Taehyung's POV
The conversation with Jennie about Jungkook had replayed in Taehyung's mind all week, a persistent, uncomfortable echo. Her casual questions, the slight tightening around her eyes—they were subtle, but Taehyung knew Jennie. She was perceptive. The comfortable stability of his life suddenly felt fragile, threatened by a connection he couldn't quite control, let alone explain.
He scrolled through his recent messages with Jungkook. Laughter, shared memories, an intimacy that had blossomed almost effortlessly. He looked at the time – 8 PM. Jungkook usually texted around now, after his late-night coding sessions, a casual check-in before crashing. His thumb hovered over Jungkook's contact, not to text, but to... silence notifications.
A pang of guilt twisted in his gut. This felt wrong. Jungkook was his childhood friend, a piece of his past he'd genuinely missed. But Jennie was his present, his future. He had made a commitment. He had to prioritize that. He had to put some distance. For everyone's sake.
When his phone finally buzzed an hour later with Jungkook's name on the screen, Taehyung felt his heart give a familiar lurch, then a sharp tug of remorse.
Hey hyung, long day. Just wanted to say hi. Hope you're good.
He stared at it. He wanted to reply immediately, to ask about his day, to share some mundane detail about his own. But he gripped his phone tightly, forcing himself to resist. He took a deep breath. This is for the best, he told himself. Just a little space. It's not a big deal.
He waited ten minutes. Then twenty. The silence stretched, heavy and unnatural. He felt a weird anxiety coil in his stomach. What if Jungkook thought he was mad? What if he thought Taehyung was ignoring him? This was harder than he thought.
He eventually typed a short, almost formal reply.
Hey Kook. Yeah, good. Crazy busy week. Gonna be swamped for a bit. Catch up later.
He hit send and immediately felt a cold emptiness settle in his chest. It was a lie. He wasn't that swamped. He just needed to create a buffer, to put a stop to the easy flow of their reconnection before it became something he couldn't handle.
The reply didn't come instantly this time. An hour passed. Then two. Finally, a single, concise message.
Ah. Okay, hyung. Get some rest.
That was it. No playful emoji. No follow-up question. The brevity of it twisted something inside Taehyung. It felt cold. Distant. He'd wanted to create space, but not like this. Not like he was hurting him.
He looked at Jennie, sleeping peacefully beside him. She trusted him. He had to do this. He closed his eyes, trying to quell the unfamiliar ache that had settled in his chest. But the image of Jungkook's hurt eyes, even in his imagination, was a powerful, silent accusation.
He had built a wall, brick by painful brick, but he knew, with a terrifying certainty, that his heart was already on the other side.