Chapter Text
New York City, 1928
"Your room will be on the second floor, across the hall from the young master's bedroom," the maid relays to Taehyung in a bored manner. Her steps are heavy as she ascends the winding staircase that wraps around the room. Taehyung takes in the walls plastered with art as they climb, cold, emotionless faces staring back at him through a sepia-stained glaze. The yellow tinge over the old paint makes the unsmiling faces look sickly.
"You are to sleep next to his room every night in case he needs you. If he wants your attention, he will ring the bell in his bedroom, and the one next to your bed will sound," the maid continues. They've reached the top of the stairs now, and she stops to catch her breath, her spine curving forward under her weight. Her knees wobble, but her iron grip on the railing keeps her from falling.
"I understand," Taehyung says with a polite nod. His hands are starting to burn from carrying his suitcase for so long, but he knows better than to complain. He ignores the hot throbbing in his fingers and forces a smile. "I'll be sure to be alert."
The woman shoots him a withering glare, like she knows the emotion is forced. Her wrinkles are deep-set in her face like dry, cracked earth — her skin dark and spotted from years of hard labour. When she takes Taehyung's hand in her own, the texture is rough and calloused. Taehyung resists the urge to pull away.
"The young master does not like to be disturbed. When you go to sleep, tread quietly on the hardwood. The floor is known to creak."
She leads him to his sleeping quarters — a small, closet-sized space behind a wooden panel across from the glass double doors of the master bedroom. It strains her to open them, and the panel slides with a weary, aching groan as it drags across the floor. The maid points to a simple cot built into the wall, thin sheets lining the surface, her short, thick arm slashed with scars.
"You will sleep here. Place your things under the bed. Whatever you don't have space for — throw out. Mr. Jeon will take to replacing it himself. He doesn't like clutter."
"I understand."
The maid looks at him expectantly, and Taehyung takes that as a cue to rest down his baggage. The closet space is cramped — only enough for a handful of clothing and a pair of shoes. He is careful not to let his disdain show on his face.
The old woman reaches over his shoulder, startling him, and tugs on a long, thick rope that hangs above his bed. The loud bell chimes, shrilly ringing through his ears. Taehyung can feel her oversized breasts press against his back and the heat of her breath against his neck, and it makes him stiffen.
"When you hear this sound, you are to go into the young master's room. None of the other maids will be awake at that hour, so only you will be there to take care of him."
Taehyung nods to show his understanding, squeezing his fists to ease some of the stiffness in them from carrying his luggage. Angry red lines cut across his palm like gashes, bleeding out pink around the edges into the soft skin. He looks across the hall to the doors that lead to the son's bedroom. The other side of the door is quiet, and no light leaks through the glass.
"Mr. Jeon will meet with you now. You arrived after lunch, so there's no time for you to eat first, but there is nothing you can do about that now. Follow me."
"There was traffic," Taehyung says simply.
The woman ignores him. They begin the slow descent down the stairs again. It is day, but the only source of light comes from the old woman's lantern, which she clutches tightly in her hand. The windows are obscured behind thick, dark curtains that blend into the walls, drowning out the spidery strands of light that manage to creep through the cracks. Their shadows move on the walls with them, entranced by the flickering flame of the lantern. When they turn around a corner, the tips of the maid's hands distort and look like claws.
"The young master spends most of the day reading. If he is not reading, he is attending meetings with his father in the city or spending time in the garden. You will keep him company as needed, as well as feed, clothe, and prepare him for his schedules with his father," the woman says. The flame in the lantern quivers, threatening to go out, so she stops to pump the lever at the side, feeding the light.
"Is there a reason why the house is kept so dark?" Taehyung asks. They pass a row of bookshelves, but the spines of the books are written in a language he doesn't understand. The lettering is done by hand in metallic ink, and it catches the light of the lantern as they walk by, glittering.
"I would advise you to be more mindful of your questions if you wish to work here," the woman says curtly. "Mr. Jeon does not take well to people who are nosey."
Taehyung smiles from behind her, his expression concealed in the cast of the shadows.
"Mr. Jeon is a collector of books. He keeps the lights low to keep them from aging. If you must use light, use one of the lanterns." She holds it up to Taehyung's face, the white tips of the flame burning into his eyes until they ache. "There is one in every room. At night, you will leave one burning in his son's bedroom. He doesn't like to sleep in the dark."
Taehyung follows her as she turns around the corner, the light bending with them.
"Mr. Jeon has the largest antique book collection of anyone in the country," the old woman boasts, holding up the rusted metal handle so the lantern can illuminate the bookshelves that line the length of the walls. They stretch as far as Taehyung can see, boxing them in. "His collection of art and books is said to be worth millions."
She speaks with pride, as though a part of that belongs to her as well, even though she'll never see a penny of it when Mr. Jeon dies. Maybe that's one of the consequences of living alongside the family too long — it's made her feel like she's a part of them.
"How old is his son?" Taehyung asks, his footsteps light as he trails behind her. The young master, he corrects in his head.
"Twenty-three," she recites. "It was his birthday in September."
The lantern makes the art on the walls shimmer, the gilded gold scales of a snake seeming to slither across the wallpaper as they pass. He can almost imagine the sound of its hiss as its body ripples, the red and brown dyes used to fill it in with colour bending away from the wall.
Taehyung can make out the sound of chatter from behind one of the doors, and a warm yellow glow spills out from underneath. Outside of the room, the house is completely silent. The two of them stand outside of the door for a moment, and Taehyung listens to the sound of her breathing, raspy and thick. He wonders if she smokes.
"You may go in. Mr. Jeon is expecting you," is all she says. She doesn't wish him good luck before she leaves, the last trace of light trailing behind her.
Suddenly the hallway feels small, like it has closed in on him now that the light of the lantern isn't there to keep the walls back. Something is suffocating about the house despite its size, like if he were to open one of the padlocked doors that line the hallway, there would be nothing behind it.
He smiles, reaches one hand up, and knocks on the door.
The sounds of people talking on the other side fade out, and there is a long pause before he hears the sound of a chair being pushed back and the clatter of a glass being put down on a surface. Taehyung listens to the soft click of footsteps approaching the door, a smile still plastered across his face to the point of being painful. It makes his cheeks ache.
The door swings open, revealing a shrivelled face. Beady brown eyes peer out at him, a soft black shadow cutting sharply down one of the man's cheeks. Long fingers curl around the edge of the door before the man steps to the side. He says nothing, but his eyes glitter excitedly with invitation. Taehyung steps into the room.
"You must be the new servant," a booming voice says from the end of a table on the other side of the room. Taehyung's eyes flicker over to the source of the sound, taking in a wide stature and thick frame. The man sits with his legs crossed on top of the table in front of him, smoking a cigar. A gold watch on his thick wrist sparkles brightly.
"I am," Taehyung says, remembering to bow. His smile falters when he does, holding it for a beat too long. It's quick to come back when he stands up. "My name is Kim Taehyung. I am honoured to meet you."
The man does not introduce himself. He takes a long draw off of his cigar and blows out the smoke, slowly curling in the air. Two men stand beside him, each adorned in matching dark suits, their ties ironed flat to their round chests. The man who answered the door slithers over to take a seat at the other end of the table.
"My son will be here shortly," the man says. Taehyung takes him to be the son's father. "Take a seat, I'd like to speak with you first."
This room is well-lit, and there are no books lining the walls. Unlike the other rooms, it's almost entirely bare, furnished only with a table and a handful of chairs. The chairs are wrapped in leather, looking like they've been dipped in slick, dark oil, the light painting streaks of white across the arms when Mr. Jeon turns his chair to face him. The single, square window on the wall is covered with long, red curtains that brush against the floor.
"How was the drive here?" Mr. Jeon asks, ashing his cigar in a crystal dish. There is a glass of what looks to be scotch beside it, shimmering dark and brown. One of the men standing beside him holds a bottle, poised like he's prepared to refill his glass as soon as it dips low enough. "I sent one of my drivers to pick you up."
"Pleasant but slow. I was held up by traffic," Taehyung explains. "I apologize."
"If it's not your fault, why apologize?" Mr. Jeon asks with a curious look.
Taehyung doesn't know how to respond.
"Had you not mentioned it, I never would have noticed," Mr. Jeon says. "I don't often check my watch."
"I had no way of knowing," Taehyung says, his smile twitching.
"I don't expect you to have known."
Taehyung remains silent, tense.
Mr. Jeon doesn't seem to be looking for a response. He takes another draw off his cigar, and the two of them sit in silence for a moment before he speaks again.
"My son is troublesome, as you will soon come to realize. And stupid. He doesn't like to read or do his work or get dressed up to go out. He has a lot of delusions about what he wants for himself, and your job is to iron them out of him. Don't entertain them."
"I understand," Taehyung says, crossing his hands in his lap. His legs shift, antsy.
"What you do for him is not difficult. It's his personality that is a burden, and that is where you earn your money. If he decides to be difficult, let me know and I will correct him for you. Or, you can hit him yourself if you want to. I give you my permission."
All of the men around him laugh, and Mr. Jeon grins to himself, looking proud.
Taehyung nods. He digs his nails into his thighs, restraining himself.
"Have you eaten?" Mr. Jeon asks, meeting his eyes. Taehyung notices how the other men at the table are quick to avoid making eye contact with either him or Mr. Jeon.
"I had lunch in the car on my way here."
"If you get hungry, you can eat with the other maids. I'll ask them to set you a place at their table."
"Thank you."
The uncomfortable tension in the room thickens, but Mr. Jeon seems not to notice. He smokes the rest of his cigar, takes a swig of his scotch, and clears his throat. Taehyung hears footsteps approach the door again, and Mr. Jeon motions for one of his men to open it, even before the person has knocked.
The same man who answered the door for Taehyung gets up again, his leather shoes echoing on the ivory tile. There's more than one bolt on the door, and the man has to fish through a ring of keys to unlock them. Taehyung wonders what kinds of things go on in this room when he isn't here.
"Is my father here?" a soft voice asks from the hallway, their silhouette hidden from view. The voice is quiet but authoritative. They sound young.
"Yes. He has brought your new servant to meet you."
The person does not respond, but the man steps aside to let them through. Taehyung forces himself to smile again.
A man enters the room. The first thing Taehyung notices about him is his eyes. They're piercing and dark, standing out against his tanned skin as he surveys the room. Unlike his father, he's tall and thin, and he stands proudly, fiddling with the cuff of his shirt. When his eyes lock with Taehyung's, they burn intensely, something hot flickering behind them.
It's the young master.
Taehyung quickly stands, bowing respectfully to the man's son. He doesn't acknowledge it, however, and instead looks to his father.
"I didn't ask for another servant," he says coldly. When he's offered a seat by one of his father's men, he ignores it.
Mr. Jeon is unperturbed. Little seems to affect him. "I know you didn't ask for one. I thought you could use a friend."
"A friend?"
Mr. Jeon smiles, but there's something wicked in it. "You seem to have trouble making any on your own. Good thing I'm able to buy one for you. Your personality won't be an issue now."
Taehyung feels like he's part of a joke that neither Mr. Jeon nor any of the other men in the room have let him in on.
When Mr. Jeon gets no response from his son, he clears his throat. "His name is Kim Taehyung. Take him to your room. He will help you get ready for dinner."
Jeon Jungkook is his name, Taehyung knows, but he doesn't use it to address him. He gets up and politely follows the son out of the door and back into the dark hallway. He feels like he's been bought — something given to the son to play with, and in a way he is. He'd heard that Jungkook has gone through several servants during his life, each leaving or being fired for their own reasons, and it unsettles him, making him wonder just how awful he is.
When the door shuts behind them and Jungkook begins to walk, he doesn't speak. They walk in silence to Jungkook's bedroom, and when they arrive he throws open the door to his room carelessly. Taehyung flinches at the sound of the glass panes rattling. Jungkook leaves him to shut the door behind them and walks over to the bed, ripping off his tie and tossing it onto the blankets.
The room is elegantly furnished, but it's obvious that Jungkook was not the one to decorate it. The bedsheets are dressed in crimson satin and the walls are wrapped in floral paper, the delicate pattern hidden behind a thick curtain of turquoise drapes. A curved brass lamp sits on a table in the corner, casting a warm, orange light over the room. It catches on the bridge of Jungkook's nose, painting his handsome face in shades of red that look like flames licking over his cheeks.
"Get me my black button-down from the closet," Jungkook orders, his voice abrasive and cold. He snaps his fingers at his words, the way one would order around a dog. Stunned, Taehyung stares at his back for a moment before biting back a snarky remark and obeys, heaving open the heavy doors of the antique cherrywood dresser.
"You were late arriving," Jungkook comments, though he doesn't sound bothered by it, just observant. His eyes narrow, eyeing the side of Taehyung's face.
"There was traffic, young master" Taehyung repeats for the third time.
"How much is my father paying you?" the boy asks, sitting down on the bed to watch Taehyung as he unfastens the paper-thin shirt from its hanger with too much care. The fabric is soft and buttery in his hands, and the buttons sound like small pearls when they clink together.
"Enough," is all Taehyung says, handing it to him, taking care not to let their fingers brush.
"I didn't ask you so you could play games with your answer," Jungkook says, his eyes hidden as he unfastens each button of the shirt, making it open up to him. When he finishes, he stands, tugging off the shirt he's wearing. Taehyung politely looks away.
"He plans to pay me a hundred dollars each week to take care of you," Taehyung says, staring at the empty walls until Jungkook finishes dressing.
"And that is enough for you?"
"Yes."
There is a silence between them as Jungkook grabs the shirt Taehyung gave him, pulling it up over his wide shoulders.
"If you are uncomfortable seeing me undress, you will do poorly at your job," Jungkook snips, quickly doing up the buttons of the shirt, slipping the hem under the waistband of his pants.
"I have no issues seeing you undress, I only wanted to make sure you weren't uncomfortable."
Jungkook glances at him, eyes scanning over Taehyung like they're searching for something. They linger on his face for a moment, before ripping away. "You may look." The strange look on his face vanishes as quickly as it appears.
Taehyung can see the similarities between the Jeons in the way that they carry themselves and speak. While Jungkook's father is confident and relaxed, the younger Jeon appears cocky and rough, almost careless. He wonders which of them is worse to be alone in a room with.
Jungkook points to a pair of shoes beside his closet, and Taehyung quickly fetches them for him, dropping them lightly on his lap. He watches as he unfastens each delicate lace, pulling apart the glossy leather with his hands to slip his socked feet inside.
"Do you have any references?" Jungkook asks without looking up. Growing tired of wrestling with the laces, he sticks his foot out, and Taehyung drops to his knees to tie them for him. The floor digs into his calves painfully.
"Yes, would you like to see them?" Taehyung asks. He does the knot tight enough to bite into his skin.
"Please."
Taehyung reaches into his back pocket for a folded piece of paper. "My previous employer signed it. She was very satisfied with my service."
Jungkook takes it but shows no interest in reading it. He tosses it onto the bedspread beside him, leaning back. When Taehyung finished tying the first shoe, Jungkook lifts his other leg and places it in his lap.
"Why did you leave?"
"She no longer had the money for a servant."
"I see."
When Taehyung finishes, he stands, brushing dirt from the legs of his pants. His knees burn. "Is there anything else I can get for you?"
"My coat," Jungkook says. "The black one. From my closet."
Taehyung brings him his coat.
Jungkook stands too, matching his height. The buttons on his shirt jingle as he moves, the fabric stretching taut against his chest. "I've never had a male servant before. I am used to working with women."
"Perhaps that is why your father hired a man this time."
"Maybe," Jungkook says, but he doesn't sound like he plans to give it any thought. He reaches into the dresser of his nightstand and retrieves a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. Taehyung watches him light one and take a long inhale off the end.
Jungkook reaches for a ring on the dresser of his nightstand, sliding it down his ring finger. The gold band glints under the low lighting, the action almost erotic in the way that he moves. Taehyung looks away, unable to watch.
"Well, Taehyung," Jungkook says, his voice smooth as velvet as he stands tall above him. Taehyung sits on the edge of his bed, waiting for his next command. He tilts his head back to meet Jungkook's eyes, taking in the fire that burns within them. Their positions speak for their places in the world — Jungkook will always be above him, and Taehyung knows that.
"I suppose that makes you my servant now, doesn't it?" he says with a half-grin that curls up the side of his face. His pink tongue licks at his bottom lip, studying Taehyung carefully. The smoke from his cigarette curls up towards the ceiling, sweeping over his face in a white cloud.
Taehyung nods, staring at him. When he meets Jungkook's eyes, he sees nothing in them.
"We should establish some ground rules then. I'm sure my father told you a lot about me," Jungkook says with a joyless smile, crossing his arms in front of him. He stands too close for Taehyung's comfort, but it would be rude to look away.
"He mentioned your behaviour," Taehyung says, eyes falling to the scar that runs down Jungkook's cheek, almost invisible in the dim lighting.
Jungkook grins at him. "I'm not difficult to please. You'll wake up when I do and spend most of the day with me. When I'm not home, I don't care what you do, it's none of my business. I can't promise that the other maids won't mind, though."
Taehyung waits for him to finish speaking.
"I don't care if you curse or steal, but don't ever lie to me, okay?" Jungkook finishes, his mouth full of jagged teeth when he smiles. They too, almost look gold in the yellow lighting, like even Jungkook's mouth has been forged from something priceless.
Taehyung nods, swallowing. "Okay," he says. Jungkook motions for him to stand, and he does. "I won't lie to you."
"Good," Jungkook says, his smile faint. He stares at something behind Taehyung for a moment, then pulls back, walking away to leave Taehyung where he's standing still. "I have a meeting, so I'll be back later. Do whatever you want until then."
Without another word, Jungkook slams the door behind him, leaving Taehyung alone in his room.
"And then he said, 'I don't care if you curse or steal, but don't ever lie to me, okay?'" Taehyung recites, and they both burst into laughter.
Taehyung collapses on the grass with a grin, wiping the back of his mouth with the stiff sleeve of the shirt one of the maids had given him. He kicks off his sandals, letting his toes sink into the grass. "Holy fuck, I almost started laughing right then and there. Who does he think he is?"
"God, I can't wait to meet him," Jihyun says — Taehyung's cousin and best friend since they were in diapers. She brushes a strand of wind-swept dark hair away from her face, scrunching her nose. "If he's that full of himself in person I don't know if I can do it."
"I don't think he'd even notice if you laughed. He seems like the type to be completely oblivious to the people around him," Taehyung drawls. "It'll be easier than I thought."
"I'm supposed to be meeting him in an hour. They think I just haven't arrived yet. Do you have any advice on what I should do?" Jihyun asks, wickedness flickering in her eyes. She's unrecognizable underneath the powder and blush applied to her cheeks, and the dress she's wearing shimmers brightly under the warm sunlight, the gold fibres woven into the silk rippling when she shifts. Taehyung is the only other person to know that it's only mock designer.
"Just bat your eyes and touch him softly," Taehyung shrugs, dismissive. "He'll be just like any other guy. It won't take much."
The two of them sit in the courtyard behind the Jeon's estate, hidden from view. Jungkook is out at another meeting with his father, and Taehyung was dismissed to do whatever he liked for the remaining hour before his return. He'd snuck away to meet Jihyun without any of the other staff noticing, but they didn't have much time.
"Here, I stole this from the kitchen," Taehyung says, tossing a bag of the expensive chocolates he found in the fridge to Jihyun. She catches it greedily, tearing into the fancy silver foils with long, painted nails. When she offers him one, Taehyung takes it and pops it into his mouth.
"Shit, these are good," Jihyun exclaims, reading the back of the wrapper. "These had to be expensive."
"I'm pretty sure they're imported."
Jihyun looks at him with wide eyes. "The staff won't notice that they're gone?"
"Nah, they have tons. I take them all the time," Taehyung grins, and Jihyun smiles back, giggling. "Maybe I'll take one of his rings for you next time. He wouldn't even notice it's gone. He didn't notice my references were fake — didn't bother to look at them at all."
"You're the luckier one between the two of us I think," Jihyun says through a mouthful of chocolate, wiping her fingers on the grass. Taehyung wonders what Jungkook would think if he saw that. "You get to help yourself to their food every day. I only get to see him once a week, if that. If I were you, I'd spit in his drink every morning. It would be the only thing keeping me from going crazy."
"It'll be all yours soon enough," Taehyung points out. "You're the one who gets to marry him. I'm just here for a month, if that."
"And where do you think part of his money is gonna go when I marry him? Back to you. Welcome to the Jeon family, Taehyung," Jihyun says, laughing at the disgust on Taehyung's face. "You'll be part of all their big, happy family get-togethers too."
Mr. Jeon is well-known for his prowess in acquiring properties and various real-estates in downtown New York. He owns large stretches of apartment buildings and luxury homes all along the main streets of commercial businesses and tourist shopping, quickly making him wealthy and sought after as a business partner.
Despite his penchant for the glamorous, however, Mr. Jeon lives in a crumbling, sprawling mansion tucked far away from the bustling life of the city. His wife had committed suicide when Jungkook was born, and the only other people under their roof are the maids and the gardeners. Jungkook hadn't even been allowed to have any pets.
However, Taehyung's role wasn't to dedicate his youth willingly bending over for Mr. Jeon's spoiled son that needs someone to dress and feed him. Before now, he'd never been a servant to anyone at all, and all of his references were forged by his uncle who met Mr. Jeon through work. Mr. Jeon had let it slip that he had a single unmarried son and that he was trying to find him a wife in an attempt to give him some kind of purpose. Taehyung had heard all about Jungkook's disinterest in studying, his partying, and his shady friends he'd sneak out to meet at night long before he ever stepped through the door of their house.
But, despite being a disgrace to his family, Jungkook was the only heir to the Jeon fortune and was set to receive his father's inheritance when he died. His wife, when he married, would get to share it with him. Wanting access to that money, Jihyun's father quickly arranged for her to meet Jungkook before Mr. Jeon found someone else.
Taehyung's role in their scheme is to make Jungkook think that Jihyun is the perfect person to marry, posing as a servant and a friend to the clueless brat.
Taehyung pokes her, making her squirm and wiggle away. "Have fun sleeping in the same bed as him."
Jihyun rolls her head back, stretching her neck. "Do you think I should go for the sweet, innocent look? Play it up like I'm scared to be tainted? ' Oh Jungkook, I've never done this before— '"
She's interrupted when Taehyung pushes her playfully into the grass. "Shut up, the staff might hear you," he scolds, but he's laughing, too.
"Or do you think I should go for something more seductive and dangerous? I could touch his thigh under the table over dinner and see where that takes me," she proposes, thinking. "Maybe it'll surprise him and he'll spill his wine down his shirt. I'd pay to see that."
"I'm thinking maybe the 'girl next door' type. Be someone who makes him feel nostalgic — someone that feels close to home," Taehyung suggests. "You don't wanna be too pure, but you don't want to come on too strong either, otherwise you'll spook him."
"Good thinking," Jihyun says seriously. "Somewhere in the middle."
Taehyung groans, uncrossing his legs. "He's so fucking needy, you wouldn't believe. Always making me run him baths and fetch his shoes. You'd think he couldn't walk on his own by the way he needs me to do everything."
"Is he an asshole?" Jihyun asks, mimicking his position. It looks kind of goofy in the dress that she's wearing, but Taehyung knows that her elegance is just a ruse to lure Jungkook in.
"He's not abusive," Taehyung says. "But he's very closed-off. He never says anything if it's not to give me something to do."
"Well, yeah," Jihyun says, studying her nails. "He's not gonna tell his butler anything of value. You have to make him warm up to you first."
"He's gonna have to if we want this to work," Taehyung frowns. "But I don't know how to get closer to him."
The first week with Jungkook had been quiet. Taehyung had been woken by the bell each morning before the sun rose, and dutifully brought Jungkook his breakfast and laid out his clothes for the day. Jungkook was silent and resistant to conversation, only ever speaking when it was necessary. During his lessons, he wrote out his answers instead of saying them aloud.
Contrary to his father's warnings, Jungkook wasn't troublesome. He didn't defy Taehyung's orders and he wasn't combative, though he would order him around whenever he felt the urge to. When he wasn't with Taehyung, he was a ghost in the house, following the same quiet routine each day when he rose before going to sleep at night, always requesting for the lantern to remain on beside his bed.
"Be nicer to him," Jihyun suggests, turning to look at him. She studies his face. "You do have a habit of being a little icy. Try sucking up to him a little."
Taehyung turns to look at her. "How so?"
"Try bringing him chocolates. Have his clothes waiting for him before he gets home. Go out of your way to make his day better."
Taehyung hums, considering. "I could try that."
"Make sure you don't forget your end of the deal though. Your job is to make me look as good as possible. Get it into his head that I'm the one he should marry," Jihyun reminds him, getting up. She dusts the grass off the back of her dress, and Taehyung would never be able to tell she came from nothing, growing up making a living deceiving people just like he did.
The two of them had grown up under the care of Taehyung's grandfather, who made money selling fake paintings and jewelry to naive collectors and young, rich men who wanted to own art they could show off to their families. Only this time, instead of selling someone imitation jewels, they were selling a fantasy instead. One that would intertwine Taehyung's family into the Jeon's finances.
"I should go back now, before someone sees us," Jihyun says, glancing over her shoulder. Taehyung can make out the figure of one of the gardeners hunched over across the courtyard. She meets his eyes, her dark eyes glittering. "Wish me luck."
"Good luck," Taehyung says with a smile, bringing her in for a hug. "I'll miss you. When do you think we'll be able to meet again?"
Jihyun hums, considering. "I don't know. I won't be able to come back for a few days, at least. Meet me out here in the same spot at the same time, okay?"
Taehyung nods, but he's hesitant to see her go. "Okay, I'll be here. If he's an asshole let me know, I'll burn his breakfast."
Jihyun giggles, covering her mouth when she laughs. She's deceitfully innocent-looking, which had always been one of her best traits when pedalling knockoff art and jewelry. No one would ever know she was capable of doing something so heinous.
The two of them laugh as they leave the chocolate wrappers on the grass for the maids to clean, neither of them bothering to pick them up. They watch as the wind carries the colourful papers across the grass, erasing any evidence that they were ever there.
"I will. Okay, goodbye, Tae," she says with a friendly wave, and Taehyung watches her figure fade as she hops over the stone fence that lines the property, careful not to let her dress snag on the bushes. Just like that, she's gone, and it's like they never met at all.
Taehyung waits on his bed for Jungkook's return from his meeting with his father. It's too small for him to stretch his legs out properly, so he has to bend his knees up to his chest to fit. The wall is cold against his back, and when he shuts the door, the room is dark.
After a while, he hears Jungkook walk by his room, shoes clicking on the floor, followed by the jingling of the bell above his bed, summoning him into the room. Silently, Taehyung moves, letting himself into Jungkook's room.
He finds him half-undressed as he searches through his closet, his shirt tossed onto the floor. Taehyung picks it up, folding it and putting it on the bed.
"I laid out something for you to wear already, young master," Taehyung says. The two of them hadn't grown closer over the week that Taehyung has known him, Jungkook never moving past his short, curt instructions.
"I don't want to wear that," Jungkook dismisses.
"Sit down, let me get it for you," Taehyung says politely, pushing down his annoyance at the mess Jungkook is making trying to fetch his own clothes.
"I have a meeting with a girl my father met through one of his business partners. He wants me to go on a date with her," Jungkook says, stepping back to let Taehyung take his place.
"Oh, really?" Taehyung says, feigning disinterest. "Should I dress you appropriately, then?"
"Yes, please."
Taehyung takes his time sorting through Jungkook's shirts until he settles on something he likes. In a sick, twisted kind of way, he likes to imagine that all of the shirts belong to him. His fingers linger on the satin and cashmere a moment too long, greedy in their touching, before he picks out a deep blue button-down for Jungkook, resting it on his lap. He doesn't really think Jungkook deserves them, since he handles them so rough the buttons threaten to rip from their threads. One day things like this will belong to him, too, though.
"I think this colour suits you," he says. "And I think your date would like it."
Jihyun hates the colour blue. Taehyung thinks it will be funny to make Jungkook wear it.
"Do you think?" Jungkook asks, slipping the shirt off the hanger and sliding it up and over his arms. He buttons it himself, tucking the shirt into his pants. Taehyung watches him silently, then reaches out to touch his collar.
"If you're going on a date, I think it looks better if you leave the top two buttons of your shirt undone. It will draw her eyes to your chest."
"Do as you wish," Jungkook says simply, letting his arms go lax to let Taehyung move into his space. The buttons expose a sliver of warm, tanned collarbones and the dip between his chest. Taehyung knows he doesn't need to make Jungkook look better for Jihyun — she will marry him anyway, but he likes the idea of playing dress-up with Jungkook. It's almost like Taehyung is toying with him for once instead of the other way around. Maybe getting dressed up will make Jungkook excited about his date.
"What's her name?" Taehyung asks, hiding his smile when Jungkook turns around to look in the mirror, touching his chest almost self-consciously like he isn't used to showing skin.
"I think her name is Jisoo," Jungkook says absent-mindedly, like the details don't matter to him. Taehyung's lips twitch, and he grips Jungkook's waist a bit too hard when he turns him around to guide him into the chair in front of his dresser, propping him up by the mirror.
"Really?" Taehyung says, voice flat. "I'll do your hair, sit still."
He pushes Jungkook into the chair and steers it to face the mirror in front of him. He watches Jungkook's face through his reflection, taking in the tired pout of his mouth and the lines on the sides of his cheeks. His eyes look especially lifeless today.
Taehyung takes a brush from the counter of the wardrobe, his nails clicking against the marble surface. The handle of it is heavy in his hands, made of an embellished, polished metal. It looks like something he'd play with as a child when he runs the soft bristles through Jungkook's hair, pulling the strands back from his forehead.
Jungkook's face is rough when he's serious, but his skin is unblemished and soft, with no calluses or wrinkles tainting the soft curve of his hands where they rest neatly in his lap. His shoulders are squared and straight, his spine pressing firmly against the back of the chair, and his eyes are vacant, like he's even practiced the perfect way to sit.
Taehyung takes his time, careful in the way he lets himself touch. One thing he likes is Jungkook's naivety — how completely sheltered he is from the world. Though Taehyung watches him spend hours pouring over his textbooks and reading from the books in his father's collection, Jungkook doesn't have a clue about anything. The other day, he'd asked Taehyung how to make his own bed, too spoiled to have been taught how to do even that. Taehyung wonders how being like that feels.
He finds it charming as much as it makes him sick to witness.
"Are you looking forward to your date?" he asks absentmindedly, yanking the brush a bit too hard through a tangle in Jungkook's hair. Jungkook doesn't flinch, even though it must have hurt.
"You're nosy," Jungkook says sharply, and Taehyung prepares to be scolded, but Jungkook doesn't.
"My apologies," Taehyung says lightly. He rests down the brush and stops to part Jungkook's bangs delicately with his fingers. Jungkook closes his eyes, shivering.
Taehyung is grateful his youth hadn't been wasted like Jungkook's. Too trusting yet too brash — Jungkook is kind of useless to anybody, even his own father. Taehyung wonders what Jihyun will think of him. She'll probably find it as amusing as he does.
"I'm not excited," Jungkook says quietly, avoiding Taehyung's eyes through the mirror. "But I have to go."
"Why aren't you excited?" Taehyung asks. He reaches for the curling iron, warming it over the fireplace. The flames make his skin glow red and orange, and when he pulls away his skin burns. He's careful to avoid touching Jungkook's ear when he holds the hot iron close to his face, knowing that Jungkook can feel the heat dangerously licking at his skin.
"I just don't look forward to getting married, that's all," Jungkook says sharply, and the two of them fall silent again.
The implication carries in his words. He doesn't look forward to getting married, but he knows he has to. He can choose who he marries, but not when. Though, if Taehyung has it his way, Jungkook won't really choose his wife, either.
Jungkook's eyes catch on the silver band on Taehyung's index finger, embedded with emerald. "Where did you get that?"
"My father gave it to me," Taehyung lies, holding it closer to Jungkook's face for him to get a better look. Jungkook's hands are warm against his when they wrap around his fingers, holding them delicately.
"I want something like that," Jungkook says to himself, eyes looking far off like he's making a mental note of it. Or maybe he'll forget it as soon as he leaves the room. "Are you married, Taehyung?" he asks, his eyes flickering over Taehyung's other fingers, like he's checking for a wedding ring.
"No," Taehyung says simply. He puts down the hot iron and reaches for the container of gel.
"Why not?"
Taehyung smiles at him. "If I was married, I couldn't be a servant."
"I'm not stupid enough to think you'd choose to be a servant over having a wife."
Taehyung's smile falters. Fine then. "I'm not married because I don't want to be. I'm lucky enough to be able to say no. Your hair is done, you can stand now," he snaps.
The look on Jungkook's face is slightly nervous, like Taehyung's words unsettled him, but he masks it and stands. Jungkook is handsome when dressed up like this, the style of his hair youthful and boyish. The juvenile way he holds himself is hidden under the sharp cut of his brows and jaw, but he's still unmistakably young. Taehyung thinks Jihyun may even find him attractive.
"You look quite handsome like this, young master," Taehyung says, studying Jungkook's face. He's paler than he is, likely from his years spent inside, tucked away from the sunlight. "I think she'll like you."
"Thank you," Jungkook says politely, but it doesn't sound like he means it. Taehyung wonders why. Jungkook looks like the type to appreciate compliments. Maybe he read him wrong.
"I'll wait up for your return," Taehyung says, smiling again. He waits for Jungkook to look at him, but he doesn't.
"You don't have a choice," Jungkook says, and like that the civility between them is shattered. Taehyung lets his smile drop when Jungkook turns his back, walking to the door.
Pompous piece of shit, Taehyung thinks. Maybe he should have told Jihyun to step on his feet at dinner.
Taehyung spends the time waiting for Jungkook's return looking around his room. He hadn't had a proper look at it since he arrived about a week ago, all of his time spent outside of it accompanying Jungkook in his study and walking him through the gardens. He shuts the door quietly and locks it, slipping the key into his pocket so one of the other servants doesn't come in.
It's evening by now, so the room is dark and the lamps are lit, bathing the drapes and the blankets in a warm glow. Taehyung collapses onto Jungkook's bed, feeling the way the soft mattress gives under his weight, blanketing him. He doesn't bother to take off his shoes when he lifts his feet onto the thick duvet, pressing his face into the silky feathers.
One day it will be Jihyun's, and then someday after that, he'll have one for himself.
Taehyung gets up, kicking his shoes off onto the floor before opening Jungkook's wardrobe, revealing velvet pouches filled with pearls, watches, and precious stones. He holds up a sapphire ring up to the light, feeling giddy at the value he holds in his hand. If he replaced it with one of his fakes, Jungkook would never be able to tell the difference — the idiot thought his emerald ring was real. Even someone on the street would be able to differentiate it from something authentic.
Taehyung lays out all of Jungkook's jewelry on the table, swirling it around with his hands. It's the most he's ever seen at once. Even at his best, he only ever had a few pieces in his possession at a time. It's sickening the amount of money someone has spent on the brat, just for it to collect dust in his drawer, unused. Just for him to eye Taehyung's ring and want that for himself, too.
Would Jungkook notice if he took one of his silk shirts and hid it under his mattress to take home? Or one of his pairs of leather shoes?
Taehyung stands in front of his floor-length mirror, sliding the stiff shoes onto his feet. Wearing these clothes, no one would be able to tell that Taehyung had lived on the streets for most of his life. They'd think he was just the same as Jungkook. A perfect imitation on the outside, but only someone who could see inside would be able to see the difference. Maybe not even then.
It isn't until much later that Jungkook returns home from dinner with Jihyun. Jungkook hadn't told him all the details, but to his knowledge, his father had arranged for the two of them to have dinner at one of the restaurants he owns. Most likely to allow Mr. Jeon to brag about it in front of his son's date.
Taehyung rips off the shirt of Jungkook's he put on and tosses it in a heap back into the bottom of the closet, deciding he'll pick it up later. He listens for the sounds of heavy footsteps outside the door, then swiftly slides the key into the lock and unlocks it before Jungkook can notice it was ever locked.
Jungkook stumbles tiredly into the room, tossing his coat onto the bed and sinking into the mattress. Taehyung stands at his side politely, his hands clasped in front of his legs.
"Help me undress," Jungkook orders, but his words have softened around the edges, no longer as sharp as they were in the afternoon.
"As you wish," Taehyung says, accommodating as always.
Jungkook's skin is hot to the touch from the alcohol, a ruddy hue flushing his puffy cheeks. Sweat sheens on his forehead and neck, which he wipes with the cuff of his sleeve, ruining the cloth. Taehyung doesn't bother to correct the behaviour.
Taehyung takes the coat and hangs it in the closet. When he returns to Jungkook, he's slumped over with his elbows resting on his thighs.
"Is there something you'd like to wear to bed?"
"Something soft, please."
Taehyung nods even though Jungkook can't see it, and finds a soft t-shirt and pair of pants from his closet, bringing them to him. Jungkook reaches for the buttons of his shirt, but his fingers miss, gripping harshly into the thin silk, leaving marks. His eyes are unfocused and glassy and his lips shine wetly when they part, coloured a wine red.
"Let me," Taehyung says quickly, peeling Jungkook's fingers away. Jungkook's arms go limp at his side, giving Taehyung access to his chest.
The buttons are smooth and cold, slipping out easily to reveal dark, tanned skin. Taehyung can see the way Jungkook's chest rises and falls through the sheer fabric, melting down his shoulders and arms when there is no longer anything to keep it up.
Jungkook is quiet, but Taehyung can hear his breathing, soft and slow. When Taehyung's knuckles brush against his neck, Taehyung can hear a small hitch as he inhales, followed by goosebumps erupting on his skin. Taehyung traces his finger down them, watching in fascination at the way he shivers.
Jungkook lifts his arms to let Taehyung pull the sleeves free, and Taehyung reaches for Jungkook's belt to lift the hem from under the waistband of his pants. Jungkook sucks in his stomach at the touch, stiffening. Taehyung doesn't comment on it.
When Taehyung hands him a new shirt, Jungkook puts it on wordlessly.
"My pants..." he says, quietly, looking down at his legs.
"I think you can manage to change your pants on your own," Taehyung says, stepping back.
Jungkook's hair is mussed — ruined from the way it had been styled when he left. Taehyung can smell the alcohol on his breath, sickeningly sweet. It seems to ooze out of his skin when he exhales, choking Taehyung and thickening the air around them. He wonders why he had so much to drink. Jihyun wouldn't have tried to get him drunk.
"How was your date?" Taehyung asks, unable to keep his curiosity restrained. Jungkook stumbles and falls back onto the bed as he begins unfastening the button of his pants, pushing them down his legs.
"She was nice," Jungkook says, his words slurring a bit. His head hangs down, chin hitting his chest. "She said she liked my shirt."
Taehyung smirks to himself. Jihyun has a sense of humour.
"Do you like her?" Taehyung asks, taking Jungkook's dirty clothes from him. He debates whether to try and persuade him to shower before bed, before deciding it's not worth the trouble. He can just wait until the morning.
"I don't know," Jungkook says, sounding confused at the question. He leans forward suddenly, and Taehyung grips his shoulder to keep him from falling. A bit roughly, he shoves Jungkook backward onto his bed, grabbing the edge of the blankets and pulling them back.
"You should sleep," Taehyung says, not in the mood to deal with him while he's drunk.
"'M tired," Jungkook whines, burying his face into his pillow.
"I know."
With more care this time, Taehyung pulls the covers up, tucking Jungkook in. Jungkook's hair is greasy and matted to his forehead, and sweat beads on his collarbones like his body is burning up. He shifts to face Taehyung with glassy eyes, searching for him.
"Taehyung…" he says softly, reaching out to grab Taehyung's wrist before he can pull away. Taehyung resists the urge to slap the hand away in annoyance, reminding himself that he needs to make Jungkook like him.
But, when Jungkook is too drunk to remember anything, he doesn't need to pretend to be kind.
"What?" he snaps.
"Can you pet my hair until I fall asleep?" Jungkook asks quietly, his voice almost a whisper.
"You can sleep just fine on your own," Taehyung says dismissively, reaching for the lamp to extinguish it.
"Don't," Jungkook mumbles, his voice muffled against the pillows. "I don't like to sleep in the dark. It gives me nightmares."
Taehyung knows that Jungkook won't remember any of this in the morning, so he could leave him in the dark and Jungkook would never know. Yet, the pleading look on Jungkook's face does something to him, and before he can change his mind, he leaves the lantern on his nightstand, pumping the light brighter for him.
Jungkook rolls away to face the window, even though the curtains keep him from seeing through the glass. Taehyung wonders what he's looking at, if he's looking at anything. He's still as he closes his eyes, even though Taehyung knows he must still be awake.
Taehyung carefully sits on the edge of the bed, and when Jungkook doesn't stir, he rests his hand on Jungkook's head, waiting to see his reaction.
Jungkook's eyes flutter closed and he sinks deeper into his pillow, his breathing evening out. Taehyung pushes his fingers through the clumpy strands of his hair, softly petting. Jungkook melts into it, making a soft, satisfied sound, so Taehyung applies more pressure, gently scraping his fingers across his scalp.
The last time Taehyung had truly looked after someone was years ago when his aunt had her first child and Taehyung would look after her while his aunt was at work. Jungkook doesn't feel much different from back then — soft and fragile and innocent as the tension on his shoulders softens and he falls asleep. A part of Taehyung envies the way Jungkook can sleep so easily, but maybe it's only the alcohol that makes it easy for him tonight.
Maybe if he didn't get drunk at dinner, he wouldn't have been able to sleep at all.
Taehyung doesn't have sympathy for Jungkook, but he pities him, just a little. He wonders what compelled him to drink so much at dinner — if he fought with his father in front of Jihyun, or simply hated being there so much that he felt the need to drink until he felt like he wasn't there anymore.
In some ways, Jungkook fascinates him, but his curiosity is morbid. He doesn't truly feel bad for what he's planning to do, even if he knows Jungkook doesn't deserve it — never asked for any of this.
He stays a while, his fingers moving on autopilot through Jungkook's hair. Jungkook doesn't need him any longer, but for some reason, he can't bring himself to leave quite yet. A part of him feels shame for what he'll eventually do, but there's nothing that can be done about it now. Jungkook didn't choose this life, but Taehyung didn't either.
It's either Jungkook or himself, and he's unwilling to give it all up.