When Jungkook comes home from work, it’s about 6:30 p.m. Taehyung is on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, with the TV on. His glasses are slipping down his nose, his hair is a mess, and a half-empty bag of chips sits by his side. Not exactly his sexiest look, but that thought doesn’t even cross his mind—not until he feels Jungkook’s gaze on him.

The truth is, he’s completely lost track of time. He spent the entire day in a daze, unable to do anything productive because his mind kept circling back to the previous night, particularly its unpleasant ending. He was so distracted he’d poured water into a glass until it overflowed, and then, in trying to clean up the mess, he’d used the new paper towels instead of the ones meant for recycling. Whatever he did, he seemed to mess it up.

Eventually, he concluded it was better to do nothing at all than to keep making mistakes. He’d just been discharged from the hospital, and that was the perfect excuse.

Still, even slouching on the couch watching Netflix in this pitiful state, he managed to mess up. He’d completely "forgotten" that Jungkook would eventually come home—or rather, he’d neglected to consider the moment when Jungkook would see him like this.

But now it’s too late to worry about that.

“Oh,” he blurts out, just “oh,” as if Jungkook had popped out of the chimney instead of entering through the front door. Taehyung sits up straighter, trying to look less disheveled, but if Jungkook is shocked by his appearance, he doesn’t show it. He kicks off his dark leather shoes, sets two grocery bags on the floor, and shrugs off his jacket, hanging it by the door.

“You’re back,” Taehyung adds after a moment that feels like a lifetime.

Jungkook’s dark eyes settle on him. They’re not cold and unreadable like the night before. They’re back to normal—calm, friendly.

“I’m back,” Jungkook confirms, stating the obvious. Then his gaze shifts from Taehyung to the TV. A blonde actress with blue eyes is crying in a close-up, her makeup streaking down her cheeks. “What are you watching?”

“I have no idea,” Taehyung admits. “Something random. I wasn’t really paying attention… Did you go grocery shopping? Wait, let me help.”

As if a spring were hidden somewhere inside him, Taehyung jumps up from the couch. He moves toward Jungkook, reaching for the bags, but Jungkook tightens his grip on the handles and pulls them back slightly.

“A wounded omega wants to help a perfectly healthy alpha with groceries? That’s a new one. Sit down—I'm pretty sure the doctors told you to avoid unnecessary effort, or am I wrong?”

“You’re not wrong,” Taehyung says, a bit embarrassed. Jungkook’s logic was flawless, but Taehyung just wanted to be… helpful.

Besides, he’d already made quite the unexpected effort the night before!

“I’m fine, really. It’s just the stitches, I think… The abdomen doesn’t move much, but if I overdo it, there’s a chance one might pop.”

“Well, let’s avoid that risk,” Jungkook says absentmindedly. He sets the two large bags by the table and begins pulling out various ingredients. “Stay put and relax. I’ll cook dinner tonight—hot ramen. When you’re feeling better, you can return the favor by cooking for me,” he adds, as if to ease Taehyung’s discomfort.

It’s one of those small gestures that, despite everything, warms Taehyung’s heart.

Standing in the middle of the living room, Taehyung feels almost dazed. Jungkook’s shirt sleeves are rolled up to his forearms, exposing tattoos—black ink tendrils wrapping around his tense muscles. His hair is its usual messy state, barely held together by a tiny bun with an elastic struggling to contain a few rebellious strands. He’s breathtaking. A vision that steals Taehyung’s breath. And he can’t believe the same guy offering to make him homemade ramen is the one who practically broke his heart the night before.

It’s such a massive contradiction that it makes Taehyung feel… resigned.
As if trying to understand would be pointless, like he wouldn’t get it no matter how hard he tried.
Maybe Jungkook doesn’t even understand himself right now.

Taehyung decides then and there to accept things as they come. He’ll go along with whatever Jungkook wants, being his guest. If their wishes align, great. Like now, they do. And last night, for a while, they did too.

Despite being told to lounge a bit longer, Taehyung positions himself beside Jungkook.

“At least let me chop the vegetables. I’ve been bored all day.”

“Alright then. If you insist…”

Taehyung starts peeling and slicing carrots while Jungkook prepares the broth base with scallions, ginger, garlic, gochujang paste, and olive oil. The scent of the sautéing ingredients fills the kitchen, making Taehyung’s mouth water—his breakfast, lunch, and snack consisted of half a bag of chips. After the carrots, he moves on to potatoes and then broccoli, finally grabbing frozen mushrooms from one of the bags. Together, they add the vegetables to the bubbling broth.

“A spoonful of miso and one of tahini, right?”

Jungkook nods, and Taehyung stirs in the ingredients. For a moment, they could almost pass as a couple. Taehyung tries not to dwell on it, but just thinking about it sends a pang through his chest.

Half an hour later, they’re sitting at the marble kitchen island with steaming bowls of ramen. Taehyung grabs some rice noodles with his chopsticks, blows on them, and takes a bite. “Uhh—this is delicious!”

“Why are you surprised?” Jungkook arches a brow. “I’m not bad in the kitchen.”

“I know. You’re good at everything. The gods’ favorite.”

Jungkook chuckles at that. “Can’t argue with you there. At the risk of sounding arrogant, it’s true.”

Jungkook’s phone vibrates against the table, and he picks it up, typing out a response before setting it down again. Taehyung wishes he could ignore it, but he can’t help noticing.

“How’s work?”

“Good, bad. Both. It’s chaos right now. We’re taking on a new contract, and everyone’s on edge.”

Maybe that’s why he’s been so moody. Maybe it’s work stress. Taehyung doesn’t really believe that, but the thought lingers. Meanwhile, Jungkook’s phone vibrates again. And again. Jungkook replies to each message as soon as they arrive, while Taehyung’s own texts went ignored for days.

Despite himself, jealousy creeps in.
And more than that, he wonders who’s messaging him.

No.
That’s toxic and irrational.
It’s none of his business.

Whether Jungkook is talking to a friend or a… hookup, it doesn’t concern him.
They’re just friends.
Jungkook is doing him a favor.
This isn’t a cohabitation.
There’s nothing between them.

Christ.

Did Jungkook remind him of those things because he’s seeing someone?

For a moment, ice settles in Taehyung’s stomach.

No, it’s not possible. Jungkook doesn’t want relationships.

…Or does he just not want one with me?

“You okay?” Jungkook asks, raising a brow. “You zoned out… Are you in pain or something?”

“Huh? No—no. I was just thinking… Maybe later we could watch a movie. Something decent, though—they’ve been churning out nothing but trash lately.”

“Not tonight, Tae. Maybe another time. After dinner, I’m heading out.”

Fuck.