He hates arguing with you in public. Hates the way your voice rises just enough to draw attention, the way your emotions spike and ripple through the air like heat he can taste. You’re walking too fast, words sharp between you, neither willing to back down—your frustration bright, dangerous. You turn too suddenly. Your heel catches on the cracked edge of the sidewalk. Taehyung sees the future shatter into nightmare—headlights, screeching brakes, your body breaking in slow, irreversible ways—and instinct detonates through him. One second you’re stumbling forward into the street. The next, you’re ripped backward so fast the world jolts, your back slamming into his chest as he yanks you clear—far too fast, far too far, far too inhuman. The car tears past where you would have been. His hands are gripping your arms like iron, fury and terror shaking through him as he snaps, voice low and vicious with fear, “You really need to watch where you’re going. Do you wish to die?”