The days pass quickly, blending into one another without any real distinction. The only notable difference in the slow and relentless passage of time is the equally ominous presence of Yuta in Jungkook’s home. This, in particular, makes Taehyung wish time would speed up even more—like, fast enough to turn him gray, old, and one step away from the grave. Just to keep things dramatic.

Taehyung would be lying to himself if he claimed he wasn’t at least a little worried about Yuta’s presence in Jungkook’s life. He wonders if it’s just a casual fling—as he hopes—or something more serious. Usually, Jungkook sleeps with an omega once and then tosses them aside like trash, but things with Yuta are different. Yuta orbits around Jungkook like a moon around a planet, and their dynamic is so eerily similar to what Taehyung himself once had with Jungkook that it makes his throat tighten with a painful knot.

In the past week alone, Yuta has been at the apartment at least three times. Taehyung wishes he hadn’t sunk so low as to notice and remember, but he has. Then again, it would have been hard not to, considering Yuta makes sure to be as loud as possible when he’s in bed with Jungkook. Maybe even too loud. It’s as if he enjoys being heard by Taehyung specifically—to the point where Taehyung has started to suspect that Yuta might have figured something out about him and Jungkook. Maybe he’s decoded the glances they exchange—not glances of passion or love, but something closer to mutual resentment, like two exes forced to live together by some cruel twist of fate. The fact that it isn’t even the case makes Taehyung’s presence in that house all the more paradoxical… but that’s a whole other story.

In any case, Taehyung has had more than enough. He doesn’t want to think about Jungkook anymore, let alone the silent dramas lingering between them. He just wants to rebuild his life, that’s all—gather what’s left, put it back together, and move on. There’s no point in waiting for something that won’t happen, nor in standing still, bracing for some impending disaster. It’s time to get a grip. He knows that well enough, keeps telling himself that, and yet he does far less than he wishes he could. More often than not, he feels defeated, like he doesn’t even have a single weapon to fight back against the world.

In the end, he thinks the reason why all his days feel the same is precisely this: he’s stuck in a loop of frustration, where every aspect of his life only adds to his sense of inadequacy.

Luckily, those dark clouds are finally starting to clear, and a ray of sunlight breaks through—the upcoming party Jimin is throwing.

To be honest, Taehyung hasn’t fully grasped the exact reason for the celebration—every time, there seems to be a different, half-baked excuse—but deep down, he suspects there isn’t a real reason at all. Jimin probably just needs an excuse to have fun and be surrounded by the people he loves.

Whatever the reason, it doesn’t really matter; the point is, they’ll be partying at a nightclub. After such a long time, Taehyung is finally stepping into a place like that again—and while part of him is excited, another part feels like he’s become completely detached from that kind of scene. He’s almost afraid he’ll end up feeling like a fish out of water.

Still, the urge to get out of that apartment and have some fun wins out. He has a feeling that if he’s with people he knows, he might even avoid having a panic attack—hip hip hooray for him.

Speaking of which…

Taehyung grabs his phone from the nightstand and searches for Jimin’s chat. Once he finds it, he quickly types:
“I need help with my outfit for the party. A DESPERATE amount of help.”

After hitting send, he tosses the phone onto the mattress and turns back to his closet—where his meager collection of gray sweats and oversized t-shirts stares back at him. Not exactly his fault, though. He never went back home, so all he has are the clothes his parents had brought for him to wear while he was still in the hospital.

His phone vibrates on the bed. Taehyung reaches for it, unlocking the screen.

Jimin’s reply pops up:
“Leave it to me, don’t worry about a thing! If you say you trust me, I’ll put together a killer outfit that’ll leave everyone speechless.”

Given Jimin’s eccentric style, Taehyung can’t help but feel a little nervous. Not that Jimin dresses badly—far from it—but his style is… very different from Taehyung’s. Still, the idea of being in the spotlight for a night? Yeah, that definitely appeals to him.

After all, back when he used to go out alone, he always made sure he never blended into the background. Maybe doing it again will help him regain some of the confidence he’s lost over the past few weeks.

He bites his lower lip, hesitating. But in the end, with a sigh, he mutters under his breath, “Screw it. I’ve got nothing to lose.”

He sends a thumbs-up emoji, then flops onto the bed, staring at the ceiling.

Will he regret this? Almost certainly.
Will he end up having fun? Most likely.

At the end of the day, he really has nothing to lose—and besides, he’s never been one to be too rigid about these things.

***

Two days, thirty-five messages, and several drama episodes have passed since then.

When the doorbell rings, Taehyung immediately gets up to answer it, fully aware that it’s Jimin. Dressed in pajamas, with deep dark circles barely concealed by the thick lenses of his glasses, he looks perhaps a little thinner than usual, despite eating a lot. His expression is almost perpetually sullen.

Jimin eyes him from head to toe, shakes his head, and then lets out a dramatically exaggerated sigh.

“Oh yes, someone here is in desperate need of my help. Come with me, Cinderella, it’s time for your fairy godmother to change that outfit, because if you keep walking around like this, there’s no way in hell you’ll find a prince charming willing to carry you off in his carriage.”

Taehyung snorts in response, a noise somewhere between amused and offended, then steps aside to let Jimin in.

“So, how’s it going? Has the little prince on the pea shown up again?” Jimin asks, barely concealing his distaste. It’s obvious that Yuta isn’t exactly his favorite person either.

That, however, is a particularly sore subject for Taehyung—one that Jimin couldn’t have hit more directly if he tried. With an irritated sigh, he mutters, “Who, Jungkook’s new boyfriend? I’d have an easier time counting the days I don’t have his smug face in front of me. You know he stayed for dinner the other night? I locked myself in my room the whole time—I was starving, but I had zero interest in running into them. Then they fucked on the couch. The guy moaned the entire time.”

Jimin makes a disgusted face. “God, that’s so tacky.”

“He’s an asshole.”

“Do you think he does it to provoke you?”

Taehyung scrunches his nose in irritation. “Yeah. But I don’t get why.”

“The reason’s obvious. You’re an omega living in Jungkook’s house.”

“Yeah, but we’re not fucking anymore,” Taehyung points out.

“Maybe not. But you still have his scent all over you.”

Those words make Taehyung’s eyes widen slightly. Really? He hadn’t thought it was possible, not after all that time spent doing nothing. Could it be because he’s living at Jungkook’s place? Is that why he still has the alpha’s scent on him? He’s not sure if it makes sense, but it’s the only explanation that comes to mind.

“Well, anyway, this situation is driving me crazy. Feels like I’m living a nightmare. And, besides, I don’t exactly have better alternatives.”

Jimin places a hand on his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. “Don’t think about it. It’s pointless. Let’s focus on the good things, like the party and the fact that you’re going to look stunning tonight.”

With that, Jimin drops a large shopping bag onto the couch; it’s overflowing with clothes, and Taehyung can see colorful, glittery fabrics peeking out from the handles. If he said he wasn’t a little scared, he’d be lying.

His cheeks grow warmer as Jimin pulls something out of the bag. He watches as Jimin waves a tiny top in front of his face, one that leaves the entire stomach exposed.

“This is going to be the highlight of your look. I brought at least five like this, so you have to pick one. With your figure, you’d look amazing in them.”

Taehyung raises an eyebrow and looks him straight in the eyes.

“You do realize I have a scar on my abdomen, right?”

Jimin bites his lower lip, then shrugs.

“So what? Why should that be a problem? It adds charm, mystery… It might even give someone an excuse to hit on you. Don’t you think? Like, they notice you because you’re gorgeous, but to avoid sounding too obvious, they approach you to ask about the scar. You could even make up a fun story about it. Like saying you got it in a fight.”

Taehyung lets out a low, slightly sarcastic laugh and wonders what kind of sense of fun Jimin has. He decides to let it slide.

“You think saying I was in a fight would improve my chances of picking someone up?”

Jimin chuckles.

“You’d be surprised how many people are drawn to red flags.”

Taehyung knows that all too well.

After all, he’s the same way.

“Come on, hurry up! After the outfit, we still have to fix your hair and makeup.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes but secretly enjoys Jimin’s enthusiasm. He gives in and starts taking off his shirt, shivering as the cold air hits his skin. The last time he undressed in front of someone was at the hospital—when the doctors treated his wound and removed the stitches.

The scar is a finger-length, jagged crimson line. The blade had sunk into his skin in an imprecise, clumsy way; it wasn’t the strike of a professional, far from it. Miguk had no idea what he was doing, and Taehyung knows that’s the only reason he’s still alive.

If Jimin thinks anything about his scar, he doesn’t say it. He probably considers it too insensitive to bring up. Either way, Taehyung moves on to taking off his sweatpants, left standing in just his underwear.

Jimin tosses him the top from earlier—a metallic, glittery thing, both indecent and stunning at the same time—along with a pair of low-rise jeans. They’re baggy, the kind that’s been particularly trendy lately.

“Seriously?” Taehyung says, skeptical. “You can’t be serious.”

“Why the hell wouldn’t I be? You’re going to look amazing. Now try these jeans on and stop whining.”

Taehyung has his doubts, but he obeys. He slips into the jeans, then puts on the tiny top. Jimin eyes him with satisfaction before stepping closer and sliding Taehyung’s glasses off his nose. “You have a gorgeous face. Don’t hide it.”

“I can’t see anything without contacts.”

“Do you still have some?”

“No.”

“Then we’ll stop to buy a pair before heading to the party,” Jimin says. “What do you think?”

Taehyung moves in front of the window, which now works as a makeshift mirror. The style is completely different from what he usually wears, but he has to admit—it looks good. He’s certain that if he walked into Wolves’ Secret dressed like this, he’d be an absolute showstopper. “I look good.”

“Told you.”

“Ugh, but look at my face. My dark circles are practically purple.”

“Yuta and Jungkook aren’t letting you get enough sleep,” Jimin comments.

Taehyung immediately rolls his eyes. “Please, don’t even start. I don’t want to think about those two all night.”

Jimin presses his lips into an awkward smile. “You know Jungkook’s invited, right?”

“I just hope he doesn’t get the brilliant idea of bringing him along.”

“I hope so too, but he probably will.”

Taehyung contemplates slamming his head against the window. “For fuck’s sake.”

“Forget about it. There’ll be plenty of alcohol. Who knows, you might even meet someone.”

“Let’s hope,” Taehyung says sarcastically. “I want to meet a hot, rich guy with a huge house. An alpha who’ll protect me from psychos, fuck me, and love me. Is that too much to ask?”

Jimin hugs him from behind, resting his chin on Taehyung’s shoulder. “A little. But you’d deserve it.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung sighs. “Think you can work some magic on my face?”

Jimin grins. “Won’t take much, with how pretty you are. Concealer, blush, a little glitter. Trust me, tonight no one’s going to be able to take their eyes off you.”

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