Awakening to the warmth of Taehyung's strong arms wrapped securely around me felt like an exquisite dream, one I never wanted to end. His fingers were laced with mine, resting against my chest, while his lips pressed softly to the nape of my neck. If this was what bliss felt like, I could die content, wrapped in the embrace of his love.

Sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting golden streaks across the room. Careful not to disturb him, I managed to wriggle free from his hold, his peaceful face unbothered by my movements. As I stood and grabbed the nearest shirt, I glanced back at him. His hands lay sprawled across the dark sheets, his breathing even, his features serene. I allowed myself one last look before slipping out of the room, my heart full.

Making my way downstairs, I had a single thought in mind: I wanted to do something for him, something that would show my gratitude. He had sacrificed so much for us, for the chance to love openly and without shame. Coming out to the people he lived and breathed alongside, baring his truth to a room full of potential judgment, required a courage I could barely fathom. Though I didn’t want to dwell on what they might think or say, I knew their opinions could be harsh. I wasn’t sure I was ready to hear them, and yet, here we were—together, and that was all that mattered.

The faint hum of music drifted from the kitchen, where Zara stood by the sink. It was still early; the rest of the house seemed to be asleep. She turned at the sound of my footsteps, her face lighting up with a radiant smile.

“Good morning, Jungkook,” she greeted cheerfully.

“Morning,” I replied, stepping closer.

“How are you?” she asked, drying her hands on a tea towel.

“I’m good,” I said, glancing toward the fridge. “I was thinking of cooking something for Taehyung. But then it hit me—I don’t actually know how to cook.” A sheepish laugh escaped me as I scratched the back of my head.

Zara’s grin widened. “Good thing I did a big shop yesterday,” she teased, opening the fridge to reveal its well-stocked contents.

My eyes lit up. “What should I make?”

She tilted her head thoughtfully. “Taehyung’s a sucker for waffles. Don’t ask me why—I’m more of a pancake girl myself, but hey, to each their own.”

“Waffles,” I echoed, the word foreign yet intriguing.

She nodded. “We even have a waffle maker. He loves them that much, though I doubt he’s used it in years.”

Following her direction, I retrieved the neglected waffle maker from a low cupboard, its lid coated in dust. As I wiped it clean, Zara began gathering ingredients with the efficiency of someone who practically lived in the kitchen.

“What kind of toppings does he like?” I asked, watching her weigh out flour and sugar.

“Banana and honey,” she answered without hesitation.

With her guidance, I followed her instructions, clumsily assisting wherever I could. The sizzle of batter hitting the hot iron filled the room, and Zara set bananas and a jar of honey in front of me.

“Do you like cooking?” I asked, curious as I peeled a banana.

“Oh, definitely,” she replied, her enthusiasm evident. “I love food. I usually cook for everyone here, but I don’t mind. It’s fun.”

“What’s your favourite thing to cook?”

She hummed, deep in thought. “Mexican food, hands down. Burritos, nachos, fajitas—I love all of it!”

I smiled. “I’ve never had Mexican food before,” I admitted.

Her jaw dropped. “What? That’s unacceptable. Next time you stay over, I’m making you my infamous Mexican dinner. Deal?”

“Deal,” I chuckled, looping my fingers together.

Her eyes softened as she watched me, but her sudden gasp broke the moment. “The waffles!”

She quickly fumbled with the machine, pulling out the golden waffles just before they burned. “Here,” she said, placing them on a plate.

I carefully sliced the bananas and drizzled honey over the waffles, creating a dish that looked as delicious as it smelled. Zara busied herself preparing more, our chatter filling the room. She had an easy warmth about her, the kind of person you couldn’t help but feel at ease with.

The hairs on my arms prickled as I sensed someone enter the room. Turning, I locked eyes with Taehyung, his bright green gaze fixed on me, a lazy smile tugging at his lips.

“Hey, Taehyung,” Zara greeted brightly.

“Hey,” he replied, his focus never leaving me.

“I’ll leave you two to it,” Zara whispered, grabbing her plates and slipping out with a mischievous grin.

Taehyung raised an eyebrow, surveying the chaos we’d made. “What’s all this?”

“I made you breakfast,” I said, smiling innocently as I intertwined my fingers nervously.

“You made me breakfast?” he repeated, stepping closer.

“Well, Zara helped. I’m not exactly a culinary genius.”

He grinned, his eyes softening as they flicked to the plate. “Waffles?”

“Your favourite,” I said quietly, feeling suddenly self-conscious under his gaze.

He chuckled, the sound warm and affectionate. “Come here,” he murmured, beckoning me closer.

I hesitated, my heart thundering in my chest. “Wh-what?”

“Come. Here,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

My feet carried me to him as if on autopilot. His hand found mine, pulling me into his embrace. The warmth of his chest enveloped me, and I melted into him as he sighed contentedly against my neck. “Thank you for breakfast,” he whispered, his lips brushing over the mark he’d left on me the night before.

My body shuddered, every nerve alight. But then he pulled back, his brow arching sternly. “Next time, don’t leave me to wake up alone,” he said, his voice soft yet commanding.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured. “I just wanted to do something nice for you.”

He cupped my face, his thumb brushing over my cheek. “I know, pup. But all I wanted this morning was to hold you.”

My heart swelled as I smiled up at him. “You’re too soft,” I teased.

“Only for you,” he replied, sealing his words with a kiss.

. . .

Taehyung drives us back to the pack house, the silence inside unnerving yet oddly comforting. The stillness suggested everyone was likely out training, leaving the house eerily quiet.

As we enter the kitchen, I head straight to the sink, filling a glass with water. The coolness of the glass grounds me as I feel Taehyung’s presence trailing behind me. Without a word, he follows me up to my room.

Once inside, I make my way to the bedside table, opening the drawer to retrieve my medication. With practised precision, I pop a pill into my hand and throw it into my mouth, chasing it with the water. The familiar bitterness fades as the liquid rushes down my throat.

Behind me, Taehyung wastes no time making himself comfortable. His shoes are kicked off haphazardly, his jacket shrugged off with the ease of familiarity. He slides under the duvet, the casual invitation in his eyes and the subtle pat on the bed beckoning me to join him.

I slip off my shoes, the cold sheets biting against my skin as I slide in beside him.

“How are the tablets treating you?” he asks softly, his voice carrying that unique mix of care and concern. His arm wraps around me, protective and firm, while his other hand gently brushes the curls away from my eyes.

“They’re numbing me, that’s for sure,” I reply, nodding slightly as I tilt my head up to meet his gaze, my lips almost brushing against the sharp line of his chin.

His brow furrows slightly. “Have you had any dark thoughts?” he asks, the question is careful yet heavy.

I hesitate, letting the silence linger for a moment before shaking my head. “Not really,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

A quiet sigh escapes him, the tension leaving his body as he holds me tighter, his lips pressing gently to my forehead. “I’m glad,” he murmurs. “But listen, if things ever get tough again, you need to tell me. I want to know everything—no matter how small or dark it might seem. Don’t keep it to yourself.”

His words carry a weight that settles deep in my chest, and I feel the sting of unshed tears. I blink rapidly, willing them away. “Okay,” I manage to reply. The lump in my throat grows as I force myself to continue. “I’m sorry for how I acted last week. I know my body’s been adjusting to the medication, and the side effects were nasty. I know that’s not an excuse for what I said or how I acted. I wasn’t giving up on us, Tae—I was giving up on myself. You’ve been so patient, adjusting to my world and everything I come with. I should’ve been more understanding of you.”

His expression shifts, an unreadable mix of emotions flickering across his face. His brows crease as if searching for the right words. When he finally speaks, his voice is steady but warm. “You don’t need to give up on yourself, pups. You tried to understand what I like, and it just wasn’t for you. There’s nothing wrong with that—absolutely nothing. Stop punishing yourself over it.” His thumb brushes tenderly against the skin near my ear, his touch of silent reassurance.

I let out a small huff, my forehead resting against his chest as the weight of everything presses down. “I just hope this medication helps level me out. I’m so tired of being all over the place, Tae. I just want to feel like myself again—the normal me.”

His arms tighten around me, his hand rubbing soothingly up and down my back. “We’ll get there, baby,” he whispers, his voice a promise that anchors me. “We’ll get there.”

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