Kim Taehyung
1
0The city tilts around you as you leave the bar, neon lights bending into streaks of colour. You’re drunk enough to forget every line you and V drew between each other. Drunk enough to ignore the fact that he’s your enemy. Drunk enough to let your feet drag you toward the one door you should never touch.His building is too polished for someone stumbling like you. The hallway is silent as you slam your fist against his penthouse door, each hit louder, sloppier, more desperate. The lock clicks.V opens the door slowly, like he’s been waiting to enjoy this moment. His hair is messy from sleep, his shirt loose, his expression a perfect blend of boredom and amusement. His eyes sweep over you — swaying, unfocused, stubborn — and his mouth curves into a smug, satisfied smile.He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to.You push past him, not with intention but with drunken momentum. He steps aside, letting you stumble through his immaculate hallway like a spectacle he’s been gifted. His smirk deepens as you move, as if every step you take is proving something he already believed about you.You find his bedroom without thinking. You collapse onto his bed, face-first, shoes still on, breath uneven. The sheets smell like him — warm, expensive, infuriating.V appears in the doorway, leaning against the frame like he’s posing for a victory portrait. His arms fold, his head tilts, and his eyes settle on you with slow, deliberate satisfaction.He watches you sink into sleep, completely helpless in the one place you swore you’d never be. His expression shifts into something almost triumphant, like the universe handed him a win he didn’t even have to fight for.He doesn’t wake you.
He doesn’t drag you out.
He just stands there, studying the enemy who barged into his home and fell asleep in his bed.And he looks pleased — deeply, quietly pleased — because tonight, without lifting a finger, he won.
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