WITH OR WITHOUT YOU ── 004, JJK.
summary: “your boyfriend has been worried sick,” the nurse explained warmly. “he’s been pacing back and forth through the corridor this entire time. I think he asked me the same question at least twenty times.” she let out a small amused laugh while adjusting the blanket over me slightly. “I had to reassure the poor guy over and over that I was here with you before he finally agreed to grab a sandwich from the café downstairs. It’s almost midnight now, after all.”
genre : slow burn, childhood acquaintances to lovers, angst, smut, mutual pining, age-gap.
pairing : older jungkook x younger female oc.
warning : oc our self deprication and avoidant final boss but she finally stands on business, yearner jungkook has been activated guys there’s no going back from this point on (he’s just going crazy atp), our broski jungkook graduated from bridgerton yearning school, triple the tension from part two, three and throw it all in part four, explicit content — sexual tension, passionate make out, neck kisses, they're both TOUCH starved, vague wet dreams, feral jungkook.
WITH OR WITHOUT YOU MASTERLIST.
Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.
The sound reached me before anything else.
For another minute, there was nothing but faint shuffling somewhere nearby, the noise blending into the heavy brume clouding my mind. Gradually, my hazy consciousness began catching up to the unfamiliar chemical like scent lingering in the air.
I exhaled weakly, my entire body feeling unbearably heavy, like two mattresses had been dumped over me, pressing me deeper into exhaustion.
I tried to open my eyes, but my eyelids refused to cooperate.
After a few seconds, I forced them open anyway, immediately hissing at the blinding white lights above me.
The faint sensation of something cold and wet against my hand.
Then a pressure around my knuckles.
I tried to move instinctively, but even lifting my arm felt impossibly difficult. A groan escaped my lips as a sharp sting pulsed through my vein.
Fuck, what was happening to me?
Why do my eyes burn so badly?
Why is it so tough to open my eyes?
My thoughts burst out in frenzied panic, I was alarmed yet I couldn't even act on it.
I slowly turned my head to the side, squinting slightly, and as my eyes gradually adjusted to the harsh brightness, a woman came into view.
She wore a nurse uniform, and though a little slow I could finally process the state I was in.
She was carefully tearing open a bandage before placing it over the cannula attached to my hand. The pain wasn't excruciating but it wasn't faint either.
“Please don’t open your palm completely, keep your hand in a loose fist,” her husky voice advised gently, showing me a small visual demonstration with her own hand, a practiced smile resting on her small face.
“I was getting worried because you’d been unconscious for more than five hours now. Your blood pressure dropped to forty, and you had a pretty severe case of dehydration. You might also want to get checked for jaundice later,” she explained slowly, adjusting the IV line slightly. “It’s become really common lately because of the insane humid weather, but thankfully you were brought here just on time, so there’s no need to worry. You’ll be perfectly fine.”
She spoke gently, probably trying to reassure me, while I could only offer her a tight, forced smile in return.
Yesterday’s events flashed through my head in a blur. I remembered feeling heavy headed the entire day, but I brushed it off, thinking it was just another migraine caused by my horrible sleeping schedule. We had seventeen bridal dress orders lined up, and the entire day had been chaos from the very beginning.
Running between tailors, matching fabrics, comparing different shades of white under proper lighting because apparently ivory and soft ivory were two completely different things to brides, reviewing pearl detailing, checking lace samples, making sure the embroidery placements aligned perfectly with the designs I had sketched out earlier, and on top of that, I had to repeatedly explain every tiny detail to the tailors like the fitting, the corset structure, the sleeves, the beadwork, because one small mistake could ruin an entire dress.
Not to mention dealing with customers.
One bride wanted softer lace.
Another changed her neckline design three times.
Someone else suddenly decided she hated floral embroidery after approving it two weeks ago.
I was so consumed with work that I barely noticed how unbearable the headache had become.
By the time I got home, my entire body felt weak and painfully drained mostly mentally.
I barely managed to change into my night pajamas before the hunger hit me all at once, so painfully intense it felt like my own stomach was about to consume itself.
But the second I stood up, my head spun violently.
I remember stumbling slightly before collapsing right back down on my couch, my body started burning feverishly hot while my head pounded so badly it felt unbearable.
My thoughts paused briefly before another memory flashed through my mind.
I could faintly remember a tattooed hand cupping my chin gently.
Somehow, he was the last thing my mind held onto before everything went dark.
But… how was that even possible?
My apartment door had been locked.
Only my family knew the password.
Confusion slowly crept deeper into my chest as I stared blankly ahead.
I had way too many questions.
“Nurse, who br—” My voice cracked midway through the sentence before I could even finish properly.
I immediately looked away, clearing my throat in embarrassment at how painfully dry it sounded.
The kind woman softened instantly.
She bent down toward the small stroller beside her, pulling out a bottle of orange juice before carefully placing the straw inside. Then she held it up toward me.
I drank without hesitation.
My eyes fluttered shut the second the cold, sweet sour liquid hit my tongue, soothing the unbearable dryness in my throat almost instantly.
I ended up finishing the entire thing within seconds.
God bless this angel of a nurse.
“What were you saying?” she asked politely, tossing the empty juice can into the dustbin nearby.
“Wh-who’s here with me?” I asked quietly, hating how weak my voice still sounded, silently wishing the last memory I had before losing consciousness had just been another one of my longterm delusions.
The nurse’s smile widened softly as she tucked an annoyingly loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Your boyfriend has been worried sick,” she said warmly. “He’s been pacing back and forth through the corridor this entire time. I think he asked me the same question at least twenty times.” She let out a small amused laugh while adjusting the blanket over me slightly. “I had to reassure the poor guy over and over that I was here with you before he finally agreed to grab a sandwich from the café downstairs. It’s almost midnight now, after all.”
Wait… did she just say boyfriend?!
I exhaled heavily, so it really was him.
I blinked at the nurse in confusion, utterly baffled as to what exactly gave off that impression between us.
I could only let out a chuckle mockingly, shaking my head. Even the idea of it was bizzare now because it’s never going to happen.
Ironically, the door opened right as the word “…boyfriend” left my mouth in the quietest mutter possible. It seemed like she didn’t hear me, too busy scribbling something down on the report card clipped to her clipboard.
I heard his footsteps before I saw him.
With his ebony hair grown a little longer than I remembered, falling slightly into his eyes, Jeon Jungkook stood at the doorstep frozen for a second, those stupidly expressive eyes widening the moment they landed on me, like relief and disbelief hit him at the same time.
He strode inside in all his glory while I fidgeted with my fingers, swiftly looking away before his eyes could meet mine. Instead, I stared aimlessly outside the large glass window.
The nurse cleared her throat, excusing herself but not before saying, “You should be relieved, Mister Jeon. She’s awake and doing well, but make sure she doesn’t eat anything fried or spicy within the next twenty four hours.” she instructed firmly.
Rather than being worried of my critical condition, I was more distressed with the idea of the nurse declaring me as his girlfriend.
Thankfully the angels from heaven were on my side today.
I think I would’ve died on the spot from pure cringe if she had.
“Noted. Thank you for taking care of my friend, Daniela,” he replied appreciatively.
Keeping my head turned away, deliberately ignoring his presence, I looked straight at Daniela instead, feeling his eyes on the side of my face. “How long will this take?” I asked impatiently.
“It should take around 4 to 5 hours maximum. If you need to use the restroom, just ring this bell. If I’m nearby or any other nurse on patrol, we’ll help you.” The nurse gestured towards the small bell placed beside the bed before turning towards Jungkook. “And if none of us are around, Mister Jeon can take you. Just be careful with your injected hand, and the IV fluid attached to the stand.”
“Sure, thanks once again.” She nodded and left, while I leaned back into the pillow with a huff.
So I have to be in this room with him for like… what, five hours?
What in oblivion is this.
Not my mom, nor the aunty who comes to clean my house every week, but I wake up to see Jungkook out of all these people randomly appear like some kind of guardian angel.
Whoever sent him, may their side of the pillow never stay cold.
I closed my eyes, trying to steady the chaos in my head, trying to make sense of everything still buzzing under my skin.
But then there was barely there thud beside my bed. Then a few soft shuffling noises. I opened my eyes slowly. And I already knew before I even looked that he sat beside me on a stool. After a few anxious moments of self-inflicting, the urge and curiosity to know got the better of me.
“How did you even get to me?” I queried, my gaze flickering up to him, almost accusatory.
He stared at me with a slightly perplexed expression.
The bright hospital light reflected against his tan skin, almost creating a faint golden outline around him. If I wasn’t so uncomfortable and starving, I probably would’ve kept staring longer than necessary, just thinking about how devastatingly good he looked even right now.
“That…” He blinked a few times before rubbing the back of his neck. “Minha Aunty called me while I was on the way to work.” He paused briefly before continuing again, almost rambling now. “She sounded really panicked and said you weren’t answering her calls since morning, and I don’t know, I just…” He exhaled quietly through his nose, shaking his head. “I got so worried.”
“She’s probably panicking now that I’m in the hospital, she does know, right?”
“Of course, I informed her the moment we came in here.”
I nodded slowly pinching the bridge of my nose, yes you were here and it was the issue, Jungkook.
The molten embarrassment from earlier had barely begun settling when another wave of discomfort crashed over me.
“My phone…” I muttered with a groan, sinking deeper into the pillow. “Ugh, it’s back home.”
“Why? Do you wanna talk to Minha Aunty?” he asked immediately, already reaching into his pocket before I could even answer. “Here, use mine.”
My eyes unwillingly dropped to his tattooed hand as he pulled out his navy blue iPhone and handed it over to me.
Even his hands looked annoyingly attractive. I took the phone carefully, avoiding brushing my fingers against his. The last thing I needed right now was another reason for my brain to malfunction.
The call connected after a few rings.
I expected my panicking mother, dramatically crying when she heard my voice.
“Do you even understand how irresponsible you are?” my mother’s voice erupted through the speaker so loudly I nearly flinched. “No proper sleep schedule, barely eating vegetables, surviving on coffee and instant noodles like some raccoon living behind a convenience store, what exactly did you think was going to happen?”
I immediately lowered the volume, mortification creeping up my neck.
The last thing I needed was for him to hear this.
Jungkook pretended not to listen dusting the nonexistent dirt from his pants, but the slight twitch near his mouth told me he definitely heard at least half of it.
“Oh god…” I sighed tiredly, rubbing my forehead. “Can you not start right now?”
“No, because this is the time! Do you see how your body is literally giving up on you, ____!?”
I let her ramble. Because truthfully, part of me deserved it. No maybe all of me did.
Still, being lectured like a child in front of Jungkook felt like psychological warfare. I stared blankly at the IV bag hanging beside me while she continued listing every bad habit I’d accumulated over the years.
Then suddenly in the midst of her venting an idea hit me.
“Ma, can you call Mari?” I interrupted quickly. “Tell her to come stay here for the night, I’m sure Jungkook is tired and should go back home.”
I didn’t look at him immediately, but I felt it.
That tiny shift in his movements, because from my peripheral vision I could see his hands clasping together.
“She was actually the first person I called,” my mother replied. “She didn’t pick up.”
“What? Call her again then,” I huffed. “Or text her. Tell her to come.”
“She’ll just go to your house in the morning when you’re discharged,” my mother said. “It’s already one in the morning. Besides…” she paused briefly. “Jungkookie is already there, it’s best he stays with you.”
My body went rigid instantly, I tightened my hold on the phone trying to control the frustration surging out of me.
Something faint flickered across his face for half a second. It wasn’t anger, not exactly, but something close to displeasure.
“…Okay, I’ll call you later.” I muttered under my breath with a huff.
There was no way I was surviving five whole hours trapped in a hospital room alone with Jeon Jungkook.
I handed his phone back quietly, avoiding his eyes once again.
As if reading every thought running through my head, he cleared his throat awkwardly. Jungkook slipped his phone back into his pocket before leaning back slightly in the chair beside my bed, exhaustion practically dripping off him now that the panic from earlier had settled. That was when I properly noticed it.
…The matching gym set from his own company, PrimeForm Studios, clung to him like a second skin, stretching taut across broad shoulders and biceps that looked moments away from bulging through the sleeves. Even exhaustion couldn’t dull how unfairly attractive he looked even in this state. But the slight slump in his posture and the faint shadows beneath his eyes did. These were tiny things no one else would probably notice, yet I did instantly, and my poor, pathetic heart still carrying every leftover feeling for him ached at the sight.
I sat with it for another minute, letting the thought sit heavy in my chest, before I finally leaned forward.
My fingers tightened slightly around the hospital blanket. “Jungkook…” I mumbled.
He immediately looked up at the sound of my voice, almost too quickly. “Yeah?”
“You should leave now.” I proposed.
He waved his hands dismissively as if I said something foul and just stared at me with a flat expression.
If I said I wanted him to leave it would be a lie, I wanted him to stay, but I needed a break, a rest, from the thoughts of him, from feeling the hurt when he’s near, him staying here would only make resting harder for me.
Trying to mask the growing restlessness, I tried to reason.
“There are nurses here anyway, and it’s only five hours, I can manage on my own.“
“I’m not leaving you alone in a hospital at one in the morning, ____.”
I exhaled sharply through my nose.
“I’m not a kid, Jungkook.”
His gaze flicked to mine.
“I didn’t say you were. But you literally passed out in your apartment not many hours ago,” he added with conviction.
“And now I’m in a hospital. Clearly, things are under control.” My reply seemed to disturb him because I swear I saw his jaw tightening slightly before easing his expressions into a composed one, but his voice stayed annoyingly calm.
“I mean… it’s Sunday anyway,” he slid in before I could make a comeback.
“I don’t really have anything urgent tomorrow, so, it’s fine. I want to stay.”
He had that irritating look of quiet satisfaction, like he already knew this was going to end in his favour.
I opened my mouth again, ready to argue—
And before I could, there was a knock at the door.
This time a different nurse stepped in with a tray of food, and I even forgot what I wanted to say, my stomach chose that exact moment to growl loudly, and I acted indifferent to conceal the growing embarrassment, yet I could feel my face heating up like a volcano. Instead of giving me space like a normal human being, he immediately stood up to adjust the tray table closer toward me before I could even move properly.
“I can do it myself,” I grumbled.
Ignoring me entirely, he inserted the straw into the orange juice bottle before placing it carefully beside my plate. “Yeah, I know,” he replied absentmindedly, like my protests barely registered in that thick brain of his anymore.
The nurse placed a pack of tissues on the small table, handed my medicines over to Jungkook, and quietly left the room.
I focused entirely on my food after that.
It was chicken corn soup with warm bread, and honestly, it looked way too appetising for hospital food. Or maybe I was simply too hungry to care either way.
The rich smell alone made my painfully empty stomach twist. Jungkook shifted slightly beside me the moment he noticed my trembling hands wrapping around the spoon.
I had seriously underestimated my condition because even lifting the stupid thing felt like a month’s worth of labor, but obstinately, I tightened my fingers around the cold steel anyway, refusing to let him notice just how weak I actually felt.
“You need help?” he asked cautiously.
“I can eat by myself,” I replied sharply, shooting him a clear don’t even try me look.
His lips pressed together instantly.
Then he nodded once, almost hesitant, and leaned back into the chair again.
But his eyes didn’t stop gazing at me.
I tore a small piece of bread slowly, suddenly hyper-aware of his gaze lingering over every movement I made.
It wasn’t intense or creepy.
But he was still staring.
And suddenly, my mother’s rage baiting comments echoed inside my head.
Your chewing makes me want to send you to an etiquette class.
Close your mouth when you chew, dear.
Why are you so loud when eating?
I hated how quickly those words crawled back into my brain.
Because after a certain point, once I became too aware of myself, even the food started tasting unpleasant.
Unaware of my inner turmoil, Jungkook kept zoning in on the way I was eating, the way my fingers trembled slightly every now and then, the way I kept readjusting myself because of the stupid cannula attached to my hand.
Could he give me a little break?
After a few awkward seconds, I finally glanced up at him with annoyance plastered all over my face.
“…Can you please stop staring?” I said flatly. “I know I look horrible. You don’t have to make it so obvious.”
His eyebrows lifted slightly, almost caught off guard. “You don’t look horrible, not at all.”• he replied softly.
He looked away briefly, his body shaking, clearly trying and failing to stifle a laugh.
“You look like a stoat.” A chuckle managed to escape him afterward.
I blinked at him in disbelief.
Did this man just call me a fucking…..stoat?
Wasn’t that some kind of a rodent?
Whatever it was, I was pretty sure it wasn’t a compliment by any means.
Who does he think of himself? As if he was Henry Cavill!
I scoffed under my breath and aggressively tore another piece of bread, silently cursing my mother for calling Jungkook out of all the people living nearby me.
After I finished eating, I had to suffer through him hovering close again.
He gathered my medicines carefully before handing them over one by one, then poured water into a glass and held it out toward me because apparently I was incapable of doing anything myself tonight.
And do you know what’s the worst part?
He was so unbelievably patient about it. When I coughed midway through swallowing the pills, he immediately held the glass closer for me, helping me drink properly, he was so naturally gentle that despite my irritation, something warm and fuzzy kept blooming inside my chest.
He even stepped outside afterward to give me privacy while the nurse helped me use the washroom.
She washed my face gently with cold water, helped fix my tangled hair before loosely braiding it back for me.
By the time I finally settled back into bed, it was already past two in the morning.
I laid down carefully, overly paranoid about the cannula in my hand, before slowly closing my eyes. I wasn’t even sleepy, but my eyes felt unnecessarily heavy.
A few moments later, the door opened and shut again with the faintest thud possible. It was so quiet it felt eerie, because at one point I could only hear my own breath.
I could tell it was him the moment the strong smell of cigarettes hit my nostrils.
Most of the bright hospital lights had been dimmed now, shadows stretching softly across the walls.
I held my breath instinctively when I felt him move closer to the bed. Then the blanket shifted slightly as he carefully pulled it higher over my shoulder, probably noticing how much I kept shivering around because of the cold.
The chair screeched softly against the floor before he sat back down beside me with a tired yawn loud enough for me to hear. A few seconds later, he began humming some unfamiliar tune under his breath before he eventually stopped and sighed. And then the room was swallowed by silence one again. I had no idea how much time passed after that.
Probably minutes, hours or maybe both. I didn’t know how long he stayed awake, or I pretended to be deep in sleep.
I felt on edge, growing increasingly impatient to open my eyes because the curiosity was genuinely going to murder me.
I slowly peeked one eye open before carefully opening both.
It was a devastating sight.
Jungkook had somehow fallen asleep on that tiny hospital chair, his giant body barely even fitting into it properly. His head tilted awkwardly to the side, neck bent in a way that would definitely leave him sore in the morning. His arms stayed loosely crossed over his chest, I guess the exhaustion finally won against whatever stubborn determination had kept him awake this whole time. And without even realizing it, the reserved, and indifferent mask I had been forcing onto myself ever since waking up in this hospital bed quietly cracked apart right there.
I couldn’t stop the smile that slowly took over my face, even though my chest tightened simultaneously.
How could something so soft sting this much?
My eyes burned not long after, tears slowly gathering before I could stop them, finally letting all the suppressed feelings leak out of me.
Throughout the night, I only looked at him.
My eyes never strayed away, silently tracing every inch of his face.
The quiet rise and fall of his chest.
The exhaustion still lingering across his sleeping features.
And the cute little pout his lips formed as soft snores escaped him every now and then.
I wanted to etch this version of him into my memory forever before dawn arrived, and we went back to becoming strangers knotted together only by a forgotten friendship once again. I kept staring or you could say ogling, unable to look away, needing just a little more time because what were the chances of ever seeing him like this again, in the same room as me, so quietly asleep?
Eventually, my own eyes began growing heavier.
And right before sleep fully pulled me under, I could feel something rough but warm wrap gently around my cold IV injected hand, holding it firmly in place, but I had crossed the border to dreamland, yet my subconscious was yet to shut down.
My lips curled slightly before I could stop them and then I finally succumbed to sleep.
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The same nurse who gave me food yesterday came in quietly, checking the IV one last time before removing it with careful hands and putting a small bandage over the spot. She helped me change back into the clothes I wore yesterday, wished me a fast recovery, and left shortly after.
I sat there with my bare feet hanging off the bed, realizing I seriously needed to get a pedicure again because my feet looked dull and rough as hell.
I should probably call the nurse.
I obviously didn’t come here on my own feet, and I needed another pair of those hospital cloth slippers anyway because I accidentally soaked the ones they gave me in the washroom earlier. There was a knock on the door before it opened, and Jungkook strolled in shortly after, looking annoyingly awake for someone who barely slept the entire night.
No traces of tiredness from yesterday remained in his eyes.
He stood by the bed with a paper cup of black coffee in his hand, blowing on it lightly before taking a slow sip, as though he had already been awake for hours.
“Oh…there’s another thing.”
He reached into a shopping bag before fishing out a cute pair of polka dot sandals.
…Did he buy those for me?
“Here,” he said, stepping closer. “I bought these sandals for you. I didn’t know if your shoe size was still 36 though, so I got them in size 38 instead.…”
He sounded oddly sheepish toward the end.
Could he stop being so…ugh….so him?
I only sat there stunned before immediately jerking away when he suddenly knelt down in front of me. I gasped softly the moment his warm hands touched my freezing feet.
“God,” he muttered, mostly to himself at this point. “They’re so cold, did you give your feet an ice bath?”
The ability to speak was genuinely taken away from me. He carefully slipped the sandals onto my feet one by one. They were way bigger than my actual size but I couldn’t deny the fact that him buying those for me without even asking ignited an unnamed feeling inside my chest.
Then he slowly stood back up again, giving me a soft smile that immediately sent my mind into complete disarray. “I spoke to Minha Aunty,” he said. “She told me your friend Mari’s already at your home. Just let me go fetch your reports and then drop you off.” And when I tried to stand up properly, he was already there again, his warm hand firm against my back to steady me. I gulped quietly, trying not to make a big deal out of the mindless, innocent touch when my entire body seemed painfully aware of it.
I was more than stable enough to handle my shit by myself, but that clearly didn’t matter to him because I could tell just from his body language that was annoyingly certain about one thing. He is going to drop me home one way or another and he won’t take no for an answer. So instead of wasting my remaining energy I kept my mouth zipped, though I was certain that my expressions gave away the turmoil inside my head.
Before we left, he didn’t forget to tip the two nurses either. By the wide grins they both gave us, I could already tell he had tipped more than necessary.
And I mentally noted to pay him back all the money.
And somehow despite it being the last thing I wanted, I ended up in Jeon Jungkook’s black Mercedes anyway.
Because the lesser I resisted, the faster it would get over. In the car it felt too quiet forbthe first few minutes, while I just stared at the passing skyscrapers of shopping malls, arcades, restyling, pastry shops, the plant shops, pharmacies.
Then it didn’t stay quiet for long.
I could feel him glancing at me in every red light stop. He cleared his throat. “How are you feeling now?” he asked again, like the answer might change in the span of thirty seconds.
I sighed under my breath.
“Way better than yesterday.”
“Are you hungry? Wanna eat something?”
“I’ll be home in a few minutes, I’ll make something later.” Another red light stopped the car.
From the corner of my eye, I watched Jungkook reach behind toward the backseat without saying anything. A faint crease appeared between my brows as he pulled out a neatly packed bibimbap container before handing it over to me. The bibimbap packet lay in lap.
I froze slightly. It was oddly specific. The exact convenience store bibimbap I always bought ever since I was a highschooler. Before I could even process that, he reached behind again and handed me the same orange juice bottle from last night. I tried not to notice how his silver watch rested against the veins of his hand as he passed it to me. Then he pulled out another orange juice to drink it himself. That made me finally turn around fully towards the backseat, and my eyes almost popped out at the view. There were massive shopping bags. A huge fruit basket. And various flavours of oats packet everywhere. Did this man decided that he wants too bless a family of 5 in need? With the amount of grocery sitting in the backseat it looked like he was about to go giveaway free groceries.
“Did you empty the entire grocery store?” I stared at him in disbelief.
“Don’t exaggerate, It’s not even that much,” he exclaimed casually, eyes still focused on the road now that the signal had turned green again. “I brought these for you.”
I blinked, my mouth agape.
“There are fruits, juices, oats—”
“Jungkook, it is thoughtful of you,” I cut him off. “but I can’t take it.”
He ignored that completely.
I took a look at the backseat again before looking at him.
“…I won’t even be able to eat half of it.”
He didn’t even look embarrassed.
I have the appetite of a gold fish, with only eating meal once a day.
All of this food will only go to waste.
“You have iron deficiency and dehydration,” he replied matter-of-factly. “You need to eat healthy foods.”
“How do you know that I don’t eat healthily?”
That finally made him glance at me briefly.
Like he was seconds away from arguing again.
“How much was all of this?”
I saw him tensing slightly.
“Come on, I only bought a few stuff, not a whole mansion.”
“Then what is the point?” His voice stayed calm, but I could hear the vexation slipping underneath it.
“I’ll pay you back right now. It isn’t a simple meal you bought me, if it was, I wouldn’t have even mentioned it. Asan is an expensive hospital,” I stated, the agitation evident in my voice. “And it was a private cabin too. How much did it cost? The IV? All those medicines? Everything! Just tell me the amount so I can pay you back.”
He ran a hand across his jaw and I couldn’t help my eyes from straying to his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel.
He stayed mute for a second, eyes fixed on the road ahead before he exhaled softly through his nose.
“Why are you acting like this?” he husked, and a hot, suffocating pressure built in my chest, I glared at him. “Acting like what?”
“You know what I’m trying to say, ____.” From his voice alone I could tell he was trying arduously to keep it neutral.
I shook my head and shot out. “No, I don’t. Can’t you be a little more clear?”
He slapped his hand roughly against the steering wheel once
“You keep talking to me like we haven’t been friends ever since you were a teenager and I a struggling first year uni student juggling two part time jobs.” That one sentence hit so hard it almost knocked the air out of my lungs.
But I refused to let it show through my expressions, because we weren’t friends anymore, we haven’t been for a long time.
I kept staring outside the window with my arms crossed tight, like it would stop the loud pounding of my heart.
What else was I supposed to do?
I couldn’t act like I didn’t completely humiliate myself infront of him, like he didn’t date another woman while I sat there grieving a one sided relationship he never partook in. I would be a hypocrite if I blame him for not feeling the same way, because how could one reciprocate a love that had never been professed before?
Yet I couldn’t stop myself from hurting and feeling two-timed. Was it casual when he sent me letters while he was serving in the military? Was it casual when he transferred his military salary to me for four straight months even when I kept begging him to stop? Was it casual when a cake arrived on my 21st birthday with no explanation? Was it casual when he carved out his limited time to call me, to check on me, like I was still part of his world even when he barely had one of his own in the military? Was it casual when he said he thought of me during his hardest days, when he was scared during missions our funny memories gave him peace?
Did he do that for just anyone?
I think it was my conscience’s fault for still longing for him fully knowing he was committed to another woman.
He didn’t say anything else after seeing my lack of response.
The engine lowered into a quiet hum before fading completely, leaving only the distant sound of morning traffic and birds somewhere near the trees. The car rolled slowly into a side lane beside a small park, my apartment complex stood just a short one minute walk away.
“These days I don’t really understand you,” he said finally.
I stayed silent wanting to know what he has to say.
But his eyes didn’t meet mine.
But his eyes didn’t meet mine.
They stayed forward, fixed on nothing in particular through the windshield, like looking at me directly would make whatever he was feeling harder to contain.
“First you send a text, then you delete it before I have the chance to see it,” he said, quieter this time.
It was a small, delayed reaction, like my body understood before my mind could even comprehend.
He finally turned slightly in his seat then, not fully facing me, but enough that I could see the tension in his expression now. The tiredness. The frustration layered under something sharper.
“Then you suddenly block me on every social media, then you unblock me again.”
“And ever since then you’ve been treating me like I’m your enemy.”
I swallowed against the sudden tightness in my throat.
My brain… genuinely lagged.
Like the words weren’t processing correctly.
Because I saw the seen sign.
I remembered staring at that tiny word for hours until my vision blurred, remembered the humiliation clawing through me afterward, the panic, the regret, the spiraling shame that followed after convincing myself he had read every single word.
His voice tightened at the end, barely restrained now. “I don’t know what went wrong,” he said quietly, exhaustion laced through his voice. “I only found out later that the persom I don’t even wanna mention, apparently deleted it before I could even see it.”
“For months I wasn’t aware that you texted me.”
Jungkook fastened his seat belt again before turning fully toward me this time, a strange intensity taking over his features, it was something fiercer.
His left hand came up to rest against his chest like he needed me to understand the sincerity behind his words.
“I don’t care what anyone says,” he said firmly. “And even if I did see it, I wouldn’t still believe anything until I heard it from you, ____.” His brows furrowed slightly, eyes locked onto mine with an honesty that almost made me look away. “I’ll only buy what you say, because I trust you. I need you to know that.”
I only stared at him in astonishment. My brain had been rotting in the gutter for so long, tangled in shame and humiliation and assumptions, that it genuinely struggled to process anything anymore. If he didn’t see it…
Then probably his ex girlfriend did.
A sick feeling twisted inside my stomach. It was too much for me to take right now. I needed to process it alone.
I didn’t know if I wanted to cry from relief, guilt, fear, regret, rage or if I wanted to slam the car door shut, run upstairs to my apartment and scream until my throat gave out. I had suffered through this unbearable mental burden for months.
Months of believing he knew.
Months of replaying that humiliation over and over until it hollowed me out from the inside.
And now suddenly I get to know that he didn’t even read it.
I couldn’t do this anymore.
But this was the last step I had to make, the perfect opportunity to slip in a story convincing enough to erase any lingering doubt from his mind once and for all.
Maybe then I’d finally be released from this endless misery festering inside me, and finally sleep peacefully again instead of seeing him in every nightmare that jolted me awake in the middle of the night.
“It was meant for someone else,” I admitted quietly, forcing the words out before I could stop myself. “When I sent you that text…” My voice shook slightly. “I was drunk out of my wits, I don’t even remember who I sent it to.” I swallowed harshly, fingers tightening around themselves in my lap.
The silence afterward felt catastrophic.
I felt nauseous instantly.
Like I had physically thrown something irreversible between us.
“When I woke up, I panicked and deleted it,” I said quickly, my breath catching halfway through the sentence. “And then I realized I sent the same text to, like… four other people too.”
A strained laugh slipped out before I quickly smoothed my expression over again, rushing out my next lie before I could overthink it.
“I somehow sent it to everyone except the person it was actually meant for.”
Jungkook didn’t interrupt me once.
The morning light filtered faintly through the windshield, pale shadows stretched across his face while he sat there quietly absorbing every word, and for the first time since this conversation started, he looked lighter, like something that had been weighing on him for months had finally loosened slightly from around his chest.
Yet there was still something unreadable lingering in his eyes now, something deeper sitting quietly underneath the assurance, and somehow that uncertainty made my stomach twist even more.
Why do I keep hyper analysing everything about him? I grunted internally.
Taking the silence as my cue to escape, I quickly told him to just stay inside the car, even though his stubborn ass argued a few times about walking me all the way to my apartment before he finally stopped resisting after taking one proper look at my face, the exhaustion written all over it was impossible to miss. His eyes narrowed slightly at me afterward, not exactly angry, but frustrated in that restrained way people always got whenever they clearly wanted to say more but forced themselves not to.
Before he could say something that would make this conversation even harder to survive.
I barely even remembered opening the car door afterward.
The cold morning air hit my face immediately as I stepped out, my legs still weak from the hospital but moving too fast anyway, almost desperate to escape before my composure cracked in front of him again.
Right before entering the apartment complex, I don’t know what possessed me to glance back.
Only his eyes were visible through the half-shut black tinted window, still watching me.
My chest tightened painfully at the sight.
Like my body had been holding them back through pure force this entire time and finally gave up.
The tears kept falling endlessly as I somehow forced myself through the hallway and toward my apartment, my vision so blurred I could barely even see properly anymore. I stood in front of the entrance for a few embarrassing seconds, fingers trembling violently while trying to type in the passcode, messing it up twice because I couldn’t stop crying long enough to focus. The moment the door unlocked, I practically stumbled inside.
Everything after that happened in a blur.
I barely even managed to kick the door shut behind me before my legs gave out completely and I collapsed against the sofa, my body hitting the cushions limply as loud, crushing sobs ripped out of me so violently it physically hurt. My chest ached horribly, breaths breaking unevenly between each cry while tears soaked into the fabric beneath my face.
And now suddenly none of it even made sense anymore.
It wad the kind of heartache that leaves your body shaking uncontrollably, ugly and breathless and impossible to stop once it starts.
I didn’t even notice the panicked figure rushing toward me until I suddenly felt warmth engulf me from behind, familiar arms wrapping around my trembling body tightly.
“____? Oh my god—bub, what happened?”
Mari’s voice sounded distant and muffled.
Like I was hearing it underwater.
And the moment I felt her holding me, and pressing kisses against my temple.
The walls that I had built crumbled completely.
I closed my eyes and sobbed harder into the couch, I kept on sobbing until it hollowed me out from the inside.
═════𑁍ࠬܓ═══════𑁍ࠬܓ═══════𑁍ࠬܓ
It was 5pm in the afternoon.
The warm amora of lavender tea hung in the air.
The two women sat side by side.
But you also felt a sense of liberation because Mari didn’t leave you instead she held you throughout your emotional eruption, listening to every painful cry, every sobbing description until you fell asleep.
She was your anchor. Your red bloodshot eyes stared into the monotone painted wall ahead of her. Her face was swollen, her nose red from cleaning the snot repeatedly, her throat felt sore but more than that it was her heart that was sore. Mari, sat beside you, her head resting on her knuckles as she stared at her absentminded best friend.
“The tea’s gonna get cold.” Mari pouted, playing with a strand of your hair.
“Chestnut brown really suits you, it makes your face look so much more radiant and your eyes stand out more too,” she complimented.
You felt a little guilty for not being able to reflect her cherry mood today, but could you really blame yourself? It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours yet, and your body had already gone through what felt like twenty panic episodes back to back. So pardon you for feeling as though every last bit of life had been drained out of you.
“My eyes are black, Mari.” You boredly replied to her.
“Okay, I give up bruh, it’s not gonna work on you, but I don’t know if you’re ready to hear what I have to say either.” She implored.
You finally looked at her, prepared to finally enough to share it with her. Mari is the only the person who has known about your deep rooted feelings for Jungkook. Out of every person in your life, even your mom, she was the one person who knew every little detail of your life.
Mari, albeit a little too blunt sometimes, wasn’t someone who would fabricate and filter her opinion just to preserve someone’s comfort or keep the peace. Whether you liked it or not, she always had a clear-cut opinion on things and she never hesitated to voice it.
And she was the perfect person to seek advice from.
“No. That’s the last thing I’d want you to do Mari.”
“I want you to tell me the truth.” Now I was the eager one, I put my hands above hers, slightly squeezing it and bopping my head up and down, indicating her to speak.
Mari sighed, her shoulders dropping slightly as if she had been holding all of it in for too long and only now letting it breathe out.
“Almost eight years ago when you first admitted to me about crushing on Jungkook after I basically put you on gun point,” she began, leaning back into the couch before slowly shifting forward again like the memory itself was pulling her in, “I honestly found it adorable how you’d crashout every time you shared a moment with him and then excitedly tell me over sleepovers.”
“It was harmless back then, you were a fifteen year old kid.” She adds on.
Then her expression changed subtly, from something softer to sharper.
“I never told you this… but I did start noticing, a little too late, how much it was slowly beginning to affect your life to the point where it was becoming self destructive. Your mood started depending on your interactions with him.” She looked at you with a pitiful smile. “You’ve always put him in this golden category, like he’s some unreachable dream. And I understand it, he’s all macho and cool, he’s super kind, hardworking, and he’s always been so sweet with you. Though I can’t lie, I do have to say that some of his actions were misleading at times…”
Her voice trailed for a second as she shifted fully upright, turning her body toward you now, her hands coming up as if she needed them to properly hold her thoughts in place.
A fiery look in her eyes.
“But ____ you seem to forget who you actually are. You were the most popular girl of our school, you used to get scouted by agents of big entertainment agencies randomly, when we’d go out to group study at the cafe near Seokchon Lake, or at those arcades we used to go to. It would happen so frequently. From juniors to seniors you had everyone crushing at you.”
Then she dramatically put her hands on her mouth, making an equally dramatic noise of disapproval.
“I still can’t get over the Nam Joo Hyuk thing.” she exaggerated.
“I was furious when you turned down a date with THE Nam Joo Hyuk,” she groaned dramatically, throwing her hands up. “And Jungkook had literally gone into the military like five months before that. ____ , what do you mean you turned down the ‘Korean Adonis’ for a guy who wasn’t even your man just so you could act like his sad, depressed military wife?”
Mari sighed like she was recounting the most tragic story of her life before continuing, eyes widening for emphasis. “Like actually, what do you mean you turned down Nam Joo Hyuk? Do you even realize how insanely popular he is now? His fan following is insane. He’s literally one of the highest paid actors in South Korea.”
You rolled your eyes internally.
Sure, Nam Joo-hyuk was objectively good-looking, but he was nowhere near your ideal type. And the arrogance in the way he’d asked for your number, as if there was absolutely no possibility you’d say no, was irksome. Maybe if he was a little mo-
You stopped yourself before your brain escalated back to the same decade old description of a specific person.
Mari’s hand dropped back to her lap with a frustrated slap against her thigh.
“I stayed silent because I thought you and Jungkook had some sort of secret situationship going on,” she added, leaning back again, still watching you closely, “but then my assumptions were proven wrong when he spawned with a girlfriend right after his military discharge.”
“Now he never cared enough to reach out until you two were forced to be in the same place. I’m not saying it’s his fault… because bubs, that’s what life is about. People….drift away.”
Her voice dipped slightly, becoming quieter now as she stared down at her own hands for a second.
“You remember when Seokjin and I used to date,? We used to spend almost half of the day together for seven years, and now we don’t even wish each other on New Years or let alone birthdays.” Her fingers curled slightly.
“Do you know why it never affected me?” She questioned, gently before answering herself.
“It’s because my joy never depended on Seokjin. I was happy in my own skin, so fulfilled within myself that even when we broke up, I got back up on my feet faster, because my life went on, be it with or without him.”
“The reason why you’re so disturbed and torn apart by his absence is probably because there was a time when you used to be a part of his everyday life, but the military broke that seesaw. And I think deep down, it was needed…”
“____ , I think you’re more in love with the idea of him than the reality of him.” Her eyes were unflinching.
“Because you two have only seen each other within a box, that couldn’t go beyond a boundary but have you ever experienced him outside of who he showed you he is? Do you know anything about his work? How he is with his friends?”
The room felt awfully quieter with the truth out open.
“He only knows you as the teenage high school junior he tutored and adored like a little sister, he remembers you in your fuzzy socks and oversized pink hoodies but does he know the woman you are now?” Her eyes softened, like she almost regretted how honest she was being. “I know it’ll always leave a void in your heart,” she said finally, voice quieter now, almost careful, as if she was placing the words down gently instead of throwing them. “But I pray that someday you get over the fantasy of it. I know you will.” She looked at you with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
This probably is the most you’ve heard Mari speak in one breath. You realized many occasions stopped her from saying all these things to your face, but you couldn’t be anything but glad that she did. You needed to get slapped in the face.
It was almost horrifying how well she observed your feelings for Jungkook, but it was Mari after all.
Hearing your situation, your life through her lense changed the trajectory of your perspective as well and it was like a cold bucket of water was thrown at your face.
You pondered for a few minutes, while Mari’s gazed stayed on you. “You cannot expect a man to remain the same after military. It changes them a lot, especially a man you haven’t really personally known-” Before Mari could continue, you leaned forward and pulled her into a tight hug, your movement slightly shaky but firm. She froze for a fraction of a second before instantly wrapping her arms around you too, one hand pressing firmly against your back, the other gently rubbing slow, grounding circles. “You’re right.” You softly admitted.
For the first time in years, today you gave yourself the time to think of an alternative scenario, in a way you haven’t before, in a way that made the pang in your chest hurt a little less. While you breathed out, your chin rested on her shoulder.
“Mari…didn’t you say that you were gonna host a get together soon?”
She pulled back, her forehead creasing.
“Yes, why are you asking me this out of the blue.”
In his twenty-nine years of life, Jeon Jungkook had signed contracts worth millions without blinking twice.
He had built three brands from scratch, negotiated with investors twice his age, replied to life changing business emails while eating cold takeout at three in the morning, approved campaigns, closed deals and transferred amounts of money that would make most people nauseous. He did all of that without hesitation, because he’s always intentional when it came to his business. Yet somehow one single text message had him erasing and rewriting the same sentence in different ways for the ninth fucking time today.
Currently it was 3PM, he was in his office branch in Yeouido District, on the eighth floor of the towering glass building.Jungkook leaned back against his leather office chair with a livid exhale, dragging a hand down his face before staring back down at his phone again.His employees continued discussing projected launch numbers for the new gym supplement line somewhere across the long conference table, their voices kept overlapping with presentation slides flipping quietly in the background, Jungkook had been focused in the beginning but for the past sixteen minutes, his mind had gone completely blank.
This was messing with him because he rarely checked his phone during meetings.
But the second the screen lit up beside his laptop earlier, with the one name he hadn’t expected to see, his entire train of thought derailed so badly he almost stumbled over his own words mid-l presentation and had to glance twice just to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating.
I’ve been wanting to reach out to you… I got caught up with work so I’m late.
It had been three weeks since he last heard from you.
Three weeks since you adamantly got out of his car that morning looking exhausted enough to collapse right there, refusing to even take the groceries he bought for you despite the argument it caused.
He remembered sitting there afterward in annoyance while staring at the untouched fruit baskets and grocery bags occupying his entire backseat.
Eventually he gave all of it to his security guard when he reached home. The old man nearly cried seeing the amount of imported strawberries alone. Jungkook sighed again before glancing back at the popped up text in his notification bar.
He typed a sentence, then deleted.
He typed again, shaking his head because it was getting too long,
His thumb hovered over the keyboard while the faint sound of his employees laughing as they left the office somewhere outside the conference room echoed through the glass walls of his office.
No worries…. How are you? How’s your health now?
He realised that he was taking too long to reply, when your reply came instantly.
I’m doing a lot better than the last time we saw each other :)
He leaned back slightly against his chair before replying, his index finger rubbing against his jaw, absentmindedly.
Today? Yeah, I get off work within 5pm.
Great then, I’m hosting a get together party with my best friend, I was wondering if you could come and join me.
That was a whiplash from the way you had been avoiding him like the plague..not wanting to
A gathering party? Where is it?
The typing bubble appear almost immediately.
It’s located in Itaewon, it’s called Yact Core.
Jungkook pondered for a few seconds, eyes narrowing slightly while trying to remember if he had heard of the place before. His fingers moved over the keyboard slowly, typing out a response before pausing midway, because your next text came in before he could even hit send.
So are you coming or not, Oppa?
His phone slipped right out of his hand.
The loud thud against the wooden floor made him curse under his breath immediately as he bent down too fast to grab it, nearly hitting his knee against the desk in the process.
“Ugh...” He grunted at the shot of pain that went through his knee.
“What on earth…” he muttered under his breath, heat rushing unexpectedly to the back of his neck.
Oppa? Never in your life have you called him that, ever, even when you were talking about him to someone else. It was only a honorific that he never cared for even though you were almost eight years younger than him.
Usually, in any other circumstance, Jungkook was strict about addressing elders properly with honorifics. Maybe it was the Korean in him, maybe it was just the way he had been raised. Yet somehow, when it came to you, he never corrected it. If anything, he found it stupidly sweet.
The way you called him “Kook” so naturally, like the nickname belonged to you and you alone and the most embarrassing part was that it kind of did.
Because nobody else called him ‘Kook’ besides you.
This sudden friendliness of yours made him wonder if you somewhere hit your head and had a loss of memory? Lately he had been so used to the distant attitude you maintained with him, after everything that happened recently, after months of avoidance, seeing a snippet of your sweet, old version suddenly appear on his screen again felt absurdly more intimate than it should’ve.
His heartbeat quickened annoyingly fast while he unlocked the phone again, rereading the text twice before forcing himself to type something back normally.
Yeah, I’ll come for sure.
Your reply came less than ten seconds later.
Jungkook stared at the conversation for another embarrassing amount of time before abruptly locking his phone and tossing it onto the table like it had burned his hand. He pressed the heel of his palm against his eyes for a second. No, he really needs to stop drinking caffeine in the morning on an empty stomach. This is why he's been feeling so weird.
“Yo Boss! A sublime day, isn't it?" Gwanshik’s chirpy voice echoed through the office suddenly.
“Indeed, Gwanshik.” Jungkook muttered.
His head jerked up almost instantly only to find his assistant standing by the doorway holding a thick black file against his chest, brows raised suspiciously.
“Wait, why are you so red?”
Jungkook scoffed immediately, straightening himself in the chair. “I-I’m not red.”
“You absolutely are.” Gwanshik snorted, walking further inside. “Your ears too.”
“Did you listen to the new album by that boygroup CORTIS? They have a song called ‘RedRed’. So you lying to my face, that’s red’red~” Gwangshik singsang giggling like an imbecile.
Jungkook only coughed, reaching out for the file the second Gwanshik handed it over.
“Samples for the new starter pack campaign,” Gwanshik explained while Jungkook flipped the file open a little too rapidly, very obviously trying to redirect the conversation before the older man could tease him any further. “The new employees suggested going for a more raw gym aesthetic this time instead of those overly edited luxury concepts,” he continued, leaning against the desk casually. “And honestly? I agree. You probably will too once you see their vision.”
Jungkook hummed scatterbrained, with his eyes scanning through the printed sample photographs spread across the pages. There were at least twelve varieties of samples of shaker concepts, gym bag layouts, compression wear samples, and minimalistic black packaging. On other days this was the kind of thing he’d immediately hyperfocus on.
His mind kept drifting back toward his phone sitting face down beside him.
Gwanshik caught onto Jungkook’s lack of attention instantly, because it wasn’t common at all.
A grin slowly spread across his face.
“…Ahhh,” he dragged out knowingly.
Jungkook already sighed in annoyance before the other guy could even continue.
Jungkook’s eyes narrowed.
“Then it’s worse.” Gwanshik nodded seriously thinking. “You like her.”
Jungkook almost choked on absolutely nothing.
“It’s not even close to that,” he shot back angrily, face heating all over again while Gwanshik burst out laughing right in front of him.
“Ehhhh sure, I’ll take my leave since nothing’s getting into your head right now anyway.” He taunted before turning toward the door. “I’ll just email you the documents. You can always check them later.” And with that, he walked out singing some painfully cringe love song lyric, clearly far too entertained by Jungkook’s misery.
── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ────
Jungkook arrived at the location you shared a little later than he originally planned.
The car door shut behind him with a quiet click, and for a moment he just stood there outside the venue, taking in the building like he was trying to recalibrate what kind of night this was supposed to be.
He had expected loud music, disco balls and, shouting, something club themed, because that was the definition of a party he and his friends did when they were at this age. Instead, the moment he stepped inside, the atmosphere was completely unanticipated. Soft jazz wrapped around the space like a warm haze, low enough to feel like background breathing rather than music. Somewhere further inside, a faint track of Luis Miguel played. The lighting was warm gold, spilling gently over marble flooring and glass decor. People stood in small clusters instead of crowds, talking, laughing, posing occasionally for pictures. He didn’t wear any suit like every other man here, but rather a black Calvin Klein jacket, with matching black jeans, it didn’t exactly blend into the crowd. In the midst of his eyes scanning the room looking for a certain five foot something woman, someone tapped him on the shoulders, when he turned around his eyebrows lifted in recognition. Mari stood there, a tight smile resting on her lips.
“What are you doing here all on your own?” she asked lightly over the music. “____ didn’t see you yet?”
Jungkook gave a small smile, slipping one hand inside the pocket of his jacket. “I just got here.”
“Oh.” Mari nodded once before glancing toward the crowd behind her. “Well… she’s been excited about tonight after all the storm she went through.”
What is that supposed to mean?
Before he could respond, Mari stepped aside slightly, motioning vaguely toward the deeper part of the lounge. “She’s probably somewhere there with our friends. I need to save my drunk boyfriend before he embarrasses himself infront of strangers.”
Jungkook let out a quiet chuckle. “Another babysitting duty I see.”
“Unfortunately.” She stated.
“Good seeing you though,” she added more genuinely this time.
And then she disappeared somewhere into the crowd.
Jungkook walked further inside, eventually rounding into a quieter area near the open space of the lounge, unlike the entrance area the atmosphere here felt even calmer somehow, he could hear a saxophone playing and faint laughter and chatter somewhere. And then he saw you.
Just the back of your head, at first.
You were standing near one of the lounge tables, surrounded by a loose circle of people, a few men and women gathered comfortably around the dimly lit space with drinks resting lazily in their hands. A tall South Asian guy dressed in a fitted brown shirt and black pants stood in the middle of telling some dramatic story, his hands moving animatedly while everyone leaned in with amused expressions.
Then the South Asian guy said something that made the entire group erupt into laughter in unison, your head tipped back briefly as you laughed, your hand instinctively coming down to smack the arm of the lean man standing beside you while he groaned dramatically at the hit, making everyone laugh even harder. Your chestnut hair fell down your back in a long straight flow, catching the warm yellow lights every time you moved. You wore an ocean blue bodycon dress that looked like it had been stitched specifically to fit your body. Beside you a shorter redhead woman in a hot pink dress, leaned to whisper something in your ear. And almost immediately —
Your head turned slightly, your gaze absentmindedly drifting across the other tables first, barely paying attention to anything you were looking at.
Then your eyes landed on him.
For half a second Jungkook genuinely thought you hadn’t recognized him.
Before your head snapped back toward him almost instantly. Jungkook’s lungs forgot what they were doing for exactly one second as a wide smile slowly pulled onto your lips. He stared back. It took him a minute too long to realize his mouth had parted slightly. He closed it. And smoothed his expression. Something strange sat in his chest, it was a feeling he could describe as closest to discomfort. You lifted your hand slightly from around your wine glass before motioning him over with two small curls of your fingers and Jungkook began making his way towards you, with his eyes not leaving you for once. He almost forgot there were other people around until one of your friends suddenly looked between the two of you and asked “Wait… isn’t that your University classmate?”
Then your voice reached him properly for the first time that night. “No.” You exclaimed with a chuckle.
“Kids, I have to introduce you all to someone.” You announced loud enough to capture everyone's attention.
He could feel multiple eyes on him the moment you said that. “This is Jungkook. “You glanced at him, smile still sitting warmly on your face. “A close friend of mine.”
“Ah, you came just at the right time.” the redhead said briefly looking at him then teasingly bumping her shoulder with yours.
── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ────
It didn’t take long before all of you migrated toward one of the lounge sections of the venue, the large velvet couches quickly filling with half finished drinks, scattered phones, and overlapping conversations.
To Jungkook’s surprise, your friends were actually really welcoming to him.
They asked him about his work almost immediately, curiosity lighting up their expressions the moment he briefly mentioned his gym brand.
“No way, that’s actually sick.” The South Asian guy who's name he later got to know was Ishaan Khatter, a well-known A-list actor working in Bollywood, exclaimed in astonishment.
“Wait, so you own multiple branches?” the blonde Korean-Canadian friend of yours, Bently Kim, impatiently asked.
“Isn’t that insanely stressful?” Sonjin who he remembers used to live in his neighbourhood years ago, queried.
They asked questions enthusiastically, leaning forward while he answered, occasionally throwing in their own opinions about fitness trends and gym culture as if they’d known him for longer than thirty minutes. Amidst the overlapping conversations and soft clinking of glasses around the table, Jungkook slowly realized your body had been turned toward him for the last ten minutes, your thighs brushing against his. Not fully though just slightly. Enough that every time someone else spoke, your eyes still drifted back to him in between.
“You seem to blend quite well with my friends,” you said finally, a sly grin pulling at those glossy pink lips.
Jungkook looked at your side from his beer immediately. The warm lighting softened your features, made your skin glow faintly golden, and for some reason he found himself staring at your mouth for half a second too long before forcing his gaze away.
“I’m a gen-z too, it’s not that hard to blend in.” he said softly his dark eyes borong into yours.
You laughed softly at that, leaning your chin against your palm while still maintaining the eye lock, expectedly he was the first to break it off.
He only drank a little of the white beer one of your friends had poured for him earlier, barely enough to even qualify as drinking, but somehow his head still felt warm and strangely hazy.
He needed to finish at least one bottle of Budweiser to get properly drunk.
He definitely wasn’t drunk.
Probably… a little off balance.
And he hated how aware he was of it.
Before he could say anything else, your friends suddenly erupted into loud complaints over taking pictures.
“Girls get up RIGHT NOW before the makeup starts melting off.” One of your girlfriend's beseeched.
You groaned dramatically as one of your friend grabbed your arm and the other one grabbed your wrist.
“Hey! Sajal, at least let me take my purse—” you whined.
“Oh, just leave it here, the boys can watch over our precious purses,” she said, waving it off casually. “Come on!” Jungkook watched you get dragged away.
He couldn't remember the last time he’s seen you as radiant as you were in this very moment. Tonight, you were beyond his limited knowledge of you. It feels like he’s getting to see you in a different light than he had all those years ago.
It was like he was meeting the same person, but again for the first time, like déjà vu.
Swaying softly with every step, camera flashes briefly illuminated your face again and again, catching the confidence in your expression as it flickered under the light.
Your friends and you got occupied making TikToks. Until a slower track slid in, almost sensual in the way it filled the space. You swayed your hips and danced to the rhythm, your movements syncing with the beat in an effortless, teasing flow. Your hands traced over your own arms, sliding down, then drifting to your hips as you kept moving, completely lost in the music, your friends circled you, laughing, filming, but his attention stayed fixed where it shouldn’t have.
Your eyes locked with his in a matter of seconds, like you already knew he would be looking.
A devilish smirk pulled up on your pouty lips.
Your hands danced over your body again, palms dragging across your chest, then down to your hips, slow and deliberate, like you were fully aware of being watched.
He should’ve looked away, he knew he should’ve.
Yet, he didn’t because he couldn’t.
You kept moving with the music in a torturously slow pace., your focus never fully leaving him even as you rejoined your friends’ rhythm.
Jungkook felt his throat go dry.
He turned away like someone threw acid in his eyes and hastily chugged down his entire drink in one go.
His heart was pulsing hard inside his chest, loud enough that it felt impossible to ignore.
It’s disorienting, the way you feel both known and unfamiliar at the same time, like everyone else already knew something about you he was only discovering now.
The realization unsettled him more than it should have.
Because when had that happened?
There was no denying that you had become this alluring woman people naturally gravitated towards.
Yet whatever he was feeling was not appropriate.
What would you even think of him if you knew the things his mind kept drifting towards.
A strange restlessness settled under his skin soon after.
The music suddenly felt louder indoors.
This space feeling congested now.
He exhaled quietly and leaned back against the couch for a moment before eventually deciding to step outside for air.
It wasn’t because he disliked your friends company or anything, they were a bunch of good hearted kids, well except one of them a little too self ware, one acting like all the negative things only happen to them, another one with the self confidence of the Burj Khalifa, when he sat with them he remembered how he had already passed this phase in life.
Nowadays, rather than being out till 3 AM, clubbing, and drinking with friends just to escape the mental torture that university midterms brought, those years are over, now he cares more about being in bed by 11 PM. He still goes to clubs every now and then, but only if the food is good.
There was only so much conversation he could maintain with guys nearly eight years younger than him before every discussion somehow turned into them asking him for life advice.
And his battery was already beginning to drain, his brain needed a little rest.
He eventually stepped toward the open space of the rooftop balcony, the cool night air immediately brushing against his overheated skin. From up there, the city stretched endlessly beneath him, streams of headlights moving through the roads below while distant traffic echoed faintly into the quiet. For a few seconds, Jungkook just stood there silently taking it in the skyline, the cold air, the temporary silence away from the music and laughter inside.
He slipped a hand into the pocket of his jacket out of pure habit before groaning quietly under his breath when his fingers came up empty. Right. He left the packet of cigarette at home. “Fuck,” he muttered tiredly to himself. Usually he’d smoke whenever his head got too crowded like this, whenever his thoughts started overlapping too loudly to sort through properly. And seems like tonight he has no other choice but to let his mind keep making noises.
Jungkook leaned both forearms against the railing instead, head tilting back slightly as he shut his eyes for a moment. The metal felt cold beneath his skin, grounding him enough to stop the strange restlessness sitting inside his chest from plummeting any further. At least that was the plan.
But every time he closed his eyes, he kept seeing…
A certain smile from across the lounge.
The way their dress embraced the curve of their body when they walked away with their friends. The way their hands traced their torso as they danced while looking at him.
Jungkook ran a hand across his bottom lip.
Jungkook wasn’t even sure when exactly he’d started feeling like this around you.
Maybe it was the alcohol slowly settling into his system.
This fuckass bone chilling cold was supposed to help clear his head to some extent, make every thought inside his head blank. That had been the entire point of stepping out onto the balcony for a minute to pull himself together, to remember how he was supposed to act around you.
He’d known you for what, eight to nine years now? Ten? Between these years it came easy and natural for him to be around you as a….friend, a tutor, a well wisher, an acquaintance.
Jungkook felt even more aware of you now that it was him with his pondering alone, the quiet had stripped away the one buffer keeping him from paying too much attention.
He’d known you….eversice you were fourteen, still sleeping with your seven-year-old plushies, he’d seen you cry after your cousins teased you about the demon from hellfire coming for you when you refused to eat your vegetables.
He'd known you when you were seventeen and crying over a mysterious boy who’s identity stayed hidden to this day. He'd been the only person besides your parents to be present at your high school graduation. He was there during your bob haircut era. He knew the sound of your laughter before it even left your lungs, knew exactly which of his jokes would work and which ones would earn him a shove on the shoulder. To him you had always been a sister like friend, that’s what he’s been saying to everyone, to himself.
That was the box you and him had always existed in.
And for the first time that box seemed to shook like a falling stack of cards.
Somewhere in the middle of his thoughts, the sound of the balcony door sliding open behind him snapped him back to reality. “There you are…” Your voice wrapped around him softly as he heard your heels clicking lightly against the balcony floor while the dim light spilling from inside traced softly along your figure. He didn’t turn around instead he looked down at the buzzing street as if it had acquired his complete interest.
From his peripheral vision, he could see your silhouette stepping beside him now, the wind pushing your hair gently over one shoulder as you leaned the back of your body against the railing instead of looking down at the street below. Jungkook kept his eyes lowered for a moment before finally forcing himself to look at your face. You were staring at the wooden door with a distant look. “You disappeared,” you murmured, stopping beside him against the railing. “I thought my friends scared you away.”
“Nothing like that, I just needed a little air,” he breathed, his thumb rubbing slowly against the cold metal railing.
You hummed, standing near enough for him to smell the faint sweetness of your perfume.
“You clean up well today,” you compliment him, your tone carrying a teasing hint.
Jungkook swerved toward your form now, leaning the weight of his body sideways with one arm resting against the railing, and you turned sideways too with the side of your body leaned against the railing wall, because of your much shorter height.
This way he could see you properly now.
A lopsided smile rested on your lips, your eyes were red around the rims while the cold painted your cheeks and nose pink.
“I like this jacket on you,” you clarified casually, eyes slowly tracing over his jacket again.
His throat tightened slightly.
“It makes you look buffer.”
He looked away, appearing a little flustered.
“Why did you want to meet up?” he asked with a restrained voice.
“Just…wanted to see how you’re doing and properly thank you.” Your voice sounded softer now.
And before he could say something, your palm landed lightly against the center of his chest.
The second your hand settled against his chest, Jungkook felt his pulse shift noticeably beneath it.
Your fingers moved against his jacket once… then again… gliding lazily over his chest.
“You don’t really have to thank me for that,” you whispered even though it was just you and him in this open space.
Jungkook forced himself to think about literally anything else. The unopened file Gwanshik had handed him earlier. The thirty pages waiting on his desk.
But with your hand slowly moving against the center of his chest, it was becoming impossible to focus on a single coherent thought.
That possibility made heat rush violently into his bloodstream.
His body locked up almost instantly. His senses kept hyper focusing. On the warmth of your palm, thr soft drag of your nails against the fabric, the way your body leaned just slightly closer every time you spoke.
Jungkook tried to look at the closed entrace door, and the thin glass window where he could see movements of people. It didn’t help one bit, because deep down a dangerous part of him didn’t want you to stop.
“It’s been long since we’ve hung out, the last time we saw each other was before the end of my first semester.”
“You’re awfully silent. Are you okay?”
Your fingers slowly smoothed over the front of his jacket again before lightly pinching the collar between them. “I’m fine.” he reasoned, while you pursed your lips not convinced at all.
The violent wind pushed your hair across your face again and it was like Jungkook’s body had a mind of its own, reacting before he could properly think it through. His fingertips grazed softly against your cheek while he tucked the strands behind your ear, A few strands had stuck lightly against the gloss on your lips, and you blinked slightly when his fingers brushed them away.
The second his skin came in contact with yours the coquettish expression on your face faltered slightly.
That heavy silence where both people suddenly become too aware of each other.
His hand lingered for a fraction too long near your face before slowly dropping again. This was getting precarious. Jungkook knew that much.
The space that was big enough to fit in hundreds of people suddenly felt too small, your body was too close to the point he could feel the warts radiating off you, your eyes too focused on him in a way that made his rationality keep slipping out of his grasp.
He should’ve stepped back already.
Should’ve moved your hand off his chest.
Should’ve stopped touching you the second his fingers brushed your cheek.
Instead he was still standing here staring at you like he’d forgotten about time itself.
And the unexplainable part was that you didn’t seem unaffected either, but rather inviting.
Your eyes kept dropping to his mouth.
Jungkook swallowed hard, taking in a deep breath and exhaling through his his nostrils.
Don’t do this. He begged his subconscious.
She doesn't know what she's doing. She's a little drunk and you're standing too close and this is nothing. You've known her for over a decade. You used to tutor her. Get it together, you bastard.
The thought came too late, became irrelevant just as rapidly, because the second your eyes shifted from his mouth to his eyes, you and him both stepped closer again, he had exactly one second to think about consequences before you whispered his name in the quietest tone. “Jungkook.”
After that, everything in his head seemed to blur together.
Your noses brushed softly once, then again, neither of you properly pulling away.
His lips hovered inches from yours while the cold night air wrapped around you both uselessly, your breathing turning uneven in the small space between you.
You were even more close now. So close that he couldn’t properly see your eyes anymore, only feel the hot puffy breaths against his mouth while the cold night air moved around you both uselessly.
The three of you were now sprawled around the living room while Jinu and Samuel watched some aggressive football match like their lives depended on it. You tried sitting through the first fifteen minutes, genuinely tried, but you didn’t understand a single thing happening on the screen besides grown men aggressively chasing a ball while commentators screamed like war had broken out.
His thoughts stopped eventually.
The moment he felt the sensation of yours lips on his, he shuddered. He paused for a brief moment, before he couldn’t wait anymore and embraced your warm mouth around his.
At first it was only the slow press of lips, warm and unhurried, his mouth catching yours carefully like he was still holding himself back.
Your lips barely moved against his at first, warm and tentative, both of you kissing each other like neither of you fully understood what was happening yet, but the affect of it was more intense than it would’ve been with a stranger.
Then your hands slid upward from his chest, one settling around the side of his neck while the other disappeared into the hair at the back of his head, nails scratching lightly against his scalp.
Jungkook felt that final wall inside him give way almost instantly.
He groaned against your mouth before his motionless arms moved to wrap around your waist, pushing you into him. The movement made your body stumble lightly against his and the airy sound you made nearly destroyed whatever self control he still had left.
You shivered when the firm muscles of his abdomen pressed against the exposed skin of your waist. The kiss deepened without warning after that. His mouth moved against yours with a kind of restrained desperation now, like he’d spent the entire night holding himself back only to lose the ability to do it anymore.
One gruff hand stayed firm against your waist while the other slid upward to cup your jaw, thumb pressing lightly beneath your cheekbone as he angled your face toward him more. And when his palm slipped lower for a second, brushing against the exposed skin of your back beneath the fabric, both of you visibly shuddered at the same time. Your fingers tightened against him immediately causing Jungkook to press his lips on you harder, with more fervour.
When the realization that this was actually happening, and he had let his frenzied thoughts loose, finally hit him all at once.
Jungkook pulled back with a quiet pop breaking between your lips, breathing unevenly as he stared at you with wide eyes. He looked at you in horror. “I’m so sorry,” he gasped immediately, voice rough from kissing you. “____, fuck! What did I just do? You-you I-We’re not in our senses right now, I shouldn’t have done that, not when yo- you’re tipsy.” His grip loosened from your waist as he forced himself to take a few steps back, brows tightening like it physically hurt him to put distance between you. You only stared at him with a hazy expression, your own breaths coming out in uneven, heavy puffs.
“No,” you panted, before shaking your head. Your slightly trembling hands found him again before he could retreat any further, fingers curling tightly into the front of his jacket as you pulled him back toward you. “Don’t say that.” You exhaled, one hand moving comfortingly over his shoulders. Jungkook’s chest rose and fell sharply, as he bended down to match your height, his brows furrowed with conflict glimmering in his clear orbs. His large hand moved to rest on top of yours.
You got on your tiptoes, nuzzling the tip of your nose against his as you stepped closer, the warmth of your breath mixing with his.
“I’ve never been more conscious of my senses,” you whispered softly against his lips. “I know what I’m doing, Jungkook.”
He knew it was fruitless to resist, he should’ve known the moment you looked at him that he was bound to accept defeat in this battle.
His voice wavered when he asked you that, a final, trembling thread of restraint snapping as he searched your face for any sign of hesitation.
The moment he felt your head nodding against his forehead, his mouth crashed into yours again. There was no gentleness in the collision. It was a crash, a collision of teeth and tongue, a desperate claim. He groaned into the kiss, a sound of pure, unadulterated relief. Jungkook’s morality, and values could come and fuck him up later, he was more greedy. One strong arm snaked around your back, fingers tracing every soft ridge of your spine until he reached the nape of your neck to cup it firmly.
Somewhere between uneven breaths and tangled hands, Jungkook backed you against the railing without thinking. You gasped into his mouth, and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue deep inside. He pushed you harder against the cold metal, his hands shifting from your neck to tangle in your soft, silky locks, pulling your head back to expose the line of your throat. Your tongues intertwined in a hungry, wet dance; he could taste the lingering sweetness of red wine on your. The hand that had been on your hip slid down, palms molding to the curve of your bottom, gripping you tightly as he pulled your lower body flush against him.
You leaned even closer, your chest pressed tightly against his, feeling the frantic thrum of his heart mirroring your own.
You let out a low, broken whimper as he nipped sharply at your bottom lip, the sting sending a jolt of electricity through you.
His soft lips finally detached from yours, but only to trail a path of soft, chaste pecks down the sensitive column of your throat.
You tilted your head to the side, giving him full access, one hand wrapping around the hard swell of his bicep while the other clung to his shoulder.
In the middle of the hot, consuming exchange, the balcony door slid open. A stranger stepped out, phone in one hand, lighter in the other.
They paused immediately and turned around in a haste.
“…Oh.” The man let out an exclamation, his eyes moving between you both with immediate understanding.
The sound cut straight through the moment.
You shrank back instantly, the sudden distance feeling like a physical blow.
It was as if he’d been snapped out of a trance, ripped violently from a headspace he shouldn't have been in. His breath came in ragged, uneven heaves that mirrored the turmoil in his eyes.
The haze vanished, replaced by a sudden, jarring awareness of their surroundings, the sheer recklessness of what he had just been doing to you.
The stranger muttered something awkward, something about needing a smoke, and immediately turned away, suddenly very interested in leaving.
The sound of retreating footsteps echoed in the silence that followed, leaving a thick, charged tension in the air. Jungkook remained frozen, his fingers twitching as if fighting the urge to drag you back against him. The conflict was written all over his face: the lingering, carnal greed battling with the sudden return of his conscience. He looked at you, his eyes dark and dilated, the ghost of that desperation still flickering in his gaze. He was breathless, flushed, and utterly undone, caught in the suffocating space between the man who wanted to do more and the man who knew he should stop.
"I think I should leave now," you suddenly declared, your voice steady, almost airy.
You smoothed your dress down with a slow, deliberate motion, the fabric gliding over skin before bending slightly to pick up your purse he hadn’t even noticed lying near the railing, pulling your phone out to check the time with the nonchalant energy of someone who had not just turned his entire understanding of your relationship upside down. "It's almost eleven, I have a morning class." Jungkook didn't move, his body locked in a state of high alert, the air around him still thick with the scent of your perfume and the ghost of your lips.
“I’ll see you around, Kook,” you added, casting one last look over your shoulder. You gave him a dark, mischievous smile, your lips now red, swollen, and puffier from the violence of his kisses.
He only looked at you with a puzzled expression, his brain struggling to process the sudden shift. Jungkook hated how different the old nickname suddenly felt after tonight. He watched you turn and glide back through the door, watched the yellow light and the noise of the party swallow you back up without a second glance.
Jungkook remained alone in the cold, his hands hanging uselessly at his sides, his fingers still tingling from the feel of your hair. The silence of the night rushed in to fill the space you had left behind, leaving him with the crushing realization that while he was drowning in the aftermath, you had already stepped back into the light, leaving him shattered and wanting more.
His pulse hammered in his throat, a frantic rhythm that refused to slow down even as the wind chilled the sweat on his skin. He said nothing. There was nothing to say, honestly.
He stood there in that spot you left him for another 10 minutes before he went straight to the parking lot.
He speed through the roads, don’t ask him how he just did somehow. Because all he could feel were your soft petal lips on his.
── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ────
The first thing he did when he got home was finally kick his shoes off.
He staggered into his restroom, his finger barely clicking the lights on as he walked toward the sink.
There was a rush of adrenaline, but also a strange weakness beneath it that stole away his ability to feel fully stable.
He felt some sort of high from it.
It was some unnamed awakening of emotions he wasn’t even aware could exist in this equation until now.
The mirror was an immediate reminder of the incident that had occurred. His lips were swollen, his chin and the sides of his mouth still glistening faintly with the remnants of your lip gloss. Jungkook stared at himself for a second before running his thumb slowly across his lips, wiping it off, then he bent down abruptly, splashing water all over his face in the most aggressive manner possible. Water dripped from his jaw onto the sink while he stayed there gripping the marble edge for a second longer than necessary, breathing unevenly.
After that, he only vaguely remembered stumbling toward bed and collapsing into the sheets, twisting and rotating restlessly beneath them for what felt like hours.
Then sleep or something close to it finally took him.
The next time he awakens in a dream.
You were there in that, still adorning that same blue dress.
You crawled slowly across the mattress toward his sprawled form, the fabric hugging your body every time you moved while your luscious hair fell over one shoulder. Jungkook tried to move toward you instinctively, but the second he did, his body locked up completely, he tried to call for you, but couldn’t, it felt like some cruel invisible force had pinned him down, like he’d been forbidden from touching you entirely. Forced to sit there and watch you approach him without being able to do anything about it.
You climbed onto his lap now, straddling him with slow, deliberate grace, that same cheeky smirk resting on your lips.
A strained groan escaped him as his arms shook reaching upward, desperate to feel the silk of your skin beneath his palms, desperate to grip your waist and pull you down until there was no space left between you both. His fingertips hovered mere millimeters from your hip—
And right before he could feel the silken skin beneath his hands, the world vanished.
The sensation hit like freefall.
A violent plunge straight into nothingness.
Jungkook’s eyes shot open violently, a sharp ragged gasp tearing from his chest as he jolted upright in bed. His heart hammered frantically against his ribs while the room around him slowly came back into focus.
His arm reached beside him instinctively and touched nothing except cold empty sheets.
He paused there for a moment, chest heaving while the phantom feeling of you still lingered against his skin like heat that refused to leave.
Slowly, Jungkook blinked toward the digital clock resting beside the bed, it read 4:20 AM.
A long shaky breath escaped him before he sank back against the pillows, staring blankly at the ceiling above him.
He reached for his phone.
Of course there were no texts. It was four in the morning and you were asleep somewhere across the city and you had walked away from him smiling like the night had cost you absolutely nothing, like you had simply experimented something and found it interesting and moved on, and here he was lying fully clothed in the dark of his bedroom with a racing pulse and the ghost of a dream he was going to spend the rest of the night trying to forget and the rest of his life failing to.
He mindlessly scrolled through YouTube shorts for a minute and then he opened instagram, his fingers typed your name as if it was automatic to do so, he clicked your Instagram account.
A new post sat at the top of your profile.
You were posing in that blue dress at some earlier point in the night before he had arrived, before any of it, you were laughing at something off-camera, one hand raised, the yellow light of the venue catching the curve of your face.
He stared at that picture for an alarming amount of time, until the screen dimmed. And when he realised, he locked the phone and dropped it onto the mattress and turned onto his side, staring at the far wall of his bedroom and understood, with the particular clarity that only comes in the morning in the aftermath of something you can’t take back, that he was in serious trouble.
His chest ached in a way that had nothing to do with wanting and everything to do with recognition.
Sleep never properly returned after that.
── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ────
I was back in the gym by 6AM the next morning like the night before hadn’t been a tug of war in my mind, like I hadn’t lain awake until sunrise with my phone face down beside me and my own ceiling for company. I ran four kilometres more than my usual, weirdly I didn’t notice until I checked the treadmill display and even then didn’t stop untill I almost blacked out from the ferocious running. I reminded myself that a company wouldn’t run with wobbly legs, not when I had a brand new launch to finalise.
I cursed out loud as I remembered that two brand deals sat in my inbox, waiting for my confirmation.
If it wasn’t for Gwanshik’s voice mail I would’ve missed today’s meeting. The table had samples spread across it, matte boards, fabric swatches, digital mockups cycling on the screen at the front of the room. My creative director was talking through the options with the specific enthusiasm of someone who had prepared extensively and expected me to share it. I had already decided on a brown palette long before this launch was finalized. It was grounded, masculine, and fit the brand perfectly, everything I’d argued for in those preliminary meetings two weeks ago. And then I glanced over the blue samples in the corner of the spread.
“I want to revisit the colour direction.”
“The blue samples.” He tapped a finger against the corner of the spread. “Have the team build a few concepts around those instead. I’d like to see what we can do with them.”
My creative director paused mid-sentence.
“Blue is more eye-soothing.” I tapped the sample board once without looking up. “Let’s go with the blue colour palette.”
A brief silence settled over the table.
“Sir,” Mister Gong began carefully, “we already started the process after you approved the brown palette last week.”
“I changed my mind, Mister Gong,” I stated simply.
He stared at me for a minute.
“You spent two weeks convincing everyone brown was the right direction.”
“And now I think blue is.”
His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. For a second, he looked like he wanted to launch the sample board at my head. Instead, he forced a tight smile and gave a short nod.
I stared at the sample for another second before looking back at my laptop. I wasn’t even particularly fond of blue, but lately, it was starting to look like a pretty colour.
── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ────
The first week passed by.
I religiously contributed to my work.
I ate at reasonable hours and slept at unreasonable ones.
I checked my phone a deeply unnecessary number of times per day.
From KakaoTalk to Instagram then back to KakaoTalk.
The conversation thread between us sitting there exactly as I had left it, my last message, a week old now, still unanswered, the small indicator beside it telling me absolutely nothing useful.
My notifications filled with everyone on this damn earth except the one person I needed answers from.
By the second week, I had expected something, anything. Instead, I found myself staring at the same message I’d sent days ago.
You reached home? On delivered.
It was a weak excuse for a conversation starter, embarrassingly so, but it had been the only reason I could think of to text her. Now it just sat there, unanswered, mocking me every time I opened the chat.
My KakaoTalk had forty three unread messages by Friday.I had read exactly one of them.
Everyone texted me, my business partner, my gym trainer, my brother, my mother, and even separate brand reps.
Everytime the phone would buzz my stomach would do something humiliating twist before my eyes even reached the screen and then it would be anyone.
By the time the third week rolled around I had lost my ability to sleep.
First it was just later at night, one, then two, then three in the morning staring at the plain ceiling of my apartment and my brain refusing to downshift into anything useful.
I started going to the gym at 4:00 AM instead of 6:00 AM. The punching bag took the brunt of my frustration all week. By the end of it, even my trainer had started calling me out.
At some point during the fourth week.
The shower had become a problem.
I had always been disciplined about that kind of thing. For years, desire had been nothing more than pressure and distance, a vague humming in the background of my life that I could easily tune out. But lately, the discipline had fractured.
Now, I would stand there in the rising steam, closing my eyes to find peace, only for the specificity to arrive without invitation. It wasn’t vague neither was it abstract. It was her, particularly and precisely. In vivid details that my waking mind had not consciously constructed, but that my sleeping mind had apparently been building for weeks, she would appear. I could almost feel the ghost of her touch on my skin, the imagined scent of her hair mixing with the humidity of the bathroom. I would snap my eyes open and stare hard at the white tile, breathing through the rush of heat in my gut, trying to think about literally anything else. Brand campaigns or something as irrelevant as supplement formulations.
I would cling to those mundane thoughts like a lifeline.
It worked for approximately five seconds.
Then, the image of me and her in those dreams would flood back in, leaving me breathless and aching in the silence of the room.
I had started taking colder showers, hoping the shock of the ice water would kill the fire in my blood.
But that didn’t work either. They were just colder, and as I stood there shivering, the mental image of her warmth only became more intoxicating.
I had spent the entire month fighting a war against my own mind, trying to freeze out a hunger that was only growing stronger.
On the fifth week I had drafted texts that I was never gonna send.
I’ve been thinking— Delete.
The delete button and I had become intimately acquainted over the past month. I would type something, stare at it for a moment, and promptly decide it revealed too much or the wrong thing or something I hadn’t yet decided whether I was ready to even admit myself, and then I’d delete it and put the phone down and last approximately less than a hour before the cycle restarted.
I made up my mind on the sixth week.
I was going to call her, because she obviously wouldn’t.
I had arrived at it the way you arrive at something after fighting it for six weeks, not gracefully, not with any of the composure I would’ve preferred, but with the particular surrender of a man who had simply run out of other options.I was going to call her and sound normal and it was going to be fine because I was a normal person having a normal phone call.
I sat in my office chair for eleven minutes after making this decision without calling.
The sky outside my window had gone the heavy grey-green colour it went before rain.
The city below moved in its usual indifferent way. My phone sat on the desk in front of me.
My hands sat beside the phone.
Put it down then picked it up again.
My thumb hovered over her contact.
A voice in my head yelled.
I pressed dial before I could talk myself out of it a fourth time.
I straightened slightly in the chair.
My thumb pressed unnecessarily hard against the phone like applying more pressure would somehow make her answer faster.
My knee started moving under the desk.
Pick up. Pick up. Pick up.
The line went to voicemail.
Her honeyed voice, asking me to leave a message.
I couldn’t have articulated a single thing I would’ve said if she had answered anyway.
I sat there with the dead call still glowing on my screen while the city outside turned darker beneath the storm clouds gathering over Seoul. The first sounds of rain finally started hitting against the windows behind me in soft scattered taps .And somehow that sound pissed me off more.
I slammed the phone against the desk harder than I intended before leaning back into my chair and dragging a hand over my face tiredly.
I was a grown functioning adult!
Not some teenager crashing out because the popular girl didn’t answer his call.
Yet somehow that wasn’t far from the truth.
── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ────
He left the office around 8:30 PM.
The building lobby was quiet at that hour, the security officer nodded at him as he passed while the automatic doors slid open, letting in the delightful smell of rain. He headed toward the underground parking and swung a leg over his motorcycle, the metal still faintly warm beneath his hands from sitting indoors all day. The engine rumbled alive underneath him a second later as he pulled out onto the main road.
His office sat obnoxiously far from his house because the land he had originally wanted, the perfect location barely fifteen minutes from his place had already been bought out by some old investor before he could secure it. He remembered being irrationally pissed about it for weeks when eventually he had no choice but to settle for the current building instead, it wasn’t that bad except by the time work ended, he was usually exhausted out of his fucking mind.
That’s the only downside.
The city blurred around him as he rode through it, headlights smearing against wet asphalt, neon signs reflecting across puddles, traffic slowed near the overpass and he eased the bike to a stop alongside the line of cars, gloved fingers tapping once against the handle absentmindedly.
Cold wind pushed against his helmet while rows of red brake lights stretched endlessly ahead of him, reflecting across the wet asphalt in long distorted streaks. With the current situation he already knew his apartment was still another thirty six minutes away at best. His shoulders ached, while his mind crowded with restless thoughts, and in that moment, all he wanted was the serenity of his home, to collapse onto his bed, watch anime or some Netflix show and sit alone in silence for the rest of the night drinking whiskey to let loose, even though that silence had started feeling a little too lonely, lately. Traffic had slowed to an unbearable crawl near the overpass by the time his phone buzzed inside his jacket pocket. And his chest reacted before his brain did. That same sharp pathetic leap happened instantly, violent enough that he was genuinely beginning to get irritated at himself for it. He pulled the phone out quickly, already looking at the screen before the name fully registered.
Only to sigh once he heard the voice.
What was he expecting in the first place?
It was his younger brother, Jinu.
“What.” Jungkook answered listlessly.
“YO BROO!!” his brother’s voice blasted through enthusiastically, loud enough that Jungkook had to pull the phone slightly away to protect his eardrum. “Mom and Dad aren’t coming home tonight, come over right now, let’s order some food and play Xbox later.” Jungkook snorted quietly, eyes still fixed on the endless line of cars ahead. “You call me like I’m one of your little friends .”
“You are too old for that, unc.”
Jungkook rolled his eyes then playfully stating. “Alright then, I’m hanging up.”
“Okay wait, wait—” He could practically hear Jinu panicking through the phone. “Where are you right now?”He glanced briefly at the overhead signs before answering flatly, “Already passed Goyang like twenty minutes ago.”
“The traffic’s fucking endless,” he grunted, pissed beyond.
“See this is what happens when you decide to build offices on the other side of the country.”
“The land near my house was already bought,” he muttered tiredly. “I didn’t exactly have options.”
“I called since you’re usually done with work around this time.” Jinu explained.
Jungkook sighed quietly, slowing the motorcycle slightly as the line of cars ahead stopped once again. “Why? What happened to your friends? Tell them to sleep over.”
“Nah, Yoojun’s out with his girlfriend,” Jinu said dismissively. “And Kinseom’s busy crying over his midterms or something.” Jungkook hummed absentmindedly at that. “Knowing you, you’re not cooking anything, order some good stuff, not that cheap ramen you always eat and then cry about your diarrhoea, I’m sending you money.”
“See? This is why you’re my favorite sibling.”
“Shut up.” A faint laugh almost left Jungkook before Jinu spoke again.
“Also…can you send a bit more than $200? I only have $160 right now, and I need to order for three people.”
Jungkook’s brows furrowed slightly beneath the helmet. “You got company at home?”
There was rustling on Jinu’s side, voices moving faintly somewhere behind him before he spoke again, completely unaware of the effect his next words were about to have on his poor brother.
“____ and Samuel are here.”
Jungkook’s grip tightened unconsciously around the handle.
Jinu kept talking absentmindedly. “Minha aunty sent over kimchi and those pickled radishes you like, so they came by to drop it off and I may or may not have hold them hostage.”
Jungkook’s expression stayed completely blank.
“Oh,” he answered in an even tone, a little too even.
“Yeah,” Jinu continued. “Me and Samuel are watching football, and I didn’t want ____ to feel left out, so I figured I’d call you to keep her company.”
“How long are they staying?”
The question left his mouth before he could stop it.
Jinu paused briefly this time, as if he noticed the shift in his brother’s voice. “I dunno…” he wondered slowly. “They literally just got here.”
Jungkook’s pulse stumbled for a second. “Hello? The signal’s bad, can you hear me? Hyung?” Jinu yelled before the line went off.
Before his brain fully caught up, the traffic ahead loosened slightly and he abruptly twisted the handle hard enough for the motorcycle to surge forward between lanes, then cut across and made a sharp U-turn.
Some irritated old man shouted a curse at him from somewhere behind.
It happened on a random Saturday.
Every year, your mother made a huge batch of kimchi, spending nearly a full week preparing enough to last the year. As always, she carefully set aside portions for your aunts, your grandmother, and her closest friends. This year was no different.
She had practically begged you to accompany Samuel because his only condition to your mother was that he wasn’t going alone. So eventually you were bound to tag along, because apparently, that little shit had told her he felt “awkward” showing up by himself and would only go if you came too as if he hasn’t known them since he was diaper years old.
The Jeon residence looked even more beautiful at night, especially beneath the rain. It didn’t feel like one of those aggressively modern mansions built only to show off wealth. Instead, stepping through the gates felt strangely nostalgic, like walking straight into a warm 90s Japanese home from an old film.
The interior was breathtaking.
Rich oak floors creaked softly beneath your shoes while warm ambient lighting cast honey-colored shadows across the walls. Wooden beams stretched across the ceiling, large indoor plants occupied nearly every corner, and low furniture sat scattered around the living room beside stacked books, ceramic vases, framed paintings, and old vinyl records displayed elegantly.
Even the rain tapping softly against the windows somehow made it feel warmer.
Objectively, you loved it.
It reminded you of being little again, standing awkwardly beside your mother while Minha Aunty hosted dinners here years ago, back when the adults laughed loudly over tea and dinner spread while you and the boys ran around the house without care. That specific memory hit you unexpectedly as you stood there now years later, dripping rainwater onto the entrance floor while the familiar warmth of the house wrapped around you all over again. And for a fleeting second, you caught yourself thinking that one day, when you finally built a life of your own, you wanted a home that looked exactly like this, but the thing about homes were that they went beyond the exterior and decor.
By the time you and Samuel entered at the Jeon residence it had only been a little past 9:40, only to find out Hanmi Aunty had gone over to her nephew’s house and wouldn’t be back till late. Jinu, despite being two years older than you, had always been one of your easier friends to be around, you wouldn't exactly say you and Jinu were close in a way 'we're each others ride or die' type of way but more in a 'I'm always cheering for you, from far away.’ type of way. He is intellectual, quick-witted, surprisingly mature when it came to business despite his unserious personality. You honestly would’ve dropped the kimchi off and left Samuel with him before heading home yourself, but Jinu kept dragging you back into conversations about startups, investments, branding strategies, wanting advice because he apparently had been wanting to start his own business too.
When he casually mentioned Jungkook a few times throughout the evening, it took genuine effort to keep your face neutral.
You, Jinu, and Samuel were currently sprawled across the couch in the living room.
The rain had finally eased to a drizzle, pattering softly against the windowpane.
You were still reeling from that night at the gathering party.
The memory of his eyes, heavy lidded and intense, his strong gaze… the way he had held you, kissed you, the way he looked like a sad little kicked puppy once you retreated.
You couldn’t deny the strange sense of rush you felt after that night.. But you also could not act like he hadn’t consumed your mind ever since.
It was even worse than the dreams.
Then it was only imaginary. Now, the reality of what you had initiated gripped you.
Now you knew the way his breathing had changed against your mouth, the way his body reacted to your touch, the way he looked at you when he stopped thinking and simply felt.
It had wrapped around your mind ever since.
And maybe that was why you took a step back afterwards. Because you had already done the hardest part. You had shown him through a charged glance, a deliberate proximity that he wasn’t just some “older brother” figure in your life. You had broken the socially expected dynamic. You had freed him from that cage, or so you told yourself. That balcony had changed something permanently between you both, and Jungkook had no other option but to admit it. Now, you just wanted to sit back and let him take the remaining few steps. You wanted to take a little time and see if he would risk it, if he would call or make the efforts. Because you knew if you were the one constantly making all the calls, there would be an imbalance, with one falling harder, hurting harder, wanting more while one remained safely undecided.
So you built the wall back up. You took advantage of your busy schedule, your midterms just so you can easily ignore his texts and stare unnecessarily long at his missed call today before locking your phone again.
Truthfully, your heart had leaped the second you recognized his number.
But you ignored it anyway.
A cruel little part of you enjoyed it.
Enjoyed pushing his buttons.
You wanted to push him to his limits.
The apartment was filled with nothing except the noise of the television, Samuel and Jinu yelling every few seconds, and the occasional aroma of kimchi and ramen seasoning lingering from the kitchen while you all still argued over what to order for dinner.
Out of boredom, you picked up your phone and lazily scrolled through your socials instead. Then suddenly in the thick silence—
All three of you looked toward the entrance in unison.
Jinu squinted at the door. Two rings, close together, impatient. He unfolded himself from the floor with a groan and padded toward the entrance, his socked feet quiet on the floor, his broad shoulders blocking the doorway entirely as he pulled it open.
You weren’t looking at first.
“Now, now, now, look who’s where?” Jinu chanted.
Putting your phone aside, you looked in front of you to see Samuel grinning ear to ear, because from where he was sitting he could see who it was. Now you were interested to see who the person was. Then something shifted in Jinu’s posture, a small surprised sound left him, a laugh caught in his throat. And your eyes moved before you told them to. Jinu’s back was still blocking most of the doorway. And then he stepped aside. You felt the surprise move across your face before you could catch it. Jungkook stood at the threshold, rain damp and breathing slightly harder than usual, like he had ran a marathon before getting here, his hair was wet, dark strands pushed back from his forehead, the white t-shirt clung to him, rain-soaked at the shoulders, the fabric pulling taut across his chest and abdomen. A black motorcycle helmet was cradled between his arm and his body, tucked against his bicep. His eyes moved across the room. Swept once, nodding ar Sameul happily. And then when they found you, he held your gaze for one long, unhurried moment. Then he stepped inside and set the helmet down by the door.
He reached up and pushed his damp hair back from his forehead with one hand, the movement made the sleeves of his shirt ride up, revealing the lower edges of the intricate tattoos that you knew snaked up his arms before disappearing under the fabric. You tilted your head as you looked at him. While Jinu leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed, “I’m wondering why you’re here all of a sudden when you already reached your home.” His eyes were bright with it. “What happened to ‘I’m already near home, call your little friends.’ huh?”
He did a deeply unflattering impression of Jungkook’s lower register that made Samuel snort from the living room floor.
Was Jungkook’s only reply. “Get me a towel.” as he was taking off his shoes.
Jinu finally pushed off the doorframe with a playful scoff and turned back toward the living room with his hands in his hoodie pocket. “How’s it going, hyung?”
Samuel paused the TV and asked. “Good, good.” Jungkook smiled as he moved toward the living room. He rounded the couch, looking for somewhere to sit. His eyes passed over the available space and landed, briefly and inevitably, on the floor beside you before moving away again. Instead, he dropped onto the couch opposite you and leaned back.
Running a hand through his still-damp hair, he barely had time to settle before he jerked in surprise as Jinu threw a towel at him out of nowhere. Jungkook tsked in annoyance while Jinu laughed.
“Dry yourself before you catch a cold.” Jungkook muttered something under his breath and began drying his arms, neck, face, and hair. “The rain got worse, and I realized my house was farther away. The safest option was to just make a U-turn and come here,” he explained simply. Jinu stared at him for a long moment. “Uh-huh.”
“It did get worse. I’m just wondering how we’re gonna leave, noona,” Samuel said worriedly, gesturing toward the rain-streaked window.
You shrugged. “I don’t think it’s stopping anytime soon.”
“Man, I’m gonna get bored out of my mind,” Samuel complained. Jinu stood infront of Sameul with a knowing expression.
“Not a chance. We can play on my PlayStation. It’s been forever since I’ve played.” Jinu boasted.
Samuel immediately sat up like he won the lottery. “Jinu hyung, that’s a great idea.”
The two boys high-fived each other, watching them, it was hard to believe Jinu was almost five years older than her little brother.
“Okay, wait. Let me go set it up then. My bedroom’s right next to the corridor.”
As Jinu got to his feet, Samuel’s attention shifted to the man sitting motionless.
“Jungkook hyung, join us too.”
While he only shook his head, a small apologetic smile appearing on his face. “Next time. I’m too tired today. You two go play.” The younger brothers of the duo disappeared up the corner into the bedroom. For approximately 40 seconds the silence was complete. Then from behind the door, there was an immediate sound of a game starting up.
The living room stayed quiet.
The rain against the windows filled the space between, you kept your eyes on the dark screen of the television that no one had bothered to turn off properly, a screensaver moving slowly across it, and you were aware, acutely, precisely aware of him on the couch to your opposite.
You could feel him looking.
You didn’t turn to confirm it.
You didn’t need to. It was the same way you had always been able to feel it, that specific quality of his attention, the weight of it, except now it had a different texture than it used to.
Then you turned your head and looked directly back at him. He didn’t look away.
This was new. The old Jungkook, the oh so composed, careful, and categorising one would have shifted his gaze by now, redirected smoothly, given them both the exit of plausible deniability. This one just looked back at you with his dark eyes and his still damp hair and that unreadable expression he’d been wearing since he walked through the door, unhurried and completely unashamed about it.
You didn’t shy away either, reeling in the elongated eye contact. Something catastrophic had apparently occurred in the game as Samuel’s voice rose above it in protest. You broke the eye contact first, not from nerves, but deliberately, on your own terms and leaned forward toward the low table. Jinu had left snacks out, a small bowl of strawberries and a generous jar of Nutella sitting beside you like an offering. Your hands moved towards the bowl to pick out the largest strawberry you could find and dipping it leisurely into the Nutella. His eyes had followed your hands without him meaning to, you could see it, the way his gaze had tracked movement and was now zeroed in on your mouth as you brought the strawberry to your lips. You took a slow and easy bite.
Keeping his gaze the entire time like you weren’t clocking every micro-expression moving across his face. You lowered the strawberry from your mouth and then, with a careful, unhurried motion, brought it back up and licked the Nutella clean from the side of it, your eyes sliding back to his as you did it. Ignoring the knot in your stomach you stood up slowly and sauntered towards him. Jungkook’s hands settled tightly on his knees. You stopped in front of his spread legs, too close for the living room of his parents’ house, with his brother twelve feet away behind a door that was very much unlocked. As you leaned down slightly, his eyes dropped without permission, sliding past your neckline to the soft swell of your cleavage. And for some reason, a shiver ran through you.
His gaze lingered for half a second more before dragging itself upward again, back to your face, your eyes and your mouth.
“It’s so good,” you hummed delightfully, holding up the strawberry between your fingers. “Would you like some?” The question was innocent but the smile that accompanied it wasn’t.
There was a small smear of Nutella at the corner of your mouth.You weren’t doing anything. You were just standing there looking down at him with that mischievous expression of yours.
His throat bobbed while he licked his lips.
You held the bitten end of the strawberry out toward him, your slender fingers streaked with Nutella. It dangled above him like a forbidden fruit, your wrist level with his mouth, and for one second he just looked at it.He brought his hand up and losed it over yours. He felt it immediately, the faint tremor running through your fingers beneath his palm, his thumb rested over your knuckles. He took the strawberry into his mouth gradually.
And then, without fully deciding to, let his tongue drag across your index finger where the Nutella had gathered, he watched your face while he did it. You held your breath. The sweet taste lingered on his tongue. He kept his hand over yours for longer than necessary, and in that suspended second, something in him strained against doing something unfathomable right then and there. From your expression, he could tell you weren’t thinking any differently. “I-” he got cut off as the door to Jinu’s bedroom swung open.
“Guys, we’re ordering pizza.” Jinu stood in the doorway, phone in hand, blissfully unaware.
Both pairs of eyes darted toward the doorway while you snatched your hand back, while Jungkook sat up straighter against the couch cushions. Jinu looked between the two of you once with eyes that were perhaps not quite as oblivious as they appeared, then glanced back down at his phone. “Samuel suggested the one with extra, olives, and tandoori chicken from PizzaHi is their bestselling. Anyone have objections?”
“No.” both of you said at the same time.
“Cool, we’re joining you in a minute.” Jinu turned and disappeared back into the hallway, already talking to Samuel, the door swinging halfway shut behind him. The living room exhaled. You moved to the other side of the table without comment, casually eating another strawberry, biting your lips to hold back a smile and putting a socially reasonable amount of distance from him. While Jungkook’s attention snagged on you at the same time…..his pulse did whatever it wanted without his permission.
At the table, it was only Jinu and Samuel talking now, fully absorbed in their games, the two of them going back and forth about PlayStation games, some heated debate about GTA versus God of War that had been ongoing since approximately 2019, Jinu slammed his hand on the table at some point passionately declaring his high scores and kills, something you didn’t fully follow. It felt like there was something looped around your throat all through dinner, some invisible, tightening thing, and underneath all of it was a want so embarrassingly simple it made your jaw clench. It was easier to avoid him then pretend like there’s nothing going between you two.
That is a dangerous thing, the two of you sitting in all that noise and somehow being the stillest points in the room. Your confidence felt slightly misplaced after that, like it had slipped out of your hands without asking.Because you couldn’t stop thinking about earlier.The way his tongue had brushed your finger. You’d built yourself a little rule over the course of the meal: look at Jinu, look at your plate, laugh when Samuel said something, sip your drink slowly. Do not look left. Do not look across. Do not. Let him make the next move. Jungkook murmured something about changing his clothes and left the table before the rest of you, he disappeared down the hallway toward his old bedroom, the one that still had his things in it. You took another bite of your delicious pizza, your eyes fixed on the corridor he disappeared into. You stood up too, offering to help clean, to wash the dishes, anything to move your hands, but Jinu refused “Don’t even think about it,” he declared as if offended, already stacking plates. “You’re my guest.” By the time the table cleared, the rain had stopped. Everything outside looked washed clean and still. “Samie.” You tapped your brother’s chin. “It’s past eleven.”
“Noona.” Samuel caught your hand before you could pull it back, and when you looked at him he had the eyes out. The full ones. The ones he’d been deploying on you since he was seven years old and they still worked, infuriatingly, every single time. “I’m gonna stay over actually. We’ll play games, I’ll go home tomorrow morning.” You shook your head. “AND,” he said, louder, cutting off whatever you were about to say, straightening up like he’d just played his final card, “I already told mom. So
you don’t even have to worry about it.”
“You already—” You stared at him. “When did you—”
And then Jinu’s hand landed on top of you
“Let the poor guy stay, it’s gonna be a fun match.” he said, and his voice had gone a little softer, a little less loud than his usual. “Besides, I know for a fact Jungkook hyung’s gonna disappear sooner or later. Mom and Dad are on vacation, so I’ve got the whole house to myself.” You looked at Jinu then at Samuel, who was still holding your hand and looking at you with a hopeful expression. The argument dissolved somewhere in your chest before it could make it to your mouth, it was unlike him to want to stay over, and you didn’t wanna kill his fun.
“Fine, I’ll uber alone.” you said.
Samuel made a noise like he’d won a championship.
You reached for your purse, the skirt of your black polka-dot midi dress brushing lightly against your legs. Your hair hung loose down your back, the styled front pieces framing your face, with Jinu and Samuel trailing after you toward the entrance.
Jinu held the door open while you crouched down to slip your ballet flats on.
You flashed him a small smile in thanks. As you opened the Uber app, your expression immediately soured. It said ‘No cars available.’
You refreshed once, but it didn’t change anything. It was understandable, considering the weather. The rain had stopped, but the storm had kept most drivers off the road. You leaned back against the doorframe with an annoyed sigh. “What?” Samuel asked, reading your face instantly. “There aren’t any Ubers available.”“Seriously?” Jinu shook his head. “That sucks.”“It’s fine,” you said, already pulling up Maps.
“There’s a bus stop nearby, I’ll just take that.” You hummed. “Are you sure, noona?” Samuel’s voice shifted into that tone, the worried one tgat he pretended he didn’t have. “Yes, of course. I can manage by my—” A deeper voice cut through.
“I’m about to leave too.” You looked up. Jungkook was standing in the doorway now, changed, black tee, fitted, grey trousers, hair dried and falling naturally. His eyes found yours and stayed there. “Can I drop you off?” Jungkook was standing in the doorway now, changed, black tee, fitted, grey trousers, hair dried.
You felt your hands move on their own, sliding behind your back, fingers clasping together. “If it doesn’t bother you too much,” you said, “then yes.” Something softened at the corner of his mouth. “Never a bother.” he said simply. You turned to wave at Jinu and ruffled Samuel’s hair messily and stepped out onto the porch. The wood was damp under your flats.
Jungkook followed, falling into step just behind you, and the door clicked shut at your backs.
── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ────
His motorcycle sat at the curb, black and low beneath the glow of the streetlights, the chrome catching flashes of yellow every time a car passed. Without a word, Jungkook silently held the helmet out to you, the visor clicked shut. Jungkook swung a leg over first, settling into place while you stood beside it a second longer, suddenly aware that getting on meant surrendering every last bit of distance the two of you still had between you. You climbed on behind him.
The seat was smaller than you’d expected. Your knees brushed his sides. Your chest nearly against his back. Nowhere for your hands to go except around his waist, so that’s where they went, and the moment your arms wrapped around him you felt his whole body tensing.
His black tee was warm beneath your palms, stretched across the width of his shoulders, and then the engine turned over and the motorcycle hummed alive beneath you both and Jungkook pulled away from the curb and there was nothing to do but hold on.
The city was unusually quiet tonight. Most of the roads were nearly empty, slick from the earlier rain, streetlights reflecting across the asphalt in long ribbons of gold. At first you sat stiffly behind him, then gradually, minute by minute, the tension left your shoulders. The cool wind brushed against your cheeks.
And somewhere between one traffic light and the next, you began to stop cataloguing every point of contact between your body and his. The motorcycle slowed to a stop at a red light. Jungkook’s hands dropped from the throttle briefly, flexing once before settling back onto the handlebars. His forearm brushed against yours, yet neither of you moved away. The light stayed red, the city humming quietly around you.
And without over thinking about it, you rested your chin against his shoulder. For a second you wondered if he would tense. If he would say something. If he would shift away. But he didn’t. When the lights turned green. The engine surged forward. And you stayed exactly where you were, eyes closed, the wind cool against your face, the city coming apart into streaks of light and shadow around you. The familiar streets of your neighborhood appeared slowly, then all at once. The motorcycle slowed, turned, stopped in front of your complex.
The engine went quiet, the sudden stillness felt enormous. His shoulders rose and fell with one slow breath. Your hands were still loosely around his waist, and you were still aware of every point where your body met his.
⤷ THIRD PERSON POV ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆
She stepped off the bike with a stiffness that felt unnatural, her body betraying her with every shift of weight. She paused, biting down hard on her lower lip, a frantic, unspoken question forming in the silence of her mind.
She looked at him, waiting.
But he barely looked at her.
“I’m gonna go then, thanks for the ride.” She muttered. Jungkook’s gaze was fixed forward, his hands gripped the handlebars tightly, so tightly that his knuckles bleached white, tendons straining against the skin. She could see the veins protruding in his neck, thick and pulsing, and his jaw was clenched so tight a muscle jumped rhythmically beneath the skin. He looked like a man holding back a tsunami, or perhaps a man who had simply decided the dam wasn’t worth breaking.
The silence hit her harder than she expected. Because he looked so tense, like there were a hundred things trapped behind his teeth.
And yet he forced himself to stay quiet, and only nodded once.
Fine. If he wants to be adamant then let him be. Her frustration flared up, shielding the bruise forming on her heart. If he didn’t think she was worthy enough to risk it all, if he couldn’t summon the courage to take what was already there, then he wasn’t the guy for her anyway.
Why was she doing this again? Putting all her validation onto him? Dumping it all on him? She vowed to not let herself fall into this loophole again, not after the physical, internal and mental damage she had to endure.
From that day in the balcony till today, she had been the one making the first move. As a woman, she had initiated way too much for a man who couldn’t even bid her goodbye properly. She wouldn’t do it again.
Not ever. That was the determination that gripped her until the door to her house closed.
The lock clicked with finality. She put her forehead on the door.
Her knees were wobbly, as if the entire weight of what had happened today was rushing in on her at full force. She was exhausted, from wanting him, from wondering, from waiting for someone else to decide whether she was worth the risk.
The adrenaline crash left her hollow, shaking.
She could feel the wetness pooling between her legs, a heavy, throbbing evidence of her body’s traitorous response. Instinctively her legs clenched together.
Fuck. Just because of a damn bike ride? What was wrong with her? Was she that sexually deprived? Her vibrator worked more than enough. It worked enough to keep her pleased and content for weeks, it was efficient and detached. It didn’t ask questions. It didn’t make her feel vulnerable. It didn’t leave her wondering if she was too much or not enough. But this…This raw, chaotic need for him, for his acknowledgment, was a hunger no machine could satisfy especially after knowing the way his lips felt on her. Her throat felt dry, parched from holding her breath. She pushed off the door, her legs trembling as she started to walk towards her refrigerator.
She’d barely made it to the kitchen and as she grabbed the bottle, twisted the cap—
The doorbell rang. She set the bottle down slowly, brows pulling together.
It had to be Miss Pinky. No one else made sense at this hour. Her neighbor had a sixth sense for her arrivals, always seemed to catch her coming through the front door, she had a habit of surprising her with something wrapped in foil or stacked on a plate, a dessert she’d made too much of, or sometimes a request for one of hers. Miss Pinky was an angelic woman but with a terrible sense of timing.
She smoothed her expression into something presentable as she crossed to the door.
Wearing a smile she swung it open.
The smile dropped instantly because instead of a small, pale, grey haired woman there stood a man with fiery eyes.
Jeon Jungkook was right infront of her door. His chest heaving rapidly, his face damp with sweat, his eyes burning with something she had never quite seen in them before.
“What are you—” “I thought you—” she couldn’t even finish the sentence because he stepped forward. “Sorry,” he said, and his voice was low and unsteady in a way that made her go completely still. “But today — you’ll listen to me, ____.”
She stood frozen in the doorway, caught completely off guard by the sight in front of her.
“I can’t keep doing this.” He said it like it had been sitting at the back of his throat for weeks, like it came out because he simply couldn’t hold it anymore. His eyes were almost feverish
“I’ve spent the past month trying not to think too much about our kiss, thinking it was only a tipsy mistake.” He snickered.
“It didn’t work instead it was all I could think about.” His hand came up and pushed through his hair, gripping it briefly at the root before dropping back to his side. He looked like standing still was taking considerable effort.
“And I’ve realised—” he stopped. Pressed his lips together then he begin again. “I don’t know how to stop.” She said nothing. She was afraid if she made a single sound he’d remember where he was and pull it all back. His eyes didn’t waver from hers. Not once. “I can’t be near you without losing my head a little.” A short exhale left him, almost humorless, like he found himself faintly ridiculous. “And I can’t be away from you without it being worse.”
Silence pressed in before he spoke again.
“I’d be lying if I said I still think of you the way I used to.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what to do with that. I’ve been trying to figure out what to do with that for five weeks.” And here she drowned in doubts, thinking he was just continuing with his life, wondering that he probably despised her, or was absolutely terrified by their kiss, and she forcefully convinced her conscience that it was for ‘the better’ but hearing his side of the story, changed the whole story. “I’m not asking you for anything you don’t want, neither am I gonna push you to reciprocate to me or do anything you’re uncomfortable with.” His voice dipped, the feverish edge giving way to something quieter and almost fragile underneath. “But also I keep fearing if something happens between us the next time, I won’t be able to hold back, and might end up pushing you far away.”
She opened her mouth but nothing came out except for air. He kept going. Like he couldn’t stop now, like the dam had broken and there was no use in holding back. “I know you’re probably regretting it.” He took an unsteady breath. “I’m way older, I probably look insane right now, showing up here like this, I probably come across as some creepy guy who doesn’t know when to take a hint.” he explained, his eyes moved over her face briefly, almost pained. “And you’re so beautiful, ____.” The words escaped him before he could stop them. “You probably have a lot of options. Guys your age lining up to take you out on dates and—” He shook his head.
“You probably think I’m some cheap, lustful guy who got the wrong idea and is now becoming desperate. He laughed once, humorlessly, dragging a hand across his face.
“Can you please just tell me what to do?” His voice cracked slightly on the last word. “Because I can’t keep doing this.” His eyes don’t fully meet hers; they land near her shoulder, then slip away “Please.”
A faint tremor in his fingers when he tries to keep them still “Tell me to leave and I will.” His voice flattens slightly, as if he’s trying to detach from what he’s saying
“Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll disappear.” His gaze drops again, longer this time, avoiding her entirely “You won’t have to see my fa—.” Before he could finish that sentence, She grabbed him by the collar, both hands twisting into his shirt, pulling him down to her, pressing her mouth to his and cutting off every last word still trying to crawl out of him. Jungkook went completely still, definitely not because he didn’t want it, but because he couldn’t quite believe it.
He stayed still for another minute, his lips pliant against her moving ones. Then not being able to take it anymore, he kissed her back. His hand found her jaw carefully, like he still wasn’t entirely convinced she was real, and she felt him exhale against her mouth, a shaky, disbelieving sound that made something inside her chest ache. And then something in him just collapsed. His hands came up to wrap around her waist, urgent and unsteady, and he kissed her back with everything he’d spent five weeks swallowing down.
Every fucking bit of it. Every looked away glance, every room he’d quietly left, every time he held back, every night he’d stared at the ceiling trying to think about literally anything else. The tension that had been simmering between them for days finally snapped, exploding into a kiss that felt less like a greeting and more like a collision. It was desperate and hungry, their mouths colliding with a force that left them both breathless.
With a low, guttural groan, he guided her backward, his movements urgent yet focused, until her back hit the wall with a dull thud. The impact sent a nearby vase sliding off a side table, shattering on the floor in a spray of porcelain and water, but neither of them gave a fuck. The sound was nothing compared to the roar of blood in their ears.
It wasn't a gentle kiss at all, that kiss on the balcony was a child’s play. He devoured her, his lips bruising hers with a desperate, starving force. His tongue forced its way inside, sweeping through her mouth with a greedy hunger, tangling with hers in a wet, frantic dance. He tasted her. the sweet, heady flavor of her mouth and the sound he made was a deep, needy moan that vibrated against her lips. He sucked on her tongue, pulling it into his mouth as if he were trying to drink her dry, their saliva slicking their lips as they breathed each other's air in ragged, desperate gasps.
Jungkook paused for a second, breaking the kiss just enough to press his forehead against hers. His dark eyes were blown wide, searching hers with a look of absolute, shimmering hunger. He watched her pupils dilate and her lips part, wet, swollen, and glistening, his eyes moved over her face, studying her reaction as if he were memorizing every inch of her pleasure.
He slid them down her body, his palms searing through the thin fabric of her clothes, leaving trails of fire in their wake. He didn't stop until he reached her bare thighs, he captured the tender skin in a firm grip. He hooked his hands under her, lifting her legs and hauling her hips flush against him.
wiwi's note can wait! it was getting a little hot in there aye ;) i had to take a moment for myself cause i was suddenly missing my nonexistent boyfriend.
besties its finally here! THANK YOU FOR BEING SO PATIENT OMG I CAN'T BELIEVE ITS FINALLY HERE and i was able to make it through, i know it’s a little imperfect and there will be a little typos but I’ll edit it later again. PLEASE none of you dare leave without a reblog, a comment and a reaction photo! so much more is on the way! i can't wait to post part five.
