Chains of Command// TK// ONGOING

The Breaking Point

The rest of the day passed like quicksand. Every time Taehyung tried to steady himself, he sank deeper. His tasks were completed with mechanical precision, but his mind wasn't there. It was trapped in Jungkook's office, in the memory of that voice—low, ragged. "Tell me how."

He avoided Jungkook as much as possible, slipping out of rooms before he could be called over, timing his trips to the copy machine, keeping his eyes fixed on the screen. And yet, no matter how hard he tried, he felt Jungkook's presence like a phantom fire at his back.

When the workday ended, Taehyung packed up quickly. He slung his bag over his shoulder and made for the elevator, relief washing over him when the doors began to close.

But a hand shot between the panels, forcing them open.

Jimin.

"Heading home already?" Jimin's voice was casual, but his eyes weren't. They lingered on Taehyung a moment too long.

Taehyung offered a polite smile. "Yes, sir. My work is done."

Jimin stepped inside, pressing the button for the ground floor. The silence was thick until he finally spoke, his tone quiet. "You know my brother isn't an easy man to work for."

Taehyung's grip on his bag tightened. "I know."

"He destroys people," Jimin continued, eyes forward. "He doesn't mean to, not always. But that's what happens when you get too close."

Taehyung's throat went dry. "I... I'm just his secretary."

Jimin finally turned to him then, gaze sharp and knowing. "Is that all?"

The question was soft, but it cut like glass. Taehyung swallowed, unable to answer.

The elevator chimed. The doors slid open, and Jimin stepped out first. "Be careful, Taehyung-ssi," he said without looking back.

Taehyung stood frozen for a long moment before forcing himself to move.

That night, Jungkook stayed long after the office had emptied. His desk was littered with untouched files, his tie loose, his patience frayed. The city lights beyond the glass wall blurred as his thoughts spiraled.

Taehyung. Always Taehyung.

It was infuriating—how the man had slipped under his skin without permission, how his absence gnawed at him more than his presence ever had. Jungkook had never tolerated weakness, especially not his own. And yet here he was, drowning in it.

By the time he finally left the building, his mood was blacker than the night sky.

The next morning, Taehyung arrived early, hoping to settle in before Jungkook appeared. But the moment he entered the CEO's office with fresh schedules, he realized his mistake.

Jungkook was already there.

He was leaning back in his chair, jacket discarded, shirt sleeves rolled up, dark circles under his eyes that only sharpened the cut of his jaw. He looked up slowly, his gaze locking onto Taehyung with an intensity that made his chest seize.

"You're avoiding me."

It wasn't a question.

Taehyung set the documents on the desk carefully. "I've just been busy."

"Don't lie to me."

The quiet command in his voice made Taehyung's resolve tremble. "Sir, this isn't appropriate. Whatever you think—"

"Whatever I know," Jungkook interrupted, rising from his chair. His steps were slow, deliberate, predatory. "You think I don't see it? The way you look at me. The way you run from it."

Taehyung's back hit the edge of the desk before he realized he was retreating. Jungkook loomed over him now, his shadow swallowing him whole.

"I'm not running," Taehyung whispered, though his shaking hands betrayed him.

Jungkook's hand came down, caging him against the desk. His eyes burned. "Then tell me to stop. Right now. Tell me you don't feel it, and I'll let you go."

Taehyung's lips parted, the words right there—I don't feel it. It should have been easy. Logical. Necessary.

But nothing came out.

Jungkook leaned closer, his breath hot against his ear. "That's what I thought."

Taehyung squeezed his eyes shut, caught between terror and longing.

"You're mine, Kim Taehyung," Jungkook whispered darkly. "Whether you admit it or not."

The words lodged deep in Taehyung's chest, burning like a brand.

For the first time, he didn't deny it. He couldn't.

And that silence was an answer all its own.

"Some chains are chosen, not forced. And the cruelest prisons are the ones we lock ourselves in."