Jungkook sat in the quiet of his apartment that evening, phone in hand, fingers hovering nervously over the screen. He told himself it was just curiosity, nothing more. Yet the thought of Taehyung, Mr. Kim, the untouchable, flawless Mr. Kim, sparked a strange, insistent need to understand.
He opened his Instagram, searching for Taehyung's account. It wasn't difficult; the username was elegant, minimalist, and easily recognizable. What caught him first was the number of followers. Over half a million. And yet, he was barely active. A few posts scattered over months, almost none with captions, rarely tagged. Jungkook frowned. How could someone so untouchable, so composed, command this kind of attention yet remain almost invisible online?
His thumb swiped to the last post, and he froze. It was from months ago, back in Busan - his hometown. The picture was simple, Taehyung sitting at a small, unassuming table in a lowly eating place, a plate of food in front of him. The kind of hole-in-the-wall spot Jungkook had known since childhood, the kind locals went to when they wanted something hearty, cheap, and real.
Jungkook's brow furrowed. Why would someone like Taehyung, rich and powerful, with every luxury at his disposal, choose to eat at a place like that? The image almost seemed… humble, casual. No designer suit fully visible, no grandiose backdrop, just him and a plate of ordinary food.
The more Jungkook stared at it, the more conflicted he felt. On the one hand, it made the man seem human, almost approachable in a way that none of his office persona allowed. On the other hand, it complicated the stubborn assumption that had lodged itself in Jungkook's mind: that Taehyung might be into men. He wanted to disprove it, to find a clue that would settle the questions, but this post didn't help. If anything, it made the mystery deeper.
He tapped on the comments, scanning the mixture of fan admiration and casual questions. Some asked about the food, some about the location, others simply complimented Taehyung's style, though he looked utterly ordinary in this post. Jungkook couldn't help but feel a strange twist of connection. Taehyung had been here, in Busan, quietly enjoying something simple, far from the polished towers of Seoul, far from the scrutiny of the world.
A small, almost imperceptible warmth crept into Jungkook's chest. He recognized the place instantly, the low tables, the smell of frying oil and spices in the background, the kind of spot locals always praised but tourists overlooked. He remembered coming here himself when he first moved to Seoul, craving a taste of home. And now seeing Taehyung here, in this same unpretentious corner of the city, made him pause.
Jungkook set the phone down, leaning back against the couch. The assumptions, the curiosity, the slight unease he had felt earlier, all of it now tangled with a quiet admiration. The man he thought he understood, the man who had seemed untouchable and enigmatic, had a side that was far more grounded, far more human than Jungkook had expected.
Yet even as he acknowledged this, a stubborn part of him refused to let go of the earlier suspicions. Why hadn't he posted more? Why hadn't anyone seen this side before? And why, he admitted to himself reluctantly did it make him care more than he should?
He stared at the image again, at Taehyung quietly enjoying his meal, and for a fleeting moment, he allowed himself to imagine a conversation there, a shared table, a laugh, a casual comment. The thought startled him. It shouldn't matter. He shouldn't feel this stir of something undefined for someone so far removed from his own life. And yet, it did.
Jungkook's thumb hovered over Taehyung's story for only a moment, a split second of curiosity he didn't fully intend. But almost instinctively, he tapped. The screen shifted, and Jungkook froze.
There was Taehyung, shirtless, a towel loosely wrapped around his waist, droplets of sweat glinting on his skin. He leaned back slightly, fingers running through his damp hair as he pushed it off his forehead, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. The angle made his toned physique clear, but what struck Jungkook more than that was the casualness, the humanity, the absolute comfort of the man in front of him.
Taehyung laughed lightly, a warm, slightly tipsy sound that Jungkook didn't recognize from the office, a sound that was almost unprofessional in its intimacy. Behind him, a voice spoke in English, smooth and teasing, with a faint British lilt.
"Come on, Tae, just one more for the story. You look ridiculous holding back," the voice said. It was playful, warm, familiar, and unmistakably Matt.
Taehyung rolled his eyes, shaking his head with mock exasperation, but the smile never left his face. "I'm not holding back. You're just being extra, Matt."
The small clip ended with a candid laugh from Taehyung, his shoulders shaking slightly, eyes crinkling at the corners, and Matt's teasing voice echoing lightly in the background. The casual, intimate ease between them was undeniable. Jungkook's chest tightened in ways he didn't want to admit.
He blinked at the screen, heart pounding, and quickly swiped back, almost embarrassed that he had seen it at all. The thought that Taehyung, this flawless, composed, and untouchable Taehyung, could be laughing, tipsy, completely unguarded with someone else left an uncomfortable twist in his chest.
Jungkook set the phone down, gripping it tightly. He didn't want to acknowledge it, didn't want to think about the way his pulse had quickened. And yet, the image and the sound of Matt's teasing voice refused to leave him.
He replayed it in his mind, trying to make sense of the casual intimacy, the laughter, the sheer comfort of Taehyung around someone else. He remembered the cabin earlier, Matt leaning in almost too close, the quiet acknowledgment of what had passed unseen. And now this unfiltered, candid moment made everything more real, more tangible, and far more complicated than he had expected.
Jungkook laid back on his small bed, eyes closed for a moment, letting out a slow breath. He didn't understand why it affected him so much. He had assumed so much earlier, questioned so many things about Taehyung, and now, seeing this side of him, the reality was far more human, far more intimate and far more unreachable.
A small, reluctant thought crept into his mind: he shouldn't care. It was none of his business. He had no claim, no right to this side of Taehyung, and yet he couldn't deny that curiosity had turned into something heavier, something warmer, something he couldn't easily shake.
Jungkook's hand tightened around his phone as he sat in silence. The story had ended, but the questions, the tension, and the flutter of unfamiliar emotion remained. He hadn't wanted to see this. And yet, now that he had, there was no going back.
His face burned the moment the memory hit him again. He had tapped Taehyung's story almost instinctively, without thinking, without following him even, and now he couldn't believe how quickly it had happened. The image of Taehyung, shirtless and laughing, relaxed and completely unguarded, flashed in his mind, and with it, the unmistakable voice of Matt teasing him in the background.
He pressed his palms to his face, curling his fingers into his hair as if he could physically push the thought away. How could he have been so careless? How could he have let his curiosity get the better of him, stumbled into something so private, so personal, so undeniably intimate? He hadn't meant to see it, and yet he had, and now it was stuck in his mind, refusing to leave.
The embarrassment wasn't just about seeing Taehyung like that, it was about how much it affected him. His chest tightened, his ears burned, and he felt absurdly guilty for letting his mind linger on someone else's private life, for the strange flutter that came with it.
He sank into his bed, burying his face deeper into his hands, chastising himself silently. He had overstepped, even if only in his own mind, and it left him feeling foolish, vulnerable, and uncomfortably aware of his own emotions.
As the night grew, he tossed and turned in his sleep, restless and agitated. In his dream, everything was sharp, vivid, and impossibly real. Taehyung was leaning in, with his famous teasing smile curling at his lips, their faces mere inches apart. Jungkook's hand trembled in and without thinking, he moved closer, pressing against Taehyung, leaning in for a kiss.
The warmth, the closeness, the intoxicating tension made his heart hammer in ways he didn't understand. His hand brushed against the towel draped around Taehyung's waist, almost daring to slide it off. And in that instant, before anything else could happen, he shot upright in bed, gasping, sheets twisted around his legs.
He was drenched in sweat, cheeks burning with embarrassment, his hair damp with the remnants of his restless tossing. But worse and impossible to ignore, was the obvious, stiff erection straining against the waistband of his pajama pants. Jungkook pressed his hands over his face, heart racing violently, muttering frantic, incoherent curses.
"Wh-what the hell…?!" he whispered to himself, panic twisting inside him. His body had betrayed him in the dream, responding in ways he never expected, and the image of Taehyung, the teasing smile, the skin, the towel and what he was about to do refused to leave his mind.
Jungkook curled into himself, sheets clinging to him, utterly flustered and irritated at his own reactions. He wanted to hate it, wanted to shove it away, but the tight feeling of longing and heat in his chest along his undeniable boner, made it impossible to ignore.