Taehyung places his hand on the door handle. He tries to ignore his pounding heart, his senses almost begging him to reconsider, to turn back. To hide under the bed, or in the closet. To call the police. To do something, anything, except what he's decided. There's a brief moment when Taehyung finds himself thinking that it would be better to die than to live in fear. That it's probably nothing, that it can't be anything.

How likely is it that Miguk managed to sneak into the apartment on the very night Jungkook isn't present? It would be absurd, the kind of thing that if it happened in a TV series, would make Taehyung throw the remote across the room. Something that would make him say: "Come on! How is that possible! What were the chances of that happening!"

Fear is like heavy chains, and Taehyung was born to be free. He lowers the handle as quietly as possible; now his heart is beating so hard he can hear it in his ears. He takes one step out of the room, then a second. The hallway connects directly to the living room, so he just needs to turn right to take a quick peek. He's pretty sure the noise came from there. Jungkook keeps a metal fruit bowl on the kitchen island; Taehyung had noticed it during dinner. That must have been what fell.

So, he turns his head.

He didn't put on his glasses before leaving the room, and his nearsightedness prevents him from focusing on anything, but he can still distinguish lights and shadows well enough. And his blood freezes in his veins when he clearly sees the shadow of a man moving around the living room.

So this is how I'm going to die.

Poor Jungkook.

When he comes home, he'll find my body.

Taehyung places a hand against the wall. His agitation returns as a galloping panic attack. He closes his eyes, breathes slowly. Counts to three, but allows himself no more. Three deep breaths, three moments where he tries to draw from the depths of his spirit the strength needed to face whoever is there, in that house, with him. Then he lifts his eyelids again and takes the first step, then the second. He walks toward the living room until he hears noises.

Moans.

"Jungkook!" groans a male voice, perhaps even young. Taehyung's mouth falls open as he begins to piece together in his mind not just the scene he's witnessing, but the whole situation. A shadow is sitting on the kitchen counter—the one they ate on!—another is between the first one's legs. He thrusts between his thighs with rhythmic, sharp movements that leave little room for interpretation. The hands of the shadow sitting on the counter wrap around the shadow pushing against him. "Wreck me!" the clearer voice moans, while Jungkook growls something back, starting to move in a more animalistic way.

Taehyung wishes he could bang his head against the wall until he removes that memory from his mind, but he can't. If he tried, he'd probably end up forgetting something truly important, like which drawer he hid his dignity in.

Fuck this.

There's no way I'm putting up with this bullshit!

Taehyung spins around like a puppet on strings. He walks back to his room and closes himself inside, being careful not to make noise, and he can't even explain the reason for such caution—after all, it's not like Jungkook and his friend bothered to be quiet. They didn't even have the decency to close themselves in a room.

Maybe it's Jungkook's way of emphasizing the point.

We don't have a relationship.

I'm free to do what I want.

Yet Taehyung wonders if it was necessary to go this far. If he closes his eyes and blocks out the noise caused by his thoughts, he can hear the little slut Jungkook brought home moaning and begging for more and harder.

Taehyung presses his hands against his face. He's angry, very angry. He feels like Jungkook is disrespecting him, as if that gesture was nothing but a slight against him—and Taehyung realizes it's a completely irrational thought, because this is Jungkook's house and not once has the alpha led him to believe there could be something exclusive between them, but rationality and feelings don't always go hand in hand, and this time they seem to clash particularly hard.

So, even though he knows perfectly well that Jungkook can fuck whoever he wants, especially in his own home, he can't help but think that he would have greatly preferred it didn't happen.

And in an ideal world, that Jungkook would only ever fuck him.

But that's probably really too much to ask for, or even just to wish for.

He moves away from the door. Walks to the bed, pulls back the covers, and then slips under them. The sheets still retain the warmth of his body, but sleep has now completely vanished. How can he relax and fall asleep now that he feels so nervous? How can he think of anything other than Jungkook and his little friend having fun just a few meters away from him?

He takes his phone in his hands. Opens Jimin's chat instinctively, but doesn't write anything. What should he do? Complain? And for what reason? He doesn't want to make himself more ridiculous than he already is, and he can imagine exactly what Jimin would say in response: that Jungkook is just like that, that he's a free spirit, but that he's still a good guy. But probably Jimin says that because he's never met an alpha who was truly "good" and Jungkook is simply the closest thing to that concept.

Because all things considered, he is good.

He's a nice guy, he's kind, he's attractive. He's great in bed and he's also brave. Funny. He's a resourceful type, one who never backs down. And he's incredibly rich.

There isn't a single perspective under which Jungkook is lacking.

His flaw is a rather common one, to tell the truth.

And anyway, Taehyung isn't entirely sure that, without hormones in the mix, he would want to have a relationship with him.

He lies on his back and looks at the ceiling.

It's almost comforting, that idea. That this turmoil he feels in his chest isn't love, isn't infatuation, but is just a biological call tied to his nature, his DNA, his cursed mutated gene. That he hasn't developed a crush on an alpha, which would be a rookie mistake, and that he's actually just subject to a particular period in his life. Particular... Taehyung sighs. The last time he opened the app, it showed that his Rut was still months away. And honestly, during none of his Ruts has he felt so... affected. So the approach of something so distant and so different certainly couldn't be the reason behind his emotional turbulence.

But neither could it be love.

How could it be love?

They had never had any deep conversations. They knew each other superficially, a relationship based on orgasms and little else. And then Jungkook hadn't even visited him in the hospital, not once. He had even stopped responding to his messages, reading them as if he were just some annoying person and not the dying boy he himself had helped.

It didn't make sense.

But then again, when have alphas ever made sense?

They're perfect machines for reproduction, but little else.

And considering the fact that Jungkook doesn't intend to establish any lasting bonds, Taehyung strongly doubts that the perfect machine in question will fulfill its biological destiny by producing offspring.

A sharp moan coming from the living room marks the end of a torture that lasted far too long. For a few minutes there's silence, then light laughter. Low-voiced chatter, indistinguishable murmurs. And then, after a bit more time, footsteps along the corridor. The wet sound of a kiss.

"Did you save my number?" asks the unknown guy.

Jungkook laughs quietly, but it's a different laugh, almost flirtatious. "Why should I have? I never fuck the same person twice."

"Why not? It was fun," says the other voice, and Taehyung can't see him, but he's sure the stranger is pouting.

"It was fun, that's true. But I've had you already. And the sea is full of fish."

"And your rod thinks it's long enough to catch them all?" asks the other guy, almost challengingly.

"Let's say I'll try. I'll work hard to find out. Now go home."

"You could have asked me to stay over, you know."

"You didn't take me for a romantic, did you?" Jungkook retorts.

"No," sighs the other. "Definitely not."

The door opens. The door closes.

Jungkook's footsteps retrace the corridor.

The house plunges back into silence.

And Taehyung wonders what the hell the conversation he just overheard means.

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