The walls of the palace, tall in excess and lacking in color, seem to exhale a melancholic breath of emptiness that both resonates with his own and asphyxiates him without mercy. No matter where Taehyung wanders to, he cannot escape this brutal dread that has originated in his heart, his poor lamenting heart that is sadly no longer an organ, but a monstrous phantom employed in eating at his mind.

Waking to find himself enveloped by the misery in which his soul is held captive seems to make time pass excruciatingly slow, and he is painfully aware of the three entire days that separate him from the most delightful moment of his whole existence. This is especially intricate to even think about, and though he does his best to avoid it, in the end he does brood, and he does mourn.

How fragile and fleeting the exuberances of mirth are! How careless and twisted the hand that holds the strings of fate! Life seems to him but a chaotic play with an amateur cast; all those fresh memories of what once felt so vivid have turned into nothing more than a dull illusion, or more accurately, a capricious dream he is forced to abandon.

Without him - without the vital certainty of ever seeing him again, Taehyung can scarcely function as efficiently as it is expected from someone of his rank. But in spite of being incessantly lured by a powerful desire to hide away in the confines of his room for an eternity, he believes staying in bed and drowning in floods of his own tears is the sort of luxury he cannot afford. The kitchens, his dreadful chores, and prince Jimin all await, quite impatiently, for him to attend to them.

Ah! the customs of a servant's life have never tasted so acidic, never felt so much disagreeable before. He had never complained nor rebelled against his duties, but now he feels the terrible itch to do both.

Nevertheless, he does neither, and the third day goes dreadfully on. There is a constant ache on the expanse of his lower back as he is on his knees, bent down and scrubbing the greasy floors of the main kitchen. It is a most arduous work, for he invests a great deal of valuable energy and effort into cleaning the floors, only to have them stepped on, over and over again, by the careless, dirty shoes of busy maids and impatient servants.

It cannot be helped, he thinks, sighing pitifully as he looks around the place. After all, it seems inevitable that his surroundings should be frantic with movement: the clock marks half-past seven in the afternoon, and dinner must be served in perfect condition and scrupulous punctuality.

To his ears come the clear sternness and authority of Seokjin's voice, who is spitting urgent commands to all and sundry, the shrill noise of a plate shattering into pieces as it hits the ground, and the cries of a woman complaining about her poor nerves. Taehyung remains unaffected by the chaos of it all, and continues invested in his task, that is, until some muffled sound - a man shouting, he presumes - can be heard outside.

Nobody but him seems to take notice. Surely it must be his own desperate fancy, but he is so badly shaken by the familiarity of the voice that he starts and abandons all the cleaning utensils to make a dash to the kitchen's back door.

The augmented proximity to the source certainly aids him in discerning what the man is shouting. His heart, until that moment a resemblance of all that is pitifully bland, seems to wake from its quiescence, and most vigorously begins to pump torrents of blood through his veins, making him flush with the rosy color of life again. Shaking, Taehyung opens the door and dares to step outside, eyes occupied in a frenetic search.

"Taehyung! Taehyung!", the man, back turned to him, continues shouting his name in a manner so agonizing that he resembles nothing but a helpless lunatic.

Perplexed by such unexpected discovery, Taehyung's eyes glisten with the promise of newborn tears, and before the man takes the chance to scream his name anew, he softly calls out for him. "Jungkook..."

When he turns around, Taehyung feels it. An instantaneous zap of energy feeds his starving soul at the time their gazes meet, and in less than what would be considered humanly possible, Jungkook runs to where he is barely standing, petrified and glassy-eyed.

"Dearest," whispers Jungkook, sounding almost tremulous. He is all labored breath and weightless elation, and his face appears to be painted with the dark hues of some vicious mixture in which distress is abundant. Then, he heaves a sigh of utter relief that seems to come from the very depths of his soul, and his hand comes up to tenderly cup the welcoming softness of Taehyung's left cheek. "These days I have been terribly wretched with a most poisonous fear, the fear of a possible tragedy, for my mind has been intent on torturing me with thoughts of something happening to you. But seeing you safe has healed me," he pauses to recover his breath, and slowly begins to look less like a madman. Taehyung, on his part, feels his throat tight and painful as if the barbarous hand of guilt were clasped around it. "You did not come to me, why?"

Jungkook’s expression is softened with the blessing of patience as he waits for an answer Taehyung cannot bring himself to verbalize. He fears he might cry out in agony right then, but as soon as Jungkook lightly brushes a trembling thumb over his cheekbone in a reassuring gesture, endless warmth distracts him from doing so. The light, innocent caress is enough to bring a natural sense of intimacy, and some delirious delight overcomes him for a moment too short before it morphs into something else: sudden trepidation.

"Oh, Jungkook, what are you doing?", he manages to say in a voice that is so low it is hardly audible, however, firm enough to convey the heaviness of his anxiety. There is a tremor on his lower lip, "This is madness, you cannot be here. How did you even walk past the guards?"

"That matters not now," Jungkook evades the inquiry in a hurried manner, and the warmth of his hand is soon gone from Taehyung's face. "Three days of absence, Taehyung! I could hardly stand my own existence the first, with even greater difficulty I went through the second, and I dare not confess to you what was the illness of my mind this morning. I wonder, what happened?” His eyebrows knit together, “Do you love me no longer?"

"Please," Taehyung cries, "do not doubt my sentiments, it is poison to my heart. You know I do. I believe it is only my love for you what keeps alive this little spark of hope within me.”

The apprehensive silence that ensues afterward turns every muscle of Taehyung's body rigid. Jungkook's countenance seems to shift between two great emotions, looking as if he means to come forward and kiss him, but never moving an inch.

"I must take you with me," he says so suddenly and with such rushed urgency that Taehyung cannot help staring at him like one would stare a man who'd truly gone mad. "You need not say a thing, dearest. I feel words are not really necessary between us, for just one glance at you tells me of the great misery you are so quietly, so bravely enduring. And I will not stand idly to witness your suffering any longer. Let us go now, Taehyung. Let us find happiness, together."

If only it were that simple, laments the defeated voice residing in his head. To be sure, there is the crawling sensation of tears beginning to form in his eyes, but Taehyung finds he cannot cry, not even when Jungkook wraps his arms around him and brings his stiff form into a tight, loving embrace that, despite being much pleasurable and wanted, it is not reciprocated.

Panic blinds him, and almost immediately, Taehyung reels away from him. His wide, tremulous eyes worriedly scan their surroundings for a few excruciating seconds in quest of any possible witness, before filling with the most vicious guilt as they return to the absolute pathos of Jungkook's face, obscured now by the unforgiving lines of sorrow.

"I am sorry," he croaks, "But I cannot go with you."

Looking absolutely lost after hearing such unexpected and disappointing response, Jungkook's mouth quivers in the midst of a diffuse fear, "What are you saying? Please, do not turn from me."

"I cannot turn from you, never," his tone falls into a pitiful whisper as he endeavors to keep himself from rushing to comfort him. Indeed, he cannot bear to see Jungkook suffer without being stirred by some irrational, strong desire to give him relief, and as he tears his gaze from that face he so much adores, an idea comes to his troubled mind. "Come with me. We must cease to speak here in the open, it is not safe."

Radiant and alive with revived hope, Jungkook nods and follows Taehyung, who at a brisk pace leads the way to a small storage door that is only ten feet from the main kitchen. Upon entering the dusty place loaded with too many used shelves and piled utensils, they are welcomed by the last timid rays of orange sunset that manage to filter through a lonely window, and the dim light makes it seem as if it is not dust but golden powder dancing around them. When Jungkook closes the door behind them, without delay his expectant, bright eyes are directed towards Taehyung's face, finding there an expression that is divided between distress and delight.

"He knows,” he announces in a tone that is decidedly heavy with the grim weight of grief and agitation. Striving not to mention the haunting details of what occurred that horrid night, he limits himself to utter these words: “The prince knows about us, and he does not approve. He wants us apart.”

Creases of mild annoyance appear on Jungkook's forehead. "How can that be? Everything was explained in the letter, and I recall writing quite an excellent apology at the end. Has he not read it?"

Taehyung shakes his head in bitter denial. "That night, in spite of my numerous attempts at persuading him, he did not consent to read your letter, and yesterday, he made me burn it. No, do not look so angry. We must not blame him without blaming ourselves first, Jungkook. I know him, and I believe he is in so great a heartbroken state that he cannot help doing and saying the most inappropriate of things," he lets out a hopeless sigh. Jungkook says not a word, and it is not until it becomes impossibly obvious that Taehyung notices the short gap originally set between them has closed. His train of thought inevitably begins to gravitate around how much he craves the proximity: for the dreadfully loaded storage room may be small, but he wishes it were smaller just so it would give him a reasonable excuse to press against him.

As Jungkook remains oddly silent, Taehyung becomes shy under his intense gaze, teeth digging into the plush flesh of his lower lip nervously. "I am not supposed to be here, speaking with you," he blurts out, "I do not want to think what would happen had anybody taken notice of us out there earlier, surely he would come to know-"

“What is his opinion to us, anyway?" Jungkook inquires, evident disregard for the prince present in the surly manner in which those words are uttered, so close to his mouth they must be breathing each other. When his lips curl into a faint smirk, Taehyung’s heart flitters much alike the little wings of a young bird. "Love is never a crime, Taehyung, which largely means that you shall never reserve yourself from speaking to me to your heart's content."

Wise words must they be, but he can hardly listen to them as his focus is on every movement of Jungkook's sensual mouth. He blushes madly in response to the shame he feels for thinking this way, but he cannot seem to stop himself from doing so.

Without him expecting it, a pair of hands grab onto each side of his waist, and he cannot help taking in a sharp inhale, the mere contact being almost too deliciously suffocating to be endured. He feels faint and overheated, and his hands seek to grip the edges of the shelf behind him for some kind of support.

Finally, and not without a great deal of effort, Taehyung succeeds in quitting his gaze from his lips, choosing to venture into the darkness of those eyes that burn him. "You know nothing of the precarious situation we are in, and yet, I cannot find it in me to explain it to you, for it is too painful to even think of. Jungkook,” he says in an almost pleading tone, “if you truly love me, you must consider leaving at once, before anybody learns you were here at all. I do not think I could bear to watch you being into punishment..."

"The only punishment I care about is being apart from you," Jungkook states, most fervently, an opinion that is in reality partly foolish. His face grows incandescent with an emotion stronger than him, and this time he does kiss Taehyung, who is too pleased to care about the little startled sound he makes. Their lips press together, swaying in the sweetest manner for a moment, a gentle display of a most intimate connection that is however cut short by the vibration of Jungkook's thrilling voice against the corner of Taehyung’s mouth. "How could you think I would leave without you, even if you asked me to?"

Taehyung abandons himself to the wave of joy that fills the air, and smiles dazzlingly at him. “I never thought you would,” he quietly admits, bringing his arms around Jungkook’s neck to pull him closer. For a moment they forget and lose themselves, going back and forth from speaking in hushed voices of their mutual adoration, to falling completely silent as they tenderly embrace each other.

“Taehyung,” Jungkook begins after leaving a feather-like kiss on his jaw, wishing to tackle the subject that floods Taehyung’s mind with so much uneasiness. "While it is true that I am ignorant of whatever the prince has said to you to make you so fearful of life, or in what twisted manner he has expressed his opinion for you to surrender to his every wish, I feel sure he can hold no real power over your freedom of choice,” he gives Taehyung a look that bleeds the highest determination and confidence, “And hard as he might try, he cannot force you away from me, for I shall never permit him to do so. I have decided to fight for you, whatever it costs me."

"I must say your recklessness both alarms and fascinates me,” he confesses, a bemused frown shadowing his features as he gently cradles Jungkook's head to the curve of his neck, threading long fingers through his hair. Jungkook only laughs lightly against the golden skin there, squeezing Taehyung tighter by the waist. "You are so much like a little boy,” he tells him, playful, unable to hide the fondness he feels. “For you, every danger resembles an idyll. I, however, am full of concern, for life is never quite as easy as one sometimes assumes it to be, Jungkook, and you seem to forget I am merely a servant. Whether I am free or not, it does not alter the fact that he does hold such power over me, and my wants can all but seem of little importance in comparison to his."

Abandoning the comfortable spot of his neck, Jungkook leans back to stare at him with an enigmatic glimmer covering his eyes. "Dearest, must we be tangled in such folly disagreement? You forget you are more than a servant. I look at you, and I see a beautiful young man with as many needs and desires as any prince may have, and with as much of a right to satisfy them. In that regard, there is no difference.” It is, by all means, undeniable that Jungkook’s argument has certainly gifted him with a new perspective, but Taehyung is too embarrassed to admit how wrong his senseless beliefs seem to him now, and believes it wiser not to make a comment on them. “Today, you can choose your own path; you can choose to come with me, that is, if being with me is what you wish.”

Dazed by the warm air that repeatedly fans over his mouth as Jungkook speaks in the most intelligible and alluring manner, Taehyung finds himself nodding stupidly, gazing at him through the sweep of his eyelashes. "I do. I have never wanted anything more than being with you."

What he says must have stirred something of a violent nature within Jungkook, for there is no such thing as a warning before he abruptly pushes Taehyung against the dusty shelf, making it rattle dangerously, and captures his parted lips in a desperate, almost bruising kiss. A whimper is all Taehyung manages to let out in response, hands blindly moving to grip the clothed flesh of Jungkook's shoulders, and he manages to kiss back with as much ferocity, fueled by an exquisite hunger forming at his core. When a slick tongue ventures into his mouth, Taehyung shudders and begins to move his own, tasting Jungkook and doing what he can to follow his feverish pace.

Glued by the mouth and breathing in the damp, heated air the other breathes out, they press against each other ceaselessly, swaying to a secret rhythm; both overcome with the intensity of an inner wilderness unlike they have never experienced before. Every kiss serves to ignite a new flame that cannot be appeased by the closeness of their clothed bodies, and it is not until this brief moment of singular clarity that the true definition of passion is revealed to them, for the more it seems to grow, the more it leaves them deliriously unsatisfied.

When they finally break apart, all glistening lips and flushed cheeks turned a youthful shade of crimson, they are at the same time robbed of breath and filled with glorious elation.

"Jungkook," Taehyung quietly gasps as if he means to tell a secret, effectively making Jungkook glance at him in fond curiosity. "I have come to realize that my heart is no longer mine," he announces, face exuberant with merry, "it is yours and yours only. Take it, for I feel it thunder and rage whenever it is far from its rightful owner."

A sincere smile graciously lights up all of Jungkook's features, "Your heart is yours, Taehyung, but I shall have no problem in relishing it as if it were mine." He then presses a tender kiss to his temple, "I want to take care of you. Will you believe me if I confess that my only sin is my mad desire to love and protect you?"

"Yes," he answers immediately, candid, "I trust you more than I do myself, but I think too much, and my mind is a prisoner of fear."

"If we are together, what is there to fear, angel?"

"Losing you," he replies, voice wavering, and Jungkook is quick to bring him comfort by gently holding his head to his firm chest. "I do not think I will have it in me to survive if they take you away from me," he continues muttering against the fabric of Jungkook's shirt, "They will come after us, I am sure, and I tremble with horror by merely imagining you hurt."

"Then, hand in hand, we shall run," Jungkook says softly, his nose buried at the top of Taehyung's fluffy hair. "We have already run together once, across the field and under merciless rain, we can do it again. Do you remember how you felt at the time?" Taehyung nods, and both of them chuckle at the memory. "I sure do, I felt as free as a child. I say, let them come after us, and we shall look back at them in triumph."

There is so much confidence in those imprudent words that Taehyung feels inclined to admit his own worries are completely unjustified. Unfortunately, the truth is they are absolutely justified. "I am fascinated by the way you succeed in making all that is complicated sound so simple."

"It is unnecessary worry what makes complicated all that is essentially simple," it's Jungkook's witty remark before he reels back, and offers him an open hand, grinning.

Taehyung knows it is time, but his eyes widen for an entirely different reason.

The violence of a dramatically loud thump assaults their ears as the storage room's door is flung open; two guards entering the cramped place at once, and half a dozen of them can be seen standing outside in a defensive position. Jungkook is dreadfully startled by the sudden noise for, unlike Taehyung, he did not witness the prelude of it, and turns around to face the door. Upon noticing the guards, Jungkook scowls and instinctively steps back, positioning himself to shelter Taehyung from any possible harm.

It all becomes a ghastly blur to Taehyung. He hears the numerous threats the guards spill at Jungkook, sees their menacing stares, but the scene feels much unreal. However, his hand reaches out to hold Jungkook's with a force he did not think he possessed, refusing to let go, and he cannot help uttering a debauched cry when a guard comes to grab Jungkook roughly by the arm.

Jungkook does not fight back, does not say a thing; he is not stupid, seems well aware that they are trapped and easily outnumbered. Instead, he only looks back at Taehyung, and his eyes resemble those of a caged beast, candent with a primal determination to be freed.

Another guard soon joins the first and successfully pries their joined hands, an act of shameful savagery to which Taehyung cries out in anger. He foolishly tries to get in between the guard and Jungkook, receiving a brutal push for his efforts at meddling, his back painfully crashing against the shelves. Squinting one eye through the pain, he is able to witness how the two guards struggle to manhandle Jungkook, who seems to be full of rage as he stubbornly manages to turn his head in an attempt to keep his eyes on Taehyung. Before they pass through the door, Jungkook seems to mouth at him something along the lines of I love you, and this assumption is the last string left to shatter Taehyung completely.

Devastated and forlorn, Taehyung sinks to his knees. He cries and cries until Seokjin finds him and embraces his fragile form. When he has finally calmed enough to walk out of the storage room, Namjoon rushes to join them, saying nothing of the illness of Taehyung's state, and informing that Jungkook has been taken to the dungeons.