back to them.”

Taehyung dares to close the space between them. “I don’t want to.”

Jeongguk doesn’t reply. Instead, he grabs Taehyung’s wrist and when he makes sure nobody’s around, he tugs him inside. The door clicks shut behind them, trapping them and their feelings inside.

“I missed you…” Taehyung starts, voice dropping dangerously low. “Seo-joon took over your position. It's not the same.”

Jeongguk doesn’t move. Doesn’t stop him when Taehyung lifts a hand, fingers grazing over his jaw, tilting his chin up just enough to look at him.

Jeongguk exhales sharply at the touch. “You shouldn't be here, Taehyung.”

“Tell me to leave then,” the blonde whispers. “And I will.”

Jeongguk should. He knows he should. But he doesn’t. He tries to remain calm. Watching him.

“Take it off.” He finally says and Taehyung raises a brow.

“What?”

“Your shirt.” Jeongguk gestures. “It’s soaked. You're gonna catch a cold.”

Taehyung laughs and Jeongguk hates the sound of it. Hates it so much that his hands turn into fists. He hates it… so damn much he wants to scream. 

“You could’ve just said you wanted to see me shirtless.”

Jeongguk doesn’t reply. Doesn’t let himself. 

Taehyung is too close, his breath warm, his skin feverish despite the rain. His eyes—dark, wild—burn into Jeongguk’s like he’s daring him, like he’s been waiting for this moment longer than either of them can admit.  

But Jeongguk knows better. He’s always known better.  

He forces himself to look away as Taehyung removes his top, the wet fabric landing on the floor with a thud. 

“You really shouldn’t have come here tonight.”  

Taehyung scoffs, stepping even closer, bare chest brushing against Jeongguk’s arm. “I fucking don’t care anymore.”  

“Your father will kill you when he finds out what you did.”  

Taehyung exhales a sharp laugh. “Then let him. I don't give a fuck about what he wants. All I want is—”  

Jeongguk turns and grips his wrist before he can say anything else, before he can finish his sentence, before the words become something real.  

“You don’t get to be reckless with this,” Jeongguk growls, voice low, dangerous. “This isn't a game!”

“And you don’t get to pretend you don’t want me.”  

Jeongguk exhales sharply, his grip on Taehyung’s wrist tightening before he forces himself to let go.  

Because that’s the thing. He does want him. He has wanted him from the very first moment.  

When they first met, Jeongguk had been assigned to guard Kim Taehyung, heir to one of the most powerful and corrupt families in South Korea, a dynasty built on money, fear, and untouchable influence.

Now residing in Paris, Taehyung was meant to be the perfect son, the polished heir, another piece on his father’s carefully constructed chessboard.

The job was supposed to be simple: keep him alive, keep him in line.

But Taehyung was never one to follow orders.

He grew up in a world where deals were made over expensive whiskey and whispered threats, where scandals were buried beneath stacks of cash, and where power was a currency traded in secrets. His father controlled politicians, business tycoons, and law enforcement with a flick of his wrist. Men who crossed him disappeared. Women married for strategy, not love. And heirs? Heirs weren’t allowed to want for anything except the life that was chosen for them.

Jeongguk had seen it all from the outside. He had protected men like Taehyung’s father before—calculating, ruthless men who smiled in press conferences and signed death sentences behind closed doors. He had expected Taehyung to be the same.

But Taehyung was different. Defiant and too fucking beautiful for his own good.  

From the beginning, he pushed, teased, tested, poked at Jeongguk’s control like he was searching for a weak spot. He was a brat, spoiled and reckless, wearing silk suits and expensive cologne, slipping past security like a ghost just to make Jeongguk chase after him.  

“You should smile more, bodyguard,” Taehyung had purred one night, stepping too close, too bold. “You’re always so serious. This is Paris not fucking Busan. Live a little.”  

Jeongguk had ignored him, jaw tight, spine stiff. Taehyung had only grinned wider.  

And then, two years later... something happened.  

A gunshot. A close call. Jeongguk had shoved Taehyung against the wall, pressed his body over his to shield him. Taehyung’s breath had hitched. His hands had fisted into Jeongguk’s shirt.  

And Jeongguk had looked at him, really looked, and known, in that moment, that he was fucked.  

Because Taehyung was scared for the first time in his life. Because his pupils were blown wide, his fingers trembling against Jeongguk’s skin, his lips parting like he was about to say something, something that would ruin everything.  

And Jeongguk had almost let him.  

But he had stepped back. Like always.  

Pretending. Ignoring. 

Except now, here, in this tiny Montmartre apartment, with rainwater dripping from Taehyung’s skin and hunger burning in his eyes, Jeongguk doesn’t know if he can anymore.  

Taehyung watches him, waiting, daring.  

"Angels, you’re so easy to read. Always were."  

Jeongguk exhales sharply, restraint hanging by a thread. “Stop playing—”  

Taehyung scoffs, stepping forward, pressing into him. His bare skin burns through Jeongguk’s black shirt, fingers trailing up his arm, over his throat, stopping at his jaw. He tilts his head, eyes filled with something dark, something certain.  

“Five years, Jeongguk.” His voice is quieter now, but no less dangerous. “Five fucking years. You really think I was just messing with you?”  

Jeongguk swallows hard. His fingers twitch at his sides, fists clenching harder to keep from grabbing him.  

“Yes.” His voice is rough and unsteady now.  

“Then you’re a bigger fool than I thought.”  

Jeongguk’s nostrils flare. “You—”  

But Taehyung doesn’t let him finish.  

He shoves at Jeongguk’s chest, enough to make him stumble back a step. Jeongguk catches himself, jaw clenched, eyes flashing. “You little—”  

Taehyung lunges. He grips Jeongguk’s shirt and drags him down, crashing their mouths together, cutting off whatever curse was about to leave his lips.  

It’s messy. Infuriating. All push and pull, teeth and tongues clashing. Jeongguk growls against his lips, hands snapping to Taehyung’s hips, gripping him hard.  

Taehyung moans, the sound more taunting than anything else. His fingers twist tighter into Jeongguk’s shirt, tugging at it, challenging him. Jeongguk bites at his bottom lip in retaliation, making him gasp.  

“I hate you,” Jeongguk mutters between kisses, breath ragged.  

Taehyung smirks against his lips. “That’s not what this feels like.”  

Jeongguk grits his teeth. “I swear to—”  

Taehyung sways forward, licking into his mouth and Jeongguk fucking lets him.  

Because he’s tired of pretending. Because he’s wanted this for so long it hurts.  

He spins them around, shoving Taehyung back against the wall, hands gripping his waist, digging into damp skin. Taehyung gasps against his lips, head snapping back, letting Jeongguk take. Devour.

He kisses him like he’s starving. Like he’s drowning and Taehyung is the only thing keeping him afloat. 

He moans, arching into him, letting himself feel. “Finally,” he breathes.  

Jeongguk pulls back just enough to look at him, to take in his swollen lips, his dark eyes, his ruined expression. He lifts a hand, dragging his fingers through Taehyung’s wet hair, pulling his head back further.  

"You’re so fucking reckless," Jeongguk murmurs, voice strained, hands gripping Taehyung’s hips so tightly he might bruise.  

Taehyung smirks, breathless. “You always loved it, though. Always got me out of trouble. Always… saved me.”  

Jeongguk exhales sharply, forcing out a dry laugh, though there’s no humor in it. “It was my fucking job.”  

“Was it now?” Taehyung asks, watching Jeongguk’s reaction like he already knows the answer. Because he does. He always has.  

Jeongguk’s fingers tighten against his skin, anchoring him, like he can physically hold himself back. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”  

Taehyung lets out a soft, almost pitying laugh, whispering, “Oh, I don’t?”  

“You don’t.” Jeongguk hisses, but even he can hear the shake in his voice, the way his restraint is shattering. “You think this is a fucking game? You think I spent five years keeping you out of trouble just so you could pull this shit?”  

Taehyung lifts a brow, unaffected. “I think you spent five years keeping me out of trouble because you couldn’t stand the idea of someone else touching what you wanted.”  

Jeongguk remains completely still.  

Taehyung leans in, lips brushing against the corner of Jeongguk’s mouth, teasing, taunting. “I think you wanted me even when you shouldn’t. I think it drove you insane. I think—”  

Jeongguk finally snaps.  

He slams Taehyung back against the wall, swallowing the gasp that leaves his lips. Their noses brush, breaths colliding, and Jeongguk grips his jaw, forcing him to look at him.  

Yet no matter how hard he tries, no words leave his lips. Because Kim Taehyung is fucking right. It did drive him insane.

“Why do you look like you want to ruin me?” Taehyung whispers, lips parting just slightly, inviting him for another taste.

Jeongguk’s breath is ragged, his fingers digging into Taehyung’s skin like he’s trying to stop himself.  

But there’s nothing left to stop.  

“Because I do,” Jeongguk grits out. His mouth hovers over Taehyung’s, a fraction away. “I fucking do.”  

Taehyung smirks. He knows. He’s always known. So, he presses his lips to Jeongguk’s ear, voice nothing but a breath.  

“Then stop talking and do it.” The moment Taehyung gives him permission—like Jeongguk ever needed it—he snaps.  

His mouth crashes against Taehyung’s again, hungrier this time, all tongue and teeth, raw and desperate. His restraint unravels in an instant, and Taehyung takes it, gasping into the kiss, his hands clawing at Jeongguk’s shirt, yanking at the fabric, nails digging into his skin.  

Jeongguk doesn’t hesitate anymore. His hands roam down Taehyung’s sides, over the sharp curve of his hip bones, until they reach his thighs.  

“Jump,” Jeongguk growls and Taehyung obeys without question, wrapping his legs around his former bodyguard’s waist, his arms slinging over broad shoulders. He’s drenched, shivering, but when Jeongguk drags his lips down his throat, sucking and biting, Taehyung’s body is set on fire, tipping his head back to expose more of himself.  

Jeongguk grips his ass, grinding their bodies together, feeling his warmth, the way Taehyung trembles, nails digging into the back of his neck.  

“This what you wanted?” Jeongguk rasps against Taehyung’s skin, lips dragging over his jaw, teeth scraping just enough to make him tremble. “Playing your little games, teasing me, pushing me until I fucking snapped?”  

Taehyung’s breath stutters. “You’re hot when you're angry. Always were.” His voice is a husky whisper, full of dark amusement, but beneath the teasing he’s breathless, wrecked, waiting. “I always wanted you to fuck me senseless when you were angry.”  

Jeongguk groans, rolling his hips hard, grinding into him, and Taehyung chokes on a moan, head knocking back against the wall.  

“But if you want honesty,” Taehyung gasps, voice breaking, “I wasn’t playing. Not with you.” He fists Jeongguk’s shirt, tugging him closer, swallowing his own desperation. “You were the only thing keeping me alive. The only thing I ever wanted. So I came here for you. I—Fuck—”  

Jeongguk growls, cutting him off, kissing him rough and messy, swallowing the confession like it might burn him.  

Taehyung melts, arching into him, legs tightening around Jeongguk’s waist, pressing their bodies flush.

“You drive me fucking insane,” Jeongguk mutters against his lips, voice ragged, hands gripping Taehyung’s hips, fingers digging in, leaving marks.  

Taehyung smirks, but it’s ruined, his breath hitching, pupils blown. He moves his head just enough for their lips to brush, teasing him. “Then stop talking—” He bites at Jeongguk’s lip, dragging a low groan from his throat. “And fucking take me already.”  

His voice shakes, needy and unapologetic.  

Jeongguk doesn’t hesitate this time. So he devours him.“You don’t rush this,” he murmurs, voice dark and dangerous. His fingers hook into the waistband, shifting his body clumsily to push Taehyung’s pants down just enough for them to slip from his hips and pool at his thighs. “Not with me.”

Taehyung shudders at the words, panting, flushed, his chest rising and falling against Jeongguk’s.

“Fuck…” Jeongguk curses as his fingers spread him open, feeling the slick heat waiting for him, the way Taehyung shivers at the contact, so ready, so prepared. His head snaps up. “What did you do, Tae?” 

Taehyung bites his lip, tilting his head just enough for their noses to brush, for his breath to warm Jeongguk’s mouth. 

“The same thing I’ve been doing since you saved me from that gunshot,” he whispers, voice hoarse. “Fucking myself, pretending it was you.”

Jeongguk lets out a guttural curse, pressing his forehead to Taehyung’s shoulder, fingers tightening on his thigh. His control is fraying, barely holding by a thread now. “Fuck!”

Taehyung whimpers when Jeongguk’s fingers spread him wider, teasing but not giving, rubbing against his rim in slow, torturous circles. His hips buck, desperate for more, but Jeongguk only smirks against his skin, dragging it out, making him feel it.

“J-Jeongguk,” Taehyung gasps, voice fraying, hands twisting into Jeongguk’s shirt. “I swear to—”

Jeongguk pushes a finger in and Taehyung chokes on his breath, nails digging into Jeongguk's back, his head knocking against the wall as his entire body shakes.

Jeongguk exhales sharply, watching him fall apart, his own control slipping away. He presses in deeper, adding another finger, scissoring the soft flesh with ease.

Taehyung's thighs tremble around Jeongguk’s waist, chest rising and falling in ragged breaths.

“Fuck,” Taehyung whimpers. “M-more!”

Jeongguk chuckles, dark and low, dragging his teeth over Taehyung’s throat, claiming him. “You’re so needy,” he murmurs and Taehyung leans forth to bite his bottom lip.

Jeongguk loses it. A growl rumbles in his chest as he slams Taehyung back against the wall, fingers fucking into him deeper, faster, his free hand flattening against the small of Taehyung’s back, keeping him right there. Right where he belongs.

Taehyung is now gasping, lips swollen, body pliant beneath Jeongguk’s touch. His thighs tighten around his waist, nails scraping over his skin, every inch of him begging for more.

And Jeongguk, fuck, he wants to ruin him.

He needs to.

Finally, his fingers pull away, leaving Taehyung whimpering at the loss, but it lasts only a second before Jeongguk reaches for his belt, unfastening it with shaking hands, pushing his pants down just enough.

His cock springs free, hard and aching, aching for him. Then, he looks up, searching Taehyung’s face, needing to see if there’s doubt. If there’s anything that might stop him.

But there’s nothing. Just blown pupils, parted lips, and a voice that shakes when Taehyung whispers, “Do it.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, voice rough, barely holding together.

Taehyung exhales shakily, fingers tracing Jeongguk’s jaw before curling into his shirt. “I was never more sure.” He leans in, breath ghosting over Jeongguk’s lips, teasing, taunting. “Don’t hold back. Don’t you dare fucking hold back.”

Jeongguk groans, the last thread of his restraint snapping.

He kisses Taehyung, no, he devours him, mouths crashing together, tongues tangling, all heat and desperation. Taehyung whimpers into the kiss, body trembling against him, pulling Jeongguk closer, always closer.

Jeongguk breaks the kiss only to drag in a ragged breath, to line himself up and then he pushes himself inside him.

Taehyung screams, his entire body arching and legs locking tighter around his waist. Jeongguk groans, burying himself in the heat of him, feeling the way Taehyung melts, the way he takes him so perfectly, as if he was made for this. For him.

His head spins at the thought, at the realization that Taehyung had prepared for this, that he’s this open for him.

“Fucking hell,” Jeongguk mutters against his skin, hands roaming over rain-soaked flesh, lips trailing down Taehyung’s throat, biting, soothing, marking.

Taehyung moans, his voice high and wrecked, head tipping back against the wall as Jeongguk moves, slow and deep at first, teasing, torturing.

“J-Jeongguk,” his voice breaks on the last syllable as Jeongguk thrusts into him, claiming every inch of flesh.

That sound... Jeongguk has never heard his name spoken like this before.

Ruined. Worshipful. His. Only his. It shatters him.

“Fuck— you’re so tight,” Jeongguk groans, rolling his hips faster, deeper, feeling Taehyung tense around him. “You feel so fucking good.”

Taehyung's hands claw at Jeongguk’s shoulders, searching for something, anything, to hold onto. “Harder,” he gasps, a plea and a demand all at once. “Please. Fuck me harder. Show me you mean it.”

Jeongguk obliges, snapping his hips forward, dragging another broken moan from Taehyung’s throat.

“Tae—”

Taehyung cuts him off with a desperate kiss, swallowing Jeongguk’s moan as he grinds down onto him, meeting each thrust with just as much hunger, just as much need.

He gasps into Jeongguk’s mouth, nails raking down his spine. “You’re so good. So fucking good! The best I’ve ever had!”

Something dark flares in Jeongguk’s chest and he slams into him, ruining him, just like Taehyung wants, just like they both want. Like he’s burning five years of denial into Taehyung’s skin.

Taehyung screams his name when he falls apart, fingers tangled in Jeongguk’s hair, body shattering in his arms.

And Jeongguk—fuck—Jeongguk follows him over the edge, burying his face in the crook of Taehyung’s neck, his grip on him bruising, possessive, almost devotional as he comes inside him, riding his orgasm to the last drop.

They don’t move for a long moment after that. Just panting, clinging to each other as rain keeps falling.  

Finally, Jeongguk presses his forehead to Taehyung’s, his hands still cradling him like he's the most precious thing he has.  

Taehyung exhales shakily, a slow, satisfied smirk appearing on his lips. “I told you,” he murmurs, voice hoarse.  

Jeongguk huffs a quiet, breathless laugh. “Told me what?”  

“That you’d ruin me.” Taehyung’s fingers trail down Jeongguk’s spine, slow, lazy. “And you did. You ruined me so good, Jeongguk-ah.”  

Jeongguk tightens his hold, kissing him one more time.  

“You haven’t seen anything yet.”

“Show me then.”

Jeongguk would, if Taehyung weren’t already boneless in his arms, barely able to keep himself upright. His hands slip to his waist, steadying him before gently easing out of him, making Taehyung whimper at the loss.

For the first time since this started, Jeongguk pauses, his hands tracing over Taehyung’s sides. He lifts his gaze, searching. “You alright?” His voice is quieter now, lower, but there’s something tender in it.

Taehyung blinks up at him before letting out a breathless chuckle. “So you do care,” he teases, voice rasped from moaning too much.

Jeongguk rolls his eyes but doesn’t let go. “Of course, I care, dumbass.” He adjusts his grip, sliding his arms under Taehyung’s thighs and lifting him effortlessly. Taehyung yelps, instinctively locking his arms around Jeongguk’s neck as he gets carried across the dimly lit apartment. 

It's like that time after the gunshot when he carried him to the car. That's when it happened for Taehyung. When he fell.

Jeongguk nudges open the door to the bedroom with his foot, stepping inside. 

“I almost gave my life for you.”

Taehyung stills slightly in his hold.

Jeongguk lays him down on the mattress, brushing damp strands of hair away from his face. “And no,” he finally admits. “You were never just a job.”

Taehyung stares up at him, eyes opening wide. The teasing and smugness fade away. He lifts a hand, fingertips grazing Jeongguk’s cheek where the bullet had grazed him.

“Good,” he whispers. “Because I would’ve never forgiven you if it was.”

Jeongguk leans down, kissing him again, slow, deep, this time without urgency.

And when he pulls away, Taehyung sighs, letting himself sink into the sheets as Jeongguk slides in beside him, pulling him close.

This feels right.

.

.

.

The rain has stopped.

The air is filled with the scent of it, damp and heavy, filtering through the open window. The city is quiet in the early hours, the streets washed clean, glistening under the golden light of the streetlamps.

Jeongguk shifts, his grip still firm around Taehyung’s waist. 

Taehyung stirs against him. His breath feels warm against Jeongguk’s collarbone, his fingers splayed over his chest. Neither of them speaks for a long time. Because now, there’s no turning back.

Taehyung hums softly, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to Jeongguk’s marked neck. “You’re thinking too much again.”

Jeongguk exhales, dragging a hand through Taehyung’s damp hair. “You know what happens next, don’t you?”

Taehyung pulls back slightly, propping himself up on one elbow. “Yeah.” His voice is a little weaker now, rough from exhaustion. “I do.”

Jeongguk watches him, fingers tracing the faint bruises forming along Taehyung’s hips, reminders of the way he held him, the way he claimed him. Taehyung doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t shy away. He just leans into it.

“We can’t stay here,” Jeongguk murmurs.

“Are you afraid?” Taehyung asks and Jeongguk finally exhales, running a slow hand down his spine, feeling the shiver that follows.

“Not for me.”

Taehyung lets out a soft breath, shifting until their noses brush. “Then let’s leave.”

Jeongguk freezes.

“Let’s just fucking leave, Jeongguk. Right now. You and I. I'm not going back there and I'm definitely not gonna marry that woman.”

Jeongguk grips his wrist before he can say anything else, before he can make this real. “Taehyung—”

“I’m serious,” Taehyung cuts in, voice steady. “I don’t care about my father, his connections, his money or power, about any of it. I hate it. It makes me sick to my stomach. You think I want to keep living in a fucking cage? Do you think I’d be here if I did?”

Jeongguk swallows hard, staring at him, at the sincerity burning in his eyes. 

These eyes. Jeongguk fell in love with them the moment they met.

“We’ll never stop running,” Jeongguk says, offering him a final chance to reconsider but Taehyung leans in.

He presses their foreheads together, his lips brushing against Jeongguk and whispers, “Then run with me.”

And that’s it.

That’s the moment Jeongguk realizes there’s no stopping this. No undoing what they’ve just done, what they feel. There’s only forward.

Only them.

He exhales, gripping the back of Taehyung’s neck, dragging him into one last kiss that's slow, deep, filled with everything Jeongguk has never said aloud.

Then he moves.

Taehyung watches him pulling on his clothes, tossing Taehyung’s soaked ones to the side. “Wear this,” he tells him, throwing him a plain black hoodie and a pair of jeans. 

Taehyung nods, pulling them on.

Then, Jeongguk grabs a worn leather bag from the corner of the room, stuffing it with essentials, cash, fake passports that he had kept, a switchblade he keeps for emergencies. When Taehyung sees the gun holster Jeongguk straps to his waist, his stomach stirs.

“You really think they’ll come after us?” Taehyung asks, voice quieter now.

Jeongguk doesn’t look at him as he fastens the strap. “I don’t think. I know.”

Taehyung swallows but nods. “Good.”

Jeongguk glances up at him, surprised.

“I want them to see me leaving,” Taehyung says, rolling up the sleeves of the hoodie. His eyes gleam, lips turning into something wicked. “I want my father to know that he lost.”

Jeongguk exhales a breath that sounds suspiciously like a laugh. “You’re fucking insane.”

Taehyung grins, stepping closer. “Love is insanity,” he murmurs, fingers brushing against Jeongguk’s tattooed wrist. “And I’ve been insane for you since the day you walked into my life.”

Jeongguk stills.

“You know it, don’t you?” His voice is softer now, more honest than it has ever been. “You’ve always known.”

Jeongguk swallows. “Tae—”

“Say it.” Taehyung moves even closer, chest pressing flush against Jeongguk’s, breath ghosting over his lips. “Say it back.”

Jeongguk clenches his jaw. His fingers twitch, recalling the nights spent holding himself back, the moments he let slip through his fingers.

And now, Taehyung is here. Offering himself, choosing him.

Something snaps.

“I'm insane for you, Kim Taehyung,” Jeongguk cups Taehyung’s face, lifting it up, searching his eyes for one last second and then kisses him.

This time it's incredibly soft. A promise. A confession. Taehyung makes a sound, something between a sigh and a moan, and Jeongguk devours him. He melts into him, fingers curling into Jeongguk’s black shirt, pulling him impossibly closer.

When they finally pull apart, breathless, Taehyung lets out a shaky laugh. “Took you long enough.”

Jeongguk doesn’t argue. Instead, he grabs his keys, shoves his cigarette pack into his pocket, and gestures toward the door. “Let’s go.”

They move fast. Down the narrow staircase, into the quiet Parisian streets. Jeongguk leads them to a small garage behind the apartment complex, pressing in a code before the metal door rolls up.

Taehyung whistles low. “Still keeping secrets?”

Inside, Jeongguk’s motorcycle gleams under the dim fluorescent lights. Black, sleek, built for speed. He swings one leg over the seat, turning the key, the engine roaring to life.

Then, he looks at him. “Get on.”

Taehyung doesn’t hesitate. He slides behind Jeongguk, arms locking around his waist. “Where are we heading?”

Jeongguk revs the engine, feeling Taehyung’s heartbeat against his back.

“Away.”

Taehyung grins against his shoulder, tightening his grip. “Away sounds good.”

Jeongguk kicks off the stand, and they’re gone.

They ride through the city like ghosts, slipping past familiar streets, through dark alleys, and bridges still glistening from the storm. The Eiffel Tower glows golden in the distance, the Seine stretching wide like a serpent as they race toward the outskirts of the city.

No more bodyguards. No more gilded cages. No more pretending.

The wind howls around them and Taehyung's fingers clench around Jeongguk’s jacket, holding on for dear life. Jeongguk grips the throttle, pushing the speed, feeling Taehyung's chest pressed against him.

His insanity. His downfall. His freedom.

He doesn’t know where they’re going. Doesn’t care. 

All that matters is that, for the first time in five years, Taehyung is his to take.

And Jeongguk—who has loved him for far too long, far too deeply—will do whatever it takes to keep him safe. 

No matter what.

Chapter Text

The scent of humidity and rain lingers in the canals. The golden lights have been replaced by neon ones, painting the cobblestone streets in different colors.

It’s quieter here than in Paris, but the silence is different. It doesn’t feel like waiting for something to go wrong.

For the first time, they can breathe. But that wasn't the case three months ago.

Their first stop after Paris had been a small, run-down motel on the outskirts of Frankfurt. They hadn’t planned anything but exhaustion hit them the moment Jeongguk cut the engine, their bodies still damp from the rain, hands still shaking from the adrenaline of their escape.

Taehyung had collapsed onto the creaky mattress, face buried in the pillow, barely able to mumble, “Wake me up if we have to run again.”

Jeongguk had stayed awake. Sat by the window with his gun in his lap, heart pounding, staring at every shadow that appeared past the parking lot. He knew Taehyung’s father. Knew his reach, his power, his ruthlessness.

And he had been right to worry.

They found him.

The knock came at 2:37 AM.

Jeongguk had been in the bathroom, taking  care of the wound on his right hand, a souvenir of an earlier fight when a pair of hired men tried to tail them from the border. He heard the knock, then a voice, low and coaxing came.

“Mr. Kim. Your father wants you home.”

Jeongguk’s blood ran cold.

He moved fast, stepping out into the main room, but Taehyung was already awake, sitting up, eyes wide, body frozen. He looked at Jeongguk, silent, scared. And Jeongguk knew... they had him trapped.

The door lock clicked.

The moment the intruder stepped inside, Jeongguk lunged.

The fight was quick, brutal. Jeongguk was stronger, faster, but the man was armed. A gun fired, missing Jeongguk’s head by inches, the bullet burying itself into the motel wall. Taehyung had screamed, scrambling off the bed, hands shaking as he searched for something, anything, to use.

Jeongguk didn’t hesitate. He knocked the gun free, sent the man crashing into the dresser, rendering him unconscious. The second Jeongguk grabbed Taehyung’s wrist, they were running again, out the fire escape, into the night, into another stolen car, another nameless road.

Taehyung didn’t speak for the first few hours.

But Jeongguk heard him.

Sitting beside him in the passenger seat, hands trembling in his lap, Taehyung was crying silently.

Jeongguk didn’t say anything. He just reached over, intertwined their fingers, and held on.

They didn’t stop until Amsterdam.

Jeongguk now leans against the balcony railing of their small apartment, cigarette dangling between his fingers, watching the city move below. 

He hears Taehyung before he sees him, his socked feet stomping on the old wooden floor as he approaches.

Then, arms snake around his waist, a chin resting on his shoulder. “You’re hiding from me,” Taehyung murmurs, lips brushing against his skin.

Jeongguk laughs. It's been a while since he's done that. “Didn’t realize I was.”

“You always do this,” Taehyung says, voice slow, lazy and warm. “Disappear on your birthday.”

Jeongguk exhales, watching the smoke curl into the night. “Never saw the point in celebrating.”

Taehyung hums, pressing closer. “Then it’s a good thing I do.”

Jeongguk turns his head slightly, catching the spark in Taehyung’s eyes. “Tae—”

But Taehyung is already tugging him inside. The apartment is dim, candles flickering on the table, light dancing against the walls. There’s a cake. It's simple, a little uneven, the frosting slightly messy, like Taehyung tried to fix it too many times. Two forks sit beside it. A bottle of whiskey waits on the counter.

And him. Kim Taehyung dressed in a white oversized shirt, legs exposed.

Jeongguk blinks. “You—”

“I had to bribe the old man at the bakery downstairs to let me decorate it myself,” Taehyung says, grinning. “Turns out, I’m terrible at frosting.”

Jeongguk stares at the cake, at the soft candlelight caressing Taehyung’s face, at the way he’s looking at him like this moment, this night, matters.

Something in his chest tightens.

He turns, stepping closer until Taehyung is pressed against the table. “You really did all this?”

“I am capable of effort, you know.”

Jeongguk doesn’t answer. Just cups his jaw, tilts his face up, and kisses him.

It’s slow this time, deep and lingering, a silent thank you. And Taehyung just melts into it, fingers curling into Jeongguk’s shirt, like he’s pulling him closer, like he needs him closer.

When they break apart, Taehyung exhales, breath warm against Jeongguk’s lips. “Happy birthday, Jeongguk-ah.”

Jeongguk brushes his thumb over Taehyung’s cheek, watching him like he’s memorizing him.

For the first time in years, he wants to celebrate.

And so, they do.

Taehyung pushes him down onto one of the mismatched chairs they bought from the flea market last week. He grabs the bottle of whiskey, popping it open with a triumphant grin. “Since you don’t like birthdays, let’s get you drunk instead.”

Jeongguk raises a brow. “Didn’t know you could drink whiskey.”

“I can when I’m celebrating your miserable existence,” Taehyung teases, pouring two glasses and sliding one toward him.

Jeongguk scoffs, but he takes the glass anyway, swirling the amber liquid before taking a slow sip. It burns, but it’s smooth, making his chest feel warm.

Taehyung lifts his own glass. “To Vincent and Ian.”

Jeongguk smirks. “To running from your daddy’s hitmen.”

Taehyung kicks him under the table.

They clink glasses, and for a while, they just drink. Talk. Laugh.

Jeongguk tells Taehyung about his day at the garage on the east side of the city. How the owner, a grumpy old Dutchman, doesn’t ask questions as long as the work gets done. How Jeongguk has been fixing up motorcycles again, just like he used to.

Taehyung listens, chin resting on his hand, swirling the whiskey in his glass. “You like it?”

Jeongguk shrugs. “It’s quiet. Honest work. Pays in cash.” He smirks. “Way better than babysitting a spoiled brat.”

Taehyung gasps, placing a dramatic hand over his chest. “Excuse you, Vincent is a hard-working member of society.”

Jeongguk snorts. “Oh yeah? And what does Vincent do?”

Taehyung lifts his chin, proud. “He works at the bakery downstairs.”

Jeongguk teases him. “Does he now?”

Taehyung scowls, reaching for the fork and slicing off a piece of the cake. “It’s not that surprising. We needed the money.”

Jeongguk grins, leaning forward. “So what does he do? Stand at the register looking pretty?”

“Exactly.” Taehyung smirks, taking a bite, moaning a little too dramatically. “Also, she may or may not steal a cupcake or two.”

Jeongguk snorts, taking a sip of whiskey. “That I believe.”

Taehyung narrows his eyes, then suddenly, before Jeongguk can react, he smashes a forkful of cake onto Jeongguk’s lips.

Taehyung beams. “Happy birthday!”

Jeongguk exhales slowly, licking the frosting off his lips, tongue flicking over the corner of his mouth. His eyes darken. “You wanna play that game?”

Taehyung barely has a second to react before Jeongguk swipes two fingers through the frosting and smears it all the way from his cheek to his lip.

“You little—” Taehyung lunges, but Jeongguk laughs, dodging him, catching his wrists and pinning him to the table.

Taehyung glares up at him, breathing hard. “That was uncalled for.”

“You started it.”

“I was being festive.”

Jeongguk leans in, lips ghosting over Taehyung’s frosting-streaked skin. “So am I.”

Taehyung swallows, eyes traveling to Jeongguk’s lips. “Lick it off, then,” he challenges.

Jeongguk doesn’t need to be told twice.

He leans in, dragging his tongue slowly across Taehyung’s cheek, tasting sugar and whiskey. Taehyung shudders beneath him, fingers tightening around Jeongguk’s wrists.

Jeongguk pulls back just enough to meet his gaze. “Sweet,” he murmurs.

Taehyung licks his lips, eyes half-lidded. “I know.”

Jeongguk smirks, eyes catching the frosting still smeared along Taehyung’s lips. Messy. Tempting.

“Missed a spot,” he murmurs.

Taehyung arches a brow, feigning innocence. “Oh? Where?”

Jeongguk hums, trailing a finger along Taehyung’s bottom lip, smearing more frosting there. Taehyung’s breath stutters, pupils blowing wide as Jeongguk lifts the same finger to his own mouth and licks it clean, gaze never leaving Taehyung’s.

“Right there,” Jeongguk murmurs, already feeling his body getting warmer. 

Taehyung exhales sharply. “Fucking tease.”

But Jeongguk only tilts his head, scooping up more frosting with his thumb. Taehyung watches, transfixed, as he brings it to his lips, but doesn’t eat it. Instead, he leans in, pressing it to Taehyung’s mouth, waiting.

Taehyung smirks, parts his lips, and lets Jeongguk feed him. He moans as the sweetness melts on his tongue, licking his thumb clean, knowing exactly what he’s doing.

Jeongguk watches like he wants to devour him whole.

“More?” Jeongguk asks, and his voice feels like smoke, deep and dangerous.

Taehyung hums, licking his lips before dragging his finger through the frosting again. His lips curl. “Actually—” 

He drags the frosting down Jeongguk’s throat.

Jeongguk freezes, jaw clenching as Taehyung smears it across his collarbone, then leans in, his tongue flicking out, hot, wet, and so slow, lapping up the mess he made.

Jeongguk groans, gripping the edge of the table. “You—”

Taehyung grins against his skin, kissing the sticky trail he left behind. “What?”

Jeongguk snaps.

He grips Taehyung’s jaw and kisses him, hard, licking into his mouth, swallowing the laughter, the teasing, the taste of frosting and whiskey.

Taehyung gasps, letting Jeongguk take control, his fingers burying themselves in his hair, pulling him closer, needing him, all hot and desperate.

Jeongguk nips at his bottom lip, sucking, biting, soothing, only to drag a whimper from Taehyung’s throat. “You’re such a little shit,” he growls, pressing him against the wooden surface.

Taehyung laughs, breathless, grinding up against him. “I thought that's what you loved the most about me.”

Jeongguk growls, lifts him onto the table, slotting himself between his legs. His hands slide under Taehyung’s shirt, dragging over flushed skin, fingertips ghosting up his ribs, his sides, his spine. He smells like strawberries and cream.

Taehyung shudders, gripping Jeongguk’s shoulders, breath coming faster. “Kiss me.”

Jeongguk smirks. “Demanding.”

Taehyung pulls him down without hesitation, kissing him like he wants to ruin him. Like he wants to be ruined.

Jeongguk’s hands slide lower, pushing between Taehyung’s legs, feeling the heat through the thin fabric of his underwear.

Taehyung gasps, his body arching into the touch, grinding against Jeongguk’s palm, seeking more. The cool air from the open window touches his skin, but he doesn’t care. No. He doesn’t care about anything except Jeongguk’s hands on him, Jeongguk’s mouth devouring him, right here right now.

The cake is forgotten, whiskey left untouched.

Jeongguk pushes Taehyung’s shirt up, dragging his teeth down his chest, his tongue lapping up the mess of sugar and sweat along his skin before he pushes him hard against the table. His fingers reach for the elastic waistband of Taehyung's underwear, sliding inside the fabric almost possessive.

Taehyung whimpers, hips bucking. “Jeongguk—”

“Shh,” Jeongguk hushes against his skin, dragging his teeth over Taehyung’s hipbone. He pulls back just enough to meet Taehyung’s gaze, dark and heavy-lidded. “Gonna let me have you right here, baby?”

Taehyung moans, eyes fluttering shut as Jeongguk’s fingers slip lower, teasing, spreading, pressing all the spots that drive him insane.

“Need you,” Taehyung breathes, voice wrecked, hands gripping Jeongguk’s shoulders.

And Jeongguk groans, pushing Taehyung’s underwear down, drinking in the sight of him, all flushed, needy, thighs spread open, ready and waiting.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” Jeongguk murmurs, running his hands up the insides of Taehyung’s thighs. “Been waiting all day for this.”

Taehyung shudders, whimpering when Jeongguk leans in, licking a slow, torturous stripe up his inner thigh, teeth grazing, sucking marks into his skin.

“Fuck, don’t tease,” Taehyung gasps, pulling at Jeongguk’s hair.

“Who’s in charge here, hmm?”

Taehyung glares, but the effect is ruined when Jeongguk’s tongue flicks out, just barely ghosting over where he needs it most. His entire body tenses and a choked sound leaves his throat.

Jeongguk licks into him, slow and deep, hands gripping Taehyung’s thighs, holding him open, keeping him there.

Taehyung sobs, head falling back against the table as he shoves his tongue deeper inside him. “Fuck—fuck, Jeongguk, please—”

Jeongguk hums against him, the vibration sending a shudder through Taehyung’s spine. His hands slide up, palming his waist, feeling the way his body trembles, the way he comes apart so easily under him.

“God, you taste so fucking good,” Jeongguk groans, voice rough, tongue working, pushing, curling, driving Taehyung insane.

Taehyung whimpers, legs trembling around Jeongguk’s shoulders, fingers fisting into his hair, tugging, begging for more.

“Jeongguk—fuck—I can’t—”

But Jeongguk doesn’t let up. He ruins him. Licks him open, fingers pressing, stretching him just right, until Taehyung is gasping, writhing, losing himself completely.

“Come for me, baby,” Jeongguk whispers against his skin before his lips and tongue push him over the edge.

Taehyung shatters. His back aches, hands gripping him harder, voice breaking as he comes with Jeongguk’s tongue still inside him.

Jeongguk groans, gripping his thighs, drinking in the sound, the taste, the way Taehyung trembles against him.

He pulls back, eyes blown, lips slick and glistening, watching Taehyung try to catch his breath, body still shaking.

Then, Jeongguk stands, kisses him filthy, deep and messy, letting Taehyung taste himself on his tongue.

Taehyung whimpers into his mouth, still sensitive, still aching, but he doesn’t pull away.

Instead, he smirks against Jeongguk’s lips, his hand palming him through his jeans, dragging his fingers over the outline of his cock, feeling the way Jeongguk twitches, tenses, growls.

“You like being in charge, don’t you?” Taehyung murmurs, kissing along Jeongguk’s jaw, nipping and licking. His other hand slips beneath Jeongguk’s shirt, trailing over his stomach, his chest, his scars.

Jeongguk exhales sharply, his fingers digging into Taehyung’s thighs. “You don’t?”

Taehyung laughs and it's breathless and smug. “Oh, I do.”

And then he pushes him back, turns him around to have him slot against the table and drops to his knees.

Jeongguk curses, head moving back slightly as Taehyung’s hands unzip his jeans, pushing them down just enough. He palms him properly now, warm fingers wrapping around him.

Jeongguk’s breath comes out ragged. “Tae—”

“Shh,” Taehyung coos, pressing open-mouthed kisses down Jeongguk’s stomach, dragging his tongue lower, tasting the sweat, the heat, the anticipation.

Jeongguk groans, body already thrumming with tension. His hands tangle into Taehyung’s now black hair.

Then Taehyung takes him in his mouth.

Jeongguk chokes on a moan, his grip tightening, his entire body shuddering at the warmth and wetness of Taehyung’s mouth, the way his tongue curls, the way he sucks, slow, deep and fucking perfect.

“F-fuck—Tae—”

Taehyung hums around him, cheeks hollowing, fingers digging into Jeongguk’s hips to keep him still. But Jeongguk can’t stay still, can’t think, can’t do anything but fall apart.

Taehyung works him over, slow and filthy, pulling back just enough to drag his tongue along the tip, teasing him just enough before sinking back down. Taking him deeper.

Jeongguk groans, tugging at Taehyung’s hair, hips jerking despite himself. “Fuck, baby—”

Taehyung smirks, moaning around him, and that’s it.

Jeongguk snaps, pulls him up, kisses him hard, messy, desperate, all tongue and teeth and no control.

“Bed. Now,” Jeongguk growls against his lips, voice wrecked.

Taehyung grins, breathless, dragging him toward the bedroom.

And then Jeongguk spends the rest of the night making him regret teasing.

* * *

The sheets are damp, tangled around their legs. The scent of come, sweat and whiskey lingers in the air, but neither of them moves to clean up. They just lie there, skin on skin, their bodies still aching in the best way.

Jeongguk is quiet, fingers trailing absently along Taehyung’s bare spine.

Taehyung watches him. “You’re thinking too much again.”

Jeongguk exhales. “Can’t help it.”

Taehyung hums, pressing closer, lacing their fingers together on Jeongguk’s chest. “You almost died back in Frankfurt.”

Jeongguk stiffens, the memory slamming into him all at once. The gunshot. Taehyung’s scream. The way he had nearly lost him that night.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” Taehyung admits, softer now. “When I heard the gunshot.” His arms tighten around Jeongguk, fingers gripping his skin harder like he still isn’t sure if this is real.

Jeongguk turns in his hold, their faces inches apart. “But you didn’t.”

Taehyung looks up at him. “But I could have.”

Jeongguk lifts a hand, brushing damp strands of hair away from Taehyung’s face, his fingers lingering against his jaw, soothing him. “I promised to keep you safe, didn’t I?”

Taehyung chuckles, shaking his head. “It was never just about that.”

Jeongguk sighs, thumb tracing the curve of Taehyung’s cheek. “No,” he admits. “It wasn’t.”

Taehyung watches him for a long moment, searching, waiting. Then, in a quiet whisper, he murmurs.

“Say it.”

Jeongguk tenses, his heart slamming against his ribs, his throat suddenly dry. “Tae—”

“Say it,” Taehyung repeats, voice steady. “I need to hear it.”

Jeongguk swallows, fingers tightening against Taehyung’s waist.

Because he knows. He knows.

He had spent five years pretending. Five years holding back, running, pushing Taehyung away, until that night in Paris.

Until he had lost himself completely. Who knows what happens tomorrow. They may end up running again… or worse.

But tonight is theirs.

So Jeongguk breathes in deep, presses his forehead against Taehyung’s, closes his eyes and, finally, lets himself say it.

“I love you.”

Taehyung shudders, his breath catching, his hands gripping Jeongguk tighter.

“Say it again,” he whispers a little desperate now, eyes glistening in the dim light.

Jeongguk kisses him, softer this time. 

“I love you,” he murmurs against his lips. “Always have. Always will.”

Taehyung laughs, breathless, shaky, and kisses him back, pressing their bodies even closer, like he never wants to let go.

“Good,” he whispers. “Because I love you too.”

And for the first time since they left Paris, since Jeongguk first met him five years ago, he’s hopeful that they’re going to make it despite all odds.

Because Taehyung is here. He chose him. And nobody’s going to take him away from him.

Chapter Text

The sun hangs low over the beautiful city of Porto. The summer breeze carries the scent of magnolias and citrus while water flows somewhere in the distance.

Taehyung stretches lazily in a lounge chair, skin kissed by the sun, a book resting on his chest, eyes half-lidded as he listens to the world around him.

It is quiet. Finally peaceful.

But it took time to get here. To finally have what Taehyung always wanted. Sacrifices had to be made. But Taehyung never hesitated. And he never will.

Now, as the sun dips lower, memories creep in.

They always come to him like an old movie projected before his eyes, especially today, on the anniversary of the day Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jeongguk ceased to exist.

* * *

Their life in Amsterdam had been good... for a while.

Jeongguk kept working at the garage, fixing up motorcycles. Taehyung spent his mornings at the bakery downstairs, flirting with the old woman at the register to get extra pastries, stealing bites when no one was looking. 

They had a routine, a sense of normalcy, built on borrowed time.

They weren’t running. They had friends, acquaintances, at least, shopkeepers who knew their faces, neighbors who nodded in passing. Taehyung learned how to say goedemorgen with an awful accent, and Jeongguk teased him for it every time.

But the illusion didn’t last.

And Jeongguk felt it first. Unseen eyes, weird faces 

At first, it was subtle. A shadow that lingered too long, footsteps that stopped when they turned a corner. Then, it was a man outside Jeongguk’s garage, pretending to check his phone but never actually leaving.

Taehyung didn’t want to believe it.

“We’ve been careful,” he argued, pacing their small apartment, still in denial, hoping it was nothing. “No one knows we’re here.”

Jeongguk didn’t answer. He just stood by the window, cigarette between his fingers, staring into the darkness below. Waiting. Listening. Always listening.

Then, one night, it happened.

A man followed Taehyung home from the flea market.

Not a mistake. Not a coincidence.

Jeongguk spotted him first, crossing the street too slowly, watching too intently.

Taehyung was humming to himself as he climbed the stairs, holding a bouquet of tulips in his hand, completely unaware of the shadow trailing behind him.

Jeongguk’s heart pounded. He reached for the gun pressing against his lower back on instinct. He didn’t move, didn’t blink, just watched as the man hesitated at the foot of the stairs, eyes locked onto Taehyung’s retreating form.

Then, he reached for something inside his coat.

Jeongguk moved before he could think.

The door swung open just as Taehyung stepped inside.

Jeongguk didn’t speak. Didn’t look at him.

His eyes were fixed past him, at the street below, at the man who had stopped in his tracks.

Taehyung froze, brow furrowing. “What—”

Jeongguk reached for his gun, looking terrified.

“We leave. Now.”

Taehyung didn’t argue.

He didn’t ask questions when Jeongguk grabbed their bags, when he shoved a handful of cash into his jacket, when he killed the lights and pulled him out the back door.

All he did was hold onto Jeongguk’s wrist, tight, like he already knew.

They didn’t look back.

And so they became runaways... again.

.

.

.

Run

.

.

.

They had nowhere to go. They bounced between cities, countries. Lithuania, Poland, Slovenia, Slovakia. Each stop more desperate than the last.

For a while, Lithuania had felt safe. Too safe. They had stayed in a small town near Kaunas, renting a cramped apartment with peeling wallpaper and a broken heater. 

Jeongguk worked at a local garage under the table, fixing old Soviet-era cars, while Taehyung spent his days blending into the streets, learning enough Lithuanian to buy groceries without raising suspicion.

It was the first time in months they had slept in the same bed for more than a few nights. They held each other close, like it was the last time. 

They made love in the morning. It was desperate and hasty. Like time was running out. Like they wouldn't be able to feel each other again, hear each other.

Safety was an illusion. It always was.

One evening, as Taehyung walked home, he noticed something. A black sedan parked near their building, same one he had seen the night before. Same one from Amsterdam.

He didn’t go inside.

Instead, he turned on his heel, phone shaking in his grip as he texted Jeongguk one word.

Run.

By the time Jeongguk got home, their apartment had been ransacked.

They were seconds from being found.

And so… they ran away again.

.

.

.

Poland was colder, lonelier. It felt like an endless winter.

They hid in Warsaw, living in a hostel filled with backpackers and students, slipping into the background, just another set of nameless, forgettable faces. 

Jeongguk found work again, patching up motorcycles in a small garage. Taehyung tried to keep busy, working part-time in various cafés, sketching strangers, listening to languages he didn’t understand. 

But even there, the paranoia never left.

One night, someone knocked on their door.

They held their breath, bodies tense, frozen in the dim glow of the bedside lamp. The knocks were measured, precise. Not the kind that belonged to a drunken guest or a friend.

Jeongguk reached for his gun while Taehyung grabbed his wrist, heart thrumming in his chest.

“Stay quiet,” Jeongguk murmured, eyes fixed on the door. They didn’t answer but the knocking stopped.

A minute later, footsteps faded down the hall.

They packed their few possessions and left before sunrise without a word, leaving what they owned at the reception desk.

.

.

.

When they arrived in Ljubljana it had been six months since Paris.

The thought the winding streets and medieval architecture could offer them a new kind of anonymity.

For a while, they lived on cash and luck. Jeongguk took under-the-table security jobs, long hours standing outside nightclubs or guarding nameless businessmen in shady bars. 

Taehyung learned to pickpocket. Not because they needed money, but because it gave him a rush, a sense of control in a life where they had none.

Jeongguk was against it from the start.

"What if you get caught?" he had snapped one night, worried and frustrated as he pulled off his boots, exhaustion sitting on his shoulders.

Taehyung had been sitting on the mattress in the corner of their cramped basement apartment, flipping through a stack of stolen wallets, sorting through bills and IDs like they were playing cards.

He shrugged. "I won’t."

"That’s not the fucking point, Tae," Jeongguk exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "You don’t need to do this. I’m making enough—"

"Enough for what?" Taehyung shot back. "For this?" He gestured around at the damp walls, the single flickering lightbulb, the sound of rats scratching behind the pipes. "I can’t fucking stay here all day while you’re out there. It’s suffocating. I need something—anything."

Jeongguk pressed his lips together. He understood. He really did.

But that didn’t mean he liked it.

Still, he let it go.  

He let Taehyung curl into him, let him clutch at his shirt, let the sobs shake through his body. Jeongguk didn’t speak. He just held him tightly.  

Then, he felt it.  The way his own chest ached, burned, the way the past few months had carved something raw inside of him. His throat felt dry, and before he could stop it, his own tears began to fall. 

He buried his face in Taehyung’s hair, silent, trembling, holding on because neither of them had anything else left.

For a long time, neither of them spoke. Just breathing, just feeling, just surviving.  

Until Jeongguk whispered, “Do you regret running away with me?”  

Taehyung froze.

Then, suddenly, he was on top of him, straddling him, gripping his wrists against the mattress. His eyes were red-rimmed, furious, heartbroken.  

“How the fuck can you ask me that?” he hissed. His tears dripped onto Jeongguk’s cheeks, warm, unrelenting. “I left everything for you. I risked my life for you. I would die for you.”  

Jeongguk’s breath hitched we Taehyung’s grip tightened. His lips trembled, but his voice never wavered.  

“I don’t regret it,” he whispered. “I never will.”  

Then, he kissed him.  

Hard. Desperate. Not just lips, but teeth, tongue, everything he had. 

Jeongguk gasped into his mouth, stunned, overwhelmed, and completely and utterly wrecked.

Taehyung pulled away just enough to look at him, eyes burning.

“Make love to me,” he whispered, voice raw, pleading. “Make me feel alive. Show me that you still love me.” 

Jeongguk felt himself shatter.

He flipped them over, his body pressing Taehyung’s into the mattress, his lips trailing over his jaw, his throat and his chest.

“I love you,” he murmured, again and again, between kisses, between touches, between every breath. “I love you. I love you. I’ll never stop.”

Taehyung clung to him, fingers tangled in his hair, moaning, crying, kissing him back with everything he had left.

Jeongguk made love to him slowly that night, whispering promises into his skin.  

“Live for me. I want you to live for me, Tae. I can't lose you. Everything's gonna be okay.”

Taehyung cried harder at that and Jeongguk soothed him, promising that things would get better. That one day, they wouldn’t have to run. 

And Taehyung believed him. Because Jeongguk would never lie. Or at least he told himself that. 

Because they were two butterflies with broken wings caught… in a lie.

Then Taehyung’s birthday arrived.

No cake. No presents. Just two stolen beers and a pack of cigarettes, sitting on the floor of their apartment, a single candle stuck into a bruised apple Taehyung had swiped from the market.

“We should go out,” Taehyung said, twirling the cigarette between his fingers.

Jeongguk frowned. “Not a good idea.”

“It’s my birthday,” Taehyung countered, leaning in closer. “Don’t I get one night?”

Jeongguk sighed, dragging a hand down his face. He shouldn’t. He really, really shouldn’t. But when Taehyung looked at him like that... mischievous, daring, alive.

“Fine,” he muttered.

Taehyung grinned and so they went.

The city square was crowded that night; street musicians playing under glowing lanterns, old merchants selling roasted chestnuts, couples laughing over glasses of wine. For a moment, it felt normal.

They drank cheap beer, stole kisses in dark alleyways, let the night swallow them whole.

For the first time in a long time, Jeongguk let himself believe that they were finally safe.

But then... it happened.

It was in the middle of a crowded street that they spotted them.

Men in dark suits, standing at the edges, watching.

Jeongguk didn’t hesitate. He grabbed Taehyung’s wrist and they ran down twisting alleys, past startled pedestrians, dodging through an open-air market, knocking over crates of fruit, cutting through backstreets.

A bullet shattered the glass of a storefront behind them.

Taehyung gasped, stumbling slightly, his lungs burning, his legs aching, but Jeongguk yanked him forward, gripping his wrist so tightly it almost hurt.

"Faster!" Jeongguk shouted, his voice barely cutting through the chaos.

They were running out of road.

Ahead, the bridge loomed, low, worn, barely hanging over the railway tracks. Below, the train rumbled closer, a silver bullet crossing the night.

"Jeongguk—" Taehyung choked when he realized what he was about to say. 

"Trust me," Jeongguk panted, dragging him forward. "Trust me, Tae."

The train was moving fast. Too fast.

Taehyung's breath came in ragged gasps, his chest heaving, every instinct screaming at him to stop, to think, to find another way, to give up...

But Jeongguk turned to him, eyes fierce, wild, so full of something Taehyung had never been able to resist.

"I asked you to live for me, Tae. Please. Just once more. Jump!”

And then Jeongguk did.

For one terrifying second, Taehyung watched him fall, his body vanishing into the blur of metal and motion below.

But then, without thinking, without hesitating... Taehyung jumped too.

The world tilted, twisted, crashed into him all at once.

He hit the train hard, Jeongguk’s arms catching him just in time, his grip iron-strong, keeping him from tumbling off into the darkness.

The train roared beneath them, metal screeching against metal, the wind ripping at their clothes, their skin, their breath.

For a moment, they just lay there, chests rising and falling in unison, bodies tangled, adrenaline still pounding in their veins.

Then, Jeongguk laughed. It was soft, breathless, and half-disbelieving.

"You did it," he murmured, pressing his forehead against Taehyung’s, voice still shaky. "You fucking did it, baby."

Taehyung let out a weak, breathless chuckle, shaking in Jeongguk’s arms, alive, alive, alive.

"I fucking did," he whispered. “I'm alive! I'm fucking alive!”

“You are! We are!”

Taehyung closed his eyes, exhaled against Jeongguk’s lips and then kissed him as the train carried on, taking them away from a life Taehyung hated to his very core.

.

.

.

Slovakia was a last resort.

They had crossed the border with fake documents, stolen cash, and blood still on Jeongguk’s knuckles.

They should have kept moving. But exhaustion caught up with them.

For two weeks, they stayed in a cheap motel on the outskirts of Bratislava, living on black coffee and adrenaline.

Then, one night, Taehyung went out for cigarettes.

He was gone for five minutes. And when he turned onto their street, three men were waiting for him.

He didn’t have time to run.

Hands grabbed him, cold and strong. Someone muttered into an earpiece, gripping his jaw, forcing him to look up.

“Where’s Jeon?”

Taehyung spat in his face.

The next thing he knew, he was being dragged toward a black car, shoved into the backseat.

They didn’t make it far because Jeongguk found them first.

The car had barely turned the corner when gunshots shattered the quiet.

Tires screeched. Someone cursed. And then complete and utter chaos.

The door was yanked open, a fist slamming into someone’s jaw, a gun clattering to the pavement. Jeongguk was a ghost in the dark, a killing force in black, taking down two men before the third had time to react.

Bang!

A gunshot.

Taehyung turned just in time to see Jeongguk stagger, a sharp inhale leaving his beautiful lips. The lips that gave Taehyung life, promises of a better future, the same ones that had made him gasp numerous times.

He barely registered the blood blooming across his side before he was catching him, screaming his name.

“No, no, no, no—”

His hands were wet and shaking, pressing against Jeongguk’s wound, panic flooding his system.

“Jeongguk, stay awake,” he begged, voice cracking. “Just—fuck—stay with me.”

Jeongguk grimaced, gripping his wrist. “Tae—”

But his body was heavy, breath coming shallow. And Taehyung was terrified.

He didn’t remember how he got Jeongguk out of there. Didn’t remember punching the third man until his knuckles split open, until he was sure he wasn’t getting back up. Didn’t remember grabbing the earpiece off the man’s body, spitting venom into it, voice shaking, promising, "Come after us again, and I’ll kill you all. Especially, you, Kim Tae-seung!" 

He didn't remember how he got Jeongguk into their car, how his hands were covered in blood, Jeongguk’s blood, as he gripped the wheel, his vision blurring, his heart slamming against his ribs. 

All he remembered was Jeongguk’s breath turning shallow, his life slipping through his fingers. 

"Stay with me. Stay, please... fuck, don’t you dare close your eyes!"

He drove faster than he ever had in his life, pushing past red lights, past everything but the sound of Jeongguk’s labored breathing.

Then, somewhere along the road, an empty gas station appeared, neon lights flickering in the dark, and Taehyung was forced to stop. 

He didn’t have a choice. Jeongguk was burning up, his skin too pale, his body limp. If Taehyung didn’t do something now...

He couldn’t finish the thought.

 .

.

.

Taehyung tore through the small convenience store, grabbing vodka, bandages, a cheap sewing kit, anything, anything that could hold him together. He shoved a stack of bills onto the counter, not stopping long enough to see if the cashier even took them before he was back outside.

Jeongguk was barely conscious when he climbed into the backseat.  

"Jeongguk, baby, look at me," Taehyung pleaded, pushing his sweat-drenched hair back, his hands shaking too much to work the cap off the bottle of alcohol.

Jeongguk's coughed, his eyelids fluttering. 

"Tae—"

"I've got you. You're okay. You’re okay.”

He lied. Because the moment he poured the alcohol over his wound, Jeongguk screamed and Taehyung's heart was split into half.

His body arched off the seat, his fingers digging into Taehyung’s arms, hard enough to bruise.  

"Fuck!"  

Taehyung squeezed his eyes shut, his own tears slipping free, mixing with Jeongguk’s sweat and blood as he pressed his forehead against his.  

"I know, baby, I know," he whispered, kissing the corner of Jeongguk’s mouth, the line of his jaw, anywhere he could reach.

"Just a little more. Just— just stay with me, okay?”  

Jeongguk’s gasped. His fingers found Taehyung’s wrist, gripping weakly.  

Then, as Taehyung threaded the needle with trembling hands, forcing himself to stitch him up, he spoke.  

"Call Yoongi."  

Taehyung froze.  

Jeongguk’s lips were pale, cracked, his voice nothing but a rasp, but his fingers fumbled against his jeans, against his phone.  

"Call Min Yoongi," he mumbled again, pressing the device into Taehyung’s bloodstained hand. 

Taehyung could barely see through his tears. 

He swallowed, hard, gripping the phone, his free hand still pressing desperately against the wound.

"Okay," he choked out.  

Jeongguk exhaled weakly. His grip slackened.  

And just before he passed out, his lips parted.  

"Don’t cry, baby. It’ll be okay. I'll… protect you." 

Taehyung let out a sob, deep, guttural, breaking apart in the dark.

He hit the call button.  

And prayed.

.

.

.

They met Min Yoongi in a dimly lit bar on the outskirts of Bucharest after the mysterious man had somehow arranged for them to pass the border without any documents. 

Taehyung was terrified when he reached border control. He just gave the man the phone and then, after a long pause, he just let them pass. Min Yoongi must be an angel, Taehyung thought. 

It was the first time in weeks that Jeongguk had been upright for more than an hour, his body still weak, stitched up with trembling hands and stolen supplies.

Taehyung had barely left his side in days.

When he led Jeongguk into that bar, Yoongi was already waiting for them, sitting in the corner, drink in hand, cigarette dangling lazily from his fingers.

The man had been a ghost, someone who knew how to vanish when the world was looking for him. 

A marksman. A former smuggler. A man Jeongguk had once trusted with his life. He had recently come to Romania from Seoul. That's why Jeongguk didn't join Taehyung that night for cigarettes. Because he was on the phone with him.

“Fuck, man,” Yoongi muttered, setting his drink down with a soft clink as he took in Jeongguk’s pale skin, the stiffness in his movements, the bandages peeking through his shirt. “You look like shit.”

Jeongguk exhaled a slow, careful breath. “Feel like it too.”

Yoongi’s gaze traveled to Taehyung. He studied him for a moment, taking in the way he hovered, the way he gripped Jeongguk’s arm as if he was afraid to let go. He also looked like shit, sweater torn face dirty. He didn't belong in their world but he was determined, tough.

Then, Yoongi turned back to Jeongguk.

“You’ll never stop running,” he said, lighting another cigarette. “Not unless you disappear completely. No big cities, no sightings.”

Jeongguk swallowed. He had known this was coming.

He had been ready to send Taehyung away, to tell him to leave him behind, to get the hell out before their enemies found them again.

When he finally told him int hat old bar Taehyung was furious, shaking his head before Jeongguk could say another word.

“I’m not leaving you.”

His voice was firm, unwavering. Final.

“Tae—”

“I said no,” Taehyung snapped. “I’d rather die next to you than live without you.”

Jeongguk stared at him, something breaking in his chest.

Yoongi sighed, watching them like two idiots who still hadn’t figured it out.

"Alright," he muttered, taking a slow drag from his cigarette. "Then let's make you disappear."

.

.

.

Yoongi helped them buy a farm in a remote village, deep in the Romanian countryside. It was a place lost in time where people led simple lives. 

It wasn’t much. Just a small house with cracked walls, acres of open land, and a barn that had seen better days.

But it was safe. It was theirs. For the first time since they had started running, they stopped.

Yoongi treated Jeongguk’s wound properly, fixing what Taehyung hadn’t been able to. Taehyung never left his side. He was there when he was feverish, when the pain was too much, when his body trembled from exhaustion.

He sat by the bed, stroking Jeongguk’s hair, whispering to him when the nightmares came.

And when Jeongguk finally opened his eyes without pain, without fever, Taehyung had finally smiled.

"You're alive," he whispered. Like he had willed it into existence.

Jeongguk’s throat felt tight as he reached for him, brushing his knuckles against Taehyung’s cheek.

“Because of you,” he murmured. “I'm alive because of you.

Taehyung reached for his hand and let him cheek feel the warmth of his palm. Then, he leaned down and connected their lips, relieved, after countless weeks of living in fear.

Jeongguk was alive. That's what mattered. He was alive and well. 

And Taehyung could finally breathe again.

.

.

.

They worked hard.

Jeongguk learned how to fix the barn, how to mend fences, how to plant crops in the soil that had been untouched for years.

Taehyung tried his hand at raising chickens. He failed spectacularly at first, cursing in three different languages when they wouldn’t listen to him. But after a while, he figured it out. They got a few sheep and pigs as well. Jeongguk was impressed at how well he took care of the animals. How soft and caring he was with them even though the pigs were a lot to handle. 

This life was different from the glamorous parties and luxurious lifestyle he was used in. But he didn't mind because he was finally free.

They traded work for supplies at the nearest village. Made just enough to get by.

It was quiet. Steady. And slowly, after a month, they learned how to breathe again.

Until one night, when breathing wasn’t enough.

It had been a long day. The cold from the mountains was creeping in. They sat in front of the old fireplace, the flames dancing softly, projecting shadows across the worn wooden floors.

Taehyung leaned against Jeongguk’s side, his body warm, familiar. They were wrapped in the same old blanket, their hands resting between them, fingers brushing but not quite laced.

Jeongguk exhaled, tilting his head back. “I missed this.”

Taehyung hummed. “The warmth?”

Jeongguk turned to look at him, really look at him. The firelight made his eyes golden, soft, safe.

“No,” Jeongguk whispered. “You.”

Taehyung stilled. Then, slowly, he shifted, turning his body to face Jeongguk completely.

There was no rush. No desperation. Taehyung cupped his face, ran his thumb over Jeongguk’s jaw. His touch was gentle.

“Then have me,” he murmured. “Like I’m yours. Like I always have been.”

Jeongguk swallowed hard. It had been so long since the last time they did it without the fear of death looming over their heads.

He leaned in, kissing him slowly, deeply, memorizing every second of it. There was no fear, no rush. Just them. Just this.

Taehyung’s fingers slid under Jeongguk’s shirt, tracing old scars, new wounds, whispering apologies into his skin.

Jeongguk kissed them away.

They moved together, unhurried, wrapped in warmth, wrapped in love, wrapped in the kind of silence that didn’t feel empty.

Jeongguk hovered over him, watching the way Taehyung’s lashes fluttered, the way his lips parted, the way his body melted into his hands.

And when Taehyung whispered his name, soft, vulnerable, so goddamn beautiful... Jeongguk lost himself.

He pushed deeper, kissed harder, held him closer, like he was trying to carve his existence into him.

Like he never wanted to forget this.

Like he never wanted to lose him again.

After, they didn’t speak. Just breathed together, wrapped up in each other, letting the fire crackle beside them.

Jeongguk ran his fingers through Taehyung’s hair, traced the shape of his lips, the curve of his spine.

Then, quietly, he whispered, "Thank you.”

Taehyung blinked, looking up at him. “For what?”

"For keeping me alive," Jeongguk murmured. "For giving me a reason to keep fighting."

Taehyung’s breath shuddered. He reached up, cupped Jeongguk’s cheek, his thumb brushing over his swollen lips.

“You are my reason,” Taehyung whispered and Jeongguk kissed him again, eyes welling with tears. “This life. Is better than anything I could have asked for.”

And that night, for the first time in years they weren’t running. They were just alive.

Until Min Yoongi's car arrived a couple of days later with news.

.

.

.

Taehyung’s father was dead.

It had happened quietly. No spectacle, no grand announcement. A simple, clinical report delivered through Yoongi’s contacts. 

Cardiac arrest. The body barely cold before the vultures swooped in.

But Taehyung didn’t care about the details. Didn’t feel grief, relief, or closure. He felt nothing.

Because it wasn’t over. Not for him. Not for Jeongguk.

Interpol was moving in fast, stripping away the remnants of the dynasty his father had spent a lifetime constructing. Bank accounts frozen. Private jets grounded. Hidden allies turning on each other like rabid dogs.

And Taehyung? He was still a loose end. A fugitive. The traitor who ran. The son who never looked back.

For months, he had been hunted by his father’s men, the people who wanted his inheritance, Interpol itself without even knowing.

His only chance at freedom was to stop running. To finish it himself.

And Min Yoongi knew exactly how.

.

.

.

They met outside Vienna, in an anonymous safe house tucked away behind an old steel factory.

Jeongguk hated it.

Hated how controlled it was. The way two men in suits patted them down at the door, impersonal and efficient, checking for weapons, for wires, for any sign that this meeting wasn’t entirely on their terms.

Taehyung felt Jeongguk’s tension, the way he stood just behind him, stiff and uneasy.

He reached for his wrist, squeezing once.

Jeongguk didn’t relax, but he stayed. Then, Kim Namjoon entered the room.

Taehyung had expected someone younger. Someone who looked like the clean-cut agents in movies, well-dressed and clinical, a by-the-book officer with a file of all his sins.

But Namjoon was different.

He was in his mid-forties, eyes sharp and inquisitive, the kind of man who had spent decades dealing with criminals and had long since stopped being surprised by what people were capable of.

He was dressed simply in a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, dark slacks, no tie. His only accessories were a watch, a cigarette, and the heavy folder he carried under his arm.

He sat across from them, tapped the folder against the table before flipping it open.

"You've had quite the journey," he mused, flipping through a series of documents. “Germany, Amsterdam, Poland, Slovakia…”

Taehyung caught a glimpse of his own face; an old photograph from years ago, when he was still drowning in wealth and pretending not to suffocate under it.

"We've been keeping an eye on you for a while," Namjoon continued, almost conversational. “Not just your father’s people. You.”

Jeongguk tensed behind him.

Namjoon turned the page. “Your father’s empire was one of the largest we’ve investigated. Corruption. Smuggling. Murder. The list goes on.” He paused, lifting his gaze. “And you? You were supposed to inherit it.”

“I never wanted it,” Taehyung said.

His voice was calm, even. A fact, not an excuse. Namjoon hummed. "Didn’t stop your family from wanting you dead."

Taehyung didn’t blink. He knew what this was. A test. A push.

So he pushed back.

“They sent people after me. They failed.”

"That they did." Namjoon shut the folder, glancing at Jeongguk behind him. “Your former bodyguard made sure of it.”

“He's the only person I trust with my life,” Taehyung said, a little colder now.

“I see.” Namjoon hummed. He knew Jeon Jeongguk was more than a bodyguard. “Your father’s death left a power vacuum. Your uncles. Your cousins. All of them want what’s left. And before you say it,” he exhaled sharply, tilting his head. “I know you don’t care.”

Taehyung’s fingers tightened into fists on his lap.

Because Namjoon was right. Once, he might have. Once, he might have mourned them. 

His cousins. The ones he grew up with. The ones who had laughed with him, drank with him, made trouble with him as teenagers.

But those same people? They had tried to kill Jeongguk. Eventually, they would have killed him in his sleep. For power, for mone.

They had hunted them across Europe.

So no. He didn’t fucking care.

Namjoon watched him carefully. “Why are you here, Taehyung?”

Taehyung lifted his chin. “Because I’m tired of running.”

Namjoon leaned back, watching him for a long moment.

Then, he nodded.

“Okay. Let's talk then.”

.

.

.

It took hours.

Taehyung told him everything.

Every deal. Every shipment. Every bribe. The list of corrupt politicians, the offshore accounts, the people who still held power in the shadows.

Jeongguk didn’t speak. Just stood behind him, silent and solid, watching, listening, protecting.

When it was over, Namjoon sighed, rubbing his temples. Then, finally,he looked at him.

"And what do you want in return?"

"Full immunity," Taehyung said, without hesitation. "And protection. For me and him."

Namjoon exhaled, rolling his shoulders as if weighing his options.

Then, he nodded.

"Done."

From that moment on, they weren’t allowed to return to Romania.

Not even to say goodbye to Yoongi. Instead, they were moved under Interpol protection. Given new names. New identities.

One final flight to a country where no one knew them.

And as they left, as they walked through the empty airport terminal with nothing but a single suitcase, Jeongguk reached for his hand.

Taehyung gripped it tight ast hey stepped onto the plane.

And just like that Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jeongguk ceased to exist.

* * *

Safe and sound

The sun has dipped lower, painting the sky in warm hues of orange and pink.

Taehyung blinks, pulled from his memories as Jeongguk steps onto the terrace, a bottle of wine in one hand, two glasses in the other. He looks so beautiful in shorts and a simple white shirt. 

“You okay?” Jeongguk asks, studying him.

Taehyung smiles. It's small, yet real.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Just… remembering.”

Jeongguk hums, setting the glasses down. He pours them each a drink before he sits behind Taehyung, letting his lover rest his back against his chest.

They sit in silence, watching the sky shift into lavender and gold, the Douro River stretching endlessly before them.

Five years.

Five years since they disappeared. Since they let the past die and built something new.

And now they are here.

Still alive. Still together.

Still safe.

Jeongguk leans forth, holding his glass in front  of Taehyung, his other hand wrapped around his everything. “Can’t believe this is our first bottle.”

Taehyung hums, swirling the ruby liquid in his glass. Their first bottle of Vante.

His vineyard started small. A single stretch of land near the river, nothing more than a dream. But now? Now it’s real.

Their wine. Their name. A life they built with their own hands.

Taehyung takes a sip, lets the flavors settle.

“Well?” Jeongguk grins. “How’s it taste?”

Taehyung exhales, letting his head tip back against his shoulder. “Like we made it.”

Jeongguk laughs before he leans down to kiss Taehyung and have a taste from his tongue.

“Mmm. It's good!”

Taehyung blushes just a little. “Five years ago, I never would have imagined this,” Taehyung muses, looking out at the vineyard below. “I thought I’d always be running.”

Jeongguk reaches for him then, shifting closer, pressing a soft kiss against his shoulder.

“We don’t have to run anymore,” he whispers.

And Taehyung knows it’s true. His father’s empire is gone. His uncles, his cousins, all arrested, scattered, powerless.

Interpol has no use for him anymore. Namjoon had checked in a few times, always with the same answer.

"You're free. You're safe."

And Yoongi? Well, Jeongguk's old friend had come to visit in secret some years ago, despite Namjoon’s disapproval.

“Shouldn’t even be here,” Yoongi had grumbled, sipping port wine, side-eyeing Bam curled up at his feet. “But damn, Jeongguk. You really made something out of nothing.”

Taehyung had laughed, leaning into Jeongguk, watching the sunset just like he was now.

And tonight, Jeongguk does the same.

He shifts behind Taehyung, putting the glass aside to wrap his arms around his waist properly. Taehyung leans back, sighing when Jeongguk presses a kiss to his temple.

“You remember our little farm?” Jeongguk murmurs.

Taehyung hums, lips curving. “The one with the stubborn pigs and suicidal chickens?”

Jeongguk laughs against his skin, his breath warm. “God, those chickens were the worst.”

They sit there, holding onto each other, as the world turns soft and golden around them.

The sky shifts. The stars peek through. And for the first time in their lives, there is no fear.

Just this. Just them. Safe and sound.

As the last of the sun fades behind the hills, Jeongguk presses one final kiss to Taehyung’s shoulder.

“Come on,” he murmurs. “Let’s have dinner.”

They head inside, leaving the terrace behind, stepping into the warmth of their home.

Bam stretches on the kitchen floor, wagging his tail lazily before trotting over to greet them.

Taehyung ruffles his ears. “Hungry?”

Bam chuffs, bumping against his leg.

Jeongguk chuckles, setting their glasses down. “You talk to him like he’s a person.”

Taehyung lifts a brow. “And?”

Jeongguk smirks, shaking his head, before grabbing the plates from the counter.

The table is already set, candles flickering, soft music playing from the old radio in the corner.

They eat together, sharing stories, sharing glances, sharing touches.

The food is good, the wine even better, and as they sit, they let themselves remember.

Their night in Paris.The rain, the desperation, the first time they truly had each other.

Frankfurt, where they almost caught them.

Amsterdam, where they had stolen moments of peace, where Taehyung had learned to make bread, where Jeongguk had pressed him against the table and kissed sugar from his lips.

Poland, where they had hidden in a hostel, living off cheap beer and stolen cigarettes, whispering names that weren’t theirs into the dark.

Slovakia, where Jeongguk nearly died in Taehyung's arms.

Romania, where they had stopped running.

And now here. Porto. The city of endless opportunities. Their home. Their safety. Their comfort.

Taehyung sighs, running a thumb over Jeongguk's knuckles. “Crazy, isn’t it?”

“What is, baby?”

“That we made it.”

Jeongguk hums thoughtfully. “It is. But we were always going to.”

Taehyung laughs softly, leaning in. “Cocky, aren’t you?”

"You like it.”

“I do,” Taehyung murmurs. "I like it a lot."

Jeongguk smiles before he stands up and heads to the fridge. He's gone only for a moment before he returns with a new plate.

Taehyung’s lips part as he watches him set down a strawberry cake, the frosting thick and glossy.

Jeongguk never left him without one.

Never again.

No more bruised apples with birthday candles. No more stolen meals in dark alleys. Not for Taehyung.

Jeongguk picks up a fork, slicing off a bite. “Open up,” he says smoothly and Taehyung leans forward, lips parting just enough for Jeongguk to feed him.

The taste melts on his tongue, so sweet, indulgent.

But Jeongguk doesn’t pull away. Instead, he swipes a bit of frosting onto his finger.

“Oops,” he murmurs, holding it up between them. “Made a mess.”

The blonde's gaze darkens. “Did you now?” he muses, before leaning in and licking it clean, lapping his tongue around it slowly.

Jeongguk’s breath catches.

“Fuck,” he exhales.

Taehyung grins, sitting back, feigning innocence. “Something wrong, Jeongguk-ah?”

Jeongguk doesn’t answer. He just grabs him by the waist, lifts him onto the table, and kisses him senseless.

The cake is forgotten.

But the taste of strawberries lingers between them. On their lips, on their tongues, on their skin, as they devour each other once again.  

Jeongguk doesn’t rush. He doesn't have a reason to do so.

Tonight, he takes his time, pressing Taehyung down against their wooden dining table, his hands mapping every inch of him.  

Taehyung arches beneath him, breathless, trembling, his fingers curled against Jeongguk’s arms, nails pressing into his muscles.  

“Jeongguk-ah,” he gasps as his lover trails kisses down his throat, as hands spread him open, as warmth and hunger intertwine.

The candlelight licks their skin as Jeongguk fills him, deep and slow, making him feel loved. Safe. Whole.

It’s tender, consuming, like a worship, like a promise. And Taehyung clings to him, breath warm against Jeongguk’s ear as he whispers his name, as he shatters beneath him, as Jeongguk follows close behind.  

They stay there, tangled, skin damp, hearts beating against one another, for each other.  

At last, Jeongguk presses a soft kiss to Taehyung’s temple, smiling so brightly that the blonde can't help but tear up. He pulls him down, kissing him, giving him everything he has. Because Jeongguk was always his from the start.

Later, when the house is finally quiet after an evening full of passion, Taehyung presses against Jeongguk’s side, fingers laced with his.

“I love you,” Taehyung whispers softly.

Jeongguk hums, half-asleep, half-lost in his warmth. His arms tighten around Taehyung, fingers slipping beneath the hem of his shirt, just to feel his skin, just to remind himself that he’s here. That he’s real.

"And I..." Jeongguk breathes, his voice heavy with sleep, his heartbeat steady beneath Taehyung’s palm. He yawns, slow and content. "...love you."

Taehyung smiles, pressing his lips against Jeongguk’s chest, right where his heart beats strongest.

“Let's live happily from now on.”

"Mmm..." Jeongguk hums, holding him tighter before they both fall asleep.

For a while, they had been nothing but ghosts.

Nothing but footsteps in the dark, shadows slipping through cities, names spoken in hushed, fearful whispers. They had lived on stolen time, on borrowed breaths, on the edge of a world that wanted them dead.

They had eaten bruised apples, slept in basements, left behind everything and everyone.

They had run until their legs gave out, until their bodies broke, until they nearly crushed them.

But now they are here.

No longer runaways. No longer cold, or broken, or afraid.

No longer looking over their shoulders, waiting for the sound of a gun cocking behind them.

They are home. 

At long last.

Two butterflies with broken wings…

...now finally healed.

Chapter Text

[Before they ran away...]

The club was too loud, too hot, too suffocating. Too damn fake for his liking.

The bass throbbed beneath Taehyung’s skin,  sweat, perfume and empty words polluting the air.

He hated this life. The endless cycle of excess, of golden cages and silk-lined shackles. He hated the way he couldn’t stop. Because stopping meant thinking and thinking meant realizing that the one thing he actually wanted was the one thing he could never have.

So he drowned himself in it. In the music, in the heat, in the hands that touched him but never held him.

That night, he wore a golden mesh top, sheer under the neon lights, dark leather pants hugging his hips just right. He looked the part for sure. The beautiful dark prince, the untouchable heir. What no man or woman should even dare to desire. Or touch. Or claim. For Taehyung belonged to the shadows.

But Jeongguk was watching.

He always was, standing at the edge of the room, half in shadow, half in light, always alert with his arms crossed over his chest.

Taehyung knew he was pissed.

He had been pissed since the moment they walked in, since the moment someone slid a hand down Taehyung’s spine and whispered something low in his ear.

He had been seething ever since Taehyung smirked and leaned into it, just to watch Jeongguk’s grip tighten at his sides.

He played with fire because he didn’t know how else to burn. But even this got exhausting.

So Taehyung slipped away. When the smell of perfume became too much, when the alcohol burnt his guts. He hated it. Hated it so fucking much.

Without telling anyone... including Jeongguk.

* * *

The alley was quiet, empty, far from the neon glow of the club. The air outside was exactly what he needed to get his thoughts back in order. Even though it hurt when it touched his naked skin.

He leaned against the brick wall, lighting a cigarette.Then, took a slow drag, inhaled deep, exhaled soft.

For a moment, he pretended he was alone. Pretended that he was just another guy enjoying a night under the Parisian sky. A nobody amidst nobodies.

But then, a voice cut through the night and Taehyung knew he wasn't just a nobody.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?”

Taehyung smirked before he even looked up.

His bodyguard stood a few feet away, chest heaving, dark doe eyes burning.

“You were looking for me,” Taehyung mused, taking another drag. “Worried?”

Jeongguk stormed forward. “Don’t do that again.”

Taehyung exhaled another plume of smoke. “Relax.”

Jeongguk didn’t relax. He could  never do that. Not with Taehyung looking at him like that. Like... he owned his very existence. 

Instead, he got closer. Too damm close.

“You disappear like that again, and I swear to God—”

Taehyung hummed. “You swear to God what?”

Jeongguk clenched his fists, unable to keep his anger at bay. “Your father will kill me if something happens to you.”

Taehyung nodded, taking another slow drag of his cigarette. “Right. That’s why you’re mad.”

Jeongguk glared at him. God, he looked too beautiful to be real.  Yet he was so infuriating.

“I don’t have time for your bullshit, Taehyung.”

Taehyung grinned but Jeongguk didn't move an inch, still looking at him with those big doe eyes that made Taehyung found some weird sense of solace. 

Then, he stepped closer. He lifted the cigarette between his lips, took one last inhale, leaned forth and, without thinking about it too much, he passed the smoke from his mouth to Jeongguk’s.

It was intoxicating.

Jeongguk froze.

His lips parted, eyes widening. He was caught between shock and hunger. Unable to speak, unable to move. 

Then, for the first time—for the first fucking time—Jeongguk reacted.

His hand shot out, grabbing Taehyung’s wrist. The cigarette fell, half-burnt, forgotten.

Then, he slammed him against the wall.

Taehyung gasped, not in fear, but in pure anticipation.

His head leaned back, his breath was unsteady, his pulse thrumming beneath Jeongguk’s fingertips.

Fuck!

And then—Jeongguk kissed him.

It wasn’t careful. It wasn’t slow. It was years of tension snapping like a wire pulled too tight. It was punishment and relief, frustration and surrender.

It was Jeongguk caving, losing, giving in.

Taehyung moaned into it, gripped Jeongguk’s white shirt, pulled him closer, so close that for the first time he felt his cold heart beating against his ribs.

And Jeongguk... Oh, Jeongguk let him. Let him press closer, let him taste him, let him feel the way his hands shook against his ribs.

Let him have him. Just for a moment. Just until reality slammed back into him like a fist to the gut.

Jeongguk broke away first, panting heavily. His lips glistened and he could still taste the smoke from the cigarette, with faint traces of mint bursting on his tongue.

He stared at Taehyung, at the way his lips were swollen, the way his chest rose and fell, the way he looked like he already knew.

That this wasn’t the last time. That this would happen again. And again. That Jeongguk was already losing.

“Don’t ever do that again.” His voice was rough, almost commanding. It sent a shiver down the blonde heir's spine. 

Taehyung didn’t answer. He just picked up his fallen cigarette, tossed it aside.

Then, as if nothing had happened, as if Jeongguk hadn’t just shattered before him, he murmured, “Let’s go back inside.”

Jeongguk hesitated. Then sighed, running a hand through his dark hair.

“Yeah,” he muttered, stepping back. “Let’s go.”

As they walked back inside, side by side, Taehyung smiled.

Because he knew. Jeongguk tasted like freedom.

And he was going to get addicted.

Chapter Text

Jeongguk had been briefed.

Kim Taehyung, mid-twenties, heir to the Kim Syndicate, unruly, reckless, a walking headache.

The job wouldn’t be easy. Taehyung didn’t like bodyguards. He always slipped past them, ignored them, made their lives hell just because he could. 

Paris was really his playground. But Jeongguk had been hired because he was different. Because he wasn’t just muscle in a suit. He had skills, instincts, experience beyond his years. But even then, he hadn’t expected this.

The luxurious hotel suite smelled like sandalwood, strawberries and something  indulgent when he entered. 

He wasn't supposed to meet him here, not this late either but Taehyung was out partying somewhere and he completely ignored the briefing at the estate.

It was a statement. A small act of rebellion.

So that became Jeongguk's first assignment as Kim Taehyung's new shadow: track him down. And he did an hour after Taehyung's father furiously ordered him to do so.

The lights were dimmed and the thick curtains drawn. Steam was flooding the luxurious space, coming from the bathroom, the sound of water trickling into a basin.

Jeongguk scanned the room automatically. There was someone in the bed, lying on their stomach, half-covered by silk sheets. He barely spared them a glance because the second his gaze swept toward the bathroom door, it landed on Kim Taehyung.

He came out of the steam like Aphrodite herself had emerged from seafoam, completely naked and wet.

His sun-kissed skin glistened under the chandelier while his hair clung to his forehead. His lips looked swollen, full, the perfect shade of pink. Little moles adorned his face, daring to touch what nobody should without permission. 

And then, lower, a thin golden chain rested low on his hips, circling a small waist that Jeongguk couldn’t help but notice.

For a split second, he forgot how to breathe. Then, Taehyung turned, and their eyes finally met.

His gaze was dismissive. Almost. But there was something else there, behind his indifference. Amusement, perhaps. 

Or… curiosity.

“Ah. You must be the new one,” he mused, reaching for the towel and dabbing it along his neck, unbothered by the stranger's gaze.

Jeongguk cleared his throat. “Jeon Jeongguk. I’ll be your security detail from now on, Kim Taehyung-ssi.”

Taehyung smirked, walking past him like he wasn’t even worth a second look. 

“That what they’re calling it these days?”

Jeongguk didn’t react. He was used to dealing with difficult personalities, naked or fully dressed. The arrogant, the untouchable, the ones who thought they were immune to consequences.

But something about Taehyung felt different.

Maybe it was the way he moved, like a tiger, owning everything and everyone around him, including Jeongguk. Maybe it was the chain at his waist, sparkling under the chandelier, forcing him to take another look.

Or maybe it was the fact that Jeongguk could barely hear his own thoughts over the sound of water dripping from Taehyung’s skin.

Fuck.

“Just Taehyung is fine,” he then added over his shoulder, pulling open a drawer and retrieving a pack of cigarettes. He didn’t even glance at him. “Unless you prefer ‘sir’?”

Oh.

Jeongguk tried to stay professional. “Your father wants me to keep you safe.”

Taehyung lit his cigarette, taking a long drag before exhaling through parted lips, the scent of smoke and mint wrapping around him like a serpent.

“How boring for you, Jeon Jeongguk.” Taehyung smirked, dragging the cigarette between his lips, watching his new bodyguard through the haze of smoke.

There was something in those feline eyes, something sharp, assessing, like he was already trying to figure out how far he could push before he snapped.

Jeongguk remained silent. He wasn't supposed to respond, just do his job. He had been assigned to powerful men before. He had worked for politicians, CEOs, men who thought money could buy them everything, including invincibility.

But none of them had ever looked at him the way Taehyung did.

Like he was a game to be played.

Like he was a challenge waiting to be won.

The man on the bed shifted, mumbling something incoherent before falling silent.

Taehyung didn’t even glance back. He exhaled another slow drag of smoke, watching Jeongguk like he knew a secret the young bodyguard hadn’t figured out yet.

“Take out the trash, will you?” He whispered and Jeongguk sighed because he already knew.

Taehyung was going to be trouble.

The kind that dragged you under and made you forget you were ever trying to swim.

.

.

.

As expected, Taehyung tested him for weeks.

He slipped past him in crowded rooms, disappeared in the middle of events, drank too much, smoked too much, flirted too carelessly. He poked at Jeongguk’s control, looking for cracks, always watching, always grinning when he found the edges of Jeongguk’s patience.

One night, after one of Taehyung’s little disappearing acts, Jeongguk found him on the balcony of a private event overlooking the Seine. The city below them was restless, lights shimmering on the water, the Eiffel Tower looming in the distance.

Taehyung leaned against the railing, a glass of wine dangling from his fingers, the top buttons of his silk shirt undone, exposing his beautiful golden skin.

Jeongguk exhaled sharply as he moved closer, murmuring, “You need to stop sneaking off.”

But Taehyung just smirked, taking a sip and grimacing slightly at the quality of the burning liquid in his glass. Not even wine tasted good anymore.

“You need to stop worrying so much.”

“You think this is a joke?” Jeongguk stepped closer, lowering his voice. “If something happens to you—”

“My father will kill you?” Taehyung cut in, raising a brow.

“Something like that,” Jeongguk whispered, checking their surroundings for any suspicious movement as he always did.

Taehyung just hummed, his gaze roaming over Jeongguk’s body.

All black, as always. A fitted jacket, a black shirt, and a holster barely visible beneath the layers.

Taehyung hated black but Jeongguk wore it well. Too well. Dangerously well.

“You’re always so serious.”

“I have a job to do.”

Taehyung took another slow sip of his wine, holding Jeongguk’s gaze, almost flirting with him. “This is Paris, not fucking Busan. Live a little.”

Jeongguk didn’t answer and Taehyung laughed at his silence, turning back to the view.

For the first time, the young bodyguard wondered if Taehyung’s recklessness wasn’t just boredom.

But something else.

Something deeper.

And then… he found the answer he was looking for two years later.

.

.

.

It happened in a private art gallery.

A deal had gone wrong. Too many men, too many eyes, too much thirst for blood in the air. 

Taehyung had been smiling, dressed in an expensive white suit that seemed to have been made just for him. The jacket sat open just enough to leave his chest bare, the line of his collarbone accentuated by numerous platinum necklaces resting against golden skin.

The chains did something to Jeongguk, drawing his gaze to the way the dark prince breathed, the way he existed, the way it felt like he was the only one in the room.

He held a champagne glass, fingers adorned in rings that Jeongguk had seen used to sign deals, to brush against throats, to press against his own arm in fleeting, teasing touches that Jeongguk had a hard time forgetting.

He sighed, trying to forget about Taehyung’s whims over the past couple of years. At least here he was all business, giving Jeongguk a moment to breathe, if that was ever possible in his line of work.

The Kim Syndicate heir was good at playing diplomat, charming the people his father needed, making everyone feel like they were the only one in the room worth speaking to.

It was probably the reason he was allowed to leave his gilded cage.

Jeongguk had been watching, standing a few feet away, keeping track of the room, scanning for threats.

But his eyes kept slipping back to Taehyung. To the way he tipped his glass, making his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. How his fingers rested lightly at his hip, just beneath the chains and how he looked like temptation itself, walking the fine line between luxury and sin.

And then, Jeongguk saw it. A man in a dark outfit shifting too suddenly, shoving his hand inside his jacket.

Jeongguk didn’t think. He just moved. The gun fired, shattering a sculpture made of glass behind Taehyung. Before he could react, Jeongguk grabbed him, yanking him backward, shielding him with his body, shoving him hard against the marble wall.

The bullet had missed only by a breath.

There was shouting. People moved as security closed in to neutralize the offender. There was a struggle. A gun being kicked across the marble floor. The man shouting words that were too harsh, too real, before his face met the marble floor. 

But Jeongguk barely registered any of it.

All he could focus on was Taehyung’s fingers clenching around his black shirt, trembling against the fabric. His breaths were shallow and uneven and, for the first time ever, that smug smile had disappeared from his pretty face.

Taehyung looked scared. Raw. Like the mask had slipped, revealing something Jeongguk wasn’t supposed to see.

They were too close. Pressed together, bodies flush, breaths colliding in the space between them.

Jeongguk had spent two years fighting this. He bit back every retort, swallowed every moment where Taehyung pushed just a little too hard, where he leaned in a little too close, where he smiled like he knew something Jeongguk refused to admit. 

He pretended it didn’t matter when Taehyung disappeared just to make him chase. He chose to ignore the fact that his hands were itching to grab him, to shake him, to press him against a wall and make him understand.

For two fucking years he dared Jeongguk to react. And Jeongguk never had. Until now. Because now Taehyung wasn’t playing. Now, his pupils were blown wide, his lips parting like he was about to say something.

Something that would ruin everything and Jeongguk, well, he almost let him.

Almost because he had to step back. Like always. He told himself it was because they weren't alone. There were people watching, reporting everything back to Kim Tae-seung.

So he ignored it, pretending that moment hadn't happened. Even as his heart pounded. Even as Taehyung still clung to his shirt, as if neither of them could quite let go. Even as Taehyung stared at him, breathing hard, begging to be held. To be saved.

Even as Jeongguk knew this wasn’t over.

Not even close.

That night he carried him all the way from the parking lot to the suite where Taehyung used to indulge himself. A cage within a cage. The same one they had first met.

He clung to him the whole way, hands wrapped around his shoulders, breath hot against his neck, still speechless and shaken.

Neither of them spoke.

When they entered, Jeongguk laid Taehyung on the bed, brushing golden strands from his forehead, scanning him for any injuries.

“Are you hurt?” He asked.

Taehyung shook his head, watching him carefully. “You’re the one covered in blood.”

Jeongguk exhaled sharply, looking at the small cut in his hand. “It’s nothing.”

Taehyung swallowed and his fingers twitched, aching to reach for him again, craving the warmth of his body, the beat of his heart against his, the feeling of being safe and sound in someone's arms. 

“You saved me.”

Jeongguk scoffed, but it was weak. Still shaken, mind reeling at the possibility of getting close to losing this impossibly reckless man. 

“It’s my job,” he finally whispered and Taehyung’s breath caught.

A job… Just a job. No… Jeongguk didn’t look like a man who had simply done his job.

He looked wrecked. Like he had nearly lost something he wasn’t ready to lose.

Slowly, Taehyung pushed himself up, his feline eyes never leaving Jeongguk’s. “You could have died.”

Jeongguk tensed. He chose not to answer. Didn’t need to. Because for the first time, Taehyung saw it.

The fear. The way Jeongguk’s hands still trembled slightly, the way his chest moved like he hadn’t caught his breath.

He had been afraid. Not because of the gunfire, not because of the chaos. Because of him. Because he had almost lost him.

And that was the moment.

That was when it happened.

That was when Taehyung realized he was gonna keep Jeongguk close to him no matter what.

The silence stretched before Taehyung lay back, trying to get his thoughts in order.

“Get some rest. I'll be here if you need anything. Your father has been informed of the situation and they'll take care of everything,” he whispered. 

Taehyung just nodded and only then did Jeongguk finally sit, collapsing into the armchair across the room, exhaustion pulling him under.

Taehyung didn’t take his eyes off him. He didn’t look away because he knew. And maybe Jeongguk did, too.

When Taehyung woke up hours later Jeongguk was still there, head tilted back, brows furrowed even in sleep, one hand curled into a fist against his thigh, the other positioned over his holster.

The young heir stared at him and something in his chest felt tight. Slowly, he stood, padding across the room, stopping just in front of Jeongguk’s chair.

For a long moment, he just watched him. Then, carefully, he leaned down, just a breath away. His fingers hovered over Jeongguk’s jaw, barely touching.

He could do it. Just one kiss. Just one moment of weakness. But at the last second, he pulled away because Jeongguk wasn’t his.

“Fool,” he whispered instead and turned toward the window, lighting a cigarette, still a little shaky.

He exhaled softly, watching the city, a world that had never truly been his.

Behind him, Jeongguk shifted in his sleep, unknowing, unaware, and untouched. 

For now at least.

.

.

.

A few years after the shooting incident, it finally happened. 

It was on the day Kim Taehyung had found out he was going to be married to a politician’s daughter. 

It had been nothing more than an arrangement, a merger of power between two families. 

Taehyung felt sick to his core. He ran to his room and spilled his guts in the fancy toilet that afternoon. 

How could they be planning something like that? His father hadn’t even thought to tell him himself. Taehyung had just overheard it. It was a conversation behind closed doors, spoken like he was a commodity rather than a son.

That night, he had drowned himself in flashing lights and liquor, dressed in a mesh top and leather pants. He tried to act like he was fine. Like he didn't have more chains tied around his hands, legs and neck, pulling him back into that fucking gilded cage.

He had wanted to forget, to silence the voice in his head telling him that his life had just been signed away without his consent. That soon he would be married off like a pawn on a chessboard.

And Jeongguk had been there, standing against the wall of the club, watching him. Always watching.

What they had was always a slow burn. But that night, Taehyung couldn't bear it any longer.

The moment he stepped outside for a cigarette without telling Jeongguk, he knew it would only be seconds before he followed.

And he had.

Jeongguk had found him in that dimly lit alley and suddenly, it had all felt so simple. So inevitable.

Taehyung had taken another drag, then—without thinking or even hesitating—he had exhaled the smoke straight into Jeongguk’s mouth.

Their lips weren’t quite touching, but Jeongguk’s breath stuttered, his pupils blowing wide.

And then, suddenly, Jeongguk was kissing him and Taehyung felt his world tilting on its axis.

When Jeongguk finally pulled away, they were both breathing hard. He had stared at Taehyung like he regretted everything, like he was seconds from turning around and pretending none of it happened.

And he did because that was Jeongguk. Always stepping back. Always pretending. Because falling for Kim Taehyung was suicide. 

But it hadn’t been one moment that ruined him, it was everything after. 

Because they never stopped whatever that was. They didn’t talk about it, didn't address it, but it was there. Taehyung would disappear, and Jeongguk would always find him.

They’d argue, Taehyung pushing and pushing, Jeongguk pulling him back, grounding him, keeping him close.

Until it happened again.

It was long past midnight after another one of those parties. Jeongguk hadn’t expected to find him alone in the indoor pool of the hotel, swimming laps, cutting through the water like a bullet.  

For a while, he just watched how Taehyung’s muscles flexed beneath the overhead lights. Somehow it was peaceful and mundane.  

But then, after a dive, Taehyung didn’t come up.

Seconds passed. Too long, he thought, and Jeongguk’s stomach twisted.  

He was moving before he could think, diving in fully clothed, breaking through the surface, reaching for him, gripping his arm and pulling him up.  

Taehyung gasped as he surfaced, but it wasn’t the sound of someone drowning. It was the sound of laughter.

Jeongguk blinked, water streaming down his face, heart pounding. “What the fuck—”  

Taehyung grinned, breathless, shaking his wet hair out of his eyes. 

“Relax, doe eyes. I was just—” he exhaled, “taking a moment.”  

Jeongguk stared at him, frowning. “You—” He narrowed his eyes, finally releasing his grip. “You scared the shit out of me. I thought—”  

But Taehyung didn't let him finish, moving faster than Jeongguk expected, fisting his shirt, dragging him closer, pressing their mouths together.  

So you do care, Taehyung thought before he claimed his mouth.

It was fast, desperate, wet, a taste of chlorine this time instead of smoke. Jeongguk's mind screamed at him to let go but he didn’t pull away. He let himself feel it even for a second. The shape of Taehyung’s lips, the slick slide of his tongue inside his mouth, the way he sighed softly, melting into him like he had been waiting for this.  

Then, reality crashed back in.  

“You're insane.”Jeongguk ripped himself away, pushing through the water, shoving his hands through his drenched hair as he turned his back.  

He didn’t say anything else or look back, he just climbed out of the pool and walked away, dripping wet, heartbeat hammering in his throat.  

And later, lying awake on the suite couch, he replayed it in his mind, again and again, as Taehyung was fast asleep on the king-sized bed.

Jeongguk knew it. Kim Taehyung wasn’t done. Not with this and definitely not with him.  

.

.

.

It happened again.

In the backseat of a car, Taehyung’s breath feeling warm against his jaw as he whispered, “Drive faster.”

In an empty hallway, pressed against the wall, their faces inches apart, Taehyung daring him, waiting, until someone turned the corner, forcing them to step away like nothing had happened.

In Taehyung’s hotel suite, when he had reached for a lighter, fingers brushing over Jeongguk’s hand, lingering too long.

Taehyung would sit too close, would brush his fingers along Jeongguk’s wrist, would laugh at nothing, like he knew what he was doing to him. His voice would drop when he called Jeongguk’s name, like a plea and a challenge all at once.

And then, there were rare moments when they just talked.

One night, sitting on the balcony overlooking the city, Taehyung had murmured, “Ever think about leaving?”

Jeongguk had taken a drag from his cigarette, exhaling slowly before passing it to Taehyung. “No.”

Taehyung had smiled, taking a drag. “Liar.”

“Do you?” Jeongguk had asked.

“Sometimes.”

It went on and on, playing this slow, dangerous game until Jeongguk started falling deeper, wanting something he shouldn’t even dare to think of having.

And when Taehyung’s father started noticing, watching him too closely, speaking his name with just a little too much weight, Jeongguk knew he had to take a step back. But stopping meant giving up something he had never even had.

So he endured it. 

Until… he found out about the arranged marriage and he hadn’t even heard it from Taehyung.

No, Jeongguk had been in the estate, standing by the large windows overlooking the garden, when two of Taehyung’s uncles had spoken about it in passing.

“It’s a good match. Strengthens both families.”

“Tae-seung chose well. Seonghwa’s daughter will keep him in line.”

Jeongguk had kept his expression blank, fingers tightening against the windowsill, pretending his stomach hadn’t just dropped.

Then, one of them sighed, lowering his voice.

“With his health deteriorating, it’s only a matter of time. He needs Taehyung settled before it’s too late.”

The other hummed. “The last thing we need is uncertainty. His son must be ready to take over when the time comes.”

Jeongguk swallowed.

Taehyung’s father had always been a force, unmovable, untouchable. The man didn’t waver, didn’t bend, and yet, he was human after all.

His body was failing him. But instead of worrying about his own life, he was preparing Taehyung for a future he didn’t want.

Jeongguk wasn't angry that Taehyung hadn't told him. He wasn't his to be allowed to feel that way. But… it hurt. It hurt so fucking bad.

Outside, the young heir walked across the garden, oblivious, laughing with someone who wasn’t him. 

And Jeongguk… Jeongguk had done nothing. Because what could he do? What could he say? He was nothing. Just a bodyguard, a shadow, a man hired to protect him.

And maybe Taehyung had flirted with him, maybe he had kissed him, maybe they had whispered things in the dark that they both wanted to believe. But in the end, he was still the heir to an empire and Jeongguk was still nothing.

So he left.

Not that night. Not even that week. But, eventually, he put in his resignation, made sure to keep his distance, let another man take his place.

Months later, he was gone trying to collect the broken pieces of himself, pretending once more that Taehyung was nothing but a job. 

He was more. He was everything he ever wanted. He had spent years thinking about him. Nights trying to forget, but instead, he remembered Taehyung’s voice, his soft lips, his hands, his eyes, everything.

And in the dark, when his body was restless and his thoughts wouldn’t quiet, he had thought about him. About what it would have been like to kiss him again, to strip him down and make him his, for real this time, not just in fleeting stolen moments.

He wondered what it’d feel like to pull him away from that world, from his father, from the marriage that was never supposed to happen. To claim him, drag him into his arms and never let him go.

But he didn’t.

Because Jeongguk wasn’t allowed to want him.

Until…

A week after his resignation, Kim Taehyung showed up at the door of his old Montmartre apartment. 

It was no longer about rebelling or playing dangerous games. It was about a choice. One he had made the moment he saw Jeongguk walk out of the estate.

That night Taehyung had sat through his pre-engagement party, through the congratulations, the champagne, the suffocating talks of a future he hadn't chosen for himself, until he couldn’t.

He stood up, tossed his glass aside, and just walked out. People had called after him. His uncles. His future in-laws. His new bodyguard. He wished his father was also there to see him.

He hadn’t cared. He had ripped the red jacket off his body, left his car abandoned two blocks away, and run through the streets, through the pouring rain, through the city that had never truly been his.

The moment he reached Jeongguk’s apartment building, he barely felt human anymore.

His lungs burned and his limbs ached but none of it mattered because he was finally free. 

Because he was ready to be Jeongguk’s, the one person who ever made him feel like something he had never felt before.

And so he knocked on his door, drenched, breathless, eyes looking dark and wild. His white tank clung to every inch of his body, soaked through, blonde hair dripping onto the floor.

He knocked again and when the door finally swung open Jeongguk stood there, taking him in.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

And then he spoke, "What the hell are you doing here?”

“I left,” Taehyung breathed and the rest was history.