chapter 17 : Tangled hearts

The dorm hummed with a fragile normalcy, a soft echo of life before the tour’s chaos, as BTS settled back into Seoul’s embrace after months of relentless motion. Jungkook sat cross-legged on his bunk, seventeen and unsteady, the late morning light spilling through the window in golden streaks, casting long shadows across the hardwood floor. His dark hair was a tousled mess, strands falling into his eyes from a night of restless tossing, his gaze shadowed with a mix of wonder and trepidation as the weight of the balcony confession lingered like a melody he couldn’t shake. His hands fidgeted with his sketchbook, its pages open to the drawing from last night—two figures on a balcony, foreheads pressed, hands brushing, a moment frozen in graphite—and he traced the lines with a trembling finger, his heart thudding against his ribs, the shift between him and Taehyung a fragile thread he wasn’t sure how to weave into their lives.

He was Jeon Jungkook, the quiet one, the boy who’d chiseled himself into a pillar of their ascent, his voice a lifeline that carried their songs, his body a testament to years of discipline and sacrifice. The stage was his refuge, each cheer a balm that soothed the cracks in his armor, but off it, he was vulnerable—exposed by a love he’d confessed under Seoul’s night sky, a pull toward Taehyung that had grown from their first shared glances in the practice room into this: a tangled heart beating too loud, too fast, too real. The balcony had changed everything—Taehyung’s I’ve loved you for ages a mirror to his own confession, a truth that lit up the shadows but left him teetering, caught between joy and a fear of what this love might cost. What if it broke them? What if it broke him? The questions gnawed at him, relentless, and he pressed the pencil harder, smudging Taehyung’s grin, as if he could draw the answers he didn’t have.

Taehyung was across the room, eighteen and radiant despite the fatigue that clung to them all, sprawled on the dorm’s worn couch with his legs dangling over the armrest, his dark waves a chaotic tumble as he scrolled through his phone, laughing at something Jimin had said. His voice wove through the morning’s chatter—Jin clanging pots in the kitchen, Hoseok humming as he stretched by the window, Namjoon flipping through a book on the floor—and it was a melody Jungkook couldn’t ignore, a thread that tugged at him even now, pulling him toward the boy who’d always been his spark. Taehyung had carried them through the tour with his warmth, his laughter a light in the grind, but the confession had softened him—his teasing gentler, his glances longer, a quiet that held Jungkook’s eyes across the space and sent a shiver down his spine.

The others moved around them, oblivious to the shift—Jin shouting about breakfast, Hoseok dragging Jimin into a playful wrestle, Yoongi shuffling out of his room with a yawn—and Jungkook watched, his chest tight, the normalcy a fragile veneer over the storm inside him. He’d woken to Taehyung’s arm slung over his bunk, a sleepy morning, Kookie whispered before the others stirred, and the memory lingered—warm, electric, a touch that felt both new and achingly familiar. They’d shared breakfast, the dorm buzzing with laughter, and Taehyung’s knee had brushed his under the table, a secret smile flickering when Jin teased, “You two are clingy today.” Jimin had grinned, chiming in, “They’re always like that,” and Taehyung had laughed, nudging Jungkook’s leg, but Jungkook’s ears had burned, the truth a weight he wasn’t ready to share with the world.

Now, as the morning stretched into noon, Jungkook stayed on his bunk, the sketchbook a shield, his pencil scratching over Taehyung’s face—sharp jaw, crinkled eyes, a grin that had softened last night into something tender. He drew the balcony railing, the city lights blurred in the background, and his mind replayed it—I love you, Taehyung’s breath against his skin, the way his hands had held Jungkook steady when the words broke free. The confession had been a dam bursting, years of longing spilling out, and Taehyung’s response had lit a fire Jungkook didn’t know how to tend. What did it mean now? Were they different? The same? His chest ached, a tangle of love and fear, and he shaded harder, the pencil snapping under the pressure, a jagged line cutting through Taehyung’s cheek.

The couch creaked, and Jungkook looked up, heart lurching as Taehyung stood, stretching with a groan, his shirt riding up to reveal a sliver of skin that made Jungkook’s face heat. “You’re quiet again,” Taehyung said, crossing the room, his grin soft but curious as he flopped onto the bunk beside Jungkook, close enough that their thighs pressed together, his warmth seeping through Jungkook’s jeans. “What’s in that head of yours?” His voice was light, but his eyes searched Jungkook’s, catching the shadows, the strain, and Jungkook fumbled, closing the sketchbook too fast, shoving it under the pillow.

“Nothing,” he mumbled, avoiding Taehyung’s gaze, his hands clenching the blanket, but Taehyung’s hand found his arm, warm and steady, squeezing once. “Liar,” he teased, echoing their old rhythm, and Jungkook’s lips twitched, a reluctant smile breaking through despite the storm inside. “Just… thinking,” he said, softer, and Taehyung shifted closer, his shoulder brushing Jungkook’s, his presence a balm Jungkook hadn’t known he needed. “About last night?” Taehyung asked, voice dropping low, and Jungkook nodded, throat tight, the air thickening with everything unsaid.

“Yeah,” he whispered, meeting Taehyung’s eyes—dark, steady, a lifeline—and Taehyung’s grin faded, his hand sliding to Jungkook’s, lacing their fingers in a slow, deliberate tangle that sent a jolt through Jungkook’s veins. “You okay with it?” Taehyung asked, soft but firm, his thumb brushing Jungkook’s knuckles, and Jungkook’s breath hitched, the touch a spark that lit his nerves. “I don’t know,” he admitted, voice breaking, and Taehyung’s grip tightened, grounding him. “I meant it,” Jungkook added, quieter. “What I said. But… what do we do now?”

Taehyung’s eyes softened, a warmth spreading through his gaze, and he leaned closer, his forehead resting against Jungkook’s, a shaky breath escaping him. “We figure it out,” he said, simple, his voice a promise that sank into Jungkook’s bones. “I meant it too, Kookie. I’ve loved you forever.” His free hand slid to Jungkook’s neck, fingers warm against his pulse, and Jungkook’s heart raced, the fear melting into something vast, something he couldn’t outrun. “What if it messes everything up?” he whispered, and Taehyung’s grin returned—small, real, crinkling his eyes. “It won’t,” he said, sure. “We’re us.”

They stayed like that, foreheads pressed, hands linked, the dorm’s hum a distant echo—Jin’s clatter, Hoseok’s laughter, Jimin’s chatter fading into the background. Jungkook’s chest ached, but it was softer now, the tangle loosening under Taehyung’s touch, and he let himself lean in, his breath mingling with Taehyung’s, a quiet intimacy that felt both new and ancient. “You’re warm,” he murmured, and Taehyung chuckled, low and soft, his fingers tightening. “You’re blushing,” he teased, and Jungkook pulled back, ears red, but Taehyung held on, pulling him close again, their shoulders pressed tight.

The day unfolded, a tentative dance—lunch shared, the others joking, Taehyung’s hand brushing Jungkook’s under the table, a secret smile exchanged when Namjoon asked, “What’s with you two?” They moved to the practice room, the mirrors reflecting their steps, and Taehyung stayed close—his voice harmonizing with Jungkook’s, his elbow nudging Jungkook’s mid-spin, a rhythm that felt fragile, electric, new. Jungkook matched him, their dance a quiet promise, and when they paused, breathless, Taehyung’s hand found his back, warm and steady, a touch that lingered as they caught their breath.

Later, back in the dorm, the others scattered—Jin and Yoongi napping, Hoseok and Jimin gaming, Namjoon reading—and Taehyung flopped beside Jungkook again, his grin soft. “We’re good, right?” he asked, voice low, his hand finding Jungkook’s wrist, squeezing once, and Jungkook nodded, the ache easing, the love a light he couldn’t dim. “Yeah,” he whispered, letting Taehyung’s warmth stay, letting him stay, a tangled heart unfolding in the quiet, a bond they’d learn to hold, step by step, note by note.

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