Kim Taehyung had done some questionable things in his life. Once, he tried to impress a girl by reciting Shakespeare during chemistry lab. Another time, he spilled hot coffee on his professor and still asked for an A.
But nothing — absolutely nothing — compared to what he did right now.
Taehyung wasn't sure what was worse — the awkward silence, the cold stare Jungkook was giving him, or the fact that he'd just asked his boss if he was single.
The second the words "Are you single, Mr. Jeon?" left his lips, Taehyung regretted everything. His brain short-circuited. His soul attempted to escape his body. He might've even stopped breathing.
Jungkook blinked once.
His face remained unreadable.
"Excuse me?"
Taehyung coughed, eyes darting around like he could find a time machine in the bushes. "I-I mean—like, professionally single? Not busy? For work? Like availability! For meetings. Obviously."
He laughed. Alone.
Jungkook stared at him for a moment that felt like a lifetime, then said in a voice colder than ice,
"You seem drunk. Get some air."
And just like that, he turned and walked back inside.
Taehyung stood outside the restaurant, fists clenched at his sides.
He looked up at the sky.
"Dear God. End me."
.
.
.
Kim Taehyung didn't sleep that night.
It wasn't because of caffeine. Or the broken laptop screen he still had to replace. Or the endless teasing voices in his head repeating:
"Are you single, Mr. Jeon?"
Are you single, Mr. Jeon?
Are you—
No. It was because he said that to Jeon Jungkook — his boss. The man who rarely spoke, never smiled, and whose idea of friendliness was not breathing down someone's neck for placing a stapler an inch off-center.
He stared at the ceiling in his dark room, phone held against his chest. He groaned into his pillow and reached over to his phone typing into the search bar with dead eyes.
|| How to make someone fall in love with you at work without making it weird.
|| Subtle flirting at workplace.
|| Can you seduce your boss if he hates you?
He scrolled.
Step 1: Eye contact.
Step 2: Casual compliments.
Step 3: Physical touch (light, respectful).
Step 4: Make them laugh.
Step 5: Confidence is attractive.
Taehyung leaned back with a dramatic sigh. "I'm going to die alone."
Taehyung stared at the screen. "Eye contact? I can barely breathe when he walks past."
He slumped into the bed, hands in his hair.
But something inside him whispered: Challenge accepted.
"I'm not trying to actually fall in love. I just need someone — anyone — to fall for me. For science. For dignity."
He slammed his phone shut.
"This is now officially Operation: Thaw the CEO."
.
.
.
Taehyung stood near Jimin's desk, arms folded, eyes locked onto Jungkook's office like a soldier planning a battlefield ambush.
Jimin, noticing the intense stare, blinked in confusion. "What's with that face?"
Taehyung didn't look away. "I'm going to war."
Jimin raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "Okay… what did you eat this morning?"
Taehyung's lips curled into a dramatic smirk. "Jeon Jungkook."
Jimin choked on his saliva. "What?"
"I've made up my mind." Taehyung stood taller, chin lifted with fake confidence. "Jeon Jungkook will fall for me."
Jimin burst out laughing. "You're not serious."
"I'm very serious." Taehyung finally turned to him. "He's the reason I'm still single. All those girls I tried to talk to in university? He always showed up out of nowhere like some stupid K-drama male lead and ruined everything."
Jimin tried to hold back another laugh.
Taehyung pointed dramatically at Jungkook's office. "He doesn't like asymmetry? Great. He'll fall for asymmetry. For chaos. For me."
Jimin shook his head, struggling not to laugh. "This is going to end in flames."
"Wish me luck," Taehyung said, already walking toward the office.
"Good luck, Cupid's enemy," Jimin muttered, waving lazily behind him as he turned back to his screen.
.
.
Jungkook's office, as always, looked like a photoshoot for a luxury brand's concept of "minimal stress." Spotless desk. Perfectly aligned files. Air that felt like it had been filtered for dust and emotion.
Jungkook sat behind the desk, sleeves rolled just right, eyes on his screen, typing with the kind of quiet aggression that only perfectionists seemed to master.
Taehyung stepped in, clutching the equipment report like it might protect him from public humiliation.
"Good morning. I have today's report."
"Leave it on the desk." Jungkook kept typing.
Taehyung placed the file on the desk carefully, hesitating.
This was his moment. The internet said eye contact. Compliment. Confidence.
He cleared his throat and said, a little louder this time, "Are you made of copper and tellurium?"
That made Jungkook pause. His fingers stopped. Slowly, he looked up at Taehyung.
Expression unreadable. Eyes blank.
Taehyung swallowed. "Because you're… Cu–Te."
Nothing.
No blink. No twitch. Not even a change in breathing.
The silence that followed could be bottled and sold as pure secondhand embarrassment. It was the kind of silence that screamed. That had its own weight. That made the ceiling fan suddenly sound like a thunderstorm.
Taehyung's smile awkwardly. "Alright," he whispered, giving a stiff nod to the air, and turned around to leave.
He walked out of the office with the energy of someone who just handed their crush a valentine and got handed their own obituary in return.
Within seconds, he dropped into the chair beside Jimin's desk like he'd been shot.
Jimin looked up from his monitor. "Why do you look like someone ran over your dignity?"
Taehyung slowly turned his head to him. "I just called Jeon Jungkook 'Cu-Te.'"
Jimin stared. "You what?"
"I used the copper and tellurium line."
"You—" Jimin's voice cracked as he leaned back. "You told Jeon Jungkook, that he's Cu–Te?!"
Taehyung groaned, face in hands. "I need a new identity. And a passport. Maybe a plane ticket to a country where eye contact is illegal."
Taehyung groaned and dragged his hands down his face. "He didn't even react. He just… blinked. Or maybe not. I'm not sure. He might have been asleep with his eyes open."
"I'm genuinely amazed you're still employed," Jimin said, laughing. "You're either brave or just suicidal."
Jimin snorted. "You're trying too hard."
"I am not trying too hard. I'm trying like a normal person who doesn't want to die alone while everyone else in the cafeteria is out celebrating Valentine's Day."
"Your normal is terrifying," Jimin said, flipping a page of his schedule. "Just don't get fired. He already doesn't like noise or disorganization and you're basically both of those things with hair."
Taehyung scowled. "I am charming chaos."
"You're a walking HR warning sign."
"He will fall. " Taehyung said flipping his hair and going back to his desk.
.
.
After slumping over Jimin's desk and declaring the end of his career, Taehyung had eventually dragged himself back to his own station.
He sat down with a deep sigh, clicking open the outgoing mail list. The cursor blinked at him like it was judging his flirting choices.
He didn't dare look back at Jungkook's office again.
But fate, apparently, wasn't done bullying him yet.
While carrying a stack of sealed files toward the printing corner near the conference lounge, Taehyung rounded the hallway and nearly bumped into Jungkook.
They both paused. No one else around. Just the sound of distant printers and the hum of ceiling lights.
Taehyung panicked slightly. He forced a casual smile. "Long day, huh?"
Jungkook didn't stop walking. Didn't even look his way.
"I mean," Taehyung added quickly, a little softer, "a lot of meetings and everything—"
Still nothing.
The only sound was Jungkook's footsteps fading down the hall, sharp and even.
Taehyung stood there for a beat. Then turned and muttered, "Cool. I'll just go flirt with the office printer next."
The office began to thin out. Staff filtered out one by one, their voices fading behind goodnights and beeps of elevator doors. Taehyung was still at his desk, tapping at keys and occasionally glaring at an Excel cell like it personally offended him.
He caught a glimpse of movement.
Jungkook was walking toward the elevator, coat on, dark and elegant as ever.
Taehyung glanced away… only to freeze when he noticed Jungkook had paused by his desk.
His heart did a nervous flip. "Yes?"
Jungkook didn't look at him. His eyes were fixed on something small, mundane.
"The folder." he said blankly. "It's uneven."
Taehyung blinked. "Oh. Right. I'll fix it."
Jungkook gave a single nod and walked off.
Taehyung stared at his back like he was trying to decode a cryptic language.
He sat back down with a heavy sigh, reopened his browser, and typed into the search bar:
|| How to flirt with someone who has no emotions.
Level: Extreme boss mode.
He stared at the screen.
Then slowly closed the lid and groaned into his hands. "This is going to take forever."
.
.
.
The office was silent.
Everyone had gone home hour ago. The overhead lights had dimmed into evening mode, casting pale shadows across empty desks and quiet glass partitions.
Taehyung was still at his, sorting the final shipment reports and outgoing mail lists. A pile of documents stared at him like it had a personal vendetta.
By the time he shut his laptop, it was well past nine. He stretched his back, groaned, and slung his bag over his shoulder.
When he stepped outside, the city was soaked in black and silver.
Rain poured from the sky in thick curtains, drumming onto the sidewalk and rooftops like nature's version of a breakup song.
He stopped just under the building's small exit awning, watching the water splash into the gutter.
"Romantic weather," he murmured to himself. "And still single."
Figures.
He hugged his coat tighter, debating a half-sprint to the bus stop or calling a cab. Neither option looked appealing.
That's when headlights turned the corner.
A sleek black car pulled up close to the front steps. The engine hummed low, and a suited man stepped out holding a large umbrella.
Taehyung straightened slightly, startled.
Mr. Kim?" the man called over the rain. "Mr. Jeon asked if you needed a ride."
Taehyung blinked. "Oh—um, no. It's fine, really. I can manage."
The driver gave a polite nod. "Alright, sir."
He turned to walk back—
But Taehyung's mind stalled.
This is a chance. A perfect chance. Privacy. No coworkers. No interruptions. For the mission.
"Wait!" he called out. "I'll come."
The driver turned back with a small smile and opened the door.
Taehyung ducked into the car, heart racing slightly from the rain and nerves.
As soon as the door shut, he looked up—
—and immediately looked at Jeon Jungkook.
Jungkook was seated on the far side of the seat, leaning slightly toward the window, phone in hand, expression unreadable.
His coat was dry. His hair, slightly tousled. His presence, exactly as overwhelming as usual.
A privacy screen rose behind them, sealing the car from the driver.
Taehyung swallowed.
The silence sat heavy. The sound of rain was the only thing keeping him from screaming.
His brain said: Do something.
His heart said: Run away.
His mouth said:
"…Nice weather we're having."
Jungkook didn't respond.
Taehyung cleared his throat. "Well—not nice. Just wet. I mean, the rain, not me—I'm not wet—well, I am, but like—not in that—"
Jungkook finally looked at him.
Sharp eyes. Blank face. Zero help.
Taehyung immediately shut up and stared forward like the leather seats were his last lifeline on earth.
Mission: Flirt was going terribly.
This was it.
He glanced once at the screen. Back to Jungkook. Took a breath.
"Hey, um… you ever wonder why umbrellas always flip inside out when you actually need them?"
Silence.
Jungkook looked out the window.
Taehyung smiled nervously, rubbing his palms together. "Or maybe… it's the universe telling us something. Like, 'Hey. Go sit in a stranger's car and flirt your way into a stable relationship.'"
Still nothing.
The air between them was cold. Not uncomfortable — but sharp, like glass that hadn't broken yet.
Taehyung leaned slightly forward, trying again.
"You know… if this were a drama, we'd be halfway to something."
Jungkook turned his head slowly.
Their eyes met.
Taehyung froze under the weight of that stare — dark, unreadable, like a locked room you couldn't quite figure out how to enter.
The seconds stretched thin.
And then Jungkook looked away again.
Nothing said. No response. Not even a raised eyebrow.
The silence screamed louder than any rejection.
Taehyung sat back in defeat, exhaling softly.
Another website turned out to be fake. Taehyung thought. He needs to research more.
The rest of the ride was quiet. Just the soft sound of rain tracing over the windows.
When the car finally stopped in front of Taehyung's apartment, he muttered a tired "Thank you," and reached for the door.
Before his hand could touch the handle—
"Mr. Kim."
The voice was low. Controlled.
Taehyung froze.
His hand hovered near the door, breath caught. Slowly… he turned. "Yes?"
Jungkook didn't look at him.
He sat perfectly still, gaze fixed on the rain-slick window. His expression unreadable — like the world outside was far more interesting than the one inside.
The car was so quiet now. The rain tapping against the roof sounded almost too loud. Taehyung's heart beat once. Then again.
Then—
"You're not my type."
Four words. Sharp. Precise. Not cruel — but cold enough to sting.
No pause. No explanation. No glance.
Just that.
A clean slice.
The door unlocked with a soft, indifferent click.
Taehyung stood there for a moment, too stunned to move.
Then, stiffly, he nodded — even though Jungkook still wasn't looking at him — and stepped out into the rain.
The car door shut behind him with a dull thud, muffled by the storm.
He didn't turn around.
Didn't watch the car drive off.
He just stood there on the sidewalk, the rain soaking through his jacket, sticking his hair to his forehead. Water trailing down the side of his face like something unspoken.
His fingers curled slightly at his sides.
His jaw tensed.
He exhaled — once — hard.
"…Seriously?" he muttered to himself.
He tilted his head back, eyes fluttering shut for a beat as rain dotted his lashes. It was embarrassing. Humiliating. And somehow… not surprising.
His lips twitched. Not quite a smile. Not quite anger.
And then—
He laughed.
Just once. Quiet. Low.
Then the corner of his mouth pulled up.
A slow, dry smirk.
Not defeat. Something else.
"But he still felt the need to say it."
He looked toward the glowing lights of his apartment, blinking the rain away.
" I will see how you change your type. Now, this is on my diginity." He flick his hairs. " You will fall for me then I will dump you. "