PROJECT K001

Untitled Part 23

Still, V didn't interrupt. Not yet. Instead, he watched.

Watched as Taehyung tilted his head slightly and murmured something soft that made Jungkook giggle quietly. Watched the way Jungkook's fingers curled against the older man's shirt, fisting the fabric like a child clinging to safety. Watched the subtle tension in Taehyung's jaw whenever Jungkook shifted too close to certain vulnerabilities.

And something inside V burned low and dangerous.

—

Later that morning, the three of them found themselves at brunch.

It was an unspoken agreement, not a scheduled event. V had taken his seat first, as he always did—spine straight, shoulders draped in a long black coat, one hand idly holding a cup of dark coffee as though he'd never known a restless night. Taehyung arrived second, now dressed in something cleaner, more buttoned, but still with a kind of ease that clung to him since morning.

Jungkook trailed last.

This time, he looked more grown. Not entirely out of his little space—but enough that he'd replaced the plushie with a sketchbook and dragged a hoodie over his shirt. His lips were still pink from where he'd chewed them unconsciously, and his eyes darted between the twins like he could feel something humming in the air between them.

He didn't sit immediately. Instead, he hovered near the table, staring at the pastries with silent longing.

"Pick one," V said smoothly, not looking up. "You've been eyeing the strawberry tart for three days."

Jungkook's ears pinked.

Taehyung said nothing, but he watched V from the corner of his eye—watched the casual claim embedded in the observation, the way his voice alone marked Jungkook's habits like territory.

Jungkook sat between them this time. The seat had not been pre-selected, but it seemed inevitable somehow, like gravity had already chosen it for him.

"I want that one," he said finally, pointing at the tart.

Taehyung reached for it before Jungkook could. Placed it gently on his plate. And then, without a word, used the tip of his fork to cut it into perfect thirds.

He slid one to Jungkook. Another to his own plate. The last he left untouched.

Jungkook blinked. "That's mine."

"It's shared now," Taehyung said quietly, sipping from his tea.

Across the table, V's lips curved ever so slightly. But the tension didn't fade. It coiled tighter.

"Are we rationing desserts now?" V said, voice smooth but colder than before.

"No," Taehyung replied, matching him in tone. "We're sharing."

Jungkook looked between them. Felt the shift. The invisible pull that tied both men to him and set them against each other in ways they would never admit aloud. He chewed his pastry slowly, eyes wide.

He didn't understand all of it. Not yet.

But he understood enough to know that he'd somehow become the flame—and they were the moths, circling in slow, dangerous spirals.

—

The afternoon was filled with quiet tension.

Taehyung retreated to the library, again. V disappeared into his wing. Jungkook, left to wander, found himself slipping into one of the art rooms—the ones he had not yet claimed but had always felt like echoes of him waiting to be filled.

There, he opened his sketchbook and drew.

Not the twins. Not the mansion. Just... the feeling of being watched.

Eyes. Lines. Shapes that hinted at faces and walls and breath held too long.

He didn't realize how long he'd been working until a shadow fell across the page.

V stood behind him.

No words. Just a presence. Cold, silent, and devastatingly focused.

Jungkook looked up slowly, and for a moment, he expected scolding. Or questions.

But instead, V stepped closer and said, in a voice that wrapped around the room like velvet, "I want to see what you won't show anyone else."

Jungkook's fingers tightened on the sketchpad.

And for the first time, his voice was small, but not childish. Just honest.

"I don't know which ones those are."

V didn't blink. "Then let me find them."

The silence stretched between them, crackling. Something in it felt dangerously intimate. Possessive.

Jungkook did not hand the book over.

But he didn't walk away either.

Instead, he let V sit beside him. Close enough that their knees touched. Close enough that the heat of his breath made the back of Jungkook's neck prickle.

They didn't speak again for hours.

But they didn't need to.

In the spaces between their silence, something deeper took root—unseen but undeniable.

And the stillness of the mansion, once revered like a cathedral, cracked just a little more under the weight of the boy who had begun to rewrite its every wall.