Chapter Text
Namjoon was not the jealous type. Absolutely not. His entire friend group would swear to it.
What was he even supposed to be jealous about? Yes, his Alpha happened to be disgustingly handsome and unfairly gorgeous, if he was being honest, though he’d deny saying it out loud but still.
Yet here he was, quietly seething, because his oh-so-sweet, so ridiculously gullible, dumbly handsome Alpha was making everything worse.
Taehyung had been invited to a school reunion. He’d rejected the first invitations without hesitation, and Namjoon knew exactly why. Taehyung didn’t want to leave his pregnant mate alone in their ginormous apartment while he went off to eat dinner and reminisce with old friends.
This time, he didn’t even bother reading the message fully before declining. He simply saw the sender’s name and said no. Because he couldn’t imagine leaving Namjoon alone in the dorm — not when he was pregnant, not when every little thing made him worry.
But Namjoon felt guilty. Terribly guilty. He knew Taehyung missed his friends. So he’d coaxed him, reassured him, told him that being alone for a few hours wouldn’t kill him or trigger some dramatic medical emergency. He even suggested inviting one of Taehyung’s siblings to keep him company an offer Taehyung rejected immediately, because apparently Namjoon’s cravings were already “unpredictable enough,” and adding a Kim sibling into the mix would only “activate something he refused to name.”
With no other option left, Taehyung being the sassy, overconfident genius he was chose the most Taehyung solution possible:
“Why don’t I just take my beautiful, gorgeous, glowing, pregnant mate with me and show him off?”
Namjoon had agreed.
And now he was deeply regretting it.
Because he was sitting across a table full of Taehyung’s childhood friends who were currently reminiscing loudly and enthusiastically about Taehyung’s ex high-school sweetheart. As if Namjoon wasn’t right there. As if he wasn’t sitting close enough to reach across the table and strangle someone.
And Taehyung… oh, Taehyung was not helping.
He was sitting there like a sin carved into a human body, wearing a suit so slutty it should’ve been illegal no shirt underneath, just smooth skin framed by a dark, perfectly tailored jacket, the deep V dipping low enough that Namjoon wanted to throw a napkin over him like an offended Victorian auntie.
Taehyung was smiling too brightly, laughing too easily, shoulders shaking, chest peeking with every movement
And Namjoon’s jealousy, long dormant and supposedly nonexistent, was rising like a tide.
“Do you remember when you and Hyerin used to skip class and go on ice-cream dates? And Jimin would be the one bringing the lecture notes to your dorm afterwards?” Hoseok added enthusiastically, nostalgia painted all over his face.
“Oh, Taehyung has always been a lover boy,” Jungkook chimed in. “Oh! And you two even argued about baby names, remember? You said you wanted five kids.” He laughed like the memory was adorable.
Namjoon stared at all of them with a bland expression that was one part disgust, one part disappointment. His appetite was long dead — especially after learning Jin owned the restaurant.
He couldn’t eat food cooked by traitors.
“But look at you now,” Yoongi said with a lazy smirk, lifting his beer to his lips. “You bagged yourself a gorgeous omega. Taehyung, you’re such a lucky freak.”
Taehyung only smirked, but his attention drifted the moment he looked at Namjoon. The meat he had cut earlier sat untouched. Without comment, he sliced more pieces — smaller, softer — and nudged the plate toward his mate.
Namjoon didn’t spare him a glance. He kept his eyes locked on Jimin, who was now rambling drunkenly about his first love. Namjoon listened with exaggerated interest solely because the alternative was looking at Taehyung.
Taehyung nudged his thigh under the table.
Namjoon shrugged him off.
“Oh, hyung…” Jimin suddenly turned, squinting toward Namjoon. “Was Taehyung your first love?”
The table stilled. All eyes swung to Namjoon.
“Ah—well…” Namjoon shrugged awkwardly, hands drifting to rub the slight curve of his bump under the table. “Sort of.”
“Really?!” Jungkook squeaked.
“Why are you acting shocked?” Namjoon snapped lightly, lips pushing into a pout.
“I don’t know, hyung,” Jimin laughed. “You look like you were a certified heartbreaker.”
Namjoon smiled a little, shy but tense. “Not really. Relationships were never my thing.”
Then, barely audible, he muttered under his breath ….. soft enough for everyone except Taehyung to miss…
“Not all of us spent our youth whoring around…”
Taehyung heard it.
His eyes widened, the fork paused mid-air, and the table kept laughing, completely unaware of the quiet storm brewing beside him.
The dinner dragged on.
Games were played, inside jokes resurfaced, laughter ricocheted around the private booth, but Taehyung didn’t hear a single thing.
His entire focus was on Namjoon.
Namjoon, who hadn’t acknowledged him in nearly an hour.
Namjoon, who wouldn’t eat anything Taehyung cut for him but would happily accept a bite from Hoseok or Jungkook.
Namjoon, who kept leaning away every time Taehyung tried to sit a little closer.
It was infuriating.
And terrifying.
Taehyung could see the stiffness in Namjoon’s shoulders, the way he kept touching his bump, the way his scent fluctuated with irritation and discomfort. He wasn’t completely fine, and yet he refused to let Taehyung near.
Meanwhile, Taehyung’s Alpha instincts were losing their minds.
Every time Namjoon grimaced, even slightly, Taehyung’s Alpha snarled internally. Every time someone else reached to refill Namjoon’s drink or pass him food, the possessiveness clawed up Taehyung’s throat. Every time Namjoon brushed Taehyung off, his instincts writhed in frustration.
His mate was upset.
His mate was pregnant.
His mate was clearly uncomfortable.
And Taehyung couldn’t do a single damn thing because Namjoon wouldn’t even look at him.
He didn’t even know what he’d done wrong.
An angry Namjoon was bad enough stubborn, petty, sharp-tongued.
But an angry pregnant Namjoon?
That was a whole new level of terrifying.
Because Namjoon wasn’t yelling.
He wasn’t sulking dramatically.
He wasn’t making snide comments.
No.
He was doing the one thing Taehyung feared most:
He was pretending Taehyung didn’t exist.
Taehyung watched as Namjoon accepted another piece of fruit from Jin — Jin, of all people without a glance in his direction. And for the first time all night, Taehyung’s heart dropped to his stomach.
Why would Namjoon rather take food from anyone else?
Why wouldn’t he let Taehyung sit close, or touch him, or comfort him?
Why wouldn’t he let Taehyung take care of him?
Taehyung sat there with a polite smile glued to his face, eyes following Namjoon like a shadow he’d lost control of.
He was miserable.
Utterly, painfully miserable.
And his mate didn’t even care enough to look at him.
Taehyung was upset.
He truly tried not to ruin the reunion, but the glares slipping out of him were impossible to hide. And the members? Oh, they were thriving. Every time Taehyung shot daggers at someone, they snorted into their drinks like it was premium entertainment.
But Taehyung had reached his limit.
He stood up abruptly, chair scraping loudly across the floor. Without a word, he began gathering their things Namjoon’s scarf, his coat, the small bag he’d carried in.
“We’re leaving,” he announced, leaving no room for negotiation.
Namjoon furrowed his brows, lips pushing into a soft pout as he muttered something too low for anyone to catch. Taehyung pretended not to notice Jimin’s knowing smirk or the way Jungkook was clearly biting his lip to keep from bursting into laughter.
Circling the table, Taehyung reached for Namjoon who at that moment was tucked between Seokjin and Hoseok, being coddled like a spoiled princess. Taehyung gently but firmly pulled him away, only for Namjoon to shrug off his hand and wave at the others like Taehyung wasn’t even there.
“Bye, pretty omega!” Jin called out, tipsy giggles following.
Taehyung shot him a glare so sharp it could’ve sliced glass.
“Go pacify your baby,” Jungkook added, voice dripping bratty mischief.
Taehyung clicked his tongue and turned away, striding toward the exit in search of his runaway mate.
He found Namjoon standing at the door, tiny fists pushing at the handle. When it didn’t budge, Namjoon glared at the door itself as though it had personally offended him then let out a small huff and leaned against it with a pout.
Taehyung’s annoyance cracked. His lips twitched into an involuntary smile.
He approached slowly, stopping right in front of Namjoon who stubbornly refused to lift his eyes.
Taehyung sighed. “What happened?”
Silence. Namjoon didn’t even blink.
Another sigh, deeper this time. Taehyung stepped closer and gently began putting the scarf around Namjoon’s neck, adjusting it carefully. Then he helped him into his jacket, smoothing it over his shoulders.
“Okay, sweetheart” he murmured. “I’m sorry. Please… forgive me. Just tell me what I did so I won’t do it again.”
That finally earned him a glance small, quick, but enough to make Taehyung’s chest loosen.
But Namjoon simply shrugged his hands away and mumbled, voice soft and tired:
“I’m tired. I want to go home.”
______________________________________
The car ride home was torture.
Taehyung kept trying to start conversations small ones, gentle ones, even stupid ones but every reply from Namjoon was sharp, clipped, or barely a mumble. The tension sat heavy in the air, so thick Taehyung could barely breathe through the guilt.
He didn’t realize how serious the situation truly was until later, when it was time for their nightly routine, the one Taehyung always used to coax Namjoon into relaxing. He’d thought maybe that moment would soften things.
But fate said no.
Taehyung paused mid–hair-drying, towel in hand, when he noticed Namjoon already on the bed with his eyes shut.
Sleeping.
Actually, pretending to sleep.
Taehyung frowned and walked over. “Why are you lying down already?”
“I’m sleeping,” Namjoon muttered petulantly, voice thick with attitude.
“What do you mean you’re sleeping?” Taehyung pulled the duvet back, eyes widening. “Joon, look how swollen your feet are—! Get up.”
Namjoon ignored him.
“Namjoon, I’m not joking.” Frustration seeped into Taehyung’s voice. “What’s with the attitude?”
Namjoon pushed himself upright, leaning against the headboard with his arms folded across his chest. Brows raised, lips set in a pout, he said coldly:
“Did I tell you that you did something wrong?”
Taehyung exhaled sharply.
“Namjoon, please,” he said quietly, voice softening instantly. “I’m really trying here. I don’t want to fight with you, I don’t want to argue. I don’t know what I did wrong but whatever it was, it’s clearly hurting you. And you’re not letting me fix it.”
He reached out and gently took Namjoon’s hands in his own, thumb brushing over the knuckles.
“Please… talk to me, joon.”
Namjoon’s eyes flickered away. His lip caught between his teeth, embarrassment creeping in. Because how was he supposed to admit it? That he’d heard all about Taehyung’s perfect ex. How loved she was, how adorable they were, how many memories they shared. How Namjoon had silently compared himself in ways he shouldn’t have.
“Joon…” Taehyung murmured.
Namjoon stayed silent.
“Okay,” Taehyung said softly. “If you’re not ready to talk, that’s fine. But please… at least let me massage your feet. Hm?” His voice dropped to a pleading. “If I don’t, they’ll hurt even more in the morning. Please, love.”
Namjoon stayed quiet for a long moment.
Then, in the softest voice imaginable,
“…mhm.”
Taehyung lit up instantly. He kissed Namjoon’s hand gently, gratefully before practically sprinting to grab the massage oil.
Namjoon watched him go, fighting a smile that kept tugging at the corner of his lips