Chapter 5: The Owner’s Touch

The coffee tasted like ash in my mouth, but I drank it.

I sat on the edge of the unmade bed, the tray balanced on my knees. Every swallow was a chore. I could feel Taehyung watching me from the armchair in the corner. He hadn't moved. He sat with his legs crossed, waiting with the patience of a spider.

When the cup was empty, he stood up.

"Finished?" he asked.

He didn't wait for an answer. He took the tray from my lap and set it aside. Then, he reached into the drawer of the bedside table and pulled out a white first-aid kit.

He placed it on the mattress next to me.

Click. The latches popped open.

Inside, everything was organized perfectly. Gauze, antiseptic, silver scissors, tapes.

"Take off the shirt," Taehyung ordered.

I hesitated. My hands hovered over the hem of the oversized silk shirt I was wearing.

"I can do it myself," I muttered. "I've taped my own ribs a hundred times."

"And look where that got you," Taehyung replied, his eyes dropping to my swollen side. "Broken and bleeding in a cage."

He stepped between my knees, invading my space again. He pushed my hands away effortlessly.

"Arms up."

I gritted my teeth and lifted my arms.

Taehyung gripped the hem of the shirt and pulled it up over my head. The movement stretched my bruised skin, and I couldn't help the sharp intake of breath.

Hiss.

"Quiet," Taehyung murmured.

He tossed the shirt onto the floor.

Now, I was bare from the waist up. The morning light from the window hit my skin, exposing every flaw. The purple-black bruise on my ribcage had spread overnight. It looked angry.

Taehyung didn't recoil. He leaned in closer.

He reached out and traced the outline of the bruise with his index finger. His touch was feather-light, almost a caress.

"Who did this?" he asked softly.

"The Butcher," I said, staring at the wall to avoid looking at him. "The guy I fought."

"He was sloppy," Taehyung critiqued, pressing gently on the edge of the injury. "Brute force. No elegance."

"He broke my rib," I snapped. "I don't think he cared about elegance."

"He damaged my property," Taehyung said. His voice dropped, becoming dark and jagged. "If he weren't already in the hospital because of you, I would have him hunted down."

I looked at him then. His eyes were focused on my skin, possessive and intense. He wasn't angry for me. He was angry that someone else had touched what he now considered his.

He uncapped a tube of cooling gel. He squeezed a dollop onto his fingers.

"This will sting," he warned.

He pressed his hand against my side.

I flinched, my back arching instinctively away from the cold.

"Stay still," Taehyung commanded. His other hand moved to my waist, gripping my hip to hold me in place.

He began to massage the gel into the bruise. His movements were slow, rhythmic, and confusingly gentle.

This was the man who threatened my grandmother. This was the man who locked me in a room. And yet, his hands were soothing the fire in my body.

I found myself leaning into his touch, just a fraction. My body betrayed me. It craved the relief.

Taehyung noticed. I saw the corner of his mouth twitch upward.

"Does that feel better?" he whispered, his face so close I could feel the warmth of his skin.

"It feels... cold," I lied.

"Liar," Taehyung murmured.

He picked up the roll of bandage. He wrapped it around my chest, his arms encircling me. For a moment, it felt like a hug. He pulled the bandage tight—tight enough to support the rib, but not tight enough to suffocate.

He cut the tape with the silver scissors. Snip.

"There," he said, smoothing his hand over the white gauze one last time. "Fixed."

He stepped back, surveying his work.

I felt suddenly cold without his hands on me. I hated that feeling.

"Thank you," I muttered, the words tasting bitter.

Taehyung looked at me. He picked up the silk shirt from the floor and tossed it back to me.

"Don't thank me, Jungkook," he said, his voice returning to that icy, professional tone. "I don't fix things out of kindness."

He turned toward the door, checking his watch.

"I fix them so they can be used."

He opened the door and looked back at me, his eyes empty of the intimacy we just shared.

"Get dressed. The light in the studio is perfect right now. And I don't like to wait."

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