The first thing Jungkook noticed when he woke up was the scent of warm vanilla and milk.

It lingered in the air, soft and comforting, seeping into his senses before he could remember where he was.

Then—a quiet shuffle.

His eyes snapped open.

Taehyung stood in the kitchen just a few feet away, his back turned as he prepared something on the counter. His robe was loosely tied, his thick thighs peeking through with every small movement. His long curls fell over his shoulder, still damp from what Jungkook assumed was a morning bath.

Jiho was on his hip, tiny fists curling into his robe, big brown eyes blinking up at his mother.

Jungkook swallowed.

Shit.

He hadn't meant to stay this long.

The plan had been simple: rest for a few hours, then leave before sunrise.

But his body had betrayed him. He had woken up hours too late, still weak, still sore.

And now, he was here.

In a stranger's home.

Listening to the soft coos of a baby.

Watching the gentle sway of a young mother's body as he moved through the kitchen.

Jungkook clenched his fists. This isn't my place.

Taehyung suddenly turned, his eyes widening slightly when he noticed Jungkook was awake.

"Oh," he murmured, a small, sleepy smile pulling at his lips. "Good morning."

Jungkook sat up, rubbing a hand down his face. His voice was rough when he muttered, "Morning."

Taehyung adjusted Jiho on his hip. "You slept well?"

Jungkook barely held back a scoff. Like I had a choice.

Instead, he gave a curt nod. "I should go."

Taehyung's smile faltered. He looked Jungkook over, as if assessing him, before gently bouncing Jiho in his arms.

"You're still not fully healed."

"I'll live."

"But—"

"I don't belong here."

The words slipped out before Jungkook could stop them.

Taehyung's lips parted slightly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face.

Then, slowly, he sighed.

"I wasn't going to ask you to stay," he said, voice soft. "But you should at least eat before you go."

Jungkook hesitated. His stomach was empty. His body was still weak, and the lingering heat of his fever clung to him like a second skin.

But the idea of accepting more kindness made his stomach twist.

He had learned the hard way—kindness came with a price.

Still, when Taehyung turned back to the kitchen, humming softly as he continued preparing breakfast, Jungkook didn't argue.

⸻

Fifteen minutes later, Jungkook sat at the small dining table, a plate of steaming rice, soft eggs, and warm soup in front of him.

Taehyung sat across from him, Jiho tucked securely against his chest, breastfeeding without a second thought.

Jungkook didn't know where to look.

The intimacy of the moment was suffocating—the soft suckling noises, the gentle way Taehyung rocked his child, the warmth of the morning sun spilling over his bare shoulders.

Jungkook forced himself to focus on his food.

"You're quiet," Taehyung murmured, breaking the silence.

Jungkook swallowed. "I don't talk much."

Taehyung hummed, adjusting Jiho's position. "You don't seem like the type to accept help either."

Jungkook's jaw tensed. He wasn't.

But Taehyung had given it anyway.

No questions asked.

No demands in return.

Just pure, selfless kindness.

Jungkook hated it.

Because if there was one thing he knew for sure—kindness never lasted.

"Where will you go?" Taehyung asked after a moment.

Jungkook didn't answer.

Because he didn't know.

He had no home. No family. No destination.

Just a history of bloody knuckles, underground fights, and sleepless nights in abandoned buildings.

Taehyung sighed when Jungkook didn't respond. He shifted Jiho to the other breast, his robe falling slightly.

Jungkook immediately looked away.

"You don't have anywhere to go, do you?"

Jungkook's fists clenched.

Taehyung's voice was gentle, but the truth in his words stung.

Jungkook pushed his plate away and stood. "I should go."

Taehyung watched him carefully. "You're still weak."

"I've had worse."

"That doesn't mean you should suffer through it alone."

Jungkook froze.

Taehyung's voice was so quiet, so certain.

It caught Jungkook off guard.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then, Taehyung exhaled, shaking his head. "My father hired a bodyguard for me. He was supposed to arrive this week."

Jungkook frowned.

Taehyung looked up, meeting his gaze.

"He didn't show up."

Jungkook's stomach twisted. Where is he going with this?

Taehyung's grip on Jiho tightened slightly. "You're strong. You're skilled. And you need a job."

Jungkook's heart stopped.

Taehyung took a deep breath.

"Stay. Be my bodyguard."

The room fell silent.

Jungkook stared.

His mind screamed at him to say no.

To walk away before it was too late.

Before he got too comfortable.

Before he let himself believe—just for a second—that he could belong here.

But then, Jiho stirred in Taehyung's arms, tiny fingers curling into his mother's robe.

Taehyung instinctively cradled him closer, his expression soft, his warmth all-encompassing.

And for the first time in years...

Jungkook hesitated.