Chapter Text
The rest of the weekend passed in a soft, perfect blur.
They spent most of it at Taehyung’s apartment—curled in the bed, cooking lazy breakfasts, watching movies they barely paid attention to, talking about everything and nothing.
Sometimes they ventured outside—short walks hand in hand, stopping at a small café where Jungkook insisted on paying, or just sitting on a bench watching people go by, shoulders pressed together, fingers laced.
***
But Monday arrived, and with it, dance class.
Taehyung walked into the studio with quiet determination. He had a plan. He would propose private rehearsals, offer to film everything, anything to keep Jungkook in the course.
He refused to dance with anyone else. Refused to let Jungkook lose the one place where he’d finally started to shine.
To his surprise, the professor called him over before class even began.
“I spoke with the dean of the arts department,” she said, voice calm but firm. “He refuses to exclude Jungkook solely because of his scent. But he also can’t allow him to remain in a class surrounded by Omegas when his presence is this… distracting.”
Taehyung’s jaw tightened. “So what now?”
“You’ll train outside of class hours. Send me weekly videos of your full sessions—warm-ups, choreography, everything. I’ll review them and give feedback. I’ll also schedule a few in-person evaluations—just the two of you—so I can see your progress live. But you must be serious about rehearsals.”
Taehyung exhaled slowly, relief mixing with stubborn pride. “We’ll be graded the same as the others? No special treatment, right ?”
“Exactly the same. But you’ll need to be disciplined. No skipping sessions, no half-efforts.”
Taehyung nodded. “Thank you. Jungkook thanks you too.”
He stepped back into the hallway where Jungkook waited—pacing slightly, shoulders tense, eyes flicking nervously toward the studio door every time an Omega passed.
Taehyung smiled, reaching for his hand. “It’s okay. The dean stepped in. You’re not excluded.”
Jungkook’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“You train with me privately. We film everything—warm-ups, choreo, all of it—and send it to her. She’ll grade us the same as the others. She’ll call us in sometimes to check in person. But we keep going. Together.”
Jungkook let out a shaky breath, shoulders dropping in visible relief. “Thank you… for fighting for me. If you hadn’t refused to change partners, I would’ve had to drop the class completely.”
Taehyung squeezed his hand, teasing but soft. “I didn’t do it just for you, Jungkookie. Those idiots can’t dance. I want the best grade. The absolute best.”
Jungkook laughed, the sound making Taehyung’s chest warm. Then Jungkook’s expression turned shy again. He glanced around the hallway—students passing, voices echoing—and lowered his voice.
“Can we… be together here? Like… openly? Or is it too soon?”
Taehyung melted. Jungkook was so earnest, so careful, so afraid of overstepping—and yet brave enough to ask.
He didn’t answer with words.
Instead, he cupped Jungkook’s face with both hands, leaned in, and kissed him, right there in the middle of the main corridor.
Jungkook froze for half a second, then sighed into the kiss, hands settling on Taehyung’s waist like they belonged there. Students turned. Whispers started. Someone let out a soft “Oh…” from nearby.
Taehyung didn’t care.
He kissed Jungkook like he was claiming him in front of the entire university—because he was.
When they parted, Taehyung rested their foreheads together, smiling against Jungkook’s lips.
“We’re together,” he whispered. “And I’m proud of it. Let them look.”
Jungkook’s eyes shimmered—happy, overwhelmed, a little dazed.
“Okay,” he breathed.
Taehyung took his hand again, lacing their fingers tightly.
***
They had two hours set aside for training.
Jungkook suggested going to his place—he had an entire empty room dedicated to dance, cleared out just for that purpose.
Taehyung blinked in surprise when he heard it. It wasn’t something he’d expected from Jungkook, but the idea felt right.
Once they arrived, Jungkook gave him a quick tour of the apartment—spacious but modest, simple furniture, soft lighting, a few framed photos and dance posters on the walls. Taehyung noticed immediately,Jungkook’s scent was everywhere.
At first it was almost overwhelming, wrapped around Taehyung’s senses, soothing his wolf instantly. This was Jungkook’s territory, and being inside it felt like being claimed without a single word.
They set up the camera in the empty dance room—bare walls, polished floor, mirrors lining one side.
They warmed up slowly, filming every stretch, every roll of the shoulders. Taehyung kept stealing glances at Jungkook in the mirror, the way his muscles shifted under his shirt, the focused furrow of his brow, the quiet grace in every movement. It still stunned him sometimes—how someone so shy could move with such power when music played.
Once warm, they moved to the exercise the professor had assigned, advanced lifts.
Difficult ones.
Risky if the base wasn’t solid or the flyer wasn’t perfectly balanced. The kind of holds that demanded complete trust.
Jungkook eyed the sequence on his phone, worry creasing his forehead.
“You sure we can do this?”
Taehyung rolled his shoulders, already stepping into position. “Mhm. Lift me and I’ll handle the rest.”
The first few attempts were… rough.
Jungkook’s grip hesitated—too careful, afraid of hurting Taehyung, afraid of dropping him. His hands shook slightly on Taehyung’s waist, then on his thighs as he tried to hoist him into the high extension.
Taehyung wobbled mid-air, legs extended beautifully but balanced off by a fraction. They aborted the hold each time, Jungkook lowering him quickly, apologizing under his breath.
After the tenth failed try, Taehyung let out a frustrated huff and dropped back to the floor, hands on his hips.
“Fuck, this is getting on my nerves. It’s not that complicated…”
Jungkook frowned, wiping sweat from his brow.
“Maybe I should try lifting you differently at the start? Different grip, different angle?”
They experimented. Taehyung in a low dip first, then swinging up. Jungkook from behind, from the side. Nothing quite clicked. Each attempt ended in a near-fall or an early drop—Jungkook’s arms tiring, his confidence fraying.
On the final try, they almost had it.
Jungkook bent his knees, wrapped his arms under Taehyung’s thighs and around his back, and lifted—strong, steady at first. Taehyung arched, one leg shooting straight up in a perfect high extension, body curved in a dramatic line, arms sweeping out like wings.
For two glorious seconds they held it.
Jungkook’s base solid, Taehyung balanced, the mirror reflecting the most breathtaking duet image.
Then Jungkook’s grip slipped—just a fraction, exhaustion creeping in after so many attempts.
Taehyung tipped forward, head-first toward the floor.
Jungkook reacted instantly—arms snapping tight, twisting his body to catch Taehyung against his chest instead of letting him fall. They stumbled backward together, Jungkook’s back hitting the mirrored wall with a soft thud.
Taehyung’s heart slammed against his ribs, breath knocked out of him, but he was safe—cradled against Jungkook’s body, legs still wrapped around his waist, Jungkook’s arms locked like iron bands around him.
For a long second, neither moved.
Jungkook’s face was pale with panic, eyes wide and frantic. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you? Taehyung—”
Taehyung exhaled shakily, hands coming up to cup Jungkook’s face. “I’m fine. You caught me.”
Jungkook’s breath hitched. He didn’t let go—couldn’t. His grip stayed tight, protective, as if letting go might let Taehyung fall all over again.
“I’m so sorry. I got tired, I— I should’ve stopped earlier—”
Taehyung pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him. “Hey. You caught me. That’s what matters.”
Jungkook’s eyes shimmered—relief, guilt, something deeper. “I never want to drop you again... Never.”
Taehyung smiled softly, thumb brushing over Jungkook’s cheekbone. “You won’t.”
He leaned in and kissed him—slow, reassuring, tasting the salt of sweat and the faint sweetness of relief.
Jungkook kissed back with desperate tenderness, arms still locked around Taehyung like he was the most precious thing in the world.
When they parted, Taehyung rested his forehead against Jungkook’s, still held aloft in his arms.
“Let’s film it again tomorrow,” he whispered. “We almost had it. We’ll get it perfect.”
***
After the training session, Jungkook headed straight for the shower while Taehyung made his way home to do the same.
The hot water helped ease the lingering tension in his muscles, but it couldn’t wash away the knot of frustration still sitting heavy in his chest.
He hadn’t been afraid of falling—not really.
Jungkook had caught him every single time, strong and steady even when exhaustion made his grip falter.
No, what bothered Taehyung was the failure itself. The pose had refused to click, no matter how many attempts they made. Dance had always been the one place where he refused to accept anything less than excellence, and today… they hadn’t gotten there.
Still, he trusted Jungkook completely. He knew—deep in his bones—that Jungkook would never let him fall. And that trust was more important than any perfect hold.
The professor had sent them the next set of lifts to prepare for the week, and Taehyung had glanced at the list on his phone during the walk home.
They were worse. Much worse.
Higher extensions, more precarious balances, transitions that demanded flawless timing and absolute faith in your partner. He swallowed. They would get it. They had to.
He was still toweling off his hair when his phone buzzed on the counter. The caller ID made him smile despite everything.
“Jin? Everything okay?”
“Hey, little brother,” came Jin’s warm, teasing voice. “I’m calling to check on you. You didn’t even text me after your first week at the new university! What kind of sibling are you?”
Taehyung laughed softly, leaning against the sink. “Oh, uh… everything’s good. Classes are cool.”
“You’ve made friends?”
Taehyung hesitated. He couldn’t tell Jin about Jungkook. Not yet. Jin was fiercely protective—loving, but overbearing.
The moment he heard there was an Alpha in Taehyung’s life, he’d show up unannounced, scent the apartment like a bloodhound, interrogate Jungkook, and give his official “approval” (or disapproval) with dramatic flair. Taehyung wasn’t ready for that circus.
“Mhm. But I still see Jimin and Namjoon a lot, you know…”
“Good. That’s good.” Jin sounded relieved. “So when are you inviting me over? I haven’t even seen your new apartment yet.”
“Come whenever you want, Jin. Just… let me know ahead of time. I might be in class.”
Or with Jungkook.
“No problem. I’ll come with Minyu—he’s been asking about you too.”
Taehyung smiled. “Mhm, no issue. You know I love your mate, hyung. Just… warn me, okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, kid. I’ll warn you. I got it.”
They talked for a few more minutes—Jin complaining about work, Taehyung dodging questions about boys with practiced ease—before hanging up with promises to see each other soon.
Taehyung stared at his reflection in the mirror for a long moment after the call ended.
He wasn’t hiding Jungkook because he was ashamed. Far from it. He was hiding him because Jungkook deserved to be introduced gently.
Carefully. When they were both ready.
He smiled at himself—small, soft, a little lovesick.
Soon.
Very soon.
He grabbed his phone and opened his messages to Jungkook.
- Hey Jungkookie. Training tomorrow at your place? Same time? I’m already looking forward to it :)
The reply came almost immediately, three little dots dancing before the text appeared.
- Yes please 🥹
Miss you already
Taehyung’s heart did that stupid flip again.
- Miss you more
See you tomorrow ♡
He set the phone down, still smiling, and headed to the bed—still carrying faint traces of Jungkook’s scent.
Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.
______________________________
Jungkook had been counting down the hours to their next training session.
The thought of Taehyung coming back to his apartment—stepping through the door, filling the space with that bright strawberry warmth—had kept him restless all day.
The previous night, after Taehyung left, Jungkook had lain in bed surrounded by the lingering traces of their mingled scents. It had been the best sleep he’d had in years in that apartment. But this morning that same apartment had felt too empty again.
Taehyung’s scent had faded from the air, from the pillows, from the blankets he’d dragged onto the couch just to feel closer to him. It left an ache Jungkook hadn’t expected.
They hadn’t seen each other all day.
Their schedules didn’t align—Taehyung had makeup classes to catch up on after his heat, and Jungkook had back-to-back lectures and a group critique.
By late afternoon, Jungkook was already home.
He’d finished early and spent the extra time tidying the dance room, setting up the camera tripod, and—on impulse—preparing a few snacks.
He arranged them neatly on the low table near the dance room door, heart beating a little too fast. He wanted Taehyung to feel welcomed. Maybe even sleep over again.
He checked his phone for the tenth time.
Taehyung’s last message was simple.
- On my way ♡ Be there in 15
Jungkook smiled at the little heart, thumb brushing over it like it was something precious.
Fifteen minutes later, the doorbell rang.
Jungkook opened the door so fast he almost tripped over his own feet.
Taehyung stood there—hair slightly messy from the wind, cheeks flushed from the walk, bag slung over one shoulder, eyes lighting up the second they met Jungkook’s.
“Hi,” Taehyung breathed, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.
“Hi,” Jungkook echoed, closing the door and immediately pulling Taehyung into a hug.
Taehyung laughed softly against his shoulder, arms wrapping around Jungkook’s waist. “Missed you.”
“Missed you more,” Jungkook murmured into his hair, inhaling deeply. Strawberry sweetness bloomed against his senses, chasing away the emptiness that had lingered all day. His wolf settled instantly.
Taehyung pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes soft. “You okay? You looked nervous in your last text.”
Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish. “Just… wanted today to go well. And I made snacks. If you’re hungry.”
Taehyung’s smile widened—slow, delighted. “You cooked for me again?”
“Not cooked. Just… prepared.” Jungkook gestured toward the table. “Come see.”
Taehyung followed him into the living room, eyes widening at the neat little spread. “Jungkookie…” he said, voice going soft and fond. “You’re spoiling me.”
Jungkook’s ears turned pink. “I just… wanted you to feel comfortable. And maybe stay longer?”
Taehyung stepped closer, sliding his arms around Jungkook’s waist again. “I was already planning to.”
They stood like that for a moment—foreheads touching, breathing each other in—before Taehyung pulled back with a small, teasing grin.
“Come on. Let’s warm up. Then we tackle that monster lift.”
Jungkook nodded, heart full and light at the same time.