PROJECT K001

Untitled Part 40

"I don't know how to be seen," Jungkook whispered. "Not like that. All those people..."

"They didn't see you," V said sharply. "They saw your art. There's a difference."

Jungkook looked down at his knees. "It felt the same."

A silence stretched between them, but this time, it wasn't fragile. It held something. Something solid.

V's gloved hand reached out slowly, knuckles brushing the edge of Jungkook's sleeve. "You let them have your art. You didn't let them have you."

Jungkook nodded, but his voice quivered. "You didn't say if you liked it."

V's hand stilled. Then: "There are no words for what I felt standing in front of that final painting."

The one he hadn't signed.

The one with the two towering shadows behind the smaller figure curled between them—silent, still, and shrouded in red.

"It was you," V said quietly. "And us."

Jungkook's breath hitched.

"I saw it," V continued. "And I saw what it meant. That's more than liking it."

Jungkook turned his face away, pressing his palm against his mouth, hiding something between a smile and a sob. "I didn't mean to show that one."

"But you did."

There was a pause. A shift. Then V leaned in slowly, his voice a touch lower now, more intimate. "And that tells me you knew what you wanted them to see. Even if you pretend not to."

Jungkook didn't respond.

He couldn't.

Because his chest was full. Because his throat was tight. Because something in V's eyes was unraveling him like thread from the inside.

That was when Taehyung stepped in.

The air changed.

Not colder, not warmer—but sharper.

He didn't say a word, but the silence became jagged, brittle. He stood by the glass door, his figure bathed in moonlight, hands tucked in the pockets of his long coat. His eyes went from V to Jungkook and back again.

Jungkook sat straighter, unsure why guilt bloomed in his stomach. They hadn't done anything. Hadn't even touched. But the weight of Taehyung's gaze made it feel like they had.

"I was looking for you," Taehyung said, voice unreadable.

Jungkook swallowed. "I—I just needed air."

"We should talk."

He didn't ask. He just stepped aside, letting the moonlight stretch into the room behind him like an invitation—or a demand.

V's hand drew back. No argument. No expression.

Just silence.

Jungkook followed Taehyung into the corridor, the conservatory door closing behind them with a hush.

The hallway felt longer than usual. Jungkook walked beside him but not too close, pulse thrumming. Taehyung's pace was calm, deliberate, yet his jaw was tense.

They stopped in front of the library.

"Inside," Taehyung said.

Jungkook obeyed, stepping into the room that had once brought him peace. Tonight, it felt like stepping into something older. Deeper.

The fireplace crackled softly.

Taehyung gestured for him to sit on the low sofa near the hearth. Jungkook did.

Then the older man turned and poured two fingers of dark amber whiskey into a glass. He took a sip but didn't offer any to Jungkook.

Only when the silence grew unbearably loud did Taehyung speak.

"That painting at the end. The one with the shadows."

Jungkook's breath hitched. "You saw it."

"Of course I saw it," Taehyung said, voice low. "I watched half the gallery go silent in front of it. Watched them trying to make sense of it."

Jungkook looked down.

"Why did you show it?" Taehyung asked, not harsh—but not soft either.

"I don't know," Jungkook whispered. "It just... felt right. Like it was the only thing that mattered."

Taehyung stepped closer, glass still in hand. "Because it is."

Jungkook looked up, startled.

"That's what bothers me," Taehyung said quietly. "They saw the painting. They saw something sacred. And they'll try to take it. To name it. To dissect it."

He set the glass down. Moved forward. Sat beside Jungkook, close enough for his knee to brush against the younger man's.

"I've let you wander," he murmured. "Let you find your place. I told myself it was patience."

He leaned in.

"But I'm not patient anymore."

Jungkook's breath caught.

"I won't share you."

The words weren't a question. Or a confession.

They were a fact.

And when Jungkook didn't pull away—didn't protest—Taehyung's hand came up slowly, knuckles grazing Jungkook's cheek, eyes searching.

"You showed them that we exist," he whispered. "Now I need you to remember who you belong to."

The silence afterward was thick with electricity. Not anger. Not fear.

Possession.

Jungkook leaned in.

He didn't speak.

But his hand curled into Taehyung's coat.

And that was enough.