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babystrcandy · 8 months

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the lucky one (pt. 5) | jjk

summary: Growing up you only had one goal: beat Jeon Jungkook. Sometimes you'd win, other times you'd lose. Sometimes he'd lose, other times he'd win. But you'd both walk away from the match thinking the other was the lucky one.

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader rating/genre: 18+ Minors DNI | sports au, e2l/r2l, angst, fluff, smut word count: 27.7K chapter summary: You and Jungkook had always endured your lives, watching everyone else live theirs. It was time you helped each other learn how to finally breathe like real people. warnings/notes: typos probably, explicit language, jk and oc are the sun and moon 100%, hoseok i’m going to kiss you, karaoke..., yoonmin (i don’t ship them irl, don’t worry; all fictional and for plot purposes), panic attacks, poem referenced: mock orange by louise gluck a barbie dream house but all the dolls are kitchen knives by cassandra de alba, oc and jk are like so in love it’s not even funny anymore, oc in her mid-2521 na heedo era, she’s not doing too good, reporters are vultures, mention of king lear, i’m telling you they’re embarrassingly in love, unprotected soft sex like...soft-soft extra soft, mention of icarus/the fall of icarus, i think that’s it but if i missed anything please let me know, i hope you enjoy, my loves <3

chapter five: violet, roses are red, not blue ( ← previous | next → )

FIVE WAYS YOU CAN Help Someone With an Anxiety Disorder:

Validate Their Feelings by Letting Them Know It’s Okay Not to Be Okay

Don’t Tell Them to Calm Down

Encourage Them to Focus on Things They Can Change

Help Them to Help Themselves

Discourage the Use of Alcohol or Drugs to Cope With Anxiety

OK . . .

You blinked once. Twice. Then once more, trying to make sense of the words before your eyes.

The thing was: you’d dealt with anxiety before. Hell, you’d been taking to biting your nails until they bled for a while now. You knew how it felt to peel over the edge of a toilet and empty your stomach’s contents just before a game. But . . . you never knew how to handle it or how to deal with it in such abundant measures.

Why were you looking into it now one may ask? Easy. You didn’t care much about how much you could endure, because truth be told: you knew you could handle it. You knew it would pass and while it sucked, you knew it was something you could deal with. And besides, you could deal with a lot, so . . .

But . . .

There were certain things that made sense to you. While you knew you could deal with everything on your plate . . . and while . . . while you knew Jungkook could handle himself . . . for some reason, you just didn’t want him to have to.

It was an odd thing: realizing you’d rather deal with both your problems and his than let him suffer. You supposed that was what it meant to be friends, though . . . and well . . . you’d never really had any, so this was all new territory for you.

So ever since a few months ago when Jungkook told you about what happened to him just last year, you’d taken to the internet. You spent countless hours researching anxiety disorders, how to help, what to say, what to do, and on the off chance he had a panic attack near you, you’d taken to researching what to do then, too.

It made you feel a little stupid, yes, but you didn’t know how else to help. You didn’t want to make him feel . . . different for telling you, but you also . . . you didn’t want him to feel so alone anymore. (You’d even bought a book on it all (it only made you feel more clueless).

Now . . . you didn’t know much, but you hoped the research would do something. And perhaps it wasn’t too far off either. After all, you’d been helping Jungkook stay away from booze as much as possible, even deciding to stay sober with him and you thought it was helping some. But you knew the late night talks were what helped more. You didn’t know how to say this without sounding full of yourself, but you liked to think you were helping him.

That was what you truly wanted. To help him in ways you couldn’t help yourself. You could handle everything as long as he didn’t have to. That . . . that was what felt right to you.

So . . . five ways you can help someone with an anxiety disorder, you read again. You felt a little more than clueless. Still.

“Hey, Sunshine—“ Jungkook called for you, snapping you out of your own mind— “come look. It’s done.”

Blinking quickly, you clicked off your phone out of habit, realizing where you were. A tattoo parlor.

Yeah . . .

It was the weekend of the final tournaments. The win or lose all, and Yunis was up there right next to the big leagues. How? All because of Jungkook. These past few months you and him had been unbeatable. Sure, you’d lost a few, but . . . more often than not, the two of you would end a match with grins on your faces moments before you jumped into his arms and just let yourself . . . celebrate with him.

That was how it had been. You and Jungkook against the world. And to be honest, you quite liked it that way. (Granted, after your little outburst, your teammates had stopped talking about Jungkook altogether and started to . . . almost but not really but also kind of . . . respect him more (except Wooshik, but whatever). That made things a whole lot better, but it was still just you and him and you were sure it would be for the rest of the season.)

Anyway . . . you were getting off-topic.

The point was: it was almost the weekend of the final tournaments and Yunis was staying at some hotel somewhere in Ulsan. And well, while you and Jungkook were watching some movie in his hotel room, he got an idea. He wanted a new tattoo. For good luck, he’d claimed, and you . . . you hadn’t gotten a tattoo since that one mistake of one. But somehow, someway, Jungkook had managed to drag you out of the hotel and into the nearest tattoo shop he could find on the GPS.

Which landed you there: sitting in the waiting area while Jungkook went first. (He wanted it to be a surprise. That was what he told you, which you thought was a little silly, but whatever.)

And then it would be your turn.

Actually . . .

You turned to face Jungkook, taking in the dopey grin he had spread across his face while he peeked at you through the door leading to the tattooing room. It was your turn.

“Hmm?” you hummed in questioning.

Jungkook shook his head. “Come look,” he repeated as he gestured for you to follow him. “And then I’ve got a couple ideas for yours. Don’t let me forget. And don’t pretend to forget. Got it?”

You rolled your eyes with a huff, but nevertheless, followed after him, shutting the door behind you. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of the artist, but, well, you had never been good at greeting people, so what should’ve been a small greeting wave, turned into you just staring at him with some kind of . . . smile on your face. And when you realized that was so not the way to go, you turned your attention back to Jungkook, grabbing onto the loop of his jeans as he led you to the mirror on the other side of the room.

Jungkook glanced to where you clung onto him, raising his brows as he looked between your face and your hand. “Good?”

You blinked. Then realized what you were doing. Then well . . . you cleared your throat and attempted to tear your hand from his body, but before you could, his fingers curled around your wrist. And without a second glance, Jungkook guided your hand back to him, allowing it to slip into his back pocket.

All you could do was stare at the back of his head in shock. His dark hair was long now. Longer than it had ever been, to the point it could only be tied back with a hair tie or it’d be in his face all day, which was his go-to most days considering the days were long and hot. And somehow, he looked more like himself like that. He seemed to smile more, too, and you always managed to smile back even when you least expected it.

But you couldn’t help it. He was just . . . well . . .

(Sometimes he made you wonder if you should really find your friend this attractive but you ignored that most days.)

Whatever . . . the point was: you had trouble wrapping your head around his touch; around the fact that while he wasn’t exactly yours, he didn’t mind your hands on him at any time. No one had ever liked your touch this much. You had always been too cold; too harsh; too rough, but around him, you felt like your touch was almost . . . soft.

And that was what always shocked you.

“Are you drooling?” Jungkook asked, snapping you out of your own head.

Only then did you realize you had been staring at him for quite a while now, and well, he would always tease you about that. Because he was . . . Jungkook.

Your brows scrunched together. “What?”

But he didn’t bother to repeat his question. No, instead, he took his thumb and swiped at your bottom lip, inspecting it in thought. “Yep, just as I thought—“ he jutted his thumb toward you— “drool.”

Glaring, you stepped closer. “I don’t drool,” you nearly huffed.

“Mmm, that’s not what the evidence says.”

“It’s chapstick.”

“Really?”

“Really.” You glared a little harder. “Will you just show the tattoo?”

Jungkook only grinned.

And then, he turned his attention to his tattooed arm, slowly pulling up the sleeve of his shirt. Your eyes stayed trained on his arm the entire time, expecting some sort of skull or something stupid, but instead . . . no . . . as he pulled up his sleeve, he revealed a vine of some sort of blue flowers traveling from the empty space left on his lower forearm to his hand, covered by a saniderm wrap.

“What flower’s that?” you questioned, eyes still trained on the fresh tattoo as you carefully brought your hand to his arm.

“Morning glories,” he hummed while he watched you slowly turn his arm to get the full view. “My mom says they’re a pain. They grow everywhere like weeds. Once you plant one, that’s it, she says. They grow like wildfire. A nuisance.” He laughed softly. “Figured it fit.”

“It’s pretty,” you murmured with a small smile. “Fits the rest.” You tilted your head to the side a little. “Kinda looks like the snake is wrapping around it.”

Jungkook nodded. “Cool, right?”

It was. It actually really was.

“It’s nice,” you settled with instead, feigning disinterest.

But Jungkook knew you well. “Admit it,” he pushed on, leaning toward you. “Admit you’re impressed.”

Nearly rolling your eyes, you finally huffed, “Yes, fine, it’s actually cool, Kook.”

“So I’ve impressed you?”

“Well, considering I thought you were going to get a dick, yes, I suppose I’m impressed,” you muttered with a small shrug.

Jungkook snorted. “Well.”

Oh god. No, he didn’t.

Furrowing your brows, you pegged the question, “Please tell me you did not get a dick and balls tattooed on you.”

His face screwed up as he tilted his head to the side in thought. “Well . . . “

“Kook.”

Pursing his lips into a cute pout, he offered you his other hand, showing off his fingers. And there on his ring finger was the number three, and on his middle was a sideways U. Meaning, yes, Jeon Jungkook did, in fact, get a small yet visible yet inconspicuous yet not that inconspicuous at all, penis tattooed on his fingers. And no, no, you were not surprised.

“Really?” you deadpanned.

Jungkook shrugged. “Whoops.”

“As long as you don’t think this is a matching tattoo kind of thing,” you started off with your finger pointing directly into his chest. “Because, I’m telling you right now, Jungkook, I am not getting a dick tattooed on my body.”

And Jungkook only snorted, shaking his head. “No, god, I’m stupid, not an idiot. I have my designs in my bag.”

Designs? Your brows twitched. He spent that much time on this? But—

But Jungkook was already one step ahead of you, walking from you toward where his bag lay on the ground beside the tattoo chair. He rummaged through its contents until he clasped his hand around a small sketchbook before he took it out and reapproached you, already flipping through it.

Flip, flip, flip . . . and flip, until . . . he paused on a page and slowly offered it toward you with an almost shy (?) look on his face. Jungkook, shy? You almost didn’t believe it, but still, you took the sketchbook from him without another word, letting your eyes take in the sketch before your eyes.

It was another flower. Well, a stem with a few flowers. Yellow this time. And a little different from Jungkook’s. Perhaps it was a little more peculiar.

“It’s an evening primrose,” Jungkook began while your eyes stayed trained on the sketch, still analyzing it. “My mom used to have them in our garden back home. They, uh, only bloom at night. I remember every night we’d watch them. They’d do this little shake and—“ he laughed, softly at first, then a little louder— “my mom would say it was like they were yawning.”

You traced your fingertips over the sketch, remembering your own little memories of the silly flowers. That was why you remembered them. They were your mom’s favorite. She used to plant like five batches each spring and force you to come outside and watch them with her, and yes, you said force because you had always been a disagreeable child. But still, every night, you watched them.

“They’re my mom’s favorite,” you voiced aloud with a small smile playing on your lips.

“Yeah,” he hummed under his breath. “My mom said she gives her a bundle every year for her birthday.”

Glancing up, you nearly beamed. “Really?”

He nodded. “Really.”

“I guess they’d be proud of us, hmm?” you murmured, searching his face. When you realized what you’d said, you quickly cleared your throat. “For becoming chummy, you know?”

His brows twitched. “Yeah . . . I guess they would.”

A beat of silence.

Then . . . Jungkook cleared his throat, shaking his head of his thoughts as his eyes turned back to the sketch. “Anyway, uh, they remind me of home, so I thought maybe they’d do the same for you,” he allowed himself to say in a hushed tone. “But, I mean, there’s others. The drawing’s kinda shit, so—“

“I like it,” you cut him off as you held the sketchbook closer to you. “I’ll—“ you shrugged— “I’ll get it.”

Jungkook’s brows nearly shot up to his hairline. “Really?”

You only nodded. “Why not? It’s cool. It means something I think, so yeah, fuck it, I’ll get it. Besides—“ you flicked his nose— “the sketch is not half bad. You didn’t tell me you could draw.”

“That’s because I can’t.”

“Bullshit.”

“OK—“ he agreed with a shrug— “hand me the tattoo gun. I can give you a Jungkook original.”

Narrowing your eyes, you couldn’t help but purse your lips into an unamused grimace. “No, thanks, I’ll end up walking out with testicles drawn on my forehead,” you muttered with just a little bite in your words.

And that got him. Jungkook laughed, his eyes crinkling first before a grin broke out onto his face. All the while, he playfully ruffled your hair, gesturing for you to sit down in the chair a second later. And you let it happen, a small dopey smile on your face.

(And you almost realized that while Jungkook had been smiling more lately, you, too, had never smiled so much in your life. You supposed you had him to thank for that . . .

Supposedly.)

It wasn’t your reflection which caught your attention in the mirror. No, rather, what your eyes had landed on was the fresh tattoo of an evening primrose placed in the center of your sternum. It was almost similar to Jungkook’s, yet different just like the two of you, and the funny thing about it was . . . it kept managing to bring a small, almost unnoticeable smile to your face.

“What’s got you smiling?” you heard from behind you as Jungkook appeared in the doorway of the hotel room’s bathroom (completely shirtless, might you add).

“Oh, nothing—“ you shrugged as you reached for a comb (totally not just pretending to untangle the ends of your hair), while maintaining eye contact with him in the mirror— “just the fact you whined and whined about how much pain your arm was in for like, what? An hour after?” Turning slowly to face him, you puffed out your bottom lip into a pout. “Such a pussy.”

His brows raised—a look of challenge. “Yeah?”

A beat of silence.

Another shrug was your only response.

Jungkook fought off a grin, crossing his arms. “I’m a . . . pussy?” Pushing off the doorway, he took a step toward you, head cocked to the side slightly. “Hmm?”

Mirroring him, you crossed your arms over your chest. “That’s what I said.”

“Oh, is that what you said?” he mused, mocking your voice.

And before you could even protest or drop your jaw in shock, he was in front of you. He caged you in, leaning his hands on the counter behind you. One more inch and his nose would be touching yours, but you didn’t dare close that gap.

“You’re such a child,” you hissed in a hushed tone as if his proximity had made the room that much smaller and you that much more exposed.

“Mmm, am I?” he mused, his eyes trailing over your features with such languid strokes, you wondered how you ever handled his gaze before.

You raised your head ever so slightly.

To which, obviously, Jungkook found amusing. With that small, toothy, almost endearing smile on his face, he closed the gap, his nose brushing yours. “Kiss me then,” he murmured, pressing closer, just enough to brush his lips against yours in a feathering touch.

And you began to wonder how on earth you ended up becoming putty in his hands. “What if I bite you instead?” you murmured, but despite your words, you leaned into his touch.

Resting his forehead against yours, he hummed, “Well, I wouldn’t be opposed to that either.”

You felt yourself grin. “Good.”

The only response you received was his lips pressing against yours. You leaned closer, pleasantly sighing into the kiss as a grin tipped onto his face. His hands tickled your sides, lightly dancing across your skin before settling on your rib cage just below the crescents of your breasts.

(Perhaps you forgot to mention that you were entirely topless . . .

What? It was uncomfortable with the fresh tattoo.

Whatever.)

And well honestly, you couldn’t resist not having him close. So what if it bothered your tattoo? He felt better than any pain relief.

Quickly, you found yourself tangling your hands in his dark, grown-out hair as you pulled him close enough to have your bare chest pressed against his. It made you feel close . . . closer than you had ever felt with anyone . . . closer than you had ever let yourself. His grip tightened on you instantly, his hands squeezing your sides once more before he gently sucked your bottom lip under the grasp of his teeth.

It only deepened from there. You melted into him, allowing him to meld his tongue against yours. The act squeezed a soft sigh out of you, to which Jungkook couldn’t contain himself. He smiled widely against your lips, and then his arms were around your thighs, lifting you up onto the sink counter. And once you were supported by the countertop, he stepped in between your parted legs as his hands found your face, gently caressing your jaw while he all but sucked on your tongue like he had done so many times before.

“Stop trying to eat my face,” you chuckled against his lips, still kissing him back while your arms wrapped around his neck.

He shook his head, but the small grin you felt against your lips gave him away. “Stop turning me on then,” he murmured back. “It’s just not fair, Daisy baby.”

Daisy baby. That was a new one.

Your brows twitched without your permission as your eyes traced his features. More specifically, your gaze fixed on his lips, watching as he tongued his lip ring—a habit he had accumulated over the years you supposed.

It made it harder to focus on anything except him. And for the second time that night, you wondered how on earth you ended up being at his mercy time and time again.

It just felt so unlike you. So different. So new. So . . . unfamiliar.

Did you like it?

You questioned yourself over and over again these past months. It felt like something you shouldn’t be able to feel. Really . . . it just made you wonder and wonder and wonder.

Until . . . Yes, you decided. Oddly enough, yes, you did like it. You quite liked feeling like this.

But what exactly was this?

. . . Your eyes met his, and your gaze softened instantly. You had no idea what this was. No idea . . .

Jungkook caught onto the look which crossed your face and leaned forward, burying his face into the crook of your neck. “What’s got you lookin’ like that?” he sighed against your skin, pressing open-mouthed kisses anywhere he could.

And your eyes fluttered shut as you melted into his touch. “Nothing,” you hummed, angling your neck to give him more access to your body. “I just—“

But a knock at the door halted the words from leaving your tongue.

The two of you paused.

A beat of silence.

Another knock came.

Jungkook pulled back and your eyes met, confusion passing between the two of you.

Who could be knocking at the door at this hour? Especially Jungkook’s? (Because, really, after the whole meltdown you had at dinner after the first tournament . . . everyone had steered clear of the two of you. So you wondered once more . . . who could be at the door?)

No words were exchanged between the two of you, Jungkook only took the step into the hall, and peered through the peephole on the door. You watched in silence as he stared a second too long, his posture stiff before he sighed and disappeared back into the room. And well, in utter confusion, you hopped down from the counter, following after him only to find he had put on a tee and grabbed another, moments before he handed that very shirt to you with a tight-lipped smile.

“Who is it?” you whispered, your voice hushed as you put on the shirt he’d handed you, covering your bare chest.

Jungkook tongued his inner cheek, but before you could even press the question, his face softened. A small, stiff smile met his lips as he reached out and caressed your chin with his pointer, while his thumb brushed your bottom lip. “Keep your claws in,” he murmured, that small smile still on his face as if he thought that alone would be enough to ease your wandering mind.

“What—“

But he was already gone.

His touch left you and you watched as he approached the door, while you followed slowly behind. The door was swinging open the next second, revealing—

Oh. You blinked in shock.

In the doorway stood Hoseok, whose back was facing you at that very moment while he talked to . . . Seulki?

Huh?

Tilting your head in confusion, you caught Seulki’s wide dark eyes. Her eyes widened further at the sight of you two as she quickly smacked Hoseok’s shoulder and pointed behind him. The action caused Hoseok to immediately shut his mouth as he slowly turned around, his lips down-turned into an awkward expression as his gaze darted between you and Jungkook.

Furrowing your brows, you sent him a look.

Hoseok blinked back in response. Seulki nervously waved before trying to pass it off as her attempting to scratch the back of her head. And Jungkook . . . well . . . he was the one to clear his throat, putting an end to the silence. (You, however, caught onto the fact that his eyes remained glued to his feet the entire time.)

That . . . that made you step forward, until you stood beside Jungkook, crossing your arms over your chest as you leaned against the door frame. “Something wrong?” you questioned the two of them, keeping a close eye.

Hoseok opened his mouth, hesitating slightly. “Uh—“

“We were looking for you guys,” Seulki cut in with a wide smile on her face. “So it’s good that you’re both—“ she glanced at Hoseok, starting to fidget with her hands as she cleared her throat— “here. Hoseok?”

Hoseok eyed her, a tad startled before he nodded in agreement. “Right, yeah,” he hummed with a clap of his hands. “We were gonna meet up with some friends from college in Busan for karaoke. They’re just . . . they’re coming to the final tournaments and we thought ‘why not, let’s go out’.” He laughed . . . awkwardly if you might add. “Anyway . . . We’ve got two extra train tickets. Could be yours . . . ?”

Quirking a brow, you glanced between them. “How much?”

A perplexed look crossed both their faces. But it was Seulki who spoke up first. “What?” she mumbled, slightly puffing out her bottom lip into a small pout—something she happened to do a lot that you’d caught onto. “Nothing. We just . . . “

As her words trailed off, Hoseok picked up where she left off. In fact, he took it a step further. “We . . . “ He quickly shut his mouth, shaking his head at his thoughts before he raised his head once more, eyes now locked on Jungkook rather than hiding from him. It didn’t matter if Jungkook didn’t look him in the eye, it seemed Hoseok had something to get off his chest as he took a literal instead of metaphorical step toward him. “I . . . I feel bad . . . for how we treated you. I assumed things. I never asked you. I never thought to. I should’ve gotten to know you before listening to anything Wooshik had to say. I misjudged you. For that, and everything else . . . I’m—“ he touched a hand to his chest before he gestured toward Seulki— “we are sorry.”

And while his words lingered in the air, you hadn’t realized that the stiffness in your muscles had slowly loosened and your gaze was now set solely on Jungkook. How could it not be?

With a careful glance, you took in Jungkook’s demeanor. It was clear he, too, was taking in Hoseok’s words. His head was still lowered, his eyes trained on his feet, but they kept moving in rapid motions as if he were fighting with himself to not look up. And all you could think was: look up . . . please, please look up.

You hadn’t expected it when you first saw them in the doorway, but you weren’t an idiot. Hoseok and Seulki had come here to make amends. They had come here to admit their wrongs. You couldn’t be angry with that . . . not when you had seen just how happy Jungkook had been the first time he’d been able to . . . see someone.

If he looked up . . . then that would mean he would be OK. If he looked up . . . then maybe he could breathe a little easier. And truly . . . as odd as it sounded . . . all you wanted was for him to be . . . happy.

If Jungkook looked up . . . all of that could be possible.

“Look—“ Hoseok began again, nearly reaching out to pat Jungkook on the shoulder, but he stopped himself before he made contact— “Uh . . . you don’t seem like a bad guy . . . so I was wondering if we could all hang out like teams are supposed to, you know? Not just to apologize . . . but to . . . be friends, I suppose, is what I mean . . . “

You swallowed hard, fighting with yourself not to speak for him. Look up, Jungkook, you repeated over and over again in your head, watching him with careful eyes. Look up. Please . . . please . . .

Another beat of silence, more painful than the last.

Then . . .

. . . Jungkook raised his head, and his eyes met Hoseok’s, and you knew what his answer would be.

In no way, shape, or form could you comprehend how you managed to make it to some random karaoke bar in the middle of Busan around, like, two in the morning. Hell, you didn’t even remember hopping onto the midnight train to get to the city in the first place, but there you were, dressed in whatever the fuck you could find in your suitcase that wasn’t a badminton uniform, and you were sitting next to one of Hoseok’s friends (Namjoon, you thought his name was.)

And while Namjoon managed to impress you with his choice in cologne, he had been talking your ear off for the past half hour and you couldn’t think straight for the entirety of the time he’d been telling you about well . . . you honestly had no idea what he was talking about. In truth, you couldn’t really hear much . . . because your mind was elsewhere. Because, because, because for the last half hour that Namjoon had been at your side, your eyes had been on Jungkook.

Now . . . you knew how that sounded, but you had a reason. You see, Jungkook wasn’t alone either. He had been sat next to another one of Hoseok’s friends (let’s call him Yoongi and hope you got that right) . . . and he was like . . . looking at him. No, no, like . . . he was looking him in the eyes . . . that is why you couldn’t stop staring, couldn’t stop trying to eavesdrop, couldn’t stop just . . . just . . . just whatever!

Was it embarrassing to say you were proud of him?

But . . . you were . . .

As much as you hadn’t wanted to admit it, he’d become the only person you’d ever been this close to in your life. He’d once told you you were the only one he could see . . . the only one he wasn’t afraid of to look in the eyes, and now . . . in just a few hours, he’d allowed himself to hear people, see them, interact with them beyond the restrictions he’d put on himself the entirety of his contract with Yunis.

And the little thing that made you feel all that more warm, was the attentive, genuine smile on his face as he nodded along to whatever Yoongi was saying. That . . . that made a smile of your own touch your lips as you took in the scene.

“You agree?” you heard from beside you, Namjoon’s voice startling only slightly enough to have you abruptly whipping your head in his direction with a confused expression on your face.

You blinked, furrowing your brows. “Hmm?” you hummed in a questioning tone as you snuck a glance back at Jungkook, only to find . . . oh . . . only to find him lazily shifting his gaze from Yoongi to you with an amused smirk on his face. (Great, so he had seen you looking at him. Great. That he’ll really get you later on with.) “Do I agree—what?”

Slowly, you forced yourself to tear your eyes from Jungkook and finally face Namjoon, who seemed to be oblivious to everything else. You weren’t even really sure if he had heard your question or if he were too busy inside his own head, questioning himself. But it didn’t matter either way, because . . . the music cut out, Hoseok and Seulki’s voices died down, followed by their out of breath laughter, and then:

“Alright, who’s next?” Hoseok called out, offering up the microphone.

Immediately, Yoongi shook his head, leaning back to indulge in his drink rather than the question at hand. And no one else could get another word in before, Seulki and Hoseok had caught onto this little act, only they didn’t exactly . . . go for him. No, rather, Seulki, specifically, all but jumped toward Jungkook. “I vote Jungkookie goes!” she declared as she leaned forward to dangle the microphone in front of his face.

“Agreed! Jungkook-ah, onstage now!” Hoseok exclaimed, closing the distance to Jungkook before he wrapped a hand around his arm, urging him to stand to his feet and take over the spotlight.

(Clearly . . . something you hadn’t mentioned . . . everyone but you and Jungkook were . . . perhaps maybe a little bit or a lot or yeah, yeah, yeah . . . they were drunk. (So you could see how . . . this had happened.))

And Jungkook all but turned cherry-cheeked. “No, no, I can’t,” he laughed it off, trying to wave them away. “I’m a horrible singer, really.”

Lie.

He once sang for your elementary school’s talent show . . . you know . . .

But the others persisted, whining and whining and blah blah blah—

. . . Five minutes later, no doubt, Jungkook finally gave in with a playful groan. He took the microphone from Seulki, slowly making his way to the center of the room you guys had booked, and then you noticed something . . . his eyes had only been on you the entire time. And suddenly, you began to wonder what that meant, wrapping your arms around yourself as your brows raised in question.

Until:

“Listen,” Jungkook began, a half-grin sliding onto his face as he maintained eye-contact with you, “I’ll sing . . . but I need my sidekick.”

Raising your brows, you knew you’d kill him for that later. But still you didn’t move. All you could do was shake your head, because no, no, no you did not want to sing in front of anyone.

“OK. OK,” Jungkook nodded slowly to himself, but you knew him better than that. He had something planned. And you could just tell by the way he began to walk toward the system in order to plug in the song that was somehow someway on his mind. Then, he turned back around, both microphones in his hands, his eyes solely on you with a mischievous glint in them as the first seconds of the song began to blast through the speakers.

Squinting your eyes in skepticism, you watched him.

He only sent you a knowing grin.

And you suddenly had a feeling you knew exactly what he had put on.

“ . . . She ain’t got no money,” Jungkook began, trying his best to sing, but his grin kept growing and growing just as your face fell and fell and fell. “Her clothes are kind of funny. Her hair is kinda wild and free. Oh, but—”

You nearly smacked a hand to your face.

“—Love grows where my Rosemary goes,” he continued, beginning to bob his head now to the music. “And nobody knows but me.” Clearing his throat over the music, you knew you were in for it. “Come on, Rosemary, on your feet. Let’s go. Let’s go. Let’s go, because! Love grows where my Rosemary goes! And nobody knows like—Come on!—me!”

And finally . . . finally after being hounded and hounded, you unstuck yourself from your seat, your eyes solely on him as if it were just the two of you against everything, and then you took the microphone from his hand, and you knew you’d sealed your fate. Shaking your head at him, you playfully rolled your eyes moments before you glanced at the screen, checking where you were in the song.

Great, you thought. Fuck . . . OK. Clearing your throat again, this was your Hell. “I’m a lucky fella,” you began, your voice nearly tone-deaf, and certainly agony to the ears. “And I’ve just got to tell her that I love her endlessly.”

“Oh, because!” Jungkook jumped in, bumping you with his elbow. “Love grows where my Rosemary goes, and nobody knows like me!”

Snorting once, you continued for him, “There's something about her hand holding mine. It's a feeling that's fine,” you hummed along, realizing that perhaps . . . this . . . was . . . fun. And slowly, so slowly, you didn’t even realize you were doing it . . . you had begun to dance along, following Jungkook’s lead. “And I just gotta say—”

“Hey! She’s really got a magical spell and it's working so well that I can't get away,” he drawled out, perhaps carrying out his words a tad too much, but there was something about the smile on his face while he did it that you didn’t care.

That was when you really lost it. Perhaps lost it was the wrong word, but that was when you really stopped caring if there were other people in the room, about keeping up your image or whatever. It just felt like it was you and Jungkook and the music.

And before you knew it, the song had ended, cheers came from Hoseok’s friends, but your eyes were solely on Jungkook. They had never really left him, because this was the song you’d sang at the talent show in elementary. It was also the song you had been too afraid to sing alone . . . because you were perhaps maybe not a shy child, but an antisocial one. And Jungkook . . . Jungkook had offered to sing with you. He’d never wanted to be in the talent show, but you . . . you always wanted the spotlight, and so, it was because of him that you were able to have it that day. Otherwise you probably would’ve spent the entire night crying in the school’s bathroom because you couldn’t force yourself on stage. And he . . . he had saved you back then.

It seemed he always was . . .

That made a smile slowly grow on your face, but before it could form into a toothy grin, cheers erupted throughout the room. Eyes widening, you glanced toward the noise, realizing it was not just the two of you but rather the two of you and . . . them.

But this them didn’t feel malicious as it had in the past. No, in fact, before you could even blink, Seulki was already jumping toward you, jumping up and down while she beamed about how that had to be one of her all time favorite songs. And Jungkook . . . well . . . Hoseok had reached him in seconds, clasping a hand on his shoulder as he went on and on about how he had no idea he had such a voice, asking if he’s taken lessons, and blah blah blah . . . all the while everyone else shouted requests at the two of you, hooting for an encore.

It . . . well . . . to say the least, it managed to bring that smile back onto your face, and finally you let yourself look away from Jungkook, knowing you could trust the others with him, and suddenly all you could see was Seulki. You’d never had many friends. Perhaps competition or surface people, but a little part of you saw Yurim, your college doubles partner and probably the closest you’d ever had to a friend, in Seulki.

Except unlike all those years ago . . . this time you embraced Seulki with a hand on her shoulder and a warm smile touching your face as you finally let yourself tell her the little story of how the song came to be for you. Now, yes, she was drunk out of her mind and would probably forget about all of this tomorrow, but you didn’t care.

It felt . . . nice . . . to talk to people like . . . this. And—And this feeling when you did . . . Oh what was that feeling called? Like, like warmth but better, perhaps innocent?

Were you . . . happy?

And then . . . you began to wonder . . . was this what it felt like to have . . . friends? Were you allowed to feel like this? Like . . . like you were happy?

In that moment, you glanced back at Jungkook for a brief second just as he did the same. Your eyes met, and you knew he felt the same. And then: relief, relief, relief . . .

A beat of silence.

In it more relief.

Beat.

Beat . . .

But . . . like all things . . . balance. A knock on the door ripped that blissful beat of relief from your grasp. Brows furrowing, you slowly turned to see a blurry shadow just behind the door, indicating that someone was . . . asking for permission to come in? But . . . who? As far as you knew everyone who was there was supposed to be there.

You wondered and wondered, trying to tilt your head to see if you could make it out. And then you heard them call his name, but you didn’t believe it at first. You didn’t quite hear it. Seulki was jumping beside you, and you could have sworn you heard Yoongi announce that it was probably his partner at the door.

And then as Yoongi slowly walked toward the door, opening it to greet the man with this adoring look in his eyes, your heart plummeted to your stomach. Instantly, your eyes snapped to Jungkook, and you saw the entire world crumble before you. You tried to reach him but Seulki was still holding onto you, and you couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t speak, you couldn’t move, you couldn’t do anything but stare and watch as the world fell and fell and fell, leaving you with no way to put it back together.

Amongst the chaos, your eyes fluttered back toward the door and you heard his name once more. Jimin, you could have sworn Hoseok had called out, and you knew this was reality.

Like an old ghost, Jimin had appeared at the door, almost unrecognizable from the boy you remembered in college. His hair now honey blonde, his cheeks full and almost rosy, with this way about him that just screamed he was different now. It made you wonder how different he was now than a year ago when Jungkook left his past behind him.

Breathing carefully, everyone’s attention was on Jimin, but you caught sight of it first. Jimin’s eyes scanned the room and then . . . then they met yours. Your heart stopped again and you could have sworn his mirrored yours. His eyes widened only slightly, until they shifted just to the right of you, and you watched in silence as his lips parted, his brows twitching upward.

That was weird.

You would have expected him to meet the sight of Jungkook with anger . . . but the only expression on Jimin’s face was that of pain . . . perhaps . . . yearning . . . ? For something . . . ?

And finally, you allowed yourself to glance back at Jungkook, and you began to wonder if it truly were possible to die of a broken heart.

Jungkook stood stagnant, unmoving without even a single rise and fall of his chest. No, instead, his hand was clasped over his chest as if he were in physical pain, but he still didn’t move. Until he did.

Before you could reach him, Jungkook was off. He made a B-line for the door, pushing past everyone while they were distracted by Jimin’s appearance.

And you were a step behind him.

“Kook, where you going?” you briefly heard Hoseok call to Jungkook. “Jimin’s got to show you his vocals, man. He’ll give you a run for your money.”

But Jungkook wasn’t reachable. “I—um—restroom,” he barely strained out and then he was gone, slipping out the door and out of your sight.

You tried to keep up, desperately pushing past the others as you reached the door as well, but a hand on your upper arm stopped you in your tracks. Your eyes flicked from the hand on your arm to the face of the person it belonged to.

Jimin . . . he was the one who had stopped you. Of course.

But you had never been easily swayed. You quickly ripped your arm out of his grasp, and left without a look back. But it was no use. The hallway was empty. Jungkook was gone.

So what? You’d find him. You had to.

Without another thought, you didn’t even wait to hear the door close behind you as you began to stalk down the hall, but a voice called out to you.

“Hey, hey, wait,” the voice pleaded.

But you knew this voice well. You knew Jimin well, and you didn’t care what he had to say, not when Jungkook was missing.

Attempting to make another run for it, you put one foot in front of the other, only to be pulled back. Jimin wrapped a hand around your upper arm, pulling you into him and turning you to face him all at once. And you saw that hurt expression once again, but you didn’t care, you didn’t care, you didn’t care! Jungkook was out there and he was alone and you needed him to know you were never leaving his side again.

So fuck it, fuck it, fuck it. You didn’t care!

Desperately, you tried to peel his hand from your arm, but his words halted you in your tracks.

“Is he OK?” Jimin quietly asked, his voice barely above a whisper, almost as if he were ashamed of his own words.

Taking a step back, you could only shake your head at him. “Are you fucking serious?” you all but hissed, the words burning on your tongue as you finally ripped your arm out of his grasp. “Now you care? Now you want to act like—“ Your words were ripped from your lips, unable to finish the sentence. Instead, another shake of your head came. “You’re fucking unbelievable . . . Of course he’s not OK. He hasn’t been for a while, and you would know that if you hadn’t—“

The words died on your tongue, and Jimin watched. While your eyes betrayed you, watering slightly, Jimin looked as if he couldn’t believe his own eyes. His gaze darted across your face, his brows raised in concern (?) while he watched as you fought against the floodgates, trying to bite back the tears in your eyes and the lump in your throat.

And finally, you were able to force out the words: “He’s not OK. He’s really—“ you quickly exhaled— “really not.”

A beat of silence.

You swallowed that lump in your throat while a look of realization crossed Jimin’s face. It was funny . . . he looked completely different now than he did years ago . . . or maybe it was the look he wore. It was something you had never seen on him before.

But you really didn’t care.

Sucking in a breath, you cleared your throat and began to back away. “And he needs me so I have to—“

But Jimin cut you off. “So he told you?” he asked almost a little too hesitantly as he took a step toward you.

Nodding, you swallowed hard. “Yes.”

His brows raised. “You guys are . . . good?”

“Yes,” you muttered, nodding again. “He’s—We’re friends.”

Jimin blinked. “Oh.”

“What?”

“I just . . . I didn’t see that coming . . . “

“Well—“ you bit your inner cheek— “it did.”

Another beat of silence.

Then: Jimin took a step back. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, almost too under his breath to even hear. “I didn’t expect that he’d be here. I haven’t seen him in . . . in a year. I didn’t even think he was . . . I didn’t think he was like that.”

Oh . . .

Don’t say it.

Don’t say—

Don’t—

But you couldn’t help but bite out, “No thanks to you.”

Jimin pinched his brows together. “What? What do you mean?”

You just had to say it . . .

“Nothing—“ clearing your throat, you realized just where your loud mouth had landed you— “just . . . I have to go, alright?”

With one final look at the man before you—a man you once knew that now barely resembled the one you’d known—you walked past him, eyes trained solely on what was before you. Jungkook was the only thing on your mind. Finding him was the only thing you cared about. Leaving the past behind was easy when you knew he was waiting for you somewhere up ahead.

But a hand wrapped around your forearm, halting you in your tracks. Your eyes widened as you heard Jimin speak, but you couldn’t quite make out what he was saying until you glanced over your shoulder, your eyes meeting his words head-on.

“Look . . . look, I know,” he had said, an almost desperate expression plaguing his face. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly before he sucked in a sharp breath. “I know. Trust me. I do.” Exhale.

Slowly, your brows scrunched together as you pried his hand off your arm. “Know what?” you questioned, your voice a slightly accusatory tone while you cocked your head to the side, eyeing him with skepticism.

A moment’s silence passed before he searched your eyes. What he was searching for, you couldn’t quite make out, but he kept searching and searching and searching until his brows twitched upward, an almost pained expression fueling his face. And then: “I know it wasn’t Kook’s fault,” he confessed, his voice soft and quiet as if he were ashamed of his own words. “What happened between him and Tae. I knew it wasn’t his fault.”

Instantly, your heart dropped.

He knew. He knew and he still let this happen.

You wanted to scream. At him. At everything. At nothing.

But you stayed frozen, your mind spiraling and spiraling.

“I tried to get them to see that, too, but . . . Kook had always been our glue, not me,” he nearly whispered, harshly pointing at his chest almost as if he were trying to punish or rather condemn himself. “Tae and I would get into arguments over stupid shit all the time, and Kook would always be there to get us to see eye-to-eye. I didn’t know how to help them. I’m not good at that; he was.”

And then you saw it: you saw the past in his eyes. Slowly, it unraveled, and you watched as the three of them practiced day in and day out while you glared at them across the field back in college. You remembered being angry, but you hadn’t known why, and now . . . now you realized you had been envious of the fact that they were . . . friends. While you had none, they had each other.

To see the three of them in completely separate places now . . . made your head spin and spin and spin. Never once did you think they’d do anything without each other, and now . . . now you were watching the past crumble through Jimin’s sad eyes.

It was almost as if you could see the moment they went their separate ways. Kook alone. Jimin and Taehyung together . . . but . . . distant . . .

The distance was clear on Jimin’s face, and when he spoke, he spoke with a certain type of nostalgia that you knew all too well. “I knew what I had to do,” he continued, those sad eyes of his not leaving yours. “I chose Tae. I would’ve chosen them both, but I couldn’t . . . so I stayed by Tae’s side. I knew how they both felt. I knew that I could play neutral all I wanted, but Kook was gonna leave and I had to either go with him or stay with Tae.” He shook his head as he chewed on his inner cheek. “And I couldn’t let Tae go through this alone . . . and—and there wasn’t enough time to fix what happened between them, but I thought Kook would be OK. I would’ve fought harder if I knew—”

His words cut off, getting tangled around his tongue as the lump in his throat rose higher and higher. There was no way to tell when it’d finally choke him. What would happen then?

“He was just always so . . . fine,” Jimin whispered more to himself than to you, shrugging his shoulders as if he couldn’t believe it. “I thought he’d be OK. I thought he’d ignore all of this and win that medal we all dreamed of . . . but then he left the team and Wooshik . . he told me where he ended up.” He shook his head once more, his eyes now trained on the wall behind you, tears still glossing over and threatening to spill. “I didn’t think he was . . . struggling. I just thought he was hiding. I didn’t realize he was . . . “

“Well . . . I guess we all have our own ways of dealing with . . . guilt,” you heard yourself spit out before you could stop the words from flowing. You didn’t know why, you just . . . you just . . . you were just so angry. But at him? That you weren’t sure or.

It seemed Jimin was as shocked by your words as you were. His eyes met yours once again, blinking quickly, causing a few tears to slip down his cheeks. He quickly wiped them away, shaking his head in the process. “Don’t do this,” he muttered under his breath.

But you almost couldn’t control it. You were more parts anger than anything else, and there he was, the perfect subject to take it out on. Putting up a fight was useless, your mind was on autopilot. “Tae’s at home bedridden I assume and you’re here? On a date?” you hissed out through gritted teeth. “Mmm, I don’t know . . . sounds—”

“Don’t,” Jimin quickly cut you off, mirroring your anger. “You of all people don’t get to judge me.”

You raised your brows. “Why not?”

“You—“ he shoved an accusatory finger your way— “left him too once.”

And just like that, his words pierced your chest, making the anger spread into your bloodstream. “That’s different,” you bit out, eyes now shamefully trained on the ground.

“Is it?”

Scoffing, you shook your head. “Don’t turn this around. You—”

But Jimin wasn’t having it. “He loved you, you know?” he spat like the words had burned his throat.

The world stopped.

A beat of silence.

Two beats.

Another.

. . . You could have sworn your heart thud in your chest. But . . . but that could’ve been your breath catching in your throat.

And then you heard it: your own shocked voice. “What?” you all but gasped out, taking a subconscious step back.

Jimin furrowed his brows as if . . . confused (?) by your reaction. “He loved you,” he went on, keeping a watchful eye on your face. “I don’t know why or how considering you were such a horrible person the entirety of college . . . but he stuck by you. I’ve never seen anyone love somebody that much. Hell, I didn’t think it was real, and I couldn’t understand why . . . but he loved you, and when you pulled that shit on him; when you left, me and Tae saw it. He didn’t talk to anyone for months.”

He loved you? He . . .

“He slowly came back, and a year later I thought he was fine. I thought he was finally over you, but . . . “ Jimin wet his lips— “I guess some old habits never die.”

Jungkook loved . . . you? In college he—But, no! He thought you guys had been friends. You were the one who had hated him, and he had thought of you as a friend. There was no love there. No, no there couldn’t be. He did not love you. He couldn’t have. No. No . . . No!

“And now you’re here . . . defending him . . . and I just can’t wrap my head around it,” Jimin finished off, his words more stable now. Then, slowly but surely, he nodded as if he had made peace with his thoughts. “But I get it. We all make our own choices. You made yours, but you . . . you don’t get to stand here now after everything and judge me when you left him in the dark for years. I made my choices, and I regret them most days, but it is what it is. You of all people should know that.”

But if he had loved you, then . . . had you broken his heart?

You knew you’d done quite a lot of damage on him, but you hadn’t considered that you’d broken . . . the very thing you’d come to grow so fond of. Because truly, over the past months, you’d come to know him more than you knew yourself, and you realized he’d always had this softness about him. He’d always had a good heart. That was what you had come to admire most about him. And if Jimin was right, that meant you had hurt that very part of him.

If he was telling the truth, you had done so much more damage to Jungkook than you had thought. Perhaps it had been you who had ruined him.

That . . . that made your rage boil. “I do,” you ended up biting out, your voice harsher than it had ever been as your rage boiled and boiled, nearly bubbling and spilling everywhere. “I regret every mistake I’ve ever made and I know hurting him is at the top of the list, but you knew that, too, and you still repeated what I did wrong. Why didn’t you go back for him? Why didn’t you, I don’t fucking know, try?! Why didn’t you fucking try?! Huh?!”

Those words left your lips and before you knew it, you were face to face with Jimin, not even two inches apart. Your breathing was ragged and you could feel your rage burning through your bloodstream, turning it to rot, surely burning through your skin.

Had it reached your heart?

“Why didn’t you try?” Jimin mumbled, the anger gone from his eyes as he took in your expression. And his words . . . this wasn’t a question. He wasn’t asking why you hadn’t tried to help Jungkook back then, no . . . he was reminding you that you hadn’t tried for a reason.

Admit it or not, you hadn’t let him in because you hated yourself. And making yourself hate him, blame him, was easier than admitting you didn’t want to live with the person you had become.

That was why you hadn’t tried—you were exhausted with yourself, with everything.

And only then did it hit you. As those final words left your lips, you realized why you were so fueled with anger. You realized why you had chosen Jimin as your punching bag, and you realized what you had done.

Because, really, you weren’t angry with him. No, you were angry with yourself. It was like he had said . . . you had left Jungkook once, too.

Looking at Jimin was like looking in the mirror. What he had done to Jungkook was nothing close to what you had done to him. So being angry at him . . . hurting him was an excuse to ignore who you were really angry with: . . . yourself.

And finally, Jimin spoke for the both of you. “Because . . . I was exhausted,” he mumbled through a heavy exhale. “You don’t get it . . . I’ve stayed by Tae’s side for a year, and I’d do it again and again, but that doesn’t mean that there isn’t a part of me that doesn’t blame him, too.”

Wetting your lips, you took a step back, your anger slowly turning to guilt. This wasn’t his fault. Why did you blow up on him like that? Fuck.

Hating him wouldn’t make you hate yourself less . . .

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“After the incident, it was like he just disappeared,” Jimin went on, his voice equal parts solemn and guilty. “Badminton was his dream. I think Tae loved it the most out of all of us, and just like that, it was gone. And without it, he just faded away. I don’t even think he blames Kook. He’s just . . . gone. It’s like he’s been on autopilot for the better half of a year.”

Fuck. Jimin wasn’t to blame. Just like Jungkook, this entire situation was just one big mess. No one was to blame. Fuck, no one was to blame, and yet . . . you were sure they all blamed themselves.

How could you have been so blinded by rage you hadn’t noticed this before?

“And I . . . I have had to live for the both of us,” he confessed, finally raising his head to meet your watchful gaze. “I knew what I was getting into, and I did it because I care for him, but I didn’t realize . . . I didn’t realize that . . . you can be there for someone as much as you want but there comes a time when caring for someone makes you stop caring about yourself.” His brows twitched only once, but the action carried a world of pain. “Tae is my best friend. They both were, and I . . . I didn’t just lose Jungkook that day. I had to live for Tae, and in doing so, I stopped living for myself.”

I stopped living for myself. Closing your eyes, you were only reminded how wrong you had been. The three of them were all in pain, refusing to admit it. They all blamed themselves, you were sure of it.

But no one was to blame.

No one.

Still, you stayed silent, keeping these thoughts to yourself. Your eyes fluttered back open, and it was as if you were staring the past in the face once again. And god, did it have such a guilty conscience.

“I know it’s wrong, but there will always be a part of me that resents him for it,” Jimin went on, sighing as his words left his lips. “And he—” he gestured back to the karaoke room; back to where Yoongi still resided— “is the only reason I didn’t lose myself. He is the only reason I can fucking breathe just for a second . . . so that is why I’m here. I don’t care if it’s selfish. He’s my sliver of happiness, which is why . . . “ he wet his lips, staring at you as if you were a reflection of his own past “ . . . which is why I don’t blame Jungkook for the things he did for you back then. So . . . I don’t blame you either but . . . but I guess what I’m trying to say is . . . I know what I did. I will always regret it and I will always wish I could turn back time and make it all go away, but I can’t.”

Which is why I don’t blame Jungkook for the things he did for you back then, you repeated in your head once more. Was Jimin right? Had Jungkook truly loved you?

And then, one more final question popped into your head: Did he still?

“Min?”

The singular name brought you and Jimin out of your little bubble. The two of you turned your heads in the direction of the sound, finding Yoongi had peeked his head out of the karaoke room. His dark eyes shifted between you and his boyfriend, a skeptical look plastered across his face.

“Everything’s fine,” Jimin replied with a tight smile.

That was when you saw it—the way Yoongi’s face softened instantly with just a couple of words from Jimin. You recognized that look. You’d seen that very expression reach Jungkook’s face time after time again in the past months you’d spent getting to know each other more and more and . . .

Wait . . .

Wait, wait . . . you recognized that look, but in a deeper way, in a visceral way. Yes, you’d seen Jungkook wear it many times, but . . . you could have sworn you’d seen it somewhere else, too. You could have sworn you’d catch glimpses of it on your own face when you’d walk past a mirror or catch your reflection in a puddle. And you’d always catch sight of it when . . . Jungkook was up ahead or behind or near.

Yes, that was it. You’d seen that expression on your own face when Jungkook was involved. But . . . did that mean?

No, no . . . no. Stop it. You couldn’t think about what this meant or that meant or this or that and those and them or whatever! No.

Right now . . . right now you had to focus. Jungkook had run off and you . . . you needed to find him, but—

Your gaze fixated on Jimin once again. What happened back then . . . He wasn’t to blame. No one was. They, all three of them, were in pain, blaming themselves and yet too scared to face it. None of them would dare to either. But it was so clear that Jungkook missed Taehyung and Jimin as well. And now . . . now it was clear just how much Jimin missed the both of them . . .

And well, you could do something about that. Perhaps then this guilt would leave you alone. Perhaps then things could be set right. Maybe then things could be the way they were supposed to be before life got in the way.

The answer was clear, and you couldn’t stop yourself. “Jimin,” you began, clearing your throat and interrupting the conversation between him and his boyfriend. Once his eyes were on you, with a clearing of your throat, you continued. “I’m sorry . . . for blowing up on you. I didn’t realize that—nevermind—just . . . Jungkook . . . he misses you . . . and Tae. I can see that. He’s . . . He doesn’t hate you, you know? He blames himself, yes, but he’s not angry with either of you. I think he just wants you guys back . . . so . . . if there’s any way . . . ask Hoseok for my number.” You paused for only a second to swallow. “You shouldn’t have to live with regrets.”

A beat of silence followed your words once again, almost as if it were mocking you. But instead of turning your words to shit, Jimin welcomed the silence. He embraced it as a small smile lifted onto his lips. And then . . . then he nodded.

It was a silent agreement, but it was good enough for you.

This could be it.

A new leaf.

For him.

For Jungkook.

For Jungkook, you affirmed, and with that thought, you nodded back. “It was nice to meet you, Yoongi,” you mumbled genuinely, before your eyes shifted back to Jimin once again. Another nod from you. “Jimin. Tell Hoseok that Kook and I went to eat, yeah? We’ll see him at practice tomorrow.”

“Hey—“ Jimin piped up before you could leave— “remember to live for yourself, too, yeah?”

And you nodded back with a smile.

The world fell away piece by piece as you turned from them, their faces still glued to the back of your mind, but you couldn’t waste any more time. As it was, your anger had already bubbled over and burned enough bridges that night to waste a lifetime. You should’ve kept your cool. You should’ve tried to see everything from a bigger picture, but this rage trapped inside you seemed to be bigger than you knew how to control. Sure, it had subsided now . . . but only because . . . because that was what was right.

You didn’t know how to explain it, but . . . Jungkook had become someone important to you, perhaps the most important in your life. You’d never felt that before. You never thought you’d be able to care about someone this much before, but . . . you did, and that was enough to put away that anger boiling deep inside you just enough to do right . . . for him.

Did that make you crazy? Maybe . . . maybe it did, but there wasn’t much in you to care about things like that. All you wanted was to find him. If you found him, everything would be alright. It would. You swore it would.

Your feet didn’t feel like your own as you raced down the halls of the karaoke bar. The lights had begun to blur together in your vision, creating mixes of blue and purple racing in your peripheral. You’d even looked into room after room, disturbing group after group, solely searching for him.

Until . . . with your heart pounding in your chest, your breathing uneven, and a relentless shiver shaking throughout your body, through the muted colorful lights, you caught sight of a man’s figure crouched down in a corner of the building. His hands were covering his ears, his face hidden in his knees as he breathed heavily, but he was there. You’d found him. Instantly, your muscles relaxed. Exhale.

You’d found him. “Ju—” but you quickly cut yourself off before you could draw any attention to yourself.

Think. You had to think. You couldn’t approach him like you normally would. You couldn’t go in all thorns and nails on a chalkboard. This was different. This was what you had read about. What you realized you had never been good at—comfort.

How could you comfort? You had never been nurturing. Hell, you’d read something once that told you some women just weren’t meant to be mothers, and you knew you were one of them. You knew you couldn’t didn’t know how to be . . . soft.

But you had to try. For him . . .

And then you remembered:

Five Ways You Can Help Someone With an Anxiety Disorder:

Validate Their Feelings by Letting Them Know It’s Okay Not to Be Okay

Don’t Tell Them to Calm Down

Encourage Them to Focus on Things They Can Change

Help Them to Help Themselves

Discourage the Use of Alcohol or Drugs to Cope With Anxiety

But . . . but . . . fuck! How was that supposed to help you now? Let them know it’s OK not to be OK. OK . . . You swallowed hard. You could do that. Focus on things they can change. OK, OK. You could do that, too.

Hesitantly, you took a step forward.

But shit! You paused, halting in your movements. What if that didn’t work? What if you didn’t do it right? What if it only made it worse? What if you only made him worse?

Just . . . just . . . fuck, OK! Just—

“Kookie,” you heard yourself say clearly before you knew you had even opened your mouth.

In response, his breathing stopped but he didn’t raise his head to meet your gaze. Instead . . . “It’s OK. Just go back . . . “ he muttered out, just loud enough for you to hear, but he still wouldn’t meet your eyes. “I’m OK.”

I’m OK. You swallowed hard. No . . . no, he wasn’t, and unlike all those years ago, you were not going to leave him behind. Not now. Never again.

It didn’t take another second for you to cross the distance to him before you sank to your knees right in front of him, reminding yourself not to startle him. “I’m here,” was all you said, fighting against everything harsh and rough in you, trying desperately to be soft.

The thing was: people could tell you countless amounts of things on how to help someone, but . . . you’d never get it. You weren’t good at it. You couldn’t do that, be that. You knew him, too. He wasn’t textbook like all the things you’d read up on. You assumed no one was . . . so . . . you’d like to add one more to the list: ask him how you could help.

“What—” you inhaled sharply— “What do you need me to do?”

Still, Jungkook would not meet your eyes, but he didn’t need to. You saw his body shift. You saw him process your words. And you knew he wasn’t going to hide from you. “Just—” he all but choked out— “ground me. Put your arms. Squeeze . . . hard.”

And just like that, you acted quickly. You didn’t waste any time as you scooted behind him, wrapping your arms around his figure, locking him into your body, and squeezing as he’d instructed. Resting your cheek on his back, you continued hugging his body to yours, listening to his heartbeat as you did so. Squeezing your eyes shut, you begged for this to help him, but the beat of his racing heart met your ears like a drum.

It wasn’t enough. You had to keep going.

“OK, OK, what else?” you asked him, your voice clear and calm . . . and soft.

But the beat of his heart was the only thing you heard.

Ground him. You squeezed harder. “You’re here with me. I’ve got you. You’re safe. Speak to me, Koo,” you all but begged.

“Tell me something,” he mumbled, and you nearly exhaled in relief. “Please, say anything.”

Nodding quickly, you tried to scrounge up something, anything. “OK, um, um,” you stuttered out, racking your brain over and over again, until finally . . . “Do you remember when we were kids and my parents rented that cabin for the summer? You had this fake tattoo of a dragon that you really really wanted to put on your arm right—“ you grabbed his forearm, pressing your thumb into a spot— “here, but I wanted everything you had so I just had to have the tattoo. I whined and whined until you finally let me have it. And yet, in the end, my mom forgot to take off the plastic so neither of us ended up with the damn tattoo and we were both pissed.” Smiling against his back, you readjusted your grip on him, holding him closer than before, perhaps so close your souls could almost touch. “Your mom made us hold hands until we got over it.”

And with a small smile on your face, you heard it . . .

His heart rate had started to slow, his breathing becoming more controlled as he tried his hardest to breathe in deep and exhale long. Was it? Was it working? OK. OK. Speak more. Speak—

“Yeah, and you wouldn’t stop crying, meanwhile, I won that thing in a raffle,” he interrupted before you could rack your brain for another memory.

Wetting your lips, you replied, “But it worked, didn’t it?” Your eyes danced around the room, the memory almost as clear as day. The smile on your face grew. “We were sitting by the fire, getting way too messy with those s’mores you swore you knew how to make.”

“We camped outside the entire night,” Jungkook mumbled under his breath, his shoulders shaking slightly as a small laugh escaped him.

“Yeah, until you almost pissed your pants because you thought you heard a bear,” you remarked, the smile on your face too wide to contain.

“Hey!” he quipped back as his hand fell to your arm. “I was like nine.”

In shock, you watched as Jungkook slowly raised his hands to cover your arms, hugging them to his chest. Then, you rested your ear against his chest, and you realized his heartbeat had returned almost to normal . . . and . . . and . . . his breathing had calmed. And then you saw it, a drop of . . . something had wet his shirt where your cheek laid . . . and you realized . . . you were crying.

Was this softness that you felt? Or weakness?

The truth was: you didn’t care. Not now.

Quickly, you wiped your damp cheeks on your shoulder and sniffled. “Scaredy cat,” you mumbled with a soft laugh.

Jungkook breathed out a laugh through his nose. “Brat,” he hummed as he squeezed your forearm.

A beat of silence met the two of you then. You nestled closer, holding him until he finally gave you the go-ahead that he was alright. You’d stay there all night if you had to. And he welcomed this with open arms, holding you as close as he could in his position, and just letting things . . . be, it seemed.

Until, finally, after what seemed like hours, he whispered against your forearm, “I’m sorry.”

And you couldn’t help yourself. Your brows pinched together, confusion revisiting you as you asked, “For what?”

“You don’t need this,” was his only answer.

Another beat of silence.

And then: “You’ll always be unhappy when it comes to me.”

Squeezing your eyes shut, your only response was to hug him tighter. Fuck.

It is not the moon, I tell you. It is these flowers lighting the yard.

As the night droned on, writings upon writings popped into your head as you tried to make sense of this, of tonight, of everything; one, in particular, visited you too frequently to be ignored; one that you had held onto for years now. You supposed it was a silly thing—realizing just how many poems you had trapped in your head, but you had three years of isolation, three years of loneliness, three years where you only read and read and read. Those three years . . . poems had been all you had.

You supposed it would always end this way.

I hate them. I hate them as I hate sex, the man’s mouth sealing my mouth, the man’s paralyzing body—

And like the poem stated, these words remained true to you. You hated many things, perhaps too much. In those three years, you had grown to hate another’s touch, perhaps because you craved it so viscerally. But . . . the scent of mock orange wasn’t in the form of a man for you. To you . . . the scent of mock orange smelled a lot like a badminton racket.

and the cry that always escapes, the low, humiliating premise of union—

Perhaps you had grown to hate badminton. You hadn’t even realized it, but . . . looking back at it now . . . you had done everything to be someone . . . to be the best, and you had wanted that. You had really wanted that. Sometimes you thought it was the only thing that would ever make you happy, but . . .

But . . .

In my mind tonight I hear the question and pursuing answer fused in one sound that mounts and mounts and then is split into the old selves, the tired antagonisms. Do you see? We were made fools of. And the scent of mock orange drifts through the window.

But perhaps . . . like growing pains . . . a part of you had outgrown badminton. Could this be real? Could you really have outgrown the one thing you had ever loved? And if you truly had . . . what did that mean for you now?

How can I rest? How can I be content when there is still that odor in the world?

That odor.

That damned odor of mock orange blossoms.

. . . You had smelt them the day of the incident. The stench had followed you to the hospital, crawling under your skin and resting there for the months to follow. They hadn't even bloomed then, yet you still smelt them every time you breathed. When your heart felt less heavy and your mind was clearer than the day before, when it became month after month after month, the scent finally rid itself from your senses. And you thought you might have actually been allowed to rest without that odor in the world.

But as another month melted into the next, and you tried to get back onto your feet again, the scent of mock orange drifted back into your life. You, of course, ignored this, eager to get back on your feet. You’d been able to take a few steps, which eased the ache you had been carrying around for the past few months. You knew it was stupid to imagine you could actually be healed after a few months, but you didn’t care. You just wanted to walk again . . . maybe run . . . maybe play again with a racket in your hand.

It was nice—being able to dream for a few minutes.

But it did only last for a short time. Soon you being you had gotten too cocky in your progress. You wanted to try longer walks. You wanted to see if you could run.

Then as you ignored the warning signs from your parents, from your doctors, from your nurses, the second they allowed you out on the hospital courtyard, you took off, attempting to run. But . . . before you knew it, something snapped and . . . you were tumbling to the ground, crying in pain.

And just like that . . . the scent of mock orange drifted in and remained in the air.

You remembered just laying there after that, contemplating just how much this would set you back as the nurses hurried you back to your room to be examined. You wondered if you had fucked yourself entirely. You wondered if this was it and you would never be able to play or even walk again. You wondered what that made you now. You might as well have not even been a person anymore, because back then . . . badminton had been all that you had. Back then, if you weren’t the best; if you weren’t someone great, then you were nothing.

And yes, you knew you had never been particularly interesting, but you never thought you were . . . nothing. The scent of mock orange tainting the air reminded you of the truth—without badminton, you might as well have been no one.

As you were escorted back to your room, examined, and left to rest, you laid there, the scent of mock orange being your sole company, and you realized you hated them. You hated those stupid, putrid flowers as you hated feeling . . . less. You hated them as you hated yourself.

Guilt might have been your ghost, but the scent of mock orange was your shadow.

How could you rest? How could you be content when there was still that odor in the world?

You were sure you never would.

And truly . . . how could you rest? If you were constantly trying to be better and better? When would you finally be the best? Could you be? No . . . no, you knew you couldn’t, but then who were you?

Who were you without . . . badminton?

That was the question on your mind as you flicked at your ramyeon with your chopsticks. You supposed like the mock orange blossoms, your coming-of-age escapades did not deliver the fruits of its promise. Becoming someone was all you had ever wanted out of life. You wanted glory. You wanted greatness. And yet . . . why did the thought of badminton slowly and slowly start to turn into this . . . dark thing? Why was it that when badminton was involved . . . bad things happened?

Now, you didn’t believe in signs and you surely wouldn’t start now . . . but it became evident that you had been made a fool of, wishing on a shooting star that was on its last breath. The scent of mock orange would drift in every time, reminding you that you would never reach that greatness again no matter how many times you tried.

And that should’ve filled you with rage . . . jealousy . . . pain . . . but . . . you didn’t feel any of that. What you felt, at its core, was a gentle ache in your chest; the same kind of ache which came with nostalgia.

You just couldn’t stop thinking of it. Actually . . . you hadn’t stopped thinking about that scent of mock orange since you saw Jimin earlier that night. He’d told you Taehyung had loved badminton the most . . . he told you he was a ghost of himself now because of what he lost. And then you began to think of what had happened to you . . .

Those three years . . .

All you had ever thought about was getting back to the person you used to be. That was all you had cared about, and when you finally won that first game all those months ago . . . you had felt that same joy that you had always felt after a win. Except . . . this was different, you realized.

Remembering the win now, the image of you smashing the birdie down onto the court wasn’t what came to mind first. No, you remembered that day; you remembered the thrill of the win, but the image that came to mind first was Jungkook smiling down at you moments before you sprung into his arms.

Jungkook was what you remembered that day, not the look on the other team’s faces when you took home that winning title. And then you realized what you had been trying to ignore ever since you let your walls come down layer by layer: perhaps . . . perhaps there was more to life than badminton.

In the months you had let Jungkook in, you’d lived more than you had in your entire life. You’d laughed more, smiled more, felt more. You’d felt yourself be more.

The scent of mock orange never visited you when he was around. It was like he was the real thing. You weren’t even sure if that made any sense. But . . . but . . . if you couldn’t smell those damned phony flowers, then perhaps Jungkook had taken their place. By chance . . . did he smell like an orange blossom? Without mocking, without malice, without trickery? Was he . . . real?

There was just something about the world that Jungkook had shown you that had a way of making everything just . . . mute. It was like before he’d shown you life through his eyes, everything had been loud, intense, brutal. And then . . . there he was, a bright smile on his face and the words ‘trust me’ leaving his lips as he held out his hand for you to take.

And you took it every time.

The scent of mock orange blossoms was left behind. And you began to wonder if just as you had outgrown your hatred for Jungkook . . . had you outgrown this visceral urge to hold a racket in your calloused hand?

Glancing down, you took in the image of your hand. The calluses were still there, the small cuts from accidental injuries, the bitten nails . . . they were all still there. Did they still fit around the base of a racket as they had three years ago?

You blinked, flexing your hand. Whatever, you decided. It would be tomorrow’s problem. (But we all know how good you were about . . . not . . . getting in over your head (so like, give yourself five minutes and you’d be thinking about it again).)

Whatever. Whatever. Whatever.

Anyway.

Focus on the present.

Yes, that was the plan. You nodded at your thoughts as you blinked, forcing yourself back to the present.

The scent of mock orange blossoms still lingered in the air as you tried grounding yourself to reality. Ignoring them was the best you could do. Because right now, you were supposed to be present, aware, and solid. You were supposed to be Jungkook’s shoulder to lean on after what he had endured at the karaoke bar. You were supposed to know what to do . . . but you didn’t know anything. You just . . . you just wanted him to be alright . . .

And all you could focus on was the fact that the two of you hadn’t spoken since you held him about—

You checked your phone.

—an hour and a half ago.

It had been quiet between the two of you ever since. It had been even quieter the second you stepped inside the nearest convenience store. (Who knew how long ago that was.)

The convenience store was perhaps too quiet now. The two of you had bought some instant ramyeon—one spicy, one mild and sat at the nearest tables outlooking the streets of Busan. Many people had walked back and forth, going about their night (well . . . now early morning), but not once had either of you decided to make little guesses about their lives as you had done many times before. No instead . . . Jungkook was silent. And you were too.

But . . . you didn’t like the silence; not like . . . this. Slowly, with that thought plaguing your mind, you turned your head toward him.

Jungkook sat beside you, his head lowered slightly as he stared blankly out the window. He hadn’t touched his ramyeon once, which was evident as his chopsticks were all too clean without any stain or color. He just kept staring out the window, following those who walked by with his eyes all the while his tongue toyed with his lip ring.

It was obvious why he was stuck in this limbo. Sure, of course it was all too obvious, but that didn’t make it any easier. Knowing why he was stuck like this wouldn’t do anything to . . . help.

And suddenly you were reminded of what Jimin had told you that night. Remember to live for yourself, too, he’d said before you left him. He’d told you it was impossible to live for two, but . . . why? Why couldn’t you? Why couldn’t you at least . . . help? You supposed the problem in that was the fact that you had no idea how to help, and that scared you more than you’d liked to admit.

You just . . . you just wanted him to be OK . . .

“You gonna eat that?” you heard yourself ask him before you knew what you were even saying.

Jungkook turned to you instantly with an almost shocked expression on his face as if he couldn’t remember where he was or who he was, but his eyes still shined with recognition as if he could still recognize you despite it all. He blinked slowly, eyes drifting over your face, and then . . . then he slowly started to relax. His shoulders slumped slightly as the stiff muscles in his face loosened. And once he returned to the present, his eyes drifted from your questioning expression to the ramyeon in front of him . . . and then he was shoving a huge bite into his mouth all the while maintaining eye contact with you while he chewed.

You shot him a blank look, because you knew what he was doing—avoiding the inevitable by trying to make light of the situation. “I wasn’t going to force-feed it to you, you know?” you ended up mumbling as you continued to watch him chew, half making sure he ate all of it and half not sure where to rest your gaze.

“Don’t look at me like that then,” Jungkook muttered, his words muffled from the food in his mouth.

“Like what?” you questioned as you leaned closer to him, analyzing the crease between his furrowed brows.

His eyes shifted to the ground ever so slightly before he turned back to meet your gaze. “Like you pity me or something,” he huffed, jutting out his bottom lip into a pout as he averted his gaze to his bowl of ramyeon.

And you couldn’t help but let the corners of your mouth perk up into a small smile. He was still the boy you remembered when you were kids. He hadn’t changed too much. He was still . . . him. Only now, you had grown to appreciate how he was unlike in the past. Now . . . when he flashed you that pout, you wasted no time in waving him off with a small sigh.

“Oh, Jungkookie,” you all but mused as you grabbed a napkin from the table, “sometimes it’s like you’re still that whiny little kid I grew up with.” You brought the napkin to his lips, gently dabbing. “You really haven’t changed at all, you know?”

With his eyes flicking from the napkin to your face, he timidly licked his lips and mumbled, “I was not whiny.”

You breathed a small, barely audible laugh. “Mmm, if it helps you sleep at night,” you hummed with a small shrug as your hand, now discarding the napkin, reached his face once again, except this time, you barely thought about your next move. Instead, you let your hand drift to his hair gently curling the long, dark strands behind his ear.

And he just stared at you, his dark eyes warm and gentle as they always had been. His brows twitched as you alternated between playing with his earrings and toying with the longest strands of his hair. He almost seemed . . . at peace, and you wondered if this could be considered a moment of happiness?

Perhaps . . .

It was moments like this that you wondered how the sick smell of mock orange blossoms had ever ruined your life.

But like the poem described . . . the smell wasn’t something to be forgotten. It eventually seeped back in. And just as Jungkook had almost allowed himself to sink into your touch, his eyes turned back to the window where he caught a glimpse of his reflection.

It was almost soul-crushing how fast his face fell.

Jungkook took one last look at his reflection, shaking his head slightly as he averted his gaze to the table and clenched his jaw. "Fuck,” he whispered out, his voice hoarse, “this is so fucking annoying. Everything feels so off. I just . . . “ His words tangled around his tongue as he dropped his head to his hands. “Everyone always looks at me like I'm some fucking problem. Like if they get to my core, they can fix me. But I can't be fucking fixed. I fucked up. I ruined my best friend’s life. I don't deserve to be fixed."

And suddenly it was as if you were twelve years old again, seeing your mother cry for the first time and not knowing what to do or what to say. You had grown up that way—not being able to comfort. It had always been who you were. You’d never known what to do to . . . help.

Yes, you could follow the directions of some online article and you could ask and ask and ask how to help him, but would it ever be enough? And what if he said he was fine when he was so clearly not? What then? How were you supposed to help then?

God, you wished you knew the answers.

“You’re not broken, Koo,” you started with, your voice just as small as how you felt in that moment.

“What if I am?” he mumbled into his hands. Slowly, he raised his head, and for another time that night, you faced that crushed look on his face. For another time that night, you saw the things he had been dealing with all on his own. You saw him. “What if I . . . ?”

And then you realized: you didn’t know how to comfort, but you did know how to bear things well. You knew how to crumble up the pain of not being good enough. You knew how to deal with a dream being crushed. You knew how to just . . . deal, and if Jungkook needed help, you could carry the load for him.

So, swallowing your own emotions bubbling up in your throat, you began slowly, "I know I can’t say . . . anything. I know that no matter what I do it's not gonna' make you feel better, because shit doesn't work that way. I'm not some fuckin' hero. I know that. You just need to know that I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere, okay? I'm never leaving your side." Nodding your head, you could feel your eyes burning again. But you didn’t care. The world could see you cry for him and only him and you’d accept it with a heavy heart.

A beat of silence followed your confession.

The world exhaled.

You inhaled as you rested your hand on top of his moments before you began again, "You're—I care about you. . . and—and that means that no matter what time it is, if you feel like you're gonna do something to yourself, then you call me. We can go throw shit off a bridge or—or punch dummies. You need to scream? Then we can go scream until our lungs bleed, okay? Whatever. It doesn't matter. Just—" you squeezed his hand as your heart pulsed in pain in your chest— "You're not alone."

Though the expression on his face didn’t lift, Jungkook accepted your hand, taking it within his grasp to intertwine your fingers together with his. “It’s been months . . . and I still feel like this . . . “ he trailed off, gently shaking his head as he turned back to his reflection in the window.

Instantly, your free hand found his cheek, slowly turning his head so his eyes would only face yours. “I don’t think healing is . . . linear,” you admitted softly. “If I think about it . . . it took me years to be able to play again. Mental shit has to be like that too, right?”

His eyes fluttered shut under your touch. “I don’t know,” he softly sighed as his other hand reached to rest over the one you had caressing his cheek. “I’m just tired of feeling like this.” He swallowed thickly. “I just . . . it’s like . . . I watch everyone else live their lives while I endure mine. And—And I don't know what to do. Sometimes everything just gets so intense, and it just happens. It's like it's some fucked up kind of instinct. Trust me, I wish I could feel something other than this, but I don't feel anything. It's all fucking numb." He nearly dropped your hand, but you clung on tighter, refusing to let him slip through your fingers. "I don't fucking know what I feel. I just . . . I feel like a fucking ghost."

And for the second time that night, you watched the once never-bothered Jungkook reveal another layer of himself to you.

I feel like a fucking ghost, rang in your ears again.

Jungkook squeezed his eyes tight and slowly . . . a single tear trickled from the corner of his eye down the side of his nose.

I feel like a fucking ghost, once more, and you knew the words which would leave your lips before you even had the chance to think.

"Haunt me, then," you found yourself breathing out in a hushed whisper as your thumb caught his fallen tear, wiping it away with ease.

His eyes cracked open, a shocked expression crawling onto his face. "What?” he barely got out as he searched your eyes for anything that would tell him you hadn’t meant to say . . . that.

But you had.

Haunt me, you’d told him, and you knew you’d meant it. The words didn’t have to cross your mind for you to know what you spoke was the truth.

Haunt me.

Give it to me, and breathe.

That is what you had wanted to say. That is what you had meant. You could only hope he knew you were telling the truth.

Tilting your head to the side, you breathed out the air in your lungs. "I told you before, and I meant it,” you began in a gentle tone. “I'll carry the weight for you. All of the pain, the anger, the hatred . . . all of it . . . I will carry it all. Give it all to me, and I will find a way to deal with it." Squeezing his hand once again, you offered up a small smile. "You're not alone anymore, Kook. You do not have to deal with all your shit on your own. You've got me, and you can hate me, you can push me away, you can leave me stranded with no way home . . . but I promise you, I'm not going anywhere."

His brows twitched. “I can’t do that. You’ve got too much to think about.”

You shrugged with a roll of your eyes as you dropped your hand to your intertwined ones. “Like what? I’ve never thought a day in my life. Barely passed college with a 2.7,” you hummed, your voice a little more chipper now as you tried to keep his eyes on you and coax a smile out of him. “I’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“The games,” he muttered with a small sniffle. “You’re shit at multitasking.”

That time, you did smile wider. There he was. “I can manage,” you mused as you leaned into him, nudging him with your elbow. “How about let’s go feed the fish by our hotel after practice tomorrow, hmm? To relax? Yeah?”

And then . . . you could have sworn he nodded. Maybe it was to himself or maybe it was to you, but you knew what it meant. You would accept a nod.

“You gonna eat that?” he asked a second later, gesturing to the half-eaten bowl of ramyeon in front of you.

And you knew he would be OK by your side. You would make sure of it. (You were the older one after all.)

So with a small smile still on your face, you detached your hands from his and reached for your bowl, scooting it toward him. Quietly, he took it from you and began to devour what you had left.

Yeah . . . he was still the same kid you knew growing up. And that . . . that was enough to make your heart feel warm.

It made you wonder if you could ever be . . . warm . . . like him. Unlike this cold, hollow shell you were so used to. Was that even written in your books?

Wetting your lips, your eyes fell to your lap, only to be met with the image of Jungkook’s hand resting on your thigh, secured under the holes in your ripped jeans. It seemed without you noticing, Jungkook had absentmindedly reached for you, toying with the strings adorning the rips in your jeans, only to end up nestled underneath in an attempt to feel your skin against his.

It was sweet. Innocent.

It made you feel warm, yet again, yes. But it also made you feel . . . fuck . . . what was that word?

And that was when you realized something . . .

“You’re wrong, you know?” you ended up muttering out before your brain could catch up with your impulse.

Jungkook hummed, eyeing you. His eyes were still slightly puffy, causing your heart to swell in your chest.

How could he ever think he deserved this?

Wetting your lips, you confessed, “I’m a better person because of you. How could I ever be unhappy with that?”

Jungkook blinked, clearly shocked. Then, he began to toy with his lip ring before he sucked in a sharp inhale and nearly whispered, “All I want . . . is for you to be happy.”

And you couldn’t help but smile. It was warm. It was innocent. It was because of him. “Would you look at that?” you mused in a quiet voice. “Looks like we just came to an agreement.”

The corners of his lips twitched ever so slightly as he nodded once before the two of you resumed your late-night slash early-morning meal. He finished your food for you, and you watched, making sure he ate it all, all the while, the words, I’m a better person because of you rang throughout the air.

I’m a better person because of you.

How could I ever be unhappy with that?

And you knew you meant every word.

The scent of mock orange blossoms couldn’t reach you now.

Not here.

Not with him.

When you were a kid, every Barbie doll your mother ever bought you would end up scalped and decapitated. Now . . . morbid . . . you knew. You weren’t exactly sure why you resorted to . . . that, but playing with dolls just always meant ripping their heads off. You supposed it was kind of symbolic now.

Maybe you were jealous that their lives were perfect and yours was . . . meh. Or maybe you really just really hated dolls.

You supposed there had always been a certain sickness to you; a certain uneasiness that came with being a preteen girl. You were told sweet sixteen was when the claws came out, but you began to question if yours had grown in long before then. Maybe you had been born like . . . this or maybe everyone just felt this way and spent most of their lives hiding it, because if not . . .

. . . it felt like life was just some sick joke that you hadn’t clued in on yet.

Perhaps that was why you had become so keen on poetry: it said what you feared only you felt.

Because really, you used to use pages out of books to fasten a joint in a pinch, too, and now it physically hurt to imagine ever even tearing a page.

But words felt more comforting now. Sure, a racket felt like it fit into you like a hook in an eye, but now . . . now it felt just a tad more awkward than it had in the past. Words . . . words could never disappoint you, you decided long ago when they had been all that you had had.

There’s something soft in me—

You remembered reading long ago.

—we killed it and it’s rotting.

And maybe it was silly. Maybe it was dramatic, but words made things feel better. It made the world less scary. It made looking at Jungkook and wondering what this feeling in your chest was . . . not so scary. It made things . . . better.

So, you’d read, and you’d overanalyze, and you’d spend your time too wrapped up in words because it made everything that much bearable. Because it made the fact that your claws didn’t come in at sixteen so much easier to swallow; it made the fact that there was nothing soft about you alright.

Because maybe there had been something soft about you long ago. Or maybe you had killed it; maybe you had taken the softness and traded it for survival, only to discover all the rot inside of you that you had been trying to ignore for years now.

Had the fire gotten a hold of you even back then?

Is that why you no longer feared it? Because there was nothing left to fear? Did all this rot mean you were no different from a hit deer off the highway?

. . .

Whatever.

It didn’t mean much, right?

There were no birds coming to feast on your rotting corpse like the deer you wondered if you resembled. Nothing had come to consume your body as the world had consumed your soul. You were just there . . .

With a sigh, you clicked off your phone, disregarding the poem as you shoved it all away into the back of the pocket of your athletic shorts. And as you stood there, you slowly glanced up only to meet the image of Jungkook walking toward you, a half-smile on his tired face with a duffel bag over his shoulder and a racket in his hand. You hadn’t seen him since you woke up that morning, quickly dressed and told him you’d meet him at the center after your run. And there he was, his hair in a small ponytail with a grin on his face at the sight of you. (You tried to ignore the urge to meet him halfway. (Also ignoring this . . . weird feeling blooming in your chest the second you saw him.))

“Well, it seems the sun’s decided to come out after all,” were the first words out of his mouth as he drew closer. And only then did you realize the day was dreary, filled with dark clouds and humid spring air.

Tearing your eyes from the clouds above, your gaze landed on Jungkook just as he stopped before you, setting his duffel bag on the pavement beside you. He wasted no time either, poking your abdomen with his racket. “Bad day already?” he questioned, tilting his head to the side in thought.

Sighing, you shook your head. “No, just . . . thinking.”

“Well, stop, it’s aging you,” he lightly scolded.

You squinted your eyes into a glare. “You’re on one today.”

And well . . . all he did was wink. Of course.

Now . . . you knew how this looked. Just last night you and him were up into the early morning nursing each other’s wounds and now it seemed like it hadn’t even happened, but there was a reason for that. The two of you knew each other. He appreciated that you didn’t make it a big thing. You were always going to be there for him; that much was obvious by now given your history with each other. But if there was one thing the two of you both hated, it was being treated as if you were as fragile as glass. So for now . . . last night was a little secret between the two of you, and right now . . . right now you both had to get your heads in the game for the finals tomorrow.

So there . . . that was that. At least that was how it was for you. You were sure it was the same for him, but it wasn’t like you could think about that right now either. Right now you had to think of the tournament as draining as it felt to even acknowledge it.

But just as you were about to move past it all and grab your own duffle bag from the ground, Jungkook halted you with a hand on your wrist. Your eyes immediately snapped to his.

“You sure you’re good?” he questioned once more, his eyes wider now, more concerned than before.

(There’s something soft in me—

But you couldn’t burden him now. Not after what he went through last night. Because you knew him, and you knew he’d do anything to make things right for you . . . even if it meant ignoring his own troubles. And well, despite what you liked to claim, you couldn’t bear to do that to him.

—we killed it and it’s rotting.)

So instead, you blurted out: “Just stressed, you know?”

His brows pinched together slightly, but he didn’t press it further. “Right . . . “

And that was that. You didn’t let another word pass between the two of you as you picked up both your duffel bag and his and began to walk toward the training center. Jungkook, of course, fought you the entire way, trying to grab the duffel bags from your hands, but you insisted, tsking at him as he tried to outsmart you (as if he ever could).

While he repeatedly tried to snatch at least one bag from your grasp, your eyes were training on the scene in front of you. And it was only when the two of you turned the corner, now facing the center head-on, that you realized maybe the dark clouds had been a sign telling you to turn back; to stay inside; to practice somewhere else. Jungkook, on the other hand, was preoccupied, as, in your shock, he managed to snatch both duffel bags from your grasp. And he was mighty proud of himself too until he heard what you had seen . . . and slowly the grin fell from his lips as he turned to face the scene.

Because before the two of you, crowding in front of the training center were reporters on top of reporters with their big flashy cameras and notepads, and . . . behind them, spray painted across the building was your name . . . with the words ‘is a traitor’ too big not to notice.

There’s something soft in me—

we killed it and it’s rotting.

It happened in slow motion. The reporters caught sight of the two of you, and that was it. They were racing toward you in seconds, all screaming this and that, trying to get a story, and all you could do was stare in a state of confusion and shock as if you were waiting for a car to pop out of nowhere and hit you.

Off the highway like another deer.

You’d never seen something like it. Sure, you’d seen this stuff in movies, but never in real life, never because of . . . you. There had been articles published when you fell out of the badminton scene three years ago, but never something like this. Never something like this. Fuck, even the interview you’d done as a team were never like . . . this.

Off the highway like another girl.

What was . . . this?

It was bad. You knew it was bad, but you couldn’t hear anything. You could see Jungkook growing angry beside you, pushing the reporters back as he said . . . something . . . but you couldn’t quite make out what it was. You couldn’t hear it. You couldn’t hear anything.

You should have known better. You should've known there was a chance something bad would happen. Because like always, when you got that sick feeling in the pit of your stomach, when the dark clouds came out and the air felt wet but chilly but humid . . . something bad always happened. But you hadn't thought that the world would be so cruel, especially the day before the end.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t supposed to—

You felt the world caving in on you. You felt small. Small and disgusting. You wanted to disappear. You wanted to run, but you couldn't. Your mind had been the only thing to stay alert. Just run, you thought. Run. Run. Fucking run.

But you couldn't. You wanted to but the camera kept flashing and the reporters kept yelling and yelling and yelling and all you could make out was that everyone hated you. Suddenly, it was three years ago and everyone was pretending to be nice to you, then bitching about you behind your back. Suddenly, you were falling. Your hip was hurting. You were screaming and nobody cared. Nobody cared. Nobody—and then you were pushing everyone away again. Suddenly, you were alone again. And then you felt it. You felt it all, and then . . . then you couldn't breathe.

I can't breathe. You tried gasping for air, but it never stuck in your lungs. I can't breathe. You could have sworn this was what drowning felt like as your breaths came out quicker and quicker. Oh, my God, I can't fucking breathe.

You needed air. You needed to run.

Your eyes darted to the training center, and you knew what you had to do. You forced your legs to move as you tried to make it to the center. You’d be inside in a minute; you just needed a second. One second and you could breathe again.

But before you could even really move to make it, a hand was on your shoulder, and it wasn’t who you thought it’d be. No, it wasn’t a comforting touch; it was the touch of a reporter trying to make you stay in place just for you to answer their question. There was no making it out of this.

Glancing up, your eyes met the reporter’s and then you finally heard the words you’d been drowning out all morning: “Are the bribing rumors true?”

All air escaped your lungs. Bribing? You? “What?” you weakly asked (you’d never sounded like this before in your life, and yet . . . ).

But before anything else could escalate, Jungkook was stepping in front of you. His body blocked yours from the reporters, his hand carefully resting on your hip as he tucked you behind him while he mumbled, “Don’t bother—”

“What—” you blurted out before you could stop yourself— “What rumors?”

You just . . . you wanted to know. Bribing? All you’d ever done in your career was try to be the best. You’d put blood and tears and sweat and everything into badminton, and this . . . this was how it repaid you. You’d fucked up your leg for it; fucked up your life; fucked up everything just to hold a fucking racket in your hand and now they wanted to say that you bribed your way into . . . into what? Success? You wanted to know the truth. You wanted to know.

But no one bothered giving you an answer. It was just question after question, confusing you more and more, and all you could come to the conclusion was the fact that the whole world must have thought you were as horrible as a person as you feared you were.

So, the final person asked, “Do you have anything to say?”

And all you could fathom was: “I—” you swallowed hard— “I . . . don’t care.”

That was it.

I don’t care, you’d said even though you did, because you always had. You cared too much. Too fucking much. And you were too much. And this was too much. And just . . . just . . .

You didn’t bother thinking further. Your mind went blank as you tore yourself from the scene. Dropping your racket to the ground, you took a step backward.

. . . And then you were gone.

Run, you’d told yourself, and finally, you listened.

And as you ran, you realized, things were easy for you when you could ignore them. If you spent your time worrying about everyone else, then there would be no more time left to worry about yourself. You supposed that was an issue on its own, but that was how you survived.

A burnt child loves the fire. Yes, and you did. You loved it because it meant you’d have one more reason to survive. Survive enough and you wouldn’t have to deal with the aftermath. Just keep surviving the fire. That . . . that was what you were good at.

But you didn’t know how to deal with . . . this.

This wasn’t a fire. Far from it.

It was almost as if you were stuck at the bottom of a lake, your foot trapped under a rock, unable to get to the surface. And no matter how hard you fought to unsheath yourself, you stayed trapped at the bottom, water threatening to clog your air pipes.

And the thing they don’t tell you about drowning: it only takes forty seconds.

Forty seconds turned into minutes then an hour, and you began to wonder how long you had been left at the bottom of that lake. How long until the water finally reached your lungs?

It was about half an hour ago when you’d finally found the pond just outside the hotel your team was staying in, that you’d finally searched up whatever the fuck had gotten you in so much shit.

Yunis Doubles Player Accused of Bribing Referee to Make Nationals, was the headline. Apparently, an anonymous inside source had come forward and claimed that you’d not only bribed your way into winning each tournament for your team, but on top of that, you were also taking whatever drug to help with your fucked leg.

And get this . . . apparently it was because once you won finals, you’d go on to sign for Russia, leaving Korea behind, essentially making yourself a traitor. So there it was. In less than a day, you were a traitor, a drug abuser, and a cheat. Because apparently, that was true.

Whatever . . . it didn’t matter anyway. Even though it wasn’t true, the media had made it so, so it was by default. And as if badminton hadn’t already been feeling like a chore, your love for it lessened and lessened into . . . this hate.

That was what you felt: hate. Had you become hatred now?

Had you become a ghost, too? . . . Had you always been? . . .

“Don’t do it. You’ve got so much to live for,” you heard a voice say in a joking manner behind you just as you tossed another rock into the large pond below your dangling feet. (The voice had startled you all the same, nearing skyrocketing the rock out of your grasp, but we don’t dwell on that.)

Still . . .

. . . you didn’t jump. There was no need to. Startled or not, there was no need to fear. You knew that voice, and it only ever filled you with comfort, nothing else.

So instead of answering, you dropped your head in shame, eyes on the koi fish swimming idly through the water below you as your hands tightened around the edge of the rickety bridge.

Jungkook had found you. Somehow he always managed to make his way back to you, no matter how many times you pushed him away.

(It used to be annoying. Now it was just . . . well . . . it was something else now. It had grown into something . . . more . . .)

His footsteps grew closer. He was behind you now. Close, yet still so very distant.

Silence for only a beat more.

And then, he spoke.

“I was trying to find an excuse to come find you,” he murmured, his words unexpecting of a response as he sat down beside you, dangling his feet over the edge of the bridge.

And you . . . you stayed still, peeking at him through the corner of your eye. Sure enough, he was real, and he was sitting there dressed in his athletic clothes, some of his hair pulled back into a ponytail, while he held in his hands two pieces of . . . bread (?).

Your brows scrunched in confusion. “Bread was your excuse?” you questioned, your voice quiet.

Jungkook glanced between you and the bread, then back at you until he settled on the bread, tapping a finger to the loaves. “Ah . . . right . . . well . . . buy one, get one free,” he curtly explained. His eyes drifted back to you, then, as he wet his lips and sighed. “You talked about wanting to feed the fish.” Add in a shrug. “Thought this might be where I’d find you . . . so—“ a clearing of his throat— “Just—Are you OK?”

And you couldn’t help it. You took him up on his offer, silently grabbing a loaf of bread from his hands and resting it on your lap. Your eyes followed it the entire way, watching as your hand began to rip a small piece from the corner. “I think,” you finally replied to his question just as you tossed the piece of bread into the water. “I can’t force people to believe me. So—” pausing for a second, you watched as two koi fought over the piece of bread— “whatever, right?”

Jungkook plucked a piece of the bread off, but instead of throwing it to the fish, he plopped it into his mouth, chewing in contemplation. “You were always the best player,” he mumbled through the mouthful. Plucking off another piece, he waved it in your direction, gesturing to you. “They can’t take that away.”

Maybe it was the sentiment or maybe it was how he’d begun to eat the bread he brought solely to feed the fish, but you couldn’t help but fight off a smile. Because when times were like this, you felt fine; you felt . . . almost good, but when you were out there neck-and-neck, trying to hit the birdie again and again, you felt . . . off.

It made you realize that one: badminton didn’t feel like it used to and two: you weren’t entirely sure that the accusation itself was the reason behind your anger. Because maybe it was easier to be angry or sad. It always had been.

But as you ripped off another piece of bread to throw to the fish, it hit you. You weren’t exactly hard to figure out you’d like to think, so really, put two and two together and you get one burnt-out badminton player looking for an excuse to quit.

Fuck.

It really was that, wasn’t it?

You didn’t want it to be. You didn’t want to believe it either because badminton was your life. There was no without. Like a hook in an eye. Hook in eye. Hook in eye. Hook in eye. You couldn’t escape it.

But now . . . after years and years of trying to get back to that same person you were before the accident, you’d ignored just how draining it had begun to feel to practice and practice and try and try and . . . try. You mistook it for physical fatigue; for healing from your injury. You didn’t once think that your disinterest may have been because you had grown further and further apart from a racket in your hand and the sound of the court squeaking under your shoes. And when that reporter asked you if you’d cheated to get back in the game . . . you’d taken that chance to run away; to ruin it for yourself once more . . . and this time not for the sake of self-sabotage but perhaps . . . conservation.

So you began to ask yourself the same question that had been haunting you for a while now: how well did badminton still fit into you? You’d thought about it last night. You thought about it a million times before, refusing to acknowledge it, and now . . .

Then you found yourself turning to Jungkook. “What—” you sucked in a quick breath— “What made you want to play badminton? . . . In the beginning . . . “

Setting the bread aside, he leaned forward, resting his forearm against the lower part of the railing. “I’m not really sure,” he mumbled as he rested his cheek against his forearm. “It was just . . . easy for me. I liked being good at things.”

“But . . . “ (you had begun to toy with the bread instead of tossing it to the fish) “ . . . why did you love it?”

A few beats of silence.

Beat.

Then, Jungkook spoke: “The people, I think,” he finally said in a calm, collected tone, adding in a shrug at the end of his sentence. “I never really cared about being someone special; I just when I played, I always played with friends. It was fun. I think when I look back on it, it wasn’t badminton that I loved, it was the people. My friends . . . coaches . . . “ his eyes flashed to meet yours, “. . . you.” And he maintained eye contact. “It was the only time I ever felt happy, and when I grew up . . . when badminton felt more like a game of loss . . . it lost its magic. I wasn’t a kid anymore. Everyone had grown up and I was still there, on that court. . . . It wasn’t fun anymore . . . “

Oh.

Because, truly, you’d felt the same. Well . . . perhaps a tad different. Badminton had been fun for you because you always won. It was the only time you felt . . . special, good . . . worth . . . something. And when you lost it all, you felt like nothing upon nothing upon shit. So when you finally gained it all back, it was almost as if with each win, that magic Jungkook spoke up washed away bit by bit. Winning wasn’t fun anymore; it was being with him that made it worth . . . something.

But could winning itself ever have the same effect as it did years ago? Would you ever crave it so violently again?

“Do you think it could ever be fun again?” you voiced your thoughts aloud, hesitant as if admitting this aloud was some kind of sin.

“Maybe,” Jungkook muttered with another shrug. His attention was drawn on the fish now, his round, brown eyes following them as they swam to and fro. “But—” he breathed in heavily— “if I had it my way . . . I’d go back home and help run my parents’ shop.” There was that smile creeping up on his face again at the mention of home. “And if I really had it my way, I’d be thirteen again and I’d never grow up. I’d be small and happy and I’d never have to leave home again. That is what I truly want; to be that kid again . . . but for right now . . . I think I’d settle with just going home, knowing my mom’s special dish is waiting for me.”

Home.

He spoke of it so fondly, and you began to wonder if you’d ever loved it as much as he did. Now, you knew you did. Your parents were good, kind people. They were good parents. You loved them, missed them, but home had never been something that you’d acknowledged if that made any sense. You were just always looking forward to the future and who you’d become. You supposed you never stopped to take in the lines drawn onto the bathroom wall labeling your height year after year. You supposed you never stopped to catch sight of the way your mom would shave off the skin of the apple because she knew you didn’t like getting it in your teeth. You supposed you never thought of home as home because you always knew it’d be there, and now . . . now it was far far away and you were so so small, no longer great and big, and looking forward to the future.

It made you wonder if this feeling deep inside you had something to do with missing this home Jungkook spoke of. And then you began to agree that, yes, yes you would very much like to be small again, coming home from badminton practice to the smell of your mother’s cooking and your father’s tunes playing on the CD player.

Perhaps . . . perhaps you wished you were little again, too. And perhaps you wished you could start over, this time with badminton as more of a love than a state of survival . . . and maybe then you’d know more of this . . . home.

“Kook . . . “ you began, eyes darting from fish to fish as your thoughts raced, “if I admit something . . . do you promise not to judge?”

Jungkook hummed moments before he reached out to tuck your hair behind your ear. “What’s on your mind, hmm?” he mused, nudging you with his elbow as if telling you to go on.

Another few beats of silence. (It was odd how it kept lurking over your shoulder like a vice.)

And then: wetting your lips, you swallowed the weird feeling in your throat, finding it hard to get these words out for some reason. And then . . . when you were sure the silence had begun to eat at your flesh, you opened your mouth to voice your thoughts. “What if . . . what if I don’t love badminton anymore?” you mumbled, your voice nearly inaudible as you heard your words echo in your head again and again. But just like Pandora’s box, once they were spoken, you couldn’t shove them back down. Your words just kept flowing. “I mean . . . I’m—I’m twenty-five years old. All I’ve ever known is badminton. I ruined my life for it. I wasted three years trying to get it back and . . . and . . . and what if I did it for nothing? I wasted my entire life trying to be the best at something that I don’t even like anymore. What am I supposed to do if—if I don’t want it anymore?”

There.

Right there.

There was the truth you’d been hiding from for so long, and it was laid out in front of you, staring back at you.

What if you had wasted your entire life trying to be the best at something you didn’t even like anymore?

It wasn’t even like you wanted an answer from him either. You just needed to say it. You just needed to admit that perhaps you and Jungkook were more similar than either of you had ever thought.

And did that . . . did that give you relief? To be understood in this way?

“I just—“ you blurted out, still trapped inside your head— “It’s like you said. I just . . . maybe I just want to go home. I don’t . . . I don’t want to go to the Olympics or—or anything. I don’t want to be who I was. I just . . . I don’t know if I care to be . . . that anymore.”

A beat of—wait—no, unlike you thought, no silence entered your space. No, instead, Jungkook didn’t miss a beat. “Oh, baby—” he sighed, his voice like honey moments before you felt a warm hand cup your cheek— “you haven’t changed one bit either. Don’t you know? Violet, roses are red, not blue.” Your eyes met. His filled with understanding, while yours stained in shock. And then . . . then he tapped his thumb against the corner of your mouth, and offered up a small smile. “Where’s your smile? Hmm?”

Instantly, you sucked in a sharp breath as your eyes fluttered ever so slightly, taken off guard by his words. You wet your lips, trying to form any kind of sentence, but nothing ever came. Until you realized something . . . this feeling . . . it wasn’t something you were used to . . . but it was something you’d heard of . . . and it was . . . soft.

You’d never held something like that. You’d never owned something like that either. You’d never been it. You’d always just been machine parts and badminton plays. Strategies upon strategies. Always thinking and thinking and thinking and never just . . . being . . . feeling . . .

Until . . .

. . . until him.

And you had no idea how to handle that.

“I’m so scared,” you heard yourself whisper before you realized it was you who was speaking.

Jungkook furrowed his brows as his eyes trailed across your face before he wiped his thumb across your cheek, then dropped his hand to yours. Only then did you realize you had been crying. Not sobbing or anything close, but a few tears had slipped past, and there he was again wiping them away like it was normal; like it was OK.

“Why are you scared?” he questioned softly as he squeezed your hand.

“Because,” you muttered out with a confused shrug. Hell, you didn’t even really know. You just knew . . . you just knew that: “I’m only still here . . . on this team . . . because of you. I think . . . I think what I like about badminton is . . . you. You’ve made it worth something when it’d lost all meaning to me. And . . . and . . . I think what scares me the most is that . . . is that you’ve made me . . . soft . . . and I can’t tell if I hate that or if I . . . if I’m grateful.” Quickly, you wet your chapped lips. “I’ve had good things in my life. I’ve had success and victory and fame . . . but it all felt like it came with a price. You know? Win a competition and you feel great but what about the next one? It was always just a constant race . . . but being around you . . . it doesn’t feel like I have to win anything. I feel softer and—and it doesn’t even come with a catch. It’s free.” Your eyes searched his. “Am I even allowed to have something like that when I should be obsessing over winning this championship?”

Jungkook leaned closer, taking your hand into both of his as he held it close to his chest similar to how you’d hold a teddy when you were a child. And then . . . he spoke, and you couldn’t believe your ears, wondering if this was the same man you knew when you were young. “Have all of me,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours as if he wanted you to know he meant this within his soul. “Take my bones and build yourself a home. They’re worn, sure, but I like to think they’re pretty sturdy . . . so . . . take them.” His eyes searched yours deeper. “Take all of me if you have to. Take all of me . . . ”

Blinking slowly, you shot him a look, a small, shocked smile creeping onto your face as you let a sliver of a laugh out before you knew it. “That’s disgusting,” you scolded him, shaking your head at his words, but you couldn’t help but find some sentiment in them. Maybe it was the morbidity to you, but no one had ever said such things to you . . . and you found yourself holding these words close to your chest just as Jungkook held your hand close to his.

He smiled back, too. “Good. I knew it’d make you laugh,” he murmured softly, and you knew this, too. It was him after all. He’d do anything to get a laugh out of you, and you began to realize that it had always been that way. (Perhaps you should’ve spent your childhood laughing more than scowling at him.) But it seemed he didn’t mind as he began to rub his thumb back and forth against your knuckles, his smile slowly fading into a solemn expression. And then: “You asked me to haunt you, but you’re the one who haunts me.”

You swallowed hard.

You’re the one who haunts me.

Oh . . .

And then you began to wonder: was Jimin right? He loved you, he had told you. And suddenly, you realized that if this were still true . . . it didn’t bother you. You’d accept it even. But what did that mean for you?

You swallowed hard once again.

“You said I make you feel real again,” he continued on, making you forget your own thoughts as you watched his head tilt to the side in thought, ever so slightly. “I’ve thought about it. I don’t want to haunt you. I don’t want to poison your softness. I want to make you keep feeling real and soft and . . . you. And . . . and well . . . you make me want to be real again. You–you make me want to be a person, to be something, to make something of the person I am. I don’t want to end up like your King Weir—”

“Lear,” you felt yourself whisper so quietly you almost didn’t hear it. All you could do was stare at him and stare and stare and . . .

“I don’t want to be him,” Jungkook restated. A small pause followed as those warm brown eyes you’d come to be fond of searched yours like you were the only two people left on the planet. “I don’t want to be nothing . . . and you’ve reminded me of that.” Wetting his lips, he reached for your other hand, now holding both your hands in his, his thumbs running across your knuckles. “So I was wondering—” he maintained eye contact, while he gave a quick squeeze to your hands— “if maybe instead . . . well . . . I want you to help me live . . . no haunting necessary.”

I want you to help me live.

It echoed in your ears.

I want you to help me live.

I want you to—

Did he know that he’d given you a whole new reason to keep living? Did he know that when you thought of him, you realized you had another reason to live? Didn’t he realize that it was him? That caring for him had made you a better person?

But Jungkook took your silence as a sign of rejection, so before you could slap yourself up the side of the head, he nearly retreated, quickly muttering out an apology for being . . . weird. Only, this was now and not then, and you were you, and well, you quickly reached for his hands, pulling them into your lap. His eyes followed your movements, clearly taken off guard, but you didn’t let him dwell on it too long.

“How about—” you began, running your thumb across the tattoos dotting his fingers— “let’s take care of each other?”

Jungkook blinked once. Then twice. Then . . . then his brows twitched in longing? Understanding? Or . . . oh what was that word?

Whatever.

It didn’t matter. What mattered was his answer. And you already knew it before you’d spoken those words.

OK, he nodded.

OK, he smiled.

OK, your eyes seemed to glisten back.

OK.

There was a time in your life, where every night you’d have the same nightmare. Over and over again, you’d be trapped in this room with no windows, no doors, just darkness. And in the middle of the room would be you, or rather a version of you, strapped to a chair, with flames slowly licking up your legs, scorching your skin. But you wouldn’t feel any pain, because it wasn’t actually you. Sure, it looked like you, but . . . you were on the other side of the room, watching with wide eyes as you heard yourself scream and beg to be released from the shackles.

The flames wouldn’t touch you there. They were around, yes. They were burning holes into your clothes, yes, but you couldn’t feel it. All you could do was sit and watch as this variant of yourself burned alive right before your eyes.

And as if watching yourself be scorched alive wasn’t bad enough, there would be this point in the dream where you, no, she, no . . . it . . . would speak to you. Through the flames, it would hiss and whisper that it was your fault.

It was your fault, and you’d know what it meant.

But, No! you’d scream back. Because, no, no, no, this couldn’t be your fault. You couldn’t have been the one to ruin yourself. That would just be so, so, so . . . well . . . it would be too much.

(You knew now that it was just one big accident. Sure, trying not to blame yourself for it now was hard, but you’d learned in the past few months. It hadn’t been your fault. It hadn’t been his either.)

But back then . . . back then the incident loomed over your shoulder like a ghost.

You were getting ahead of yourself again, but . . . but the dream, no . . . the nightmare always started and ended the same. You stuck in a burning room, left to watch yourself burn and burn and burn as you, she, it, whatever (!) screamed and screamed, its voice growing louder with each, it was your fault!

And with the last shift of blame, the fire would finally set in. The red, hot flames that had left blisters and boils on your skin would begin to itch, then sting, and then consume you until all you felt was pain, pain, pain.

Then it would be your screams which filled the room.

Only when the pain would begin to shift, your back ripping with agony as this pair of . . . wings (?) split from the wounds, would you think you’d been saved. Because just as those wings had appeared, on the other side of the room, so had a door. And perhaps, perhaps then you could escape the burning room; fly out of there and save yourself.

That was always your first thought: survive, and you would always head for the door without a second thought. It was only when you’d hear the other you’s screams that this immense amount of guilt would hit you, because there you were, able to save yourself but not without leaving a piece of you behind to burn to ash.

. . . You never turned around to give yourself one last glance either. Instead, you always counted to three before you stepped off from the ledge, trusting that what was behind the bright light coming from the door would surely save you. And every time as you realized you were falling and falling, the heat would leave your senses and all you’d be able to feel was wind in your hair and the smell of salt water. You were no longer in the burning room. You were free.

With the opening of your eyes, you would be in the sky, your wings carrying you. And for a moment, you would believe that you truly were free; free from the incident, free from your guilt, free from everything.

Until the wind no longer felt refreshing and the vague smell of burning wood could be sensed; until you finally glanced back at what you had left behind, only to realize the wings you had been gifted were not made of feathers and bone at all, but rather wax, and under the Sun’s embrace . . . they had begun to melt . . .

You’d spare yourself the details of stating what happened next, but the story was simple. Think Icarus. Just like Icarus, every time, your wings would melt and you’d hit the sea below you, shortly drowning but never dying. No, every time you’d get a bit closer to death . . . but you’d wake up just before you succumbed to it.

And every time you’d wake in a fright, sweat coating your body as you panted and panted, trying to figure out if you could still feel the fire on your skin or the water in your lungs. And every time you’d wake wondering if that was why you craved the fire so viscerally; if that was why you felt like you were drowning from time to time.

But . . . that dream, that nightmare . . . well . . . you hadn’t had it for a couple weeks or maybe months (?) now. It used to be something that you just considered part of your routine; something that you just had to deal with. But ever since you and Jungkook had begun this little thing you guys had going on where you’d sleep next to each other almost every night, you hadn’t been having any dreams.

You didn’t quite understand it. You just knew that the nightmares had stopped . . . and maybe you had him to thank for that (just a little bit).

Slowly, you brought yourself out of your mind, planting yourself in reality once again as you were reminded that you and Jungkook had gone back to his hotel room after you got in a few hours practice after well . . . after your little . . . mishap. You’d showered and washed your hair, brushed your teeth, and blah blah blah. You were already tucked into bed, waiting for Jungkook to finish up brushing his teeth so the two of you could watch something to fall asleep to. (He was slow . . . of course (brushing his teeth while listening to a playlist at max volume)). And you, you were beginning to doze off, lost in your mind as you thought of the peaceful sleep you had awaiting you (partially thanks to him yeah (!) you knew . . . whatever).

Still, you couldn’t help but roll over in bed, your eyes quickly catching a glimpse of him in the mirror just outside the bathroom. And well, you couldn’t help but laugh just a little as you watched him dance to the music playing from his phone, haphazardly brushing his teeth along to the beat. (You couldn’t wait until he hopped into bed next to you and you could finally get close enough to feel his heartbeat against your cheek (not that you would admit that out loud. . . right?)).

“I can see your asscrack,” you called out across the room, laughing slightly because duh you were lying but you couldn’t help but tease him. (Plus . . . maybe a part of you missed him being beside you (you wanted him to hurry up, could you blame yourself?!).)

“Nuh-uh—” he gurgled out through the copious amount of toothpaste in his mouth— “not falling for that again. You’re full of shit.”

You couldn’t help but laugh again, falling back against the bed, the back of your head now laying in the center of the pillow. One, two, three, you counted the swirls in the ceiling. It was literally like watching paint dry having to entertain yourself until he was done. It was an odd thing, wasn’t it? Liking someone’s company that much?

God . . . what had you turned into?

“Do you sleep with your eyes open?” you heard Jungkook ask from beside you just as the bed dipped and he crawled under the covers, no shirt and only in his boxers (as usual).

Ignoring the pitter-patter of your heart, you turned to face him, your eyes immediately trailing across his features. “You tell me,” you hummed, quickly rolling onto your side so your entire body was facing him.

“Probably,” he mumbled as he settled into the bed, propping up the pillow to support his head. “Dunno though. I try not to look at you too much.”

Your jaw dropped. Then a scoff. And you didn’t waste any time, reaching forward to twist his nipple . . . hard.

Instantly, he caved in on himself, clutching his chest as he whined, “Ow. Not cool, baby.”

You threatened to do it again, your hand outstretched.

But he waved a metaphorical white flag in surrender. “OK. OK. I’m kidding. I’m kidding,” he all but begged, twisting away from you.

Falling back against the bed once again, you avoided his eyes. “That’s what I thought,” you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest as you faked your displeasure with him.

Jungkook only found this amusing, soothing a hand over his chest before he shifted closer to you, his tattooed arm thrown over your waist as he pulled you into him. It took him no time to bury his face into the crook of your neck, nuzzling his nose just under your sweet spot. “Mmm, don’t be mad,” he mumbled against your skin, slowly kissing his way up to your ear. “You really are the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” A kiss to your cheek. Then a squeeze to your side as he brought you closer and closer and closer until you were sure the two of you were intertwined. “You always have been, you know?”

Slowly, as confusion and shock twisted onto your features, you turned your head so you were nose to nose. “Don’t be silly,” you whispered as one of your hands found its way into his long hair. “I know you were kidding, you don’t have to overkill it.”

Listen, listen, listen . . . you knew you weren’t god awful, but every girl feels like they’re not good enough. It’s built into us, so sometimes it comes as a shock when someone is so . . . so forward. It wasn’t like people just went around saying ‘oh, you’re the prettiest girl ever duh!’ like duh! Obviously! So . . .

But Jungkook always managed to surprise you. Always.

And just as you were about to close your eyes, thinking this was over and the two of you were going to actually get some sleep, he surprised you once more. “You know . . . “ he began, his voice low and quiet, almost as if he were fighting with himself to say his next words . . . “I spent the entirety of the sixth grade learning every flower I could just so I’d have something to tease you about,.”

“What?” you all but snorted as you threw your leg over his hip. “That’s insane.”

“Well, I had to get your attention somehow,” he mused, while his hand had begun to trace letters or random doodles on your back.

Scrunching your brows together, you asked, “What are you talking about?”

“You’re so dense. Pretty, but—” he tapped a finger to your forehead— “hollow.”

Instantly, you shot him a look. “You wanna talk?”

He only laughed.

A beat of warm silence. You traced his bottom lip with your thumb, toying with the piercing. He nipped at your thumb. Another beat. He pressed a kiss to your thumb. One more beat, then . . .

“I had a crush on you, idiot,” he confessed against your thumb in the dead of night.

This time you actually did snort, moving your thumb to rest on his chin. “What? I was all braces and forehead acne,” you went on, remembering who you were and how you were and all the little things that you wished had been different about yourself back then. “A crush, JK? Be serious.”

“Hey, hey, I’m not a liar,” he quickly rushed over, humorously defending his honor. “I had a crush on you. Seriously. Why do you think I tried to impress you all the time.”

Your smile nearly faded. (And Jimin’s words revisited you (you pushed them away).)

He wasn’t kidding.

But . . .

“Impress me? You spent our entire childhood showing off how much better you were at everything than I was,” you said, confusion and everything in between laced in your words. Because, truly, what? “That was like our . . . thing as much as it disgusts me to admit.”

His brows raised ever so slightly. “What?”

Oh no.

No, he wasn’t kidding. He actually did have a crush on you. But that meant . . . that meant the whole reason you had hated him growing up was over . . . nothing. He had never meant to start anything. He was just . . . he was trying to impress you and not . . . one-up you.

He wanted you to like him back . . .

So then you had—oh, no!

“Wait,” you cut your own thoughts off with a gasp. “Oh my fucking god, are you serious? Kook, I thought you were just trying to be an asshole.”

Jungkook pulled back. “No, what the—” his words died on his tongue as it all dawned on him. “Is that why you thought I hated you?”

“Yes! Obviously!”

“Oh, shit . . . “

And then . . . as if this couldn’t get any more on-brand for the two of you, Jungkook had begun to laugh. Quietly at first, then his hand was slapping against his face as he cackled, his shoulders even so much as shaking. He was full-on laughing. Laughing.

“Why are you laughing?” you exclaimed, squeezing his shoulder

“Because! You hated my guts for like fifteen years and it’s all because you took my sixth-grade flirting as an insult!” he bursted out through small laughs. “You—” he embraced you, his hand cupping your cheek as his eyes searched yours— “are something else.”

“Well . . . it’s technically your fault,” you responded with a quick click of your tongue.

His brows twitched upward. “Oh, is it technically my fault?” he asked while trying to fight the half-grin tipping onto his lips.

“Obviously.”

“Mmm,” he hummed, thinking for only a second before: “At least you’re pretty.”

In response, your mouth fell open slightly. “I will bite the tip of your penis off.”

“Mmm, kinky,” he remarked as he nudged your nose with his.

Scrunching your nose, you tsked, “Ew.”

“Come on, baby,” Jungkook mockingly whined, pouting as much as he possibly could. “No cold shoulder. Gives me the chills.”

But you were having too much fun with this to give it up now. “You had a crush on me,” you all but gagged as you turned your nose up (once again ignoring Jimin’s words . . . ). “Disgusting.”

“Is it?” he questioned in amusement, moments before his lips were on your exposed jaw.

“Mmm.”

Jungkook gently bit your cheek. “I think you’re the one with the crush,” he mused, his lips trailing down to your neck again, this time hovering just over your sweet spot.

“Oh, please,” you scoffed, trying your absolute hardest not to show how affected you were by just his lips grazing your skin. But one gentle kiss to your sweet spot, and you could feel your heart skyrocket to your throat as you all but choked in a breath. It was just that . . . he had this effect on you. (Fuck, did he ever . . . )

“Begging now, are you?” he remarked before leaving another kiss here and then there and the oh, you guessed it, just on the corner of your mouth but not on your lips, of course.

And all you could do was admit you were weak when it came to him, and just give in. Which was, of course, what you did as a soft groan escaped your lips and you turned your head to face him once again. “Would you get over your ego and kiss me?” you deadpanned, all but pouting at him.

That almost got him immediately. His eyes flicked to your lips, then your eyes, then to your lips once again before one of those cocky grins plastered across his face. “Yes, ma’am,” he whispered, his voice like silk.

That was the last response you received before his lips grazed yours. Gentle at first was his touch, like a feather on skin, but as he nudged your nose with his, he finally closed the space between you two, pressing his lips against yours in a soft kiss. You leaned closer, pleasantly sighing into the kiss as you nipped at his bottom lip. A grin tipped onto his face before he dipped in for more, running his tongue along the crease of your lips. You complied quickly, hands tangling in his long, dark hair as you pulled him closer and melded his tongue with yours. He inhaled sharply through his nose as his grip tightened on you instantly, his hand sliding up your thigh, squeezing your hip before it snuck under the hem of your shirt (or rather his old college badminton tee that he had grown out of by now (which meant it was yours by default . . . duh).

A soft mix between a gasp and a quiet moan escaped your lips when you felt the coolness of his hand graze the swell of your breast, palming it. He grinned into the kiss, circling his thumb around your nipple, knowing damn well that it would get to you and have your skin blazing in seconds.

That was just the thing—he knew how your body worked. More . . . he knew how you worked and perhaps that was why he had figured out how to pleasure you.

Still, you tugged on his hair in annoyance, huffing slightly and pouting perhaps just a tad, which you knew he found endearing. That was the thing, too . . . you knew how he worked as well. He snickered against your lips, proving your thoughts to yourself just moments before he pulled you closer and began sucking on your bottom lip as his thumb pressed down on your puckered nipple, tweaking the bud. You hummed softly in response, grinding your underwear-clothed core against his muscular thigh.

He stilled under your touch for a mere second before his hands gripped your waist as he pulled you down onto his thigh, moving with you while you grinded against him. “Making a mess, pretty girl,” he murmured against your lips as he moved to lightly kiss your neck. His hand was at your shirt again in an instant, fisting it and pulling it up over your breasts.

“You’re such a guy,” you nearly moaned out, your hands now on his shoulders as his head dipped to your breasts, catching a nipple in his mouth all the while he flexed his thigh against your core. He didn’t stop there either. He softly hummed against your skin as he released your nipple long enough to kiss it just moments before taking it into his mouth again, swirling his tongue around the bud and sucking hard. And you couldn't help it, you jerked against him, throwing your head into the pillow as a loud moan sounded from the back of your throat.

“So you agree—” he mumbled as he still flicked his tongue over and over again over the abused bud— “you like that about me?”

Before you could even answer, his hand had gone from your waist and now tangled in your hair, holding the back of your neck. That was moments before his lips detached from your puckered bud and reattached to your lips. His other hand worked quickly, too, as he slid his thigh out from underneath you and swung your leg over his hip, his hardened length now pressed against your aching core.

“Maybe I do a little,” you whispered with a small grin playing on your puffy lips as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer.

He grinned back. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured back, kissing you quickly before you could respond.

And his comment was long forgotten as he grinded his bulge into your heat, stimulating both you and him. It was intoxicating. No, he . . . he was.

He was so intoxicating, you couldn’t help but whine out, “Take them off, please.” Your fingers were at his boxers, tracing the elastic band as you all but whimpered against his lips. You just wanted him, him, him. All of him.

“Eager?” he mused as his thumb dug into your hip. (You knew this was eating at him just as much as it was eating at you. It always did.)

“Please, Kookie. Can’t take it,” you whined further, all but straight-up riding him to scratch the ache inside you. “Need it so bad. Killin’ me.”

“Fuck,” he groaned, and he didn’t waste another second either. “Love you like this.” His own whines filled the air as the two of you struggled to tear off his boxers, your underwear quickly following after as both the undergarments eventually became lost under the covers. But neither of you cared.

It was a quick descent after that. You couldn’t help but grind your core over his hard length, the sound of your wet arousal evident even over the hum of the air conditioner. The two of you never did this. You’d always done foreplay after foreplay after foreplay, finding it thrilling to tease each other, but right now . . . right now all you wanted was him inside you. You wanted him as close as possible, and it seemed he wanted the same, the both of you unable to think or do anything other than grind against each other.

Only then when you couldn’t take the throb between your legs anymore did he press a single kiss to the corner of your mouth before you felt him slowly enter you, inch by inch sinking into your cunt. Your eyes fluttered closed as your mouth parted and your head tilted back while you basked in the fullness which came along with his cock sliding snugly against your tight walls. Your breath hitched in your throat just as you felt him bottom out, your core taking him all the way until the hilt.

The next second, you were wrapping your legs around him, locking them together in an attempt to get him even deeper. Your eyes fluttered open next, meeting his gaze instantly as he stared down at you with his brows pinched in pleasure and those big, round eyes of his blown out . . . but was this lust that he gazed at you with? His gaze appeared different, almost warmer, almost softer, almost too soft to touch . . . to have . . . to hold. He looked too pretty like this. Definitely too pretty for you to handle.

It didn’t help when the following words out of his mouth were: "You're always so fucking tight.”

And then he began to move, not breaking eye contact once. No, his eyes watched yours as his cock pumped in and out of your wet heat. His breath hit your face, and you could almost feel his heartbeat against your chest, syncing with yours as the two of you stared into what you could only describe as each other’s souls.

It was odd, too, because while whatever this feeling was blooming in your chest scared you, you couldn’t look away. You couldn’t turn from him. You just wanted him, him, him. Always him. You feared that if you did turn away, when you glanced back he wouldn’t be there anymore. And that perhaps scared you more than anything: losing him.

But there he was. He was always right there . . .

Almost as if he could hear your thoughts, his grasp on you tightened, his cock sinking deliciously deeper if it were even possible. The pressure in your lower stomach was becoming too much as it bloomed and bloomed, twisting and turning in a pleasurable ache. You bit your bottom lip, turning your head to the side as your breathing became more uneven by the second, but not once did you dare look away. No, you watched each and every twitch of his brow, every shaky breath, every flutter of his eyelashes, and you relished in it, soaking it all in.

It became clear to you that you couldn’t look away even if you tried.

And it seemed neither could he . . .

"Why are you looking at me like that?" you rasped out, trying to swallow your spit.

Jungkook nudged your nose with his. "Like what?"

You swallowed, this time harder (Jimin’s words revisited you once again). “I can’t say . . . “

His brows twitched this time. “How could I not?”

How could I not? And you knew what he meant, just as he had known what was playing on your mind. How could I not?

And then he was kissing you again, taking you by utter surprise. Sure, the two of you had had sex over and over again and each time felt a little different from the other, but this . . . this was like the beginning yet the present all at once. It was like you could feel all of him in just this kiss; like you could see his past and he could see yours and neither of you had thought about running once.

It was soft. So was his hand as he brushed through your hair as he kissed you, tracing your hairline, your cheek, your jaw, then your neck as if he were trying to map out your features.

(You couldn’t help but melt under his touch.)

Why was his kiss always the softest thing you had ever known?

Then . . . amidst your soft moans and carnal sounds, he pulled back, his eyes finding yours again. He glanced between the two of you where your bodies met, brows rising in marvel as he released a small sigh before rolling his hips against yours again and again. And then . . . then, he grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers together as his gaze met yours once again and he whispered so quietly, almost too quiet you wouldn’t have heard it if you hadn’t been so close, “I don’t even know where you end and I begin.”

And you knew instantly he didn’t just mean where your body met his. No, this was deeper, and you realized he could feel that this time was different, too.

Swallowing hard, you fluttered your eyes in almost a state of shock as you stayed silent. But you didn’t need to speak. No, you took his words, and you held them close, and then you were holding him. Take my bones and build yourself a home, he’d told you, but no, no, you wouldn’t put him through that. He could take yours. He could take all of you. You would give yourself to him.

Fuck, you would give all of yourself to him. Only him. Him, him, him.

“Wanna see your face, baby,” he murmured as he brushed your hair out of your flushed face. “Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. My pretty girl.”

And you knew that was it.

With one final kiss, you let him know all this, allowing him to take the lead once more. Everything pulsed as he picked up a sensual pace, hitting your sweet spot over and over again as his thumb snuck between your legs, skillfully working against your swollen clit while you chased the coil. It tightened and tightened, rings of pleasure hissing in your ears. His thumb quickened its pace, and then the coil snapped, your release crashing over you. All you could do was surrender to it, tilting your head back into the pillow as your hips raised while your hands squeezed his toned arms. All the while, Jungkook continued the long drags of his cock against your walls, dragging out your orgasm for as long as he could.

“Wanna stay like this,” he confessed, his thrusts growing slower and slower, unsteadier and unsteadier as he nearly whimpered into your neck. “Love this so fuckin’ much. Being with you—fuck. You make me feel so good, baby. So good.”

“I’d let you,” you mumbled against the shell of his ear, your voice a little too hoarse as you were still coming down from your high. “I’d let you do . . . all the time . . . I want—” you were delirious at this point and you knew it, too— “Want you always.”

Your words barely even registered in your brain as pleasure and that blooming feeling in your chest consumed you. It wasn’t long before you found yourself lifting his head so your lips could slot against his. And he graciously accepted your offer, consuming you just as the feeling had done.

The two of you wasted no time in escalating from gentle kissing, allowing you to further calm down from your high before your cunt was throbbing once more. And . . . before his cock had begun to feel too fucking hard inside you, nearly twitching for release as it begged for your addictive touch.

You let yourself get wrapped up in him for a little longer, too, never wanting to stop. Your hands were on him again as you tangled your fingers in his hair and pulled. This time a loud, deep groan came from his lips, and you knew you had him. He gave another groan of submission when you tugged again, his thrusts barely cohesive now. He was close, and you reveled in this, wishing to bring him to ecstasy. With that thought on your mind, you devilishly reached over his muscular ass, fingers quickly finding his perineum and pressing into it, massaging the sensitive spot.

He was sheathed deeper inside you before either of you could breathe, the two of you too wrapped up in each other to move positions. You just wanted to feel each other again and again and again, because for some reason . . . this time was different.

Different and yet all the same. That was how it had always been with Jungkook.

And you couldn’t quite put a word to the feeling, until . . .

“Will you cum inside me?” you whispered, your voice hoarse as you omitted a soft moan under your breath. “Please. I need more.” Swallowing hard, you finally met his gaze, and instantly, you couldn’t look away. There was just . . . something . . . there. “I need you.” Your brows furrowed as you soaked in your own words while you searched his eyes.

Slowly, with another roll of his hips, he sank lower, his abdomen grazing against yours so he could be close enough to brush his lips with yours but not that close to kiss you. But you . . . you couldn’t be without his touch, and found yourself tilting your head to press your lips against his, finally finding that something you had been searching for in his eyes.

And then . . . then it hit you.

“I need you,” you heard yourself whisper before you knew the words had left your mouth. “I need you, Koo.”

I need you, you’d whispered, and you began to realize . . . you knew what you felt for him wasn’t what you’d feel for a friend. Because you did need him . . . in more ways than you’d like to admit.

And that scared the shit out of you.

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jeonqkooks · 9 months

Text

our beloved summer | jjk (07)

You made a vow to hate Jeon Jungkook ever since he packed up and left you without a single explanation, but when he shows up at your door after years of radio silence, it turns out that maybe your resolve isn’t as strong as you thought.

pairing: producer!jungkook x songwriter!reader genre/warnings: exes au, fluff, angst, eventual smut, swearing, mentions of oc's mother because we know girlie is hella traumatized, mentions of drinking, mentions of an almost physical fight, abandonment issues, jk forgets to practice safe driving for 2 seconds, and uhmmm kissing 🤫, anddd that cliffhanger? 👀 rating: 18+ (minors dni) word count: 10.8k note (1): this is the longest it has taken me to update obs and i do feel pretty guilty about that. but it's finally here now and this is one of the chapters that i'm the most nervous about posting. massive thanks to @daechwitatamic and @wintaerbaer for beta-ing this for me or else i would've screamed cried thrown up and scrapped the whole thing, and to @jeonwiixard for being a wonderful cheerleader as i was writing this, and to everyone in my beloved obs discord server for always being so sweet and kind and putting a smile on my smile every day since the server was created. also to my sunshine ☀︎ for introducing me to the song mentioned below bc HELLO is it not just one of the most obs coded songs ever. love you all my babies <3

series masterpost / playlist ; moodboards ; taglist join our OBS discord server ✨

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

Somewhere in the multiverse There's a me and you that works We never fuck it up We're out there still in love Somewhere in the multiverse Maybe that's enough

multiverse - Maya Manuele ft. PEMRBOKE

Sometimes, whenever you look up at the moon at night, you wonder if Jungkook is doing the same thing.

Even when you fall out of love with someone, it still hurts. It hurts because you once loved them so much it felt like the sky would collapse if you couldn’t be with them. It hurts because the love wasn’t taken from you, but rather it started slipping away on its own, more and more each day until you realize you’re holding onto nothing when there once was everything.

You can’t say that you’re too familiar with that kind of hurt though. You’ve never fallen out of love before.

You don’t think Jungkook is too familiar with it either, at least not when he left you.

You wonder if he thinks about you from time to time and gets sad. You think he does, because you know that he loved you. Something ended for him too. The memories that you shared were his memories too.

You hope that it’s painful for him whenever thoughts of you cross his mind, because that would mean that he cares. That a part of him still cares.

And if he still cares, then he might come back.

Despite the front that you try to parade around, there is a part of you that will always leave your heart vacant for him, regardless of whether or not he would return. It’s a scary thought, one that you would rather avoid at all costs, one that says there will be no one that you love more than you loved Jungkook. Maybe there can’t be another person that you will love at all.

You can come back quietly, like the wind slipping through the crack I leave in the window at night; or you can announce your return resoundingly like a sudden downpour quenching the summer heat. I don’t care. I kept your side of the bed empty and warm, waiting for you to come back. Hoping that you would come home.

[08:47] Yoongi: sure you don’t want me to drive you there? [08:48] Yoongi: i can pick you up in 30 [08:52] You: positive 🤧 i told you i already booked the train. it’s only 4 hours away [08:53] You: i’ll survive, yoongs [08:55] Yoongi: did you not watch Train To Busan? [08:56] You: ? [08:57] Yoongi: what if there’s a zombie apocalypse [09:00] You: yoongi if there’s a zombie apocalypse, how is your CONVERTIBLE supposed to keep me safe [09:01] Yoongi: i’ll put the roof up [09:02] You: stop talking [09:02] You: please stop talking. [09:03] Yoongi: 😡😡😡 [09:03] You: 😇 [09:03] You: gotta get dressed now though. i’ll see u when i get back? :) [09:05] Yoongi: fine [09:06] Yoongi: safe travels. text me when you get there :)

You plop onto your bed with a sigh, glancing at the bag that’s already packed and sitting near your wardrobe, lonely. You stay like that for a while, contemplating whether or not you should bail at the very last minute.

It was not on your bingo card that you’d be here, agonizing over your ex-boyfriend’s brother’s wedding. Nope. Absolutely no one saw it coming.

For fuck’s sake, why would they invite you to a wedding? A celebration of love? It feels like you’re being forced onto a prank show, just waiting for someone to jump out and scream in your face.

You learned that the wedding was for close friends and family only, so it would be a relatively small event, which makes it even more confusing why you were also asked to join. Maybe the world is changing too rapidly and you’re just a little old-fashioned for it, but you really don’t understand why your ex-boyfriend’s family would want you there.

Taehyung and Jimin were invited too; they’re Jungkook’s best friends after all. They’re practically an extension of the family, Jungkook’s brothers by choice. But Taehyung doesn’t come back from his work trip until the day of the wedding, and Jimin… Well, he just doesn’t want to go to a Busan wedding in the middle of winter.

So why are you even going?

You could’ve declined. Said you couldn’t attend because the invitation came in so late. Made up a work trip or a family emergency. There’s a plethora of excuses you could’ve used.

Or you could’ve simply said no. That would’ve been perfectly fine too. No one would even need to ask why.

But maybe it was because his mother had customized the invite with her own handwriting in the back. You would’ve missed it if you hadn’t spent hours meticulously studying the card like someone was going to quiz you. It wasn’t anything special - just We hope to see you there - but you think you’d feel really bad to decline after she’d made the extra effort to ask you to come.

When you told Yoongi that you would be attending Jungkook’s brother’s wedding, he didn’t seem upset. Still cool as a cucumber. Although if he was bothered by the announcement, you don’t think he would’ve let it show. It did take him a minute to take it in, but then he just pecked your cheek and asked if you could bring a plus-one. You both knew that you wouldn’t even if that was an option.

Pushing your body off the bed, you drag yourself to the bathroom to splash some water on your face. Then sunscreen. Then change into the clothes you’d already picked out last night. Your train doesn’t leave for another hour and fifteen minutes, but you want to be there at least twenty minutes early just in case. This is one of your only good habits.

You rub your eyes when you finally haul yourself outside, thinking you must still be dreaming because what is Jungkook’s car doing here?

You blink a few times, expecting the vehicle to disappear in a puff of white smoke.

Spoiler alert: It doesn’t.

The car is in front of you, but the man is nowhere to be found.

You stand there dumbfoundedly, contemplating whether you should wait it out for a little bit to see if he’s actually here. He comes running up to you a couple minutes later, holding two paper cups in his hands, one of them a chai latte. A memory you’d buried long ago comes rushing to the surface. It’s too early for you to be feeling.

“Hi,” he says, his warm breath coming out in a huff of smoke in the crisp morning air.

“Hi?” you mutter dumbly when he trades the bag in your hand for the drink. There’s a moment where you’re genuinely baffled, wondering if this is a memory reel playing right before your eyes. This is your Jungkook, wearing that same old smile whenever he used to come bounding up your dorm building so you could walk to the library together, where he would hang out with you during your shift if he didn’t have classes. “What are you doing here?”

You don’t remember telling him what time your train was, so he’d probably badgered it out of Taehyung or Jimin somehow.

“I thought I could drive us there,” he says. “I texted you about it.”

Well, that explains it. You don’t bother with his dozens of messages anymore. “Oh, uhm, I already booked the train.”

This doesn’t seem to faze him at all. “Free cancellation up to 15 minutes before departure.” Jungkook grins, clearly eager despite your obvious reluctance. It’s too early for this, whatever the hell this is.

When you told him that you had RSVP’d yes to the invitation, he was surprised that you even knew about the wedding. He even seemed nervous that day.

“What if I’d already left?” you ask.

He blinks, then stammers like a confused child. It’s cute, and you have to mentally slap yourself over the head for even thinking that.

“Then I’d go after you.”

How? you scoff internally. Unrealistic.

Regardless, not even an hour ago, you were declining Yoongi’s offer to drive you there. Now, you’re standing here, in front of your ex-boyfriend, contemplating whether or not you should go with him.

“Let’s go,” he says after a minute. “We don’t wanna be stuck in traffic.”

“I haven’t said yes.” Yet. “It’s a 4-hour drive.”

You don’t have to clarify what you mean. He understands it.

You both just stare at each other for a moment, the tension suddenly thickening with every passing second. Four hours on the road. Four hours alone in a car with Jungkook. That’s about two hundred minutes more than you think you can handle.

It’s like he can see right through you. “Don’t think about it,” he says, voice dropping lower. “It’s just a weekend. Everything will still be here for you to think about when we get back.”

In your head, it translates to: All of our shit will still be here when we get back. You can keep being mad at me then.

You hope that’s not true. You hope that when you get back, the things that keep you up at night will simply cease to exist. That in the two days you’ll be gone, a genie will materialize and solve all your problems for you.

Either way, it’s probably for the best that you aren’t mean to him this weekend. You’re stuck with him for the next 48 hours or so; it’ll only stress you out even more if you channel all of your energy into tormenting him. Besides, you’re already the ex girlfriend who has no place alongside his family. You don’t want to be the dark cloud raining on everyone’s parade too.

Maybe you’d already made up your mind when you let him take the bag from you.

For the first half of the drive, you were unconscious.

It’s a useless superpower that you have, the ability to fall asleep anywhere - literally anywhere, including in the passenger seat of your ex-boyfriend’s car while he escorts you to his hometown. Melatonin gummies manufacturers hate you.

You could’ve slept the whole drive, but around the second hour mark, you were startled awake when your body jostled forward, straining against your seatbelt uncomfortably. There was an arm trying to hold you back, despite the seatbelt having done its job well.

“Fuck,” Jungkook curses before he turns toward you, worry written all over his face. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, are you okay?”

You blink, still half asleep. “I’m okay,” you say. The minivan that Jungkook almost rear-ended continues on its merry way, carrying what seems to be a family of five. “What happened?”

He sighs, his outstretched arm retreating back to his side. “I got a bit distracted, that’s all.”

You take in your surroundings then. There’s barely any other cars in sight, no tacky billboard that sticks out like a sore thumb to catch your attention. There’s just the freeway, stretching on empty for all you can see.

“By what?” you ask.

“Nothing,” he says. “Go back to sleep. I’ll wake you when we get there.”

See, you have the superpower of falling asleep anywhere and everywhere, but once you’ve been woken up, it’s not as easy to fall back asleep.

That, and the fact that you’re hungry as shit.

You open your mouth, about to say no, about to offer to drive the rest of the way if Jungkook is tired, but your stomach doesn’t let you get a word out. It growls, filling the space of the car, making you want to chuck yourself out the fucking window and run all the way back to the city. This wouldn’t have happened had you taken the train, because if you had, there would’ve been food services and no one would be subject to hearing your stomach sing like it’s chewing out a small puppy in there. Life is nothing but an endless pit of embarrassment and despair.

Your arms hold themselves tighter around your frame, practically squeezing into your abdomen as you will it to please, please, please be quiet. Jungkook stares at you, and you can tell by the teeny tiny quirk of his lips that he’s trying to bite back a smile. He’s relaxed, but there’s still something hesitant on his face. It takes him a minute before he finally throws the question out.

“Do you want to go to that guksu place that we used-” that we used to go to, “you know the place. The one that’s right off the freeway?”

The sun is out today. The sky unfolds endlessly just outside the window, coloring blue everything your eyes land on. There are strips of clouds scattered here and there, like delicate strokes of white paint on an azure canvas. Even the winter cold has to soften.You bite into your cheek. Don’t think, that’s what he had told you.

Not much about this quaint restaurant has changed. The quirky decorations are still where they used to be, the windows still the same unique stained glass that you never came across anywhere else. You remember the elderly woman who runs the place, even if she doesn’t have a single clue who you are. The golden retriever you used to fawn over every time you stopped by, sits quietly by the door and watches the cars pass by, his fur now graying as weariness begins to settle into those old bones.

You would’ve been displeased if the place had changed, because, well, you don’t like change. But then again, this familiarity is dangerous. It tricks you into thinking that everything is still the same, even you and him. Deludes you into believing that you’re still in love and that he’ll walk out of here holding your hand.

Regardless, the first spoonful has you biting back a smile.

“How is it?” Jungkook asks.

It makes you feel all warm inside, and then a little sad, nostalgic.

“Tastes just the same,” you tell him simply.

“Hmm.”

He lets you satisfy your hunger in peace. It’s the least he can do anyway.

There’s a wall near the back of the restaurant, where people could hang polaroids of themselves and cute handwritten notes. You think if you dig through the hundreds of photos scattered across the space, you might be able to find you and Jungkook there, if you two haven’t already been thrown out long ago to make room for new memories.

He pays for your food after you’re both finished, despite some protesting on your side. As you leave, you’re busy thinking that if you could have a moment to marvel at that far-back wall of memories, if you could find a photo of you and him there, you would probably sneak it into your coat pocket.

It’d be another thing to add to your pile of Jungkook memorabilia - the old clothes in the back of your closet, the stack of dusty polaroids at the bottom of your drawer. You wonder if he keeps anything of yours, maybe an old t-shirt that you forgot to take back. It’s probably unlikely, but a girl can hope.

You miss the way Jungkook glances back, thinking the exact same thing.

You survive the rest of the drive with more ease, probably because of the food. You spend most of the remaining 2 hours leaning against the window, humming to the radio, closing your eyes but not really sleeping. You even forget to be nervous about what is to come.

That is, until the car pulls up to the venue.

It’s absolutely gorgeous, and a lot bigger than you imagined - a modern beach house overlooking the waters. It’s not as extravagant as one would expect to see when they come to a wedding, but considering the small crowd in attendance, this is more than enough. You see people rush in and out of the place even from far away - planners, caterers, the bridesmaids and groomsmen, probably.

You feel a bit comforted just watching this. His family seems to be doing a lot better than before. It’s nice to know.

You barely make it out of the car before someone calls your name, and pulls you into a hug that knocks the wind out of you. Although, when you catch the scent of her hair, you instantly know who it is.

Parents usually have a scent that’s distinct to only their kids, a scent so cozy and homely that no perfume can ever mask. You can only describe your mom’s scent with a feeling, specifically the feeling of your chest tightening, tingling with a bittersweetness that you never found elsewhere.

Strangely enough, Jungkook’s mother has always made you feel the opposite. She makes you feel relieved to be in her embrace, like she accepts you for who you are even if all you are to her, at the end of the day, is a stranger.

You hug her back awkwardly, hesitantly, in front of Jungkook’s dad, his brother Junghyun, and a girl you don’t know. You assume that she’s the bride-to-be, the main character whom this weekend revolves around. Sooji, you remember that was the name on the wedding invitation.

You get choked up suddenly, eyes turning glassy though you quickly blink it away. You’re not sure if you’ve had someone be so happy to see you. Bypassers might even think that you just found the cure for cancer.

For a second there, you wonder if your mere presence has ever made your mother this overjoyed.

You look at Jungkook for help, silently asking him to rescue you. Who else are you supposed to turn to if not him?

He understands that look. “Okay, mom,” he says, entangling her arms from you with ease, “Y/N’s tired from the drive. Let’s let her rest, yeah? I’ll show her the room.”

She ignores her son. “Honey,” she says, brushing your hair away from your face so she could see you better. “Thank you for coming.” She used to insist that you call her “mom”, or at least by her first name because “Mrs. Jeon” was too formal for someone she considered family.

You now have to opt for the latter, because “mom” isn’t an option for you anymore.

“Thank you for inviting me, Mrs. Jeon,” you tell her with a smile. You’re not really sure what else to say, but it makes you a little sad just calling her that.

She opens her mouth before closing it again, seemingly about to jokingly scold you for the formality before she recognizes the bittersweet look in your eyes. She just smiles at you then. There’s not much to be done about it.

You don’t know if anyone else sees how the moment is weighed down. Probably not. Maybe it’s just you and her who share this sentiment.

Jungkook doesn’t wait for his mom anymore. Sons, typical. He wedges himself between the two of you like a bulldozer and leads you inside the house.

Even though all you have is an overnight bag, Jungkook carries it for you all the way up to your room, which is only down the hall from his. Then he disappears pretty quickly afterward, saying something about his best man duties and putting out fires. He seems apologetic as he tells you this, but it’s not like you’re expecting him to babysit you all weekend.

You bore yourself to death in your room for a while, before you remember you have to text Yoongi to let him know you got here safely. Though, you stop short of telling him that it was Jungkook who drove you here. It’s trivial enough, right? You don’t want Yoongi to feel bad over nothing. You do, however, inform Taehyung and Jimin when you text them about it, to which Jimin only responds with a preemptively disapproving ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’

When you get too stir-crazy, you wander outside, hoping to explore the beach before it gets dark and colder. You try to stay out of everyone’s way, because a good guest is a quiet guest. You seem to be doing a good job. No one notices you, not even Jungkook’s mom but that’s because she’s the person you actively want to avoid the most. You don’t know what you’d even say to her if she gets you alone.

Everything is hectic, as one can probably imagine when it comes to wedding preparations. You haven’t had anyone close to you get married yet, so it’s safe to say that you’re pretty much clueless about all of this. You wonder what it’ll be like when your big day comes around, if you even ever get married. You haven’t thought about it in a long time. Why would you? You don’t really have a reason to think about this. It’s much easier to picture Taehyung’s or Jimin’s wedding day than your own.

Your opinion on having kids still remains the same, and you were never one of those girls who daydreamed about having a big and extravagant wedding, but it’s not such a bad idea to ponder about. You still think marriage is a scary thing - it’s one of the biggest commitments a person could ever make - but you’re not entirely opposed to getting married.

Why are you even mulling over this? Your time might never even come.

When you round the corner to get the steps that would lead you down to the beach, you run into Sooji and a woman holding a thick binder - must be a wedding planner. You give Jungkook’s future sister-in-law an awkward smile in greeting, which she returns much more gracefully before she tells the woman that she’ll be with her in a minute.

So now you’re stuck here, about to make small talk with a person you have never met before, and will likely never see again. Great.

“Hi,” you say, extending a hand. “I haven’t had the chance to introduce myself. I’m Y/N.”

“I’m Sooji,” she replies warmly as she shakes your hand, and you have to stop yourself from being a little weirdo and thinking about how silky her hair looks up close. “You’re Jungkook’s… friend, right?”

You purse your lips before nodding with a chuckle. The pause tells you that she knows, and you wouldn’t be surprised if she’s uncomfortable having you here.

“I’m sorry if this is weird. You probably don’t want a complete stranger at your wedding.”

Sooji shakes her head instantly, waving her hands around to dismiss your apology. “Please, it’s totally fine. Junghyun’s mom talked to me about it before we sent out the invites. I wouldn’t have agreed if I was really bothered. Don’t worry about it, seriously.”

“Why did you agree?” you ask, trying to sound as polite as possible. “You don’t know who I am.”

“I guess I was curious.” She shrugs, before laughing lightly as she says, “I used to think you weren’t real.”

“Huh?”

“She talks about you constantly. Never in front of Jungkook, of course. But she’s really fond of you, and you probably already know that doesn’t happen very often. She really does see you like a daughter. She made you sound too good to be true.”

You’re not sure how to respond to that. His mom still thinks about you, still talks about you after all this time. You’re just his ex-girlfriend, but she considers you her family. You don’t know what to do with this information nor the way it pinches your heart.

“I-” You purse your lips, fumbling with the responses in your head. You settle on a light laugh, because Sooji can probably tell that you’re struggling with the words too. “I have to be honest. I don’t know what to say to that.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I just thought you should know that you’re still very much loved here.” She gives you a kind smile, and it looks like she wants to tell you something else but decides against it in the end. Sooji’s eyes land somewhere behind you before she points in that general direction. “I have to go take care of an issue with the flowers, but look, Jungkook is here. Why don’t you ask him to show you around?”

And then she’s already off. Overall, what a… strange interaction.

You turn around to see Jungkook standing near one of the entrances to the house. As you watch him talk to someone - a bridesmaid, you assume, or just one of the other guests - you try not to think about the fact that there’s a stirring sensation in your stomach, and that it only intensifies when she throws her head back in a pretty laugh, a perfectly manicured hand landing on his arm like he’s the most charming person she’s ever met.

You don’t give it a name, don’t label it green in color even though you’re blue and he’s golden sunshine. You don’t acknowledge that it’s a feeling, because doing so would make it real and there are certain truths that you’d rather delude yourself into thinking are lies.

When Jungkook’s eyes catch yours and he cuts off the woman mid-sentence with a curt excuse me, you don’t acknowledge that feeling either, but it’s warm and it blooms in your chest as he makes his way to you. It’s something victorious, something that tickles your ribs.

He comes to you like you’re a destination he’s been waiting all his life to reach, and you certainly, adamantly don’t acknowledge the spectacularly dizzying feeling that swallows you whole when he places a gentle hand on your arm, his voice soft as he says, “There you are. I was looking for you.”

The familiarity, it’s catastrophic.

“I was just walking around,” you tell him. “There’s not a lot to do here. I was bored.”

“You have me,” he says. Probably not in that way, but you’d like to think that’s how he means it. “I don’t have any more fires to put out. What do you want to do now?”

You glance over your surroundings, still set on your original plans. You wanted to go alone, but you suppose you can let him accompany you. You check the time on your phone before asking, “Can we go down to the beach? I wanna see if we can catch the sunset.”

You used to do this whenever you came here to visit - walk along the beach, hand in hand, sunlight in your hair and the cool breeze holding you tight in the afterglow.

The keyword here is “used to”. Now, you have to stuff your hands in your pockets just so you don’t reach for him every time you shiver.

It’s late enough in the afternoon for you to see the moon faintly shine against a blue and orange backdrop. Sun and moon, together in the same frame. It feels symbolic somehow. You’re not really sure.

“The moon looks like an egg,” Jungkook observes astutely, taking casual strides next to you. It makes you burst into easy laughter, which makes him laugh with you too. You stop walking when you reach what you think is a good spot to watch the sky.

“Let’s sit here for a bit,” you say. It’s not the greatest idea - sitting idly by would only make you colder - but you just want to stop and look at the sunset. Once you’re seated in the sand, you respond to his moon remark, “That’s true, y’know. NASA said so.”

“Yeah,” he says, settling down beside you, “you made me read that.”

You’d forgotten about it, and you didn’t think that he’d remember. It’s freezing cold and the moon looks like an egg, but you’re not thinking, and you feel safe. Nothing can hurt you here, or at least that’s what you’d like to tell yourself.

You wrap your arms around yourself to keep from shivering, but you still shiver anyways.

“Are you cold?” he asks.

“A little,” you admit. “I should’ve worn a thicker sweater. But it’s o-”

He doesn’t let you finish the sentence, just smoothly takes off his jacket to put it around your shoulders.

You put your hands atop his to stop him. When you touch him, there’s an electric tingle that almost makes you flinch. He feels warm, still resembling a human furnace.

“No, you don’t have t-”

“Take the jacket, Y/N,” he says. “It’s just a jacket.”

The jacket smells like him. It only makes you want to crawl further into the warmth.

He seems more self-assured here, that’s what you notice. More like the version of himself that he used to be. Confident, sometimes borderline cocky. Annoying but oddly endearing, you came to love that about him.

His relaxed demeanor is understandable. You’re merely a visitor here, while this is his homeground.

“I’m curious about something,” he says after a while.

“Okay.”

“What’s the deal with Wednesdays?” he asks.

“You know how they say bad things come in threes?” You purse your lips, thinking it over, feeling something bitter in your mouth as you recall the events that led to this. “My parents got divorced on a Wednesday. I moved out of mom’s house on a Wednesday. And…” You hold your knees close to your chest as you hesitate to utter this last part, “we broke up on a Wednesday.”

You see the exact moment Jungkook mentally slaps himself, paling a couple shades as he tongues his cheek, not expecting his question to inadvertently lead back to this. It wasn’t your intention to guilt trip him. It was true that he dumped you on a Wednesday, but you don’t want the mood to turn sour, to have to mull over this again. Like he said, it will still be there for you to worry about when you get back. You’re not looking forward to returning to a shitshow, but what you’d hate even more is to tarnish the memories of this place just because you can’t keep from being vindictive for not even a weekend.

“I was born on a Wednesday too, so I guess bad things come in fours sometimes,” you continue, chuckling to yourself humorlessly.

A frown appears on his face almost instantaneously. “What is that supposed to mean?”

You shrug. Jungkook turns his body toward you, which makes you spare him a glance before you return your gaze to the horizon. His face is so serious that it’s almost funny. “Y/N,” he presses. “Why would you say that?”

“C’mon, it’s a joke. I was just being self-deprecating. Lighten up.”

“Why are you talking like that?”

“Like what? Contrary to popular belief, I don’t walk around with a thundercloud over my head all the time,” you laugh lightly. “I figured if there was a day to be nice to you, it should be today. And tomorrow, I guess.”

“This is you being nice?”

Funny how just a few weeks ago, you were fighting with him and calling him a hypocrite. Now, you’re sitting together, watching the sun set, trying not to be mean to him.

“I’m not picking a fight with you,” you say. “This is nice enough.”

“It’s not even my wedding.”

“Okay.” You glance at him again, letting words flow without a single thought. “I’ll be even nicer to you on your wedding day then.”

You don’t know where that even came from, but something aches the very second the words leave your mouth. The thought of him getting married one day makes you just nauseous, even though you always knew that it was a possibility. It might even be inevitable.

You clear your throat, waving the sullen feeling away. Your body shivers then, even after the added warmth of his jacket. Maybe you’re not shivering because of the cold anymore.

He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel his eyes linger on the side of your face. The both of you keep tiptoeing around an elephant that follows you wherever you go.

You hug your knees close to your chest, watching the blue sky melt into the golden horizon, splattered with ribbons of cotton candy clouds.

You want to scooch closer to him and have him wrap his arm around your shoulders. This isn’t the spot where you used to draw your names in the sand, enveloped in a giant heart like two lovesick kids, but wouldn’t it be nice to imagine that it is?

“I was always really happy here,” you mumble to yourself.

You were, truly. This city was your pocket of hope, your piece of peace.

Being here brings back so many memories.

It’s the same feeling you get every time you pass by somewhere you used to live. The nostalgia of walking down the same road you used to walk every day until your shoes wore out. The familiarity of your surroundings. The bittersweetness of looking into a past you cannot hold anymore, of remembering the person you were at a certain period in your life, of knowing the things you do now that you didn’t back then.

You long for things you cannot change.

Nostalgia only grows stronger with time, you can always count on that.

He hums in agreement, before admitting quietly, “I miss you.” One pulls, the other pushes. The water wavers, like it’s touched by his words, simple but earnest. You’re touched too, somewhere in your heart, where you know you should be writing someone else’s name now.

Should?

“You’re pushing it,” you say softly.

“I know.”

You look at him. Maybe it’s because you’re back in the city that holds only good memories of you two. Maybe you’re hypnotized by the way the pink and purple hues kiss his side profile, making him feel like a fever dream and not someone you loved. Maybe it’s the cold, making you yearn for any source of warmth. But instead of returning his sentiment, you say, “It’ll pass.”

He meets your eyes. There’s something pleading in his gaze. All things pass eventually. Time moves forward, people move on. Bad things will pass sooner or later. Your worst heartbreak, your most arduous trials, your saddest moments, they will all pass.

And good things… good things will have to pass too, whether you like it or not.

Your fingers twitch from where they’re still holding onto your body. You itch to reach for his hand. You don’t tell him what he wants to hear, even though here’s a part of you that wants to say it back. In a better world, you would be telling him I love you too, instead of having to suppress an I miss you too.

“All things have to pass eventually. This will too.”

[20:05] Taebear 🐻: we could go to that bar near the gallery. Y/N likes the cocktails there [20:06] Mimi 🐥: kay kay [20:06] Mimi 🐥: soooooo next friday? [20:09] Mimi 🐥: why is y/n reading our messages. shouldn’t she be at dinner [20:09] You: i approve of the bar choice [20:11] You: if you didn’t want me reading your messages, you shouldn’t have sent them to the gc [20:11] You: and if you must know, i’m skipping dinner. i’m avoiding Jungkook’s mom [20:12] Mimi 🐥: understandable. i figured you would do that [20:13] Mimi 🐥: how’s it going? are we regretting going yet? i told you to just stay home and we could binge watch the office together [20:15] You: and EYE told you that you could be a good friend and go to this wedding with me but nooooo baby doesn’t like the cold [20:16] You: you could’ve visited your parents while you’re here you know. two birds with one stone [20:18] Mimi 🐥: babes my parents stayed with me for a whole month last month. i reached my quota for family face time [20:19] You: son and friend of the year 👏 [20:20] Mimi 🐥: 😎😎😎😘

[20:22] Taebear 🐻: hey [20:23] You: uh oh. am i in trouble? why is this not in the gc? [20:25] Taebear 🐻: lol shut up [20:26] Taebear 🐻: you okay? [20:28] You: feels like that could’ve been a perfectly good question to ask in the gc [20:29] Taebear 🐻: because it’s a serious question and we both know Jimin can’t be serious for one minute to save his life [20:32] You: why does it have to be a serious question? 🤪 [20:32] Taebear 🐻: 😕 [20:33] You: stop pouting. i’m fine [20:35] Taebear 🐻: are you? [20:36] You: i am! you don’t have to go all mama bear on me [20:39] Taebear 🐻: ha ha ha. you’re so funny [20:40] Taebear 🐻: want me to call you? [20:42] You: i said i’m fiiiiiine 🙄 [20:43] You: but also no because i told everyone i was tired and i’m pretending to be asleep in my room right now [20:43] Taebear 🐻: okay [20:43] Taebear 🐻: did you eat something at least? [20:44] You: i have a cup ramen in my room [20:45] Taebear 🐻: okay [20:46] Taebear 🐻: how was today? did JK make you wanna strangle him? [20:48] You: okay Kim Taehyung at least act like you have some faith in your friend lol [20:50] You: but mmmmmm it was ok. he was mostly behaving himself [20:51] Taebear 🐻: mostly? [20:54] You: we were down at the beach and he just told me he missed me out of the blue [20:55] You: Mimi is asking why no one is replying to him [20:57] Taebear 🐻: i can see that [20:58] Taebear 🐻: what did you tell JK? [21:01] You: i quoted fleabag to him [21:09] Taebear 🐻: i had to google that [21:10] Taebear 🐻: i still don’t know what that means [21:11] You: i know you don’t lol. you’re adorable [21:11] You: i’ll tell you when i get back. [21:13] You: ok bye i have to sleep early or i’ll look like ass in the morning [21:14] Taebear 🐻: oh. okay [21:15] Taebear 🐻: sleep tight. remember not to gorge yourself on booze tomorrow [21:17] You: thanks for the reminder. love you mom 🙄💕 [21:17] Taebear 🐻: :) [21:20] Taebear 🐻: you won’t look like ass btw

You clocked out right after you told Taehyung that you would. It wasn’t a peaceful sleep though. The anxiety simmering in your belly woke you up a few times throughout the night. You don’t even know why you were anxious. It’s not like you were the one who was about to walk down the aisle.

When morning finally came and you managed to untangle yourself from the surprising comfort of your familiar bed, you practically dragged your feet for the subsequent two hours, trying to get ready. As if that would actually slow down the passage of time.

You had to compartmentalize the things you needed to do in a mental checklist. Makeup. Hair. Dress. Stare at yourself in the mirror for half an hour and internally freak out while waiting for Jungkook to come get you from your room.

Now you’re sitting in the wedding hall, watching people filter into the room. It’s not even a lot of people, but you’re still overwhelmed regardless.

You feel so exposed, even though he’s the only one looking at you in this room of strangers. He’s been looking at you like that ever since he first saw you this morning, in a dress that you got just days before the wedding. You still don’t know if it’s entirely appropriate for your ex-boyfriend’s brother’s wedding - maybe a bit revealing - but it was the only one you could find on such short notice.

When you tried on the dress for Taehyung and Jimin a few days ago, Taehyung said you looked beautiful. Jimin said you looked decent, “six point five out of ten,” which translated to “pretty nice” in Jimin-lingo. That would’ve been enough if you were going to any other wedding, not one where Jungkook would also be attending.

You had wanted him to see you and regret ever leaving you.

It was a silly thought, just a tad adolescent.

You had wanted him to see you in your dress and be consumed with thoughts of you until he couldn’t even see straight. To be the only thing on his mind, you didn’t think it was a lot to ask for.

That was before he told you not to think about it and you’d been convinced to just go with the flow just for two days. It was before he actually did see you earlier today in your dress - a simple midnight blue satin cowl neck with a slit in the thigh - but you were the one rendered helpless and speechless. He had stared at you for a minute when he came to walk you down from your room, then he’d said, all breathless even though both of you were just standing there, “You’re beautiful.”

You’re beautiful, not You look beautiful.

You don’t know why, but you appreciated it.

It made your cheeks burn underneath your artificial rosy blush. Stupid, you thought to yourself when you two made your way to the main hall. Stupid for letting yourself get dizzy because of a single compliment from him.

You’re seated with his parents, which makes sense because you don’t know anybody here except for them. Well, maybe you know one of his cousins whose kid you and Jungkook used to babysit whenever their family was in the city, but you doubt that he even remembers you anymore.

When the ceremony begins, your heart instantly feels like it’s about to drop to the pit of your stomach.

You can’t lie to yourself. It stings.

It stings just sitting here next to his parents like a daughter-in-law, like a member of their family, watching his brother solidify his happy ending.

It stings that Jungkook is standing up there, looking as handsome as ever, but his eyes aren’t on the couple. They keep flickering to you no matter how much you try to pretend that they don’t.

It stings that even though you don’t think about marriage often - or maybe you just don’t allow yourself to - you can’t deny that the thought does cross your mind from time to time. Any time that you’d wander the corridors inside your head, you’d pass the doors that you keep unopened on purpose but there’s always that one door marked with a bright red X that you can never sidestep.

You watch Junghyun and Sooji with their teary smiles and shaky hands, shaky but happy. There’s a sudden clarity that this could’ve been you and him in another life. Forever is a lie, but you would’ve perjured yourself a thousand times for him. I do - you would’ve meant it.

You imagine yourself in Sooji’s place, and Jungkook, standing right on the other side, holding both your hands in his. A beautiful and radiant bride terrified of the altar. A dashing groom with a smile that could rival the sun and shoulders weighing heavier than he lets on.

It would’ve looked clumsy, but it could’ve been right.

You wonder if he’s wondering the same thing. Maybe he is. You hope he is.

When the ceremony ends with a kiss shared between the newlyweds, you wipe away the tears that well up in your eyes. The people around you do the same thing, but they’re doing it for the right reason, out of genuine joy for the happy couple. You don’t think you can say the same for yourself.

Some of the bridesmaids fawn over him. It’s reasonable, you suppose. One tends to do that in the presence of Jeon Jungkook.

You watch as they come up to him one by one to ask him to dance, watch as he politely declines until they’re all stalking away with similar pouts on their faces. You watch him until his eyes lock on you, sitting at a table near the back, nursing a glass of champagne.

He weaves himself with ease through the people making their way to the dance floor. When he’s in front of you, he holds out a hand.

“Dance with me?” he asks, his doe eyes working overtime to lure you in with their sparkles, though you’d rather stay here where you can easily go unnoticed until the night ends. “One song?”

“I don’t know how,” you say, even as you’re taking his hand and standing up.

“I showed you how, remember?”

“That was a long time ago.”

He squeezes you reassuringly. “Just follow my lead,” he says, walking the both of you to the floor. “C’mon.”

Once the music starts, your heels stomp on his feet at least three times before you start finding the beat to move along to. Muscle memory, or whatever, is bullshit. You remember absolutely nothing of what he showed you.

You’re grateful that the song is slow, because it makes it easier for you to follow the beat with your two left feet. He takes one of your hands in his, the other settling on the small of your back, guiding you to move in a steady rhythm.

You feel his mother’s eyes on the two of you, because she must be somewhere nearby, watching you like a hawk. You feel his gaze on your face while you keep yours on the knot of his tie, just trying to keep your composure and to not step on his feet with your heels.

The blur of white that you catch from the periphery of your vision makes you turn your head. Sooji and Junghyun are close by, swaying together slowly to the soft music, both of them glowing with happiness. She must sense your eyes on her, because she lifts her gaze up to meet yours. She smiles at the sight of you and Jungkook, and you smile back, because you don’t know how else to respond to that.

You don’t say it, but you do think it. Your fingers tighten around his hand ever so slightly.

Could that have been us?

If the answer is yes, then it would hurt.

If the answer is no, then it would hurt.

The point of your story is that it’s painful however you choose to look at it. There’s no other way to frame it. It’s just painful, because you’re never going to get any of it back.

You bite your lip, then turn away from the happy couple but you still don’t look at Jungkook. You look at your hand in his, and that’s when you see it.

“How’d you get that?” you ask, gently tracing the inch of slightly raised skin on his knuckles. You never noticed the scar until now.

“It was four years ago, I think? After Taehyung and I almost got into a fight, I went outside and… punched a wall,” he says, wincing as he recalls the memory.

His answer takes you aback. “You and Taehyung got into a fight?”

“Almost,” he corrects. “It was a long time ago. Didn’t they tell you?”

“No, they didn’t say anything. What happened?”

“Nothing happened.”

“If it was really nothing, you wouldn’t have punched a wall.” You frown. It makes you miss a few beats, but the song isn’t what’s important now, even if Jungkook is still trying to steer you back into the dance. “Taehyung isn’t violent. You aren’t violent.”

“I’m serious,” he says finally. “It’s nothing. We were just drunk and stupid.”

You know there must be more to it, that something must have happened or been said to trigger such a reaction from both of them. But you also know that you won’t probably get anything out of Jungkook if he doesn’t want to tell you.

You give up, for now. “Fine. If you say so.” You’ll just have to weasel it out of Jimin later.

The song comes to an end, before another one comes on. If Jungkook remembers that he only asked for one song, maybe he’s counting his blessings that you’re still here and dancing with him, because he doesn’t mention it.

For some reason, you pull your hand away from his, only to slide up his shoulder to lock both of your hands behind his neck. He seems surprised, but he does the same around your waist.

Jungkook’s gaze flickers to your lips briefly, then back to your eyes again. You find yourself doing the same and wonder what he tastes like after all the time you’ve been apart. Is he still as sweet as you remember? You used to tease that it was because of the excessive sugar he put in everything, but you knew it was really just him. The few inches between you are so inviting that it’s practically tempting you to close the gap. You could, easily in fact. Blame it on one too many glasses of champagne later if you want.

He looks younger like this, like the boy you loved, starry eyes and dimpled smile. His shoulders are always the most comfortable resting place, the crook of his neck your long lost home. This is nice, you think, to see him again even though it feels like a fever dream. Memories of your first date, your first kiss, come to life before your eyes so realistically that you could almost touch them.

Loved? That sounds funny to you.

The people you used to be, souls wrapped in innocence, when the world was nothing but the arms of the person you loved. You reach out, and the memories quickly fade from view. The only trace they leave behind is a speck of gold on your fingertips, a memento of charming naiveté for you to tuck neatly away in the corner of your mind, but also a reminder that ah, they only exist in the locket of your heart now. Because he has changed, and you think you must have too. Life, as they say, goes on.

“We made it. Kind of. That’s crazy,” you find yourself saying.

“Did we?”

“You don’t think so?” you chuckle. “We’re in a group chat with the Kim Seokjin who spams it with bad jokes on a daily basis. I’d call that a win.”

That makes him laugh. “If you put it like that, yeah, maybe. Sure.”

Other people might be fooled, but it doesn’t sound at all convincing to you. The light doesn’t really reach his eyes. You bite the inside of your cheek, thinking of how to translate the sudden poignant turn of the moment.

“It isn’t everything you hoped it’d be?” you ask.

His shoulders rise then fall quickly in a second-long shrug. “I thought it would make me feel more… fulfilled. But it doesn’t. Not really.”

The way he says it and the way he’s looking at you makes your heart dive. You understand what he means. You’re good at what you do, and you don’t need reassurance from anyone to recognize that. But sometimes, it doesn’t feel like it’s enough. Doesn’t feel like it’s real, like it’s validated.

When you landed your first big project, even before Yoongi, you were so proud of yourself. You were bursting with excitement but you weren’t happy, and you knew what the reason was. Something was missing that couldn’t be filled, not even with all your friends’ hundreds of messages of encouragement.

It’s beyond stupid, this feeling like your wins amount to nothing at all just because of one person. You wanted him there to celebrate every achievement with you and he wasn’t, and the milestones seemed incomplete without the presence of him. It doesn’t feel like you’ve accomplished anything because this always used to be a dream you thought you’d make come true together.

“It’s lonely,” he concludes.

It sounds like he feels the same way, like he wanted you to be there too.

He suddenly holds you tighter than you think he needs to, like he’s afraid to let go of you. You imagine that he doesn’t want to let go of you, and it makes you feel better for a second. But it doesn’t change the fact that he still did in the end. And he will have to when this ends.

What was the point of this? Why did he bring this upon yourselves when he seems to be as hurt as you are? All of this time, all of these years, lost to what? You could’ve been happy together but instead, you were both lost and miserable.

When the music stops - you lost count of how many songs it’s been - you pull away from him. He looks disappointed, maybe even a little hurt for some reason.

“I’m gonna get some air,” you say, already turning away from him.

“Y/N-”

“I need some air.” Then you’re weaving through the dancing couples despite Jungkook calling your name. How did he manage it? How did he not look back when you called out for him?

You hastily grab your coat on the way out. It’s not going to keep you warm, but that’s not something you’re even remotely concerned with.

It’s everywhere, you feel it down to your bones.

The wind wraps itself tightly around you, intertwining in your hair, slipping through the cracks of your fingers, caressing your face in a chilling touch. You greet the cold like a long lost sister, shivering violently with nostalgia. It was there for you more than your own flesh and blood.

Is that why you like the sea at night? Because it reminds you of mom?

It’s dark out here, barely anything is visible except for a lighthouse sending out light in the quiet of the night. You can’t see much, but you can certainly hear it. You’re not sure if the music is coming from inside the venue, or if it’s still ringing in your ears. It’s probably the latter; you’re too far away to be able to catch the music anyway. But regardless, the tune is quickly drowned out by the sea.

The waves crash violently against the shore like it’s out for blood. There’s a magnetic pull, as if it’s calling out for you. You want to go to it, to reach out and feel the cold outside of your body for once, but you stay there despite your legs itching to stand up and run straight ahead. Into the water and down under.

You could lie down and close your eyes for a moment. The sound of the water, as sharp and brutal as it is, nurtures a part of you somehow.

You just want to be alone. You don’t want to talk to Taehyung, or Jimin, or even Yoongi.

Oh.

Yoongi.

It’s a terrible feeling, knowing that you’re going to hurt Yoongi. Knowing that you’re going to kill this even before it has a chance to truly begin.

Truth be told, you can’t envision a future with Yoongi. There isn’t anything wrong with him, because he’s not the problem here. Yoongi is fun, he’s considerate, he keeps things light on purpose for you, until you’re ready to initiate something more serious. He’s good for you, even Taehyung thinks so.

But you can’t love Yoongi, not in the way that he wants you to. Not more than you love Jungkook.

There you go. Ruining things again.

Did you ruin Jungkook? Is that what happened?

The layers on you are no match for the sea at night. The wind hisses relentlessly, biting at any part of your skin that’s exposed.

It takes you back to that night. Almost everything does, actually.

Maybe that’s why you never even stopped to consider starting anything with anyone, because it always ends. If there’s a beginning, then there will be an inevitable ending. Love isn’t made to last and you aren’t meant to carry love with you. You’ve been abandoned twice. If it happens a third time, it’s a pattern, and then your hypothesis will only be proven. That the problem here is you.

You’d be lying if you said you haven’t wondered when it’ll finally be Taehyung’s turn to leave. He eventually will, right? That one’s gonna hurt.

Then, you’re startled when someone calls your name.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asks. The wind and the waves masked the sound of his footsteps walking up to you. When you turn around to face him, his eyes grow worried, almost panicked. “Why are you crying?”

You breathe out irritatedly before you hastily wipe at your cheeks. You didn’t even realize that you’d been crying. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine,” you say, though you both know it’s a lie. “I’m just tired. I’m going up to my room.”

He catches your wrist in a firm grip when you try to walk away. You wish he’d just leave you alone, but you knew he wouldn’t drop it just like that.

“I said I’m fine,” you insist.

“You were crying,” he says. “Did I do something wrong?”

He didn’t, at least not tonight.

God, you really don’t want to do this right now.

“Jungkook,” you warn. “Let go of me.”

You try to free yourself from his grip, hoping that he’ll get the hint and back off for now. Instead, he pulls you into his chest, where you struggle to escape from his hold until you realize your efforts are futile. He takes the wind’s place, wound tightly around you, so tightly that it’s nearly impossible for you to move.

You hiss out his name, but he doesn’t budge.

“Jungkook, can you just- Fuck!”

Damn him.

You realize he’s not giving up, which in turn makes you give up struggling, hoping that if you let this be a moment, then it’ll be something that can pass.

You’re just standing there, letting him hold you, letting yourself be held by the person who broke you in the first place. This feels exactly like where you’re supposed to be - in his arms, with your face hidden in the crook of his neck, his gentle fingers stroking your hair. There’s not a lot that you could do but lean into that feeling the same way you lean into him. One foot in the sand, one foot in the past. A hand on the doorknob of time, wondering if you should look back or look forward.

You want to be alone, but that never used to apply with him.

The wind stills, the sea calms. You remain unmoving too, locked in his embrace. You feel the faint rhythm of his heart, beating faster than you think it should. If you could, you would bottle this moment up and live there forever.

I miss you, you think.

I miss you.

Then your arms are around him too. It only makes him hold you tighter, and all you can think about is how much you miss him, how painful it is to miss him, how you feel like you’re being pulled apart at the seams from the weight of missing him.

Fuck.

Can you pretend that the last few years never happened? Is there a higher power that would allow you to go back to the night before that wretched Wednesday, when everything was still perfect? Hundreds of days of your life, can you pretend that it was just one long nightmare? When you wake up, you’ll be back in his humble apartment, tangled up together in his bed. Warm sunlight, your silken youth, and him. It was all you ever needed.

Again with the devastating familiarity. The city, the beach. His mother’s warmth that always made you reminisce about your own mother’s coldness. How Jungkook used to find you in moments like this and just stayed by your side until the dejection passed. He understood that he could never understand it the way you did.

You hear yourself sniffle, then you feel him press a kiss into your hair. Home is comforting.

Oh, you never want to leave.

You don’t want to leave, and that’s terrifying.

You allow yourself to stay there for one more second - one endless second - so you could commit to memory what it’s like to be with him. Back and forth. It’s always so easy to fall into him.

Jungkook releases you when he feels you loosen after a while, and you reluctantly meet his eyes as he tilts your head to face him. His fingers cradling your jaw, how warm and delicate they feel on your skin.

You swallow thickly, your mind going blank. He’s the only person you see, the only one that matters. His eyes flicker south, and even then you don’t make any move to run away, despite his loose grip on your waist telling you that you can if you want to.

You told him that it would pass, and maybe for him, it will. For him, it’s the city and the moment, making him feel like he’s caught up in a page that he’s turned over a long time ago. He was fine with leaving, and he’s been fine without you. It will pass for him, as much as it hurts you to admit it.

But not for you. For you, there’s only him. There’s nobody else but him. It’s always been him, no matter how hard you try to tell yourself that there will be another person you can love as much as you love Jungkook. You might only be a page, perhaps even a chapter, in the story of his life, but he’s your entire book. He’s volume after volume after volume, until he takes up the whole shelf and leaves no room for anything else, not even for yourself.

And now here he is - at the biggest turn in your career.

He’s a bad blood cell you can’t ever get rid of.

You’ll never be able to truly let go of him. How could you? When you truly love someone, those feelings will carry on forever. They’ll always have a piece of your heart despite an ending. When you look back on a certain period in your life, you’ll think to yourself, You’ll always be a part of me. I loved you then.

But Jungkook is a force of nature. He has your whole heart.

Years and years from now, when you look back on your life, you know you’ll see him everywhere. Even when you’re old and gray, and when faces all just blur together in a mosaic of broken memories and long lost youth, you know you’ll still remember him - the person you loved, the one whom you let slip through your fingers. The great love of your life when you were young.

Sometimes, you regret that day. You can’t help feeling like it was your fault too. Maybe you should’ve tried harder to keep him. You should’ve fought harder, should’ve held onto him instead of standing there and watching him leave.

He lit the match, and you let the house burn. It takes two to tango, two to break a heart.

You’re quick to let people leave. Oh, how you wish it could be that easy to let them go too.

It isn’t until your eyes mimic the flicker of his gaze that he leans in. You meet him halfway. For the first time in years, you feel like you could breathe, truly breathe. It’s achingly slow, like neither of you can believe that this is happening.

You sigh against his mouth when his tongue brushes your bottom lip, slips past the seal to devour you. It feels like a perfect dream. You could stay in this bubble with him forever, pretend that you’re the only two people who exist in the world and there’s nothing else, no one else, waiting for you in a city that seems so far away right now. The thought of him never left you, not even for a second. He’s always been with you everywhere you go, no matter what you do, always in the back of your mind.

He tastes like your youth, like remembrance. He kisses you like he’s still yours when deep down you know that you’re still his. The hand on your jaw is gentle but firm, and it makes you repeat a thought, I miss you.

Then a feeling, I love you.

Not then. Now.

I love you now.

I love you even when I shouldn’t. Even when it hurts. Even when you leave me. Even when you don’t love me more than I love you. If there comes a day where you love somebody else, I will still love you then. There will never be another person for me but you. My first and only love.

When he pulls away, you think it’s too quick, even though your lungs are grateful for the breath that you instantly inhale. You stare at his lips like you’re in a daze, mesmerized, wanting to chase them again. You don’t even know how you have it in yourself to utter these next words, but you hear your own voice saying them anyway.

You’re holding onto him now. Doesn’t that count?

“Let’s…” Your fingers tighten on the collar of his dress shirt. “Let’s go up to your room.”

note (2): so... what do we think?? will they?? won't they?? 😵 stay tuned for obs7.5 which will be dropping 29.09.2023! also i'm gonna pause obs muse asks for a little bit! 😬

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lovely-peace · 1 year

Text

Burning moon 1.

Summary: The reader is devastated at Remus nothing saying answer and thinks of it like an rejection. To overcome this they try to forget their love for him but is failing miserably. But Remus doesn't react to their coldness like they expected...

Warnings: self hatred, unrequited love?, angst, Sirius( jk I love him), over thinking, bad communication

~If you see this and haven't read Part 1 I advise you to read it before reading this so you understand what is happening. This part is simply a sequel to part 1 and isn't bound to the song like the first part

masterlist part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6

I was glad the year was almost over after... I confessed. I could go on with my life and go out of his way. Lily was trying to make me go out with the others, but I had plenty of reasons I could tell her why I couldn't go.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah Lily, my stomach hurts pretty bad and I don't think I should go. "

Of course after one week of excuses she would grew suspicioun, but the year was over.

I could go home. I would have some time alone.

It was like I had some luck in my misery.

I really tried to ignore my feelings. I really did, but it was like a really persistent bug that wouldn't fly away. Whenever I heard Remus' name my heart would beat faster. My cheeks went red, and my thoughts circled around him constantly.

It was disgusting. I was disgusting.

I didn't look at him. I didn't sit next to him at lunch like I always did. I didn't acknowledge his existence.

And still. He was still everywhere I went.

At the last day of school we were going to the train station like always. Of course with Remus. Their whole friend group said bye to each other including myself and Remus. It was awkward, really.

I had always hugged everybody and cried when I had to say goodbye.

Not this year.

The most I could do was to say goodbye to everyone.

"Is our little princess not sad she has to leave us behind, this year??" Sirius said with a grin, but he had this look in his face I couldn't read.

"What can I say? You are pretty annoying Sirius and I have to return to my kingdom!" I joked and tried to smile and laugh.

It was the fakest laugh I ever heard.

"Don't forget to write! It always gets so boring without you." Alice said. She was a really good friend and even tho she wasn't good friends with the marauders, she still came to them from time to time.

"Of course Alice! I can't ever forget to write you." I exclaimed and smiled at her. The train was about to start. I always sit with Lily and Mary in one cabin so we always said goodbye to each other before the train started.

Then Remus looked at me. His eyes seemed to bore through my soul and I felt like he saw everything that was going on inside of me.

And I hated him for that.

I hated his pretty eyes and how they made me flush. I hated that I couldn't think straight in his presence after everything I did to overcome him.

I hated that he still had control over me.

"I hope you have a great Sommer. Don't overwork yourself, alright? You can always write me too, if you want to talk." he said. He smiled at me and seemed so sincere.

And I just said :" Yeah, bye." and got on board of the train.

I know that was unfair. He was so nice to me and I just ignored his presence. I didn't even look him in the eyes when I said that.

But I was hurt. No scratch that.

But I was angry. Angry at him that he pretended everything was normal. But more importantly I was angry at myself. At my weakness for him. At my constant thoughts about him. At my love for him.

Lily and Mary followed me after they said goodbye themselves. I sat down inside of an empty Cain and waited for them.

I felt tears in my eyes. It was burning. But I swallowed them before the others came in. I just looked out of the windows while they put down their things.

There was a tense silence.

Mary broke the silence first.

"What was that?" she said.

I didn't look away from the window. I just replied :"What was what?". Even though I knew what she was talking about.

"Come on you know. That between you and Remus!"

"I don't know what you are talking about."

Now Lily stepped in. "We are not dumb, Y/n. We know you are ignoring him. And that out on the train station? That was just cold." she said.

I remained quiet.

"Look whatever you are mad at, talk to Remus about it! He is really worried about you." Mary exclaimed.

They didn't know. Anger boiled up inside of me. It seemed like they made Remus the victim of this situation. They didn't know. They knew nothing about my pain in the last months.

The months I hoped he would answer me. The months I hoped for his love.

I wanted to Scream. I wanted to cry. I wanted to tell them. NOW.

I smiled at them instead.

"It is really nothing. I just didn't want to miss the train."

Lily raised her eyebrow. " Yeah sure."

The tense silence was back and filled the room.

This time Lily broke it.

"Why... Why aren't you talking to us? Are you mad at us too?"

That caught me off guard. Was I mad at them? I realized that I was. Yeah, I was furious, because they didn't know anything. That they didn't look for me when we were at hogsmead. And I know that's stupid, life doesn't revolve around me, but we were friends.

Friends cared and looked after each other.

Like Remus did,because I am his friend nothing more.

The tears came back and I began to tremble. What was wrong with me?

" What is wrong? You know you can tell us." Mary said and her kind and gentle voice brought me back to reality.

She was right. I could tell them.

But should I?

They were also friends with Remus. I know we were good friends, but in the end they maybe would tell him why I was ignoring him. And I didn't want him to know.

I felt ashamed of myself. Of my weakness.

But in this brief moment I didn't listen to my thoughts. I just said :"I am angry at you, because you didn't look after me. In hogsmead."

When i saw Lily's wide eyes I immediately regretted what I said. I didn't want to guilt trip them. I was stupid, stupid, stup-

"I'm sorry."

What?

"Remus told us you weren't feeling well and that you went to the toilet. He told us he will stay behind and look after you."

Stop talking about him! Stop saying nice stuff about him!

"I didn't know you were having a tough time... But I should have at least asked after you. I'm deeply sorry." Lily said.

In this moment I couldn't stop the tears. I cried like someone died. And maybe someone did. I didn't even recognize myself.

They stopped asking questions about remus. I wasn't in the right state to tell them, but I would tell them eventually.

When the train arrived, I took my things and ran off the train. I could not see him again today. Not after this conversation. I ran away into the holidays. Away from my problems just somewhere else.

And the sun didn't see the burning look in the moons eyes as he saw his sun ran away.

Taglist:

@juleshadalittlelamb @fluffybunnyu

#marauders #marauders era #remus lupin #remus lupin angst #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x reader #dead gay wizards

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kimtaesss · 2 years

Text

I LOVED YOU | JK.3

Summary: being friends for 10 years means nothing, especially when he betrays your trust so easily.

Pairings: Jungkook x reader; Taehyung x reader

Genre: angst, fluff, friends to (?)

Warnings: straight off the bat, it’s a long introduction (sorry!!); y/n is straight up throwing up emotions ( mostly sad ones); Taehyung is being the sweetheart he is but also being more bold..; y/n not having a backbone but attempting to have one; Jungkook is Jungkook. ANGST and more ANGST.

Authors note: hey everyone! it’s finally posted after a month of waiting (maybe a bit more). I’m so sorry for the wait, but I finally finished my midterms and should be able to post more frequently; without waiting for a long period of time. This is a very angsty chapter, and contains a bit of each characters story, which I think it’s important and necessary to see how it shaped them to be the way they are. Anyways, hoped you enjoy it!! Also it’s 2 in the morning for me, so please ignore the spelling errors and typos. I tried to find every single one of them so hopefully there’s none!!

Masterlist | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04

It’s funny the way the world works. It really is. It’s like you have this amazing guy in front of you, who genuinely cares for you, and makes sure to show it. And then you have an asshole right next to him, but still try to find some good in him. And like the dumbass you clearly are, you fall for the asshole.

Maybe it’s the way you grew up, or maybe you just don’t know how to choose wisely. Frankly whatever the answer is, you need a solution to it. You hated feeling this emptiness, and heaviness in your chest. You hated seeing the way, he falls for girls so easily, but you’re almost invisible to him. He moves right past you, to follow the girl behind you. His eyes never match up to your eyes, and he never once was attentive to your feelings, and body language.

You were always quite open about your feelings. Not always verbally, but your body sure did talk for you. Maybe that’s why you felt more disappointed, when he claimed to ‘not know you were feeling that way’.

“I’m so stupid” you mutter, afraid a stranger that was passing by heard you. You knew you’re already getting a few stares, and you cared, you cared too much. You immediately felt your throat closing, as you hold back all the emotions that you were feeling in that moment. The pain was unbearable. It felt as if they were tearing your insides, and you were slowly shutting down.

You take your phone out of your back pocket, and look at the lockscreen. The picture of you and Jungkook, when you were both in a Hawaii, celebrating your job promotion. He had it all planned out, and it was the most beautiful and ridiculous moment you’ve loved to relived.

For many reasons, actually. For one, it was one of the few times you’ve both genuinely interacted with one another. He only paid attention to you, well of course a few girls caught his eye. A few caught yours. But he wasn’t purposely trying to find them, and leave you behind. He was making dumb jokes, as you both had your daily walks. He would carry you, when you would get exhausted after a couple of minutes of walking. He would embarrass himself, when you felt too insecure to step out of your room. He would do the most to make sure you felt secure, loved, and cherished.

But that all changed. He changed. And with that so did your friendship. But when your friendship changed, it’s like people were desperately trying to see it for themselves. Because every time Jungkook would ditch you, flat out embarrass you, there was always someone watching your humiliation.

You instantly examine your surroundings, and attempt to find a hidden spot for you to let it out. A great sob escaped your lips, and you covered your face with shaking hands.

You bawl your eyes out, as your knees are pressed against your chest. You’re rocking like a child in its crib, and it’s almost scary to see yourself. Which is why you choose to not do exactly that.

Your phone buzzes, and you’re afraid to look at the screen. Because in that process of answering you’ll see your lock-screen again. And there is only so much you could bear. But then again, you got a ride from Taehyung, so maybe this was a way for you to get a ride home. Although you don’t want anyone to see you in this state.

“Hello” your voice comes out shaky, and you want to curse yourself out for not being able to hold still for a mere second.

The person on the other line was clearly taken aback from your voice crack, and your sniffling. You almost want to make another comment, but you’re unsure if your voice would cooperate with you this time. So you decide to wait it out, and hope it’s sooner than later.

“Hey y/n, are you okay?”

Well are you? No. But you don’t want him to know that. Even though you’re sure, he knows something is up.

You instantly knew who it was. Taehyung. God, why is he so damn nice? Why does he makes this so much harder for you? It’s not his fault, and you know this. It’s not like you’re trying to put the blame on him, but he’s exactly what you want to see in Jungkook. Attentive and caring. But since Jungkook isn’t like that, it makes you wonder, why him? If you so desperately want someone like Taehyung, why haven’t you fallen for him?

It’s your damn heart, that likes to play games with you. What other explanation is there for you to be acting like a damn fool. None. But as you’re mentally speaking to yourself, the silence on your side of the phone call makes him speak again.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt or bother you, but I never got a message back from you, and I was worried about you. I just want to make sure you’re safe” his voice is soft and almost careful, as he makes sure to not say something that could potentially cause you more pain.

You don’t know this, how could you. But Taehyung was across the street, looking at your fragile state. He witnessed everything, and he can’t help but blame himself once again. Why does he keep letting you go with him? He knows how he is, and yes, so do you. But for some reason, you’re filled with an enormous amount of love for him, that it cancels out all the bad. Well, not all the bad, but enough for you to keep letting him in.

“Yeah.. I’m-I’m just getting ready for bed” You stutter as you spit out a random excuse. It’s like you were trying to get caught up in your lie. You bite on your lower lip, to prevent any noise to come out of your mouth.

It breaks his heart seeing you so bravely hide your pain. Because it was brave the way you attempted to shield your pain, the pain Jungkook caused you.

“Y/n, I’m in no way trying to overstep any boundaries, and I understand you don’t want to speak on this matter, but can I just say something really quick?”

You really don’t want to hear it. But you need to.

“Yes” You inhale and exhale, as you try to compose yourself to be fully prepared to hear his comment.

“You are a gorgeous and strong woman, despite the fact that you like to claim you aren’t. And I understand that it’s because of personal reasons, but I’m telling you as a friend, you are every thing I have described. So I just want to ask you, would you prefer an Uber, or me to pick you up”

He’s sure you’re confused, especially in the way he set up his comment; but frankly speaking, he was just trying to remind you of who you are. And asking for help, isnt going to make you less of that. Asking for help, won’t make you weak, or whatever negative perspective you have on that.

He just wanted to remind you of his presence in your life, as a friend. Even though, he wished it more of than that. He still appreciates and accepts that he’s just a friend.

You couldn’t help but ignore the comments he made before, even though they are imprinted in your mind and heart. “What do you mean pick me up?”

He takes a deep breathe, and simply says, “You don’t have to tell me what happened, or even speak to me. But I know you’re not home y/n, and I really don’t want to intrude, but I’d hate myself more if you walked home at this time, then knowing you could have a secure ride”

“How do you know that” you looked left and right, and even in front of you to see if you could spot him. And you couldn’t, which lead you to be more confused. Because how exactly did he know this?

It terrified you to know that Taehyung could have possibly witnessed this all go down. Especially considering the fact that you ditched him for an asshole. You left a good man behind for Jungkook. And it was embarrassing to admit how heartbroken you are because of that decision.

But Taehyung always knows what to say. Taehyung always know how to make you feel seen.

“I know you”

You break down. You don’t attempt to hide it anymore, because you so miserably want someone to hear you. You want someone to push you into their arms, and never letting you go. You want to be suffocated in their arms. You just needed someone by your side.

“You’re probably going to hate me for this… but I’m on my way”

The call got cut off. As you continue crying, you’re exhausted. Your body was beginning to run out of tears, and it was making you feel sleepy. You wanted nothing more than to be curled up in your bed, with the warmest blanket you have. You wanted nothing more than to be away from the world, and people, and just anything that had to do with you being anywhere but your house.

You almost want to take a small little nap, right where you were sitting. It’s just going to be a minute, right?

Your stop fighting the urge to keep your eyes open, and curl yourself into a ball, to provide more warmth. It’s not like anything else could possibly go wrong, so why not sleep outside in the cold? You must have been either way too exhausted or stupid, maybe a mix of both. Because it was way too dangerous for you to be acting like that.

But then again, you haven’t been able to fall asleep because of all the late night driving you’ve had to go these previous weeks. Having to pick up Jungkook from his drunken state at parties, or hookups. Which have added onto your emotionally drained state.

“Mhm” comes out of your mouth, as you felt an arm of your waist.

“It’s okay, I got you” Taehyung whispers, as he carries you over his shoulder and once he is close enough to his car, he places you gently in it.

Your in the front seat, gently buckled up. He looks over his shoulder, to catch a quick glance of you. He can’t help but smile to himself when he sees your mouth slightly open, and small snores coming of your mouth.

“I’ll take care of you. I promise”

He drives off while he has one arm holding onto your seatbelt. He wants to make sure, you aren’t awaken by your body moving slightly forward, as he goes through speed bumps.

He’s not sure what’s overcome him, maybe it’s the way you looked at peace in your sleep, or maybe it’s the way, he desperately wants to spit out his emotions, without you actually hearing it, but he whispers something that he’s held on for too long.

“I like you y/n. I think I always will”

“Hey! You over there, pass me another beer”

Jungkook is slurring on his words, and his balance isn’t as strong as it was in the beginning. He kept placing his hands under the chair, to prevent it from moving too much and have him fall off his seat.

He felt like he had no other option but to go to the closest bar. He wanted to drown himself with beer, instead of drowning himself with guilt and sadness. But it seemed like the drinks were making worse, at least after they settled in.

“Sure buddy, but I’m going to need your car keys if you want to keep drinking”

“Just take it” he places the keys on the counter and slides it closer to the bartender. “My friend will pick me up” he takes another sip, after the man passed him his precious alcohol.

“If she still considers me that” he spits out, as he vigorously shakes his head. He laughs at himself, as he feels a burn down his throat. He doesn’t want to continue swallowing, but he feels as if he deserves every single ounce of that burning sensation.

“Okay…buddy” the bartender said, as he moved on to the next lonely, or heartbroken person in the bar.

He’s not sure why bars exist, they just turn people into alcoholics. He should know. He’s slowly becoming one himself. He hates every single thing about that addiction, as it made him more like his father. And he wanted to be nothing like that man.

“Hey, my friend was wondering if you’d interested in possibly having a threesome with us” she bites her nails, attempting to be sexy. It’s almost disgusting the way she was throwing herself at you.

Normally you’d be all over that, but right now you felt like complete shit. You weren’t even a bit turned on.

“I’m good” you waved her off, as you kept asking and sipping on your drink. You decided to was time for a stronger drink. You wanting to clear your mind, erase your memories, and the words that slipped out of y/n’s mouth.

“Are you sure? It’s going to be both of us… naked”

Is she dumb? She must be. You clearly said no.

“Yup, I’m sure. Now if you don’t mind, I’ll like to be alone. And not bothered”

“Whatever, it’s your loss!” She storms off, rather dramatically. But not without having poured a drink on your face.

“Mm. Guess I deserved that too”

You don’t attempt to clean yourself off, even when the bartender hands you a rag. Honestly, you did deserve all this and more. You’re not even sure why you treat y/n like crap. She’s… amazing, and has such a big heart.

It’s kind of scary, if you think about it though. She’s too nice. It almost makes you second guess everything you do, and if you should be doing it in the first place.

Y/n’s like a moral police, and although it’s cute and kind of dorky. It’s also unbearable. Those high expectations that she has, takes a toll on someone like you. You’re not perfect; you’re quite flawed. Anyone can see that. But she insists that you aren’t, and well you can’t help but try to show her that she’s wrong.

It’s not about being stubborn, it’s about being realistic. You’re flawed, so what? Is it that hard to admit. It’s silly really. This is all silly.

“Well…you look like shit” you heard right next to you. It sounded like a man, or maybe a woman with a very deep voice.

You laugh once you hear that accurate observation. Because you knew that you looked like shit. You’re covered in alcohol and guilt. You’re almost positive that you stink too.

“It’s been a shitty day” you respond without thinking too much about it. You don’t turn to look at who’s speaking to you. Instead, you bring your glass closer to your lips. You needed the taste and smell of alcohol. It helped you forget—some things— and it also makes you feel numb—at times. You make sure to close your eyes to savor every single last taste of it.

Okay, this isn’t working. He needed to see her, and he needed to see her now.

You place a 100 dollar bill on the table, and don’t take a single glance in front of you nor next to you.

But as you’re about to walk away, you feel an arm on your shoulder.

“Listen, I already told someone to fuck off. I don’t mind doing it again”

“Well, why don’t you give it a try”

Seriously? That’s just a dumb, and childish response. And you want to let it go, you really do. You wanted to be a better man— person— for y/n. She deserves to see that side of you, the side she so openly speaks of. Despite not having seen it for a couple years now.

“Listen, I’m not trying to be involved in this childish drama” you say with sincerity, but also with an eye roll that couldn’t be stopped.

“It’s too late for that. You’re the one who started this childish drama” the person angrily says, as he sends spit onto your cheek. It wasn’t intentional though, his anger just got the best of him, and therefore salvia went flying out of him onto you. At least you hoped it wasn’t intentional or else you were about to do something dumb.

“You have some nerve—“ you turn around, finally being able to see who this person is, and you couldn’t believe your eyes. You must be drunk, like shit face drunk. There’s no other possible explanation for this person to be here.

“You?” You question, as you use your hands to rub your eyes, hoping that the person in front of you disappears once you open them once again.

“Me.” He shrugs, as his glare makes you feel extremely uncomfortable. Y/n had clearly told Taehyung what happened today, and now he’s sitting in front of you, ready to skin you alive. At least that’s how it looked like.

“I think it’s time for me and you to talk. And I’m not taking no as an answer”

You gulp, and your Adam’s apple is more visible. You simply nod your head, as you take a sit next to him.

You want to punch his face, but you also had to be clever about this. Y/n for some odd reason cares about him, so the least you could do is pretend to be nice.

“Alright. But for y/n”

“For y/n” Taehyung confirms as he continues to glare at Jungkook like his life depended on him.

This was not going to end well. For both of them.

You woke up with the worst headache. Your argument with Jungkook really took a toll on you. Every other minute, you’d wake up remember what happened and then ended up crying again. It made you think back to all those times, the good ones of course, but somehow along the way, you reminisce about how there was some bad in the good. Even now it’s like that.

You continue to lay in the bed, as tears stream down your face and onto your bed sheets. You wanted to find an escape in your mind, anything would have helped. You wanted to think back of when it was just you and Jungkook, and no one or anything would stray you away from eachother.

It sounds ridiculous, but all you could think about is him and your friendship and your… stupid love for him. As if there isn’t anything else in your life. As if there isn’t anything else you could be doing with your life.

Your old enough to get yourself out of this bed, and do something more productive. Maybe ask for more days at work, go to the gym, or quite literally anything else that isn’t this.

Your friendship is over, so you might as well get it over it. Crying and begging him, or yourself isn’t going to change your situation.

However it is easier said than done. Your mind understood this was necessary, but your body was having a harder time to adjust. You couldn’t move a muscle, and it was become harder for you to stay still as your leg was falling asleep.

You tried to locate your phone to see who you could call for help. And on top of that, it had to be someone you know would not judge you harshly.

You flap your arms around until you feel anything that felt remotely close to your phone. After a couple of seconds of moving like your drowning, you found it.

“Yes!” You yelled as you scrolled through your contacts. “Now, who do I call? Well, I only have one friend… technically two. But right now, I’m not sure if my friendship is still a friendship. And… I’ve bothered Taehyung too much already” you rambled on, and muttered to yourself, seeing as you had no one else to rant to. This was getting ridiculous. Your life was like a teenagers, seriously just drama after drama. It was getting old… you were getting old. It was just not something you needed in your life right now or ever.

You hear a buzz coming from your phone, and it startles you. You were stuck in a trance, of what has gone entirely wrong in your life. Of how precious time and your past memories are. Of how you never realized how much you should have valued your life before all this.

Your eyebrows almost touch each other once you read the message on your phone. Your life flashed before your eyes, and all the praying for your past to come back, has happened. But at what cost? At the cost of your happiness, that’s what.

Mom: meet me in 30 minutes. I really need your help.

She’s begging for help? Her? After everything she’s put you and your siblings through. After she did what she did. She wants you, out of everyone to help her out of the mess she probably brought upon herself.

Yup. You’ve officially become cursed. It seems like you can never have a day go by, without something or someone ruining it.

You: I don’t believe I’m the best candidate for the job.

You respond without much thought. But immediately regret it. After all she still is your mother, the woman who gave birth to you; and somewhat raised you. Your grandmother taught you manners, so you should execute them in her honor.

You: Sorry, that was really rude of me. Send me the location and I’ll be there soon.

Mom: Glad to know grandma taught you something good. Next time I won’t be so forgiving, and make sure to come on time, you know how I hate people who are late.

You: Okay.

You didn’t have the energy to argue with her. You barely had the energy to get off your bed. Now, you have to use a weeks worth of energy, since you know how things would end if you came late. Your mother was strict and does not accept people disobeying her orders, especially if you’re blood. Which unfortunately you are.

You stand with a pace that instantly made your head hurt, and made you feel as if you were flying. Or maybe it was just the fact that you seeing double. You should have been more careful, that’s for sure.

“What do I even wear” you utter as you walk to your closet, shivering due to the fan being on the whole night. But you’d rather die of coldness than hotness, so that’s why you leave it on the whole damn night. And almost feel like you’re about to wet your bed. Again, you’re just a complicated person.

“I just have black clothes, if I show up in that I’m definitely get scolded” you continue to talk to yourself, seeing as you have no one else to talk to. Or someone you feel comfortable sharing this vulnerable side of you. Sure, they’ve seen many other sides of you when you were weak and vulnerable but this, this was different.

You grabbed the first thing you saw, because whatever decision you made, your mother would still find something to criticize. And you’d rather her criticize your outfit choices then have her waiting for you.

It was a simple outfit really. Black ripped jeans with a black hoodie… yeah, you should probably shop after your meeting. It’s not normal for someone to not have at least one clothing that was bright or not black. The worst part was that you finished it off with black and white converse. But hey, at least there’s some white, a pop of color if you will.

Who are you kidding, you’re about to get your ass beat.

“Please have patience y/n. Please let this all go well” You said while looking at the mirror in front of you. You were trying to remind yourself of how important it was to not let that women get to you. But of course, everything is easier to say than to do. It’s become your life motto at this point. You’ve said it way too many times.

“You got this! Hopefully…” you gave yourself a thumbs up, as your face screamed worried, but time was ticking. So you grabbed your car keys, and rushed out the door like your life depended on it; in a way it did.

Taehyung kept replaying last night. He kept thinking of the way you cutely thanked him, as he took off your makeup. He’s not even sure why you kept thanking him, since he kept accidentally poking your eye, and the makeup wipe, he was using kept drying up.

He might have wasted all of your wipes, attempting to take off your makeup.

“Could you stay? I mean, just until I fall asleep”

Could you? Yes. Should you? You’re not sure. It’s like you kept playing yourself every-time you’ve accepted to help Y/n. You know you need to keep some distance from her, especially since your head over heels for her. But when you see her crying, or anything that isn’t happy, you want nothing more but to mend her heart.

And you know you’d probably curse yourself out, the next day for accepting this offer. But that was a tomorrow problem. And today, it’s just a solution.

Plus, how could you say no, as she’s holding onto your arm. While her eyes look up to you, with such desperation.

“Anything for you” you utter, as you move a strand of hair, and place it behind her ear.

She immediately felt as eased, and whispered, “thank you Taehyung, you’re the best friend a girl could have”

Friend. Yeah, it was like a bullet was shot directly to your chest. But of course, it was an expected bullet. And you decided to come here unprotected, without a bullet proof vest. But still, it was worth the temporary pain.

She had finally asked you, not Jungkook, you, for help.

“Good night y/n” you said, as you pulled the sheets over her legs, to completely cover her up. You gave her a last glance, before you stepped closer, and bent down to give her a forehead kiss.

She smiled once she felt a kiss on her forehead.

“Good night Taehyung”

He’s not sure how he ended up here. In a bar out of all places. He’s not like this. Sure, he drinks wine almost every day, but to be in an open place, where people are trying to get laid, flirt, or fight over the dumbest things. Well, it just wasn’t his scene. But his friend was right. He had to be more open to things he dislikes, or else he’s going to die with ‘regrets’.

Well he’s already going to die with many. For one, he’s doesn’t have the balls to confess to y/n just exactly how he feels about her. How his heart breaks every time her eyes light up, when she mentions Jungkook. How she always runs to his arms when they’re closed, and yours are wide open and always avoided. Well, unless she had an argument with Jungkook. How you hated being the second option but still choose to stay, because you have this hope in you. You have faith that one day she’ll look in your direction and never look away.

But until then, he’ll drink his pain away— or attempt to— even if it’s in this shitty bar. And you did exactly that. With every single drink you took, you drowned yourself. You filled yourself up with all the alcohol possible, that you were about to spill it out.

It was starting to cloud your judgement. Which you took pride in. It was something your parents were proud of, and since they took too much pride in it; you could never have it in your heart to start acting like a dumbass. It was their last wish before they… yeah.

“Can I have another one please” you asked the guy behind the bar. His eyes kept examining your state, you were drunk. It was clear to anyone that paid attention to you, or at least caught a little glimpse. He looks hesitant to reach over to the vodka you’ve been swallowing.

“Fine. But this is the last one for the night. Alright?” The guy behind the bar says, as he tries to convince himself to hand you the cup.

“Yeah. I just need one before I do something stupid” you spit out without thinking much about it. Your face was red, and you kept pouting. You were still really hesitant despite drinking the whole bar.

“That’s not every convincing..”

You shake your head to wake yourself up. You still need to order an Uber, and you needed to be conscious to do that.

“Relax. I’m just about to tell the girl of my dreams that I love her”

You smile to yourself; you look insane. You bite on your lower lip to try to contain your excitement. But of course, something always has to ruin your day.

“I don’t think she’ll like a drunk man in the middle of the night confessing to her. But hey! What do I know?” The guy shrugs before leaving the cup right in front of you.

“Yeah, just leave with all your stupid comments”

You sip with such a slow pace. You were stalling. You were scared. What if everything goes wrong? What if she laughs in your face? After all she called you her best friend a couple of hours ago. Okay, no! You need to stop being a wimp and just confess to her. You can’t keep living like this.

You can’t keep containing these feelings that are eating you alive. You wanted to be able to show her off as more than just a friend. Show her what real love is. Not what Jungkook has provided her with.

You chugged the rest of the drink, and begin to walk out of this smelly and loud bar. But something caught your eye. It can’t be. Did you just have a magnet that attracted trash?

Was that jerk really flirting with a random girl, while y/n was crying her eyes out. While y/n became so tired that she actually slept outside. Her body had given up on her, and here he was. He was drinking, not even beating himself up? Not even trying to ask y/n forgiveness.

You couldn’t take it. The drinks sure did have an influence on your next decision.

“You’re 5 minutes late” your mother says, as you enter her house. It makes you want to cry out of fury, or disappointment. You had just stepped inside, and she was ready to scold you and give you hell. She never changed, and she never will.

“Yeah, sorry there was a lot of traffic” you whisper, losing all the confidence you had before you stepped in the house. You hated being this weak, and not having any backbone. Why couldn’t you fight back? Why must you always be the one to cave in?

“I know, that’s why I called you when there wasn’t”

It ticked you off the way she spoke to you. As if you werent her daughter. Her own blood. She talks to you as if she were superior, as if she were your boss, and you were some clumsy assistant. Still, she shouldn’t speak to anyone like that, especially if you haven’t done anything wrong.

“Is this why you called me for? Didn’t you say you needed my help? And you’re arguing with me.” You point at yourself, trying to exaggerate how angry you were. But there really wasn’t much you could do, your whole face was red, and your fists were balled up, becoming white from all the pressure you were putting on them.

But you couldn’t stay angry for long. You’d like to blame your grandma, but you know it was one of the best lessons she gave you. To carry anger with you everyday, is such a burden. Why carry all the bad energy, when you can try to be positive. Try to be hopeful that the good will outweigh the bad, and eventually you’d have everything you wished for; or something equivalent to that.

You truly wanted to grant your grandmothers wishes but it was difficult when the person against you, had little to no respect for you.

“No that’s not it. And you better watch your tone young lady. I am your mother above anything else!”

You nod your head while looking around the room. You attempted to hide the tears that were threatening to fall out of your eyes. They created a puddle as they stayed still. But you couldn’t keep your eyes open anymore, and with that fell your tears. Each possessing a pain that was difficult to put into words.

“You’re my mother?” You spit out, while your voice cracks in the middle of your question. You continue to shake your head, emphasizing the shock from hearing those words come out her mouth.

“Were you my mother when you’d hit me everyday after school because my father was giving me more attention than you? Were you my mother when I was diagnosed with depression, and you said that it was just a phase and refused to get me the help I needed? Oh! Were you my mother when you—“

“Enough! You’re clearly on some meds right now, and saying things that aren’t even true. And even if they were that was ages ago, get over it y/n. Gosh, when did you become like your father”

“I’m proud to be his daughter. But yours? Not even close”

You saw her lifting her hand, and aiming it directly for your cheek. It was a loud sound, and it took a lot in you, to not fall to the ground, and cry your heart out. It really did. Because in between those slaps, you were sent back to your childhood. To you coming back from your school, and waiting for your father to come home, so your mother wouldn’t lay a finger on you. It reminded you of the times, you lied you were staying at a friends place to finish a project, but actually hiding behind the shed in your backyard, until the coast was clear and you could sneak back to your room.

You raise your hand to stop her, and were lucky to caught her hand mid air. Your cheeks were burning, it felt as if someone had poured boiling water on it.

“Let’s not forget your dear father, left you behind. He’s out there with his other kids and wife, while you’re so proudly protecting him. He doesn’t love you y/n, when will you get that. Maybe if you weren’t always so ready to call him out on his errors, he wouldn’t be with another family.”

You let go of her hand and ran. You didn’t care that she was screaming out your name. You didn’t care that you were running into people, or if you got hit by a car. You didn’t care about anything. You just wanted a break. You just wanted to take a deep breathe. You needed this to be over.

You chest felt like it was going to explode. You place your hand on your chest, and began hyperventilating. Even when you were breathing, you weren’t. Your throat was shut, and your eyes were waterfalls.

You ran to your house, you ran without looking back. You ran without a care in the world. And every time you were burnt out, you stood in the middle of people and kept looking around. Everything was spinning, everything was triggering you.

You saw people laughing, smiling, and why? Why do they get to be happy, and here you were struggling to even stand still.

“Miss, are you okay?” A couple asked, but that only made you more sad. Here they were all happy and loving with eachother, and you didn’t have that in your life. It felt like they were rubbing in your face. And you couldn’t be there anymore.

“I can’t-“

And again you ran. You ran with your all. You wanted to be far away from people. From this place, that never feels like home.

You just needed to get home and down all those pills in your room. They would help you sleep, cry less, and think less. They would ease the pain you endure everyday.

It been a couple of hours since your interaction with that woman, and it still feels so recent. It feels like it was a couple of seconds ago. The things she said scarred you. It was something you attempted to erase in your mind. You wanted to remember your father like he was once. When he was your best friend, when he would do anything to make you laugh; to cheer you up.

You tried to forget when you would argue because he kept breaking his promises. You continued to voice your pain, and your anger got the best of you. So he left. He left you with your mother. He left without a single goodbye. He left without a care, about you, about your mother.

“Why did you leave” you weep, and you hug your pillow. You pet it as if it were an actual human or pet. You couldn’t seek anyone to comfort you, so you decided to pretend your pillow was the person you needed the most.

Your anger would come and go, but when it came, you would go from cuddling your pillow, to punching it with your all. And then came the emptiness.

You were dried out of tears. Your pain was still there, but it was frozen. You’d stare up at the ceiling, and find even the idea of reminiscing to be the most silliest thing ever.

You laugh out loud, at the mess you are. You laugh at the joke your life is. You laugh at how fucking sad and lonely you have always been and will continue to be for the rest of your life.

Your brain is processing everything that was today, and throughout that process, you hear a knock on the door. It can’t be her? No, it can’t she doesn’t even know where you live, where you work, or your damn birthday.

After the knocks, came the constant doorbell sounds. It was driving you crazy, and you clearly had no patience nor the right attitude to talk to anyone.

“I’m not home!” You yell as you cover yourself with a warmer blanket. Why does it have to be so damn cold?

“Y/n! It’s me open up please! I- I have to tell you something important?”

You shake yourself out of your moment for a spilt moment, and get up. You cover yourself with the blanket as you walk towards the door.

“What are you doing here?“ You comment before you open the door. You weren’t trying to be rude, but again you had a rough day and weren’t in the mood for company.

“Please.. I just. If I leave now, I’ll never be able to confess this..”

You gulp, as you unlock the door. But before you open it, you remember you look like a mess. You’ve been crying for hours, since… well, since Jungkook.

“Just- before you come in. Ignore my face, and say what you’re going to say”

“I can’t just ignore your face y/n. What’s wrong?”

You couldn’t confess what had just happened. He came here to talk about himself, and you don’t want to hear it but at the same time, you don’t want to push anyone important to you out of your life, again.

“Please! If you want me to listen to you, promise me you’d ignore my face” you pleaded, as your voice went a pitch higher, and your eyes were shut; hoping to hear the words you wanted.

“I promise” he immediately responds, knowing that it will bring you to peace. But if he sees you in pain, he’ll break that promise without hesitation. He cared about you, maybe even loved you enough to let you go.

“Okay, come in”

You opened the door with caution and attempted to hide your face. Mostly your eyes, since they contained the feeling you weren’t trying to show him.

“Are you okay?”

“What happened?”

You both said at the same time. Your eyes displayed worry and pain. One of you was physically hurt, while the other one was mentally drained.

You both had a rough day. You both needed comfort. But you weren’t sure if you both were the right person to comfort one another.

Taglist: @mwitsmejk @bambamsthings @belovedsthings @jamlessstars @bjoriis @jeonzll @oxzie @whipwhoops @driftapart @taeriffic @laylasbunbunny @ellesalazar @boredcatto @bunbunbunnykoo @taeees-world @rainfprest @sparklingprimrose @jossabelle88 @bloodline1632 @neg-l3ct @bbtsficrecs @bloopkook @petalsofink @bliiss @linours @crissteetee67 @starbtslove @laurynne5 @hollyweird0 @fragmentof-indifference @kooliv @halesandy @bloodline1632 @sukunasrealgf @bnagtanx1306

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jmdbjk · 1 year

Text

JK Welive #1-2 & JK/Tae IG live

People sure have their panties in a knot over Jimin and Jungkook and Tae and shipping and JK's live, and Bam, and a J tattooed on a finger and just... damn people. You act like your life depends on this shit.

To keep track of what we’re talking about let’s organize it like this: JK welive #1, JK/Tae IG live, JK welive #2, JM welive, JK welive #3, JK welive #4 (taken down, yet to see if it will be put back up). That’s a lot of maknae line to unpack.

But bottomline: Jungkook is mostly at home nesting with Bam. Leave him alone. Y’all keep making me say that. INTROVERTS UNITE!

Boy arrived for Welive #1 wired and ready to defy the employee manual that says no live broadcasts without permission.

Jungkook was a little solemn when someone asked about Jin in the comments. “Jin is doing ok.” and “Jin sometimes sends us a message in group chat.” JK didn’t seem like he wanted to elaborate on it.

He wonders why he thinks of Army when he’s drinking... man is crying in his beer over us!

Within 20 minutes he was all wound down. His sweet eyelids started getting droopy while he read Army comments.

Then he got second wind and started searching for something to sing for us... finds Vibe, drools over Jimin for a sec, gives Taeyang some badass love, starts to sing the song before he even gets the lyrics up on the screen... knows the choreo of course...

Rumor confirmed: Bam is the luckiest dog in the universe. Jeon Jungkook wipes his butt after he poops. Who else in this world can say that? Who?

Besides the Bam butt wiping TMI, Jungkook also said he emptied his freezer so he could keep his (8) frozen beer mugs in there ready for action. And also (10) smaller glasses... maybe pilsner glasses? 400ml is not a small glass. 18 large servings of adult beverages. Priorities.

TMI: JK sings while he pees.

Kookie philosophy: if a rock doesn’t get rained on, it will crack and break. So another round of beers please. Gotta stay hydrated according to Kookie.

He attributes his being able to sit in the dark in his house with Bam and drink beer and literally breathe, to Army. Thanks to Army. You are welcome, baby!

Jungkook also says if you don’t have these three things, get out of here:

Gotta admit, I was stressing for a minute over the remark that he’s stopped working on his album... but Jungkookie says he’s kind of into this living like a rock for now. He’s not feeling pressured or overly anxious to be working or trying to make himself work. How he said what he said implies maybe he is really relishing this “doing what he wants at age 25...” Good for him. He deserves to slack for a while.

At about 1 hour and 13 minutes in he pulls J-Hope’s “More” up on the noraebang screen and begins to rock out. I LOVED THAT! Then he realized Namjoon was in the comments and thanked him for being his savior. And y’all didn’t tell me he sang Daechwita!!!! ONE OF MY FAVORITES!!!! Even though he substituted Suchwita in the lyrics hahahahahaha. He also praised Taehyung on changing up his singing style as it became sweeter. Good job! AWWWW.

And he got me laughing out loud when someone commented for him to stop drinking, it’s not healthy... he says, if his body stays healthy it wonders what it’s supposed to do and it stops doing its job so he introduces unhealthy components (like beer) for it to wake up and fight inside and that’s how he’ll become healthy... HAHAHAHAHAHAA, oh Kookie. Don’t tell people that! they will believe it! Armys are gullible!

What he really meant with that explanation is: “don’t lecture me.”

Bless his neighbors... who surely can hear him singing through the walls at 4:00 a.m. ...

Jungkook gave us the long awaited tattoo explanations. Honestly, does anyone think NO ONE has EVER asked him what the tattoos mean? Do you think he’s NEVER had to explain to anyone? EVER? What exactly would anyone expect him to say about certain ones? He also didn’t speak about covering the tiger with the black sun... he says when he first got them, he didn’t put much thought into it so maybe the tiger was one of those things and he covered it up with something that had more meaning. An eclipsed sun. And he got the eye because he wanted to be mindful of his actions because he’s always being watched... he says this right after saying he got tattoos thoughtlessly, LOL! He doesn’t like the moon on his shoulder and intends to get it covered someday. It’s okay, the sun is eclipsing because of the moon inside his elbow.

I’m sad to hear he had a bad tattoo experience here in the States.

ALL of the complex tattoo meanings that have been floating around have ALWAYS been fan speculation.

And, Tattoo Proof Anon, I deleted your ask because nothing has been debunked. Don’t you have a life or something you should be paying attention to instead of parking on blogs waiting for your “gotcha” moment that’s never gonna arrive?

A nod to Polyc’s incredible talent:

HAHAHAHAHAHA Tae comes into the comments and JK is like, “hold on Taehyung, I’m talking about something sincere...” Bro don’t interrupt me, I’m talking to Army about something serious.

Switch to Instagram...

Then, for the first time in the history of Bangtan, two members do a simultaneous Instagram Live...

The IG live... was short... JK seems tentative about doing the live in Instagram... man was all “don’t tell me what to do” while on Weverse but Instagram has him questioning his morals. Tae smiles big when he sees Bam, apparently having not seen him in a while. Tae makes a little snarky “if it makes money comment” about it and then after playing with the Instagram filters and remarking that Weverse needs to make a zoom feature so they can all be on at the same time because two is not enough, Tae said “I gotta sleep, peace out.” Later, bro.

Back to Weverse...

Welive #2: Jungkook mentions he is going to detox for five days... and then eat something yummy. That lasted less than 24 hours as we’ll see in his #3 Welive.

He mostly is singing his heart out in between telling Armys not to lecture him.

Y’all didnt tell me he (half) sang Despacito!

Someone already put a clip of his Welive he just did singing Dreamers on YouTube:

I thought for sure he passed out on us.

And he finally calls it a night after the sun rises... sweet (stubborn) thing.

I’m choosing (right now) not to be concerned with Jungkook’s stoppage on working. However, I reserve the right to change my mind should more information become available.

JM’s Welive, JK #3 Welive and #4 (if they put it back up), to come after the Weverse translations are provided.

#i truly believe the way i write gets lost in some of y'alls translations #because some of y'all act like you just showed up to the party #at least read up a bit so you can know where i'm comin' from #also i think you think i give a shit what you think #which i dont hence you got deleted #jungkook on weverse #jungkook #pjm1 is coming

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bonny-kookoo · 1 year

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lol i been curious on something about lacrymaria olor 3 jk and their culture. so they are mostly physical right? like solve their own issues like that, has there been a instance where jk was the one getting beaten up lol or like is it not permitted since he's king?

thx u love u!

Definitely! How did you think Jungkook even became king?

---

There's a painting in the hallways that always stands out to you. It's odd- a dark scene depicted in a way that makes it seem royal and honorable.

It's Jungkook- a slightly younger version, but it's undeniably him, even if half of his face is almost black from his dark blood. Nothing about him is as expensive nor carefully crafted as it should be for a king- There's armor on his body, silver and engraved in certain parts with symbols you've come to recognize as words commonly used in writing on this planet- but they're hand-drawn, personal. The plates are dented, old and even seemingly rusted on some spots, clear signs of battle decorating every part of his body as he stands with a hardened gaze in front of the throne. His clothes are tattered, stained and dirty, his hair long and curled from sweat.

Even in paintings on earth, you've never seen such a stare captured like this.

He looks like he's both close to tears, while at the same time there's no fear and no sadness present in his cherry-red eyes, a strong sense of determination as well as a bit of hesitancy and almost shyness glimmering in them as he looks ahead, hands empty but clenched to fists at his side. He's covered in blood, splatters of it and lines from the tracks his own must've taken from his wounds, staining his clothes and armor the same.

There's a body at the bottom of the painting, strangely detailed, the man not laying on the ground, but rather kneeling, the very tip a sword protruding from his back. There's more, a bit further away. Multiple, in fact- with swords and other weapons carelessly thrown to the ground- lost. Just like their life.

He's a victor in this painting. He's alive, in this moment probably more than ever before.

"It was the day I was crowned." Jungkook says calmly, walking up behind you, a hand placing itself on your shoulder. You can see a faint scar on the back of his palm, and you wonder if it was created that day. "Temian's don't inherit the role of power from their parents. Everyone has the right to try and claim it for themselves, at any point in time." He explains.

"So you.." You start, still unable to look away from the scenery depicted in the painting.

"I fought for it, many turnings ago." He nods. "I did not believe in the way's the old king had been leading the lands here." He continues, his hand moving from side to side, enjoying the warmth of your body. "It had been time for a change. And I brought that change."

"You look.. a little sad." You say, quietly, a bit hesitant. You don't want to offend him.

"Anyone would be sad to be forced to slay the man that brought them into this world." He softly explains, your blood running cold as you realize why that one body, that specific corpse had been drawn with so much care.

"Do you.. regret it?" You wonder, unsure why you even ask it.

"No." He strongly responds. "Everyone has a destined role in the universe. This-" His hand adjusts the large painting a bit. "This is mine."

You look down, before you speak again. "That means that any day, someone could come here and just.." You start, looking up at him. He looks down at you with a tilted head, carefree amusement now on his face.

He's definitely not the man depicted on the canvas on the wall anymore. He's not just older, but there's something beneath his eyes that just isn't the same as it was being captured that day.

"I enjoy a reputation after many fights. So don't worry- even if one was to try and claim my place, I would never give it up without a fight." He tells you. "Especially now, that I have not just a kingdom and my honor to defend." He finishes his thought more quietly, gaze focused on you for a second as he brushes his fingers through your hair for a second.

And you wonder if you're foolish to believe that he puts you above his honor- of if that's what he's actually trying to tell you. You don't ask, you probably never will.

Maybe one day you'll get the answer.

#jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #bts jungkook imagine #bts jungkook drabble #jungkook drabble #lacrymaria olor au

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akookminsupporter · 1 year

Note

To all the angry anons

5 steps to stop being a hypocrite:

1.- Stop thinking that you need to abide by other people's rules and do what they tell you to do. This is how most people fall into the hypocrite category.

2 - Unless you've experienced something, reserve your opinion.

3.- Stop bitching.

4.- Follow your own advice.

5.- Stay grounded.

People having a different view on a subject isn't something bad, some people will see the glass of water half full and others half empty so is just an opinion and let's be honest the majority of the people that want jungkook to work with CK only want that to see him mostly naked so don't be hypocrites, there are better clothing brands that would fit jk so much better but anyways that's jungkook's choice not ours.

Oh I almost forgot this is Rosie's blog so she is free to give us her opinion in the things she wants if you don't like what she writes in HER blog that belongs to HER then don't come here, she wasn't disrespectful to anyone and she didn't force anybody to think same way she does so let's normalize the fact that people can have an opinion without attacking them for it.

OPINIONS!!

#anon #ask #JK #bts brand deals #toxic stans

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rosesradio · 2 years

Note

Portwell love confession where Gina says “I love you” first which makes EJ happy to hear her say that because a girl has never said that to him in a romantic way Drabble .

a girl never said that but a guy has? as in ricky? no? okay--

jk jk, here's a end-of-s3 600 word drabble ! <3

EJ had been presented with many renditions of "I love you".

His parents said it, albeit rarely, and only when he did something especially fantastic to make them proud. His friends said it--not his water polo friends, that would be "too gay", but his theatre friends. His thousands of followers online--girls commenting in droves on how they were "in love" with EJ. But it wasn't true, it didn't count or matter. You could crush on someone through a social media profile, sure, but to say you love someone without having had a single conversation with them? EJ, a romantic at heart, found it a little insulting.

"Eej, I…" Gina started. She'd brought him up to the castle set after the show on the last night of Frozen. In the low-lights and emptiness, it was actually quite…romantic. Or creepy, depending on how one looked at it. "I just wanted to tell you something…and I don't know how to do it, or how to say it…or if I should say it…"

"What is it?" EJ asked, reaching over and holding Gina's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. He cocked his head to the side, feeling a sudden rush of doubt, of anxiety. "Is it something bad?"

"No," Gina shook her head quickly. "It's actually good…" she smiled, something more reserved and crooked. EJ liked the look on her; it was like when she was trying not to laugh when he made a joke in rehearsal. "It's really good…unless it freaks you out."

"Gi, nothing you wanna tell me is ever gonna freak me out," EJ replied. He then furrowed his brows; well, some things might freak him out, but it was probably better to remain optimistic.

"I…fine…" Gina's face was flushed bright red, pulling away as her hand was sweating. "EJ, I think I'm falling in love with you. I…I love you. There. There it is. I'm…gonna shut up now."

"You…" EJ's voice faltered, a feeling blooming in his chest like nothing had before. He'd liked girls in the past, maybe even convincing himself he loved them. But this, now, with Gina. It was entirely new, entirely overwhelming. "You love me," he could feel his heart beat skip in his chest, could feel his face flush. After everything that summer, all the twists and turns, he knew this was true. Now, they felt more solid than ever. EJ just couldn't believe that someone, especially not someone as amazing as Gina, could look past his flaws and love him. Genuinely love him, besides his looks or charm, even past all the struggling inside. "You love me?"

"We established that," Gina replied, eyes slightly wide, seeming anxious, though she was unable to help but smile. "Did you want to contribute anything to the conversation besides echoing me?"

"Oh!" EJ shook his head as the realization hit him, and he clung to Gina's arm. "I love you, too, Gi. Like, a lot. And, um…" he looked down, scratching the back of his neck as a nervous laugh escaped him. "Thank you. No one's ever said that they loved me before. Not like that. I'm really happy to hear it, really." He took Gina's hand, bringing it to his lips and pressing a kiss there.

"Okay, sap," Gina rolled her eyes, though she was clearly relieved to hear it in return. "Now, since you love me so much, do you wanna help me sneak some ice cream from the CIT freezer?"

Val would kill him, but in EJ's defense, he'd do anything for the girl he loved.

#my inbox is open and i love the attention <33 #portwell #ej caswell #gina porter #hsmtmts #not tkk #my fic #rose’s asks

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shina913 · 1 year

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I read Gradation over the last few days, and I have lots of thoughts. I really loved your JK. He was so kind and supportive and cared so much about her. You could really feel how much he loved her. As for OC, she was dead to me the moment she chose Derek, the man who left her at the alter, over JK. She just let him walk out of her life for the man who left her the altar. What??? It felt so out of character for her. The whole story she kept saying over and over and over again how much she loved having JK as a friend. And she made so much progress over the year getting over Derek, and then she chooses him over her best friend... I couldn't wrap my head around it. I was so heartbroken for him. And then she sees, once again, what kind of person Derek is, after both JK and Hobi told her to stay far away from him. It just felt so out of character for her to ignore two close friends to give a second chance to the man she spent a year needing therapy to get over.

When that happened I was hoping so hard that he wouldn't go to her and that he would stand his ground and let her be miserable over what she found out about Derek. I wanted her to experience some type of repercussion for choosing that lowlife scum over her best friend. But no, JK just comes crawling back to her, like a little puppy with his tail between his legs and all is forgotten. He had no pride or dignity to stand up for himself over the way she treated him. She barely had any apology or explanation for picking Derek over him. The way I see it, OC jumped from guy to guy, and when she couldn't have the guy she really wanted (Derek or Jin), she "settled" on JK. Almost like "Oh, well this guy says he loves me, so I'll just settle for him" type of a thinking. It seemed that JK was her 4th option, after options 1 through 3 failed. And JK was too good of a person to be a 4th option. There was very little mention after the Hawaii vacation about her having any feelings for JK. Nor was there any mention of her missing him when she threw him out of her life. She didn't seem upset at all. She just cast him out of her life like he didn't mean anything to her. So it was very difficult for me to accept that all of a sudden, like a flick of switch, she wanted to be with him and was in love with them. There wasn't enough buildup for me to see her fall in love with him. I think JK deserved better than the way she treated him. I wanted to see her fight for him to prove that she actually had feelings for him. I wanted to see her miss him and be sad over the fact that she went weeks without seeing or talking to him. I wanted her to show him that she valued him as a friend and a lover. And she didn't do any of those things.

Regardless of all those feelings, I really did want them to end up together. So while I'm happy they did, it left me with a very cold, empty happiness because of the abrupt way they wound up together. For me, there wasn't enough development from her from the time she threw him out to the time she decided she loved him. That threw me for a loop because there was so much development from her from the time she was left at the altar to the whole Derek re-do. I think if he didn't forgive her right away, and time was spent on re-building their friendship, and then slowly a romantic relationship, I would feel entirely different. I needed more time to watch them reconnect to each other the way they were connected in Hawaii, and unfortunately, they just didn't get back there for me. That made me sad because I loved them together so much in the beginning of the story, and then at the end she just slammed the door in my face and left me out in the cold.

Hi, thank you for this ask! I wanted to take my time to address this properly–and so sorry but this is LONG! In the end, I just want to make it clear that I’m not challenging your observations or takeaways. My aim is only to explain/rationalize my plot decisions.

Full disclosure, this was my first series and at the time, I was still trying to figure out character and plot development for my fan-fics. That said, you have some valid points here.

OC is a flawed character and she’s been through an emotional rollercoaster since being left at the altar. JK has helped her out a lot during that stage in her life in addition to seeking therapy for herself to get through that. I wanted the healing process to be a whole journey for her. Some people who have or are going through any kind of treatment or intervention know that it doesn’t get fixed overnight. Even if you’ve taken the time and done the sessions, you’ll have days when you feel great and days when you fall back into your habits. No matter how many tools you are given by a professional or how much support you have from family and friends to manage or deal with those issues, you could still regress.

Healing is a nonlinear journey. There will be detours and roadblocks before you can get to your destination. The timeline is a bit wonky in the fic but from when OC was left at the altar up until Derek’s return–this all happened within a span of a year (roughly) and…it’s a lot for OC! That’s where I was coming from, as a writer, while plotting out her character.

For JK and OC’s relationship, I really wanted the main focus to be on their friendship and closeness while giving that underlying hint of a possible romance. In the beginning, OC is getting married and JK is her “man of honor.” There’s no sort of ulterior motive from JK–he really was just a supportive friend.

I also wanted to note that JK was actively dating at the time–even right before the wedding. In fact, shortly after the incident, he was ghosting a girl. But way before that, he had a long-term girlfriend whom he did long-distance with and even followed to a different country to see if things would work out (which they didn’t). Having laid that out, OC and JK really were just friends to begin with until a whole bunch of things happened, which became the catalyst for them to even consider going past the platonic stage.

That said, I would disagree with your comment that JK was OC’s “fourth option” because I tried to establish that neither of them was the other’s option, to begin with. You reference the Hawaii chapters. While that vacation was a revelation for JK, it wasn’t for OC. In hindsight, I probably should have also tagged this trope as idiots-to-lovers…but I digress!

For JK’s part, I made allusions in some flashbacks about him wanting to get together with OC back in college but then Derek swooped in. JK could have spoken up at that point because she just started dating the guy–she wasn’t marrying him. Instead, JK chose to continue being her friend without ever bringing it up. And he made that choice more than once in the story.

When Jin came along and expressed interest, JK could have cockblocked him and said that OC was seeing someone and continued on with the fuck-buddy setup. Instead, JK made the choice to give her number to Jin–leaving that door open for him. And when confronted by OC, instead of addressing it, he decided to be a baby about it and pushed his feelings aside.

I also wouldn’t characterize JK as somebody without fault. As you said, he basically didn’t stand up for himself while OC picked her ex over him–yes, that’s true. In addition to OC’s failure in her judgment, there was also some failure in communication on JK’s part. OC is not a mind-reader and at the time, she’s also irrational. Not an excuse for her decision but…does irrationality need to be rationalized?

And OC “jumping from guy to guy?” From my perspective, OC is dating. She and JK have a friendship and were having a sexual relationship but for all intents and purposes, she’s single and he’s single. No romantic commitments were made between them and they tried to establish that when they got back from their vacation. Sleep together now but if a potential relationship comes along–we stop. Of course, that “agreement” as we know, is not clear-cut.

My characterization of OC is that she’s a giver. She takes care of her friends and her family, but she’s also a people-pleaser. You’ll see hints of this throughout the story. Again, I’m not mentioning this to justify her actions and decisions but it’s to show that it was not out of character for her to try to get that closure with Derek. Was this an infuriating move on her part given the history? Yes. Was it out of character? I don’t think so.

And maybe I didn’t illustrate it well in writing but my intention was to deliberately have OC draw a line and maintain some distance with Derek even as he is trying to re-establish a relationship with her. To be clear, the relationship she was consenting to was not romantic or physical at this point in the story. But the fact was, she and Derek were together for several years, engaged to be married, and planning to build a life and future together. Yes, he hurt her but he was also familiar to her. She had no idea about what he did. Her ignorance should not be an excuse but it is.

Even people who break up attempt some form of friendship or an ounce of civility after that relationship ends (depending on how things ended, of course). It may not happen often but it happens in real life! And it’s that kind of reality that I wanted to add to the story. No matter how much work you’ve done on yourself, and how many boundaries you’ve set, you will still have moments of vulnerability and susceptibility. That’s what I wanted to channel for OC.

Regarding OC and JK getting together, I wanted JK to waver a little after he got that phone call from Hobi. But once he got the call from Derek, he immediately goes out to meet him. My original thought going into that plot decision was that JK wanted to see for himself what OC sees in this guy.

When he realizes that this guy ain’t shit–it’s when JK finally decides for himself that he’s done stepping aside and wants to be the choice for OC. Did it have to take a broken engagement, a fuck-buddy situation, a rich boyfriend, and the ex-fiance returning for JK to realize that? FUCK YES! And did I want them to make up that quickly? Also yes! That’s how I wanted it to play out. I think at a certain point, after all of the suffering and angst that I put my characters through, you bet I wanted that instant gratification, plain and simple!

It’s part of the reason why I didn’t feel that it was necessary for OC and JK to rebuild their friendship and then have it slowly build into a romantic relationship. I would liken this to making repairs to a home: you know there’s some structural damage there but it’s not so severe that you have to tear down the whole foundation and rebuild from the ground up–you just need to reinforce it so it doesn’t fall apart. It’s my opinion that OC and JK did not have this “catastrophic” damage to their friendship so I didn’t think it was necessary to do another slow-burn–for JK to give OC a dose of her medicine. I didn’t want JK to be vengeful. Sure, he had flaws and she fucked up but he would not be vengeful toward her.

Now, I will say that in hindsight, my BIG regret is not beefing up OC’s realization that she’s in love with JK. I realize that I didn’t really give that moment that it needed in the narrative and it ended up getting buried in the flurry–so I agree with your observation. As I said, this was my first series and I was trying to wrap it up but the aha-moment felt a bit lacking, which muddied the ending for you. I appreciate you pointing that out and I’ll definitely make a note of that in the next series that I write!

If you’re still reading up to this point, THANK YOU! And I want to also say that the points that were mentioned here are risks that a fan-fic writer takes with a reader-insert story. I have to contend with what my fictional OC would do versus what you, as a reader-insert, would do if/when faced with a similar situation. And end-user perspectives and opinions are out of my control because I can’t tell you how to feel or what to think; I can only try to explain why I wrote the story as such. But this is also precisely why I invite feedback because although I have a certain writing style that’s my own, I don’t want to tell the same story each and every time.

I’m always looking into different ways to tell a story but if I don’t receive any feedback or challenges to my plot points, then I’ll just keep doing what I’m doing. So, thank you for reading the fic and giving me notes and commentary! I appreciate you!

#erica2283 #gradation x jjk reblog #shina asks

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seongminiz · 1 month

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ok. i’m back! getting to the point at work where i’m so bored and bothering everyone because of it jk that’s how i am 5 mins in

so.. what was i saying? bermuda line n reader. i kinda just want to live in a house where i’m available for use for bermuda line at all times but i’m trying to be more creative than that. also just fuckboy!hyunjae i was kind of just thinking if ur like friends with juyeon and younghoon, and they bring him around as like a new friend but they’re like pls y/n don’t sleep with him, it’ll be really hard not to but don’t do it, and ur like wtf do u think of me but then… u get it. and it’s a game all the time of flirting with each other and sexual tension and then when you do sleep together, he’s trying to get you to be as loud as possible so the others can hear in the apartment, “that’s it, you’re so good for me” and all that😵‍💫 but u could also replace hyunjae with juyeon or younghoon or like swap them around, i just think it’s kind of hot🥵

and then, trying to figure out smth for all 3, at the same time, i’m thinking that ur fwb with all of them and they sort of know about each other, and they’re either all friends and talk about it or they don’t rly know each other that well but then maybe they start too, and listen my brain is empty all i can think about is just wake up, juyeon, lunch, hyunjae, dinner, younghoon, like maybe i’m just a slut but… lemme just talk about my hcs for them instead cuz i feel like i can’t articulate but i think there isn’t even anything to be specific about.

i see juyeon as like a dom leaning switch, i’ve read some fics where he’s a really sweet subby himbo and i lovveee that but also just juyeon’s hands… juyeon’s body, everything (and he’s such a sweet boy!!!!) he’s definitely a softer dom, but could be a total tease i barely ever think of him without hyunjae and vice versa because their soft dom/mean dom dynamic is just soo !! good !!!!!! but i also rly only see hyunjae as a dom.. can’t see him subbing so much but i mean, it’s possible. and younghoon.. i like as a sub but he’d also definitely be the sweetest dom, i feel like he’d be less of a tease? much gentler, he’d get off on making you feel so good, diminishing you to nothing but high pitched whines and babbled speech, he’d take rly good care of you<333 so all 3 together would be so perfect!! like crazzyyy good, but it’d have to be like.. spread out cuz idk if it could literally all happen at once, you wouldn’t survive but i’m trying to imagine… cuz .. going way off the tracks now, but dp.. is smth i would never want to attempt irl but it makes me think jumil. and then maybe younghoon in ur throat. idk. idk i’m gonna stop myself here for a min.

- 🧁 anon

OK SO let me start off by saying i think i had a bermuda line threesome thought somewhere in my notes up but unfortunately its on my old phone :') if i manage to find it i'll definitely recycle it for this blog („• ᴗ •„)

but i clearly remember it having mean dom!hyunjae , soft dom!juyeon n even softer dom/service top!younghoon so ,,, i completely agree with u on that ^^

anyways , tbh both the idea of already having an established relationship with all three of them n fuckboy!hyunjae being the 'catalyst' to completely turning around ur lives by starting some kind of fwb/situationship thing bc hes a menace like that

n omg dont get me started on dp with jumil .. or any other combination of them tbh idk im crazy n i just know that they all have monster cocks n dp with them would be an almost spiritual experience fr

#🍰 seongminiz !#🍞 tbz !#💭 . 🧁 anon !#the boyz hard hours #tbz hard hours

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ahundredtimesover · 2 years

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I remember a conversation during the Namjoon one shot where you said you picked up a lot of nuances from your own relationship.. So in all of your stories is there a relationship/couple:

1. Which you wish were like you and your partner?

2. Where you wish you had what they had?

3. Absolutely a no no relationship for you and only good for fiction.

(I wish I could write this ask more simply but brain is fried. I hope you understood what I'm asking 🥲😂)

Also since we're besties I gotta tell you that I don't indulge in merch whether official or unofficial but i just ordered a bts inspired jewellery and im lowkey excited for it... Pretty much the highlight of my day 😂

Ah yes! I’m touched you remember that 😌 As for your (hard but very interesting) questions:

1. I wish we were like Can’t Be Without You couple. My partner and I are best friends by nature of us being together for a decade, but things didn’t start that way. There’s something special about a best friends-turned-lovers couple where you know each other through and through; the bond is different, I guess. I also love how comforting JK is here, especially given OC’s past and line of work (same as ASDOAH OC!) and my partner isn’t comforting in that way; he shows it differently, which is fine haha (we’re past fighting over him not being expressive) but it’s a nice thought 😊

2. For this, I’d say This is How We Break and Inevitable couples! They loved each other so much even when they were apart, and it’s something I wish my partner and I could still be. I’ll be leaving to study abroad in a few months and I don’t know how often I’ll get to see him 😔 so I’ll be thinking of how these couples gave way to the other, still loved with all of they had, and ended up with a love that was much stronger after they reunited 🥰🥰

3. Okay so I do my best to not write toxic relationships or people so none really in that aspect but… Empty Space couple would definitely be a purely fiction one. There was deceit and too much pain 😂😂 and this may be surprising but… TLODS! Haha being married to the President of your company is a stretch for me (but this is why it’s fiction and why we love it!)

And ok bestie, bts inspired jewelry is too cute! What did you get!!! Show show! 🤩🤩 also, this was a lovely ask. Thank you so much for dropping by ☺️

#mimianswers #mimi things

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kjhmyg · 2 years

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rough edges pt. 12 (m)

pairing: jungkook | reader genre: college!au, badboy!jk warnings: mentions of death, drugs, executions, drinking, trafficking, getting high, unprotected sex, anxiety. word count: 16k

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 6.5 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / part 12 / masterlist

a/n: i hope everyone is doing well. love you all.

RE asks tag / pinterest board

Considering Hongjun’s offer was your first mistake. Next was contacting the number on the napkin. You hadn’t told anyone about it. After Hoseok left, you took a long shower and tried to sleep it off. But you couldn’t when your mind kept you up. You heard Hana come home that night and check on you, closing the door gently when you don’t move.

The truth is that Hongjun was right; which is a scary thing to say. It may not seem like it but you do want the same thing. Setting aside the differences in your individual motives, your end goal was to free Jungkook from the syndicate.

He replies to your text the next day with a time and place. It’s far out and with a quick search online, you realise he’s asked you to meet at a massage parlour. Knowing them, it’s probably a front for all the shady stuff going on in the back, disguised as another business. In the end, you proposed your own location to be safe. Thankfully, he agrees.

“You don’t have to be scared of me.” He approaches.

“What?”

The busy street takes away any reservations you had about meeting him. One scream and all eyes would be on you, leaving him powerless.

“Meeting at a public place like this, in the middle of the afternoon.” He scoffs. “I know what you’re doing.”

“Can you blame me?”

“Guess not.” He shrugs. “So you’ve thought about this? You’re really going to do this?”

“Do what, exactly? I want details before I give you an answer.”

“Fair enough.”

The two of you walk towards a bar, filled with people in suits, seemingly the harmless kind. Probably office workers getting off work. You take the table at the back, one with a reserved sign on top. Hongjun pushes it away without much thought, and you assume he’s a regular here, and that the table was kept empty for him in the first place considering how the bartenders don’t even bat an eye.

He gets himself a beer and then looks at you. “I’m good. Thanks.”

“Suit yourself.”

“So tell me, what’s your plan?”

He grins. “No small talk before we get to business? I mean, tell me about yourself. Your hobbies. Your boyfriend.”

You tilt your head with a passive look on your face. “Really? As if you don’t know all that already. You probably even know my grade point average.”

Hongjun laughs. “I’m not that resourceful. Besides, I don’t care about any of that. I only need you.”

You shift uncomfortably. “What for?”

“Believe it or not, I only need you to convince him to quit.”

He says it so casually it makes you laugh, even more because it’s ridiculous. A small part of you thinks he might be joking, but realise he’s quite serious. As if you hadn’t just spent the last year or so doing exactly that. “Believe it or not, I’ve tried.” You frown. “He’s not that easy.”

“Yeah but you didn’t bring him solutions, did you? Obviously, he’s not going to quit knowing they’d come after his ass.”

“What are you saying?”

He rests his forearms on the table and leans forward. “The only way he’ll quit is if he knows both of you will be safe. Which means you can’t stay here, not anymore.” He smiles. “That’s where I come in. I can guarantee you safe passage out of here.”

As he speaks, you try to decipher if he’s telling the truth. What if this was all a ruse? “You’re asking me to run away with him? What makes you think he’ll come with?”

“Come on, it’s you. He’d do anything for you I’m sure.”

He’s right about that too. Jungkook would. “I don’t know...”

Your hesitation is expected, so it doesn’t seem to bother him much. It bothers you, because he probably would have thought about all the different ways this meeting could go. He leans back and shrugs. “It’s the only way.”

“There must be some other way.”

“Not for someone like Jungkook. He’s way up there, close to the head. He knows way too much already, done too much. If he quits, he’s a liability. And there’s only one way we deal with those in our organisation.”

“A fucked up way...”

You suddenly wish you had a drink in hand. What are you even doing here? Talking to Hongjun of all people. If either Jungkook or Namjoon knew what you were doing, they’d lose their heads. Hongjun’s plan was less impressive than you thought it’d be. Maybe you were expecting too much. Even so, he isn’t wrong. The only way to help Jungkook is if he disappears. That way, no one can hurt him.

“Also,” you move closer to the table, “what do you mean by, ‘he’s way up there’?”

He’s amused, as if you’ve just given him something new to work with. “You’re telling me you don’t know? He’s almost like our boss’s right hand man. Almost. He’s more like the favourite child.”

You take a breath. “So he knows everything?”

“Yeah.” He nods. “He knows it all. Sometimes he and his partner get to make decisions. I mean you’ve been at the club, haven’t you? I didn’t get a club of my own to run, nor did any of the other teams in other districts.”

Jungkook did tell you he’d joined them as a kid. It would make sense for their boss to have some sort of attachment to him and Suga. It’s likely why they’re getting special treatment. And probably why Hongjun hates them. He’s jealous, you get it now, why he’s always after Jungkook.

“Maybe he’s just good at his job.” You try to defend him, noting the way Hongjun’s face twitches slightly.

“Oh he’s good alright.” Hongjun smirks. “He gets the job done. One word from Kim, and he goes to work like a good boy”

You ignore his little attempt to insult Jungkook. “Jobs like...dealing drugs right?”

“Yup.”

“And so does he do...other jobs for your boss?”

Hongjun’s smile widens, obviously ecstatic at the new revelation that you don’t in fact know everything about your own partner. So much so that you’re asking him questions. “Oh I see, you’re asking if he does the dirty work. Well, dirtier work. I hate to disappoint you my dear but the answer is yes.”

You take a sharp breath to prepare yourself.. “Like what? Like...does it involve hurting others?”

“Everything. He has a lot of blood on his hands.” He enjoys the way you try to hide the shock though it’s so obviously splashed across your face. “You didn’t really think he’s all that innocent, did you? What were you expecting?”

“Nothing.” You say putting an end to it. The fun is just beginning for Hongjun, but luckily for you he drops it. “Um okay. So. Your plan. I don’t know if it’ll work.”

“Then you make it work.”

“I’ll have to wait and see⎼”

“No. You make it work.”

It’s scary how he switches up in seconds; one moment he’s fine and the next it’s as if he’s possessed by the devil himself. He catches himself right after and manages a smile. You return it with a hesitant one, with no choice but to agree for now.

𝄖

Meeting up with Hongjun left you feeling icky. So much that the first thing you did when you reached the apartment was to make a run for the shower. But it couldn’t wash away the feeling on the inside. You let the warm water run down your head and body as you think about what he said.

Jungkook has blood on his hands? He would never. Would he? Would your Jungkook actually kill someone? With you, Jungkook is embarrassed of his ties to their gang, you know that much. He doesn’t like telling you things because he thinks it’ll scare you off. But he hasn’t mentioned doing anything other than dealing with drugs.

But does it matter?

Yes. It does, because this involves life and death. Others’ lives. And deaths. Maybe that’s why Jungkook is so afraid of leaving, because he’s seen first hand what happens to those who do. Maybe he himself has pulled the trigger on⎼

Several loud knocks on the door make you jump. “You okay? You’ve been in there a while.” Hana calls out.

You snap out of it and turn the water off. “I’ll be out in a sec.”

When the door of the bathroom finally opens, Hana turns to you, noting how steamy it got inside from how long you spent showering. “You look like you need a drink.”

“I do.”

You take a seat on the couch, bending over to wrap your wet hair with an old cotton shirt. She sets her phone down and turns her attention to you. “What happened?”

“I went to see Hongjun.”

“Who’s that?”

Your head rests against the couch and you stare up at the ceiling. “The guy that tried to hurt Jungkook. And Mia.”

Hana looks at you, confused. The name doesn’t come up often, and there’s only so much she can remember from all the stories you tell her. “The dangerous one?” You nod. “And why did you do that?”

“He proposed we work together.” Hana raises her brows, seemingly interested. “He had a point, we ultimately want the same thing, which is to get Jungkook to leave the gang.”

“I don’t know what his deal is but it’s definitely not the same thing.” She goes on, “You want what’s best for Jungkook, while it seems this Hongjun guy wants the best for himself.”

“True. But what if both goals can be achieved through the same means? Killing two birds with one stone.” Hana looks skeptical, biting her bottom lip. “If Jungkook is free, it means I’ve succeeded in keeping him out of prison. And at the same time, Hongjun doesn’t have to see his face at work anymore.”

She gets your point. “So what’s the plan then?”

“That’s where I’m kinda stuck at,” you smile awkwardly, “he’s offering us safe passage out of this state. Maybe even country. Anywhere as far away as possible from their boss.”

“You’re kidding, right?” She moves forward. “That’s the only thing he can come up with? I think he’s playing you. There’s no way in hell the only way he can get Jungkook to leave the gang is by getting him to run off with you.”

“But it is...in a way. You see, Jungkook won’t be safe if he leaves. They’ll hunt him down.” Your eyes drop. “And possibly kill him. So the only solution is to leave.”

Hana looks at you with an exasperated look. “And you don’t think Jungkook has the resources himself to run away? You really think he needs someone else’s help to get out of this country undetected? Jungkook has a lot of connections. If he wanted to, he could move to Spain right this second and live under a new identity.”

“I thought of that too.” You sigh, sliding to lie on your side.

“Plus,” she goes on, “would you really leave everything behind?”

“Jungkook asked me the same question once.” You smile thinking about it. “I said, without a doubt.”

And you meant it.

“You would leave your best friend to fend for herself in this scary city?” She pouts and you move to the seat next to her. “And for a man?”

You laugh and cup her face. “Aww. I would miss you though.”

“What’s so special about Jungkook anyway? He doesn’t even put the toilet seat cover down.”

“Oh my god, you’re never gonna let that go, are you?”

She waves her hand about. “What’s so hard about putting the cover back down when you’re done? And would it kill him to not wet the area outside of the shower? Ugh.” She rubs her temples. “That’s the guy you wanna be with? The dick must be worth it.”

You wrap your arms around her middle and push her down on the couch. “Hana!”

She pats the top of your head over the shirt. “Fine. I get it. You love him.” She sighs. “But you know you shouldn’t sacrifice your entire life for a person, even if you love them a lot. You have to think about yourself too.”

“I know.” You say, then push yourself up to face her. “There’s actually something else that Hongjun said which is bothering me.”

“What is it?”

She mirrors you as you cross your legs. “He said that Jungkook’s got a lot of blood on his hands.”

“You mean...Jungkook does more than just dealing drugs?” Hana thinks about it. “That’s not good. What does he mean specifically?”

“I don’t know, but I’m imagining the worst. What if he’s...killed someone before?”

“Y/N that’s…” She shakes her head, unable to even comprehend the thought.

“I know.” You nod, leaning in to wrap your arms around her and rest against her. “If it’s true then that means...it just makes things complicated.” Your heart skips. “Of course, we have to consider the fact that this is Hongjun. He could very well be lying.”

“I hope that’s the case. Because otherwise...that means your boyfriend’s a murderer.”

𝄖

The next month goes by slowly. Four weeks since you’ve laid eyes on Jungkook. You’d be so busy catching up with assignments and preparing for tests, it didn’t occur to you until today, how you don’t see him around campus anymore. Usually, you’d get a glimpse of him in the hallway or the cafeteria. Sometimes he’d take the longer route to class just to pass by yours. But not now. Three weeks ago, Jungkook had told you over the phone that he’d be laying low for a while and won’t get to contact you as much as he’d like to. You didn’t realise he’d go ghost altogether.

After your afternoon class, you take a walk around campus, passing by places you think you’d find him. The school gym, the tracks, cafeteria, the lawn. No sign of Jungkook. The last on your list is the gym hall. Instead of Jungkook, you find Hoseok, shooting hoops by himself.

Turning when the doors creak open, Hoseok smiles warmly. “Hey.” You take a seat on the side bench. “Where’s the rest of the team?”

“We ended early today,” Hoseok says, dribbling the ball as he walks over, “everyone needed a break.”

“That’s nice.” You nod. He stands in front of you, resting the ball against his front with his hands. He stares at you for a little too long. “So uh...was he here earlier?”

“Who?” Hoseok tilts his head. “Jungkook?” You nod and he raises a brow, studying your face before sitting down next to you. “You don’t know?”

You straighten up. “Know about what?”

“Jungkook,” Hoseok lowers his voice as if his words could affect you less that way, “he quit.”

You’re confused at first, as if Hoseok had been speaking in a foreign language. Then your heart rate picks up, anxious if there’s something you should be worried about. “Quit? He quit? He quit the team? When?”

“Y/N…” Hoseok furrows his brows and shakes his head. “He quit college. Left a couple of weeks ago. I thought you knew.”

It doesn’t register immediately. So many questions run through your mind. Hoseok watches quietly from your side. “He didn’t say anything...why would he leave? What happened? Did you do something?”

He looks hurt that you would even think that, mouth parting to defend himself. “I didn’t do anything. He just decided to go. Got all his stuff out within a day. He didn’t speak to me personally but he told the other guys at the house that he’s leaving college for personal reasons.”

“I don’t get it.” You stare at the floor, unable to think straight. Why didn’t he tell you? This isn’t a decision he’d make overnight. It’s a big decision.

“Sorry, I thought you knew. That’s why I never said anything.”

“I should’ve known something was off. I thought it was odd that I never see him around anymore.” You sigh, slowly accepting it. “Figured maybe he just wanted to be extra careful about us.”

Hoseok sighs as well, looking around the court. “Yeah well, it was a surprise to the rest of us too. The team’s bummed out that he won’t be with us during finals.”

“Oh right,” you look at him, sympathising, “the game.”

“Coach didn’t want to make it a big deal. He thinks it’ll make the student body lose confidence in the team, which will affect our morale.”

“He has a point.” You shrug.

Hoseok smiles sadly, “Doesn’t matter, morale’s taken a hit anyway.”

His smile falters when your hand lands on top of his, squeezing slightly. “Let’s go get an early dinner, shall we?”

𝄖

Hoseok digs into his steak while you slowly work on your pasta, building up the courage to tell him about Hongjun. He’d freak out, no doubt about that. But you also promised to keep him updated.

“So,” he starts, “how’s the whole dating in secret thing going?”

“What do you want me to say?” You laugh. “We’re still together, so I guess it’s going well? We haven’t spoken in weeks though.”

“What do you think happened? That he’d leave so suddenly without even telling you?”

You shake your head. “I don’t know. Could be anything. I’m surprised Jimin or Taehyung didn’t tell me.”

“Pretty sure they didn’t want to upset you. Don’t they think you’re broken up?”

“Oh. Right.”

After a while, Hoseok notices the way you’re forking your pasta without taking any actual bites. It looks like you’re searching the food for an answer. He sets his utensils down. “Something bothering you?”

You look up and laugh nervously, releasing a sigh. There’s no use pretending there isn’t, you’d have to tell him anyway. “Yes. There is.” He urges you to tell him. “Don’t freak out, okay?”

“I find that difficult when it comes to you.”

“I met up with one of Jungkook’s...enemies, if you will. He works for the gang too and sort of has this competitive streak with Jungkook.”

“Hold on, does this have anything to do with that guy I saw you with the other time? Back at the cafe?”

“Oh right, you were there. Yup, that’s him. Hongjun.”

Hoseok rubs his forehead. “It looked like he sucked the soul out of you that day. Why would you go looking for him?”

“Because he wants to help me with Jungkook.” You say, but Hoseok looks hesitant. “He’s tried to hurt Jungkook before, and the reason Jungkook wanted to keep us private was to keep me safe from him. But well, he knows. And he wants me to convince Jungkook to run away because it’s the only way we’d be safe from Kim because if Jungkook quits then they’d sure as hell go after him⎼”

“Stop stop stop!” Hoseok closes his eyes and lets out a huff. “This is...a lot. Working with his rival...running away?”

You let him process it all despite not being done. Across from you, he looks like he’s going through the five stages of grief. The irony that you asked him to dinner to cheer him up, but here you are adding on to his stress.

Hoseok’s quiet for a while and you continue eating silently, only the sounds from others in the restaurant filling the air. “What does he want you to do?”

You swallow. “He says he’s going to get us out of here safely if I can convince Jungkook to run away with me. I know what you’re thinking, but if we don’t run, they’ll kill him.”

Hoseok pauses mid-cut with the knife in the steak at the last part, and glances up at you.

“Yeah,” you bite your bottom lip, realising how casual that must have sounded for something so serious, “that’s actually why he hasn’t left them. It’s not that he doesn’t want to, but he can’t. Not if he wants to live.”

He swallows the lump in his throat, remembering all the times he pressured Jungkook to stop dealing with drugs. It didn’t occur to him how deeply embedded Jungkook is within this gang.

“But...Hongjun also mentioned something else that’s been bothering me.” He looks at you curiously. Paying attention to your surroundings, you soften your voice. “Hongjun may have implied that Jungkook has a hand in crimes other than drugs. That he’s...involved in many other things I can’t say here.”

“My god…” Hoseok mutters, shaking his head. “So now what? I thought you trusted him?”

“I do. And there’s a chance Hongjun is lying.” You say. “But what do you think? You think Jungkook is that kind of person?”

Hoseok takes his time to come up with an answer. He tries to be rational, despite feeling all sorts of emotions after everything you just told him. “Y/N, I know he’s a good guy. But sometimes when we have someone we answer to, we end up doing things for them even though we know it’s not right. If he has done anything seriously bad, even if he didn’t mean it or didn’t want to, he still did it, right? But if I’m correctly reading what you’re implying, it’s bad, isn’t it? And, I know it sucks but he has to face the consequences if that’s true.

Once the operation goes through, even if you’re gone by then, they’re gonna find out about Jungkook and the things he did, and that would mean you’d be on the run with a wanted man. Do you really want to be an accessory to his crimes?”

“No…” You lose your appetite, pushing your plate away. “I don’t want to believe Jungkook is that kind of person. But you’re right. He may not have had a choice.”

“Like you said, Hongjun may be lying too.” Hoseok says and you nod. “But what are you gonna do if he was telling the truth?”

“I don’t know.” The longer you think about it, the more confusing it gets. Either scenario is possible and you don’t know which to believe. “Hoseok, I’m scared. I love Jungkook so much, but I can’t defend him if he’s really done some seriously bad things. Things he can’t make right.”

He doesn’t know what to say, giving you a sympathetic smile in response. “Ask him. He’ll tell you the truth.”

Honestly, you’re not sure if you’re ready to find out the truth. But you nod anyway. “Okay. I will. Once I can confirm that he’s not what Hongjun says he is…”

“Then what?” Hoseok raises his brows, expecting you to continue. “You’ll run off with him?”

“I haven’t decided yet.” You pout. “Running away is a little extreme…”

“Well, it seems like you have a lot of thinking to do!” His lips spread into a smile when your expression changes from a sad one to confusion. “What?”

“Seriously?” You raise your brows “No lecture? No you need to stop before you get hurt warning from you?”

“You do what you want anyway. Does it matter if I say it?”

“Yes!” You frown in the cute way you do, then say softly, “It’s comforting.”

He smiles to himself and looks away before his cheeks explode. “Fine. Please be careful. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Good.” You’re satisfied. “I’ll speak to Jungkook. In the meantime, could you ask Seokjin if they have any updates? I don’t wanna get caught off guard.”

“Sure.”

𝄖

You: can we meet?

He reads your message just after midnight, but you don’t get a reply. It’s two nights later, at 11pm on Friday, when you finally get a call from him. He’s sent for a cab to pick you up and you get ready, excited to be seeing him in weeks despite everything on your mind.

Jungkook doesn’t tell you where you’re going. The driver wouldn’t tell you either, only following Jungkook’s orders and the directions on his GPS. Forty-five minutes later, you arrive at a park you’ve never been to, all the way on the other side of the city.

The ride is paid for but you don’t see many people around, so you’re hesitant to leave the car until you spot Jungkook’s bike a few metres down the road. Looking around, you see no sign of him anywhere. You’re about to call him on your phone, when finally you hear a low whistle coming from behind you. He leans with his arms crossed against a tree, a smile on his face.

Running into his arms, he lifts you up and does a little spin. “Where have you been?” You ask.

“Hello to you too.” He kisses the side of your head. “I missed you so much.”

“You have a lot of explaining to do.” You say when he finally sets you down and he sighs, accepting the glare you’re giving him.

You take a walk through the park and reach an area up a hill, overlooking a small town in the next city. It feels nice to have your fingers interlaced with his again, to be near him and smell his cologne. Despite the view, you give him your undivided attention. His eyes look tired, like he hasn’t had good rest.

“You got a haircut,” you say, touching the sides where it’s shorter than before. He’s styled it up instead of letting his bangs fall over his face.

“You like it?”

“I love it. It’s sexy.”

“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.” He leans forward, aiming for your lips, only for his to be met with your finger stopping him.

“Why didn’t you tell me you left college?”

Jungkook knew this was coming, he sighs, “I didn’t want to make it a big deal, sorry. I was going to tell you soon.” He smiles, placing his hands on the small of your back, gently swaying you. “When did you find out?”

“Honestly, a few days ago.” You smile sheepishly. “I thought you were just really good at avoiding me. I only knew when Hoseok told me.”

“Oh.” His tone drops when you mention Hoseok’s name.

“Wanna tell me why you left?”

He looks at your lips, then your nose and then eyes. “I had to. Suga wanted me to. It’s the only way he’d leave you alone.”

“He forced you to? Because of me? I’m so sorry…”

The swaying comes to a stop and he leans in to kiss you, treasuring the taste of your lips and the soft satisfied sigh you let out. Your eyes remain shut when he pulls away and he smiles. “Don’t be. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay. What an ass. He shouldn’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

Jungkook shakes his head, not in disagreement but to say he doesn’t want to drag it out. “Leave it. It’s done anyway.”

“Fine.” You resign, “So you’re working full time now. What have you been up to?”

He shrugs. “The same old things. And some other stuff I guess...”

“Hm.” You nod, then look away, resting your head against his chest. “You know you can talk to me about these things right? You don’t have to hide things from me anymore.”

The weight of his head rests on yours. “I know. ”

The two of you stay in each other's arms for a while, in silence. “Just so we’re clear, I’m still annoyed you didn’t tell me you quit.”

You can’t see his face but you can tell his smile has stretched. “Have I told you how much I love you?”

“Not in the last month, no.” You giggle.

“I love you.” He kisses your forehead. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“You wanna go for a ride?” He asks out of the blue.

“Don’t you have to work tonight? What if Suga finds out?”

“One night won’t hurt.” He grins, already interlacing your fingers together.

𝄖

Taeho walks behind Hongjun as they roam their district, walking down alleyways and other remote areas, waiting for buyers. They rest against the side of a brick wall while waiting for a couple more of their usuals.

“So what’s the deal with that girl?” Taeho asks.

“Which one?”

“The one with Ace. I thought you said you were gonna bring her on board.”

Hongjun scoffs. It’s been weeks since you last met, and he hadn’t even thought about you until Taeho mentioned it. Mostly because he hasn’t had to run into Jungkook at all the past month, so it was easier to pretend he (and you) doesn't exist. “Oh that one. Yeah. She never called back. Maybe I spooked her. And I wasn’t going to bring her on board. I wanted her to get Ace to quit.”

“Like that’ll ever happen.” Taeho laughs. “You think Ace is gonna quit for a girl? Come on.”

“Not just any girl maybe, but this girl.” He smiles thinking about it. “She’s got him head over heels.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Taeho shakes his head. “This is Ace we’re talking about. I mean, there’s a reason we call him Ace.”

“Will you shut up?” He sends Taeho a dirty look. Jungkook earned that nickname when after constantly showing the team he could give results. Deal numbers were high, and he managed to get one of the rival gangs to give up their claim of an area. Needless to day, Hongjun despises that name. “Apparently he’s serious about this girl. And she’s not like us. From what I hear, he’d do anything for her.”

“Seriously? That’s weak.” Taeho thinks about it for a minute. “You really think he would quit because of her?”

“Even if he didn’t, I wanted her to try. So he’d be conflicted. I want him to go crazy having to choose between her and work, thinking about leaving all this behind and maybe when he finally does crack, Kim will know that I wasn’t wrong for beating him up that day.” Hongjun snickers, “You should’ve seen the way Kyun reacted when I brought her up. It’s like he was on to Ace too. Too bad I didn’t have any evidence back then.”

“Why don’t you just go and tell Kyun what you know now?”

“Because I want Ace to ruin his own life. I don’t want to do it for him, not directly at least, that’s no fun.” Hongjun smiles just imagining the inner turmoil Jungkook would be going through. “He got so worked up over her. I want him to feel so fucking bad about not being able to be with her that maybe just maybe it gets to a point where he decides to finally walk away from us. And when that happens…”

“Bang.” Taeho pretends to make a shot with his hand.

“Exactly!” Hongjun claps his hands together. “And guess who’d move up the ranks in Kim’s books?”

Taeho rolls his eyes. “So is she not going to do it?”

“Well, Ace is not dead yet so I guess not.”

“Maybe she just needs some motivation.”

They look at each other, both exchanging malicious looks. Hongjun gives Taeho an approving slap on his back.

𝄖

The sand is soft and cool to your touch. The breeze blowing at you the familiar smell of the open water. Jungkook lies between your legs with his back to your chest while he plays with your hands.

“Hmm...What about your first kiss?”

“Oh god.”

“Come on!” You whine, making him smile. He can’t see your face but he knows you look adorable. “I’ve told you everything about me.”

He sighs, giving in. “Fine. First kiss...I don’t know. It was with a girl I barely knew at some party I crashed. We played spin the bottle and it landed on me. Wasn’t that memorable. I think she enjoyed it though.”

You hum. It may not be memorable to him, but you enjoy finally getting to know these things, the little things he never shared before, because thinking about his past was painful enough. “How about your first…time?”

“Oh? Now we’re talking.” He turns his head up and his hands move to the back of your neck, guiding you to meet him halfway in a kiss. You push him away when it starts to get intense.

“Just kidding. I don’t wanna know that.” You giggle and he’s annoyed that your makeout session is cut short but he smiles anyway. “I never even told you mine.”

“Yeah because I’m not a creep who asks about someone’s first time.”

“Shut up. It was a joke.”

He laughs then laces your fingers together, pulling your hands to the center so your arms envelope him nicely. You’re not the only ones on the beach, with other couples and groups around you, though at a good distance away. Jungkook starts humming, wishing he could spend the rest of the night here with you.

While he seems content, your mind runs wild. You wonder how he would react if you asked him about what you’re thinking about. You clear your throat and though you do it subtly, he stirs and looks up at you. “What is it? Why are you all tense?”

“There’s something I want to ask you but...I don’t want you to get mad.” You admit.

He laughs, not knowing what you mean. “What is it this time? You wanna know about my first blowjob?”

“What? Ew. No. It’s about work.” He stops laughing and you notice the light in his eye slowly fade away. “But if you don’t want to, it's fine, I get it. I mean, you’re here to not work so why would you wanna think about work. I know it seems like I’m obsessed with your job or something but I promise that’s not the case⎯”

“Y/N stop,” he laughs again at your sudden outburst, “it’s alright, I’m not mad.”

“You’re not?”

“No.” He kisses the back of your hand. “Although, I’m still trying to get used to opening up...so it caught me off guard.”

“I told you, you can tell me anything.” You press a kiss to the side of his head. “You’re doing good though. I don’t wanna push you if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“Ask away.” He smiles though he feels his anxiety rising.

“Just a simple question. I was thinking about your boss, he calls all the shots right?” Jungkook nods. “So has he ever asked you to do things for him?”

“Like run errands? Yeah.”

“Not errands per se, but more like...I mean, he’s brutal, isn’t he? He gets people...killed?”

Jungkook narrows his brows. “Yeah? Hey I told you, nothing like that is going to happen to me.”

“No. I know.” You sigh, feeling a heavy weight on your chest. You’re praying he doesn’t take it the wrong way. “I want to know if you've ever been asked to kill someone?”

“Y/N…”

“I’m sorry. I’m curious. I...I need to know.”

Jungkook stirs from his position and sits up so he can face you, pulling you into his arms this time. He presses your foreheads together. “Where do you get such silly ideas from? I’ve done a lot of bad things, but I’ve never killed anyone.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding. “I was worried, you know? That maybe your boss makes you do such things for him…”

He smiles, “I’ve never had to do anything like that. He has his own men to do those dirty work. I mainly deal with drugs.”

“And the escorts.”

Jungkook gulps, looking down for a moment, then back at you. “Yeah, that too.” There’s always that worry that it might be too much. “But...we are trained to defend ourselves. They taught us how to use guns, how to aim and shoot. So if I’m ever in a life or death situation...I might have to pull that trigger.”

“I hope you never have to.” He looks down again and you tilt your head to look at him. “What’s wrong?”

“What if I have...killed someone...would that change how you feel about me?”

You want to say no, but the truth is that it would be difficult to live with that fact. “I don’t know. Yes? I still love you, but that’s a big deal. It’s not something you can just sweep under the rug, you know what I mean?”

“I get it.” Jungkook takes a deep breath. “Since we’re on this topic, I might as well bring this up. I want to be honest with you. I may not have killed anyone but I have hurt people. Lots of them. Beat them up, thrashed their place, threatened them, made their lives hell if they didn’t comply…no one made me do it, I just wanted to.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I wanted people to be scared of me. That’s what I saw our members do when I was growing up. Everyone listened to them, was scared of them, they had so much power. And I wanted to be like that, to be in control for once. It was fun back then, made me feel powerful, like a man. Whatever that means. I’m not proud of it.” He studies you. “Does it change how you feel about me now? Be honest.”

“It kind of scares me a little.” You admit, bringing yourself closer when you notice the look in his eyes. “But I’m glad you told me. I’m not condoning what you did. It was definitely wrong. I don't like it...but you can change now that you’re aware of it. You can work on yourself and be better.”

“I’m not that kind of person anymore. I haven’t beaten anyone up in ages.”

You laugh and even Jungkook snickers when he hears what he says out loud. “I’m happy to hear that.”

Jungkook seems hesitant still, but asks you anyway. “Anymore questions?”

You bite your bottom lip. Might as well. “One more. If I asked you to run away with me, would you?”

“You want to run...from what?” He stares at you, unsure if you’re joking, but your expression says it all.

“I want to run with you, so you can be free from...Kim.”

“Y/N…”

You shake your head, suddenly regretting what you just said. “I...I only want you to be safe. You can leave all of this nonsense behind. And if escaping is the only way you don’t end up seriously hurt, then I’m in.”

Jungkook pulls you into his embrace and you let yourself cling to him like a koala. “I am safe. Don’t worry. I’ll find a way for me to leave without getting in trouble, but I’ll need time. Suga shouldn’t have put that thought in your head.”

Except it wasn’t just Suga. Namjoon and Hongjun had basically confirmed something bad would happen to him if he wasn't careful. “But would you? Run away with me?”

“Baby like I said, I won’t let you choose me over everything you have. It’s not fair. I don’t want that.”

“Small price to pay for you.”

Jungkook laughs again, then squishes your cheeks between his fingers. “How is that a small price?”

“Okay, it’s a big price. But I’ll find a way to deal with it, if you want to.” You pout. “That’s how much I care about you.”

Knowing how stubborn you are, the seriousness of your tone and the look on your face tells him you’re seriously considering it. It’s concerning. The last thing he wants is to drag you into his mess.

“You know I don’t judge you for the things you do. And have done. Especially because I know you regret it, and want to change.” You sigh. “I can tell you don’t want that life anymore. It pains me to see you sacrificing a life you can have for the life you no longer want.”

“Baby please…”

“I know, I know. It’s not easy. But that’s how I really feel and I want you to know that.”

“Thank you for being honest with me.” He smiles. “I’m sorry this is hard on you too.”

“No.” You cup his face. “It’s not your fault. I know you still think you’re a bad person. Maybe you were back then, but what’s important is who you are now. I hope one day you can be free from your past, and free of others telling you what to do. You can be you, the real you. Basically what I’m saying is, you deserve a good life too, you know? The life you want.”

His eyes start to well with tears. “Next question.” He says in a shaky voice and you laugh.

Wiping away the wetness from his eyes with your sleeve, you rest your forehead on his and think about it. Before you can say anything else, he starts, “How about I tell you about my first love?”

You smile. “Go on.”

He sets you down on the sand and you want to protest about getting sand in your hair but the way he looks tonight is distracting you. Jungkook hovers over you and traces his finger over the features of your face. “She’s beautiful...kind...pretty eyes…soft lips...looks like a cinnamon roll but could actually kill you.”

You giggle. “She sounds cool.”

“Oh she is. Drives me crazy sometimes, but most of the time, makes me feel like the luckiest person in the world to be loved by her.”

He leans in to kiss you and presses his body to yours. His hands move down to your hips but you place yours over them and stop him. Confused, he looks at you for permission to continue. “We can’t do it here.” You say, regaining awareness of others around you. Though it’s dark and you could probably get away with it without getting their attention, you still don’t want sand everywhere.

Obnoxious laughter and screaming comes from the other groups there and he rolls his eyes, as it ruins the vibe for him. “You’re right, let’s get out of here.”

He gets up first, holding his hand out to help you up, brushing sand off your back and giving your butt an extra slap or two, earning a glare from you. Then he holds you close by the waist. “Where to, princess?”

𝄖

Hoseok doesn’t get why Seokjin is too hard to contact. It’s not like he’s the one undercover, all he does is sit behind his desk and⎼ he stops himself before he gets too worked up. All the frustration he thought he left behind when you and Jungkook broke up is coming back to the surface. Now that Jungkook’s no longer staying under the same roof, he can no longer keep track of him.

The line on the other end finally clicks. “Hello?”

“Finally!” Hoseok exhales. “Why is it so hard to get to you?”

“Excuse me, I’m working. I can’t just drop everything to have a conversation with you.” Seokjin goes off on the other line, and Hoseok backs down. He hears Seokjin move from a busy to a quieter place where his voice is clearer. “Plus, we’re not even supposed to be contacting each other. What do you want from me?”

“I need some updates.”

Seokjin sighs. “I already told you I’ll contact you if I have any new information. Even though I’m not obliged to do it and technically this is illegal⎼”

“Please.” Hoseok says softly. “There must be something.”

A few seconds of silence, then he says. “Fine. He contacted us recently, and says there’s some new development. But he can only meet up with us in the next few weeks, haven’t told us when yet.”

“Is that good news?”

“I don’t know, but at least we know the plan is still working. I’ll let you know when I get updated.”

But⎼”

The call ends and Hoseok is met with the dial tone before he can even finish his sentence. He wonders how you’re doing. He wasn’t surprised when you told him about Jungkook being Kim’s right hand man. It took everything he had not to say I told you so, not to tell you to stop seeing Jungkook again for your own good.

His mind goes back to that day he saw you two in the locker room, the same day you told him to reflect on his intentions. Has his motive really shifted from trying to help Jungkook to trying to keep you away from Jungkook? He hates that you’re right. There was only so much he could say to Jungkook and he was wasting his energy with that one. He doesn’t get why you’d trouble yourself for him. Hoseok catches himself from whatever he’s thinking. Maybe he is a little jealous.

He calls your number and waits. It continues to ring for a while but you don’t pick up. He ends the call and throws himself back on his bed.

𝄖

Your place was too far, so he brought you to the empty apartment you’d been in before. That address on the paper. The entire drive there you let your hands roam from his middle, slyly snaking your hands down to his thighs and back up, just to rile him up.

Jungkook’s playlist plays in the background while you makeout with him on the couch, slowly losing pieces of your clothing, each one ending up on the carpet below.

“Is it me or do you smell really good tonight?” He asks, nose grazing over the skin of your collarbone.

“That’s just your hormones going crazy.” He smirks, pressing his lips to your skin gently in the way that makes your breath shake. “But I did put on that perfume you like.”

“You were ready for this,” he says, “bet you planned for it all along.”

“Oh yeah, I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist me.” You shove him away and sit up on the couch. He follows, eyes focused on the way the straps of your bra fall off your shoulders.

“You even have matching underwear. It seems I’ve fallen into your trap.”

“Will you shut up?” You laugh, pulling his face in for a kiss. You did, in fact, make sure to have matching pieces while you were getting ready earlier.

You only vaguely remember how this place looks. The last time you were here, it was bright and you were feeling dizzy. Now with the lights dimmed, you can’t tell if anything’s changed. What you do remember is the view of the city, which looks even better at night. Scattered lights showing you a different side to the city compared to what you’re used to. “Beautiful isn’t it?”

“It is.” You turn your attention back to him. “I forgot, is this your place?”

“A friend’s.” You nod, snuggling up to him and tracing a finger down his bare chest and abs. “I love sitting up here and looking at the view.”

“What about this view?” Your hands move to your back to unclasp your bra, and it joins the rest of your clothes. Jungkook wets his lips with a satisfied smile, pulling you to his lap so that you’re straddling him.

He holds on to your wrist to keep you from running off and you squirm, moving your clothed core over the hard-on in his pants. He exhales at the friction and tightens his grip, placing a firm hand on one side of your ass. You’re giggling despite him being rough with you and he huffs. “You really get a kick out of teasing me, don’t you?”

The innocent look you give him almost snaps him out of the cloud of lust surrounding his mind. Your arms snake around his head as he brings you closer, burying his face in your chest. He flicks his tongue over one of your breasts, rolling it over the nipple. You sigh in pleasure, bringing his hand to work on the other. He chuckles when you start to roll your hips impatiently, kneading your breasts with his hands. He sings along to the music as he moves across your skin, lips grazing against your shoulder and you giggle.

You lean back and take a second to look at him. Under the dim light, studying his features; his eyes, nose, the mole under his soft lips. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m happy,” you say softly and he smiles. You stare into his eyes, one filled with lust and so much more. The way he’s looking at you makes your heart skip, and you lean into his ear, whispering, “I want you.”

“You want me to what?”

“I want you to fuck me.”

Something flashes in his eyes and Jungkook allows you to lie back on the couch, while he kneels between your legs, unbuckling his belt, keeping his eyes on yours. With your focus dropping down to his hands at work, he slowly unbuttons and unzips his pants, then hooks his thumb under the band of his boxers and tugs it down along with his pants. “Now you’re teasing me.”

You push yourself up and come face to face with his semi-hard cock, mouth watering at the sight of it. Just as he shoves his pants to the floor, your phone goes off and starts to ring, interrupting the moment. Ignoring it, you give a long lick on the underside of his cock and your boyfriend hisses. “Are you going to get that?” He asks in a strained voice, trying to glance at the screen but gets distracted when he feels your warm hands wrapping around him.

“I’m kind of busy at the moment.” You say before welcoming him into your mouth.

Taking your time, slowly moving up and down his length, Jungkook musters up all his will not to buck his hips into you. His hands position themselves on the sides of your head as he guides you to the pace he likes. You watch him as you go, not wanting to miss the faces he makes and the sounds that leave him as he throws his head back above you.

As you move back up, your hands pump the rest of his length, and the grip on your hair tightens when you suck on the tip. “Fuck...fuck me.”

It’s when you have him fully in your mouth again that you start to hollow out your cheeks, moving back up and down his length. After a while, it proves to be too much for him so he removes himself from you and shoves you back down on the couch.

While he calms himself down with steady breaths, you slip a hand under your panties and start touching yourself as he watches. Jungkook feels the room getting warmer watching you pleasure yourself. His cock twitches in his hand when your breathing starts to hitch and soft whimpers escape from you. He gets the panties off so he can have a better view.

Two fingers move in and out of you and he palms his own length as he watches, listening to how soaked you are and wanting to feel that all around him. When your thighs start to tense up, he swats your hand away and aligns himself with your entrance.

Carefully, he enters and your mouth parts, gasping at the initial stretch as he slips the rest of his length inside you easily, filling you to the brim. Staying that way for a moment, he then starts with gentle movements of his hips, leaning down to face you, “I’m happy too.”

Body pressed against each other and his hips slowly gaining momentum, your soft moans earns you kisses all over. Tender smiles on both your faces as he starts to pick up the pace even more, hooking his arm under one of your legs to get a better angle.

Your phone goes off again when you receive a bunch of texts. Jungkook raises a brow at you, “You’re popular tonight.”

You laugh, “Yeah I’m booked for weeks.”

A hand strokes your thigh, then squeezes it. “Sorry I didn’t make an appointment sooner.”

“I can always squeeze you in.”

Jungkook fights a laugh, “Have your secretary put me down for next month. Same time, same place.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll always have time for my man.”

Jungkook pauses, expression changing completely when you say that. As cheesy as it is, his heart flutters when you claim him as yours. You tilt your head in question, eyes moving between his. “I like it when you say that.”

“What?”

“When you call me your man.”

With the way you’re pressed against each other, he feels the rise in your heartbeat as you felt his. There’s no going back for Jungkook, this is right and he feels it. He’s going to do everything he can to make sure you end up together. “You’re such a cutie.” You kiss him, moving your hips up, “My man.”

His hips meet yours halfway, and he presses kisses over your body as he moves down and gets on his knees, before pulling out and lightly tapping you to get up as well. He sits on the couch and you position your legs on either side of his. He holds you by the waist as you lower yourself on his cock, taking your time to slide all the way down.

Jungkook loses it from the way your face twists and little whimpers, and he bucks his hips up to meet yours which has you crying out, slapping his shoulder. He gives you a silly grin, dropping his head against the couch. “Sorry.”

Leaning against him for support, he holds you close as he lets you go at your own pace, grinding your hips against his. He watches intently the changes in your expression, every sound that comes out of your mouth only adding to the fire in the pit of his stomach.

You push away, now grabbing hold of his arms as you move up and down his cock, biting your lip to stop yourself from squealing every time he’s deep inside you. Jungkook focuses on your body this time, memorising every little detail. You smile shyly when you realise his intense staring and his face softens, hands coming up to play with your breasts. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Why not?” He interrupts your rhythm with kisses to your chest. “You’re so sexy.”

You smile shyly, like you always do when he compliments you while you’re together.

"Do you miss our meetups on campus?" He asks, voice going soft. He's always enjoyed sneaking into empty or unused classrooms for a quick one.

"I think about you all the time when I pass by the art classes," you giggle, "they were your favourite classes to sneak into."

"The paint smell drowns out the smell of...us." You both laugh. "I miss fucking you on the desks. And you trying your best to hide your moaning, trying not to get caught. Pulling down your pants and bending you over⎼ fuck⎼"

His middle tenses up and you feel the throbbing of his cock inside you. His hands hold your hips in place, stopping you from grinding into him.

"You okay?"

He chuckles in response, pressing a palm over his forehead. "I almost came from that."

“Cum then.” You say, and Jungkook stares at you, trying his best not to lose control, which evidently, you make it quite difficult to do.

“Don’t.” He warns, feeling the precum leaking inside you. He takes a deep breath, still keeping you still.

“Then make me cum.”

Now he gets heated. Jungkook takes over, thrusting up into you as you hold on to his shoulders. With each thrust, it gets harder to keep yourself up, leaning on him for support while his hands hold on tight to your ass to keep you steady. You moan right into his ear each time he thrusts into you.

He switches positions while still inside you. Placing you back down to the couch, he spreads your thighs open and starts ramming into you.

“Fuck,” you mutter, hands grabbing on to anything you can get a grip on.

Your fingers cling to the fabric of the couch, knuckles feeling strained. He only slows down to wipe the sweat off his forehead and pushes his hair back. You admire his body from where you lie, chest heaving and abs gleaming. As he continues, Jungkook pays attention to the way his cock moves in and out of you. His thrusts start to get harder and deeper, knocking the wind right out of you.

Leaning down, he cups the side of your face, noticing how your eyes can barely open, you’re almost there. His hand drops down to find your clit, and you twitch when his fingers rub against it.

“Don’t stop,” you manage to get out in a soft voice and he replies with a kiss, “it feels so good baby.”

He keeps going in the rhythm you like, thumb still working on your clit. It doesn’t take long for your breath to hitch and your moans get louder and needier. The tension that builds in your core finally snaps and your thighs shake as you come undone, cumming all over his cock. Jungkook breathes out at the feeling of your walls convulsing around him.

He gives you a second to recover before continuing, now lying on you, between your legs. He keeps his face next to yours and you hear his breaths against your ear, grunting with every thrust.

You run your fingers through the back of his head and he brings his face to yours, pressing your foreheads against each other. He goes into a steady pace and you sigh, feeling your center tense up again building up to another orgasm. “I’m gonna cum again,” you say against his lips.

“Not yet.” He bites your bottom lip.

“I can’t⎼”

“I said not yet, babygirl.”

Having to delay your orgasm makes the feeling even more intense. You whine in response, head going dizzy trying to focus on not giving your body that climax it’s ready for. Jungkook grabs your jaw and forces you to look at him. He gets on his knees again and squeezes your thighs on either side before ramming into you. You marvel at the sight of him, abs clenching everytime he slams into you. He gets sloppier as he goes, the grip on your thigh loosening.

Jungkook’s focused on you, your face and breathing, the way your breasts bounce with each thrust. “Fuck.” He hisses, reaching his own climax. A hard slap lands on your ass, and you cry out loud at the sudden unexpected contact, which causes you to lose grip of yourself and eventually the tension in your belly snaps, and you succumb to an orgasm more intense than the last one.

It has your toes curling and thighs convulsing uncontrollably. With your walls clenching around him and your moans filling the room, the sight of you fucked out before him, Jungkook can’t hold himself back any longer. He cums seconds after you do, sloppily thrusting into you as your hips buck up in reflex. Your mind buzzes and you barely hear Jungkook call out your name as he cums, warm seed mixing with your juices.

“Holy shit.” He rides it out, continuing to slam into you till the very last drop, before taking a deep breath and dropping down onto you. You wrap your arms around him, rubbing a soothing hand against his back and giving him a kiss on the top of his head.

“I love you.” You say, whispering.

“I love you more.” He kisses you, moving from gentle pecks to wet kisses and then you’re laughing when you feel him twitch inside you.

“Easy,” you giggle, “we just finished.”

“Can’t help it, you keep teasing me.” You laugh and shove his head. He removes himself from you and you gasp, feeling the stickiness drip down your ass. The couch is probably ruined and your thighs are going to hurt tomorrow.

You make space for him to cuddle with you. “I love you baby.”

“You already said that.” He laughs, “And I told you, I love you more.”

You look up at him. “I just feel like I need to tell you that. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Jungkook smiles tenderly, then gives you a kiss on the forehead. “I love you too, my darling.”

𝄖

Whispers and murmurs reach your ears, though the sounds are faded, like you’re underwater. When you finally find your way out of the dream you were having, your mind finally awakens and your senses alert, your eyes peek open and the brightness of the day glares at you through the large windows. You’d ended up back on the couch last night after a shower. But Jungkook's arms are no longer holding you close.

The voices are still there, whispering. At first, you thought it was the television, but carefully paying attention to the voices, you realise it’s coming from Jungkook and someone else in the apartment.

“You’re crazy, you know that?” The familiar voice says.

“It’s just one night. I told him I needed a break anyway,” Jungkook says, “how’d you know I was here?”

“My alarm went off.” He says. “Checked the cameras and realised it was you.”

“Okay well, I didn’t know where else to go, Namjoon.” Jungkook sighs. “I just wanted to spend time with her.”

Namjoon? He’s here.

“Fine. Whatever. Just make sure you have a solid excuse if he asks you where you’ve been.” You hear the fridge opening and closing. “Anyway, I have some news. Overheard some of the men at HQ saying that Kim wants to accelerate the merge.”

Jungkook doesn’t respond for a few seconds. “What?”

“Another shipment got caught. Kim suspects that the cops are on our tail now.” Namjoon says. Your heart sinks. If they find out about the operation, it’ll ruin everything. “He’s furious.”

“Oh fuck.”

“And you know what, one of Barome’s men got arrested the other day for fraud.” You hear Jungkook groaning and Namjoon shushes him. “So now Barome’s a threat to us, because his men might snitch on us to save their organisation. Unless⎼

“Unless we’ve merged, which means he’d be tied to us and less likely to betray us.”

“Exactly,” Namjoon lets out a breathy chuckle, “so we have no choice. The merge is happening. Soon.”

“Shit.”

An uncomfortable silence follows. You didn’t know Namjoon had his own reservations about how things are at work. At least, not to this extent; based on what you heard and his tone while speaking, you assume he’s not happy at all.

“You need to keep her safe from all of this.”

You feel their eyes shift to you. Keeping your body still, you try to keep even breaths to make it seem like you’re still sleeping. Their voices lower a notch like they can tell you’re faking it. As if on queue, your usual alarm rings, your heart almost ripping out of your chest.

Jungkook goes over to you as you pretend to awaken, doing a little stretch and yawn. “Good morning.” He says, climbing back onto the sofa bed.

“Morning.” You say sleepily, reaching for your phone to snooze the alarm before turning to him. Your attention moves over his shoulder where you see Namjoon standing behind the kitchen island. You give him a little wave and smile. “What are you doing here?”

“Just paying Jungkook a visit.” He says.

It gets awkward after that, neither of the two wanting to say anything, and you, having overheard everything. If your thoughts could materialise, the entire room would go up in flames. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine.” Namjoon intercepts before Jungkook can say anything. He makes a move first, grabbing his bag and a bottle of fruit juice from the fridge. “I’ll be downstairs.”

“What was that about?” You ask when you’re finally alone again. “Is he mad that I’m here?”

“No, he’s stressed out about work. Nothing to do with you.”

“Oh.”

“Go get cleaned up. I’ll send you home, then I have to get going.” Jungkook says and you nod.

You go off, climbing over him to get to the other side and he smacks your ass as you go. Already halfway to the bathroom, your alarm starts to ring again. “Could you get that for me?” You call out to him before closing the door.

Jungkook lies on his front, reaching for your phone. He dismisses the alarm and is about to set your phone back, but notifications from the night before start popping up again. He’s not a prying kind of person, but Hoseok’s name popping up on screen gets him curious. The missed call, a string of messages, all from the same person.

He shouldn’t have, but he taps on the pop-up notification and the messages drop down, giving him a preview of your conversation.

[1:05 AM] Hoseok: hey hope you’re ok [1:07 AM] Hoseok: anw i thought about what you told me. and what you said that day… [1:07 AM] Hoseok: whatever you're thinking of doing, i'm in [1:07 AM] Hoseok: call me back when you wake up i have...

The rest of the message disappears into the notification. Jungkook puts the phone down and lies on his back. “Jung Hoseok, you just don’t know when to stop, don’t you?”

𝄖

Jungkook sends you home without much thought, until he has to say goodbye. He drives his bike into the alleyway next to your building so you wouldn’t be seen out front. “I’m going to miss you.” You put on a cute voice and pout your lips towards him.

He chuckles, getting off his bike to give you a long hug. You stay that way for a good five minutes, savouring every second. You don’t know when you’re going to see each other again, especially with what you just heard earlier. You have to relay this new information to Hoseok.

“Take care okay?” He says when you finally pull away, finger under your chin to make you look up at him. “Please call me if you need anything. I’ll try my best to come and see you whenever I can.”

“It’s alright Jungkook, you do what you need to do. Focus on work. I don’t want Suga to make things difficult for you. You’re already having a hard time as it is.” You place your hand on the side of his face.

“Still. I want to be there for you.” The look on his face is different. Almost sad. “I know it’s difficult to date someone like me. But I’m still committed to you, please remember that.”

“Of course,” you say, shaking your head, not understanding why he’s acting this way, “I understand. I don’t blame you for any of this. You’re only trying to keep me safe. I know you’re trying your best.”

Jungkook looks down. “I am…”

“Is this about last night? When I asked you those questions?” You ask, and he doesn’t respond so you assume it is. “I don’t want you to think about your past, only your future. You’ve made mistakes, yes, but I believe you when you say you want to be a better version of yourself. I’ll stand by you, okay? I’ll be with you all the way.”

Jungkook only nods, then finally looks at you. “I don’t know how I’ll live without you.”

“You don’t have to, I’m always here for you.” You hug him again.

“I love you so much.” Jungkook says softly into your neck. “You’re the only thing keeping me going.”

You look him in the eye, “Jungkook, I love you so much.”

His fist comes up, pinky showing. “Promise?”

You laugh, hooking your own against his. “I promise, you silly bunny.”

𝄖

The clubhouse; that’s what they call it. An underground club where most of the gang members hang out. Only the ones working the ground of course; runners, dealers. They’d never find any heads of the organisation down here. Which makes for a great place for them to let out their complaints to each other. Jungkook squeezes down the busy hallways, looking for the room Suga had called them to.

As he passes by others, he overhears some parts of their conversation. “If you ask me, we’re already screwed.”

“Yeah. You really think Kim’s gonna have our backs if any of us get caught?” They scoff and the others murmur among themselves. “He’d feed us to the wolves and probably run off with all the money. Live the high life in another country while we rot in prison.”

Jungkook sighs, not acting on the need to interrupt their conversation. Besides, what happens here stays here. There’s no need for him to defend Kim. In fact, he finds himself agreeing with what they said. He reaches the end of the hallway and knocks twice before entering.

Suga and Namjoon are already there, joined by Bella and a couple of other girls from the club. They leave as soon as he enters, as requested by Suga. “Where’d you go last night?”

“I already told you I wanted the night off.”

“That wasn’t the question.”

Jungkook sighs, glancing over to RM who is putting on a poker face. “I went to the safe house.”

“Oh. Okay.” He gestures for Jungkook to sit and he takes the seat next to Bella. “I’m guessing you already know by now.”

“About the merge? Yup.”

“Kim wanted the merge to go slowly, we should have transitioned into it for the next six months at least. But now that we might be under the police’s radar, he wants it to happen as soon as possible.” Suga explains. “Since a couple of our last shipments got caught, he’s being very careful now. And if we don’t officially tie ourselves with Mr. B, Kim thinks he might sell us out in hopes of saving himself. They’re in talks right now.”

“So what are we here for?” RM asks.

“Captain wants us to scan for any potential leaks here. Anyone who could end up snitching on us.”

“And then what? We snitch on them?” Jungkook scoffs. “They’d get the firing squad.”

“Better them than us.” Suga speaks through his teeth.

“Wow, is that what it’s come to now?” Jungkook chuckles. Bella places a hand on his thigh, subtly shaking her head for him to stop, but he doesn’t care. “Listen, everyone here is on edge because of the merge. If anything, merging with Barome is what put us on the radar in the first place and it’s going to be even worse if we get caught because now we’re tied to a trafficking ring. And you know what? Kim’s not going to save our ass if we get caught.”

“Will you calm down for a second?” Suga sits up straight and leans closer. “We just need to take note of who could be trouble and put them on a list. If anything happens, we know who to look for.”

“Or pin the blame on.”

“Dude,” RM signals for him to stop.

But Jungkook’s emotions are getting the better of him. “Can you confidently tell me that Kim is gonna come and bail you out of prison?”

“Look, no one is going to prison.” Bella interrupts. “We’re here to prevent that.”

Suga lets out a scoff, wondering why they’re even having this ridiculous debate. “Why are you even mad at me for?”

“I’m not mad at you.” Jungkook states, “I’m mad at this entire situation. It’s so fucking stupid that we have to worry about shit that’s not our fault to begin with.”

“You act like what we do is legal. Selling drugs would get you time too.”

“I know that. But now it’s much more serious. And things were fine before…” Jungkook stops himself before continuing, knowing he’s probably wasting his breath. Suga will never see it any other way.

“Enough of this.” RM speaks up before either of them start again. “Let’s just forget about whatever we came here to do and go back to the club. I’m sure we’d be more productive there.”

Suga is the first to get up, wiping his palms on the front of his pants. “For once, I agree with you. I’m going back to the club, you guys can do whatever you want I guess.”

Bella hesitates to leave, staying a little longer just to give Jungkook a hug. “Don’t worry too much, you’re starting to get wrinkles from all the frowning.”

Jungkook smiles weakly at her attempt to cheer him up. But it doesn’t distract him from the situation at hand. Eventually Bella goes off, leaving him alone with RM, who looks at him in exasperation.

“What?” Jungkook asks.

“Would it kill you not to blow up like that every time you meet her?”

“Meet who?”

RM laughs quietly to himself. “You’ve been fine the last few weeks, now suddenly you’re all worked up again. Coincidentally, the day after you spend time with Y/N.”

Jungkook grimaces, “What does this have to do with her?”

“Really?” He sighs. “You’re all angsty because you think things are gonna go downhill. And you don’t want to implicate her. Nor do you want to disappoint her. Or make her worry. Then you come here twice as upset as you normally are about this whole thing, yell at your partner and call it a night.”

For some reason, it makes sense to him. He does get worked up when it comes to you. It’s harder to control how he feels about this place when he’s got you on his mind.

“You can’t be around her. She’s like your kryptonite.” RM says.

“I...I didn’t realise.” Jungkook says, playing with his hands.

“I hate to say it but, Suga is kind of right about you and her.”

Jungkook groans, ready to walk out that door. “Don’t give me that. It’s not the same. He hates her.”

“I know. But, she is a distraction.” He gets up and heads for the door. “I didn’t defend you in front of Kyun for nothing. You can’t afford to act like this, especially not with what’s going on. Remember, we have a job to do.”

Jungkook goes after him, once again going through the hallways where others seem to have taken notice of their presence, eyeing them wearily. Unfazed by all the attention, RM smiles at everyone as he passes them. Jungkook on the other hand, tries not to lose his cool again.

Outside, RM turns to him before getting into his car. “Remember the end goal. If we do it right, everything will fall into place.”

Jungkook runs a hand through his hair. He doesn’t understand how no one else is as freaked out as he is. Even if he wasn’t affected by you, he’d still be worried.

“In the meantime,” RM adds while getting into the driver’s seat, “if you’re really worried, why don’t you get your safe house ready. Where is it anyway?”

He scoffs. “Nice try. Like I’d tell you that. Go get your own place.”

“I thought we were besties.” RM shrugs with a smile on his face, shutting the door before rolling down his window. “You’re gonna burn out if you keep stressing. Relax.”

Jungkook shoves his hands into his pockets, looking sullen as RM gets into the driver’s seat. “Easy for you to say.”

RM rolls the window down. “Alright. Go see her tonight. Then try not to for the next few months. We need you here bro, present and accounted for.”

Jungkook scoffs, wondering why he’s taking orders from Namjoon now of all people. His car speeds off while Jungkook sits on his bike, contemplating his next move. He could go to the club, get work done. Go to the gym and sweat it out.

He looks at his phone and the text you sent him.

[7:27 PM] you: oh no i left something behind [7:27 PM] you: do you have it?

[8:05 PM] jungkook: what?

[8:06 PM] you: my heart [8:06 PM] you: hehehe

𝄖

You decided against telling Hoseok what you heard at first. But as soon as you returned his call the next night, you could hear the excitement in his voice about finally getting some good news, at least he thinks it’s good news. Whatever he heard from Seokjin was probably related to the merging of the companies, like Namjoon said.

“I hope it’s good news,” Hoseok says on the other line, “but then, that means you need to figure out what you’re gonna do about Jungkook. Have you talked to him yet?”

“Yeah. He won’t run.” You sigh.

“Really? Even with you?”

“He doesn’t want me to leave behind all I’ve got.” You roll on your back. “Isn’t he sweet? He still thinks about me even when I’m trying to help him.”

A few seconds later Hoseok responds with a dull hum, to which you remember you’re talking to Hoseok and not someone who could appreciate you going on about Jungkook. “So I guess you’re not about to take Hongjun’s offer?” He sounds slightly relieved.

“Guess not.” You say. “And now I know Hongjun was lying about him. He hasn’t killed anyone.”

“That’s good.”

“It’s great!” You don’t mean to sound so excited. “I should have known from the start, he’s not that kind of person. I just needed reassurance.”

“Still doesn’t change the fact that he’s done many other horrible things.”

“I know that.” You almost lose your cool, but remind yourself that Hoseok’s just being real. “He really wants to change though.”

“Good for him,” Hoseok says, “You’re a really good influence on him. I hope he knows how lucky he is. He’s got you.”

You laugh dryly, feeling it get awkward as it always does when Hoseok starts to slip up. “He has you too. Your approach could have been better but...you meant well, I’m sure.”

“I guess.” He sighs. “Anyway, I’ll call you again when I get updates from Seokjin. Sorry for the call and texts yesterday night, I was too into it I forgot how late it was. You must have been asleep.”

“Oh no. I was⎼” You recall your phone ringing and the texts that follow after and what you were doing. His timing couldn’t have been more accurate.

“You were what? Out?”

It’s not like you can say he called right when you were about to suck your boyfriend’s dick. And even if you don’t explicitly say that, he’d be thinking it anyway. “I was with Jungkook actually.”

“Oh,” he clears his throat, “my bad. I’ll just text next time.”

You chuckle awkwardly. “Don’t worry about it. See you around, Hoseok.”

“See you. Goodnight.”

Your thumb presses on the end call button as fast as you can, before rolling over to scream into your pillow. Why do you always find ways to embarrass yourself? You could’ve just lied and said you were asleep, but no⎼

“What are you doing?”

You let out a shriek at Hana’s sudden appearance, not realising she had entered your room just as you were having a mini-meltdown. “I was just...nothing. What’s up?”

“Okay. Jungkook called me and asked if you were home.” She nods to your phone. “He’s been trying to reach you.”

“Oh shoot. Thanks.”

It must have been while you were on call with Hoseok. You call him back and he picks up within the first few rings, sounding relieved to hear your voice. “Hey, you were looking for me?”

“I’m on the way up right now.”

“On the way up? To my place?” You get up, inside jumping with excitement. “You’re here?”

“Yup,” he says with a cheerful tone to his speech, “exiting the elevator...walking to your door⎼”

It’s the last thing you hear before abandoning your phone on your bed, then running to the door with the biggest smile on your face. You open it just as Jungkook reaches, and you jump into his arms as you did the night before, planting kisses all over his face. “What are you doing here?” You ask, way too happily.

“Wow, I wasn’t expecting to get this reaction.” Jungkook laughs, stepping into the apartment before setting you down. He waves to Hana, who peeks out of her room to check on all the commotion. She smiles when she sees him, then winks at you before retreating back inside.

You practically drag him into your room. “I thought it’d be at least a month before we’d see each other again.” You say, hugging him. “I was already missing you.”

Jungkook heaves out a sigh of relief. It feels like all his problems disappear when he’s with you. Like magic. “I missed you too. That’s why I came here. Is it okay if I stay the night?”

“Of course!”

𝄖

Kim waits for his new partner to settle in the adjacent seat. He’s prepared one of his most expensive bottles of wine for this meeting. The view in his high rise apartment matches no other. Barome stares out the window, smiles, then walks over to his seat.

“I’m sure you haven’t called me here for a friendly chat,” Barome says, “I assume you’ve heard about one of my men getting arrested.”

“Yes.” Kim says simply. Two guards stand guard behind him as does Barome’s behind him. “We should expedite this merge.”

Barome takes a sip of the drink before him. “Getting nervous are we, my old friend? Now, you know I’d never sell out that easily. If you’re worried that I would⎼”

“I’m simply making things easier for the both of us.” Kim states. “We both run a tight ship. But not everyone can be trusted.”

“And you think the merge will make a difference?” Barome asks, quirking a brow.

“We’d have more immediate resources available for both of us,” he points out, “and our men will think less of trying to betray the other. Sometimes…people can be loyal to a fault.”

“You’re worried about my men betraying you?”

“I’m worried about a lot of things.” Kim leans forward, interlacing his fingers together. “Like how both our shipments caught the eyes of the authorities. It’s no coincidence.”

“What are you saying? Surely you don’t think our own men are behind it.”

“It’s a possibility.” Kim shrugs and Barome exhales, watching him closely. “But if you ask me, it’s most likely because we’re being watched. Now our men might not have been behind all the recent arrests, but they could be in future. Like I said, not everyone can be trusted, especially those at the bottom. We need to get them to work together.”

Barome takes some time to think about it. “I see what you’re saying.” He nods.

“The authorities are on to us, they’re probably trying to get more information by targeting our shipments. Right now, whether or not it’s true, our men are already pointing fingers at each other. This is their play, they want our men to rat each other out. It could get worse if we don’t act now.”

“Okay.” Barome looks at Kim. “I agree. We’ll expedite the merge.”

Kim smiles for the first time that night. But Barome gets lost in thought, bringing the glass to his lips, then putting it back down without taking a sip.

“Do you think…we have a traitor amongst us?”

“You mean,” Kim eyes him, “you think there’s an agent lurking within our organisations?”

“It would certainly make sense, we haven’t made the merge that big of a deal until recently. And it would have taken months of planning to catch our shipments at the right time. Both shipments.” Barome says.

Kim nods, entertaining the thought. He knows not everyone can be trusted, but he also knows they take great measures to make sure they only have the best men on board. They’re careful with their recruitment, but maybe not careful enough. “You could be right. I’ll have my men on it. Can’t be too careful.”

“I get mine on it as well.” Barome slaps his hands together, excitedly picking up his glass once again and holding it out towards Kim. “Here’s to our partnership.”

“To our partnership.” Kim echoes his words.

“We’ll need to have a discussion about the logistics as soon as possible.” Barome says.

“I’ll have papers ready by tomorrow.” Kim chugs down his drink like it’s water.

“Perfect. I’ll come down with my men tomorrow, and we can sort it out.” Barome starts to get up, buttoning his suit jacket. “Now, thank you for the drink. I’ll get going and let you have the night to yourself.”

Kim gets up as well and goes over to give him a proper handshake and a half-hug. “I’m glad we see eye to eye. It’s going to be fun working together.”

“I’m counting on it.” Barome says and they share a laugh.

Kim’s men usher him out of the place after they bid the other goodnight. When the door closes, Kim takes off his jacket, finally about to turn in for the night. His right hand man and assistant, appears from one of the rooms and smiles, having overheard the entire conversation.

“Seems it went well, sir.” He says.

“It did.” Kim pauses before entering his room, then turns to him. “Be prepared, the next few months are going to be crazier than usual.”

𝄖

He changes into some clean clothes and joins you in bed. “It’s been too long since I’ve come over.”

“I know! That’s why I’m so excited!”

Jungkook pulls you in closer, resting his face on your tummy. Grabbing your hand, he places it on top of his head, and you know it means he wants you to softly play with his hair. “I was waiting downstairs for fifteen minutes. Your line was busy.”

You pause, then go back to giving his scalp gentle massage. You can’t tell him about Hoseok, not if you want to keep the peace tonight. He’s obviously come here to get his mind off something. “Yeah I was on a call.”

“Must have been a very important call. I tried calling so many times. Then gave up and called Hana.”

“I was talking to my dad.”

“Oh okay.” You don’t even feel bad for lying. It’s not like this is the worst thing you’ve lied to him about.

“So,” you decide to change the subject, “why are you here? I thought you had stuff to take care of.”

“Yeah well your good friend Namjoon allowed me to come see you tonight.”

You laugh, “You’re taking orders from him now?”

“Hell no.” He says defensively. “You know, he chided me earlier, going off on how emotional you make me and how I’m a nuisance because of it. Says he’ll hit me in the face if I don’t listen to him. So I think you should go yell at him for that.”

"What? Are you sure he said all that? Doesn’t sound like him…" He clicks his tongue to show his displeasure and you switch up, gasping. "I mean, how dare he say that to you! Don’t worry, I’ll handle him."

Jungkook grins thinking about how you’d chew Namjoon’s ear off. He rubs his head against you. “You’re so comfy.” He mumbles sleepily as you run your fingers through his hair.

“Did something happen again?”

Jungkook moves up the bed so he can crawl on top of you, and you make space for him between your legs as he comfortably buries his head next to yours, into your pillow. You let out a soft groan. It feels nice to have him in your arms like this, hand gently stroking his back.

“Nothing…kinda butt heads with Suga again.” He says into the pillow.

“Awh,” you rub the back of his head, “I’m sorry baby. He must be a real pain in the ass.”

Jungkook turns his head to face you. “Actually…this time it was just me. There’s so much going on I lost my cool.”

“Oh. Well he probably deserved it anyways. I mean look how he treats you, forcing you to quit college like that…”

He chuckles, “You really dislike him, don’t you?”

“I wouldn’t if he wasn’t such an idiot.”

“He’s actually not so bad. Remember, the only reason I’m still alive is because he helped me all those years ago.” You turn to Jungkook, whose own words seem to have hurt him, the smile disappearing and replaced by a tender look.

You squeeze him in your hold. “Sorry, I know you care a lot for him. Sometimes the people closest to us are the ones that hurt us the most.”

“Yeah. I’m sure I hurt him just as much.” Jungkook gets lost in his thoughts, keeping quiet for a period of time. “He likes you though. Deep deep down inside.”

“What?” You scoff. “You should’ve seen his face when he cornered me at the mall. If looks could kill…”

“Trust me, he likes you. It’s only because…” Jungkook pauses, “Well, you’re different from us. And he wants to protect his world. Which in his ideal version, involves me.”

“And I’m the villain who steals you away from him?”

Jungkook laughs. “It sucks. I wish I didn’t have to choose between either of you. Because I love you both.”

“I’m sorry.” You kiss his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like you have to choose.”

“Will you stop apologising for things that aren’t your fault?” He covers your mouth with his hand. You lick his palm and he removes it, wiping his hand on your shirt. “Seriously, stop saying sorry.”

“Okay sorry.” He gives you a look. “Oops. Sorry.”

Jungkook presses his lips to yours to shut you up, going in for more after every giggle. With your arms around his neck, he adores your face, tracing his finger over your skin. “You’re gonna be so mad at me,” he says, and you furrow your brows, “but I think he’s right. And so is Namjoon.”

You narrow your brows. “About what?”

Jungkook sighs, “I can’t control myself when it comes to you.”

“Understatement of the year.” You laugh and he rolls his eyes.

“I meant emotionally.” He says, looking at you only with adoration in his eyes. “I have this intense…need to protect you. And fear of losing you.”

Your hands slide down to his biceps, watching him as he thinks about what he’s going to say. “Jungkook…”

“Because of that, I get all angry and sensitive when I go back. ‘Cause I’d rather not be there. I’d rather be with you.” Jungkook rests his head on you. “I also get frustrated at myself, cause there’s nothing I can do to change things. Or make time go faster, to when I can finally be free. Especially now with all the changes. So I take it out on Suga. Namjoon noticed this too. But don’t blame yourself…this is just something I have to work on.”

When it’s too quiet on your end, Jungkook lifts his head to read your expression. “Are things really that bad right now? I’m scared for you.”

“If I’m being honest, I’m scared too.”

“What if…I mean…the police…what if they were…” You avoid his eyes, trying to think of what to say without giving away the investigation. “I don’t know…”

He lets out a little laugh, pinching the tip of your nose. “What’s the matter?”

His expression drops when you go quiet again. So you shake your head and manage a weak smile. “Do you think…things will get better? That one day you can be free for real?”

“I promised you everything will be okay, didn’t I?” You nod. “Things will get better. I just have to be patient.”

“How are you optimistic and pessimistic at the same time?” You grab his face and kiss his nose, giggling. “One moment you’re talking about losing me, the next you say everything will turn out okay. You’re so silly.”

“I didn’t think of it that way.” He laughs along with you, shaking his head. “Maybe it’s you.”

“Me again? What did I do?”

“You make me scared, but happy…worried but hopeful.” He smiles. “Just something about you. Drives me insane.”

Your heart rate betrays you as you try and keep a cool front, but with his body pressed to yours, he can feel the way your heart speeds up. You reach for your bedside table and grab something on top of it, holding it out to him. Getting him to open his palm out, you drop a ring on it. “I want you to hold on to this.”

“Are you…proposing to me?” Jungkook sits up to his knees. “Oh my god.”

“Will you stop with the dramatics?” You use your foot to kick him playfully and he laughs before plopping right next to you, holding up the ring. It’s nothing new, one you’ve had for a long time. You came across it at a flea market, at a booth where a lady was selling trinkets. You’d wanted to get something so badly, but had no money with you. So she let you choose something small to have for free. “That’s my lucky ring. It’ll keep you safe. When the day comes where everything is okay, just like you say it will be, you can return it to me.”

Jungkook smiles fondly, carefully looking at the patterns around the ring, admiring the faded colour of royal green sloshed with dark blue. “It’s cute.”

“It’s nothing fancy. Just something of mine to have with you.”

In exchange, Jungkook removes one of the rings he has on his hands, and passes it to you. “Now you have something of mine.”

“I already have this necklace you gave me,” you touch the piece around your neck, the one he’d given to you for your first christmas gift as his girlfriend.

Jungkook shakes his head, not accepting no for an answer. “That’s different. This is a promise.”

“That you’ll be okay?”

Though you were only joking, your heart does a little skip as you say that. “On the day that I can finally be with you without worrying about anything else, we’ll return the rings to each other.”

He kisses you gently, and places both rings on the side table before getting off the bed to turn the lights off. Leaving only the soft glow of the nightlight. Crawling back into bed, he snuggles up to you, pressing his face to the side of yours.

“Baby,” you whisper, “it’s only ten.”

“So?”

“It’s way too early.” You pat his head.

“But I want to cuddle.”

“I don't wanna go to sleep."

“Okay," he mumbles, not letting go of you. His arm over your waist pulls you in close. “Let’s decide on baby names.”

You groan, pulling up the covers and closing your eyes. “On second thought, goodnight.”

He laughs, tickling your sides and you squirm. “Fine. Let’s watch a movie while we cuddle.”

You agree, getting your laptop from the table and choosing something on Netflix. Jungkook waits for you to be done so he can have you in his arms again. Resting your body against his while the movie plays, Jungkook barely pays attention to the show.

He focuses on how nice you smell, the softness of your skin, and the little vibrations when you giggle about something on screen. Everything about you, he finds endearing. Even the way you doze off an hour into the movie, despite saying you didn’t want to sleep.

He puts the laptop away and tucks you in, pulling up the covers. You instinctively roll over to hug him in your sleep, pressing yourself close to his chest, arm hooking under his. Jungkook can only smile, resisting the urge to squeeze you tight and shower you with kisses. Instead he lands a gentle kiss to your cheek and closes his eyes, cherishing the this lovely moment he has with you, not knowing when he might get the chance to again.

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#jungkook fics #jungkook x you #kwritersworldnet #jungkook smut #jungkook scenarios #rainworks #my fic

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