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v_95 HERE with @gucci 🤍

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wwh_youknow✔️ handsome prince
v_95✔️ @wwh_youknow handsomer than you?
wwh_youknow✔️ @v_95 never

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v_95✔️ @sunshinehobi don't let wwh hear you say that

agust_dboy✔️ you still wanna go back to dark hair? you're looking good with this color
v_95✔️ @agust_dboy I will see hyung ;)

taesty_ 😳wtf

peachVtae OMGGGG THIS IS SO WKDIFJ🥵

bae._tae uH 🤭🤭 OUR FAVORITE GUCCI BOY

wOndergREeNS can't even get a partner with a second chance

sMai650 all your fans are crusty little girls ew
sungji55 @sMai650 lol im male and 22 get outta here

jjungkookie woah...
bh_babies @jjungkookie WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE OH MY SJDJDJ AFTER SO LONG
_kthV_95 @jjungkookie OMGOMGOMG
   taekookie957 @jjungkookie FINALLYYYY

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Deciding to look at comments for once did not prove to be in his favor. Taehyung's lips curved downward at the familiar username that had shown up in his comments after so damn long.

It only made him curious to look through his other posts to see if he had missed Jungkook in the millions of comments before, too.

Nothing. It was he first one he was commenting in since the gala.

Maybe because you've been ignoring him.

Taehyung let out a small breath, heart pounding in his chest as his phone was promptly shut off again.

Friday. The end of the week. The end of the work week for everyone besides him— and his manager, but the elder didn't have a life outside of work anyways. Taehyung always second guessed Jin's reprimanding of his personal manager, knowing not only the standards of Korea's modeling world, but also how stressful being Taehyung's manager could be in itself. He admired the elder's ability to hold him accountable and also help him with staying busy— even when that slimmer of guilt hit his manager's eyes for a brief moment.

He was waiting in a meeting room for a few select others to show up, his manager glued to his side and seated beside him.

Some emergency had been called forth, leaving him without an afternoon break and cutting into his following shoot's styling time.

A triple stressor on his team.

"—can't just not tell him that, the poor guy— oh, hello! Glad you made it on such short notice." Sunmi's voice was desperate as the door was ripped open, the woman stalking over to the to let her belongings fall onto the table with a loud smash, not necessarily frantic, but more straightforward, not wasting time being gentle.

Bang Si-Hyuk was just behind her, shutting the meeting room's dark wood door and taking a seat beside the woman.

"How's your day going?" Sunmi patted his arm across the table as Si-Hyuk adjusted his glasses and flipped through the binder that Sunmi had slammed down.

"It's alright," he replied quietly, glancing at the BigHit CEO frowning and rubbing his chin as his eyes read through the words indecipherable from Taehyung's position.

She retracted her arm, smile slowly falling in displeasure at the obvious meekness in his tone.

"What's the emergency?" His manager pressed down on the top of the pen in this hand, the small click engulfing the silence of the room; the soft ruffle of sheets flipping in the CEO's hand being it's only companion.

"Two things." Bang Si-Hyuk closed the binder and linked his hands under his chin, offering his head a chance to rest on a shelf. "One—"

"Actually, three." Sunmi cut him off. Taehyung frowned at the fallen look on the bigger man's face, Sunmi simply keeping to herself as if she wasn't trying to expose some rightful knowledge.

"No," Si-Hyuk shut the third point down and Sunmi's hands flattened on the table, her body leaning back in the seat to showcase her uncaring mentality. "There's two—"

"Jeon Jungkook is being watched again." She interrupted, sending a spark of brakes to Taehyung's head and halting his confusion in its tracks. A sound of disbelief left the CEO's lips as Taehyung's lips parted with the obvious question.

Why? He had told them all not to when the younger went back to Busan. There was no reason to unless Jungkook expressed some discomfort.

"He's—"

"Sunmi-shi." The tone was unforgiving and the modeling department manager tensed in her chair. "That is not of concern right now and not why we are here. Do you understand?"

"Yeah," she grumbled softly, huffing and dropping the subject, leaving Taehyung baffled without an answer.

"Wonderful." Bang Si-Hyuk's voice returned to its calm gentler one, proceeding as planned. "One, the hall that booked the gala may have found some promising security footage of Park Bogum that we can take to court to support Taehyung's statement."

The model's eyes widened, the thought of Jungkook slipping away, hidden hands gripping his trouser pants to hide the shakiness of them. Court was serious. Legal action made it all so very real, but it was the only permanent solution.

"That's good. Two?" He prompted softly.

"Two," one of CEO's hands fell to tap the surface of the conference table. "We have booked Kwang Jungho."

Taehyung's grip on the material coating his leg slackened, frustration melding with his prior denial of wanting such aid, as his mind buzzed with itching anticipation to threaten them all to stop.

The look wasn't even masked with his usual calm, forcing Si-Hyuk to continue and explain the company's choice. "It's not for namesake this time, Kim Taehyung. This will be under wraps because the news will gobble and explode it up. Fans are well distracted right now by your content, and it shouldn't mess up the plans for next week."

"You can't ask a therapist to help someone who doesn't want help."

The room stilled like ice had been dissolved into the air, chilling the three management figures as Taehyung kept his head low, shoulders shaking with his torn heart.

"Kim Taehyung," Sunmi pleaded, leaning forward with the knowing attitude that the model would respond the most pleasantly to her. "Be rational. You're traumatized and hurt. You need help that's beyond our powers."

"I already said I don't want—"

"We can't risk your health, Taehyung." His manager's soft sigh was one of exhaustion. It made Taehyung pause. Maybe in other circumstances would he have appreciated Sunmi's opinion, but hearing his manager externalize the inward battle of sympathy was startling. "We can't risk you losing to fucking Bogum."

The slip of a tired swear made Taehyung suck in a sharp breath, entirely shocked by how expressive the otherwise unbothered man was being. It didn't seem to phase Sunmi or Si-Hyuk. "Y-You're not—"

"Do you understand how crushing it will be for you to lose to him?" His manager continued. "Not just you, but all of us will be affected, blamed, for not helping you because people will always fire at management without knowing we respect the celebrity's choice, too. You know this, Taehyung."

He did. He knew it awfully well.

The words weren't accusatory. They weren't supposed to guilt trip Taehyung. They were simply the cold hard truth. They were a reminder that he was representing more than himself and everything he did directly affected those close connected to his work.

If he did well, like at the gala, BigHit's reputation strengthened. Should he get intertwined with drama, it was all the more damaging. Both an honor and a curse to be the image of the company, but that's what he had always wanted. Something so beautiful from the outside but challenging within.

And indeed, he knew that. It was engrained in his actions after years of practice. He was perfect in public, breaking behind closed doors, claiming everyone's heart, but only one attaining his love.

Bogum was a sign of his past naivety and he'd luckily won the first time, meaning he couldn't lose the second. The company was tired of Park Bogum, too taunt with the will to simply grasp for lies and shut him down for the truth.

BigHit was much stronger than it had been when Taehyung began working there, the model growing with the company over the years. It was his home and he would never work elsewhere due to such an attachment.

He trusted them with his life. He honestly did. They gave him the chance to pursue his happiness and made his dreams come true. They never caused his pain or suffering, that was simply the consequence of good things.

Because nothing good came easy and everything good brought hatred to the minds plaqued with jealousy.

Because he had come to trust his entire reputation, his entire life, in the hands of the three people seating with him, the result being nothing but success, he owed them the favor of at least trying.

He could pine for the single slimmer of hope they all held, that a therapist could be useful to him.

And if Kwang Jungho was also unchanged by the lack of media presence boosting his name in helping Taehyung, the model knew there was nothing greedy about the transaction.

Simply a man wanting to help his client.

It's hard to fathom how rare such genuineness was to obtain in his world.

"Okay," he finally said, shoulders slumping with the drained energy of spiraling thoughts. "I'll try working with him."

"Not working. This isn't work." Bang Si-Hyuk rolled his ring around his finger, slightly agitated, but satisfied with Taehyung's maturity. "This is all about you, Taehyung. Not in the normal sense of attention within a shooting set, but in the way of restoring those young dreams of success that have been burned down into burden."

"You've done a lot for us, Tae," Sunmi encouraged. "Thank you for this, too."

Ease of mind. It would ease their stress of worrying about Taehyung's strain as well.

It was definitely the right choice. The only moral choice was to try.

"He will be a good helping hand."

But a different face flashed in his mind at the words.

The one of sweet doe eyes and long ebony hair, sharp features and a soft touch assuring him that he was worth something.

He would try therapy with Kwang, but that hand wasn't the one that was going to heal him. That hand belonged to his angel.

God. He was so lost.

"Take a break and get a snack from the canteen," his manager instructed, glancing at his watch with relief. Taehyung snapped out of his thoughts to see the other two higher-ups preparing to take off.

"A snack?"

"You heard me."

"Did you hit your head, Manager-nim?"

"Go, Taehyung," the softness was evermore rattling. "You've got forty-five; the shoot is delayed."

He nodded rather numbly, rising from his chair and dusting down his clothes before straightening his shoulders and bowing, thanking his manager wordlessly. He felt like falling apart entirely should another word leave his beautifully shaped lips.

Two in the afternoon, on a hectic Friday, his mind spinning with a whirlwind of news and emotions... and yet, it all felt so clear.

That slimmer of hope for change was apparent in his figure taking the elevator down the mezzanine floor where the canteen was. The hope was there in a delay, giving him a moment to breathe and realize how much he was harming himself.

It was there in the way his throat buzzed as a soft hum tickled the air hugging his face, the soft melody of Sweet Night subconsciously overtaking his numbness.

And while there was hope, he would never have predicted the song he sung's story coming vividly true within the next hour.

Because in the bright daylight of a midday snack, he was setting sail for his second nightly voyage across the sea.