The doors to the trauma room hissed shut, leaving Jungkook standing alone in the sterile corridor. The efficiency of his medical team, usually a source of pride, now felt like a cold, impersonal barrier. He could hear muted voices, the clinking of instruments, but nothing concrete.

He ran a hand over his face, scrubbing away the lingering image of Taehyung's pale, still form. The rage he felt towards the drunk driver was a simmering inferno beneath his skin, but it was overshadowed by a gnawing fear for Taehyung.

Jimin, who had been standing frozen just inside the entrance, finally shuffled forward. He looked utterly lost, his eyes wide and uncertain.

"Jungkook-ssi," Jimin whispered, his voice trembling. "Is he... is he going to be okay?" He wrung his hands, his gaze fixed on the closed trauma room doors.

Jungkook finally turned, his eyes still dark with concern, but he managed to compose himself. He looked at Jimin, seeing the sheer terror in his friend's eyes. "They'll do everything they can," he stated, his voice clipped. "This facility is the best."

He then walked towards a small, minimalist waiting area, gesturing for Jimin to follow. "Sit."

Jimin numbly complied, collapsing onto a sleek, uncomfortable chair. He watched Jungkook pace, a restless energy radiating from him. The stoic boss, usually so unshakeable, was clearly on edge.

After a few tense minutes, Jungkook pulled out his phone. He dialed a number, his thumb hovering over the screen.

"Jungwo ," Jungkook spoke into the phone, his voice low and dangerous. "I want eyes on every major news outlet. If anything about this accident leaks, I want to know immediately. And get me the traffic camera footage from that intersection. Every angle." He paused, listening.

"No, I'm not moving until I have an update on Taehyung's condition." He ended the call, his jaw clenched.

Jimin shivered, despite the warmth of the room. "You're not... you're not going to hurt him, are you?" Jimin asked, his voice barely audible, referring to the drunk driver.

Jungkook's eyes flashed, cold and hard. "Anyone who touches what's mine pays a price, Jimin," he stated, his voice a low growl.

He looked at the trauma room doors again, a profound sense of helplessness washing over him. He was a man of immense power, yet he could do nothing but wait. The fate of the person who had managed to turn his life upside down, now lay in the hands of others. The irony was almost unbearable.

The waiting room seemed to stretch for an eternity, every second a torment to Jungkook's frayed nerves. Jimin sat in numb silence, occasionally glancing at Jungkook, who stood rigidly, his gaze fixed on the trauma room doors.

Suddenly, Jungkook's phone buzzed. He pulled it out, his eyes narrowing at the caller ID. It was Jungwoo, his head of surveillance.

"Jungwoo," Jungkook answered, his voice tight with impatience. "Any news on the driver?"

Jungwoo's voice came through, calm but with an underlying tension. "Boss, we've secured all available CCTV footage from the area. And... there's something you need to see. Immediately."

Jungkook's blood ran cold. The tone in Jungwoo's voice, the urgency, meant something far worse than a simple accident. His mind, accustomed to recognizing threats, immediately went to the worst-case scenario.

"I'm coming to the control room now," Jungkook stated, his voice devoid of emotion, a dangerous calm settling over him. He ended the call and turned to Jimin. "Stay here. Don't move."

Jimin nodded frantically, too terrified to speak. He watched as Jungkook strode out of the waiting room, his steps long and purposeful, his expression a mask of grim determination.

Jungkook descended two levels to the hospital's hidden control room, a hub of monitors and blinking lights. Jungwoo and a few other technicians were already gathered, their faces grim.

"Boss," Jungwoo greeted, his gaze meeting Jungkook's. He gestured to the largest monitor, which displayed a grid of street camera feeds. "We reviewed all angles. This one is from the corner where the incident occurred."

The footage began to play. Jungkook watched, his jaw clenching as he saw Taehyung and Jimin walking, Taehyung animatedly gesturing. He saw Taehyung step off the curb. He saw the car, speeding.

Then, the chilling detail.

Just as Taehyung stepped into the street, another figure, previously obscured by a bus, darted from the shadows. It was quick, subtle, but unmistakable. The figure pushed Taehyung, a deliberate, forceful shove directly into the path of the oncoming vehicle. The "drunk driver" was clearly swerving, but the initial impact was undeniably aided, if not directly caused, by the push.

The color drained from Jungkook's face. His eyes widened, a cold, calculated fury replacing the fear. He watched the perpetrator melt back into the crowd, vanishing as quickly as they appeared.

"Rewind that," Jungkook's voice was a low growl, barely audible, yet vibrating with an icy menace. "Enhance the individual who pushed him. Frame by frame."

Jungwoo immediately complied. The image zoomed in, pixelating slightly, but the action was clear. A figure, cloaked and hooded, but the intent was unmistakable.

"This wasn't an accident," Jungkook stated, his voice flat, devoid of all emotion, yet it sent a shiver down Jungwoo's spine. His eyes, fixed on the screen, burned with a terrifying intensity. "Someone tried to kill Taehyung."

The implication hung heavy in the control room, a chilling confirmation of Jungkook's worst fears. The raw footage played again, the subtle, malicious shove amplified, leaving no doubt. This wasn't chaos; it was calculated malice.

"Someone tried to kill Taehyung," Jungwoo echoed, his voice grim. "It's an assassination attempt, Boss. Disguised as an accident."

Jungkook's eyes were fixed on the screen, a terrifying calm settling over his features. The anger was no longer a hot, blinding rage, but a cold, razor-sharp precision. He barely registered the technicians' hushed whispers.

"Find them," Jungkook commanded, his voice low, every word imbued with an iron will. "I want that person identified. Every angle, every database, every piece of intelligence we have. Pull up known operatives in the area. Look for anyone who might have been following Taehyung in the past few days. Anyone who would benefit from his... removal."

He turned away from the screen, his gaze sweeping over his team. "And the driver. The 'drunk' driver. I want to know who he truly is, who he works for, and who paid him." His voice was deadly quiet, yet it promised unimaginable retribution.

"Boss, what about the security breach at the office?" Jungwoo asked, his brow furrowed. "Could this be related to him triggering the alarm?"

Jungkook scoffed, a dark, humorless sound. "That 'breach' was a child's tantrum. This is a professional hit. They used his recklessness as cover. They probably didn't care who he was, only that he was close to me. Someone sent a message." His eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint appearing. "And I intend to send one back."

He walked towards the door, his mind already spinning with calculations and strategies. "Keep me updated every minute. And no one, absolutely no one, breathes a word of this. Not to the police, not to the media, not to my other men. Understand?"

"Understood, Boss," Jungwoo confirmed, his team already moving with frantic efficiency.

As Jungkook walked back towards the trauma room, his mind raced. This was no longer just about Taehyung's annoying antics or his own irritation. This was a direct challenge. Someone had dared to touch what he now considered his. And for that, there would be hell to pay. He would find out who was behind this, and they would regret the day they ever thought of laying a hand on Kim Taehyung.

Jungkook returned to the waiting room, his demeanor outwardly calm, but a dangerous storm brewed beneath the surface. Jimin still sat huddled in the corner, his face pale and tear-stained. The trauma room doors remained stubbornly closed.

Jungkook walked over to the large window overlooking the city, his back to Jimin. He stared out at the sprawling urban landscape, but his mind was elsewhere, replaying the chilling footage, his thoughts consumed by one vengeful objective.

"Minwoo," Jungkook said, his voice quiet but sharp as he pulled out his phone again. "Update on the driver."

"Boss, he's currently being detained at the local precinct for drunk driving," Minwoo's voice crackled through the phone. "We've got men inside. He's still disoriented."

"Good. Don't let him out of your sight. Not for a second," Jungkook ordered, his gaze hardening as he pictured the man. "And that footage of the push... is it secure? Untraceable?"

"Completely, Boss. It's on a closed loop, wiped from the public system."

"Ensure it never sees the light of day. And begin a deep dive into every contact of that driver for the last six months. Anyone unusual. Any large transactions. Anyone he met shortly before today." Jungkook's voice was cold, his control absolute. "Find me the source." He ended the call, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached.

Jimin, who had been listening intently, finally broke the silence. "Jungkook-ssi," he whispered, his voice trembling. "What did you find out? About the car? Was it... just an accident?" He desperately wanted reassurance, but the ominous tone of Jungkook's calls filled him with dread.

Jungkook slowly turned from the window, his eyes meeting Jimin's. The raw fear that had been there earlier was gone, replaced by a steely, unyielding resolve. There was no softening, no comfort in his gaze.

"No, Jimin," Jungkook stated, his voice low and dangerous, devoid of any warmth. "It wasn't an accident." He didn't elaborate, didn't need to. The grim truth hung in the air between them. "Someone intended to hurt him."

Jimin gasped, his hand flying to his mouth. "Hurt... Taehyung? But why? Who would...?" His eyes widened in horror.

Jungkook's gaze hardened, drifting back to the closed trauma room doors. A silent, terrifying promise settled over him. "I'm going to find out," he stated, his voice a chilling whisper that promised retribution. "And when I do, they will regret it more than anything."

Jimin swallowed hard, the chilling reality of Jungkook's words sinking in. Someone tried to kill Taehyung. Not an accident, but a deliberate act. His mind raced, replaying the day's events, searching for any clue, any anomaly, anything that could point to who would do such a thing.

His eyes instinctively darted to the closed trauma room doors, then back to Jungkook, who was now pacing slowly, his formidable presence filling the waiting room.

"Jungkook-ssi," Jimin began, his voice hesitant, barely above a whisper. He fidgeted with his hands, unsure if he should even speak.

Jungkook stopped his pacing, turning his cold gaze to Jimin. "What is it?" he asked, his tone impatient, but not dismissive.

Jimin took a deep breath, steeling himself. He thought of Taehyung's wild, possessive declaration, and Yura's furious face. It was a long shot, but the connection felt too strong to ignore.

"Well," Jimin started, choosing his words carefully, "I mean... you said someone tried to hurt him. And you said it was because... because someone 'touched what's yours' or something, right?" He glanced at Jungkook, who merely raised an eyebrow, silently urging him to continue.

"And," Jimin pressed on, gaining a little courage, "few days back ... when we were in your office... Taehyung really... he really made a scene, didn't he? Especially with that... that Yura woman." He looked directly at Jungkook, trying to convey the memory without being too explicit. "He kind of... he really claimed you in front of her. Very... very forcefully."

Jungkook's expression didn't change, but his eyes, sharp and intelligent, narrowed ever so slightly. He remembered the kiss, the shock, the defiance. And Yura's furious gasp.

"She was very, very angry, Jungkook-ssi," Jimin continued, emboldened by Jungkook's lack of immediate dismissal. "Like, really, really angry. She was almost as angry as Taehyung was. It felt like... like a challenge to her."

Jungkook remained silent for a moment, his mind dissecting Jimin's hesitant words. He knew Yura's temper, her possessiveness over business matters, and her carefully cultivated image. He also knew her ambition. To be so publicly humiliated, to see him claimed in such a raw, undeniable way... it could certainly drive someone like her to extreme measures. He hadn't considered her as a direct threat before, merely an annoyance. But the connection Jimin was drawing, however timidly, was disturbingly plausible.

"Go on," Jungkook finally said, his voice flat, but with a new, dangerous edge that made Jimin shiver. He was no longer just listening; he was calculating.

Jimin swallowed, seeing the cold, analytical gleam in Jungkook's eyes. He knew he had planted the seed. "She was furious," he repeated, looking at the trauma room doors. "Furious that he... that he 'claimed' you. That's all. Just... she was very, very angry."

Jungkook nodded slowly, his gaze drifting from Jimin to an unseen point beyond the wall. The pieces were starting to click into place, forming a far more sinister picture. Yura. The timing. The blatant nature of the "claim." It was a message, indeed. But not from a rival. From a scorned "associate." And the message was meant for him.

Jungkook's eyes, sharp and cold, hardened with a terrifying clarity. Jimin's hesitant words had ignited a new, dangerous spark in his mind. Yura. The fury in her eyes, the public humiliation. It fit. It fit perfectly.

He pulled out his phone again, his fingers flying across the screen. This time, he didn't call Minwoo. He opened a secure communication channel.

"Jungwoo," Jungkook's voice was a low, dangerous rumble. "I have a new lead. Yura. I want every asset, every detail, every communication she's had in the last 48 hours. Focus on any unusual meetings, calls, or financial movements. Prioritize any contact with unknown third parties, especially those with a history in... wet work."

He paused, listening to Jungwoo's immediate, affirmative response. "And check her travel plans. Her typical routes. Anything that puts her near that intersection around the time of the incident." His gaze drifted back to the trauma room doors, a silent promise hanging in the air. "I want her watched. Every move. Don't let her know. But I want to know everything she does."

Jimin, who had been watching Jungkook's intense phone call, shivered. He didn't understand the jargon, but the cold precision in Jungkook's voice, the mention of "wet work," sent a wave of dread through him. He knew, with a chilling certainty, that Yura's life was about to become very, very complicated.

Jungkook ended the call, his focus unwavering. He walked over to the uncomfortable waiting room chairs and sat down, a rare display of stillness. He didn't pace now. He simply sat, his hands clasped, his eyes fixed on the closed doors. His mind was no longer consumed by fear, but by a meticulously planned, devastating retaliation. The wait for news on Taehyung's condition was agonizing, but it was now a calculated wait. He would know, soon enough, the extent of the damage. And then, the retribution would begin.

An eternity seemed to pass in the sterile waiting room. The fluorescent lights hummed, and the distant sounds of the hospital provided a constant, low thrum against the backdrop of Jungkook's churning thoughts. He remained seated, outwardly calm, but his internal world was a tempest of strategic calculations and primal concern. Jimin sat silently opposite him, occasionally wiping a tear from his eye.

Finally, the trauma room doors swung open. A doctor, a man with tired but competent eyes, emerged. He removed his surgical mask, his expression unreadable.

Jungkook was on his feet in an instant, his composure cracking just slightly. "Doctor. What's his condition?"

The doctor looked at Jungkook, then at Jimin, a professional solemnity on his face. "Mr. Kim is stable, Mr. Jeon. He's incredibly lucky."

Jungkook's breath hitched, a wave of profound relief washing over him, so intense it almost buckled his knees. "Lucky? What's the damage?"

"He sustained a severe concussion," the doctor explained, his voice measured. "There's a deep laceration on his scalp that required stitches, and a significant contusion to his temporal bone. No skull fracture, thankfully, but a significant impact. He also has some bruising and abrasions on his left side, consistent with being hit by a vehicle. His vitals are strong, and there are no signs of internal bleeding, which is remarkable given the force of impact."

Jimin let out a shaky sob of relief, slumping in his chair. "He's going to be okay?"

"He will be okay," the doctor confirmed. "He's currently sedated, but he's expected to wake up in a few hours. We'll keep him under observation for at least 48 hours. The concussion is the main concern – he'll need complete rest, no strenuous activity, and close monitoring for the next few days. We'll conduct more scans once he's fully alert."

Jungkook's eyes narrowed. "And the long-term prognosis for the concussion?"

"With proper rest, he should make a full recovery," the doctor assured him. "But he will likely experience nausea, headaches, and sensitivity to light and noise for some time. It will require patience."

Jungkook nodded slowly, the relief warring with a renewed surge of cold fury. Stable. Lucky. But someone had tried to kill him. This wasn't just a minor inconvenience.

"Can I see him?" Jungkook asked, his voice low, a possessive edge to it.

The doctor hesitated briefly. "He's still heavily sedated, Mr. Jeon. It might be best to let him rest for a little while longer."

"I asked if I can see him," Jungkook repeated, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument.

The doctor sighed, nodding. "Very well. He's in recovery room five. A nurse will show you. Just... try not to disturb him too much."

Jungkook didn't wait. He was already walking towards the recovery ward, his mind buzzing. Taehyung was safe. He was going to recover. And now, Jungkook was free to unleash hell on the person responsible. His immediate plans solidified: retribution would be swift, precise, and utterly unforgiving.

A nurse led Jungkook and Jimin to Recovery Room Five. Inside, the air was hushed, the lights dimmed. Taehyung lay in the pristine bed, an IV drip connected to his arm, a bandage stark white against his dark hair. His face was pale, but his breathing was steady. The sight of him, so vulnerable yet so peacefully asleep, twisted something in Jungkook's chest.

Jungkook pulled a chair close to the bedside, sitting down. His gaze softened, tracing the contours of Taehyung's face. He reached out, his hand hovering, then gently brushed a stray lock of hair from Taehyung's forehead. He still couldn't quite reconcile the wild, chaotic Taehyung he knew with this still, fragile form.

"Why, Taehyung?" Jungkook whispered, his voice barely audible, a mix of concern and exasperation. "Why do you always have to find trouble? Or rather, why does trouble always find you?" He let out a soft sigh, running a hand over his own face.

Jimin, who had quietly pulled up another chair, sat beside Jungkook, his eyes fixed on Taehyung. He looked exhausted, the day's events having drained him completely.

"Jungkook-ssi," Jimin began, his voice hesitant, "It's... it's not entirely his fault. Well, it is his fault, but... he was doing it for you."

Jungkook turned his head, a skeptical eyebrow raised. "Doing what for me? Getting hit by a car?"

Jimin wrung his hands, glancing at Taehyung's sleeping face. "No, no! Before that! He... he had a plan. To see you."

Jungkook frowned. "A plan? What kind of plan?" He looked at Jimin, a dawning suspicion forming. Knowing Taehyung, it couldn't be anything good.

Jimin took a deep breath, deciding to spill everything. "He wanted to sneak into your headquarters again. To surprise you. He called it 'Operation: Surprise Serenade.' And... and he was going to create a diversion."

Jungkook's eyes narrowed. "A diversion? What kind of diversion?"

Jimin closed his eyes, bracing himself. "He was going to... he was going to pull the fire alarm. In your building. To make everyone evacuate. So he could sneak in and... and find you. To serenade you."

Jungkook's eyes widened. Slowly, disbelievingly, they began to widen further and further until they were saucers. His mouth parted slightly. The fire alarm. The deliberate chaos. The sheer, unfathomable audacity of it. The piece of information clicked with the earlier "security breach" he'd dismissed as a childish tantrum. It was a tantrum, but an incredibly dangerous one.

"He was going to... trigger a fire alarm?" Jungkook repeated, his voice barely a whisper, a mix of stunned disbelief and the resurgence of an old, familiar exasperation. "And then break into my office? Again? To serenade me?"

Jimin nodded miserably. "Yes. He was obsessed. He said he needed to 'claim' you properly, and that you'd be so happy to see him."

Jungkook leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling, then back at the sleeping Taehyung. He pinched the bridge of his nose. The sheer, unadulterated chaos Taehyung invited into his life was truly beyond belief. He'd almost been killed trying to pull off a ludicrous romantic gesture involving a fire alarm. The danger, the utter disregard for rules, for his own safety... it was infuriating. And yet, beneath the irritation, a strange, complicated wave of something akin to bewildered affection washed over him. He was truly, utterly, impossibly, an idiot. His idiot.

"Unbelievable," Jungkook murmured, shaking his head slowly. "Absolutely unbelievable."

Jungkook continued to stare at the sleeping Taehyung, the unbelievable truth of his fire alarm plan slowly sinking in. A ghost of a smile, part exasperation, part reluctant fondness, touched his lips. He ran a hand through his hair, the sheer audacity of Taehyung's actions almost endearing in its madness.

"A fire alarm," Jungkook murmured, shaking his head. "To surprise me." He chuckled softly, a low, rumbling sound that was rare to hear from the formidable boss.

Jimin, still wide-eyed, watched him, unsure how to react to Jungkook's unexpected amusement.

Jungkook then looked down at Taehyung, a peculiar tenderness softening his features. He reached out and, with a gentle finger, traced the line of Taehyung's jaw, then moved to brush away a stray hair from his forehead, careful of the bandage.

"You really are something else, aren't you?" Jungkook whispered, his voice laced with a complex mix of annoyance, fascination, and something undeniably warm. He let out a long, weary sigh, but this time, it was a sigh of acceptance.

He leaned closer to Taehyung, his voice dropping to a murmur meant only for the two of them. "Always getting into trouble. Always causing a scene. Always so much... drama." He paused, a genuine smile finally breaking through. "My dramatic darling."

Jimin gasped softly, his eyes widening further. He'd never heard Jungkook use one of Taehyung's self-proclaimed nicknames before, let alone with such a tone. It was an acknowledgment, a concession, a subtle acceptance of the chaos Taehyung brought into his life.

Jungkook, seemingly unaware of Jimin's reaction, continued to gaze at Taehyung, a possessive glint returning to his eyes, but it was softer now, colored by concern.

"Just get well, you idiot," he murmured. "We have things to discuss. And I'm going to make sure no one ever tries to hurt my dramatic darling again." His last words were a silent, chilling promise, meant for the world outside this quiet room, for the person who had dared to touch what was now, unequivocally, his.

Hours later, the dim lighting of the recovery room remained, casting a soft glow on Taehyung's sleeping form. Jungkook hadn't moved from his spot beside the bed, his gaze rarely leaving Taehyung's face. He had made a few calls, giving terse, precise instructions for the investigation into the hit, his voice as cold as steel. But as he sat there, watching Taehyung, the icy edge of the boss softened, replaced by a quiet, watchful tenderness.

Jimin, exhausted but unable to leave, had drifted off to sleep in his chair, his head lolled to one side.

A soft groan escaped Taehyung's lips. His eyelids fluttered, a slow, painful process as he tried to open them. He blinked, the dim lights seeming too bright, his head throbbing. He shifted slightly, a soft moan of discomfort.

Jungkook was instantly alert, leaning forward. "Taehyung?" he murmured, his voice gentle, unlike the commanding tone he usually used.

Taehyung's eyes slowly, painfully, focused. His hazy gaze landed on Jungkook's face, which was closer than he expected. Confusion flickered in his eyes, then a glimmer of recognition. He tried to speak, but only a raspy sound escaped him.

Jungkook immediately reached for the glass of water on the bedside table. "Here," he said, holding the straw to Taehyung's lips. "Just a little. Slowly."

Taehyung took a small, weak sip, his eyes still locked on Jungkook. He coughed slightly, then swallowed. His memory of the accident was a jumbled mess, fragmented images of a speeding car and pain. But he remembered the feeling of being held, of Jungkook's voice.

"Bunny Boss?" Taehyung whispered, his voice still weak but a hint of his usual mischief already returning. "Did... did you catch the bad guys?" He tried to move his head, but a sharp pain made him wince.

"Don't move," Jungkook instantly commanded, his hand gently but firmly pressing Taehyung's head back against the pillow. His brow furrowed with concern. "You have a concussion. And a very impressive bandage."

Taehyung's hand weakly went to his head, touching the bandage. "Oh. That explains the giant headache." He then looked around the sterile room, a frown creasing his brow. "Where are we? This isn't your office. Did the fire alarm work?"

Jungkook let out a long, weary sigh, a mix of relief that Taehyung was coherent and exasperation at his immediate return to mischief. "No, Taehyung, the fire alarm did not work. And we are in my private medical facility. Because you got hit by a car."

Taehyung blinked slowly, trying to piece it together. "Hit by a car? Oh. Right. The drunk man." His eyes suddenly widened, a memory resurfacing. "But I was... I was trying to get to you! To serenade you! Did I... did I make it?"

Jungkook looked at him, a slow, tender smile finally gracing his lips. He reached out and gently ran his thumb over Taehyung's cheek. "You made it, Taehyung. You always make it." He paused, his gaze softening almost imperceptibly. "You really are something else. My dramatic darling."

Taehyung's eyes, despite the pain, widened even further. His breath hitched. Did he hear that right? Jungkook? Calling him that? A slow, triumphant smile, even wider and more genuine than his usual dramatic ones, spread across his face. The pain, the bandage, the concussion – it all faded into the background. That was all that mattered.

"You... you called me your dramatic darling," Taehyung whispered, a dazed, blissful look on his face. He reached out, his weak hand finding Jungkook's and clinging to it. "You really do love me, don't you, Bunny Boss?"

Jungkook just sighed, shaking his head, but his grip on Taehyung's hand tightened, a silent confirmation. He didn't answer directly, but his eyes, filled with a complex blend of exasperation, relief, and undeniable affection, spoke volumes.

Taehyung's face was a picture of pure, unadulterated bliss. The pain from his head, the confusion of the accident, all momentarily faded away, eclipsed by the two words that had just fallen from Jungkook's lips. "Dramatic darling." It was the ultimate validation.

"You called me your dramatic darling," Taehyung repeated, his voice filled with a giddy disbelief. He squeezed Jungkook's hand, then with a surge of renewed energy, he tried to sit up, his arms reaching out instinctively for Jungkook. "Oh, Bunny Boss! Come here! Let your dramatic darling hug you properly!"

A sharp wince escaped him as the movement sent a jolt of pain through his head, and his vision swam. He swayed precariously.

Jungkook reacted instantly. "Taehyung, no! Stop!" His voice was firm, laced with concern. He quickly placed a hand on Taehyung's chest, gently but firmly pressing him back down onto the bed. "Don't move. You have a concussion, remember? You need to stay still."

Taehyung pouted, looking up at Jungkook with disappointed eyes. "But I want to hug you! You said it! My dramatic darling! I want my Bunny Boss cuddles!" He looked utterly heartbroken, like a child denied a toy.

Jungkook sighed, a long, exasperated sound that was now tinged with a deep, almost reluctant affection. He looked at the earnest, injured face above him, then at the pleading eyes. He knew he couldn't deny him this. The vulnerability in Taehyung's gaze, combined with the earlier scare, chipped away at his usual rigid control.

He looked around the quiet room, making sure Jimin was still deeply asleep. Then, with a surprisingly fluid movement, Jungkook stood up from his chair. Instead of leaving, he carefully, slowly, moved onto the bed beside Taehyung. He shifted to lie on his side, facing Taehyung, propping himself up on one elbow. He was careful not to jostle Taehyung's injured head, keeping a respectful distance, yet close enough.

"There," Jungkook murmured, his voice softer now. "You want to hold me? You can hold me. Just... don't move your head too much." He gently took Taehyung's free hand and placed it on his own arm, guiding it. "You can put your arm here. Just... be gentle."

Taehyung's eyes widened, a look of pure, unadulterated joy spreading across his face. He weakly wrapped his arm around Jungkook's bicep, pulling him closer until their shoulders brushed. He nestled his head carefully into the pillow, his ear almost against Jungkook's chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

"My Bunny Boss," Taehyung whispered, a contented sigh escaping him. He snuggled in, finding a comfortable position. "You're so warm." He closed his eyes, a blissful smile on his lips. "The best dramatic darling's Bunny Boss ever."

Jungkook let out a soft sigh of his own, a strange mixture of resignation and comfort settling over him. He looked down at Taehyung, now nestled contentedly against his side, his arm wrapped around him. He hadn't thought he'd ever be in this position, willingly letting someone cling to him like this, especially not after the day's chaos.

But as he felt Taehyung's steady breathing, the warmth of his body beside him, he found himself relaxing. The desire to protect this infuriating, dramatic, unpredictable man was now an undeniable, overwhelming force. He gently rested his hand on Taehyung's back, a silent, unspoken promise of safety.

The soft hum of the medical equipment filled the recovery room, a quiet backdrop to the intimate tableau. Jungkook lay on the bed, Taehyung nestled against his side, his arm loosely wrapped around Jungkook's bicep. Taehyung's breathing was steady, a low, contented murmur against Jungkook's chest. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the chaos of the outside world, the threats, the calculations, receded.

Jungkook simply lay there, unmoving, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. He felt the warmth of Taehyung's body, the gentle weight of his head. It was a bizarre, unexpected peace. He, Jeon Jungkook, the formidable mafia boss, was lying in a hospital bed, voluntarily, with the most infuriating and dramatic person he had ever met, who was currently recovering from an assassination attempt meant for him.

He could feel the subtle tremor of Taehyung's hand where it rested on his arm, a reminder of the fragility of the moment, and the terrifying close call. A deep, heavy sigh escaped him, no longer one of exasperation, but of profound relief and a dawning, undeniable tenderness. He found himself subtly adjusting his position, making sure Taehyung was comfortable, his arm shifting to provide a more secure anchor.

Jimin, still slumped in the chair, let out a soft snore, lost in his own exhausted slumber. The only sounds were their breathing, the distant beeping of machines, and the quiet hum of the building.

For a long while, no one entered the room. The nurses and doctors understood Jungkook's unspoken demand for privacy, and his authority was absolute even within the confines of his own medical facility. This was their moment. A fragile, unexpected bubble of stillness in the eye of a very personal storm.

Jungkook gently, almost unconsciously, lowered his head to rest against Taehyung's, closing his eyes. The familiar scent of antiseptic was subtly mixed with Taehyung's own unique, sweet scent – a blend of cologne and something uniquely Tae. He felt a profound sense of possessiveness settle over him, not just for his "dramatic darling," but for this quiet, stolen moment.

It was peace. A deep, unsettling, yet utterly comforting peace. But even in the stillness, Jungkook's mind was already churning with plans, with threats, with the impending retribution he would unleash. This moment of tranquility was a temporary reprieve, a gathering of strength, before he moved to ensure that no one, ever again, dared to threaten the person currently resting so trustingly against him. He would protect his dramatic darling, even from himself.

A strange wave of memory washed over Jungkook as he lay there, Taehyung nestled against him. He remembered the first time he'd truly seen Taehyung, not as a name on a file, but as a person. It had been a chance encounter, a street thug trying to snatch something, some trinket, from Taehyung. He recalled the flash of anger, the surprisingly sharp retort Taehyung had thrown at the thug, even as he'd been clearly frightened. The sassy, defiant glint in his eyes, the almost comical bravery.

And now, that annoying, unpredictable, yet undeniably captivating college student was lying beside him, so still, so vulnerable, seeking comfort and safety in his arms. The contrast was jarring, almost absurd. The same person who had the audacity to break into his office and pull a fire alarm was now completely reliant on him, trusting him implicitly.

Jungkook tightened his arm around Taehyung slightly, a possessive instinct overriding any lingering irritation. He knew, with a chilling certainty, that he would move heaven and earth to protect this infuriating, dramatic man. He was, undeniably, his.

Jungkook continued to lie there, listening to Taehyung's soft, even breathing against him. The faint scent of hospital antiseptic mingled with something uniquely Taehyung – a comforting, if unexpected, presence. He felt a subtle shift, a soft tremor in Taehyung's body. Taehyung's hand, which had been resting loosely on Jungkook's bicep, subtly tightened its grip, his fingers unconsciously seeking more contact, pressing just a little closer.

Jungkook's gaze dropped to Taehyung's face. Even in sleep, a faint frown creased his brow, a subtle sign of lingering discomfort or a subconscious yearning for security. He was seeking more comfort.

Without a word, Jungkook gently reached down and took Taehyung's hand, the one wrapped around his bicep. Taehyung stirred faintly, a soft murmur escaping him, but his eyes remained closed. Jungkook carefully uncurled Taehyung's fingers from his bicep. Then, with a tender deliberation that surprised even himself, he guided Taehyung's arm lower, slowly, until it was wrapped around his own waist.

Jungkook then pulled Taehyung gently, coaxing him closer until Taehyung's head rested more securely on his shoulder, his body fitting more snugly against Jungkook's side. Taehyung let out a contented sigh, a sound of profound relief, and instinctively burrowed further into the embrace, his arm tightening around Jungkook's waist, finding the warmth and solid reassurance he sought.

Jungkook's breath hitched softly. He felt the full weight of Taehyung's trusting dependence, the fragile vulnerability of the injured man now nestled so completely against him. It was a sensation he had never experienced, never allowed. Yet, as Taehyung settled into the new position, a deep, protective instinct solidified within Jungkook. He slowly, almost unconsciously, wrapped his own arm around Taehyung's shoulders, drawing him even closer, holding him securely.

"Sleep," Jungkook murmured, his voice low and raspy, a silent promise to guard him, to keep him safe. He pressed his cheek against Taehyung's hair, breathing in his scent. For now, the world outside, the threats, the retribution, could wait. All that mattered was this quiet, fragile peace, and the precious, infuriating life he held in his arms.

💜💜💜💜