Days passed. The touches kept coming.
Not every night. But often enough that Taehyung started dading the dark. He would lie awake for hours, listening. Waiting. His body tense under the blanket.
Some nights, nothing happened. Those nights were almost worse because he could never know which night it would be.
Some nights, the fingers came back. They traced his arms. His neck. His chest. Always his chest. The pressure would build slow, then turn rough. He would wake up with sore marks and a racing heart.
He started wearing thicker shirts to bed. Long sleeves. Buttoned up to his neck. It did not help. The hands always found their way in.
---
One morning, Taehyung stood in front of the bathroom mirror. He pulled his shirt off slowly.
Bruises. Light purple ones across his chest. Five finger shaped marks pressed into his skin like a careless handprint.
He stared at them for a long time.
Three months ago, his husband had died. A heart attack. Sudden. No warning. One moment he was there and the next he was gone. Now Taehyung was alone in this big house with two stepsons who had always felt more like strangers than family.
His thumbs brushed over the bruises. He winced.
He was losing his mind. That had to be it. Maybe the grief was making his body hurt in ways he could not explain. Maybe he was doing it to himself in his sleep and did not remember.
Yes. That had to be it.
He buttoned his shirt back up and went downstairs like nothing was wrong.
---
Kookie sat at the dining table with his school books spread out. He was sixteen but he still struggled with his studies. Taehyung usually helped him, but lately his head was too cloudy.
"Morning, dad." Kookie's voice was small.
"Morning, sweetheart." Taehyung kissed the top of his head. Kookie blushed a little. He loved that. Any small bit of kindness made the boy light up like a lamp.
Taehyung poured orange juice for Kookie and coffee for himself. He watched the boy write carefully in his notebook, sticking his tongue out when he concentrated. So innocent. So untouched by everything wrong in this house.
"Where is Jungkook?" Taehyung asked.
"I think he's still upstairs. He stayed up late again." Kookie shrugged. "I heard his music playing at like two in the morning."
Taehyung's stomach dropped.
Two in the morning.
That was when the touches usually started.
"Naturally he stays up late," Taehyung said carefully. "Does he go downstairs at all during that time?"
"Like go to the kitchen, he still doesn't make food himself."
Taehyung exhaled slowly. Maybe not the first one. Maybe not the last.
"What?" Kookie asked, looking up.
"Nothing."
"I hate when you do that." Kookie's voice was so gentle even his complaints sounded tender.
"I know. I'm sorry. I'm just tired."
Taehyung's hands were shaking around the coffee mug. Kookie noticed.
Kookie reached over and covered Taehyung's hands with his own small warm ones. "If something is wrong, you can tell me. Right?"
"Nothing is wrong," Taehyung lied.
