taekook blood theme🩸🦷’
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when a music becomes connected to a specific moment, it loses its original meaning because it will always be associated with that particular moment… that’s what this song means to me…
The first time I listened to this song was on Taehyung’s instagram story to celebrate Jungkook’s bday with a cute video of them - Jungkook cutely talking with Taehyung softly listening to him… so this song, for me, will always be a Taekook memento…
When I heard the song on Taehyung’s instagram story, it hooked me immediately that I googled the song and i was positively surprised by the mv concept, and I totally vibe with the song.
“I’ll be gone tonight
I guess I won’t see you
I’ll be gone for the night
Searching for this feeling
I’ll get used to the stage, get used to the stagin’
Just for a minute
Oh, I’m on tonight, I’m on the stage, yeah
Just one more, lovin’ you all
Watch me go to heaven, babe
Watch me go to heaven, babe
Watch me go to heaven, babe
Watch me go to heaven, babe”
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“Gitme” demedi, “Vedeasız gitme” dedi hiç dillenmemiş sözleriyle. “Vedasız gitme, vedasız gideni bir gün geri dönecek sanıyor insan.”
[Rentrons à la maison, mon oiseau de cœur. Revenons. Laisse-moi aimer ton cœur, laisse-moi embrasser ton âme.]
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For me, even when they sit across to each other and look at each other I see it as a proof because of their eyes. I don’t need them to do some extreme stuff. Even the way they care, they look for each other is enough. Their eyes and behavior to each other tell the truth. I love the way they look each other. For me jikook doesn’t have that look. Yes they have moments like other ships but they themselves keep saying they’re brothers so I just can’t see them more than that, sorry. I’m ok with everything as long as they are all happy. I will always love them no matter what. I hope the truth comes out quickly as well. 🌻
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Still With You - Ch.27
Jungkook x Taehyung
Chap Quote. ‘You’re the story I can’t tell anymore.’ -Unknown
Song Choice.Living Young - Human Touch
Was It Love?
{Present Time}
The sky had been clear most of the night.
Jungkook noticed early on, when the headlights from passing cars thinned out and the world settled into something quieter. The stars had come out slowly, one by one, until the darkness above the windshield was scattered with faint light.
The windshield framed the sky like a quiet cinema screen. The stars were faint at first, dulled by the city bleeding into the horizon, but the longer he looked, the more they revealed themselves.
He’d leaned back into his seat and watched them. Anything to keep himself from looking to his right too often.
When he wasn’t looking at Taehyung, he was looking up at the sky. Tracing invisible lines between the stars. Connecting them into shapes that didn’t exist.
[[MORE]]A crooked triangle. A bent bow. Something that might have been a bird if he squinted hard enough. Sometimes, on quiet nights like this, he found himself looking up at the sky and stitching light together.
And if he closed his eyes, he could almost hear it clearly. How a familiar voice would complain about how in Seoul the stars were swallowed by city lights. How back home—his home—the sky stretched wide and black and endless, and the stars burned brighter. Closer. Like you could reach up and touch them if you tried.
Jungkook had never seen that sky. But sometimes he tries to imagine it.
At some point during the night, while Taehyung slept and the tide moved in and out, Jungkook had found himself wondering something small and stupid.
If you stand under another sky, far away, and look up—
Would you be looking at this one too?
It’s an unfinished thought. He doesn’t let it go further than that. Because the stars fade eventually with it.
The sky begins to pale long before the sun rises.
He sits in the driver’s seat, elbow against the window, watching the darkness thin into something fragile and gray. The ocean is barely visible yet—just a darker stretch against the horizon.
Beside him, Taehyung sleeps. He fell asleep mid-silence. After the question that haunted Jungkook all night. Did you hate me?
Jungkook has been trying very hard not to look at him. He failed. More than once.
In sleep, Taehyung looks younger. His cheeks are faintly puffed, lips parted just slightly, breath slow and even. There’s a softness to his face that never survives when he’s awake—something unguarded. Something that has been stuck at one point in time long ago.
It does something strange to Jungkook’s chest.
So he watched the dashboard clock change minute by minute instead. Watched Taehyung’s face relax in sleep. In sleep, Taehyung doesn’t look like someone who left. He looks like someone that never would.
The faint wash of gray-blue stretches across the water. Jungkook hesitates before leaning closer. His hand hovers near Taehyung’s shoulder. For a second, he just watches him instead.
Hair falling into his eyes. Lips lightly parted. The faint crease between his brows even in sleep. And Jungkook thinks, soft. So unfairly soft.
“Taehyung,” he murmurs, barely above the sound of the tide.
No response.
The faint crease between Taehyung’s brows has smoothed out. His lashes rest against his cheeks. There’s a tiny mark near his jaw from where it pressed into the seat all night.
Jungkook reaches out carefully and brushes his knuckles against Taehyung’s sleeve. “Hey.”
Taehyung stirs this time, a quiet hum of protest, shifting slightly before his eyes crack open. He squints toward the windshield, confused. “What…?” he mumbles, voice deep with sleep.
“Sun’s coming up,” Jungkook says softly.
It takes a second for that to register. Taehyung blinks slowly, trying to focus past the windshield. His gaze drifts, unfocused, then catches the faint color spreading over the water. The faint gold line is clearer now, stretching across the horizon.
“Oh,” he breathes.
He rubs at his eyes and tries to sit up straighter. Jungkook watches the way he fights consciousness. The way his movements are sluggish, unguarded. And the way his cheeks stay slightly swollen from sleep.
“You didn’t sleep,” Taehyung says as he takes in Jungkook’s face.
Jungkook shakes his head once. “I said I wouldn’t.”
Taehyung looks at him for a moment longer than necessary, but he doesn’t say anything. Then he opens the door and steps out. The cold air rushes in, and Jungkook follows.
The tide rolls in slow and steady, the world quiet in that early-morning way that feels almost sacred. They sit down a few feet from the shore, with the steady rhythm of waves and the distant cry of a gull somewhere overhead.
The sky shifts slowly—blue bleeding into lavender, then faint peach at the edges. The sun hasn’t risen yet, but it’s close. The world feels suspended in that in-between light state.
Taehyung exhales slowly beside him. His shoulder brushes Jungkook’s when he shifts, he doesn’t pull away, neither does Jungkook. The contact is warm. The kind that doesn’t demand anything. They don’t talk. There’s nothing pressing for once. No questions. No confessions. No past tearing at the edges of the present.
Just the slow, inevitable climb of the sun.
When it finally breaks the horizon, it does so quietly. A thin blade of gold slicing through the waterline, suspending it in an eternal painting of stillness.
The light spills outward, catching in Taehyung’s hair, outlining his profile in something soft and almost unreal. And Jungkook looks at him instead of the sunrise.
Taehyung’s eyes are half-lidded, still heavy with sleep, watching the sun like it might disappear if he blinks too long. He looks peaceful. And Jungkook feels something loosen in his chest.
Last night, Taehyung asked if he hated him.
Last night, Jungkook whispered an answer into the dark.
Now the morning holds that answer gently between them, even if only one of them knows of it.
“Beautiful,” Taehyung says quietly. “Yeah,” Jungkook whispers, gaze still on the other boy by his side.
And for the first time in a long time, the silence between them doesn’t feel like something broken. It feels like something waiting. And at least for this sunrise, that was enough.
.
The road curved along the coastline like it didn’t have anywhere urgent to be.
The sunrise had faded into full morning by the time they were driving again. The sky was pale blue now, and the car smelled faintly of salt and chips. A crumpled snack bag rustled between them as Taehyung dug out the last of it, shaking crumbs into his palm like it was treasure.
They didn’t talk much. Just the soft hum of the engine. The open windows letting wind tangle their hair. The ocean appearing and disappearing between cliffs as the road bent.
Jungkook had stopped asking where they were going. Somewhere along the way, he’d learned that Taehyung didn’t always need a map. He just needed to keep moving to wherever the road led.
Taehyung was mid-bite when he suddenly went still. “…Wait.” Jungkook glanced over briefly. “Huh?”
“Pull over.”
“What?”
“Pull over—pull over, pull over!”
Jungkook frowned but eased the wheel toward the side anyway, gravel crunching under the tires as he parked. “What did you even—“
He followed Taehyung’s line of sight.
Up ahead, a narrow dirt path led to a cliff edge overlooking the ocean. A handful of people were gathered there—some sitting casually with their legs dangling over the side, others laughing, shouting. One figure ran forward and launched themselves off the edge with a scream that turned into a splash seconds later.
Jungkook blinked.
Slowly, he turned to Taehyung. Taehyung’s eyes were shining as he took the scene before them.
“No,” Jungkook said immediately. Taehyung grinned wider. “Yes.”
“That wish was a joke.”
“That wish,” Taehyung countered, already unbuckling his seatbelt, “was only a joke to you.”
Jungkook groaned, dropping his head back against the seat. “Kim Taehyung.”
But Taehyung was already out of the car, the door slamming shut behind him. Jungkook stayed there for three full seconds. Then he exhaled sharply, dragged a hand down his face, and pushed the door open. “Unbelievable,” he muttered, following him.
The climb up the dirt path wasn’t long, but it was steep enough that Jungkook had to watch his footing. By the time he reached the top, Taehyung was already pulling his shirt over his head, shoes kicked off carelessly to the side.
“You’re insane,” Jungkook said flatly.
Taehyung turned to him, hair messy from the wind, grin reckless and boyish. “Do you know how lucky we are? We just happened to drive past this. I call that fate.”
“That doesn’t mean we’re supposed to jump off it.”
“Don’t be dramatic. Everyone else is alive.”
As if on cue, someone behind them whooped before diving off the edge. Jungkook stepped closer despite himself, peering down.
The drop wasn’t small. The ocean below churned gently against the rocks, deep enough—probably—but still far enough to make his stomach tighten. “Taehyung,” he warned.
Taehyung walked backward toward the edge, facing him. “Wish number ten,” he sing-songed.
“You wrote that at three in the morning.”
“And?”
“You were sleep deprived.”
“And?”
Jungkook took another step forward, hand instinctively reaching out for the other. “At least wait. At least check how deep it is.”
Taehyung laughed. “You worry too much.”
He reached the very edge now, toes curling slightly over it. For a split second, something cold slid down Jungkook’s spine. “Taehyung—“
But Taehyung didn’t hesitate. He turned, took two quick steps, and jumped.
Time snapped.
Jungkook’s heart lurched violently into his throat as he rushed forward, dropping to his knees at the edge. The wind roared past his ears as he leaned over, searching the water frantically.
There was a splash. Then nothing. A second stretched too long. Then another.
Then Taehyung broke through the surface with a sharp inhale and a loud laugh, slicking his hair back as he floated.
Relief hit so hard it made Jungkook’s shoulders sag. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, head dropping forward briefly. “Idiot,” he muttered, voice unsteady.
Down below, Taehyung was grinning up at him, treading water easily. “Jungkook!” he shouted. “Come on!”
Jungkook shook his head immediately. “No!”
“Coward!”
“I’m not a coward!”
“Then jump!”
Someone beside Jungkook nudged his arm lightly. A stranger, barefoot and smiling. “You going?” he asked.
Jungkook realized, dimly, that he was standing exactly where people were lining up to jump. He stepped aside quickly, “I—“
Another person laughed. “You’re blocking the spot, man.”
Heat crawled up his neck. Taehyung was still down there, still looking up. Still waiting. The wind pressed against Jungkook’s arms. The ocean glittered below, sunlight scattering across its surface. His pulse thudded in his ears.
Taehyung cupped his hands around his mouth. “I’m not coming up till you jump!”
Something about that—stupid and simple—lodged under Jungkook’s ribs.
Fine.
He pulled his shirt off quickly, tossing it somewhere to the side. He kicked off his shoes next, and felt the ground warm under his feet.
He stepped toward the edge. The height somehow only feeling even bigger. His chest tightened. For a split second, the world narrowed—the drop, the noise, the open air. His body seemed to always remember fear easily.
But Taehyung was down there, waiting. And so before he could think himself out of it—
He jumped.
When his feet left the edge, it didn’t feel real at first. For a fraction of a second, there was no up or down—just air.
The world dropped away from him in a rush of blue and white and blinding sunlight. Wind roared past his ears, flattening his breath against his ribs. His stomach lurched violently, the ground no longer something solid but a memory already too far above him.
And time—traitorous, stretched—slowed into something syrup-thick. He could see the ocean rushing up to meet him, light fracturing across its surface like shattered glass. He could hear his own pulse pounding, loud in his skull.
It felt like falling into something bigger than fear.
Like stepping off the edge of every version of himself that hesitated.
The drop carved through him—sharp, sudden—and for those suspended seconds he was nothing but motion and sky and the dizzying realization that he had chosen this. No one pushed him. No one forced him. He had stepped forward.
Then the water swallowed him whole.
The impact knocked the breath from his lungs in a burst of cold so fierce it felt almost electric. The ocean closed over his head, heavy and absolute, sound collapsing into a muffled roar. The sunlight above blurred into a trembling halo as bubbles surged past his face.
For a heartbeat, he was held there—suspended again, but differently this time—cradled in pressure and quiet.
Not falling anymore.
Just submerged.
And when his body finally remembered how to move, when he kicked upward toward the surface, the rush that filled his chest wasn’t panic.
It was something dangerously close to being alive.
.
They don’t stop at one jump.
Taehyung climbs back up first, breathless and soaked, hair plastered to his forehead, and dares Jungkook with a look that says again before he even speaks. Jungkook rolls his eyes—but he follows.
The second jump is easier.
The third, reckless.
By the fourth, Jungkook isn’t thinking about the height anymore. He isn’t thinking at all. He’s laughing when he surfaces. Actually laughing—the sound loose and unguarded in a way that surprises even him.
At some point, they stop climbing. They linger instead.
The strangers who had been jumping with them start talking—the easy kind of conversation that only happens when everyone is sun-warmed and adrenaline-softened. Someone offers them a towel. Someone else asks where they’re driving to. A girl with salt-dried curls hands Jungkook a beer like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
He hesitates for half a second, then he takes it. And Taehyung just watches him in silence. Something like quiet approval in the way his mouth curves.
They sit near the edge, feet dangling off. The ocean below has softened into a steady hush. Jungkook talks more than he expects to. Not deeply. Not about anything that matters. Just small things—how they nearly got lost yesterday, how the car smells permanently like chips now.
The group laugh and it’s easy. When someone suggests a bonfire later—“We’re camping down the path anyway. You should stay. We’ve got extra beer.”
—Taehyung looks immediately at Jungkook. And Jungkook understands that look right away.
The old version of him would’ve shrugged it off. Said they had somewhere to be when they really didn’t. Made up some half-assed excuse that no one would actually buy.
The ocean breeze pushes at his damp shirt. The sun is lower now, turning everything honey-gold. Someone nudges his shoulder lightly and says, “Come on. It’ll be fun.”
Fun. He glances at Taehyung on hearing that. And Taehyung is already looking at him, raised brows—hopeful.
Jungkook exhales. “…Yeah. Okay.”
The grin Taehyung gives him in return is immediate, bright, and so openly proud that Jungkook has to look away first.
.
The fire starts small and stubborn, but once it catches, it burns steady—warm enough to take the edge off the air that still carries the last bite of winter. It’s that in-between season where summer is close enough to taste, but not fully here yet.
The sand is cool beneath them. The ocean breathes in and out behind the rocks, and against the tents they’d set up earlier. Smoke drifts low before rising, curling into a sky washed clean by moonlight.
It feels like a night borrowed from another year. And Jungkook isn’t sitting with Taehyung. He’s not even sure when or how it happened, but they ended up getting separated sometime while they were helping the group put up the tents and bonfire.
Instead, Jungkook is now angled toward a girl whose name he already forgot, nodding as she talks, her laughter easy and bright. She’s pretty in the uncomplicated way strangers are when you don’t know what hurts them yet. She leans closer when she speaks. He listens quietly, and responds at the right times.
But his gaze keeps slipping.
Across the fire. To where Taehyung stands half-turned toward a group of guys arguing about something trivial. The firelight reaches him in uneven strokes—catching on the bridge of his nose, along the curve of his cheek, turning the loose strands of hair molten gold. And when he laughs, it’s softer than it used to be. Quieter.
The moonlight outlines him in silver, and for a second Jungkook has the strange, aching thought that Taehyung doesn’t look real.
He looks like a memory. One that had escaped the pages of his heart.
Like something Jungkook once held and then misplaced. But that’s stupid to think anyway, because Taehyung was never someone he could just misplace.
The girl nudges his arm lightly. “You’re not even listening.”
“I am,” he lies gently. She studies him for half a second before pulling a pack from her pocket. “Smoke?”
The words land heavier than they should. For a moment, all he sees is the space behind the old abandoned gym. The smell of smoke and something sweet. And the sight of disappointment swimming in waves inside Taehyung’s pretty eyes. A silence that cut worse than shouting.
Jungkook shakes his head, along with the unwanted image.
She grins, teasing. “Don’t tell me you don’t smoke.”
He doesn’t answer. Because he still does. And he hates that fact. Maybe not really. Maybe that’s the part he actually hates—that he never hated the smoking. Just the part where disappointment haunted him later—dressed in pretty-brown eyes and a set of soft downturned lips he knew all too well.
The idea of Taehyung looking up and seeing the smoke curl from his mouth—seeing that version of him again—makes something twist inside his chest. Because now he knows why Taehyung hated seeing him smoking so much. And maybe he should also hate that part, but after everything—this was his only escape.
And maybe that’s something he’ll never tell Taehyung—something he’ll never admit to.
“Maybe later,” he says instead. “Beer’s fine.”
She shrugs, already distracted. Hands him a can. And the night unfolds slowly after that.
Food gets passed around—skewers slightly charred at the edges, with an endless flow of beer that seemed to never run out. Someone starts playing music from their phone, low enough that it doesn’t overpower the sound of the waves. Laughter comes easily, like it usually does in the company of food and alcohol.
And this feels uncomplicated. Like no one here knows the history sitting quietly between two people on opposite sides of the flame.
At some point, someone suggests truth or dare. Some groan, some cheer, and the empty can in Jungkook’s hand gets replaced without him asking.
And all Jungkook can think was how Taehyung was sitting too far away. On the other side of the fire, instead of by his side. Yet close enough that the firelight flickers between them, distorting his expression every time the flames rise.
And that’s when it hits.
The image of another party many summers away. A similar circle to this one. Where a senior named Kim Namjoon was sitting to his left instead of the girl he can’t remember the name of. The taste of alcohol sharp and unfamiliar on his tongue. The first time he’d ever tried whiskey. And the sensation of water—chlorine surrounding his body—as he submerged himself in an escape of kissing Taehyung back then in his pool.
And the bottle spins just like they did back then.
But his mind is miles away from this bonfire, back to the dare—back to another girl kissing Taehyung and stealing his second chance along with it. He remembers the feeling as he watched it happen back then. The feeling of something cave in, the room spinning around him as his heart demanded to escape than to watch that torture.
His world had gone tight in a way that knocked air from his lungs. Sound fading. The panic clawing up his throat from back then.
And Taehyung—Taehyung pulling him out of it. Hands on his face gently. Lips pressed to his like a lifeline he was somehow allowed to have. Like oxygen.
He wished he could stop time at that moment alone—but the words after always followed, always in a loop, always waking him in a sweat-covered nightmare.
“It was a mistake.”
Running.
Always running.
“Jungkook.”
His name snaps him back—to the present, to the bonfire…to the distance still sitting in between him from Taehyung.
The ocean is still breathing. The girl by his side, smiling at him expectantly. “Truth or dare?”
And Jungkook doesn’t think. “Truth.” She tilts her head. Thinks. Then grins. “Have you ever been in love with someone you couldn’t have?”
The question is simple.
The air isn’t.
He feels it before he looks up—Taehyung’s stillness across the flames. The way his easy smile from earlier drops just a little.
Jungkook doesn’t lift his eyes. He studies the beer can in his hands instead. The way condensation slides down his fingers. The fire crackles. A spark leaps upward and disappears in a way he envies.
“Yes.”
It comes out softer than he meant it to. Like a secret whispered—something he never intended to share.
The temporary stillness is cut as the circle reacts—teasing whistles, exaggerated sympathy. But Jungkook can’t hear any of it.
Because he still hadn’t looked up. And he knows Taehyung is watching him now.
Jungkook doesn’t explain more. Doesn’t even try to take it back either. And for the first time in years, the truth sits between them—not shouted, not dramatic.
Just there. Waiting for something he’s still too afraid to touch.
.
The last of the laughter fades into zipping tents and tired goodnights.
Jungkook smiles in quiet appreciation at the girl who tells him there’s an extra tent he can use. He thanks her, voice polite, smile distant. When she leaves, the beach suddenly feels larger. Emptier.
The bonfire is mostly embers now—orange veins pulsing under soft ash.
He stays seated in the same spot, beer can still clutched loosely in his hand. He felt heavy. Heavy in the way one feels after saying something irreversible.
After answering a question he never thought he’d answer truthfully.
‘Have you ever been in love with someone you couldn’t have?’
Yes. The word still echoes in his chest. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to look at him now.
He thought Taehyung had gone to sleep already. So when the sand shifts beside him, he startles slightly. Taehyung lowers himself down without a word, facing the ocean.
Close. But never close enough.
The ocean stretches out before them, black and endless, the moon carving silver veins across its surface. The wind carries a chill that wasn’t there earlier—summer at its center, winter clinging to the edges.
And for a long time, neither speak. Taehyung’s hands rest loosely between his knees. Jungkook notices they’re not steady. Just slightly tense. Fingers pressing into the beer can in his hand.
“The night is still young,” Taehyung says quietly. The voice he uses when he’s hiding something in.
Jungkook lets out a tired breath. “I already don’t like where this is going.”
A faint smile tugs at Taehyung’s lips, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Hear me out. We’ve got the beer already going on, so…wish number nine?”
- Get drunk and tell the truth about everything.
Jungkook stares at the tide rolling in and pulling back like a slow inhale. “What’s even left to be honest about?”
Taehyung glances at him then, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. The moonlight catches on his cheekbone, the faint shadows under his eyes. There’s still remnants of sand clinging to his skin, under the collar of his shirt—from earlier—from the cliff.
“Quite a lot I would say…”
Jungkook hesitates. The ocean fills the space between them. And he feels something tighten behind his ribs. “Fine,” he says after a moment. “But you start.”
“Fair enough.”
A beat of silence. Then, gently—almost absurdly normal, the familiarity of it almost undoes Jungkook.
“I never liked Iron Man. I just pretended to because you liked it so much.”
Jungkook turns to him slowly. “Excuse me. That’s a masterpiece.”
“It’s really not,” Taehyung scoffs. “He’s just some guy with way too much money on his hands.”
Jungkook shakes his head. “I can’t believe I’m friends with someone with such poor taste.”
“Ditto,” Taehyung counters childishly.
And the ease is familiar. Almost dangerous in how natural it feels. The banter floats between them like something fragile and nostalgic—a summer night from years ago. A version of them untouched.
“Fine,” Jungkook says. “Then your seaweed ramen tasted like shit. I only ever ate it because—“
“You’re lying,” Taehyung cuts in, but there’s no real bite to his words. “You’re just being petty. You always begged me to make you some on your birthday.”
Jungkook huffs a laugh, softer now. “Because it always somehow made you happier than it made me.”
And it’s silent after that. Like a confirmation to his earlier confession. Taehyung shifts his eyes away, looks at the fire instead. Silence creeps in again, softer this time.
“Whatever,” he mutters. Then, quieter. “I never actually believed I could breathe underwater. You just seemed so cool back then, the coolest kid in class and I didn’t know anyone. I just wanted to impress you.”
Jungkook’s chest tightens unexpectedly, in a way that feels almost cruel. He had never known.
“Tae,” he murmurs, “you didn’t need to impress me.”
Taehyung gives a small shake of his head. “I did.”
The wind shifts. The embers dim further. And then—
Silence. Not light this time. But one charged with all that’s been left unsaid between them for years now. The wind shifts, it carries salt and something colder.
Taehyung’s voice drops. “I hated how protective you looked of him.”
Jungkook stills.
“Back then,” Taehyung continues, still staring straight ahead, “it felt like he replaced me. Like I had no room in your life anymore…”
The confession sits fragile between them. It isn’t loud, or angry. It’s worse. It’s stripped bare. Jungkook exhales slowly.
“I was immature,” Taehyung says. “And jealous of him. I didn’t want you to be close to anyone but me.”
Taehyung’s lips press together, the honesty tastes metallic.
Jungkook lets out a small, humorless breath. “I don’t think I could ever replace you even if I tried, Tae.”
Taehyung finally looks at him then. And there’s something in his eyes that makes Jungkook’s stomach drop. And he takes a sharp breath—stupidly hoping to calm himself with what he was about to confess. How did this take them all this time to finally be shared?
And all Jungkook could think—oh, how much time we’ve wasted running and being stupid.
Now all it took was a pair of beer cans and a warm fire sitting between them to let the truth stumble past their stubborn lips.
“I hated how you left…it broke something inside me ever since,” Jungkook says, voice lower now.
The embers collapse inward with a soft hiss. “And maybe that’s why I kissed him,” Jungkook continues. “After the fight…I kissed him.”
There it is. The truth finally out in the open.
Taehyung doesn’t react immediately—that’s what makes it devastating. His spine goes straighter, his breathing slows—not naturally, but deliberately. As if he’s forcing his body not to betray him.
The kind of stillness that makes everything else louder.
Taehyung lifts his can to his lips, takes a slow sip. “Did you regret it?” he asks.
Jungkook feels heat rise in his chest—a memory. The way Peach hadn’t pulled away. The way it hadn’t felt wrong.
“No,” Jungkook says, silently watching Taehyung who was refusing to look at him.
Taehyung nods once. A small, controlled motion. “Oh.” A small pause. “Okay.”
It’s barely audible. But Jungkook hears the way the vowel flattens at the end. He hears what Taehyung doesn’t let out.
“Do you want me to regret it?” Jungkook asks, something raw slipping through.
Taehyung’s jaw tightens slightly. He looks down at his hands, fingers digging crescent shapes into his palms now. “I don’t know,” he says.
And this time, his voice isn’t perfectly steady. It’s thinner. Because what he means is—
I don’t know what it says about me if you don’t.
And Jungkook distantly thinks that might hurt more than anger would have. So he turns away from Taehyung, and looks back at the ocean.
“I never wanted to tell you about that,” he admits faintly. “But Peach has always been someone the world never knew.” His voice softens, almost reverent. “His heart too big for this world…it just feels unfair. It’s unfair how he just disappeared without a trace…and no one even knows.”
The tide pulls in and back out. Taehyung watches him carefully now. Like he was searching for something he was afraid of finding.
“Do you miss him?”
Jungkook lets out a breath that trembles at the edges.
“Every second of the day.” His throat tightens, but he pushes through it. “But I know he’ll come back. He promised.”
Something flickers across Taehyung’s face at that—just for a second. Something cracks there. Something that looked too much like fear.
Because everyone had always known one thing with certainty.
Jungkook loved Taehyung. Recklessly. Unapologetically.
Taehyung closes his eyes briefly at that. “Jungkook…”
“Yeah?”
There’s something different now in Taehyung’s voice. Something defeated and more vulnerable. Something scared.
“…Did you love him?”
The question lands softly. Almost too soft it gets swallowed by the embers of the fire. But cracks something open between them.
It’s the most dangerous thing Taehyung has said all night. And Jungkook feels it—the walls slowly pressing inward. Like the tide coming in too fast, too high, too cold.
All his life, love had been simple. Love had been one shape. One name. One face.
It had been Taehyung—loud and bright and overwhelming. Jealousy, laughter, ruined friendships, and almost-kisses in the swimming pool. Love had been something all-consuming, singular. It had felt like destiny, inevitability.
But loving someone else? The thought alone makes his mind go strangely numb. How could his heart stretch like that without him ever noticing?
And that’s when it happens. The certainty Jungkook had when he said that he didn’t regret it dissolves into something far more complicated.
Because how do you answer something you don’t even understand yourself?
The ocean sounds closer now. Louder. As if the tide is creeping up the shore inch by inch.
What was Peach to him? The question unfurls slowly, painfully.
Was he just a friend? Someone who stayed when others left? Someone who filled space so it didn’t echo?
Jungkook’s breath stutters. The thought of Peach has never been silent. It never was gentle nostalgia, or simple grief. It was sharp and immediate. His heart reacts before any logic does—a stumble in his chest, a tightening low in his ribs that feels dangerously close to longing.
He doesn’t turn to look at Taehyung. He can’t. He’s too afraid of what he might find in the lines of his face. Too afraid of seeing pain there—the kind he won’t be able to undo this time.
Because this isn’t about jealousy anymore. This is about something much bigger. This is about whether Taehyung was the only one Jungkook’s heart learned to ever hold.
And that question alone feels like betrayal.
Because for years—through every fight, every silence, every almost—one thing had always been certain.
Jungkook loved Taehyung.
Even when they weren’t together. Even when they pretended not to care. It was the one thread that never snapped.
But if Jungkook says no, then what was that grief? What was that kiss? What was all that aching devotion wrapped around someone who vanished?
Either answer reshapes the past. Either one hurts.
Jungkook’s breath falters. He opens his mouth, closes it. He sees Peach under fluorescent lights. Bruised ribs under his hands. A quiet inhale when their lips touched. A promise whispered like it could hold the sky together.
He sees Taehyung in a pool years ago. Radiant under the summer sun. Almost kissing him. Running.
Was it love?
Or was it desperation?
Was it love?
Or was it trying not to drown alone?
Jungkook doesn’t say anything, because the truth doesn’t come. Because how could Jungkook ever love someone that wasn’t Taehyung?
For years, Jungkook had always tied the word ‘love’ to Taehyung and no one else.
Then why was it so hard to answer Taehyung’s question?
And maybe it’s the way he remembers Peach’s bruised smile so clearly. The way he stayed when others left. The way Jungkook didn’t feel alone for a moment in that quiet. He remembers the kiss—not explosive. Just…real.
Had it always been more? Had he simply refused to look at it too closely?
Because loving Taehyung had always been easy to understand. It made sense of who Jungkook believed himself to be. But admitting that he might have loved Peach too—
That fractures something deeper. It means the story he’s told himself for years—that Taehyung was the only one, the first and last—might not be entirely true. And that possibility is dizzying.
Because if he had loved Peach too, then what does that make him? Someone capable of holding two truths in the same body?
The waves keep moving. And Jungkook realizes, with quiet horror—
He doesn’t know. Not then. Not even now.
But if that was love—
If even a fraction of it was—
Then Jungkook didn’t just lose a friend. He lost someone his heart had already made room for. And he hadn’t even noticed.
How devastating is it, to discover love in hindsight? To replay every shared look, every touch, every almost-confession—and realize they were heavier than you allowed them to be?
And what if Peach had known? What if he had understood something Jungkook refused to see back then?
A slow, nauseating grief begins to bloom beneath his ribs. Because there was no going back to ask. No chance to sit beside him and say, what were we?
If it ever was love, it is love discovered too late. And that might be the cruelest part.
Taehyung doesn’t rush him. Doesn’t repeat the question. He just waits.
And in that waiting is something devastatingly restrained—as if he’s bracing himself for a truth he already suspects, but isn’t sure he can survive hearing.
But the devastation inside Jungkook has shifted shape. It’s no longer about the possibility that he ever loved someone that wasn’t Taehyung. It’s about the possibility that he did—
If this was love, then the loss is bigger than he allowed himself to feel. It means the hollow space inside him wasn’t just absence.
It was heartbreak.
And how tragic—
To only recognize heartbreak when the person who caused it is no longer here to witness it. Jungkook is no longer standing at a crossroads between yes and no.
He is standing in the ruins of a realization that came far too late.
𝙖/𝙣: 𝙄 𝙝𝙤𝙥𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙜𝙪𝙮𝙨 𝙚𝙣𝙟𝙤𝙮𝙚𝙙! 𝙇𝙚𝙩 𝙢𝙚 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨!
Reblogging & commenting motivate me to write more 💜
Tag List: @janaeclipsed
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uymak mı gerekirdi hayata?
bir şeyin bir yere uyum sağlaması oraya ait olduğu anlamına mı gelirdi?
ve ben kendime ait hissetmiyorum
ruhum da bu dünyaya ait hissetmiyor
sadece uyum sağlayıp ayak
uyduruyorum.
- n.
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❤️ Professors Taehyung and Jungkook
❤️ Secretly married
Gotcha - Anonymous - 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS [Archive of Our Own]
Answer
ooooh first ask! sadly, i will not be of help about this :( i have never read that fic, and wattpad isn’t a platform i ever really use. so sorry i hope you can find it!
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260114.
i want to be your decalcomania..
i want.. you..
i want to be your decalcomania,
i want..
i want you..
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Still With You - Ch.25
Jungkook x Taehyung
Chap Quote. ‘Imagine being loved the way you love.’ -Unknown
Song Choice.Messy - Ally Salort
a/n. Currently posting this while Jungkook is replying to comments on Weverse is crazy. Can’t believe I missed the live!
I Was Only Made To Love You
{Present Time}
Apparently this weekend didn’t come quietly—but rather with a storm ambushing through Jungkook’s room, leaving things scattered everywhere.
Drawers half open. Closet door wide. A hoodie hanging off the back of his chair like it had given up mid-escape. Jungkook stood in the middle of it with his backpack on the bed and absolutely no idea what qualified as “enough” for a trip that technically only fleshed to life in the span of last night’s quiet late hours.
He’d spent the better half of his day—longer than he’d like to admit anyway—trying to figure out what was deemed appropriate to take on a road trip. Not only did he initially think that Taehyung was just joking about the whole trip thing, but he also had no idea what one would need on a two day trip—one with no destination in mind much less a plan at all.
[[MORE]]Another thing Jungkook had figured amid all the mess—both in the room and in his mind—was that it’d probably be best he called Yoongi instead of leave a text. He’d rather not face the wrath that would accompany a rather angry Yoongi, if he’d been a coward and settled on a text to tell the older about the trip.
So gathering all the confidence—he didn’t really have—Jungkook had dialed the older’s number quicker than he could overthink this.
The phone rang on speaker as he looked through his small closet, waiting for the older friend to pick up while also quietly hoping he doesn’t. There wasn’t even much to look through and yet he found himself contemplating the limited options way too much.
He tossed in a hoodie. Then took it right out. Folded it again and put it back. “What do people even take on road trips?” he muttered, mostly to himself.
Yoongi picked up on the third ring, cutting his thought process just then and there. “Why are you calling me this early on a Friday?” Yoongi asked flatly.
His voice had sounded rough in the way that told Jungkook he probably just woke up. Jungkook wanted to curse himself for not checking the time before calling, because now he had to convince a very grumpy Yoongi to let him borrow his car for the weekend. Making his already hard mission all that much harder.
“I kinda need a favor…” Jungkook trailed off as he narrowed his eyes on a pair of cargo jeans he found somewhere deep inside his closet.
“And that couldn’t have waited for—I don’t know—past the crack ass of dawn?” Yoongi grumbled, huffing through the speaker.
“No, I’m packing and I need to leave soon,” Jungkook said nonchalantly. Maybe nonchalant enough that even Yoongi pauses for a second or two to process the words.
“Hold up—“ there’s a sound of ruckus on the other end—like someone falling—then another voice swearing.
“Dude…did you just fall off the bed?” That sounded a lot like Hoseok.
“Shut up,” Yoongi grumbled, who’d been trying to sit up, but instead his legs were twisted in the blanket and ended up losing balance.
Jungkook moved around the room casually, grabbing socks, a charger, then stopping like he wasn’t sure if that defeated the point. “I’ll probably drop by in ten to grab the car keys,” Jungkook said absentmindedly.
Yoongi sighed. “Brave of you to assume I agreed, kid.”
“Please? Can I borrow your car for the weekend? You know I never ask for anything, hyung.”
And there he goes using his hyung-card in the way he knows too well the other won’t be able to turn down.
There was a pause. A long one. Long enough that Jungkook worried the older had just hung up on him. And Jungkook worried this might not work after all. No matter how desperate he needed it to—because Taehyung had insisted they follow the list exactly as written.
Because they were already late.
“…You hate driving,” Yoongi said finally, quietly.
Jungkook froze for half a second, sock in hand. “I don’t hate it.”
“You do,” Yoongi said. “You’ve hated it since—“ He stopped himself, tongue clicking softly. “You just do.”
Jungkook swallowed at the unspoken words Yoongi didn’t utter, and forced his voice to stay light. “I’ll be fine.”
Another pause. Then movement on Yoongi’s end—hushed voices—like someone leaning closer to the phone.
“A road trip?” a bright voice cut in. “Oh my God, that sounds like a fun idea.”
“Hoseok,” Yoongi warned.
“What?” Hoseok laughed. “I support spontaneity. Let the kid live. Where are you going, Kookie?”
Jungkook smiled despite himself. “That’s kind of the point.”
“The point is not knowing?” Hoseok said delightedly. “That’s amazing. You should totally—wait, do you have snacks? You need snacks. And a good playlist. Road trips live or die by the playlist. You can borrow the mixtape I have—“
“That sounds great, hyung,” Jungkook laughed lightly.
Yoongi cleared his throat. “How long is this again?”
Jungkook hesitated, shifting his weight. He glanced at the list folded carefully on his desk since last night, the ink worn thin in places. Road trip with no destination.
“Just the weekend,” he said. “I’ll be back by Sunday night.”
“I still need to know an exact location, kid,” Yoongi pressed.
“…I don’t know yet.”
Yoongi went very quiet. “No,” Yoongi started slowly, “you do not get my car for a mystery trip with no plan.”
“It’s planned,” Jungkook said quickly. “Just—loosely.”
“Would you at least have your phone?”
Jungkook looked at it lying on his bed, and he can almost envision the worried look on Yoongi’s face. He looked away, as if afraid Yoongi might see right through him. “I’m trying not to use it much.”
Hoseok burst out laughing. “You’re what?”
“It’s part of it,” Jungkook said defensively. “Just for a bit.”
“No phones on a road trip?” Hoseok said. “Are you filming a coming-of-age movie?”
Yoongi exhaled sharply. “Jungkook.”
“I’ll check in. I promise,” Jungkook said. “It’s just…the point is not planning everything.”
“The point,” Yoongi muttered, “is that I need to know you’ll be safe.”
Jungkook stilled a little at that. “I will be,” he said, softer now.
“Are you going alone?” Yoongi asked.
Jungkook’s fingers tightened around the strap of the backpack. “…No.”
“With who?”
“A friend,” Jungkook said. He kept his eyes on the floor. “From class.”
Another pause. Longer this time.
“Does this friend,” Yoongi started carefully, “know what they’re doing?”
Jungkook smiled, softly. “Yeah. He does.”
A pause. Then, more carefully—
“You packed your meds?”
Jungkook froze for half a second before forcing himself to keep moving. “Yes, Dad.”
“And the other ones. The ones you’re supposed to take if—“
“I know,” Jungkook cut in gently. “I packed everything.”
Hoseok leaned back into the conversation, as if trying to break the loaded silence that followed. “See? He’s fine. Let him take the car. I’ll help him pack snacks.”
Yoongi muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like I’m surrounded by idiots.
“Bring it back with a full tank,” Yoongi said finally. “No dents. No speeding tickets. And if you don’t pick up the second I call or disappear, I’m calling campus security, the police, and your mother.”
“Like she’d care,” Jungkook scoffed a laugh, but Yoongi doesn’t laugh.
“Text me when you get there,” Yoongi added.
Jungkook nodded even though Yoongi couldn’t see it. “Okay.”
Hoseok’s voice floated in the background. “Bring me a weird souvenir!”
“I’m not promising that,” Jungkook said, smiling despite himself.
“Drive safe,” Yoongi said finally. “I will. Stop worrying,” Jungkook promised.
“And if something feels off, you call me, I’ll be right there—“
Jungkook huffed a faint laugh. “Hyung.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know.”
The call ended and the room settled into silence again.
And it’s the constant reminders that stay with Jungkook even long after the call ended. Because this was probably what it would’ve felt like if Seokjin was still around. The nagging that never was really nagging. The questions that sounded like fear dressed up into something quieter.
Love that didn’t know how to be quiet. For a moment, the ache that followed wasn’t sharp. Just…quiet.
Jungkook was finally able to throw together things he might need on the trip before zipping the backpack and setting it by the door. For a moment, he just stood there, listening—to the hum of the building, to his own breathing, to the quiet presence behind him that felt as familiar as it always had.
He didn’t look back.
Because if he did, he might have to explain why he was afraid that saying the name out loud would make it vanish.
.
The highway felt wider than Jungkook remembered.
He adjusted the seat twice before settling, then the rearview mirror, fingers tapping nervously against the steering wheel while the engine hummed. Yoongi’s car smelled faintly like coffee and something clean and sharp—air freshener, probably.
Taehyung watched him from the passenger seat, chin propped in his palm, leaned back in his seat with one knee pulled up casually like he’d been there a hundred times before. “You’re aware this is a car, not a spacecraft.”
“I just need it right,” Jungkook huffed.
“It’s right.”
“It could be more right.”
The first ten minutes were stiff. His shoulders were tight. His hands gripping the wheel harder than necessary. Every merging car made his pulse spike before settling again.
“Relax,” Taehyung said lightly. “You’re driving like someone is grading you.”
“Shut up.”
“You passed, by the way.”
Jungkook rolled his eyes, but felt his grip loosen just the slightest bit. They drove without music at first. Just the low hum of the engine and wind slipping past the windows. It felt strange. Open. Like something waiting to happen.
“So,” Taehyung said eventually, glancing over. “Left or right?”
“At what?”
“At the next exit.”
“There are like thirty exists, Tae.”
“Exactly.”
Jungkook shook his head, but when the sign appeared, he slowed anyway. Left led toward the coast. Right toward the countryside.
Taehyung tilted his head. “Ocean’s technically on the list too.”
“Sunrise,” Jungkook said quietly.
“We can stay up all night again,” Taehyung grinned.
“We already did that one.”
“Doesn’t mean we can’t do it better.”
Jungkook smiled despite himself and flicked the indicator left.
The further they drove, the lighter his chest felt. Buildings thinned into fields. The sky stretched wider, clouds hanging low and lazy like they had nowhere else to be.
They pass three exits before Taehyung suddenly sits up straighter. “Okay. Next one.”
“Next one what?”
“We take it, duh.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s there.”
“That’s not a reason.”
“That’s the only reason.”
Jungkook hesitates just long enough to prove his point—then flicks on the indicator anyway. Taehyung beams like he just won something. And maybe he did.
The road narrows almost immediately. Trees lean closer. The highway noise fades into something softer, quieter.
“See?” Taehyung says.
“See what?”
“You didn’t explode.”
“I’m internally exploding.”
“Liar. Your shoulders dropped like ten minutes ago.”
Jungkook glances at him. “You’re very observant for someone who doesn’t plan anything.”
“I plan chaos,” Taehyung says simply. “Different skill set.”
At some point, Taehyung reached forward and turned the radio on. Static. Then music. Jungkook glanced over automatically, like he always did when Taehyung stole control of something. “At least let me pick.”
“You took too long.”
They bickered about it for a few miles before Jungkook finally grabbed his phone—just for the playlist Hoseok shared with him, he told himself—and connected it. The first song that came on felt wrong. Too loud.
He skipped it.
The second was softer. More nostalgic in the way some songs made road trips better. Taehyung tapped his fingers against his knee in rhythm. “This is good.”
“I know.”
They drive past a tiny roadside fruit stand that looks like it hasn’t been updated since 2003. Taehyung gasps dramatically. “Stop.”
“No.”
“Please.”
“That looks like a tetanus risk.”
“Live a little.”
“I am trying to live.”
“Barely.”
Jungkook sighs and pulls over anyway. And Taehyung is out of the car before the engine fully cuts. “You’re unbelievable,” Jungkook mutters, following him.
They buy strawberries they didn’t need and a bottle of something neither of them recognize. Taehyung insists it’s part of the experience. Jungkook insists they’ll regret it. They eat the strawberries in the car with the windows down, juice staining their fingers.
“You know,” Taehyung says, licking the juice off his thumb, “this is exactly why I wrote it like that.”
“Wrote what?” Jungkook asked.
“No destination.”
Jungkook starts the engine again. “You wrote it because you’re allergic to responsibility.”
Taehyung rolls his eyes. “I wrote it because your whole life has been bullet points.”
That makes Jungkook glance over. “Piano at six,” Taehyung continues lightly. “Math lesson at eight. Take over the family business one day. Marry someone impressive. Have smart kids to keep on the legacy. Die impressively.”
Jungkook laughs under his breath. “That’s dramatic.”
“It’s accurate.”
A beat. “You needed one thing,” Taehyung says, softer now, “that didn’t have a correct answer.”
The road curves ahead of them. No signs. Just sky opening up slowly in the distance. Hours passed in pieces. Gas station stops. A shared bottle of water. Jungkook buying snacks he didn’t even like because Taehyung had pointed at them.
“Those are terrible,” Jungkook grumbled.
“You don’t know that,” Taehyung argued with a pout.
The air shifted as they got closer to the coast—salt creeping faintly into it, breeze cooler through the cracked window.
When the ocean finally appeared in the distance, wide and silver under the late afternoon light, Jungkook felt something in him go still.
“Wow,” Taehyung breathed softly.
They didn’t speak for a minute. Jungkook pulled into a small gravel overlook, engine ticking as it cooled. For a second, they just sat there and the car felt strangely quiet again.
Taehyung reached for the door handle first. “Race you.”
“You’re insufferable,” Jungkook muttered, already unbuckling.
They ran anyway. Wind hit him hard as soon as he stepped out—colder than expected, sharp with salt. The ocean stretched endlessly ahead, restless and alive. Taehyung stood closer to the edge, arms slightly out like he could balance the horizon.
Jungkook slowed. Looking at Taehyung like this, carefree and beautiful, it left him breathless in a way he couldn’t explain. And without thinking, Jungkook pulled his phone out to snap a picture of Taehyung like that. Wanting nothing more than to commit this moment to eternity.
“Hey!” Taehyung shouts the second he hears the camera shutter. “No phones!”
Jungkook is already lowering it, guilt flashing across his face. “I wasn’t—“
“You were!”
“I just—“
Taehyung lunges ahead. Jungkook yelps and bolts down the sand before Taehyung can grab him.
“You said I should live a little!” Jungkook calls over his shoulder. “And you can live without your phone, Jeon!” Taehyung yelled back.
The sand makes it harder to run. Jungkook’s shoes sink with every step, breath tearing out of him in surprised laughter as Taehyung gains on him. “Delete it!” Taehyung demands.
“I didn’t even take a look at it!”
“That’s worse!”
Jungkook glances back just long enough to lose his footing. Taehyung catches up and reaches to grab at his arm—his foot slips though. And suddenly he’s the one stumbling forward, arms flailing in a very ungraceful attempt to recover.
He doesn’t. He hits the sand with an indignant oof.
Jungkook bursts into laughter so hard it folds him in half. “You look so stupid,” he manages between breaths.
“Shut up,” Taehyung groans, already trying to push himself up.
Jungkook takes one step closer to offer a hand—
And immediately Taehyung reaches to pull him down with him.
The sand shifts beneath Jungkook and he goes down just as ungracefully, landing on his side with a startled shout.
There’s a beat of silence. Then they both dissolve into laughter. The kind that makes your stomach hurt. The kind that steals your breath.
“You did that on purpose,” Jungkook accuses, brushing sand out of his hair. “Absolutely not,” Taehyung says, still laughing. “You’re just clumsy.”
They lie there for a moment, staring up at the wide-open sky, catching their breath. Wind rushes over them. Waves crash steadily ahead. Eventually, Taehyung sits up first, grimacing as he starts dusting sand off his clothes. “This is going to be everywhere.”
“You’re dramatic.”
“It’s in my shoes.”
“Then take them off.”
Taehyung glares at him. “That’s not helpful.”
Jungkook rolls onto his back fully, then pushes himself upright more slowly. He makes a half-hearted attempt to brush the sand off his jeans before giving up entirely.
“Hopeless,” Taehyung mutters, still patting at his clothes.
They settle side by side facing the ocean, shoulders lightly brushing, breathing finally evening out. Wind pushes at their clothes. The world feels oddly still. “If we lived here,” Taehyung says, staring ahead at the crashing waves, “do you think we’d be different people?”
Jungkook thinks about it for a moment. “No,” he says finally. “You’d still be annoying.”
Taehyung bumps his shoulder lightly. “I’m serious.”
A longer pause. “I think,” Jungkook says slowly, “I wouldn’t know what to do without someone telling me.”
Taehyung turns his head at that. “And now?” he asks.
Jungkook looks out at the endless expanse of water ahead. “…Now I’m trying not to need that.”
Taehyung smiles, satisfied in a way that feels almost proud. And Jungkook doesn’t realize he’s memorizing him. Not consciously.
Just in the way you memorize something you’re afraid won’t last. For a second, Jungkook feels that same dazed sensation again. Like he’s inside a moment he’ll want back someday.
He doesn’t realize he already is.
No destination.
And for once, that doesn’t feel like losing control. It feels like stepping outside of something that was never quite built for him in the first place.
Behind him, the wind roared. And for just a second—barely long enough to register—the space beside him felt colder than it should have been.
.
They end up closer to the shoreline when the sun dips lower.
Taehyung insists they take their shoes off. Jungkook complains about the sand again, and that’s when Taehyung steals his socks and runs a few steps away with them just to be annoying.
“Give those back!” Jungkook yells.
“Come get them!” Taehyung yells back through a bright laughter.
And they’re running around again, this time Jungkook is the one doing the chasing—less frantic this time, more used to the uneven ground. When Taehyung finally tosses the socks back, he’s laughing hard enough that he nearly loses his balance again.
“You’re exhausting,” Jungkook grumbles between labored breaths.
“You’re enjoying it,” Taehyung grins back.
After collecting themselves, they end up standing at the edge where the water barely kisses the sand. A wave rolls in stronger than expected. Taehyung yelps when it soaks the cuffs of his jeans.
Jungkook laughs. “Adventure flavor, right?”
“Shut up,” Taehyung grumbles right back as he kneels to roll up his pants.
Another wave comes and Jungkook doesn’t move fast enough this time. Cold water climbs up his ankles and he sucks in a sharp breath. The water was freezing this late into the day. Yet Jungkook suspected the goosebumps he was feeling wasn’t from that, but rather the way Taehyung had his intense gaze on him all this time.
“That’s karma for you,” Taehyung teases, but the way his voice came out quiet and breathy made the goosebumps travel across Jungkook’s body.
“It’s cold,” Jungkook starts, “maybe we should wait up in the car.”
“…Sure.”
And Jungkook hoped that the loud beating of his heart was drowned out by the loud crashing of the waves. He made sure not to wait on a response as he turned and made his way back to Yoongi’s car, not even sure if Taehyung was following him.
.
When the sun finally starts melting into the water, the world turns softer, edges blur. They sit quietly in the warmth of the car as they watch the sky deepen into orange. Then shades of red. Then something purple and endless.
The light slips through the windshield and settles over Taehyung’s face in pieces—along the bridge of his nose, across his cheekbones, caught in the curve of his mouth. Jungkook has seen him in a hundred different kinds of light, but this one makes him look almost unreal. Like the sky decided to keep one color for itself and let the rest dissolve into him.
Taehyung nudges him in the quietness of the car. “Next wish.”
Jungkook groans lightly. “We’re already doing one.”
“We can stack them.”
“That’s not how lists work.”
“That’s exactly how lists work.”
Taehyung pulls the folded paper from Jungkook’s pocket before he can even protest. “Hey—“
Jungkook rolls his eyes but lets Taehyung unfold the paper anyway. And Taehyung makes a show of scanning it dramatically. “Okay,” he says, tapping something there. “Number eight.”
Jungkook leans over to see what that was, their shoulders brushing in the small space. The contact is brief, accidental—but it sends a quiet awareness through him anyway.
8. See the ocean at sunrise.
“We’re staying up properly this time to not miss it,” Taehyung said quietly. “No passing out five minutes before it happens.”
Jungkook huffs. “You’re the one who almost fell asleep standing up last time.”
“I was conserving energy.”
“You were drooling.”
Taehyung gasps in mock offense. “Slander.”
The heater hums low. The windshield begins to fog slowly from their breath. And for a few minutes, they just sit in silence. The ocean is a distant sound now. A steady hush beyond the glass.
Taehyung leans forward suddenly and draws something in the fogged window with his finger. A crooked smiley face.
Jungkook watches the way his sleeve slides down his wrist when he reaches up. The long fingers. The familiar movement. He has known those hands since they were smaller than his own. Since scraped knees and pool water and badly tied shoelaces.
He bites back a smile before reaching over and wipes it away with the sleeve of his hoodie.
“Rude,” Taehyung pouts.
Jungkook laughs quietly, the kind that can only fit in the silence of the car. Taehyung squints at him in fake annoyance, and Jungkook catches the exact second the act slips—the softness underneath it.
Silence settles again, but it isn’t heavy, just full. The kind of quiet that comes after laughing too much to need to say anything more. Taehyung rests his head back against the seat and turns slightly, studying Jungkook without trying to even hide it.
Jungkook feels it immediately. The weight of his gaze. He keeps his eyes forward, but he’s hyperaware of the way Taehyung is looking at him—not casually. Not teasingly.
Like he’s memorizing him.
And Jungkook thinks, distantly, that maybe moving to the car wasn’t the smartest decision on his part after all. There’s nowhere to look without looking at him.
“You’re different,” Taehyung says, voice losing its teasing note.
Jungkook finally glances at him—and regrets it instantly. Because Taehyung is beautiful like this. Not in a loud way. Not in the way people turn to stare at across rooms.
But in the way the dashboard light traces his jaw. In the way his lashes cast faint shadows against his cheeks. In the way his mouth curves even when he isn’t smiling.
Jungkook knows this face better than he knows his own reflection. He could redraw it from memory alone. Probably has, in the margins of notebooks he never meant to fill with him.
“You keep saying that,” Jungkook mutters, looking away again before his chest can betray him.
“Because you are.”
Another small pause. “You didn’t try to leave,” Taehyung adds.
Jungkook doesn’t answer right away. Because the truth is simple enough that it doesn’t need to be voiced aloud. He knows Taehyung was talking about the night he left the dorm when things got too heavy, running away from something he still couldn’t tell where it started or ended.
“I didn’t want to,” he says simply.
Taehyung hums softly like that’s enough. Outside, a car passes somewhere down the road, headlights briefly washing across the windshield—and for a second, light spills fully over Taehyung’s face.
It steals the air from Jungkook’s lungs.
There’s something unbearably gentle about him when he isn’t trying to be anything. When he isn’t pretending indifference. Just this. Just Taehyung. Warm and real and too impossibly close.
Inside, it’s still warm. Jungkook lets his head fall back against the seat. He can feel the tiredness settling in now—not overwhelming. Just there. “We’re really staying up?” he asks.
Taehyung smiles faintly. “That’s the plan.”
Jungkook glances at him, “I thought we didn’t have a plan.”
And for a second—just a second—everything feels steady. Like the world narrowed itself down to this small space. This quiet. This warmth. The faint scent of Taehyung’s shampoo. The rhythm of his breathing. The way their knees almost touch but don’t.
The ocean keeps breathing in the distance. And they sit there, waiting for the sunrise like it’s something they’re allowed to have.
.
The heater hums low between them. The windshield is fogged enough now that the outside world looks distant, blurred into moving shadows and faint light.
When Taehyung starts asking questions again, Jungkook watches him more openly now. The way his eyes light up when he remembers something stupid from when they were thirteen. The way he smiles before he even finishes the question.
The way he leans closer without noticing he’s doing it. Jungkook realizes, distantly, that this is how he loves Taehyung the most.
Taehyung shifts in his seat, tucking his hands into the sleeves of his hoodie. “Can I ask you something?”
Jungkook doesn’t even look at him. “Why ask when you’re going to anyway?”
Taehyung smiles softly at that. “Rude.”
“Accurate,” Jungkook corrects.
A beat.
“Okay,” Taehyung says seriously. “When we were thirteen, and I told you I could breathe underwater—“
“You cried when you swallowed pool water,” Jungkook interjects.
“That’s not the point.”
“That is exactly the point.”
Taehyung ignores him. “Did you actually believe me then?”
Jungkook huffs a laugh. “No.”
“You hesitated,” Taehyung tried to argue.
“I did not.”
“You absolutely did.”
“I was twelve. You were convincing,” Jungkook huffed.
“I knew it,” Taehyung says, triumphant. “You thought I was magical.”
“I thought you were stupid.”
Taehyung gasps. “That’s so mean.”
“You tried to prove it by holding your breath for two minutes and nearly passed out.”
“It would’ve worked if you didn’t panic.”
“I panicked because you turned purple.”
Taehyung grins, satisfied, and sinks a little lower in his seat. Silence lingers for a few seconds after that. Then—
“Can I ask you something else?”
Jungkook groans quietly. “You need to sleep.”
“I’m not even tired.”
“You were yawning a minute ago.”
“Answer the question.”
“There wasn’t even a question.”
“You know what I mean.”
Jungkook exhales but nods once. “Fine.”
Taehyung turns slightly toward him in his seat, more serious now, but still light around the edges.
“When did you realize I wasn’t as cool as you thought?”
Jungkook snorts. “You were never cool.”
“I had layers.”
“You had a bowl cut.”
“That was a fashion statement.”
”That was a crime.”
Taehyung laughs, the sound filling the small car too easily. He keeps going. “Okay, okay. Can I ask you something else?”
“You already just did.”
“If we could redo one year, which one would you pick?”
Jungkook thinks for half a second. “None.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It is though.”
“You wouldn’t fix anything?”
Jungkook shrugs. “If you fix one thing, you change everything. Butterfly effect or whatever.”
Taehyung hums at that, considering it for a moment. Another pause. The questions don’t stop after though. They just keep coming.
“Did you think we’d actually get tattoos?”
“Do you think we would’ve survived skipping class if you didn’t trip over your own feet?”
“I did not trip!”
“You did.”
“I was pushed.”
“You ran into a door.”
Jungkook laughs again, softer this time.
At some point, Taehyung stops waiting for full answers. He asks one thing and then another before Jungkook can respond, like he’s afraid of the silence in between.
And Jungkook thinks he can understand that. Because silence has taken things from them before. More times than they can count.
“Can I ask you something else?”
“You’re not even listening to my answers.”
“I am.”
“You’re not.”
“I am.”
“You’re impossible.”
Taehyung smiles faintly, eyes a little heavier now. The air inside the car feels warmer somehow. Smaller. And maybe Jungkook was just imagining it, maybe it was just the car heater doing tricks on him.
“Can I ask you something else?”
Jungkook turns his head this time. Their shoulders brush again. This time neither of them move away. “What?”
There’s no joke in Taehyung’s voice now. “When I left,” he says quietly, “did you hate me?”
The question lands wrong. Too heavy for the small space. And Jungkook looks at Taehyung fully now.
Taehyung’s eyes are darker in the dim light. Vulnerable in a way he rarely lets anyone see. There’s something fragile there—like he’s bracing for an answer he already thinks he knows.
And it hits Jungkook all at once.
How could you think I would ever hate you?
Jungkook blinks. “What?”
“Back then,” Taehyung continues, softer. “When everything was messy. When I didn’t explain anything properly.”
He swallows. “Did you hate me for it?”
Jungkook opens his mouth, then closes it again. He doesn’t know what to say, or even how to say it. Hate isn’t the right word. It never was. There had been anger. Confusion. Hurt so sharp it physically hurt.
But underneath all of it, there had ever truly been one thing, loving him. Too much. In ways that didn’t know where to go past all the anger and pain.
“No,” he starts, but the word feels too small for what Taehyung was actually asking.
Taehyung keeps going before he can finish. “And that day behind the gym,” he says, voice fading at the edges, “when we fought. I thought I scared you. Thought I lost you for sure back then.”
Jungkook’s chest tightens as the memory flashes too fast. Raised voices. Hands shoved away. The space between them feeling wider than it had ever been.
Lost you.
As if Taehyung has ever been something he could misplace. As if Taehyung hasn’t been threaded through every year of his life since they were kids daring each other to breathe underwater.
“I didn’t mean to,” Taehyung murmurs. “I just didn’t know how to—“
His sentence trails off, and Jungkook turns to him fully now. Taehyung’s eyes are half-closed, like it was becoming harder to resist sleep.
“Hey,” Jungkook says quietly.
No response. Taehyung’s breathing had evened out, head tilted slightly toward Jungkook, like gravity only knows that direction.
He didn’t wait for an answer.
Or maybe he didn’t think he’d get one.
And Jungkook watches him. Watches the rise and fall of his chest. The faint parting of his lips. The way his lashes rest against his skin.
He could reach out.
Brush the hair from his eyes. Trace the curve of his cheek. Close the distance that’s barely there.
His fingers twitch to do just that. But he doesn’t move.
Outside, another wave crashes in the distance. The sound reaches them faintly through the glass.
The car is warm. Too warm.
Jungkook stares at Taehyung for a long time. At the familiar curve of his lips. The shape of someone he has known longer than he has known himself. The boy who once swore he could breathe underwater and somehow still managed to make Jungkook believe in impossible things.
His chest tightens—not panic. Something soft. Something that has always been there. Softly, so softly it barely feels real, he says,
“I could never hate you.”
Taehyung doesn’t stir in his sleep. And the ocean keeps breathing. And Jungkook stays awake, like he promised.
𝙖/𝙣: 𝙄 𝙝𝙤𝙥𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙜𝙪𝙮𝙨 𝙚𝙣𝙟𝙤𝙮𝙚𝙙! 𝙇𝙚𝙩 𝙢𝙚 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨!
Reblogging & commenting motivate me to write more 💜
Tag List: @janaeclipsed
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@peacelovingsworld, I somehow can’t respond to your ask. Maybe it is the photos? I’m unsure. Loved your comments. Maybe you’ll resend so I can share them here?
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260103.
“yalancı.. yalancı.. yalancı..!
sen hiçbir zaman kelebek olmadın.. sen her zaman beni isteyen ateştin.
sen aşktın… ben ise sana aşık olmuş zavallı bir kelebek…”