Hey there everyone, u can call me Chocolate. or Rose. Here you will find my various obsessions. And my sub-blog @[chocolatereignzrains] features my personal writings. Don't hesitate to reach out, talk, be friends, send prompts, request stories...
β’ Power struggle, emotional tension, enemies-to-lovers dynamic
β’ Light choking/breath play elements during intimacy
Word Count: β 4,850
A/N: It was requested.
_____
The city had two rules.
The first rule was simple: never underestimate Kim Taehyung.
The second rule was even simpler: never, under any circumstances, put Kim Taehyung and Min Y/N in the same room.
Unfortunately for everyone involved, the universe seemed to find their suffering entertaining.
Because on a rainy Friday night, inside the most expensive private club in the city, the two people who had spent years trying to ruin each otherβs lives were sitting across from each other at the same table.
Not because they wanted to.
Not because they suddenly found peace.
And definitely not because they had finally accepted that their constant fighting was exhausting.
No.
They were there because a foreign organization had entered their territory, started taking control of their businesses, and had somehow managed to achieve the impossible.
They made two enemies agree on something.
They were both annoyed about it.
Taehyung leaned back in his chair, his expression calm and unreadable as he watched Y/N across the table. Anyone who didnβt know him would assume he was relaxed.
Anyone who did know him knew that calm expression meant someone was probably about to have a very bad week.
βYouβre staring,β Y/N said without looking up from the documents in front of her.
βIβm observing.β
βYouβve been observing the same page for five minutes.β
βI was observing your inability to read it correctly.β
Her eyes slowly lifted.
There it was. The look that had made grown men reconsider their life choices.
βDo you ever get tired of hearing yourself talk?β
βDo you ever get tired of being wrong?β
The silence around them was immediate. The members of both gangs, standing around pretending they werenβt listening, suddenly became very interested in the walls and the floor.
One of Taehyungβs men quietly whispered, βShould we stop them?β
Y/Nβs right-hand man looked at him like he had lost his mind. βThe last person who interrupted their argument got assigned paperwork for three months.β
The problem with Taehyung and Y/N was that they were too similar.
Both stubborn. Both arrogant. Both convinced they were always right.
And unfortunately, both were usually right, which made their arguments even worse.
For years, their gangs had been rivals. Every business deal became a competition. Every meeting became a battlefield. If Taehyung bought a building, Y/N somehow found a better one. If Y/N won a negotiation, Taehyung somehow found a way to annoy her about it for weeks.
Nobody knew when their rivalry had stopped being about power and started becoming something far more personal.
Not even them.
βYou brought her here?β Y/N suddenly asked.
βBrought who?β
The woman standing beside him smiled politely.
Y/Nβs eyes moved toward her. The smile disappeared.
Not because she was jealous. Obviously. She was a professional. A leader. A woman who had absolutely no reason to care who Taehyung brought anywhere.
βYour assistant,β she said coldly. βShe seems very interested in your conversations.β
βSheβs been my assistant for three years. She has been standing there quietly.β
βExactly. Suspicious.β
For the first time that night, Taehyung almost smiled.
Because watching Y/N pretend she wasnβt bothered was strangely entertaining.
βYouβre jealous.β
Y/N immediately laughed. A dangerous laugh. A laugh that made everyone in the room understand that Taehyung had made a terrible decision.
βJealous? Of your assistant? I would rather negotiate with our enemies.β
βWe are negotiating with our enemies.β
βExactly. Thatβs how unpleasant this situation is.β
βInteresting.β
βWhat?β
βYou threaten everyone except me.β
βBecause you are already unbearable. A threat wonβt make a difference.β
βAnd yet you keep showing up.β
βBecause unfortunately, the city needs me.β
βNot me?β
Her expression changed for half a second.
Only half.
But Taehyung noticed. He always noticed. That was the most irritating thing about him.
He noticed the way she tapped her fingers when she was annoyed. The way she avoided looking at him when he was right. The way she always stood slightly closer to danger than everyone else because she refused to let anyone protect her.
And Y/N hated that he knew her.
Because she knew him too. She knew that his coldness was an act. She knew that behind the perfect suit, the controlled voice, and the terrifying reputation was someone who carried every loss like a scar.
Which was why this temporary alliance was becoming dangerous.
Not because of their enemies. Not because of the war.
But because somewhere between insults and threats, they had started understanding each other.
And neither of them knew what to do with that.
The problem with pretending not to care was that Taehyung was terrible at it.
Which was why, when Y/N walked into the next negotiation meeting wearing a confident smile and stood beside another man from a neighboring organization, Taehyung did absolutely nothing.
Nothing.
Except tighten his grip around his glass so hard that one of his men quietly moved the expensive bottle away from him.
βYou look tense,β his right-hand man commented carefully.
βIβm not.β
βYou havenβt blinked in three minutes.β
βIβm thinking.β
βYou are staring at that man like you are planning his funeral.β
Taehyung finally looked at him. βAm I?β
βYes.β
A pause. βInteresting.β
His man sighed. This was going to be a long night.
Across the room, Y/N was very aware that Taehyung was watching her. She had noticed the moment she entered.
Kim Taehyung had many talents. Negotiating. Manipulating. Scaring people without raising his voice. And apparently, glaring at people while pretending he wasnβt glaring.
So naturally, Y/N decided to have some fun.
The man beside her was harmless β simply another leader attending the meeting, someone she had known for years. But Taehyung didnβt know that.
βYou seem to be enjoying yourself,β the man said.
Y/N smiled. βMaybe I am.β
Across the room, Taehyungβs eyebrow twitched.
βSir,β his assistant said carefully.
βWhat?β
βYour eye. Itβs doing that thing. The thing where you look like youβre about to commit a crime but youβre trying to convince yourself youβre calm.β
βI am calm.β
She stared at him. βYou just crushed a glass.β
Taehyung looked down. Sure enough, the crystal in his hand had cracked.
He calmly placed it on the table. βPoor quality.β
βThat was crystal.β
βExactly. Poor quality.β
Y/N finally turned toward him. Their eyes met.
And immediately she saw it. The irritation. The jealousy. The absolute refusal to admit either.
A small smile appeared on her face.
βWhat are you smiling at?β he asked.
βYou look like someone just told you your favorite restaurant closed.β
Taehyung leaned back. βAnd you seem very interested in making me angry tonight.β
βWhy would I care about making you angry?β
βBecause you have been watching me all night.β
βSo have you.β
βYou donβt actually care about him,β he said quietly.
The room suddenly felt smaller.
βAnd you know that because?β
βBecause if you actually liked him, you wouldnβt keep checking my reaction.β
That shut her up. Only for a second.
But Taehyung noticed.
He always noticed.
βYou think youβre clever,β Y/N said.
βI know I am.β
βYour confidence is almost impressive.β
βAlmost?β
βDonβt get excited.β
Then the lights suddenly went out.
The entire building fell into darkness. The music stopped. Every person in the room reached for a weapon.
βEveryone stay where you are,β Taehyung ordered. His voice changed instantly. The teasing disappeared. The cold mask returned.
But before anyone could react, he felt someone grab his wrist.
Y/N.
βDonβt.β
βDonβt what?β
βDonβt go running into danger alone.β
A strange silence settled between them. Because that was not something enemies said.
Taehyung looked down at her hand around his wrist. Then back at her face.
βYou worry about me now?β
Y/N immediately released him. βDonβt flatter yourself.β
βAnd yet you did.β
βTaehyung.β
The way she said his name made him stop. Not because it was a command. But because for once, she wasnβt saying it like an enemy. She was saying it like someone afraid of losing him.
And that was far more dangerous than anything waiting outside.
The emergency lights flickered on, painting everything in dim red.
Everyone moved.
Everyone except Taehyung and Y/N. Because even after years of trying to destroy each other, they had learned how the other person moved. They didnβt need instructions. They didnβt need a plan.
They simply knew.
βLeft side,β Y/N said quietly.
Taehyung didnβt question how she knew. He turned immediately.
His men exchanged looks. Because this was the first time they had ever seen it. The two rival leaders werenβt fighting each other. They were fighting together.
βYour people are blocking my side,β Y/N said.
βYour people are hesitating.β
βTheyβre thinking.β
βTheyβre afraid.β
She looked offended. βAre you insulting my team while weβre under attack?β
βIβm stating facts.β
Before she could reply, Taehyung pulled her back by her arm, moving her away from danger. Quick. Protective. Automatic.
Everyone noticed.
Especially Y/N.
βYou just saved me.β
βNo. I moved you because you were standing in the wrong position.β
βThat is the worst excuse I have ever heard.β
βIt is the truth.β
βYou pulled me away before I even knew something was happening.β
βI have good instincts.β
βYou have a hero complex.β
The room went quiet. Because that last exchange wasnβt an insult.
It was concern. Real concern.
Y/N looked at him. Taehyung looked genuinely annoyed. Not arrogant. Annoyed. Like her getting hurt personally irritated him.
βYou donβt get to worry about me,β she finally said.
βWhy?β
βBecause you hate me.β
A small silence followed.
Then he smiled. Not his usual cold smile. Something different. Something that made Y/N immediately suspicious.
βDo I?β
Later that night, when everyone had left, Y/N found Taehyung standing alone on the balcony.
The city lights reflected in his eyes. For once he looked less like the feared leader everyone knew. More like someone tired of carrying everything alone.
βYou know,β she said, walking beside him, βif anyone told me a month ago that I would be standing here with you after fighting alongside you, I would have laughed.β
Taehyung glanced at her. βAnd now?β
βNow I think I would have called them insane.β
A quiet laugh escaped him. A real one.
That surprised her more than anything. Because Kim Taehyung didnβt laugh often.
βYou laughed,β she said.
βYou noticed?β
βUnfortunately.β
βYouβre always noticing me.β
βSo are you.β
Neither denied it.
And maybe that was the first honest thing they had ever done.
The next morning, every meeting followed the same pattern.
Taehyung would say something irritating. Y/N would insult him. He would insult her back. Everyone would prepare for a fight.
And then, somehow, they would end up standing on the same side.
βAre they always like this?β one of the newer members whispered.
βWorse,β the older man replied. βYou werenβt here when they argued over who saved whose life first.β
βWho won?β
βNobody. Both of them claimed they were the hero.β
Across the room, the argument had already started.
βYou moved my men without permission,β Y/N said.
βI improved their position.β
βYou gave orders to my team.β
βBecause they listen too slowly.β
βThey listen to me.β
Her eyes narrowed. βAre you insulting my leadership?β
βNo. Iβm helping you.β
The room went quiet.
Everyone heard it.
Helping. Not controlling. Not competing. Helping.
Y/N stared at him. Taehyung, realizing what he had just said, immediately returned to his usual expression.
βYou are welcome.β
βI didnβt thank you.β
βYou were going to.β
βI was not.β
βYou were thinking about it.β
She opened her mouth. Closed it. Nothing came out.
Taehyung looked annoyingly satisfied.
Then someone finally whispered from the back of the room:
βAre they trying to kill each other or kiss each other?β
The sentence wasnβt meant to be heard.
Unfortunately, the entire room heard it. Including Taehyung. Including Y/N.
Slowly, both of them turned.
The poor man immediately regretted having lungs.
βWhat did you say?β
Y/Nβs voice was calm. Too calm.
βI saidβ¦ I was asking if the tension was because of the disagreement.β
Nobody moved. Every single person suddenly became fascinated with the ceiling, the floor, their phones, the furniture.
Y/N crossed her arms. βDo people really think that?β
Then Taehyung spoke. βThey donβt think it.β
Everyone relaxed slightly.
Until he continued.
βThey know.β
Y/N looked at him. βYou are unbelievable.β
βAnd youβre avoiding the question.β
βWhat question?β
βWhy do you care what they think?β
She opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
Nothing.
Taehyung looked annoyingly satisfied.
And somehow that tiny moment made him smile. Actually smile.
The entire room froze.
Because Kim Taehyung smiling was rare.
Kim Taehyung smiling because of Y/N?
Almost impossible.
Everyone in the room saw it.
The way he looked at her like she was the only person who could challenge him. The way she trusted him despite years of rivalry. The way their arguments werenβt about winning anymore β they were excuses to stay close.
But the two people at the center of it?
Still too stubborn to admit it.
So they continued arguing.
Because for Kim Taehyung and Min Y/N, fighting was easier than admitting they had already stopped being enemies.
And everyone else was just waiting for them to finally figure it out.
The jealousy had been simmering for weeks, but after that night on the balcony, it boiled over. Taehyung wasn't the only one who noticed things.
Y/N had seen the way his assistant lingered too long when handing him files, the way she touched his arm "accidentally" during briefings, the way she laughed a little too softly at his rare dry humor. It shouldn't have mattered. They were enemies. Temporary allies at best. But every time that woman smiled at him, something ugly twisted in Y/N's chest.
So she did what she always did when she wanted to punish him without admitting why: she played the same game.
Two nights later, at another tense strategy meeting in the neutral territory club, Y/N arrived with Jaehyun the charming leader from the neighboring syndicate. Tall, sharp-featured, quick with compliments. She let him pull out her chair. She let him lean in close when discussing border lines.
She even let him brush a stray hair from her shoulder while Taehyung watched from across the table.
Taehyung's jaw tightened so hard it was a miracle his teeth didn't crack.
His assistant was nowhere near him tonight. He'd sent her home early with a clipped order. Now he sat alone, fingers drumming once against the arm of his chair the only outward sign of the storm raging inside.
"You're playing a dangerous game," he said quietly when the others stepped out for a short break, leaving just the two of them in the private room.
Y/N leaned back, crossing her legs slowly. "Am I? I thought we were allowed to have... allies."
"He's not an ally. He's a distraction." Taehyung's voice dropped lower. "And you know exactly what you're doing."
She smiled, sharp and sweet. "Jealous, Kim Taehyung?"
He stood up slowly, walking around the table until he was right in front of her. The air between them crackled.
"Jealous?" He tilted his head. "No. I'm pissed that you think you can use someone else to get under my skin... and that it's fucking working."
Y/N's pulse spiked. She stood too, refusing to let him tower over her. They were nearly chest to chest now.
"Good," she whispered. "Then you know how I feel every time your little assistant bats her eyes at you like she wants to drop to her knees right there in the office."
Taehyung's eyes darkened. "She's nothing."
"Neither is Jaehyun."
A beat of heavy silence.
Then Taehyung's hand shot out, gripping her waist and yanking her flush against him. "Then stop pretending."
Their mouths crashed together angry, desperate, years of rivalry exploding into something raw. Teeth clashed. Tongues fought for dominance. Y/N bit his bottom lip hard enough to draw a low growl from his throat. Taehyung retaliated by shoving her back against the heavy oak table, hands already sliding under her fitted black dress, gripping her thighs and lifting her onto the surface.
Papers scattered to the floor.
"You drive me fucking insane," he snarled against her mouth, pushing the dress higher up her hips.
"Same," she gasped, tugging his tie loose and yanking his shirt open, buttons flying. Her nails raked down his chest, leaving red lines that made him hiss. "I hate how much I want this."
Taehyung laughed darkly, the sound vibrating against her throat as he kissed and bit his way down her neck. "Then hate me while I fuck you."
He shoved her panties aside, fingers finding her already wet. Two thick fingers pushed inside without warning, curling roughly. Y/N moaned, head falling back, hips rocking against his hand. She wasn't passive her own hand palmed him through his slacks, squeezing the hard length of him until he cursed.
They were both fighting for control, even now.
She unzipped him quickly, wrapping her hand around his cock and stroking with firm, teasing pressure. Taehyung's hips jerked. He pulled his fingers out, ignoring her protest, and lined himself up.
"Look at me," he ordered.
Their eyes locked dark, furious, hungry.
He thrust in hard in one stroke, burying himself to the hilt. Y/N cried out, nails digging into his shoulders. The stretch burned perfectly. He didn't give her time to adjust pulling back and slamming in again, setting a brutal pace.
The table creaked under them.
"Fuckβ harder," she demanded, legs wrapping around his waist, heels digging into his back.
Taehyung obliged, one hand fisting her hair to keep her looking at him while the other gripped her hip hard enough to bruise. Every thrust was deep, punishing, claiming. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room along with their ragged breaths and broken curses.
"You're mine to ruin," he growled, angling his hips to hit that spot inside her that made her vision blur. "Not his. Not anyone's."
"Then ruin me," she shot back, clenching around him deliberately.
"And I'll ruin you right back."
He fucked her like he was trying to win an argument relentless, overwhelming. She met him thrust for thrust, rolling her hips, biting his shoulder when the pleasure built too fast. The jealousy, the frustration, the years of tension it all fed into it.
Y/N came first, sudden and violent, crying out his name as her walls pulsed around him. Taehyung followed moments later with a deep groan, burying himself deep and spilling inside her.
They stayed locked together, breathing hard, foreheads pressed together.
For once, neither had a clever insult ready.
Taehyung brushed damp hair from her face, surprisingly gentle. "This doesn't change anything," he muttered.
Y/N laughed breathlessly. "Liar."
He kissed her again slower this time, almost tender.
Outside the door, the gang members who had very deliberately given them "privacy" after hearing the first loud crash exchanged wide-eyed looks.
One of them whispered, "They're going to be insufferable now, aren't they?"
The Mountains Stayed Still (3) - Yoongi's Interlude
The world narrows to the rhythm of my breathing and the dull ache in my leg. Lights smear into halos when I try to look up; the crutch under my arm bites into my palm. Peteβs voice is a soft anchorβeasy words, steady. He tells me sheβs nice. He tells me there are other hybrids. I let him do the talking while I count steps, listen to the scrape of wheels and the soft thump of feet on the ramp.
They stop at the porch. A womanβs voiceβcalm, warmβsays thereβs a ramp and I feel relief like a physical thing sliding across my shoulders. She jokes with Pete about an elevator I wouldnβt have noticed. When she smiles at me, something thatβs been hollow and raw eases an inch, like a wound held to the sun.
Inside, my crutches echo on tile. The kitchen smells like cooked things I canβt name and something gentle that might be safety. She presses a hidden panel and a small elevator opens like it has been waiting. I let myself be guided, one careful step at a time, up to the third floor where doors line a quiet hall.
My name on a plaque makes my mouth go dry. A paw print sits under the letters like proof that someone already cared enough to mark me as belonging. The room is bare and clean, the edges soft with possibility. She tells me I can paint, decorate, make it mine. The words are heavier than any blanket Iβve known.
She says Taehyung understands, that he was owned by the same people: the breath catches in my throat, a cold electricity of recognition. I see a ghost of the past thereβhow small I was, how loud the cages, how the chain cutβbut then she points to the connecting door and says knock if I need someone. The idea of a knock feels like a lifeline.
Pete places my duffel on the chest. The meds fuzz the edges of my thinking; a softness tucks into my limbs. I try to form sentences but the syllables fall out like small stones. βThank you,β comes out quieter than I planned. It is true.
She says sheβll come back in the morning, or eight, or whenever. Pete reminds me heβs around. They leave. The porch light clicks off and the house exhales. I am alone with the hollow of my bones and the steady beat of my heart.
I settle onto the bed. The mattress is firm in the way that feels honest. I ease the crutches against the wall and pull the blanket up. My tailβstiff and foreign from lack of touchβfinds its way over my arm, curling in on itself like a reflex. For the first time in a long time, I notice my breathing slow on purpose and not because I had to.
Taehyungβs room is on the other side of the connecting door. I press my palm to the wood, feeling the faint warmth on the other side, imagining footsteps, a presence. I donβt know what the future will be, or how long the nights will tremble, but right now the walls are quiet and my body is allowed to rest.
Sleep comes soft, like someone drawing a curtain. Sound blurs into a comfortable distance; the ache in my leg becomes background static. Images spatter across my mindβfaces, a kitchen that smelled like hope, a paw print on a plaqueβand then the world closes to the simple, small fact of being here.
I fall asleep thinking, for the first time in a long while, that maybe I can stay.
Hate sex is still sex. β part 11 | α΄α΄α΄Ι΄ α΄α΄Ι΄Ι’α΄α΄α΄α΄
You just got dumped. The one behind it? your boyfriendβs best friend Jungkook whoβs hated you from day one. You hate him. He hates you. One thingβs for sure: when hate turns into desire, it gets messy, it gets recklessβ¦ and yes, hate sex is still sex.
β―β― pairing: Grumpy Jungkook x Mean girl reader
π§·Genre: enemies with benefits
π§·Warnings: 18+ content, heavy angst, yearning, miscommunication, commitment issues, foul language, slut shaming, heavy, uncomfortable themes, uni au, use of y/n, (mdni)!!
π§·wc: 14.8k
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Jimin stared at you for a long moment, his usual teasing smile nowhere to be found.
βJesus Christ, y/n,β he finally said, shaking his head. βYouβve been living in a fucking soap opera.β
You winced, your knuckles turning white around your ceramic mug. βI know how it sounds out loud. Okay? Itβs insane.β
βJimin leaned back, his chair scraping against the tiles. He just stared at you for a long, torturous second.
ββNo, itβs beautiful prose, really,β he said, his voice dripping with venomous sarcasm. βNot unhinged at all that youβve been sleeping with your boyfriendβs best friend for a consecutive calendar year. Not unhinged that it continued after the breakup. And certainly not unhinged that youβve been running a masterclass in espionage just to introduce him to me as your βsupposedβ boyfriend.β
ββCan you keep your voice down?β you hissed, shooting a panicked glance at the adjacent tables.
βJimin raised an eyebrow, but the sharp edge of his posture softened slightly as he caught the tremor in your hands, the glassy threat of tears in your eyes. Still, he didnβt let you off the hook. βNo. You donβt get to hide behind a low volume. Sit with it. You built this circus, own the monkeys.β
βHe let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his perfectly styled blonde hair. βJesus. I need something significantly stronger than espresso for this,β he muttered, glaring at his cup. You could practically hear the gears in his brain grinding as he tried to untangle the web youβd just dumped in his lap.
βWhen he looked back up, the playfulness was gone, replaced by a sharp, protective look. βAnd of all the timelinesβ¦ you choose now to drop this on me?β
ββYouβre pregnant,β Jimin deadpanned, his eyes going wide as saucepans.
ββNo! God, no, thank God,β you rushed out, the words tumbling over each other. βI panicked, but my period started. Weβre clear.β
βJimin visibly deflated, slumping back against the leather booth with a massive exhale. βOkay. Okay, crisis averted. Youβre bleeding. When was the last time you actually saw Jungkook?β
βThe question caught you entirely off guard, flying straight past your internal filter. βLikeβ¦ a few days ago?β
βJimin blinked. Then, a slow, insufferable smirk began to crawl across his face as the math clicked in his head. He didnβt even have to say it, the implication that you and Jungkook were intimate anyway hung heavily in the air.
βBefore he could open his mouth to terrorize you, you slammed your hand on the table. βDo not. Do not make fun of me. I am fighting for my life here, Jimin. Just let me finish.β
βJimin raised his hands in a mocking surrender, though the smirk remained firmly in place. βThe floor is yours, counselor. Proceed.β
βYou took a ragged breath, trying to organize the chaos in your head.
ββItβs not just me playing the villain behind Minhoβs back. Itβsβ¦ itβs a disaster of our own making. I met Jungkook before Minho. There was a spark. A massive one. But I panicked, I didnβt want to give Jungkook that kind of leverage over me, knowing he was the only one who couldββ
ββββThe only one who actually knows how to get you off? Got it,β Jimin interrupted smoothly.
βYou glared at him with the force of a thousand suns. βIf you interrupt me one more time, Iβm pouring this macchiato on your lap.β
ββAlright, alright, cupcake. Weapon dropped,β he said, though his eyes were still dancing with amusement.
ββMy relationship with Minho was dead on arrival,β you continued, your voice dropping into a quieter, more exhausted register. βIt was supposed to be a harmless fling. Two, maybe three months. Somehow it dragged into a year. By month five, we werenβt even kissing anymore. Whatever fire we were trying to kindle was completely out.β
Jimin nodded slowly, his amusement finally fading. βSo weβre officially establishing that Minho is a footnote?β
You breathed out, thinking for a second. βIβ¦ I donβt really know. No, I donβt like him. I never had feelings for him. Heβs justβ¦ not the nicest person at times. But... Iβm not either, so I canβt be a hypocrite about it.β
You paused, then added quietly, βThere was this one time he called me a bitch as a βjokeβ in front of his friends. Now that I think about it, thatβs all there ever was. Minho does things just to impress the people around him. Heβs never really been his own person. He doesnβt have a backbone.β
You swallowed, the next part harder to say.
βAnd now I found outβ¦ he got drunk at an afterparty and rambled to a bunch of seniors. Told them I sleep around. Called me a whore.β
Jiminβs entire demeanor shifted. The residual smirk vanished instantly, his features hardening into something icy. βHe said what? Are you serious?β
βI wish I wasnβt,β you said, shaking your head. βReally, Jimin, if Iβm being honestβ¦ it makes me want to hide for the rest of the semester.β
You let out a bitter scoff. βWith the way he said it and how people have been treating me lately, even some of my own sorority sisters, youβd think a sex tape of me banging the entire campus came out.β
Jimin looked genuinely pissed, more angry than youβd felt when you first heard it. You gave a weak shrug. Jimin leaned forward, elbows on the table. βDoes Jungkook know about this?β
βIβm getting there,β you said. βLina told me about the rumorsββ
ββDonβt like her. Sneaky,β Jimin cut in automatically.
βYou let out a weak, breathless laugh. βWell, sheβs basically my only on-campus friend right now, so Iβm grading on a curve.β
ββYour taste in people is atrocious,β he said flatly, but his eyes softened when he saw the strain on your face. βSorry. Keep going. What did Jungkook do?β
You took a breath.
βI didnβt even have to tell Jungkook. Turns out he already knew about the rumors.β You laughed bitterly. βHe knew. I donβt know for how long, but he was suddenly so distant with me. Nothing like how he was when we were together in my penthouse. He cornered me, demanded I decide right then and there what my real intentions with him wereβ¦ and I got overwhelmed. I told him I needed time to think. That I didnβt know who I could trust anymore, and I walked away.β
βJimin sat in silence, absorbing the weight of it. The charm, it all melted away, leaving only the fierce, protective friend underneath.
ββLetβs look at the chessboard from his perspective,β Jimin said slowly, picking his words carefully. βYouβve been hooking up in secret for months. You let him into your penthouse, a place you donβt let anyone into. Youβre comfortable enough to be deeply intimate with him, but the exact second he asks you to put a name on it? To claim him? You pull the emergency brake and demand space.β
βHe shook his head, a heavy sigh escaping him.
ββIf Iβm him? I feel like a well kept secret. I feel used. Like Iβm a great dopamine hit when youβre lonely, but the moment things get heavy, you shut the door in my face.β
βYou kept your eyes glued to the table, unable to look at him.
ββBut hereβs the part that worries me,β Jimin continued, his voice dropping an octave. βJungkook isnβt a victim here either. If heβs capable of turning that ice cold, that fast, after everything youβve shared? Thatβs a massive red flag. Minho was a generic, predictable asshole. But a guy who can switch from burning hot to absolute zero just to punish you? That kind of whiplash will destroy you.β
βHe reached across the small table, his fingers gently but firmly wrapping around yours, forcing you to stop tracing the rim of your cup.
βYou deserve better than being someoneβs emotional convenience. Whether thatβs Minho spreading rumorsβ¦ or Jungkook making you question everything every time he pulls away.β
You felt your throat tighten. Jiminβs eyes were steady on yours.
ββSo letβs strip away the noise. Do you actually want something real with him? Or are you just terrified of being alone in the wreckage?β
βYou shifted uncomfortably, pulling your hand back to wipe your cheek. βI donβt think he was trying to punish me. He was justβ¦ raw. If he didnβt care, he wouldnβt have cornered me. He would have just walked away entirely, right?β
Jimin tilted his head, considering.
βThatβs another possibility, yeah. He was probably confused. Youβre not letting him in as much as he thought you were.β He paused, then gave you a pointed look. βYouβre deviating, by the way.β
You only looked at him. Jimin didnβt let up, his stare pinning you to the back of your chair. βYou havenβt answered my question. Do you actually want something real with Jungkook?β
βThe problem with a place like this was that you couldnβt move five feet without running into the ghosts of your dadβs reputation. The lifestyle editors, the venture capitalists flowing through the lobby, they all knew your face. More importantly, they knew your fatherβs name, and they certainly knew your motherβs legacy.
βDesperate to escape before someone recognized you and dragged you into a suffocatingly polite conversation...How is your father? Give him our best, darling, we must do dinner soon...you pulled your coat tighter around your shoulders and hurried toward the revolving doors, eyes glued to the polished marble floor. You were practically sprinting through the crowd, an invisible clock ticking in your head.
βYou were so focused on escaping that you didnβt see the shadow crossing your path until it was too late.
βYour shoulder collided heavily with someone elseβs, the impact jarring enough to make you stumble backward, your purse slipping down your arm.
ββWatch where youβreββ the voice started, sharp and irritated, before cutting off instantly.
βYou steadied yourself, looking up with an apology already on your tongue, only for the words to freeze in your throat. Of all the people in this city, of all the buildings, and of all the catastrophic timing.
...Ira?
She was holding a baby carrier in one hand and a diaper bag in the other, looking equally surprised.
βWell, shit,β she said, breaking into a grin. βFateβs got jokes today.β
You let out a tired, breathless laugh. βApparently. What are you doing here?β
ββBabysitting gig for some stinking rich couple on the thirtieth floor. Theyβre out for the night and apparently couldnβt be bothered to deal with their own kid.β She rolled her eyes, shifting the heavy plastic baby carrier to her other hand. βYou?β
βIraβs grin widened, a spark of genuine relief in her eyes. βPlease. I was already dreading pulling a twelve hour shift in a ghost town alone.β
βThe apartment upstairs was exactly what you expected, upper tier and all. Inside the entryway, Ira set the carrier down carefully on a marble bench. The little girl strapped inside, maybe eight months old, blinked up at you with big, glassy, curious eyes.
βIra unbuckled the straps and scooped the kid up, then turned to you with a mischievous glint. βHere. Hold her for a second.β
βBefore you could protest, you found your arms full of baby. You held her awkwardly, your elbows stiff as you tried to find the balance between crushing her and dropping her. The infant immediately grabbed a fistful of your sweater, her tiny knuckles burying into the fabric.
βIra watched you, leaning against the kitchen island with a smirk. βStill hate babies?β
βThe question instantly dragged you back to the leather chairs of the tattoo salon, the suffocating weight of the pregnancy scare and the ridiculous conversation that had somehow ended with the two of you bonding over a shared counter.
ββNot at all,β you muttered, adjusting your grip so the kidβs head didnβt flop. βJustβ¦ highly unpracticed.β
ββItβs weird, right? We keep bonding over the topic of infants for some reason,β Ira noted, tossing the diaper bag onto a nearby chair.
ββMaybe itβs fate,β she suggested dryly, grinning.
ββGod, I hope not.β
βAt the sound of your voice, the baby in your arms widened her eyes. You looked down, and she let out an exasperated, high pitched little sound, the kind of breathless giggle babies make when they havenβt figured out how to express excitement yet.
βSoβ¦ what brings you here?β Ira asked, setting the baby carrier down and fixing one of its crooked legs.
βI could ask you the same thing,β you said, bouncing the baby gently.
Ira snickered. βTold ya. Babysitting gig.β
You looked between her and the baby. βI didnβt peg you as the private-nanny-to-the-upper-one-percent sort.β you replied, raising an eyebrow.
βThatβs because Iβm not.β She crossed one leg over the other. βThe thing is, Iβve been looking after aida since she was practically born. At this point, Iβm more involved in raising her than her actual parents. Theyβre rich as hell, sure, and they pay my tuition without blinking, butβ¦ itβs still fucking sad.β
You glanced down at baby aida in your arms, watching her tiny fingers clutch at your shirt, her thumb tucked into her mouth.
βYou knowβ¦ I was a baby exactly like that once,β you said quietly.
Ira raised an eyebrow. βNo shit? Your parents pulled the same stunt?β
βYeah,β you replied, voice softer.
Ira waited for a second, her expression open, expecting the rest of the story. But you kept your lips pressed together, offering nothing else. You werenβt ready to unpack the baggage of your parents. Not now, and honestly, maybe not ever.
To her credit, Ira didnβt push. She didnβt make the silence awkward or clinical. Instead, she just reached over and gently slid her hands under aidaβs arms, lifting the baby out of your stiff lap.
βIβm sorry to hear that,β Ira said, sincere but light. βBut you turned out fine though.β
She lifted the baby up, blowing a loud raspberry into her little stomach. little aida squealed with delight, tiny legs kicking happily.
βSo we still have hope for this little one, donβt we?β Ira laughed.
You couldnβt help but smile. When you scrunched your nose playfully at baby aida, she let out another high pitched squeal, reaching for your face. You cooed back at her softly, the sound surprising even you.
For a few minutes, the noise in your head completely stopped. In itβs place remained the rhythmic babbling of an eight month old.
βThen you remembered the time. You glanced at your phone, clearing your throat. βI should probably get going in a fewββ
ββBut you just walked in,β Ira cut in, her head tilting as she lowered Aida back onto her lap.
βThe playful warmth in her expression shifted, replaced by a sudden, razor sharp curiosity.
ββAnd boy,β Ira smirked, her eyes locking onto yours with absolute relish, βdo I have a mountain of questions for you.β
βYou stiffened, your posture going rigid against the couch.
βIraβs smirk widened, clearly enjoying the way youβve instantly frozen up. She leaned forward, lowering her voice just enough to make it lethal.
ββSoβ¦ howβs Jungkook?β
You rolled your eyes, your mood souring instantly at the mention of him. βHow would I know?β you muttered, looking away.
Ira watched you carefully, her teasing expression softening just a little. βAh. So trouble in paradise?β
βThere was never a paradise,β you let out a dry, tired laugh. βJustβ¦ really good sex and a whole lot of confusion after.β
Ira grinned, unable to stop herself.
βWell, at least the sex was good,β she said, wiggling her eyebrows. βIf youβre gonna get emotionally wrecked by a guy, you might as well get some mind blowing orgasms out of it, right? Silver linings.β
You groaned, covering your face with both hands, but a reluctant laugh slipped out anyway. βIra.β
βWhat? Iβm just saying. If Jungkookβs the one ruining your peace, at least heβs doing it with good dick. Thatβs more than most people get.β
You peeked at her through your fingers, cheeks burning. βFor one, in order to be emotionally wrecked, Iβd have to actually care,β you shot back, struggling to sound casual. βWhich I donβt. So no, my peace isnβt ruined.β
Ira gave you a long, unimpressed look. βRight,β she said flatly.
You narrowed your eyes. βWhy are you giving me that look?β
βHow long are you going to keep lying to yourself, Y/n?β
You looked around the opulent living room in exaggerated shock, throwing your hands up as if searching the crown molding for the sheer audacity she had just dropped so casually into the conversation.
βWeβre all girls here anyway,β Ira added, glancing down at baby aida. βRight, Aida?β
The little girl let out a happy gurgle, completely oblivious.
Ira turned back to you, shaking her head. βYou know you can be honest with me.β
You sighed, shoulders slumping. She was right. Ira had been nothing but transparent and straightforward with you from the very beginning. Easily the most honest person youβd met in a long time. She didnβt deserve your constant walls and half-truths. So you decided, for once, to be honest.
βIβm not used to this,β you admitted quietly. βI donβt really have proper girlβ¦ friends.β
Ira looked at you, a flicker of surprise crossing her face, but she didnβt dote on it. She simply nodded, like she understood more than youβd said.
βIf this makes you feel any better,β she said, pinching baby aidaβs tiny nose, βI donβt really have any girl friends either.β
Your eyes widened, nearly popping out of your skull. βNo way.β
Ira looked up at your exaggerated expression and burst into giggles. βWhatβs so surprising about that?β
βOh, nothing,β you said quickly, still staring at her in disbelief. βJustβ¦ youβre easily the coolest person Iβve ever met. So yeah, thatβs a little hard to believe.β
Iraβs ears visibly flushed pink. She looked genuinely shocked, almost shy for a second. βYou think Iβm cool?β
βYeah,β you said, smiling softly. βAnd youβre funny. Youβre so entirely yourself... everything I wish I could be.β
Ira blinked, clearly caught off guard. βThereβs no way becauseβ¦β She paused, then laughed lightly. βI think youβre the coolest person ever.β
You let out a surprised huff. βYou donβt think Iβm a spoiled brat? Because trust me, thatβs usually the first impression.β
Ira laughed again, warmer this time. βAnd youβre funny. Itβs so exhausting being friends with guys who have the worst sense of humor. Meeting you felt like a breath of actual fresh air.β
She hesitated, then added more shyly, βAnd mostly, Iβm shocked becauseβ¦ youβre beautiful. Like, really beautiful. Youβre the president of your sorority, which I think is really cool, and Iβve always loved those designer heels you wear, the louboutins with those red bottoms? Theyβre epic.β
You stared at her in shock, watching the blush deepen across her ears. Ira, with her razor sharp smoky eyeliner, effortlessly shaggy hair, and edgy tattoos thought you were beautiful Ira? The polished, heel wearing sorority president who felt like her opposite in every way.
βWow. I donβt know what to sayβ¦β you murmured, smiling as you stared at the floor, warmth blooming in your chest.
Baby aida whined softly from her playpen, her big eyes darting between the two of you like she could sense the shift in the air.
βAnd also,β Ira added, a little more carefully, βyouβve got someone like Jungkook wrapped around your finger, soβ¦β
βSomeone like Jungkook?β you asked, genuinely curious.
Suddenly, an odd sadness washed over Iraβs face, something fleeting and heavy you couldnβt quite unpack. She sighed, rolling her eyes as if a thought she wasnβt comfortable with had flashed through her mind.
βYeah, you knowβ¦ Jungkook isβ¦ Jungkook.β She paused, then added softly, βHeβs complicated. Impossible to read.β Ira let out a soft laugh. βHeβs hard to explain. Kind of like the sunset, I guess. Some days you barely notice it, and other days you look up and wonder how something could make the whole sky look different. The funny thing is, it was always there. You just werenβt paying attention.β
She almost said something more. Her lips parted like the words were right there, but she stopped herself immediately, clearing her throat.
You didnβt miss it. Youβd never described Jungkook that way. To you, he had always been sharp edges and frustration, fire and ice. But the way Ira said it, it almost sounded like she was in love with him. Or had been.
You didnβt push. You didnβt want to make her feel stupid for nearly opening up.
βYou know,β you said gently, βIβve never thought someone like Jungkook could be described in that way.β
Ira laughed, a little too quickly, clearly embarrassed. βReally?β
You nodded, giving her a small, understanding smile. You werenβt going to deviate from the topic or make her feel exposed. You could tell she was already regretting how much had slipped out.
Ira shook her head, changing the subject with forced lightness. βI just donβt get it, you know? Whatβs keeping you from going after your heart?β
Yeah, I donβt understand either, you almost said out loud. Instead, you pivot the topic entirely, not wanting to make her more uncomfortable.
ββYou said you liked my heels,β you said, a playful spark returning to your voice. βI have way better ones in my closet.β
Iraβs eyes lit up instantly. βOh, is it like a walk-in closet? Like in those barbie movies?β
You giggled, the sheer contrast of it warming your heart. The fact that someone as effortlessly cool, tattooed, and alternative as Ira got genuinely excited over Barbie movies was the best thing youβd heard all week.
βIt comes close, yeah,β you said, wiggling your brows. βDo you want a pair?β
Ira looked genuinely flattered, almost shy again. βThatβs too nice. I couldnβt possibly take one of your signature pairsβ¦β
βNo, you absolutely could,β you insisted. βI have a pair of black ones too, if youβd like those better.β
Iraβs eyes sparkled. You chuckled, suddenly feeling an overwhelming urge to pull her into a hug. You didnβt. you just wiggled your legs instead, smiling.
βYou should come over to my penthouse one day and we can raid my closet properly.β
Ira looked at you like youβd just offered her the moon. βYouβre serious?β
βDead serious.β
Baby aida squealed suddenly, wiggling her tiny hands and legs with pure delight as though youβd just played the worldβs greatest game of peekaboo, even though you hadnβt. The sight made you smile, wide and genuine, and Iraβs grin mirrored yours.
βAwww, little aida,β you cooed softly.
βOf course weβll take you with us,β Ira added playfully, watching baby aida reach for your finger.
You scooted closer on the couch, gently holding her tiny hand. The little girlβs face lit up even more, completely happy now that your full attention was on her.
When Ira eventually walked you to the door later with baby aida nestled asleep against her shoulder, she paused in the doorway with a soft smile.
βMaybe it truly is fate, you know,β she said warmly. βThe fact that the topic of babies brought us closer in the first place. We should just steal aida and raise her together.β
You laughed, pulling your phone out of your bag as you stepped into the hallway. βMaybe we should.β
βAnyway, I have to go,β you added right after, glancing at the time. βIβve got quite a long night ahead. Sorority formal, last minute rehearsalsβ¦ all of that.β
Ira nodded, shifting the sleeping baby gently. βText me if you need anything. And good luck!β
You gave her one last smile before heading toward the elevator, the warmth of the evening lingering as the door clicked shut behind you.
βYouβre in an unusually good mood today.β
Lina peered at you suspiciously over the top of her phone as you enthusiastically rearranged the nightβs schedule for the first time, instead of your usual routine of swearing under your breath and drowning in an endless sea of paperwork.
βThatβs a very diplomatic way of calling me insufferable, Lina.β You didnβt bother looking up, crossing another item off your checklist.
βAnd youβre awfully distracted today, by the way.β you added, finally glancing at her over the rim of your glasses.
There was still time. Roughly four hours until the formal officially began. The two of you were dressed in sweats, tucked away in the banquet hall while everyone else trickled in and out. Tables were being aligned for what felt like the hundredth time and volunteers hurried around with flower arrangements and boxes of decorations.
βIβm not distracted,β Lina defended. βIβm just texting Minho.β
βSo you are distracted,β you noted again, though you visibly faltered at the mention of his name. The memory of what heβd said about you still stung like an open wound.
Youβd rather not think about Minho, or the things heβd said.
βMinho and the rest of them are threatening to show up early,β Lina sighed. βApparently theyβre bored and want to come βhelp.ββ
βHelp?β You snorted. βThatβs a generous interpretation.β
βTheyβre mostly planning on distracting us.β
βUs?β You looked at her pointedly. βDo you mean yourself? Because I happen to be doing exactly what my position requires.β
βSheβs right.β
You turned to find your professor walking in, straightening the cuffs of his suit jacket.
βY/n is quite the most dependable student Iβve had in years,β he said. βTakes her responsibilities seriously, holds herself to impossible standards and somehow still manages to make everyone else around her work harder.β
He smiled; an actual smile. Something he rarely ever did. It caught you off guard. Your professor had always insisted on being hard on you. Youβd spent the better part of the semester convinced he enjoyed making your life difficult, forever challenging your work and refusing to hand out perfect scores no matter how passionately you argued your case.
Looking back, maybe heβd seen something you hadnβt; your relentless need to be perfect. And maybe heβd been trying to teach you that excellence and perfection werenβt the same thing.
Somewhere along the way, it had worked. At least a little.
βIβm proud of you, Y/n,β he said simply. βVery.β
Heat crept up your neck.
βEverything looks great for tonight, ladies.β He surveyed the hall with an approving nod. βIβll have to step out for a bit. My motherβs due for her monthly check-up, but Iβll be back once the formalβs in full swing.β
The moment he disappeared, Lina looked at you. βTeacherβs favourite.β
βI prefer dedicated over favourite.β
βYou would.β
A couple hours later, after the worst of the setup had been finished and youβd both finally stolen a break, you leaned back in your chair with a sigh.
βSo,β you asked, wiping a stray smudge of glitter from your palm. βhave you decided what youβre wearing tonight?β
βYeah. Purple.β Lina tucked her phone away. βYou?β
You nodded toward the garment bag hanging neatly from a nearby rack. Lina walked over, unzipping it just enough to inspect the dress inside. βItβs pretty,β she admitted.
Then she tilted her head. βI was just expecting something... shorter.β
You frowned. βShorter?β
βWell, yeah.β She shrugged. βYou usually go for dresses that are a little more...β She gestured vaguely. βAttention grabbing.β
You stared at her. βI donβt know if Iβd call them that.β
βReally?β Lina laughed, like the answer was obvious. βI mean, you kind of have a reputation for making an entrance.β
β...A reputation?β
βNot in a bad way,β she rushed to clarify. βYou just like being looked at. Thereβs nothing wrong with that.β
You looked back at the dress hanging in front of you.
Had you?
βHonestly, I thought youβd wear something that showed more leg.β Lina tilted her head. βThough I guess the neckline balances it out.β
You let out a small laugh that sounded strange even to your own ears. You werenβt entirely sure what she meant by that. Or maybe, with the rumors of the past few weeks burning a hole through your reputation, you knew exactly what she meant, and you wished to God you didnβt.
βI just didnβt picture you in something this... classy.β
You blinked. βClassy?β
Lina looked up from the dress. βYeah.β
β...Whatβs that supposed to mean?β
Lina frowned, genuinely confused by the question, seemingly oblivious to the knot sheβd just tied in your stomach.
She sighed, crossing her arms. βYou know what I mean.β
βNo, Lina. I donβt.β
Her phone buzzed loudly, breaking the silence. Lina glanced down at the screen and groaned.
βOh, youβve got to be kidding me.β
βWhat?β
βMinho.β
Your stomach twisted. βWhat did he do now?β
βHim and the boys are here.β
You frowned. βAlready?β
βThey said they were coming early.β Lina grabbed her phone and stuffed it into her pocket. βApparently theyβre outside and, quote, βconducting an inspection of the venue.β
She started walking backwards toward the entrance. βIf I donβt go get them, theyβll probably start touching things they absolutely should not be touching.β
βYou mean exactly the things we spent all day setting up?β
βPrecisely.β Lina pointed a finger at you. βAnd donβt disappear. I want to see you in that dress later.β
You laughed softly. βIβll try not to disappoint.β
βYou couldnβt if you tried.β
With that, she spun on her heel and hurried out of the hall, her voice already carrying down the corridor. βMinho! I swear to God, if youβve touched anythingββ
The doors swung shut behind her. The sudden quiet settled over the space like a blanket. You looked down at the garment bag hanging on the rack, fingers tracing the zipper.
Youβd bought the dress because youβd seen it, loved it, and thought nothing more of it. Yet somehow, a few careless words had you looking at it differently.
I just didnβt picture you in something this... classy.
You frowned.
Was that truly how people saw you? someone who dressed for spectacle, for the simplest satisfaction of being watched? With a quiet sigh, you slipped the garment bag from itβs hanger and headed for the small changing room. There were still hours before the formal began, and far too much left to do to dwell on a passing comment.
Youβd just stepped into the emerald dress, the cool silk settling against your skin, when you heard movement outside the door of soft footsteps, the faint rustle of someone shifting things around in the main area.
βLina? Is that you?β you called out. βAre you back already?β
No answer.
You hesitated, then cracked the door open just a little, holding the dress to your chest since the zipper was undone down your back.
It wasnβt Lina.
Jungkook stood right outside, frozen mid step as he caught sight of you through the gap. His eyes darkened instantly as they landed on your bare shoulders and the half zipped dress. For a split second, something sharp flashed across his face, like heβd just imagined the worst.
He pushed the door open fully without a word, stepping inside.
You startled, pressing the dress tighter to your chest.
βJungkookβ what are youββ
He didnβt answer. His gaze swept the small changing room quickly, almost like he was checking for someone else. When he found it empty, the tension in his shoulders eased just slightly, but the cold edge in his eyes remained.
βCame to get the professorβs phone,β he said flatly, holding it up like proof. βHe left it behind.β
You nodded, suddenly hyper aware of how exposed you felt, hair messy from the long day. You hadnβt spoken to him since that tense moment in the storage room. You hadnβt known what to say then, and you still didnβt.
Finally, you swallowed and turned slightly, showing him your back. βCan youβ¦ help me with the zipper?β
Jungkook hesitated for a few seconds. Then he stepped closer, close enough that you could feel the heat of him behind you. His fingers brushed your skin as he took the zipper, pulling it up clinically. The touch was light, nothing like the way heβd touched you before.
When he finished, he didnβt step back right away. You turned to face Jungkook, heart pounding. and god, you missed him. Jungkook was still in his practice gear, mesh shorts and a sweat drenched jersey, his hair damp and clinging to his forehead. He hadnβt even changed into his suit yet. Looking at him, a sudden wave of embarrassment washed over you. You felt entirely exposed standing there in your formal gown, looking like youβd spent hours trying too hard while he just existed.
βJungkookβ¦β you started, βI...β
He cut you off with a look. Not angry yet cold. Heβd already decided how this conversation was going to go.
βYou donβt have to say anything,β he said quietly. βI get it.β
you blinked, hurt flashing across your face. The coldness in his delivery made everything worse.
βSo thatβs it?β you asked, voice cracking. βYouβre just done? After everything?β
Jungkook looked at you with an unreadable, guarded expression that made you feel like you were standing on the edge of something dangerous. In your head, Iraβs words from earlier echoed mockingly, how she compared him to the sunset. You almost laughed bitterly.
Have we met the same man?
βI donβt want to fight with you,β you admitted quietly, your hands aching to curl into the front of his jersey, to hold onto something solid before he slipped away from you again. βI justβ¦β The confession felt strangely fragile between the two of you, enough to make your voice catch. βI missed you.β
Jungkook regarded you for a long moment. His expression barely shifted, but you knew him well enough to notice the smallest changes; the flicker in his eyes, the way his shoulders seemed to loosen for the briefest second. You almost saw something there, something that appeared dangerously close to relief. Then the wall slammed back down.
βOkay.β
You stared at him, the single word knocking the breath from your lungs. βThatβs all youβre going to say?β
A muscle feathered in his jaw, his gaze never leaving yours. βItβs all Iβve got for you.β
He slid the phone into his pocket and turned toward the door, his shoulders rigid, as though every step away from you had to be chosen.
Your gaze dropped to the floor. You couldnβt bear to watch him leave again. Not like this. Not without a fight, or the ghost of his touch lingering against your skin. Nothing. He was leaving you with nothing at all.
Just a distance heβd wrapped around himself so completely, you werenβt sure where it ended and he began.
It was remarkably easy for someone like Jungkook to blend into a crowd. Or so he has convinced himself over the course of his college years. Quiet by nature, content to linger at the edge of conversations and contribute only when prompted. Never the one steering the ship. Most people assume he has little to say while others mistake his silence for indifference.
Neither assumption particularly bothers him. That does not, however, mean he goes unnoticed in the way he believes he does.
Itβs an unfortunate trait to possess on a night like this.
The annual formal had always struck him as an odd sort of performance. People squeezed into tailored suits, gathered in little circles, drank terrible beer smuggled in beneath blazers, and reminisced over events that had happened mere months ago as though they belonged to another lifetime.
Jungkook has never cared much for being at the centre of any of it. Minho, on the other hand, thrives there.
βItβs actually insane when you think about it,β Jonah says, taking a swig from the beer heβd somehow managed to sneak inside before quickly tucking the bottle away as a professor passes by. βWeβve all managed to get into relationships and out of them in the span of a year.β
A few of the boys laugh. βYou forgot one person.β
Jungkook barely registers the elbow digging into his shoulder until Mark grins at him.
βI genuinely donβt know how you do it, kook-ah.β
Jungkook offered a small shrug, eyes drifting across the hall instead of answering. He wasnβt interested in the center of conversation.
Mark shakes his head before turning to Minho. βWas he always like this?β
βAlways. Guy came out of the womb acting too good for everybody.β Minho laughs.
βButβ¦β He continued, leaning back in his chair. βI swear there was one girl.β
Mark snaps his fingers. βOh, yeah. What was her name?β
βThe one with the insane eye makeup, and the crazy hair.β
βAh.β Minho grins. βIra.β
Jungkook stills. Heβs never liked the way Minho speaks about people. Thereβs always a note of ridicule tucked beneath his words, as though every person is a joke waiting to be told. Ira is no exception.
It has always irritated Jungkook. Though, if heβs being honest with himself, Minho couldβve spoken kindly and he still wouldβve found a reason to dislike him.
Some people simply get under your skin. Jungkook thinks heβs spent the last four years discovering just how deeply Minho can burrow beneath his.
βI think heβs still hung up on her, yeah.β Minho finishes with a laugh while Mark reaches over, giving Jungkookβs shoulder a firm pat. βItβs about time you got a girl.β
Jungkook doesnβt answer as his attention drifts elsewhere, gaze moving from face to face lazily from across the hall.
Itβs an absent sort of thing at first, something to occupy himself while the conversation carries on without him. He takes in the clusters of students scattered across the hall, the volunteers weaving through the crowd with urgency.
Heβd been here for hours now, long enough to change into a suit, exchange the obligatory greetings, endure conversations with the handful of people he could tolerate, and watch the formal slowly come to life around him.
Still, something feels missing.
His gaze circles the room again. He knows what heβs looking for, and he wishes he didnβt.
You had asked for time. Heβd given it to you. There had been no argument, no attempt to change your mind. If distance was what you wanted, then distance was what you would have.
He doesnβt mind.
At least, thatβs what he tells himself.
He doesnβt mind the quiet thatβs settled into his days, or the way his evenings seem to stretch longer. He doesnβt mind the habit heβs picked up of glancing over his shoulder whenever he hears a familiar cadence of footsteps, only to be met with disappointment. He doesnβt mind that his hands still remember the shape of yours, or that some nights he catches himself reaching for his phone before sense gets the better of him.
He doesnβt care.
He doesnβt care that heβs spent the better part of the evening searching every corner of the hall for a glimpse of you.
He doesnβt care that youβve managed to avoid him. Or perhaps thatβs unfair; youβve been busy.
Youβve spent weeks putting this entire event together. Of course youβd be occupied, youβd have a dozen places to be and a hundred things demanding your attention. Non of which seem to concern him, obviously.
Then he saw you.
From the corner of his eye, half hidden behind one of the tall floral arrangements near the side tables, you were scribbling something on a notepad, twirling a pen between your fingers like it was the only thing keeping you grounded.
Your hair was tied up neatly and out of the way. The style you only did when you were overwhelmed, when your mind was racing too fast and you needed to feel in control.
He remembered that detail clearly. You hated having your hair up most of the time.
Youβd complain about it feeling too tight, too restrictive. But during those heated, frantic nights with him, when you were falling apart under his hands and mouth, youβd try to tie it up anyway, desperate for some semblance of composure.
Heβd always stopped you, tugging the tie free with a smirk, loving the way youβd whine and push at his hands while your hair spilled down your back. He loved the mess. Loved the way it gave him access to the soft skin of your neck, the slope of your shoulders, the faint flush that would creep across your chest when you were close.
But this was different. You were stressed, and in a way that made you pull yourself together so tightly you looked like you might snap.
His chest ached with a familiar, unwelcome pull.
He wanted to walk over there. Wanted to tug the tie free like he always did, watch your hair tumble down, and pull you somewhere quiet where he could press his mouth to that exact spot on your neck until you stopped thinking about schedules and rumors and everything else.
Instead, he stayed where he was, fingers tightening around his glass until it hurt.
You hadnβt looked at him once tonight. Not really. And he told himself that was fine. That he didnβt care. But his eyes kept finding you anyway.
Unbeknownst to you, you were far too occupied to notice. The evening had somehow slipped out of your hands and into complete pandemonium. One person needed help finding their table assignment, another insisted the music was too loud, someone from catering wanted to know where to set up the desserts, and a professor had stopped you midway through the hall to ask where the guest book had disappeared to.
You answered each question as quickly as it came, pen scratching across the notepad clutched to your chest as you ticked off tasks that had been completed hours ago. It was a nervous habit more than anything else, a need to reassure yourself that every last detail was exactly where it ought to be.
Lina lingered at your side through most of it, occasionally shoving her half finished glass of wine into your hand whenever she caught you standing still for longer than a few seconds. βDrink,β she'd order, only for you to begrudgingly take a sip before another volunteer called your name from across the room.
The formal was running smoothly, almost suspiciously so, a fact that only seemed to agitate you further as the centrepieces looked uneven, the lighting too dim. Someone had moved a chair out of place.
Lina had spent the better part of an hour reminding you that none of those things were actual problems and that the entire evening was functioning solely because of you. You werenβt entirely convinced.
You hadnβt seen Jungkook all night.
A part of you wondered if heβd decided not to come at all. Another wondered if he had and simply hadnβt wanted to find you. You were still upset with him, still nursing the hurt of your last conversation, but there was something equally unsettling about not knowing where you stood with him. The distance youβd asked for had seemed so straightforward at the time. Now, with the hall filling and the evening unfolding exactly as planned, it felt strangely impossible to navigate.
βY/n.β
You looked up.
βWe need Mark,β Lina said. βThe microphones need to be checked before the speeches.β
You scanned the room until you spotted the familiar group gathered near the refreshments table. βHeβs over there,β you nodded. βCan you get him?β
Lina made her way across the hall, calling out Markβs name over the music. The conversation amongst the boys halted almost immediately, and you caught more than one sideways glance directed towards Minho before Mark sighed dramatically and excused himself from the group.
Your eyes followed the movement, and then you saw him.
Jungkook stood a little apart from the others, hands tucked neatly into his pockets, dark suit fitting him far too well for your own peace of mind. Your gaze caught on him for a fleeting second before you looked away just as quickly, fixing your attention back onto the checklist in your hands. It would make the evening easier that way.
You didnβt notice the line youβd already crossed off three times.
βDude,β Jonah lets out a low whistle, βsheβs so fucking hot.β
Jungkook doesnβt have to ask who heβs talking about.
βSeriously,β Dae laughs, following Jonahβs line of sight. βMinho, how the hell did you let that slip away?β
βI broke up with her,β Minho reminds them, a little too quickly. βIn case you idiots forgot.β
Thereβs an odd sharpness to his voice that catches Jungkookβs attention. Minho watches you from across the hall, fingers tapping idly against the neck of his beer bottle. Jungkook catches something sour there, something bordering on resentment.
βDoesnβt change the fact that sheβs still out of your league though,β Jonah says with a grin. A chorus of laughter follows.
βOh, come on,β someone scoffs. βSheβs got half the department wrapped around her finger.β
βAnd she knows it,β another chimes in. βActs like she owns the place.β
βShe practically does, yβknow. Money and all.β Minho mutters.
Jungkookβs jaw tightens.
Across the hall, youβre balancing three conversations at once, notepad tucked against your chest as someone stops you to ask another question. You answer with a kind smile before pointing them in the right direction, only for someone else to catch your attention a second later.
βSheβs so fucking bossy.β
βIβd say high maintenance.β
βIβd say a nightmare.β
βNah,β Jonah grins. βDepends what youβre asking for.β
The group erupts into another round of laughter.
Jungkook says nothing. Heβs heard people talk about you before; usually the same handful of observations. Too loud, too opinionated, too intimidating, too pretty for your own good.
None of it sounds remotely like the girl he knows.
The girl who agonises over seating arrangements because she wants everyone to enjoy themselves. The girl who heβs seen apologizing to inanimate objects after accidentally bumping into them.
βSheβs got every guy in this place chasing after her anyway,β Dae says. βI doubt she cares.β
βNah,β Minho replies, taking another sip of his drink. βShe just likes the attention.β
Jungkookβs fingers tighten around his own drink as his gaze drifts back to you.
Youβre frowning at the checklist in your hands, lips moving silently as you count through something, completely oblivious to the conversation unfolding a few metres away. Lina nudges a glass of wine into your hand. You roll your eyes but take a sip anyway.
He should say something. He should tell them theyβre wrong. Tell them that you work harder than anyone in this room, that the formal theyβre enjoying exists because you spent weeks making sure every last detail fell into place.
Instead, he stays quiet. Because speaking up would mean knowing too much.
It would mean noticing the little things no one else does. The way you chew on the end of your pen when youβre stressed, the way your smile changes depending on who youβre talking to, the way you always pretend youβre fine long before you actually are.
It would mean admitting that heβs been paying attention. And Jungkook has spent the better part of the evening pretending he hasnβt.
ββ¦Still would, though,β Jonah says.
βWhat?β
βDate her.β
A few of the boys snicker. Minho scoffs. βTrust me. You wouldnβt want the headache.β
βI just donβt get it, though,β Dae admitted, leaning against the stool with his arms folded across his chest. βWhyβd you break up with her in the first place?β A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. βHell, did you cheat on her?β
A laugh escaped Minho. βNo.β
βThen what happened?β Dae questioned further. Minho shrugged, as though the answer were obvious. βI just saw the writing on the wall.β
βWhatβs that supposed to mean?β
βIt means I knew sheβd eventually break up with me.β Minho takes another sip of his drink. βFigured Iβd beat her to it.β
A chorus of disbelief met the statement. βNo chance.β
βIβm serious,β Minho insisted. βYou know what sheβs like. It was only a matter of time.β
Jungkook remained silent, though his attention had long since drifted from the conversation itself. Across the hall, you were moving between tables with a clipboard tucked beneath your arm. the entire evening seemed to orbit around you.
βIt got exhausting,β Minho continued. βDating her, I mean. She was never really there. Physically, sure, but her mind was always somewhere else. Half the time, Iβd be talking to her, and she wouldnβt even hear what Iβd said.β
Jungkook frowned, knowing that wasnβt true.
If anything, you listened too much. Heβd watched you sit through conversations you had no interest in simply because someone else wanted to be heard. Heβd watched you let people interrupt you, take more from you than they ever thought to give back.
βShe constantly needed reassurance,β Minho said with a shrug. βNeeded attention. Needed me. It got to a point where I realised I was carrying the whole relationship.β
The statement was so absurd that Jungkook almost turns to look at him. Almost.
A few of the boys nodded sympathetically.
Jungkook remembered the late night phone calls youβd taken because Minho was having a bad day. The excuses youβd made for him, the patience youβd shown him, the endless benefit of the doubt youβd afforded someone whoβd done very little to earn it.
βShe sounds like a lot of work,β Jonah laughed.
βShe was,β Minho replied easily. βIβm telling you, I got out at the right time. She likes attention too much anyway. Sheβd have found someone else eventually.β
βDude.β
Daeβs laughter cut across the conversation.
βDidnβt you call her a whore?β
Minho looked at him, amusement flickering across his face. βWhat?β
βYou heard me.β Dae pointed at him. βI asked you about her once because I thought she was cute, remember? You were drunk out of your mind, and you told me not to bother because she was a whore.β
Jungkook felt something inside him go still.
Rumours that had spread through campus faster than anyone could trace them back to their source. He remembered hearing them for the first time, the way people seemed to have decided who you were without ever bothering to know you.
He had never known where it had started.
Minho laughed. βI mightβve.β
The others laughed with him. And suddenly, everything clicked into place.
Jungkook set his drink down before he realised he was holding it.
ββ¦Kook?β
He didnβt answer.
The music had become too loud, the laughter around him scraping against something raw, and he found that he could no longer stand the sound of it.
Without a word, he turned and walked away.
The boys watched him disappear into the crowd.
βWhatβs gotten into him?β Jonah asked.
Minho frowned after him before shrugging. βNot a fucking clue.β
By the time the formal began winding down, you felt as though youβd been on your feet for an entire lifetime.
The speeches had gone off without incident, dinner had been served, and the dance floor had finally filled with enough people that you could stop worrying whether anyone was enjoying themselves. Your checklist had long since become irrelevant, every task crossed off and revisited at least twice over, though you still found yourself glancing down at it every so often out of habit.
A half empty glass of wine rested comfortably in your hand.
Somewhere between the stress of organising the event and the relief of seeing it succeed, youβd lost count of how many glasses Lina had passed your way. You werenβt drunk, not really. The room wasnβt spinning, and your thoughts remained pleasantly coherent, but there was a warmth settling beneath your skin that softened the sharp edges of the evening.
You found yourself looking towards the spot where youβd seen Jungkook earlier.
It was empty.
The boys were still gathered together, though a few had drifted off to the dance floor or the refreshments table. Mark was there. Jonah, too.
Jungkook wasnβt.
βY/n?β
You looked over to find Lina slipping her phone back into her purse.
βCan you help me clear table six?β you asked.
βMhm. In a second.β Linaβs attention wandered elsewhere. You followed her gaze only to find it landing on the familiar group of boys across the hall yet again, laughter carrying easily over the music as one of them waved her over.
ββ¦Lina.β
βWhat?β
βCan you not?β
She blinked at you. βCan I not what?β
βKeep disappearing.β
A small laugh escaped her. βY/n, Iβm literally standing right here.β
βYou know what I mean.β You adjusted the stack of place cards in your arms, trying to ignore the warmth the wine had settled into your cheeks. βEvery five minutes, you wander off to talk to them, and then Iβm left running around trying to sort everything out by myself.β
Linaβs expression shifted, amusement giving way to irritation. βI have been helping.β
You looked at her. ββ¦Have you?β
βWhatβs that supposed to mean?β She cocks a brow at you, clearly not taking any of this seriously.
βIt means Iβve spent the entire evening putting out fires while youβve been socialising.β
βOh, give me a break.β
βNo, seriously. I ask you to do one thing, and somehow you always end up over there.β You point an accusatory finger toward the group of guys.
Lina folded her arms across her chest. βYou act like Iβm not allowed to talk to my friends.β
βI act like weβre supposed to be doing this together.β
βWe are.β
βLina.β
βYou know what your problem is?β Lina cut in.
You frowned. βIβm sure youβre about to tell me.β
βYou canβt stand it when things arenβt done your way.β
A short, humourless laugh escaped you. βThatβs rich.β
βNo, itβs true. You take over everything, and then you get upset when nobody helps you.β
βMaybe because nobody does.β
A few nearby students glanced in your direction before quickly pretending they hadnβt heard a thing.
Lina noticed them too. βYou know what?β she said, shaking her head. βIβm not doing this with you tonight.β
βLina...β
βNo.β She picked up her clutch from the table beside her. βYou clearly donβt need my help anyway.β
You opened your mouth to argue, though you werenβt entirely sure what you wanted to say.
Lina didnβt wait to hear it. She turned and disappeared into the crowd, leaving you standing there with your clipboard tucked against your chest and a dull ache settling somewhere beneath your ribs.
Maybe the wine had gotten to you. And maybe you owed her an apology.
The thought lingered for all of three seconds before someone passed by with a tray of drinks. You plucked another glass from it with a muttered thank you and took a generous sip, letting out a slow breath as the warmth spread through you.
The formal was almost over, everything had gone according to plan. Yet you couldnβt understand why it felt like such a disaster.
Perhaps it was the argument with Lina. Perhaps it was the wine settling warmly in your stomach, blurring the edges of what had already been a long evening. Or perhaps it was the fact that somewhere between checking seating arrangements and making sure the microphones worked, Jungkook had disappeared.
His friends were still gathered together, though their numbers had dwindled as the night wore on. Mark was there. Minho too. A few unfamiliar faces lingered nearby.
You were still upset with Jungkook. Still hurt. The last thing you ought to be doing was wondering where heβd gone or whether heβd left entirely.
You took another sip of wine.
βTough night?β
The voice pulled you from your thoughts. You turned to find someone standing beside you, hands tucked neatly into the pockets of his slacks, a polite smile settled across his face.
βA little,β you admitted with a laugh. βIs it that obvious?β
βYouβve been carrying this event on your shoulders for the last few hours. I think youβve earned the right to look exhausted.β
An awkward smile tugged at your lips. βIβm trying very hard not to take that as an insult.β
βI meant it as a compliment.β The man said, taking a casual step closer as though the conversation had already granted him that privilege.
You searched his face, trying to place him, but came up empty. He wasnβt someone you recognised from campus. Tall and broad shouldered, with a freshly buzzed haircut, there was something disarmingly familiar about him despite the fact that youβd never met.
βYouβre Hyunβs daughter, arenβt you?β His expression brightened.
The question caught you off guard. ββ¦Yeah.β
βI thought so.β He nodded to himself. βI knew I recognised you.β
You frowned. βHave we met before?β
βNot officially.β He extended a hand. βMy father works with yours.β
Recognition flickered across your face. ββ¦Oh.β
A smile spread across his own, as though heβd been waiting for the moment. βOur families have crossed paths a few times. Mostly business dinners, charity galas, that sort of thing.β He let out a soft laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. βMy father always insisted on dragging me along.β
A genuine laugh escaped you. βThat makes two of us.β
βI had a feeling youβd say that.β
There was something surprisingly easy about talking to him. The conversation slipped comfortably from one topic to the next, talking about his fatherβs company and the endless networking dinners that seemed to consume the lives of people your parentsβ age.
βYour dadβs overseas at the moment, right?β he asked.
You nodded. βWork.β
βHe always seems to be travelling.β
You smiled. βHe likes to pretend he doesnβt.β
Dae laughed. βThat explains the work ethic.β
You raised an eyebrow.
βIβm serious,β he said, gesturing vaguely towards the hall around you. βIβve spent the entire evening watching you run around this place.β
βOh, donβt remind me.β You glanced around the hall. Volunteers had started collecting empty glasses from abandoned tables, decorations were being adjusted for the inevitable clean up.
βNo, really. Iβm impressed. Most people wouldβve thrown in the towel halfway through the night.β
βWell,β you sighed, βsomeone had to make sure this didnβt completely fall apart.β
βI suppose.β His gaze lingered on you for a second before he smiled. βThough I think youβre allowed to relax now.β
For the first time all evening, you considered the possibility. Your checklist had disappeared somewhere hours ago, and the world hadnβt ended because of it. The thought was oddly comforting. ββ¦I guess I am.β
βThere she is.β
You frowned. βWho?β
βThe person whoβs actually enjoying herself.β
A quiet laugh escaped you. βI think youβve got the wrong person.β
βI donβt think so.β The confidence in his answer caught you off guard. βYouβve spent the entire evening taking care of everyone else,β he continued, leaning casually against the table beside you. βIβm just saying itβs nice to see someone making sure you get to enjoy a little of it too.β
Your fingers tightened slightly around the stem of your wine glass. The compliment felt awkward, somewhere between sincerity and teasing, and you werenβt entirely sure what to do with it. You looked down at your drink instead, watching the light catch against the dark red liquid.
ββ¦You know,β you admitted after a moment, βI donβt think weβve actually introduced ourselves.β
The guy laughed. βI was wondering how long itβd take.β He held out a hand. βIβm Dae.β
You accepted it. βY/n.β
βI know.β
The answer was so matter-of-fact that it made you laugh. βI suppose everyone does tonight.β
βIβd say youβve made quite the impression.β
βOh, please.β You groaned, tipping your head back dramatically. βIβm going to spend the next week lying awake thinking about all the things I shouldβve done differently.β
Dae only smiled. βI doubt that.β
βAnd how would you know?β
βCall it a good judge of character.β
You rolled your eyes, though you couldnβt stop yourself from smiling back.
It was nice. Strangely nice. And yet, somewhere at the back of your mind, a small, persistent thought continued to tug at your attention.
You still hadnβt seen Jungkook. You told yourself not to think about it.
After a few minutes, he gestured down the quieter end of the corridor.
βThereβs a small lounge just around the corner. Much calmer. You look like you could use a real break, yβknow. Iβll walk with you.β
You didnβt think much of the offer. If anything, the idea of escaping the noise for a few minutes sounded appealing. Dae had been pleasant company so far, easy to talk, and demanded very little from you. A short walk seemed harmless enough.
βThereβs still a few things I need to check though.β you said at last.
βJust for a minute,β he coaxed, voice dropping. βNo one will miss you for five minutes. Promise.β
You glanced back towards the hall. For the first time all evening, nobody seemed to need anything from you. β...I suppose thatβs true.β
βCome on, then.β
You fell into step beside him.
The corridor was noticeably quieter than the ballroom, the noise of the formal fading with every step. You hadnβt realised quite how much wine youβd had until you were away from the lights and the music. A dull ache had settled behind your eyes, and the neat hairdo youβd insisted on wearing all evening suddenly felt far too tight, pulling at your scalp in an unpleasant way.
You reached up absently, rubbing at your temple.
βLet me guess,β Dae said. βOne too many victory glasses of wine?β
A soft laugh escaped you. βNo. Not really.β
The hallway narrowed as you walked. A small lounge sat at the end, its lights still on, the door left slightly ajar.
Dae gestured towards it. βThere.β
You slowed. βItβs empty?β
βShould be.β
Something in your chest gave a small, uncertain tug. You couldnβt quite place why. Perhaps it was the silence after spending hours surrounded by people, or it was the wine making you overthink things.
You lingered where you stood. Dae noticed almost immediately.
βHey.β
You looked up to find him a little closer than before, concern settling easily across his features. βYou okay?β
βYeah, I justβ¦β A small, embarrassed laugh escaped you as you reached up to rub at your temple. βI think Iβm more tired than I realised.β
βI can tell,β Dae said with an amused smile. βYou look like youβre about to fall over.β
Your brows knitted together in mock offence. βI am not.β
βNo?β
βNo.β
βYouβre sure?β There was a teasing note to his voice now, light enough to coax another laugh from you. βBecause Iβm fairly certain Iβve watched you stumble at least twice since we left the hall.β
βThat was the floorβs fault,β you argued.
Dae laughed, shaking his head. βI think the wine might disagree.β
Heat crept into your cheeks, though whether from embarrassment or the lingering warmth of the wine, you couldnβt quite tell. βIβm fine,β you insisted.
His smile softened. βI know,β he said quietly. βI just think youβve spent the entire evening taking care of everyone else. Youβre allowed to lean on someone for five minutes.β Dae suggested, nodding towards the lounge. βGet away from the noise.β
Your eyes followed the direction of his hand, settling on the half open door. And then you paused.
The invitation had sounded harmless enough when heβd first mentioned it, but standing here now, with the night finally settling around you, you realised walking into an empty lounge alone with a man youβd only met twenty minutes ago wasnβt exactly your brightest idea.
Dae had been nothing but kind, his family knew yours, and heβd spent the better part of the conversation making you laugh, but there was a small part of you that decided it would be wiser to call it a night.
βActuallyβ¦β You smiled apologetically, taking a small step backwards. βI think I should head back.β
Sometime during the conversation, Dae had moved closer without you noticing. Close enough that the step youβd meant to take backwards ended almost immediately, your shoulders brushing against the wall behind you.
His hand came up, resting against the wall just above your head. A low chuckle escaped him. βYouβre leaving already?β
You looked up at him, your smile faltering ever so slightly. βI should probably get back,β you repeated. βPeople might be looking for me.β
His gaze stayed on you for a second before drifting lower, and something about the look made your stomach twist.
βThey can wait a minute,β he said easily.
You glanced past his shoulder towards the ballroom. It wasnβt far. You could be back amongst the crowd in less than a minute.
βI really should go,β you insisted, a little more firmly this time.
Dae only smiled. βCome on,β he murmured. βI thought we were getting along.β
Your stomach dropped when you felt his hand settle on your waist. The touch was too heavy for someone you barely knew. You pushed his hand away immediately.
βNo. I need to go back.β
You pressed against his chest, trying to create space, but he leaned in closer, his breath brushing the exposed skin of your neck. The hallway felt narrower, the lights dimmer.
βCome on, Y/n,β he murmured, voice low and coaxing. βYouβve been running around all night looking like that. Donβt tell me you donβt want a little attention.β
Your breath faltered. You didnβt. You hadnβt been asking for attention at any part of the night, and you certainly werenβt asking for it from him. But the frozen look on your face must have seemed like hesitation to Dae, because his hand inched lower, sliding down the slit of your dress, fingers brushing the bare skin of your thigh.
βGet your hands off me, please. Dae.β
You tried not to sound rude. You didnβt want to make a scene.
Dae sighed, disappointed, like you were the one being difficult. He knew if he pushed any further you might scream or cause a problem he didnβt want to deal with. So instead, he tucked his hand into his pocket and pulled out his phone.
You didnβt notice him tilting the screen, angling it right under the slit of your gown, until the sharp, quiet click of the camera shutter echoed in the narrow corridor.
You froze completely, the realization slamming into you a second too late. Your body went rigid, breath caught in your throat as the weight of what heβd just done settled over you.
Before you could react, a calm, low voice sliced through the corridor.
βDae.β
Jungkook leaned against the wall a few feet away, hands in his pockets, expression deceptively casual. But his eyes were locked on Dae with a sharpness that made the air feel colder.
Dae straightened instantly, slipping the phone back into his pocket with a nervous laugh. βKook, hey. Justβ¦ catching up with Y/n. You know how it is.β
Earlier that evening, Jungkook had left before he said something heβd regret. That, at least, was what heβd told himself as the doors of the venue swung shut behind him. The cool air had done little to settle the irritation simmering beneath his skin, and somewhere along the way, heβd accepted a cigarette from someone he barely knew.
He wasnβt much of a smoker. Not anymore.
Tonight, however, he found himself standing outside with one balanced loosely between his fingers, watching the smoke disappear into the night sky.
His mind refused to let the conversation go.
βDidnβt you call her a whore?β
Then Minho had laughed.
Jungkook frowned, bringing the cigarette to his lips before thinking better of it.
It all made sense now. The rumours. The way youβd looked at him that evening, anger and disappointment tangled together as you accused him of being no different from Minho.
At the time, heβd thought the accusation unfair. Now he wasnβt entirely sure.
Minho, his supposed best friend. The title almost made him scoff.
People assumed they were close because theyβd known each other for years, because Minho was loud enough to fill any silence Jungkook left behind. The truth was far less interesting. Jungkook tolerated him. Barely.
Now, he found he disliked him even more.
He thought about your relationship; not the version Minho had painted for everyone else.
The real one.
Youβd never demanded constant attention. If anything, youβd even laughed off comments that shouldβve upset you and swallowed frustrations that wouldβve sent anyone else walking away.
Minho had called you exhausting. Jungkook knew that wasnβt true.
The cigarette had burned almost to the filter. He dropped it onto the pavement, crushing it beneath his shoe.
His thoughts drifted unwillingly to the last conversation the two of you had shared.
βI donβt want to fight with you.β
He remembered the way your voice had caught.
βI justβ¦ I missed you.β
Heβd answered with a single word. Okay.
Jungkook scrubbed a hand over his face. Maybe heβd been too harsh. Maybe heβd hidden behind silence for so long that heβd mistaken it for honesty.
Youβd asked him to kiss you that night, he remembered it with agonizing clarity.
Even then, fueled by rage and bruised pride, the request had hit him like a spark to dry tinder. Every time he looked at you now, the memory resurfaced unbidden: the way your lips had parted slightly, soft and inviting, your breath warm against his skin as you whispered the words. He could still taste the ghost of that almost-kiss.
Youβd asked for time. Heβd responded by putting an entire ocean between the two of you.
A humourless laugh escaped him. He didnβt care: that was what heβd spent weeks telling himself.
He didnβt care that heβd looked for you the moment he walked into the formal. Didnβt care that heβd noticed every time you laughed.
Didnβt care that heβd spent the better part of the evening wondering whether youβd look his way.
His hand slipped into his pocket as his thoughts wandered once again.
Dae, the senior, the one whoβd asked about you. The one Minho had lied to. Jungkook frowned. He hadnβt seen him for a while. Neither had he seen you.
He pushed himself away from the wall. Maybe heβd apologise. Maybe heβd finally hear what you had to say. Maybe heβd just make sure you were alright before the night ended. He wasnβt entirely sure.
He made his way back inside. The music grew quieter as he wandered further from the ballroom. Then he turned the corner.
And saw you.
βKook, hey. Justβ¦ catching up with Y/n. You know how it is.β
Jungkook stepped forward, a charming smile spread across his face.
βYeah,β Jungkook said, his voice entirely pleasant. βI know how it is.β He let out a soft chuckle, though his eyes remained completely dead as he looked at Daeβs pocket.
βGive me the phone.β
Dae laughed again, trying to play it off. βWhat? Itβs nothing, man. Just a quick picture. She looks good tonight, you know?β
Jungkookβs hand shot out, faster than you could track. He ripped the phone from Daeβs grip, deleted the photo with a few taps, then casually tossed the phone over his shoulder. It struck the concrete wall with a loud, violent crack, the screen shattering into a spiderweb of dead pixels.
Daeβs face twisted with anger. βWhat the fuck, man? Thatβs my phoneββ
Jungkook grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the wall, hard enough that the impact echoed. His voice dropped to a deadly calm.
βYou think you can put your hands on her? Take pictures of her like sheβs something you can own?β His grip tightened, knuckles white. βYou think because Minho called her a whore, that makes her fair game?β
Dae tried to shove him off, face red. βOh, come on, Kook,β his voice dropped into a sleazy murmur. βDonβt be like that. Weβre on the same team, right? Iβm just trying to get a look at the goods.β
Dae took Jungkookβs fueled silence as a sign to continue. βTell you what, keep your mouth shut about the picture, and we can share herββ
βHis words werenβt even fully out of his mouth before the air completely left the corridor.
βWhatever calculated restraint Jungkook had been holding onto snapped in a microsecond.
βHe lunged, his hand wrapping around Daeβs throat like a vice, hauling his entire body weight up and slamming him into the concrete wall with a force that echoed like a gunshot down the hallway. The back of Daeβs head cracked against the stone, the sleazy grin instantly jarring loose from his face.
ββSay another word,β Jungkook breathed, his voice dropping into a terrifying, guttural register. His knuckles were pure white against Daeβs throat, his chest heaving as a raw rage took over his features. βSay one more fucking word about her.β
Jungkookβs fist connected with Daeβs face. The punch was brutal. With white knuckled force, Daeβs head snapped back. Another hit followed, harder. Then another. Jungkook didnβt stop. Each strike vicious, fueled by something deeper than just this moment.
You slid down the wall, knees giving out, curling into yourself on the floor, head tucked down. The sounds, the dull thuds, Daeβs choked groans, blurred together. You felt numb. Disconnected, like your body had shut down to protect you from processing what was happening.
Jungkook finally stepped back, breathing hard, knuckles split and bloody. Dae slumped against the wall, face bruised and bleeding.
Jungkook turned to you. His expression softened the moment his eyes landed on your curled up form.
βY/nβ¦β His voice was rough, gentler now. βAre you okay?β
You didnβt answer. Your mind was blank, eyes distant.
ββIβm sorry,β he whispered, his voice cracking as he looked back at you, his eyes reflecting a raw, desperate vulnerability. βIβm so sorry you had to see that.
He crouched down slowly, careful not to touch you without permission. βDo you want me to carry you out of here?β
You stayed silent for a long second. Then, with trembling legs, you pushed yourself up on your own. You didnβt look at him. You just started walking down the corridor, arms wrapped around yourself like you were holding your pieces together.
Jungkook followed a few paces behind, silent and watchful, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between you like smoke.
The cool night air hit the moment the heavy glass doors swung shut. Behind you, the venueβs lights burned too bright, and the laughter spilling into the street felt grotesquely loud, completely detached from the quiet violence of the hallway you had just left.
You kept walking until the sheer exhaustion of the movement caught up to you. You stopped. A few paces behind, Jungkook stopped too. He had been a silent, watchful shadow the entire time, keeping a careful, agonizing distance.
Turning around, the first thing that caught your eye wasnβt the tension in his jaw, but his hand. The knuckles were split wide open, fresh blood drying in dark, angry streaks across his pale skin. You stared at it, the sight anchoring you to the reality of what had just happened.
He noticed your gaze, instinctively shifting his weight. ββ¦Itβs nothing,β
That single word snapped something coiled tight inside you. βNothing?β
Jungkookβs brows knitted together, a defensive line forming on his forehead. βYou punched him,β you said, your voice tight.
βHe touched you.β
βI know what he did!β The words tore from your throat loud, echoing in the empty street. You stood there, letting the anger wash over you because it was so much easier than the alternatives. It was easier than thinking about Daeβs hands, easier than remembering how suffocatingly close heβd been, and infinitely easier than admitting, even to yourself, how utterly terrified you had been.
βI know,β you repeated, softer this time, but the edge remained. Jungkook remained silent, his eyes locked on yours.
βYou donβt get to do that.β You sniffled.
βWhat?β
βYou donβt get to shut me out,β you said, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to control it. βYou donβt get to look me in the eye, tell me youβve got nothing left for me, and then suddenly show up out of nowhere to decide what happens to me.β
βI wasnβtββ
βYou were.β You cut him off, clinging to the fury. It was a shield against the memory of Dae standing over you. βI couldβve handled it myself.β
Jungkook looked away first, his chest rising with a slow breath before he let out a quiet, defeated, ββ¦Okay.β
βOh, donβt,β you snapped, frustration boiling over. βDonβt do that. That stupid, one-word-answer thing!β Before the thought could fully form, your hand flew down to your foot. You yanked the first heel off and threw it in his general direction.
Jungkook didnβt even flinch; he just blinked as the shoe bounced harmlessly against the pavement near his boots.
Neither of you moved. βYouβre unbelievable,β you muttered, already aggressively tearing the second heel off. βI hate you.β The second shoe landed with a dull thud right beside the first.
Jungkook looked down at the pair of discarded shoes, then slowly raised his eyes back to yours. ββ¦You done?β
A sudden, sharp laugh escaped you, but halfway through, the sound cracked, betraying the raw emotion underneath. βI donβt know,β you admitted.
When the silence settled over you again, the anger had burned itself out, leaving only a profound, mutual weariness. Jungkook cleared his throat, breaking the quiet. βDo you have a ride home?β
The practical question caught you entirely off guard. βMy driverβ¦β You trailed off, pulling out your phone with clumsy, trembling fingers.
The lock screen was cluttered with notifications, but one text message stood out. It was a long, frantic apology from your usual driver; his wife had gone into labor unexpectedly. Another driver had been arranged in his stead, followed by a stark phone number to call when you were ready.
You stared at the unfamiliar digits. Another driver. Another stranger. Your stomach turned at the thought of getting into an enclosed space with a man you didnβt know.
Jungkook waited, watching the play of emotions across your face. βIf you donβtβ¦β he began, cutting himself off before the offer sounded too forward. βI can take you home.β
Looking up, you saw him standing exactly where he had been, respecting the boundary, offering no pressure. Your gaze drifted back to the dark screen of your phone. You knew you should call the agency, but the thought felt physically impossible. Your fingers curled around the device until your own knuckles turned white.
ββ¦Okay,β you whispered.
Jungkook nodded once, offering no smugness. He simply turned toward the parking lot, leaving enough space for you to turn back if you changed your mind. You didnβt. You followed him into the dark.
The interior of his car was a sanctuary of quiet. He unlocked the passenger side first, waiting for you to get in before walking around to the driverβs seat. By the time the engine purred to life, you realized you were still clutching your phone like a lifeline, your hand aching from the grip.
Neither of you reached for the radio. Outside the tinted windows, the city blurred past, indifferent to the chaos of your night. Inside, it was just a space where neither of you had to pretend anymore.
You were the one to break the silence. βSo.β
Jungkookβs eyes stayed fixed on the road ahead, his profile cut sharp against the passing streetlights. βSo?β
A humorless laugh escaped your throat. βWhat changed your mind?β
His brow furrowed slightly, the muscles in his jaw shifting. βAbout what?β
βYou know.β You leaned back, letting your head rest against the cold glass of the window, watching the neon signs smear across the dark pane. βComing back.β
Jungkook remained quiet, the hum of the engine filling the void.
βI mean,β you continued, your voice dripping with an exaggerated, cutting thoughtfulness, βlast I checked, you told me you had nothing left for me. So I was just wondering, did you magically find something else to give?β
ββ¦Y/n.β
βNo, seriously.β The wine was talking now, making your tone slip with a reckless ease that sobriety would have choked back. βWhat did you think was going to happen? What was the master plan?β
Jungkook glanced over briefly, his dark eyes catching the ambient light of the dashboard. βWhat?β
βWhy did you do that?β your voice came out small, a jagged whisper that cracked on the last word. When he didnβt answer, the panic in your chest flared into a defensive, ugly anger. βJungkook! Why did you do that? What was the plan there? To make it worse? To give everyone on campus something else to talk about?β
βJungkookβs jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticked in his cheek. βHe touched you, Y/n. He had his fucking phone under yourββ
ββI know what he did!β you snapped, a hot, humiliating tear finally spilling over your lashes. You wiped it away furiously with the back of your hand. βI know. But you throwing punches doesnβt fix it. It just makes it real. It makes us real.β
βYou let out a short, hysterical breath, staring wildly at the dashboard because looking at his bloodied hands was making your head spin.
ββWhat did you think was going to happen? That youβd play the hero, and weβd just magically morph into some normal, functional couple? Go on dates, hold hands in daylight? meet each otherβs parents?β
A short, bitter laugh cut through the air. βWell, not your parents. You barely let me meet your friends.β
βAnd then what? weβd get married, buy a house with a stupid white fence, and have children weβd inevitably mess up because thatβs apparently how these things work.β You let out, masking a deeper, older ache. βMy parents did a brilliant job proving that one.β
Slowly, Jungkook turned his head. He just looked exhausted, his dark eyes taking in your trembling frame, your smudged makeup, the way you were practically trying to disappear into the car door.
ββYouβre doing it again,β he said, his voice dropping into a quiet register that cut right through your panic.
βYou swallowed hard, your knuckles turning white against your dress. βDoing what?β
ββHiding behind a worst case scenario because youβre terrified.β He didnβt reach for you, he knew better than to touch you right now.
βHe took a sharp, frustrated breath, his eyes burning into yours. ββYouβre shaking because for the first time, someone is furious on your behalf, and you donβt know what the fuck to do with that.β
βHe let out a tired, breathless sigh, his fingers tightening around the gear shift.
ββBut fine,β he murmured, shifting the car into drive. βKeep running. Let me know when youβre tired of living in the dark.β
You stared at him, waiting for a proper argument. A sharp retort of any sort.
It never came.
Turning back toward the window, you let the silence settle between the two of you, interrupted only by the steady hum of the engine and the occasional wash of headlights against the windshield. Iraβs voice found you in the quiet, echoing in your mind, βJungkook reminds me of sunsets, I guess.β
You almost smiled at the thought. Sunsets.
Trust Ira to come up with something so gentle.
The comparison hadnβt made much sense to you because Jungkook wasnβt gentle. He was the sharp retort before youβd even finished your sentence, bickering over things neither of you actually cared about. He was stubborn enough to stand his ground even when he knew he was wrong, and somehow equally stubborn when he knew he was right. He wasnβt something that sat quietly at the edge of the day, waiting to be admired.
Jungkook wasnβt a sunset. If anything, he was thunderstorms.
He was sudden and restless, harbouring the infuriating habit of getting underneath your skin like heβd built a home there. The sort of thunderstorm that rolled in and changed the entire atmosphere before youβd realized what was happening. He was the sort that made you slam windows shut, only to find yourself standing by them a few minutes later, watching anyway.
You frowned, staring out at the dark road. Ira had been wrong.
Glancing over at him, you watched as his attention stayed fixed on the road. He looked exactly the same as he always did, and yet, something had shifted. You thought of the hallway earlier, of him trailing a few steps behind you because heβd known you wouldnβt want him close. You thought of him asking if you had a ride instead of deciding for you, saying almost nothing at all.
Your gaze drifted to your lap. Ira had definitely been wrong. You were almost certain of it. Jungkook wasnβt a sunset. But every now and then, remembering what she said, you couldnβt help but wonder if sheβd simply caught him at a different hour of the day.
You werenβt ready to finish the thought yet.
β...Jungkook?β You eventually spoke.
βYeah?β
You looked down at your lap, tracing the seam of your dress just to have something to do with your hands. βI wouldnβt have gone in there,β you said. βWith Dae.β
Your voice was almost swallowed by the hum of the car. Jungkookβs grip tightened on the wheel, his knuckles going white for a split second at the mention of Dae, before he loosened them.
βI wasnβt going to.β you added, firmly, because the silence felt too loud.
The admission settled quietly between the two of you, hanging in the dim space of the car like dust motes in a shaft of light. The road stretched out ahead of you, entirely empty at this early hour.
βI know,β he said eventually, his voice quiet.
You turned your head to look at him, but his eyes never left the asphalt ahead. There wasnβt much else to say after that.
Letting out a soft breath, you leaned your head against the cool glass of the window. The entire evening, all the lights, the suffocating tension, already felt strangely distant, as if it had happened to somebody else entirely.
The car began to slow, the momentum shifting gently as Jungkook pulled up to the curb. You glanced up, expecting the familiar wave of relief that usually came with reaching home. Instead, the moment your eyes hit the building, your stomach dropped.
ββ¦Wait,β you breathed, your posture instantly stiffening.
Jungkook looked over briefly, noticing the sudden shift in your energy. Up on the top floor, the penthouse lights were blazing. It wasnβt just a single lamp left on for security; every single window was illuminated. The kitchen, the sitting room, the study, the entire place was glowing against the dark night sky.
You sat up straighter, a cold knot forming in your chest. ββ¦No.β
βWhat?β Jungkook asked, his brow furrowing as he followed your gaze.
βMy dad,β you said, the words rushing out of you in a panicked breath. βHe wasnβt supposed to be home tonight.β
βYou said he was overseas,β Jungkook countered, his voice calm.
βHe was.β With trembling fingers, you grabbed your phone from your bag. The screen lit up to reveal three missed calls and a string of messages you had completely missed. The first text made your heart sink instantly: Flight got moved. Home early. See you tonight.
βOh, God,β you whispered, pressing the back of your hand to your forehead. You had completely forgotten. Your brain had simply run out of room. βOh, my God. Heβs actually home.β
You looked at Jungkook, but this wasnβt the panic of a teenager terrified of getting caught with a boy. It was the sheer, suffocating dread of a mind pushed past itβs absolute limit. Your father could have been the kindest, most understanding man alive, and it wouldnβt have mattered. You were entirely empty. You were exhausted, your head was splitting from the fading alcohol, and you simply did not possess the emotional currency required to engage in a single conversation.
You didnβt want to answer questions about how your night was, and more than anything, you didnβt want anyone looking at you closely enough to see the cracks.
Jungkook, interestingly enough, was the sole exception. He was the only person you didnβt mind sitting beside in total silence, because he didnβt demand anything from you.
βHeβs going to ask questions,β you muttered, looking desperately from the brightly lit penthouse to the windshield, as if a solution might materialize on the glass.
βSo answer them,β Jungkook said softly.
You turned to stare at him, your chest tight. βI canβt.β
βY/n...β
βI canβt,β you repeated, rubbing at your temple, trying to soothe the dull throb there. βI donβt β¦ I donβt know what Iβd even say to him. Nothing happened.β
Your fingers tightened around your phone until your knuckles turned white, stomach twisting at the thought of unpacking and having to face the post mortem of the night.
βI just donβt want to talk about tonight,β you finished, your voice dropping to a weary whisper. βI canβt handle it.β
βWhat if you justβ¦ drove away?β you suggested quietly, looking out the window.
Jungkook raised an eyebrow, βAnd then what? Youβd still have to go inside eventually. And your dad definitely has security cameras out here.β
You shut your eyes, letting out a defeated groan. βHe definitely has cameras. Heβs already seen the car.β
βHeβs already seen the car,β Jungkook echoed quietly. He paused, watching the way your shoulders sagged. ββ¦Y/n, I can leave if thatβs what you want. I can drop you at the lobby and pull away.β
You looked back at him. He was leaving the decision entirely up to you.
Turning your gaze back toward the penthouse, you saw a shadow move across one of the high windows. The finality of it settled heavily in your chest.
ββ¦Too late,β you muttered.
Jungkook followed your gaze up to the glass. ββ¦Heβs seen us?β
βHeβs absolutely seen us.β Neither of you moved for a long moment, the quiet sanctuary of the car cabin holding you both captive for just a few seconds longer. Finally, you reached for the door handle, bracing yourself for the inevitable.
βWell,β you muttered, your voice flat with exhaustion. βThis is going to be a mess.β
You stepped out of the car before you could change your mind, the heavy door clicking shut behind you with a definitive thud. You muttered a quiet thanks over your shoulder, not entirely sure if Jungkook heard it through the glass, and forced your feet to move toward the grand entrance of the building.
Every step felt like pulling your feet through wet cement. The elevator ride upstairs seemed to last a small eternity, leaving you trapped with your own reflection in the mirrored walls. You looked exactly how you felt: tired. Strands of hair were escaping the neat style you had thrown up, your mascara was faintly smudged beneath your lower lashes, and a prominent crease had formed in the silk of your dress.
When the elevator finally chimed, you stepped out to find the penthouse door already unlocked.
ββ¦Dad?β you called out tentatively.
The lights inside were warm, the only sound of the quiet hum of the refrigerator, but then a voice carried easily from the sitting room.
βIn here.β
You found him exactly where you had expected to. His suit jacket was discarded carelessly over the arm of the sofa, his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and his reading glasses were perched low on his nose as he thumbed through a stack of legal papers.
He glanced up as you entered, setting the papers down. βThere you are.β
Seeing him, looking completely normal and unbothered, caused something tight in your chest to loosen just a fraction. βYouβre home early,β you said, leaning against the doorframe.
βMy meeting finished ahead of schedule,β he explained, standing up and crossing the room toward you. βI called.β
βI know.β
βYou didnβt answer.β He stopped a few feet away, his analytical eyes sweeping over you before softening almost immediately. βYou look absolutely exhausted.β
A breathless, tired sigh escaped you. His gaze lingered on you for another second before drifting past your shoulder, toward the windows that overlooked the street below. ββ¦Who drove you home?β
Your stomach dropped. Of course, the security feed by the gate.
You followed his gaze, looking down into the dark courtyard. Sure enough, Jungkookβs car was still parked at the curb, its headlights cutting twin beams into the darkness.
βHeβsβ¦β You swallowed hard, trying to find a neutral tone. βA friend.β
βA very patient friend,β your dad countered softly.
You blinked, turning back to him. ββ¦What?β
βHeβs still waiting to make sure youβve safely made it upstairs.β Your father smiled faintly, a look of quiet approval crossing his features. βWell?β
βWell what?β
βArenβt you going to invite the poor boy inside?β
Your head snapped toward him, your exhaustion momentarily replaced by sheer panic. βWhat?β
βHe brought my daughter home safely late at night,β Hyun said, folding his arms over his chest. βThe least I can do is thank him properly. It would be impolite not to.β
βDad, no. Heβs probably planning to leave.β you diverged immediately.
βHas he said that?β
ββ¦No.β
βThen we shouldnβt make assumptions,β he said reasonably.
You stared at him, desperately wishing he would read the silent, pleading signals you were trying to send. He just stared back, entirely immune to them. ββ¦Dad.β
βYes?β
βWhat if he doesnβt want to come inside?β
βThen he will politely decline,β your dad replied. There was absolutely no arguing with that logic.
Hyun reached over, picking up his discarded suit jacket from the arm of the sofa and shaking it out. βWell? Arenβt you going to invite your friend in?β
You closed your eyes for a brief, agonizing moment, the throbbing behind your temples flaring up. You knew there was no escaping this. Your dad was stubborn, Jungkook was still waiting downstairs, and you were caught entirely in the middle.
Opening your eyes, you let out a defeated breath. ββ¦His name is Jungkook.β
Hyun reached for his jacket, already making his way towards the foyer as though the matter had been settled long before either of you had spoken. βThen arenβt you going to invite Jungkook in?β
note: hello my loves <3 you might be able to tell why this chapter took me a little longer to write. for me, every part of this story has its own essence, and i really struggled to find that with this one, even though i tried my best to work through it. i know it isnβt perfect, and we had to get through some pretty uncomfortable scenes along the way, poor y/n :(
i canβt wait to hear your thoughts on this chapter though because so much was revealed. and how are we feeling about finally getting jungkookβs pov for the very first time?!! <3
ps, im so so very sleepy. looks like im gonna have to re edit a few things and tag a lot of you guys properly in the morning :s
hey everyone, this is aeri, posting on behalf of tara.
something happened on tumblr's end, not a suspension exactly, we don't have a clear answer yet, but her account is inaccessible and she has no way to get in or explain this to anyone herself. she's heartbroken and exhausted, ik some of yall fan of her writing like me.
she's trying to get here asap and you might read on my previous post, she misses every reader, every friend, every writer, every anon and mutual she encountered with.
if you're a mutual of hers or someone who's ever sent her an ask or left a comment, please be patient with her. she'll be back. until then, she sees you and she misses you like crazy.
I'll update here if i know more. thank you for reading till the end.
tagging to spread the word: @jinsskys @kooksure @fkingl0ser @kittenan @seokbite @raceme2hell @divakoo @gukcnt @taevescence @ae12moonss @jkgivinsleeplessnite @buzzyjoonie
hey everyone, this is aeri, posting on behalf of tara.
something happened on tumblr's end, not a suspension exactly, we don't have a clear answer yet, but her account is inaccessible and she has no way to get in or explain this to anyone herself. she's heartbroken and exhausted, ik some of yall fan of her writing like me.
she's trying to get here asap and you might read on my previous post, she misses every reader, every friend, every writer, every anon and mutual she encountered with.
if you're a mutual of hers or someone who's ever sent her an ask or left a comment, please be patient with her. she'll be back. until then, she sees you and she misses you like crazy.
I'll update here if i know more. thank you for reading till the end.
tagging to spread the word: @jinsskys @kooksure @fkingl0ser @kittenan @seokbite @raceme2hell @divakoo @gukcnt @taevescence @ae12moonss @jkgivinsleeplessnite @buzzyjoonie
hey everyone, this is aeri, posting on behalf of tara.
something happened on tumblr's end, not a suspension exactly, we don't have a clear answer yet, but her account is inaccessible and she has no way to get in or explain this to anyone herself. she's heartbroken and exhausted, ik some of yall fan of her writing like me.
she's trying to get here asap and you might read on my previous post, she misses every reader, every friend, every writer, every anon and mutual she encountered with.
if you're a mutual of hers or someone who's ever sent her an ask or left a comment, please be patient with her. she'll be back. until then, she sees you and she misses you like crazy.
I'll update here if i know more. thank you for reading till the end.
tagging to spread the word: @jinsskys @kooksure @fkingl0ser @kittenan @seokbite @raceme2hell @divakoo @gukcnt @taevescence @ae12moonss @jkgivinsleeplessnite @buzzyjoonie