❀ College Au, Nerd!JK, Smut, Fluff (if you squint)
Summary: You were paired with the smartest guy in class for a math project and you couldn’t help but anticipate the things you could learn from him.
☼ ✸ SERIES ✹ ☼
⋆ Server Room (ongoing)
❀ IT / Office au, Fluff (?), Smut
Summary: Your first impression of your new IT guy? Aloof and shy. But when you accidentally caught him doing something in the Server Room while moaning your name, you just had to pretend you didn’t see it, right? Right?
❀ Neighbors au, Fluff, Smut
Summary: Just a compilation of your awkward and embarrassing encounters with your next-door neighbor, Jungkook.
⋆ We Are All Sinners (ongoing)
❀ Exes au, Angst, Infidelity, Smut, Fluff
Summary: You left Jungkook and this town behind, but every visit pulls you back into his arms, chasing a high you can never leave behind.
⋆ ✦ ONE SHOTS ✦ ⋆
⋆ blame the government
❀ Government worker Yoongi x Reader, Small town au, Smut
Summary: "suck a d!ck and choke on it!” you told that annoying Min Yoongi guy. But why are you the one on your knees now?
⋆ ⋆ MISC ⋆ ⋆
✹ [you don’t even know i write poems for you]
✨ a collection of fic dumps—one-shots and standalone stories, ~500 words each. from my messy phone notes to you.
it’s been a tough month. my mental health hasn’t been great, and it’s started to affect me physically too. i’m okay, im managing, but it’s been hard to create. i haven’t been able to write, draw, or make anything lately. there are so many stories inside me, but for some reason, i just can’t seem to get them out right now.
i just wanted to be honest with you all and give a little update, im sorry for the slow updates, but thank you for being patient and kind.
i really hope i can finish all my wips SOON. i miss creating and i miss sharing it with you. 🪷
Summary: Just your awkward and embarrassing encounters with your next-door neighbor, Jungkook.
PART 4 (FINAL CHAPTER)
audentes fortuna iuvat
after hours
dark brown eyes
Ratings: 18+ ONLY! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!
Warnings: Explicit language, Mature Contents
Au/Genre: Mini Series, Neighbor JK, Enemies (?) to Lovers, Smut, Fluff
Word Count: 5.7K
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📜 audentes fortuna iuvat
“Fortune favors the brave. The world does not wait for those who stand still...
In the dynamic tide of economics, fortune does not favor hesitation—it rewards those who move forward with intention and purpose. Thank you.”
The sound of polite applause filled the classroom, cutting through the nervous tension that had been clawing at your chest since the start of your presentation. You exchanged a look with Sean, whose face was a mix of pride and relief. Weeks of sleepless nights, endless revisions, and caffeine-fueled discussions had paid off. Finally, it was over.
As the professor dismissed the class, you and Sean shared a high-five, the kind that stung your palm but left you grinning like an idiot.
“You want a ride to work? I’m heading that way anyway,” Sean offered as the two of you exited the lecture hall.
“Sure, thanks,” you replied, fishing your phone out of your bag to check the time. The sight of your wallpaper made you pause. It was a candid mirror selfie you’d taken in the grocery store a few weeks ago, Jungkook holding a grocery bag in one hand, his tattooed arm possessively wrapped around your shoulders.
Your thumb hovered over the screen. Lately, you’d been trying to stay more organized, a goal you had set for yourself after your talk with Jungkook a couple of days ago. Alarms, sticky notes, even your wallpaper—anything to keep your forgetful brain in check.
Before you could type, his name popped up on your screen.
nextdoor<3 [11:05 PM]: Going to work now? 😀
You smiled, already typing a response.
You [11:05 PM]: Heyyy! I was just about to text you. Yeah, catching a ride with Sean
Sean was busy rummaging through his pockets for his car keys as you walked toward the open parking space.
nextdoor<3 [11:06 PM]: No need. Turn your pretty ass to your left. 😋
Your head snapped to the left, and you let out a small gasp... there he was, leaning against his car with a wide grin. His hands were tucked into his pockets, and he looked so effortlessly handsome and cool in his casual oversized white shirt and acid washed jeans.
Sean followed your gaze. Before you could explain, Jungkook was already striding toward you, with his stupid grin.
“Hi,” he greeted casually, his voice a little chipper as his eyes locked with yours.
“Hey! Um, this is Sean, you know him…” You gestured between them, trying to mask your flustered state.
“Sean, YN’s classmate and case study partner,” Sean introduced himself, offering a cheerful smile and an outstretched hand.
“Jungkook,” he replied, shaking Sean’s hand firmly. “YN’s boyfriend. I’m here to pick her up.”
Your eyes widened as your head whipped toward Jungkook. Boyfriend? He didn’t even glance at you, keeping his focus on Sean, who looked equally surprised.
“Oh! I didn’t know YN had a boyfriend,” Sean said, his confusion evident, looking at you with a wide smile.
“Uh, well… You never asked!” you laughed nervously, playfully tapping Jungkook’s shoulder. He didn’t so much as flinch, his attention still fixed on Sean.
Sean chuckled. “Well, take care you guys! Nice meeting you Jungkook! See you later, YN!” He waved and headed off toward his car.
Once Sean was out of earshot, you turned to Jungkook. “Boyfriend? What was that?” your tone was clearly curious and surprised.
He kept his grin and shrugged nonchalantly, taking your bag off your shoulder and grabbing the books from your hands. Without a word, he started walking toward his car with a smirk.
“Jungkook!” you called after him, your tone rising as you trailed behind him. He opened the backseat to place your things inside before moving to the passenger side to open the door for you.
Him not answering you was making you a little frustrated, and you stood there, arms crossed, refusing to get in.
“Are you mad?” he asked finally, his tone calm but his wide teasing grin was plastered all over his stupidly handsome face.
“I’m not. Yet. But if you keep ignoring me, I will be.”
His smirk turned into a wide, bunny smile. “Baby, you’re my girl. I don’t care if you haven’t figured it out by now. Now, get in the car, my princess baby gorgeous angel, or you’re going to be late for work. Unless… you want to call in sick and spend my day off with me instead?”
“Yeah, something is wrong with you” you playfully sighed and slid into the car, but as you did, you bumped your head against the doorframe. It wasn’t hard—actually, it was quite soft. As you looked up, you found his hand already there, gently covering your head as if he were used to this. Instead of saying "oopsie," you just smiled and rolled your eyes as a thank you because this wasn’t new.
He shut the door behind you, his laughter soft as he walked around to the driver’s side.
“Seriously, though. I told you, I don't like bothering you.” you asked once he’d settled into his seat.
"I also told you that I’m here. Bother me? My girl could never bother me. You just gotta figure out how to need me,” he said, pulling down the sun visor over your head as the midday sun began to shine through.
“Who says I’m your girl?” You raised an eyebrow as you removed your hoodie. The midday summer heat was starting to make you comfortable in just your tank top underneath.
“You did,” he replied with a grin as he ran a hand through his dark hair.
You paused, trying to remember. “When?”
“A couple of days ago, when you came on my fingers, I thought it was pretty clear—”
“Jungkook!” you shrieked, hands flying to cover his mouth as heat flooded your face. "What is wrong with you!"
He laughed against your palms, pulling them away gently.
“What’s wrong with me is that I’m getting greedy,” he admitted, his tone softening. “I know I said I didn’t need answers from you, but that doesn’t mean I’ll stop saying and doing what I want.” He cocked his head, his gaze locking with yours. “Kiss me right now if you don’t like it.”
Your gasp at his audacity. “Wow. I want my patient, gentle Jungkook back.”
“Don’t summon him. You get this version now.” He gestured to himself with a chuckle.
“And who am I talking to right now?”
“You want to know?” he murmured, leaning closer. His gaze dropped to your lips, and your pulse quickens. He inched closer, his breath brushing against your cheeks.
You froze and gulped, which made him smirk when he saw.
You wanted to roll your eyes at how easily he could make you feel this way, but then, he claimed your mouth as if it were his.
His lips moved with determination. Confident. Slow. The flick of his tongue against your lower lip sent a shiver through you, and you couldn’t help but surrender to his kiss. You parted your lips, inviting him in like a welcomed guest, and he decisively came to take residence, as though your tongue were his home and this was no mere visit.
His tongue possessed yours with patience, as if he had all the time in the world.
To taste you. To tease you. So slowly, so surely.
Jungkook knows how to kiss, and he knows it well.
The proof lay in the way your hands instinctively reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling him closer. In response, his lips wandered down your neck, unhurried yet utterly consuming, moving lower and lower until they reached your chest. His tongue flicked over your skin just above the curve of your breasts, drawing a soft moan from you as your grip on his shirt tightened, desperate to bring him closer.
“Jungkook…”
And just as you were about to lose yourself in him—
he pulled back.
huh?
His thumb brushed over your swollen lips, his tongue poking at his inner cheek.
You stared at him, wide-eyed, breathless, chest heaving, cheeks flushed.
“I told you, you’re my girl,” he said with finality, buckling your seatbelt before starting the car to drive you to work, grinning like an idiot while you’re still gasping for air.
🍻 after hours
The week flew by quickly, and your classes were becoming more relaxed as you focused solely on lectures, giving you more time to rest.
Work had been lighter too, with the full staff back. Your manager had kept her word, giving you an extra day off tomorrow now that your workmates were back from being sick.
Hours passed, and more customers trickled in. The bar filled with the usual noise and chaos, but you didn’t mind. You glanced at the clock—just two more hours until you could go home.
Thoughts of sleeping in, tangled up with Jungkook, ordering takeout, watching silly shows, chatting about your week, and doing absolutely nothing together kept you going.
You had just returned from the kitchen when you noticed the inner booth was now occupied. You quickly weaved through the tables, only to find…
Him, again?
Jungkook looked up at you, his familiar bunny smile stretching across his face. His nose scrunched, eyes crinkling at the corners.
“Huh?” you blinked in surprise. “What are you doing here?”
“Having a good time,” he replied smoothly, his voice like velvet. That black leather jacket he wore hugged him just right, over a plain white shirt, paired with jeans.
Omg. Seriously this man.
All you could think about was how good he’d feel against you later tonight. So firm, so warm.
“Jungkook, seriously!” You snapped out of your thoughts and tried to keep your cool, scanning the room. “Are you here with friends?”
“Nope,” he said, leaning back in the booth with that smug grin—that fucking grin— that made you want to smack him and kiss him all at once. “I’m here to pick my girl up. Couldn’t wait to see you. And…” His voice dropped, his gaze trailing over you shamelessly, “...I wanted to watch you work.”
“What are you on today!” You shoved his arm, fighting back the laugh that bubbled up, your cheeks burning. “You didn’t have to pick me up again! Also where is the goodie-softie Jungkook?”
He shook his head, a cocky grin spreading across his face. “He’s not here. You get this greedy Jungkook now.” His eyes are full of mischief.
"You can keep being miss independent, which you are, insisting you don’t need me for all you want, but like I said, I'm gonna do what I want to do. I’m done pretending I’m okay waiting around.”
He stared at you, eyeing you up and down, not even trying to hide it.
Your arms crossed, more for self-defense against the butterflies erupting in your chest than anything else. You narrowed your eyes at him. “Okay, seriously, stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?” he asked, feigning innocence as he tilted his head, his lips curling in that trademark teasing smile.
“Like you’re going to eat me.”
His grin widened as he leaned forward, elbows resting on the table.
“Oh, I am.”
Your breath hitched, but you fought to keep your composure. “Then, baby, you have to be patient until we get home.”
Jungkook chuckled as he leaned back, slipping his hands into the pockets of his jacket, shaking his head. “Oh, baby, I’ve been patient for months. A few more hours is nothing.”
“Good,” you replied, though your voice wavered slightly. “Now I have to get back to work.”
Before turning away, you paused. “Do you want anything?”
He smirked, playing with his lip ring like he had all the time in the world. “You.”
“Jungkook…” You rolled your eyes, but the involuntary smile tugging at your lips gave you away.
“Just a root beer float, please.” He glanced at your name tag, “YN”, dragging out your name like it was the tastiest word to ever roll off his tongue.
The way your name slipped from his lips sent a rush of heat straight down your legs. “Coming right up,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady as you turned to head back toward the kitchen. But you couldn’t resist glancing at him over your shoulder.
You caught him staring, his eyes fixed on your ass, your tight skirt hugging every curve.
“Jungkook!” you hissed, shooting him a glare.
He just shrugged, his Cheshire cat grin widening.
--
When your shift finally ended, you didn’t bother changing out of your uniform, too eager to go home with him. Throwing on your jacket, you headed out, your coworker Rosie giving you a knowing smirk after all the blatant eye-fucking that had transpired throughout the evening between you and Jungkook.
You just blew her a kiss and waved.
Outside the bar, the night was cold, the wind biting at your legs as you spotted Jungkook standing where he’d waited for you last time. His hands were shoved into his pockets, his solid figure a stark contrast against the soft dark of the night.
As you approached, he stretched out his hand to you, his smile softening into something that made your chest ache. Without a word, you slipped your hand into his, and two of you walk swiftly toward his car, your strides charged with intent and urgency.
👁️👁️ dark brown eyes
The moment you slide into the passenger seat, Jungkook wastes no time. He leans in, cupping your face gently yet possessively, and kisses you deeply. His tongue slides into your mouth, exploring, making sure to taste every angle of you. A soft moan escapes you, and he groans in response, his hands gripping the base of your jaw just a little tighter.
He pulls away for a brief second, his forehead resting against yours as he catches his breath. But the break doesn’t last long—his lips are back on yours, this time sucking on your tongue, his own sliding against it in a way that makes your head spin.
Heat pools low in your belly, and you clench around nothing. You feel the ache between your thighs and press them together to soothe it.
“Fuck,” Jungkook groans, his voice rough and strained as he suddenly pulls away, his pupils blown wide with desire. “Let’s fucking go home right now before I lose it,” he says, his voice low and desperate as he buckles your seatbelt with hurried hands.
Without another word, he starts the car. The engine roars as he grips the steering wheel with one hand. You’re still catching your breath, your lips tingling from his kiss, as you watch him drive a little faster than usual. His eyes stay focused on the road, but you notice the subtle bob of his Adam's apple, as if he’s swallowing down words he can’t bring himself to say.
Your gaze shifts to his hands, gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turn white. It’s as if he’s using every ounce of control to keep himself in check. And yet, with every stolen glance at him, the tension only grows stronger.
Twenty minutes later, as soon as he parks the car in your apartment lot, you fumble with your seatbelt, unbuckling it in record time. Before he can even react, you reach for him, pulling his face into a hungry kiss. It’s more sloppy and messy this time, your tongue trailing down his neck, licking, biting, and sucking at his pulse points, making his breath hitch. You know the way you’re marking his skin will leave evidence, but you don’t care. Neither does he.
The kiss deepens, and his need for control emerges. One of his hands cups the back of your neck, guiding you exactly how he wants, while the other finds your chest, firmly grasping your clothed breast. He kneads and squeezes, the pressure making you moan into his mouth.
You tug on his long locks, eliciting a guttural whimper, making you squirm in your seat. Suddenly, the blinding light of an approaching car floods the space, like a spotlight, as if you’ve been thrust onto a stage to perform. The two of you freeze, still panting, until the car passes and settles into its spot. But more cars follow, one by one, claiming the surrounding spaces.
“Baby,” he rasps against your lips, his voice strained, dripping with desire, “let’s go inside.” He kisses you again, his lips urgent and needy, before dragging his mouth to your neck. “Please.”
You’re both a mess, drunk on lust and each other. Without another word, you stumble out of the car, your steps hurried and deliberate as you head toward your apartment building.
Halfway up the stairs, as if drawn together by some invisible force, you’re back in his arms. His mouth crashes into yours, devouring you with fervor, while your bodies grind against each other with an almost primal urgency.
He slams you against the wall, pinning you with his solid frame. His hard erection presses into your stomach, and he grinds against you. Your hand slips down to touch him through his pants, making his head fall forward against your shoulder.
“Fuck,” he hisses, his hands tighten on your waist.
He trails open-mouthed kisses down your neck, and you feel your skin prickle from the sensation.
You try to stay quiet, but when his finger slides under your short skirt, brushing against the damp fabric of your soaked underwear, you instinctively bite down on his shoulder.
With ease, he pushes your underwear to the side and slides one finger, gliding over your slick slit, gathering the wetness that’s been pooling since you left the bar.
You move against him, needy and desperate, and he smiles against the kiss. "Goddamn...so fucking wet."
You feel another finger slowly slides inside, and you stop kissing him and gasp for air as he pushes deeper and deeper. He looks around to make sure no one’s getting a free show, but you need his mouth, so you hold his face with both hands and kiss him again.
In steady motion, he pumps his fingers inside, dragging them nice and slow, but it only makes you want more. When he curls them, hitting that spot, you bite your lip, stifling the moans as he bites and licks your earlobe, his breath hot against your skin.
With every stroke, your body shakes, and just when you feel the sudden knot breaking, his tongue slides into your mouth, swallowing your moans as you come—hard, shaking, with your legs giving way. But his hand grips your ass, keeping you steady as you whimper quietly in pleasure, while he moves slowly inside you, riding your high.
Then, he pulls his fingers out, bringing them to his lips, licking them clean before shoving them into you, his gaze is dark, undone.
You’re both breathing heavily when you suddenly hear a door opening and closing from the hallway, as if it’s your cue to keep walking and continue this tryst in your apartment.
Without missing a beat, he takes the lead, pulling you toward his door, his keys jangling in his hand as he unlocks it. In an instant, you’re both inside.
As soon as you enter his house, he wastes no time. Your jacket and shirt are discarded on the floor. He lifts you effortlessly, guiding you toward his bed, kissing you hungrily as you move.
He gently lays you down as if you're the most fragile thing, but as soon as your back hits the bed, he grabs your ankle, pulling you to the edge. Kneeling between your legs, his eyes burn with need as he prepares to feast on your body.
With one quick motion, he pulls off your panties and tosses them aside, leaving you in just your tight, short skirt.
“This fucking tease of a skirt. Do you know how many times I’ve imagined pushing this up and have you like this?“ he murmurs.
You spread your legs wider for him, and he hooks them over his shoulders, diving into your folds with a fervent hunger. His tongue moves with slow, deliberate precision. Your moans fill the room, his name and strings of curses tumbling from your lips as he devours you completely.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
The sinful sound of his mouth on your now dripping pussy fills the air. The knot in your stomach tightens, yet you crave more of him, so you press his head into your cunt, grinding against his face. It earns a deep, groan from him, sending shivers down your spine.
"Jungkook, I’m so cl—fucking coming again!" Your hands grip his hair, his shoulders, your tits, the blankets beneath you as your body shatters as you come.
"Uh-huh," he groans, his tongue lapping up your juices, licking you clean. Curses and his name echo in the room.
Your legs are still shaking when you feel him hover over you, kissing you slowly, making you taste yourself on his lips.
You lick your juices from his lips down to his chin—sweet and salty—before you feel him get on his knees, gripping the base of his thick, hard cock, pre-cum glistening in the soft glow of the night lamp.
You prop yourself up on your elbows, one hand curling around him, spreading the slick pre-cum over the sensitive tip. His sheer length and girth seem designed to destroy you completely.
What a sight—his mouth parted, eyes dark with raw hunger. And when he presses his thumb to your lips, you suck on it, desperate, obedient.
A hiss escapes him, sharp, followed by a long, broken whimper, like music to your ears.
"Baby, please," you whisper, though it comes out as begging, your voice cracking as you lay your head back down, your hand still pumping his cock.
“What do you want? Tell me,” he murmurs, cupping your face, the weight of his chest pressing you into the mattress.
“I want you,” you plead, grinding back against him. “Inside me. Please.”
He pauses,his gaze searching your face, as if trying to gauge whether you’re saying this out of need or if you’re truly certain. Many heated, nasty makeout sessions have passed between you, and though he knows your body has begged him for more, this is the first time you’ve ever said it aloud.
He’s grateful. He’s also scared. He also wants to cry.
“Are you sure? We don’t have to if you’re not ready—”
You cut him off with a desperate, hungry kiss.
“I’m sure. Please, I beg you. Fuck me, Jungkook. Please put your cock inside me.”
Without wasting time, he gets on his knees, and before you even realize it, he has opened a condom and rolled it on, his gaze locked on yours the entire time.
He towers over you. He brushes his tip between your folds, gathering your slickness.
Your cunt clenches with anticipation, and a sharp hiss escapes him. Then, he looks at you, as if silently asking for permission. You nod erratically.
"Please..."
He dips his head down, kissing you deeply, so deeply, and you moan, loud and sinful, the sound ripping from your throat as he finally enters you. It’s as if something inside him snaps. Jungkook fills you in one smooth, deliberate motion.
“Oh fuck so thick Jungk—". You gasp. A slight pain follows.
You’ve known it when you had him in your mouth so many times, gagging and choking on him, but nothing could’ve prepared you for how he stretches you now.
“Shit, baby. So fucking tight.” he hisses, his eyes shut in pleasure.
You wince, and he doesn’t move, kissing you tenderly, his hands drawing comforting circles on your arm.
As the stretch becomes more bearable, you look up at him, breathless. “Fuck me now, please.”
He sighs in relief, then sinks fully into you, his hips flush against yours.
He’s fucking you slowly, carefully, dragging his long, thick dick inside you, and you clench around him so tight that he throws his head back and curses under his breath.
“You have no idea how long I’ve imagined this” he growls, his voice rough and strained. “My cock inside you, fucking you like this—fuck.” He grunts with each thrust, his grip tightening on you.
You squeeze around him more, and he lets out a soft whimper, his body shuddering at the feeling of your tight walls.
And suddenly, he turns you over. Your ass is raised in the air, your face pressed into the sheets.
Tears sting the corners of your eyes as his tongue dives back into your pussy, licking, devouring. Then he stops. Just long enough to spit into your cunt before slamming into you again. Harder. Brutal. The force makes your eyes roll back, a gasp torn from your throat.
Each thrust sends tremors through your body. One hand pushes your head down, holding you in place, while the other grips your wrists behind your back.
You sob in pleasure. He feels so good, he fucks so good, so good.
“Jungkook—ah, fuck!”
“Baby, we have to be a little quiet,” he grins, his voice low and strained as he slams into you. “Thin walls, remember?”
“I can’t !” You can’t. You’ve lost control of your body, responding to every movement, every thrust, as Jungkook wills it. You can only take what he gives.
"You can’t?” he taunts, breath searing against your ear as he drags his cock out, achingly slow, until only the tip lingers. “Cock that good?” The words spill with a smirk, and then he slams back in—a deliberate, punishing thrust that rips the air from your lungs.
“Fuck—yes!” You barely recognize your own words.
“Yeah? You want my fucking cock?” His voice is two octaves lower, each word punctuated by a rough thrust, his hand squeezing your breast like he owns it.
“You like taking my fucking cock? Hmm?” Another thrust, harder this time.
You nod—wildly, desperately—tears spilling over, your body trembling, unable to stop.
"Then take it,” he commands as he leans in, his words grazing over your ear. “Take it like you mean it. Like a good girl. Take my fucking cock.” His hips snap forward, sharp and unforgiving, dragging a sob from your throat. Relentless. He drives into you harder, deeper, without a shred of mercy, ruining you completely.
You expected sex with him to be intense, consuming. You knew he knew how to fuck, knew he was an attentive and generous lover. But not like this. Not a wildfire that burns through every corner of your being, leaving nothing untouched.
When he feels your legs shake again, he slaps your ass and flips you onto your back, your body now facing his.
“Let me see your face, baby. Look at me, please.” You gaze up at him through teary eyes, your pupils hazy with lust. His hands gently move the strands of your messy hair from your face before wandering down to your breasts, his lips following the trail as his fingers brush your clit. He pushes his thick length back inside you, drawing a long, breathy moan from you.
“You’re so beautiful, holy shit,” he breathes, his voice soft and whimpery now, a sharp contrast to the commanding devil who had you bent and folded just minutes ago. “I can’t... too much... mmm—you’re gonna make me c-come... fuck,” he groans, abruptly stopping his movements. He settles into the crook of your neck, his abs flexing so hard you feel it against your stomach as he fights to control himself. You can hear his heavy breathing in your ear, his heartbeat thumping against your skin.
“You good, baby?” you ask, kissing his cheek.
“Yeah, sorry, give me a sec. Shit... I… You... you’re just too beautiful.” He laughs, burying his face back into your neck.
You laugh with him, but he winces. “Don’t laugh, baby. You’re squeezing me—ahhh,” he warns as he pulls out but stays on top of you, kissing your neck and shoulders.
“You’re killing me… You have no idea…fuck. I’ve imagined this so many fucking times... I knew you’d be perfect—God, I knew, but you just feel too fucking good. Too good… I can’t—"
He cuts himself off and doesn't give you a chance to respond to his rambling confession. He catches your lips in a slow, intense kiss as he pushes his hard length back inside you.
He pounds into you with purpose—steady, deliberate, charged. His fullness overwhelms, filling you completely. Your legs wrap tight around his hips, anchoring him closer, while his hand rests at the base of your throat, tender, almost reverent. A cruel contrast to the way his pace quickens, more forceful now, relentless, and then—
You break.
So intense, no words come out of you. Only muffled cries, soft whimpers, and shudders. Your fingers claw at his back, his biceps, his shoulders.
“Come for me just like that.” he whispers as he continues to slam into you.
His release comes soon after, his body shaking as he comes while you squeeze around him, milking every single drop of him. His moans mingle with yours as he thrusts erratically.
In one last, deep push, you both collapse together, breathless and consumed.
Your brain shuts down for a moment, and you feel your body twitch. His body drapes over you, his weight grounding you, pulling you back from whatever dimensional plane you’ve drifted to.
“Fuck.” Was all you can say, still catching your breath.
He laughs softly, his body still pressed against yours. "Damn, I came so hard... holy shit," he murmurs against the crook of your neck, planting gentle kisses.
You kiss his cheek and trace imaginary maps on his back.
“How do you feel, baby? Hmm? Did you like it?” he teases, the playful grin evident in his voice.
Spent and still catching your breath, you just shrug, flashing him a sly smile.
“I think the neighbors know you liked it,” he chuckles.
You roll your eyes, playfully slapping his shoulder. “Yes, Jungkook, you fucked me too good. I fucking loved it. Can’t wait for more.”
He throws his head back and laughs. "I don't think I'll ever get enough of you. I didn’t think this through. I’m fucked.”
“No, I’m fucked.” You answer and you join his laugh.
After lying there for a while, he props himself up on his elbow. "Shower?"
You want to, but you're so spent.
“Give me a sec, please.”
He laughs softly, sitting on the bed as he gently fixes your messy hair. His gaze softens as he stares at you.
"You’re so beautiful. Too beautiful. I don’t know what to do with you. What do I do with you?" He chuckles, then takes your hand, placing a soft kiss on your knuckles.
"Just hold me, don’t let me go." You smile softly, your fingertips grazing his beautiful face.
He catches your hand with both of his, holding it gently, with care.
“I remember the first time I saw you," he continues, the stars inside his eyes shining so brightly. "You looked so beautiful, I almost tripped over my own feet."
“Then you would've joined me, laying on the floor full of dirt in the hallway," you laughed at the memory.
He shakes his head, grinning. "No, that wasn’t the first time I saw you."
“What?" you sit up.
“You bumped into me in the parking lot. You were holding a small box with your coffee maker in it…”
A small smile tugs at his lips. “You were wearing a white top and jeans. You said ‘sorry’ without even looking at me, but…” He pauses, as if savoring the memory.
“I noticed how tightly you clung to that box, your eyes scanning the building from a distance, like you had everything you needed right there in your hands. You looked like someone from a movie… brave, bold, standing tall, ready to take on whatever came next. I’ve never seen anyone so small next to a building, and yet so impossibly big.”
His gaze meets yours. “You had this fire in your eyes, so full of life. From that moment on, I could only look at you with respect and admiration.”
He laughs softly, fiddling with your fingers. “I wanted to be wherever you were. You’re amazing, YN. I hope you see yourself the way I see you. Powerful…and beautiful. I could go on forever…”
Waves of emotions crash over you, spilling into the corners of your eyes. You look at him—really look at him—and you see him.
The first time you really took a good look at his face was when you bumped into him on the staircase, just before your tangerines went tumbling down. That was when you first noticed his dark brown eyes, wide and pure, but given the chaos of the moment, you chalked it up to his overall handsomeness.
Then you get to know him.
The first time you saw his eyes, his dark brown eyes, you noticed how they gleamed in the light, like soft stars scattered across the night sky, and in the dark, they sparkled with an infinite depth, as if they contained a universe light years and light years away… It was impossible to comprehend how one person could hold the vastness of a galaxy, all within the depth of his gaze.
Maybe the reason his eyes are so big and round is to see the good in people more clearly. And maybe they’re that way so others can see the fullness of his love.
His love is patient. His love is kind. It is not easily angered. It keeps no record of wrongs.
He smiles at you, the kind that crinkles his nose and creases his eyes.
The smile that exudes the carefree spirit of a boy with the quiet wisdom of a man.
His hair, a little longer now, falls in unruly waves, as if it can’t decide whether to be straight or wavy. It mirrors the turmoil in your thoughts, torn between being lost in the beauty of him or leaning in and being lost to the pull of his kiss.
“I love you,” you say, sincere and sure.
His smile blooms in his eyes before it reaches his lips.
He gives you a chaste kiss, tender and lingering. And as your lips part, he whispers,
“I love you.”
<-Prev
a/n: guys, we reached the end?! wuuut??? i really wanted this story to be comforting. i hope it comforts you the way it comforted me while i was writing this. i think this jungkook is my favorite. i even teared up a bit (ok fine i sobbed) when i wrote the last parts lol. thank you all so much for reading until the end. i’m very grateful for the support, kind words, and interactions. to think i only started posting last month? i'm so grateful to have found this community. i hope you're all doing well. i love you all. <3
if you enjoyed this mini-series, please don’t hesitate to drop by my inbox and let me know what you liked and how you enjoyed it, or whatever it is you want to talk about.
your feedback helps me know the types of stories or writing you'd like to see in the future. much love! <3
Summary: You left Jungkook and this town behind, but every visit pulls you back into his arms, chasing a high you can never leave behind.
Ratings: 18+ ONLY!!! MDNI!
‼️CHAPTER WARNINGS ‼️
This chapter contains sensitive and potentially triggering themes including grief, loss, miscarriage, mentions of unhealthy family dynamics, implied death (non-major character).
Please read with care. Your well-being comes first.
Word Count: 8.4K
SERIES MASTERLIST
MAIN MASTERLIST
ex·o·dus [ˈeksədəs]
noun
a mass departure of people, leaving a place or situation
THEN
“Hey, you sure you’re good to close? I’m so sorry for dipping early again. Husband got called in early for work, and I just can’t afford a nanny right now… I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
Jada, the school librarian you’d been working with, gave you an apologetic smile as she slid the last book into place.
“Yes, oh my god, go! Go spend time with your family. Leave me alone!”
You swatted at her jokingly as you turned back to your laptop.
Working in the school library had its perks.
Free Wifi. Quiet corners. And best of all, getting paid to do homework.
You and Jungkook were graduating this year, and things had started to feel like a blur.
“I haven’t seen Jungkook around lately. You guys okay?” Jada asked it casually, zipping up her bag. But you knew she meant it.
You glanced at your phone again. No notifications.
Not unusual, and definitely not new.
The last message was before his first class, and it’s already 7pm.
A long paragraph, all about his day.
A rundown of their late-night session in the studio, his dad’s latest scan, what he ate (just ramen, while reminding you not to skip a meal), and the fact that he nearly passed out during class.
A lot has happened in the past months.
His dad being diagnosed with late-stage cancer definitely changed everything.
Lately, you felt more like his diary.
He talked to you when you were asleep.
Your classes were in the morning, his in the afternoon.
After that, he’d head straight to either band practice or a studio session, then rush to the hospital to stay with his dad at night. He and Jin took turns, depending on the day, so their mom could catch up on sleep somehow.
Then he’d crash into bed in the morning, barely catching a few hours of sleep before doing it all over again.
The last time you saw him was four days ago, and it was brief. He walked you to the library, gave you a quick kiss, and then sprinted off to his next class.
You realized you haven’t answered her, and she’s still waiting for a response.
“Yeah… we’re good. You know, he’s super busy.” You sighed and locked your screen, trying not to overthink and worry too much.
“Yeah, his dad, I heard… how’s he holding up?”
You hesitated, choosing your words carefully.
“He’s doing well… considering. The cancer’s spreading to the lower parts now, so he needs more help.”
You remembered the last time you visited – it was painful, seeing the man you were used to seeing strong and full of life now looking frail in a hospital gown.
Jesus,” Jada muttered, pausing mid-zip as her expression crumpled. “How is Jungkook even functioning? I mean, classes, the band, hospital duty…does he even sleep?”
“I know…” You swallowed, voice quiet. “He’s trying his best, and he always tells me not to worry, but…”
Jada gave you a look. “Of course you’re going to worry. You think I haven’t noticed you check your phone like a hundred times in the last five minutes?”
You sighed, finally leaning back in your chair. “I really try not to. I just… I’m trying not to look like I worry too much. Because you know how he is, he’s going to feel guilty or burdened or– ”
You stopped, pressing your lips together. “I don’t know. I just want to help him... I just don’t know how.”
“I think just being there for him is helping,” She said softly. “You’re allowed to feel this way, you know? Your feelings are valid too. And the best thing you can do for him is to take care of yourself. Him seeing you well… that probably gives him more comfort than you realize.”
You hadn’t noticed how tense your shoulders were until she reached over and gave them a gentle squeeze.
“Yeah…” You exhaled. “Thanks, Jada. That really means a lot.”
“Now go,” you said, giving her a playful tap. “Your husband’s gonna be late for work again if he has to wait much longer for you to get home.”
“He’ll survive! Should’ve thought twice about putting a baby in me in this economy!” she laughed, leaning in to kiss your cheek before leaving you with a soft smile.
“Take it easy, okay?”
You nodded.
It helped, having someone to talk to.
You hadn’t realized how much you needed it.
Ever since Jungkook’s dad was diagnosed, you hadn’t really let yourself vent to anyone. There was Jimin, who shared the same sentiments as you, so it helped to hear things from someone a little outside the circle.
You glanced at your phone one more time, though you already knew it was on loud, and it hadn’t buzzed.
Then you turned back to your laptop, willing your thoughts to settle.
The library was empty now.
Silent.
You’d just switched off the main lights, leaving only the soft amber glow near the entrance door as you zipped up your bag.
A glance at your phone said it was just past 8pm.
At this hour, Jungkook was probably buried in practice, or at the studio, or– if the universe had a shred of mercy– napping.
You had texted him all day. Like you always did.
Little updates.
All unread.
You sighed, slinging your bag over your shoulder and stepping outside, ready to crash into bed as soon as you got home.
You’d been exhausted and sleepy lately, and you were praying it wasn’t the flu coming down on you, especially with exams just around the corner, right before semestral break.
You startled slightly when you realized it had been raining, the pavement glistening with puddles.
Great.
You hadn’t noticed. The library was practically soundproof.
You really hated the rain.
Which was ironic, considering you moved to a town where it rained half the year.
And, yes, of course you forgot your umbrella. Again.
What now?
Back to the library and wait it out?
Or just say “fuck it” and walk home? But your laptop in your bag, and who the hell was that beautiful man running toward you?
You squinted.
Oh.
That..
…was your boyfriend…
Running toward you, breath fogging in the cold air, black hoodie already damp, carrying a massive red umbrella.
“Jungkook?!” You blinked, stunned. “Why? What are you--?”
“Knew it!” he shouted through the rain, grinning as he pushed back his wet hair. “You didn’t bring one.”
He stepped right up to you and swung the umbrella overhead.
Your mouth fell open. “You’re supposed to be in the studio! Or sleeping? Why are you here—”
So warm.
He was so warm.
And his lips were soft and plush and sweet against yours.
You kissed him back, hungry and eager and messy.
“You didn’t answer me,” you mumbled against his chest after the kiss, pouting.
“I just did,” he grinned.
“You didn’t, you just kissed me.”
“Yeah.” He smirked. “I’m here for that.”
You smacked his chest, but couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out. Then you wrapped your arms around him, tight. So tight he let out a soft “oh”, before squeezing you back like he was trying to merge your bodies into one.
“Where were you before coming here?” you asked, voice muffled against his hoodie.
“Studio,” he replied with a grin. “We were almost done when it rained.”
“You didn’t have to come all the way here, Kook.”
“It was raining.”
“So?”
“So of course I had to come get you. No way I’m letting you walk home soaked.”
He chuckled, kissing your head again. “Plus, I really, really needed to see you. I needed this.”
Another kiss, more tongue on throat, hips grinding, hands on your ass kind of kiss, but you weren’t complaining.
You finally pulled back, and he reached for your bag without a word, slinging it over his arm before wrapping the other around your shoulder.
You walked side by side through the rain, tucked under the oversized umbrella and suddenly, the rain didn't matter anymore.
The yellow street lights reflected his beautiful face, and though it was dim, you could see it: the exhaustion in his eyes. The dark circles. The way he blinked a little too slow, like even now, his body was fighting to stay upright.
“Baby…” you said quietly. “When was the last time you actually slept?”
“I slept last night,” he said quickly. “I’m fine, babe. Don’t worry about me.”
You swallowed the lump rising in your throat. “You know you don’t have to pretend you’re ok with me all the time, right? Ever since your dad’s diagnosis, you’ve been… non-stop. Of course I worry about you. Sue me.”
He was quiet for a moment, then gave you a small nod. “I’m managing, I swear. Just… take care of yourself for me, okay? While I can’t. Not the way I used to.”
That – that right there – made your chest ache.
Even now, with everything he’s holding, everything he’s going through, he’s worried about you.
“Jungkook,” you said, stopping in your tracks. “That’s your concern right now? That you can’t take care of me while you’re going through a lot?”
He blinked, then gave you a soft, sheepish grin. “Hey… babe. Don’t be mad, yeah?”
“I’m not mad?”
“You’re getting upset,” he said, gently tapping your forehead. “This spot right here always gives you away.”
You rolled your eyes.
“Well,” he continued, “how about we agree it’s impossible not to worry about each other? I worry about you, and you feel bad. You worry about me, and I feel bad. Vicious cycle, huh?”
You cracked a smile. “Okay, fine. Okay! Just… promise me you’ll tell me when it gets too much. I’ll bring an umbrella every single day so you don’t worry when it rains. And sleep when you can.”
“Yes, ma’am. I promise,” he said with a smug grin.
You reached your dorm after a few more steps under the rain. You were ready to pull him into one last tight hug before he rushed off to the hospital again.
But the moment you stepped inside, he was already kicking off his shoes and tugging off his damp hoodie in one smooth motion.
You opened your mouth to ask if he was staying, maybe just for a few minutes, but he turned, eyes gleaming, and pulled you straight toward the bed.
“Jungkook–what are you doing?” you squeaked, laughing as you stumbled forward.
“I really, really, really need to do this,” he murmured, grinning as he fell back on the mattress and dragged you with him.
You landed on top of him with a surprised yelp, hands on his chest, your knees bracketing his hips– then his mouth was on your neck.
Fuck, it had been too long.
You couldn’t help the soft moan that slipped out, until you remembered his tired eyes, the deep shadows under his lashes.
“Jungkook…” You brushed your fingers through his hair. “You staying for a bit?”
“Uh-huh. I’ve got two hours. Mom’s with Dad,” he mumbled as he flipped you over effortlessly. In a blink, he was hovering above you, his eyes tired, but hungry.
“Then maybe you should be resting instead of doing this,” you said, breathless but trying to sound stern.
His eyes fluttered open, and that handsome smirk curved his lips. “Babe, I told you, I’m fine. I’ll show you.”
You bit your lip. “Show me how?”
He chuckled low, fingers ghosting over your waistband.
“Why don’t you spread those pretty legs for me and find out?”
You snorted, raising a brow. “Aren’t you too tired for that?”
“I’m never too tired for that.”
“Jungkook…”
“YN.”
He matched your tone, unbothered.
You sighed, brushing your fingers through his damp hair.
“We don’t have to do anything,” you murmured, softer now. “You should rest.”
“I know,” he whispered, brushing his nose against your neck.
“But I really, really wanna taste you again,” he added. “I miss your taste on my tongue.”
“You’re crazy!”
“Baby… you have no idea. Pussy that tastes like that? Who wouldn’t be?”
You let out a breathy laugh, but it caught somewhere in your throat because his fingertips were already slipping beneath the waistband of your shorts.
God, you missed him. But as much as you missed his touch, you couldn’t ignore how tired he looked. How sleep-starved he was.
So you reached up, cupped his jaw, and kissed him softly.
“Baby, I missed you so much. I know it’s been a while… but I also know how exhausted you are. Please, just rest. Take a nap with me? I’m sleepy too.”
Your thumb brushed over his cheek.
“Please… rest? Just for a little while.”
You leaned in and kissed his forehead, and he let out a shaky breath against your collarbone.
“Yeah,” he mumbled and buried his face in your neck, arms wrapping around you.
“Sleep, baby,” you whispered, brushing your fingers through his hair. “Need you to sleep.”
Within the next minute, you felt his weight soften beside you. You drifted off soon after.
When you woke up, it was to the soft press of his lips kissing all over your face, a silent goodbye before he headed out to repeat another busy day.
You had already decided to skip class today.
Actually, not decided.
More like… surrendered to the exhaustion.
You’d been tired.
Nauseous.
Throwing up for a week now.
You hated a lot of things about yourself.
And you hated that you hated so many things about yourself.
But what you hated most was how indecisive you could be.
Like you’d rather be forced to choose between two things than be handed ten.
And right now, you were standing in front of a wall of pregnancy test kits, unsure whether to get the digital or the analog.
A decision that shouldn’t have taken twenty minutes.
You had opened another Google tab on your phone to read more about pregnancy kits, closing the one about early signs and symptoms.
You took two analogs – just to be sure – and marched toward the cashier.
You just wanted to go home and rest.
At first, you thought it was the flu.
But then you missed your period.
Then another week passed. Now your brain won’t stop spinning, someone nearby smells like citrus, and it’s making you nauseous. The tag of your shirt scratches at the back of your neck, and everything feels too hot and too loud.
When you got home, you kicked off your shoes, stripped off your clothes, and headed straight to the bathroom.
You tore the boxes open with trembling hands.
You had read the instructions twice. Maybe three times. Didn’t matter.
You knew what to do.
You just didn’t know what you’d do after.
You peed.
You waited.
One minute.
Two…
Too long.
And then –
Two pink lines.
You stared at them like they might change if you blinked long enough.
Like if you tilted them just right under the bathroom light, one of the lines might fade.
Disappear.
Undo itself.
But it didn’t.
You sat on the toilet, underwear around one ankle, heart pounding against your ribs.
Two fucking lines.
Oh my god.
Your mouth went dry.
You wanted to cry, but for some reason you just sat there, arms wrapped around yourself, cold tile biting into your skin.
You didn’t know how long you stayed like that.
Long enough for your hand to start shaking.
Then your leg.
Then all of you.
At some point, you slid down onto the floor, curled sideways on the cold, chipped bathroom tiles of the dorm, eyes fixed on the only thing moving –
A single line of ants, crawling out from a crack in the wall, toward the window, carrying the body of a moth.
Wings torn, but still beautiful.
And you wanted to think that the ants found the moth and carried it to its final destination, where it would be laid to rest in peace.
But you know the moth serves a purpose even in death. That its body will be broken down, piece by piece, fed to something else.
Not all losses are mourned.
Some are simply repurposed.
And you cried at the thought that you were thinking about the dead moth on your bathroom floor. You’re pregnant, and you’re crying about a dead moth.
“I’m only telling you this because someone has to knock sense into you!!!”
…Huh?
“He’ll trap you in this town, don’t you see that?”
“Throwing your life away for a boy!”
“Waste every ounce of potential you have!”
“What a waste!”
“Waste!!!”
Your mother’s voice lingered,
Louder and louder right in your ear.
“--in this godforsaken town!!!”
You jerked awake, chest heaving.
Confused and disoriented, you opened your eyes and tried to gain consciousness.
Only to realize you couldn’t move.
Something heavy. No – someone.
Sprawled across your chest.
What the hell is going on?
Oh right…
You had fallen asleep on the bathroom floor and woken up cold, then dragged yourself to bed after texting Jungkook that you had skipped class.
At some point, he must’ve let himself into your dorm. He had probably come straight from the hospital, dragged himself through lectures, then crawled here.
The band had been working so hard ever since they started gaining more recognition and attention, with their late-night studio sessions and out-of-town gigs – on top of his duties for his dad, so maybe this was the first real sleep he had gotten this week.
You watched him, eyes tracing over features you knew by heart: the thick lashes, that tiny scar from a childhood fight with Jin, the mole under his lip. His arm was slung over your waist, clinging like he always did...
You noticed the tattoos that had accumulated slowly – some born out of impulse he now regrets, and some from visions he had as a teen. You loved them all so dearly. You ran your fingertips lightly over the ink. He twitched but didn’t wake.
You smiled. He looked so peaceful.
And God... you wondered – if the child you’re carrying will look like him.
Will it have his nose? His lips? That warmth in his eyes?
Will it inherit his loving nature, his loyalty, his selflessness, his ridiculous laugh?
You wanted to tell him.
Should you tell him now?
But before you could do anything, his eyes fluttered open – and he was staring right back at you.
“Hi,” he said, voice low from sleep.
“Hi.” you croaked.
“Why’d you skip class?”
You shrugged, trying not to fidget. “Just tired.”
He frowned and reached over, placing the back of his hand on your forehead. It was warm – his hand, not you.
“Are you sick?”
You shook your head. “No… I’m not.”
God, you wanted to tell him.
But what did you even feel?
You hadn’t had a second to sit still, to process any of this.
You were still trying to push the fear down.
Shove it somewhere dark and quiet.
You were terrified. Of everything.
And your mother’s voice was still ringing in your ears.
But he was sitting in front of you now, and you didn’t know how to hand him this, too.
“Alright,” he sighed, straightening his back. “Then you need to rest more. But we gotta eat first. You can’t sleep on an empty stomach, deal?”
He was already opening the food app on his phone.
“Are you… leaving soon?” you asked gently.
“Yeah, love…” he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Actually, I’ve been meaning to tell you something. Just… everything’s been so hectic.”
Your whole body went still.
“What’s going on?”
He exhaled slowly, sitting up straighter.
You already knew it was bad.
“Dad’s scans came back. It’s worse than before. The doctors walked us through options but… they said the chances of recovery are really low at this point. So… we have to prepare. For the worst.”
Your heart sank.
“Baby…” You reach for his hand, your fingers curling over his.
He swallowed hard.
“Mom’s still holding onto hope, and Jin and I... we’re pretending like we are too. But watching him go through it, the pain, the exhaustion… it’s killing us.”
His voice faltered. He tried to keep going.
“We decided on chemo. It’s aggressive. Expensive. But we’ll figure it out. Jin’s job helps. The gigs, too. We’ve just… cut back on some things, sacrificed a few things. We’re selling mom’s car, which is fine. It’s just –”
He exhaled shakily.
“It’s hard. Seeing him like that. Hooked up to machines, barely talking. I’m used to him being strong, you know? Always laughing, joking…now he can’t even stand, can’t even use the toilet by himself. I don’t know how to be okay with that.”
You squeeze his hand gently, your thumb brushing over his knuckles. Maybe to calm him, or yourself.
“I’m so sorry, Kook… I know you’re trying to be strong for everyone, but you don’t have to carry it alone.”
He didn’t respond. But his grip tightened just slightly. So you kept going.
“Whatever happens, whatever you need… I’m here. Even if I don’t always know the right thing to say, I’m here.”
He leaned into you then, arms wrapping around you. You hugged him back just as tightly, and your heart broke with how hard he clung.
And then, he stilled.
His breath shuddered against your neck.
And you felt it, the damp warmth soaking into your skin, his uneven breathing, the quiet tremble in his shoulders.
So you held him, and let him fall apart in your arms.
“It’s okay, baby,” you murmured. “Let it out. Everything’s going to be okay.”
You glanced at the clock. He’d have to leave again soon. Back to his responsibilities.
There would be another time to tell him.
Not tonight.
So for now, you just held him.
And that had to be enough.
The bus ride from your dorm to your mom’s house felt surprisingly short.
Maybe because your thoughts were running faster than the bus.
Or maybe it was your mind spinning with one hundred and one questions, wondering if there would be any telltale signs that you were pregnant, besides the throwing up and the constant sleepiness.
Your mom wasn’t going to be able to tell, right?
Until you decided what to do, it was best that no one knew.
Normally, you would spend the semester break at her house, even though you usually just stayed holed up in your room the entire time. Still, it was a routine.
When you were younger, you used to go on road trips and camping with Jungkook, Jimin, and friends, but a lot has changed since then.
Your mom’s words played in your head like a curse you couldn’t shake, and you weren’t ready to face her.
Your fingers tightened around the folded papers tucked into your hoodie pocket, the ones you had picked up from the OB-GYN clinic a few days ago. They were crumpled now from being opened and closed so many times.
Pamphlets about what to expect over the next nine months: milestones, symptoms, what foods to avoid, what vitamins to take, check-ups.
If you chose that path.
You hadn’t told Jungkook yet.
And it wasn’t because you didn’t trust him. That was the thing—you did.
You trusted him so much, and that was exactly what made it harder. He was already shouldering too much, and you knew he’d drop everything for you.
He was already giving so much – to his dad, to his dreams, to you. How could you hand him this, too?
You weren’t trying to keep it from him forever… just… not now.
But one thing was certain: You weren’t ready for this.
If you went through with it, everything would change.
You’d have to stop school. Press pause on your dreams. Stay home for the baby.
Jungkook, of course, being Jungkook, would take care of you. He would graduate just as the baby arrived, and you already knew what he’d do next – work himself into the ground to take care of you. Of the baby. Of everything.
Because that’s who he is.
You remembered the nights you dreamed about raising a family with him – how he used to say he wanted to give you the world.
But how could he give you the world when you were both still trying to survive it?
Still in college.
Still stretched thin.
Still learning how to take care of yourselves, let alone someone else.
What if choosing not to be a mother right now was the most motherly decision you could make?
What if the only way to protect the both of you… was to not bring a child into a life built on sacrifice and survival?
And worst of all, what if your mother was right?
You hated her for saying it.
You hated yourself for starting to think she might be right.
You pressed a hand to your belly, unsure if you were seeking comfort or apology.
A text from Jungkook paused your racing thoughts. Just a quick rundown of his day, and an apology for not being able to drive you to your mom’s. They were out of town for two days to play at a music festival, the one they’d been preparing for weeks.
You assured him that everything was fine.
And it was clear now how much his dad’s condition was taking a toll, not just on Jungkook, but on everyone. With hospital bills piling up, the band had been accepting every offer that came in.
Even if it meant going out of town more often. Even if it meant spending nights in the studio, hours and hours at a time, chasing deadlines and checks.
But somehow, he was still showing up for everything.
For you.
And even if it was only a few hours, he spent it holding you close.
And you were scared. Scared of what the future held.
“Have you been doing well at school? I take it you’ll graduate this year?” your mother asked, her tone as neutral as ever.
“Yes, hopefully,” you answered.
“I hope so too. Your father’s been calling me non-stop about your internship right after your graduation. Why don’t you give him a call and talk to him about that?”
You nodded and just said, “Okay, Mom.”
“It’s nice that you finally decided to come home for your break,” she said, not even trying to hide the bitterness in her voice.
“I was starting to think you’d officially moved in with that boy. Following him around like some groupie while he wastes time on those silly gigs. What, does he actually believe he’s gonna make a living off that noise?”
She scoffed and set her fork down with a loud clink.
You bit your tongue and clenched your jaw.
“You don’t even visit me on weekends anymore. I guess that’s what love looks like to you now, skipping your own mother for some tattooed dropout waiting to happen.”
“He’s actually doing well in school,” you said flatly, not looking up. “On top of making music and doing gigs. Their band’s doing great, too. It’s actually pretty impressive.”
Your voice was calm. Bored, almost. She thrived on reaction, and you weren’t going to give her the satisfaction.
Then, without much change in tone, like she was commenting on the weather –
“Did you gain weight? You need to watch out for your figure before you work with your father,” she said casually.
“You need to show everyone from that family that you deserve that place in the company, better than your cousins. Make yourself presentable all the time.”
“Didn’t know my weight had anything to do with my competence or skills,” you replied evenly.
“It doesn’t,” she shrugged. “But you know how your father’s sisters are, vicious bitches, all of them. And I won’t be there for you this time. So if you show up looking tired like that, bloated, sloppy, don’t come crying to me when they start whispering about you.”
She set her fork down and leaned back, like she was waiting for you to react.
“You think they care how smart you are? No. They’re looking for flaws. Don’t give them one.”
You didn’t answer. You didn’t react.
It was a moot point. You were used to her by now, but god, she always knew how to make you feel like killing yourself, and you were already starting to feel drowsy, your body begging for rest.
Thankfully, it didn’t take long before you both finished your food.
After cleaning up, you went straight to bed and changed into your comfiest pajamas, scrolling through your phone, reading Jungkook’s texts. Photos from soundcheck. Backstage stolen shots. Clips of the band playing to a massive crowd at the music fest.
He looked so happy. They looked happy.
You sent him a quick selfie from bed, skin dewy and glowing in all your skincare glory – and he Facetimed you right away.
“I miss you,” he said before the call even connected properly, voice a little breathless, like he’d run to a quieter corner just to call you, though it was hard to hear with all the background noise.
He was smacking Jimin, who kept trying to squeeze into the frame and god, you missed them so much. You wanted to tell him everything, about so many things, but it was too damn noisy and his reception was crap.
So you both gave up on talking, and just spent the next ten minutes smiling at each other in silence – him munching on snacks, you blinking through sleep, barely keeping your eyes open.
Eventually, your phone slipped from your hand as you surrendered to sleep.
Pain.
Pain woke you.
Sharp.
Like something tearing inside.
You sat up, heart in your throat, and that’s when you saw it –
blood.
It soaked through your underwear. Streaked your thighs. Spotted the sheets.
You bolted to the bathroom, breathing too fast.
You pulled your shorts down, and your ears were ringing and your chest was pounding and you saw more blood. Too much red.
You were shaking. You didn’t know who to call.
What do you do?
So you cried. Biting your knuckles just to keep from screaming. You reached for a towel, trying to wipe the blood that kept coming.
But it wouldn’t stop.
And the pain, oh the pain, like your insides were being wrung out, and you hadn’t felt anything like it before.
It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.
You folded onto the floor, pressed your back to the wall, knees to your chest as you sobbed.
That’s where your mother found you.
She stood in the doorway. She didn’t say anything, but she stood there just looking at you.
“We’re going to the hospital.”
Cold stirrups.
Bright lights.
Nurses talking like you weren’t in the room.
The ultrasound screen turned away.
The doctor tried to speak gently –
"It’s a miscarriage..."
And you couldn’t hear a word past that first sentence.
You blinked, the doctor’s mouth still moving, but everything was just muffled noise.
You weren’t sure how long you cried after that, or if you even cried at all. It didn’t make sense.
Because how could something you barely felt… just disappear?
You kept waiting to feel something – grief? Pain? Maybe even relief?
But all you felt was the void.
Was it even real? Did it really happen?
Maybe it didn’t feel wanted. Maybe that’s why it left.
You didn’t know what to grieve. You didn’t know what you lost.
But why did it feel like you lost a whole chunk of yourself, like your body remembers something your mind can’t make sense of?
You told your mother through broken sobs that you knew you were pregnant.
She just stared at you with confusion and slight disgust, like she couldn’t comprehend a word you were saying.
You were given medication to help with the pain, and you wished it was something that could make you sleep forever.
You woke up, unfortunately, hours later.
The room was dim, and the pain was still there.
And your mother, sitting by the window reading her subscription magazine, not even looking at you when she said:
“Well. At least it’s gone now. The universe removed it for you, good lord.”
And you felt it, like a dam being cracked open, the rage bleeding out of your mouth. And you closed your eyes for a second, as you felt like your head was going to burst in anger.
“How could you say that?! It wasn’t some thing – it was mine! It was a part of me! You are so mean, and vile!I hate you!!!”
She didn’t flinch. Just crossed her arms and turned to face you with that cold, condescending look you knew too well.
“You’d look back one day and thank the gods this happened. That thing would have ruined your life just like I warned you,” she spat, her eyes nothing but disgust.
And you were so angry that you were shaking, but she kept going.
“Use your brain for once and think about what was going to happen. You’d drop out of school, raise a baby on what? Hope? You thought love paid the bills? You thought Jungkook’s little hobby was going to keep food on your table? Grow up.”
Through gritted teeth, you yelled, “Shut up! Stop saying that! He is doing great! We were going to graduate, and – ”
“You’d been playing house with that boy, and I let you because I thought you’d come to your senses and grow out of it, thinking you’ll leave him after college anyway. But no. You really went and proved how reckless and selfish you are. You thought life was all about love and romance and dreams? I had bled and scraped and clawed to give you a better life, and this – this is what you do with it? Throw it away for some boy? And where is he now, huh? Where?”
Defeated, and feeling weak, you sobbed.
“Stupid girl. One day, when you’re older, broke, and exhausted, you'll remember this moment, and you will be thankful that this happened.”
You had imagined your graduation day so many times.
It always felt like the light at the end of a long, brutal tunnel. Like hope.
A gleaming exit.
When home felt like hell, this was the moment you clung to.
This was the plan: survive college under her roof, then work for your dad, move out, and finally live the life you always wanted.
You were supposed to feel relief.
But now, you were lying awake in your bed on your last night in this town, staring at the ceiling for what felt like eternity, as your entire world quietly caved in on itself.
Your graduation cap sat proudly on your desk like a trophy.
Across the room, your new and expensive luggage – pink and purple, bought with your dad’s money – zipped and ready.
You broke up with Jungkook this morning. Right after graduation.
It was quick.
After all, you had practiced the speech for weeks – rehearsed every word until you memorized every word and intonation.
You just said it wasn’t going to work.
Not with him staying in this town.
And you…
Well, you were never meant to stay here anyway.
You didn’t cry, in front of him at least.
No matter how much he pressed. How he begged.
How his voice cracked, how his hands trembled, how his eyes searched your face like he could find a different answer hidden there.
You walked out of his dorm with your head held high, back straight. Chin up.
Just like you practiced.
You hadn’t told him about the miscarriage.
You wanted to. God, you imagined it a hundred different ways.
But there was never a right time.
First, his dad got worse.
You watched him juggle school, rehearsals, and hospital visits, hope thinning out a little more each day. And just when you thought you’d finally tell him, thinking ‘what the heck, this is Jungkook, the love of your life’ – his dad died.
And if there was one thing you never truly understood — because you had never experienced it— it was the love that came from family, and the depth of grief that followed when they were gone.
For months, the whole family sank into a deep, consuming grief.
So you didn’t tell him.
His grief made him quiet. Yours made you quieter.
You mourned separately.
You stood by him. Held space for his pain. But no one stood by you.
But you couldn't blame anyone, because how could you?
You made the choice, and it was all on you.
You didn’t even know if you were allowed to call it grief, or if you were even allowed to call it your child. All you knew was that something inside you was gone, and you never told him. And now, that silence felt like betrayal.
And after enough silence, you convinced yourself maybe he was never meant to know.
It was taken from you too early, anyway.
You fell asleep hugging yourself.
And you woke to a knocking on your bedroom window.
Jungkook stood there, glowing as he bathed in moonlight, grinning wide. His eyes were wide and glossy.
“I’ll come with you,” he whispered. “I already talked to the band. Told them Jin can take over vocals. It’s fine. I can find a job in the city. A good one. I swear, I’ll figure it out.”
Your heart ached. Oh how it ached.
Because he was cutting out pieces of himself just to follow you into the unknown.
Everything he loved and cherished was here. You couldn’t take that away from him.
Just because you were miserable here didn’t mean he had to be miserable somewhere else just to be with you.
So instead of answering, you kissed him deep, and you kissed him hard.
And somehow, in that kiss, he understood that this would probably be the last time.
So he made love to you, and you made love to him, like it was.
You still remember how his solid body felt. How he made you feel at home when he was inside you, filling you, pumping his seed deep.
And afterward, when he lay on top of you, sweaty and spent, you told him:
“You’re holding me back. If you really love me, you’ll let me go.”
It rained that night.
And you swore the sky cried with you.
Maybe it was the universe’s way of mourning the tragedy of it all.
Right place, wrong person.
How he was the right place.
And you were the wrong person.
He held you tight against his chest, his whole body trembling, shaking with silent, broken sobs. You felt his tears seep into your skin, felt his grief in the way his arms refused to let go.
And by morning, he was gone.
You cried all your tears that day, because you never cried after that.
Maybe you used them all up.
The rain tapped against your window as if it, too, has something to say.
Maybe – just maybe – it’s crying for you.
But that thought feels self-indulgent.
Why would the sky mourn for someone like you?
After all, you were nothing but a selfish bitch, willing to lie and betray the only love you’d ever known.
Jungkook gave you his entire world, offered in open palms.
Every piece of him.
But it wasn't enough.
NOW
“I’m sorry, what was that?”
You turn to one of the investors with a polite tilt of your head, the smile on your lips still perfectly in place. Your cheeks ache from smiling. Family. Family friends. Business partners. Everyone your father and Kole deemed important enough to attend this pre-wedding dinner.
The wedding– your wedding– is in two weeks.
But apparently, everyone’s here to celebrate your father and Kole’s company merger.
It really shouldn’t surprise you how many private jets a private island can accommodate. But it still does. The extravagance is nauseating.
“Mr. Chen was asking if you plan to take over the Hong Kong branch after the wedding,” your father chimes in for you. “I told him it’s up to Kole if he wants you to work right after the honeymoon.”
You blink.
Up to Kole?
If he wants you to work?
You laugh.
And then finish your champagne in one go.
Where the hell is Kole, anyway? You haven’t seen him since dinner. Probably talking business.
You excuse yourself and make your way to the bar. The bartender asks what you’ll have, you don’t hesitate.
“A beer,” you say.
She raises a brow in amusement but doesn’t question it, and a pint of draft is placed in front of you.
You take it, gratefully, and walk toward the beach, away from the hushed conversations like everyone is talking about secrets.
You used to think this was normal.
The way they spoke in riddles and metaphors, like a dance.
It wasn’t until you moved with your mother to the town that you realized:
Normal people don’t speak like that.
They speak with their hearts full and their chins high, unafraid to talk about the things they love.
You pass by the softly lit cabanas and hear faint laughter near the main house, but the further you walk, the quieter it becomes. The huts here are empty. Just the sound of the shore.
You find the furthest hut, the one tucked farthest from everything, and slip inside.
But the moment your foot hits the floor, you hear it.
Breathy gasps.
Soft moans.
Whoops.
The hut’s not empty, obviously.
And really, you’d hate to interrupt a guest enjoying themselves at your party.
Maybe try the hut before this one?
You’re already turning around, ready to slip out quietly, when–
“...yeah, like that. Love it when you do that.”
A man’s voice.
You pause.
Kole’s voice.
Then, another voice - a man’s, laughs low and hums something in return.
And it sounds… familiar.
Curiosity tugs at you. So you look.
The curtain separating the lounge from the inner room is half drawn. Through the gap, you catch movement.
Kole is pinned against the wall, panting, shirt undone. His perfectly styled hair is now a mess, sticking to his forehead with sweat. His hands are buried in another man's dark hair, fingers guiding - as he kneels before him, head moving with a rhythm that has Kole’s eyes rolling back and his hips stuttering forward.
Your gaze flicks to the shirt the guy’s wearing.
You know that shirt.
You and Kole picked it out together last month during your vacation in Europe.
A birthday gift for your cousin.
Holy shit.
What the actual fuck.
Have they been… fucking?
For how long?
Kole and your cousin?
You didn’t even know about Kole’s sexual preferences. It’s not something the two of you ever discussed openly.
Not that there was space for that kind of conversation between you anyway.
What else don’t you know about him?
They don’t notice you.
They’re too lost in their own world.
After collecting yourself, you quietly turn and step back out into the night.
You walk away calmly, beer still in one hand, your phone on the other.
You’re already in bed, in a satin nightgown, the glow of your phone screen casting light across your face as you scroll through nothing.
When Kole enters, he offers you that charming smile of his.
“Long day,” he murmurs, undoing his shirt. “You were wonderful tonight. Truly. The guests adore you.”
He disappears into the bathroom without waiting for a response.
You hear the water run. Then stop.
When he returns, he’s in his maroon pajama set, hair damp, skin freshly dewy with that aftershave you used to like. He slips into bed beside you and presses a soft kiss to your shoulder.
“Good night, darling,” he says casually. “Excellent job today. I’m sorry I couldn’t be at your side more, you know how it is, investor talk about the new branch. But tomorrow’s for us. Golf, then a massage. Yes?”
You look up from your phone and set it aside, then turn to face him fully.
“I saw you,” you said softly, calmly.
You’re devoid of emotion.
You haven’t felt anything in months.
And honestly, nothing surprises you anymore.
“In the hut. With my cousin.” You wait for a reaction from him, but he only blinks once.
Then lets out a short, airy chuckle, the same chuckle he gives when the wine’s poured a little too generously.
“Oh? How unfortunate. That wasn’t my intention at all. Still… I do apologize you had to witness it.”
“That’s it?” Your voice remains calm, your face unreadable. “You’re sorry I saw?”
He sighs, folding his hands neatly across his chest.
“Darling,” he begins, composed, “what exactly would you have me do? Apologize for indulging in my own preferences? We both have our… pursuits. I’ve never interfered in yours.”
“What?”
He raises an eyebrow, utterly unbothered.
He is eerily calm.
You trained yourself to stay calm. It was survival, really. A skill honed through years of navigating your mother’s moods and your father’s expectations.
But this is something else entirely.
This is detachment - bred from an environment where emotions are inconvenient and consequences are optional.
It makes your skin crawl.
“Come now… Darling, I know about your affair.”
Your blood runs cold.
“I’m not an idiot,” he continues still in that maddening calm tone, as if explaining something obvious to a slow student. “I'm well aware you were fucking your ex every time you visited your mother.”
Your lips part, but you don't say anything.
“But I also know it wasn't serious. Of course.” He exhales softly. “Just like mine wasn’t. These things – flings, indulgences – they’re inevitable. Necessary, even. We all have our vices.”
He looks at you with amusement, as he continues.
“I never stood in the way of yours because I knew, at the end of the day, you’d come back to me. You always do.”
He leans back into the pillows, perfectly composed.
“Because no matter how good he makes you feel, no matter how well he fucks you,” he murmurs, “he’ll never be able to give you the life you want. The one you need.”
And then, he smiles.
“And you and I both know, you’re not about to give up this life,” he laughs softly, “that man? He can’t give you any of it.”
You raise an eyebrow. “This life?”
“Oh, don’t play coy. You love wealth. You love security. You love summers in Saint-Tropez and winters in the Swiss Alps. You love not having to think about money. And there’s nothing wrong with that.”
Bile rises in your throat as a tangle of emotions churns in your chest. But you say nothing. You let him speak.
“I don’t blame you,” he says smoothly. “Living in that charming little town must’ve been… enlightening. Poor you, having to experience what life is like for the rest of them. It must’ve reminded you just how different we are.”
He leans back and sighs. “I don’t fault you for it, darling. I never have. It’s simply who you are. This is where you belong.”
He picks up his phone from the nightstand, casually scrolling for a moment before dialing.
“Cancel golf tomorrow,” he says. “The investors and I will meet on the yacht instead.”
Then, he sets the phone down, turns back to you, and adds
“Wear that pretty white dress I gave you. It’ll match mine tomorrow. You’ll look magnificent in it.”
And with that, he switches off his lamp and goes to sleep.
Kole was right about one thing–
the dress does look good on you.
But then again, what doesn’t?
You’ve sculpted yourself into perfection.
It’s true that being part of this society requires effort to always be perfect, so you invest in yourself.
You sip at the champagne and glance out the plane window. The clouds drift past like marshmallows – soft, white, pure.
Far below, the island looks impossibly small now. Like an ant. The water surrounding it glistens, like blue Gatorade under the sun.
It’s not your first time flying on a private jet.
But it’s your first time flying alone.
And that thought feels… liberating.
You’ve been alone all your life, haunted by the isolating feeling that your life was never truly yours.
It’s true, you were an obedient child. You never once strayed from the path your parents laid out for you.
Except for Jungkook.
Being with him throughout college was an act of rebellion in itself.
It was the only reckless thing you ever did.
And it was the best time of your life.
It’s ironic how the best time of your life happened during the darkest.
Right person, wrong place, or right place, wrong person, or whatever it was Namjoon said.
The pilot says the flight is going to take two hours.
You plan on taking a short nap so you have the energy to pack as soon as you arrive at the apartment you share with Kole.
You have no concrete plan after moving out of the apartment, and that thought should scare you, but it doesn’t.
You didn't speak a word to anyone before leaving the island.
Everyone was still asleep when you left.
Even Kole didn’t notice you leaving the villa. He was sound asleep on that stupidly large bed.
They can all go fuck themselves.
And as you close your eyes to take a short nap, you turn off your phone that’s been vibrating since you left, with people trying to reach you.
You probably have dozens of missed calls by now.
Maybe asking where you are.
Or maybe asking what the hell is wrong with you.
You can’t blame them, not when you emailed a few pictures you took of Kole and your cousin last night to your family.
To your father, your step mother, her sisters, their husbands, all your cousins… and Kole himself.
Just one email, sent to every single name on the recipient list before your plane even left the ground.
You debated whether to send the video, but it’s always nice to have extra ammunition, just in case.
You smacked your forehead when you realized you’d forgotten to add a subject line to the email.
a/n: thanks for waiting, told you it was a looong one! took me a bit longer to finish because, well… life happens. hope you enjoy the chapter and please let me know what you think. THANK YOU! 💛
Summary: You left Jungkook and this town behind, but every visit pulls you back into his arms, chasing a high you can never leave behind.
Ratings: 18+ ONLY!!! MDNI!
‼️CHAPTER WARNINGS ‼️
This chapter contains sensitive and potentially triggering themes including grief, loss, miscarriage, mentions of unhealthy family dynamics, implied death (non-major character).
Please read with care. Your well-being comes first.
Word Count: 8.4K
SERIES MASTERLIST
MAIN MASTERLIST
ex·o·dus [ˈeksədəs]
noun
a mass departure of people, leaving a place or situation
THEN
“Hey, you sure you’re good to close? I’m so sorry for dipping early again. Husband got called in early for work, and I just can’t afford a nanny right now… I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
Jada, the school librarian you’d been working with, gave you an apologetic smile as she slid the last book into place.
“Yes, oh my god, go! Go spend time with your family. Leave me alone!”
You swatted at her jokingly as you turned back to your laptop.
Working in the school library had its perks.
Free Wifi. Quiet corners. And best of all, getting paid to do homework.
You and Jungkook were graduating this year, and things had started to feel like a blur.
“I haven’t seen Jungkook around lately. You guys okay?” Jada asked it casually, zipping up her bag. But you knew she meant it.
You glanced at your phone again. No notifications.
Not unusual, and definitely not new.
The last message was before his first class, and it’s already 7pm.
A long paragraph, all about his day.
A rundown of their late-night session in the studio, his dad’s latest scan, what he ate (just ramen, while reminding you not to skip a meal), and the fact that he nearly passed out during class.
A lot has happened in the past months.
His dad being diagnosed with late-stage cancer definitely changed everything.
Lately, you felt more like his diary.
He talked to you when you were asleep.
Your classes were in the morning, his in the afternoon.
After that, he’d head straight to either band practice or a studio session, then rush to the hospital to stay with his dad at night. He and Jin took turns, depending on the day, so their mom could catch up on sleep somehow.
Then he’d crash into bed in the morning, barely catching a few hours of sleep before doing it all over again.
The last time you saw him was four days ago, and it was brief. He walked you to the library, gave you a quick kiss, and then sprinted off to his next class.
You realized you haven’t answered her, and she’s still waiting for a response.
“Yeah… we’re good. You know, he’s super busy.” You sighed and locked your screen, trying not to overthink and worry too much.
“Yeah, his dad, I heard… how’s he holding up?”
You hesitated, choosing your words carefully.
“He’s doing well… considering. The cancer’s spreading to the lower parts now, so he needs more help.”
You remembered the last time you visited – it was painful, seeing the man you were used to seeing strong and full of life now looking frail in a hospital gown.
Jesus,” Jada muttered, pausing mid-zip as her expression crumpled. “How is Jungkook even functioning? I mean, classes, the band, hospital duty…does he even sleep?”
“I know…” You swallowed, voice quiet. “He’s trying his best, and he always tells me not to worry, but…”
Jada gave you a look. “Of course you’re going to worry. You think I haven’t noticed you check your phone like a hundred times in the last five minutes?”
You sighed, finally leaning back in your chair. “I really try not to. I just… I’m trying not to look like I worry too much. Because you know how he is, he’s going to feel guilty or burdened or– ”
You stopped, pressing your lips together. “I don’t know. I just want to help him... I just don’t know how.”
“I think just being there for him is helping,” She said softly. “You’re allowed to feel this way, you know? Your feelings are valid too. And the best thing you can do for him is to take care of yourself. Him seeing you well… that probably gives him more comfort than you realize.”
You hadn’t noticed how tense your shoulders were until she reached over and gave them a gentle squeeze.
“Yeah…” You exhaled. “Thanks, Jada. That really means a lot.”
“Now go,” you said, giving her a playful tap. “Your husband’s gonna be late for work again if he has to wait much longer for you to get home.”
“He’ll survive! Should’ve thought twice about putting a baby in me in this economy!” she laughed, leaning in to kiss your cheek before leaving you with a soft smile.
“Take it easy, okay?”
You nodded.
It helped, having someone to talk to.
You hadn’t realized how much you needed it.
Ever since Jungkook’s dad was diagnosed, you hadn’t really let yourself vent to anyone. There was Jimin, who shared the same sentiments as you, so it helped to hear things from someone a little outside the circle.
You glanced at your phone one more time, though you already knew it was on loud, and it hadn’t buzzed.
Then you turned back to your laptop, willing your thoughts to settle.
The library was empty now.
Silent.
You’d just switched off the main lights, leaving only the soft amber glow near the entrance door as you zipped up your bag.
A glance at your phone said it was just past 8pm.
At this hour, Jungkook was probably buried in practice, or at the studio, or– if the universe had a shred of mercy– napping.
You had texted him all day. Like you always did.
Little updates.
All unread.
You sighed, slinging your bag over your shoulder and stepping outside, ready to crash into bed as soon as you got home.
You’d been exhausted and sleepy lately, and you were praying it wasn’t the flu coming down on you, especially with exams just around the corner, right before semestral break.
You startled slightly when you realized it had been raining, the pavement glistening with puddles.
Great.
You hadn’t noticed. The library was practically soundproof.
You really hated the rain.
Which was ironic, considering you moved to a town where it rained half the year.
And, yes, of course you forgot your umbrella. Again.
What now?
Back to the library and wait it out?
Or just say “fuck it” and walk home? But your laptop in your bag, and who the hell was that beautiful man running toward you?
You squinted.
Oh.
That..
…was your boyfriend…
Running toward you, breath fogging in the cold air, black hoodie already damp, carrying a massive red umbrella.
“Jungkook?!” You blinked, stunned. “Why? What are you--?”
“Knew it!” he shouted through the rain, grinning as he pushed back his wet hair. “You didn’t bring one.”
He stepped right up to you and swung the umbrella overhead.
Your mouth fell open. “You’re supposed to be in the studio! Or sleeping? Why are you here—”
So warm.
He was so warm.
And his lips were soft and plush and sweet against yours.
You kissed him back, hungry and eager and messy.
“You didn’t answer me,” you mumbled against his chest after the kiss, pouting.
“I just did,” he grinned.
“You didn’t, you just kissed me.”
“Yeah.” He smirked. “I’m here for that.”
You smacked his chest, but couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out. Then you wrapped your arms around him, tight. So tight he let out a soft “oh”, before squeezing you back like he was trying to merge your bodies into one.
“Where were you before coming here?” you asked, voice muffled against his hoodie.
“Studio,” he replied with a grin. “We were almost done when it rained.”
“You didn’t have to come all the way here, Kook.”
“It was raining.”
“So?”
“So of course I had to come get you. No way I’m letting you walk home soaked.”
He chuckled, kissing your head again. “Plus, I really, really needed to see you. I needed this.”
Another kiss, more tongue on throat, hips grinding, hands on your ass kind of kiss, but you weren’t complaining.
You finally pulled back, and he reached for your bag without a word, slinging it over his arm before wrapping the other around your shoulder.
You walked side by side through the rain, tucked under the oversized umbrella and suddenly, the rain didn't matter anymore.
The yellow street lights reflected his beautiful face, and though it was dim, you could see it: the exhaustion in his eyes. The dark circles. The way he blinked a little too slow, like even now, his body was fighting to stay upright.
“Baby…” you said quietly. “When was the last time you actually slept?”
“I slept last night,” he said quickly. “I’m fine, babe. Don’t worry about me.”
You swallowed the lump rising in your throat. “You know you don’t have to pretend you’re ok with me all the time, right? Ever since your dad’s diagnosis, you’ve been… non-stop. Of course I worry about you. Sue me.”
He was quiet for a moment, then gave you a small nod. “I’m managing, I swear. Just… take care of yourself for me, okay? While I can’t. Not the way I used to.”
That – that right there – made your chest ache.
Even now, with everything he’s holding, everything he’s going through, he’s worried about you.
“Jungkook,” you said, stopping in your tracks. “That’s your concern right now? That you can’t take care of me while you’re going through a lot?”
He blinked, then gave you a soft, sheepish grin. “Hey… babe. Don’t be mad, yeah?”
“I’m not mad?”
“You’re getting upset,” he said, gently tapping your forehead. “This spot right here always gives you away.”
You rolled your eyes.
“Well,” he continued, “how about we agree it’s impossible not to worry about each other? I worry about you, and you feel bad. You worry about me, and I feel bad. Vicious cycle, huh?”
You cracked a smile. “Okay, fine. Okay! Just… promise me you’ll tell me when it gets too much. I’ll bring an umbrella every single day so you don’t worry when it rains. And sleep when you can.”
“Yes, ma’am. I promise,” he said with a smug grin.
You reached your dorm after a few more steps under the rain. You were ready to pull him into one last tight hug before he rushed off to the hospital again.
But the moment you stepped inside, he was already kicking off his shoes and tugging off his damp hoodie in one smooth motion.
You opened your mouth to ask if he was staying, maybe just for a few minutes, but he turned, eyes gleaming, and pulled you straight toward the bed.
“Jungkook–what are you doing?” you squeaked, laughing as you stumbled forward.
“I really, really, really need to do this,” he murmured, grinning as he fell back on the mattress and dragged you with him.
You landed on top of him with a surprised yelp, hands on his chest, your knees bracketing his hips– then his mouth was on your neck.
Fuck, it had been too long.
You couldn’t help the soft moan that slipped out, until you remembered his tired eyes, the deep shadows under his lashes.
“Jungkook…” You brushed your fingers through his hair. “You staying for a bit?”
“Uh-huh. I’ve got two hours. Mom’s with Dad,” he mumbled as he flipped you over effortlessly. In a blink, he was hovering above you, his eyes tired, but hungry.
“Then maybe you should be resting instead of doing this,” you said, breathless but trying to sound stern.
His eyes fluttered open, and that handsome smirk curved his lips. “Babe, I told you, I’m fine. I’ll show you.”
You bit your lip. “Show me how?”
He chuckled low, fingers ghosting over your waistband.
“Why don’t you spread those pretty legs for me and find out?”
You snorted, raising a brow. “Aren’t you too tired for that?”
“I’m never too tired for that.”
“Jungkook…”
“YN.”
He matched your tone, unbothered.
You sighed, brushing your fingers through his damp hair.
“We don’t have to do anything,” you murmured, softer now. “You should rest.”
“I know,” he whispered, brushing his nose against your neck.
“But I really, really wanna taste you again,” he added. “I miss your taste on my tongue.”
“You’re crazy!”
“Baby… you have no idea. Pussy that tastes like that? Who wouldn’t be?”
You let out a breathy laugh, but it caught somewhere in your throat because his fingertips were already slipping beneath the waistband of your shorts.
God, you missed him. But as much as you missed his touch, you couldn’t ignore how tired he looked. How sleep-starved he was.
So you reached up, cupped his jaw, and kissed him softly.
“Baby, I missed you so much. I know it’s been a while… but I also know how exhausted you are. Please, just rest. Take a nap with me? I’m sleepy too.”
Your thumb brushed over his cheek.
“Please… rest? Just for a little while.”
You leaned in and kissed his forehead, and he let out a shaky breath against your collarbone.
“Yeah,” he mumbled and buried his face in your neck, arms wrapping around you.
“Sleep, baby,” you whispered, brushing your fingers through his hair. “Need you to sleep.”
Within the next minute, you felt his weight soften beside you. You drifted off soon after.
When you woke up, it was to the soft press of his lips kissing all over your face, a silent goodbye before he headed out to repeat another busy day.
You had already decided to skip class today.
Actually, not decided.
More like… surrendered to the exhaustion.
You’d been tired.
Nauseous.
Throwing up for a week now.
You hated a lot of things about yourself.
And you hated that you hated so many things about yourself.
But what you hated most was how indecisive you could be.
Like you’d rather be forced to choose between two things than be handed ten.
And right now, you were standing in front of a wall of pregnancy test kits, unsure whether to get the digital or the analog.
A decision that shouldn’t have taken twenty minutes.
You had opened another Google tab on your phone to read more about pregnancy kits, closing the one about early signs and symptoms.
You took two analogs – just to be sure – and marched toward the cashier.
You just wanted to go home and rest.
At first, you thought it was the flu.
But then you missed your period.
Then another week passed. Now your brain won’t stop spinning, someone nearby smells like citrus, and it’s making you nauseous. The tag of your shirt scratches at the back of your neck, and everything feels too hot and too loud.
When you got home, you kicked off your shoes, stripped off your clothes, and headed straight to the bathroom.
You tore the boxes open with trembling hands.
You had read the instructions twice. Maybe three times. Didn’t matter.
You knew what to do.
You just didn’t know what you’d do after.
You peed.
You waited.
One minute.
Two…
Too long.
And then –
Two pink lines.
You stared at them like they might change if you blinked long enough.
Like if you tilted them just right under the bathroom light, one of the lines might fade.
Disappear.
Undo itself.
But it didn’t.
You sat on the toilet, underwear around one ankle, heart pounding against your ribs.
Two fucking lines.
Oh my god.
Your mouth went dry.
You wanted to cry, but for some reason you just sat there, arms wrapped around yourself, cold tile biting into your skin.
You didn’t know how long you stayed like that.
Long enough for your hand to start shaking.
Then your leg.
Then all of you.
At some point, you slid down onto the floor, curled sideways on the cold, chipped bathroom tiles of the dorm, eyes fixed on the only thing moving –
A single line of ants, crawling out from a crack in the wall, toward the window, carrying the body of a moth.
Wings torn, but still beautiful.
And you wanted to think that the ants found the moth and carried it to its final destination, where it would be laid to rest in peace.
But you know the moth serves a purpose even in death. That its body will be broken down, piece by piece, fed to something else.
Not all losses are mourned.
Some are simply repurposed.
And you cried at the thought that you were thinking about the dead moth on your bathroom floor. You’re pregnant, and you’re crying about a dead moth.
“I’m only telling you this because someone has to knock sense into you!!!”
…Huh?
“He’ll trap you in this town, don’t you see that?”
“Throwing your life away for a boy!”
“Waste every ounce of potential you have!”
“What a waste!”
“Waste!!!”
Your mother’s voice lingered,
Louder and louder right in your ear.
“--in this godforsaken town!!!”
You jerked awake, chest heaving.
Confused and disoriented, you opened your eyes and tried to gain consciousness.
Only to realize you couldn’t move.
Something heavy. No – someone.
Sprawled across your chest.
What the hell is going on?
Oh right…
You had fallen asleep on the bathroom floor and woken up cold, then dragged yourself to bed after texting Jungkook that you had skipped class.
At some point, he must’ve let himself into your dorm. He had probably come straight from the hospital, dragged himself through lectures, then crawled here.
The band had been working so hard ever since they started gaining more recognition and attention, with their late-night studio sessions and out-of-town gigs – on top of his duties for his dad, so maybe this was the first real sleep he had gotten this week.
You watched him, eyes tracing over features you knew by heart: the thick lashes, that tiny scar from a childhood fight with Jin, the mole under his lip. His arm was slung over your waist, clinging like he always did...
You noticed the tattoos that had accumulated slowly – some born out of impulse he now regrets, and some from visions he had as a teen. You loved them all so dearly. You ran your fingertips lightly over the ink. He twitched but didn’t wake.
You smiled. He looked so peaceful.
And God... you wondered – if the child you’re carrying will look like him.
Will it have his nose? His lips? That warmth in his eyes?
Will it inherit his loving nature, his loyalty, his selflessness, his ridiculous laugh?
You wanted to tell him.
Should you tell him now?
But before you could do anything, his eyes fluttered open – and he was staring right back at you.
“Hi,” he said, voice low from sleep.
“Hi.” you croaked.
“Why’d you skip class?”
You shrugged, trying not to fidget. “Just tired.”
He frowned and reached over, placing the back of his hand on your forehead. It was warm – his hand, not you.
“Are you sick?”
You shook your head. “No… I’m not.”
God, you wanted to tell him.
But what did you even feel?
You hadn’t had a second to sit still, to process any of this.
You were still trying to push the fear down.
Shove it somewhere dark and quiet.
You were terrified. Of everything.
And your mother’s voice was still ringing in your ears.
But he was sitting in front of you now, and you didn’t know how to hand him this, too.
“Alright,” he sighed, straightening his back. “Then you need to rest more. But we gotta eat first. You can’t sleep on an empty stomach, deal?”
He was already opening the food app on his phone.
“Are you… leaving soon?” you asked gently.
“Yeah, love…” he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Actually, I’ve been meaning to tell you something. Just… everything’s been so hectic.”
Your whole body went still.
“What’s going on?”
He exhaled slowly, sitting up straighter.
You already knew it was bad.
“Dad’s scans came back. It’s worse than before. The doctors walked us through options but… they said the chances of recovery are really low at this point. So… we have to prepare. For the worst.”
Your heart sank.
“Baby…” You reach for his hand, your fingers curling over his.
He swallowed hard.
“Mom’s still holding onto hope, and Jin and I... we’re pretending like we are too. But watching him go through it, the pain, the exhaustion… it’s killing us.”
His voice faltered. He tried to keep going.
“We decided on chemo. It’s aggressive. Expensive. But we’ll figure it out. Jin’s job helps. The gigs, too. We’ve just… cut back on some things, sacrificed a few things. We’re selling mom’s car, which is fine. It’s just –”
He exhaled shakily.
“It’s hard. Seeing him like that. Hooked up to machines, barely talking. I’m used to him being strong, you know? Always laughing, joking…now he can’t even stand, can’t even use the toilet by himself. I don’t know how to be okay with that.”
You squeeze his hand gently, your thumb brushing over his knuckles. Maybe to calm him, or yourself.
“I’m so sorry, Kook… I know you’re trying to be strong for everyone, but you don’t have to carry it alone.”
He didn’t respond. But his grip tightened just slightly. So you kept going.
“Whatever happens, whatever you need… I’m here. Even if I don’t always know the right thing to say, I’m here.”
He leaned into you then, arms wrapping around you. You hugged him back just as tightly, and your heart broke with how hard he clung.
And then, he stilled.
His breath shuddered against your neck.
And you felt it, the damp warmth soaking into your skin, his uneven breathing, the quiet tremble in his shoulders.
So you held him, and let him fall apart in your arms.
“It’s okay, baby,” you murmured. “Let it out. Everything’s going to be okay.”
You glanced at the clock. He’d have to leave again soon. Back to his responsibilities.
There would be another time to tell him.
Not tonight.
So for now, you just held him.
And that had to be enough.
The bus ride from your dorm to your mom’s house felt surprisingly short.
Maybe because your thoughts were running faster than the bus.
Or maybe it was your mind spinning with one hundred and one questions, wondering if there would be any telltale signs that you were pregnant, besides the throwing up and the constant sleepiness.
Your mom wasn’t going to be able to tell, right?
Until you decided what to do, it was best that no one knew.
Normally, you would spend the semester break at her house, even though you usually just stayed holed up in your room the entire time. Still, it was a routine.
When you were younger, you used to go on road trips and camping with Jungkook, Jimin, and friends, but a lot has changed since then.
Your mom’s words played in your head like a curse you couldn’t shake, and you weren’t ready to face her.
Your fingers tightened around the folded papers tucked into your hoodie pocket, the ones you had picked up from the OB-GYN clinic a few days ago. They were crumpled now from being opened and closed so many times.
Pamphlets about what to expect over the next nine months: milestones, symptoms, what foods to avoid, what vitamins to take, check-ups.
If you chose that path.
You hadn’t told Jungkook yet.
And it wasn’t because you didn’t trust him. That was the thing—you did.
You trusted him so much, and that was exactly what made it harder. He was already shouldering too much, and you knew he’d drop everything for you.
He was already giving so much – to his dad, to his dreams, to you. How could you hand him this, too?
You weren’t trying to keep it from him forever… just… not now.
But one thing was certain: You weren’t ready for this.
If you went through with it, everything would change.
You’d have to stop school. Press pause on your dreams. Stay home for the baby.
Jungkook, of course, being Jungkook, would take care of you. He would graduate just as the baby arrived, and you already knew what he’d do next – work himself into the ground to take care of you. Of the baby. Of everything.
Because that’s who he is.
You remembered the nights you dreamed about raising a family with him – how he used to say he wanted to give you the world.
But how could he give you the world when you were both still trying to survive it?
Still in college.
Still stretched thin.
Still learning how to take care of yourselves, let alone someone else.
What if choosing not to be a mother right now was the most motherly decision you could make?
What if the only way to protect the both of you… was to not bring a child into a life built on sacrifice and survival?
And worst of all, what if your mother was right?
You hated her for saying it.
You hated yourself for starting to think she might be right.
You pressed a hand to your belly, unsure if you were seeking comfort or apology.
A text from Jungkook paused your racing thoughts. Just a quick rundown of his day, and an apology for not being able to drive you to your mom’s. They were out of town for two days to play at a music festival, the one they’d been preparing for weeks.
You assured him that everything was fine.
And it was clear now how much his dad’s condition was taking a toll, not just on Jungkook, but on everyone. With hospital bills piling up, the band had been accepting every offer that came in.
Even if it meant going out of town more often. Even if it meant spending nights in the studio, hours and hours at a time, chasing deadlines and checks.
But somehow, he was still showing up for everything.
For you.
And even if it was only a few hours, he spent it holding you close.
And you were scared. Scared of what the future held.
“Have you been doing well at school? I take it you’ll graduate this year?” your mother asked, her tone as neutral as ever.
“Yes, hopefully,” you answered.
“I hope so too. Your father’s been calling me non-stop about your internship right after your graduation. Why don’t you give him a call and talk to him about that?”
You nodded and just said, “Okay, Mom.”
“It’s nice that you finally decided to come home for your break,” she said, not even trying to hide the bitterness in her voice.
“I was starting to think you’d officially moved in with that boy. Following him around like some groupie while he wastes time on those silly gigs. What, does he actually believe he’s gonna make a living off that noise?”
She scoffed and set her fork down with a loud clink.
You bit your tongue and clenched your jaw.
“You don’t even visit me on weekends anymore. I guess that’s what love looks like to you now, skipping your own mother for some tattooed dropout waiting to happen.”
“He’s actually doing well in school,” you said flatly, not looking up. “On top of making music and doing gigs. Their band’s doing great, too. It’s actually pretty impressive.”
Your voice was calm. Bored, almost. She thrived on reaction, and you weren’t going to give her the satisfaction.
Then, without much change in tone, like she was commenting on the weather –
“Did you gain weight? You need to watch out for your figure before you work with your father,” she said casually.
“You need to show everyone from that family that you deserve that place in the company, better than your cousins. Make yourself presentable all the time.”
“Didn’t know my weight had anything to do with my competence or skills,” you replied evenly.
“It doesn’t,” she shrugged. “But you know how your father’s sisters are, vicious bitches, all of them. And I won’t be there for you this time. So if you show up looking tired like that, bloated, sloppy, don’t come crying to me when they start whispering about you.”
She set her fork down and leaned back, like she was waiting for you to react.
“You think they care how smart you are? No. They’re looking for flaws. Don’t give them one.”
You didn’t answer. You didn’t react.
It was a moot point. You were used to her by now, but god, she always knew how to make you feel like killing yourself, and you were already starting to feel drowsy, your body begging for rest.
Thankfully, it didn’t take long before you both finished your food.
After cleaning up, you went straight to bed and changed into your comfiest pajamas, scrolling through your phone, reading Jungkook’s texts. Photos from soundcheck. Backstage stolen shots. Clips of the band playing to a massive crowd at the music fest.
He looked so happy. They looked happy.
You sent him a quick selfie from bed, skin dewy and glowing in all your skincare glory – and he Facetimed you right away.
“I miss you,” he said before the call even connected properly, voice a little breathless, like he’d run to a quieter corner just to call you, though it was hard to hear with all the background noise.
He was smacking Jimin, who kept trying to squeeze into the frame and god, you missed them so much. You wanted to tell him everything, about so many things, but it was too damn noisy and his reception was crap.
So you both gave up on talking, and just spent the next ten minutes smiling at each other in silence – him munching on snacks, you blinking through sleep, barely keeping your eyes open.
Eventually, your phone slipped from your hand as you surrendered to sleep.
Pain.
Pain woke you.
Sharp.
Like something tearing inside.
You sat up, heart in your throat, and that’s when you saw it –
blood.
It soaked through your underwear. Streaked your thighs. Spotted the sheets.
You bolted to the bathroom, breathing too fast.
You pulled your shorts down, and your ears were ringing and your chest was pounding and you saw more blood. Too much red.
You were shaking. You didn’t know who to call.
What do you do?
So you cried. Biting your knuckles just to keep from screaming. You reached for a towel, trying to wipe the blood that kept coming.
But it wouldn’t stop.
And the pain, oh the pain, like your insides were being wrung out, and you hadn’t felt anything like it before.
It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.
You folded onto the floor, pressed your back to the wall, knees to your chest as you sobbed.
That’s where your mother found you.
She stood in the doorway. She didn’t say anything, but she stood there just looking at you.
“We’re going to the hospital.”
Cold stirrups.
Bright lights.
Nurses talking like you weren’t in the room.
The ultrasound screen turned away.
The doctor tried to speak gently –
"It’s a miscarriage..."
And you couldn’t hear a word past that first sentence.
You blinked, the doctor’s mouth still moving, but everything was just muffled noise.
You weren’t sure how long you cried after that, or if you even cried at all. It didn’t make sense.
Because how could something you barely felt… just disappear?
You kept waiting to feel something – grief? Pain? Maybe even relief?
But all you felt was the void.
Was it even real? Did it really happen?
Maybe it didn’t feel wanted. Maybe that’s why it left.
You didn’t know what to grieve. You didn’t know what you lost.
But why did it feel like you lost a whole chunk of yourself, like your body remembers something your mind can’t make sense of?
You told your mother through broken sobs that you knew you were pregnant.
She just stared at you with confusion and slight disgust, like she couldn’t comprehend a word you were saying.
You were given medication to help with the pain, and you wished it was something that could make you sleep forever.
You woke up, unfortunately, hours later.
The room was dim, and the pain was still there.
And your mother, sitting by the window reading her subscription magazine, not even looking at you when she said:
“Well. At least it’s gone now. The universe removed it for you, good lord.”
And you felt it, like a dam being cracked open, the rage bleeding out of your mouth. And you closed your eyes for a second, as you felt like your head was going to burst in anger.
“How could you say that?! It wasn’t some thing – it was mine! It was a part of me! You are so mean, and vile!I hate you!!!”
She didn’t flinch. Just crossed her arms and turned to face you with that cold, condescending look you knew too well.
“You’d look back one day and thank the gods this happened. That thing would have ruined your life just like I warned you,” she spat, her eyes nothing but disgust.
And you were so angry that you were shaking, but she kept going.
“Use your brain for once and think about what was going to happen. You’d drop out of school, raise a baby on what? Hope? You thought love paid the bills? You thought Jungkook’s little hobby was going to keep food on your table? Grow up.”
Through gritted teeth, you yelled, “Shut up! Stop saying that! He is doing great! We were going to graduate, and – ”
“You’d been playing house with that boy, and I let you because I thought you’d come to your senses and grow out of it, thinking you’ll leave him after college anyway. But no. You really went and proved how reckless and selfish you are. You thought life was all about love and romance and dreams? I had bled and scraped and clawed to give you a better life, and this – this is what you do with it? Throw it away for some boy? And where is he now, huh? Where?”
Defeated, and feeling weak, you sobbed.
“Stupid girl. One day, when you’re older, broke, and exhausted, you'll remember this moment, and you will be thankful that this happened.”
You had imagined your graduation day so many times.
It always felt like the light at the end of a long, brutal tunnel. Like hope.
A gleaming exit.
When home felt like hell, this was the moment you clung to.
This was the plan: survive college under her roof, then work for your dad, move out, and finally live the life you always wanted.
You were supposed to feel relief.
But now, you were lying awake in your bed on your last night in this town, staring at the ceiling for what felt like eternity, as your entire world quietly caved in on itself.
Your graduation cap sat proudly on your desk like a trophy.
Across the room, your new and expensive luggage – pink and purple, bought with your dad’s money – zipped and ready.
You broke up with Jungkook this morning. Right after graduation.
It was quick.
After all, you had practiced the speech for weeks – rehearsed every word until you memorized every word and intonation.
You just said it wasn’t going to work.
Not with him staying in this town.
And you…
Well, you were never meant to stay here anyway.
You didn’t cry, in front of him at least.
No matter how much he pressed. How he begged.
How his voice cracked, how his hands trembled, how his eyes searched your face like he could find a different answer hidden there.
You walked out of his dorm with your head held high, back straight. Chin up.
Just like you practiced.
You hadn’t told him about the miscarriage.
You wanted to. God, you imagined it a hundred different ways.
But there was never a right time.
First, his dad got worse.
You watched him juggle school, rehearsals, and hospital visits, hope thinning out a little more each day. And just when you thought you’d finally tell him, thinking ‘what the heck, this is Jungkook, the love of your life’ – his dad died.
And if there was one thing you never truly understood — because you had never experienced it— it was the love that came from family, and the depth of grief that followed when they were gone.
For months, the whole family sank into a deep, consuming grief.
So you didn’t tell him.
His grief made him quiet. Yours made you quieter.
You mourned separately.
You stood by him. Held space for his pain. But no one stood by you.
But you couldn't blame anyone, because how could you?
You made the choice, and it was all on you.
You didn’t even know if you were allowed to call it grief, or if you were even allowed to call it your child. All you knew was that something inside you was gone, and you never told him. And now, that silence felt like betrayal.
And after enough silence, you convinced yourself maybe he was never meant to know.
It was taken from you too early, anyway.
You fell asleep hugging yourself.
And you woke to a knocking on your bedroom window.
Jungkook stood there, glowing as he bathed in moonlight, grinning wide. His eyes were wide and glossy.
“I’ll come with you,” he whispered. “I already talked to the band. Told them Jin can take over vocals. It’s fine. I can find a job in the city. A good one. I swear, I’ll figure it out.”
Your heart ached. Oh how it ached.
Because he was cutting out pieces of himself just to follow you into the unknown.
Everything he loved and cherished was here. You couldn’t take that away from him.
Just because you were miserable here didn’t mean he had to be miserable somewhere else just to be with you.
So instead of answering, you kissed him deep, and you kissed him hard.
And somehow, in that kiss, he understood that this would probably be the last time.
So he made love to you, and you made love to him, like it was.
You still remember how his solid body felt. How he made you feel at home when he was inside you, filling you, pumping his seed deep.
And afterward, when he lay on top of you, sweaty and spent, you told him:
“You’re holding me back. If you really love me, you’ll let me go.”
It rained that night.
And you swore the sky cried with you.
Maybe it was the universe’s way of mourning the tragedy of it all.
Right place, wrong person.
How he was the right place.
And you were the wrong person.
He held you tight against his chest, his whole body trembling, shaking with silent, broken sobs. You felt his tears seep into your skin, felt his grief in the way his arms refused to let go.
And by morning, he was gone.
You cried all your tears that day, because you never cried after that.
Maybe you used them all up.
The rain tapped against your window as if it, too, has something to say.
Maybe – just maybe – it’s crying for you.
But that thought feels self-indulgent.
Why would the sky mourn for someone like you?
After all, you were nothing but a selfish bitch, willing to lie and betray the only love you’d ever known.
Jungkook gave you his entire world, offered in open palms.
Every piece of him.
But it wasn't enough.
NOW
“I’m sorry, what was that?”
You turn to one of the investors with a polite tilt of your head, the smile on your lips still perfectly in place. Your cheeks ache from smiling. Family. Family friends. Business partners. Everyone your father and Kole deemed important enough to attend this pre-wedding dinner.
The wedding– your wedding– is in two weeks.
But apparently, everyone’s here to celebrate your father and Kole’s company merger.
It really shouldn’t surprise you how many private jets a private island can accommodate. But it still does. The extravagance is nauseating.
“Mr. Chen was asking if you plan to take over the Hong Kong branch after the wedding,” your father chimes in for you. “I told him it’s up to Kole if he wants you to work right after the honeymoon.”
You blink.
Up to Kole?
If he wants you to work?
You laugh.
And then finish your champagne in one go.
Where the hell is Kole, anyway? You haven’t seen him since dinner. Probably talking business.
You excuse yourself and make your way to the bar. The bartender asks what you’ll have, you don’t hesitate.
“A beer,” you say.
She raises a brow in amusement but doesn’t question it, and a pint of draft is placed in front of you.
You take it, gratefully, and walk toward the beach, away from the hushed conversations like everyone is talking about secrets.
You used to think this was normal.
The way they spoke in riddles and metaphors, like a dance.
It wasn’t until you moved with your mother to the town that you realized:
Normal people don’t speak like that.
They speak with their hearts full and their chins high, unafraid to talk about the things they love.
You pass by the softly lit cabanas and hear faint laughter near the main house, but the further you walk, the quieter it becomes. The huts here are empty. Just the sound of the shore.
You find the furthest hut, the one tucked farthest from everything, and slip inside.
But the moment your foot hits the floor, you hear it.
Breathy gasps.
Soft moans.
Whoops.
The hut’s not empty, obviously.
And really, you’d hate to interrupt a guest enjoying themselves at your party.
Maybe try the hut before this one?
You’re already turning around, ready to slip out quietly, when–
“...yeah, like that. Love it when you do that.”
A man’s voice.
You pause.
Kole’s voice.
Then, another voice - a man’s, laughs low and hums something in return.
And it sounds… familiar.
Curiosity tugs at you. So you look.
The curtain separating the lounge from the inner room is half drawn. Through the gap, you catch movement.
Kole is pinned against the wall, panting, shirt undone. His perfectly styled hair is now a mess, sticking to his forehead with sweat. His hands are buried in another man's dark hair, fingers guiding - as he kneels before him, head moving with a rhythm that has Kole’s eyes rolling back and his hips stuttering forward.
Your gaze flicks to the shirt the guy’s wearing.
You know that shirt.
You and Kole picked it out together last month during your vacation in Europe.
A birthday gift for your cousin.
Holy shit.
What the actual fuck.
Have they been… fucking?
For how long?
Kole and your cousin?
You didn’t even know about Kole’s sexual preferences. It’s not something the two of you ever discussed openly.
Not that there was space for that kind of conversation between you anyway.
What else don’t you know about him?
They don’t notice you.
They’re too lost in their own world.
After collecting yourself, you quietly turn and step back out into the night.
You walk away calmly, beer still in one hand, your phone on the other.
You’re already in bed, in a satin nightgown, the glow of your phone screen casting light across your face as you scroll through nothing.
When Kole enters, he offers you that charming smile of his.
“Long day,” he murmurs, undoing his shirt. “You were wonderful tonight. Truly. The guests adore you.”
He disappears into the bathroom without waiting for a response.
You hear the water run. Then stop.
When he returns, he’s in his maroon pajama set, hair damp, skin freshly dewy with that aftershave you used to like. He slips into bed beside you and presses a soft kiss to your shoulder.
“Good night, darling,” he says casually. “Excellent job today. I’m sorry I couldn’t be at your side more, you know how it is, investor talk about the new branch. But tomorrow’s for us. Golf, then a massage. Yes?”
You look up from your phone and set it aside, then turn to face him fully.
“I saw you,” you said softly, calmly.
You’re devoid of emotion.
You haven’t felt anything in months.
And honestly, nothing surprises you anymore.
“In the hut. With my cousin.” You wait for a reaction from him, but he only blinks once.
Then lets out a short, airy chuckle, the same chuckle he gives when the wine’s poured a little too generously.
“Oh? How unfortunate. That wasn’t my intention at all. Still… I do apologize you had to witness it.”
“That’s it?” Your voice remains calm, your face unreadable. “You’re sorry I saw?”
He sighs, folding his hands neatly across his chest.
“Darling,” he begins, composed, “what exactly would you have me do? Apologize for indulging in my own preferences? We both have our… pursuits. I’ve never interfered in yours.”
“What?”
He raises an eyebrow, utterly unbothered.
He is eerily calm.
You trained yourself to stay calm. It was survival, really. A skill honed through years of navigating your mother’s moods and your father’s expectations.
But this is something else entirely.
This is detachment - bred from an environment where emotions are inconvenient and consequences are optional.
It makes your skin crawl.
“Come now… Darling, I know about your affair.”
Your blood runs cold.
“I’m not an idiot,” he continues still in that maddening calm tone, as if explaining something obvious to a slow student. “I'm well aware you were fucking your ex every time you visited your mother.”
Your lips part, but you don't say anything.
“But I also know it wasn't serious. Of course.” He exhales softly. “Just like mine wasn’t. These things – flings, indulgences – they’re inevitable. Necessary, even. We all have our vices.”
He looks at you with amusement, as he continues.
“I never stood in the way of yours because I knew, at the end of the day, you’d come back to me. You always do.”
He leans back into the pillows, perfectly composed.
“Because no matter how good he makes you feel, no matter how well he fucks you,” he murmurs, “he’ll never be able to give you the life you want. The one you need.”
And then, he smiles.
“And you and I both know, you’re not about to give up this life,” he laughs softly, “that man? He can’t give you any of it.”
You raise an eyebrow. “This life?”
“Oh, don’t play coy. You love wealth. You love security. You love summers in Saint-Tropez and winters in the Swiss Alps. You love not having to think about money. And there’s nothing wrong with that.”
Bile rises in your throat as a tangle of emotions churns in your chest. But you say nothing. You let him speak.
“I don’t blame you,” he says smoothly. “Living in that charming little town must’ve been… enlightening. Poor you, having to experience what life is like for the rest of them. It must’ve reminded you just how different we are.”
He leans back and sighs. “I don’t fault you for it, darling. I never have. It’s simply who you are. This is where you belong.”
He picks up his phone from the nightstand, casually scrolling for a moment before dialing.
“Cancel golf tomorrow,” he says. “The investors and I will meet on the yacht instead.”
Then, he sets the phone down, turns back to you, and adds
“Wear that pretty white dress I gave you. It’ll match mine tomorrow. You’ll look magnificent in it.”
And with that, he switches off his lamp and goes to sleep.
Kole was right about one thing–
the dress does look good on you.
But then again, what doesn’t?
You’ve sculpted yourself into perfection.
It’s true that being part of this society requires effort to always be perfect, so you invest in yourself.
You sip at the champagne and glance out the plane window. The clouds drift past like marshmallows – soft, white, pure.
Far below, the island looks impossibly small now. Like an ant. The water surrounding it glistens, like blue Gatorade under the sun.
It’s not your first time flying on a private jet.
But it’s your first time flying alone.
And that thought feels… liberating.
You’ve been alone all your life, haunted by the isolating feeling that your life was never truly yours.
It’s true, you were an obedient child. You never once strayed from the path your parents laid out for you.
Except for Jungkook.
Being with him throughout college was an act of rebellion in itself.
It was the only reckless thing you ever did.
And it was the best time of your life.
It’s ironic how the best time of your life happened during the darkest.
Right person, wrong place, or right place, wrong person, or whatever it was Namjoon said.
The pilot says the flight is going to take two hours.
You plan on taking a short nap so you have the energy to pack as soon as you arrive at the apartment you share with Kole.
You have no concrete plan after moving out of the apartment, and that thought should scare you, but it doesn’t.
You didn't speak a word to anyone before leaving the island.
Everyone was still asleep when you left.
Even Kole didn’t notice you leaving the villa. He was sound asleep on that stupidly large bed.
They can all go fuck themselves.
And as you close your eyes to take a short nap, you turn off your phone that’s been vibrating since you left, with people trying to reach you.
You probably have dozens of missed calls by now.
Maybe asking where you are.
Or maybe asking what the hell is wrong with you.
You can’t blame them, not when you emailed a few pictures you took of Kole and your cousin last night to your family.
To your father, your step mother, her sisters, their husbands, all your cousins… and Kole himself.
Just one email, sent to every single name on the recipient list before your plane even left the ground.
You debated whether to send the video, but it’s always nice to have extra ammunition, just in case.
You smacked your forehead when you realized you’d forgotten to add a subject line to the email.
a/n: thanks for waiting, told you it was a looong one! took me a bit longer to finish because, well… life happens. hope you enjoy the chapter and please let me know what you think. THANK YOU! 💛
hey guys!! just a quick little update on we are all sinners 🖤
if my schedule and bandwidth cooperate, i really hope to drop the next chapter this weekend, but pls don’t quote me on that hehehe 😅
i promise to update you if anything changes!
thank you all again for being so patient. you’re truly the loveliest 💛
I have to say something about the We are all sinner's new part.
Before all the things that happened in this chapter, YN was hell bent on not going to Jungkook ever again. SHE chose wealth over him. But after her fiance cheated and showed her his negative dominant side, now if she suddenly goes back to Jungkook to be with him again, then that would be straight up hypocrisy and fake love.... then she never truly loved him. Cz if she did, she would've gone to him BCZ of him and not bcz her fiance cheated 💀
now if you decide to give this story a happy ending, then at least make YN suffer for some years o would say. Make Jungkook not give her the attention right away. Make JK date someone else. AND THEN make YN and JK together. Cz only JK suffered thru out this story bCZ OF YN. and YN "suffered" bcz of her own dvmb mistakes
hi!!! first of all, thank you so much for reading and for taking the time to share your thoughts!
i totally get you! WAAS YN is... complicated lol. she’s messy, selfish at times, and yeah she made a lot of terrible choices. you’re right that she did choose comfort and wealth over love at one point and it’s fair to question her intentions now that things have gone south.
and also... people are layered. they grow, they regress, they learn and unlearn, and in her case, so many things to unlearn lol jeez. so that being said (which totally aligns with what you said), i’m not here to give anyone an easy redemption arc just for the sake of it that’s for sure 😌
again, thank you for sharing this with me, it means the world to me to know what you think of these characters!!!
Summary: You left Jungkook and this town behind, but every visit pulls you back into his arms, chasing a high you can never leave behind.
Ratings: 18+ ONLY!!! MDNI!
‼️CHAPTER WARNINGS ‼️
This chapter contains sensitive and potentially triggering themes including grief, loss, miscarriage, mentions of unhealthy family dynamics, implied death (non-major character).
Please read with care. Your well-being comes first.
Word Count: 8.4K
SERIES MASTERLIST
MAIN MASTERLIST
ex·o·dus [ˈeksədəs]
noun
a mass departure of people, leaving a place or situation
THEN
“Hey, you sure you’re good to close? I’m so sorry for dipping early again. Husband got called in early for work, and I just can’t afford a nanny right now… I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
Jada, the school librarian you’d been working with, gave you an apologetic smile as she slid the last book into place.
“Yes, oh my god, go! Go spend time with your family. Leave me alone!”
You swatted at her jokingly as you turned back to your laptop.
Working in the school library had its perks.
Free Wifi. Quiet corners. And best of all, getting paid to do homework.
You and Jungkook were graduating this year, and things had started to feel like a blur.
“I haven’t seen Jungkook around lately. You guys okay?” Jada asked it casually, zipping up her bag. But you knew she meant it.
You glanced at your phone again. No notifications.
Not unusual, and definitely not new.
The last message was before his first class, and it’s already 7pm.
A long paragraph, all about his day.
A rundown of their late-night session in the studio, his dad’s latest scan, what he ate (just ramen, while reminding you not to skip a meal), and the fact that he nearly passed out during class.
A lot has happened in the past months.
His dad being diagnosed with late-stage cancer definitely changed everything.
Lately, you felt more like his diary.
He talked to you when you were asleep.
Your classes were in the morning, his in the afternoon.
After that, he’d head straight to either band practice or a studio session, then rush to the hospital to stay with his dad at night. He and Jin took turns, depending on the day, so their mom could catch up on sleep somehow.
Then he’d crash into bed in the morning, barely catching a few hours of sleep before doing it all over again.
The last time you saw him was four days ago, and it was brief. He walked you to the library, gave you a quick kiss, and then sprinted off to his next class.
You realized you haven’t answered her, and she’s still waiting for a response.
“Yeah… we’re good. You know, he’s super busy.” You sighed and locked your screen, trying not to overthink and worry too much.
“Yeah, his dad, I heard… how’s he holding up?”
You hesitated, choosing your words carefully.
“He’s doing well… considering. The cancer’s spreading to the lower parts now, so he needs more help.”
You remembered the last time you visited – it was painful, seeing the man you were used to seeing strong and full of life now looking frail in a hospital gown.
Jesus,” Jada muttered, pausing mid-zip as her expression crumpled. “How is Jungkook even functioning? I mean, classes, the band, hospital duty…does he even sleep?”
“I know…” You swallowed, voice quiet. “He’s trying his best, and he always tells me not to worry, but…”
Jada gave you a look. “Of course you’re going to worry. You think I haven’t noticed you check your phone like a hundred times in the last five minutes?”
You sighed, finally leaning back in your chair. “I really try not to. I just… I’m trying not to look like I worry too much. Because you know how he is, he’s going to feel guilty or burdened or– ”
You stopped, pressing your lips together. “I don’t know. I just want to help him... I just don’t know how.”
“I think just being there for him is helping,” She said softly. “You’re allowed to feel this way, you know? Your feelings are valid too. And the best thing you can do for him is to take care of yourself. Him seeing you well… that probably gives him more comfort than you realize.”
You hadn’t noticed how tense your shoulders were until she reached over and gave them a gentle squeeze.
“Yeah…” You exhaled. “Thanks, Jada. That really means a lot.”
“Now go,” you said, giving her a playful tap. “Your husband’s gonna be late for work again if he has to wait much longer for you to get home.”
“He’ll survive! Should’ve thought twice about putting a baby in me in this economy!” she laughed, leaning in to kiss your cheek before leaving you with a soft smile.
“Take it easy, okay?”
You nodded.
It helped, having someone to talk to.
You hadn’t realized how much you needed it.
Ever since Jungkook’s dad was diagnosed, you hadn’t really let yourself vent to anyone. There was Jimin, who shared the same sentiments as you, so it helped to hear things from someone a little outside the circle.
You glanced at your phone one more time, though you already knew it was on loud, and it hadn’t buzzed.
Then you turned back to your laptop, willing your thoughts to settle.
The library was empty now.
Silent.
You’d just switched off the main lights, leaving only the soft amber glow near the entrance door as you zipped up your bag.
A glance at your phone said it was just past 8pm.
At this hour, Jungkook was probably buried in practice, or at the studio, or– if the universe had a shred of mercy– napping.
You had texted him all day. Like you always did.
Little updates.
All unread.
You sighed, slinging your bag over your shoulder and stepping outside, ready to crash into bed as soon as you got home.
You’d been exhausted and sleepy lately, and you were praying it wasn’t the flu coming down on you, especially with exams just around the corner, right before semestral break.
You startled slightly when you realized it had been raining, the pavement glistening with puddles.
Great.
You hadn’t noticed. The library was practically soundproof.
You really hated the rain.
Which was ironic, considering you moved to a town where it rained half the year.
And, yes, of course you forgot your umbrella. Again.
What now?
Back to the library and wait it out?
Or just say “fuck it” and walk home? But your laptop in your bag, and who the hell was that beautiful man running toward you?
You squinted.
Oh.
That..
…was your boyfriend…
Running toward you, breath fogging in the cold air, black hoodie already damp, carrying a massive red umbrella.
“Jungkook?!” You blinked, stunned. “Why? What are you--?”
“Knew it!” he shouted through the rain, grinning as he pushed back his wet hair. “You didn’t bring one.”
He stepped right up to you and swung the umbrella overhead.
Your mouth fell open. “You’re supposed to be in the studio! Or sleeping? Why are you here—”
So warm.
He was so warm.
And his lips were soft and plush and sweet against yours.
You kissed him back, hungry and eager and messy.
“You didn’t answer me,” you mumbled against his chest after the kiss, pouting.
“I just did,” he grinned.
“You didn’t, you just kissed me.”
“Yeah.” He smirked. “I’m here for that.”
You smacked his chest, but couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out. Then you wrapped your arms around him, tight. So tight he let out a soft “oh”, before squeezing you back like he was trying to merge your bodies into one.
“Where were you before coming here?” you asked, voice muffled against his hoodie.
“Studio,” he replied with a grin. “We were almost done when it rained.”
“You didn’t have to come all the way here, Kook.”
“It was raining.”
“So?”
“So of course I had to come get you. No way I’m letting you walk home soaked.”
He chuckled, kissing your head again. “Plus, I really, really needed to see you. I needed this.”
Another kiss, more tongue on throat, hips grinding, hands on your ass kind of kiss, but you weren’t complaining.
You finally pulled back, and he reached for your bag without a word, slinging it over his arm before wrapping the other around your shoulder.
You walked side by side through the rain, tucked under the oversized umbrella and suddenly, the rain didn't matter anymore.
The yellow street lights reflected his beautiful face, and though it was dim, you could see it: the exhaustion in his eyes. The dark circles. The way he blinked a little too slow, like even now, his body was fighting to stay upright.
“Baby…” you said quietly. “When was the last time you actually slept?”
“I slept last night,” he said quickly. “I’m fine, babe. Don’t worry about me.”
You swallowed the lump rising in your throat. “You know you don’t have to pretend you’re ok with me all the time, right? Ever since your dad’s diagnosis, you’ve been… non-stop. Of course I worry about you. Sue me.”
He was quiet for a moment, then gave you a small nod. “I’m managing, I swear. Just… take care of yourself for me, okay? While I can’t. Not the way I used to.”
That – that right there – made your chest ache.
Even now, with everything he’s holding, everything he’s going through, he’s worried about you.
“Jungkook,” you said, stopping in your tracks. “That’s your concern right now? That you can’t take care of me while you’re going through a lot?”
He blinked, then gave you a soft, sheepish grin. “Hey… babe. Don’t be mad, yeah?”
“I’m not mad?”
“You’re getting upset,” he said, gently tapping your forehead. “This spot right here always gives you away.”
You rolled your eyes.
“Well,” he continued, “how about we agree it’s impossible not to worry about each other? I worry about you, and you feel bad. You worry about me, and I feel bad. Vicious cycle, huh?”
You cracked a smile. “Okay, fine. Okay! Just… promise me you’ll tell me when it gets too much. I’ll bring an umbrella every single day so you don’t worry when it rains. And sleep when you can.”
“Yes, ma’am. I promise,” he said with a smug grin.
You reached your dorm after a few more steps under the rain. You were ready to pull him into one last tight hug before he rushed off to the hospital again.
But the moment you stepped inside, he was already kicking off his shoes and tugging off his damp hoodie in one smooth motion.
You opened your mouth to ask if he was staying, maybe just for a few minutes, but he turned, eyes gleaming, and pulled you straight toward the bed.
“Jungkook–what are you doing?” you squeaked, laughing as you stumbled forward.
“I really, really, really need to do this,” he murmured, grinning as he fell back on the mattress and dragged you with him.
You landed on top of him with a surprised yelp, hands on his chest, your knees bracketing his hips– then his mouth was on your neck.
Fuck, it had been too long.
You couldn’t help the soft moan that slipped out, until you remembered his tired eyes, the deep shadows under his lashes.
“Jungkook…” You brushed your fingers through his hair. “You staying for a bit?”
“Uh-huh. I’ve got two hours. Mom’s with Dad,” he mumbled as he flipped you over effortlessly. In a blink, he was hovering above you, his eyes tired, but hungry.
“Then maybe you should be resting instead of doing this,” you said, breathless but trying to sound stern.
His eyes fluttered open, and that handsome smirk curved his lips. “Babe, I told you, I’m fine. I’ll show you.”
You bit your lip. “Show me how?”
He chuckled low, fingers ghosting over your waistband.
“Why don’t you spread those pretty legs for me and find out?”
You snorted, raising a brow. “Aren’t you too tired for that?”
“I’m never too tired for that.”
“Jungkook…”
“YN.”
He matched your tone, unbothered.
You sighed, brushing your fingers through his damp hair.
“We don’t have to do anything,” you murmured, softer now. “You should rest.”
“I know,” he whispered, brushing his nose against your neck.
“But I really, really wanna taste you again,” he added. “I miss your taste on my tongue.”
“You’re crazy!”
“Baby… you have no idea. Pussy that tastes like that? Who wouldn’t be?”
You let out a breathy laugh, but it caught somewhere in your throat because his fingertips were already slipping beneath the waistband of your shorts.
God, you missed him. But as much as you missed his touch, you couldn’t ignore how tired he looked. How sleep-starved he was.
So you reached up, cupped his jaw, and kissed him softly.
“Baby, I missed you so much. I know it’s been a while… but I also know how exhausted you are. Please, just rest. Take a nap with me? I’m sleepy too.”
Your thumb brushed over his cheek.
“Please… rest? Just for a little while.”
You leaned in and kissed his forehead, and he let out a shaky breath against your collarbone.
“Yeah,” he mumbled and buried his face in your neck, arms wrapping around you.
“Sleep, baby,” you whispered, brushing your fingers through his hair. “Need you to sleep.”
Within the next minute, you felt his weight soften beside you. You drifted off soon after.
When you woke up, it was to the soft press of his lips kissing all over your face, a silent goodbye before he headed out to repeat another busy day.
You had already decided to skip class today.
Actually, not decided.
More like… surrendered to the exhaustion.
You’d been tired.
Nauseous.
Throwing up for a week now.
You hated a lot of things about yourself.
And you hated that you hated so many things about yourself.
But what you hated most was how indecisive you could be.
Like you’d rather be forced to choose between two things than be handed ten.
And right now, you were standing in front of a wall of pregnancy test kits, unsure whether to get the digital or the analog.
A decision that shouldn’t have taken twenty minutes.
You had opened another Google tab on your phone to read more about pregnancy kits, closing the one about early signs and symptoms.
You took two analogs – just to be sure – and marched toward the cashier.
You just wanted to go home and rest.
At first, you thought it was the flu.
But then you missed your period.
Then another week passed. Now your brain won’t stop spinning, someone nearby smells like citrus, and it’s making you nauseous. The tag of your shirt scratches at the back of your neck, and everything feels too hot and too loud.
When you got home, you kicked off your shoes, stripped off your clothes, and headed straight to the bathroom.
You tore the boxes open with trembling hands.
You had read the instructions twice. Maybe three times. Didn’t matter.
You knew what to do.
You just didn’t know what you’d do after.
You peed.
You waited.
One minute.
Two…
Too long.
And then –
Two pink lines.
You stared at them like they might change if you blinked long enough.
Like if you tilted them just right under the bathroom light, one of the lines might fade.
Disappear.
Undo itself.
But it didn’t.
You sat on the toilet, underwear around one ankle, heart pounding against your ribs.
Two fucking lines.
Oh my god.
Your mouth went dry.
You wanted to cry, but for some reason you just sat there, arms wrapped around yourself, cold tile biting into your skin.
You didn’t know how long you stayed like that.
Long enough for your hand to start shaking.
Then your leg.
Then all of you.
At some point, you slid down onto the floor, curled sideways on the cold, chipped bathroom tiles of the dorm, eyes fixed on the only thing moving –
A single line of ants, crawling out from a crack in the wall, toward the window, carrying the body of a moth.
Wings torn, but still beautiful.
And you wanted to think that the ants found the moth and carried it to its final destination, where it would be laid to rest in peace.
But you know the moth serves a purpose even in death. That its body will be broken down, piece by piece, fed to something else.
Not all losses are mourned.
Some are simply repurposed.
And you cried at the thought that you were thinking about the dead moth on your bathroom floor. You’re pregnant, and you’re crying about a dead moth.
“I’m only telling you this because someone has to knock sense into you!!!”
…Huh?
“He’ll trap you in this town, don’t you see that?”
“Throwing your life away for a boy!”
“Waste every ounce of potential you have!”
“What a waste!”
“Waste!!!”
Your mother’s voice lingered,
Louder and louder right in your ear.
“--in this godforsaken town!!!”
You jerked awake, chest heaving.
Confused and disoriented, you opened your eyes and tried to gain consciousness.
Only to realize you couldn’t move.
Something heavy. No – someone.
Sprawled across your chest.
What the hell is going on?
Oh right…
You had fallen asleep on the bathroom floor and woken up cold, then dragged yourself to bed after texting Jungkook that you had skipped class.
At some point, he must’ve let himself into your dorm. He had probably come straight from the hospital, dragged himself through lectures, then crawled here.
The band had been working so hard ever since they started gaining more recognition and attention, with their late-night studio sessions and out-of-town gigs – on top of his duties for his dad, so maybe this was the first real sleep he had gotten this week.
You watched him, eyes tracing over features you knew by heart: the thick lashes, that tiny scar from a childhood fight with Jin, the mole under his lip. His arm was slung over your waist, clinging like he always did...
You noticed the tattoos that had accumulated slowly – some born out of impulse he now regrets, and some from visions he had as a teen. You loved them all so dearly. You ran your fingertips lightly over the ink. He twitched but didn’t wake.
You smiled. He looked so peaceful.
And God... you wondered – if the child you’re carrying will look like him.
Will it have his nose? His lips? That warmth in his eyes?
Will it inherit his loving nature, his loyalty, his selflessness, his ridiculous laugh?
You wanted to tell him.
Should you tell him now?
But before you could do anything, his eyes fluttered open – and he was staring right back at you.
“Hi,” he said, voice low from sleep.
“Hi.” you croaked.
“Why’d you skip class?”
You shrugged, trying not to fidget. “Just tired.”
He frowned and reached over, placing the back of his hand on your forehead. It was warm – his hand, not you.
“Are you sick?”
You shook your head. “No… I’m not.”
God, you wanted to tell him.
But what did you even feel?
You hadn’t had a second to sit still, to process any of this.
You were still trying to push the fear down.
Shove it somewhere dark and quiet.
You were terrified. Of everything.
And your mother’s voice was still ringing in your ears.
But he was sitting in front of you now, and you didn’t know how to hand him this, too.
“Alright,” he sighed, straightening his back. “Then you need to rest more. But we gotta eat first. You can’t sleep on an empty stomach, deal?”
He was already opening the food app on his phone.
“Are you… leaving soon?” you asked gently.
“Yeah, love…” he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Actually, I’ve been meaning to tell you something. Just… everything’s been so hectic.”
Your whole body went still.
“What’s going on?”
He exhaled slowly, sitting up straighter.
You already knew it was bad.
“Dad’s scans came back. It’s worse than before. The doctors walked us through options but… they said the chances of recovery are really low at this point. So… we have to prepare. For the worst.”
Your heart sank.
“Baby…” You reach for his hand, your fingers curling over his.
He swallowed hard.
“Mom’s still holding onto hope, and Jin and I... we’re pretending like we are too. But watching him go through it, the pain, the exhaustion… it’s killing us.”
His voice faltered. He tried to keep going.
“We decided on chemo. It’s aggressive. Expensive. But we’ll figure it out. Jin’s job helps. The gigs, too. We’ve just… cut back on some things, sacrificed a few things. We’re selling mom’s car, which is fine. It’s just –”
He exhaled shakily.
“It’s hard. Seeing him like that. Hooked up to machines, barely talking. I’m used to him being strong, you know? Always laughing, joking…now he can’t even stand, can’t even use the toilet by himself. I don’t know how to be okay with that.”
You squeeze his hand gently, your thumb brushing over his knuckles. Maybe to calm him, or yourself.
“I’m so sorry, Kook… I know you’re trying to be strong for everyone, but you don’t have to carry it alone.”
He didn’t respond. But his grip tightened just slightly. So you kept going.
“Whatever happens, whatever you need… I’m here. Even if I don’t always know the right thing to say, I’m here.”
He leaned into you then, arms wrapping around you. You hugged him back just as tightly, and your heart broke with how hard he clung.
And then, he stilled.
His breath shuddered against your neck.
And you felt it, the damp warmth soaking into your skin, his uneven breathing, the quiet tremble in his shoulders.
So you held him, and let him fall apart in your arms.
“It’s okay, baby,” you murmured. “Let it out. Everything’s going to be okay.”
You glanced at the clock. He’d have to leave again soon. Back to his responsibilities.
There would be another time to tell him.
Not tonight.
So for now, you just held him.
And that had to be enough.
The bus ride from your dorm to your mom’s house felt surprisingly short.
Maybe because your thoughts were running faster than the bus.
Or maybe it was your mind spinning with one hundred and one questions, wondering if there would be any telltale signs that you were pregnant, besides the throwing up and the constant sleepiness.
Your mom wasn’t going to be able to tell, right?
Until you decided what to do, it was best that no one knew.
Normally, you would spend the semester break at her house, even though you usually just stayed holed up in your room the entire time. Still, it was a routine.
When you were younger, you used to go on road trips and camping with Jungkook, Jimin, and friends, but a lot has changed since then.
Your mom’s words played in your head like a curse you couldn’t shake, and you weren’t ready to face her.
Your fingers tightened around the folded papers tucked into your hoodie pocket, the ones you had picked up from the OB-GYN clinic a few days ago. They were crumpled now from being opened and closed so many times.
Pamphlets about what to expect over the next nine months: milestones, symptoms, what foods to avoid, what vitamins to take, check-ups.
If you chose that path.
You hadn’t told Jungkook yet.
And it wasn’t because you didn’t trust him. That was the thing—you did.
You trusted him so much, and that was exactly what made it harder. He was already shouldering too much, and you knew he’d drop everything for you.
He was already giving so much – to his dad, to his dreams, to you. How could you hand him this, too?
You weren’t trying to keep it from him forever… just… not now.
But one thing was certain: You weren’t ready for this.
If you went through with it, everything would change.
You’d have to stop school. Press pause on your dreams. Stay home for the baby.
Jungkook, of course, being Jungkook, would take care of you. He would graduate just as the baby arrived, and you already knew what he’d do next – work himself into the ground to take care of you. Of the baby. Of everything.
Because that’s who he is.
You remembered the nights you dreamed about raising a family with him – how he used to say he wanted to give you the world.
But how could he give you the world when you were both still trying to survive it?
Still in college.
Still stretched thin.
Still learning how to take care of yourselves, let alone someone else.
What if choosing not to be a mother right now was the most motherly decision you could make?
What if the only way to protect the both of you… was to not bring a child into a life built on sacrifice and survival?
And worst of all, what if your mother was right?
You hated her for saying it.
You hated yourself for starting to think she might be right.
You pressed a hand to your belly, unsure if you were seeking comfort or apology.
A text from Jungkook paused your racing thoughts. Just a quick rundown of his day, and an apology for not being able to drive you to your mom’s. They were out of town for two days to play at a music festival, the one they’d been preparing for weeks.
You assured him that everything was fine.
And it was clear now how much his dad’s condition was taking a toll, not just on Jungkook, but on everyone. With hospital bills piling up, the band had been accepting every offer that came in.
Even if it meant going out of town more often. Even if it meant spending nights in the studio, hours and hours at a time, chasing deadlines and checks.
But somehow, he was still showing up for everything.
For you.
And even if it was only a few hours, he spent it holding you close.
And you were scared. Scared of what the future held.
“Have you been doing well at school? I take it you’ll graduate this year?” your mother asked, her tone as neutral as ever.
“Yes, hopefully,” you answered.
“I hope so too. Your father’s been calling me non-stop about your internship right after your graduation. Why don’t you give him a call and talk to him about that?”
You nodded and just said, “Okay, Mom.”
“It’s nice that you finally decided to come home for your break,” she said, not even trying to hide the bitterness in her voice.
“I was starting to think you’d officially moved in with that boy. Following him around like some groupie while he wastes time on those silly gigs. What, does he actually believe he’s gonna make a living off that noise?”
She scoffed and set her fork down with a loud clink.
You bit your tongue and clenched your jaw.
“You don’t even visit me on weekends anymore. I guess that’s what love looks like to you now, skipping your own mother for some tattooed dropout waiting to happen.”
“He’s actually doing well in school,” you said flatly, not looking up. “On top of making music and doing gigs. Their band’s doing great, too. It’s actually pretty impressive.”
Your voice was calm. Bored, almost. She thrived on reaction, and you weren’t going to give her the satisfaction.
Then, without much change in tone, like she was commenting on the weather –
“Did you gain weight? You need to watch out for your figure before you work with your father,” she said casually.
“You need to show everyone from that family that you deserve that place in the company, better than your cousins. Make yourself presentable all the time.”
“Didn’t know my weight had anything to do with my competence or skills,” you replied evenly.
“It doesn’t,” she shrugged. “But you know how your father’s sisters are, vicious bitches, all of them. And I won’t be there for you this time. So if you show up looking tired like that, bloated, sloppy, don’t come crying to me when they start whispering about you.”
She set her fork down and leaned back, like she was waiting for you to react.
“You think they care how smart you are? No. They’re looking for flaws. Don’t give them one.”
You didn’t answer. You didn’t react.
It was a moot point. You were used to her by now, but god, she always knew how to make you feel like killing yourself, and you were already starting to feel drowsy, your body begging for rest.
Thankfully, it didn’t take long before you both finished your food.
After cleaning up, you went straight to bed and changed into your comfiest pajamas, scrolling through your phone, reading Jungkook’s texts. Photos from soundcheck. Backstage stolen shots. Clips of the band playing to a massive crowd at the music fest.
He looked so happy. They looked happy.
You sent him a quick selfie from bed, skin dewy and glowing in all your skincare glory – and he Facetimed you right away.
“I miss you,” he said before the call even connected properly, voice a little breathless, like he’d run to a quieter corner just to call you, though it was hard to hear with all the background noise.
He was smacking Jimin, who kept trying to squeeze into the frame and god, you missed them so much. You wanted to tell him everything, about so many things, but it was too damn noisy and his reception was crap.
So you both gave up on talking, and just spent the next ten minutes smiling at each other in silence – him munching on snacks, you blinking through sleep, barely keeping your eyes open.
Eventually, your phone slipped from your hand as you surrendered to sleep.
Pain.
Pain woke you.
Sharp.
Like something tearing inside.
You sat up, heart in your throat, and that’s when you saw it –
blood.
It soaked through your underwear. Streaked your thighs. Spotted the sheets.
You bolted to the bathroom, breathing too fast.
You pulled your shorts down, and your ears were ringing and your chest was pounding and you saw more blood. Too much red.
You were shaking. You didn’t know who to call.
What do you do?
So you cried. Biting your knuckles just to keep from screaming. You reached for a towel, trying to wipe the blood that kept coming.
But it wouldn’t stop.
And the pain, oh the pain, like your insides were being wrung out, and you hadn’t felt anything like it before.
It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.
You folded onto the floor, pressed your back to the wall, knees to your chest as you sobbed.
That’s where your mother found you.
She stood in the doorway. She didn’t say anything, but she stood there just looking at you.
“We’re going to the hospital.”
Cold stirrups.
Bright lights.
Nurses talking like you weren’t in the room.
The ultrasound screen turned away.
The doctor tried to speak gently –
"It’s a miscarriage..."
And you couldn’t hear a word past that first sentence.
You blinked, the doctor’s mouth still moving, but everything was just muffled noise.
You weren’t sure how long you cried after that, or if you even cried at all. It didn’t make sense.
Because how could something you barely felt… just disappear?
You kept waiting to feel something – grief? Pain? Maybe even relief?
But all you felt was the void.
Was it even real? Did it really happen?
Maybe it didn’t feel wanted. Maybe that’s why it left.
You didn’t know what to grieve. You didn’t know what you lost.
But why did it feel like you lost a whole chunk of yourself, like your body remembers something your mind can’t make sense of?
You told your mother through broken sobs that you knew you were pregnant.
She just stared at you with confusion and slight disgust, like she couldn’t comprehend a word you were saying.
You were given medication to help with the pain, and you wished it was something that could make you sleep forever.
You woke up, unfortunately, hours later.
The room was dim, and the pain was still there.
And your mother, sitting by the window reading her subscription magazine, not even looking at you when she said:
“Well. At least it’s gone now. The universe removed it for you, good lord.”
And you felt it, like a dam being cracked open, the rage bleeding out of your mouth. And you closed your eyes for a second, as you felt like your head was going to burst in anger.
“How could you say that?! It wasn’t some thing – it was mine! It was a part of me! You are so mean, and vile!I hate you!!!”
She didn’t flinch. Just crossed her arms and turned to face you with that cold, condescending look you knew too well.
“You’d look back one day and thank the gods this happened. That thing would have ruined your life just like I warned you,” she spat, her eyes nothing but disgust.
And you were so angry that you were shaking, but she kept going.
“Use your brain for once and think about what was going to happen. You’d drop out of school, raise a baby on what? Hope? You thought love paid the bills? You thought Jungkook’s little hobby was going to keep food on your table? Grow up.”
Through gritted teeth, you yelled, “Shut up! Stop saying that! He is doing great! We were going to graduate, and – ”
“You’d been playing house with that boy, and I let you because I thought you’d come to your senses and grow out of it, thinking you’ll leave him after college anyway. But no. You really went and proved how reckless and selfish you are. You thought life was all about love and romance and dreams? I had bled and scraped and clawed to give you a better life, and this – this is what you do with it? Throw it away for some boy? And where is he now, huh? Where?”
Defeated, and feeling weak, you sobbed.
“Stupid girl. One day, when you’re older, broke, and exhausted, you'll remember this moment, and you will be thankful that this happened.”
You had imagined your graduation day so many times.
It always felt like the light at the end of a long, brutal tunnel. Like hope.
A gleaming exit.
When home felt like hell, this was the moment you clung to.
This was the plan: survive college under her roof, then work for your dad, move out, and finally live the life you always wanted.
You were supposed to feel relief.
But now, you were lying awake in your bed on your last night in this town, staring at the ceiling for what felt like eternity, as your entire world quietly caved in on itself.
Your graduation cap sat proudly on your desk like a trophy.
Across the room, your new and expensive luggage – pink and purple, bought with your dad’s money – zipped and ready.
You broke up with Jungkook this morning. Right after graduation.
It was quick.
After all, you had practiced the speech for weeks – rehearsed every word until you memorized every word and intonation.
You just said it wasn’t going to work.
Not with him staying in this town.
And you…
Well, you were never meant to stay here anyway.
You didn’t cry, in front of him at least.
No matter how much he pressed. How he begged.
How his voice cracked, how his hands trembled, how his eyes searched your face like he could find a different answer hidden there.
You walked out of his dorm with your head held high, back straight. Chin up.
Just like you practiced.
You hadn’t told him about the miscarriage.
You wanted to. God, you imagined it a hundred different ways.
But there was never a right time.
First, his dad got worse.
You watched him juggle school, rehearsals, and hospital visits, hope thinning out a little more each day. And just when you thought you’d finally tell him, thinking ‘what the heck, this is Jungkook, the love of your life’ – his dad died.
And if there was one thing you never truly understood — because you had never experienced it— it was the love that came from family, and the depth of grief that followed when they were gone.
For months, the whole family sank into a deep, consuming grief.
So you didn’t tell him.
His grief made him quiet. Yours made you quieter.
You mourned separately.
You stood by him. Held space for his pain. But no one stood by you.
But you couldn't blame anyone, because how could you?
You made the choice, and it was all on you.
You didn’t even know if you were allowed to call it grief, or if you were even allowed to call it your child. All you knew was that something inside you was gone, and you never told him. And now, that silence felt like betrayal.
And after enough silence, you convinced yourself maybe he was never meant to know.
It was taken from you too early, anyway.
You fell asleep hugging yourself.
And you woke to a knocking on your bedroom window.
Jungkook stood there, glowing as he bathed in moonlight, grinning wide. His eyes were wide and glossy.
“I’ll come with you,” he whispered. “I already talked to the band. Told them Jin can take over vocals. It’s fine. I can find a job in the city. A good one. I swear, I’ll figure it out.”
Your heart ached. Oh how it ached.
Because he was cutting out pieces of himself just to follow you into the unknown.
Everything he loved and cherished was here. You couldn’t take that away from him.
Just because you were miserable here didn’t mean he had to be miserable somewhere else just to be with you.
So instead of answering, you kissed him deep, and you kissed him hard.
And somehow, in that kiss, he understood that this would probably be the last time.
So he made love to you, and you made love to him, like it was.
You still remember how his solid body felt. How he made you feel at home when he was inside you, filling you, pumping his seed deep.
And afterward, when he lay on top of you, sweaty and spent, you told him:
“You’re holding me back. If you really love me, you’ll let me go.”
It rained that night.
And you swore the sky cried with you.
Maybe it was the universe’s way of mourning the tragedy of it all.
Right place, wrong person.
How he was the right place.
And you were the wrong person.
He held you tight against his chest, his whole body trembling, shaking with silent, broken sobs. You felt his tears seep into your skin, felt his grief in the way his arms refused to let go.
And by morning, he was gone.
You cried all your tears that day, because you never cried after that.
Maybe you used them all up.
The rain tapped against your window as if it, too, has something to say.
Maybe – just maybe – it’s crying for you.
But that thought feels self-indulgent.
Why would the sky mourn for someone like you?
After all, you were nothing but a selfish bitch, willing to lie and betray the only love you’d ever known.
Jungkook gave you his entire world, offered in open palms.
Every piece of him.
But it wasn't enough.
NOW
“I’m sorry, what was that?”
You turn to one of the investors with a polite tilt of your head, the smile on your lips still perfectly in place. Your cheeks ache from smiling. Family. Family friends. Business partners. Everyone your father and Kole deemed important enough to attend this pre-wedding dinner.
The wedding– your wedding– is in two weeks.
But apparently, everyone’s here to celebrate your father and Kole’s company merger.
It really shouldn’t surprise you how many private jets a private island can accommodate. But it still does. The extravagance is nauseating.
“Mr. Chen was asking if you plan to take over the Hong Kong branch after the wedding,” your father chimes in for you. “I told him it’s up to Kole if he wants you to work right after the honeymoon.”
You blink.
Up to Kole?
If he wants you to work?
You laugh.
And then finish your champagne in one go.
Where the hell is Kole, anyway? You haven’t seen him since dinner. Probably talking business.
You excuse yourself and make your way to the bar. The bartender asks what you’ll have, you don’t hesitate.
“A beer,” you say.
She raises a brow in amusement but doesn’t question it, and a pint of draft is placed in front of you.
You take it, gratefully, and walk toward the beach, away from the hushed conversations like everyone is talking about secrets.
You used to think this was normal.
The way they spoke in riddles and metaphors, like a dance.
It wasn’t until you moved with your mother to the town that you realized:
Normal people don’t speak like that.
They speak with their hearts full and their chins high, unafraid to talk about the things they love.
You pass by the softly lit cabanas and hear faint laughter near the main house, but the further you walk, the quieter it becomes. The huts here are empty. Just the sound of the shore.
You find the furthest hut, the one tucked farthest from everything, and slip inside.
But the moment your foot hits the floor, you hear it.
Breathy gasps.
Soft moans.
Whoops.
The hut’s not empty, obviously.
And really, you’d hate to interrupt a guest enjoying themselves at your party.
Maybe try the hut before this one?
You’re already turning around, ready to slip out quietly, when–
“...yeah, like that. Love it when you do that.”
A man’s voice.
You pause.
Kole’s voice.
Then, another voice - a man’s, laughs low and hums something in return.
And it sounds… familiar.
Curiosity tugs at you. So you look.
The curtain separating the lounge from the inner room is half drawn. Through the gap, you catch movement.
Kole is pinned against the wall, panting, shirt undone. His perfectly styled hair is now a mess, sticking to his forehead with sweat. His hands are buried in another man's dark hair, fingers guiding - as he kneels before him, head moving with a rhythm that has Kole’s eyes rolling back and his hips stuttering forward.
Your gaze flicks to the shirt the guy’s wearing.
You know that shirt.
You and Kole picked it out together last month during your vacation in Europe.
A birthday gift for your cousin.
Holy shit.
What the actual fuck.
Have they been… fucking?
For how long?
Kole and your cousin?
You didn’t even know about Kole’s sexual preferences. It’s not something the two of you ever discussed openly.
Not that there was space for that kind of conversation between you anyway.
What else don’t you know about him?
They don’t notice you.
They’re too lost in their own world.
After collecting yourself, you quietly turn and step back out into the night.
You walk away calmly, beer still in one hand, your phone on the other.
You’re already in bed, in a satin nightgown, the glow of your phone screen casting light across your face as you scroll through nothing.
When Kole enters, he offers you that charming smile of his.
“Long day,” he murmurs, undoing his shirt. “You were wonderful tonight. Truly. The guests adore you.”
He disappears into the bathroom without waiting for a response.
You hear the water run. Then stop.
When he returns, he’s in his maroon pajama set, hair damp, skin freshly dewy with that aftershave you used to like. He slips into bed beside you and presses a soft kiss to your shoulder.
“Good night, darling,” he says casually. “Excellent job today. I’m sorry I couldn’t be at your side more, you know how it is, investor talk about the new branch. But tomorrow’s for us. Golf, then a massage. Yes?”
You look up from your phone and set it aside, then turn to face him fully.
“I saw you,” you said softly, calmly.
You’re devoid of emotion.
You haven’t felt anything in months.
And honestly, nothing surprises you anymore.
“In the hut. With my cousin.” You wait for a reaction from him, but he only blinks once.
Then lets out a short, airy chuckle, the same chuckle he gives when the wine’s poured a little too generously.
“Oh? How unfortunate. That wasn’t my intention at all. Still… I do apologize you had to witness it.”
“That’s it?” Your voice remains calm, your face unreadable. “You’re sorry I saw?”
He sighs, folding his hands neatly across his chest.
“Darling,” he begins, composed, “what exactly would you have me do? Apologize for indulging in my own preferences? We both have our… pursuits. I’ve never interfered in yours.”
“What?”
He raises an eyebrow, utterly unbothered.
He is eerily calm.
You trained yourself to stay calm. It was survival, really. A skill honed through years of navigating your mother’s moods and your father’s expectations.
But this is something else entirely.
This is detachment - bred from an environment where emotions are inconvenient and consequences are optional.
It makes your skin crawl.
“Come now… Darling, I know about your affair.”
Your blood runs cold.
“I’m not an idiot,” he continues still in that maddening calm tone, as if explaining something obvious to a slow student. “I'm well aware you were fucking your ex every time you visited your mother.”
Your lips part, but you don't say anything.
“But I also know it wasn't serious. Of course.” He exhales softly. “Just like mine wasn’t. These things – flings, indulgences – they’re inevitable. Necessary, even. We all have our vices.”
He looks at you with amusement, as he continues.
“I never stood in the way of yours because I knew, at the end of the day, you’d come back to me. You always do.”
He leans back into the pillows, perfectly composed.
“Because no matter how good he makes you feel, no matter how well he fucks you,” he murmurs, “he’ll never be able to give you the life you want. The one you need.”
And then, he smiles.
“And you and I both know, you’re not about to give up this life,” he laughs softly, “that man? He can’t give you any of it.”
You raise an eyebrow. “This life?”
“Oh, don’t play coy. You love wealth. You love security. You love summers in Saint-Tropez and winters in the Swiss Alps. You love not having to think about money. And there’s nothing wrong with that.”
Bile rises in your throat as a tangle of emotions churns in your chest. But you say nothing. You let him speak.
“I don’t blame you,” he says smoothly. “Living in that charming little town must’ve been… enlightening. Poor you, having to experience what life is like for the rest of them. It must’ve reminded you just how different we are.”
He leans back and sighs. “I don’t fault you for it, darling. I never have. It’s simply who you are. This is where you belong.”
He picks up his phone from the nightstand, casually scrolling for a moment before dialing.
“Cancel golf tomorrow,” he says. “The investors and I will meet on the yacht instead.”
Then, he sets the phone down, turns back to you, and adds
“Wear that pretty white dress I gave you. It’ll match mine tomorrow. You’ll look magnificent in it.”
And with that, he switches off his lamp and goes to sleep.
Kole was right about one thing–
the dress does look good on you.
But then again, what doesn’t?
You’ve sculpted yourself into perfection.
It’s true that being part of this society requires effort to always be perfect, so you invest in yourself.
You sip at the champagne and glance out the plane window. The clouds drift past like marshmallows – soft, white, pure.
Far below, the island looks impossibly small now. Like an ant. The water surrounding it glistens, like blue Gatorade under the sun.
It’s not your first time flying on a private jet.
But it’s your first time flying alone.
And that thought feels… liberating.
You’ve been alone all your life, haunted by the isolating feeling that your life was never truly yours.
It’s true, you were an obedient child. You never once strayed from the path your parents laid out for you.
Except for Jungkook.
Being with him throughout college was an act of rebellion in itself.
It was the only reckless thing you ever did.
And it was the best time of your life.
It’s ironic how the best time of your life happened during the darkest.
Right person, wrong place, or right place, wrong person, or whatever it was Namjoon said.
The pilot says the flight is going to take two hours.
You plan on taking a short nap so you have the energy to pack as soon as you arrive at the apartment you share with Kole.
You have no concrete plan after moving out of the apartment, and that thought should scare you, but it doesn’t.
You didn't speak a word to anyone before leaving the island.
Everyone was still asleep when you left.
Even Kole didn’t notice you leaving the villa. He was sound asleep on that stupidly large bed.
They can all go fuck themselves.
And as you close your eyes to take a short nap, you turn off your phone that’s been vibrating since you left, with people trying to reach you.
You probably have dozens of missed calls by now.
Maybe asking where you are.
Or maybe asking what the hell is wrong with you.
You can’t blame them, not when you emailed a few pictures you took of Kole and your cousin last night to your family.
To your father, your step mother, her sisters, their husbands, all your cousins… and Kole himself.
Just one email, sent to every single name on the recipient list before your plane even left the ground.
You debated whether to send the video, but it’s always nice to have extra ammunition, just in case.
You smacked your forehead when you realized you’d forgotten to add a subject line to the email.
a/n: thanks for waiting, told you it was a looong one! took me a bit longer to finish because, well… life happens. hope you enjoy the chapter and please let me know what you think. THANK YOU! 💛
Summary: You left Jungkook and this town behind, but every visit pulls you back into his arms, chasing a high you can never leave behind.
Ratings: 18+ ONLY!!! MDNI!
‼️CHAPTER WARNINGS ‼️
This chapter contains sensitive and potentially triggering themes including grief, loss, miscarriage, mentions of unhealthy family dynamics, implied death (non-major character).
Please read with care. Your well-being comes first.
Word Count: 8.4K
SERIES MASTERLIST
MAIN MASTERLIST
ex·o·dus [ˈeksədəs]
noun
a mass departure of people, leaving a place or situation
THEN
“Hey, you sure you’re good to close? I’m so sorry for dipping early again. Husband got called in early for work, and I just can’t afford a nanny right now… I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
Jada, the school librarian you’d been working with, gave you an apologetic smile as she slid the last book into place.
“Yes, oh my god, go! Go spend time with your family. Leave me alone!”
You swatted at her jokingly as you turned back to your laptop.
Working in the school library had its perks.
Free Wifi. Quiet corners. And best of all, getting paid to do homework.
You and Jungkook were graduating this year, and things had started to feel like a blur.
“I haven’t seen Jungkook around lately. You guys okay?” Jada asked it casually, zipping up her bag. But you knew she meant it.
You glanced at your phone again. No notifications.
Not unusual, and definitely not new.
The last message was before his first class, and it’s already 7pm.
A long paragraph, all about his day.
A rundown of their late-night session in the studio, his dad’s latest scan, what he ate (just ramen, while reminding you not to skip a meal), and the fact that he nearly passed out during class.
A lot has happened in the past months.
His dad being diagnosed with late-stage cancer definitely changed everything.
Lately, you felt more like his diary.
He talked to you when you were asleep.
Your classes were in the morning, his in the afternoon.
After that, he’d head straight to either band practice or a studio session, then rush to the hospital to stay with his dad at night. He and Jin took turns, depending on the day, so their mom could catch up on sleep somehow.
Then he’d crash into bed in the morning, barely catching a few hours of sleep before doing it all over again.
The last time you saw him was four days ago, and it was brief. He walked you to the library, gave you a quick kiss, and then sprinted off to his next class.
You realized you haven’t answered her, and she’s still waiting for a response.
“Yeah… we’re good. You know, he’s super busy.” You sighed and locked your screen, trying not to overthink and worry too much.
“Yeah, his dad, I heard… how’s he holding up?”
You hesitated, choosing your words carefully.
“He’s doing well… considering. The cancer’s spreading to the lower parts now, so he needs more help.”
You remembered the last time you visited – it was painful, seeing the man you were used to seeing strong and full of life now looking frail in a hospital gown.
Jesus,” Jada muttered, pausing mid-zip as her expression crumpled. “How is Jungkook even functioning? I mean, classes, the band, hospital duty…does he even sleep?”
“I know…” You swallowed, voice quiet. “He’s trying his best, and he always tells me not to worry, but…”
Jada gave you a look. “Of course you’re going to worry. You think I haven’t noticed you check your phone like a hundred times in the last five minutes?”
You sighed, finally leaning back in your chair. “I really try not to. I just… I’m trying not to look like I worry too much. Because you know how he is, he’s going to feel guilty or burdened or– ”
You stopped, pressing your lips together. “I don’t know. I just want to help him... I just don’t know how.”
“I think just being there for him is helping,” She said softly. “You’re allowed to feel this way, you know? Your feelings are valid too. And the best thing you can do for him is to take care of yourself. Him seeing you well… that probably gives him more comfort than you realize.”
You hadn’t noticed how tense your shoulders were until she reached over and gave them a gentle squeeze.
“Yeah…” You exhaled. “Thanks, Jada. That really means a lot.”
“Now go,” you said, giving her a playful tap. “Your husband’s gonna be late for work again if he has to wait much longer for you to get home.”
“He’ll survive! Should’ve thought twice about putting a baby in me in this economy!” she laughed, leaning in to kiss your cheek before leaving you with a soft smile.
“Take it easy, okay?”
You nodded.
It helped, having someone to talk to.
You hadn’t realized how much you needed it.
Ever since Jungkook’s dad was diagnosed, you hadn’t really let yourself vent to anyone. There was Jimin, who shared the same sentiments as you, so it helped to hear things from someone a little outside the circle.
You glanced at your phone one more time, though you already knew it was on loud, and it hadn’t buzzed.
Then you turned back to your laptop, willing your thoughts to settle.
The library was empty now.
Silent.
You’d just switched off the main lights, leaving only the soft amber glow near the entrance door as you zipped up your bag.
A glance at your phone said it was just past 8pm.
At this hour, Jungkook was probably buried in practice, or at the studio, or– if the universe had a shred of mercy– napping.
You had texted him all day. Like you always did.
Little updates.
All unread.
You sighed, slinging your bag over your shoulder and stepping outside, ready to crash into bed as soon as you got home.
You’d been exhausted and sleepy lately, and you were praying it wasn’t the flu coming down on you, especially with exams just around the corner, right before semestral break.
You startled slightly when you realized it had been raining, the pavement glistening with puddles.
Great.
You hadn’t noticed. The library was practically soundproof.
You really hated the rain.
Which was ironic, considering you moved to a town where it rained half the year.
And, yes, of course you forgot your umbrella. Again.
What now?
Back to the library and wait it out?
Or just say “fuck it” and walk home? But your laptop in your bag, and who the hell was that beautiful man running toward you?
You squinted.
Oh.
That..
…was your boyfriend…
Running toward you, breath fogging in the cold air, black hoodie already damp, carrying a massive red umbrella.
“Jungkook?!” You blinked, stunned. “Why? What are you--?”
“Knew it!” he shouted through the rain, grinning as he pushed back his wet hair. “You didn’t bring one.”
He stepped right up to you and swung the umbrella overhead.
Your mouth fell open. “You’re supposed to be in the studio! Or sleeping? Why are you here—”
So warm.
He was so warm.
And his lips were soft and plush and sweet against yours.
You kissed him back, hungry and eager and messy.
“You didn’t answer me,” you mumbled against his chest after the kiss, pouting.
“I just did,” he grinned.
“You didn’t, you just kissed me.”
“Yeah.” He smirked. “I’m here for that.”
You smacked his chest, but couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out. Then you wrapped your arms around him, tight. So tight he let out a soft “oh”, before squeezing you back like he was trying to merge your bodies into one.
“Where were you before coming here?” you asked, voice muffled against his hoodie.
“Studio,” he replied with a grin. “We were almost done when it rained.”
“You didn’t have to come all the way here, Kook.”
“It was raining.”
“So?”
“So of course I had to come get you. No way I’m letting you walk home soaked.”
He chuckled, kissing your head again. “Plus, I really, really needed to see you. I needed this.”
Another kiss, more tongue on throat, hips grinding, hands on your ass kind of kiss, but you weren’t complaining.
You finally pulled back, and he reached for your bag without a word, slinging it over his arm before wrapping the other around your shoulder.
You walked side by side through the rain, tucked under the oversized umbrella and suddenly, the rain didn't matter anymore.
The yellow street lights reflected his beautiful face, and though it was dim, you could see it: the exhaustion in his eyes. The dark circles. The way he blinked a little too slow, like even now, his body was fighting to stay upright.
“Baby…” you said quietly. “When was the last time you actually slept?”
“I slept last night,” he said quickly. “I’m fine, babe. Don’t worry about me.”
You swallowed the lump rising in your throat. “You know you don’t have to pretend you’re ok with me all the time, right? Ever since your dad’s diagnosis, you’ve been… non-stop. Of course I worry about you. Sue me.”
He was quiet for a moment, then gave you a small nod. “I’m managing, I swear. Just… take care of yourself for me, okay? While I can’t. Not the way I used to.”
That – that right there – made your chest ache.
Even now, with everything he’s holding, everything he’s going through, he’s worried about you.
“Jungkook,” you said, stopping in your tracks. “That’s your concern right now? That you can’t take care of me while you’re going through a lot?”
He blinked, then gave you a soft, sheepish grin. “Hey… babe. Don’t be mad, yeah?”
“I’m not mad?”
“You’re getting upset,” he said, gently tapping your forehead. “This spot right here always gives you away.”
You rolled your eyes.
“Well,” he continued, “how about we agree it’s impossible not to worry about each other? I worry about you, and you feel bad. You worry about me, and I feel bad. Vicious cycle, huh?”
You cracked a smile. “Okay, fine. Okay! Just… promise me you’ll tell me when it gets too much. I’ll bring an umbrella every single day so you don’t worry when it rains. And sleep when you can.”
“Yes, ma’am. I promise,” he said with a smug grin.
You reached your dorm after a few more steps under the rain. You were ready to pull him into one last tight hug before he rushed off to the hospital again.
But the moment you stepped inside, he was already kicking off his shoes and tugging off his damp hoodie in one smooth motion.
You opened your mouth to ask if he was staying, maybe just for a few minutes, but he turned, eyes gleaming, and pulled you straight toward the bed.
“Jungkook–what are you doing?” you squeaked, laughing as you stumbled forward.
“I really, really, really need to do this,” he murmured, grinning as he fell back on the mattress and dragged you with him.
You landed on top of him with a surprised yelp, hands on his chest, your knees bracketing his hips– then his mouth was on your neck.
Fuck, it had been too long.
You couldn’t help the soft moan that slipped out, until you remembered his tired eyes, the deep shadows under his lashes.
“Jungkook…” You brushed your fingers through his hair. “You staying for a bit?”
“Uh-huh. I’ve got two hours. Mom’s with Dad,” he mumbled as he flipped you over effortlessly. In a blink, he was hovering above you, his eyes tired, but hungry.
“Then maybe you should be resting instead of doing this,” you said, breathless but trying to sound stern.
His eyes fluttered open, and that handsome smirk curved his lips. “Babe, I told you, I’m fine. I’ll show you.”
You bit your lip. “Show me how?”
He chuckled low, fingers ghosting over your waistband.
“Why don’t you spread those pretty legs for me and find out?”
You snorted, raising a brow. “Aren’t you too tired for that?”
“I’m never too tired for that.”
“Jungkook…”
“YN.”
He matched your tone, unbothered.
You sighed, brushing your fingers through his damp hair.
“We don’t have to do anything,” you murmured, softer now. “You should rest.”
“I know,” he whispered, brushing his nose against your neck.
“But I really, really wanna taste you again,” he added. “I miss your taste on my tongue.”
“You’re crazy!”
“Baby… you have no idea. Pussy that tastes like that? Who wouldn’t be?”
You let out a breathy laugh, but it caught somewhere in your throat because his fingertips were already slipping beneath the waistband of your shorts.
God, you missed him. But as much as you missed his touch, you couldn’t ignore how tired he looked. How sleep-starved he was.
So you reached up, cupped his jaw, and kissed him softly.
“Baby, I missed you so much. I know it’s been a while… but I also know how exhausted you are. Please, just rest. Take a nap with me? I’m sleepy too.”
Your thumb brushed over his cheek.
“Please… rest? Just for a little while.”
You leaned in and kissed his forehead, and he let out a shaky breath against your collarbone.
“Yeah,” he mumbled and buried his face in your neck, arms wrapping around you.
“Sleep, baby,” you whispered, brushing your fingers through his hair. “Need you to sleep.”
Within the next minute, you felt his weight soften beside you. You drifted off soon after.
When you woke up, it was to the soft press of his lips kissing all over your face, a silent goodbye before he headed out to repeat another busy day.
You had already decided to skip class today.
Actually, not decided.
More like… surrendered to the exhaustion.
You’d been tired.
Nauseous.
Throwing up for a week now.
You hated a lot of things about yourself.
And you hated that you hated so many things about yourself.
But what you hated most was how indecisive you could be.
Like you’d rather be forced to choose between two things than be handed ten.
And right now, you were standing in front of a wall of pregnancy test kits, unsure whether to get the digital or the analog.
A decision that shouldn’t have taken twenty minutes.
You had opened another Google tab on your phone to read more about pregnancy kits, closing the one about early signs and symptoms.
You took two analogs – just to be sure – and marched toward the cashier.
You just wanted to go home and rest.
At first, you thought it was the flu.
But then you missed your period.
Then another week passed. Now your brain won’t stop spinning, someone nearby smells like citrus, and it’s making you nauseous. The tag of your shirt scratches at the back of your neck, and everything feels too hot and too loud.
When you got home, you kicked off your shoes, stripped off your clothes, and headed straight to the bathroom.
You tore the boxes open with trembling hands.
You had read the instructions twice. Maybe three times. Didn’t matter.
You knew what to do.
You just didn’t know what you’d do after.
You peed.
You waited.
One minute.
Two…
Too long.
And then –
Two pink lines.
You stared at them like they might change if you blinked long enough.
Like if you tilted them just right under the bathroom light, one of the lines might fade.
Disappear.
Undo itself.
But it didn’t.
You sat on the toilet, underwear around one ankle, heart pounding against your ribs.
Two fucking lines.
Oh my god.
Your mouth went dry.
You wanted to cry, but for some reason you just sat there, arms wrapped around yourself, cold tile biting into your skin.
You didn’t know how long you stayed like that.
Long enough for your hand to start shaking.
Then your leg.
Then all of you.
At some point, you slid down onto the floor, curled sideways on the cold, chipped bathroom tiles of the dorm, eyes fixed on the only thing moving –
A single line of ants, crawling out from a crack in the wall, toward the window, carrying the body of a moth.
Wings torn, but still beautiful.
And you wanted to think that the ants found the moth and carried it to its final destination, where it would be laid to rest in peace.
But you know the moth serves a purpose even in death. That its body will be broken down, piece by piece, fed to something else.
Not all losses are mourned.
Some are simply repurposed.
And you cried at the thought that you were thinking about the dead moth on your bathroom floor. You’re pregnant, and you’re crying about a dead moth.
“I’m only telling you this because someone has to knock sense into you!!!”
…Huh?
“He’ll trap you in this town, don’t you see that?”
“Throwing your life away for a boy!”
“Waste every ounce of potential you have!”
“What a waste!”
“Waste!!!”
Your mother’s voice lingered,
Louder and louder right in your ear.
“--in this godforsaken town!!!”
You jerked awake, chest heaving.
Confused and disoriented, you opened your eyes and tried to gain consciousness.
Only to realize you couldn’t move.
Something heavy. No – someone.
Sprawled across your chest.
What the hell is going on?
Oh right…
You had fallen asleep on the bathroom floor and woken up cold, then dragged yourself to bed after texting Jungkook that you had skipped class.
At some point, he must’ve let himself into your dorm. He had probably come straight from the hospital, dragged himself through lectures, then crawled here.
The band had been working so hard ever since they started gaining more recognition and attention, with their late-night studio sessions and out-of-town gigs – on top of his duties for his dad, so maybe this was the first real sleep he had gotten this week.
You watched him, eyes tracing over features you knew by heart: the thick lashes, that tiny scar from a childhood fight with Jin, the mole under his lip. His arm was slung over your waist, clinging like he always did...
You noticed the tattoos that had accumulated slowly – some born out of impulse he now regrets, and some from visions he had as a teen. You loved them all so dearly. You ran your fingertips lightly over the ink. He twitched but didn’t wake.
You smiled. He looked so peaceful.
And God... you wondered – if the child you’re carrying will look like him.
Will it have his nose? His lips? That warmth in his eyes?
Will it inherit his loving nature, his loyalty, his selflessness, his ridiculous laugh?
You wanted to tell him.
Should you tell him now?
But before you could do anything, his eyes fluttered open – and he was staring right back at you.
“Hi,” he said, voice low from sleep.
“Hi.” you croaked.
“Why’d you skip class?”
You shrugged, trying not to fidget. “Just tired.”
He frowned and reached over, placing the back of his hand on your forehead. It was warm – his hand, not you.
“Are you sick?”
You shook your head. “No… I’m not.”
God, you wanted to tell him.
But what did you even feel?
You hadn’t had a second to sit still, to process any of this.
You were still trying to push the fear down.
Shove it somewhere dark and quiet.
You were terrified. Of everything.
And your mother’s voice was still ringing in your ears.
But he was sitting in front of you now, and you didn’t know how to hand him this, too.
“Alright,” he sighed, straightening his back. “Then you need to rest more. But we gotta eat first. You can’t sleep on an empty stomach, deal?”
He was already opening the food app on his phone.
“Are you… leaving soon?” you asked gently.
“Yeah, love…” he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Actually, I’ve been meaning to tell you something. Just… everything’s been so hectic.”
Your whole body went still.
“What’s going on?”
He exhaled slowly, sitting up straighter.
You already knew it was bad.
“Dad’s scans came back. It’s worse than before. The doctors walked us through options but… they said the chances of recovery are really low at this point. So… we have to prepare. For the worst.”
Your heart sank.
“Baby…” You reach for his hand, your fingers curling over his.
He swallowed hard.
“Mom’s still holding onto hope, and Jin and I... we’re pretending like we are too. But watching him go through it, the pain, the exhaustion… it’s killing us.”
His voice faltered. He tried to keep going.
“We decided on chemo. It’s aggressive. Expensive. But we’ll figure it out. Jin’s job helps. The gigs, too. We’ve just… cut back on some things, sacrificed a few things. We’re selling mom’s car, which is fine. It’s just –”
He exhaled shakily.
“It’s hard. Seeing him like that. Hooked up to machines, barely talking. I’m used to him being strong, you know? Always laughing, joking…now he can’t even stand, can’t even use the toilet by himself. I don’t know how to be okay with that.”
You squeeze his hand gently, your thumb brushing over his knuckles. Maybe to calm him, or yourself.
“I’m so sorry, Kook… I know you’re trying to be strong for everyone, but you don’t have to carry it alone.”
He didn’t respond. But his grip tightened just slightly. So you kept going.
“Whatever happens, whatever you need… I’m here. Even if I don’t always know the right thing to say, I’m here.”
He leaned into you then, arms wrapping around you. You hugged him back just as tightly, and your heart broke with how hard he clung.
And then, he stilled.
His breath shuddered against your neck.
And you felt it, the damp warmth soaking into your skin, his uneven breathing, the quiet tremble in his shoulders.
So you held him, and let him fall apart in your arms.
“It’s okay, baby,” you murmured. “Let it out. Everything’s going to be okay.”
You glanced at the clock. He’d have to leave again soon. Back to his responsibilities.
There would be another time to tell him.
Not tonight.
So for now, you just held him.
And that had to be enough.
The bus ride from your dorm to your mom’s house felt surprisingly short.
Maybe because your thoughts were running faster than the bus.
Or maybe it was your mind spinning with one hundred and one questions, wondering if there would be any telltale signs that you were pregnant, besides the throwing up and the constant sleepiness.
Your mom wasn’t going to be able to tell, right?
Until you decided what to do, it was best that no one knew.
Normally, you would spend the semester break at her house, even though you usually just stayed holed up in your room the entire time. Still, it was a routine.
When you were younger, you used to go on road trips and camping with Jungkook, Jimin, and friends, but a lot has changed since then.
Your mom’s words played in your head like a curse you couldn’t shake, and you weren’t ready to face her.
Your fingers tightened around the folded papers tucked into your hoodie pocket, the ones you had picked up from the OB-GYN clinic a few days ago. They were crumpled now from being opened and closed so many times.
Pamphlets about what to expect over the next nine months: milestones, symptoms, what foods to avoid, what vitamins to take, check-ups.
If you chose that path.
You hadn’t told Jungkook yet.
And it wasn’t because you didn’t trust him. That was the thing—you did.
You trusted him so much, and that was exactly what made it harder. He was already shouldering too much, and you knew he’d drop everything for you.
He was already giving so much – to his dad, to his dreams, to you. How could you hand him this, too?
You weren’t trying to keep it from him forever… just… not now.
But one thing was certain: You weren’t ready for this.
If you went through with it, everything would change.
You’d have to stop school. Press pause on your dreams. Stay home for the baby.
Jungkook, of course, being Jungkook, would take care of you. He would graduate just as the baby arrived, and you already knew what he’d do next – work himself into the ground to take care of you. Of the baby. Of everything.
Because that’s who he is.
You remembered the nights you dreamed about raising a family with him – how he used to say he wanted to give you the world.
But how could he give you the world when you were both still trying to survive it?
Still in college.
Still stretched thin.
Still learning how to take care of yourselves, let alone someone else.
What if choosing not to be a mother right now was the most motherly decision you could make?
What if the only way to protect the both of you… was to not bring a child into a life built on sacrifice and survival?
And worst of all, what if your mother was right?
You hated her for saying it.
You hated yourself for starting to think she might be right.
You pressed a hand to your belly, unsure if you were seeking comfort or apology.
A text from Jungkook paused your racing thoughts. Just a quick rundown of his day, and an apology for not being able to drive you to your mom’s. They were out of town for two days to play at a music festival, the one they’d been preparing for weeks.
You assured him that everything was fine.
And it was clear now how much his dad’s condition was taking a toll, not just on Jungkook, but on everyone. With hospital bills piling up, the band had been accepting every offer that came in.
Even if it meant going out of town more often. Even if it meant spending nights in the studio, hours and hours at a time, chasing deadlines and checks.
But somehow, he was still showing up for everything.
For you.
And even if it was only a few hours, he spent it holding you close.
And you were scared. Scared of what the future held.
“Have you been doing well at school? I take it you’ll graduate this year?” your mother asked, her tone as neutral as ever.
“Yes, hopefully,” you answered.
“I hope so too. Your father’s been calling me non-stop about your internship right after your graduation. Why don’t you give him a call and talk to him about that?”
You nodded and just said, “Okay, Mom.”
“It’s nice that you finally decided to come home for your break,” she said, not even trying to hide the bitterness in her voice.
“I was starting to think you’d officially moved in with that boy. Following him around like some groupie while he wastes time on those silly gigs. What, does he actually believe he’s gonna make a living off that noise?”
She scoffed and set her fork down with a loud clink.
You bit your tongue and clenched your jaw.
“You don’t even visit me on weekends anymore. I guess that’s what love looks like to you now, skipping your own mother for some tattooed dropout waiting to happen.”
“He’s actually doing well in school,” you said flatly, not looking up. “On top of making music and doing gigs. Their band’s doing great, too. It’s actually pretty impressive.”
Your voice was calm. Bored, almost. She thrived on reaction, and you weren’t going to give her the satisfaction.
Then, without much change in tone, like she was commenting on the weather –
“Did you gain weight? You need to watch out for your figure before you work with your father,” she said casually.
“You need to show everyone from that family that you deserve that place in the company, better than your cousins. Make yourself presentable all the time.”
“Didn’t know my weight had anything to do with my competence or skills,” you replied evenly.
“It doesn’t,” she shrugged. “But you know how your father’s sisters are, vicious bitches, all of them. And I won’t be there for you this time. So if you show up looking tired like that, bloated, sloppy, don’t come crying to me when they start whispering about you.”
She set her fork down and leaned back, like she was waiting for you to react.
“You think they care how smart you are? No. They’re looking for flaws. Don’t give them one.”
You didn’t answer. You didn’t react.
It was a moot point. You were used to her by now, but god, she always knew how to make you feel like killing yourself, and you were already starting to feel drowsy, your body begging for rest.
Thankfully, it didn’t take long before you both finished your food.
After cleaning up, you went straight to bed and changed into your comfiest pajamas, scrolling through your phone, reading Jungkook’s texts. Photos from soundcheck. Backstage stolen shots. Clips of the band playing to a massive crowd at the music fest.
He looked so happy. They looked happy.
You sent him a quick selfie from bed, skin dewy and glowing in all your skincare glory – and he Facetimed you right away.
“I miss you,” he said before the call even connected properly, voice a little breathless, like he’d run to a quieter corner just to call you, though it was hard to hear with all the background noise.
He was smacking Jimin, who kept trying to squeeze into the frame and god, you missed them so much. You wanted to tell him everything, about so many things, but it was too damn noisy and his reception was crap.
So you both gave up on talking, and just spent the next ten minutes smiling at each other in silence – him munching on snacks, you blinking through sleep, barely keeping your eyes open.
Eventually, your phone slipped from your hand as you surrendered to sleep.
Pain.
Pain woke you.
Sharp.
Like something tearing inside.
You sat up, heart in your throat, and that’s when you saw it –
blood.
It soaked through your underwear. Streaked your thighs. Spotted the sheets.
You bolted to the bathroom, breathing too fast.
You pulled your shorts down, and your ears were ringing and your chest was pounding and you saw more blood. Too much red.
You were shaking. You didn’t know who to call.
What do you do?
So you cried. Biting your knuckles just to keep from screaming. You reached for a towel, trying to wipe the blood that kept coming.
But it wouldn’t stop.
And the pain, oh the pain, like your insides were being wrung out, and you hadn’t felt anything like it before.
It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.
You folded onto the floor, pressed your back to the wall, knees to your chest as you sobbed.
That’s where your mother found you.
She stood in the doorway. She didn’t say anything, but she stood there just looking at you.
“We’re going to the hospital.”
Cold stirrups.
Bright lights.
Nurses talking like you weren’t in the room.
The ultrasound screen turned away.
The doctor tried to speak gently –
"It’s a miscarriage..."
And you couldn’t hear a word past that first sentence.
You blinked, the doctor’s mouth still moving, but everything was just muffled noise.
You weren’t sure how long you cried after that, or if you even cried at all. It didn’t make sense.
Because how could something you barely felt… just disappear?
You kept waiting to feel something – grief? Pain? Maybe even relief?
But all you felt was the void.
Was it even real? Did it really happen?
Maybe it didn’t feel wanted. Maybe that’s why it left.
You didn’t know what to grieve. You didn’t know what you lost.
But why did it feel like you lost a whole chunk of yourself, like your body remembers something your mind can’t make sense of?
You told your mother through broken sobs that you knew you were pregnant.
She just stared at you with confusion and slight disgust, like she couldn’t comprehend a word you were saying.
You were given medication to help with the pain, and you wished it was something that could make you sleep forever.
You woke up, unfortunately, hours later.
The room was dim, and the pain was still there.
And your mother, sitting by the window reading her subscription magazine, not even looking at you when she said:
“Well. At least it’s gone now. The universe removed it for you, good lord.”
And you felt it, like a dam being cracked open, the rage bleeding out of your mouth. And you closed your eyes for a second, as you felt like your head was going to burst in anger.
“How could you say that?! It wasn’t some thing – it was mine! It was a part of me! You are so mean, and vile!I hate you!!!”
She didn’t flinch. Just crossed her arms and turned to face you with that cold, condescending look you knew too well.
“You’d look back one day and thank the gods this happened. That thing would have ruined your life just like I warned you,” she spat, her eyes nothing but disgust.
And you were so angry that you were shaking, but she kept going.
“Use your brain for once and think about what was going to happen. You’d drop out of school, raise a baby on what? Hope? You thought love paid the bills? You thought Jungkook’s little hobby was going to keep food on your table? Grow up.”
Through gritted teeth, you yelled, “Shut up! Stop saying that! He is doing great! We were going to graduate, and – ”
“You’d been playing house with that boy, and I let you because I thought you’d come to your senses and grow out of it, thinking you’ll leave him after college anyway. But no. You really went and proved how reckless and selfish you are. You thought life was all about love and romance and dreams? I had bled and scraped and clawed to give you a better life, and this – this is what you do with it? Throw it away for some boy? And where is he now, huh? Where?”
Defeated, and feeling weak, you sobbed.
“Stupid girl. One day, when you’re older, broke, and exhausted, you'll remember this moment, and you will be thankful that this happened.”
You had imagined your graduation day so many times.
It always felt like the light at the end of a long, brutal tunnel. Like hope.
A gleaming exit.
When home felt like hell, this was the moment you clung to.
This was the plan: survive college under her roof, then work for your dad, move out, and finally live the life you always wanted.
You were supposed to feel relief.
But now, you were lying awake in your bed on your last night in this town, staring at the ceiling for what felt like eternity, as your entire world quietly caved in on itself.
Your graduation cap sat proudly on your desk like a trophy.
Across the room, your new and expensive luggage – pink and purple, bought with your dad’s money – zipped and ready.
You broke up with Jungkook this morning. Right after graduation.
It was quick.
After all, you had practiced the speech for weeks – rehearsed every word until you memorized every word and intonation.
You just said it wasn’t going to work.
Not with him staying in this town.
And you…
Well, you were never meant to stay here anyway.
You didn’t cry, in front of him at least.
No matter how much he pressed. How he begged.
How his voice cracked, how his hands trembled, how his eyes searched your face like he could find a different answer hidden there.
You walked out of his dorm with your head held high, back straight. Chin up.
Just like you practiced.
You hadn’t told him about the miscarriage.
You wanted to. God, you imagined it a hundred different ways.
But there was never a right time.
First, his dad got worse.
You watched him juggle school, rehearsals, and hospital visits, hope thinning out a little more each day. And just when you thought you’d finally tell him, thinking ‘what the heck, this is Jungkook, the love of your life’ – his dad died.
And if there was one thing you never truly understood — because you had never experienced it— it was the love that came from family, and the depth of grief that followed when they were gone.
For months, the whole family sank into a deep, consuming grief.
So you didn’t tell him.
His grief made him quiet. Yours made you quieter.
You mourned separately.
You stood by him. Held space for his pain. But no one stood by you.
But you couldn't blame anyone, because how could you?
You made the choice, and it was all on you.
You didn’t even know if you were allowed to call it grief, or if you were even allowed to call it your child. All you knew was that something inside you was gone, and you never told him. And now, that silence felt like betrayal.
And after enough silence, you convinced yourself maybe he was never meant to know.
It was taken from you too early, anyway.
You fell asleep hugging yourself.
And you woke to a knocking on your bedroom window.
Jungkook stood there, glowing as he bathed in moonlight, grinning wide. His eyes were wide and glossy.
“I’ll come with you,” he whispered. “I already talked to the band. Told them Jin can take over vocals. It’s fine. I can find a job in the city. A good one. I swear, I’ll figure it out.”
Your heart ached. Oh how it ached.
Because he was cutting out pieces of himself just to follow you into the unknown.
Everything he loved and cherished was here. You couldn’t take that away from him.
Just because you were miserable here didn’t mean he had to be miserable somewhere else just to be with you.
So instead of answering, you kissed him deep, and you kissed him hard.
And somehow, in that kiss, he understood that this would probably be the last time.
So he made love to you, and you made love to him, like it was.
You still remember how his solid body felt. How he made you feel at home when he was inside you, filling you, pumping his seed deep.
And afterward, when he lay on top of you, sweaty and spent, you told him:
“You’re holding me back. If you really love me, you’ll let me go.”
It rained that night.
And you swore the sky cried with you.
Maybe it was the universe’s way of mourning the tragedy of it all.
Right place, wrong person.
How he was the right place.
And you were the wrong person.
He held you tight against his chest, his whole body trembling, shaking with silent, broken sobs. You felt his tears seep into your skin, felt his grief in the way his arms refused to let go.
And by morning, he was gone.
You cried all your tears that day, because you never cried after that.
Maybe you used them all up.
The rain tapped against your window as if it, too, has something to say.
Maybe – just maybe – it’s crying for you.
But that thought feels self-indulgent.
Why would the sky mourn for someone like you?
After all, you were nothing but a selfish bitch, willing to lie and betray the only love you’d ever known.
Jungkook gave you his entire world, offered in open palms.
Every piece of him.
But it wasn't enough.
NOW
“I’m sorry, what was that?”
You turn to one of the investors with a polite tilt of your head, the smile on your lips still perfectly in place. Your cheeks ache from smiling. Family. Family friends. Business partners. Everyone your father and Kole deemed important enough to attend this pre-wedding dinner.
The wedding– your wedding– is in two weeks.
But apparently, everyone’s here to celebrate your father and Kole’s company merger.
It really shouldn’t surprise you how many private jets a private island can accommodate. But it still does. The extravagance is nauseating.
“Mr. Chen was asking if you plan to take over the Hong Kong branch after the wedding,” your father chimes in for you. “I told him it’s up to Kole if he wants you to work right after the honeymoon.”
You blink.
Up to Kole?
If he wants you to work?
You laugh.
And then finish your champagne in one go.
Where the hell is Kole, anyway? You haven’t seen him since dinner. Probably talking business.
You excuse yourself and make your way to the bar. The bartender asks what you’ll have, you don’t hesitate.
“A beer,” you say.
She raises a brow in amusement but doesn’t question it, and a pint of draft is placed in front of you.
You take it, gratefully, and walk toward the beach, away from the hushed conversations like everyone is talking about secrets.
You used to think this was normal.
The way they spoke in riddles and metaphors, like a dance.
It wasn’t until you moved with your mother to the town that you realized:
Normal people don’t speak like that.
They speak with their hearts full and their chins high, unafraid to talk about the things they love.
You pass by the softly lit cabanas and hear faint laughter near the main house, but the further you walk, the quieter it becomes. The huts here are empty. Just the sound of the shore.
You find the furthest hut, the one tucked farthest from everything, and slip inside.
But the moment your foot hits the floor, you hear it.
Breathy gasps.
Soft moans.
Whoops.
The hut’s not empty, obviously.
And really, you’d hate to interrupt a guest enjoying themselves at your party.
Maybe try the hut before this one?
You’re already turning around, ready to slip out quietly, when–
“...yeah, like that. Love it when you do that.”
A man’s voice.
You pause.
Kole’s voice.
Then, another voice - a man’s, laughs low and hums something in return.
And it sounds… familiar.
Curiosity tugs at you. So you look.
The curtain separating the lounge from the inner room is half drawn. Through the gap, you catch movement.
Kole is pinned against the wall, panting, shirt undone. His perfectly styled hair is now a mess, sticking to his forehead with sweat. His hands are buried in another man's dark hair, fingers guiding - as he kneels before him, head moving with a rhythm that has Kole’s eyes rolling back and his hips stuttering forward.
Your gaze flicks to the shirt the guy’s wearing.
You know that shirt.
You and Kole picked it out together last month during your vacation in Europe.
A birthday gift for your cousin.
Holy shit.
What the actual fuck.
Have they been… fucking?
For how long?
Kole and your cousin?
You didn’t even know about Kole’s sexual preferences. It’s not something the two of you ever discussed openly.
Not that there was space for that kind of conversation between you anyway.
What else don’t you know about him?
They don’t notice you.
They’re too lost in their own world.
After collecting yourself, you quietly turn and step back out into the night.
You walk away calmly, beer still in one hand, your phone on the other.
You’re already in bed, in a satin nightgown, the glow of your phone screen casting light across your face as you scroll through nothing.
When Kole enters, he offers you that charming smile of his.
“Long day,” he murmurs, undoing his shirt. “You were wonderful tonight. Truly. The guests adore you.”
He disappears into the bathroom without waiting for a response.
You hear the water run. Then stop.
When he returns, he’s in his maroon pajama set, hair damp, skin freshly dewy with that aftershave you used to like. He slips into bed beside you and presses a soft kiss to your shoulder.
“Good night, darling,” he says casually. “Excellent job today. I’m sorry I couldn’t be at your side more, you know how it is, investor talk about the new branch. But tomorrow’s for us. Golf, then a massage. Yes?”
You look up from your phone and set it aside, then turn to face him fully.
“I saw you,” you said softly, calmly.
You’re devoid of emotion.
You haven’t felt anything in months.
And honestly, nothing surprises you anymore.
“In the hut. With my cousin.” You wait for a reaction from him, but he only blinks once.
Then lets out a short, airy chuckle, the same chuckle he gives when the wine’s poured a little too generously.
“Oh? How unfortunate. That wasn’t my intention at all. Still… I do apologize you had to witness it.”
“That’s it?” Your voice remains calm, your face unreadable. “You’re sorry I saw?”
He sighs, folding his hands neatly across his chest.
“Darling,” he begins, composed, “what exactly would you have me do? Apologize for indulging in my own preferences? We both have our… pursuits. I’ve never interfered in yours.”
“What?”
He raises an eyebrow, utterly unbothered.
He is eerily calm.
You trained yourself to stay calm. It was survival, really. A skill honed through years of navigating your mother’s moods and your father’s expectations.
But this is something else entirely.
This is detachment - bred from an environment where emotions are inconvenient and consequences are optional.
It makes your skin crawl.
“Come now… Darling, I know about your affair.”
Your blood runs cold.
“I’m not an idiot,” he continues still in that maddening calm tone, as if explaining something obvious to a slow student. “I'm well aware you were fucking your ex every time you visited your mother.”
Your lips part, but you don't say anything.
“But I also know it wasn't serious. Of course.” He exhales softly. “Just like mine wasn’t. These things – flings, indulgences – they’re inevitable. Necessary, even. We all have our vices.”
He looks at you with amusement, as he continues.
“I never stood in the way of yours because I knew, at the end of the day, you’d come back to me. You always do.”
He leans back into the pillows, perfectly composed.
“Because no matter how good he makes you feel, no matter how well he fucks you,” he murmurs, “he’ll never be able to give you the life you want. The one you need.”
And then, he smiles.
“And you and I both know, you’re not about to give up this life,” he laughs softly, “that man? He can’t give you any of it.”
You raise an eyebrow. “This life?”
“Oh, don’t play coy. You love wealth. You love security. You love summers in Saint-Tropez and winters in the Swiss Alps. You love not having to think about money. And there’s nothing wrong with that.”
Bile rises in your throat as a tangle of emotions churns in your chest. But you say nothing. You let him speak.
“I don’t blame you,” he says smoothly. “Living in that charming little town must’ve been… enlightening. Poor you, having to experience what life is like for the rest of them. It must’ve reminded you just how different we are.”
He leans back and sighs. “I don’t fault you for it, darling. I never have. It’s simply who you are. This is where you belong.”
He picks up his phone from the nightstand, casually scrolling for a moment before dialing.
“Cancel golf tomorrow,” he says. “The investors and I will meet on the yacht instead.”
Then, he sets the phone down, turns back to you, and adds
“Wear that pretty white dress I gave you. It’ll match mine tomorrow. You’ll look magnificent in it.”
And with that, he switches off his lamp and goes to sleep.
Kole was right about one thing–
the dress does look good on you.
But then again, what doesn’t?
You’ve sculpted yourself into perfection.
It’s true that being part of this society requires effort to always be perfect, so you invest in yourself.
You sip at the champagne and glance out the plane window. The clouds drift past like marshmallows – soft, white, pure.
Far below, the island looks impossibly small now. Like an ant. The water surrounding it glistens, like blue Gatorade under the sun.
It’s not your first time flying on a private jet.
But it’s your first time flying alone.
And that thought feels… liberating.
You’ve been alone all your life, haunted by the isolating feeling that your life was never truly yours.
It’s true, you were an obedient child. You never once strayed from the path your parents laid out for you.
Except for Jungkook.
Being with him throughout college was an act of rebellion in itself.
It was the only reckless thing you ever did.
And it was the best time of your life.
It’s ironic how the best time of your life happened during the darkest.
Right person, wrong place, or right place, wrong person, or whatever it was Namjoon said.
The pilot says the flight is going to take two hours.
You plan on taking a short nap so you have the energy to pack as soon as you arrive at the apartment you share with Kole.
You have no concrete plan after moving out of the apartment, and that thought should scare you, but it doesn’t.
You didn't speak a word to anyone before leaving the island.
Everyone was still asleep when you left.
Even Kole didn’t notice you leaving the villa. He was sound asleep on that stupidly large bed.
They can all go fuck themselves.
And as you close your eyes to take a short nap, you turn off your phone that’s been vibrating since you left, with people trying to reach you.
You probably have dozens of missed calls by now.
Maybe asking where you are.
Or maybe asking what the hell is wrong with you.
You can’t blame them, not when you emailed a few pictures you took of Kole and your cousin last night to your family.
To your father, your step mother, her sisters, their husbands, all your cousins… and Kole himself.
Just one email, sent to every single name on the recipient list before your plane even left the ground.
You debated whether to send the video, but it’s always nice to have extra ammunition, just in case.
You smacked your forehead when you realized you’d forgotten to add a subject line to the email.
a/n: thanks for waiting, told you it was a looong one! took me a bit longer to finish because, well… life happens. hope you enjoy the chapter and please let me know what you think. THANK YOU! 💛
Summary: You left Jungkook and this town behind, but every visit pulls you back into his arms, chasing a high you can never leave behind.
Ratings: 18+ ONLY!!! MDNI!
‼️CHAPTER WARNINGS ‼️
This chapter contains sensitive and potentially triggering themes including grief, loss, miscarriage, mentions of unhealthy family dynamics, implied death (non-major character).
Please read with care. Your well-being comes first.
Word Count: 8.4K
SERIES MASTERLIST
MAIN MASTERLIST
ex·o·dus [ˈeksədəs]
noun
a mass departure of people, leaving a place or situation
THEN
“Hey, you sure you’re good to close? I’m so sorry for dipping early again. Husband got called in early for work, and I just can’t afford a nanny right now… I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
Jada, the school librarian you’d been working with, gave you an apologetic smile as she slid the last book into place.
“Yes, oh my god, go! Go spend time with your family. Leave me alone!”
You swatted at her jokingly as you turned back to your laptop.
Working in the school library had its perks.
Free Wifi. Quiet corners. And best of all, getting paid to do homework.
You and Jungkook were graduating this year, and things had started to feel like a blur.
“I haven’t seen Jungkook around lately. You guys okay?” Jada asked it casually, zipping up her bag. But you knew she meant it.
You glanced at your phone again. No notifications.
Not unusual, and definitely not new.
The last message was before his first class, and it’s already 7pm.
A long paragraph, all about his day.
A rundown of their late-night session in the studio, his dad’s latest scan, what he ate (just ramen, while reminding you not to skip a meal), and the fact that he nearly passed out during class.
A lot has happened in the past months.
His dad being diagnosed with late-stage cancer definitely changed everything.
Lately, you felt more like his diary.
He talked to you when you were asleep.
Your classes were in the morning, his in the afternoon.
After that, he’d head straight to either band practice or a studio session, then rush to the hospital to stay with his dad at night. He and Jin took turns, depending on the day, so their mom could catch up on sleep somehow.
Then he’d crash into bed in the morning, barely catching a few hours of sleep before doing it all over again.
The last time you saw him was four days ago, and it was brief. He walked you to the library, gave you a quick kiss, and then sprinted off to his next class.
You realized you haven’t answered her, and she’s still waiting for a response.
“Yeah… we’re good. You know, he’s super busy.” You sighed and locked your screen, trying not to overthink and worry too much.
“Yeah, his dad, I heard… how’s he holding up?”
You hesitated, choosing your words carefully.
“He’s doing well… considering. The cancer’s spreading to the lower parts now, so he needs more help.”
You remembered the last time you visited – it was painful, seeing the man you were used to seeing strong and full of life now looking frail in a hospital gown.
Jesus,” Jada muttered, pausing mid-zip as her expression crumpled. “How is Jungkook even functioning? I mean, classes, the band, hospital duty…does he even sleep?”
“I know…” You swallowed, voice quiet. “He’s trying his best, and he always tells me not to worry, but…”
Jada gave you a look. “Of course you’re going to worry. You think I haven’t noticed you check your phone like a hundred times in the last five minutes?”
You sighed, finally leaning back in your chair. “I really try not to. I just… I’m trying not to look like I worry too much. Because you know how he is, he’s going to feel guilty or burdened or– ”
You stopped, pressing your lips together. “I don’t know. I just want to help him... I just don’t know how.”
“I think just being there for him is helping,” She said softly. “You’re allowed to feel this way, you know? Your feelings are valid too. And the best thing you can do for him is to take care of yourself. Him seeing you well… that probably gives him more comfort than you realize.”
You hadn’t noticed how tense your shoulders were until she reached over and gave them a gentle squeeze.
“Yeah…” You exhaled. “Thanks, Jada. That really means a lot.”
“Now go,” you said, giving her a playful tap. “Your husband’s gonna be late for work again if he has to wait much longer for you to get home.”
“He’ll survive! Should’ve thought twice about putting a baby in me in this economy!” she laughed, leaning in to kiss your cheek before leaving you with a soft smile.
“Take it easy, okay?”
You nodded.
It helped, having someone to talk to.
You hadn’t realized how much you needed it.
Ever since Jungkook’s dad was diagnosed, you hadn’t really let yourself vent to anyone. There was Jimin, who shared the same sentiments as you, so it helped to hear things from someone a little outside the circle.
You glanced at your phone one more time, though you already knew it was on loud, and it hadn’t buzzed.
Then you turned back to your laptop, willing your thoughts to settle.
The library was empty now.
Silent.
You’d just switched off the main lights, leaving only the soft amber glow near the entrance door as you zipped up your bag.
A glance at your phone said it was just past 8pm.
At this hour, Jungkook was probably buried in practice, or at the studio, or– if the universe had a shred of mercy– napping.
You had texted him all day. Like you always did.
Little updates.
All unread.
You sighed, slinging your bag over your shoulder and stepping outside, ready to crash into bed as soon as you got home.
You’d been exhausted and sleepy lately, and you were praying it wasn’t the flu coming down on you, especially with exams just around the corner, right before semestral break.
You startled slightly when you realized it had been raining, the pavement glistening with puddles.
Great.
You hadn’t noticed. The library was practically soundproof.
You really hated the rain.
Which was ironic, considering you moved to a town where it rained half the year.
And, yes, of course you forgot your umbrella. Again.
What now?
Back to the library and wait it out?
Or just say “fuck it” and walk home? But your laptop in your bag, and who the hell was that beautiful man running toward you?
You squinted.
Oh.
That..
…was your boyfriend…
Running toward you, breath fogging in the cold air, black hoodie already damp, carrying a massive red umbrella.
“Jungkook?!” You blinked, stunned. “Why? What are you--?”
“Knew it!” he shouted through the rain, grinning as he pushed back his wet hair. “You didn’t bring one.”
He stepped right up to you and swung the umbrella overhead.
Your mouth fell open. “You’re supposed to be in the studio! Or sleeping? Why are you here—”
So warm.
He was so warm.
And his lips were soft and plush and sweet against yours.
You kissed him back, hungry and eager and messy.
“You didn’t answer me,” you mumbled against his chest after the kiss, pouting.
“I just did,” he grinned.
“You didn’t, you just kissed me.”
“Yeah.” He smirked. “I’m here for that.”
You smacked his chest, but couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out. Then you wrapped your arms around him, tight. So tight he let out a soft “oh”, before squeezing you back like he was trying to merge your bodies into one.
“Where were you before coming here?” you asked, voice muffled against his hoodie.
“Studio,” he replied with a grin. “We were almost done when it rained.”
“You didn’t have to come all the way here, Kook.”
“It was raining.”
“So?”
“So of course I had to come get you. No way I’m letting you walk home soaked.”
He chuckled, kissing your head again. “Plus, I really, really needed to see you. I needed this.”
Another kiss, more tongue on throat, hips grinding, hands on your ass kind of kiss, but you weren’t complaining.
You finally pulled back, and he reached for your bag without a word, slinging it over his arm before wrapping the other around your shoulder.
You walked side by side through the rain, tucked under the oversized umbrella and suddenly, the rain didn't matter anymore.
The yellow street lights reflected his beautiful face, and though it was dim, you could see it: the exhaustion in his eyes. The dark circles. The way he blinked a little too slow, like even now, his body was fighting to stay upright.
“Baby…” you said quietly. “When was the last time you actually slept?”
“I slept last night,” he said quickly. “I’m fine, babe. Don’t worry about me.”
You swallowed the lump rising in your throat. “You know you don’t have to pretend you’re ok with me all the time, right? Ever since your dad’s diagnosis, you’ve been… non-stop. Of course I worry about you. Sue me.”
He was quiet for a moment, then gave you a small nod. “I’m managing, I swear. Just… take care of yourself for me, okay? While I can’t. Not the way I used to.”
That – that right there – made your chest ache.
Even now, with everything he’s holding, everything he’s going through, he’s worried about you.
“Jungkook,” you said, stopping in your tracks. “That’s your concern right now? That you can’t take care of me while you’re going through a lot?”
He blinked, then gave you a soft, sheepish grin. “Hey… babe. Don’t be mad, yeah?”
“I’m not mad?”
“You’re getting upset,” he said, gently tapping your forehead. “This spot right here always gives you away.”
You rolled your eyes.
“Well,” he continued, “how about we agree it’s impossible not to worry about each other? I worry about you, and you feel bad. You worry about me, and I feel bad. Vicious cycle, huh?”
You cracked a smile. “Okay, fine. Okay! Just… promise me you’ll tell me when it gets too much. I’ll bring an umbrella every single day so you don’t worry when it rains. And sleep when you can.”
“Yes, ma’am. I promise,” he said with a smug grin.
You reached your dorm after a few more steps under the rain. You were ready to pull him into one last tight hug before he rushed off to the hospital again.
But the moment you stepped inside, he was already kicking off his shoes and tugging off his damp hoodie in one smooth motion.
You opened your mouth to ask if he was staying, maybe just for a few minutes, but he turned, eyes gleaming, and pulled you straight toward the bed.
“Jungkook–what are you doing?” you squeaked, laughing as you stumbled forward.
“I really, really, really need to do this,” he murmured, grinning as he fell back on the mattress and dragged you with him.
You landed on top of him with a surprised yelp, hands on his chest, your knees bracketing his hips– then his mouth was on your neck.
Fuck, it had been too long.
You couldn’t help the soft moan that slipped out, until you remembered his tired eyes, the deep shadows under his lashes.
“Jungkook…” You brushed your fingers through his hair. “You staying for a bit?”
“Uh-huh. I’ve got two hours. Mom’s with Dad,” he mumbled as he flipped you over effortlessly. In a blink, he was hovering above you, his eyes tired, but hungry.
“Then maybe you should be resting instead of doing this,” you said, breathless but trying to sound stern.
His eyes fluttered open, and that handsome smirk curved his lips. “Babe, I told you, I’m fine. I’ll show you.”
You bit your lip. “Show me how?”
He chuckled low, fingers ghosting over your waistband.
“Why don’t you spread those pretty legs for me and find out?”
You snorted, raising a brow. “Aren’t you too tired for that?”
“I’m never too tired for that.”
“Jungkook…”
“YN.”
He matched your tone, unbothered.
You sighed, brushing your fingers through his damp hair.
“We don’t have to do anything,” you murmured, softer now. “You should rest.”
“I know,” he whispered, brushing his nose against your neck.
“But I really, really wanna taste you again,” he added. “I miss your taste on my tongue.”
“You’re crazy!”
“Baby… you have no idea. Pussy that tastes like that? Who wouldn’t be?”
You let out a breathy laugh, but it caught somewhere in your throat because his fingertips were already slipping beneath the waistband of your shorts.
God, you missed him. But as much as you missed his touch, you couldn’t ignore how tired he looked. How sleep-starved he was.
So you reached up, cupped his jaw, and kissed him softly.
“Baby, I missed you so much. I know it’s been a while… but I also know how exhausted you are. Please, just rest. Take a nap with me? I’m sleepy too.”
Your thumb brushed over his cheek.
“Please… rest? Just for a little while.”
You leaned in and kissed his forehead, and he let out a shaky breath against your collarbone.
“Yeah,” he mumbled and buried his face in your neck, arms wrapping around you.
“Sleep, baby,” you whispered, brushing your fingers through his hair. “Need you to sleep.”
Within the next minute, you felt his weight soften beside you. You drifted off soon after.
When you woke up, it was to the soft press of his lips kissing all over your face, a silent goodbye before he headed out to repeat another busy day.
You had already decided to skip class today.
Actually, not decided.
More like… surrendered to the exhaustion.
You’d been tired.
Nauseous.
Throwing up for a week now.
You hated a lot of things about yourself.
And you hated that you hated so many things about yourself.
But what you hated most was how indecisive you could be.
Like you’d rather be forced to choose between two things than be handed ten.
And right now, you were standing in front of a wall of pregnancy test kits, unsure whether to get the digital or the analog.
A decision that shouldn’t have taken twenty minutes.
You had opened another Google tab on your phone to read more about pregnancy kits, closing the one about early signs and symptoms.
You took two analogs – just to be sure – and marched toward the cashier.
You just wanted to go home and rest.
At first, you thought it was the flu.
But then you missed your period.
Then another week passed. Now your brain won’t stop spinning, someone nearby smells like citrus, and it’s making you nauseous. The tag of your shirt scratches at the back of your neck, and everything feels too hot and too loud.
When you got home, you kicked off your shoes, stripped off your clothes, and headed straight to the bathroom.
You tore the boxes open with trembling hands.
You had read the instructions twice. Maybe three times. Didn’t matter.
You knew what to do.
You just didn’t know what you’d do after.
You peed.
You waited.
One minute.
Two…
Too long.
And then –
Two pink lines.
You stared at them like they might change if you blinked long enough.
Like if you tilted them just right under the bathroom light, one of the lines might fade.
Disappear.
Undo itself.
But it didn’t.
You sat on the toilet, underwear around one ankle, heart pounding against your ribs.
Two fucking lines.
Oh my god.
Your mouth went dry.
You wanted to cry, but for some reason you just sat there, arms wrapped around yourself, cold tile biting into your skin.
You didn’t know how long you stayed like that.
Long enough for your hand to start shaking.
Then your leg.
Then all of you.
At some point, you slid down onto the floor, curled sideways on the cold, chipped bathroom tiles of the dorm, eyes fixed on the only thing moving –
A single line of ants, crawling out from a crack in the wall, toward the window, carrying the body of a moth.
Wings torn, but still beautiful.
And you wanted to think that the ants found the moth and carried it to its final destination, where it would be laid to rest in peace.
But you know the moth serves a purpose even in death. That its body will be broken down, piece by piece, fed to something else.
Not all losses are mourned.
Some are simply repurposed.
And you cried at the thought that you were thinking about the dead moth on your bathroom floor. You’re pregnant, and you’re crying about a dead moth.
“I’m only telling you this because someone has to knock sense into you!!!”
…Huh?
“He’ll trap you in this town, don’t you see that?”
“Throwing your life away for a boy!”
“Waste every ounce of potential you have!”
“What a waste!”
“Waste!!!”
Your mother’s voice lingered,
Louder and louder right in your ear.
“--in this godforsaken town!!!”
You jerked awake, chest heaving.
Confused and disoriented, you opened your eyes and tried to gain consciousness.
Only to realize you couldn’t move.
Something heavy. No – someone.
Sprawled across your chest.
What the hell is going on?
Oh right…
You had fallen asleep on the bathroom floor and woken up cold, then dragged yourself to bed after texting Jungkook that you had skipped class.
At some point, he must’ve let himself into your dorm. He had probably come straight from the hospital, dragged himself through lectures, then crawled here.
The band had been working so hard ever since they started gaining more recognition and attention, with their late-night studio sessions and out-of-town gigs – on top of his duties for his dad, so maybe this was the first real sleep he had gotten this week.
You watched him, eyes tracing over features you knew by heart: the thick lashes, that tiny scar from a childhood fight with Jin, the mole under his lip. His arm was slung over your waist, clinging like he always did...
You noticed the tattoos that had accumulated slowly – some born out of impulse he now regrets, and some from visions he had as a teen. You loved them all so dearly. You ran your fingertips lightly over the ink. He twitched but didn’t wake.
You smiled. He looked so peaceful.
And God... you wondered – if the child you’re carrying will look like him.
Will it have his nose? His lips? That warmth in his eyes?
Will it inherit his loving nature, his loyalty, his selflessness, his ridiculous laugh?
You wanted to tell him.
Should you tell him now?
But before you could do anything, his eyes fluttered open – and he was staring right back at you.
“Hi,” he said, voice low from sleep.
“Hi.” you croaked.
“Why’d you skip class?”
You shrugged, trying not to fidget. “Just tired.”
He frowned and reached over, placing the back of his hand on your forehead. It was warm – his hand, not you.
“Are you sick?”
You shook your head. “No… I’m not.”
God, you wanted to tell him.
But what did you even feel?
You hadn’t had a second to sit still, to process any of this.
You were still trying to push the fear down.
Shove it somewhere dark and quiet.
You were terrified. Of everything.
And your mother’s voice was still ringing in your ears.
But he was sitting in front of you now, and you didn’t know how to hand him this, too.
“Alright,” he sighed, straightening his back. “Then you need to rest more. But we gotta eat first. You can’t sleep on an empty stomach, deal?”
He was already opening the food app on his phone.
“Are you… leaving soon?” you asked gently.
“Yeah, love…” he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Actually, I’ve been meaning to tell you something. Just… everything’s been so hectic.”
Your whole body went still.
“What’s going on?”
He exhaled slowly, sitting up straighter.
You already knew it was bad.
“Dad’s scans came back. It’s worse than before. The doctors walked us through options but… they said the chances of recovery are really low at this point. So… we have to prepare. For the worst.”
Your heart sank.
“Baby…” You reach for his hand, your fingers curling over his.
He swallowed hard.
“Mom’s still holding onto hope, and Jin and I... we’re pretending like we are too. But watching him go through it, the pain, the exhaustion… it’s killing us.”
His voice faltered. He tried to keep going.
“We decided on chemo. It’s aggressive. Expensive. But we’ll figure it out. Jin’s job helps. The gigs, too. We’ve just… cut back on some things, sacrificed a few things. We’re selling mom’s car, which is fine. It’s just –”
He exhaled shakily.
“It’s hard. Seeing him like that. Hooked up to machines, barely talking. I’m used to him being strong, you know? Always laughing, joking…now he can’t even stand, can’t even use the toilet by himself. I don’t know how to be okay with that.”
You squeeze his hand gently, your thumb brushing over his knuckles. Maybe to calm him, or yourself.
“I’m so sorry, Kook… I know you’re trying to be strong for everyone, but you don’t have to carry it alone.”
He didn’t respond. But his grip tightened just slightly. So you kept going.
“Whatever happens, whatever you need… I’m here. Even if I don’t always know the right thing to say, I’m here.”
He leaned into you then, arms wrapping around you. You hugged him back just as tightly, and your heart broke with how hard he clung.
And then, he stilled.
His breath shuddered against your neck.
And you felt it, the damp warmth soaking into your skin, his uneven breathing, the quiet tremble in his shoulders.
So you held him, and let him fall apart in your arms.
“It’s okay, baby,” you murmured. “Let it out. Everything’s going to be okay.”
You glanced at the clock. He’d have to leave again soon. Back to his responsibilities.
There would be another time to tell him.
Not tonight.
So for now, you just held him.
And that had to be enough.
The bus ride from your dorm to your mom’s house felt surprisingly short.
Maybe because your thoughts were running faster than the bus.
Or maybe it was your mind spinning with one hundred and one questions, wondering if there would be any telltale signs that you were pregnant, besides the throwing up and the constant sleepiness.
Your mom wasn’t going to be able to tell, right?
Until you decided what to do, it was best that no one knew.
Normally, you would spend the semester break at her house, even though you usually just stayed holed up in your room the entire time. Still, it was a routine.
When you were younger, you used to go on road trips and camping with Jungkook, Jimin, and friends, but a lot has changed since then.
Your mom’s words played in your head like a curse you couldn’t shake, and you weren’t ready to face her.
Your fingers tightened around the folded papers tucked into your hoodie pocket, the ones you had picked up from the OB-GYN clinic a few days ago. They were crumpled now from being opened and closed so many times.
Pamphlets about what to expect over the next nine months: milestones, symptoms, what foods to avoid, what vitamins to take, check-ups.
If you chose that path.
You hadn’t told Jungkook yet.
And it wasn’t because you didn’t trust him. That was the thing—you did.
You trusted him so much, and that was exactly what made it harder. He was already shouldering too much, and you knew he’d drop everything for you.
He was already giving so much – to his dad, to his dreams, to you. How could you hand him this, too?
You weren’t trying to keep it from him forever… just… not now.
But one thing was certain: You weren’t ready for this.
If you went through with it, everything would change.
You’d have to stop school. Press pause on your dreams. Stay home for the baby.
Jungkook, of course, being Jungkook, would take care of you. He would graduate just as the baby arrived, and you already knew what he’d do next – work himself into the ground to take care of you. Of the baby. Of everything.
Because that’s who he is.
You remembered the nights you dreamed about raising a family with him – how he used to say he wanted to give you the world.
But how could he give you the world when you were both still trying to survive it?
Still in college.
Still stretched thin.
Still learning how to take care of yourselves, let alone someone else.
What if choosing not to be a mother right now was the most motherly decision you could make?
What if the only way to protect the both of you… was to not bring a child into a life built on sacrifice and survival?
And worst of all, what if your mother was right?
You hated her for saying it.
You hated yourself for starting to think she might be right.
You pressed a hand to your belly, unsure if you were seeking comfort or apology.
A text from Jungkook paused your racing thoughts. Just a quick rundown of his day, and an apology for not being able to drive you to your mom’s. They were out of town for two days to play at a music festival, the one they’d been preparing for weeks.
You assured him that everything was fine.
And it was clear now how much his dad’s condition was taking a toll, not just on Jungkook, but on everyone. With hospital bills piling up, the band had been accepting every offer that came in.
Even if it meant going out of town more often. Even if it meant spending nights in the studio, hours and hours at a time, chasing deadlines and checks.
But somehow, he was still showing up for everything.
For you.
And even if it was only a few hours, he spent it holding you close.
And you were scared. Scared of what the future held.
“Have you been doing well at school? I take it you’ll graduate this year?” your mother asked, her tone as neutral as ever.
“Yes, hopefully,” you answered.
“I hope so too. Your father’s been calling me non-stop about your internship right after your graduation. Why don’t you give him a call and talk to him about that?”
You nodded and just said, “Okay, Mom.”
“It’s nice that you finally decided to come home for your break,” she said, not even trying to hide the bitterness in her voice.
“I was starting to think you’d officially moved in with that boy. Following him around like some groupie while he wastes time on those silly gigs. What, does he actually believe he’s gonna make a living off that noise?”
She scoffed and set her fork down with a loud clink.
You bit your tongue and clenched your jaw.
“You don’t even visit me on weekends anymore. I guess that’s what love looks like to you now, skipping your own mother for some tattooed dropout waiting to happen.”
“He’s actually doing well in school,” you said flatly, not looking up. “On top of making music and doing gigs. Their band’s doing great, too. It’s actually pretty impressive.”
Your voice was calm. Bored, almost. She thrived on reaction, and you weren’t going to give her the satisfaction.
Then, without much change in tone, like she was commenting on the weather –
“Did you gain weight? You need to watch out for your figure before you work with your father,” she said casually.
“You need to show everyone from that family that you deserve that place in the company, better than your cousins. Make yourself presentable all the time.”
“Didn’t know my weight had anything to do with my competence or skills,” you replied evenly.
“It doesn’t,” she shrugged. “But you know how your father’s sisters are, vicious bitches, all of them. And I won’t be there for you this time. So if you show up looking tired like that, bloated, sloppy, don’t come crying to me when they start whispering about you.”
She set her fork down and leaned back, like she was waiting for you to react.
“You think they care how smart you are? No. They’re looking for flaws. Don’t give them one.”
You didn’t answer. You didn’t react.
It was a moot point. You were used to her by now, but god, she always knew how to make you feel like killing yourself, and you were already starting to feel drowsy, your body begging for rest.
Thankfully, it didn’t take long before you both finished your food.
After cleaning up, you went straight to bed and changed into your comfiest pajamas, scrolling through your phone, reading Jungkook’s texts. Photos from soundcheck. Backstage stolen shots. Clips of the band playing to a massive crowd at the music fest.
He looked so happy. They looked happy.
You sent him a quick selfie from bed, skin dewy and glowing in all your skincare glory – and he Facetimed you right away.
“I miss you,” he said before the call even connected properly, voice a little breathless, like he’d run to a quieter corner just to call you, though it was hard to hear with all the background noise.
He was smacking Jimin, who kept trying to squeeze into the frame and god, you missed them so much. You wanted to tell him everything, about so many things, but it was too damn noisy and his reception was crap.
So you both gave up on talking, and just spent the next ten minutes smiling at each other in silence – him munching on snacks, you blinking through sleep, barely keeping your eyes open.
Eventually, your phone slipped from your hand as you surrendered to sleep.
Pain.
Pain woke you.
Sharp.
Like something tearing inside.
You sat up, heart in your throat, and that’s when you saw it –
blood.
It soaked through your underwear. Streaked your thighs. Spotted the sheets.
You bolted to the bathroom, breathing too fast.
You pulled your shorts down, and your ears were ringing and your chest was pounding and you saw more blood. Too much red.
You were shaking. You didn’t know who to call.
What do you do?
So you cried. Biting your knuckles just to keep from screaming. You reached for a towel, trying to wipe the blood that kept coming.
But it wouldn’t stop.
And the pain, oh the pain, like your insides were being wrung out, and you hadn’t felt anything like it before.
It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.
You folded onto the floor, pressed your back to the wall, knees to your chest as you sobbed.
That’s where your mother found you.
She stood in the doorway. She didn’t say anything, but she stood there just looking at you.
“We’re going to the hospital.”
Cold stirrups.
Bright lights.
Nurses talking like you weren’t in the room.
The ultrasound screen turned away.
The doctor tried to speak gently –
"It’s a miscarriage..."
And you couldn’t hear a word past that first sentence.
You blinked, the doctor’s mouth still moving, but everything was just muffled noise.
You weren’t sure how long you cried after that, or if you even cried at all. It didn’t make sense.
Because how could something you barely felt… just disappear?
You kept waiting to feel something – grief? Pain? Maybe even relief?
But all you felt was the void.
Was it even real? Did it really happen?
Maybe it didn’t feel wanted. Maybe that’s why it left.
You didn’t know what to grieve. You didn’t know what you lost.
But why did it feel like you lost a whole chunk of yourself, like your body remembers something your mind can’t make sense of?
You told your mother through broken sobs that you knew you were pregnant.
She just stared at you with confusion and slight disgust, like she couldn’t comprehend a word you were saying.
You were given medication to help with the pain, and you wished it was something that could make you sleep forever.
You woke up, unfortunately, hours later.
The room was dim, and the pain was still there.
And your mother, sitting by the window reading her subscription magazine, not even looking at you when she said:
“Well. At least it’s gone now. The universe removed it for you, good lord.”
And you felt it, like a dam being cracked open, the rage bleeding out of your mouth. And you closed your eyes for a second, as you felt like your head was going to burst in anger.
“How could you say that?! It wasn’t some thing – it was mine! It was a part of me! You are so mean, and vile!I hate you!!!”
She didn’t flinch. Just crossed her arms and turned to face you with that cold, condescending look you knew too well.
“You’d look back one day and thank the gods this happened. That thing would have ruined your life just like I warned you,” she spat, her eyes nothing but disgust.
And you were so angry that you were shaking, but she kept going.
“Use your brain for once and think about what was going to happen. You’d drop out of school, raise a baby on what? Hope? You thought love paid the bills? You thought Jungkook’s little hobby was going to keep food on your table? Grow up.”
Through gritted teeth, you yelled, “Shut up! Stop saying that! He is doing great! We were going to graduate, and – ”
“You’d been playing house with that boy, and I let you because I thought you’d come to your senses and grow out of it, thinking you’ll leave him after college anyway. But no. You really went and proved how reckless and selfish you are. You thought life was all about love and romance and dreams? I had bled and scraped and clawed to give you a better life, and this – this is what you do with it? Throw it away for some boy? And where is he now, huh? Where?”
Defeated, and feeling weak, you sobbed.
“Stupid girl. One day, when you’re older, broke, and exhausted, you'll remember this moment, and you will be thankful that this happened.”
You had imagined your graduation day so many times.
It always felt like the light at the end of a long, brutal tunnel. Like hope.
A gleaming exit.
When home felt like hell, this was the moment you clung to.
This was the plan: survive college under her roof, then work for your dad, move out, and finally live the life you always wanted.
You were supposed to feel relief.
But now, you were lying awake in your bed on your last night in this town, staring at the ceiling for what felt like eternity, as your entire world quietly caved in on itself.
Your graduation cap sat proudly on your desk like a trophy.
Across the room, your new and expensive luggage – pink and purple, bought with your dad’s money – zipped and ready.
You broke up with Jungkook this morning. Right after graduation.
It was quick.
After all, you had practiced the speech for weeks – rehearsed every word until you memorized every word and intonation.
You just said it wasn’t going to work.
Not with him staying in this town.
And you…
Well, you were never meant to stay here anyway.
You didn’t cry, in front of him at least.
No matter how much he pressed. How he begged.
How his voice cracked, how his hands trembled, how his eyes searched your face like he could find a different answer hidden there.
You walked out of his dorm with your head held high, back straight. Chin up.
Just like you practiced.
You hadn’t told him about the miscarriage.
You wanted to. God, you imagined it a hundred different ways.
But there was never a right time.
First, his dad got worse.
You watched him juggle school, rehearsals, and hospital visits, hope thinning out a little more each day. And just when you thought you’d finally tell him, thinking ‘what the heck, this is Jungkook, the love of your life’ – his dad died.
And if there was one thing you never truly understood — because you had never experienced it— it was the love that came from family, and the depth of grief that followed when they were gone.
For months, the whole family sank into a deep, consuming grief.
So you didn’t tell him.
His grief made him quiet. Yours made you quieter.
You mourned separately.
You stood by him. Held space for his pain. But no one stood by you.
But you couldn't blame anyone, because how could you?
You made the choice, and it was all on you.
You didn’t even know if you were allowed to call it grief, or if you were even allowed to call it your child. All you knew was that something inside you was gone, and you never told him. And now, that silence felt like betrayal.
And after enough silence, you convinced yourself maybe he was never meant to know.
It was taken from you too early, anyway.
You fell asleep hugging yourself.
And you woke to a knocking on your bedroom window.
Jungkook stood there, glowing as he bathed in moonlight, grinning wide. His eyes were wide and glossy.
“I’ll come with you,” he whispered. “I already talked to the band. Told them Jin can take over vocals. It’s fine. I can find a job in the city. A good one. I swear, I’ll figure it out.”
Your heart ached. Oh how it ached.
Because he was cutting out pieces of himself just to follow you into the unknown.
Everything he loved and cherished was here. You couldn’t take that away from him.
Just because you were miserable here didn’t mean he had to be miserable somewhere else just to be with you.
So instead of answering, you kissed him deep, and you kissed him hard.
And somehow, in that kiss, he understood that this would probably be the last time.
So he made love to you, and you made love to him, like it was.
You still remember how his solid body felt. How he made you feel at home when he was inside you, filling you, pumping his seed deep.
And afterward, when he lay on top of you, sweaty and spent, you told him:
“You’re holding me back. If you really love me, you’ll let me go.”
It rained that night.
And you swore the sky cried with you.
Maybe it was the universe’s way of mourning the tragedy of it all.
Right place, wrong person.
How he was the right place.
And you were the wrong person.
He held you tight against his chest, his whole body trembling, shaking with silent, broken sobs. You felt his tears seep into your skin, felt his grief in the way his arms refused to let go.
And by morning, he was gone.
You cried all your tears that day, because you never cried after that.
Maybe you used them all up.
The rain tapped against your window as if it, too, has something to say.
Maybe – just maybe – it’s crying for you.
But that thought feels self-indulgent.
Why would the sky mourn for someone like you?
After all, you were nothing but a selfish bitch, willing to lie and betray the only love you’d ever known.
Jungkook gave you his entire world, offered in open palms.
Every piece of him.
But it wasn't enough.
NOW
“I’m sorry, what was that?”
You turn to one of the investors with a polite tilt of your head, the smile on your lips still perfectly in place. Your cheeks ache from smiling. Family. Family friends. Business partners. Everyone your father and Kole deemed important enough to attend this pre-wedding dinner.
The wedding– your wedding– is in two weeks.
But apparently, everyone’s here to celebrate your father and Kole’s company merger.
It really shouldn’t surprise you how many private jets a private island can accommodate. But it still does. The extravagance is nauseating.
“Mr. Chen was asking if you plan to take over the Hong Kong branch after the wedding,” your father chimes in for you. “I told him it’s up to Kole if he wants you to work right after the honeymoon.”
You blink.
Up to Kole?
If he wants you to work?
You laugh.
And then finish your champagne in one go.
Where the hell is Kole, anyway? You haven’t seen him since dinner. Probably talking business.
You excuse yourself and make your way to the bar. The bartender asks what you’ll have, you don’t hesitate.
“A beer,” you say.
She raises a brow in amusement but doesn’t question it, and a pint of draft is placed in front of you.
You take it, gratefully, and walk toward the beach, away from the hushed conversations like everyone is talking about secrets.
You used to think this was normal.
The way they spoke in riddles and metaphors, like a dance.
It wasn’t until you moved with your mother to the town that you realized:
Normal people don’t speak like that.
They speak with their hearts full and their chins high, unafraid to talk about the things they love.
You pass by the softly lit cabanas and hear faint laughter near the main house, but the further you walk, the quieter it becomes. The huts here are empty. Just the sound of the shore.
You find the furthest hut, the one tucked farthest from everything, and slip inside.
But the moment your foot hits the floor, you hear it.
Breathy gasps.
Soft moans.
Whoops.
The hut’s not empty, obviously.
And really, you’d hate to interrupt a guest enjoying themselves at your party.
Maybe try the hut before this one?
You’re already turning around, ready to slip out quietly, when–
“...yeah, like that. Love it when you do that.”
A man’s voice.
You pause.
Kole’s voice.
Then, another voice - a man’s, laughs low and hums something in return.
And it sounds… familiar.
Curiosity tugs at you. So you look.
The curtain separating the lounge from the inner room is half drawn. Through the gap, you catch movement.
Kole is pinned against the wall, panting, shirt undone. His perfectly styled hair is now a mess, sticking to his forehead with sweat. His hands are buried in another man's dark hair, fingers guiding - as he kneels before him, head moving with a rhythm that has Kole’s eyes rolling back and his hips stuttering forward.
Your gaze flicks to the shirt the guy’s wearing.
You know that shirt.
You and Kole picked it out together last month during your vacation in Europe.
A birthday gift for your cousin.
Holy shit.
What the actual fuck.
Have they been… fucking?
For how long?
Kole and your cousin?
You didn’t even know about Kole’s sexual preferences. It’s not something the two of you ever discussed openly.
Not that there was space for that kind of conversation between you anyway.
What else don’t you know about him?
They don’t notice you.
They’re too lost in their own world.
After collecting yourself, you quietly turn and step back out into the night.
You walk away calmly, beer still in one hand, your phone on the other.
You’re already in bed, in a satin nightgown, the glow of your phone screen casting light across your face as you scroll through nothing.
When Kole enters, he offers you that charming smile of his.
“Long day,” he murmurs, undoing his shirt. “You were wonderful tonight. Truly. The guests adore you.”
He disappears into the bathroom without waiting for a response.
You hear the water run. Then stop.
When he returns, he’s in his maroon pajama set, hair damp, skin freshly dewy with that aftershave you used to like. He slips into bed beside you and presses a soft kiss to your shoulder.
“Good night, darling,” he says casually. “Excellent job today. I’m sorry I couldn’t be at your side more, you know how it is, investor talk about the new branch. But tomorrow’s for us. Golf, then a massage. Yes?”
You look up from your phone and set it aside, then turn to face him fully.
“I saw you,” you said softly, calmly.
You’re devoid of emotion.
You haven’t felt anything in months.
And honestly, nothing surprises you anymore.
“In the hut. With my cousin.” You wait for a reaction from him, but he only blinks once.
Then lets out a short, airy chuckle, the same chuckle he gives when the wine’s poured a little too generously.
“Oh? How unfortunate. That wasn’t my intention at all. Still… I do apologize you had to witness it.”
“That’s it?” Your voice remains calm, your face unreadable. “You’re sorry I saw?”
He sighs, folding his hands neatly across his chest.
“Darling,” he begins, composed, “what exactly would you have me do? Apologize for indulging in my own preferences? We both have our… pursuits. I’ve never interfered in yours.”
“What?”
He raises an eyebrow, utterly unbothered.
He is eerily calm.
You trained yourself to stay calm. It was survival, really. A skill honed through years of navigating your mother’s moods and your father’s expectations.
But this is something else entirely.
This is detachment - bred from an environment where emotions are inconvenient and consequences are optional.
It makes your skin crawl.
“Come now… Darling, I know about your affair.”
Your blood runs cold.
“I’m not an idiot,” he continues still in that maddening calm tone, as if explaining something obvious to a slow student. “I'm well aware you were fucking your ex every time you visited your mother.”
Your lips part, but you don't say anything.
“But I also know it wasn't serious. Of course.” He exhales softly. “Just like mine wasn’t. These things – flings, indulgences – they’re inevitable. Necessary, even. We all have our vices.”
He looks at you with amusement, as he continues.
“I never stood in the way of yours because I knew, at the end of the day, you’d come back to me. You always do.”
He leans back into the pillows, perfectly composed.
“Because no matter how good he makes you feel, no matter how well he fucks you,” he murmurs, “he’ll never be able to give you the life you want. The one you need.”
And then, he smiles.
“And you and I both know, you’re not about to give up this life,” he laughs softly, “that man? He can’t give you any of it.”
You raise an eyebrow. “This life?”
“Oh, don’t play coy. You love wealth. You love security. You love summers in Saint-Tropez and winters in the Swiss Alps. You love not having to think about money. And there’s nothing wrong with that.”
Bile rises in your throat as a tangle of emotions churns in your chest. But you say nothing. You let him speak.
“I don’t blame you,” he says smoothly. “Living in that charming little town must’ve been… enlightening. Poor you, having to experience what life is like for the rest of them. It must’ve reminded you just how different we are.”
He leans back and sighs. “I don’t fault you for it, darling. I never have. It’s simply who you are. This is where you belong.”
He picks up his phone from the nightstand, casually scrolling for a moment before dialing.
“Cancel golf tomorrow,” he says. “The investors and I will meet on the yacht instead.”
Then, he sets the phone down, turns back to you, and adds
“Wear that pretty white dress I gave you. It’ll match mine tomorrow. You’ll look magnificent in it.”
And with that, he switches off his lamp and goes to sleep.
Kole was right about one thing–
the dress does look good on you.
But then again, what doesn’t?
You’ve sculpted yourself into perfection.
It’s true that being part of this society requires effort to always be perfect, so you invest in yourself.
You sip at the champagne and glance out the plane window. The clouds drift past like marshmallows – soft, white, pure.
Far below, the island looks impossibly small now. Like an ant. The water surrounding it glistens, like blue Gatorade under the sun.
It’s not your first time flying on a private jet.
But it’s your first time flying alone.
And that thought feels… liberating.
You’ve been alone all your life, haunted by the isolating feeling that your life was never truly yours.
It’s true, you were an obedient child. You never once strayed from the path your parents laid out for you.
Except for Jungkook.
Being with him throughout college was an act of rebellion in itself.
It was the only reckless thing you ever did.
And it was the best time of your life.
It’s ironic how the best time of your life happened during the darkest.
Right person, wrong place, or right place, wrong person, or whatever it was Namjoon said.
The pilot says the flight is going to take two hours.
You plan on taking a short nap so you have the energy to pack as soon as you arrive at the apartment you share with Kole.
You have no concrete plan after moving out of the apartment, and that thought should scare you, but it doesn’t.
You didn't speak a word to anyone before leaving the island.
Everyone was still asleep when you left.
Even Kole didn’t notice you leaving the villa. He was sound asleep on that stupidly large bed.
They can all go fuck themselves.
And as you close your eyes to take a short nap, you turn off your phone that’s been vibrating since you left, with people trying to reach you.
You probably have dozens of missed calls by now.
Maybe asking where you are.
Or maybe asking what the hell is wrong with you.
You can’t blame them, not when you emailed a few pictures you took of Kole and your cousin last night to your family.
To your father, your step mother, her sisters, their husbands, all your cousins… and Kole himself.
Just one email, sent to every single name on the recipient list before your plane even left the ground.
You debated whether to send the video, but it’s always nice to have extra ammunition, just in case.
You smacked your forehead when you realized you’d forgotten to add a subject line to the email.
a/n: thanks for waiting, told you it was a looong one! took me a bit longer to finish because, well… life happens. hope you enjoy the chapter and please let me know what you think. THANK YOU! 💛
Summary: You left Jungkook and this town behind, but every visit pulls you back into his arms, chasing a high you can never leave behind.
Ratings: 18+ ONLY!!! MDNI!
‼️CHAPTER WARNINGS ‼️
This chapter contains sensitive and potentially triggering themes including grief, loss, miscarriage, mentions of unhealthy family dynamics, implied death (non-major character).
Please read with care. Your well-being comes first.
Word Count: 8.4K
SERIES MASTERLIST
MAIN MASTERLIST
ex·o·dus [ˈeksədəs]
noun
a mass departure of people, leaving a place or situation
THEN
“Hey, you sure you’re good to close? I’m so sorry for dipping early again. Husband got called in early for work, and I just can’t afford a nanny right now… I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
Jada, the school librarian you’d been working with, gave you an apologetic smile as she slid the last book into place.
“Yes, oh my god, go! Go spend time with your family. Leave me alone!”
You swatted at her jokingly as you turned back to your laptop.
Working in the school library had its perks.
Free Wifi. Quiet corners. And best of all, getting paid to do homework.
You and Jungkook were graduating this year, and things had started to feel like a blur.
“I haven’t seen Jungkook around lately. You guys okay?” Jada asked it casually, zipping up her bag. But you knew she meant it.
You glanced at your phone again. No notifications.
Not unusual, and definitely not new.
The last message was before his first class, and it’s already 7pm.
A long paragraph, all about his day.
A rundown of their late-night session in the studio, his dad’s latest scan, what he ate (just ramen, while reminding you not to skip a meal), and the fact that he nearly passed out during class.
A lot has happened in the past months.
His dad being diagnosed with late-stage cancer definitely changed everything.
Lately, you felt more like his diary.
He talked to you when you were asleep.
Your classes were in the morning, his in the afternoon.
After that, he’d head straight to either band practice or a studio session, then rush to the hospital to stay with his dad at night. He and Jin took turns, depending on the day, so their mom could catch up on sleep somehow.
Then he’d crash into bed in the morning, barely catching a few hours of sleep before doing it all over again.
The last time you saw him was four days ago, and it was brief. He walked you to the library, gave you a quick kiss, and then sprinted off to his next class.
You realized you haven’t answered her, and she’s still waiting for a response.
“Yeah… we’re good. You know, he’s super busy.” You sighed and locked your screen, trying not to overthink and worry too much.
“Yeah, his dad, I heard… how’s he holding up?”
You hesitated, choosing your words carefully.
“He’s doing well… considering. The cancer’s spreading to the lower parts now, so he needs more help.”
You remembered the last time you visited – it was painful, seeing the man you were used to seeing strong and full of life now looking frail in a hospital gown.
Jesus,” Jada muttered, pausing mid-zip as her expression crumpled. “How is Jungkook even functioning? I mean, classes, the band, hospital duty…does he even sleep?”
“I know…” You swallowed, voice quiet. “He’s trying his best, and he always tells me not to worry, but…”
Jada gave you a look. “Of course you’re going to worry. You think I haven’t noticed you check your phone like a hundred times in the last five minutes?”
You sighed, finally leaning back in your chair. “I really try not to. I just… I’m trying not to look like I worry too much. Because you know how he is, he’s going to feel guilty or burdened or– ”
You stopped, pressing your lips together. “I don’t know. I just want to help him... I just don’t know how.”
“I think just being there for him is helping,” She said softly. “You’re allowed to feel this way, you know? Your feelings are valid too. And the best thing you can do for him is to take care of yourself. Him seeing you well… that probably gives him more comfort than you realize.”
You hadn’t noticed how tense your shoulders were until she reached over and gave them a gentle squeeze.
“Yeah…” You exhaled. “Thanks, Jada. That really means a lot.”
“Now go,” you said, giving her a playful tap. “Your husband’s gonna be late for work again if he has to wait much longer for you to get home.”
“He’ll survive! Should’ve thought twice about putting a baby in me in this economy!” she laughed, leaning in to kiss your cheek before leaving you with a soft smile.
“Take it easy, okay?”
You nodded.
It helped, having someone to talk to.
You hadn’t realized how much you needed it.
Ever since Jungkook’s dad was diagnosed, you hadn’t really let yourself vent to anyone. There was Jimin, who shared the same sentiments as you, so it helped to hear things from someone a little outside the circle.
You glanced at your phone one more time, though you already knew it was on loud, and it hadn’t buzzed.
Then you turned back to your laptop, willing your thoughts to settle.
The library was empty now.
Silent.
You’d just switched off the main lights, leaving only the soft amber glow near the entrance door as you zipped up your bag.
A glance at your phone said it was just past 8pm.
At this hour, Jungkook was probably buried in practice, or at the studio, or– if the universe had a shred of mercy– napping.
You had texted him all day. Like you always did.
Little updates.
All unread.
You sighed, slinging your bag over your shoulder and stepping outside, ready to crash into bed as soon as you got home.
You’d been exhausted and sleepy lately, and you were praying it wasn’t the flu coming down on you, especially with exams just around the corner, right before semestral break.
You startled slightly when you realized it had been raining, the pavement glistening with puddles.
Great.
You hadn’t noticed. The library was practically soundproof.
You really hated the rain.
Which was ironic, considering you moved to a town where it rained half the year.
And, yes, of course you forgot your umbrella. Again.
What now?
Back to the library and wait it out?
Or just say “fuck it” and walk home? But your laptop in your bag, and who the hell was that beautiful man running toward you?
You squinted.
Oh.
That..
…was your boyfriend…
Running toward you, breath fogging in the cold air, black hoodie already damp, carrying a massive red umbrella.
“Jungkook?!” You blinked, stunned. “Why? What are you--?”
“Knew it!” he shouted through the rain, grinning as he pushed back his wet hair. “You didn’t bring one.”
He stepped right up to you and swung the umbrella overhead.
Your mouth fell open. “You’re supposed to be in the studio! Or sleeping? Why are you here—”
So warm.
He was so warm.
And his lips were soft and plush and sweet against yours.
You kissed him back, hungry and eager and messy.
“You didn’t answer me,” you mumbled against his chest after the kiss, pouting.
“I just did,” he grinned.
“You didn’t, you just kissed me.”
“Yeah.” He smirked. “I’m here for that.”
You smacked his chest, but couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out. Then you wrapped your arms around him, tight. So tight he let out a soft “oh”, before squeezing you back like he was trying to merge your bodies into one.
“Where were you before coming here?” you asked, voice muffled against his hoodie.
“Studio,” he replied with a grin. “We were almost done when it rained.”
“You didn’t have to come all the way here, Kook.”
“It was raining.”
“So?”
“So of course I had to come get you. No way I’m letting you walk home soaked.”
He chuckled, kissing your head again. “Plus, I really, really needed to see you. I needed this.”
Another kiss, more tongue on throat, hips grinding, hands on your ass kind of kiss, but you weren’t complaining.
You finally pulled back, and he reached for your bag without a word, slinging it over his arm before wrapping the other around your shoulder.
You walked side by side through the rain, tucked under the oversized umbrella and suddenly, the rain didn't matter anymore.
The yellow street lights reflected his beautiful face, and though it was dim, you could see it: the exhaustion in his eyes. The dark circles. The way he blinked a little too slow, like even now, his body was fighting to stay upright.
“Baby…” you said quietly. “When was the last time you actually slept?”
“I slept last night,” he said quickly. “I’m fine, babe. Don’t worry about me.”
You swallowed the lump rising in your throat. “You know you don’t have to pretend you’re ok with me all the time, right? Ever since your dad’s diagnosis, you’ve been… non-stop. Of course I worry about you. Sue me.”
He was quiet for a moment, then gave you a small nod. “I’m managing, I swear. Just… take care of yourself for me, okay? While I can’t. Not the way I used to.”
That – that right there – made your chest ache.
Even now, with everything he’s holding, everything he’s going through, he’s worried about you.
“Jungkook,” you said, stopping in your tracks. “That’s your concern right now? That you can’t take care of me while you’re going through a lot?”
He blinked, then gave you a soft, sheepish grin. “Hey… babe. Don’t be mad, yeah?”
“I’m not mad?”
“You’re getting upset,” he said, gently tapping your forehead. “This spot right here always gives you away.”
You rolled your eyes.
“Well,” he continued, “how about we agree it’s impossible not to worry about each other? I worry about you, and you feel bad. You worry about me, and I feel bad. Vicious cycle, huh?”
You cracked a smile. “Okay, fine. Okay! Just… promise me you’ll tell me when it gets too much. I’ll bring an umbrella every single day so you don’t worry when it rains. And sleep when you can.”
“Yes, ma’am. I promise,” he said with a smug grin.
You reached your dorm after a few more steps under the rain. You were ready to pull him into one last tight hug before he rushed off to the hospital again.
But the moment you stepped inside, he was already kicking off his shoes and tugging off his damp hoodie in one smooth motion.
You opened your mouth to ask if he was staying, maybe just for a few minutes, but he turned, eyes gleaming, and pulled you straight toward the bed.
“Jungkook–what are you doing?” you squeaked, laughing as you stumbled forward.
“I really, really, really need to do this,” he murmured, grinning as he fell back on the mattress and dragged you with him.
You landed on top of him with a surprised yelp, hands on his chest, your knees bracketing his hips– then his mouth was on your neck.
Fuck, it had been too long.
You couldn’t help the soft moan that slipped out, until you remembered his tired eyes, the deep shadows under his lashes.
“Jungkook…” You brushed your fingers through his hair. “You staying for a bit?”
“Uh-huh. I’ve got two hours. Mom’s with Dad,” he mumbled as he flipped you over effortlessly. In a blink, he was hovering above you, his eyes tired, but hungry.
“Then maybe you should be resting instead of doing this,” you said, breathless but trying to sound stern.
His eyes fluttered open, and that handsome smirk curved his lips. “Babe, I told you, I’m fine. I’ll show you.”
You bit your lip. “Show me how?”
He chuckled low, fingers ghosting over your waistband.
“Why don’t you spread those pretty legs for me and find out?”
You snorted, raising a brow. “Aren’t you too tired for that?”
“I’m never too tired for that.”
“Jungkook…”
“YN.”
He matched your tone, unbothered.
You sighed, brushing your fingers through his damp hair.
“We don’t have to do anything,” you murmured, softer now. “You should rest.”
“I know,” he whispered, brushing his nose against your neck.
“But I really, really wanna taste you again,” he added. “I miss your taste on my tongue.”
“You’re crazy!”
“Baby… you have no idea. Pussy that tastes like that? Who wouldn’t be?”
You let out a breathy laugh, but it caught somewhere in your throat because his fingertips were already slipping beneath the waistband of your shorts.
God, you missed him. But as much as you missed his touch, you couldn’t ignore how tired he looked. How sleep-starved he was.
So you reached up, cupped his jaw, and kissed him softly.
“Baby, I missed you so much. I know it’s been a while… but I also know how exhausted you are. Please, just rest. Take a nap with me? I’m sleepy too.”
Your thumb brushed over his cheek.
“Please… rest? Just for a little while.”
You leaned in and kissed his forehead, and he let out a shaky breath against your collarbone.
“Yeah,” he mumbled and buried his face in your neck, arms wrapping around you.
“Sleep, baby,” you whispered, brushing your fingers through his hair. “Need you to sleep.”
Within the next minute, you felt his weight soften beside you. You drifted off soon after.
When you woke up, it was to the soft press of his lips kissing all over your face, a silent goodbye before he headed out to repeat another busy day.
You had already decided to skip class today.
Actually, not decided.
More like… surrendered to the exhaustion.
You’d been tired.
Nauseous.
Throwing up for a week now.
You hated a lot of things about yourself.
And you hated that you hated so many things about yourself.
But what you hated most was how indecisive you could be.
Like you’d rather be forced to choose between two things than be handed ten.
And right now, you were standing in front of a wall of pregnancy test kits, unsure whether to get the digital or the analog.
A decision that shouldn’t have taken twenty minutes.
You had opened another Google tab on your phone to read more about pregnancy kits, closing the one about early signs and symptoms.
You took two analogs – just to be sure – and marched toward the cashier.
You just wanted to go home and rest.
At first, you thought it was the flu.
But then you missed your period.
Then another week passed. Now your brain won’t stop spinning, someone nearby smells like citrus, and it’s making you nauseous. The tag of your shirt scratches at the back of your neck, and everything feels too hot and too loud.
When you got home, you kicked off your shoes, stripped off your clothes, and headed straight to the bathroom.
You tore the boxes open with trembling hands.
You had read the instructions twice. Maybe three times. Didn’t matter.
You knew what to do.
You just didn’t know what you’d do after.
You peed.
You waited.
One minute.
Two…
Too long.
And then –
Two pink lines.
You stared at them like they might change if you blinked long enough.
Like if you tilted them just right under the bathroom light, one of the lines might fade.
Disappear.
Undo itself.
But it didn’t.
You sat on the toilet, underwear around one ankle, heart pounding against your ribs.
Two fucking lines.
Oh my god.
Your mouth went dry.
You wanted to cry, but for some reason you just sat there, arms wrapped around yourself, cold tile biting into your skin.
You didn’t know how long you stayed like that.
Long enough for your hand to start shaking.
Then your leg.
Then all of you.
At some point, you slid down onto the floor, curled sideways on the cold, chipped bathroom tiles of the dorm, eyes fixed on the only thing moving –
A single line of ants, crawling out from a crack in the wall, toward the window, carrying the body of a moth.
Wings torn, but still beautiful.
And you wanted to think that the ants found the moth and carried it to its final destination, where it would be laid to rest in peace.
But you know the moth serves a purpose even in death. That its body will be broken down, piece by piece, fed to something else.
Not all losses are mourned.
Some are simply repurposed.
And you cried at the thought that you were thinking about the dead moth on your bathroom floor. You’re pregnant, and you’re crying about a dead moth.
“I’m only telling you this because someone has to knock sense into you!!!”
…Huh?
“He’ll trap you in this town, don’t you see that?”
“Throwing your life away for a boy!”
“Waste every ounce of potential you have!”
“What a waste!”
“Waste!!!”
Your mother’s voice lingered,
Louder and louder right in your ear.
“--in this godforsaken town!!!”
You jerked awake, chest heaving.
Confused and disoriented, you opened your eyes and tried to gain consciousness.
Only to realize you couldn’t move.
Something heavy. No – someone.
Sprawled across your chest.
What the hell is going on?
Oh right…
You had fallen asleep on the bathroom floor and woken up cold, then dragged yourself to bed after texting Jungkook that you had skipped class.
At some point, he must’ve let himself into your dorm. He had probably come straight from the hospital, dragged himself through lectures, then crawled here.
The band had been working so hard ever since they started gaining more recognition and attention, with their late-night studio sessions and out-of-town gigs – on top of his duties for his dad, so maybe this was the first real sleep he had gotten this week.
You watched him, eyes tracing over features you knew by heart: the thick lashes, that tiny scar from a childhood fight with Jin, the mole under his lip. His arm was slung over your waist, clinging like he always did...
You noticed the tattoos that had accumulated slowly – some born out of impulse he now regrets, and some from visions he had as a teen. You loved them all so dearly. You ran your fingertips lightly over the ink. He twitched but didn’t wake.
You smiled. He looked so peaceful.
And God... you wondered – if the child you’re carrying will look like him.
Will it have his nose? His lips? That warmth in his eyes?
Will it inherit his loving nature, his loyalty, his selflessness, his ridiculous laugh?
You wanted to tell him.
Should you tell him now?
But before you could do anything, his eyes fluttered open – and he was staring right back at you.
“Hi,” he said, voice low from sleep.
“Hi.” you croaked.
“Why’d you skip class?”
You shrugged, trying not to fidget. “Just tired.”
He frowned and reached over, placing the back of his hand on your forehead. It was warm – his hand, not you.
“Are you sick?”
You shook your head. “No… I’m not.”
God, you wanted to tell him.
But what did you even feel?
You hadn’t had a second to sit still, to process any of this.
You were still trying to push the fear down.
Shove it somewhere dark and quiet.
You were terrified. Of everything.
And your mother’s voice was still ringing in your ears.
But he was sitting in front of you now, and you didn’t know how to hand him this, too.
“Alright,” he sighed, straightening his back. “Then you need to rest more. But we gotta eat first. You can’t sleep on an empty stomach, deal?”
He was already opening the food app on his phone.
“Are you… leaving soon?” you asked gently.
“Yeah, love…” he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Actually, I’ve been meaning to tell you something. Just… everything’s been so hectic.”
Your whole body went still.
“What’s going on?”
He exhaled slowly, sitting up straighter.
You already knew it was bad.
“Dad’s scans came back. It’s worse than before. The doctors walked us through options but… they said the chances of recovery are really low at this point. So… we have to prepare. For the worst.”
Your heart sank.
“Baby…” You reach for his hand, your fingers curling over his.
He swallowed hard.
“Mom’s still holding onto hope, and Jin and I... we’re pretending like we are too. But watching him go through it, the pain, the exhaustion… it’s killing us.”
His voice faltered. He tried to keep going.
“We decided on chemo. It’s aggressive. Expensive. But we’ll figure it out. Jin’s job helps. The gigs, too. We’ve just… cut back on some things, sacrificed a few things. We’re selling mom’s car, which is fine. It’s just –”
He exhaled shakily.
“It’s hard. Seeing him like that. Hooked up to machines, barely talking. I’m used to him being strong, you know? Always laughing, joking…now he can’t even stand, can’t even use the toilet by himself. I don’t know how to be okay with that.”
You squeeze his hand gently, your thumb brushing over his knuckles. Maybe to calm him, or yourself.
“I’m so sorry, Kook… I know you’re trying to be strong for everyone, but you don’t have to carry it alone.”
He didn’t respond. But his grip tightened just slightly. So you kept going.
“Whatever happens, whatever you need… I’m here. Even if I don’t always know the right thing to say, I’m here.”
He leaned into you then, arms wrapping around you. You hugged him back just as tightly, and your heart broke with how hard he clung.
And then, he stilled.
His breath shuddered against your neck.
And you felt it, the damp warmth soaking into your skin, his uneven breathing, the quiet tremble in his shoulders.
So you held him, and let him fall apart in your arms.
“It’s okay, baby,” you murmured. “Let it out. Everything’s going to be okay.”
You glanced at the clock. He’d have to leave again soon. Back to his responsibilities.
There would be another time to tell him.
Not tonight.
So for now, you just held him.
And that had to be enough.
The bus ride from your dorm to your mom’s house felt surprisingly short.
Maybe because your thoughts were running faster than the bus.
Or maybe it was your mind spinning with one hundred and one questions, wondering if there would be any telltale signs that you were pregnant, besides the throwing up and the constant sleepiness.
Your mom wasn’t going to be able to tell, right?
Until you decided what to do, it was best that no one knew.
Normally, you would spend the semester break at her house, even though you usually just stayed holed up in your room the entire time. Still, it was a routine.
When you were younger, you used to go on road trips and camping with Jungkook, Jimin, and friends, but a lot has changed since then.
Your mom’s words played in your head like a curse you couldn’t shake, and you weren’t ready to face her.
Your fingers tightened around the folded papers tucked into your hoodie pocket, the ones you had picked up from the OB-GYN clinic a few days ago. They were crumpled now from being opened and closed so many times.
Pamphlets about what to expect over the next nine months: milestones, symptoms, what foods to avoid, what vitamins to take, check-ups.
If you chose that path.
You hadn’t told Jungkook yet.
And it wasn’t because you didn’t trust him. That was the thing—you did.
You trusted him so much, and that was exactly what made it harder. He was already shouldering too much, and you knew he’d drop everything for you.
He was already giving so much – to his dad, to his dreams, to you. How could you hand him this, too?
You weren’t trying to keep it from him forever… just… not now.
But one thing was certain: You weren’t ready for this.
If you went through with it, everything would change.
You’d have to stop school. Press pause on your dreams. Stay home for the baby.
Jungkook, of course, being Jungkook, would take care of you. He would graduate just as the baby arrived, and you already knew what he’d do next – work himself into the ground to take care of you. Of the baby. Of everything.
Because that’s who he is.
You remembered the nights you dreamed about raising a family with him – how he used to say he wanted to give you the world.
But how could he give you the world when you were both still trying to survive it?
Still in college.
Still stretched thin.
Still learning how to take care of yourselves, let alone someone else.
What if choosing not to be a mother right now was the most motherly decision you could make?
What if the only way to protect the both of you… was to not bring a child into a life built on sacrifice and survival?
And worst of all, what if your mother was right?
You hated her for saying it.
You hated yourself for starting to think she might be right.
You pressed a hand to your belly, unsure if you were seeking comfort or apology.
A text from Jungkook paused your racing thoughts. Just a quick rundown of his day, and an apology for not being able to drive you to your mom’s. They were out of town for two days to play at a music festival, the one they’d been preparing for weeks.
You assured him that everything was fine.
And it was clear now how much his dad’s condition was taking a toll, not just on Jungkook, but on everyone. With hospital bills piling up, the band had been accepting every offer that came in.
Even if it meant going out of town more often. Even if it meant spending nights in the studio, hours and hours at a time, chasing deadlines and checks.
But somehow, he was still showing up for everything.
For you.
And even if it was only a few hours, he spent it holding you close.
And you were scared. Scared of what the future held.
“Have you been doing well at school? I take it you’ll graduate this year?” your mother asked, her tone as neutral as ever.
“Yes, hopefully,” you answered.
“I hope so too. Your father’s been calling me non-stop about your internship right after your graduation. Why don’t you give him a call and talk to him about that?”
You nodded and just said, “Okay, Mom.”
“It’s nice that you finally decided to come home for your break,” she said, not even trying to hide the bitterness in her voice.
“I was starting to think you’d officially moved in with that boy. Following him around like some groupie while he wastes time on those silly gigs. What, does he actually believe he’s gonna make a living off that noise?”
She scoffed and set her fork down with a loud clink.
You bit your tongue and clenched your jaw.
“You don’t even visit me on weekends anymore. I guess that’s what love looks like to you now, skipping your own mother for some tattooed dropout waiting to happen.”
“He’s actually doing well in school,” you said flatly, not looking up. “On top of making music and doing gigs. Their band’s doing great, too. It’s actually pretty impressive.”
Your voice was calm. Bored, almost. She thrived on reaction, and you weren’t going to give her the satisfaction.
Then, without much change in tone, like she was commenting on the weather –
“Did you gain weight? You need to watch out for your figure before you work with your father,” she said casually.
“You need to show everyone from that family that you deserve that place in the company, better than your cousins. Make yourself presentable all the time.”
“Didn’t know my weight had anything to do with my competence or skills,” you replied evenly.
“It doesn’t,” she shrugged. “But you know how your father’s sisters are, vicious bitches, all of them. And I won’t be there for you this time. So if you show up looking tired like that, bloated, sloppy, don’t come crying to me when they start whispering about you.”
She set her fork down and leaned back, like she was waiting for you to react.
“You think they care how smart you are? No. They’re looking for flaws. Don’t give them one.”
You didn’t answer. You didn’t react.
It was a moot point. You were used to her by now, but god, she always knew how to make you feel like killing yourself, and you were already starting to feel drowsy, your body begging for rest.
Thankfully, it didn’t take long before you both finished your food.
After cleaning up, you went straight to bed and changed into your comfiest pajamas, scrolling through your phone, reading Jungkook’s texts. Photos from soundcheck. Backstage stolen shots. Clips of the band playing to a massive crowd at the music fest.
He looked so happy. They looked happy.
You sent him a quick selfie from bed, skin dewy and glowing in all your skincare glory – and he Facetimed you right away.
“I miss you,” he said before the call even connected properly, voice a little breathless, like he’d run to a quieter corner just to call you, though it was hard to hear with all the background noise.
He was smacking Jimin, who kept trying to squeeze into the frame and god, you missed them so much. You wanted to tell him everything, about so many things, but it was too damn noisy and his reception was crap.
So you both gave up on talking, and just spent the next ten minutes smiling at each other in silence – him munching on snacks, you blinking through sleep, barely keeping your eyes open.
Eventually, your phone slipped from your hand as you surrendered to sleep.
Pain.
Pain woke you.
Sharp.
Like something tearing inside.
You sat up, heart in your throat, and that’s when you saw it –
blood.
It soaked through your underwear. Streaked your thighs. Spotted the sheets.
You bolted to the bathroom, breathing too fast.
You pulled your shorts down, and your ears were ringing and your chest was pounding and you saw more blood. Too much red.
You were shaking. You didn’t know who to call.
What do you do?
So you cried. Biting your knuckles just to keep from screaming. You reached for a towel, trying to wipe the blood that kept coming.
But it wouldn’t stop.
And the pain, oh the pain, like your insides were being wrung out, and you hadn’t felt anything like it before.
It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.
You folded onto the floor, pressed your back to the wall, knees to your chest as you sobbed.
That’s where your mother found you.
She stood in the doorway. She didn’t say anything, but she stood there just looking at you.
“We’re going to the hospital.”
Cold stirrups.
Bright lights.
Nurses talking like you weren’t in the room.
The ultrasound screen turned away.
The doctor tried to speak gently –
"It’s a miscarriage..."
And you couldn’t hear a word past that first sentence.
You blinked, the doctor’s mouth still moving, but everything was just muffled noise.
You weren’t sure how long you cried after that, or if you even cried at all. It didn’t make sense.
Because how could something you barely felt… just disappear?
You kept waiting to feel something – grief? Pain? Maybe even relief?
But all you felt was the void.
Was it even real? Did it really happen?
Maybe it didn’t feel wanted. Maybe that’s why it left.
You didn’t know what to grieve. You didn’t know what you lost.
But why did it feel like you lost a whole chunk of yourself, like your body remembers something your mind can’t make sense of?
You told your mother through broken sobs that you knew you were pregnant.
She just stared at you with confusion and slight disgust, like she couldn’t comprehend a word you were saying.
You were given medication to help with the pain, and you wished it was something that could make you sleep forever.
You woke up, unfortunately, hours later.
The room was dim, and the pain was still there.
And your mother, sitting by the window reading her subscription magazine, not even looking at you when she said:
“Well. At least it’s gone now. The universe removed it for you, good lord.”
And you felt it, like a dam being cracked open, the rage bleeding out of your mouth. And you closed your eyes for a second, as you felt like your head was going to burst in anger.
“How could you say that?! It wasn’t some thing – it was mine! It was a part of me! You are so mean, and vile!I hate you!!!”
She didn’t flinch. Just crossed her arms and turned to face you with that cold, condescending look you knew too well.
“You’d look back one day and thank the gods this happened. That thing would have ruined your life just like I warned you,” she spat, her eyes nothing but disgust.
And you were so angry that you were shaking, but she kept going.
“Use your brain for once and think about what was going to happen. You’d drop out of school, raise a baby on what? Hope? You thought love paid the bills? You thought Jungkook’s little hobby was going to keep food on your table? Grow up.”
Through gritted teeth, you yelled, “Shut up! Stop saying that! He is doing great! We were going to graduate, and – ”
“You’d been playing house with that boy, and I let you because I thought you’d come to your senses and grow out of it, thinking you’ll leave him after college anyway. But no. You really went and proved how reckless and selfish you are. You thought life was all about love and romance and dreams? I had bled and scraped and clawed to give you a better life, and this – this is what you do with it? Throw it away for some boy? And where is he now, huh? Where?”
Defeated, and feeling weak, you sobbed.
“Stupid girl. One day, when you’re older, broke, and exhausted, you'll remember this moment, and you will be thankful that this happened.”
You had imagined your graduation day so many times.
It always felt like the light at the end of a long, brutal tunnel. Like hope.
A gleaming exit.
When home felt like hell, this was the moment you clung to.
This was the plan: survive college under her roof, then work for your dad, move out, and finally live the life you always wanted.
You were supposed to feel relief.
But now, you were lying awake in your bed on your last night in this town, staring at the ceiling for what felt like eternity, as your entire world quietly caved in on itself.
Your graduation cap sat proudly on your desk like a trophy.
Across the room, your new and expensive luggage – pink and purple, bought with your dad’s money – zipped and ready.
You broke up with Jungkook this morning. Right after graduation.
It was quick.
After all, you had practiced the speech for weeks – rehearsed every word until you memorized every word and intonation.
You just said it wasn’t going to work.
Not with him staying in this town.
And you…
Well, you were never meant to stay here anyway.
You didn’t cry, in front of him at least.
No matter how much he pressed. How he begged.
How his voice cracked, how his hands trembled, how his eyes searched your face like he could find a different answer hidden there.
You walked out of his dorm with your head held high, back straight. Chin up.
Just like you practiced.
You hadn’t told him about the miscarriage.
You wanted to. God, you imagined it a hundred different ways.
But there was never a right time.
First, his dad got worse.
You watched him juggle school, rehearsals, and hospital visits, hope thinning out a little more each day. And just when you thought you’d finally tell him, thinking ‘what the heck, this is Jungkook, the love of your life’ – his dad died.
And if there was one thing you never truly understood — because you had never experienced it— it was the love that came from family, and the depth of grief that followed when they were gone.
For months, the whole family sank into a deep, consuming grief.
So you didn’t tell him.
His grief made him quiet. Yours made you quieter.
You mourned separately.
You stood by him. Held space for his pain. But no one stood by you.
But you couldn't blame anyone, because how could you?
You made the choice, and it was all on you.
You didn’t even know if you were allowed to call it grief, or if you were even allowed to call it your child. All you knew was that something inside you was gone, and you never told him. And now, that silence felt like betrayal.
And after enough silence, you convinced yourself maybe he was never meant to know.
It was taken from you too early, anyway.
You fell asleep hugging yourself.
And you woke to a knocking on your bedroom window.
Jungkook stood there, glowing as he bathed in moonlight, grinning wide. His eyes were wide and glossy.
“I’ll come with you,” he whispered. “I already talked to the band. Told them Jin can take over vocals. It’s fine. I can find a job in the city. A good one. I swear, I’ll figure it out.”
Your heart ached. Oh how it ached.
Because he was cutting out pieces of himself just to follow you into the unknown.
Everything he loved and cherished was here. You couldn’t take that away from him.
Just because you were miserable here didn’t mean he had to be miserable somewhere else just to be with you.
So instead of answering, you kissed him deep, and you kissed him hard.
And somehow, in that kiss, he understood that this would probably be the last time.
So he made love to you, and you made love to him, like it was.
You still remember how his solid body felt. How he made you feel at home when he was inside you, filling you, pumping his seed deep.
And afterward, when he lay on top of you, sweaty and spent, you told him:
“You’re holding me back. If you really love me, you’ll let me go.”
It rained that night.
And you swore the sky cried with you.
Maybe it was the universe’s way of mourning the tragedy of it all.
Right place, wrong person.
How he was the right place.
And you were the wrong person.
He held you tight against his chest, his whole body trembling, shaking with silent, broken sobs. You felt his tears seep into your skin, felt his grief in the way his arms refused to let go.
And by morning, he was gone.
You cried all your tears that day, because you never cried after that.
Maybe you used them all up.
The rain tapped against your window as if it, too, has something to say.
Maybe – just maybe – it’s crying for you.
But that thought feels self-indulgent.
Why would the sky mourn for someone like you?
After all, you were nothing but a selfish bitch, willing to lie and betray the only love you’d ever known.
Jungkook gave you his entire world, offered in open palms.
Every piece of him.
But it wasn't enough.
NOW
“I’m sorry, what was that?”
You turn to one of the investors with a polite tilt of your head, the smile on your lips still perfectly in place. Your cheeks ache from smiling. Family. Family friends. Business partners. Everyone your father and Kole deemed important enough to attend this pre-wedding dinner.
The wedding– your wedding– is in two weeks.
But apparently, everyone’s here to celebrate your father and Kole’s company merger.
It really shouldn’t surprise you how many private jets a private island can accommodate. But it still does. The extravagance is nauseating.
“Mr. Chen was asking if you plan to take over the Hong Kong branch after the wedding,” your father chimes in for you. “I told him it’s up to Kole if he wants you to work right after the honeymoon.”
You blink.
Up to Kole?
If he wants you to work?
You laugh.
And then finish your champagne in one go.
Where the hell is Kole, anyway? You haven’t seen him since dinner. Probably talking business.
You excuse yourself and make your way to the bar. The bartender asks what you’ll have, you don’t hesitate.
“A beer,” you say.
She raises a brow in amusement but doesn’t question it, and a pint of draft is placed in front of you.
You take it, gratefully, and walk toward the beach, away from the hushed conversations like everyone is talking about secrets.
You used to think this was normal.
The way they spoke in riddles and metaphors, like a dance.
It wasn’t until you moved with your mother to the town that you realized:
Normal people don’t speak like that.
They speak with their hearts full and their chins high, unafraid to talk about the things they love.
You pass by the softly lit cabanas and hear faint laughter near the main house, but the further you walk, the quieter it becomes. The huts here are empty. Just the sound of the shore.
You find the furthest hut, the one tucked farthest from everything, and slip inside.
But the moment your foot hits the floor, you hear it.
Breathy gasps.
Soft moans.
Whoops.
The hut’s not empty, obviously.
And really, you’d hate to interrupt a guest enjoying themselves at your party.
Maybe try the hut before this one?
You’re already turning around, ready to slip out quietly, when–
“...yeah, like that. Love it when you do that.”
A man’s voice.
You pause.
Kole’s voice.
Then, another voice - a man’s, laughs low and hums something in return.
And it sounds… familiar.
Curiosity tugs at you. So you look.
The curtain separating the lounge from the inner room is half drawn. Through the gap, you catch movement.
Kole is pinned against the wall, panting, shirt undone. His perfectly styled hair is now a mess, sticking to his forehead with sweat. His hands are buried in another man's dark hair, fingers guiding - as he kneels before him, head moving with a rhythm that has Kole’s eyes rolling back and his hips stuttering forward.
Your gaze flicks to the shirt the guy’s wearing.
You know that shirt.
You and Kole picked it out together last month during your vacation in Europe.
A birthday gift for your cousin.
Holy shit.
What the actual fuck.
Have they been… fucking?
For how long?
Kole and your cousin?
You didn’t even know about Kole’s sexual preferences. It’s not something the two of you ever discussed openly.
Not that there was space for that kind of conversation between you anyway.
What else don’t you know about him?
They don’t notice you.
They’re too lost in their own world.
After collecting yourself, you quietly turn and step back out into the night.
You walk away calmly, beer still in one hand, your phone on the other.
You’re already in bed, in a satin nightgown, the glow of your phone screen casting light across your face as you scroll through nothing.
When Kole enters, he offers you that charming smile of his.
“Long day,” he murmurs, undoing his shirt. “You were wonderful tonight. Truly. The guests adore you.”
He disappears into the bathroom without waiting for a response.
You hear the water run. Then stop.
When he returns, he’s in his maroon pajama set, hair damp, skin freshly dewy with that aftershave you used to like. He slips into bed beside you and presses a soft kiss to your shoulder.
“Good night, darling,” he says casually. “Excellent job today. I’m sorry I couldn’t be at your side more, you know how it is, investor talk about the new branch. But tomorrow’s for us. Golf, then a massage. Yes?”
You look up from your phone and set it aside, then turn to face him fully.
“I saw you,” you said softly, calmly.
You’re devoid of emotion.
You haven’t felt anything in months.
And honestly, nothing surprises you anymore.
“In the hut. With my cousin.” You wait for a reaction from him, but he only blinks once.
Then lets out a short, airy chuckle, the same chuckle he gives when the wine’s poured a little too generously.
“Oh? How unfortunate. That wasn’t my intention at all. Still… I do apologize you had to witness it.”
“That’s it?” Your voice remains calm, your face unreadable. “You’re sorry I saw?”
He sighs, folding his hands neatly across his chest.
“Darling,” he begins, composed, “what exactly would you have me do? Apologize for indulging in my own preferences? We both have our… pursuits. I’ve never interfered in yours.”
“What?”
He raises an eyebrow, utterly unbothered.
He is eerily calm.
You trained yourself to stay calm. It was survival, really. A skill honed through years of navigating your mother’s moods and your father’s expectations.
But this is something else entirely.
This is detachment - bred from an environment where emotions are inconvenient and consequences are optional.
It makes your skin crawl.
“Come now… Darling, I know about your affair.”
Your blood runs cold.
“I’m not an idiot,” he continues still in that maddening calm tone, as if explaining something obvious to a slow student. “I'm well aware you were fucking your ex every time you visited your mother.”
Your lips part, but you don't say anything.
“But I also know it wasn't serious. Of course.” He exhales softly. “Just like mine wasn’t. These things – flings, indulgences – they’re inevitable. Necessary, even. We all have our vices.”
He looks at you with amusement, as he continues.
“I never stood in the way of yours because I knew, at the end of the day, you’d come back to me. You always do.”
He leans back into the pillows, perfectly composed.
“Because no matter how good he makes you feel, no matter how well he fucks you,” he murmurs, “he’ll never be able to give you the life you want. The one you need.”
And then, he smiles.
“And you and I both know, you’re not about to give up this life,” he laughs softly, “that man? He can’t give you any of it.”
You raise an eyebrow. “This life?”
“Oh, don’t play coy. You love wealth. You love security. You love summers in Saint-Tropez and winters in the Swiss Alps. You love not having to think about money. And there’s nothing wrong with that.”
Bile rises in your throat as a tangle of emotions churns in your chest. But you say nothing. You let him speak.
“I don’t blame you,” he says smoothly. “Living in that charming little town must’ve been… enlightening. Poor you, having to experience what life is like for the rest of them. It must’ve reminded you just how different we are.”
He leans back and sighs. “I don’t fault you for it, darling. I never have. It’s simply who you are. This is where you belong.”
He picks up his phone from the nightstand, casually scrolling for a moment before dialing.
“Cancel golf tomorrow,” he says. “The investors and I will meet on the yacht instead.”
Then, he sets the phone down, turns back to you, and adds
“Wear that pretty white dress I gave you. It’ll match mine tomorrow. You’ll look magnificent in it.”
And with that, he switches off his lamp and goes to sleep.
Kole was right about one thing–
the dress does look good on you.
But then again, what doesn’t?
You’ve sculpted yourself into perfection.
It’s true that being part of this society requires effort to always be perfect, so you invest in yourself.
You sip at the champagne and glance out the plane window. The clouds drift past like marshmallows – soft, white, pure.
Far below, the island looks impossibly small now. Like an ant. The water surrounding it glistens, like blue Gatorade under the sun.
It’s not your first time flying on a private jet.
But it’s your first time flying alone.
And that thought feels… liberating.
You’ve been alone all your life, haunted by the isolating feeling that your life was never truly yours.
It’s true, you were an obedient child. You never once strayed from the path your parents laid out for you.
Except for Jungkook.
Being with him throughout college was an act of rebellion in itself.
It was the only reckless thing you ever did.
And it was the best time of your life.
It’s ironic how the best time of your life happened during the darkest.
Right person, wrong place, or right place, wrong person, or whatever it was Namjoon said.
The pilot says the flight is going to take two hours.
You plan on taking a short nap so you have the energy to pack as soon as you arrive at the apartment you share with Kole.
You have no concrete plan after moving out of the apartment, and that thought should scare you, but it doesn’t.
You didn't speak a word to anyone before leaving the island.
Everyone was still asleep when you left.
Even Kole didn’t notice you leaving the villa. He was sound asleep on that stupidly large bed.
They can all go fuck themselves.
And as you close your eyes to take a short nap, you turn off your phone that’s been vibrating since you left, with people trying to reach you.
You probably have dozens of missed calls by now.
Maybe asking where you are.
Or maybe asking what the hell is wrong with you.
You can’t blame them, not when you emailed a few pictures you took of Kole and your cousin last night to your family.
To your father, your step mother, her sisters, their husbands, all your cousins… and Kole himself.
Just one email, sent to every single name on the recipient list before your plane even left the ground.
You debated whether to send the video, but it’s always nice to have extra ammunition, just in case.
You smacked your forehead when you realized you’d forgotten to add a subject line to the email.
a/n: thanks for waiting, told you it was a looong one! took me a bit longer to finish because, well… life happens. hope you enjoy the chapter and please let me know what you think. THANK YOU! 💛
