Taehyung's POV
The drive back from the park felt different. Not in a bad way, but heavier, more significant. The easy camaraderie had remained, but underneath it, Taehyung felt the hum of something unspoken, something deep and resonant. Sitting under that oak tree with Jungkook, revisiting those sacred childhood memories, had been like unlocking a forgotten room in his mind – a room filled with a kind of unfiltered joy and belonging he realized he hadn't experienced in years.
He pulled into his apartment building's parking garage, the familiar scent of concrete and exhaust wrapping around him. Upstairs, his sleek, minimalist apartment waited, and soon, Jennie would be home. The thought of her brought a fresh wave of guilt, sharp and unwelcome. Jennie was wonderful. She was his steady anchor, his partner in the ordered, successful life he had built. They had plans for the future, comfortable routines. He cared for her, truly.
But the feeling that bloomed in his chest when he was with Jungkook... it was different. It wasn't calm comfort; it was a vibrant, almost exhilarating spark. It was like finding a missing color in his palette, one he hadn't even known he was missing until it suddenly burst into view. With Jennie, life felt like a beautifully composed classical symphony – elegant, structured, perfect. With Jungkook, it was like an impromptu jazz session – unpredictable, passionate, alive with improvisation.
He scrolled through his phone, stopping on Jungkook's contact. A casual text, a thank you for the day. He typed it quickly, then paused. Should he ask to see him again so soon? They'd already met up twice this week. Was he pushing it? Was he... becoming too reliant on this new, intoxicating connection?
His mind wrestled with itself. He had a good life. A beautiful girlfriend. A successful career. Why did he suddenly feel this unsettling sense of... lack? It was as if Jungkook had accidentally opened a window to a part of his soul Taehyung had inadvertently walled off, and now the fresh air was both invigorating and disorienting. He didn't want to hurt Jennie. He didn't want to be that guy. But the thought of not seeing Jungkook again, of letting that rediscovered connection fade back into memory, felt like a genuine loss he couldn't bear.
He finally sent the text: Thanks for today, Kook. Needed that. :) Short, simple, ambiguous. He waited, a familiar flutter in his stomach. When Jungkook's reply came almost immediately – Anytime, hyung. Glad we found our spot again. – Taehyung felt a sigh of relief he hadn't realized he was holding.
He knew, with a sinking feeling of certainty, that he was walking a fine line. He was happy with Jennie, wasn't he? Then why did every moment with Jungkook feel like coming home, a home he hadn't realized he'd left behind? The quiet hum of dissatisfaction that had always been present now had a name, a face, and a laugh that echoed from childhood.
And Taehyung was terrifyingly afraid of what that realization truly meant for everything he'd built.