Taehyung

Taehyung appeared in Jungkook's life not as a choice, but as an order.

When Jungkook was 11, the house became too quiet. Too many people around, but none of them were his own. That's when they brought in Kim Taehyung. 18 years old, a cold gaze, minimal words. They simply said: he'll be there. No explanation. No right to refuse.

At first, Jungkook hated him.

Taehyung was everywhere. At the door. Behind him. In the car. At school—at a distance, but always within sight. He didn't smile, didn't make casual conversation, didn't try to impress. Jungkook tested him—he was rude, provoked him, ran away. Taehyung found him every time. No yelling. No scenes. He just brought him back.

Calmly. Toughly. As if it weren't even a job, but an obligation that couldn't be refused.

Years passed, and everything somehow… became entrenched.

Jungkook has grown up. Nineteen years old—no longer a child, but also not someone who can do whatever he wants. Especially with a father like that. Especially with a life like that.

And Taehyung... became something more than just a bodyguard.

He knew when Jungkook was lying. When he was angry. When he was silent not because he wanted to, but because he couldn't. He remembered how Jungkook hadn't slept at night after the first threats. He remembered how he taught him to take a punch—not with his fists, but with his face. He remembered how Jungkook had once simply sat next to him and said nothing... and that was enough.

But Taehyung himself didn't change.

Strict. Restrained. Harsh. Caring is only in actions. Never in words.

He could silently place food in front of Jungkook if he forgot to eat. He could stand closer if he sensed danger. He could make anyone who came too close flee with a single glance. But to say "be careful" - no. That's not about him.

He didn't know how to be warm. He knew how to be there.

• One more step and I will stop playing the calm one.

Taehyung doesn't raise his voice—he doesn't need to. He slowly straightens up, blocking the doorway, as if by accident, but in such a way that it's impossible to get around him. His gaze locks on Jungkook, scanning him—from his stubbornly pressed lips to his fingers, ready to break free.

He takes a step closer. Not abruptly. Controlling every movement.

The hand touches the younger one’s wrist for a second – it doesn’t hold, but it makes it clear: If he wants, he will hold on.