💜 Dear Readers 💜 Welcome to my very first short novel on NovelToon! I hope you'll enjoy reading this story and give it lots of love and support. This is a Taekook (BTS) fan fiction created purely from my imagination. I do not claim anything related to the real lives or personalities of the artists. I deeply respect and love BTS with all my heart. This is a Boys' Love (BL) story. If BL isn't your preference, you are free to leave—no hard feelings. Please be respectful. What you can expect: ♡ Happy Ending Only ♡ No Cheating ♡ No Mistreatment Between the Main Leads ♡ Taekook (Taehyung × Jungkook) Only ♡ Other BTS Members Are Present, But They Have No Romantic Pairings ♡ Boy × Boy Love ♡ Brat Jungkook 🐰 ♡ Taehyung Who Is Completely Head Over Heels in Love 🐻 ♡ Fluff, Romance, Longing, Emotions & Lots of Happiness ♡ Slow-Burn Romance ♡ Jungkook's Ignorance Leads Taehyung to Teach Him a Lesson ♡ No Self-Harm ♡ No Rape ♡ Bottom Koo × Top Tae Please remember: - Hurtful or inappropriate comments will be deleted. - English is not my first language, so I hope you'll understand any mistakes. - Please do not copy or repost my story on any platform or translate it into another language. I'm a new writer, and this is my very first short novel. Please wish me luck, and don't forget to support the story with your likes, comments, and votes if you enjoy it. Thank you for giving my story a chance. Love you all! 💜

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BTS💜✨

Taehyung 🐯

30 years old. The visual and lead dancer of TEMPEST, and the newly-named ambassador for Maison Delacroix. Calm where Jungkook is chaotic, patient where Jungkook is stubborn but don't mistake it for a lack of fire. He notices everything the flicker in Jungkook's expression before he hides it, the difference between "I'm fine" and I'm fine. Fiercely protective, quietly romantic, and hopeless at building blanket forts no matter how many times he insists otherwise.

Jungkook 🐰

28 years old TEMPEST's maknae and main vocalist, known to fans (and to Taehyung) as "bunny." Warm, a little dramatic, allergic to admitting he's upset until it's already spilling out of him. Loves fiercely, sulks spectacularly, and has never once won an argument with Taehyung though he'll insist otherwise. Underneath the brat-maknae bravado is someone who just wants to be chosen, every single day, even when he's bad at asking for it.

Three Days Too Long Three days. Such a little number, Yet it stretches like an endless sky When you're the one I ache to hold. Morning finds me reaching For the warmth that isn't there, My hands remembering your heartbeat Better than they remember their own. The distance is only miles, But my soul counts it In unanswered hugs, In unsaid "I love yous," In kisses waiting patiently For the day you come home. I know you're chasing dreams, Working hard for the life We're building together, And that thought makes missing you A little sweeter, Even when it still hurts. Every sunset whispers your name, Every star reminds me That somewhere beneath this same sky, You're thinking of me too. Three days will pass. The clock will grow tired, The road will finally lead you back, And I'll forget every lonely moment The instant I see your smile. Until then, Carry my heart with you, As I carry yours with me. No distance can weaken A love that has already learned To bloom across miles. So come back soon, my love. My arms are counting the hours, My heart is counting the seconds, And every beat is softly saying. "Three days without you are three days too long."

Episode 1

The Morning Before..... The apartment smelled like burnt toast and coffee, which was, in Jungkook's opinion, the smell of a perfect morning.

Taehyung walked further into the kitchen, took the spoon out of Jungkook's hand with the ease of someone who had done this exact motion four hundred times before and set it in the sink.

Jungkook stopped, suddenly shy in the way he still sometimes got, even after two years, even after all the mornings just like this one.

Taehyung's expression softened instantly, the teasing edge melting off his face the way it always did when Jungkook said something like that half joking, half not, like he was testing whether the sentence would hold weight if he said it out loud. Taehyung crossed the last two steps between them and pulled Jungkook in by the waist, resting his chin on top of the younger man's head.

Jungkook pulled back just enough to look up at him, eyes crinkling into the smile that had, over the years, become something of a company asset, Jungkook's smile sold out photocards faster than anything else the group put out, and Taehyung privately thought it was because nobody could look at it and not smile back. He certainly couldn't. He never had been able to.

Taehyung laughed, a real laugh, the kind that came from low in his chest and made the corners of his eyes crease and swatted Jungkook lightly with the dish towel before dropping two new slices of bread into the toaster and, this time, standing guard over it himself.

This was their morning. Had been their morning, in one form or another, for two years now since the world had found out about them in the messiest, most chaotic way possible (a blurry photo, a fan site account, forty-eight hours of silence from the company while the internet combusted) and then, against every prediction, had mostly just... accepted it.

Loved it, even, in the way fans loved things they'd wanted without knowing they wanted them. TEMPEST hadn't disbanded. The sky hadn't fallen. Jungkook and Taehyung had just kept being Jungkook and Taehyung, a little more carefully in public and exactly the same in private, which was to say: ridiculous, soft, and constantly bickering over nothing. Today was supposed to be one of the good days. A rare stretch of nothing on the schedule no fan meetings, no music show recordings, no interviews where Jungkook had to sit two feet away from Taehyung and pretend his knee wasn't pressed against Taehyung's under the table.

Just a day off, together, in an apartment that still had unpacked boxes from the move eight months ago because neither of them could be bothered to deal with anything that wasn't immediately in front of them. Jungkook had plans. Elaborate, entirely unnecessary plans involving a blanket fort, all four seasons of a drama Taehyung claimed to hate but somehow already knew the names of every character in, and a truly unreasonable amount of the spicy tteokbokki from the place two streets over that Taehyung pretended to like every time just so Jungkook would eat more of it.

He was halfway through explaining the blanket fort's structural design.

Jungkook watched him glance at it. Watched the small, specific shift in Taehyung's face not bad news, not exactly, but something that made Jungkook's stomach do a slow, uneasy turn before Taehyung had said a single word.

Jungkook didn't say anything at first.

Jungkook set the knife down, but he didn't turn around right away. When he finally did, his jaw was tight in a way that had nothing to do with anger and everything to do with trying not to look upset over something he'd decided, somewhere in the last thirty seconds, that he wasn't allowed to be upset about.

Despite himself, despite the tightness still sitting in his chest, Jungkook felt his mouth twitch. Taehyung saw it of course he saw it, Taehyung saw everything, had made a full-time hobby out of cataloging every micro-expression Jungkook's face had ever produced and pressed his advantage immediately, leaning down to press their foreheads together.

Jungkook laughed a small, reluctant huff of air and some tightness in his chest eased, just slightly, just enough. But underneath it, a smaller, meaner voice was already starting up: three days is still three days. A week is still cut down to four. You're still going to be alone in this apartment while he's somewhere else, being looked at by everyone, being wanted by everyone, and there's nothing you can do about any of it. He didn't say that part out loud. He wasn't proud of the fact that the voice was there at all.

Jungkook agreed. They spent the better part of the afternoon dragging every cushion and blanket in the apartment into the living room, engineering something that was, against both their expectations, remarkably stable, and it should have been enough. But there was a difference between the version of Jungkook that agreed out loud and the version that actually let go of the disappointment sitting low in his stomach, and by the time evening rolled around and Taehyung started pulling his suitcase out of the closet, that second version had crawled its way fully to the surface.

Jungkook opened his mouth to argue and then, infuriatingly, found he didn't have anything to say, because Taehyung wasn't wrong, and being told you weren't wrong when you wanted very badly to be the injured party was one of the most annoying feelings in the world. So instead of admitting that, Jungkook did what he always did when he ran out of good arguments: he got quiet, and mean, in the specific way that only worked on people who loved him.

But Jungkook was already in the hallway, and if he heard the second, softer Jungkookie that came after him, he didn't let it show.

The photoshoot that afternoon was for TEMPEST's spring campaign with the group's newest brand partner nothing like the solo Chanel work, but demanding in its own way, four members packed into a studio with three costume changes and a schedule that ran on borrowed time. If anything, Jungkook threw himself into it harder than usual, like he could out-perform the knot in his chest if he just posed convincingly enough.

Between setups, Jin found him sitting alone in the corner of the studio, methodically destroying a paper cup of coffee he wasn't drinking.

In front of the camera, Jungkook was, by any external measure, perfect. His angles were clean, his expressions sharp, that smile the one everyone loved appeared exactly where the photographer called for it. But Taehyung, waiting his turn at the edge of the set, could see the difference underneath the performance, the way Jungkook's eyes swept past him between shots without quite landing, the careful, deliberate way he angled himself toward the crew and away from wherever Taehyung stood.

It went on the entire shoot. Jungkook joked easily with the stylists. Jungkook laughed at something the photographer's assistant said during a lighting change. Jungkook did not, not once, look directly at Taehyung, and when Taehyung tried to catch his eye during the final group shot, Jungkook turned his head at exactly the right moment to be looking at literally anyone else. It wasn't dramatic. It wasn't a scene. It was just absence, precise and total, and somehow that was worse than shouting would have been. By the time they wrapped and headed back to the dressing room, Taehyung's patience already worn down from the afternoon had thinned to something brittle.

Taehyung stood there for a long moment, jaw tight, feeling the specific helplessness of loving someone who had decided, however briefly, that the safest thing to do with hurt feelings was to weaponize silence. In the end, he let him go, because Hoseok appeared at his elbow with the van keys and an apologetic wince, and the day simply kept moving whether either of them were ready for it to or not.

The apartment, when they finally got back to it a little before ten, was quiet in a way that felt loud. Jungkook had showered and changed and was sitting on the couch scrolling through his phone with a focus that was clearly performative when Taehyung came out of the bedroom, suitcase in hand, dressed for the flight. He paused in the living room doorway, looking at Jungkook, and Jungkook looked back at him for exactly one second before his eyes dropped back to the phone screen.

Jungkook's jaw worked, something complicated moving behind his eyes stubbornness fighting against the part of him that already, quietly, regretted the entire evening.

They sat like that for a moment, holding each other closer, their foreheads nearly touching, the tension of the whole day finally starting to dissolve into something softer, something closer to the way they usually were together. But it wasn't fully gone Jungkook was still curled slightly into himself, still not quite meeting Taehyung's eyes for more than a few seconds at a time, the exhaustion of the day and the ache of the coming absence sitting heavy on both of them.

Jungkook did, trailing after him into their bedroom and curling up against the headboard while Taehyung did one last check of his bag passport, phone charger, the boarding pass already saved twice over out of habit. But the day had caught up with Jungkook faster than either of them expected; barely five minutes in, his eyes had gone heavy, his head tipping sideways against Taehyung's shoulder, the adrenaline and hurt feelings of the whole day finally, completely spent.

But by the time Taehyung finished tucking the blanket properly around him, Jungkook's hand had gone slack against the sheets, his breathing evened out into something slow and deep, worn thin by the day, curled around Taehyung's pillow like he already knew he'd need something to hold onto. He hadn't quite made it to the end of the conversation awake at all. Taehyung was long moment, watching him breathe, memorizing the soft, unguarded look of his face now that the stubbornness of the day had drained out of him entirely. Taehyung thought, checking his watch. Jungkook not going to wake up to say goodbye. He thought about waking him. He thought about it seriously, for almost a full minute, hand hovering near Jungkook's shoulder. In the end, he let him sleep, and reached out and cupped his jaw, thumb brushing gently along Jungkook's cheekbone, and then leaned in not for his mouth, but for his forehead, pressing a long, lingering kiss there, the way he did on the nights when words felt insufficient for whatever.

Then he picked up his suitcase to leave for the airport with his manager and bodyguards. But neither of them yet aware of just how much that quiet, one-sided goodbye was going to weigh on both of them over the next three days.

To be continued.......

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