FOR ALL ETERNITY [ TAEKOOK] ?

The dining table looked like a spread straight out of a K-drama shoot. Gleaming brassware, fluffy steamed rice, half a dozen banchan lined like soldiers, glistening bulgogi, spicy tteokbokki in a porcelain bowl that looked way too expensive to touch. The lighting was soft, almost romantic if you could ignore the two emotionally constipated husbands currently trying not to kill each other with their eyes across the kimchi plate.

Honestly, it was aesthetic as hell.

And Taehyung? Oh, he was glowing. Hair freshly styled, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and that smug little sparkle in his eye that screamed, "I did this. Bow down."

All the credit? His. The reason the kitchen wasn't declared a war zone by the end? Jungkook, who, much to his dismay, had been roped into dishwashing duty like a disgraced sous-chef.

Now dressed in a light purple sweatshirt ,yes, purple,Jungkook walked into the living room looking freshly unbothered and annoyingly good. Taehyung blinked once. Then again. Okay, why did pastel purple make this guy look like a Pinterest boyfriend?

"You're staring," Jungkook said, stopping in front of him.

Taehyung snapped out of his internal fashion crisis. "No, I'm judging. Get it right."

Jungkook folded his arms. "Just... don't be rude, okay? They're here to have a good time. Let's not show them our tragic little enemies-to-roommates saga."

"I'm not a child, Jeon. I'm not gonna slap you with a spatula mid-dinner."

"Didn't you literally throw garlic at me yesterday?"

"It bounced off your hoodie. Relax."

And before Jungkook could clap back with a smartass retort, the doorbell rang. Showtime.

They both darted toward the door like kids trying not to look guilty. Taehyung opened it with his best fake husband smile plastered on. And there they were. The four founding members of this disaster: Their beloved, overenthusiastic, too-invested parents.

Yami didn't hesitate. She full-on launched herself at Taehyung like he was a long-lost teddy bear.

"Ehm—Mom, I'm right here," Jungkook grumbled from behind, dramatically raising his arms. "You hugged the wrong emotionally unavailable son."

Yami swatted his chest without even looking. "Shush. You're both mine."

Taehyung smiled, melting a little. Okay... that was actually really sweet.

The house filled quickly with warm laughter and chaotic overtalking. Their parents were clearly vibing, pretending they didn't know these two were practically on separate Netflix accounts under the same roof. Still, the effort was appreciated.

"It's dinner time!" Tae sang, leading them to the table like a proud Pinterest mom.

Everyone gasped collectively at the layout. Even Jungkook had to blink.

"Omo! You boys did amazing!" Taehyung's dad clapped, positively beaming.

Tae bowed slightly. "Thank you, thank you. I take full responsibility. That one"he pointed at Jungkook "just made the kitchen look like a war documentary."

Jungkook gasped theatrically. "You traitor! I cleaned your murder scene! My back still hurts! I deserve an honorary chef badge at least!"

"You deserve a restraining order from knives."

"Alright, alright," Yami cut in with a laugh, "stop bickering and sit down. Watching you two fight while I'm chewing is very anxiety-inducing."

So they sat. Side by side. Because, of course, life hated them.