PROJECT K001

Untitled Part 29

It was still dark when the storm returned—not with thunder this time, but with a steady drizzle that kissed the windows and roof tiles in quiet percussion. The scent of rain had become something familiar over the last few days. Like wet leaves and unspoken things.

V hadn't slept in the master bedroom.

Jungkook had stirred several times during the night, half-dreaming, half-waiting for the familiar creak of the door, the low rustle of robes, the soft scent of sandalwood and shadow. But it never came. Daddy never came.

And this time, it hurt.

By morning, the sky remained overcast, the kind of gray that made it impossible to tell what time it was unless you looked at a clock. Taehyung was already awake, standing near the window in his robe, coffee untouched, brows drawn with a tension he hadn't yet named.

Jungkook lay on the couch in the corner of their shared suite, cocooned in one of Taehyung's oversized shirts, hair a wild halo of soft curls, pout etched deep into his lips.

He didn't speak.

He didn't giggle or ask for kisses or nuzzle into Dada's neck.

He just... looked.

And Taehyung, observant as ever, noticed. He walked over slowly, sat beside him, and let the silence stretch before speaking.

"Koo," he said softly, brushing a lock of hair from the boy's eyes, "don't go quiet on me now."

Jungkook turned his face toward Taehyung's palm. "Daddy doesn't want me anymore."

The heartbreak in that single sentence nearly unraveled Taehyung. His chest ached with how softly it had been spoken—more acceptance than complaint, more resignation than pain.

Taehyung didn't answer with words. He simply pulled Jungkook into his lap and wrapped him up tightly, letting the younger bury his face in his shoulder like he used to do during the early days.

"Koo doesn't like when Daddy's mad," came the muffled voice.

"He's not mad, bun. He's..." Taehyung paused, searching for the right word. "Scared."

"Of me?"

"No." Taehyung kissed his temple. "Of himself."

There was a long pause. And then Jungkook pulled back enough to look into his eyes. "But why?"

Taehyung hesitated, smoothing his hand over Jungkook's thigh where the shirt barely covered. "Because when you came, things started changing. And Daddy doesn't like change. He likes knowing everything—predicting it. Controlling it."

Jungkook frowned. "But Koo's not a storm."

"No, bunny," Taehyung whispered, brushing their noses. "You're the sun after one."

—

By midday, Jungkook had a plan.

He waited until Taehyung had gone to check on the estate staff, then slipped into the hallway in one of his softest, sheerest robes. A pale lavender number with tiny stitched stars and long flowing sleeves that brushed his knuckles. His hair was freshly brushed, cheeks faintly flushed from warming by the fire.

He made his way toward the south wing, where he knew V had retreated after their argument two nights ago.

The door to the study was slightly ajar. Of course it was. V never closed things fully—he liked exits. Jungkook peeked inside and saw him.

There he was. Sitting behind the massive desk, shirt rolled to the elbows, fingers cradling a glass of something amber and expensive. His tablet was on the desk, but he wasn't looking at it. Just staring at the rain-smeared window.