♡♡A Lie Dressed in the Morning
I stood by the door, bag clutched tighter than usual. The rain from yesterday had left a wet chill in the air, making my coat cling to me in a way that reminded me of the vulnerability I tried so hard to hide.
"I'll be late today," I told him, eyes fixed on the floor, voice barely above a whisper.
Taehyung didn't look up at me at first. He remained seated at the small breakfast table, fingers wrapped around a warm mug of coffee. Steam rose and danced in the morning light, curling like the thoughts I didn't want him to see.
Finally, he lifted his gaze, eyes steady and unreadable.
"Will you eat before you go?"
"I'll grab something outside," I said too quickly, already halfway to the door.
He didn't scold me. Didn't ask more. He simply stood, silent, moving with a grace that made the air seem to bend around him.
"Hmm."
He came close enough to brush a kiss against my forehead. Gentle. Tender. Unexpected. My chest tightened as I froze in place.
He rarely said things like that. "Be safe." It wasn't a command or a tease, as he usually offered. It was a small wish, a sliver of care that made my stomach twist with guilt and longing.
I left quickly, head down, trying not to let the emotions claw too far into me. My heels clicked against the marble as I descended the long staircase, the sound echoing like a heartbeat I wasn't ready to hear.
Outside, the city was a blur of early commuters and cafe lights. I headed toward the quiet corner of a small cafe by the old bridge. My heart wouldn't settle. The memory of his kiss lingered like a warning.
And there he was. The detective. Waiting, coat collar up, like a shadow carved from the pages of a noir novel. Eyes scanning the street behind me.
"You weren't followed, right?" he asked, calm but sharp, voice cutting through the early morning air.
"No," I said too quickly, taking a seat. My hands gripped my bag tighter, fingers pressing into leather. "Why would I be?"
He didn't answer immediately. He simply slid a thin envelope across the table toward me.
"No license in your name. But someone used your photo for an ID. We'll go together."
I nodded, trying to steady the tremble in my hands. "…okay. Let's do it."
I didn't notice the car parked three stories down. Dark, idle, engine silent. Tinted windows hiding eyes that followed my every movement. Watching me. Waiting.
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♡♡Braids & Warning (Trust)
That night, I sat on the edge of the bed, brushing my hair in silence. The day had left me exhausted, limbs heavy, thoughts heavier. I watched the strands fall through my fingers, trying to steady my heartbeat.
The room remained quiet until he came.
No words. No preamble. He sat behind me, lifting the brush from my hand gently, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. His fingers moved through my hair with slow, careful precision, braiding it as though each strand mattered more than anything else in the world.
"You walked too much today," he murmured. Voice low, intimate, yet unyielding.
"I was nothing," I whispered, watching his reflection in the mirror. My voice sounded small, almost fragile, even to myself.
The braid took shape, ribbon tied with delicate care. His hands were steady, warm, and far too close for comfort—but it was the kind of closeness that made the world outside the room fade.
"Angel," he said suddenly, voice dropping darker. "Don't trust anyone easily."
I blinked.
"What?"
"The world's not as kind as you are," he said, moving a little closer. His breath brushed my neck. "People wear masks. Sometimes, even the one they claim they're helping."
I turned slightly in the chair, confused and wary. "Why are you saying that?"
He didn't answer with words. He leaned forward, pressing a soft, fleeting kiss to my temple. The warmth lingered even after he pulled back, and the smell of his cologne—a mix of leather and something woody—made my heart hammer in a way I tried to ignore.
I watched him move to tidy the kitchen silently, the ease with which he blended care and control, power and gentleness, leaving me unsettled. The braid rested against my shoulder, a tangible reminder of his presence and the warning hidden in his actions.
I closed my eyes, letting the slow rise and fall of his movements fill the room. The words replayed in my mind, clear and stark:
> Don't trust anyone easily.
Even as sleep claimed me, I felt the weight of it—not as fear, but as a tether. A tether to him, and to a truth I wasn't ready to confront.
♡♡Threads of Warning
Sleep came slowly, weighted with exhaustion and questions that refused to settle. My head rested against the pillow, arms wrapped around the braid Taehyung had done earlier, the ribbon soft beneath my fingers.
And then I was somewhere else.
The room was warm, sun slanting through wide windows. I could feel the grass beneath my bare feet, smell the faint sweetness of wildflowers. The air carried laughter, light and soft, like the memory of something I had almost forgotten.
There she was. The girl from the dream, older, radiant, hair tied back messily as if she had been too busy living to care about perfection. Her eyes met mine, and for a moment, the world stopped.
She came closer, hands brushing against mine as she began braiding my hair carefully, each strand tucked in with the kind of patience that made my chest ache.
"Be careful," she said softly.
I blinked. "Careful about what?"
Her hands paused, holding my braid with gentle firmness. Her face was full of love, eyes warm and unyielding, but there was a shadow in them—an urgency I couldn't ignore.
"Not everyone you trust will be kind."
I frowned. "Who? What do you mean?"
She shook her head, almost sadly, weaving the braid tighter yet tenderly.
"I can't tell you who… but you're leaning on someone you shouldn't. Someone who will hurt you if you let them in too far."
Her fingers lingered on my shoulder for a heartbeat longer than necessary. Her gaze was filled with a mixture of care and warning, as if she had seen all the futures at once.
"Listen to me," she whispered, voice soft but urgent. "Even if it feels right… even if it looks like safety… be careful who you let braid your life together."
I swallowed, heart thumping. My eyes darted to her face, memorizing every line, every warmth. The love in her eyes felt real, grounding—but the warning cut sharper than any blade.
"Is it… him?" I whispered. The words trembled on my lips.
She shook her head, not giving an answer, just tilting her head slightly. Her hands returned to my hair, smoothing it as though to comfort me, yet still holding me in that tense caution.
"I can't tell you. Not yet. But you'll know when the danger comes. And when it does… trust yourself first."
Her touch lingered, warm and protective, but I woke up with a shiver, unsure if the warning was for Taehyung or the detective. The braid in my hand felt heavier now, tangled with doubt, longing, and a question I couldn't answer:
Who am I trusting? And who will break me first?