Jungkook's pov
Weekend bag, packed. Hair, blow-dried. My battle armor is on— I couldn't be more prepared—and I'm still nervous, waiting outside my building for Taehyung to pick me up.
May has turned into a beautiful June, and Seoul is in that sweet spot temperature-wise, not yet sweltering hot and unbearable. Still, I feel too warm, my loose shirt clinging to my skin. What have I gotten into with this weekend trip? Meeting his family? It's madness.
A large gray car indicates and pulls up to the curb, stopping right in front of me. I square my shoulders and try to channel my nerves into excitement.
Taehyung steps out of the driver's door. He's in dark blue slacks and a soft linen shirt instead of his usual suits, but his hair remains meticulously in place. It's impossible to look at him now and not remember how his body feels against mine.
"Hi," I say, unable to stop myself from smiling at him.
He smiles back, bending to grab my weekend bag. "You didn't have to wait outside. I would've called when I got here."
"I like being curbside," I ramble. "It's one of my favorite parts of the city."
He closes the trunk. "You're impossible."
"Impossible, inconvenient, irreplaceable... I'm racking up quite a reputation these days."
"A well-deserved one, I'd say." He turns the key in the ignition, and we make our way out of the city. Seoul disappears behind us in a blurry skyline, replaced by intersections and four-lane highways.
He keeps one hand on the steering wheel, the other casually by his side.
I lean back in the passenger seat, studying his profile. "Are you excited?"
"Not particularly, no."
"Not even for your brother's wedding?"
His eyes slide to mine briefly. "We talk a lot about me. Don't think I haven't noticed."
I blink at him. "No, we don't. I know practically nothing about you! You're the definition of a closed book."
His eyebrows rise. "Nothing? You know a lot, Jungkook."
"I know that you have a Brother and you went to A-one college. Oh, and that you prefer your bagels without sesame seeds."
"Well, those are the most important things about me," he says seriously. "But the sesame thing is deeply personal. Don't tell anyone."
I smile. "A joke, Mr. Kim?"
"Delivered while completely sober, as well." He glances over at me, amusement clear in his eyes. "Have I shocked you?"
"You are definitely more human than usual."
He wraps his fingers along the steering wheel, thoughtfully tapping his thumb along the leather interior. "You're going to have to call me Taehyung this weekend."
"Right, let's set some ground rules."
"I thought we already had rules," he says. "You wrote a contract."
"Yes, but I was thinking...well." I frown, unsure of how to continue.
He smiles at my awkward silence—a genuine smile. "You're not usually afraid to speak your mind, Jungkook. I'm curious now."
I clear my throat. "What are the boundaries? Do you think we need to touch at the wedding reception, or in front of your family, to sell the illusion?"
"The illusion? You wound me, Jungkook."
I roll my eyes at him. "You know what I mean."
"Yes, I do. And look, they're not going to be trying to discover some ruse. They'll be busy with the wedding, with preparations, with guests from out of town. We'll breeze through the whole thing easily, with plenty of time to work on the opera house design."
"Mmm."
"But if you do feel like touching me, you have my permission," he says, voice wicked, "but you'd be losing a point."
I want to roll my eyes at him again. "Right, we turned this thing between us into a game. I almost forgot."
"Much safer than confronting it with adult conversation," Taehyung agrees, voice lighter than I've heard it in a long while. Warmth spreads through my chest at his words, at the implication, at the way we talk. Outside the office, with open road in front of us, he seems much more himself.
"Of course," I agree. "The miracle of mutual attraction isn't something to handle maturely."
"Especially not when it involves several HR violations, a potential lawsuit, and a career-changing design project."
"Not to mention a difference in age, class, and race," I point out. "Honestly, we're a walking cliché, Taehyung. Doomed to fail."
His smile turns wry but doesn't disappear. "How tragic. We should be cast in a romantic movie, one of the tearjerker ones."
I chuckle. "Somehow I don't think we're the kind of leads that people would cry for."
"I'm definitely not," he says darkly, and I have to bite my tongue to stop from asking what he means. That I'm pitiable? Or that he's not worthy of sympathy? I don't know which option I dislike the most.
I slip off my shoes and tuck my legs underneath me on the seat, the way I've done for years, and contemplate the sudden change of conversation.
Taehyung glances over at me. "Sit properly."
"Sorry?"
His voice is glacial—the commanding tone he takes with people at work who don't meet deadlines. "Don't sit like that."
I straighten reluctantly. Everything inside me wants to rebel at his tone of voice. "All right," I say. "So I'm your assistant, not your date. Thanks for making that clear."
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Taehyung's hands tighten on the wheel until his knuckles whiten. I turn and focus on the scenery, on rolling hills, trees, houses, and try to ignore my irrational hurt. I keep my legs straight, my hands in my lap, sitting like a goddamn crash test dummy.
He's not a realistic love interest—he's not my friend, even—and I would do well to remember that. I have a job to do and a design project to finish. If the jury chooses our opera house, I have a shot at being employed as a junior architect and a future in this industry. The possibility hangs like the most delicious carrot in front of me, spurring me on.
Taehyung finally breaks the silence, his voice resigned. "Look, I didn't mean to snap at you."
"It's all right."
"No, it's clearly not." His profile is strong, the jaw working. "Look, I should probably tell you anyway. My hyung was in a car accident when he was younger."
My hands, folded in my lap, fall limp. "Oh, I'm sorry."
"It's just... It's important to sit straight, you know. To wear your seat belt properly. It's designed for an adult sitting straight. It seems trivial, but if something happens, that can be the difference."
I can hear the words he chose not to add, the difference between life and death, and I'm afraid to ask, but I have to. "Is he okay?"
"Yes. Jin hyung's strong, and he nearly made a full recovery. But it was way too close." He glances at me briefly, before steeling himself. "He has a limp now. It's nothing major, but you'll notice it."
"Thanks for telling me," I say softly. "Is that why you reacted so strongly?"
His hands relax around the wheel. "I suppose so, yes."
"That's understandable," I say. "How old was he when it happened?"
"Twenty. I wasn't home, at the time. Drove from Seoul while he was still in surgery."
Part of me wants to reach out, to put a comforting hand on his shoulder, but he's still closed off. I try for levity instead. "I was raised in the countryside, you know. Many of my friends didn't wear seat belts throughout their teenage years."
A theatrical shiver passes through him. "Stop, please."
"Will you tell me more about him?" I lean back in the seat. "Who is he marrying?"
A small, indulgent smile plays on his lips. "He's the oldest but eyeryone's princess. Has always loved art, much to our father's displeasure, but he was the strong one. He never cared what our parents thought. He opened his new art gallery just a few years back."
"Really?"
"Yes. It's a small place in Paradise Seaside, but it's a good start. He's doing what he loves, which is what I want for him."
I smile at the affection warming his voice. Nothing about Taehyung is truly cold or aloof, not like I'd once thought.
"He has three younger brothers who are protective as hell, which I know wasn't easy on his growing up. But he's never complained."
"You have two brothers, too?"
"Yes."
"And you're the oldest after Jin hyung?"
His face turns wry. "It's that obvious, is it?"
"Sort of, yes. You have the vibe." It's not hard to imagine him taking the lead, being the organizer, the responsible one. I bet his siblings look up to him.
"So I've been told, I am a year younger than him" he says.
"Will they also be at the wedding?"
"Yes. And I should tell you that I'm one of the groomsmen. During the ceremony itself, you'll be seated with my parents and cousins, but I'll be by your side for the rest of the evening. I hope that's not a problem?"
The warmth in my chest expands even further, until I'm feeling far too many things, all of them silly. Siblings. Cousins. Growing up, it had just been my parents and me, and while I love them dearly, his words paint an irresistible picture.
"Of course not. Do you know the groom well, then?"
He snorts. "You could say that. We grew up with him, in a way. Jin and Namjoon hyung were close in age and got along well."
"That's beautiful."
He's quiet for a beat, and I wonder if I've said something wrong, but then he gives a slow nod. "Yes, I suppose it is, in a way."
"You don't think so?"
"He... well, he was in that car accident as well. He was the one driving, actually. Let's just say my parents didn't handle it well. And then he was gone for a long time, serving in the Navy, and my hyung was unhappy." He shakes a hand, dismissing years of family history. "But that's a story for some other day."
I'm curious, but I just nod. "And we're meeting them tonight?"
"Yes, for dinner. It'll be a short affair, and we'll arrive with plenty of time to spare to work beforehand."
"Perfect."
We drive in comfortable silence the rest of the way, the time peppered by casual conversation that isn't stilted or forced at all. Somehow, the further away from the city we get, the less I feel like we're our office selves. We've shed the suit and the tight slacks, and we're just Taehyung and Jungkook, equals.
It's scary how much I enjoy it.
My nerves return as we drive into Paradise Seaside in Daegu, four hours later. We drive past beautiful old houses with green lawns and wrap-around porches. Old oak trees rise up like guardians, their twisted branches reaching for the sky. Architecture Style after style, we pass houses with turrets, shutters, porches.
"Well," I say, "I get why you're into architecture if you grew up here."
Taehyung chuckles. "I have yet to build anything that looks like this, but maybe one day."
We pass a beautiful little square with a playground, two parents swinging a laughing child between them. And then the ocean appears. Hidden behind trees and a boardwalk, but shimmering blue nonetheless, endless and ageless.
Taehyung lets out a slow breath. "This place never changes," he murmurs.
We drive along the shoreline, through a little town center, and I want to turn down my window and breathe in the air here. Somehow, I think it might smell like candied apples, like sea salt and money.
Taehyung pulls up on the driveway to a seaside cottage, complete with blue shutters and blooming hydrangeas.
"We're staying here?"
"Yeah."
"This isn't a hotel," I protest.
He chuckles again and turns off the engine. Parked, apparently. "Nope."
"I thought we were staying in a hotel."
He opens the trunk and grabs both of our bags. "No, this is my hyung's house."
My nerves come out in full force. "We're meeting them now?"
"No, this house is just for us." He unlocks the front door, and I follow him inside. It's beautifully decorated. Homely, but with rustic, seaside details—and not in a kitschy way either. A large kitchen and a cozy living room. Two bedrooms, both with double beds, freshly made.
I'm floored. "They gave you a whole house? Don't they have a lot of guests coming in?"
Taehyung shoots me a crooked smile. "Yes, but I am the oldest son after hyung, you know."
The dramatic superiority in his voice makes me smile too. "He doesn't live here?"
"No, he lives in the house next door with his fiancé."
"Ah," I say softly, running my hand over the rough linen texture of the couch. The kind of money needed to purchase these seaside houses feels staggering, somehow so much more real than the millions the skyscrapers I regularly work on cost to build. Corporations pay for those—not people.
Taehyung sees my expression and pauses, his weekend bag in hand. With his thick hair and the casual linen shirt, here in this beige ocean-side cottage, he looks like he belongs in an ad. "Is everything all right?"
"Yes. Yes, absolutely."
"You have nothing to worry about, you know. If you decide you don't want to attend a dinner or event this weekend, it's your call. I won't hold you to anything."
He's giving me an out from the contract we'd both signed. I release a shaky breath and shake my head. "No, I'm ready. It'll be fun. I've just never really been introduced to a boyfriend's family like this, you know. And definitely not at a wedding. Not that you're my boyfriend, obviously. You're my boss."
Taehyung's mouth curves into a smile. "You ramble when you're nervous."
"I do not."
"Yes, you do. It's adorable. The great Jeon Jungkook, ambitious and cutthroat architect, gets nervous. It's headline worthy."
I shake my head at him and grab my bag. "Asshole."
"Since long before I met you. I'll take the guest room," he says, a hand on the door-frame. "The master is yours."
"Thank you."
He glances down at the heavy watch on his wrist. Judging from this place— this town—no doubt it's some family heirloom.
"We have a few hours, still. How about we unpack and start working? I'd like us to have a final draft of the structure on Sunday, with all the changes implemented."
The idea brightens me. The structure is beautiful, and I've been wanting to get back to perfecting it for days. "Sounds good. And then we can—"
A knock sounds on the front door, a cheery little pat-pat-pat. "Taaeee! I saw your car come in!"
Taehyung sighs. "Well, you might have to meet my hyung a little bit sooner than expected."
"That's him?"
"Oh, yes."
I smooth a hand over my dress and follow him to the door. A man is standing on the porch, about Taehyung's age, with flaming brown hair and a giant smile on his face. He throws his arms around Taehyung.
"You made it!"
"Of course," he says, wrapping his arms around him. "Were you standing in your window watching, or what?"
He gives a pealing laugh. "Yes. It's funny, I've been so busy with wedding preparations, and now that the weekend is here I have nothing at all to do. Mom and Aunt Ingi have all taken over now." He turns to me, his smile burning impossibly brighter. Is this man really related to Taehyung? He feels like his complete opposite.
"I'm Seok-Jin," he says. "Taehyung's brother. I'm so happy to meet you."
I extend a hand. "I'm Jungkook. It's really nice to meet you."
He ignores my hand and pulls me into a hug instead. "That's a beautiful name," he says into my hair. "Jungkook. Looking at you makes me think of mystical fluffy creatures like a bunny."
I blink at him. "Yes, well, I'm afraid I can't really live up to that. I'm awfully big for a bunny."
"But you're just as beautiful as one and looks like a bunny too," he says.
Laughter slips out of me, embarrassed and surprised. "Thank you, I think."
"Oh, it's most definitely a compliment."
"Jin hyung, let's stay on track here." Taehyung's voice is exasperated, and I hide my smile. He sounds just like a fond brother. "Is everything going as planned with the preparations? Any fires to put out?"
"No," he beams. "I'm sure the other shoe will drop, but for now, everything's perfect. But trust me on that, not Mom. You know she'll give you a different story. My reception shoes are eggshell white, not cream, or something equally banal."
"I won't even ask," Taehyung snorts. "Is Namjoon hyung doing all right?"
"Absolutely." Jin turns to me with a conspiratorial smile. "Taehyung keeps thinking that my fiancé is going to run off. Leave me at the altar or get cold feet."
"I do not," Taehyung protests. "Not in the least."
"Sure you don't. But I don't mind. It's part of your gruff charm, not that I have to tell Jungkook that, of course."
And then I watch the most miraculous thing, as Taehyung—Kim Taehyung himself—blushes. It might be the best thing I've seen in years.
"His gruff charm is what I fell for in the first place," I tell him.
He winks at me. "I'm not surprised."
"All right, all right," Taehyung interjects. "Jungkook and I are going to get settled before we head over to Mom and Dad's."
"Right. Dinner is served at seven, but we're having drinks earlier. I'll see you guys soon."
I reach out to him before he leaves, a hand lightly on his elbow. "Thank you for letting us stay in your house, by the way. It's absolutely gorgeous here."
His eyes sparkle again. "Flattery. We're off to a great start, Jungkook. I'm going to like you."
I have a sneaky suspicion that I'm going to like him, too. "Keep making Taehyung blush," I say, "and we'll get along famously hyung."
He laughs, and then laughs even harder as Taehyung reaches out to close the door. "All right. Goodbye, hyung. See you soon!"
"Can't wait!"
With the front door closed again, I can't help but grin at him. "Sorry. I couldn't help myself."
He reaches up to rub the back of his neck. "Of course you two will be thick as thieves before this is over. I should have seen it coming."
I put a hand on his arm. "I'm on your side in this."
"Thank you," he says dryly. "Let's see if we can channel that spirit into the opera house."
Right. We're here to work, and the way we're blurring the lines at the moment is as dangerous as it's fun. "Lead the way," I say.
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To be continue......
How well the dinner with Tae's family will go??
Will Jungkook be able to fit in?