PROJECT K001

Untitled Part 43

The mansion, once filled with tension and concealed truths, now hummed with an eerie kind of calm. The storm that had broken Jungkook's anonymity in the art world had quieted for now, at least on the surface. Inside the estate's walls, however, change continued to ripple beneath every glance, every step, every lingering touch.

It was late morning when Jungkook found himself alone in the east wing's music room, a space he rarely visited. The tall windows overlooked the misty gardens, and a thick velvet curtain had been pulled aside to let the grey daylight filter in. He sat at the grand piano, not playing, just running his fingers across the cool ivory keys, the silence between notes echoing louder than any sound. His bare feet dangled slightly off the stool, his oversized cable-knit sweater pooling at his thighs, swallowing him like a child in grown-up clothing.

He was thinking about them—his Daddy and his Dada.

The shift had happened quietly, without announcement. One stormy night had unraveled all the stillness in their lives. Since then, the silence was not just broken—it was replaced with something far more intimate. Jungkook had begun to see what lingered behind the twins' unbreakable façades. He had heard their hearts in the way they whispered to him when they thought he was asleep. He had felt their need in the tremble of their hands when they helped him dry off after a bath. And he had sensed their pain—old, raw, and too-long buried.

He was in the middle now, seated at the center of this strange triangle. And he didn't want to move.

Not toward one.

Not away from either.

They were both his.

And he was entirely theirs.

The door creaked softly behind him. He didn't turn—he didn't have to. His body already knew who it was. He could feel Taehyung's warm gaze settle on him like morning sun creeping through curtains.

"You ran off again," came the soft baritone, barely above a whisper.

Jungkook's fingers ghosted over the keys. "I didn't run."

"You disappeared after breakfast."

"I wasn't hungry."

"You ate three croissants," Taehyung replied, the barest trace of amusement in his tone. "And licked off the sugar like you were hiding something delicious in your palm."

"I was hiding crumbs," Jungkook murmured with a grin, though it faded quickly as he added, "I just needed to be alone...for a while."

Taehyung said nothing. Just walked forward, the soles of his house shoes brushing quietly over the carpeted floor. When he reached the piano, he didn't sit beside Jungkook. He knelt, right there on the thick rug in front of the boy, folding long limbs with silent grace, looking up at him.

"You don't have to be alone in this house anymore, you know," he said. "You're not a guest. You're not a secret."

"You and Daddy didn't talk last night," Jungkook said softly, eyes lowering to Taehyung's fingers as they reached up to brush his ankle, exposed beneath the sweater.

"We didn't need to."

"But you were quiet."

"We were watching you."

Jungkook blinked, lips parting slightly. Taehyung's hands moved up, sliding under the oversized hem of his sweater, just to rest against his bare thighs, not moving, just grounding him.

"I see you slipping into your own head too much these days," Taehyung continued, voice low, soothing. "You look at your drawings like they're cages. But they're not, baby. They're doors."