Ep:3

...WALLS CRUMBLE ...

...The gallery buzzed with the hum of voices, the clinking of glasses, and the soft shuffle of people admiring the art that hung on the walls. But to Kim Taehyung, it was all just noise. All he could focus on was the man standing across the room—Jeon Jungkook. His presence was undeniable, like an electric current running through the air, shifting the atmosphere around him. Taehyung could feel his gaze even from a distance, though Jungkook was standing amongst a small group of art collectors, his sharp features relaxed but still commanding....

...For the past hour, Taehyung had been avoiding him—pretending not to notice the way Jungkook’s eyes flickered over to him every few seconds, as if he were measuring him, analyzing him like one of the paintings on the wall. But every time their eyes met, there was a weight to it. A tension that made the room feel too small....

...Taehyung had made his way through the exhibition, greeting old acquaintances and pretending to be polite. But it all felt like a performance. A show he had long learned to master. Keep the mask on, he told himself. Nothing can get through. No one can get through....

...And yet, as the night dragged on, there was something unsettling about Jungkook’s presence, something that gnawed at the edges of his composure....

Why is he here?

The question had been circling Taehyung’s mind ever since Jungkook had walked into the gallery. He wasn’t the typical buyer—the typical art enthusiast. No, there was something different about Jungkook. There was something dangerous in the way he carried himself, in the way he made Taehyung feel exposed without even trying.

“You look like you’re avoiding someone,” a voice pulled Taehyung out of his spiraling thoughts. He turned to find Seokjin standing beside him, his lips curled into a knowing smirk. “Is it Jungkook? I saw him walking in earlier. He’s been looking at your work all night.”

Taehyung didn’t immediately respond, his gaze still locked on Jungkook, who was now talking to one of the more well-known art collectors, the older man laughing at something Jungkook had said. Jungkook wasn’t just an outsider in this world—he owned it. Every step he took seemed to command respect.

“I don’t trust him,” Taehyung muttered, his words barely audible over the chatter.

Seokjin chuckled softly, nudging his shoulder. “You don’t trust anyone, Tae. But Jungkook… there’s something about him, isn’t there?”

Taehyung didn’t look at his friend. His eyes stayed fixed on Jungkook. You don’t know anything about him, Seokjin. And you never will.

He blinked rapidly, as if to shake the feeling away. He couldn’t let Jungkook into his head. He had too much to lose. The last time he had allowed someone close, it had been Jihoon, and the pain of that relationship still festered in his chest, a wound that would never fully heal.

“I’ll be fine,” Taehyung replied stiffly, taking a step away from the crowd. “I’ll just check on the next piece.”

But Seokjin wasn’t finished. “I know you, Tae. I know you’ve been avoiding him. But you’re only going to keep pushing him away until you can’t anymore.”

Taehyung didn’t respond. He couldn’t. There was too much at stake. The last thing he needed was to let someone like Jungkook close. It had taken years to build the walls around his heart—he wasn’t going to let them crumble now, not for anyone.

As the night wore on, Taehyung found himself increasingly restless. The soft hum of conversation faded into the background, and his thoughts became louder. His gaze kept drifting to Jungkook, who had moved across the room and was now standing alone, seemingly detached from the rest of the crowd. His posture was still confident, but there was a certain stillness to him, a quiet intensity that only drew Taehyung in further.

And then, as if he had felt the pull of Taehyung’s attention, Jungkook looked up, his eyes locking with Taehyung’s from across the room. It was as if the world around them slowed down, the noise, the people, the laughter all faded into a distant hum. For a split second, everything felt completely still—just the two of them, staring at each other in the midst of the chaos.

What the hell is this?

Taehyung felt his heart pound in his chest, but he refused to look away. He couldn’t. There was something in Jungkook’s gaze—something that made his blood run hot, made his breath catch in his throat. It wasn’t admiration. It wasn’t even interest. It was something darker, more primal. Jungkook wasn’t just looking at him—he was studying him, reading every inch of him.

The moment stretched on, an invisible thread pulling them together, taut and unrelenting.

And then, without another word, Jungkook pushed away from the wall and began walking toward him.

No.

The thought was fleeting but urgent. Taehyung’s instincts screamed at him to turn away, to walk in the opposite direction, to get out of the room before it was too late. But he didn’t move. He couldn’t.

Jungkook stopped in front of him, his gaze still sharp and unwavering. He didn’t smile, didn’t offer pleasantries. He didn’t need to. His presence alone was enough to command attention.

“Kim Taehyung,” he said, his voice low and steady, sending a ripple through Taehyung’s senses. “I must admit, I didn’t expect you to be this… interesting in person.”

Taehyung’s heart skipped a beat. Interesting?

“I didn’t expect you to show up at all,” Taehyung replied, his tone colder than he intended. He couldn’t let his guard down—not now, not ever.

Jungkook’s lips curled into a small, almost imperceptible smirk. “You think I wouldn’t? I told you I’d be here. You’re not the only one with plans, Taehyung. I don’t back down from what I want.”

Taehyung’s chest tightened at the underlying implication in Jungkook’s words. What do you want from me?

He didn’t ask the question out loud. Instead, he took a step back, putting distance between them. His heart was beating too fast for comfort, and his mind was too clouded.

“You’ve seen my work,” Taehyung said, his voice clipped. “That’s all I’m offering. Nothing more.”

Jungkook didn’t step back. If anything, he leaned in closer, just enough to close the gap, just enough to make Taehyung’s breath catch. “Don’t be so sure,” Jungkook murmured. “You’re not offering me art, Taehyung. You’re offering something far more valuable. Your trust. And you don’t even know it yet.”

Taehyung froze, his mind racing. Trust?

But before he could respond, Jungkook turned and walked away, his presence lingering like a shadow. And Taehyung, for the first time in years, felt something stir deep within him—a feeling he couldn’t name but couldn’t ignore either.

...To  be continued...💜...

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