Wildest Dreams | Taekook

Chapter- 32

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Jungkook’s lashes fluttered, wet with tears, barely parting to reveal his dazed, frightened eyes. His chest still rose and fell in sharp bursts, but Taehyung could feel the edge of the storm easing—slowly, tenderly—as their breaths moved in sync.

Taehyung didn’t speak. He didn’t dare break the fragile silence settling around them like a second skin. He only stayed there—one hand cradling the back of Jungkook’s head, the other smoothing through his damp hair, brushing sweat-soaked strands away from his forehead.

Their foreheads touched, breaths mingling in the cold night air. Taehyung exhaled slowly, deeply—like he was offering a part of himself. A rhythm, an anchor. And in return, Jungkook’s body, trembling but desperate for comfort, tried to follow. Shallow at first, hesitant. But then again—

Taehyung exhaled.

Jungkook inhaled.

A little steadier this time.

Again.

Taehyung exhaled.

Jungkook inhaled.

A beat. A pause. Then again.

And slowly, beautifully, like dusk turning into dawn, Jungkook’s sobs faded into quiet hiccups. His fingers curled into Taehyung’s sleeve—not gripping for defense, but for something safer, something warmer.

Taehyung didn’t ask him to speak. He knew Jungkook wouldn’t—not yet. Not when he was still holding together the pieces of a boy who had fallen apart in silence.

So he just held him. He let the moment stretch on, sacred and soft, while above them, the stars blinked quietly between the trees.

Whatever this was—fear, fragility, truth—it had cracked something open between them. And Taehyung knew, even if Jungkook couldn’t say it out loud yet, that something inside the younger was shifting.

After what felt like minutes suspended in fragile silence, Taehyung finally pulled his hand away from Jungkook’s cheek, slow and hesitant. The warmth of the boy’s skin lingered on his palm, but guilt had already started to creep into his chest like smoke. Maybe he needed to give Jungkook some space. Maybe he was the reason behind the sudden spiral. His breath hitched slightly as he lowered his hand, fingers trembling.

He was just about to lean back on the grass beside Jungkook, not wanting to crowd him any further, when a hand tugged weakly at his shirt.

Taehyung looked down, startled—but there Jungkook was, still pale, still shaking, his eyes swollen and red-rimmed, his nose slightly pink from the cold and the tears. But those eyes… they were looking right at him.

“I don’t think I should stay close to you for some time…” Taehyung whispered, his voice barely carrying. It wasn’t a threat or a punishment—it was the raw ache of guilt speaking.

But Jungkook let out a breath, shaky and uneven, and closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again. “It’s not you—your fault…” he murmured, voice thick.

Taehyung shook his head almost immediately, jaw tight. “Isn’t it? If I hadn’t gone that far… if I had just—held back—this wouldn’t have happened. Jungkook, I feel like I forced you—”

But before he could say another word, Jungkook’s hand slapped gently across his mouth.

“Shh,” the younger whispered, his voice sharp despite the shake in it. His eyes locked onto Taehyung’s with a fierce intensity that almost startled him. “It went far because I let it. Don’t you dare rewrite that.”