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I'm sure | Chapter six - The Demo

Summary: When Y/n, a young choreographer, began working with Halsey at just seventeen, she never imagined it would lead her across the globe. Her journey with BTS began in 2018 on the set of ’Boy With Luv,’ where she acted as the creative bridge between two worlds. What started as temporary projects turned into a lifelong bond, eventually leading BigHit to offer her a full-time position working as the boys’ lead choreographer.

Now, as the members begin their solo careers and prepare for military enlistment, the stakes have never been higher. Y/n is tasked with her most ambitious project yet: Creating the choreography and performance identity for Jungkook’s global solo debut. What begins as late nights perfecting choreography and playful banter turns into quiet moments that blur the line between professionalism and something much more personal.

Their journey unfolds alongside Jungkook and Jimin’s newest travel show, Are You Sure?!, where Y/n travels with the Busan Brothers through the heat of a New York summer, the coastal winds of Jeju, and the deep snows of Sapporo.

Between the raw, unfiltered footage of life on the road and the quiet vulnerability that lingers after the cameras finally stop rolling, the show becomes the backdrop for Y/n and Jungkook’s evolving story.

As the seasons shift, they are pulled closer through creative passion, industry jealousy, and the looming shadow of distance. Amidst the chaos of global stardom and the quiet fear of a long goodbye, they are forced to make a choice only they can answer: Are they truly sure about each other, no matter what the world might say?

Word count: 19.3k

Warnings: not proofread, pining, angst, swearing, mention of alcohol consumption, TENSION (good & bad), jungkook is acting strange (hmm..), the boys have a little tiff, oc gets mad at jungkook (also hmm..), lot of flashback moments (sorry not sorry), lowercase intended, that’s about it(lmk if I missed anything!)

DISCLAIMER: This series is a work of fiction intended for entertainment purposes ONLY. All events, dynamics, and dialogue are entirely fictional and products of the author's imagination. It is not true to life, nor does it reflect the actual personal life of any real individual, and should not be taken as fact.

Playlist: here

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Bold = talking in english

Author’s note: hello my stars! 🌟 I wanted to do a little surprise post because we just hit over 400 stars!!! (aka. followers/friends). I just want to say thank you for all your love and support for my work(s) and for sticking around as I figure out my writing process. I'm so thankful and grateful to be able to share my creative side with you all on this platform <3

(wipes tear) any who... I officially decided the outline for chapter six…HERE IT IS (runs away and hides in a corner.) there is…A LOT going on in this chapter and you might feel a roller coaster of emotions. Some of you may hate me but please, trust the process. Also I'm planning on putting a disclaimer on each chapter from now on just because I want to remind everyone that this is FAKE and how I portray the characters in the story is NOT how they are in real life, and I don't want there to be any confusion.

I like slow burn and a LOT of tension. this will be an ongoing thing in this series. This chapter marks the beginning of what’s to come in the next arc of oc’s and Jungkook’s dynamic. Just you wait and see. Also this is THE longest chapter I’ve written for this series and I fear it’s only going to continue the further we get in the story. I might have to shorten them or split chapters once we get into the travel segment part because that’s a lot of writing.

i don’t want to give too much away without spoiling all the fun but I would love to hear your theories PLEASE send them to me! I love hearing them and talking to you yall…I can't wait to hear your thoughts on this chapter, enjoy!

---

gym- a few weeks later

you enjoyed running.

scratch that, you tolerated it.

actually, if you were being completely honest with yourself as you stared down the treadmill’s glowing display of kilometers and increasing time, you loathed it with a passion.

you understood that in your position, you needed to maintain your strength and endurance to handle 60+ hours of non-stop studio work. however, there was something about the mindless, repetitive thud-thud-thud and hearing squeaky sneakers on a rubber belt that made you feel like a sweaty out-of-shape hamster in a luxurious cage.

to your right, jimin was the picture of effortless elegance. he was maintaining a steady, graceful jog, looking as if he could do this forever without breaking a sweat. it was annoying.

"you’re... doing... great... y/n-ah," jimin panted, though he sounded far less winded than you felt. he shot you a supportive, yet irritating grin.

"die... in... a... hole... park," you wheezed, your lungs burning as you fought to keep your feet from flying off the back of the belt. "why... did i... agree to this?"

the past few months had been busy, but may was proving to be at the top of your list. not only do you have to finalize jungkook’s solo project concept by the end of the month, but you are also being pulled into more meetings with the executives for all the boys.

technically, you were responsible for just jungkook’s upcoming debut. however, the executives insisted on having you present in their plannings. you practically knew everything about the other members' upcoming tracks, tour dates, releases, and overlapping schedules before they did.

between managing the logistics of yoongi’s sold-out 'd-day' arena tour across the states, prepping namjoon to become the honorary ambassador for the mnd's makri, coordinating jimin’s flights to new york and paris for dior, and prepping the massive concept boards for the group's upcoming 10th anniversary, your brain was fried.

you felt like you had three heads all in different directions, surviving entirely on iced coffee and fumes. while still deep in the trenches, trying to secure jungkook’s timeline for june and july.

but the heaviest weight occupying your thoughts wasn't the schedules and constant meetings that filled your calendar. it was the quiet distance radiating from the room just down the hall.

through the massive glass wall that separated the cardio machines from the combat studio, you could see the source of your distraction.

jungkook was a literal machine.

he was in the adjacent room with his boxing trainer, the silence of the thick glass wall making his fast, powerful movements look like a sharp rhythmic dance. his long hair falling out of a messy bun, black t-shirt completely soaked through and clinging to the muscles of his broad back as he drove punch after punch into the target pads.

crack. snap. block. even though you couldn't hear the impact of his gloves against the pads, it was obvious. his neck and tattooed arm glistened under the harsh lighting as he worked through the combinations.

he hadn't looked at the glass wall once. he hadn't looked at you since you’d walked into the building. he hadn’t even said hi or good morning.

since returning to seoul, jungkook has been acting strange.

he was perfectly professional whenever you had to review the concept boards in group meetings, but the private jokes, text messages, teasing banter, had stopped. and you’re not sure why.

you almost collapsed against the safety bar the moment jimin reached over and hit the ‘cool down’ button on your console. the belt slowed to an agonizing crawl, leaving you clinging to the handles as your chest heaved in jagged gulps of air.

“okay, mercy,” jimin laughed, hopping off his machine with a spring in his step and handing you a chilled bottle of water. he leaned his hip against the side of the machine, his eyes softening as they followed yours back to the figure behind the glass wall. “he’s been at it for over an hour.”

“yeah” you agreed, your voice raspy and thin as you pressed the cold plastic bottle against your flushed forehead. “has he been acting strange?”

“strange how?”

“i mean... stranger than usual?” your eyes remained fixed on jungkook as he delivered a heavy hook into his trainer's pads. your stomach twisted painfully. “he’s not as talkative and barely speaks to me unless it’s work-related. i’m worried i... i don't know.”

jimin didn't answer your question immediately. he watched through the glass as jungkook pivoted and drove another combination into the pads. he looked back at you, eyes softening with a look that was almost guarded before he turned his gaze back to the person in question.

“i think he just has a lot on his mind, y/n-ah,” jimin said softly, his voice dropping into a comforting cadence as he kept his eyes on the glass. “the solo debut... it’s changing things for him. don't overthink it.”

but it was already too late for that.

jungkook

pow!

jungkook drove a final jab into the pads and stepped back, his chest heaving as his trainer called an end to the session. his hair was completely soaked with sweat, sticking to his forehead, and his hands were shaking slightly inside the wraps as he began to unfasten them.

he intentionally kept his back to the glass wall. he knew you were standing out there.

he knew exactly how you looked; soft flush on your cheeks, your ponytail sticking to your damp neck, and the way you’d close your eyes as you lean your head back against the cool wall to find your balance.

he couldn’t get you out of his mind since that night. it was an exhausting mental game of tug-of-war that had been draining him far more than any training session.

he hated acting like a stranger to you. he hated swallowing his morning greetings and pretending he didn't notice you in the conference rooms. but every time he opened his mouth, the terrifying weight of what had almost happened in california choked the words right back down his throat.

flashback

he was walking down the hallway of your villa suite, the thud of his boots the only sound breaking the early morning silence.

in his hand, he held an iced coffee he’d rushed out to get from a nearby cafe, mixed exactly the way you liked it. you were supposed to leave for the airport to head back to seoul in just a couple of hours.

his heart had been hammering frantically against his ribs as he reached your door. he went through every different type of scenario in his head to prepare for this moment. he almost considered getting another bouquet but thought that might be overdoing it, and just stuck with the coffee.

oh, and he got you a cranberry orange muffin; your favorite.

he could still feel your finger tips tracing his skin, the ‘constellations’, and the lingering, breathless memory of how you had almost, almost kissed in the soft, amber glow of your bedroom.

he had braced himself for a shift between you.

a lingering glance, a shared blush, some kind of mutual acknowledgement that an invisible line had been crossed. when you opened the door, you looked radiant. you had invited him in, and he handed you the coffee cup and muffin bag.

he watched you intently, holding his breath, waiting for the split second your eyes would meet his and silently say, i know.

instead, you just offered him a tired, entirely normal smile and a ‘thank you, koo, i really appreciate this.’ you took a sip from the cup, letting out a satisfied hum before looking up at him while leaning against your half-packed suitcase.

your next words completely shattered the hope he was holding onto.

“also, i wanted to tell you i’m so sorry about last night,” you said, rubbing the back of your neck in embarrassment. “ with what happened with the guy at the club, i was completely out of it after you dropped me off here. i hope i wasn’t too much of a mess or burden to deal with. i don’t even remember taking off my makeup or my head hitting the pillow.”

the words felt like a physical blow to his chest, instantly freezing the blood in his veins.

you didn't remember.

you remembered everything else. but the most intimate, breathtaking moment of his entire life; the tenderness of him wiping your makeup from your skin, the way your fingertips had gently traced the moles on his neck like stars, and the agonizingly close second where his lips had almost brushed yours, was gone.

to you, it was just a harmless, empty blank space. you had no idea how close he had come to risking everything.

he had swallowed the lump in his throat, forced a tight, reassuring lopsided smile, and told you it was okay and not to worry.

he’d decided right then and there to bury it. if you didn't remember the almost-kiss, he wasn't going to force you to deal with the confusing reality of his feelings. especially not when you'd be swept into a brutal block of overlapping schedules in a matter of hours.

but the pain of holding this secret was turning him into someone he’s not.

every time he looked at you, his pulse spiked with the memory of how easily he had almost crossed the line, and the sheer force of keeping his professional boundaries intact was driving him completely insane.

as he finished pulling the tight wraps from his knuckles, the door clicked open.

jimin stepped into the room, letting the door swing shut behind him. you had just headed to the locker room to shower.

“jungkook-ah! look at you!” jimin chirped, bouncing with a burst of energy.

he walked right up to the youngest, a wide enthusiastic smile lighting up his face as he playfully nudged jungkook’s shoulder. “a literal machine! you’re working so hard, our golden maknae is going to dominate his solo debut. seriously, i was watching from the treadmills and your footwork is looking so sharp today!”

jungkook managed a small, tight grunt of acknowledgment, fidgeting with the velcro of his wraps without looking up. “thanks, hyung.”

jimin didn't miss a beat, swinging his arms around and casually leaning closer to him, his tone remaining incredibly sweet and lighthearted. “yeah, you know y/n-ah was just here too.”

jungkook paused, his thumbs freezing against the fabric before he forced himself to resume. he kept his head down, keeping his voice carefully detached. “yeah? didn’t notice.”

he did.

especially because you texted him about joining you and jimin. along with asking for the demo track for his debut song, so you could work on performance layouts. his reply was short; i’ll be boxing with my trainer, maybe another time. i’ll send the demo to your email!

short, simple, and not like him at all.

jimin let out a soft, knowing hum, his eyes tracing the rigid line of his younger brother's shoulders. “oh, come on. didn't you notice your favorite choreographer? she looked like she was about to pass out, poor thing.”

“yeah, running’s not really her thing.”

“how do you know she was running if you didn’t notice her?”

shit.

his jaw locked, and he instantly regretted opening his mouth. he focused entirely too hard on the floor, hoping his bangs would hide the sudden warmth rushing to his face.

jimin let out a victorious, knowing chuckle. “so you were watching her. i knew it. why are you acting like you don't even know she’s in the room, jungkookie?”

jungkook didn't bite. he threw the crumpled hand wraps onto his gym bag, stubbornly refusing to give his hyung any leverage. “i just assumed, hyung. she always feels like passing out after running. it’s not a big deal.”

he still wasn’t going to crack, so jimin decided to switch tactics. his bright smile dissolved into an expression deeply grounded and caring.

he reached out, placing a firm, grounding hand on jungkook’s sweat-damp shoulder. “hey. bro, seriously, what is up? is everything okay?”

the sheer warmth and concern in his hyung's face made jungkook’s throat feel tight, a wave of guilt washing over him.

he hated keeping things from jimin, but the truth was a boundary he simply couldn't bring himself to cross. if he admitted what had actually happened, it would make his unraveled feelings too tangible, too dangerous to manage. he needed to keep it a secret. maybe when he’s ready, he'll tell him, but right now, he has to protect the blank space in your memory.

“yeah just…stressed about the debut,” he lied softly, forcing his voice to remain flat and steady as he met jimin’s gaze. “i mean, you know how it goes. i guess i’m just feeling the massive weight of navigating that shift.”

jimin stared at him for a long moment. his intuition was screaming at him that there was a much bigger piece to the puzzle; something to do with you. but seeing the exhaustion and stress in his younger brother's frame, he chose not to push him to a breaking point today.

he gave jungkook’s shoulder a supportive squeeze. “it’s a massive step, kook. but you don't have to carry the entire weight of it by yourself, okay? just… don’t shut people out. especially not the ones who want the best for you.”

with a final nod, jimin turned and left the room, letting the door shut behind him. jungkook didn’t notice the way he quickly tapped on his phone before getting on a phone call, rushing out of the gym.

he stared at the floor for a minute, the silence of the room pressing into his chest until it felt hard to breathe.

with a sigh, he grabbed his bag, slung it over his shoulder, and left the room. his shoes made a dull thud against the polished floors as he headed toward the men’s locker room, his mind completely numb.

he didn't expect the door of the women's locker room to swing open right as he approached.

jungkook froze mid-step.

you stepped out into the hallway, a wave of your floral scented soap wafting in his direction and is that…new perfume? it was different; sweeter and it cut straight through the smell of sweat coming from his shirt. it suited you.

your hair was still damp, a few dark strands clinging to the back of your hoodie, and your face was scrubbed clean of sweat. you looked exhausted, eyes cast down toward your phone as your fingers mindlessly scrolled. you were unaware of his presence until your sneaker nearly clipped the toe of his own.

you jumped slightly, your head snapping up.

for a second, the exhaustion faded in your eyes replaced by a flash of hope.

a look he was all too familiar with; the look you gave him whenever he finally nailed a piece of choreography you’d spent hours building together.

or whenever he mindlessly shared his food with you across a messy conference table, sliding the best cuts onto your takeout container without a second thought.

or when you opened the door to see him with a coffee and muffin bag, unaware of the sin you both almost committed the night before.

your lips parted, a tentative, soft smile beginning to form. “koo—”

jungkook’s internal alarms went into a blind, frantic panic. the ghost memory of your fingertips tracing his skin flared violently against his neck, and the sheer force of keeping his professional boundaries intact made his body lock up.

he forced his expression to drop into an unreadable mask. no smile. didn’t step closer. didn’t even tilt his head.

“hey, y/n-ah,” he said, voice entirely too deep and clipped with a professional detachment that felt harsher than the ac blowing on his back.

the syllable died instantly on your tongue. he watched, heart violently splintering in his chest, as the light in your eyes vanished. the smile now replaced by a slight frown that you tried to mask.

you took a small step back, as if his coldness was a physical force pushing you away.

“hey,” your voice dropping into a raspy tone that sounded completely drained. you fidgeted with your fingers, looking at them before mustering up the courage to speak again.

you looked back up at his blank face, your eyes searching. “um… is everything okay? you just seem… i just want to make sure you’re okay, especially with your debut coming up.”

jungkook felt a spike in his pulse. he could hear the worry in your voice, and it threatened to completely dismantle his entire defense right there and now.

he forced his jaw to remain rigid, locking his eyes onto the space right between your eyebrows so he wouldn't crack under the weight of your eyes.

your beautiful eyes— shut up.

“yeah, everything’s fine,” he lied smoothly, his tone flat, tight smile, and completely professional. “i’m just really focused. there’s a lot to do. i mean, you understand.”

and boy do you. you feel like you haven’t had a break since you landed but for some reason, when it came to him it didn’t feel like work at all.

or, at least, it hadn’t used to.

"right. of course, definitely.” you swallowed the small lump forming in your throat, trying to decipher the unreadable wall he was hiding behind. “um… just know that i’m here if you need anything, okay?”

this was a lot harder than he anticipated.

he almost dropped his gym bag. almost closed the few feet of space between you and pulled you against his chest just to breathe in your sweet, floral scent. he wanted to tell you that he wasn’t okay, that he hadn't slept a full night since california, and that every second spent treating you like a stranger was slowly driving him crazy.

he wanted his name back on your lips without a tremor of doubt behind it. he wanted to tell you the truth of that night. but he couldn’t.

it would be entirely unfair to you. if he let his armor drop, he would be changing your dynamic over a night you had no part in recalling, right when the label was tightening the screws on his debut timeline and you were already drowning in work. he couldn't do that to you. he had to carry this on his own, even if it turned him into an unrecognizable version of himself to keep you at arm's length.

he tightened his grip on his bag until his tatted knuckles turned white, forcing his mind back to reality.

“thanks, y/n,” he countered instantly. the formal lack of use for your nickname felt like a blow driven straight to you, sharp enough to make your throat go tight. he didn’t drop his head an inch to meet your eyes. “i appreciate it. like i said, i just need to stay focused.”

you felt a flush of embarrassment prickle at the back of your neck, your fingers tightening around your own belongings as you forced yourself to absorb his words.

“right,” you murmured, your voice dropping low as you fixed your gaze firmly on the floor between your sneakers, unable to look at his features any longer. you swallowed the remaining bits of courage you had left, pulling your own professional mask into place. “well, then… i just wanted to remind you about the demo track. director son is pushing for the performance layouts, and i really need the audio file to prepare for the auditions.”

a muscle twitched in his cheek. watching you withdraw into your shell was a special kind of torture, but the boundaries he had set held him completely captive.

“yeah,” he stated flatly. “i’m heading home now. i’ll send the demo to your email when i’m back at the house.”

“okay. great. thanks.” you offered a tight nod, stepping sideways to clear the narrow path. you weren't going to force him to endure your presence for another second. “i’ll… i’ll wait for it, then. have a good night, jungkook.”

“you too.”

you didn’t wait for his response. you moved past him, your shoulder brushing the edge of his sleeve in a brief, accidental touch that sent a jolt straight down his spine. he stood paralyzed in the middle of the hallway, his head stubbornly facing forward, listening to the quiet, retreating scuff of your sneakers until the main doors of the gym shut.

only then did he let out the breath he’d been holding. he closed his eyes, his chest heaving under his soaked tee as his hand grazed the spot you brushed against. he had done it. he had kept the wall up. he had protected the quiet, blank space in your memory.

but at what cost?

—

jungkook’s house - a few days later

“love me at my lowest / i'll love you when you're barely holdin' on / lightin' up the darkness / i can be a shoulder when you're not strong... / closer... closer to you...”

he was currently in his private studio with namjoon and yoongi who were helping him with recording his tracks. the room was bathed in its usual low, amber-and-red led glow, casting long shadows across the acoustic paneling.

both older boys shifted slightly from their positions on their chairs, their expressions locking into deep focus as they looked toward the console.

meanwhile jungkook sat frozen in his leather sofa, his tatted fingers twisting the silver rings on his other hand. his gaze was entirely fixed on the floor; mind completely unraveled into a loop of thoughts he couldn't switch off.

“take you like my last breath / took me, that's the first step / closer, with the silk dress / feelin' your warm embrace…”

it had been three days since the incident in the gym hallway. three days since he told you he would send the demo "tonight," and three days that the audio file had sat untouched on his desktop, mocking him. he found himself wondering, with a restless ache, what you were doing right now.

did you stop at your favorite shop a few blocks from the studio to get your usual spicy ramen with pork belly and extra garlic? or did you have pole class tonight, which he now knows you have twice a week? or maybe you were standing in your kitchen, testing a baking recipe in your new oven?

he didn't know. and the fact that he couldn't just ask you with a quick text or a casual phone call killed his mood even more.

he wanted to know so badly.

he wanted to hear about anything and everything. wanted to be the one to tell you to come over and see bam because he misses you, and so does he. wanted to be the one to get you your favorite meal. or better yet, have you over and he makes you a home-cooked meal, and you teach him a random baking recipe you learned.

but he couldn’t.

he built this wall, and now he was stuck behind it, listening to a track he wrote about a warm embrace while his own hands felt cold.

“jungkook!” namjoon’s voice cut through his thoughts, snapping him back to reality with a sudden jolt.

jungkook blinked rapidly, his hand instantly flying to his knee to steady himself as he realized the room had fallen completely quiet. his hyungs had paused the track while he was gone in his own head.

“sorry,” jungkook mumbled, his voice gravelly as he cleared his throat, desperately trying to reorient himself under the analytical gaze of his hyungs. he shifted on the leather sofa, adjusting his oversized tee. “i zoned out for a sec... what do you think?”

“the vocal range is good, jungkookie,” yoongi murmured, leaning his head back against the cushions of his chair, his beanie pulled low over his eyes. his fingers continued to tap against his knee. “it’s got this restless pull to it. i think it fits the vibe you want.”

namjoon, adjusting his posture in his own chair with a notebook balanced on his lap, nodded slowly in agreement. he pushed his glasses up his nose. “yoongi-hyung is right. there’s a distinct friction in the delivery. it…it sounds like a conflict. like…you’re fighting the urge to cross the space between the person in front of you.”

jungkook’s throat went dry. a conflict. they had no idea how precisely they had just targeted the exact source of his torment.

“yeah,” jungkook whispered, his voice raspy as he kept his eyes glued to the glowing monitor, terrified of what his face might give away. “that’s... exactly what i was going for.”

yoongi shifted, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied the youngest member's tense, rigid demeanor.

“are you doing okay jungkookie?”

“yeah, just tired,” jungkook lied smoothly, though the defensive speed of his answer didn't help his case. “the debut is soon… things are just picking up.”

yoongi didn't drop his gaze. he’s known jungkook since the kid was fifteen years old, back when his shoulders were narrow and he couldn't even meet a stranger's eyes without blushing. he knew every single one of his tells. he knew that when jungkook was genuinely tired, he became soft and spaced-out; when he was hiding something, he became rigid, meticulous, and stubborn. but he decided not to push. he’ll leave that to namjoon.

“you’ve been acting very strange though,” the leader stated, eyes narrowing. “like not nervous strange, avoidant strange.”

“avoidant? i haven’t been avoiding anything.”

“you’ve been avoiding y/n,” taehyung trailed into the room with a fresh bowl of ramen, cutting jungkook’s excuses off with a dry, matter-of-fact tone.

jimin slipped into the studio right behind him, letting the door click shut. the room suddenly felt entirely too small with all of them in there.

jungkook’s ears burned a shade of crimson, thankful the red led’s were hiding it.

he shifted uncomfortably, still adjusting his posture as he scrambled for a defense. “i’m not avoiding her. she’s been busy with all the stuff going on at work. a lot's been going on.”

“isn’t she in charge of your solo project?” taehyung countered, blowing casually on a steaming loop of noodles before taking a bite. “even at the dream premiere you were acting strange when i asked you about her performance.”

“we’re fine, taehyung. just stay out of it.”

“yah, don’t speak to your hyung like that, you punk!” jimin speaks up his tone usually bright, now defensive as he points a finger at him. “it’s not all about you, jungkook. you have y/n thinking that you don’t want her working on this project with you anymore.”

“what?” jungkook’s head snapped up, the defensive posture vanishing instantly as panic hit his chest. he looked at jimin, his eyes wide, and any trace of his calculated lies completely evaporated. “what are you talking about? why would she think that?”

“well i don’t know jungkook,” jimin states sarcastically, flipping the main lights on.

he squinted against the harsh illumination, feeling completely stripped of his hiding place as jimin crossed his arms, looking down at him with a frown.

“maybe its because you’ve been short with her?” jimin continued, “and then she asks me if you’re doing okay, which honestly i don’t even know because you won’t talk to us!”

“look, it’s nothing, jimin,” jungkook shot back, his voice rising as a hard, defensive edge as he stands up facing them. “it’s none of your business anyway. i’m just worked up about the debut soon. i don’t need a lecture on greeting colleagues.”

“none of our business?” taehyung countered, setting his ramen bowl down on a side table with a sharp clack that cut through the tension. “shes not just some random employee, jungkook. shes our friend, your friend.”

“i know. i don’t need you to remind me,” he stated coldly.

“clearly you do!” taehyung continues, “you’re acting like a complete asshole towards her. and us!”

namjoon shifted forward in his chair, brows furrowing as he raised a hand to intervene. “hey, let’s chill out for a second—”

before the leader could de-escalate the situation, yoongi reached out. his hand gripped namjoon’s forearm in a quiet gesture, stopping him.

namjoon blinked, looking over at his hyung, but yoongi simply offered a small shake of his head. his sharp eyes remained fixed on jungkook’s tense shoulders.

let it be, the gesture said. let them push.

jimin took another step closer to the younger boy, his voice dropping into a softer, yet unrelenting cadence. “we aren’t trying to stress you out, jungkookie. but you can’t keep pushing her away. or us.”

“oh, what do you know?” jungkook’s voice cracked, overriding the coldness he had tried to project. "huh? you think you have it all figured out, but you have no idea what it's like to be around her right now. to be near her and have to pretend... pretend that this isn’t tearing me apart just as much as it’s pushing her away!"

namjoon, who had been leaning forward, sat back, his expression shifting from annoyed to concerned. even yoongi sat up straighter, his gaze still locked onto the youngest.

jungkook paced the small space, his hands running through his hair in frustration, messing up the strands. "you think i want to be an asshole? you think i enjoy acting like she doesn't exist? every time she looks at me, it takes everything i have not to... to just break."

“jungkook, what is wrong?”

jungkook stopped pacing, turning to face them, his eyes dark with a mixture of agony and vulnerability. “we almost kissed.”

the room went still. the air felt heavy, charged with the sudden confession.

"wait—what?" jimin’s voice was the first to break the silence, eyes wide with a mixture of shock and suppressed excitement. "you almost kissed her? kook, are you serious?"

taehyung leaned in, his expression shifting from defensive to intensely curious. “you actually made a move?"

“hold on, everybody just chill out,” namjoon stands up and gestures for the two to give jungkook some space. “jungkook, sit down.”

jungkook, chest heaving and shoulders trembling, finally sinks back onto the sofa. he looks utterly spent, the adrenaline of his outburst draining all the color from his face.

“now…tell us what happened,”

y/n’s apartment

“and then after asking him for it three times, he still hasn’t sent me the demo!”

you’re currently sitting cross-legged on the floor of mrs. kim’s living room, surrounded by piles of paperwork, an open laptop, and neon-colored highlighters. mrs. kim was currently in the kitchen, brewing a fresh pot of herbal tea.

originally you were just planning on dropping off your rent early for the next two months.

however, when she saw your current state; messy bun, bags under your eyes, and hands full. she swatted the check away, snapping at you for not taking care of yourself and invited you in to do so.

sitting across from you, her weathered fingers poured a stream of steaming herbal tea into your cup, the earthy aroma filling the small space.

“i explicitly told him our director is breathing down my neck for these layouts and now it’s making me look bad!” you groaned, burying your face in your palms. voice muffled. “it's like pulling teeth to get this stupid demo.”

you pulled your knees tightly to your chest, staring down at your open spreadsheet.

knowing that june and july was going to have you living out of a suitcase between traveling for work and leisure with the busan brothers, you tried to handle everything early. though with how it’s going with the youngest one, you’re not sure if you even want to go on the trips anymore. if jungkook was going to barely make a conversation with you now, you can’t imagine how he’s going to be in the next few months.

you were already plotting a way to persuade jimin for the trip to be just them or better yet, a ‘girls trip’ with him and you instead.

mrs. kim didn’t flinch at your outburst as she set the kettle down on a woven trivet. her wrinkled forehead puckering as she looked at you over the rims of her glasses.

“what’s a demo?” she asked.

a soft, exhausted laugh finally broke through your frustration.

“it’s… it’s his debut song,” you explained. “i just need it so i can be able to map out where to put the background dancers and him.” you leave out the part where you’re basically choreographing in the dark, having nothing to work with, and you need it done by monday. it’s saturday.

the elder lady let out a low hum as she pushed the steaming cup closer to you.

“drink, you look like a skeleton,” she stated flatly. “are you eating enough? is this boy making you miserable? tell me.”

“he’s not making me miserable, halmeoni," you whispered, shoulders slumping. “he’s just…different. we just haven't talked as much since…” since coachella.

mrs. kim leaned back against her cushion, waiting patiently as you stared into the dark liquid of your tea.

the truth was, your memory of that night was an agonizing puzzle missing its core pieces. you remembered the heavy, thumping bass of the club, the flashing neon lights, and the intoxicating blur of dancing. you remembered a vague impression of jungkook being near you, his presence a comforting anchor as that random guy tried to make a move on you. and you remembered how he helped you into your suite, making sure you got there safely.

but your brain had completely blanked out after you stepped into the shower.

you had no recollection of his hand firmly anchoring your waist, the intensity of his gaze, or the breathless, amber-lit vulnerability of your bedroom suite where his lips had almost brushed yours.

to you, it was just a normal, fun night that ended in a massive wave of fatigue. and that was exactly why his sudden, icy wall was driving you entirely insane.

maybe you made him uncomfortable? you thought, but you found it hard to be able to talk to him when he clearly didn’t want to speak to you.

mrs. kim watched you for a moment, the steam from your cups curling slowly between you. the silence in her apartment was deeply grounding, smelling of old paper and the comforting savory spices tracing from her kitchen.

“my late husband,” she began, gaze drifting to the side. “before we were married, we were just friends working down at the old market. he was always the loudest man in the district; laughing with customers, shouting across the square, cracking jokes. but the second i walked into his sight? silence. for months, he barely spoke a word to me. if i sat near him to eat lunch, he would clamp his jaw shut, fix his eyes on the floor, and look like he wanted to escape.”

she let out a dry, raspy chuckle, her wrinkled eyes crinkling. “i spent weeks driving myself mad, replaying every conversation we’d ever had. i was convinced he hated me. you know why he was actually doing it?”

you blinked, temporarily pulled out of your own misery. “why?”

“he liked me,” she said, looking back at you over the rims of her glasses. “he was so terrified that if he opened his mouth, he would say the wrong thing or that i didn’t feel the same.”

“oh! no, halmeoni, it’s—it’s not like that at all!” cheeks red, you frantically waved your hands in front of you, nearly tipping over your cup onto your paperwork. “jungkook— we- we’re colleagues. i’m just his lead choreographer, and we have a major global debut project to finalize. there’s no... there are no feelings like that.”

mrs. kim didn't look convinced in the slightest. she merely let out a low hum, taking another slow sip of her tea.

“whatever you say, dear,” she sets her cup down, facing you. “but if he is just a colleague. why are you so worried?”

the question caught in your throat, leaving you completely tongue-tied. was it really just the pressure from son that had you this unraveled? sure, if this debut solo project went south, you could kiss the possibilities of a promotion goodbye.

but the more you simmered on it, the more your mind wandered.

was this project the end of your friendship with him?

was this the exact moment where the late-night snack runs, the teasing banter, and the effortless comfort you shared had to be sacrificed for professionalism? that, from now on, you could only ever look at each other as colleagues and nothing more?

it made your chest ache but you couldn’t bring yourself to admit it out loud, to mrs. kim and even to yourself.

“i think… i think i’ve just been so used to us working together on these types of things,” you answered softly, fidgeting with your fingers. you managed a small shrug. “i’m not sure why this is any different.”

“have you tried asking him?”

“i did,” you murmured, the bitter memory of the hallway flashing through your memory. “he just gave me this fake excuse he was ‘just focused.’ as if i was going to fall for that.”

“what did you say back?”

“does it even matter?” you continued, your shoulders dropping into a defeated slouch. “he didn't want to talk, so i just left it at that.”

there was a long pause after that.

mrs. kim looked down at you, her gaze softening with a quiet tenderness as she swallowed back her initial urge to scold you further.

she had watched you come and go from this building for years, always admiring your independence, your work ethic, and the polite, bright smile you managed to offer her even when you were running on fumes.

out of all her tenants, she felt you deserved the world.

seeing you now, slumped over, pale, and entirely drained by a boy's attitude, made irritation flare in her chest for you.

no one, not even a global popstar, had the right to make her favorite girl feel this small.

but she knew pushing you into a corner would only make you retreat further into your shell. deciding an energy shift was exactly what you needed, she let out a raspy chuckle to ease the tension.

“yah, boys are stupid anyway,” she stated dryly, waving a hand through the air as if to say ‘forget them’. “they have big shoulders, yet little brains. if i waited for them to figure a situation out, i’d be long gone before they did. it will all work out, dear.”

she set her empty cup down on the wooden table with a clank. standing up, she smoothed down the front of her apron and looked toward the entrance of her apartment.

“follow me,” she commanded softly, leaving no room for argument.

you paused, blinking up at her over your laptop screen. “follow you where?”

“outside,” she replied, gesturing toward the small, heavy wooden door tucked at the end of her narrow kitchen. “you need some sun, you’re too pale, and i need to tend to my garden before the evening air rolls in, and i could use your help.”

she walks out the door before you can give a response.

you blinked, following after her as she headed to the first floor. “you have a garden? where?”

“in the backyard.”

“oh– wait. we have a backyard?!” you follow her down the staircase.

mrs. kim stops as you reach the end of a hallway you have never walked down before, a door at the end of it.

she places her hand on the door knob, turning to face you. “you’ve been living here for over 3 years, and you didn’t know we have a backyard?”

“it wasn’t included in the tour.”

“i didn’t give you a tour.”

“exactly!” you raise your hands over your head as you nod towards her like ‘see?’

she shakes her head at you, “aish, your generation, i swear…” she mumbles some other words under her breath that you couldn’t catch, opening the door that leads to the infamous backyard.

you followed after her, intrigued as you stepped out onto a narrow gravel path and froze, eyes widening in awe.

tucked completely out of sight was a hidden sanctuary.

there were several neatly aligned wooden planter beds bursting with vibrant, emerald-green lettuce leaves and rows of dark perilla plants.

but the true centerpiece of the yard was a small, charming greenhouse constructed from slightly weathered glass panels and a dark metal frame. it sat nestled against the brick wall, catching the late-afternoon sun.

the scent of damp soil, humid warmth, and sweet earth drifted through the light breeze.

it cut through the pressure in your chest, making you realize just how desperately you needed to stop moving and simply be still.

“grab that small blue plastic crate and sit inside by the seedling flats,” mrs. kim ordered, pulling open the door of the greenhouse.

“um, okay.” you grabbed the item and followed her in. “what are seeding flaps?”

“seedling flats,” mrs. kim clarified, letting out a soft, amused chuff at your lack of agricultural literacy.

she tapped a finger against a large black plastic tray divided into dozens of tiny, neat square compartments, each containing a delicate sprout pushing through rich soil. “they’re trays where we start the seeds before they’re strong enough for the big beds.”

“got it.” you nodded quickly, dropping down onto the overturned blue crate inside the glass structure, carefully positioning yourself where she pointed.

luckily, you had changed your clothes when you got home: a big t-shirt, shorts, and sneakers; perfect for unplanned gardening.

right beside the seeding flats were what looked like miniature strawberries to you. the tips of them were bright red but still pale around the stem, which meant they weren’t ready to be picked. you knew a little bit about gardening. emphasis on little.

so when mrs. kim hands you a pair of garden gloves and what she called ‘pruning shears.’ you looked at her, confused.

“we have to prune them.”

“prune them?” you repeated, testing the foreign weight of the small, sharp metal tool in your palm.

“oh dear,” gesturing toward the long, leafless green tendrils shooting wildly out from the sides of the wooden boxes, she explains: “trimming the vines or ‘runners’ i call them. helps the strawberries absorb all the nutrients it needs.”

she demonstrates how: snip close to the base, but not below the crown, never below the crown.

you didn’t ask why, decided to just go with it.

you snip-snip repeat to the point where you get into a rhythm. almost felt like a slow dance of its own. the sharp clack-clack of the steel blades hitting the stems felt grounding in a way the repetitive thud of the treadmill never could.

she began carefully smoothing out fresh soil in the trays next to you, her weathered fingers moving with the same unhurried precision.

“what are you going to plant in those?”

“i’m prepping the next round of ssam vegetables: some sangchu, perilla leaves, and radish greens.”

you paused, leaning your elbows on your knees as you watched her. “that’s a lot of greens, halmeoni.”

“oh, don’t worry, dear. they will come to good use,” she explained, a proud glint in her sharp eyes.

“if we sow a new batch of seeds in these flats every two weeks throughout may, we’ll have a never-ending summer harvest. it’s all about timing.”

“we? is it a community garden?”

“what? no!” she huffed, swatting the air with a soil-stained glove. “these tenants barely acknowledge me, as if i would let them anywhere near here.”

she gestures towards the garden.

“i mean you and me, child.”

you pause your pruning, the shears hovering open over a rogue green vine as you look up at her. your eyes widen slightly, realization dawning on you as you point a finger between the two of you.

“oh... halmeoni, i can’t take your food,” you say quickly, hesitation rushing over you. “you’ve worked so hard on all of this.”

“i’m offering!” she huffed, rolling her eyes in exasperation as she picked up a small trowel. she gestured around the bursting greenhouse and the lush planter beds outside. “with how fast everything has been growing in this heat, half of these greens are going to rot and my little old self can’t eat all of it. do you want my hard work to go to waste?”

“no, of course not, but...” you bite your lower lip, trying to find a compromise that wouldn't make you feel like a burden. “how about i give you some extra for rent each month? in exchange for whatever i take?”

mrs. kim disregarded your offer, letting out a sharp click of her tongue as she swatted her hand in the air to dismiss the thought entirely. “aish, what would i do with more of your money? buy more soil? don't be ridiculous.”

she set the trowel down and turned to face you fully, her sharp gaze softening, her voice dropping into a calmer, comforting cadence. “how about we do this instead. anytime you feel overwhelmed up in that big building, you just come straight down here. the side gate is always unlocked. you can mend the garden, pull some weeds, and release some of that stress. hell, you can even dance on the gravel path for all i care. just use the space.”

a breath of genuine relief leaves your chest, a bright, bubbly laugh bouncing off the panels of the structure.

“is this just an offering or are you just trying to get me to mend the garden so you don’t have to.”

“don’t speak to your halmeoni like that!” she points a finger at you but a smile pulls at the corner of her mouth, chuckling. “for my age, i am in very good health! but... you have much better knees than this old lady.”

her chuckle faded, her posture settling as she looked around the garden. the late-afternoon light filtered through the glass, casting long, warm amber shadows across the dark soil and delicate sprouts.

when she spoke again, her tone was quiet, yet grounded.

“this place was my late husband's gift to me when the city started building up around us,” she said softly, looking back down at you. “it is a sanctuary. and it can be yours, too... at least until you find your own.”

you blink, the words sinking in.

“find my own?” you echo quietly, the question catching in your throat. “what do you mean?”

“i know how much you love being in that dance studio but that will only last so long,” she paused, letting the words sink in. “but it’s your soul that demands a place of its own to breathe. away from all the noise and responsibilities. just you.”

your eyes dropped back down to the metal blades in your hand, your fingers tightening around them.

the phrase echoed inside your chest, knocking on a memory that you had forced away.

up until now, if someone had asked you where you went to escape the suffocating walls of your life, your mind would have thought back to the roof of the building. you would have thought of the heavy metal door at the end of the hallway, the restricted keycard scanner, and the view of seoul surrounding you.

that roof had been your only saving grace for the past three years. it was the only patch of sky you were allowed to look at between exhausting 16-hour work days. the only place where the relentless bass shaking the mirrors couldn't reach your ears.

it was the place you had unknowingly considered your sanctuary.

but more than that, it was the place you shared with jungkook.

you remembered taking him up there that night when the weight of his solo debut was visibly getting to him. you remembered standing side by side against the railing, soaking in the cool air.

while you silently offered him your only safe space, showing him how to look at the horizon just to remember how to breathe. you had let him into your sanctuary because you trusted him to keep the chaos of the world out.

looking around, your throat suddenly went dry.

mrs. kim wasn't talking about a temporary hiding spot. s

he wasn't talking about a rooftop where you sneaked away for fifteen minutes just to make it through your next meeting.

she was talking about a deep, permanent sense of peace; a space that fundamentally restored your soul rather than just giving you a place to hide.

and as you stared at the vibrant green leaves of the strawberries, a thought slipped into your mind.

when you were standing on that rooftop with jungkook, looking out at the sunset... had you been escaping the noise, or had you been standing right next to the very thing that made the noise disappear?

and now you’re not sure if you’ll ever get that back.

“aish, don’t look so solemn, it gives you wrinkles,” mrs. kim’s raspy voice suddenly cuts through the silence, shattering your thoughts with another sharp click of her tongue. “would you be a dear and help me mix this batch of fertilizer?”

“yeah, of course.”

mrs. kim took gardening very seriously. for the next hour, she kept your hands moving and your mind firmly tethered to the present, giving your frayed nerves the exact distraction they had been starving for. you made small talk during it, and found out she's been gardening most of her life. took a small break when she and her husband moved into the building until he built this for her, over 10 years ago. grown all types of vegetables and fruits throughout the years, most were successful, others not.

your face was flushed from the humid heat, a few stray streaks of dark soil smudged across your cheek, but for the first time in weeks, you were laughing out loud at her relentless, dry wit.

“i still can’t grow tangerines to this day,” she exhales a small laugh, wiping her brow with her forearm. “they never come out good.”

“is that why you always ask for them at the market?”

“oh yes dear,” she pauses, “their farm is located in jeju. back when i lived there, i went every sunday morning for a batch. the climate here is nothing compared to theirs.”

“what made you move here?”

“my husband’s family had business up here,” mrs. kim murmured, her sharp eyes fixing on a distant point beyond the weathered panels.

her voice softened, losing its usual raspy edge for a moment. “i hated it at first. the air smelled like gasoline, and everyone was in such a hurry to get somewhere. i used to sit by the window and map out the train routes back to the coast in my head. but then he made this for me. he told me if the city wouldn't give us any space to breathe, we would just build our own little island right here.”

she let out a short breath, a soft hum vibrating in her chest. “we dug up the first beds together on a humid saturday like today. it took time, care, and a lot of dead crops before the soil finally took. but we made it work.”

you listened intently, temporarily forgetting the layouts and texts from son waiting for you upstairs.

there was something profoundly grounding about the simple timeline of her life, a stark contrast to the fast pace of the music industry, where concepts shifted by the hour and trends withered in a week.

“he sounds like he was a wonderful man, halmeoni,” you said softly.

“he was an idiot with oversized shoulders and a stubborn streak that could match a mule,” she countered instantly, though the fond crinkle around her eyes betrayed her. she picked up a small plastic watering can, inspecting the spout. “but he had my heart and i had his. he knew how to make things grow. and he knew when to stop running. that is a rare trait in a man, child. most of them just keep pacing the floors until they fall through them.”

the words struck a little too close to home, sending a sharp, phantom ache straight into your chest. your mind immediately flashed back to the rhythmic fury of jungkook driving punch after punch into the pads, his eyes stubbornly locked away from the glass.

before you could spiral back into the memory of the locker room hallway, mrs. kim suddenly patted her apron pockets, her forehead puckering as she let out a sharp, irritated click of her tongue.

“aish, my mind is completely leaving me,” she grumbled, unfastening her thick canvas gardening gloves and tossing them onto the wooden workbench. “i left the fertilizer tabs and bottles sitting right in the trunk of my car out front. i’m going to go grab them before we finish.”

“oh, i can get them for you!” you offered quickly, already starting to shift your weight to stand up from the crate.

“sit, sit,” she ordered, swatting a soil-stained hand in your direction as she stepped toward the greenhouse exit. “you’re finally getting some color back in those pale cheeks. i will be back in a flash.”

you managed a small, tired smile, settling back down onto your overturned crate and picking up the seeds, planting them in the soil blocks.

outside, mrs. kim pushed open the heavy wooden side gate, letting it swing shut with a click as she stepped into the alleyway that connected the backyard to the front of the building.

she adjusted the strap of her apron, preparing to walk down toward her parked sedan, but she froze the second her eyes swept the pavement.

pacing back and forth nearby a black mercedes was a tall, broad-shouldered figure.

he was dressed in all black: an oversized hoodie, jeans, a bucket hat, and a face mask covering his features. his right hand is the only contrast, gripping his phone so tight his knuckles turned white, enhancing the lines of his tattoos on his fingers.

how is he not sweating in that? mrs. kim thought as she walked closer, fanning herself as if looking at him made her skin feel hot.

"can i help you, child?" jungkook jumps slightly, looking up from his screen. his round eyes meet hers under the rims of his bucket hat. his hand awkwardly dropped to his side, his thumb restlessly twitching against the edge of his phone as he scrambled for his composure.

he didn't know this woman, and she clearly didn't know him, or maybe she’s acting like she didn’t. but she was looking at him with a piercing gaze that felt far too intense from a random stranger on the street.

"oh... uh, hello," jungkook stammered, his deep voice muffled by the thick black fabric covering his mouth. he offered a quick, formal bow. “i'm... sorry if i am blocking the way. i was just…”

“speak up, child, i can’t hear you.” she steps closer to him, arms crossed as she looks at him over the rim of her glasses.

"i'm sorry," he says, lowering the mask to hang under his chin, not really caring if she recognizes him at this point. "i'm just looking for my… someone named y/n… do you happen to know if she's around?”

the moment your name left his lips, mrs. kim’s eyebrows shot up.

she went entirely still, her sharp eyes narrowing to a point as her mind replayed the exact words you had said just a few hours prior: he’s just… different. we just haven't talked as much since…

she took a slow breath, leaning back slightly with her arms still crossed.

she didn't know anything about global music charts, world tours, or the flashing cameras that followed this boy every move. she doesn’t know he’s risking so much by being here without mr. lee. but she knew you. and she knew from your conversations that this was the boy you were talking about.

oversized shoulders, her mind hummed, thinking back to how she described her husband, inside the greenhouse. stubborn idiot.

instead of answering him right away, she let the silence stretch between them.

she watched him, noting the way his thumbs were anxiously twitching against the edge of his phone and the raw, unpolished vulnerability hidden right inside his round eyes. he was completely terrified to take a step toward the front entrance, yet entirely incapable of driving away.

a small smirk began to lift the corner of her wrinkled mouth.

"ah," mrs. kim murmured, her voice dropping into a quiet, grounded cadence that was entirely too knowing. "you're him, aren't you?"

jungkook blinked, a visible flash of panic hitting his eyes as his entire frame went completely stiff. he swallowed hard, his tongue freezing against the roof of his mouth as he tried to figure out exactly how much this elderly woman knew. “um… i’m sorry?”

“is that all you know to say?” she clicked her tongue, letting her arms drop to her sides as she eyed him up and down. “you boys with your big shoulders and endless apologies. if you’re here to give me another formal bow, don’t bother. i have places to be, and i don’t have all day.”

“i’m s—,” he paused this time, clearing his throat. his voice is low when he speaks. “i just really need to give something to her that she’s been asking for… could you help me?”

“what makes you think i would help you?” mrs. kim let out a dry, raspy chuckle that cut straight through his flimsy excuse. “i don’t even know your name, child.”

jungkook shifted his weight. he felt completely stripped of his global pop-star persona, standing here while this formidable elderly woman read him like an open book.

“jungkook jeon,” he murmured, his voice dropping into a respectful tone as he bowed slightly again. “i’m a... i work with y/n.”

mrs. kim let out another short, soft chuff, her sharp eyes fixing on his tense frame. she didn’t know him, but she knew the exact look of a boy who had built a wall so high he was trying to climb over it.

she recognized the restless focus in his eyes; it was the same one she’d watched her husband carry fifty years ago when he was too terrified to admit how deeply he cared about her.

kids these days… she thought to herself

before she could speak, the wooden gate groaned open.

“mrs. kim? are you okay out here? you’ve been gone a long time, and i thought you might need some help—”

your voice cut through the heavy silence of the alleyway, but the words died instantly on your tongue. you froze just outside the gate, your sneaker catching on the gravel.

jungkook turned his head, his breath catching completely in his throat as his round eyes locked onto yours.

the entire world seemed to go silent. neither of you moved. neither of you spoke. you just stood there, paralyzed in your spots, staring at each other as if checking to ensure the other was real.

jungkook’s gaze mindlessly swept over your features, taking in the soft, natural flush on your cheeks.

there was a small smudge of dirt tracked across your cheekbone, and the stray dark strands of your hair falling completely out of its messy bun. there was dirt on your shirt and knees, and your bare legs looked beautifully sun-kissed; glowing with a soft amber radiance, like smooth honey under the late afternoon light. a rare sight that made him speechless.

you weren't wearing the professional mask you forced yourself to put on the last time he saw you. you didn't look like the unshakeable lead choreographer who ran tight formations for sixteen hours straight under harsh lights. you just looked entirely natural. you looked like you.

mrs. kim watched the exchange between the two of you, a slow, knowing crinkle softening her eyes. she walked toward you, breaking the heavy trance that held you both captive, and reached out to place a warm, calloused hand on your arm.

“thank you for your help, dear. i’ll finish up." she leaned in slightly, her voice dropping into a comforting, quiet cadence meant just for you. “he’s cute. but don’t let those broad shoulders fool you into doing all the heavy lifting. make him earn his keep,”

she shot you a wink, patting your arm affectionately before turning to shoot jungkook one final, warning look as she headed back towards the gate. “i expect a better conversation the next time i see you, boy.”

jungkook quickly pulled his face mask back up over his nose, offering another swift, polite bow as the old lady slipped past you and disappeared into the greenhouse garden.

the second the heavy wooden gate clicked firmly shut, and jungkook stood up, the gravity of the situation crashed down upon you like a pail of ice water.

“she seems nice—”

“are you insane?!”

you lunged forward, crossing the short distance between you in three giant strides. your hand shot out, your fingers clamping tightly around his sleeve.

without giving him a chance to object, you yanked, dragging him away from the possibly prying eyes and guiding him through the side door of your building. you shut the door behind him, letting out a ragged breath as the lock clicked shut, finally sealing you both inside the quiet privacy.

you leaned back against the door, your heart hammering an erratic rhythm against your ribs on the solid wood.

“what are you doing here?!” you hissed, your voice dropping into a fierce, panicked whisper as you looked up at him. your fingers were still clamped tightly around his sleeve, anchoring him in place as if he might vanish if you let go.

jungkook still hasn’t said anything, but didn’t move away. he remained pinned to the floor, between your intense gaze and the wall behind him.

“you could get caught!” you continued, the words tumbling past your lips in a frantic rush. “and by yourself? anyone could have strolled down that path! if a single lens caught your face right now, the company…”

the echoes of your frantic scolding rattled softly against the narrow walls of the entry corridor, thick with a deep, protective instinct you couldn't mask.

because you were standing so close, the subtle sweetness of your perfume mingled with the raw aroma of damp soil clinging to your clothes. the distinct fragrance immediately flooded his senses, his entire focus narrowed down to the movement of your lips.

but the young man didn't internalize a single phrase of your lecture. he didn't care about protocols, media, or the brutal production schedules waiting for him.

all he saw was the bright intensity in your gaze. all he felt was the grounding warmth of your palm. for weeks, he had been running himself ragged, locking away his thoughts to build a boundary between you.

yet seeing you like this, stripped of your polished composure and frantic out of pure concern for his safety, shattered his defenses.

the unreadable mask he had worn so stubbornly at the gym dissolved into nothing, leaving his round eyes completely exposed and wide under the dark brim of his hat.

“...why would you take a risk like this? especially with management monitoring your every move before your release?”

the entry corridor swallowed the trailing question, leaving a heavy, ringing silence that vibrated between the two of you. jungkook’s chest rose and fell beneath the dark cotton of his hoodie, his lower lip catching on his lip ring as he searched your face.

he swallowed hard, taking off his mask completely, letting it hang loosely on his wrist as his hands dropped to his sides. his phone screen went dark in his grip.

"can we talk?" he asked softly.

the sudden request caught you completely off guard, but instead of softening, the irritation that had been simmering in your chest flared up. you thought of how he had ignored your text messages, cold-shouldered you, and left you to deal with director son’s reaming your ass for not having those layouts.

make him earn his keep. mrs. kim’s words echoed in your spiraling mind.

"talk?" you repeated, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. you let go of his sleeve, and the warmth he felt instantly went cold as you stepped aside him. “now you want to talk? after ignoring me for weeks and making me feel like i did something horrible?"

jungkook winced, his jaw locking as he took a step toward you. "y/n, please, just give me five minutes—"

"no," you cut him off sharply, turning on your heel and heading straight for the stairs towards your apartment.

your frustration echoed throughout your frame, into the floorboards as you stormed up the stairs.

"y/n-ah, wait!" jungkook called out.

"if you want to talk about the project or whatever this is, it can wait until monday morning when we're at the studio!" you scolded over your shoulder, your voice dropping into a harsh whisper as you reached your landing. "i am not doing this here."

"y/n-ah, please, just listen to me for a second!" jungkook’s voice called up from below. the raw, desperate edge in his tone bounced off the narrow walls, accompanied by the swift, heavy pounding of his boots as he chased your retreating figure up to the second floor.

you ignore him. reaching your door, you fidget with your keys with a mix of anger and exhaustion. you managed to unlock your door as he reached the top of the staircase.

yanking the door open, you spin on your heel, firmly planting yourself in the entryway to block him before his broad frame could cross the threshold.

"i mean it, jungkook. go home!" you snapped, your voice dropping into a fierce, warning whisper as you held tightly onto the edge of the wooden door frame. your legs were still vibrating from anger, and the flush on your cheeks had deepened. “i have a lot on my plate right now, and i do not have the energy to deal with whatever game you're playing. just leave!"

jungkook skidded to a halt. he stood just inches from where you barred the doorway. the sheer panic of watching you shut down completely, realizing he had pushed you so far away that you wouldn't even let him in, finally shattered whatever remaining armor he had left.

before you could shut the door, his hand shot into the pocket of his hoodie.

"i brought the demo track," he blurted out.

the words hung like a sudden weight in the now quiet corridor. you froze, the next sharp word dying on your tongue.

your eyes slid down from the wide, vulnerable look in his eyes to focus on his tatted fingers, which were holding out a usb drive into the narrow space separating your chests.

the very item you had been trying to get your hands on for days; the track that was supposed to save your possible promotion and lock in the transitions before monday morning, was right in front of you. he had carried it by hand straight to your doorstep.

your hand reached out to grab it, your fingers brushing against his knuckles for a brief moment that sent a shock down his spine.

you tried to pull the drive back toward yourself, intending to take it and slam the door in his face.

but jungkook was stronger and had much faster reflexes than you.

his grip tightened on the other end, anchoring you both to the spot.

“please, gg,” he murmured, his deep voice carrying a desperate weight that instantly cut through the lingering hostility you carried. the sound of your nickname he hadn’t uttered in weeks made your chest tighten painfully.

he didn't pull the drive back, but he didn't let go either, forcing a shared connection through the tiny piece of metal.

“please just… let me explain myself… i owe you that much.” his eyes searched yours, dark and completely unguarded. “and then you can go back to hating me.”

“hate you?” you breathed, the word getting stuck inside your dry throat. “i don’t hate you! i’m just… confused.”

you let your hand slip away from the drive, stepping back into the small entrance of your apartment.

you didn't invite him inside, but you left the door wide open, unable to cut the invisible tether pulling you toward him.

jungkook took a cautious step across the threshold, his boots making a quiet scuff against the polished wood of your floorboards. he let the door shut behind him, sealing the two of you away from the outside world.

he stood in your tiny entryway, his large frame instantly making the space feel smaller.

slowly, his eyes peeled away from your frame, shifting to look around your apartment.

it was the first time he had ever set foot in it; before today, he had only ever seen the faded brick exterior of the building whenever he’d dropped you off after a late night at the studio or with the boys.

it was tiny, but it fit your personality so well.

along the main wall, framed vintage dance posters and indie concert flyers hung alongside abstract sketches, their colorful layouts mirroring the vibrant, complex ideas always spinning in your head.

a small love seat was accented by a wooden coffee table, a chunky, knitted throw rug, and several potted pothos plants cascaded down from a wooden bookshelf, bringing a slice of natural life into the room. it was practical, artistic, and completely welcoming.

realizing he was lingering at the door, jungkook quietly unlaced his boots, slipping them off out of habit before taking a few hesitant steps forward.

you didn't say a word, your mind was too overwhelmed to form a proper sentence, so you turned on your heel and moved toward the kitchen area.

you needed to do something with your hands, mindlessly reaching into a cupboard to pull out two glasses to fill with water from the dispenser.

jungkook followed your silhouette, his presence casting a long shadow into the kitchen space. he carefully set his bucket hat onto the counter, the small sound cutting through the quiet hum of your refrigerator.

"thanks," he murmured.

as you turned around to hand him his glass, your eyes instinctively traveled up to his face, and you froze.

the long, wavy strands of hair that usually fell out of his messy bun, the thick black locks that had been completely soaked through during his boxing session just days ago, were gone.

in their place was a clean, sharp cut, neatly showcasing the structure of his jawline and leaving just a hint of texturized length at the back; a mullet. it made his round eyes appear even larger and more striking.

"you... you cut your hair?" you breathed, the words slipping out before you could catch them, your fingers pressing firmly against the cool glass in your hand.

jungkook reached out, taking the water from you as his fingers brushed yours for the second time today.

he offered a small, lopsided smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, his free hand instinctively reaching up to rub the back of his newly exposed neck in slight embarrassment.

“yeah, did it yesterday. ” he confessed, his deep voice carrying a nervous undertone. “i wanted to go a little shorter for the debut… i look completely different, don't i?"

you looked at him, eyes tracing every line of his facial features.

different was an understatement. you remember him doing this style before, memories from last year, back when he had first experimented with a similar cut during promotions. back then, it had given him an edgy, dangerous sort of confidence on stage.

now, in the dim lighting of your kitchen, it stripped away the global popstar persona. it made his dark, round eyes look wide, raw, and full of an unpolished vulnerability that made your throat feel tight. he didn't look like a distant idol behind a thick glass wall anymore; he just looked like jungkook. your jungkook.

"it suits you," you whispered softly after a long pause, your voice dropping into a genuine cadence that seemed to catch him completely off guard.

jungkook blinked, a genuine flash of relief softening his tense posture. the tight smile on his lips relaxed into something a fraction more real, his fingers tightening around his own glass as he took a sip.

realizing the atmosphere shifted, you forcefully cleared your throat, pulling your mask back into place.

you stepped back from the counter, leaning your weight against the edge of the refrigerator as you crossed your arms over your dirt-streaked shirt.

"okay," you stated firmly, locking your eyes onto the drive he placed on the counter beside him to keep your composure from splintering again. "you have five minutes to explain yourself, jungkook. start talking."

flashback

“and she doesn’t remember any of it?”

jungkook had just finished explaining the coachella situation to his hyungs. the question left jimin’s mouth in a stunned whisper that hung in the room heavily.

the youngest merely nodded, looking entirely spent. the adrenaline of his outburst had drained all the color from his face, leaving his round eyes dark with an unyielding mixture of agony and vulnerability.

taehyung leaned in from his chair, setting his empty ramen bowl down with a softer touch this time, his expression shifting from defensive anger to pure curiosity. “so... you almost crossed the line with her, and when she woke up with a clean slate, you just decided to play pretend? kook, are you serious?”

“i wasn’t sure what to do at that moment!” his voice cracked as he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “if i told her what happened, it would have changed everything between us. that’s why i’ve been distant.”

jimin stepped closer, crossing his arms as a heavy frown pulled at his lips, though his tone remained soft. “but you’re not protecting her, jungkook-ah. that’s doing more damage. if you keep shutting her out, you're going to lose her completely. i think you need to tell her the truth.”

“no, hold on, let’s think about this logically,” namjoon intervened, standing up to pace the small space between them. the leader’s brow was furrowed deeply, his eyes narrowing as if he were calculating variables the others couldn't see.

he paused, looking directly at the youngest. “jungkook... i don’t think you should tell her.”

the room filled with protests from taehyung and jimin while jungkook’s eyes remained focused on his leader.

“jungkook, listen to me,” namjoon continued, hands clasped as his voice dropped into a protective tone. “you two are one of the best and most talented people i’ve ever met. there is a reason she was put in charge of your solo debut. i do not doubt that both of you working together will create something powerful and memorable…”

there was a deafening pause, all the members bracing for his next words.

“however,” namjoon pressed on, his gaze hardening with a pragmatism that usually signaled a final decision, “what you choose to do moving forward could either make or break both of you. you’ve spent your entire life as the 'golden maknae.' you have been protected, guided, and held up by the seven of us. but this debut? this is the birth of jungkook. not the youngest of the group, but the artist who defines his own path.”

he let the silence stretch, forcing jungkook to digest the weight of his own reality.

he knew what he was saying, but that didn’t mean he wanted to hear it.

everything he does from this point on is a fundamental step in the foundation of who he will become— debut and all.

for years, he had been shielded, his actions absorbed by the group's reputation. now, as the solo project loomed, the spotlight was narrowing until it burned only on him.

he realized he had been hiding behind his hyungs' opinions. he wished jin and hoseok were here, hoping they would validate his avoidant behavior so he wouldn't have to face the consequences of his own desires. he wanted all of them to tell him what was 'right' because being 'right' meant he didn't have to take the risk of being vulnerable.

but namjoon had stripped that away. there was no more 'us' to blame if things went south. there was only him. every choice, from whether to open up to you, to how he carried himself in the studio, to the very way he held his tongue when his heart was racing, was his alone to decide.

present

"it's just..." he started, his voice cracking. he looked at you, his eyes wide and struggling to focus. “i thought this would be easy.”

you watched him, the frustration in your chest slowly being replaced by a sharp, intuitive sting. you saw the way he wouldn't hold your gaze, the way his hands were shaking just a fraction. a cold, sinking feeling began to take hold of your stomach.

“is it... me?” you breathed, the question feeling heavy and dangerous. “did i… did i do something wrong?”

"no," he shot back instantly, his voice sharp with a desperation that cut through the silence like a blade. "god, no, gg—it has absolutely nothing to do with you, you did nothing wrong."

he took a sudden step toward you, the protective barrier of the kitchen island no longer enough to keep his turmoil at bay.

he stopped inches away, his hands hovering at his sides, fingers twitching as he fought an internal battle. he could see the way your shoulders hitched, how your eyelashes spiked together, and how your bottom lip betrayed your attempt to stay composed.

the sight of you potentially breaking because of his own cowardice was more than he could withstand.

he hesitated, his gaze searching your face for any sign of repulsion, for any reason to keep his hands to himself. but as the first glassy tear escaped, tracking a slow, warm path down your cheek, he abandoned the caution.

he stepped into your space, bridging the gap. his hands came up, moving with a careful, shaky reverence as he cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away the moisture and dirt with an agonizing tenderness.

he waited, his chest tight, silently offering you the choice: push me away. if you told him to leave, if you commanded him to walk out that door right now, he would. he would honor it.

but you didn't.

instead, you let out a broken sob and leaned into his touch, your forehead collapsing against his shoulder. the immediate, soft surrender of your body against his was enough to unravel him fully. his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you in flush against his chest, as if he could weld himself to you and never have to navigate the distance again.

“it’s me, gg… i’m the one who messed up,” he murmured into the hair at your temple, his own eyes shutting tight as he absorbed the weight of you. “i’ve been… so worried about the debut and everything’s changing…”

"but we're a team," you cut him off, pulling back yet not breaking the hug. "i know i'm just part of the staff but it's... it's different. i know we haven't known each other our whole lives but i thought we were close..."

"gg..." he cuts you off, hand lightly grabbing your chin as he tilts your head to look into your eyes. "you are more than just staff to me..."

he pauses, almost hesitating again before:

“you are… my friend. my best friend."

the words hung in the air, simple yet heavy.

a flutter of relief bloomed in your chest, and a small, genuine smile tugged at your lips; the one he’s been missing these past few days.

but as quickly as the warmth arrived, your confusion resurfaced, sharper than before. you tilted your head, searching his face.

"then why?" you whispered, your fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie. "if we’re that close, why did you shut me out?"

because i can’t bear the thought of losing you just to satisfy my own feelings.

he felt the words clawing at his throat.

he wanted to tell you that he pushed you away because being near you felt like walking through a house on fire, and he was terrified of being the one to let it burn down.

but he can’t.

instead, he retreated into safety.

"because i was worried," he said, his voice low and strained. he looked down, purposefully avoiding your eyes. "i was worried you would listen to the demo; to the lyrics, and you would think… different from me. i was worried you’d realize that the person i’m becoming isn’t the guy you thought you knew, and that you’d look at me and see someone you didn't want to be around anymore."

he watched you, waiting to see if you would buy it. he felt like a coward, but looking at your expression, it felt like the only way to keep the line between you from shattering.

you stared at him for a moment, the tension in your shoulders finally bleeding out into a long, weary sigh.

a small, dry laugh escaped your lips. “koo… i’ve seen you go through changes in the last five years. i’ve seen you sweat, bleed, and cry on practice room floors and break the internet every time you breathe. do you really think a song is going to change how i see you?”

he looked up, meeting your gaze as the nickname you gave him left your lips. you looked so certain, so unwavering, that for a second, the weight on his shoulders felt a little lighter.

“you promise?” he asked, a trace of the twenty-one-year-old, shy jungkook you met peeking through the tattoos and piercings.

you let out a soft, playful huff, the remnants of your tears drying as a devious, lighthearted smirk tugs at your mouth. you reach out, lightly tapping the usb drive still resting on the counter beside you.

"tell you what," you say, your voice dripping with a mix of affection and that familiar, teasing spark. "how about i listen to the demo first? if it’s actually as 'different' as you’re making it out to be, maybe i’ll give you my official verdict then."

jungkook’s eyes widen, a flash of panicked excitement crossing his features before he tries to form a nonchalant expression.

he leans in just a hair closer, his voice dropping into a deep tone that you swore you felt your heart speed up for a brief moment. strange.

"are you sure? it's... it's a lot, gg."

"oh, please," you retort, grabbing the drive and holding it up with a triumphant flourish. "i’ve had to work with seven grown men in their twenties for the past four years. i think i can handle a new genre of music."

you turn toward your laptop, but before you can take two steps, his hand darts out, catching your wrist.

his touch is warm, his thumb circling your pulse point, grounding you in the small kitchen.

the playful air between you instantly shifts, turning thick with the unspoken things hovering in the space he’s refusing to close.

"wait," he breathes, his gaze dropping to your lips for a fleeting second before snapping back up to your eyes. “it’s just…with the guys, i have a role to play. there's a balance. but this track… it’s just me. and the vibe is a lot more mature than what you’re used to hearing from me.”

his thumb presses a little harder into your skin, his expression unguarded, pleading. "i just need you to know that, even if the song is different... it's still just me. i’m still me."

you watch him, your heart softening at the sudden, almost boyish insecurity in his eyes.

you know how the industry works; you see the endless cycles, the pressure to evolve, and the way it eats at them until they’re nothing but a performance. you’ve always been the observer, the one setting the steps, but you’ve never been allowed to see the person underneath the popstar persona quite like you’ve seen with them, with him.

"jungkook," you say softly, your voice steadying as you place your free hand over the one still gripping your wrist. "you’ve spent years perfecting the image everyone expects of you. of course it’s scary to show them something new; something that feels like you."

you give his hand a reassuring, grounding squeeze, completely unaware of the hidden layers of his desperation. "but you’re one of the most talented people i know. if this track reflects who you are, then it’s going to be brilliant. maybe it’ll be a shock, sure, but it’s a necessary one. you’re not just a piece of the group anymore; you’re an artist. a person. people need to see that growth, even if it’s different from what they’re used to."

you gently slip your wrist from his grasp, his fingers reluctantly uncurling. you move to grab your personal laptop, forgetting you left your work one at mrs. kims.

you’ll get it later. the mundane click of the keys fills the silence.

jungkook stays frozen for a moment, his hand hanging in the air where your wrist had been.

he lets out a long, shaky exhale, shoulders finally relaxing as he realizes you aren't disappointed, and you aren't looking at him with anything other than support and friendship.

he nods slowly, moving toward the counter to grab his glass of water, his movements looking a little less rigid than before.

"okay," he murmurs, his voice still low but lacking that desperate, vibrating edge. "just... be honest, okay? don't tell me it's good just to be nice. i need the truth."

"when have i ever lied to you about your music?" you ask with a small, knowing smile, bringing the device toward him. "i’m a harsh critic, remember?"

a flicker of his signature bunny-toothed grin finally breaks through, the small gesture making your stomach flip in a way that feels oddly familiar.

he watches as you plug in the drive, his gaze fixed on the screen, though he’s clearly still finding his footing in the sudden, newfound warmth of the room.

he’s safe. he hasn't crossed the line, and you’re still right here, looking at him with the same trusting care he’s always relied on.

the silence was instantly replaced by an acoustic guitar; a bright, catchy riff that felt light at first, but carried a heavy, driving pulse. then, his voice kicked in.

“weight of the world on your shoulders / i’ll kiss your waist and ease your mind.”

it wasn’t the soft, airy vocals you were used to hearing in his ballads. it was confident and grounded, with a certain grit as he glided through the opening lines.

you leaned forward slightly, arms on the counter, chin resting in your hand, eyes narrowing as you mentally imagined the song’s performance potential. you were so focused you didn’t notice jungkook copying your actions, your shoulders brushing.

but his eyes we’re on the screen, they were on you.

the pre-chorus began to build, and the air in the room seemed to thin.

“you wrap around me, and you give me life / and that's why night after night / i'll be fucking you right.”

the bluntness of the lyrics caught you off guard, and you suddenly felt very warm, but you kept your composure. you kept your gaze fixed, listening. you noticed in your peripheral vision how he was twisting the silver rings displayed on his fingers, restless and repetitive.

it was an obvious tell that he was preparing for the impact of your judgment.

it made sense now; the stalling, the way he’d practically vibrated with anxiety. he was singing about a raw, relentless kind of devotion, the kind that didn't leave much to the imagination.

he wasn't just singing about love; he was singing about worshiping someone's body. seven days a week, to be exact.

as the second verse rolled in, you forced your brain back into analysing.

you listened to the higher register in the "deeper than the ocean" lines and the effortless, sultry glide of the "afterglow" ad-libs. yet, beneath the professional observation, you can’t deny how catchy the song was.

it was infectious.

before the track even fully faded, you were already on your feet.

"wait, wait," you muttered, more to yourself than him. "back it up. to the first chorus."

he did as you asked, but watched as you walked over to your living room moving your coffee table to the other side of the room.

"what are you doing?" he asked, a startled, breathless laugh bubbling up. a lopsided smile spread across his face; the kind that reached his eyes and stayed there.

"my job," you countered, not even looking at him as you focused on a sharp, fluid isolation of your shoulders. “start it a few seconds before the transition into 'monday, tuesday'.”

he reached out and tapped the keyboard, the track jumping back to life with a loud snap. instead of listening to the lyrics, you focused on the beat, dissecting it with your body.

you immediately dropped into the beat, your movements sharp, despite your dirty state and cramped quarters.

"monday, tuesday, wednesday, thursday, friday, saturday, sunday..."

your socks scuffed softly against the floorboards as you hit the steps for “monday, tuesday…”

it was a rough draft of a routine, purely instinctual, but the way you isolated your shoulders and snapped into transitions showed exactly why you were their lead and his go-to. you weren’t going all out, but the precision was there, punctuating the “seven days a week” hook with a subtle, rhythmic bounce that made up for the limited floor space.

jungkook was mesmerized.

he leaned against the wall, arms now crossed as he watched you. the sheer speed at which you’d internalized the cadence of a song you’d only just heard was admirable, and he couldn't hide the look of starstruck wonder on his face.

“don’t just stand there,” your breath hitching slightly from the effort of keeping the movements contained in the small space. a playful, challenging glint sparked in your eyes as you paused your movements while the song continued to play. "you’re the one who has to perform this, koo. come here."

he hesitated, his gaze darting from your face to the way you were still swaying slightly to the lingering bass. before he could retreat into the safety of his thoughts, you stepped forward. you reached out, grabbed his hand, and firmly pulled him toward the middle of the room.

he stumbled slightly, letting out a small huff. the scent of his cologne was potent, swirling around you. he was so much taller when he was standing right in front of you. you don’t remember him being this tall when you danced at coachella.

it almost caught you off guard.

"i haven't even thought about the performance yet," he protested, his voice low and raspy, though he didn't pull his hand from yours. he looked down at you, his still eyes wide with a mixture of shyness and a sudden competitiveness.

“stop thinking and just move,” you countered, voice steady despite the way your heart was hammering against your ribs.

probably from dancing, you thought, i definitely need to do more cardio.

you didn't let go of his hand, instead using it to guide him into the movement. "follow my lead. just the chorus for now."

as the beat looped back around to the “monday, tuesday…” hook, you executed a sharp step, and this time, jungkook followed. you watched him catch the rhythm, his movements smoothing out as the beat took over.

even in the confined space, his presence was magnetic; he had that rare ability to make a rough draft look like a finished masterpiece. you kept your focus on the technicality, guiding him through a sharp hip isolation that transitioned into a low, rhythmic bounce.

you were so busy checking his footwork and timing that you missed the way his gaze remained focused on every line of your movement.

when the hook reached the “seven days a week” climax, you both locked in a sharp, synchronized moment. the sudden stop left you inches apart, the air between you thick with the smell of his cologne and the heavy, lingering bass of the track.

“so…” jungkook breathed, his chest heaving slightly. “what do you... what do you think of it? of the song?”

you took a small step back, finally putting a few inches between you, though the heat of the dance still lingered on your skin. you then leaned your hip against the edge of the kitchen counter behind you, pondering.

“honestly?” you started, meeting his gaze with a steady nod. “it’s catchy. it's very catchy. the fans are going to go absolutely crazy over this. in a good way, i mean. it’s bold, it’s confident, and it shows a side of you i think they’ve been waiting for.”

you saw him relax slightly at your tone, his shoulders losing that rigid, defensive set. he was still looking at you with that same intensity, but the fear of rejection had been replaced by relief.

“i’d start preparing for the chaos now,” you added, that playful, sharp glint in your eyes returning. “mr. ‘international playboy’ coming out of retirement, huh?”

he let out a long, shaky breath, his head tilting back as a genuine, breathless laugh escaped him. the tension that had been coiled in his gut since he saw you was gone, leaving him looking a little dazed but relieved.

“that nickname is so old,” he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck as his fingers disappeared into the back of his mullet. he looked back down at you, this time the sunlight peaking through your window caught his usual bunny smile. “i thought i’d buried that one years ago.”

he took a step closer until he was right in front of you, placing his tatted arm on the counter behind you. he looked down at you, eyes still bright from the adrenaline.

“i know its overdue but…” he started, his gaze switching to the stands of your hair framing your neck. “i’m really sorry…”

he trailed off, his gaze softening as he watched you lean against the counter, taking in his apology.

“i forgive you.” you murmured, the words settling between you like a weight lifted. you reached out, placing a firm, grounding hand over his where it rested near yours on the counter. “and i promise you.”

jungkook held your gaze, his expression shifting from relief to a quiet, profound vulnerability at your words.

“since we’re being honest,” he started, his voice dropping into that low, resonant register that seemed to vibrate in your chest, “i was terrified you were going to hate it.”

he paused, his thumb tracing the edge of the counter, his eyes searching yours with a raw intensity.

“but seeing how you instantly started dancing,” he continued with a small grin tugging at his lips, tongue catching his lip ring, “it was the only reaction i was actually scared of.”

“what do you mean by that?” you asked, tilting your head slightly.

he looked up, gaze locking onto yours with an honesty that tugged on your chest a little. weird.

“i mean,” his voice dropped, “i thought i was worried about you hating the different genre but i think… i think i was more worried about the acceptance because that means this is really happening.”

oh. oh.

you knew instantly that's what he was talking about.

the solo debut.

the finality in his voice hung in the air, mixing with the fading reverb of the track. this wasn't just a song; it was the official temporary end of an era and the birth of something entirely his own.

“it’s a lot of pressure,” you said softly, your expression softening into the genuine friendship that had anchored you both for years. “stepping out from behind the group, standing on your own... it’s different. but jungkook, you’ve been ready for this. you’ve been ready for a long time.”

he looked down at his hand on the counter, the intricate ink on his skin catching the glow of sunlight behind him.

“and if anyone could do it,” you stepped forward, standing directly in his line of vision, “...it’s you.”

you were close enough to see the slight tremble in his hand before he gripped the counter edge a little tighter, grounding himself.

“i’m just worried about the risks,” he admitted, “the fans... they have this image of me, you know? and the music; it’s so different from the group’s. what if they don't want this version of me? what if i fail them?”

“what is life without a little risk?” you asked, your voice calm and steady as you held his gaze.

jungkook blinked, a small, incredulous puff of air escaping his lips as the tension in his jaw broke. “are you seriously quoting harry potter right now?”

“no,” you countered, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth. “i’m quoting sirius black, who is my—”

“favorite character,” you both finished in unison.

another laugh broke through his mask. shaking his head, dark strands bouncing over his eyes. “i should have known you’d go there.”

“i’m serious, though,” you said, stepping just a fraction closer, forcing him to look at you. “jungkook, you take risks every single day. you take risks when you try a new hobby and master it in a week, when you share your raw thoughts on a livestream, or even when you decide to change your hair on a whim. that’s why people love you. it’s not because you’re perfect, it’s… it’s because you’re fearless enough to be yourself, even when you’re unsure.”

you gestured toward the forgotten laptop where the song still sat.

“that’s why your fans are going to follow you into this era. they don’t want a robot; they want the jungkook who isn't afraid to grow up and try something bold. that’s what makes you unique. it’s why the guys rely on you and why everyone respects you. you have this way of making the impossible look possible.”

jungkook stayed silent for a moment, his gaze softening as he processed your words. the hand on the counter finally relaxed, his fingers uncurling.

"what about you?"

the question was so quiet it was almost swallowed by the low hum of your refridgerator, but you heard it. his eyes remained locked on yours, searching for something deeper. you were the one to look away this time.

"what about me?" you repeated, a little thrown by the shift.

"do you want this version of me?" jungkook asked.

he didn't move, but the air between you suddenly felt thinner, more electric.

he wasn't "jungkook, the golden maknae of bts" at this moment; he was just a man standing in your apartment, waiting for a verdict.

"the fans... they’ll see what they want to see. but you’re here. you’re the one who has to help me build this. does it make you uncomfortable? knowing i'm writing about things like... that?"

you looked up at him, and for a second, the image of the shy guy who used to hide behind namjoon’s broad shoulders flickered in your mind. but it was replaced instantly by the reality in front of you; the tattoos, the piercings, the raw ambition in his eyes, and the scent of citrus that seemed to tether you to the spot.

"jungkook, i’m ready for this version of you,” you said, your voice gaining a bit more strength as the words left your lips. “i’m not uncomfortable. i’m impressed. and i’m honored you want me to be the one to help you translate that.

a slow, tentative relief broke across his face, and for a heartbeat, his signature bunny-toothed grin made a brief appearance. it was a flash of the boy you knew, tucked inside the man he was becoming.

“good,” he whispered, his voice dropping into that low, resonant register that made your skin prickle. “because i don't think i could do this without you. seriously.”

the sincerity was getting a little too heavy for your heart to handle. you cleared your throat, forcing a playful smirk as you took a step back toward the sofa to grab your phone.

“well, we have a lot of work to get caught up on now since someone waited to send me his demo,” you tease, hands on your hips as you head towards the hallway.

“oh come on, it was not that long.” he laughed, following after you to the kitchen.

“two weeks, jungkook! and three days since i last asked!” you held up three fingers to him as you moved to grab your glass of water.

"two weeks of me checking my inbox like a crazy person," you added, taking a sip.

jungkook made a face, though he was busy fidgeting with his own glass. “i’m sorry,” he stepped closer, the kitchen light catching the mischievous glint in his eyes as he took a sip, "you have to admit it though. you enjoyed the mystery. you liked wondering what i was hiding."

“i like not having a headache from son sending me messages at odd hours of the night, asking me for layouts,” you countered, though you couldn't hide the smile spreading across your face. “i like fun mysteries. this wasn’t fun.”

“it was a little fun,” he teased, leaning his hip against the island. his shoulder was inches from yours now, and the adrenaline from the dance session had settled into a quiet, comfortable hum.

he took another sip of his water, watching you over the rim. “minus the part where i made you think it was your fault…”

“yeah, that part did suck a little,” you muttered, giving his arm a pointed nudge with your elbow. the guilt that had pooled in your stomach earlier hadn't fully evaporated, but seeing him this relaxed, after weeks of self-imposed isolation, made it easier to swallow. “next time, just tell me if the song is about fucking someone. it saves us both the drama.”

jungkook nearly choked on his water.

he let out a startled, sputtering laugh, the tips of his ears instantly blooming into that familiar, traitorous shade of red. “i—i’ll keep that in mind. full transparency from now on. i promise.”

he continued, “and um…thank you for letting me stay, i really appreciate it.”

"well, in all honesty i'm embarrassed about how i reacted," you state, heading to your sink to put your now empty glass. you turn back to face him, leaning against the sink. "i shouldn't have snapped at you in the hallway. i was just…”

"hey," jungkook interrupts, stepping into your space. his expression is suddenly intensely serious, his dark eyes searching yours. "don't be. honestly? i’m more shocked you didn't punch me. i deserved it, and i think we both know you're more than capable of landing a solid hit."

a flicker of your usual spark returns, and you tilt your head, a challenging smirk tugging at your lips. "is that offer still on the table?”

jungkook’s chest erupted with a booming laugh that seemed to echo throughout your small kitchen.

"you really are something else, gg," he managed to say through his laughter, the sound warm and melodic. he pressed a hand to his stomach, looking at you with a mix of genuine amusement and something softer; a look that lingered on the edge of adoration.

"i'm terrified of you, truly," he teased, though his eyes never left yours. "i thought you were going to throw me through the front door, and here you are asking for a rematch."

"i'm just a woman of my word," you replied, your own lips twitching into a smile as the last of your own embarrassment melted away. you pushed off the sink, standing just an inch closer than you had been before. “what? think i can’t handle you?”

jungkook freezes. he lets his gaze slowly wander over you, sizing you up from your disheveled hair down to the tips of your socks. the air in the kitchen seems to thicken, the playfulness in his posture replaced by something much heavier and more dangerous.

you have no idea what you're asking for, gg, he thought, his pulse thumping against his ribs with a rhythm that felt entirely sensual. i know exactly how you’d handle me, or more so, how he’d handle you.

"guess we'll have to get you in the ring and find out," he murmured, his voice dropping into that low, resonant register that sent a shiver straight down your spine.

"is that a promise?" you breathed, the intensity of the moment vibrating between you.

"definitely," he breathed, the word heavy with intent.

you held his stare, breathless, you felt the atmosphere intensify before you finally broke the moment with a forced cough, shifting your focus back to the kitchen counter.

“we’ll have to add that to the schedule,” you joked.

jungkook looked down for a moment, but when he looked back up, the teasing glint had vanished, replaced by a gaze that was entirely grounded and sincere.

"i guess so," he said softly, almost like he was telling a secret.

you followed him to your front door, the air between you feeling lighter than it had in weeks.

he slipped into his boots, pausing with his hand on the handle as you called out to him. “i mean it, koo. it’s a good track. be proud of it.”

“i am,” he said, his voice dropping into a softer, more sincere register. “especially now.”

“and i’ll always be there for you,” you finished, the words feeling steady and sure.

he lingered there for a second, the weight of the moment holding you both in place.

you felt a strange, lingering reluctance to see him go; the atmosphere in the apartment had shifted from high-stress to something intimate and deeply comforting.

jungkook’s hand stayed on the door handle, but he didn't pull it open.

instead, he turned his head back to look at you, his thumb brushing over the cool metal. he looked hesitant; more nervous than anything.

"hey," he started, clearing his throat. "i know it's getting late, and you’re probably tired, but… do you have any actual plans for the rest of the night?"

“probably just work on those layouts son needs,” you glance down at your clothes that are stained with dirt. “and definitely a shower, why?”

"right," he chuckled, his eyes sweeping over your dirt-smudged shirt and the remnants of soil on your knees.

“i was just thinking,” he stared, voice dropping as if bracing himself for rejection. “if you need help on the layouts, you're more than welcome to do it at my place. we could work on it together.”

the offer hung in the air, warm and surprisingly domestic. he looked at you, his gaze searching, devoid of that defensive "wall" he'd been hiding behind for weeks. he looked like jungkook, your friend who just wanted to exist in your space without a hidden agenda.

you felt your own resistance; the lingering fatigue and the professional guard you’d spent the last hour meticulously rebuilding, suddenly dissolved. the urgency, the looming deadlines, the exhaustion; they all felt like a world away.

"really?" you asked

“yeah, really,” he nodded, his expression shifting from nervous to something more earnest. “plus, bam really misses you… and i have some pork belly that i need to use up before it gets bad. if we’re going to pull an all-nighter for director son, we shouldn’t do it on empty stomachs.”

you looked at him, really looked at him and saw the vulnerability he was finally allowing to show.

“that... and i owe you that much after what i put you through.”

“and here i thought you were making an excuse to hang out cause you missed my company.” you joked, a giggle leaving your lips.

“who says i don’t?”

the question falling from jungkook's lips hung in your small entryway, the narrow space feeling even smaller. he didn’t look away, and he didn't offer a playful grin to soften the blow. he held your gaze with an intensity that made your breath hitch, his thumb still resting against the door handle, grounding him in the gravity of his own admission.

a hot, prickling flush raced up your neck, and you felt your composure teetering on the edge of a cliff. you opened your mouth to brush it off with another joke, but the words withered before they could even form.

why is it so hot in here? you thought, must be because of the weather outside…yeah, definitely because of that.

"i—" you faltered, biting your lip. "i miss bam too... i just... i really need a shower.”

part of you wanted to admit that you missed him too, not just the cute doberman you consider your own but you were too scared to unravel that part of your heart.

he’s my friend.

jungkook’s gaze softened, a slow, knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he watched your struggle to find your footing. he didn't push, but he didn't back down either.

"yeah of course," he whispered, his voice so soft it sent a shiver down your spine. "i'll wait out here in the hall. take your time."

“don't be ridiculous,” you counted, pulse thrunning in your ears. “just... make yourself comfortable on the couch. i’ll be out in ten, i promise.”

“okay,”

he slipped past you, your shoulder brushing against his arm and you quickly hurried toward your bathroom. as you turned the handle and shut the door, your back slid down against the wood. you stood there for a second, heart hammering against your ribs, palms pressed to your flushed cheeks.

“what the fuck?”

meanwhile, jungkook took a seat on your small, cozy couch, his broad shoulders seeming to take up half the space as he sank into the cushions.

he let out a long, slow breath, his gaze drifting to the bookshelf where a stray notebook of yours sat open.

his fingers ghosted over the worn fabric of the sofa where you probably sit when you’re home. he felt a wave of restlessness, his other hand tracing the seam of his hoodie pocket, teeth playing with his lip ring. he was hyper-aware of every sound behind the bathroom door; the low hum of the exhaust fan, the soft splash of water, your voice humming the melody of the song he shared just twenty minutes prior.

it was torture, but the kind of sweet, agonizing torture he’d been craving for weeks.

he leaned back, resting his head against the top of the couch, and closed his eyes. he thought about you, the way your frame felt in his as he embraced you, the way your eyes brightened after the talk, the way your hand felt in his when you pulled him in the middle of the room.

but the memory of your bodies moving in sync still hummed beneath his skin like a live wire.

every time you’d moved, his eyes had been glued to the way your body shifted, your focus so sharp it felt like you were reading the very rhythm of his soul. like you were his partner, rather than his lead. and he can’t deny that he misses that feeling, wants it permanently on his skin like the ink that traces him.

i’m still me.

but he was starting to realize that the version of him he’d been hiding was far more dangerous than the one he’d been projecting. he felt a sudden, sharp pang of guilt for the way he’d snapped at the others in the studio, but he brushed it aside. he’d make it up to them later. right now, he needs to mend what has been lost with the one person who has been the anchor to his own identity, and the only one he is finally terrified enough of losing to risk being completely honest with.

flashback

the air in his garage was frigid compared to the stifling, heated intensity of the studio. jungkook paced the concrete, his breath hitching in ragged bursts as he tried to walk off the adrenaline of his own confession.

he didn't hear the footsteps until they were right behind him.

“stop pacing, jungkookie. you’re going to wear a hole in your shoes,” taehyung said, his voice dropping the playful edge he used to deflect tension. he fell into step beside the younger man, his hands tucked deep into his pockets.

“you can’t take what namjoon said to heart,” taehyung continued, casting a side-long glance at jungkook. “he’s just stressed. he’s our leader, even on hiatus. you know how it is.”

jungkook stopped abruptly, his shoulders slumping under the weight of his oversized hoodie. the dark, cynical hum of the garage lights made his tattoos look like ink stains against his pale, clammy skin. “yeah, i know… but what if he’s right?”

taehyung sighed, a small puff of white vapor escaping his lips in the cold. “you think it’s better to not tell y/n? you’re weighing your options like a strategy meeting, but you’re talking about a person here— y/n.”

“no, no! it’s not just that… but…” jungkook’s voice faltered, his eyes darting toward the shadows. “look between me and you… she told me son is giving her the opportunity to take the reins of this project cause it might land her a promotion.”

taehyung’s eyebrows shot up, his expression shifting to genuine shock. “a promotion? woah… for what?”

“i don’t know…, but it’s definitely something significant. hell, maybe she’ll take his place entirely.”

“yah, you really think so?”

jungkook looked at his hyung, his expression softening into a vulnerable, unfiltered pride that felt more honest than anything he’d said in weeks. “if she really wanted to, she could run laps around him. she’s… she’s amazing, hyung. she navigates this chaos better than any of us.”

“then you need to tell her the truth, bro,” taehyung urged, his tone hardening into something brotherly and firm. “if she’s that talented, she’s not going to crumble just because you almost kissed her. give her some credit.”

“i can’t, tae—”

“why not?”

jungkook whipped around, his face a map of pure agony. “because!” he paused, struggling to contain his composure as his hands gripped the fabric of his jeans until his knuckles turned white.

“she means so much to me, hyung. it—it physically hurts to be this close to her and have to pretend i’m someone she's just in charge of.”

he looked down at the ground, his voice dropping to a jagged whisper. “i may not be able to have her… but i can’t lose her either. and that’s the price i’m willing to pay to keep her in my life.”

taehyung looked at him for a long, heavy moment, the silence of the garage amplifying the desperation in jungkook’s stance. “what are you going to do?”

jungkook straightened his spine, the flicker of the ‘golden maknae’ fading into a man who had finally decided on his own path. he looked toward the exit, his eyes hardening with a quiet, dangerous resolve.

“you’ll see.”

---

taglist: @canarystwin , @cuntessaiii @dorkyfangirl24 @roseda @senaqsstuff @jkxlvrr @happinessandsomedaywithlove @btskzfav @jiminheekss @goawaysha @voltary33 @chloemoe @neonovember @jakiki94, @angelfrombeneth, @lionsfandomsandbearsohmy, @f10pc, @heecali, @dreadity, @weebvibe, @thatgirlthatreadswattpad, @c3hu,

And see we shall...😏

also if you made it this far... what song do you think represents Jungkook and oc’s dynamic currently? Lmk in the comments! I would love to add more to the playlist and see your perspectives!

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