A Love Rewritten || Taekook/VMIN FF Completed ||

Six months had flown by since Jungkook and Taehyung's engagement and that magical first official date—a blur of tender moments, whispered promises, and a love that had rooted itself deep in their souls. The Jeon family had since returned to Korea, slipping back into the rhythm of their lives as if the whirlwind of Namjoon and Seokjin's wedding in the U.S. had been a fleeting dream. Jungkook's days were now filled with the familiar hum of Seoul—his job, his family, his art—yet a piece of his heart remained an ocean away with Taehyung.

Jungkook could still picture the scene at the airport when they'd parted ways. Taehyung had been a wreck, clinging to him like a lifeline, his arms wrapped around Jungkook's waist so tightly it was as if he could physically anchor him to the spot. "I'm coming with you," Taehyung had declared, voice muffled against Jungkook's shoulder, his dark curls tickling Jungkook's neck. "I'll leave everything—my job, U.S., all of it—just don't make me say goodbye." His eyes had been wide, pleading, and Jungkook had nearly caved under the weight of that gaze. It had taken every shred of willpower to disentangle himself, his tone firm as he scolded, "Hyung, you can't just drop your life! We'll see each other soon, I promise." Taehyung had relented, but not without sulking like a petulant child—arms crossed, lips pouting, his entire demeanor a theatrical display of misery that lasted until Jungkook disappeared through security. Even then, Jungkook had glanced back to see Taehyung watching him with those puppy-dog eyes, and it had taken all his strength not to run back into his arms.

Sitting in his art gallery now, Jungkook let out a quiet chuckle at the memory, shaking his head in amused disbelief. Taehyung was a walking contradiction, a puzzle Jungkook was still figuring out. One moment, he was a sulky baby, whining for attention with an exaggerated pout that made Jungkook want to pinch his cheeks. The next, he was a shameless tease, dropping flirty remarks or pinning Jungkook with that intense, dominant stare that turned him into a blushing mess. One second, he was sweet and gentle—leaving voicemails just to say "I love you" or sending Jungkook photos of random things that reminded him of him—the next, he was bold and commanding, his voice dropping low over the phone in a way that made Jungkook's knees weak even from thousands of miles away. How in the world was Jungkook supposed to handle a lifetime with someone so unpredictable, so utterly captivating? The thought made his lips curve into a fond smile as he adjusted a painting on the wall, his mind drifting to his fiancé despite the task at hand.

Life had kept them both busy since their separation. Jungkook worked as an assistant at a prestigious art gallery in Seoul, curating exhibitions and assisting with installations, his days filled with the scent of paint and the quiet satisfaction of creation. Taehyung, meanwhile, was thriving as a software engineer back in the U.S., his sharp mind tackling complex projects with the same passion he poured into their relationship.

Despite the time difference—Korea's daylight hours often aligning with Taehyung's late nights—they made it work. Texts pinged back and forth at odd hours, FaceTime calls squeezed into lunch breaks or sleepy evenings, their voices bridging the distance with laughter and longing. Every conversation ended the same way: Taehyung whining about how much he missed Jungkook, his tone dramatic yet achingly sincere. "I just want to hold you, bun," he'd say, voice softening. "I'd give anything to have you in my arms right now." Sometimes, he'd escalate to playful threats, his deep chuckle crackling through the phone: "Marry me soon, Kookie, or I'm flying to Korea, kidnapping you, and dragging you to the altar myself." Jungkook would laugh, the sound bright and unrestrained, because as much as he wanted to marry Taehyung—and oh, he did—he wasn't ready to rush. Taehyung understood, of course, his patience a quiet testament to how deeply he respected Jungkook's wishes.

Today, Jungkook was in the gallery, surrounded by half-hung canvases and the faint hum of a quiet afternoon. He was perched on a ladder, adjusting the lighting for a new piece, when his phone buzzed in his pocket. His heart gave its usual leap, a reflex born of six months of love and anticipation. He climbed down, brushing his hands on his jeans, and pulled out his phone. The screen lit up with Taehyung's name, and instantly, an adorable, unstoppable smile spread across Jungkook's face, softening his features and crinkling his eyes. He swiped to answer, pressing the phone to his ear as he leaned against a workbench, the gallery fading into the background.