Chapter 4: Close Enough to Burn

The late evening air in Seoul was warm, heavy with the scent of night-blooming jasmine. The sky above the Kim estate glowed a deep navy, stars just beginning to scatter across the horizon.

Jungkook stood on the balcony attached to his room, arms wrapped around himself as the breeze ruffled his loose cream shirt. His thoughts were tangled. These days, they always were—ever since Taehyung had started seeing him.

Not just looking at him, but seeing him.

He could still feel the phantom touch of Taehyung’s fingers brushing his forehead during the fever. Could still hear the low rumble of “Because you’re mine” echoing in his head. It wasn’t romantic—not entirely. But it wasn’t indifferent either.

That terrified Jungkook.

Because if Taehyung was capable of care… then maybe, just maybe, Jungkook could be loved.

And that idea was dangerous. Because love made you soft. Love made you vulnerable.

And Taehyung was a man built on secrets and stone.

He didn’t hear the door open behind him—but he felt it when Taehyung stepped onto the balcony, his presence like static against Jungkook’s skin.

“You didn’t come to dinner,” Taehyung said.

Jungkook didn’t look at him. “I wasn’t hungry.”

A pause.

“You're avoiding me.”

“I’m not.” Jungkook hesitated. “I’m just... confused.”

“About me?”

Jungkook finally turned, his dark eyes searching Taehyung’s face. The man was dressed in black again, hair tousled like he’d run his hands through it too many times. He looked tired—but more human than usual.

“Yes,” Jungkook said softly. “You’re kind to me now. But you still look like you’re trying not to get close.”

Taehyung stepped closer. One step. Two.

“Maybe I am.”

Jungkook’s breath caught.

“Why?” he asked, voice almost a whisper.

Taehyung didn’t answer right away. He walked to stand beside him, looking out at the night sky.

“Because when I get close to things,” he said, “I ruin them.”

Jungkook’s heart ached at that.

“You’re not ruined,” he whispered.

Taehyung turned to him then—slowly, deliberately. His eyes searched Jungkook’s face, like he was memorizing the delicate curve of his cheek, the slope of his jaw, the vulnerability he wore so openly.

“No,” Taehyung murmured. “But you’re too soft for this world.”

Jungkook stepped in, closing the space between them, the tips of their shoes almost touching.

“Then don’t make me harder,” he whispered. “Let me make you softer.”

Something inside Taehyung cracked.

He reached up, slow as a storm rolling over a field, and let his hand cup the side of Jungkook’s neck. His thumb brushed lightly over the skin beneath Jungkook’s ear, the contact so gentle it made Jungkook tremble.

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” Taehyung whispered, voice strained.

“I do,” Jungkook replied. “And I want it anyway.”

Taehyung leaned in. Not to kiss—but to rest his forehead against Jungkook’s. His breath was warm and shaky, a contrast to the cold armor he usually wore.

They stayed like that for long seconds, breathing each other in.

And then Taehyung did something unexpected.

He pulled away.

Not out of rejection—but restraint. His eyes burned, pupils dark and wide.

“If I kiss you right now,” he said hoarsely, “I won’t stop at kissing.”

Jungkook’s cheeks flushed, but he didn’t look away.

“Maybe I don’t want you to.”

Taehyung closed his eyes tightly. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m trying to protect you.”

“From what?”

“Myself.”

The tension snapped like a string pulled too tight. But it didn’t break.

Taehyung stepped back. Not because he wanted to—but because he had to. Because touching Jungkook felt like stepping into a fire he knew would consume him.

“You should sleep,” he said, voice raw.

“I won’t,” Jungkook said honestly.

Taehyung met his gaze.

And after a long, silent moment… he reached out and took Jungkook’s hand.

Not to pull him close. Not to take control.

But just to hold it.

And that night, for the first time, Jungkook didn’t sleep alone.

They lay on opposite sides of the bed. No touching. No promises.

But their hands stayed intertwined.

And that quiet, trembling contact said everything.

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