PROJECT K001

Untitled Part 51

The soft hush of midnight in the mansion was unlike anything outside its walls—an old quiet, deep and heavy like velvet draped over a symphony. The kind of silence that didn't beg to be broken, but instead curled around those who lived in it, pulling secrets and truths from their skin like heat from breath.

Jungkook lay across the velvet chaise in the private wing's drawing room, still dressed in his black suit pants, his shirt unbuttoned down the middle, pale chest rising and falling with the weight of everything that had unfolded just hours ago.

The art gala.

The moment.

The eyes.

The stares that tried to dissect him as if he were his own canvas.

He blinked up at the high ceiling. The fireplace flickered in soft waves across the floor, gold against deep gray. Somewhere in the other wing, the clock chimed a singular hour. The whole world outside this mansion felt miles away—irrelevant, unreachable.

A creak shifted from behind the half-open doors, and a familiar figure stepped into view.

Taehyung.

He didn't speak right away. He never did when it mattered. He simply walked in, the dark robe he wore brushing against the floor, his bare feet making no sound. His hair was tousled from sleep or restlessness—Jungkook wasn't sure which—but his eyes were soft.

Quietly, Taehyung walked to him, sat beside him on the edge of the chaise, and slowly reached to brush back Jungkook's bangs.

"You did beautifully," he murmured.

Jungkook leaned into the touch.

His voice cracked as he whispered, "It felt like I was split in two. Half of me wanted to run. The other half wanted to scream that I was yours. That I was—"

Taehyung leaned down, lips brushing the shell of Jungkook's ear, soft and breath-warm.

"You are. No one else needs to know."

The moment hung between them. A pause. Then Jungkook whispered, "Where's Daddy?"

"V's in the library. He's writing back to someone who tried to buy your last piece." A smile tugged faintly at the corner of Taehyung's mouth. "He didn't like the way they worded their bid. Called it 'possessive.' Hypocritical, really."

Jungkook let out a breathy laugh that felt far too light for his chest. "That's rich, coming from him."

Taehyung tilted his head. "Do you mind if I...?" His hand gestured down to Jungkook's half-open shirt.

Wordlessly, Jungkook reached for Taehyung's hand and pressed it to his bare chest.

The skin-on-skin contact sparked more than warmth. It lit something beneath his ribcage. Something that had been coiled tightly all evening.

Without saying another word, Taehyung bent down and gently pressed a kiss to the center of his chest.

Soft.

Intentional.

Then another, higher up, just below his collarbone.

Jungkook's hands tangled in the silk of Taehyung's robe, pulling him closer.

"You make me want to breathe again," Jungkook whispered, voice hoarse with sincerity.

Taehyung exhaled slowly against his skin, the heat of his breath traveling lower before he stopped. He pulled back just enough to look into Jungkook's eyes.

"You're already breathing. You just never knew it was allowed to feel this good."

A faint knock interrupted the moment.

Neither flinched.

The door opened, and V stepped in, still in his white dress shirt, sleeves rolled high, the buttons undone to the middle of his toned chest. His hair was slightly damp, like he'd just run his hands through it with water, a sign he'd been agitated or thinking deeply.

His eyes moved from Jungkook to Taehyung. Then down to where their bodies lingered close—Jungkook's bare skin glowing under the firelight, Taehyung's fingers lightly resting on the rise of his stomach.

"May I join you?"

The question was rhetorical.

Jungkook didn't answer with words. He reached out one hand toward V.

V crossed the room slowly, like a storm that had decided not to rain—but still dark, still alive. When he reached them, he knelt beside the chaise and pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss to Jungkook's outstretched palm, his eyes never leaving his.

Then, after a moment, he climbed beside them.

It wasn't hurried. Nothing ever was between the three of them.

This was a ritual.

This was home.

Taehyung shifted, his hands still reverent as they moved lower, fingertips skimming the line of Jungkook's waistband with measured permission. V wrapped an arm behind Jungkook's shoulders, tilting him slightly, letting his head rest against the crook of his neck.

Jungkook exhaled shakily as their warmth pressed in from both sides.

"I felt like I was... floating," he said softly. "Like I wasn't real unless you were both there."

Taehyung's lips brushed against his temple. "We're always here."

V kissed the corner of his jaw. "And you've always been real. We just see more of you than the world deserves."

A pause. Then Jungkook whispered, "Can we stay like this a little longer?"

They didn't answer.

Instead, they held him tighter.

—

Hours later, long after the fireplace had turned to coals and the silence returned thicker and deeper than before, Jungkook lay between them in their bed.

One hand clutched in V's.

One foot tangled around Taehyung's.

Their breaths in sync. A shared rhythm.

Outside, the sky was beginning to gray—the earliest hints of dawn curling along the mansion walls.

But inside...

He was surrounded.

He was seen.

And for the first time since the world whispered his name in gallery halls—

He belonged.