Hate sex is still sex. — part 8 | ᴊᴇᴏɴ ᴊᴜɴɢᴋᴏᴏᴋ
You just got dumped. The one behind it? your boyfriend’s best friend Jungkook who’s hated you from day one. You hate him. He hates you. One thing’s for sure: when hate turns into desire, it gets messy, it gets reckless… and yes, hate sex is still sex.
8’— When did his touch stop being a game… and start feeling like the only place you felt safe?
⎯⎯ pairing: Grumpy Jungkook x Mean girl reader
🧷Genre: enemies with benefits
🧷Warnings: 18+ content, angst, fake dating, yearning, miscommunication, commitment issues!y/n, meandom!jk x patheticsub!y/n, spoiled,richgirl!y/n, pussydrunk!jk, use of y/n, (mdni)!!
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“I think we should stop sleeping together.”
Your sharp words still hung in the air between you, like something that had cracked but hadn’t quite shattered yet, and neither of you knew how to put it back together.
You could still feel the absence of his touch, phantom warmth lingering where his hands had been seconds ago. and somehow, that hurt more than anything he could’ve said.
“Now it doesn’t feel casual anymore.”
He just stood there, a few steps away, hands at his sides like he didn’t trust himself to touch you again. the slow, elegant music from inside drifted faintly onto the balcony, completely at odds with the tight knot forming in your chest.
You hated the distance. hated that you were the one who’d created it because this was what you wanted, wasn’t it?
So why did it feel like you had just broken something you didn’t know how to fix?
Jungkook finally lets out a slow breath through his nose, gathering your words, his gaze dropping briefly before returning to yours. “So that’s it?” he asked quietly, flat in a way that made your stomach twist.
You swallowed hard. “I don’t know what you were expecting, Jungkook…” you said, forcing steadiness into your voice even as your chest tightened. “We can’t keep doing this forever.”
His gaze stayed fixed on you, sharp in a way that made your pulse stutter. “Doing what?” he asked deliberately.
The question caught you off guard, because you didn’t have a clean answer. not one that didn’t sound dangerously close to admitting the truth. and before you could find one, the balcony doors slid open behind you with a soft rush of air.
Yoona’s voice rang bright, cutting straight through the fragile silence neither of you had managed to break.
“Everyone’s been looking for you,” she went on, stepping fully onto the balcony, her eyes flicking between the two of you with amused curiosity. “What, did you sneak off to make out or something?” a small laugh bubbled out of her like it was the most harmless joke in the world.
Your throat tightened. for half a second, you didn’t know what to do with your hands, your face, your voice, everything still tangled in the aftermath of what had just happened. so you did the only thing you knew how to do.
You smiled. a soft, awkward thing that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Something like that,” you said lightly, forcing a quiet giggle that sounded foreign even to your own ears. the pathetic lie settling bitterly on your tongue.
Out of the corner of your eye, you felt Jungkook shift. your fingers moved instinctively, curling around his forearm as if nothing had changed, as if the distance between you on the balcony hadn’t just carved something real into the space between your bodies.
Yoona grinned, satisfied. “Come on,” she said, already turning back toward the doors. “You two disappearing together is starting to look suspicious.”
You forced another small laugh, letting Jungkook guide you forward, back inside, back to pretending.
Your hand stayed looped around his arm, smile fixed carefully into place of the perfect image of a happy couple. even though, beneath it all, nothing felt simple in the slightest.
The moment you stepped back into the hall, the noise swallowed you whole. music drifted through the room, soft laughter weaving into the clinking of glasses. everything looked exactly the same as before, elegant, and perfectly curated. Except nothing felt the same.
Yoona slipped away after a while, pulled into another conversation, leaving you standing beside Jungkook like a perfectly placed accessory... like nothing had happened on that balcony. Like your chest wasn’t still tight from words you couldn’t take back.
Your gaze drifted across the room again, searching without meaning to. still nothing.
Your mother hadn’t looked at you once. not even by accident.
“So that makes you alone most of the time now?” Jiwoo’s voice pulled you back sharply. you turned, forcing your expression into something polite as she and another girl stepped closer, glasses of champagne balanced neatly between their fingers.
Jiwoo tilted her head slightly, studying you with that same curious smile she’d always worn — sweet enough to pass as concern yet sharp enough to feel like inspection.
“What do you mean?” you asked, brows pulling together faintly.
She gave a small shrug. “With your dad not being here anymore. I mean...”
“Oh.” You let out a short breath, shaking your head lightly. “No, you know…” you said, offering a polite smile. “He keeps tabs on me every time I breathe, so it isn’t exactly lonely.”
Jiwoo laughed softly at that. “Oh yeah, and Jungkook’s there too, so you’re probably never bored, huh?”
You gulped. nodded once, eyes flicking sideways, just briefly peeking at Jungkook, who stood beside you with a perfectly fixed poker face that hadn’t shifted once since you left the balcony. not even the faintest sign of warmth. just stillness.
“So… tell me how you two met…?” Jiwoo giggled, nudging the girl beside her as they both leaned in slightly, settling into place like they were preparing for entertainment.
You opened your mouth. “Well… we met through mutual friends…” You cringed, almost laughing at how ridiculous that sounded, considering the circumstances of how the two of you had even ended up tangled in each other’s lives.
You resisted the urge to glance at Jungkook again.
Jiwoo giggled again, completely oblivious. “That’s cute. So who made the first move?”
You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head lightly. “Definitely not me,” you said quickly.
“God no, I can’t imagine that ever happening,” Jiwoo said, rolling her eyes but smiling, turning toward Jungkook with clear amusement lighting her face. “You know, back when we were teens, y/n used to have so many guys at her feet doing the most ridiculous things just to get her attention.”
She laughed softly, shaking her head at the memory. “It was honestly so funny to watch because she wouldn’t reciprocate any of it. No matter how attractive, rich, charming the guy was…”
The girl beside her giggled, leaning closer. “She always used to be so hard to please.”
Jiwoo tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing with mischief. “This one time,” she continued, lifting her glass slightly as if the memory itself entertained her, “We were all on this yacht trip... you remember, right?” Her eyes flicked toward you knowingly.
Your stomach tightened faintly as of course, you remembered. the summer heat, too many people pretending to be adults before they actually were.
“Everyone had brought someone,” Jiwoo went on casually. “Boyfriends, girlfriends, whatever they were calling it back then.”
The other girl laughed, intrigued. “And y/n?”
Jiwoo grinned. “She showed up with this ridiculously handsome dude, ridiculously rich, the whole package.”
You stared ahead, forcing your lips into something that resembled embarrassment. you remembered him vaguely, but not his name.
“He spent half the day trying to impress her,” She continued, chuckling. “Jet skis, drinks, showing off the yacht like his dad owned it or something.” The girl beside her giggled. “What did she do?”
Jiwoo smirked. “Nothing.” A short laugh left her lips. “She just sat there half the time, looking bored out of her mind.”
Your fingers tightened slightly around Jungkook’s arm.
“And by the evening,” Jiwoo added lightly, “she ditched him halfway through dinner and disappeared inside to nap.”
The other girl burst into laughter. “No way.”
Jiwoo nodded eagerly. “Swear to God. Left him sitting there looking completely lost.”
You exhaled slowly through your nose, slightly embarrassed yet not surprised at hearing yourself being described like that. Beside you, Jungkook shifted slightly, barely noticeable, but present.
Jiwoo turned toward him again, smiling. “Dating her back then was basically a sport,” she joked. “Most guys never lasted more than a week.”
You wanted to dig a hole into the polished marble floor and disappear into it.
Having bits and scraps of your embarrassing past and dating history laid out like that, especially in front of Jungkook — by a girl you never really liked, someone who was always trying to humble you one way or another, desperately copying nearly everything you did… it made your skin crawl. Especially when, for reasons you didn’t fully understand yet, you actually cared about what Jungkook thought of you. And now, you weren’t even sure what more had been added to his perception of you… what version of you he was piecing together in his head.
“But really,” Jiwoo continued brightly, clearly satisfied with her storytelling, “how long have you two been together?”
The question lingered awkwardly in the air. you felt Jungkook shift slightly beside you, just enough to remind you he was still there.
Your lips parted before your brain fully caught up. Your fingers tightened slightly around Jungkook’s arm; a subtle warning. or maybe a plea.
“Almost a year,” you said lightly, almost effortlessly.
“Eight months,” Jungkook added calmly.
Your breath hitched faintly, not loud enough for anyone else to notice. Turning your head slightly toward him, you forced a small smile onto your lips. “Someone’s keeping count,” you said sweetly. playful on the surface, but underneath, something sharper edged its way into your tone.
Jungkook didn’t smile. “Some things are worth remembering,” he said quietly.
Jiwoo giggled, completely oblivious. “That’s actually kind of cute,” she said. “So who fell first?”
Your stomach dropped instantly. That question... that one was dangerous. and it still hung in the air, dangerously close to unraveling something neither of you wanted exposed. before you could even attempt an answer—
You felt a subtle shift beside you.
Jungkook’s hand tightened briefly around yours before loosening just as quickly, his attention shifting as the low vibration of his phone broke the quiet between you.
You glanced up instinctively, brows pulling together faintly in confusion, noticing the change in his posture. That unreadable poker face still in place, but sharper now and rather alert. focused on something beyond this conversation.
He glanced down at you then, just briefly. Jiwoo and the other girl followed the movement immediately, their attention snapping toward him like magnets.
Jungkook leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice so only you could hear. “I need to take this,” he murmured quietly.
Your stomach dipped faintly at the blandness of his tone. like there was still distance sitting between you from the balcony.
Before you could respond, he leaned in just enough to press a brief kiss to your forehead. soft, perfectly placed. the kind of gesture expected from a boyfriend standing beside his girlfriend at an event like this. From the outside, it probably looked natural and affectionate, but you felt the absence of warmth instantly. even the kiss felt cold. like something done out of habit rather than want.
Your chest tightened slightly as he stepped back, his hand slipping fully from yours this time.
And just like that, he was gone. disappearing into the crowd without looking back.
The moment he was out of earshot, Jiwoo let out a sharp exhale. “Oh. My. God.”
The girl beside her practically leaned closer to you. “Your boyfriend is so hot.”
You blinked once. still watching the direction Jungkook had walked. still feeling the ghost of that cold kiss sitting against your skin.
“I mean, Jesus Christ,” Jiwoo continued, lowering her voice slightly as if sharing something scandalous. “I was talking about how attractive that guy was—the one from the yacht, but oh my god, he is nothing compared to Jungkook.”
The other girl nodded eagerly. “Seriously. Like… it’s actually unfair how good looking he is.”
You narrowed your eyes, something unexpectedly sharp twisting low in your chest. you didn’t like the way they said it. didn’t like the way their eyes had lingered on him.
Your fingers curled faintly at your sides as you felt… defensive. annoyed. you kept your expression smooth, neutral regardless. but internally? something ugly and unfamiliar flickered to life. like you didn’t want them talking about him that way.
As if, he was something that belonged to you.
which was ridiculous. completely ridiculous because he wasn’t yours.
Not in any way that mattered.
“He’s… not that bad,” you said, forcing something casual into your voice.
Jiwoo’s grin widened instantly. of course that wasn’t enough for them.
Your entire body went rigid. And suddenly, you were grateful Jungkook wasn’t standing beside you anymore. because if they had opened their annoying mouths and asked that question while he was still here, you genuinely didn’t know what you would’ve done.
Heat crept up your neck and settled stubbornly across your cheeks. you opened your mouth... closed it again.
What were you even supposed to say to that?
That he knew your body better than anyone ever had?
That you weren’t even aware you were capable of enjoying sex. that you had long categorized yourself among the girls who didn’t get any real pleasure from it… until you met him?
That lately… it hadn’t even felt like just sex anymore?
You swallowed hard instead, avoiding their expectant stares.
“You know what... forget about him,” Jiwoo said suddenly, waving her hand dismissively as if she’d already grown bored of the topic. before you could relax, her fingers curled around your wrist, pulling your arm slightly toward her. her nails brushed over the bracelet resting against your skin, the delicate links of your cartier love bracelet, catching the chandelier light. “Let’s talk about you.”
Her fingers traced over it slowly, examining it like it meant something. “I feel like something about you has changed.”
You blinked, thrown off slightly. “Really?” you asked. “Like what?”
Jiwoo tilted her head, studying you more carefully now. not playful anymore, just observant. “You used to be more sharp-mouthed back then.”
Well… yeah. because you used to talk more than you did now, so back then, words came easily. Thinking of now? Honestly… the only person you talked to regularly was Jungkook. you were sharp-mouthed with him. and even that realization felt strange when you thought about it too long.
Conversations with Lina had always been bland and surface level, even when she’d been your only remaining friend.
Jiwoo squinted slightly, as if trying to place something. “And you seem… I don’t know,” she said slowly. “You seem nicer than you used to be.”
The girl beside her nodded eagerly. “Yeah, you know... like you were the reason why our entire circle started calling yoona ‘teeth-in-her-vagina.’” she burst into laughter at the memory. “That was the funniest thing ever. yoona used to get so pissed off about it.”
You smile awkwardly, a small, uneasy silence settling inside your chest once you remembered. the laughter, the jokes, the way everyone repeated it like it was harmless.
Back then, it had felt like nothing. just another joke in a circle full of people who constantly tried to one-up each other.
Yoona had laughed too sometimes, thrown jokes back at you just as sharp. so you’d never really questioned it. never stopped to think — were you actually mean to her? or had you just convinced yourself it was normal because everyone else did it too?
A strange weight settled low in your stomach. Realizing now, with uncomfortable clarity, how ugly that nickname actually sounded when you replayed it in your head.
Maybe the version of you people remembered… wasn’t someone you liked very much anymore.
While the girls kept laughing, still trading old stories like they were harmless souvenirs, your thoughts drifted further inward, tangled in something uncomfortable you couldn’t quite shake. You barely noticed the moment someone else stepped into the circle.
“Vagina teeth,” Jiwoo repeated, still grinning. “God, yoona used to hate that so mu—”
“I still do.” Yoona’s voice cut through the laughter, sharp and flat.
The girls froze. Jiwoo blinked, smile faltering slightly as she turned.
Yoona stood there with a tight expression, arms crossed loosely over her waist, irritation flickering plainly across her face. “You’d think after all these years you’d get tired of repeating the same old jokes,” she muttered dryly.
Jiwoo laughed awkwardly, waving her hand. “Relax, it was funny back then—”
But Yoona wasn’t even looking at her anymore, as her eyes had already shifted to you. and the moment she noticed the way you stood there quietly, distant, clearly somewhere else in your head... something in her expression changed.
“Come with me,” she said suddenly.
Your brows furrowed slightly. “Where?”
“Somewhere quieter,” Yoona replied, already reaching for your wrist. “You look like you’re about to disappear into your own head, and honestly, I don’t feel like standing here listening to them recycle the same old stories all night.”
Jiwoo huffed lightly. “Wow, rude.”
But Yoona ignored her completely. and before you could question it further, she had already begun leading you away from the group.
The music grew quieter the further you walked as all the noise of the ballroom softened into distant murmurs until Yoona finally pushed open a pair of tall wooden doors.
Inside, the room was dimmer. A grand piano sat near the far wall, polished black surface reflecting the soft glow of the chandelier above. A few velvet chairs were arranged nearby, untouched, like it had existed purely for decoration rather than use.
Yoona guided you inside before closing the door behind you. the sudden silence pressed in around you.
“Sit,” she said, gesturing toward one of the chairs.
You hesitated for only a second before lowering yourself into it.
Yoona remained standing for a moment, watching you carefully before finally settling into the seat across from you. “Where’s Jungkook?” she asked casually.
You blinked, still slightly distracted. “Oh… he had to pick up a call,” you said. “Said he’d be right back.”
Yoona hummed softly at that. A quiet stretch of silence passed.
And then, “Hey…” The word left your mouth before you fully thought it through.
Yoona glanced up. “What?”
You swallowed slowly, fingers twisting together in your lap. “I was thinking about us,” you said carefully. “Back when we were teens.”
Her brows pulled together slightly. suspicion, confusion, maybe both.
You forced yourself to continue anyway. “I think… I hurt you back then,” you admitted quietly. “With some things I said.”
Yoona didn’t interrupt, which somehow made it harder to keep talking.
“You know, I was joking at the time,” you continued, voice softer now. “Because we were best friends, and everyone joked like that… but I don’t think it was funny anymore, now that I think about it.”
Your throat tightened slightly. Because hearing Jiwoo repeat that nickname earlier had sounded uglier than you remembered, louder and meaner. “A lot of people still remember it,” you added quietly. “And it made me think about how you must’ve felt back then…”
Your voice trailed off slightly, guilty, uncertain. the silence that followed felt heavier this time. and Yoona… still hadn’t said anything yet. She just watched you carefully, like she was deciding what to do with the apology you’d just handed her.
Yoona let out a short breath through her nose a second later, leaning back slightly in her chair as she processed your words. Then she blinked. “God,” she said slowly, almost disbelieving. “You’re bringing this up now?”
Her gaze sharpened, scanning your face like she was trying to figure out where this version of you had come from. “I mean… boy, have you changed.”
A faint laugh slipped out of her, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She tilted her head, studying you more closely now. “Did you forget who you are?” she asked, almost bluntly. “Seriously.”
You stiffened slightly. Yoona shook her head, as if the whole thing was more confusing than offensive. “We were all mean back then,” she continued, waving her hand dismissively. “It doesn’t matter. That’s just how it was.”
Then, with a small exhale — “But yeah…” she added, lips pressing together faintly. “It was kind of annoying.” Yoona reached for the side table then, where a tray of drinks had been set earlier, kept untouched and decorative, almost forgotten in the corner of the room.
She picked up a glass casually, then looked at you. “You’re overthinking it,” she said lightly. “Come on. Drink something. You look like your brain’s about to explode.”
You hesitated as Yoona held the glass out toward you. your fingers didn’t move to take it. “Oh no,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “I don’t want to drink right now. Not before I meet mom.”
The moment her name left your mouth, something in your posture changed. slightly stiffer, smaller.
Yoona noticed immediately. She tilted her head, studying you for a second before her expression softened just enough to feel convincing. “Relax,” she said gently. “I’m drinking too.” She lifted her own glass slightly as proof.
You glanced at it, then back at her, still unsure.
“Just loosen up a little,” She continued, leaning forward slightly. “You’re acting like you’re about to go into a job interview, not see your mom.”
Your lips pressed together. “I don’t even know if I have anything in common with her anymore,” you admitted quietly. “I don’t know what we’ll even talk about.”
That thought sat heavy inside you, like it had been waiting there all night.
Yoona hummed softly, almost sympathetically. “Well,” she said, “you do look more like her than I do.”
You blinked slightly at that, not sure what to say. She gave a small shrug, like it didn’t matter either way. “Come on,” she added. “One drink won’t hurt. It’ll take the edge off.”
Her tone was light. and slowly… your resistance started to blur at the edges.
You weren’t sure if it was the room, the noise from earlier, or just how tired you felt suddenly. But you reached for the glass, just to hold it. not drink it yet.
Yoona watched you do it without reacting. Only when you brought it closer did she casually lift her own glass and take a sip. You mirrored her, taking a small sip, then another.
The taste was sharper than expected, burning slightly. You frowned faintly, lowering the glass a little. “Isn’t this…” you paused, squinting slightly at it, “…too strong?”
Yoona didn’t look at you. Instead, she took another sip from hers, unbothered. “It’s fine,” she said simply. “You’re just overthinking again.”
You exhaled slowly, trying to steady yourself. but something already felt… different. softer around the edges like your thoughts were beginning to slip just a little out of your control.
Yoona stayed a little longer after that, talking. but you were only half listening now. the edges of the room had started to blur slightly, not enough to alarm you, just enough to feel… off.
Your stomach gave a faint, uneasy twist. frowning slightly. you placed one hand, pressing lightly against your midsection
Yoona’s voice felt further away each second. And then, she stood. “I’ll go tell mom you’re here,” she said smoothly, adjusting her dress as if nothing was wrong. “She should come meet you here. It’ll be quieter.”
You blinked slowly. “Okay…” Your voice didn’t sound fully like yours anymore.
Yoona gave you a small smile, before stepping out of the room. And the silence settled back in.
You exhaled slowly, leaning back against the chair. the room felt warmer now, or maybe you were just feeling it more.
Your thoughts drifted in slow fragments... to Jungkook, the balcony, the argument sitting heavy in your chest.
Your mom, tonight, everything felt like it was stacking on top of each other, layer after layer, until it was hard to tell where one feeling ended and the next began.
You wondered vaguely where Jungkook had gone. If he had come back yet. If he even would.
Your fingers tightened faintly in your lap. And then, the door opened again.
You looked up, and froze for a second as everything in you went still.
Your mother stood there — elegant, effortlessly beautiful, just like you remembered.
Her eyes landed on you instantly, and something in her expression softened. “There you are,” she said gently, walking toward you without hesitation. And for a moment... just a moment... you forgot how to breathe properly.
“Hi,” you managed, voice smaller than you intended.
Her hand lifted slightly, like she might touch your cheek, but stopped just before contact.
“There’s my girl” she said, softer now. And something in your chest twisted painfully at the tone as it sounded almost… warm.
You tried to smile — you really did. but your body betrayed you first as a sudden, unexpected wave of nausea rolled through you, sharp and immediate, stealing the air from your lungs.
Your eyes widened slightly. “Wait—”
You didn’t finish the sentence as you turned quickly, stumbling past her before you could think, pushing into the adjoining washroom.
The door barely shut behind you before you were over the sink. Everything came up in waves. Your hands gripped the edges of the basin as your body shook slightly, breath uneven, head spinning harder now that you were standing still.
Behind you, the door opened again. Your mother’s voice, closer now, “Oh my God—”
She was beside you in seconds, pulling your hair back gently, one hand steadying your shoulder. her touch was careful. but her voice wasn’t entirely soft anymore.
“Are you drunk?” she asked, disbelief threaded through her tone.
You tried to respond, but your throat burned. “Yoona—” you started weakly.
Your mother exhaled sharply. “Always with Yoona,” she said, shaking her head slightly. “Always blaming her for things she didn’t do.”
You blinked through the haze, wiping your mouth unsteadily as she turned on the tap, helping you rinse your face.
The silence stretched for a moment. then she spoke again, quieter this time, “You should have been more careful,” she said, almost tiredly. “You can’t show up like this in front of people.”
Her eyes lingered on you for a second longer. Just… disappointed in a way that made you feel worse.
Her hand lingered on the sink a little longer as she steadied herself. The water was still running softly beside you.
“You know how many influential people are here tonight?” she added, voice tightening slightly. “Do you even understand what this looks like?”
Something inside you cracked quietly at that. your vision blurred at the edges. you were suddenly a little girl being yelled at. “Mom…” you said, voice breaking slightly. You swallowed hard, tried again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t... I didn’t mean to...”
You barely even noticed you’d said it. mom. like it would soften her or make a difference.
But your mother only exhaled sharply, still focused on fixing what could be seen, not what was felt. And the coldness from her made something in you shift. suddenly, the apology felt stupid. pointless even.
You straightened slightly, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, forcing your breathing under control. your voice came out quieter now as a small, humorless laugh slipped out. “Because that’s what matters, isn’t it?”
Your mother finally looked at you more directly. You held her gaze now, even as your chest tightened. “The people,” you continued softly. “The image... Who’s watching.”
Your lips pressed into a thin line as something bitter rose in your throat, not from the alcohol this time. “You haven’t even asked me how I’m doing.” Your voice cracked slightly at the edges.
“It’s been years… Mom.” You emphasized the word like it was mockery more than affection.
“You don’t really care about me, do you?” you said, looking at her for a second, hoping maybe, just this once — she’d prove you wrong. Say something... anything. But she didn’t.
“Don’t worry,” you added, voice steadier now, detached in a way that didn’t sound like you. “I won’t embarrass you again.”
Silence snapped into place. Your mother’s expression shifted slightly, as if she wanted to respond, but couldn’t quite decide how. that hesitation was enough.
You turned away before anything else could be said. wiping your hands quickly, you stepped out of the washroom without looking back.
The sound of the ballroom returned faintly as you walked, but it felt distant now, like it belonged to someone else’s life and never yours.
You pressed a hand briefly against your ribs as you moved, blinking hard.
Don’t cry. not here. not now.
Your steps were unsteady but determined as you made your way back toward the balcony.
The air outside hit your face the moment you pushed the doors open. and for a second, you just stood there, trying to hold yourself together. because crying would mean feeling it fully.
And you weren’t ready for that yet. Not even close.
Yoona noticed the way you slipped out of the ballroom immediately, toward the balcony, unsteady in that subtle way only someone paying attention would notice.
Her gaze followed you until the doors closed behind you. a slow sip of water followed, like she had nowhere else to be.
“Where did Seo-hwa’s other spawn disappear to?” The voice beside her was smooth, unbothered.
Yoona didn’t look at him right away. she already knew who it was.
“Your sister,” he clarified lazily, swirling the amber liquid in his glass without drinking it. “You seemed so attached to her earlier. Thought you might’ve misplaced her.”
Yoona finally turned, her expression tightened slightly. “Don’t call her my sister,” she said flatly.
The man beside her paused. not visibly, not enough for anyone else to notice, but enough.
Park Jimin tilted his head just slightly, gaze sharpening with quiet interest now. Because earlier, she’d been warm, almost protective. putting you on display like something valuable.
And now? that interest had vanished. like a switch flipped off.
“That’s new,” Jimin murmured.
Yoona’s eyes narrowed faintly. “What is?”
He let the silence stretch a second too long. just enough to make it uncomfortable. “You,” he said simply. quieter, “The performance earlier was convincing.”
Yoona scoffed under her breath. “You always think everything is a performance.”
Jimin finally took a sip of his drink, slow and unbothered. “Because it usually is.”
Her jaw tightened. barely. “Mind your business,” she muttered coolly.
He watched her a second longer, studying, like he was fitting pieces together in his head. and then, almost casually, “Strange timing,” he added. “You lose interest the moment she leaves your sight.”
Yoona didn’t respond to that. didn’t give him the satisfaction, but the silence said enough.
Jimin gave a faint, humorless smile. “You’re exhausting,” he said lightly. “Even for you.”
And then, without waiting for her reply, he turned and walked toward the balcony.
The doors slid open softly. cool air spilled inside.
At first, there was nothing. just the distant sound of music and the quiet hum of the night. Then, he heard soft, uneven sniffling. barely controlled.
His steps slowed. and when he stepped fully onto the balcony, he saw you, curled slightly inward in the chair, head lowered.
Your shoulders trembled in small, uneven movements you were clearly trying to hide. but you couldn’t control it anymore. not when the tears finally started falling, slow at first, then faster, slipping down your cheeks before you could stop them.
It was humiliating. Maybe it was the alcohol forcing everything to the surface, tearing through whatever walls you’d carefully built over the years. But you’d thrown most of it up already, hadn’t you?
So really, this wasn’t just the alcohol. this was hurt, raw and exposed and sitting too close to the surface. Your chest hurt in that deep, dull way that came when disappointment settled somewhere permanent. and beneath all of that, another thought kept surfacing.
You hadn’t seen him since he left to take that call. had he come back? had he looked for you? or had he simply… stayed away?
The sound of footsteps behind you made your head lift instantly. Hope sparked before you could stop it. You wiped your cheeks quickly with the back of your hand, breath catching as you turned, expecting him, hoping it was him... needing it to be him. But then, you froze, seeing Jimin instead, standing a few steps behind you, hands tucked into his pockets, expression unreadable as his gaze settled on your face. on the tear tracks you hadn’t wiped fast enough.
You stared at him for a second too long, caught, vunerable in a way you hated being seen.
Jimin didn’t say anything to break the silence. He just walked over, sat down beside you.
A few seconds passed. only the sound of your breathing filling the space.
Then, quietly, “You picked a terrible place to fall apart,” he said. Then softer, “What happened?”
Normally, you would’ve snapped back instantly into some sharp remark, something biting enough to wipe that calm, knowing look off his face. especially with someone like Jimin.
You’d disliked him since the very first encounter, since the moment he’d walked into the room, all quiet arrogance and easy confidence that grated against your nerves. He mirrored your energy too well back then, matching your sharpness with his own, and you’d hated him for it. still did, mostly. But right now, you didn’t have the energy to fight him.
Not when your chest still felt tight and your head spun faintly from the alcohol and everything else layered on top of it. so instead of snapping, you just let out a shaky breath, fingers curled tightly into the fabric of your dress.
Jimin waited. Just sat there like he had all the time in the world.
You dragged another shaky breath into your lungs, wiping at your cheeks again, frustrated that the tears hadn’t stopped.
“My mom…” you started, voice rough. then you let out a hollow, humorless laugh. “I don’t even know why I call her that anymore.”
Jimin didn’t react, just watched you, quiet and steady.
You swallowed, staring straight ahead instead of at him. “They asked me to come here,” you muttered. “Wanted to meet me... talk. especially my mother.”
Your jaw tightened slightly. “But she seems the least interested in anything I have to say.”
Exhaling sharply, yoy rubbed at your face again. “I didn’t even mean to get drunk,” you muttered, brows knitting together. “God… Yoona probably set me up. I should’ve seen it coming.”
Beside you, “Not to be that guy,” Jimin said dryly, “but yeah. You probably should’ve seen it coming.”
You let out a short, humorless breath. no bite left in you to snap back. Just exhaustion.
“You’re her sister,” Jimin snorted. “You probably know her better than I do, but God… she’s a fucking snake.”
That caught your attention. you turned toward him slightly. confused. “What?” you asked. “I thought you liked her. She’s your half-sister too—”
“God, no.” The response came instantly. “Fuck her.”
You blinked at that, taken off guard by the sheer bluntness of it. Jimin leaned back slightly in his chair, jaw tightening faintly. “Why do you think I stay far away from these people?” he muttered. “From her?”
His gaze flicked briefly toward the ballroom doors, cold, disgusted. “Because I can’t fucking stand them.”
“I tolerate Seo-hwa,” he added. “Barely.” his lips curled slightly. “But the two of them? Pure poison.”
You stared at him for a second, trying to process his words... because that wasn’t what you expected.
Your shoulders sagged slightly as the tension drained out of you. “Well…” you muttered quietly. “I’m not exactly a nice person either.”
Jimin didn’t interrupt, didn’t disagree. So you kept going.
“I’m mean too,” you added, voice dull. “So I can’t really blame Yoona for doing that to me.”
Your lips pressed together faintly as you paused to think. “I mean… I literally started that stupid joke about her having teeth in her vag—”
You didn’t finish the sentence, because Jimin burst out laughing.
You turned toward him, confused, brows pulling together. “What?”
He dragged a hand down his face, still shaking his head slightly. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered between breaths. “You call that fucking mean?”
You blinked, still confused.
He let out another short laugh. “That’s funny as hell,” he added, shaking his head. “Oh my god.”
You stared at him like he’d just said something insane. Because what?that wasn’t the reaction you were expecting at all. not even remotely. That confused you more than anything else tonight.
Jimin’s laughter faded when he noticed your expression. the small sniffles you were clearly trying to hide.
He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head once. “Look,” he said, tone calmer now. “If that’s the worst thing you can think of after sitting there and digging for something cruel you’ve done to her…”
His lips twitched faintly. “…then I’m sorry, but you’re a fucking cupcake.”
You blinked. still processing.
Jimin leaned back slightly, gaze turning colder. “You’re not the one who deliberately got your sister drunk out of jealousy,” he added flatly. “That’s actual mean. that’s calculated and evil.”
“That’s the kind of thing Yoona pulled tonight.”
Your brows furrowed, confusion cutting through the lingering haze in your head. “Jealousy?” you repeated quietly. “Why would she be jealous of me?”
The question sounded genuine. “She has Mom,” you added weakly. “She has all her attention too.”
Jimin watched you for a second longer, like he was reassessing something. “We hadn’t met before,” he said slowly, “but I knew of you.”
You glanced at him, uncertain. He tilted his head slightly.
“And I’ve seen her,” he continued. “Heard her talk about you.”
Then, quieter, “She idolized you.”
Your breath caught slightly. “It was obvious,” Jimin added. “The way she carried herself... The way she copied things.” his jaw tightened faintly. “It always felt like she was trying to become you.”
“And now it looks like that jealousy finally ran out of places to hide.” he finishes.
Silence settled between you. swallowing hard, you shook your head faintly. “Well… I can’t do anything about her being jealous of me,” you muttered quietly. “I don’t even care about any of that.”
Your voice softened, cracked slightly. “I just…”
Fresh tears blurred your vision before you could stop them. “…I missed my mom.” your words came out small, almost childlike. and saying it aloud made it worse.
“My dad isn’t even around,” you added, voice breaking slightly. “He doesn’t talk about it. About how any of this affects me.”
You wiped at your face again, frustrated, but the tears kept falling anyway. “I don’t feel welcomed here,” you whispered. “…or anywhere.”
God. Why were you even crying in front of Jimin? of all people.
A soft clicking sound came from him, a quiet tut. you barely registered it before he reached into his pocket, pulling out a folded tissue.
Without asking, he leaned closer, one hand lifting carefully toward your face. His fingers were steady as he pressed the tissue lightly against your cheek, wiping away the tear that had slipped down.
Your breath hitched instantly, because he was close. Close enough that you could feel the warmth of him. Your pulse jumped unexpectedly.
And when he leaned in just a little more, your instincts kicked in.
You pulled back slightly, shoulders tensing. “No,” you mumbled quickly, shaking your head faintly. “I have a boyfriend.”
Jimin froze, for exactly one second.
Then, he burst out laughing again. dragging a hand down his face, he shook his head in disbelief. “Relax,” he muttered between breaths. “I’m not trying to steal you.”
Another short laugh slipped out. Then, casually— “Besides,” he added, tone flat, “you’re not my type.”
You blinked, brows pulling together in confusion.
What kind of nonsense was that?
The earlier embarrassment shifted quickly into something almost offended now. you turned toward him fully. “What do you mean I’m not your type?” you demanded, voice hoarse but suddenly defensive. “What’s wrong with me?”
Jimin rolled his eyes instantly, like he regretted opening his mouth at all. You straightened slightly, irritation pushing past the tears.
“I’m everyone’s type,” you added, muttering the last part more to yourself than to him, pride bruised in the smallest, pettiest way.
Jimin let out a quiet, exasperated breath. “You’re not my type,” he repeated flatly. Then, more pointedly, “…Neither is any girl.”
You stared at him, processing, very slowly, expression shifting into confusion first. then realization.
Your lips parted slightly. “…Oh.”
Jimin didn’t look at you. Just stared straight ahead, jaw tightening faintly like he already regretted saying it out loud.
You blinked again, then looked away quickly, suddenly aware of how that earlier moment must’ve looked from his perspective.
It really did. When you thought about it now, all your interactions with him suddenly rearranged themselves into something clearer. It had always felt like a competition between the two of you with all the calculated sharp remarks and carefully veiled insults. That strange tension whenever he “flirted” with you and how it never felt real. It felt more like… sparring. like he was provoking you just to see if you’d push back.
You exhaled slowly. “Yeah,” you murmured. “I guess it makes more sense.” you repeated.
Jimin let out a quiet breath beside you, leaning back slightly. You hesitated, before asking, quieter now, “Does anyone else know?”
Jimin turned his head slightly, brow lifting. “What?” he said dryly. “That I’m gay?” a short laugh left him. “Jesus, y/n. You can just say it.”
You winced slightly at that. He exhaled again, gaze drifting outward into the dark beyond the balcony. “No,” he said after a moment. “You’re the first person who knows.”
“…well,” he added, “besides my boyfriend.”
That caught your attention. you turned toward him slightly. “Is that why you flirt with women here?” you asked slowly. “Including me?”
“To fit in?” you added. “So none of them suspect anything?”
Jimin huffed softly at that, mildly amused. “We’re a lot more alike than you think,” he said, glancing sideways at you. “Cupcake.”
You rolled your eyes faintly at the nickname, but didn’t argue.
His expression shifted slightly after that. something heavier settling into place. “My dad—” he continued quietly, “—Seo-hwa’s husband. he wouldn’t approve.” his jaw tightened. “Of anything,” he added. “Of who I am, of my boyfriend.”
Silence stretched between you again.
“That’s why I stay as far away from this place as I can,” he muttered. “From all of this.” he gestured vaguely toward the ballroom, toward the noise, the people.
“He doesn’t care much what I do,” Jimin added after a moment, voice flattening slightly, “as long as I keep making him look good.”
Then, more pointedly, “As long as I’m useful, he tolerates me.” A faint shrug followed.
Jimin’s words sat heavy in the air. Something in your chest tightened at that. That feeling, of being tolerated instead of loved, felt far too familiar.
After a quiet second, you spoke, softly, “I’m sorry.”
Jimin glanced at you sideways, not expecting sympathy, not used to hearing it.
Your fingers tightened slightly in your lap. “That sounds…” you hesitated. “…lonely.”
“You’re not as lonely as you think either.” Jimin said lightly, but not unkindly.
His gaze flicked toward you now, briefly. “You have your boyfriend, who is apparently invisible right now?” A small laugh left him.
You huffed, but it came out softer than intended. “He had to take an important call,” you said quickly. “He’ll be back soon.”
Jimin nodded once, like he accepted that without much thought. “Well,” he added casually, leaning back against the railing again, “now you also have me.”
You turned toward him immediately, one brow lifting. “What?” you asked. “Does this mean we’re friends?”
Jimin scoffed softly, like the word itself was mildly annoying. “You know how they say,” he began, voice dry, “people like us don’t form close bonds. emotional attachment is basically bad business.”
His eyes flicked toward you again. “Too much money, too many people pretending they’re not calculating your worth every time they smile at you.”
He shrugged faintly. “So yeah,” he added, more matter-of-fact now, “we both somehow managed to sit here and confess our extremely unflattering emotional burdens to each other.”
“That makes us friends,” he concluded flatly. “Unfortunately.”
That pulled a smile out of you, for the first time in a while.
Jimin noticed it, but didn’t comment. Instead, he straightened slightly.
“Before I head back to the Poconos,” he said, tone shifting lighter, “I’m having a yacht party. Few friends, nothing insane.”
A glance toward you. “They’re tolerable. Similar mindset, less exhausting than this place.”
You narrowed your eyes slightly. “Sounds suspiciously like a trap.”
Jimin huffed. “It’s not.” Then, almost lazily, “You should come.”
“Yes,” he said simply. Then, after a pause, “Bring your boyfriend too.”
You tilted your head slightly. “How do I know you’re not going to pull what Yoona did?” you asked, half-teasing now. “Get me drunk and ruin my life on a yacht instead?”
Jimin hummed thoughtfully, like he was actually considering it. “I’m actually thinking about it now, you know,” he said, lips twitching faintly. “You did call my patek philippe nautilus a freaking replica—”
You let out a soft laugh at that, shaking your head. “Of course I know it isn’t a replica,” you said, rolling your eyes. “I just wanted to annoy you.”
Jimin scoffed. “You nearly gave me a heart attack,” he muttered. “Do you know how offensive that is to people like us.”
You smiled faintly, the earlier heaviness lifting just a little. “Please,” you said dryly. “You looked more offended than yoona did when I made that stupid joke about her.”
Jimin snorted softly. “That’s because priorities matter,” he replied. “Watches over people. always.”
You huffed out another small laugh, shoulders relaxing slightly now.
It felt strange, laughing like this after everything that had happened. After crying, throwing up, after hearing your mother call you a mess.
For a moment, the tightness in your chest loosened just enough to breathe. Jimin watched you from the corner of his eye, clearly satisfied with himself. “There,” he muttered. “You look slightly less tragic now.”
You scoffed softly. “Don’t push your luck.”
And that’s when, the balcony doors slid open behind you. Neither of you noticed at first, not until a familiar presence settled into the air.
Jimin turned first, his expression shifting slightly, not alarmed, just observant.
Then your gaze followed his, and your breath caught. Standing a few steps away — was Jungkook.
Your breath hitched slightly, the way it always did when you spotted him, that automatic reaction you never seemed to shake. But this time, the familiar pull was followed by something colder, unease settling into your stomach when you noticed the tightness in his expression, the coldness in his features.
Jimin stood first. You followed a second later, quickly wiping at the dampness beneath your eyes, trying to erase any evidence of what had just happened, fingers trembling slightly.
Jimin stepped forward casually, like this was any normal encounter, like nothing unusual had happened.
“Jungkook,” he greeted evenly, extending a hand, calm and civil, almost friendly. After all, to Jimin now, Jungkook was connected to you, and that made him relevant. Important enough to acknowledge.
Jungkook looked at the offered hand. Didn’t take it.
Instead, he brushed past Jimin without a word, his shoulder nudging against Jimin’s just slightly harder than necessary, not enough to cause a scene, but enough to make the message clear. he was ignored deliberately.
Jimin stilled for half a second, hand still half-raised before slowly lowering it. Not offended, as though he’d expected exactly that reaction.
Jungkook didn’t look back or acknowledge him again. He walked straight toward you.
Your stomach twisted. now, all of his attention was on you.
He stopped directly in front of you, gaze scanning your face quickly, taking in everything, the faint redness in your eyes, the dullness.
His expression tightened further, concern flickering beneath the cold exterior. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly, but there was no warmth to his tone.
You opened your mouth slightly, unsure what to say, because you wanted to cling to him, but at the same time, you were still hurt, still angry he’d left you alone earlier.
Instead of answering, you stepped forward, closing the distance between you, wrapping your arms around him. part instinct, part performance, because Jimin was still standing there, watching.
Jungkook stiffened for a fraction of a second before his hand came up, settling against your back. His grip tightened slightly. Then without warning, his hand slid down to your wrist, closing around it.
He turned immediately, beginning to lead you toward the balcony doors without waiting for a response. you stumbled half a step before following, barely keeping up.
But just before the doors closed, you turned your head slightly, glancing back. Jimin was still standing there, watching the two of you carefully, understanding far more than was spoken.
Guilt flickered in your chest because he had just sat with you, listened to you cry, asked to be your friend, and now you were leaving without explanation.
Your lips moved silently, a small, quick, “Sorry.”
Jimin caught it instantly, as he gave the faintest nod of acknowledgment.
Then the balcony doors closed behind you, and Jungkook didn’t slow down, dragging you toward whatever came next.
The door shut behind you with a sharp click, and before you could steady yourself, Jungkook turned abruptly, guiding — no, pushing you back until your shoulders hit the wall.
The impact wasn’t painful, but sudden enough to make you gasp.
His hand released your wrist just as quickly as he stepped back half a pace. You winced, immediately grabbing your wrist, rubbing over the spot where his fingers had held you too tightly.
“What the hell was that, Jungkook?!” your voice came out sharper, still rattled and emotional.
Jungkook didn’t answer right away. He just stood there, chest rising and falling slightly, eyes locked on you like he was trying to decide what to say first or what not to say.
You pushed his chest. Hard. But he didn’t move, didn’t even shift. “Where the hell were you?!” you demanded, voice sharp, crossing your arms tightly over your chest.
Jungkook exhaled slowly through his nose. “I told you,” he said flatly. “I had to deal with something important.”
That only made your chest tighten more, anger bubbling up faster than you could control it. “More important than your girlfriend?” the word slipped out accidentally.
Jungkook laughed. Cold. the sound made something twist uncomfortably in your stomach.
“Girlfriend?” he repeated, tilting his head slightly. there was something mocking in his tone now. Dangerously calm, “Do you want me to pretend this is real right now?” he asked quietly.
Your breath hitched slightly. Technically—he wasn’t wrong.
You scoffed, looking away for a second. “Well, it’s a good thing it’s not real.” your voice sounded colder than you felt, forcing the next words out before you could rethink them. “Because if it was…” a pause, “…you would’ve been a horrible boyfriend.”
“You didn’t seem too concerned about that when you were laughing with Jimin.”
The accusation caught you off guard. Of all things, that was what he noticed?
You stared at him for a second, disbelief flickering across your face, then something inside you snapped into cold exhaustion. “What did you expect me to do?” you muttered tiredly. “Stand there and sulk so everyone could start asking questions?”
You let out a slow breath, rubbing your temple slightly. “Isn’t that what this whole thing is about?” you added, voice dull now. “Keeping up appearances?”
Shaking your head faintly, you continued, “Which you couldn’t even bother to do,” voice sharpening slightly again.
“Because you were too busy disappearing like you always do.”
Jungkook’s expression shifted instantly, his jaw tightening faintly. “Disappearing?” he repeated quietly.
You scoffed faintly, exhaustion bleeding into irritation. “Yeah,” you muttered. “You vanish when it matters and then show up later like nothing happened.”
Silence stretched betwen you, tense this time.
Then—Jungkook took a slow step closer. His voice dropped lower, “You don’t get to say that.”
His gaze didn’t leave yours. “Not when you’re the one who keeps pushing me away every time I try to stay.”
Your mouth opened slightly,then closed again. Suddenly, you didn’t have the energy to argue anymore. Not tonight, not after everything.
Your shoulders sagged slowly, the fight draining out of you all at once, leaving nothing but bone-deep, heavy exhaustion behind.
You stepped forward slowly, like your body moved before your pride could stop it. And then, weakly, you rested your forehead against his shoulder, soft, careful.
Jungkook froze instantly, going completely still. Your fingers curled weakly into his suit. “Jungkook, stop.” A shaky breath left you, voice muffled against him. “I can’t with this right now.”
You swallowed hard, eyes closing briefly. “I just…”
And that’s the moment his anger broke into concern. His hand stayed still for a second, hovering, like he wasn’t sure what to do with you like this. Then slowly, his palm pressed against your lower back.
You held onto his shoulders loosely, your gaze fixed on the floor between your feet, breathing slow and uneven. The fight drained out of you completely now.
Jungkook exhaled quietly above you, the sound softer than before. His voice, when he spoke, was lower. “You’re shaking.”
Your fingers tightened slightly against his shoulders. you didn’t answer. didn’t have the energy to. After a second, your voice came out small, tired in a way that made the words feel heavier than they should’ve. “Take me away from here.”
Your grip tightened just a little. “I just want to leave.”
Jungkook’s hand pressed more firmly against your back, steadying you as if he could feel the tension vibrating through your body. “Hey,” he murmured. “What’s wrong?”
You shook your head immediately. He didn’t buy it. Instead, his fingers curled gently under your chin, lifting your face just enough to try to catch your eyes but you turned away, pressing your face into his shoulder instead, hiding from the concern written plainly across his expression.
God. you hated how exposed you felt. So you did the only thing that had ever worked before: you tried to pull him down and press your lips to his fast, in an attempt to distract him, to escape from this moment.
For half a second, nothing happened as Jungkook didn’t kiss you back. His hands moved instead, closing firmly around your wrists where they clutched at the front of his suit. You stilled instantly. a frown pulled at his mouth as he leaned back just enough to look at you, confusion and concern written all over his features. “Don’t,” he said quietly. “Not if you're going to regret it later.”
You let out a silent gasp, like cold water had been thrown straight across your face. For a second, you just stared at him, and then became painfully aware of everything all at once—your hands gripping his suit, lips still too close to his, and the way he was holding your wrists instead of pulling you closer.
Embarrassment crawled up your throat, thick and suffocating once you thought, god, what were you doing?
Pulling back abruptly, you steadied the breath catching in your chest, refusing to look at him because suddenly the entire moment curdled into something unbearably humiliating, not because he had rejected you, not in the obvious way your pride would have known how to fight back against, but because he had seen straight through the fragile little strategy you’d clung to.
He recognized the way you reached for physical closeness whenever words threatened to expose too much, and stopped you before you could bury yourself in distraction and turn your vulnerability into something easier to control.
You looked at him properly now, hands still fisted tightly in the front of his suit, searching his eyes as a quiet, unsettling thought crept its way into your mind.
If this had been a month ago—two, maybe, he would have kissed you back without hesitation, and the moment would have dissolved into something reckless and physical and gloriously mindless.
But now, there was something different in Jungkook. He wasn’t letting instinct dictate the moment the way he once had. Instead, he held you there with a patience that felt almost unsettling in its restraint. And in a way, that made you suddenly aware of how little control you seemed to possess by comparison. Which was almost laughable, considering you had been the one to make the bold, definitive decision barely an hour ago to draw the line, to put an end to whatever reckless physical arrangement the two of you had slipped into.
And yet here you were, contradicting yourself without hesitation and running straight into the very impulse you had sworn to resist.
Did you truly lack that much self control? Or was this your body stepping in to sabotage every conversation that threatened to demand honesty by using touch and heat and distraction as a shield against the terrifying possibility of saying something real?
Jungkook watched you carefully, the concern in his expression no longer disguised behind restraint. Seeing you curled inward like that with your shoulders tight, lips parted as though words hovered somewhere just out of reach, made something uneasy settle in his chest.
Before you could force yourself to speak, something pulled your attention downward—a faint warmth, a trickle spreading where it shouldn’t.
Reality snapped back into place with brutal clarity. “Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, barely audible, squeezing your eyes shut for a second as the realization settled in with mortifying certainty.
Reopening your eyes slowly, you forced yourself to focus on the man standing in front of you, even as humiliation crawled hot and suffocating up your throat. “I…” Your voice caught before you could steady it. God, this was actually happening. “I think I got my period.”
You shifted uncomfortably where you stood, pressing your thighs together in a subtle attempt to confirm it, and the sudden, dull twist low in your stomach did exactly that, to make your breath hitch.
Jungkook didn’t react the way you expected him to. There was no awkward hesitation. Instead, his expression shifted into something more focused, concern sharpening as he studied your face. “Okay,” he said calmly, like the situation had simply presented itself and he had already begun solving it. “Do I need to get yoona to help you out?”
“God, no.” Your answer came quick, sharp enough for the name alone enough to ignite something bitter in your chest. “Fuck her,” you added under your breath, jaw tightening.
Jungkook frowned slightly at that, confusion flickering across his face as he studied you more closely, clearly trying to piece together what had changed — what had shifted so drastically for you to suddenly speak about her like that after tolerating her presence all night. But you didn’t give him time to question it.
“Let’s just leave, alright?” Your voice dipped lower, losing its usual sharpness, replaced with something far more fragile instead. “I don’t want to stay here anymore, please.”
Jungkook watched you for a second, his gaze lingering on your face like he was searching for something you hadn’t said out loud, before shifting slightly. “Alright,” he said, hand moving to the small of your back, firmly guiding you forward before your nerves had the chance to sabotage your steps.
The warmth of his palm grounded you more than you cared to acknowledge, even as humiliation burned hot beneath your skin.
The dull ache in your stomach continue to deepen with movement, curling inward in slow, tightening waves that made your breath catch every few seconds, his hand still firm against your back as though he could feel the tension coiling tighter inside you with every passing step, swallowing everything that threatened to rise.
The automatic doors slid open with a soft mechanical chime, the harsh fluorescent lighting overhead making your eyes sting almost immediately after the dim elegance of the gala hall.
You wrapped your arms tighter around yourself as you stepped inside, the cool air brushing against overheated skin while your gaze darted quickly across the shelves, searching for something—anything—that resembled what you needed. Pads, tampons, anything.
Behind you, Jungkook lingered just outside the entrance, keeping his distance the moment you’d insisted you could handle it yourself. You were grateful for that, desperately so. Because right now, even breathing felt humiliating.
Your fingers curled tighter into the fabric of your dress as you moved down the aisle, steps slower now in a way that made the dull ache in your stomach feel sharper with every shift of your body. Pressing your lips together harder, you forced the rising pressure back down your throat before it could spill over where anyone might see.
You grabbed the first pack of pads your eyes landed on without bothering to read the label, clutching it tightly against you as you turned sharply toward the back of the store, toward the restroom.
The restroom door clicked shut behind you with a soft, hollow sound in the small tiled space. You locked it immediately, hands trembling just enough to make the metal latch rattle faintly beneath your fingers.
For a moment, you just stood there, breathing heavily. The sterile scent of disinfectant hanging thick in the air as you leaned forward slightly, pressing your palms against the edge of the sink, shoulders trembling in spite of yourself. Your reflection stared back at you from the mirror—makeup still intact, hair perfectly styled, dress immaculate from the front. But what was the point? It was all a lie.
Your vision blurred again, and this time, you didn’t fight it as a soft, broken sound slipped past your lips, barely louder than a breath, the first tear spilling over and tracing a slow, burning path down your cheek.
Pressing the the heel of your hand against your mouth, you were desperately trying to muffle the fragile sounds threatening to escape once the weight of the night settled fully onto your shoulders—all the burning humiliation, and worst of all, your mother standing there, doing nothing.
That image hurt more than the embarrassment, more than the ache in your stomach, because it confirmed something you had spent years pretending wasn’t true. You were alone in that room. Even when you weren’t. And no matter how much you sulked, no matter how convincingly you pretended none of it mattered, it didn’t change the truth waiting quietly beneath all that stubborn defiance — at the end of the day, you were still just a girl abandoned by her own mother.
Fishing a tissue from your purse, you dabbed carefully at your cheeks, hiccuping softly as you tried to steady your breathing before anyone outside could notice the damage. You forced yourself toward the stall and locked the door behind you, finally allowing yourself to deal with the dull, uncomfortable reality pressing insistently at your body.
You had been fine in the car. Almost fine at the gala. It was only when you were finally alone that everything began to unravel.
God, maybe it was your hormones—your period arriving at the worst possible time, dragging your emotions violently out of alignment, but even knowing that didn’t dull the ache gnawing steadily at your chest.
The truth was simpler than that, uglier than you wanted to admit. It was eating away at you...this suffocating inability to voice what you felt, to say anything real to anyone without choking on the words before they could escape.
And God, you had wanted to be alone more than anything just moments ago. But now that you were…
Now that the silence wrapped too tightly around your ribs, pressing inward until it hurt to breathe, you found yourself wanting the exact opposite.
You wanted to go back to Jungkook.
Because right now, whether you liked admitting it or not, he was all you had.
Was he still waiting? The thought struck suddenly, sharp enough to make your hands falter beneath the running water. What if he’d left? What if he’d gotten tired of waiting... tired of you, of your sharp tongue, your contradictions, your endless defensiveness?
Why would he have any reason to stay?
The night was practically over. He could have gone home already, and honestly, you wouldn’t even blame him if he had, especially after how cruel you’d been to him all night by snapping at him, pushing him away every time he tried to get close.
Shifting uncomfortably, the dull pain in your abdomen flared again, blooming slowly outward like something alive beneath your skin. Checking yourself in the mirror one final time, you finally turned and pushed open the washroom door.
A group of boys lingered near the front aisle of the convinience store—four of them, maybe five, crowded around a display of chips, their laughter careless and loud in a way that felt jarringly out of place in the otherwise quiet store. You recognized the type instantly. Teenagers, too comfortable taking up space.
Shaking your head faintly, you rolled your eyes and grabbed a small pack of gum from the shelf, heading toward the counter as casually as you could manage. But halfway there, you became suddenly aware of the way their voices dipped lower, turning into hushed whispers that weren’t nearly as subtle as they seemed to think. Then came the whistle.
You stiffened slightly but kept walking, pretending not to notice, even though the sound had already crawled under your skin and settled somewhere uncomfortable.
You really didn’t have the energy for this. You just wanted to pay and leave.
“Hey, noona,” one of them called out, voice dripping with amusement. “Rough night?” careless laughter followed immediately.
You ignored him, setting the gum down at the counter with slightly unsteady fingers, focusing hard on the cashier as though the act of paying alone required your full concentration. But they didn’t stop.
“Damn,” another voice chimed in, louder this time. “Look at that dress.”
Heat rushed instantly to your face. Your shoulders tightened, instinctively drawing inward as awareness of the way the fabric hugged your body in places that suddenly felt far too visible beneath the harsh fluorescent lights, the bare curve of your legs, slammed into you all at once. You hadn’t even thought about it like that before.
“Where you headed dressed like that?” another one snickered. “Party already over?” More laughter followed. Your fingers tightened against the counter as a sudden, overwhelming urge to cover yourself crawled up your spine. Your hand drifted automatically toward the hem of your dress, tugging it lower, trying to create fabric where there was none. But there was nothing to hide behind.
You crossed one arm tightly over your torso without thinking, curling inward slightly as the weight of their stares pressed heavier against your back. God. You hated this feeling. That suffocating awareness of being watched and being reduced to something you couldn’t control.
Your heart began to pound harder now, the earlier exhaustion from crying mixing uncomfortably with the dull ache in your stomach and the lingering humiliation from the gala. You just wanted to leave.
The door chimed softly behind you, but sharp enough to cut clean through the laughter.
Slowly, you turned. Jungkook stood near the entrance, already walking toward you.
“I told you to wait outside,” you said softly, the words meant to sound annoyed, but falling short somewhere in the middle, betraying a flicker of relief you didn’t want to acknowledge, because the moment he stepped inside, the feeling shifted. You didn’t feel watched in the same way anymore.
Jungkook remained quiet, walking past you toward the counter, picking up a pack of marlboro reds from the display beside the register.
“Yeah,” he said casually, placing the pack down. “Came to get you. You took too long.” His tone was absentminded, but his gaze moved quickly, scanning past you before settling on the group behind, to the boys who hadn’t moved, or looked away.
One of them shifted awkwardly under Jungkook’s stare before raising his hand slightly. “Hyung,” he said, voice suddenly smaller. “Hey.”
Jungkook gave a short, bored nod in acknowledgment, then his attention flicked back to you. “You done?” he asked quietly.
You nodded once. But he didn’t move yet. Instead, his gaze drifted again, back toward the group, lingering just long enough to make the air feel tight. “What are you guys doing?” he asked finally, voice calm but edged. “Why are you huddled up like that?”
None of them answered. One of the boys shifted his weight, scratching awkwardly at the back of his neck. “Nothing, hyung,” he muttered.
Jungkook didn’t look convinced. His eyes moved across their faces slowly, reading something close to arrogance in their expressions that made his jaw tighten just slightly.
“You bothering her?” he asked.
A second of silence passed. Then one of them; taller, louder earlier, rolled his eyes faintly, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, “We didn’t even do anything.”
Jungkook caught it instantly. His head tilted slightly. “Hey,” he said, stopping the boy mid-motion.
The boy hesitated before meeting his gaze, bravado draining quickly. “If you’ve got enough energy to whistle and make comments,” Jungkook continued calmly, “you’ve got enough to apologize.”
Another boy elbowed the one beside him sharply. “Say sorry, idiot,” he whispered urgently. The first boy swallowed. Then looked at you. “Sorry,” he muttered.
Jungkook didn’t blink. “Properly,” he added.
The boy exhaled sharply through his nose, embarrassed now more than defiant. “Sorry, noona,” he repeated, voice louder this time. “We didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
Another one chimed in quickly. “Yeah, sorry.” A third nodded stiffly. “Sorry.”
Jungkook’s gaze softened only slightly before shifting back to you. “Alright,” he said after a second. “That’s enough.”
Then, almost as an afterthought, but pointed, “Be respectful,” he added quietly. “If you’ve got something to say, make it decent.”
Then one of the quieter boys turned to you, speaking up awkwardly. “You… uh…” He hesitated. “…you look nice tonight.” The compliment felt awkward and forced, but sincere enough to feel different from the earlier mockery.
Jungkook nodded once, satisfied. “Good,” he said simply. Then he reached for the bag on the counter, stepping beside you again.
“Let’s go.” His hand settled lightly at your back, guiding you toward the door without waiting for further reaction.
The boys stayed silent this time, endorsed in subdued shuffling as the door chimed open again and cool night air spilled in, hitting your face the moment you stepped outside, but it did little to calm the storm tightening inside your chest.
You walked quickly beside him, heels echoing sharply as the convenience store lights faded behind you. Jungkook led the way toward the car, movements unhurried. And then — something inside you snapped.
“Why did you have to interfere?” you burst out suddenly, your voice sharp, cutting through the quiet of the parking lot. The sound echoed faintly against the concrete, harsher than you meant it to be.
Jungkook stopped mid-step, turned toward you slowly.
“I didn’t need your help,” you added quickly, the words spilling out now that the pressure inside your chest had finally found somewhere to go. “I had it handled.”
“Yeah,” he replied flatly. “You didn’t.” His response came so quickly, that it knocked the breath from your lungs for a second. “But they were bothering you,” he added.
You let out a sharp breath, shaking your head as frustration surged hotter beneath your skin. “You know what?” you snapped louder this time, stepping closer to him. “This is exactly your problem—you keep interfering into my life, my business like you’re some—”
Your words cut off abruptly when your heel caught against uneven pavement. One second you were leaning forward, finger pressing into his chest in an attempt to intimidate him, and the next your balance slipped, ankle twisting just slightly as your body lurched forward.
A startled gasp left you. Jungkook reacted instantly, his hands closing firmly beneath your arms before you could stumble any further, steadying your weight as though he had expected something like this to happen.
“Careful,” he muttered under his breath.
Before you could protest, before your pride could recover, he shifted his grip and guided you backward in one smooth motion until the backs of your thighs met cool metal; the hood of his car.
You barely had time to register what was happening before he lifted you slightly, settling you there with quiet decisiveness, leaving you perched against the cold surface while he stepped closer.
“Don’t move,” he said, firmly enough that your body stilled before your mind caught up.
Your palms flattened instinctively against the hood behind you, breath uneven as irritation and embarrassment churned together in your chest. “I wasn’t going to fall,” you muttered stubbornly, refusing to meet his eyes.
Jungkook crouched slightly, one hand briefly steadying your ankle as he inspected the strap of your heel, making sure it hadn’t twisted, ignoring you entirely, only making your face burn hotter.
“I had it handled,” you repeated, weaker this time, like saying it again might somehow make it true. Jungkook straightened slowly, his gaze lifting back to your face. “No,” he said simply. “You didn’t.”
Your throat tightened instantly, anger flaring up again, not because he was wrong, but because he was right, and that truth scraped painfully against your pride.
For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then, your voice came out quieter this time, tired. “Jungkook.”
He was crouched slightly in front of you now, fingers working carefully at the strap of your heel, the small metal buckle resisting beneath his touch. At the sound of his name, he hummed in acknowledgment, glancing up at you briefly before returning his attention to the stubborn clasp.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” you asked.
He paused, just enough for the movement of his hands to still. His fingers rested lightly against your ankle, thumb pressed against the sensitive curve of your heel as he lifted his gaze again, studying your face properly this time.
“I’m asking you,” you continued, swallowing hard, tightening your grip on his shoulders for balance. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
Silence stretched between you now, your chest tightening beneath it as suddenly, his kindness felt more threatening than cruelty ever had.
Your fingers curled slightly into the fabric of his suit. “Don’t do that,” you muttered.
His brows drew together faintly. “Do what?”
You let out a shaky breath, forcing the words out before you could stop yourself. “Act like this.” Your voice dropped, more brittle. “Like you care.”
Your throat tightened. “Do you…” you hesitated, the words sour on your tongue before they finally slipped free, “do you have a crush on me or something?” You asked, almost mocking. But the tension in your grip betrayed you.
Your words hung between you—too big and too reckless to take back now.
“Because if that’s what this is, Jungkook, you need to cut it out,” you muttered, shaking your head faintly. “Get your shit together. It’s never going to work out.”
His hands stilled completely against your ankle. For a moment, he didn’t move at all. And somehow, that silence felt more dangerous than anger would’ve.
Slowly, he finished slipping the strap loose. Then rose from where he was crouched. He stepped closer, close enough that the space between you disappeared entirely, his presence suddenly overwhelming in a way that made your breath hitch.
“What do you want, Jungkook?” you asked, softer now, your fingers drifting from his shoulders to the front of his suit, gripping the fabric there like it might anchor you.
You searched his eyes. Really searched them this time, looking for mockery, anything that would make this easier. Instead, you found something heavier and unreadable.
“If I tell you,” he said quietly, voice lower now, “I don’t think you can handle it.” His gaze flickered briefly, nearly deliberately down to your lips before lifting back to your eyes.
Your breath caught sharply in your throat, and before you could respond, his hand moved again firmly as he slipped your heel fully off your foot.
You gasped softly at the sudden release. Relief flooded your muscles instantly as your toes flexed for the first time in hours, the sharp ache in your heel easing into something more manageable. “Oh...” you breathed faintly, shoulders dropping just slightly.
Then your pride caught up. “Hey,” you protested quickly, reaching toward him. “Give them back.”
Jungkook didn’t move to return them. He straightened fully, holding the pair of heels loosely in one hand as he glanced down at your bare feet resting against the hood of his car.
“Do you expect me to walk barefoot?” you added, irritation creeping back into your tone. “Because I’d rather—”
“You’re not wearing those again tonight.” His firm voice cut cleanly through your protest. You only blinked at him, jaw tightening immediately.
“That’s not your decision to make.” you bit back.
He held your gaze, unwavering. “Yes,” he replied calmly. “It is. Because you can barely stand in them right now.”
Your fingers curled tighter into the front of his suit. “Jungkook,” you warned, voice low with frustration. “Give them back.”
He didn’t move. Ddn’t even look like he was considering it, and that alone made your eyes roll hard enough to hurt.
“I literally have nothing else to wear,” you muttered, shifting slightly where you sat on the hood, wiggling your toes unconsciously. The cold night air brushed against your bare skin, sending small shivers up your legs. Despite your stubbornness, the relief from the heels was undeniable.
You glanced down at his shoes, then back up at him. “Give me your shoes then,” you said matter of factly.
Jungkook blinked once. “They’re too big for you,” he replied immediately.
Yeah. They would be comically huge — like cartoonishly oversized. But you weren’t about to admit defeat now. “It’s okay,” you insisted stubbornly, lifting your chin slightly. “I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to walk in them.”
His mouth twitched faintly at the corners, like he was fighting something... amusement, maybe, but he said nothing.
“You can wear my heels instead,” you added casually. And then, the image of Jungkook in your heels — tall and broad, completely serious-faced... wearing delicate, painfully narrow stilettos hit you, making you press your lips together instantly, fighting back a laugh. But it was too late.
A small sound escaped you, then another. And suddenly, you were laughing. Actual uncontrolled breathless laughter spilled out of you, shoulders shaking as your grip tightened instinctively around him to steady yourself. You couldn’t stop.
Your emotions really were clearly, all over the place tonight. From crying… to snapping… to laughing like an idiot in the middle of a dimly lit parking lot.
“C’monnn, Jungkook,” you urged between laughs, nudging his shoulder lightly. “Don’t be a baby. Try them on.”
His eyes stayed fixed on your face, unbothered. But there was something there now, faint and warmth flickering in his gaze as he watched you laugh for the first time all night after sulking, and holding everything in.
He clicked his tongue softly. Then, without warning, his hands slid beneath your thighs.
You gasped mid-laugh. “Jungkook—!”
Your laughter broke into startled breath as your body lifted clean off the hood, arms instinctively wrapping around his shoulders as your bare feet left the metal surface.
“Not happening,” he said calmly.
“Put me down,” you protested weakly, still half laughing, half startled, but there was no real fight behind it.
He carried you toward the passenger side like it required no effort at all. When he reached the door, he pulled it open smoothly before lowering you carefully into the seat, making sure your bare feet never once touched the cold pavement.
Your laughter faded into soft breaths as he guided your legs fully inside before stepping back. The door shut. You leaned back into the seat, flexing your toes again, still tingling from the earlier ache.
A moment later, Jungkook rounded the front of the car, your heels still hanging loosely from his fingers.
You watched him through the windshield. Watched the way he moved, unfazed by your chaos as he slid into the driver’s seat and shut the door quietly behind him.
You shifted slightly, wincing faintly as another dull cramp curled through your abdomen. Today just wouldn’t end.
“You’re not keeping those forever,” you muttered after a moment, nodding toward your heels still in his hand.
He placed them down near the center console without looking at you. “We’ll get you flats,” he said simply.
You looked at him like he’d just confessed to believing the earth was flat. “Are you serious?” you asked.
He glanced at you briefly. “Yeah.”
“Jungkook,” you said slowly, blinking at him like he’d personally offended your entire existence, because frankly — he had. “There are two things that you will never see me do.”
He sighed quietly, already sounding tired of whatever dramatic declaration was coming.
“One,” you lifted a finger, dead serious, “is apologize first.”
“And the other,” you continued, turning to look at him fully, voice laced with absolute offense, “is wear anything but heels.”
You gestured dramatically toward your now bare feet. “And you expect me to wear flats?”
“Yes,” he answered without hesitation.
You stared at him, offended. Personally attacked. “Unbelievable,” you muttered, crossing your arms over your chest as much as the seatbelt allowed. “You don’t even understand the kind of damage you’re suggesting to my brand right now.”
Jungkook huffed quietly under his breath. “You were about to fall five minutes ago,” he said calmly.
“I tripped,” you corrected immediately. “There’s a difference.”
“You were about to fall,” he repeated. You rolled your eyes dramatically, leaning your head back against the seat.
“And flats are ugly,” you added stubbornly.
“I don’t dress for comfort.”
He glanced at you again then, this time longer. “Yes,” he said dryly. “That’s become very obvious tonight.”
You shot him a glare, but it didn’t hold the same bite as before. Not when your stomach still ached in slow, dull waves.
A small silence followed.
“You really think I’d look good in flats?” you asked suddenly, voice quieter and unsure now.
Jungkook’s hands stayed steady on the wheel, the glow of streetlights washing briefly across his face.
“Yes,” he said simply. “You’d look good in anything.”
His words came out softer than before, and for some reason, that made your chest tighten. You looked away quickly, staring out the window before he could catch whatever expression had slipped onto your face.
“Yeah well, I don’t think so,” you muttered softly under your breath, crossing your arms over each other, sighing quietly. Jungkook paused, weighing his words in that annoyingly patient way of his. “You don’t have to,” he said finally.
Your brows pulled together faintly. “Have to what?” you asked, still staring out the window.
“Believe it,” he replied. “Doesn’t change the fact that it’s true.”
You scoffed quietly at that, shaking your head faintly, but there was no real fight behind it now, thinking, why did he always sound so sure of himself? Another cramp twisted low in your stomach, sharper this time, and you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, pressing your lips together as you tried not to react. He noticed anyway. “Still hurting?” he asked, eyes briefly flicking toward you before returning to the road.
You hesitated. For half a second, you considered lying. Pretending you were fine like you always did. But you were exhausted and so unbelievably tired of pretending.
“A little,” you admitted quietly. Jungkook didn’t comment on it—which, oddly enough, made it easier to breathe.
But truthfully… the ache in your stomach wasn’t the only thing easing something inside you. As inconvenient as the timing was, of all nights—there was a strange, quiet relief sitting beneath the discomfort.
For the past few days… you had been worried. Your period had been late, and no matter how much you tried to ignore it, the thought had crept into your mind at the worst times late at night, when everything was quiet. Every missed day had felt like a ticking clock you pretended not to hear.
And now, it had come anyway. Painful and perfectly timed to ruin your night. But still… you were absurdly glad. At least now, that quiet panic sitting at the back of your mind had somewhere to go, and you knew there wasn’t a chance of something worse waiting around the corner, of waking up to consequences you weren’t ready to face.
Jungkook reached forward slightly, turning the air conditioning down a notch. Then, after a brief pause, he reached toward the back seat with one hand, pulling something forward before placing it carefully on your lap. A jacket. Still faintly holding his scent.
You blinked, looking down at it in mild confusion. “What’s this?” you asked. “For your legs,” he said simply. “You looked cold.”
You froze for a moment. Hesitantly at first, you slowly unfolded it, draping it over your bare legs. The warmth settled over your skin instantly, comforting in a way you didn’t want to acknowledge.
You still had no idea why he was being so nice to you. Was there something underneath all of this?
You had tried—repeatedly, almost professionally, to push this man away from you like it was your life’s purpose. Snapping at him. Being mean to him even when he didn’t deserve it. And yet he stayed.
It made you uneasy. Because you didn’t know his real intentions at the end of the day, and that uncertainty sat heavy in your chest, tangled with suspicion and something dangerously close to curiosity.
Your gaze drifted toward him again. The dim glow of streetlights slipped through the windshield in passing streaks, catching along the sharp line of his jaw, carving shadows beneath his cheekbones.
His large, veined hands rested steady on the wheel, deliberate in the way they moved. His sleeves were rolled just slightly, muscles shifting subtly every time he adjusted his grip. Lips set into that familiar neutral line that always made it impossible to tell what he was thinking.
The more you looked at him, the more something inside your chest dipped unexpectedly. Like your heart missing a step at the curiosity curling tighter inside you.
What does he really want from you? Why wouldn’t he just give a straight answer? and why did he keep staying when you made it so difficult to?
“You didn’t answer my question,” you said finally, forcing yourself to look away from him before he could catch you staring. Jungkook kept his eyes on the road, fingers tapping once against the steering wheel before going still again. “What question?” he asked, though something in his tone suggested he knew exactly which one you meant.
You huffed faintly, irritation flickering again to mask the unease. “Why you’re being so nice to me,” you repeated softly. “Why you keep doing all this.” You gestured faintly toward the jacket on your lap, the car, the quiet way he kept adjusting things around you without making a spectacle of it. “Why?” you asked again.
Silence settled between you for a moment.
“Because someone has to take care of you.” He said it simply, like it was obvious. You froze, fingers tightened slightly into the fabric pooled across your thighs. No one had ever said that to you before. Not without making it sound like a burden.
“I didn’t ask you to,” you said, swallowing slowly, though the bite you usually carried was missing as your voice came out smaller.
Staring down at your hands, you blinked slowly as something dangerously close to your walls cracking—not breaking, not yet, but softening around the edges. “You shouldn’t,” you murmured after a moment, barely above a whisper. “People who take care of me don’t usually get anything good out of it.”
Jungkook didn’t respond right away, but you felt his gaze flicker toward you anyway, assessing, like he was filing that sentence away somewhere important. Then, after a few seconds, he spoke again. His voice gentler now. “Where do you want to go?” he asked.
You blinked, thrown slightly by the shift. He glanced at you briefly before returning his attention to the road. “Want me to take you home?”
Your stomach twisted unpleasantly at the mention of home. Going home meant too much space to replay everything that happened tonight. All the embarrassment, the tears, the memory of standing alone in that bathroom feeling like a little girl again.
You hesitated, fingers tightened faintly around the edge of his jacket, twisting the fabric nervously as you thought, you didn’t want to go home. Not yet. “Well…” you started slowly. Then cleared your throat, forcing your voice to sound steadier than you felt.
“You’re still my boyfriend for the night,” you said, trying to inject some lightness back into your tone, still staring straight ahead. “So…” you paused. “Take me out on a date.”
Your words sounded strange even to your own ears as they were half serious, bordered on half deflecting. but underneath that, there was something quieter and closer to: don’t leave me alone right now.
Jungkook finally looks at you properly now. Confusion flickered across his face, subtle but there. Like he was trying to piece together where this was coming from… and what exactly you meant by it. Because if there was one thing you were known for, it was never being particularly clear about what you truly wanted.
“It’s late,” he said after a second. You stared at him like he’d just personally insulted you, brows lifting slowly.
“So?” you asked, voice sharpening enough to sound annoyed. “Is your bedtime at ten or something?” You tilted your head slightly, eyes narrowing in challenge. “Is there a strict curfew I don’t know about?”
Jungkook let out a quiet breath through his nose. “I have to be somewhere at this hour,” he said. You paused, lips pursed slightly, curiosity flickering to life despite yourself. Somewhere? At this hour?
You turned your head to look at him properly now, studying his profile like you might be able to pull the answer straight from his expression alone. “Okay, well... never mind then,” you said quickly, doubling down before the disappointment could settle too deeply, looking away just as fast, turning toward the window, hoping the faint frown pulling at your lips wasn’t visible to him.
It shouldn’t matter. He had somewhere to be. Pulling the jacket a little tighter around your legs, you tried to shrink back into yourself again.
Jungkook’s fingers tightened briefly around the steering wheel before relaxing again. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t take you,” he said.
Your brows pulled together. “You just said you had somewhere to be,” you replied, tone guarded now.
“I do,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t take you out.”
You stared at him properly now, confused, suspicious. And, somewhere underneath it all… relieved.
He glanced at you briefly then, eyes flicking over your face before dropping lower, to the way you were curled slightly inward, one hand resting unconsciously against your stomach. “Are you sure you even want to?” he added, voice quieter now. “You’re hurting.”
You hesitated, fingers pressing lightly into your abdomen as another dull ache bloomed there. You were hurting. Your back ached, your stomach twisted, and your head still felt heavy from crying earlier. But the thought of going home… of being alone in that quiet space with nothing but your thoughts and memories clawing at you… That felt worse.
“I don’t want to go home,” you admitted quietly, more fragile and honest in the way your words slipped out around him lately, because you were too tired to pretend.
“And I don’t want to be alone right now,” you added after a second, gaze dropping to your lap.
Silence stretched between you again. “Alright,” Jungkook finally spoke. Your head lifted slightly. He adjusted his grip on the wheel, turning the car at the next intersection without another word. The streetlights blurred past, the low hum of the engine wrapping around you like something steady and safe. You weren’t used to that. Not with him. Not with anyone.
His voice cut through the quiet, gentle. “You okay?”
You didn’t answer him. Instead, your eyes drifted down to his hand, resting loose on the gear shift. large, the kind of familiar you usually pushed away. Your fingers hovered for half a second, hesitation flickering through you like a warning you chose to ignore.
Slowly, you reached over, fingertips brushing the back of his hand first, light as a breath.
Then you slid your palm over his, guiding it without a sound. You placed it on your thigh, pressing it there with quiet intention, needing the weight of it. The warmth bleeding through your clothes. The solid reminder that he was right there.
You kept your gaze fixed on the road ahead, jaw tight, pretending your pulse wasn’t racing under your skin.
Jungkook stilled. You felt the tiny flex of his fingers against your thigh, the brief catch in his breath. But he didn’t pull away. He just let his hand stay there.
The car kept gliding forward, city lights stretching endlessly into the night. Somewhere between the silence and the soft press of his palm, the ache in your chest eased, just enough.
You didn’t feel quite as alone anymore.
note!!: thankyou sm for being patient with me! Im deeply disappointed in myself for fucking up the posting schedule i had planned, but best believe ill be back on track, and post the next part by the next week atleast. im sorry yall im fried asf but let me know your thoughts on this part, on the obvious lack of smut (very sad. i love writing them fucking), y/n slowly letting her guard down, and jimin basically being the male version of y/n, which is so very important to me on many different levels.
thank you for reading!! lmk all your thoughts, mwah <3 thoughts mwah <3
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