Jungkook knew better than to let his guard down.

But it was hard when Taehyung kept looking at him like that.

Like he was safe. Like he wasn't just a man with bloody hands and a past that wouldn't let him go.

Jungkook had spent most of his life fighting—for survival, for control, for something to hold onto.

But now, he found himself fighting something else.

Something dangerous.

Because every time Taehyung smiled at him—soft and trusting, his eyes full of something Jungkook didn't deserve—

Jungkook felt himself slipping.

—

That Afternoon

Taehyung was distracted.

It was raining outside, soft droplets sliding down the glass windows, filling the house with a quiet pitter-patter. Jiho was asleep in his crib, and Taehyung had taken the rare moment of peace to relax.

He was seated on the couch, wearing one of his comfortable silk robes that hung loosely off his shoulders, exposing the soft skin of his collarbones.

He hadn't meant to wear something so revealing.

But it was comfortable.

And he was in his own home.

Jungkook had no business being affected by it.

And yet—

Jungkook couldn't look away.

He stood by the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, but his eyes kept flickering toward Taehyung's bare skin.

The soft curve of his thighs where the robe had ridden up. The gentle swell of his chest. The delicate way his fingers toyed with the fabric.

Jungkook clenched his jaw.

This was bad.

He turned away sharply, moving toward the kitchen. "Do you want anything to drink?"

Taehyung blinked at the sudden question.

He tilted his head, humming softly. "Tea would be nice."

Jungkook nodded, focusing on anything but the warmth creeping up his neck.

He busied himself with the tea, but his ears picked up on Taehyung shifting behind him.

A soft rustle of fabric. A quiet sigh.

Jungkook gripped the counter.

This wasn't normal.

He had spent years around beautiful people. He had been with lovers who wore far less than what Taehyung was wearing now.

So why was this different?

Why did Taehyung feel different?

Jungkook took a slow breath, pouring the tea into a delicate cup before bringing it to the couch.

Taehyung smiled when he took it. "Thank you."

Jungkook only nodded.

His throat was too dry to speak.

—

A Moment That Shouldn't Have Happened

It was later in the evening when it happened.

Jiho had woken up fussy again, and Taehyung was struggling to calm him down.

Jungkook found him in the nursery, rocking Jiho gently, his robe slipping further down one shoulder.

He looked tired.

"Let me," Jungkook said, stepping closer.

Taehyung blinked at him. "You sure?"

Jungkook nodded.

Without thinking, Taehyung moved forward—passing Jiho into Jungkook's arms.

And in the process—he stepped too close.

Jungkook stiffened.

Taehyung was right there.

His warmth. His scent. The softness of his skin brushing against Jungkook's chest.

Jungkook's breath caught.

For a split second, neither of them moved.

Taehyung's lips parted slightly, his eyes flickering up toward Jungkook's. His fingers still rested on Jiho's tiny back, overlapping slightly with Jungkook's hand.

It was so intimate.

Too intimate.

Jungkook's pulse pounded.

He should step back.

He should say something.

But he didn't.

Because Taehyung was looking at him—soft and warm, trusting in a way that made Jungkook's chest ache.

Like he wasn't afraid of him.

Like Jungkook wasn't someone who had killed before.

Taehyung swallowed.

Jungkook saw the way his throat bobbed, saw the way his fingers twitched slightly as if he wanted to move but couldn't.

Then—Jiho made a tiny noise.

The moment broke.

Taehyung quickly stepped back, flustered, adjusting his robe as he cleared his throat.

Jungkook exhaled sharply, turning his focus to Jiho, forcing his heartbeat to calm down.

Silence stretched between them.

Then—

"... Thank you," Taehyung murmured.

Jungkook didn't look at him.

If he did—he didn't trust himself.

Instead, he just nodded. "Anytime."

But as Taehyung turned away, Jungkook's grip tightened on Jiho.

Because for the first time—he let himself admit it.

He wanted something he wasn't supposed to have.

And that?

That was a dangerous thing.