Chapter 63: Between Firelight and Flashbulbs
The next morning arrived wrapped in a golden haze. The
mansion, which once felt too quiet, too expansive for hearts that had never
known true warmth, now breathed with the gentle rhythm of something
steady—something real.
But outside their sanctuary, the world spun faster.
News outlets were running special segments on ‘Koo.’
Headlines blurred from praise to speculation. Some hailed him as a prodigy, a
reclusive genius whose anonymity elevated the mystique of his work. Others
questioned why such a talent remained hidden for so long. Everyone wanted to
know: Who is he? Where has he been? Who is he with?
And most dangerously: Why does he matter so much to two of
Korea’s most powerful men?
The photos, though scrubbed from official sites, were
already screenshotted and reposted across forums, tweet threads, and gossip
blogs. New edits surfaced—Jungkook’s face beside V’s from a silent gala, next
to Taehyung from a shadowy corridor, composite images pieced together by
obsessed netizens who didn’t know how close they were to the truth.
V stood in the drawing room that morning, the tall windows
draped in shadow despite the sun. He was dressed sharply today—a rare charcoal
three-piece suit, shirt unbuttoned at the collar, his aura back to the crisp
steel edge of his corporate presence. But something beneath it trembled.
Taehyung joined him, holding two mugs of espresso.
He passed one silently and leaned beside him on the same
wall, eyes fixed out the window.
“He’s still sleeping,” Taehyung said after a long moment.
“He didn’t want to face the world today.”
V’s jaw ticked slightly. “The world doesn’t deserve him.”
“No,” Taehyung agreed. “But he’s not the boy we met months
ago. He’s stronger now. We made him stronger.”
V took a slow sip, voice softer. “He made us softer.”
That was the truth neither of them dared speak aloud before
now.
In the bedroom, Jungkook stirred.
He wasn’t in little space this morning—no traces of the
mischievous child-like pouts or high-pitched giggles. Instead, he was quiet,
legs tucked beneath the blanket, eyes scanning his phone slowly. He didn’t
flinch at the photos anymore. He’d seen them enough times. Studied every angle,
as if memorizing the way the world now saw him.
He tapped open a message thread.
It was from Niki.
Koo, I just got off a call with the gallery director. Your
paintings have a four-month waiting list for viewing now. Collectors are
offering millions per piece. They’re comparing you to Dali and Van Gogh in some
reviews.
People are stunned. And the art world doesn’t want to let
you go.
He stared at the screen for a long time.
Then he smiled.
A small, secret smile that even he didn’t fully understand.
The twins returned mid-morning to find him in the garden.
He was dressed in one of V’s soft wool sweaters, far too
large for his frame, and barefoot on the stone steps near the koi pond. The sky
above was bright and clear, clouds thin like stretched silk. He looked like a
secret that had just been kissed by sunlight.
Taehyung approached first.
“You ran away.”
Jungkook didn’t turn. “I needed to see something alive.”
V stepped beside his brother, hands tucked in his pockets.
“And?”
Jungkook looked at them over his shoulder, a glimmer in his
eyes neither of them had seen since the exhibition.
“I think I want to show the world something beautiful. On my
terms this time.”
That same afternoon, their estate publicist arrived.
A carefully selected woman, discrete and loyal. She sat in
the conference room with all three of them and outlined their options. They could
ignore the leak, wait for it to die down. Or—take control of the narrative.
Release a carefully curated statement. Perhaps even a public appearance.
“But it would have to be subtle,” she said gently, glancing
at Jungkook. “Just enough to confirm your name. Maybe an art-focused interview.
We won’t bring your personal life into it unless you choose to.”
Taehyung’s gaze flicked to Jungkook. “Do you want that?”
Jungkook was silent.
Then he asked, “What if I did something bigger?”
The publicist blinked. “Like what?”
Jungkook’s voice was calm, but unwavering. “A public
exhibition. A solo show. But not behind curtains or at night. Broad daylight.
Fully visible. I’ll walk through it. I’ll talk about the pieces. I’ll let them
see me.”
The silence that followed was sharp.
Then Taehyung’s mouth curled slowly. “You’re really going to
burn the world down, aren’t you?”
Jungkook smiled. “Not burn it. Just… paint it over.”
That evening, something shifted in their dynamic again.
It was subtle, almost imperceptible.
Jungkook returned to his studio for the first time in two
weeks. He pulled out a new canvas, laid it against the far wall, and dipped his
brush into crimson. But instead of working alone, he called out softly to the
twins.
“Can you help me pick the next palette?”
They came.
Not as shadows, not as distant, protective forces.
But as men who adored him.
They sat on either side of him while he painted—occasionally
murmuring thoughts about color, texture, movement. And when his hand stilled
for too long, one of them would gently guide his fingers again.
Their bodies brushed more often now. Their gazes lingered.
And when Jungkook laughed—really laughed—it wasn’t soft or shy.
It was bright.
Untamed.
Alive.
Later that night, they didn’t sleep in separate corners of
the bed.
They tangled.
Jungkook lay between them, his thigh draped over Taehyung’s
waist, his fingers buried in V’s hair. Their kisses were slow, pressing into
skin like silent promises.
Taehyung nipped at Jungkook’s jaw, dragging his lips toward
his collarbone.
“You’re everything,” he whispered.
V’s hands slipped beneath Jungkook’s sweater, splaying
across his bare back. “And you’re ours.”
The room filled with soft moans, shifting sheets, and
breathless gasps that never escalated beyond the edge of purity—but still
burned like sin.
And when they finally stilled, sweaty and tangled in one
another’s limbs, Jungkook whispered into the dark:
“I think I’m ready.”
“For what?” V murmured.
“To show the world,” Jungkook said, eyes fluttering closed,
“what love looks like.”
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