Goddessjichu - My Love Is On Fire - Tumblr Blog

“We’ll probably have to sneak past Jin, though. I’m not sure how that’s going to—”

I love silly little moments behind the stages and how the team works with each other; Jungkook's audacity and everything in between. But also that little moment between OC & Jin as he reminds her that she's good and she matters to the team???? I love it so so so much you don't understand 😭🤍

“It’s not because of your skills,” he said. “It’s just because it’s you.”

Jungkook, for all his stupid ego, at least has it i him to be honest when it comes to this and it was so stupid the way i was curling into a ball trying to take all these in????? How the fuck did he hold back all those years being next to her and suddenly all this 😭😭 he's our resident simp and i love that for all of us

You were the one who snickered this time as you retrieved it, and, without any reluctance, put it back in your mouth. He forgot what breathing was and how it worked right after.

Just had to add this also because??? That's so intimate but silly in the same way and I meant this in the best way possible. It shows how comfortable they were deep down with each other still, and they're not kissing nor they are even touching each other, but it's there and it's still not something you would just do with anyone 🥹

sleepwalking ● 7 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: explicit language, suggestive themes, a ton and a half of mutual pining, SLOW BURN

words: 9k

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 7 ► my secrets are burning a hole through my heart

When Jungkook returned to his own bunk that night, he drew his curtains and spent the whole bus ride to Copenhagen plotting his next move, wishing he’d stayed next to you as you slept, and cursing his friends all at the same time.

He knew that, to Sid, it must have felt like Jungkook had already lost the bet. He’d admitted to being in love with you, and there couldn't be a bigger loss than the vulnerability that comes with having feelings—not to a loser like Sid, at least.

So, it was a matter of pride that first time in Prague, when Sid proposed the bet. Jungkook couldn’t have his friends think that, all these years later, he was still obsessed with you. Still down bad—very bad—for you.

And a casual date was supposed to prove that he was casual.

He wasn’t. God, there was casual, and there was him when he saw you, dressed up for the wedding, on the train.

He supposed it irked him, this realisation, this persistent, undying love. Not because he didn’t want to be in love with you—that was out of his control, he couldn’t help his feelings—but because this was supposed to mean that his friends had been right.

But he didn’t think they were right.

They treated his love for you like something to be embarrassed about. Something shameful, pathetic.

In reality, it was the opposite. The moments he’d shared with you over the past few days lingered in the corners of his mind, and it made him happy, and hopeful, and lucky, and full of positive adjectives that flooded his mind each time he remembered your smile after that cursed Backstreet Boys performance at the wedding.

And he knew he was different from his friends who only felt butterflies when they were hugging a bottle of Bacardi or sitting behind the wheel of a race car. But different didn’t mean worse.

That had been typical Sid, needing to prove that he was better. That he was superior precisely because he wasn’t in love with anyone.

And Tristan had realised at the bar earlier that the point he was really trying to make with this bet was that, yes, he was in love with you four years after you broke up. But it wasn’t pathetic, and it wasn’t shameful.

And he wasn’t inferior to Sid because of it.

He could make him lose this bet despite still being in love with you.

Which, Jungkook realised—as he rolled over on his back and exhaled so deeply, the covers fluttered around his bunk—was pathetic. It made sense to care about you, because, at least, you’d cared about him, too, once upon a time. But Sid, most likely, never did.

And yet Jungkook still wanted to make him crumble, purely because Sid went around playing games, manipulating people, and doing whatever the hell he wanted, and never—never—suffering any consequences of his actions.

In a way, Jungkook supposed, he deserved consequences, too. He almost expected inconveniences to begin striking him as payback for agreeing to Sid’s game. As karma.

He didn’t want that, and he was afraid these inconveniences would grow: a bird would crap on him, he’d forget the lyrics to his songs, fall off the stage, get hit by a bus on his way out of the venue—and, to top it off, you’d stop talking to him after learning about the bet.

No. No, that couldn’t happen. He wouldn’t let that happen.

He tried to reason with himself then: did he really care about his Katana that much?

But that didn’t work, because he knew he did.

He’d bought the bike with his first paycheck—actually, his sixth, because he wasn’t being paid much when Rated Riot first started out, and the bike, even damaged, cost a fortune. And he’d repaired it from the terrible condition it was in all by himself; the engine almost literally crumbled in his hands.

He was proud of it. He loved it. He did not want to lose it, not to anyone, and especially not to Sid and Jude: one of them would never shut up if Jungkook lost this bet, and the other one would probably forget about it after a few days, but the principle was the same.

This wouldn’t work, he had to keep the bike.

Then, he tried to find a way around the conditions that Sid had come up with: he clarified that both of you had to know that you were back together. That, unfortunately, eliminated the possibility of Jungkook making it seem like you were back together, even though you weren’t; not really.

But then there was the condition of not telling you about the bet. What if he asked someone else to tell you? He supposed that could work—unless it’d make everything much worse since you wouldn’t hear about it from him, and you’d be so mad, you’d stop talking to him anyway.

No, that was too risky; it wouldn’t work either.

Finally, he figured, he was going to have to win the bet fairly, because of the following reasons: a) he couldn’t find a way to cheat, at least not at this point; b) he simply couldn’t let Sid win, not when he already won everything, because people were too intimidated to stand up to him; c) he couldn’t lose his bike; and, most importantly, d) he really did want to get back together with you and shuddered at the thought of losing you.

The tour bus reached Copenhagen in the early hours of the afternoon.

Nearly everyone had plans for the day before the soundcheck – Taehyung and Luna had decided to see the Tivoli Gardens before you even reached Denmark, and Yoongi and Hoseok decided to be the third and the fourth wheel respectively.

Sid, Jude, and Minjun had, weirdly, split up. You weren’t aware of each of their whereabouts, but you knew Jungkook didn’t go with them, citing his reasoning as “couldn’t decide which one of them to go with”. You assumed he would eventually end up joining Taehyung and Luna, too.

Meanwhile, you stayed back to help the crew prepare for the show—you thought you had to, since you still felt guilty for getting drinks last night while everyone else stayed back to work.

Everyone looked overworked, yet insisted they were fine today. You sent a few of the staff members off to rest—they left the room, but you had a suspicion that they went to work elsewhere instead—and joined Seokjin in the empty venue.

The Rated Riot logo was already hoisted by the back of the stage. The lights on it still flickered when it was turned on; at certain points, it appeared as though the band’s name was “R-R-R-Rate it”. Not to mention, countless lightbulbs around the frame had shattered last night in Berlin, and made the logo look purposefully edgy—if you didn’t know why some of the bulbs weren’t working.

To solve this, the crew had strung fairy lights around the broken sign and curled some of the strings around the wall behind it, illuminating the dark backdrop of the stage. This accentuated the lettering and created a lightning bolt effect on the backdrop, even despite some of the lights not working.

You thought that, as soon as the crew fixed the flickering—they were working on it at the moment—you might actually like the logo better this way. Perhaps the roadies should be invited to the next concept meeting for the band.

However, you had to admit, you wouldn’t have stayed back if you’d known Seokjin would employ you to carry the equipment inside. You wanted to help, but not at the expense of your spine.

The venue for tonight wasn’t particularly big—none of them were, it’s why you loved Rated Riot’s gigs so much; all of them felt incredibly intimate—but the distance from the bus to the stage was a long one.

Now, Seokjin watched as you heaved the metal decorations with pitying eyes, yet did not offer his assistance – because he knew you would refuse, but also because he preferred to yell at people rather than to carry heavy things himself.

“Where am I putting this?” you huffed—not for the first time today; Seokjin insisted on supervising every piece of equipment individually instead of allowing you to drop everything wherever.

“This one can go anywhere,” he waved his hand around just as his phone started to ring in his hand. “I need to take th—hold on, not there!”

You blinked at him, already in the process of putting the metal frame down. “You said anywhere!”

“Anywhere but there!” he shouted as he picked up the call and turned his back to you, focusing on the conversation on his phone. “Yes? No! No. Really? No. Okay, yes.”

It was hard to tell if the conversation he was having was serious enough to ignore you, based on what you heard—but that was how phone conversations with him went; if you asked two questions at the same time, he’d only answer one and it was your responsibility to guess which one.

Deciding to just leave the metal frame anywhere—except where he initially said—and run out of here to help someone else before he could notice your absence, you strained to drag the decoration closer towards the stage. You attempted to lower it slowly, but your hands were nearly shaking at that point, and you ended up dropping it when it was a few inches off the ground. You barely managed to leap away from it as it landed with a clang far louder than was necessary.

Naturally, Seokjin turned around, displeased. Covering the speaker on his phone, he clicked his tongue.

“Please,” he said. “I appreciate your help, but don’t break anything. We’re already short on equipment after Berlin.”

“This weighs as much as I do,” you countered, straightening and immediately supporting your back with your hands as the bones somewhere cracked. You weren’t built for this. “And it’s metal. It’d break me before I could break it. Is this spot okay?”

“It’s fine. Could you bring out the mic stand, too, please? Thanks so much,” he said, and before you could react, he returned to his call. “I’m here. Yes. Mmhmm.”

Sighing as you attempted to stretch, you climbed up the stage steps and picked the microphone stand up from the nook by the exit to the changing area.

“Need some help?” a voice asked from the darkness behind you. You jumped so violently that you nearly tossed the stand in the direction the sound was coming from.

“Jesus,” you wheezed, clutching your chest as Jungkook came into the light from the hallway.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said and, not waiting for your response, took the stand from you and carried it to the middle of the stage.

“Thanks,” you said, watching him while you recovered. “Didn’t know you were here.”

“No problem,” he replied, lifting the stand to his height before placing it where he personally saw fit.

Seokjin could hardly complain—Jungkook was going to be the one who used the microphone, after all—and yet, as soon as he ended the call and turned around, he groaned loudly.

“No! Do you have any concept of what the middle of the stage is?” he yelled, approaching Jungkook, clearly determined to do this himself.

“I just thought it’d be better if—”

“It would not be better if,” Seokjin cut him off, climbing up the steps and grabbing the stand from him to place it in the right spot. “If it’s slightly to the left, then you’ll be knocking into Yoongi every time you lean back. If it’s to the right, then the same thing with Taehyung. Don’t even get me started on the stand being too far back, so you could successfully trip and fall into Hoseok’s drum set.”

Jungkook glanced at you—you closed your eyes and nodded, confirming that this lecture was a normal process of working with Seokjin—then looked back at the stage manager.

“I’m a real safety hazard in your eyes, aren’t I?” he joked.

“You are,” Seokjin replied completely seriously. Jungkook did a double-take as he’d already begun to turn to you again—to check if his little joke made you smile; it did. “Go now! It’s bad luck for the artist to see the stage before the concert.”

You snorted at this, while Jungkook frowned, confused by the logic—he was, technically, going to see the stage during the soundcheck—but he chose not to argue as he joined you at the back of the stage while Seokjin busied himself with repositioning the speakers at the front.

“Is he always like this?” Jungkook asked you in a concerned whisper as he glanced back over his shoulder. “I think I’ve only ever seen him laughing. This is a first for me.”

“Yeah, he’s stressed,” you explained. “Lots of back-to-back shows and all of the venues seem to have something wrong with them. At least, according to his standards.”

“Hmm,” he nodded. “What else can I do to help?”

You lifted your eyebrows at this, genuinely worried that he was entering a new stage of masochism. “Are you kidding? Get out of here while he’s not looking.”

“No, I can—I can help,” he said despite his confidence faltering at your words. Perhaps he really should really have been running for his life.

“No, you can’t,” you retorted, placing a hand on his shoulder as you guided him towards the hallway. “You still have to perform later tonight. I’ll help; you rest.”

Jungkook stopped walking and turned around—you didn’t react quickly enough and your hand brushed over his chest as you pulled it away, the tips of your fingers catching on the soft material of his corduroy jacket.

“Well, he’s not looking right now,” he said, peeking at Seokjin again. “Let’s both go.”

You shook your head. The moment had suddenly become so melodramatic, your next line should have been, ‘it’s too late for me, go on without me.’

Simply, you disagreed, “I can’t—”

“Just for a quick break,” he cut you off, an almost pleading tone in his voice. He took your hand—or tried to, but ended up grabbing your wrist—as he pulled you after him into the dark hallway, towards the changing room. “You deserve it.”

Despite being unable to resist—he wasn’t very rough, but he was very determined not to let you out of his grip—you still tried to protest, “you don’t know that.”

“I know you and I know you deserve that,” he shot back and opened the door into the inner hallway, waiting for you to go in and, after you paused, encouraging, “come on.”

You relented with an uncertain sigh as you walked through the door.

The two of you entered Rated Riot’s changing room—currently empty because everyone else was out in the city—and you were surprised to feel relieved to be here alone.

You’d been working ever since you reached the city over three hours ago, save for a little break when you went to grab some coffee from the deli across the street right after you arrived. You hadn’t even realised how tired and hungry you were now.

“Should we order some food, then?” you asked. “I thought you left with the rest of the guys, so I didn’t plan any meals at the venue.”

“Actually,” Jungkook said, grabbing his phone from where he’d left it on the make-up table, “why don’t we go out to eat? I saw a fast-food place across the street.”

You’d seen it too when you were getting drinks, but you weren’t sure if leaving right now was a good idea—you were here so you could help the crew, after all.

Then again, this was just lunch – you’d be back in an hour, maybe even less. The soundcheck wouldn’t begin until two hours later, so the rest of the team probably wouldn’t be back before then. And it wasn’t like you’d be abandoning the crew, either, since Seokjin had them all under strict control.

“I guess we can do that,” you said, checking the pockets of your oversized leather jacket—there were many of them, and you needed a minute. “I think I left my wallet on the bus, though. We have to stop by there.”

“It’s fine,” he said. “My treat.”

Following the trip to Paris—which was his treat, too, since he’d bought the train tickets with his personal money—you were quick to dismiss this offer.

“I can send you the money from my phone,” you decided, walking back to the door of the changing room. “We can go.”

Jungkook sighed, mumbling under his breath, “impossible to do anything nice for you.”

You turned around, not sure what you’d just heard. “Hmm?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he replied with a quick shake of his head and reached over to hold the door open for you.

“We’ll probably have to sneak past Jin, though. I’m not sure how that’s going to—”

“We’re going out to get food!” Jungkook called out as the two of you walked down the hallway towards the stage. You looked at him in horror. He asked, “anyone want anything?”

“I’m good,” Seokjin replied when he saw you emerge. You paused, ready to stop and explain why you were leaving, but Jungkook took your hand again, pulling you with him down the stage steps.

“Oh—we’ll see you later,” you shouted to Seokjin—who mumbled something and waved in your general direction—and then yanked your hand out of Jungkook’s grip. “You can’t keep doing that.”

“What?” he lifted his eyebrows, surprised by your abrupt hostility. “Offer people to buy them food?”

“You can’t just announce that we’re leaving,” you said as you two made your way towards the exit of the venue. “You may be able to come and go as you please, but I’m not entitled to freedom like that. I have to ask if people are going to be okay while I’m gone.”

“See, but if you ask, then you’re giving them reasons not to be okay,” Jungkook argued. “And if you just say you’re leaving, then they have no choice.”

You rolled your eyes. “Life is so very simple for you.”

“It is,” he replied with a grin as he opened the back door for you. “And, as long as you’re with me, I can make it simple for you, too.”

The fast-food place that you’d both seen turned out to be a small hamburger restaurant. When you and Jungkook entered, it was empty, save for the waiter by the cash register.

He greeted you in Danish and even after your greetings in English, he continued to ask you something in his native language. When you apologised for not understanding, his eyes doubled in size and, he, too, apologised for not realising you weren’t local.

You decided to take this as a compliment. You had felt out of place wherever you went; so very obviously foreign here. Not that anyone minded it, but there was something oddly embarrassing about being a tourist. Even if you were, technically, here for work.

The atmosphere inside the restaurant was nice and calming; mellow instrumental music played on the speakers and large windows faced the beautiful brick buildings across the empty street. Really, putting you in a good mood required almost no effort today, but this restaurant being empty still made your heart soar.

You and Jungkook took seats at a table by the window and hung your jackets on the backs of your chairs. You both took a moment to enjoy the view before you picked up the dark brown paper menus on the table.

There weren’t a lot of options, so you were quick to choose. And, because this was a very small restaurant, you assumed you’d have at least twenty good minutes of taking in the sights outside the window—especially the pair of collies that had escaped their owner and were currently chasing each other down the cobblestone street—before your food would be brought to you. But it reached you mere minutes later.

The burgers looked very appetising, although the portions were bigger than either of you expected; french fries were hanging off your plates.

Like complete tourists, you and Jungkook clinked your burgers together before taking your first bites. You looked at each other immediately once you got the first taste.

“Oh, this is so good,” you whined, your mouth full.

“Right?” Jungkook nodded in eager agreement as he took another bite, frowning deeply and shaking his head as if in disbelief—you knew him well enough to recognise this as a sign of satisfaction. “Easily top ten best burgers I’ve had in my life.”

“Definitely,” you agreed. “And to think there aren’t any people here? I’m in awe.”

“I know, right?” he said again as he continued to chew—far longer than was necessary because he refused to swallow until he gathered enough courage to comment casually enough, “I’m glad I got to try this with you.”

You looked up from your burger. The collies outside had tired and lied down on the pavement, giving their owner enough time to catch his hat in the wind and reach his dogs. You were not sure what the meaningful look in Jungkook’s eyes was supposed to imply.

“Because I know how to do the Heimlich?” you offered.

He blinked at this. He was expecting all sorts of different questions after he said that, but this wasn’t one of them.

“No,” he said, the corners of his lips curling into an involuntary smile. “But that’s a good thing to know.”

“I am also, of course, the expert on burgers,” you guessed then.

“It’s not because of your skills,” he said. “It’s just because it’s you.”

You took another bite and, as you chewed, you picked up a napkin to wipe your lips. You felt very self-conscious suddenly. And you needed a moment—for what, you didn’t know.

The dogs outside refused the leash, jumping around their owner, who cursed in, at least, three different languages; you could hear as much from inside.

“Okay, listen,” you said after a minute, “so, if there was never any ex,” you watched Jungkook cringe softly as you mentioned this, “what is wrong with you?”

The brutality of the question took him off-guard as he coughed in surprise, covering his mouth with his hand.

“What?” he asked through spasms of coughing. “Nothing’s wrong with me.”

“You’ve been acting weird since the tour started.”

He employed an aura of nonchalance as he countered, “how am I acting weird?”

“Well, for one, you forced me to go to Paris with you,” you reminded him.

 “I don’t recall there being any forcing.”

“There was emotional forcing.”

He shook his head with a small roll of his eyes. “Fine. But that doesn’t prove that I’m acting weird.”

“Let’s say that’s true,” you said. “Then why are you here?

Jungkook put his burger down, wiping the crumbs on his hands with a napkin.

“Okay,” he said. “Now what is that supposed to mean? Can’t I be here?”

“Everyone else is sight-seeing,” you explained before the offence in his eyes could deepen. “Taehyung and Luna went to that theme park, and Yoongi and Hoseok tagged along. You know the one I mean.”

“Tivoli,” he said.

“Right,” you nodded. “Even your three musketeers went out. Why didn’t you go anywhere?”

“I’m sure they picked up some girls on their way, so they have enough company.”

You lifted your eyebrows at this; you could recall Sid and Jude chatting up girls at the concert last night in Berlin.  “More girls? Your fans weren’t enough?”

Jungkook tsked. “Our fans have better taste.”

Your expression softened.

“Good point,” you said, returning your attention to your food. “Why didn’t you go to Tivoli then?”

“Because you weren’t going,” he replied so quickly, your eyes fluttered back to him.

Another long, heavy moment passed. You felt like you were in middle school again, the way you were tiptoeing on the edges of the topic that you were almost discussing.

“See, that’s weird,” you said as your gaze slid down his chest and then settled on the view outside of the restaurant window.

With the dogs gone, the street was completely empty and, somehow, this emptiness amplified the silence inside of the restaurant. The muzak changed according to the flow of your conversation; you could barely hear the instrumental beat anymore.

Jungkook understood your reasoning—he heard the implication in his own words—and he saw the way you began to avoid his gaze as soon as he admitted that he’d stayed back for you.

But you didn’t just look surprised, you looked almost frightened. Like he’d just told you he was thinking of proposing – either to you, or to this burger.

It shocked him because, while he expected resistance, he wasn’t expecting fear.

His question was genuine after he cleared his throat, “why is that weird?”

“Why would you not go if I’m not going?” you asked, repeating his previous statement with an incredulous scoff—like the very thought of him feeling this way was outrageous and you were astonished he didn’t see that.

Slowly, he shrugged one of his shoulders, afraid to move too much—as if you were a stray deer that had wandered a bit too close to the residential neighbourhood and he was a kid who’d just discovered you; one move that was too quick, and you’d run away in a blind panic.

“Because,” he said as an explanation.

You dared to look at him, encouraged—and angered—by the abrupt end of his sentence. “Because why?”

“I’d rather be here,” he said then.

He did not know how to navigate his way out of this one.

After everything that happened between the two of you in the past few days, you had, clearly, received some sort of signals that he’d been sending you—both consciously, and subconsciously. They weren’t exactly subtle, after all. And yet you were determined to draw your blinds shut and ignore every single one of them.

“Why?” you asked again, your patience wearing thin as you distracted yourself with the french fries.

“God,” he groaned, leaning back in his chair. Since he couldn’t just blurt out the truth about his feelings for you—but you looked like he’d just had, and he was horrified all over again—he had to use his favourite tactic of diverting your attention. “Do you need reasons for everything?”

“Not everything, but at least something,” you said. “You’re answering all of my questions with other questions.”

“Why do you even have questions?” he shot back. “Do you not enjoy my company?”

“You’re doing it again!” you accused, your hands rising on their own accord. “Seriously. What’s up? Are you nervous about the tour or something? I thought I made it clear that you could talk to me.”

Oh—this made him pause.

You thought he was doing this—again, what was he doing? Because it stopped seeming like flirting a long time ago—due to anxiety. You thought he was being evasive, and, therefore, weird around you.

Jungkook wasn’t sure if he could make this work in his favour and avoid lying at the same time.

“I just want to spend time with you,” he ended up saying, which was true. And because you kept your eyes on him after he said this, he felt confident enough to add, “we used to be close. I-I’d like that again.”

At that point, he thought he’d understand if you would get up and leave. He wasn’t sure if he would have followed; he didn’t think he had that right, not after he didn’t follow you the first time you left him. But you looked down to your plate and picked up another french fry, toying with it between your fingers.

He hadn’t proposed anything particularly awful—although he avoided saying ‘friends’ with such intensity that it only magnified the deeper implication of the word—yet he felt like a death row prisoner waiting to hear the date of his execution.

“Why now?” you asked, finally putting the fry in your mouth and biting into it.

The wait for your response had been excruciating. He needed to make you see that this was not a big deal.

“Why not?” he replied, his voice a tad too casual, showing just how hard he was trying to appear calm, to conceal the overtime his heart was working in his chest. “We’re on tour, so we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other.”

That sounded good in his head. But you looked at him in such a way that he thought he was about to hear that, despite overwhelming evidence in his favour, he was still going to be hanged in the town square.

“And after the tour ends?” you asked, setting the gallows up for him.

He thought about this for a moment and attempted to return to his usual nonchalance despite feeling sweaty all over.

“That’s not until two months later,” he said and realised, immediately, that this was the wrong answer.

He didn’t have enough time to correct himself before you scoffed again and asked, “so, why bother with a friendship if it won’t matter in two months?”

“That’s not what I wanted to say,” he retorted quickly. “Why would it not matter?”

You were the one who shrugged this time—the answer was obvious. “Did it matter before we came here?”

“It did,” he replied with complete certainty.

You looked away, but he saw the skepticism on your face and the way you hyper-focused on the street outside so as not to roll your eyes. “Oh, okay.”

“It did matter.”

Frowning at the offence in his voice, you returned your gaze to his face, trying to find the answers to the questions in your head. Especially this one: how could your relationship have mattered to him before the tour started?

“I don’t know what kind of a friendship you have with Sid and The Losers,” you said, “but in my experience, being friends with someone implies making an effort for them.”

“I was making an effort,” he continued to insist.

“Making an effort to get us both in trouble with the label.”

He knew that this was how you saw it—you were very clear about that each time he and his friends somehow managed to find themselves in an emergency—but he still didn’t think you were being fair.

“I always let you know where I am at the start of the night,” he defended.

“And I appreciate that—”

“Not just to inform you,” he continued. “It was always an open invitation.”

You brought your tongue over your lips as your eyes returned to your plate. You grabbed another fry, focusing on the salt on your tongue for a second.

The bell by the door rang, signalling the entrance of a new customer.

Nor you, nor Jungkook turned to look, feeling like your table by the window of the restaurant existed on a different plane of reality—a vacuum of sorts where only the two of you lived.

You could remember one instance when you had gotten the feeling—after one of Jungkook’s late-night texts with his location—that he’d sent it to you because he was subtly asking you to join him. You thought you had misunderstood.

You didn’t know how to feel now that you knew you hadn’t.

“I’m not asking to provoke you or to start an argument,” you spoke up, “but do you think that’s appropriate?”

That wasn’t a very good question, knowing that Jungkook was very liberal when it came to seeing things as appropriate—and he shrugged as soon as you asked this.

“Spending time outside of work?” he clarified. You nodded. He shrugged once more. “You hang out with Luna and Taehyung all the time. And Maggie. Why would it be different for us?”

It was a hilariously stupid question and you both knew it.

Keeping your eyes on his, you deadpanned, “right. Why would it?”

He fought back with just as much irony as he said, heated, “yeah. Exactly.”

Your gazes remained locked until your phone buzzed a few seconds later, the sound dull as it reverberated against the material of your jacket.

You twisted in your seat to get the device out of the pocket. While you did, Jungkook took another bite of his burger.

It was a text message from Jimin, who was typing in all caps to let you know that he and Namjoon had just arrived at the venue, and Seokjin—or, in Jimin’s panicked words, ‘SOEKEJIIN’—was in a frenzy so intense, he was either about to faint or force everyone around him to faint.

“It looks like I have to get back to work,” you said, sliding your phone back into the pocket of your jacket as you picked it up from the back of your chair. You missed the disappointment that descended on Jungkook’s face. With a sigh, you added, “I appreciate you trying to be friends with me, but—just—don’t do that because you feel like you have to, since we’re on tour. Or whatever other temporary reason you might—”

“It’s not because of temporary reasons,” he said as you stood up. He turned away when you looked at him, though, not wanting you to see his eyes in case Sid’s game was evident in them. He didn’t lie when he reiterated, “I mean that.”

“Okay,” you said, choosing not to argue even though your next words barely sounded like a compromise, “well, let’s wait and see. Maybe you’ll change your mind. I have to go, but finish your lunch and then I’ll see you after the—”

“I won’t change my mind.”

You paused again. “Okay. Well. You’ll understand why I’m going to need actions to support your words.”

“That’s what I’m doing,” he said. “We were having lunch together. Isn’t that a start?”

Clutching your jacket to yourself as you lingered by the table, you conceded hesitantly, “it’s a start…”

Encouraged by this, he threw his hands in the air before speaking.

“But you’re leaving me all by myself, so it does feel like I’m not getting the same treatment back,” he said, and it took you a second to catch the teasing glimmer in his eye. You’d almost forgotten how quick he was on his feet—which wasn’t always a good thing, because he used this to avoid uncomfortable topics. He questioned, “do you not want to be friends with me?”

You brought your teeth over your lower lip as you looked away. He knew you. He knew the intentional childishness would end up amusing you eventually—and he couldn’t help but feel proud when he saw your shoulders relax as you fought back a smile.

“I’d love to be friends with you,” you said. “And, as your friend, I have to make sure your band has a great performance tonight, so finish your food while I do my job. I’ll see you later.”

“Text me!” he shouted as you put your jacket on, already taking a step towards the door of the restaurant.

You turned back to look at him. “Text you? About what?”

“Anything. It’s what friends do.”

Laughing now, you pulled your phone out of your pocket just as it began to vibrate again.

“Eat,” you told him, “we’ll figure out how to be friends later.”

He nodded in response, even though he didn’t feel hungry anymore. He watched you walk out of the restaurant and run across the street, back to the venue. With a deep exhale, he picked up a fry that had fallen out of the pile on his plate and tossed it into his mouth.

He hadn’t fully grasped how serious you were when you said you didn’t believe in second chances. Perhaps he should have. In all the years that he’d known you, he’d never seen you restore a friendship with someone you’d stopped talking to.

You were the sort of person who stayed until the very last drop of your patience—and then some more. You weren’t someone who left easily, you endured. You had the highest tolerance threshold out of everyone he’d ever met. So, really, it was understandable why you didn’t believe in trying again.

Still, he was arrogant enough to consider himself different. To consider the two of you different.

Really, he had thought things were going well.

Until this moment here, that is. He hadn’t even done or said much today, but you were quick to determine that he had reached the line. And you were not going to let him cross it.

He’d assumed the line had gotten a bit further away. He thought he was allowed to say more to you, to be more personal about your relationship after your trip to Paris—the trip was fine, after all! You’d both had fun. But, now he was starting to think that, perhaps, the reason why the Paris trip went well was because, initially, you went on it thinking he had an ex that he wanted to get back together with.

You had thought you were, on some level, still doing your job—whether as his manager, or someone who’s known him for almost ten years now. Just having his back. Keeping him out of trouble.

You’d always been doing that, for as long as he could remember. You never even considered—he never made you consider—that there was more to it.

He knew now that he had thought about this all wrong. You assumed that he was joking around, participating in Sid’s pranks, not taking anything—not even you—seriously. And you were right, of course, but only in part.

Step One would be proving to you that he was serious.

Maybe you never believed in second chances because you were never shown that people deserved them. And he was determined to show you that he deserved it. To convince you that the two of you could be close again—so long as he could look past the bet and convince himself first.

After Rated Riot’s performance that night—which went by smoothly, of course, even though Yoongi tripped over a loose cable and forced Seokjin to spend the entirety of the encore cursing quietly under his breath—the members followed the tradition of going out to meet the fans. Meanwhile, you insisted on supervising the deconstruction of the stage, wanting—rather desperately—to avoid incidents similar to Berlin.

To be fair, calling it supervision was generous; all you did was repeatedly remind everyone to “take it slow” while taping boxes and holding doors. The roadies seemed to appreciate your input this time, although you couldn’t shake the feeling that these middle-aged men still only saw you as an eager six-year-old, who passionately wanted to be helpful.

You decided you were going to take it. At least, you were here and could witness all that was happening.

Eventually, you noticed that Seokjin had disappeared. You weren’t very concerned; he had so many things to look after that you figured there simply had to be something else that required his attention.

But here’s the thing about Seokjin – he was demanding, but he was also very caring. A manifestation of this was the plastic bowl, filled to the brim with lollipops, that he brought backstage when he returned fifteen minutes later.

“Here,” he announced. “I think we can all use this. Make sure all of you take some—but no more than five, so everyone has enough.”

You chuckled, assuming that this was more for a boost of morale than anything else, but you were soon surprised. It was almost funny, truly, how quickly every adult in the room leapt to the lollipop bowl.

Seokjin, in the meantime, made his way towards you. Three bright green, apple-flavoured lollipops were in his hand, and he pointed them at you.

“Hey,” he said. “This is for making you haul heavy things around the venue earlier.”

“That’s my job,” you replied, but took the suckers from him nonetheless. Apple was your favourite flavour.

“It’s not, though,” he disagreed. “You were here because you felt bad. You shouldn’t feel bad. What happened before was not your fault.”

Your smile was grateful and you reminded him, “it’s not yours, either.”

“I know that.” He exhaled somewhat sadly before continuing, “but that’s not as easy for me to say. The battens fell in Berlin, because the scissor lift got stuck on some middle setting, and the staff couldn’t reach properly. They had to unscrew the construction with their hands raised above their heads. I told them not to, but they insisted we were short on time. And I let them do it.”

You sighed, too. “If the schedule wasn’t so intense—”

“They would have probably still done it this way,” Seokjin finished. “They didn’t think anything would go wrong. That was just an excuse to get it over with faster.”

You’d heard a similar explanation yesterday when you were first called up after the incident – “we wanted to do this as fast as possible.”

Trying to brighten the mood, you said, “at least no one got hurt. And I’m sure it’s a lesson learned in any case.”

“It is. Because now you’re here, watching everything like a hawk,” he noted.

This surprised you—and Seokjin grinned at your raised eyebrows.

“It’s not like I can fire them if more things break,” you said.

“That’s the worst part,” he countered. He still had an entertained expression on his face, but something inside of him had softened. It was endearing how unaware you were of how much the staff here cared about you. He said, “they saw how distressed you were last night.”

You were still confused about the magnitude of your role here—the backstage crew didn’t respond directly to you. To be fair, even certain members of Rated Riot didn’t, even though they should have.

“Everyone who was here was distressed,” you said.

“True,” Seokjin nodded, “but they should have been; this was their job, and something went wrong. Meanwhile, your stress is just, sort of, collateral damage. They felt bad for upsetting you.”

You looked back at the staff behind you. Seeing these men—some large and scruffy, others tall and lanky, all of them intimidating in certain lighting—dismantle the stage construction while sucking on lollipops brought a smile to your face.

“I’m a little kid in their eyes,” you said then, “aren’t I?”

Seokjin had to be honest: despite his attempts to always be respectful, he, too, sometimes thought you were too young for the responsibilities of your job. You never proved him right, however, breezing through said responsibilities with an ease that he wouldn’t have expected from someone your age—he admired that.

“A little bit, yeah,” he admitted.

You snorted, but there were shadows of disappointment on your features that he was quick to notice. Sometimes you wondered if Seokjin had chosen stage management as an alternative to psychology.

“If it makes you feel better,” he said, “most of the people here treated me like a kid when we first met, too. And I’m older than some of the roadies. I guess I look very young.”

“What’d you do to make them respect you?” you asked.

“I started yelling.”

This got you to laugh. “Should I consider it?”

“I think that, sometimes, you should,” he replied. “They say that people shout when they don’t know enough words to whisper—or something like that—but I think differently. I think they shout because they care and they need others to care.”

“Hmm,” you turned your gaze away as various disagreements and full-blown arguments that you’d had in your life—most of them with the same person—flashed through your mind. “That… makes sense, I think.”

“Yeah, and besides,” Seokjin said, “yelling is fun. People pay attention to you. Sometimes they even fear you. I love it.”

You laughed again, even though you’d seen it yourself – new staff members tended to avoid Seokjin. Even you didn’t want to get in his way when he was setting the stage up.

But all of that was so he would get things done. And, once he did, he was easily the most entertaining person to be around—which meant a lot, considering you were literally on tour with rock artists right now.

“Maybe you should get on stage with Rated Riot one of these nights,” you teased, “that might satisfy your itch to be listened to.”

“You know what? I just might,” he played along, a grin spreading on his lips. Nodding at the candy in your hand, he said, “try the lollipops. We’re almost done here anyway.”

“Thank you,” you said. “Really. We wouldn’t be on tour if it weren’t for you.”

“There’s no ‘I’ in ‘team’,” he responded brightly. Then, he leaned closer to add in a teasing whisper, “but there is in ‘ass-kissing’.”

Your eyes widened as he snickered, pulling back and walking past you to help the crew carry the boxes outside. He looked at you over his shoulder, his expression cheerful.

“I meant what I said, you know!” you shouted after him.

“I know,” he called back. “I meant it, too. Go rest! This isn’t your responsibility.”

He picked up a box, propped it on his hip, and walked away before you could argue and offer your assistance anyway.

Figuring you might as well go and actually stop working for the day, you unwrapped one of the lollipops and made your way outside. The band was probably still having post-show drinks backstage, so you figured you could get a few minutes of quiet on the bus before everyone else returned.

Just as you exited the venue, however, you saw a white puff of smoke coming from somewhere on the side of the building. Popping the lollipop in your mouth, you stopped and waited for just a second, until the person bent down to shake the ash off the cigarette, and you recognized Jungkook’s profile.

Your legs brought you over to him before your mind could reconsider.

Rounding the corner, you asked, “should you be doing this?”

He flinched, not having expected you here, and it got you to smile. The two of you had a special way of sneaking up on each other today.

“Probably not,” he said, blowing smoke out. “Bad for my lungs, right?"

“So I hear.”

This was the first time the two of you were alone together, following the interrupted lunch earlier. Jungkook had wondered what it would be like now that he’d made his intentions clear—as clear as he could under the circumstances, at least. Now that he’d brought up the possibility of a friendship.

He had worried it would be weird or awkward. That he wouldn’t know how to prove himself to you, wouldn’t know what to say, or worse, that he would, but you would respond in the same cold, detached way as you had the first time in the restaurant.

But now that you were here, he didn’t feel different. He didn’t feel like he’d dropped a ground-breaking revelation—he knew he hadn’t, but your reaction begged otherwise—and he didn’t feel awkward.

He felt, he realised, like he’d been waiting for you to find him here. Like he knew you’d come, taking him off guard, appearing next to him from the shadows of the late night.

Taking another drag, he extended the cigarette towards you. Smoke passed his lips as he spoke, “want some?”

Hesitating for a moment, you gave your lollipop one last twirl against your tongue before you pulled it out of your mouth.

As you took the cigarette from him and placed it between your lips, you pointed the sucker at him and echoed, half-jokingly, “want some?”

He chuckled at this, but took the lollipop from you. Your question was a challenge—you asked because you didn’t think he’d agree—and he took you up on it immediately, putting the candy in his mouth.

You watched him toy with it, biting into the plastic stick lightly, and something seemed to short wire inside of you, shooting dangerous sparks in every which way. You wondered, for a passing moment, if your conversation at lunch could have triggered something long-forgotten inside of you, like the trip to Paris had.

When Jungkook closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall, the smoke you were supposed to exhale got caught in your throat.

Sighing deeply, he spoke, “haven’t done that in a while.”

Tilting your head to blow smoke out in a clumsy cough, you asked, “s-sucked on a lollipop? Or smoked?”

Twisting the sucker around his mouth for more flavour—aware, with every taste receptor on his tongue, that this was your taste—he replied, “shared a cigarette. Or candy.”

“Me neither.”

You took another drag and gave the cigarette back to him. He took it from you, his movements slow, and, in turn, he pulled out the lollipop, extending it back to you.

You were the one who snickered this time as you retrieved it, and, without any reluctance, put it back in your mouth. He forgot what breathing was and how it worked right after.

He wondered, his gaze frozen on your face, what the cigarettes and apple-flavoured lollipops tasted like on your lips. He wanted to find out, wanted to replace the candy in your mouth with his own tongue, wanted to—

He was forced to look away as the lit cigarette stung the tips of his fingers, ashes falling on his boots.

He shook it off and forced his eyes to stay on the ground beneath his feet.

“So,” you spoke, tapping the edge of the lollipop stick. “You ready to go back? The crew just finished up. If you hurry, you might still grab a few drinks backstage before it’s all gone.”

“I’d, uh…” his eyes were cast low. As soon as he put the cigarette back against his lips, he thought he’d begun to hallucinate—because, realistically, he shouldn’t have recognised the taste of your lip gloss, mixed with a faint taste of apples on the filter. Coughing, he stuttered, “I-I’d rather, um, stay here, actually.”

Suddenly awkward, you realised he may have been looking for a quiet minute by himself just as you had been, before you saw him. “Oh. I’m sorry I interrupted. I can—”

“No,” he stopped you. “I meant with you.”

You watched him exhale smoke and wondered, unexpectedly, what it meant for you if you craved a cigarette more than a lollipop. You never thought you had a nicotine addiction; really, you barely smoked.

Perhaps this was something different. A sort of latent chronic disease that you couldn’t shake no matter how much you tried—and you spent four years trying.

“Really?” you asked now, your chest light and your eyes glistening—in a dangerous, promising way. “Hiding behind a corner, sharing a cigarette like pre-teen delinquents?”

His eyes met yours as he took another drag. “Just the way I like it.”

“Alright,” you said, leaning your side against the wall next to him. You twirled the lollipop around in your mouth and he could almost feel the remaining ounces of restraint leave his body. “Let’s stay here, then.”

You were playing around, but there was a seriousness behind your words. You didn’t question him. You just stayed.

And he had to look away from you again.

He didn’t really understand why; this was so childish. He played along with your delinquent joke, but he wasn’t actually twelve—even if being with you did make him feel like a sixth-grader, discovering what having a crush was like for the first time.

“Tell you what,” he said, turning to his side to look at you. He lifted the cigarette; there was barely any of it left. “You can finish this off in exchange for the lollipop.”

You grinned. “Yeah? You liked the apple taste?”

You knew, he suspected. You had to know what you were doing to him; there was no way you wouldn’t notice how pathetically affected he was. All of Copenhagen could probably hear a faint thundering that came from inside of his chest.

“Hmm,” he murmured. “Something like that.”

“Okay.” You pulled the lollipop out of your mouth—and did it slowly, only strengthening his suspicion that you were doing this to him on purpose. Still, he felt his heart leap right to his throat and drop down to his feet when your lips pursed. “Although it’s hardly fair, since mine will last longer for you.”

You took his cigarette with your free hand and passed him the lollipop. The very tips of your fingers touched as you exchanged possessions, and, for a moment—which was so laced with electricity that the streetlamps around you seemed to flicker—Jungkook was worried that he wouldn’t manage to control himself, after all. That he would use this gentle, barely-there touch to hold you tighter. To throw the lollipop away, to kiss you, to never let go of you again.

Instead, he took half a step backwards—afraid of his impulses—and popped the candy into his mouth as quickly as he could. As if this way, he’d be less affected by your lingering taste on his tongue.

“Good,” he said. “It’s bad for your lungs, anyway.”

You snorted as you took one final drag before you reached dangerously close to the filter. Blowing smoke out, you leaned down to put the cigarette out against the pavement and walked away from him to throw the remains into the trashcan by the exit.

He opened his eyes to watch you return. You were smiling – not at him, but not away from him, either – and he wasn’t sure what he’d do next. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen—not tonight, not tomorrow, not in two weeks when the bet was supposed to end.

He had suggested a friendship today. He’d promised to himself to prove to you that he was worth it, that the two of you could be close again. That you could be friends.

But he had a pack full of cigarettes in the back pocket of his jeans; both of you could have had one of your own. Yet, he didn’t offer.

And you had two brand new lollipops from Seokjin in the pocket of your jacket. You could have given him one—but you didn’t offer, either.

Both of you chose not to mention this, aware—very vividly—that normal friends probably shouldn’t have enjoyed sharing candy and cigarettes so much.

So, Jungkook didn’t know anything at all. But with you here—as your gaze fell to his lips, he thought the flavour of the lollipop sharpened somehow, bringing shivers down his spine—he was thrilled to find out.

chapter title credits: bring me the horizon, “sleepwalking”

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I can't even begin to explain the rage that I have for Sid that is boiling inside my blood🫠

But despite that, I'm glad at least it gave a reason for JK to openly care for her and and and 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 the very last scene 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 i might or might not be melting on the floor rn

sleepwalking ● 6 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: explicit language, mutual pining, SLOW BURN, mentions of smoking and other questionable decisions

words: 9.8k (🤐)

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 6 ► the fighting that i keep inviting could lead me to my grave

Two 4 AM trains in the span of 48 hours were more than you or Jungkook could handle, so both of you slept through nearly the entire nine-hour ride from Paris to Berlin. You only woke up for the transfer in Mannheim, but barely—hunger carried you both to the train station where you could buy warm pastries before going back to sleep.

By the time the two of you rejoined the band, you felt exhausted and disoriented. Although you didn’t regret the detour to Paris, you still struggled to imagine how Jungkook was going to manage to perform a show in Berlin tonight. You hoped the exhaustion from the trip would numb him down to just the right level of insanity that he’d be able to pull it off.

In any case, you sent him to get some sleep for a few hours before Rated Riot’s soundcheck, while you went to check up on the crew that you’d left unsupervised while you were in Paris.

Unsurprisingly, everything was under control: Seokjin kept a tight grip on the stage management crew—you probably wouldn’t have believed it if you hadn’t seen it time and time again, but someone who joked around at every chance he got still managed to have one of the strongest work ethics on tour—and Namjoon had kept the remaining members of Rated Riot busy.

If you hadn’t been exhausted to the point of confusion, you might have felt offended about how little you were needed here.

Half an hour later, Luna found you stumbling back into the tour bus.

“How was the wedding?” she asked straight away.

She wasn’t the type to conceal her eagerness when she was particularly curious about something—it was not even the wedding in this case, but your confrontation with Jungkook—but she still made sure to help you climb up the bus steps before you tumbled backwards and broke your neck.

You were far too tired to understand the expectations that hid behind her question, however, as you mumbled dejectedly, “I caught the bouquet.”

“You—” she began to say and then burst into laughter so unexpectedly that the roadie, who’d been unloading the stage equipment outside the bus, flinched in surprise. “You caught the bouquet! Of course, you caught the fucking bouquet.”

You wondered if you were too out of it to understand why this was so funny to her that she couldn’t stop laughing the entire ride to the venue, but you lacked the energy to ask.

“There was no ex,” you said as you glided towards your bunk while your amused friend stood back, covering up the sharp angles on your way with her hand. “Sid was just being an idiot. If I see him—well, I probably won’t do anything because I don’t know what the laws for assault are in Germany—are we in Germany? I’m so tired.”

Noticing your haphazard stream of thoughts, Luna pulled herself together and stopped laughing—but only for a short while—as she helped you reach your bunk.

“We are in Germany,” she confirmed. “Although I’m not sure where you are. How about you take a quick nap while the band does their soundcheck?”

“No, no. I have things to do now that I’m back. To make up for leaving.”

“Things are fine,” she assured you. You knew she was right, but your guilt was persistent. “Nothing fell apart while you were gone. The guys took care of themselves just fine. You’ve raised them well.”

You acknowledged the joke with a small, tired smile. That was good enough for Luna, who was starting to get worried your condition would require medical attention, considering how adamantly you were resisting her attempts to sit you down in your bunk—despite looking like you may fall asleep standing up.

“Are you sure?” you asked again.

“I am,” she said. “Sleep, okay? We’ll be fine.”

Somewhere deep in your exhausted subconsciousness, you realised how unprofessional it would be to take a nap while the band you managed went to the soundcheck on their own. But your eyes were closing without your say so, and you hardly could have helped anyone in a state like this anyway.

When you woke up several hours later, Rated Riot were doing their Meet & Greet according to schedule, and you felt much better—or, at least, good enough to return to your regular duties. You grabbed a Snickers bar from the mini-fridge, and then went out of the bus and into the venue.

As it turned out, it was only the stage management crew and the producers who had kept things in control; they were the ones who hadn’t noticed your absence. Unfortunately, everyone else had.

Luna was kind when she told you that nothing fell apart while you were gone.

Some things wobbled, and there were several rushed phone calls you had to make to fix it—namely, to make up for one of the interviews that Rated Riot missed because they were doing another interview, which wasn’t initially scheduled— but you were grateful for all of it. The sudden rush of adrenaline completely woke you up.

Meanwhile, Jungkook was doing jumping jacks in the changing room to keep himself awake after he managed to survive the Meet & Greet. It wasn’t terrible—it was, actually, very inspiring as these events tended to be—but he couldn’t stop apologising to the fans for his incessant yawning. It just wasn’t right. He was better than that—the fans deserved his complete presence.

The other Rated Riot members were getting snacks at the buffet on the first floor; they planned to go exploring Berlin for an hour or two before the show. Aware of that, Sid, Jude, and Minjun found their way into the changing room.

Their arrival stopped Jungkook’s exercise before they even announced their entrance. For a minute, the four of them regarded each other in complete silence.

Even Jude was quiet this time. As it turned out, his earlier sneezing was a lesser-known withdrawal symptom that one night out in the city seemed to fix—at least that’s what he informed everyone in the group chat. Jungkook wanted to know nothing about it; he rarely drew lines with his friends, but he drew one here. His preferred method of intoxication had always been alcohol and cigarettes, he never needed more thrills.

“Well!” Jungkook finally exclaimed. “If it isn’t my four-thousand dollars.”

Even if his friends hadn’t seen you two leave together the other day, everyone travelling with Rated Riot was aware that the manager of the band was going to be gone for a day, because she was taking a trip to Paris with Jungkook.

Sid mumbled something incoherent while Jude shook his head, and Minjun just stood there, hands in his pockets. He was the one who spoke up first, glancing between the three other boys.

“It seems like he won fair and square,” he said to Sid and Jude, both of whom appeared to be looking for loopholes. “I see no appeals.”

“That’s right,” Jungkook declared. “I did win fair. Even though some of you tried to play dirty.”

He only glanced at Sid as he said this—the insinuation obvious enough—but his friend reacted like he’d been shot.

“I didn’t even say anything to her!” he defended. Jungkook couldn’t help a knowing grin—he hadn’t even said anything about Sid talking to you. Irritably, Sid continued, “and how did you even win, exactly? We bet on a date, not a—whatever the fuck you two did.”

“We went on a date,” Jungkook said again, taking pride in his calm tone and the way it seemed to cause steam to come out of Sid’s ears. “To a wedding. Do I get an extra $500 for how romantic that is?”

Really, he didn’t care about the extra money. He cared about Sid’s reaction—and it was satisfying. The older boy rolled his eyes and kept toying with his hands: crossing, then uncrossing them, stuffing them in his pockets, then resting them on the back of a chair in front of him.

Finally, he said, “you went as friends.”

“She was my date,” Jungkook reiterated. “That’s how weddings work. You don’t bring friends, you bring dates.”

“That’s not—” Jude tried to interject, but Sid extended a dangerous hand and cut him off with this gesture alone.

“Did you kiss her at the end of this date?” he asked, the last word sounding more like a synonym for a massacre than a romantic night out on his lips.

Jungkook frowned at him. “How is that relevant to the bet?”

“It’s the most important part. That’s the one thing that separates your—your outing from actual dates.”

Jungkook swallowed and looked at his other friends. Jude seemed distracted, not paying much attention to the conversation at all, while Minjun just appeared uncomfortable like he had the first time he found out about the bet. Neither of them jumped to his side or even offered a sympathetic nod.

“That wasn’t what we talked about when we agreed to the bet,” Jungkook said. His voice lacked certainty and Sid picked up on it immediately.

“That’s literally how dates go,” he said and broke off into a leisurely stroll around the changing room. His previous resentment had long but faded as he explained, “you spend time together, you talk, whatever—then you kiss.”

“Sid, my man,” Minjun waited until Sid stopped walking, then patted him on the back, mocking comfort. “This reasoning is not on your side at all.”

“Yeah,” Jude agreed, snorting. “By this logic, you’ve never been on a single date in your whole life.”

Sid pushed his tongue into his cheek in annoyance, and even Jungkook grinned as the two boys high-fived over Sid’s head.

“It was a date,” Jungkook repeated once more. “Stop looking for ways out of it and go get my money.”

Jude pushed his hand into his back pocket where he kept his wallet—this didn’t seem to faze him much; for someone who had an abundance of it, this was just money—but Sid extended his hand again, signalling for him to stop. Clearly, it wasn’t just money for him. It was a matter of pride.

“Dude, you have got to stop doing that,” Jude said as Sid’s arm smacked him on the chest. “I’m not a fucking dog.”

Ignoring him, Sid narrowed his eyes at Jungkook. “You went to that wedding as friends and you know it.”

“Actually, thanks to you, I barely went to that wedding at all,” Jungkook shot back. He took one step closer to Sid with each sentence that followed, “but I did. And I took her as my date. Just like I said I would. So, pay up.”

By the time he finished speaking, he was right in front of him—and, therefore, had the best seats in the house to witness Sid actually hesitate, likely for the first time in his life.

Still, Sid clicked his tongue and said, “I don’t think so.”

Throwing his head back with a groan, Jungkook placed his hands on his hips.

“Sounds like you’re too idiotic to admit you lost,” he said. “Now what?”

He’d meant the question for the rest of his friends, but it was Sid who needed less than two seconds to offer a solution.

“We’ll use a referee,” he said, turning around. “Minjun?”

Clearly not having expected to be assigned this role, Minjun opened his mouth in surprise, then closed it again.

“What—why do I have to referee?” he asked after a moment. “I wasn’t even there when you made the bet.”

“That’s exactly why,” Sid said. “Jungkook, Jude and I are involved. You’re the only one who can be impartial.”

Jungkook didn’t protest; he didn’t see the point. Minjun was more level-headed than Sid, so he liked those odds. Not to mention, he’d always had a different friendship with Minjun, one that actually felt like a friendship. So, he only shrugged when Minjun glanced at him as if asking if he agreed with this.

Noticing this, Sid wondered, for a split-second, if Minjun really could be as impartial as he thought he’d be (and he’d thought that, of course, Minjun would swing more in his direction—all of Sid’s friends did, that’s why they were his friends).

“Fine,” Minjun decided, making his way to the middle of the changing room. “Sit down. Tell us about the date.”

All three of them obediently relocated to the couch. Jungkook had to sit on the armrest because Sid and Jude took up the entirety of the loveseat with their exceptional talent at manspreading.

“What else do you want me to say?” he asked. “I already told you everything.”

“That was barely anything,” Sid protested next to him.

Jungkook was about to argue back, but Minjun spoke first, “Sid’s right. I need to know more details so I can make an informed decision.”

Jungkook didn’t know if that was fair—he’d taken you out on a date, he’d won—and he didn’t want to share anything else with them. This seemed like Sid’s way to rile him up even more, and the rest of his friends played along with it.

“We went to a wedding,” he said.

“You already said that,” Minjun pointed out.

“Okay,” Jungkook clenched his jaw. Then added, “we took a train to get there.”

“Fuck’s sake,” Jude was the one who got annoyed first as he groaned and locked his hands behind his head. “If that’s all you did, you definitely didn’t go to that wedding as dates. You barely went as friends, my man.”

Offended, Jungkook shuffled in his seat, trying to throw one leg over the other, but nearly losing his balance on the armrest as he did. He settled back into his previous stoic position.

“That’s—that’s not all we did,” he said awkwardly.

“Okay, so what else?” Minjun encouraged. “Did you talk?”

“No, we mimed to make it more fun,” he deadpanned. “Of course, we fucking talked. We talked the whole time on the train.”

Ignoring his wit, Minjun gave a thoughtful nod. “Okay. So, that’s what? Fifteen hours of non-stop talking? That’s a point for Jungkook.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sid immediately perked up, leaning forward with so much force that he nearly knocked Jungkook off the armrest. “But how do we know he’s not lying to us?”

Jungkook thought he might start throwing things. He wasn’t sure how he felt about whatever this was, but it sure reminded him of an interrogation, and he couldn’t help feeling defensive—to the point of physical violence if that’s what it took. But Minjun took his role as a referee very seriously.

“Because I have to pry information about this date out of him,” he said. Sid leaned back in his seat, smacking his lips in resignation. Minjun added, this time throwing a warning look at Jungkook, “and because if he says something I have a hard time believing, I’ll go straight to the other source.”

Jungkook widened his eyes, near-frantic. “You can’t ask her. She’ll kick me out of the band. She’ll never fucking speak to me again!”

Unsure which consequence Jungkook was more afraid of, Minjun nodded and said, gentler now, “then don’t lie.”

“I haven’t lied once,” he argued, picking up a decorative pillow off the floor—it must have fallen there when the two boys sat down on the couch—and tossing it at Sid, who caught it before it hit his face. “Your distrustful ass needs to shut up and quit whining. You fucking lost.”

“I didn’t fucking—”

“Focus,” Minjun said firmly—like a teacher, trying to discipline unruly kindergartners. “Jungkook. What did you talk about? How many mentions of your feelings for each other?”

Jungkook closed his eyes at the question, pushing his chin forward, an expression of blatant disbelief on his face.

“How many mentions of—what the fuck?” he spoke, unable to repeat the question without scoffing. He opened his eyes to look at each one of his friends. “Have any of you ever been on a real date?”

“I’d be on one right now if we weren’t holding court about a fucking bet,” Jude mumbled, his stare vacant as he clearly shifted in and out of focus on this conversation.

“I take it no mentions, then,” Minjun concluded.

“Of course, no mentions,” Jungkook groaned, throwing his hands in the air. “Who the fuck—”

“1-1,” Minjun declared, cutting him off. Cursing under his breath at the ridiculous, almost unrealistic turn that this bet had taken, Jungkook pushed himself deeper into the armrest, his side purposefully digging into Sid’s. Minjun asked, “how much time did you spend together—just the two of you—excluding the time on the train?”

“Wh—okay,” the vocalist inhaled, figuring he’d have to actually answer this one or else his friend would vote in Sid’s favour again. “We took a cab to the wedding. And walked around the Champs-Elysées.”

“Good, good,” Minjun nodded. “Was there any sort of—"

“Wait,” Jungkook stopped him, “don’t I get a point for that?”

“For what?” Sid interjected. “Walking down the street with her?”

“It wasn’t a fucking—”

“You get half a point,” Minjun said. “Now was there any sort of physical touching? Any hugs? Embraces?”

Again, Jungkook was forced to give his friends questioning looks. He felt incredulous—not just because it was starting to seem likely that he’d lose the bet, but also because they were forcing him to share the parts of his life that he’d never shared with anyone other than you before.

“You’re exploiting the shit out of me right now,” he said.

Minjun groaned and proceeded to curse as he spun around his axis, finally losing patience—not with Jungkook per se. He was just tired of being the middleman in a very stupid, childish game.

“We’re literally trying to find out if you were on a date or not,” he said louder. “Why is it so hard for you to just answer the questions and get this over with?”

“Because it’s my fucking business!” Jungkook snapped, jumping to his feet. “We never agreed that I’d have to share any details about the date. Just the fact that there even was a date was supposed to be enough.”

“But we don’t know if there was a date,” Sid argued—in every way that Jungkook appeared agitated right now, Sid came off as victorious. He knew this wasn’t looking good for Jungkook. “That’s the whole point.”

“Why the fuck would I take her to Paris,” he demanded, aware that he was yelling now, “if not for a fucking date?!”

“Because you’re in love with her,” Sid shot back. The relative calmness of his voice in comparison to his only pissed Jungkook off more.

Both of them were standing now, but Sid, who was only taller by a few centimetres, somehow always had the upper hand—not just in this conversation, but in their friendship, too.

In barely fifteen minutes, the tables had turned completely, and Jungkook was the one losing control of himself.

“That has nothing to do with—oh my God,” he covered his face with his hands and turned his back to his friends, giving up. “Okay. Fine. I can’t do this shit.”

“So, you admit defeat?” Sid asked—Jungkook could hear the grin on his friend’s face without looking at him.

“I admit nothing,” he grumbled.

“If you can’t prove it was a date, you lose.”

Turning around to look at him, Jungkook shrugged with exaggerated intensity as he asked through a humourless laugh, “how would I prove it? Everything I say sounds like a joke to you three.”

“I wasn’t laughing,” Jude spoke up suddenly—another return to the home planet—and then mumbled, “you’re not very funny.”

“I wasn’t trying to be—” Jungkook stopped and inhaled sharply. He’d grown tired of playing this courtroom drama with the three of them. “Alright. I need to get ready for the show.”

All three of his friends understood the subtle indication that Jungkook was kicking them out of the changing room—Minjun turned towards the door and Jude stood up from the couch. But Sid stood still.

“The keys,” he said.

Jungkook frowned. “What?”

“Hand over the keys.”

Clenching his jaw, Jungkook kept eye contact with him for a minute before saying firmly, “I’m not handing you anything.”

“You lost the bet,” Sid said—his voice gaining a dangerous edge now that Jungkook wasn’t complying. “The Katana is mine.”

Jungkook pursed his lips as he continued to stare defiantly into his friend’s eyes.

“If I can’t prove it was a date,” he said, “then you can’t prove it wasn’t.”

The two of them watched each other for another minute until Sid licked his lips and nodded, signalling that—for once—he agreed to disagree.

“Alright,” he said, looking around the room. Jungkook did not feel relief. He felt tension. “I see how it is. How about we adjust the conditions of the bet, then?”

Even though he was sure he didn’t want to know, Jungkook still asked, “what does that mean?”

“If you manage to get back together with her,” Sid proposed, “we’ll all pay you $5000 each.”

Just as Jungkook lifted his eyebrows, Minjun furrowed his, declaring right away, “don’t include me in your shit.”

“Fine,” Sid agreed. Then clarified to Jungkook, “Jude and I will pay you $5000 each.”

It took Jude a moment to react, and he, too, tried to back out of this. “I don’t think I—”

“You were in the original bet,” Sid said, shooting a warning look his way, “you can’t get out now.”

Jude wasn’t very pleased with having to go through this again—even if the first bet didn’t, technically, cost him anything. He relented, though, because he always did, “fine, you bitch.”

Sid looked back at Jungkook, waiting for his response.

Aware of the predicament that he’d found himself in—or, rather, that Sid had manipulated him in—Jungkook crossed his arms on his chest and took his time before speaking up.

“And if I disagree?” he asked.

“Well, you have two options here,” Sid said, “either you give the keys to me because you lost the previous bet, or you hand the keys over to Minjun, our impartial referee, while I wait for you to lose this updated bet.”

Minjun rolled his eyes again, annoyed that he still couldn’t escape being involved in Sid’s game.

Jungkook, on the other hand, needed another minute. He’d definitely prefer to give Minjun the keys—just because he knew Minjun might give them back to him.

“So, just to be clear,” Jungkook started slowly, “you’re saying that if I get back together with her, I’m keeping the Katana and getting 10K?”

“Yes,” Sid confirmed. “And if you don’t, the bike’s ours. We’ll find good use for it. How does that sound?”

Like signing your soul over for the devil, that’s how it sounded.

Jungkook shook his head. A date was a date, he thought you would find a way to let that slide if you accidentally found out. But his relationship with you wasn’t for sale.

“I don’t think so,” he said.

Sid took it well, merely shrugging as he extended his hand, palm up. “Well, then hand over the keys.”

Agitated again, Jungkook smacked his palm against Sid’s. “Get out of here. I’m not fucking—”

“You lost the bet,” Sid repeated, enunciating each word so loudly, it cut Jungkook off. “The Katana is fucking mine, I’m just generous enough to give you another chance to win it back.”

“It’s not fucking yours.”

“He’s right,” Jude spoke up again—very unhappy that he was only remembered when the topic turned to him paying. “It’s technically ours.”

“It’s mine,” Jungkook said, taking a moment to look at both, Sid and Jude, as he repeated, “I didn’t lose.”

“Then you have no choice,” Sid concluded. “The bet is ongoing.”

“How is it ongoing?” he argued. “It’s one thing to go on a date—”

“Which you didn’t,” Sid interjected.

“—which I did,” Jungkook countered, his eyes burning with a flame so angry, it was almost a miracle Sid didn’t immediately catch fire. “But you’re suggesting a completely different thing now. Starting a relationship is not the same. Especially if it’s a relationship with someone you already dated before.”

“I know,” Sid said, seemingly unbothered. Jungkook wondered why, because his friend didn’t look pleased, either. He didn’t look like he’d tricked him, like he knew he’d win for sure.

Clearly then, Sid had to think that the odds of winning this bet were, more or less, equal for both of them. That had to mean that a part of him believed that Jungkook could really get back together with you.

Consequently, Jungkook realised that Sid wasn’t, really, suggesting anything at all. He was simply telling him that this was how it was going to be from now on.

“I can’t do that just randomly,” he said. “I can’t just approach her and ask her this. It’s—”

“Two weeks,” Sid said. “That enough for you?”

Jungkook swallowed.

Even though he wanted this, he knew that attempting to get back together with you now could jeopardize everything that you’ve done in the past two years as Rated Riot’s manager. Jungkook didn’t think he wanted to burn down the same bridges that the two of you had built back from the ground up.

That being said, there was a glimmer of hope—very obscure, barely there, not even visible, really, just faintly humming somewhere about his chest—that you would get back together, and his reward wouldn’t just be $10 000.

It’d also be a future with you; the very same one that he could sense in Paris.

He knew he didn’t need a bet to bring this future to the present. If anything, the bet might hinder the progress of your relationship. But if there was a possibility that he’d get everything: you, his bike, and the defeat of Sid; if there was a possibility that, for once, the idiot would lose and all of his shit-talking would come back to make him miserable… Jungkook was on the edge of considering it.

Smirking as the younger boy bit his lip in anxious contemplation, Sid looked at the other two guys in the room and announced cheerfully, “you’re actually doubting this!”

“I’m not doubting the time frame,” Jungkook said. “I’m doubting if you’ll keep your end of the deal since you’re very much fucking me over right now.”

Sid rolled his eyes.

“We can write the conditions down and have Minjun stamp it if that makes you feel better,” he said.

Minjun—the designated lawyer, apparently—groaned, but did not audibly object. This wasn’t a conversation involving him—it barely involved Jude, who was, technically, part of the bet—so he stood back and watched the face-off on the sidelines.

“Stamp it with what?” Jungkook asked, finding this excessive. “Our blood?”

“Anything that makes you feel better.”

Jungkook brought his tongue over his teeth as he thought this over.

He couldn’t do this.

But how could he not? If he gave his bike up now, if he dropped out of the bet, Sid would be free to find you and tell you about it—acting like he didn’t mean it. Like he was just showing off the bike that Jungkook gave him, and the bet simply came up. And then, not only would Jungkook lose his Katana, but he’d definitely lose you, too.

No, he had to be the one who told you about this in hopes that, once your initial anger faded, you would cooperate with him. Not for the Katana, but to make Sid fail. And maybe that could be what brought you together, what made you stay together even after the bet ended.

It’s the only way he could win.

Sighing, he asked. “What are the conditions?”

“First of all,” Sid started—glancing at Minjun who pulled his phone out to write it down. iPhones seemed more formal than bar napkins and Jungkook bit his lip, realising this was serious as Sid dictated the rules, “you both have to be aware that you’re back together.”

“That’s already a given.”

“Not with you it isn’t, you sneaky shit,” Sid disagreed, the seemingly innocent smile on his face concealing his anger about not having gotten his way with the first bet.

“Fine,” Jungkook agreed and immediately offered his own condition, “then you can’t talk to her about the bet or attempt to ruin this for me. Just sit back and wait until it’s over.”

Sid considered this. “Alright. But you can’t tell her anything, either. If I find out that the two of you plotted against me, the deal’s off and the bike is mine.”

Jungkook was the one who needed a minute this time.

Obviously, Sid had single-handedly ruined a plan that, Jungkook now realised, wasn’t very well-developed to begin with. But Sid’s satisfied mug pushed him to clench his jaw and agree anyway.

“Fine,” he settled. “I won’t tell her anything.”

It could still be okay, he hoped. He would just have to find a different way.

Perhaps, he thought suddenly, he could drag this out long enough that Sid would forget about it. Even two weeks could be plenty if enough happened to distract him—or if Jungkook stopped talking about it altogether.

Both boys looked over at Minjun, who typed for two more seconds, then looked up at each of them and nodded.

“The keys,” Sid reminded Jungkook.

Groaning, he pulled them out and passed them over to Minjun who had the decency to look apologetic as he took them from him.

“So,” Sid continued then, grinning mischievously as he extended his hand. “Do we shake on it?”

Jungkook knew he had a big head when it came to talking about this, but he also knew that actually making this happen would be a true challenge. He wasn’t sure if he could do this. He was sure he didn’t want to do this.

But if he succeeded—fuck—he’d get you back. There was hardly anything else in this world he would still want. Maybe a nice meal every now and then, but he’d make do with dry ramen noodles until the end of his days if he had to.

Fuck.

He liked his odds; the date at Kihyun’s wedding went well, after all. But Jungkook could also recall—very vividly—you telling him that you didn’t believe in second chances. Not to mention, you’d been very explicit when you’d asked him not to lie to you again.

Fuck.

“You’re sure taking your sweet time,” Sid teased, his hand still hanging in the air. “Not so sure of yourself anymore?”

It had to get worse before it got better, Jungkook told himself.

He had to agree to this, first of all, to find a way out. Then, he had to win to turn this bet into a distant memory with minimal consequences, to make it almost like it never even happened before—without you knowing, without him losing his bike, without Sid fucking winning.

And, most importantly, through this, he had to find his way back to you.

“Oh, I’m sure,” he lied—he did it well and he could tell, based on the way Sid narrowed his eyes when Jungkook’s palm touched his. “You’re fucking pitiful. But I’m still going to win this.”

Jungkook was worried he’d have a hard time performing after agreeing to the bet, but the concert in Berlin, surprisingly, worked as a distraction.

He sensed the irony: once, he’d used the bet to distract him from the anxiety of the tour. Now he had to perform in order to distract himself from the bet.

Still, once the show finished, Minjun saw the vacancy behind Jungkook’s eyes, and it unsettled him. Wanting to take his friend’s mind off this, he suggested getting drinks once the bus arrived in Copenhagen.

Jungkook took that to assume it’d only be the two of them going out, leaving Sid and Jude to occupy themselves with something else, and he didn’t mind that at all.

But this was where unforeseen circumstances altered their plans.

While the band was having after-show drinks backstage in Berlin, the crew dismantled the stage set: several bars of batten were dropped, causing minor injuries for the staff members in charge of the deconstruction. They didn’t need medical attention, thankfully, but the equipment had been broken—decorative light fixtures with Rated Riot’s logo that were supported on the battens had shattered and the metal pipe constructions had come apart.

You were informed that it would take approximately two hours to salvage what was fixable and load the equipment back onto the buses before you could leave for Copenhagen. Naturally, you were concerned about the state of the staff—if they could even drive after this—but they assured you they were fine. Still, you insisted they rested after having reassembled the equipment and assessed the damage.

Finally, everyone settled on leaving Berlin at five or six in the morning—that gave you, at least, five more hours in the city.

While this might turn out to be a logistical challenge for you and the rest of the roadies, it was an opportunity for Minjun, who immediately pulled Jungkook outside, already looking up the closest bars.

“No time like the present,” he’d said after Jungkook questioned what happened to getting drinks in Denmark. “We grab something here, get some sleep, and then grab something else once we arrive.”

Most unfortunately, Sid and Jude also saw this as an opportunity to get drunk, and did not hesitate to invite themselves to join the other two boys.

Technically, Jungkook and Minjun didn’t even realise that they weren’t the only ones entering the bar until Sid ordered them to get a table while he and Jude went to get drinks.

They were always the ones who picked the drinks for the night, and, for the first time in his life, Jungkook felt a little concerned—Sid and Jude always, without a fail, chose the drinks with the highest alcohol concentration.

“Why do you care?” Minjun asked as the two of them settled in the booth of the bar. “You’ve only passed out drunk, maybe, three times in your whole life.”

“I haven’t slept properly in two days,” Jungkook said. “So the fourth time might be tonight. And if that happens—”

“Don’t worry. I’ll personally carry you home,” Minjun replied. “I’m not getting your girl involved.”

“What girl?” Sid asked, returning with a tray. The question was unnecessary, really; he was already grinning anyway. “Last time I checked, she wanted nothing to do with you and only went to Paris with you out of—”

“One more word about it,” Jungkook said, “and I’m leaving you stranded in Germany.”

“Sensitive,” Sid commented and sat down next to him while Jude climbed into the booth next to Minjun. “Alright. Let’s get you loosened up, you’re awfully uptight.”

Minjun noticed that whatever Jungkook prepared to respond with wasn’t going to be pretty. He wanted to avoid confrontation and pushed the highball glass towards him.

While Jungkook drank, Minjun made sure to shift the topic: staying close enough to the bet so that Sid would remain entertained, but making sure to drift away from you, so Jungkook wouldn’t be triggered, either.

“How’s the engine on your Katana?” he asked. “All good?”

The question seemed innocent enough, but Jungkook saw through this plan as he swallowed his drink. He gave his friend a look—Minjun wasn’t sure if it was grateful or just confused—as he put his glass down and wiped his mouth with the back of his palm.

“It’s fine,” he said. “The oil’s leaking, though. I still don’t know why.”

“The gasket has worn out, probably,” Jude offered right away. If he didn’t have a trust fund bigger than ideas what to do with it, he might have genuinely considered becoming a mechanic.

“It couldn’t have,” Jungkook said. “I just changed it.”

“Did you change all the plugs, too?” Sid asked. He could tell from the look in Jungkook’s eyes as he took another sip instead of answering that he hadn’t. “You don’t know how to take care of it properly. I told you that you should have let me look at it. It’s why I’m going to be—”

“You break everything you touch,” Jude accused before Sid could elaborate further. “Let me take a look at it when we get back.”

Jungkook’s three friends – although significantly wealthier than he was – had always had a soft spot for anything that had wheels. It started out with tuning their bikes when they were fifteen and turned into purchasing their own vehicles when they got older: which meant Sid, Jude, and Minjun getting their first cars at seventeen, and Jungkook purchasing his Katana as soon as he made enough money for it. Minjun had known this when he asked the question that started the conversation.

And so, for the next hour and a half, the four of them immersed themselves in a discussion about Jungkook’s Katana, Sid’s vast collection of chevies (nevermind that he’d inherited the first Chevrolet from his grandfather, and the rest were gifted to him by his parents), and Jude’s latest hobby: restoring his 2002 Nissan Skyline after he’d wrecked it drag-racing.

“See, I knew no one should let you drive,” Sid said—he’d already had five drinks at that point and was, therefore, rocking gently in his seat.

“You’re one to fucking talk” Jude heated up, equally as drunk. “You can’t tell the wheel from your ass.”

Jungkook snickered as he sipped his drink.

Minjun took over the argument, “you’re both shit, actually. As far as I remember, Jungkook and I won most of our races. But I was driving in all of them, of course.”

Here, Jungkook raised his head, his eyebrows furrowed in offence.

“Not true,” he said indignantly. “I was driving at least once when we won.”

Minjun gave him a look. “You crashed into a wall that time.”

“We still won, though.”

“Because Sid dented someone’s fence and lost a tire a minute before you!”

“Still,” Jungkook said with a pout that he was not aware of. Then, he added a very important, “I’m not that bad of a driver.”

There was irony in Minjun’s laugh as he shook his head and began to list off the consequences of their win, “both of us had whiplash. The car was totalled. Your girlfriend nearly left you.”

Jungkook put his glass down with more force than intended—any mention of you sent a signal into his subconsciousness, as it seemed. “Okay, that’s—that’s a different thing.”

“How is that a different thing?” Minjun did not relent. “You’d even named the car after her.”

“Are you implying I crashed it because I’d named it after her?”

“I’m saying if you can’t drive a car you named after your girl, then how can you—”

“You know what?” Sid cut in, growing bored. He pulled his phone out and nearly dropped it as he smacked his elbow into the edge of the table. Hissing in pain, he lifted his phone off the settee and clutched his arm, “fucking shit. God. We need a new race to settle it. You and Minjun wouldn’t be on the same team for once. You think we could rent out cars here?”

He was already browsing on his phone when Minjun snorted. “Definitely not at four in the morning.”

“We could do it tomorrow,” Jude suggested. Sid nodded right away. Jude pointed his glass at his friend’s phone and said, “look up rental places in Denmark.”

If Jungkook wasn’t so tired—and the two Manhattans he’d consumed didn’t help, either—he would have been surprised that Jude knew his European countries well enough to recognize Copenhagen as the capital of Denmark. Instead, he pulled his own phone out of his pocket.

“Actually,” he said then. “Maybe we should go. The bar closes soon, and we have to get back to the bus.”

Sid lifted his eyebrows and looked at his friends for support—Jude was already gathering his belongings, and Minjun was already halfway out of the booth, too.

“Wow,” Sid said, despite being the only one who had a problem with Jungkook’s statement. “What’d she do to you? You’re no fun.”

“I agree with him,” Minjun cut in before Jungkook could say—or throw, as he clutched his empty glass—anything else. “We should go.”

Rolling his eyes and grunting about how boring everyone had gotten in Europe, Sid pushed past them to exit the booth and headed to the bathroom before they left. Minjun made him swear not to drink anything else on his way back, and the rest of the boys went outside to wait.

Meanwhile, you had been busy helping the roadies out—before they politely escorted you outside, claiming that they were stressed out by the endless phone calls you were getting from the label after they heard of the problems with the stage set—so you hadn’t seen Jungkook leave with his friends.

But Maggie—friend, tour photographer, social drinker with an alcohol tolerance that could have knocked Jungkook out—had spotted them. And it gave her a wonderful idea the second she saw you lingering by the exit of the venue.

“Since we’re stuck in Berlin,” she had announced to you, “let’s do something with it.”

It had sounded like a suggestion only for a second—immediately after she said it, she grabbed your hand and pulled you after herself to find Luna. It wouldn’t have been a proper night out if the three of you weren’t together.

Not many bars were still open at nearly four in the morning, but Maggie seemed to have a radar—the three of you were in a booth at the very back of some half-deserted pub before the remaining 20% of your phone battery could run out.

“I don’t think I should have left, to be honest,” you said, your hand hesitating around the cocktail glass that Maggie had ordered for you as soon as you walked inside. “We were having kind of a crisis back there.”

“You weren’t doing anything,” Maggie replied. She was sitting next to you and leaned over to pat your back in a comforting manner as she admitted, “I overheard Otto call Seokjin to come pick you up and get you out of there.”

Otto was one of the roadies and Seokjin’s right hand backstage. You didn’t know he initiated your removal from the venue, and you didn’t particularly like being excluded when you thought you could have been helpful. Clearly, the stage management team thought otherwise.

“I’m with Maggie,” Luna said; she knew you’d expect her to back you up, so she spoke before you could. “If something happens, you can still go back. A few drinks won’t hurt.”

“Yeah, and besides,” Maggie raised her glass, “if the boys get to drink, we should, too.”

The two girls laughed at this, clinking their glasses—it seemed like an appropriate toast—but you needed another minute in your managerial role before you could fully detach yourself.

“What do you mean?” you asked. “Who’s drinking?”

You directed your attention at Luna—your gaze inquiring about her boyfriend’s whereabouts—and she swallowed her drink before speaking. “I don’t know. Taehyung is asleep on the bus.”

“It’s Jungkook,” Maggie answered you. “I saw him leave with his friends.”

You closed your eyes, realising that you should have expected this.

Everything seemed to have been decided for you – you weren’t required back at the venue and you couldn’t, exactly, stumble around the streets of Berlin in search of Jungkook and his friends, either.

If anything, you were required here as your friends watched you expectantly.

They were right, really. A few drinks weren’t going to be a problem if you’d get a call (that is, if your phone wouldn’t die until then). And you were tired, anyway—to the point where sleep evaded you sometimes, just because you craved it so much. Alcohol might even help in this case.

However, as soon as you finally tasted the cocktail in your glass, you heard someone clear their throat behind you. You glanced at your friends first—they were either lifting their eyebrows (in Maggie’s case) or rolling their eyes (in Luna’s)—then you swallowed and turned around.

“What a coincidence!” Sid exclaimed when your eyes met.

A part of you—a dark impulse that you didn’t try particularly hard to control—wanted to toss your remaining drink right at him; like holy water at a possessed child. Begone, demon.

Before you could react, however, Jungkook rushed into the bar from outside. You merely had enough time to grasp what was happening—the bar that Maggie had picked happened to be the same one that Jungkook and his friends had been drinking in—before Jungkook pulled on Sid’s shoulder, forcefully dragging him away from you.

“He was just leaving,” he said briskly.

Sid tried to resist, but Jungkook had more strength—and far more determination. “I wasn’t. I’m actually—”

“He’s leaving,” Jungkook repeated with a strictness in his voice that you weren’t sure you’d heard before.

“What are you even doing here?” Sid whined at his friend as he was tossed to a side that was furthest away from you. “I thought you were waiting outside.”

“You took too long,” Jungkook mumbled. “Go.”

Sid groaned, but allowed the younger boy to literally drag him away. Once Minjun was close enough, he took over and grabbed the side of Sid’s jacket, pushing him through the door of the bar.

Jungkook looked back at you and gave you a small nod—as though encouraging you to stay with your friends instead of going after him to check up on him. You nodded back, thus allowing him to walk outside after Sid.

Jungkook was fuming.

Things had been going well tonight; he’d actually had a nice night with his friends and even forgot that these were the same people who pushed him into this bet.

But then he was forced to watch—in horror—as Sid approached you back at the bar, and he remembered everything.

So, while Sid pushed Minjun off of himself, Jungkook snarled, “I thought it was clear that you can’t fucking talk to her.”

Sid only shrugged and pulled out a cigarette from a pack inside his jacket pocket. “I just went over to say hi.”

“Don’t.”

Sid rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t going to mention the bet,” he spoke and offered cigarettes to Jude and Minjun first, then to Jungkook. All three of them took one each. Sid lit his up and continued, “you can’t forbid me from talking to her altogether.”

“Actually, I can,” Jungkook replied, still irritated that he hadn’t been there—once again—to stop Sid from approaching you. “And that’s exactly what I’m doing now.”

Despite the argument, Jungkook took Sid’s lighter when he offered it to him. In doing so, he realised that the paradox of this situation summarised their friendship fairly well. It had always been like this between him and Sid: constantly bantering and arguing, but staying friends, nevertheless.

“Why?” Sid asked with a grin, perpetually amused by Jungkook’s protectiveness. He blew smoke out and asked, “scared I’ll steal her from you?”

Jude and Minjun snorted in unison. The mocking sound took Sid’s attention off Jungkook as he glowered at them.

“You’re drunker than I thought,” Minjun commented, bolder than Jude was under Sid’s glare.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Sid challenged. “You all know I’m one of a fucking kind.”

Now Jude and Minjun were nearly howling with laughter, and even Jungkook couldn’t resist smirking. Meanwhile, Sid’s frown deepened. He liked to tease others; he didn’t like to be teased—never mind that he was setting himself up for mockery.

“You’re not shit,” Jude retorted, too drunk to come up with a wittier comeback. “She would never go for you.”

“No, he had a point,” Jungkook said. “She’s never hated anyone for as long as I’ve known her. Except for him.” He turned to Sid with a derisive grin. “So, you really are one of a kind.”

“Oh, I see,” Sid laughed humourlessly. He took another drag and then said to Jungkook—not even blinking as he watched him, “tonight was fun. But it’s going to get even better once you lose the bet.”

Jungkook remained apathetic as he removed the cigarette from his lips. “I won’t.”

“You will,” Sid insisted. His intense staring was an intimidation tactic that Jungkook had already grown accustomed to. He did not twitch or back away when Sid leaned in closer. “And you know why? Because you’re in love with her.”

This time, he wasn’t going to argue otherwise. Sid had used this as a weapon, he meant to ridicule him with it. But Jungkook—in this tipsy and tired state—realised that his self-esteem didn’t depend on whether his friends thought he still loved you or not.

Before, he had been eager to show them that he didn’t care about you—he thought that was the only way he could prove that his friends weren’t significantly better than him just because they weren’t in love with anyone.

Now he was going to show them that he did care about you, and caring still didn’t make him inferior.

“This might be disappointing to you,” Jungkook retorted, “but I can be in love with her and still make you lose.”

“See,” Sid said, grinning because this confession was precisely what he was coaxing out of Jungkook. And it was precisely the reason why Sid thought Jungkook would never win against him—be it a bet, or just in life in general. “But I don’t think you can.”

“Sit back and watch me, then,” Jungkook replied, blowing smoke out in Sid’s face. He pulled back immediately and the dissatisfied frown on his face was, simply put, beautiful.

Back inside, the girls chose to avoid discussing what had just happened with you. They had their reasons for changing the topic, too: Maggie had a policy against all boys who dared to interrupt your girls’ night, and Luna simply knew that if you continued to talk about this, you’d be more tempted to go out and check if Jungkook wasn’t getting into trouble.

But not even ten minutes later—just when you’d finished your second glass—Jungkook himself unexpectedly returned to the bar. You’d noticed him from across the room, and the second your eyes met, he made a beeline for you.

“Sorry about that before,” he said to everyone at your table, nodding apologetically at Luna and Maggie. “I, um, wanted to let you know that I’m going to be heading back. The bus is about to leave, right?”

Still surprised by his sudden reappearance, you were slow to pick your phone up. The battery had finally given in; you couldn’t tell what time it was. Both girls noticed this and were about to pull their own electronics out, but Jungkook reacted first.

“It’s four-thirty,” he said helpfully. “The bar is closing soon.”

“Oh.” You nodded. “Yeah. The bus is leaving in an hour, probably. Where’s the rest of your posse?”

“They already left,” he said without a further comment. Instead, he asked, “actually, can I talk to you for a second before I go?”

You looked back at your friends—both of them gave you permissive nods with grins that might’ve made the Cheshire Cat run away in shame.

“Sure,” you told Jungkook and turned your head away from your friends as if you could pretend you hadn’t seen their teasing smiles—that only made them giggle more.

The two of you walked towards the nearly empty bar—reasonable people were asleep this early in the morning—which wasn’t very far from your booth, but you figured the music played loud enough to drown your conversation out.

“So, um,” Jungkook began slowly—awkwardly—as he leaned his elbow against the bar top. “How are you feeling after the trip and… everything?”

There was something endearing about the uncertainty with which he’d asked you this. Pursing your lips lightly to hide your smile, you said, “it should be me asking you that.”

“It’s not. I’m the one asking,” he said so matter-of-factly that your smile only widened. He added, “I’m fine anyway.”

“I’m okay, too,” you said. “Tired to the point of taking a nap right on this bar, but other than that, I’m fine.”

He glanced at the bar after you’d mentioned it—as if assessing if it’d be a comfortable enough place to sleep on.

“Will you, um—will you be okay going back?” he asked then.

Your smile was plain and obvious now; hiding it required too much effort. Maybe the drinks Maggie got you were laced with something.

“It should be me asking you that, too,” you said.

“I’ll be perfect,” he replied, waving his hand around dismissively. “But I can, uh, stay back,” he looked at your friends over his shoulder—you noticed them both turn away, having been caught staring. “But I don’t want to interrupt.”

“Oh, yeah, no,” you agreed, your eyes still locked on the girls. “Maggie has a strict no-boys rule.”

You weren’t sure if she heard you or if her sudden snickering was unrelated to your comment.

“Oh?” this seemed to pique his interest. “Are you going to get in trouble now?”

“Probably,” you said casually enough. Trouble with Maggie usually meant more drinks, so you weren’t particularly worried. “She might already have a penalty for me.”

Despite you making it sound like this wasn’t the first time a boy interrupted your girls’ night to talk to you, Jungkook felt himself smile—he was the boy you’d broken Maggie’s rule for tonight.

“Because of me?” he still asked, a noticeable sense of entitlement behind his words.

“Don’t get excited.”

He snorted. “What’s the penalty? I’ll do it for you.”

“I’ll do it myself,” you said with a sigh as you extended your hands and laid your head on the bartop. “But some other night. I’m shutting down now.” You noticed the flash of concern in his eyes after you’d said that and added, “I’ll be fine. We’ll be heading back soon anyway. Get back to your friends.”

Your last sentence made him pause.

“That’s—” he stopped for another moment to mentally rewind through all the years that he’s known you. “That’s probably the first time you said that.”

You shrugged, having just enough energy to tease, “I trust Minjun.”

“Minju—but not me?” he questioned, offended.

“I’m working on it.”

“Well, how do I speed that up, then?”

“You can’t.”

He watched you for a minute, analysing your face for a possible option. He offered, “another trip to Paris?”

You knew he was joking, but you still grunted in refusal—that only made his teasing smirk widen.

“That’ll do the opposite,” you said. “I’m not going off-tour again. Look what happened tonight.”

You weren’t completely serious, but you couldn’t help but still feel uncomfortable that you had the leisure to travel Europe and drink with your friends, while the rest of the staff had to struggle with a stage set that was, apparently, falling apart.

Jungkook wasn’t sure if you genuinely blamed yourself or if this was just an illustrative exaggeration—your tired face was hard to read.

“Our trip to Paris is unrelated to what happened with the stage tonight,” he assured you in any case.

“Related or not,” you said and yawned mid-word, “now I can’t get proper sleep.”

His reaction was immediate—with one hand on your palm that you’d rested on the bar top, and another one on your waist, he encouraged, “come on, then. I’ll take you back to the bus. Let’s sleep.”

You were tempted—not just because his touch was warm and soft, but also because the thought of sleep seemed so satisfying right now that even the music in the bar faded into the background.

Still, you resisted, “the girls—”

“We’re fine!” Luna hollered; her glass raised. She was already tipsy and, obviously, had been waiting for an opening to give you permission to leave. “Maggie and I are going to stay back a while.”

You lifted your head to look at your friends again and caught them both smirking at you. They had seemingly overheard the entirety of your conversation, never mind the music.

“The bar closes in half an hour,” you reminded them with a frown. Jungkook’s hands were still on you—more supportive than before as soon as he felt the gentle sway of your tired body.

“We’ll find a way to keep ourselves busy until it’s time to leave,” Maggie added—which surprised you. Normally, it was the three of you against anyone who dared to interrupt your night. “You two can go ahead.”

You turned to Jungkook, who nodded at the door and seemed to make this decision for you. You really needed that today and you were quite unashamed about it; if anything, you appreciated everyone else deciding what you’d do for once.

You stood up properly and took a step away from him—he had to let go and did so reluctantly—to pick up your phone and your handbag from the booth. Your friends watched you, beaming, and you caught yourself before you began to smile, too.

Then, you allowed Jungkook to take you back to the bus.

It wasn’t a long walk, but you felt too drained to even take your shoes off when you got back. Plugging your phone in to charge, you laid down on your bunk, still in your clothes, and looked over at Jungkook.

Stubbornly, he refused to go to sleep until he was sure you were settled, so he was leaning against the partition wall between the opposite row of bunks.

“I’m still waiting until my phone will charge some,” you said, trying to make him reconsider. You paused to yawn again, then explained, “so I can check on the rest of our staff.”

“I’ll wait with you, then,” he said.

“No,” your firm voice got him to stop unexpectedly—he was already approaching you. “You hadn’t gotten any sleep, either. And you performed a whole gig tonight. Go to sleep.”

He resumed his journey and took a seat next to you on your bunk. “I’ll wait.”

You rolled over on your back to look at him. “You literally don’t have to do that.”

“And I’ll do it anyway.”

You exhaled, far too tired to argue about this. Your eyes could barely stay open enough to make sure he really was sitting on your bunk, and you hadn’t just dreamt him—the possibility wasn’t far-fetched, after all. It’s happened before.

“You shouldn’t,” you said softly, your eyes fluttering shut.

“I’m an adult, right? You said so,” he reminded you. You were worried that your words at the wedding would come back to bite you. “So, I can stay up waiting with you if I want.”

You sighed in response, your mind refusing to think of any more arguments or questions about why he found it necessary to bother waiting with you.

Satisfied, Jungkook scooted deeper into your bunk and crossed his legs, getting more comfortable.

He did as he’d promised—waited with you until your phone charged enough to make a phone call. Then he brought you water, because you called Seokjin and couldn’t say a word, your throat too dry to speak.

And then, half an hour later, when you were already asleep and he was sure you wouldn’t remember, he pulled your duvet over your body—so you wouldn’t get cold—and pressed a soft, tentative kiss to your forehead—so he wouldn’t, either.

chapter title credits: palaye royale, “toxic in you”

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sleepwalking ● 5 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: explicit language, suggestive themes, mutual pining, SLOW BURN

words: 6.9k

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 5 ► oh, and, my love, did i mistake you for a sign from god? or are you really here to cast me off?

Your train reached Paris at almost exactly eight o’clock in the evening and the rain was pouring. The wedding reception had started at seven, but Jungkook didn’t mind being late, even though the longer he lingered with you on the streets, the more the rain ruined your outfits, and your hair, and your make-up—but not your mood.

“I prefer being late,” he said when the two of you caught a cab from Gare du Nord to the wedding venue in the 8th arrondissement. “Less small talk if you show up when everyone’s already said hello to everyone.”

“I see your point,” you said, sliding over the backseat as Jungkook climbed in after you. “But it’s still rude to be late. Especially to a wedding. Especially when you weren’t even going to come to said wedding at all.”

He gave the driver the address and turned to you, resuming the conversation, because he had a very important point to make, “my grandma used to say that as long as I’m not late to my own wedding, I’m fine.”

You snorted at this, but your expression wasn’t mocking. You remembered his grandmother with nothing but love. Thoughtfully, you replied, “she’s a wise woman.”

“She is, yeah,” he agreed. “She always wanted to go to Paris, by the way. Remind me to call her.”

“That’s nice,” you commented, turning to the window as the streets of Paris passed outside, all in a blur of streetlights, reflected in puddles of rain on the pavement. “I think I’ve always wanted to come here as well.”

This surprised him and he paused in the middle of reaching for his phone. He’d already forgotten what he was going to check on it as he looked back at you again. When he spoke, there were minor notes of offence in his voice.

“You did?” he asked. “You never told me.”

“Yeah,” you said, not meeting his eye—you were far too captivated by the rainy streets outside the car window. They were nothing magical on their own, you supposed, but there was something about them tonight in particular. “I don’t know. It’s not my dream destination, but it’s Paris. Can you say you’ve travelled if you’ve never been here?”

Jungkook thought about it. “Well… I mean—there are other cities, too. Isn’t Paris a bit overrated?”

“Maybe.” You shrugged, still glued to the window. “Probably. I’ve still wanted to see it for myself, though.”

He could tell, as he leaned forward until he was able to see the neon lights from the signs outside reflected in your eyes. The taxi ride should have taken about twenty minutes, but now Jungkook wondered if he’d manage to ask the driver to take a longer route without you finding out.

“In that case,” he said finally, “I’m glad I brought you here.”

You turned to give him a look, but were startled by his close proximity. You nearly bumped your cheek into his when you craned your neck.

Realising—from your widening eyes—that he’d entered far into your comfort zone, he scooted back in his seat. But your heart was already giving orders for explosions to go off in various parts of your body.

You cleared your throat and looked back out the window—not because of the view this time, but because it felt safer this way.

“We would have come here eventually anyway,” you said. “You’re performing at Cabaret Sauvage in less than a month.”

Disappointed by your purposefully emotionless voice and words that took all credit away from him, Jungkook rolled his eyes.

“Sure. But,” he emphasized, “with me, you didn’t have to wait a month.”

“Okay,” you settled—partially. “Thank you for turning my whole schedule upside down.”

He smirked at the sarcasm. “Oh, anytime.”

In an attempt to conceal your own smile, you returned your attention to the billboards and bright window displays outside.

“So, if not Paris,” Jungkook started again after a minute, “what is your dream destination?”

He wasn’t expecting your reaction to his question to be so severe: you seemed to lean towards the window—away from him—clench your jaw, and focus even harder on the view outside – as if you were trying to transport yourself there, instead of staying here with him.

“Amsterdam, I think,” you replied eventually, in a voice so reluctant and quiet that he wouldn’t have heard you if he wasn’t literally right next to you.

“Really?” he asked. “I’m assuming it’s not because of weed?”

Smiling somewhat, you shook your head. And then did not elaborate more.

“Anne Frank?” he tried again.

“Maybe,” you said. “But also because of simple things. Not necessarily significant in history.”

Jungkook found himself having to push as if he was trying to find out what your deepest fear was, since you resisted fully opening up. But this was something that, honestly, seemed quite superficial to him, so he was rightfully perplexed.

Still, he asked, “such as?”

You sighed, not having expected—let alone, planned—this exchange to progress that much.  

This felt like the start of a long conversation—capital C. Getting to know each other by participating in obligatory small talk that would soon lead to deep analyses of each other’s darker sides of the subconsciousness.

And the last time you and Jungkook had had a proper conversation about something that was not related to your jobs in the slightest, was months before you broke up.

So, it wasn’t that Jungkook was being invasive with his questions right now. It’s that he was personal. And he’d stopped caring about being personal with you long before your relationship ended.

“Like riding bikes in Canal District,” you answered finally—he was glad to hear it, although he did not like the way you sighed as you spoke. As if this conversation was a hassle. Fortunately for his overthinking, you continued, “I’ve wanted to do that ever since my uncle went on a business trip to Amsterdam when I was seven. He’d brought me so many postcards, I could easily imagine myself having been there with him.”

Jungkook stayed quiet. He remembered your uncle—your mother’s brother. He was a surprisingly caring man, even if he looked like he ran the mob.

And Jungkook remembered the postcards, too—you had them pinned to the bulletin board above your desk in your dorm room back in university. He wondered, briefly, why you’d never mentioned the story behind the postcards before. He’d always assumed you just liked the pretty views on them.

Sitting next to you in the taxi, he counted something under his breath.

“We’re going to have,” he started, then calculated again just in case, “three days off in Amsterdam.”

“I know,” you said, sitting up straight in your seat as the taxi took a turn past Palais Garnier. “Believe it or not, I didn’t plan it like that.”

“Let’s say I believe you,” he teased. “Should we go bike riding in Amsterdam?”

You turned away from the window to look at him, surprise evident in your lifted eyebrows. “Us, two?”

He nodded. “Us, two.”

“On your day off?”

“On my day off.”

Not hiding your skepticism, you licked your lips and told him, “Jungkook, you spend your free days getting wasted with your friends.”

Although that was a fair statement – he had to admit that much – he still tried to defend himself, “that—that’s not something I have to do every single time.”

“It’s not?” you asked. “Then why do you do it?”

“Because I usually have nothing better to do,” he replied. His honesty was amplified by his body language: eyes cast low, hands intertwined on his lap.

He hoped you wouldn’t misunderstand—he wasn’t trying to imply that he preferred his friends to you. Or to anyone else, for that matter. Truly, if you would have called, he would have abandoned everyone else in a heartbeat. But he was more comfortable keeping that to himself.

“And riding bikes sounds better than getting drunk?” you asked instead, the question laced with persistent disbelief.

“Riding bikes in Amsterdam,” he corrected, choosing to avoid the mention of you doing it together, “sounds better.”

“Okay,” you said, still not convinced. “You talk now, but let’s see if you change your mind when we’re back on the road.”

“I won’t,” he insisted with newfound confidence. Despite his assuring tone, his gaze still scanned the mat on the floor of the taxi. “I promise I’ll take you bike-riding in Amsterdam.”

Even more surprised now, you waited until he lifted his eyes to meet yours before you repeated, “you promise?”

“Yeah,” he said with a shrug—but the nonchalance was pretend. His hands were tightly pressed into each other on his lap, because otherwise he would have been reaching for you. “Cross my heart. I’ll take you bike-riding if it kills me.”

The exaggeration finally got you to laugh. “Why would it kill you?”

Your laugh had broken the spell. He felt himself relax as though something heavy had been lifted off of him, and with you laughing next to him, he was as light as the air around you. Nothing could crush him.

“You never know with bikes,” he replied, smiling, too. “I’m just saying, I’ll make it happen for you.”

After a detour down the Champs-Elysées under the tiny compact umbrella that you’d packed (it was still so beautiful with all the lights around—even more so in the rain), you finally arrived at the wedding, which was already in full swing.

It took the newlyweds a good fifteen minutes to notice you and Jungkook, but you wouldn’t have blamed them if they didn’t approach you at all.

As soon as they did, however, you immediately tried to apologise for being late—both, tonight and in general, considering that the two of you were only added to the guest list for the wedding a few days ago. But Kihyun and Chloé cut you off, both joking that they were just glad you made it here, because they had thought you’d gotten lost in Paris.

“I sort of wish,” Jungkook replied, casting a meaningful glance your way—you pretended not to see it. “But no time to get lost when we have an important wedding to get to.”

Your friends smiled at this, accepted your congratulations, and, instead of returning to the rest of their guests, actually stayed to catch up with you—as if this wasn’t their wedding. As if you were back in university, eating ice cream on the quad benches with all of your mutual friends, and fighting off the campus pigeons.

You had to admit, seeing Kihyun and Chloé again was very nice. You’d always considered them Jungkook’s friends more than your own—all three of them had graduated from the same major, even though you had quickly become Chloé’s class-skipping partner—but they were the one pair of his friends that you’d always approved of and, eventually, befriended, too.

Seeing them newly married, however—while you could still remember that one almost tragic double-date that you’d tried to go on, where Jungkook and Kihyun nearly broke their necks, racing on Vespas—now that felt overwhelming.

“You’re right on time, by the way,” Chloé said to you while the two boys discussed Rated Riot’s upcoming tour dates, seemingly attempting to make plans to meet up again, after the pair would return from their honeymoon. “I was just about to toss the bouquet.”

“Oh, I’m not—”

“Come on,” she grabbed your wrist, pulling you away from Jungkook.

You glanced back at him for help, but he only grinned at you, like he’d done so many times before, when you’d go to parties together and he’d force you out of your comfort zone, because he knew you’d thank him for this later.

You weren’t sure if you’d be grateful for it this particular time, though, as you found yourself in a crowd of bridesmaids and very drunk guests within fifteen minutes of arriving at this wedding.

You looked around and, with a sudden start, you recalled the reason why you were here in the first place.

Bending your neck to take in the people around you, you tried to guess which person in this wedding, could have been the hypothetical ex that you still didn’t think really existed.

There was no one who could have been it.

You’ve met most of the people here before and none of them looked particularly eager to talk to Jungkook or to avoid him. Everyone was indifferent—except you, as you kept looking back at him to find him already watching you every time—and that was the final confirmation.

There really was no ex.

You had no idea why he’d brought you here.

Distracted by your thoughts, you chose to just stand in the middle of the crowd. As you tried to avoid having your feet stepped on, you brought a hand through your hair. You liked crowds at concerts. You didn’t like crowds of very determined wedding guests.

Never having caught a drumstick or a single guitar pick at any of the concerts you’d gone to in your whole life, you felt rather stupid standing there. And the significance of catching the bride’s bouquet was lost on you, too—you’d never believed in the prediction that whoever caught it would be next to walk down the aisle: your mum had told you she’d caught it three separate times, and she had barely been married once.

You heard Chloé count down backwards from three and you extended your hands above your head; more as a protective instinct than anything else—to avoid getting smacked on the head.

By some harrowing chance, almost as soon as Chloé’s countdown finished, you felt the stems of flowers against your palm and clutched at them, reflexively. You heard claps and excited cheers around you before you registered that you’d caught the bouquet.

Lowering the classic, white rose combination, tied with a neat, pale bow, you swallowed and looked around, unable to conceal your overwhelming discomfort as you listened to earnest applause around you.

This felt embarrassing more than anything else. Irrationally so, of course, but embarrassing, nonetheless: like walking into an empty restaurant and interrupting the conversation of the staff. Everyone’s eyes were suddenly on you, and there were drunken shrieks of elation somewhere in the room.

You realised as you held the flowers awkwardly—like it was a bomb meant to be defused—that this was why you preferred to work backstage.

“I’m so glad it was you!” you heard Chloé exclaim. You turned to see her clapping her hands as she made her way towards you.

A few women you’d never met hugged you as if you were going to your own wedding as soon as this one was over.

You were frozen with an uncomfortable, twitching smile on your face and only sobered up somewhat when Chloé reached you. She was laughing as she wrapped an arm around your shoulders—in her defence, she tried to fight her amusement, but you looked completely anguished, nearly grief-stricken. It was ridiculously unfitting, and, at the same time, so completely in character for you.

“I’m not entirely sure how this works,” you told her. “Are you certain I’m not supposed to toss it, too? Sort of like a relay race? I saw one of your younger cousins who looked very excited to catch the bouquet, but she had an obvious height disadvantage.”

Chloé clutched you to herself tighter in a comforting manner.

“No, love,” she said brightly. “My cousins are twelve and thirteen, they both can wait for their turn. And I’ll see you at your wedding. Hopefully sooner rather than later? It’s been too long since we’ve last chatted.”

“It has been,” you agreed, “but if we’re only meeting at weddings, then I’m afraid this might be the last time we see each other.”

Laughing again, she rubbed a soothing hand on your back and assured you, “the bouquet can mean whatever you want it to mean. I’m just glad you’re here tonight. And I’m sure Jungkook is, too.”

With another soft smile, she nudged you in his direction and walked away to join her husband. Before you could begin pondering what she’d meant by that, your eyes caught sight of Jungkook, who was still watching you—in a restless way. Like he hadn’t looked away from you once since you left his side.

You felt almost awkward as you approached him—all of your steps leaden under his watchful eye—but as soon as you were close enough, he grinned and said, “you look like you survived an alien abduction.”

And everything was okay again. For the time being, at least.

About an hour later, you and Jungkook had settled by a cocktail table at the back of the room.

The bride’s bouquet rested between you as you sipped champagne and took everything in: all the couples dancing around you, the kids kicking the balloons, Kihyun and Chloé being unable to stop smiling at each other as he twirled her around to the gentle melody of the wedding band playing Biffy Clyro’s “Many of Horror”.

“I still believe,” rang through the venue as the song went on, “it’s you and me ‘till the end of time.”

You nodded along to the rhythm, tapping your fingers against the table. You’d stopped resisting after your first glass of champagne and allowed the familiar melody to take you back to the days when you and Jungkook passionately screamed the lyrics of this song at each other in your dorm room.

The two of you dancing with each other was a far more violent affair than Kihyun and Chloé’s smooth swaying: your twirling involved a lot more kicking, stepping on toes, and tears of laughter as you eventually admitted your absolute incompetence when it came to dancing. Jungkook, on the other hand, seemed very skilled at it—but then, when compared to you, probably even a well-trained rabbit could have danced better.

You smiled fondly at the memory, happy that the bubbles you drank and the long trip you’d taken today made you feel just dizzy enough to look back at the old days without wishing you were there now.

You were glad to be where you were.

Jungkook, meanwhile, was on his third glass. He kept glancing at the bouquet on the table with immense discomfort as he painfully remembered Sid’s words on their first night in Prague: “Your ass is so whipped, you’re going to be singing at her wedding to some random producer.”

What if Sid was right, then what would he do? Would he get up on stage and perform a fucking love song for you and your new husband? An angsty, yearning love song with a powerful guitar riff—like the ones you liked and the ones he kept writing; the lyrics dripping with all the sentiments that would mean nothing to him, while you married someone else.

I still believe it’s you and me ‘till the end of time

He couldn’t do it. He’d never do it. He’d rather—

“Jungkook,” you said suddenly, your voice catching him off-guard.

“Hmm?” he looked at you, an almost alarmed expression on his face. The descent from deep inside of his mind and back to reality was a painful one.

“I have a question,” you said.

He finished his drink and put the empty flute down on the table. “Alright.”

“There’s no ex,” you said, deciding it was finally time to clear this up, “is there?”

After almost two hours at the wedding—where he hadn’t mentioned his ex once—both of you already knew the answer to this question. But he still graced you with a formal response, because he knew he owed you an explanation.

“No,” he said. “There’s not.”

You nodded, your expression the same as before.

He was relieved. He’d expected a drink in his face.

“So, tell me then,” you continued. “Why did you need me to come with you to this wedding?”

For the first second after you asked this, he thought he could have just admitted it. There was no condition in the bet about revealing the truth to you, after all. And it’s only a bet—it’s nothing significant.

But you were standing in front of him in your dress, the leather jacket that he’d gotten you hanging on your shoulders. You were looking at him with tired, tipsy eyes. And you were smiling—but still trying very hard not to—as you sipped your champagne.

There was a sense of future in the air.

Your future, together.

And the realisation that the bet was significant, despite his efforts to convince himself otherwise, had finally kicked in—he was afraid he wouldn’t just get a drink thrown in his face if he told you. He was afraid he’d lose this future.

“I, uh… I just didn’t want to be here by myself,” he ended up saying. This was, technically, not a lie, either. “I always go to these things alone.”

“Why go at all?” you asked then. “You were pretty definitive when you RSVP’d “no” months ago. I was the one who emailed them both of our responses.”

“Well,” he said, looking around at the waiters, passing out drinks, as he tried to buy time. “I don’t know. I feel different now that I’m in Europe. So close to Paris. I guess I changed my mind.”

As you’ve learned in the past few days, that was his excuse for everything.

“Mhmm,” you nodded, taking a sip from your glass. “Humour me about something else, would you?”

Happy that the waiter was finally close enough for him to reach, Jungkook grabbed another champagne flute from his tray and then looked at you again. “What is it?”

“Why would Sid tell me you were dating someone,” you began, “and then warn me not to let you go to this wedding?”

What a perfectly logical question. Truly, he couldn’t see how the question could have been more perfect.

It was so perfect, in fact, that you could engrave it on Sid’s tombstone after Jungkook killed him.

“You know what? I actually have no idea,” he said and then threw his head back to down the champagne in one big gulp.

He kept the liquid in his mouth for a second—prolonging the time he didn’t have to speak to you, all while you watched him suspiciously—and then swallowed, finally.

“Really,” he added in response to your questioning look. “He’s an enigma.”

You snorted. “That’s one way to describe him.”

He nodded, eager to cement the point he was making. Additionally, he suggested, “maybe he was just jealous.”

You squinted your eyes at him, trying to find the causal relationship between Sid lying to you and Sid being jealous.

You tried to guess, “jealous of—of not going to Paris with you?”

“Of me going with you,” he said.

You picked up your champagne glass again—you weren’t drunk enough to have this conversation. “What?”

He shrugged. “Maybe he has a crush on you.”

Your scoff was almost reflexive, and you were very glad that you hadn’t taken a sip before he had said this. You’ve heard plenty of unexpected things in the span of these past few days; all kinds of manipulations and weak cop-outs – but this one was, by far, the most ridiculous one.

“Maybe he has a crush on you,” you countered, clearly considering this statement to be an accusation more than a compliment.

He snickered at this. “Fair enough. Maybe he does.”

Swallowing, you put your near-empty glass down on the table and gave him a long look.

“So, he just did that to spread chaos?” you asked. “No other reason?”

Jungkook shrugged again. “Nothing else I can come up with.”

“I don’t believe you,” you said calmly and watched him freeze, startled by the bluntness of your words. First, you finished your champagne, then your sentence, “but I’m willing to drop it if this is nothing more than Sid’s game. Tell him to never speak to me again, and let’s leave this at that.”

Jungkook was relieved, and, at the same time, scared to feel relieved. He felt it necessary to say, “I’m sorry Sid did that.”

“Don’t apologise for him.”

“I’m not. The apology is from me,” he said. “I should have made sure he wouldn’t bother you, let alone lie to you—”

“I don’t care why Sid lied to me,” you cut him off. “I care why you did. Why you went along with it.”

He knew he should have seen your question coming, but he chose to pretend he could talk around this topic instead—and that’s why your words knocked all breath out of him.

It was simple: he’d played along with Sid’s lie, because he thought it’d help him convince you to come to Paris with him faster; he’d lied to you to win the bet.

But he hadn’t lied to you when he said he didn’t want to come to this wedding alone. He wanted to come here with you. The bet seemed more like an excuse now—a distraction from his anxiety that he equipped as a pretence to ask you out.

He was painfully aware of this now: he’d always wanted to ask you out again; just one more time. One last first date of your lives.

He realised this, and there was no way he could pretend otherwise, not when his mouth dried up every time he looked at you.

And yet, that seemed even more difficult to admit to you.

Inhaling, he said, “I thought Sid’s lie would get you to come with me.”

That did not feel much like an explanation.

“You could have said that Sid lied and just told me that you changed your mind about going to the wedding,” you said, waving your empty flute around. “You’re allowed to go where you want to. You’re an adult.”

“Well—”

“To a certain extent,” you added, “because, of course, you have your reputation to consider. Yours and the band’s, too, actually.”

“So, you would have just let me leave the tour?” he questioned, doubtful and, honestly, disappointed. Asking for your permission to do something felt childish, but it also felt like you cared. And he really needed you to care.

You remembered his threat about bringing his friends with him if you wouldn’t go, and asked, “would you have gone to Paris alone?”

He looked down. Then, he told you the full truth, “I wouldn’t have come here at all, if you hadn’t agreed to come with me.”

“But I said no,” you said, still trying to make sense of this. “I didn’t want to go. You kept pushing.”

“I really wanted us to go together. That’s why—you know.” He swallowed. “That’s why Sid’s lie seemed so convenient.”

“Why did it matter that we went together?” you asked one more time. “The real reason.”

He didn’t reply right away, because he was too tipsy for this. It was only champagne, he could have easily recited the alphabet backwards if he was asked to. But it was getting difficult to keep up with what he was telling you.

He didn’t want to lie, not anymore, so he tried to only tell you the truth and keep quiet about the things he didn’t want you to know about: like the bet. And, of course, the fact that he had, apparently, been in love with you for ages. This particular realisation had surprised him on the train earlier, and he was the one with the feelings. He couldn’t even imagine how much it would probably shock you if he told you.

You waited, at first; assuming that he needed a moment to gather the courage to explain. But a minute later, your patience ran out.

So, you tried to answer for him—offering an option that wouldn’t be satisfactory enough, but it would be comfortable for you to believe, “just because they’re our friends?”

“Yeah. Sure,” he said, but it sounded like he was just agreeing, because he could tell that this was what you wanted him to say. “We’d known Kihyun and Chloé for so long. So it’s for, um—for old times’ sake, I guess.”

You needed a minute to arrange everything in order in your mind. Everything Jungkook had said seemed convincing enough if you closed your eyes, but it still felt like a half-truth at best.

You knew there had to be a different reason why Sid didn’t want Jungkook to go to Paris—or, perhaps, why he didn’t want you to come with Jungkook.

Not to mention, Jungkook could have convinced you to come to the wedding much faster if he’d told you the truth instead of going along with the story about his “ex”. Of course, that’s assuming that he really did only want to come here to witness your friends get married like he’d said.

But you wanted to believe that what he’d told you tonight was true, because this way, you wouldn’t have to ask any more questions or overthink. And, truthfully, a part of you was afraid to ruin this—whatever this pleasant hum that had gathered around the two of you on the train to Paris was—by interrogating Jungkook further.

Not to mention, you’d outgrown Sid’s silly games and simply wanted peace.

Even though you didn’t speak, Jungkook seemed to read the thoughts in your mind as he chewed on his bottom lip and said again, “I’m sorry.”

You blinked, registering the discomfort on his face. “What for?”

“For the lying and the—well, everything,” he said with a resigned sigh.  “I realise this was a very backwards way to convince you to come here with me.”

“It was. And thank you for owning up to it,” you said. “But next time you try to do something weird, do try to leave me out of it, would you?”

He grinned at this—he couldn’t help it. “Define weird.”

You were smiling, even though you rolled your eyes in response.

“Lying,” you said then. His smile faltered. “You don’t have to tell me everything, but don’t lie to me.”

Solemn now, he nodded. He realised that this gesture alone wasn’t convincing enough and redeemed it by clearing his throat and saying very decidedly, “I promise I’ll make sure Sid doesn’t bother you again.”

“Good,” you said. “Please do.”

“Thank you for coming here with me,” he added. “Despite everything.”

You were about to retort with a dry “you’re welcome”, but decided to take a different route and make him work a little bit. It only seemed fair.

“I don’t think a simple ‘thank you’ will suffice,” you said slyly. He cocked an eyebrow, not having expected to hear the playfulness in your voice. “This was a huge favour, after all. I could have been sleeping on the tour bus right now.”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t have fun,” he countered. “I saw the look in your eyes on the cab ride to the wedding.”

“Well, I had to adjust,” you defended. “Can’t exactly sulk the entire time, I’m not a toddler. Unlike some people.”

You turned away as you said this, smirking, while he scoffed, indignant. “Excuse me?”

“You’re excused.”

He was instinctively opening his mouth to respond, but only managed to squeeze out an incomprehensible syllable that turned into an impressed tsk.  

“Okay,” he decided then, tongue in cheek. “So, how can I repay this massive favour?”

“I’m not sure you ever will, to be honest,” you played. “But you could start by gifting the newlyweds a song.”

Jungkook glanced back at the platform in the corner of the room that was set up as a stage for the band. The musicians were taking a break and having drinks by the bar right now, so it was empty.

He looked back at you. “I don’t sing at weddings.”

“You used to,” you pointed out.

“Once. They made me wear a suit with a bowtie. A tight, neon yellow bowtie,” he reiterated. “It nearly made me suffocate. I would have died looking like I ran away from a low-budget circus. I’m not doing that again.”

Trying to keep your laughter in—you hadn’t actually been working with Rated Riot yet when they performed at this wedding, but Yoongi kept pictures, and he pulled them out every year on Jungkook’s birthday—you reached over the table to touch him.

“I’ll make this easier for you,” you said as you gently undid the first few buttons of his black dress shirt.

His breath got caught in his throat the second he felt your fingertips brush against the bare skin between his collarbones. It lasted for less than a second, but he was certain your touch had left a mark.

“There,” you said, pulling away. You seemed to have no clue of the revolution you’d started in his chest, which was a wonder. He was convinced his face had passed all the colours of the rainbow in the span of a minute. You continued, “nothing’s blocking your airways now. I’ll even do you one better—you don’t look like a clown tonight. You actually look good.”

Funnily enough, he had fewer problems breathing before you leaned closer to touch him. And before you told him he looked good.

Weakly, he asked, “I assume you have a song in mind, then?”

You nodded. “Chloé once told me she loved this one when she was younger. “As Long as You Love Me” by—”

“No.”

 You were grinning as you finished, “—Backstreet Boys.”

He was shaking his head with enough vehemence for you to feel a soft wind on your face.

There wasn’t anything wrong with the song of choice—other than the fact that Jungkook doubted very much that Chloé had ever mentioned it to you; he suspected you were just setting him up—but he held a personal grudge against it ever since he impulsively performed the song at your birthday party six years ago.

You had already been so drunk at that point, you could only remember glimpses of it all. Fortunately, someone had filmed Jungkook as he was using your floor lamp as a microphone stand when he performed Nick’s part at the beginning of the song. Later on, he’d gotten so immersed that he’d pulled up a chair to perform the dance routine, too.

You still had the video saved somewhere on your cloud storage.

“Your debt will be fully repaid if you include the choreography,” you added now, knowing it wouldn’t convince him. You just needed to say it to see the tips of his ears turn red at the memory.

His lips were pursed as he watched the mischievous glint in your eye. He’d missed it, he realised, even if your teasing was at his expense.

“You don’t think I’ll do it,” he observed. You shrugged—an obvious challenge—and he looked back at the platform again.

“I’m going to need a mic stand and a chair,” he said. Your eyes visibly brightened—he hadn’t seen you this excited in years. Keeping eye contact with you as he walked backwards to the platform, he pointed a finger in your direction. “This is for you.”

You cheered—caught in the moment and in the champagne you’d had tonight—while he climbed on the platform and turned the music that had been playing from the loudspeakers off. It took everyone at this wedding by surprise. They all turned to look.

The musicians seemed largely unfazed, until he picked up the guitar that they’d left leaning against the wall by the platform. They were already about to approach, but Jungkook extended a hand with so much self-assurance that they froze right away.

He said something else—you were too far to hear—and that seemed to relax them. They returned to their drinks and Jungkook, finally, climbed onto the platform.

Admittedly, until the moment he did, you really didn’t think he would actually do it.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he spoke, his voice muffled as he tapped the microphone to make sure it was working. You looked back to see the surprised looks on Kihyun and Chloé’s faces. “It’s a very special night tonight, as we know. And I have a very special gift for my friends. Congratulations on the beginning of the rest of your lives together, guys.”

The newlyweds both cheered and Jungkook chuckled lightly. The microphone caught the sound and you felt your heart respond to it in eagerness as it pounded against your ribs.

The second he played the first chords on the guitar, the room seemed to come to life. Some people recognised the melody and rushed to the designated dancing space in front of the platform, their hands in the air—and it felt, for just a moment, like a Rated Riot concert. Others still looked confused, but very entertained by the unexpected turn of events.

“Although loneliness has always been a friend of mine,” he began to sing and it immediately turned into a battle of which one of you two could last longer without cringing, “I'm leaving my life in your hands.”

You lost the battle as soon as Jungkook began the chorus and put the guitar down so he could perform the choreography with the chair—as much as he could, anyway, because the chairs at the venue didn’t fold. Your nose was scrunched, and you couldn’t help shaking your head, half in disbelief, half in amusement.

He watched you nearly the whole time—only looking away to nod encouragingly at Kihyun and Chloé, both of whom were dancing in the middle of the room—and his voice was louder, much clearer without the instrument accompanying it.

You’d watched him tear his shirt off on stage at Rated Riot shows, and you’d never had to cover your face. But your hands were on your mouth the moment he dramatically dropped to his knees for that last “as long as you love me” in the song.

His head fell in a theatrical manner as soon as he finished the song, and the room erupted in applause. He thought he could discern your laughter amidst the noise, and he was smiling when he looked up.

It took him a minute to return to you after the performance—people asked for more as he walked past, others were patting him on the back, and some guests, who turned out to have been in attendance at the previous party, gaily informed him that he did “much better than last time”.

His breathing was still heavy when he reached you, exhilarated.

Beaming even before he heard your response, he leaned against your table and lifted an eyebrow. “Well?”

“That might be the best performance that I’d ever seen,” you said. “I’m sure it’ll haunt my dreams. Thank you for that.”

There was enough genuine awe in your voice to make him laugh.

“So, you don’t regret coming here with me, then?” he asked. His eyes were glittering when he looked at you—with excitement, adrenaline, and hope.

“No,” you said. Your soft smile had rendered him completely incapable of looking away from you. “I’m actually glad I came. And not just because I got to see you sing Backstreet Boys in front of everyone.”

Heated suddenly, he said, “that stays between us.”

Even though you’d been looking forward to telling everyone on tour about this, you decided he deserved your agreement.

“Fine,” you said. “But it’s a shame the rest of the world wasn’t able to enjoy this.”

“Hmm,” he lifted his chin. “That was for your eyes only.”

“What about the rest of the guests?” you asked. There was a certain delight in your words that he noticed and quietly basked in.

“What guests?” he replied with a grin. “I said this was for you.”

You were shaking your head, but there was humour in your eyes and on your lips, and his own smile felt like it might cause his cheeks to tear.

There was nothing he wouldn’t have done for you at that moment. He was flushed, and his head was spinning. The entirety of his chest, it seemed to him, had begun to float.

He was happy.

You were still here with him, teasing and laughing. He’d seen his old friends get married, he’d seen them dance. He was about to join his band on tour, about to perform all across Europe.

Everything was going to be perfect. He just had to get this bet over with—quietly—and then figure out a way to expand the cavity of his chest, so it could contain his heart and the thousands of obnoxious, never-ceasing fluttering wings around it.

chapter title credits: sleep token, “the summoning”

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best of kookie: 4 / ∞ → peaches and cream

SHE CALLED HIM JUNGKOOOOOOOK

I Want You to Stay (06) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; eventual explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 14.6k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: We're slowly heading somewhere! Still slow but it's something hehe thank you again for appreciating this piece! 🥰 Also... JK in that Vogue outfit with a corsage. YEP.

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight  🥰

PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!

The silence that engulfs Jungkook’s apartment once you enter the following Monday is quite unnerving, as it brings back memories of the last time this happened and a half-naked woman came out of the bedroom and questioned who you were. The gym is empty. There’s no other sound of someone typing away or talking on the phone like the few times that you found Jungkook working before you even arrived.

You take a deep breath and decide to just face whoever comes out of these doors until one of them opens and out comes the man himself - alone - dressed in an oversized jumper and sweatpants. He looks like he just got out of bed with his semi-mussed hair - with a little sprout bouncing along as he moves - and groggy eyes, which widen once it registers that you’re here.

“Mr. Jeon,” you bow in greeting. “Are you feeling better?”

“A little,” he replies, his deep and gruff voice startling you a little. “What do you have there?”

He gestures towards the paper bag you’re holding, and you remember what you decided to bring over.

“Uh, chicken noodle soup,” you mutter, somehow suddenly shy. “Just an option for this morning. I wasn’t sure if you were still feeling under the weather.”

“I think I’m just fatigued,” he says. “But uh, I can have that.”

“Yes, sir,” you nod, putting it in a pot to eventually heat. 

You prepare his suits for the week then prepare his breakfast, pouring yourself a small serving as well. He takes his seat and starts eating, and you glance at him to see his reaction.

“Where did you get the one from last Saturday?” He asks, his face expressionless.

“From a store nearby,” you answer. “I was heading somewhere and your building was on the way.”

“This tastes better. Where did you get this from?” 

“I, uh, I made it,” you say softly, feeling a bit of pride that it’s something he complimented. 

There’s prolonged silence that you’re suddenly nervous about. His eyes remain focused straight ahead while yours constantly flit towards him, partly to gauge if he’ll start talking about last week’s meeting and partly to see his reaction about your dish.

“You don’t have to send or make me food, Ms. Cho,” he finally says, wishing he’d said it with a bit more warmth. 

But he’s not used to speaking that way, so it comes off as displeasure, as if he doesn’t appreciate what you’d done even if that’s exactly how he feels. He’s grateful; he just doesn’t want another reason to think that you actually care about him. 

“My health is my responsibility, not yours,” he adds.

“I, uh… I suppose that’s true,” you say even more softly. “I just thought it would be nice to be given something like this when you’re sick.”

And it’s the truth. During the times you were unwell, Hoseok would remind you to rest or take your medicines; he even bought you vitamins and it’s why taking them became a habit of yours. You barely had the energy to make soup. But after that one time when you braved through an event and Yoongi noticed you feeling under the weather, he took you to a noodle house and ordered extra chicken noodle soup for you to take home. You had it all through the weekend, and though it wasn’t like your mom’s, it was still something familiar, and it was comfort that you badly needed.

You thought it was something you could extend to Jungkook. You weren’t sure if he was spending the weekend at home by himself, but in case he was, you thought that something warm would help. You were on your way to watch a local film and happened to pass by his area, the image of him sick and probably alone prompting you to just buy that dish and leave it at the reception. You suddenly craved it and made one for yourself last night, thinking it wouldn’t hurt if you brought some over for him as well. Even if he thinks it isn’t your responsibility, you think it’s still within your role to make sure that your boss - the Vice President - conducts his functions properly, and he can only do so if he’s healthy. 

As you finish the small portion that you prepared for yourself, Jungkook wonders who’d taken care of you during the times you were sick. With your friends and family miles away, perhaps there wasn’t anyone. Maybe it was a boyfriend. Or maybe like what he’s come to see, you did things on your own. Maybe you think there’s no one doing that for him, too. 

And you wouldn’t be wrong. He was never good with company, after all, whether it was offering or keeping it. So when someone offers something as simple as a bowl of soup for when he’s feeling unwell, it cuts through the walls he’s built around himself because he’s become used to no one even knocking to check how he’s doing. 

But in an effort to remain unmoved and insistent on keeping his distance, he sets boundaries once more. 

“You don’t need to do this for me, Mr. Cho,” he states. “I appreciate it, but I’d prefer if you don’t do it again.”

He sees your face fall from his periphery, and much as he wants to take it back, he knows he has to hold back. It was hard enough to resist feeling cared for. 

He’d really spent the weekend by himself, turning down his friends’ invitation to go to a resort and Hoseok’s offer of dinner at this newly opened steak house. Jungkook was buried under the covers when the phone rang informing him that you’d left something for him, unwilling to move and get off the bed because he was too tired but also too hungry, so when he opened the bag and it registered to him what you've given him, he felt less alone and less sad for himself. The image of your shy expression flashed through his mind and he couldn’t help the smile he let out, giving himself only a minute to bask in your kindness before reminding himself that it means nothing more than making sure he’s well. It’s harder for you if he’s sick, he convinced himself. Still, he’d rather not think about it; he’d rather not torture himself by his brain wanting you to mean one thing, but his heart hoping it was another.

“I understand, Mr. Jeon,” you say, your voice a little too firm for his liking. “I apologize if it made you uncomfortable.”

“It—” didn’t, he wants to say. It made him feel nice and comfortable and that’s what he can’t let himself feel around you. 

“I treat this as part of my job,” you reason, a half lie because you really did want to extend some kindness even if he may not exactly be deserving of it. “But it may not be so for you. I’ll take note of this moving forward.”

Jungkook concedes. Any objection will counter what he’s been saying, even if he didn’t mean all of it. And like how you always do, you get over it quickly, flashing him a measured smile and taking out your iPad to go through this week’s schedule. 

You both head to the car after and discuss his previous meetings. You’re detailed and engaged, taking down notes and asking him questions like the professional that you are. He tells you about his meeting with artist Lee Jaemin and that he agreed with 80% of the pieces that you and Yoongi chose. You talk about the Board members’ reactions during his presentation and he shares what they talked to him about during the dinner. 

“Socializing with them was tiring,” he admits. “I couldn’t keep up with all the things that they wanted to talk about.”

You give him an assuring smile. “You looked like you did well,” you assure him. “They seemed engaged, although as Mr. Jung would say, part of that is for show, to get on your good side. It would be smarter to think that not all of it was genuine.”

“True. But I enjoyed speaking with Mr. Saito. He’s an architect, too, and we had a really good talk about incorporating traditional elements in a modern design.”

“Yes, he’s always been kind,” you say. “But it’s good that you’re able to forge these relationships. Perhaps it’s also new to them, seeing you in that light. I suppose they don’t know you all that much. It’s a nice change being able to engage with you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ah, well, it’s just during the company events that you attended, it wasn’t exactly hard to spot you,” you chuckle, seemingly comfortable now.

“And why is that so?” 

He turns to you, legitimately curious because he’d never really noticed you before, even if he knew you as Hoseok’s assistant. If he’s being honest, you didn’t even look familiar when you first met, and that just reinforces the fact that Jungkook didn’t really care for the other people around him, especially during those events he was required to fly to Seoul to attend. If he’d paid a bit more attention, maybe he wouldn’t have been caught off guard when he did finally meet you. Maybe he wouldn’t have been as rude, too.

“If I may, sir, it was quite easy to spot one of the Jeon sons always at the bar,” you chuckle. “Your father and cousin would often look for you and you were always in the same spot.”

You’d noticed him, Jungkook thinks to himself. He wonders what you’d thought about him then, but given how he hated those events, it probably wouldn’t be something good. He just always couldn’t wait to leave. 

“Ah. As you can tell, I’m not one who likes to socialize,” he says. “I don’t really know what to talk to people about. And I’m not that good with names nor faces. It was easier to keep to myself.”

“That’s understandable. But you already know that’ll have to change,” you remind him. “Half of what Mr. Jung did was attend events.”

“I know. He’s been preparing me for that. I need your help in that aspect, too, from remembering names to getting my energy up. Those are oddly what I’m most nervous about, if I’m being honest.”

“I’ll do what I can, Mr. Jeon,” you assure him. “I hope I can make things easy for you.”

You’ll never know the irony of your words, and perhaps the push and pull it brings about - as you try to make things easy for him, the harder it actually becomes on his end. 

You find yourself back at the tailor shop the next Thursday for Jungkook’s suit fitting, and if it wasn’t for Taehyung telling you that your gowns are ready, you would have totally forgotten that you had some dresses made as well. 

While Jungkook tries on his outfits, you’re instructed to choose several dress shirts that he’d be adding to his wardrobe, given the various functions he’d be attending from now on. You didn’t anticipate for this to be part of your role, but you don’t mind, as it’s a welcome change to what you normally do, which is attend meetings, bury yourself in paperwork, and everything else in between. At least you’ll be visiting the venue for the Arts Center event tomorrow, but today, you focus on the task at hand, which turns out to be harder than expected.

The options are endless. It doesn’t help that you have to envision Jungkook in each piece of clothing and that he looks good in every one of them, and that you have to imagine him at all. You see him everyday - and have seen him in as little as in just his gym shorts - and you don’t really want to have him in your mind as well. But how he presents himself is a big part of his new role, as Hoseok had told you. As the Vice President, Jungkook needs to look sophisticated and respectable, someone worthy to represent the company and the Jeon family name. 

You go for different hues of grays and blacks and other colors, too. There’s an olive green that looks really nice, and a few maroons and pinks that would add variety to his everyday look. You’re focused on making your choices, but your focus shifts to Jungkook when he comes out of the dressing room donned in a patterned  black suit. The fit is perfect and even with the distance between you two, you could spot impeccable details that make the outfit look elegant yet fresh. 

“This is for the gala,” Taehyung states. “What do you think, Ms. Cho?”

“It looks nice” is all you manage to say. 

It’s the only word you feel is neutral enough to describe him. Even if you could accept that Jungkook is handsome, you don’t exactly want to say so in front of him.

“I was going for something better than nice, but that should be fine, I guess. What do you think, Kook?”

“I like it. But don’t you think the sleeves are a bit too fit on my arms?” Jungkook asks his friend.

“Well, it’s not like you were flexing them when I was measuring you,” Taehyung playfully rolls his eyes. “But I can adjust it, since I doubt you’d take a pause on lifting weights anyway. It’s probably the material though so don’t worry, I’ll fix this. Okay, on to the next one.”

You return to your task at hand, choosing some patterned tops that are appropriate for less formal events, and you inform Taehyung who then says that he’ll have those made in Jungkook’s measurements. With your task finished, Taehyung instructs you to head downstairs so you could fit your gowns as well, and you follow in anticipation because these might just be the first and only custom-made pieces of clothing you’ll ever have the luxury of wearing.

A female staff assists you, making sure that the length and neckline are to your liking. The first outfit, the one for the Arts Center event, is an old rose sleeveless lace midi dress that looks even more gorgeous when worn. The gown for the Appointment Dinner is a black short-sleeved pleated piece that is both functional and fashionable, but it’s the last one - the one for the gala - that has your jaw dropping to the ground.

“Ms. Cho,” you hear Taehyung call out from outside the fitting room. “Is everything okay?”

“Y-yeah,” you stutter, unable to stop looking at yourself in the mirror and turning around to try to see every angle of the stunning dress. “It’s just, uh…”

“It’s what?” He asks worriedly. “Can you come outside so I can see?” 

You take a breath before pulling the heavy curtains open and find Taehyung and Jungkook standing not far away.

“It’s too pretty, Mr. Kim,” you say shyly. “I don’t think I can wear this.”

“Well, you will. Because it’s custom-made,” he points out. “And it looks gorgeous on you. It fits perfectly. I assume the others do as well?”

“Yes,” you smile, feeling like a fairytale princess who gets to wear a gown that her fairy godmother had made for her. “They’re just…”

“Exactly what you need as this guy’s right hand woman,” Taehyung finishes for you.

He gestures towards his best friend who seems expressionless and probably unimpressed by how you look. It’s not like you mind but it at least wouldn’t be humiliating if he just stood there looking uninterested.

“What do you think, Kook?”

“It looks nice,” Jungkook shrugs, repeating the words you’d used on him earlier. Shifting his gaze from you to Taehyung, he excuses himself. “I’ll head to the car, I have calls to make.”

“I’ll finish up here,” you say, turning around to go back to the fitting room.

Jungkook exits the shop and finally breathes, feeling like he’d suffocated inside because of how you looked. He’d wondered how the dresses turned out, curious about the designs because Taehyung didn’t want to show him; it’s a surprise, the man had said. And now Jungkook knows why. 

Stunning would be an inadequate word to use. The burgundy color of the gown made it look sophisticated on you, even more with the off-shoulder that showed off some of your features that he’d rather not think about. The flow was elegant, and he half wishes that he hadn’t thought of having these made only so he could avoid the moment earlier when he felt his throat dry up because of how beautiful you looked. 

He’s gonna have to get used to being rendered speechless every time, he thinks, but it’s not like it doesn’t happen everyday, anyway. Every morning that he finds you standing in his kitchen, donning the pencil skirt and blouse ensemble that assistants are recommended to wear, his mind short circuits. There’s something especially fresh and electrifying about you at the start of the day, and he always has to pull himself together and act normal around you without giving himself away. 

He can’t nurture the attraction, after all, even if he’s reminded of it during times like earlier, even more so when he gazes at you and you hold it, letting the tension build unconsciously. Because that’s what happened, as you pulled open the curtains and looked up. He wishes you were too shy to notice how long he had his eyes on you. But it’s why he had to get away. You’re too much for him sometimes, and he doesn’t know if you have any idea of how you affect him.

Jungkook stares at his phone, half hoping that an actual call would come to distract him. But nothing does, and he leans his head back and groans in frustration. What is it about you that makes him absolutely weak in the knees and stupid in the head? 

Back inside, you give Taehyung your address so he can have the gowns delivered to your apartment for your convenience. 

“Thank you again, Mr. Kim,” you say. “I wish I could do your creations justice.”

“You will. It’s in the confidence, so exude it, okay?”

“I’ll try,” you giggle. “Especially since those pieces will pretty much blow the Office of the VP’s budget.”

“Is that what Kook said? That these are budgeted under him?” Taehyung arches an eyebrow.

“Uh, yes, sort of. I just assumed because he’d pointed out that they were being made as part of my functions,” you explain. 

“Hmm. I know his office has a lot of money but these gowns would definitely blow up any contingency fund you have,” he chuckles. “So no, your assumption is wrong. Kook’s paying for all this.”

“What?” You exclaim. “But that’s— why?”

“Well, you do need these as part of your job, and he wanted to save you the inconvenience of spending for them. I mean, he did buy Lucas some suits, too. But between you and me, I think this is his way of apologizing to you, just in a very gallant way.”

“You mean unnecessary and undeserving,” you correct, still in shock that Jungkook is paying for all those, even if yes, he can easily afford them. 

“Nope, not at all. I know he’s been difficult to deal with and I’d like to apologize on his behalf, seeing that he’s terrible at doing it. I know it doesn’t make things better but at least it’s something you don’t have to worry about anymore.”

“Well, that does help a bit,” you smile, following him as he heads out the door. “But thank you again, Mr. Kim.”

“Off with the formalities,” he laughs. “It’s Taehyung. And you’re welcome. It’s the least I could do to somehow make up for my ass of a best friend.” 

“He’s not too bad. Not anymore, at least,” you counter. “I’ll go ahead. Have a good day, Taehyung!”

Jungkook manages to look down on his phone in time for you not to see him watch you talk freely and casually with his friend. That’s another person close to him who gets to experience how you’re like - joyful and warm, perhaps a little shy sometimes, but comfortable just the same. It’s something he’ll only see from afar; your positions necessitate some distance, but perhaps that’s better than not having you around at all. 

You enter the car and you’re back to being quiet and reserved, your eyes focused on the road while Jungkook, in an effort not to keep glancing at you, turns to his leather notebook and doodles some designs that pop in his head. It’s his way of calming himself down most days, helping him focus given that his mind is often filled with too many thoughts that he can’t express. He hopes that in drawing them, he can somehow rid himself of the feelings he’s locked in and it helps, as he’s somehow able to get over the tension from earlier and the tiniest bit of jealousy over your casual engagement with Taehyung.

You both return to the office, with Jungkook proceeding to his room to prepare for a lunch meeting and you follow, taking some signed documents that he’d left earlier.

“Mr. Jeon,” you say as he settles in his seat. “Thank you for the dresses. I… I’ve never had anything as beautiful as those and undeserving as I may feel, I’m just really appreciative.”

Jungkook isn’t prepared for the softness in your voice as you say the words, and like the consistent jerk that he is, he brushes it off.

“Taehyung made them; you should thank him. I just paid for them,” he utters, his tone stern and uncaring.

His eyes flit to you when there’s silence on your end, and he wishes they hadn’t. There’s resignation in yours, as if he’s shattering another moment you’re creating where you’re just being sincere and he’s being dismissive. It’s his default, he reasons, not just towards you but towards everyone. Normally he wouldn’t mind how the other would take it, but with you right now, he wishes he was so much better than this. 

You hold his gaze, as if trying to tell him things you don’t want to express. He’s not one to apologize, but he also won’t accept gratitude. You’re starting to think that what Jungkook can’t handle is any form of human connection. It’s something you struggle with at times, but you’re at least open to it, willing to accept kindness and appreciating people for what they have to offer. Jungkook deflects; he turns away. It seemed like it took so much for him to even verbalize needing your help and perhaps he was desperate; his reputation was on the line after all. But even then, he doesn’t give nor does he accept, and you wonder what made him that way. 

“Is there anything else?” He finally asks after a long beat of silence. 

“Nothing more,” you shake your head and excuse yourself. 

Returning to your desk, you look at Jungkook from your seat. There’s a hint of emptiness in his eyes that you often mistake for apathy. Perhaps there’s more and perhaps the help he really needs isn’t just about dealing with his father or remembering names or navigating relationships required for his role. Maybe it’s about opening himself up a little, or smiling when the situation calls for it, or not questioning other people’s kindness towards him. Maybe it’s about realizing he’s more than just this heir to the company or the playboy he’s known as. Maybe it’s about seeing that he’s capable of sincerity and gentleness as well.

You sigh to yourself. It’s probably a long shot but you only feel strongly about it because you know what it’s like to turn people away. If it hadn’t been for your family and friends, you probably would’ve continued to do so. Jungkook may be your boss but he’s human, too, and he may just be waiting around to see who’d be patient enough to extend a hand and let him know that he’s not alone, that someone understands, and maybe that someone is you.

The days fly by too quickly for your liking and you haven't been able to take a breath. You had a meeting with the organizing committee of the Appointment Dinner most of last Friday and you spent your weekend coordinating with the designers for the Arts Center launch. It’s been last minute preparations these past two days and before you know it, Wednesday has come. You stayed late the night before and were gladly checked in at the hotel with the other assistants, so you at least got a bit of sleep even if your body felt like it continued to stay awake. 

But tonight is important, as the newly appointed executives will be formally introduced to the corporation’s directors, shareholders, and subsidiary companies. You’ve been organizing this with the planning committee since the appointments were announced, and given that coordinating events like this is one of your primary tasks, you’re exhausted and excited and nervous all at once. But it’s the second time you’re doing this and you’ve learned so much since you did this for Hoseok. There’s more knowledge, sure, but there’s also more confidence. You also know enough to eat before the guests arrive and at 3PM, it’s exactly what you do, knowing you won’t have much else until the event ends.

The other employees compliment your dress, and you’re too shy to say who had designed it but you eventually do, knowing it’s good for Taehyung’s brand. But you don’t say much else, choosing instead to focus on the guest list as you’re tasked to do, and you go around the events hall to make sure that the VIP name cards are placed on their proper tables. You’re able to sneak bites of the canapes as you go, allowing yourself a flute of champagne for that kick you need to socialize with the guests tonight. 

You engage with the early birds when they arrive, guiding them to their seats and putting on your most welcoming smile. You get Mr. Ri’s message that they’re nearby, so you head outside and stand by the entrance and wait for them, knowing Jungkook would want to know how things are going.

He exits the car in a black suit and white top, a statement brooch adorning his classic coat. The strands of his long hair are tucked behind his ears and he looks even more polished than usual, a look that catches attention; it definitely catches yours. 

“Mr. Jeon,” you bow in greeting. “Some of your invited guests have arrived.” 

“Have you spoken to them?” He asks, as you walk slightly behind him towards the venue. 

“I have, and they’re looking forward to seeing you.” 

He nods, and just as he’s about to enter the hall, he stops and turns towards you. 

“You’re busy tonight, aren’t you?”

“Somewhat, sir,” you reply. “We all have our tasks but I’m free to move around. Do you need help with anything?”

“Just, uh, names.”

“I’ll always be nearby,” you assure him. 

Your smile gives him the comfort he needs. He’s been without it since yesterday afternoon, given that you had to prepare as part of the organizing committee. And while the support team and Yoongi have been encouraging, only you really know why every event such as this is important for him. 

Jungkook has already made gains with some of the Board members last week; this time, it’s about engaging everyone else - the staff, the partners, and key personalities in the industry. Hoseok and Ji-woo have done this before but it’s Jungkook’s first time. He’s no longer just an executive in the Southeast Asian office; he’s now the Vice President of the entire company. There’s a lot of pressure that comes from carrying the Jeon family name, and even more being the only one of the two sons who’s taking on such an important role. 

The event hall is grand. It’s pretty special, too. It’s one of the projects he worked on as part of the design department years ago before he left for Singapore, and the thought makes him stop. Perhaps this is the reason why his father chose this venue for tonight; if anything, it’s a reminder of what Jungkook is capable of. He takes a breath and looks around to soak everything in before approaching his invited guests - partners and consultants he worked with in his previous role. 

But that ends quickly, as many more people approach him for a greeting. 

Jungkook is a bit overwhelmed. He tries to hold eye contact when he speaks to them but he can only do so for so long. Some faces are familiar but the names escape him, and he starts to regret all the times that he flew here for events like this and never engaged with the other guests. If he had, perhaps this wouldn’t be so hard. 

There are those who introduce themselves, while there are those who don’t, perhaps assuming that he’d know who they are. Just like the couple who’s speaking to him excitedly, and he wants to return the energy by at least calling them by their names. His mind is blank, and just as he’s about to give up, he looks up and sees you, your eyes catching his as if you’re just waiting for his cry for help. 

There’s pleading in his eyes and you get it immediately, as you walk towards his direction then greet the pair next to him.

“Mr. and Mrs. Yamada,” you say. “It’s lovely to see both of you again. I saw in the news that you’re launching a new project with our partners from Dubai. That’s quite exciting.”

“Ah, Ms. Cho,” they greet you back. “Yes, all thanks to Mr. Jung who helped us with that partnership. We’re excited for it as well.”

“Oh, I’m sure. We’re looking forward to it,” you smile.

“Thank you. I’m pleased to know that you remain as the Vice President’s assistant,” Mrs. Yamada says. “Perhaps we can invite Mr. Jeon to one of our hotels in Japan? Or even in London?”

You turn to Jungkook who looks less tense than he did a few minutes ago.

“Ah, yes, that would be great, Mr. and Mrs. Yamada,” he responds. “I’m sure I’ll find time during one of my trips and I’ll definitely give you a call. Perhaps we can talk about projects we can work on as well.”

The excitement in the couple’s faces is a joy to see and for their sake, you really do wish that Jungkook makes good on his promise. You ask him about it after they leave, and he says that the names were familiar. Ji-woo’s talked about working with them before and that they’re long-time friends of the family, so he should maintain that relationship. 

A call of his name prompts both of you to look to the side, and he turns to you with a questioning face. 

“Mr. Adam’s an investor. Behind him is Professor Zhang from SNU. They’re friends of your father,” you tell him. Seeing Bitna signal for you, you say, “I have to check on something, Mr. Jeon. I’ll be back.”

You turn around to head to one of the tables, but you look back to watch Jungkook greet those who approach him, his smile becoming more natural as the moments pass by. You briefly meet with some staff about the musical guest and some other last minute adjustments. You greet Taehyung and Seokjin who show up to support their best friend, with both men complimenting how you look.

Knowing that Jungkook will be needing you again after, you call over Do-hyun and Yohan and delegate some of your monitoring tasks to them, and then stand by one of the tables as you watch the socialization take place as more guests come in.

Your eyes find Jungkook again as he’s engaged in a conversation with some Board members and other partners, and you smile a little at how he’s able to maintain eye contact and look like he’s actually interested, especially after he looks up and gives you a look as if to say that he’s trying his best. 

“Why are you watching him like some child who’s trying to make friends at the playground?” Chin-sun asks, the teasing tone of her voice making you chuckle. “He’s a grown man, you know? He can hold his own.”

“I know,” you reply, turning to her. “But it’s one of the many things that’s new about his role. And probably one of the more important ones. I just wanna let him know that he’s doing a good job.”

“Well, there’s no wife or girlfriend to do that. I guess that makes it your responsibility then.”

You disregard her comment’s implication and point out that Hoseok does that for Jungkook, too, but he’s just as busy and perhaps just as nervous as well. 

“It matters a lot to hear it. Plus, social events can be overwhelming and isolating at the same time. He’s still getting used to it,” you add.

The prolonged silence prompts you to turn to her.

“You know, I admire you for a lot of things,” she says. “Your ability to remain kind after everything is one of them. I mean, after how he treated you those first few weeks? That was tough.”

Your resigned face pushes her to continue. “Do-hyun could’ve gone on without telling me about seeing you cry and I still would’ve known. You tried to hide it but your smile always fell too fast and your eyes were just always sad. Must’ve been hard, trying to get the team on his side when you couldn’t do that for yourself.”

“I honestly don’t know how I survived that first month,” you laugh to mask the sadness from that experience. “But that’s in the past. He still has his moments but at least there are good ones now. I’m here to do my job. Being kind after everything is part of it.”

“I wish you didn’t have to keep it to yourself though,” she laments. “If we couldn’t help, we could’ve at least cheered you up.”

“I didn’t want to bring you guys into it,” you say. “The team was incredibly busy with so many things and I managed. That’s what matters.”

“Oh, ___,” she sighs. “You put so much of yourself in your job. I think that’s why the bosses trust you. But that takes so much out of you, too. Do you have anything left for yourself?”

“What’s left is right here, Chin-sun. I don’t think I know what I am outside of all this.”

“Doesn’t that bother you? I mean, I’ve worked with you for three years and I can’t say I really know you outside of this, too. And if you can’t… well, that’s something to think about.”

“And I have. It’s something I’ve asked myself, but trying to find the answer isn’t as easy as asking the question. So I just put all my energy into my work because where else would I? It at least pays the bills and lets me enjoy little luxuries every once in a while,” you reason. 

“Well, I know what learning who you are outside of this job would entail, and I’m a little selfish because I need you around,” she smiles. “No one does things the way you do, and that’s also why I figured that at some point, Mr. Jeon was gonna get himself together because he can’t afford to lose you. You’re so good at this, ___. He’s lucky you didn’t quit.”

“Apparently, it takes a lot to get me to quit,” you reply. 

Or I was just never brave enough to do it, you want to say. Asking the question is indeed always easier than finding the answer. 

“Let’s hope you find a way to find yourself without resigning. We can’t afford to lose you, too,” she winks. 

“I appreciate that, Chin-sun. Thank you.”

“Well, I think it matters that you know that you’re doing amazing. I hope he treats you as you deserve.”

He tries, you think to yourself. At least that’s what you hope. 

The call of your names from a familiar voice excites you, as A-yeong approaches you and Chin-sun. You engage in your usual hushed conversations until you see Jungkook in another sea of people and you decide to approach him, the relief on his face telling you that he’s indeed been needing you. 

It’s not your preferred crowd. Something you’ve learned in your years of attending these events is that you would smile and entertain them and men would think it’s an invitation to invade your personal space. A lingering touch on the elbow, a hand on your waist, standing a millimeter too close… and they disregard your uncomfortable look or attempts at stepping away. 

The man you’re introduced to is new but his ways aren’t, and you scan the hall to find Bitna who turns to you in time, the look you give her signaling another person to look out for. It’s a system they developed that they’ve filled you in on, and you immediately excuse yourself and check on the food served at the back even if you know they’re still well stocked. It at least allows you a breather. You’re not even a main actor but you’re tired as hell from socializing with people. 

It’s not long after when the event starts. Speeches and a performance take place while dishes are being put out, and it’s after the main course is served when Jungkook steps away from his seat. 

Choosing to stand towards the back before he’s called on stage to be introduced, he scans the hall and thinks about the work that the committee put in, including you, who had to deal with him while dealing with all this. He catches sight of you speaking with the other assistants, and he already knows there’s some planning going on. But like the last time, he felt you around even if you were busy; you held his gaze during the times he felt a little overwhelmed. 

“You ready?”

Yoongi’s voice is deep but calming, and Jungkook takes it as his friend’s way of encouraging him. 

“Not really, but I’ll manage.” 

“Good. You’ve got people on your side,” Yoongi assures him. “Like me. And especially her.”

He gestures towards the left where Jungkook sees you approaching them. Since you started working for him, he didn’t expect how easily he could find comfort in your presence. He went from wishing you were someone else, to wanting to distance himself from you, to constantly hoping you were around. Those last two could actually coexist, and they do. There’s still detachment as his means to combat the attraction - he tries not to care about you, to not get to know you, to remind himself of who you are in his life, but he still depends on you for support, for comfort, for stability. You make his life easier; you also make it feel less lonely. And every time you’re there is a moment where he feels like he could breathe, like the noise in his mind stills because he’s forced to focus on you; somehow, you captivate him that way. 

“Are you ready, Mr. Jeon?”

The contrasting tenderness of your voice gives him that boost and he nods despite the lingering nervousness.

“I guess so,” he huffs. “Let’s get this over with.”

He walks towards his seat up front while you stay behind with Yoongi who leads you to one of the free tables at the back. You both don’t say much to each other, focusing instead on the short speeches that Ji-woo and Hoseok give, both of them expressing their gratitude and giving previews of upcoming projects to look forward to. They’re masters at commanding a crowd, as evidenced by their engagement and loud applause at the end of it. You can already imagine Jungkook feeling even more nervous, knowing that’s not really his style, but you hope that your earlier encouragement lingers, as he walks towards the stage.

He delivers his speech flawlessly. Knowing him the way you do, you could tell he let his vulnerability shine through, even if it may not seem much to everyone else. The teaser about the Arts Center gets people excited, which he builds up on. He even slides in a few jokes that surprisingly get the audience entertained. 

A small smile paints your face and from next to you, Yoongi chuckles in almost disbelief. 

“Is it safe to say you’re proud of him?” He asks, as Jungkook walks down the stage and CEO Jeon takes the mic. 

“You could say that,” you turn to him. “It’s silly, considering how things started. I… I didn’t think I’d be genuinely rooting for him, you know? But I am. I really want him to do well.”

“That’s good to hear, ___. I guess it means that things really are changing and he’s treating you better.”

“I think they are,” you hum. “I mean, not the best, but I also don’t know what that’s supposed to look like. I guess I’m just understanding who he is a little bit better now. And I think that makes the difference.”

“Like I said, he’s not a terrible person. He just needs… someone to be patient with him, someone to show him kindness,” Yoongi says. “I think that’s what he lost along the way. He stopped being that way to himself and so did people. They just didn’t want to upset him, but they also didn’t give or show anything more.”

“You think so?”

“Why do you think it’s so hard for him to forge even the simplest and most basic connections?” Yoongi questions. “They lack meaning for him. I think he’s forgotten what that’s like. Without sincerity or kindness, without intensity or honesty, there’s just… emptiness. Everything is fleeting for him.”

“And you’re telling me this, why?” You eye him curiously. 

“Because I think your kindness did something to him.”

“And that is?”

“He’s showing a bit of that to himself, too. And I guess to others as well,” Yoongi explains. 

“I’m a mere assistant doing her job, Yoongi,” you shake your head. “It’s a little selfish but I do what I can to appease him and to make our relationship good enough to make this job bearable for me. If it makes him a better person, good for him and better for me. I’ll just keep doing it then.”

Your friend’s silence prompts you to turn towards him. He seems to be in deep thought, perhaps analyzing what you’d just said, which he tends to do. 

There’s no lie in your statement. You’d done your part of standing up to Jungkook at the start; you at least got to show you were capable of fighting for yourself in that sense. But after that, you learned that keeping things in and letting him see how his actions affect you works as well. You show kindness because it’s natural for you, but also because it keeps the peace, it keeps both of you stable. 

But you can also admit that you do all that because wanting him to know that he’s got you on his side is a way to tell yourself that you’ve got people rooting for you, too, even if you’re not the best at keeping relationships nor keeping people close. You show Jungkook what you want to experience from people; you make him feel what you want to feel. Maybe that makes you selfish. You think it also makes you human.

It’s not something you tell Yoongi, though. But maybe with the way he looks at you assuringly, you suppose he knows it, too.

The event finally ends and the guests start exiting the venue. You bid them goodbye while instructing some in-house staff about cleaning up. Mr. and Mrs. Jeon greet you on their way out, commending you for your work along with the others, and it’s their encouraging smiles that remind you of one of the reasons why you stick to this job. They’re people you don’t want to disappoint as well, and seeing them satisfied is always a good thing. 

“Hey, you’re officially off the clock,” Bitna reminds you. “A couple of us are staying for closing, remember?”

“Right,” you smile. 

They have a day off tomorrow because of tonight but it’s not something you can afford, given that you’ve got the Arts Center event one a week from now. It’s almost midnight and you’d have to be up in 5 hours.

“I’ll get going then. I’ll just say goodbye to— oh, Mr. Jeon,” you say, finding him just as you were about to look for him. “Is there anything I can help you with before I leave?”

“Oh, there’s nothing. Just, uh, how are you getting home?”

“A cab,” you answer. 

Yoongi nudges your arm from next to you with a pout on his face. “Yah! I’ll take you home. It’s not safe to take a cab this late.”

“Yes, that’s preferable, Ms. Cho,” Jungkook says. “It’s been a long night.”

“Okay, sir,” you nod. “And it has. You also did really well. I didn’t expect the jokes but they were obviously a hit. Yoongi laughed, that’s how I know.”

“You laughed, too,” Yoongi points out.

“I’m glad it worked, then,” Jungkook says. “You can get going. You can also report to my place at 8AM to give you more time to rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Jungkook heads out and rushes to the car where Mr. Ri drives him home. His mind is still buzzing from what transpired but he’s glad he managed like he said he would, like you believed he would. 

And amidst the relief that he did well and the nervousness from having to do something similar again next week, there’s you, a vision that he quickly shakes off and one he finds himself seeing after every big and small thing that he does. 

Your warm shower and your bed have never felt this good, only because you’re as tired as you are and you want nothing more than the weekend to come. But you’ve got a few more stressful days ahead of you and you try to push through them one at a time.

You go to Jungkook later than usual that Thursday then spend much of the entire day meeting with him and the team about next week’s event. You conduct a visit to the venue the next day and then spend the weekend answering guests’ queries and helping Chin-sun coordinate with suppliers. Monday and Tuesday have you going from one place to another and hopping from one meeting to the next, all while balancing your executive assistant and events manager responsibilities. 

It’s incredibly tiring, but you also won’t deny the exhilaration you feel. There’s something so satisfying about seeing everything come together, especially as you look around the venue - an industrial commercial space that Jungkook and Yoongi jointly designed specifically for tonight. The high ceilings allow for the large panels that project the Arts Center design, with bright lights Illuminating the curated sculptures and art pieces placed around. The space elicits a feeling of newness and familiarity, of hollowness and clarity. There’s integration of traditional and modern elements and essentially, of history and emergence. 

It leaves you quite breathless as you look around. It’s not even the Arts Center itself but you know that this is the emotion that Jungkook wants the guests to feel. He wants them to be in awe, to look on in excitement. 

“It’s pretty great, huh?” Yoongi asks next to you. “Worth all the hard work.”

“It is. Design and logistics did amazing in putting this together,” you say, given that you’ve spent the entire day working with both teams to set this up.

“Well, Jungkook’s vision is captivating to begin with. It really makes a difference when you’re led by a creative mind. Selling the idea won’t be so hard in a place like this.”

“I really hope so. We’re banking on the artists for exposure. There are gonna be articles about it, too. The whole process is being documented and that makes the final product much more exciting,” you explain. “I… I actually feel really good being a part of this. I’m glad I didn’t quit after that first week.”

Yoongi laughs along with you, knowing now that that experience no longer bothers you the way it used to. But he’s glad about it, too, not only because he selfishly wants you around but even more, he knew that you needed this, that you needed to feel redeemed in Jungkook’s eyes and in yours. Yoongi hopes that as the project goes on, you’ll learn more about yourself and what you want, what you’re good at, what you can give, and what makes you happy. 

“That makes both of us. I’m sure Jungkook thinks so, too,” Yoongi replies.

“Well, we’ll never know because he’ll probably never admit it but it’s a good thought,” you smile. “As long as we maintain this unproblematic dynamic, I’m good.”

“Speaking of which, where is he?”

“On the way,” you say. “He had a meeting to attend and he said he’ll be fixing up here. He should be here in a few minutes.”

Do-hyun approaches you about the photographer and you excuse yourself, instructing Yohan next to her to lead Jungkook to the waiting room when he arrives. 

Jungkook steps into the venue and like he’d hoped, he feels the energy as he takes it all in. There’s a lot of possibility as he looks around, and that’s what he wants the guests to see. He wants the artists to envision their own pieces displayed; he wants the creatives to imagine fashion shows and photo shoots and videos that come to life; he wants people to see the potential of an Arts Center beyond just looking at art pieces.

But underneath the pride is nervousness. There will be important personalities coming today and it’s his opportunity to engage with them, to make them want to be a part of this. Talking about the details of the project would be easy; it’s connecting with them that’s a challenge. He had last week’s Appointment Dinner as a trial and like you said, he did well. It’s tonight that matters so much more to him. He supposes that what happens will set the trajectory for how the promotion of the Center will go, so making a good first impression is crucial. 

Yohan approaches him and leads him towards the waiting room where his outfit, which Taehyung had pressed and sent over here, hangs on a rack. There are two magazine publications that will feature this event and both include an interview with him and some photos. 

Jungkook starts dressing up, knowing he’ll be called for those not long from now. He looks at himself in the mirror and the uncertainty fills him again. It’s not the look he would’ve gone for but his best friend was adamant that an event like this calls for something new. With his trousers and fitted shirt on, Jungkook breathes in and out, and it’s at the same time when there’s a knock on the door and your call of his name suddenly makes him nervous. 

You enter, stopping as you shut the door, your eyes a little wide, and look at him. You’re a sight to behold in your floral-laced dress and if he was anxious seconds ago, he’s even more now.

“I knew I should’ve stuck to the classic,” Jungkook sighs at your unmoving form. 

“What—what do you mean, Mr. Jeon?” You ask, finally finding your voice. 

“You’re not saying anything,” he frowns. “Tonight probably wasn’t the best time to show up in an outfit like this.”

“And why is that?” You wonder, walking closer to him now. You try to calm your racing heart because Jungkook looking this good in a checkered flared trouser and white v-neck shirt was not something you expected. “You look…”

“Pretentious?” He chuckles, shaking his head and bending towards the mirror, his angled body making you feel even hotter.

You’ve long accepted that Jungkook is a very handsome man. It’s probably why it was more frustrating despising him and, like Soomin said, also satisfying. He’s got a perfect mix of boyish and manly features with his doe eyes and chiseled jaw; the aura of confidence and nonchalance perhaps add to that as well. It also doesn’t help that he has a really good physique, something you’d seen on his first day on the job and one you’d denied affected you. You’d gotten used to it somehow. Hard as it was to suppress those thoughts every time you fixed his tie or watched him walk about his penthouse in his gym clothes, you managed. You’ve always been professional, and you’ve always reminded yourself to not let it affect you.

But tonight, it’s just hard not to, especially with the way his biceps are popping out of those short sleeves; and if the shirt were an inch tighter, you’d probably be able to trace his toned chest and abs as well. He’s cut his hair, too, slick and pushed back as if he's starring in some western rockstar film. 

“Good…” you manage to say after what seemed like minutes. “The outfit looks good on you, sir. It’s new and fresh, not like the usual formal attire that screams ‘businessman who only wants profits.’ This is posh and stylish. It makes you look more approachable.”

“This is what would make me look approachable?” He asks incredulously.

“Actually, a smile would,” you say too quickly, earning you a laugh. “But this works, too. It fits with the theme.”

“That’s what Tae said, too,” Jungkook sighs. “He insisted that at least for these Arts Center-related events, I should dress a little more boldly and more interesting, things I definitely am not but, well, I couldn’t counter him when he said that my usual prints and styles make me look like I’m just going to a meeting or some business conference.”

“And he’s not wrong,” you point out, walking closer to him. “You don’t need anything eccentric, just something exciting. This is simple yet sophisticated.”

“Have you seen the coat?” He asks, gesturing to the rack when you say no.

“Oh. There’s a corsage,” you say, admiring the matching brown checkered piece.

“An oversized one,” he rolls his eyes. 

“It looks pretty.”

“That’s what he said, too.”

“If you don’t like it, why didn’t you tell him during the fitting?”

“I did like it but it’s Tae - he’s good at convincing people that they look good. And I probably thought that, too. But he’s not yet here and he’s gonna be late so right now, all I can think about is that I’ll look ridiculous.”

“Well, that makes one of us,” you say, surprising him. “If what I think matters, then you’d have to take my word for it. The outfit looks good. It captures people’s attention and that’s what you need. You’re just gonna have to follow this up with similar styles but that wouldn’t be a problem. Just carry yourself with confidence. It’s what Mr. Kim would say.”

“I know. He texted that same line to me five times today.”

“He’s your best friend, Mr. Jeon. I’m sure he’s looking out for your best interest.”

“True, but then again, we were forced to become friends when we were young so who knows?”

You laugh at his words. “Is that so?”

“Our fathers are best friends so we spent a lot of time together,” Jungkook shares. “We were all so different and we got on each other’s nerves but I guess that made us closer. I… I wasn’t close to my brother so I just stuck with those who stuck around. It’s a good thing they turned out to be decent people.”

“They’re very kind, I should say.”

“Yeah. It sucks that their kindness didn’t rub off on me,” he says as he holds your gaze.

The tension rises as you look back at him. It’s hard not to fall into his eyes, and you’re thankful for the knock on the door and Yohan’s voice on the other side saying that the interviewer is ready for Jungkook now. 

“Five minutes,” you call out, breaking the moment and retrieving his last piece of clothing. 

You assist him in wearing his coat and just like reflex, you immediately fix the sleeves and adjust the corsage that isn’t actually that big. You look at him from head to toe and see Taehyung’s vision. There’s something captivating about Jungkook in this fit; it makes him intriguing and someone to look out for. You suppose that was the intention.

“Respectable enough?” He asks worriedly once you meet his eyes.

“Respectable enough,” you affirm, hoping your smile can give him the encouragement he needs. 

You open the door and let the first set of crew in. You watch on as they interview and take snapshots while your own team from the marketing department capture what’s happening as well. 

Jungkook sits cross-legged on the sofa, his eyes looking out into the distance as he absorbs the questions and thinks of his answers. He gesticulates as he responds, something you noticed him only ever do about topics that seem very important to him. He’s done it during meetings with the team and with Yoongi, and you suppose there’s that level of honesty that he shows then. His responses are thoughtful and profound, as the questions revolve around the type of art pieces to be displayed, how culture can be celebrated and respected, and what the public can look forward to once the Center is open to everyone. 

The next interviewer starts off with the practical questions before moving to the technicalities of the design and structure such as the materials used, the techniques utilized in renovating such a massive complex, and how the Center itself represents art and culture. This is when Jungkook fully relaxes. You see it in his body language, in the softness of his expressions, and in the mellow tone of his voice as he discusses in terms you don’t fully understand but somehow still make you feel like you know exactly what he’s talking about.

It’s different seeing him in this way. Your team vetted these interviewers and publications and they seem sincere about their articles and so you know they aren’t there to judge; Jungkook knows they aren’t there to scrutinize him. He’s not there to impress them or even to sell the idea; he just wants to share it, to make it known, to narrate the process of this project that may still be in its very early stages but which has lived in his mind for years.

He may not always be good with words but you can tell that he finds them when the ideas are clear to him. He’s able to articulate what he sees in his mind and there’s something captivating about that. There’s a lot you can learn from him, you think, and if what you develop after having stayed this long is even just a fraction of his creativity, then you’d feel accomplished. 

You can tell even more now how important this is to him, especially when he emphasizes the individual’s need and desire for connection and how he wants the Center to be a hub for that, or perhaps its creator. You wonder if he knows so much about it, or if, like you, it’s something he also constantly seeks. 

You’re so focused on taking him all in that you don’t notice that you’ve been staring. Your eyes fall on his fingers, waving about as he draws imaginary pictures; they land on his lips, pink and dry as they utter words that are perhaps the most he’s said, and suddenly, his voice is the most comforting it’s ever sounded to you. You look upwards and that’s when you notice it - his eyes are on you just as yours are on him yet he continues talking, and you hold onto it for a few seconds before you feel the heat reach your cheeks. It feels like a burn and you snap out of the spell-like feeling you were caught in as you turn away now and try to catch your breath.

You hadn’t meant to stare but you were drawn to him at that moment, and as he talked about how the designs reflect the tangibility yet elusiveness of human connection, you found yourself drowning in his words and in the way he said them. He’d caught you before you could look away, and you decide that the only way to go about it is to pretend it didn’t happen.

And that’s what you do, as you remain on your spot with your eyes scanning the room, no longer focused on him.

The interview ends right as Chin-sun enters to say that some guests have arrived. You instruct her to entertain them first with Manager Lee as you wrap up in here and it’s not long after when you’re left with Jungkook once again.

“Was that good?” He asks, his gaze on you as you look elsewhere.

“It was. You seemed more relaxed,” you state, unnecessarily fixing the couch to distract yourself. “That’s a good way to start the evening, Mr. Jeon. I’m sure the guests would enjoy speaking with you tonight.”

“That’s what I hope,” he replies. “I’ll need you close to me to keep track of scheduled meetings or any invitations. I’d also like them to be familiar with you as my assistant so they know who to reach out to in case I’m not available.”

“Of course, sir,” you say, turning around to face him again, suddenly feeling nervous about the intensity of his look. “I’ll take note of all those.” 

He nods then exits the room and you follow. You trail him as he starts to greet the guests one by one.

There are heads of private foundations and curators. There are creative directors from entertainment agencies and some art enthusiasts. There are artists and authors and poets, all of whom are intrigued and seemingly excited about what’s in store. 

Jungkook heads to the front after being introduced by Manager Lee and takes his time to introduce the project, utilizing the panels and all of the interiors’ walls to showcase the design virtually. He presents his plans and the role of artists, creatives, creators, and consumers. It’s a half hour speech that ends, followed by a light sit-down dinner that Jungkook takes advantage of to engage with the guests. 

He first greets the deputy minister of the arts and culture ministry and then Mr. Saito, who’d likewise brought some of his artist friends from Japan. 

You then follow Jungkook around as instructed, taking notes on your phone in between to list all the upcoming meetings and other activities scheduled on the spot. You’ve somehow developed this skill with Hoseok but it still doesn’t get any easier. The fact that so many of them want to touch base with Jungkook after his pitch says a lot about how well he did and how much it resonated with the people he wanted to connect with. 

Based on your notes, you can already tell it’s gonna be incredibly busy moving forward, and the thought suddenly makes your head hurt. But you push through, knowing there are more people to meet with, even with Chin-sun and Manager Lee entertaining half of them. 

Jungkook takes the stage again to introduce some of the artists whose works will be displayed in the Arts Center, and he gives them time to talk about their pieces and what drew them into the project. The company head who’s been contracted to create the products for the souvenir shop also speaks, and as they share, you feel the excitement heighten. The opening is still a long time from now but things seem so clear and so certain, and you know that was because of Jungkook - because he demands the same level of excellence he practices from others, because he’s committed to his vision and he makes sure to see it through. 

More engagement takes place, and your only breather is when Jungkook decides to talk to his father and then Hoseok but after that, you’re back to following him around and running out of calling cards for people to keep and call you in the future. 

The last of the remaining guests finally leave at 10PM. You look around and the art pieces are being carefully wrapped for transport. The panels remain but Do-hyun and Yohan will be returning in the morning to pack everything up. Slowly, you start to feel the soreness creep in and the headache intensify but you shake all the pain off. There are two more days left for the week and you just have to power through them to survive. 

“You sure you don’t want me to drive you home?” Chin-sun asks as she readies to leave.

“I live on the other side of the city from you. From all of you,” you remind them. It’s really the only reason why you don’t hitch a ride with them, especially considering that they have families and pets they go home to. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

“What about Yoongi?” Jungkook asks, surprising you because you thought he’d been on the phone. “Can’t he drive you?”

“He left an hour ago, Mr. Jeon,” you reply. “He has that early morning flight to Jeju tomorrow.”

“Mr. Ri can drive you home after he drops me off,” Jungkook says. “It’s too late in the night and it might be hard for you to get a cab.”

“Okay, sir. Thank you,” you mumble, waving everybody goodbye as you follow him towards the car. 

You get inside and find him sitting in the backseat, his coat removed and his head rolled back. You can tell all the socializing drained his energy again, and you’d hate to remind him that there’s a Property Expo next week that his father assigned him to attend, as well as a Partners’ Fellowship Dinner where he has to deliver another speech. You decide to do so in the morning instead and let the soft sounds of the radio soothe your mind.

“I think tonight was a success,” he mutters, prompting you to turn towards him. “Everyone I spoke to seemed excited.”

“They were,” you affirm. “They wouldn’t be scheduling meetings with you if they weren’t.”

“That’s true,” he hums. “That’s one major event down and several more to go.”

“I hope the team was able to show you how well we work together, Mr. Jeon. And that like me, they’re all on your side.”

Jungkook lets your words settle. He agrees. The team was like a well-oiled machine. Each member knew their roles and performed their tasks excellently. And there was you, of course, handling every one of his instructions and requests with grace. You looked really beautiful doing it, too, and he doesn’t know if he wants to thank or curse Taehyung for designing another dress that makes you stand out from the crowd because that’s what happened tonight - everywhere Jungkook looked, it seemed like all he could see was you.

He shakes away the thought, knowing that constantly acknowledging his attraction towards you would just make things harder for him the way that denying it would, and while he doesn’t have a solution for that either, he supposes that not acknowledging it at all would be the best option. 

So he focuses on the team instead, and he feels comforted to know that they worked hard because they knew how much tonight mattered to him, as Do-hyun expressed earlier. 

“I’m glad they are,” he finally replies. “I… I still don’t think I’m their favorite person but as long as they don’t despise me anymore, then I’m satisfied with that.”

“They don’t,” you counter, although even you’d know that’s a half-lie.

“They do. Or did, at least,” he laughs dryly. “It’s easy to stay unnoticed outside of the team’s office, you know?”

The tinge of sadness in his eyes confirms what you’re thinking - he’s heard some of the team conversations about him. And while you’d argue that they’re not vile or anything close to that, you also know that talking about him not smiling or not expressing his gratitude are things you shouldn’t be saying behind his back. Even if they’re true.

“I”m so, so sorry, Mr. Jeon. We–”

“It’s okay, it’s not a big deal,” he interjects. “I mean, it’s not like I haven’t given you reasons to feel that way. You all did go from Hoseok to me and that’s quite the downgrade in terms of camaraderie and stuff.”

“We still didn’t have the right to say those things. And no, I’m not agreeing that you’re a downgrade,” you clarify. “Like you said, you and your cousin are very different.”

“I did. And that’s why I’m not surprised, is all I’m saying. But despite all that, the team did amazing tonight. Not like I’d expect they wouldn’t because they prefer someone more joyful or expressive, but it… it was also nice to see them enjoying themselves. I hope you did, too.”

“It was a memorable experience, Mr. Jeon,” you say. “It’s something new. The previous projects and events we handled were either residential or commercial in nature and our creativity wasn’t pushed as far as the Arts Center is doing. And we all appreciate that, even if we may not show it.”

“That’s good. At least there’s still something that you’re all getting out of this.”

There’s a sadness in his voice that you’re hearing for the first time. You don’t know what about tonight that’s making him vulnerable and honest with you. Perhaps it’s all the talk about human connection that he seems to struggle with, and maybe he’s realizing now that even with the team performing as well as they are, there’s still something lacking in soul and emotion that he thinks is because of him. 

Whatever it is, you hope that he doesn’t let it bring him down too much. Working closely with him, you’ve come to see more of him despite his efforts to keep those layers unpeeled and you’ve come to understand him a little more. You’ve forgiven him in the process, too. The team is still adjusting and you know it’s your job to bridge that gap. You’ll just have to figure out how. 

You let the silence end the conversation, not knowing what else you can say to comfort him at this moment. But you try though, as the car stops in front of his building and you call his name right before he closes the door.

“Yeah?” He asks, looking curiously at you. 

You almost forget what you’re about to say as he’s bent forward, his arm propped on the car roof, the surrounding lights highlighting the features of his face. 

“You did great tonight, too. And I learned a lot from you. Thank you for guiding us, sir.”

He’s left speechless, as he holds your gaze for a moment before nodding and closing the door. Mr. Ri drives away and you look back to see Jungkook walk slowly towards the building entrance, briefly looking your way before disappearing inside. 

You arrive at the office the next morning at 9AM with a splitting headache, your body dragging itself towards your chair as you try to maintain balance and get yourself together. Jungkook had messaged late last night that he was going to have a breakfast meeting with his father so you could go straight to work, and given last night’s late finish, you could come at a later time as well.

That gave you another two hours of sleep, which you were thankful for considering the terrible state you were in when you woke up. Your body felt sore and the dryness of your throat signaled that you’re about to get sick - it was just a matter of when it was going to fully kick in. It’s how your body reacts to stress, a pattern you noticed since you started working in the company. It’s usually after succeeding weeks of late nights and big events when you give in - the headaches start then the sore throat; not long after, the fever hits and you’d have to spend days just doing nothing until you’ve expelled the exhaustion away. 

On rare occasions, your mother or friends come, knowing you’d be too sick to make yourself some food. But they don’t always have that luxury. They have their own lives, too, lives that they just happen to have far away from you. But it’s why it mattered that you gave Jungkook that noodle soup when he was unwell. You know what it’s like to be sick and hungry and completely helpless, and you had a feeling that just like yourself, he’d deal with it on his own. You’ll probably have to stock up on food tonight to get you through the next few days; you just hope you haven’t completely fallen apart by then.

You take your medicines and try to focus on your tasks for this morning, scheduling meetings and screening photos from last night to be used for marketing purposes. Needing some tea, you head to the pantry and briefly check in with the team before heading back. You see that Jungkook has just arrived, as he accompanied his father to one of their project sites after their meeting. He calls you over and asks if Do-hyun and Yohan have come back from fixing things at last night’s venue.

“Yes, sir, they just got here,” you reply. “Everything’s been stored properly and Chin-sun’s working on the payments already.”

“Good,” Jungkook responds. “It’s lunchtime though, so you should all grab a meal. There’s a French restaurant that just opened a block from here. I heard it’s got great reviews, so take the team there and have them order anything they want. You can just use your card to pay but it’s under the office’s budget.”

“Okay, sir. Uhm, that sounds great,” you manage to say, excitement filling you because you spent the other night watching review videos of that restaurant on YouTube and immediately told Jimin and Soomin that you’ll be eating there when they visit you the next time. “What about you though? Aren’t you joining us?”

“I… Well…”

“You don’t have any other scheduled meeting other than the one we’ll have as a team at 2:30.”

“I don’t have to go,” he answers. “You all worked hard and deserve to enjoy yourselves and I don’t think that’ll happen if I’m around. We can all debrief during the meeting but lunch is your time to get together and bond as a group.”

“You’re part of that group, too, Mr. Jeon. You are our boss,” you counter.

“Exactly.”

“But Mr. Ju–” you stop, not wanting to draw another comparison, which you said you’ll stop doing.

“I know. Hoseok would join you for lunch or dinner and the team enjoyed his presence,” Jungkook states. “I don’t think that’s the case with me. This isn’t me putting myself down but… you know that I don’t really… do things like that. I’m still learning that part of the role and I don’t want to spoil their fun.”

“You can’t really speak for the team though,” you point out.

“Well, you represent them to me. Am I wrong to assume all that?”

“No, but I think it would be a good opportunity to prove to them otherwise,” you advise.

Jungkook sighs, knowing you’ve got a point. But he insists, claiming that he’s still figuring out the team and how to relate with them. 

“I understand, Mr. Jeon,” you concede. “How about your lunch?”

“I’ll manage. You can all go ahead so you can get back on time.”

“We will. Thank you. I already know they’re going to enjoy it.”

The team is ecstatic when you tell them about lunch plans. They also only wonder about Jungkook’s presence once they’ve ordered and perhaps they’re still figuring him out, too. Much of their engagement with Jungkook is through meetings, as none of them, save for Manager Lee, feel comfortable or even free enough to just approach him. They also don’t know much about his interests or his quirks, and that puts you in the same boat as them. 

You said once that you’re not sure if you’ve gotten used to him already. Maybe slowly you are, as you look around and wish that he was here to experience this, too. Somehow you just think he’d love the duck confit dish that you eventually order for yourself. Maybe you can let him know, and he can order it on his own time. 

Lunch ends with everyone on a high from the delicious meal. Even you forget how terrible you’re actually feeling and let the laughs and scrumptious food compensate for the fatigue. 

You get back to the office and head to Jungkook as the rest of the team prepares the conference room for the meeting. You see a half-eaten sandwich on his desk and hate to think that it’s all he had while you enjoyed a fancy lunch that he ordered you all to have. He seems to pick up your thoughts as your eyes flit from him to his food and he affirms you that he’s not that hungry, given the heavy breakfast he had this morning.

“How was lunch?” He asks. 

“It was great. The food was really good. I had the duck confit that I think you’ll like and… uh, they were asking where you were.”

“They were?” 

“Yeah,” you respond. “They were wondering why you didn’t join us.”

“What did you say?”

“That you were on a conference call,” you say. You didn’t like that you had to lie to them about it, but you also didn’t want to use that time to talk about Jungkook behind his back again. “Yohan said that it’s understandable; you’re always busy and he doubts you get a break while you’re here.”

“Oh. Well, he’s not wrong.”

“We had a good time though, and I’m sure they’ll tell you later but thank you. It’s nice seeing the team enjoy themselves. I wish you could see it, too.”

“Maybe one day,” he says sullenly, standing up right after to head to the meeting with you.

The room quiets down when you both arrive and Jungkook feels once more the shift in their disposition once he joins them. He can’t fault them for it knowing that’s because of him, but as time passes and the more he talks about the value of human connections - which the Arts Center aims to foster - the more he starts to think of exactly what he’s missing by keeping himself too far a distance from everyone else around him. 

His father tries, he can tell. Most of their breakfast or lunch or dinner meetings aren’t actually meetings, and he supposes it’s just his old man’s way of spending time with him by disguising it as something work-related, knowing that Jungkook wouldn’t be into it if it wasn’t. His mother asks him over to their house on some weekends for lunch, her own way of reconnecting with him after years of being apart, but even with that, Jungkook just gives the bare minimum. 

He doesn’t not like them; he just stopped being close to them at some point and he didn’t really care to mend it as he grew older. The women he sleeps with don’t count since he doesn’t even really talk to them, and other than Taehyung and Seokjin, and occasionally Yoongi, who keep up with his attitude, there really isn’t anyone else whom he thinks enjoys his presence enough to want to have him around. 

He doesn’t know about you though, but he makes an educated guess and thinks there’s not much of him you’d miss just like anyone, and while the thought stings a bit, it’s one he tries to live with.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Jeon,” Manager Lee greets and implores the others to do the same. “Thank you again for lunch. It was really delicious and pretty fancy. I wish I’d worn a prettier tie than the one I have right now.”

“Your tie looks fine, Manager Lee,” Jungkook replies.

“Ms. Cho said you were busy, that's why you weren’t there,” Do-hyun boldly says. “Hopefully next time you can join us. I mean, not to assume you’ll treat us again, although that would be nice, but–” 

“Do-hyun just wanted to say thank you,” Chin-sun butts in. “And that we understand you have so many things going on, Mr. Jeon, so hopefully, when you have time in the future, you can join us for a meal, too.”

“That, uh, that would be fine, yes,” he mumbles, taking his seat and avoiding looking at everyone except you. “Let’s start the meeting.”

You’re there for over two hours, rehashing the entire process, given that it’s the first event out of many that the team organized. Jungkook is generous in complimenting everyone, including you, and he gives updates on the interest generated and all the artists he’ll be meeting in their respective studios as a result. 

The Ministry of Culture minister likewise pledged support, promising a linkage with the international media festival organizers like Jungkook had hoped. You’ve all accomplished so much in so little time, but the rest of the timeline shows that there’s still so much ground to cover. You plan the next steps and then spend half an hour talking about the other small projects that the VP’s office is managing before Jungkook adjourns the meeting and orders you all to head home to get some rest while he stays behind to work some more.

You follow him this time, trying your best to be stable as you take the bus home. You manage to buy some beef bone soup on the way for dinner, and once that’s all finished and you take a long hot shower to hopefully get rid of the stress in your body, you plop down on your bed and fall asleep with no warning at all. 

You wake up in the middle of the night, your clogged nose keeping you from breathing. With puffy eyes, you search for your eucalyptus inhaler and take your medicine before going back to bed and hoping that when you wake up, you’ll feel less terrible than you do right now. 

But you don’t, as you wake up to your alarm not long after and feel even worse. Your body is sore, your head feels heavy, and it’s a struggle to even turn to your side to try to pull yourself off the bed. Knowing there’s no way you’ll manage today, you call Mr. Ri and inform him that you’re unwell and can’t make it to work. 

“I can’t even type nor talk properly right now,” you tell him. “Can you–”

“I’ll tell Jungkook, don’t worry,” he assures you. “And just to remind you, you’re sick, okay? So stay in bed, don’t do chores or anything, and don’t think about work for even a second. You hear me? And update me on how you are.”

“Yes,” you cough out. “Thank you.”

You lie underneath the covers and hope to the heavens that more sleep would make you feel a bit of relief and it does, given that when your phone rings five hours later, you don’t feel like your head is splitting apart. 

“Good, you’re awake,” Mr. Ri says on the other end after you greet him. “Can you open your door?”

“Okay, just give me a few minutes. I’m exceptionally slow this morning.”

Mr. Ri laughs but tells you to take your time. You put on a hoodie over your gray sweatpants and briefly wash your face before opening the door. 

“Work’s got to you, huh?” He asks worriedly as he stands in front of you. “Is it bad enough to warrant a visit to the hospital? I can drive you there.”

“I’ll manage,” you mumble. “But what are you doing here, Mr. Ri? Mr. Jeon has a meeting in an hour.”

“I know. But he wanted me to give you this.”

The older man initially hands you a large paper bag but decides to just place it on your table given your weak state. He removes the containers of chicken noodle soup, rice porridge, and soybean sprout soup, boxes of soft bread, and a small jar of yuja marmalade for tea. 

“What–”

“Your meals for the next few days so you don’t have to worry about preparing them,” Mr. Ri says. “Jungkook wants you to focus on resting. He wants you to take Monday off, too.”

You look at him and suddenly feel like crying. You knew that waking up, you’d be worrying about what to eat, given that you barely have ingredients to work with. You also don’t have the energy to make anything, especially something that’d help with your health. Jungkook just relieved you of that, and at a time like today, you feel what it’s like to be cared for. And though you can argue with him using his own words - your health isn’t his responsibility - you won’t pretend that it doesn’t give you comfort knowing that he’d made the effort to buy all this and have them brought to you. 

You talk a little bit more before he heads out, and you lead him to the door where you look across the street where the car is parked. Your eyes may be puffy but you don’t miss the silhouette behind that backseat window. 

“How is she?” Jungkook asks as Mr. Ri enters the car and slowly drives away.

“She looks like someone who’s been working hard these past months and in need of rest. She says it’s normal but this is probably the worst. These few days off will be good for her.”

“I hope so, too.”

“She’s thankful for the food, Jungkook,” the older man says. “I know she’d probably say you didn’t have to but I could tell it meant a lot to her. She doesn’t always ask for help, you know? It’s good you’re somehow letting her know that she can count on you when she needs you. If this is you making it up to her, you’re on the right path.”

Jungkook hums in acknowledgement, although unsure what it means for him. Is it to compensate? To apologize again? To return the favor because you’d done it first? Is it to let you know that he has your back, too, the way you’ve been showing him that you have his? 

He’s alerted by a message, your name on his screen somehow making his heart jump. It’s a text message and not one from the usual messaging app you both use for work purposes because, well, that’s really the only thing you talk about.

[From: EA Cho] Thank you, Jungkook. I really appreciate it.

It’s the use of his name. It’s the sincerity in your simple words. 

He smiles to himself. 

Whatever it means to you, he knows it means another thing to him. He doesn’t want you to feel alone. And that in the coldest nooks of his uncaring heart, he actually does care for you. For this moment, he’ll acknowledge it. For this moment, he’ll let himself feel it. He can only hope you feel it, too.

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ok i finally got the time to sit down and read and i was gonna skip the feedback and put everything on ch. 6 but i forgot how sweet yoongi is 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 i want him?? ??? Please??? Do you need an assistant mr. Min????

At the back, Yoongi writes, I’m sorry. Here’s a man who knows how to apologize, you think to yourself.

This is way sadder than it's supposed to be 🥲 jungkook eventually does apologize (after being rightfully called out lmaooo) but knowing that OC has all these pent up thoughts haunting her mind whilst also believing that JK is getting better... her thoughts & feelings must’ve been all over the place 🥲

Also!!! I wanna mention it's amazing how thorough your research were omg Mimi i was surprised when I saw the link to the art pieces??? All these efforts and I'm reading this for free ??😭😭 just know im hugging you so hard it hurts rn!!!!

I Want You to Stay (05) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; eventual explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 14.8k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: I deeply appreciate all the love and messages (and anticipation for uh, stuff) but again, it's a slow burn! Thank you so much! 🥰

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight  🥰

PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!

Jungkook sits cross-legged on the couch in his office, his iPad in hand as he goes through the Board report for the nth time these past five days. 

Manager Lee and Chin-sun have put together the logistics, construction, and design departments’ reports with the VP’s and Jungkook is supposed to sign these off for submission to the CEO today, who then approves it for submission to the Board members. They have until Friday to review it in time for the meeting happening that same day. 

This consolidated report was finalized last Wednesday and Jungkook has been reviewing it everyday since then, including his presentation, making minimal comments and then taking notes on things he’s unfamiliar with. Granted, he’s reporting about the quarter when he’s only been Vice President for a month, which makes you incredibly instrumental in his preparations. As the executive assistant, you have the information that Jungkook needs from Hoseok’s time, and so you’ve also been spending everyday since Wednesday answering all of Jungkook’s questions. 

You don’t mind, really, as they’re details you know by heart. It also allows you to show him how involved and meticulous you were under Hoseok’s leadership, and Jungkook’s hums and mumbles of appreciation have helped you gain back the confidence that you lost. 

Even if your self-esteem decreased this past month because of the very person sitting in front of you, the fact that Jungkook’s been showing - in his own ways - his trust in you is enough to lift your spirits. He did admit last week that he needs you - something you hadn’t expected him to say - and you could tell it took so much from him to be able to verbalize it. But you suppose you needed that honesty, too; you needed to know that after all that frustration and anger during the first few weeks, there was that realization on his end that you have his back, and you’re just as capable as what everyone has been saying you are. 

“What information do you need from me, Mr. Jeon?” You finally ask. 

It’s been a good five minutes since Jungkook had asked for you and you’ve just been standing in front of him while he scrolls through the screen, perhaps giving another final look before he finally sends the document to his father.

“Nothing,” he sighs, rolling his head back and closing his eyes. “I just… I just need someone to tell me to stop reviewing this report. I need this out of my sight but I can’t stop checking to make sure everything is okay.”

You look at him intently while he speaks. The tension in his entire face and body is visible, you can even feel it in the room. You feel for him, as he tries to hide the anxiety and desperation. You can tell that he just wants to do well so badly. With the amount of time he’s been spending just going through this, his perfectionist tendency surfaces, and you’re at least thankful that it hasn’t turned him back into an asshole. At least not yet. 

“You need to stop reviewing the report, Mr. Jeon, and let it go,” you say as instructed but with sincerity in your words. “You’ve been on this for days. Manager Lee and Chin-sun have reviewed it, and so have I. CEO Jeon could still suggest changes and we won’t know them until he’s reviewed it, but we at least have the details ironed out. If I may suggest, you can send the file to him in the next hour so you can now focus on practicing for your presentation. That may be a better use of your time.”

Jungkook opens his eyes and turns to you. There’s assurance in your words and your voice and like what he told himself he’d do, he’ll trust you and the team. He’s seen how hard everyone has been working for this - Manager Lee and Chin-sun have done so well in consolidating and cross-checking everything; Do-hyun’s presentation is simple yet effective, and Yohan, who’s back from the hospital, has been adding in all the needed details. And there’s you, making sure that everything and everyone is on track, even as you prepare for Jungkook’s upcoming events. 

“Okay, then,” he exhales deeply. “I’ll send it in the next half hour.”

Knowing he has a meeting set at 2PM, you ask him if you should order him lunch.

“Yes please,” he answers, saying he wants some braised beef from the restaurant on the next block. “Order for yourself as well, and the rest of the team. You can all get anything you want.”

The silence prompts Jungkook to look at you, and he’s met with a questioning gaze.

“Is there a problem?” He asks.

“N—no,” you answer. “I’d like to confirm again that I’ll be ordering lunch for you and all five of us.”

“Yes, Ms. Cho. That’s what I said.”

You remain unmoving as you wait for him to correct himself. This is the first time that Jungkook has offered to treat the team to a meal. Not that you’ve been waiting for it, but Hoseok took you all out to dinner on his first day as a welcome and a thanks in advance, and once you picked up that Jungkook wasn’t the type to engage with his staff much, you just didn’t expect anything. So takeaway lunch from a nice restaurant is definitely surprising. 

“Okay, sir,” you say. “I will do that. I’m sure the team will appreciate it.”

Jungkook merely hums, his eyes focused on the screen now as you bow and head out. 

You go meet the team and as you expected, everyone looks at you in shock. 

“Did the real Mr. Jeon get abducted?” Do-hyun asks. “Because treating us is something he wouldn’t do.”

“Yah! It may be a month late but let’s just be thankful, okay?” You frown at her. “He can see that everyone’s been working hard and I’m sure he appreciates that, and he may not be able to say it but he can at least show us.”

“While he’s at it, he can maybe at least say thank you or you know, smile every once in a while,” Chin-sun sighs. 

“We’ll get there. He knows he needs to do better and he will, I’ll make sure of that,” you assure them, thinking about the conversation from last week. 

Jungkook wants you to help him and for his sake and everyone else’s, you’ll make sure that you do. 

“Well, is he better to you?” Do-hyun asks, her face in a pout because she’s seen you skip meals several times and even cry, and she’d wanted so many times to just hug you, but she knows it’s not something you openly receive. 

“Yes,” you say, knowing it will drive your point. “I’d like to think that the worst is over and I can just focus on doing better and helping him. It would be great if the rest of us could do the same.”

“She’s right,” Manager Lee chimes in. “We grow when we adapt, and much more when we’re able to move on and learn from our experiences. It hasn’t been the best month but it’s also just been a month. So let’s be grateful for the meal and just continue with the good work we’ve been doing, okay?”

You give them the warmest smile you can muster, hoping this would be enough. 

It seems to be, as they all excitedly give their orders, which you and Yohan pick up from the restaurant. You return and after giving Jungkook his food, you head to the other room to eat as well.

The team enjoys the meal, with Do-hyun dramatically stating that it’s the best beef brisket she’s ever had. And you agree; there’s a reason why Jungkook gets this every week. 

Jungkook can hear laughter and satisfied hums from the support team office, with Do-hyun, he supposes, claiming that it feels like Christmas. Yohan says it’s a much-needed post-recovery treat, and even Manager Lee - who’s often serious - cracks a few jokes. Jungkook can pick out your sound, too, noting the joy that emanates from it. He allows himself a small smile, knowing that given how he’s been to everyone this past month, he at least could give his team this highlight of their day. 

He stands by the door, initially going unnoticed, until Chin-sun catches sight of him and alerts everyone that he’s there. The room goes silent, and Jungkook looks on as his staff quietly munch their food and bow to him in greeting. The teasing and laughter have gone; worried eyes are what he sees instead. 

Your initial surprise at seeing him melts away. He rarely drops by for anything, even for a greeting or to just check up on the team, unlike Hoseok who liked to come here often to de-stress after long meetings. But you sense Jungkook’s awkwardness at the silence, with his hands in his pockets and his blank gaze, so you smile at him and hope that eases the tension a bit.

“Lunch was great, Mr. Jeon,” you say. “Thank you.”

“It was,” Manager Lee pipes in. “The roast pork was so delicious. The potato salad was very good, too.”

You look at the others and encourage them to say something as well, and they hum in agreement and say their thanks.

“The beef brisket was heavenly,” Do-hyun raves. “Thank you! I hope it’s not the last time.”

She awkwardly chuckles, realizing that her boss isn’t one she should be joking with, but Jungkook doesn’t seem to take offense, as he purses his lips - perhaps to hide a smile, revealing a tiny dimple that catches you off guard. 

“It won’t be. And uh, it was a month late, so I’m glad you all enjoyed it,” he replies, a tinge of disappointment now painting his face.

There’s another moment of silence and you observe him, hands still in his pockets, looking around awkwardly, unable to meet anyone’s eyes. 

“It’s greatly appreciated, sir,” you assure him once more. “We hope you had a good lunch as well.”

“I’m just about to have it, actually,” he says. “I sent the report to the CEO and he must’ve been waiting for it because he read it right away and called to give feedback.”

“Oh? How did CEO Jeon find it?” Manager Lee asks.

“He said it was good. There are just minor things he asked me to change but I can do them on my own,” Jungkook answers. “I appreciate everyone’s hard work. Now, we can focus on our upcoming events and the Arts Center.”

The team immediately starts packing and swallowing their food, and Jungkook has to stop them. 

“Not right now,” he clarifies. “Continue with your meal. And don’t stay too late. We’ve got another busy week ahead.”

“Yes, Mr. Jeon,” everyone says in unison.

Jungkook nods and starts walking away, leaving all five of you with confused looks, as Jungkook has never spoken to the team in such a calm and friendly manner. It was always firm and professional, low and stoic. 

You scurry out the room and follow him. Jungkook gives you a questioning look when you enter his office shortly after he does, and you pick up his untouched lunch from the table and inform him that you’ll heat it up, knowing he doesn’t like to eat his food cold. 

You go back to the pantry then return to Jungkook’s room, his beef brisket dish now properly placed in a bowl. He gives you a nod, his form of acknowledgment and thanks, you suppose, and you ask the question you’ve had since his earlier stop at the team’s office.

“Are the edits really just minor?” You wonder, knowing that CEO Jeon is meticulous and quite particular with these board reports. 

Jungkook takes a moment to respond. He should know that you’ve done this a few times and are probably used to how his father is already, which means you’d see right through him as well. 

“Well, they’re not major,” Jungkook says. “I mean, they’re not trivial corrections. The details are all good but I need to change some terminologies and framing and some construction of the sections based on the Board’s current concerns, especially about the Arts Center. They’re not that substantial but it’ll still take me an hour or so.”

“Why did you tell the team that they were minor, then?”

“So they won’t offer to help.”

“But they would. I would,” you tell him. “It’s our job.”

“I was going to ask, but it’s your break time. Everyone was enjoying their meals and each other. First time I’ve seen that, actually. I know it doesn’t happen when I’m around.”

“It’s just that you’re not—”

“Hoseok,” he finishes for you.

“Not someone they’re comfortable being themselves around,” you correct him.

“Yes, not like Hoseok,” he pushes.

“You said it the first day, Mr. Jeon. You do things very differently from your cousin. Your personalities are very different, too. We had him for three years and for Yohan and Do-hyun, he was their first boss,” you explain. “They’re just not used to you yet.”

“What about you? Are you used to me by now?”

There’s sudden tension in the room as he looks at you with the desire for honesty, and it’s what you give.

“I’m not quite sure.”

Jungkook doesn’t really know what he expected, as the question just slipped past his mouth before he could pull it back, so he just nods and proceeds to take his late lunch, wanting to forget that he’d asked at all.

You take this as a signal to head out, which you do, before reminding him that he can ask you for help if he needs another pair of eyes before he submits his part again. Jungkook just nods once more, and it’s later in the day, after the third cup of coffee that you take to his room, that he says his father’s already approved the version he sent after you went through it upon his request. You know that’s just half of what he needs to do though, as he’ll still need to present it to the Board this coming Friday. 

“You may go home, Ms. Cho,” he says after he signs some documents for you. 

“How about you, Mr. Jeon?” You ask. 

It’s been a long day, an extension of an even longer weekend because he’d been at a work event and then reviewed the report as well. 

“I’ll probably stay back and go over the presentation. Maybe practice a little.”

You purse your lips, holding something back.

“Should I not?” He wonders.

“Just thinking that it might be better for you to take a proper rest tonight,” you advise. 

“I’ll think about it. It’s gonna be a tough one on Friday and I want to be prepared.”

“I understand,” you smile. “I’ll go ahead, Mr. Jeon.”

Jungkook holds your gaze for a while before he nods and returns to his screen, going through the presentation slides and the notes he scribbled on his iPad. But try as he might, the graphs and the words just go over his head. 

He does need to rest, he thinks. He hasn’t really taken a break all weekend. His hookup from last night was the only relief he got, but that was to expend all the negative energy from the anxiety and stress, and he realizes that he probably doesn’t know what proper rest is, like what you suggested he have. He wonders if you’ve ever had one, or if it’s something you stopped having ever since you started working for him.

Taking your advice, he heads out. It’s only been 30 minutes and he assumes you’re already on the bus and on the way home. He sits in the passenger seat, letting Mr. Ri’s choice of music fill the car as Jungkook’s mind wanders to you - how you laughed at the team’s antics, how you got them to assure him, how you read him well, how you were patient and helpful, and how you seemed concerned about how tired he’s been. 

He’ll chalk it up to you doing your job and helping him as he asked you to do; he always will. He can’t ever think that any of your actions mean more even if deep down, he wishes they do, only so he knows that you don’t hate him, that you’ve forgiven him for things he never apologized for, that you’ll stay for as long as possible. There’s something about your honesty and calm presence that stabilizes him, that makes him take a pause. 

Jungkook’s worked hard on his career for the past decade and it’s all he focuses on; it’s all he thinks about. But when you’re there, he’s forced to stop and think about you. He’s noticed that just this past week - when you’re around, he listens; when you’re close to him, he breathes. Ironic, really, considering that every time you close the distance - when you fix his tie or look at his screen over his shoulder or help him retrieve portfolios - he remains still, his heart stopping and his throat drying up, afraid to take in your scent or to know just how fast his pulse would race or what words he’d say that he won’t be able to contain. 

He’s afraid to know you, only because what he’ll learn might make him want you. And Jungkook knows that he can’t let himself feel that about you in any way.

He sighs as he looks out the window - cars in line to cross the intersection, people walking to their destination. He thinks he’s hallucinating as he sees your smile, but a bus blocks his view and Mr. Ri steps on the gas. 

Outside, you smile to yourself as you wait in line. You were held up at the lobby because Bitna caught you in the elevator and didn’t want to let you go just yet, so you left the office just minutes ago and were waiting at the bus stop when a familiar car showed up and you saw Jungkook looking out the window. He opted to leave early, too; you can only hope he’ll take your advice and rest tonight. 

But the thought that what you said prompted him to take a pause from work stirs something within. Maybe it’s because he’s finally listening to you, or that it seems like he trusts you now. Whatever it is, for as long as it makes your job bearable, you’re all for it. 

It doesn’t take away from the moments you’ve shared where it seems like the world stops for a bit as you hold each other’s gazes for the shortest of seconds. There’s tension where there shouldn’t be, and there’s something different in his eyes when there used to be disdain, one which you can’t read nor identify. It leaves you still for the briefest of moments, unguarded and a little bare, as he seems to tell you something with just a look and you just don’t know what it is. 

As you find a rare seat in the bus, you let the musings go. Jungkook is a man who holds in him a million thoughts a day and those moments with you seem to be his only reprieve; perhaps they’re also just instances of temporary lags or the rare silence and stoppage of everything. In some odd way, it allows you to see him as the human that he is - exhausted, unsure at times, but seemingly yearning for something. 

There’s always an emotion or a thought or a word that he holds in, and you can only wish - as your relationship with him improves - that whatever it is he’s holding back, he’ll find a way to express it. 

“Do you have any advice for the Board meeting?”

Jungkook slides the question in before Hoseok heads to the elevator and off to an event. They’ve just finished having a check-in with CEO Jeon, who wanted to make sure that the two of them are well-prepared for this Friday, given that presenting during these meetings and contributing to policy and strategy are crucial in their roles as President and Vice President. Jungkook won’t admit that it caused him a bit of anxiety, but he’ll surely take the chance to ask his cousin for tips on how to make sure that he doesn’t screw up.

“I do,” Hoseok answers as he holds off on pressing the button. “Ask your assistant. And then listen to what she says.”

Jungkook visibly sighs. “Hoseok, I mean it.”

“I mean it, too,” the older man replies. “If it’s anything about our strategic plan or policies, just take my lead. And it’s your very first so you’re expected to still be adjusting. If it’s about the presentation, let ___ brief you about it. She’s been with me every single time I had to present. When I was focused on what I had to say, she was focused on how the Board was reacting and how those translated to the questions they eventually asked. She’d know what you’ll need to emphasize on or who you need to be wary of.”

There’s an unsure look in Jungkook’s eyes, and Hoseok knows it isn’t about trusting you. It’s about him.

“You’re scared, aren’t you?” Hoseok asks. “What are you afraid of, Kook?”

“You know what they think of me,” Jungkook sighs. “I don’t want to screw up and give them more reasons to doubt me because they already do. And they’re definitely gonna ask about the Arts Center. What if they bring up my disappointing social skills? I don’t wanna end up feeling inadequate and embarrassing father.”

“Keep thinking that way and you will,” Hoseok huffs. “Look. Our family owns the company. You and I were trained to run it after my sister and your brother decided they didn’t want to. The Board knows this. They’ll either stay in our good graces or plot against us. Your father knows that, too, and that’s why he’s being hard on both of us because he knows what we’ll have to face. That also just means he’ll always be on your side. He’ll always be on ours. The Board could be intimidating but we still hold the power. They’ll impose or question or cast doubt because they want to feel that sense of control. It’ll only affect you if you let them.”

“Okay” is all that Jungkook manages to say, a tinge of resignation on his face as he takes in his cousin’s words.

“You’ve managed worse people than them,” Hoseok assured him. “Just focus, stand by your project, and engage them. Simple as that.”

“Yes, it’s very simple,” Jungkook chuckles with a shake of his head.

“Like I said, your assistant’s there for a reason, Kook. This is when I get to tell you that it’s her job. We would prepare together and debrief right after, and it always helped because she fills in gaps and informs me of things I missed. Trust me. Trust her.”

The thing is, Jungkook does; he doesn’t need to be reminded that he should trust you because he’s learned to do that, despite it seemingly impossible given that you both started off on the wrong foot. It’s the thought of spending more time with you, during a time when he’s still trying to get used to you and how you affect him, that makes him worried about this. But it’s not something he can talk about with Hoseok. It’s not something he can talk about with anyone. 

“Fine,” Jungkook finally says. “I’ll talk to her.”

“Good. I’ll go now. Have dinner at home tomorrow, okay? And I’ll see you when I get back.”

Jungkook waves the older man goodbye and then returns to his office, where he finds you dropping some files off for signing. 

“Payment requests for the event,” you explain, earning you a nod from him as he walks to his seat. “How did the meeting with your father go, Mr. Jeon?”

“As I expected,” he huffs. “A bit of encouragement, more of the pressure. He’d slide in reminders of what the Board thinks of me and how I should present myself.”

“Is the pressure helping?” You ask.

“A little,” he sighs, sinking into his chair and exhaling deeply. He rolls his head back and closes his eyes, allowing himself a few seconds of peace. “But I still need help. Hoseok said I can get it from you.”

“You know, he oversells me sometimes,” you manage to laugh, prompting Jungkook to look at you now. “I know I’m competent. But I don’t know about being your source of help for a Board meeting any more than providing you with data.” Jungkook likes to do things on his own after all, you think to yourself.

“But you’ve been to as many Board meetings as he has.”

“Yes, but only for his presentation.”

“And that’s what I need help with,” he says. “I just need direction, I guess. Or affirmation that how I’m doing it is the right way. Or tips on who to woo or who to not take seriously.”

Jungkook has been to a few Board meetings but he’s never had to present anything. He’s also never had to engage with the members so he didn’t pay much attention to them because he didn’t feel the need to. These appointments were all a few years too early, and while he’d had a critical position in the Southeast Asian headquarters, everything had gone through his uncle who headed the office then. 

This is the first time that Jungkook feels the magnitude of all his decisions, and that every move he makes is being assessed. And even with his father and Hoseok giving him guidance, they have their own teams to manage and an entire company to run, just like him. Somehow, with all the people around him, Jungkook still feels alone. 

You, with your perpetual presence and surprising warmth, are the only one who makes him feel otherwise. And it terrifies him more than anything.

“Well, I’ve picked up a few things along the way,” you hum. “I can maybe go through my notes and share them with you.”

“Good. I’d like to do that over lunch, since I’ll have you and Manager Lee watch me practice the presentation around 2.”

Jungkook picks up the slight fall of your face. “Is that a problem?” He asks. “Did you have lunch plans?”

“Nothing more important than assisting you, Mr. Jeon,” you say, a change of expression indicating that you indeed had prior commitments that you’re putting off because of him. “I’ll inform Manager Lee about meeting with him after.”

You head out and return to your desk to work on your remaining tasks for the morning until lunch time rolls by and you accompany Jungkook to a nearby restaurant as he’d asked. You try not to get too excited about the meal in front of you and then control yourself from letting out orgasmic sounds from the succulent piece of salmon that’s melting in your mouth. This check-in seems too important for Jungkook and you want to support him in any way you can.

“How was Hoseok during his first Board meeting?” Jungkook starts. 

“Nervous, a little rattled. His sister left him behind with a lot of work and she was abroad for most of the time so they weren’t able to meet up,” you share. “But he got up there and presented all the office’s gains for the past months and then explained his plans moving forward. He had all these good ideas on policy and strategy and he articulated them well. He had to take over multiple small projects and he showed how he planned to manage all of them. His charms sort of hid away the anxiety he was feeling and I guess that eventually helped him get rid of it.”

“Well, that’s one thing I can’t claim that I have,” Jungkook sighs. 

He looks at you to see your reaction, and the awkwardness on your face makes him internally laugh.

“I can lie to you if you want me to,” you say, and he chuckles, surprising you both, though he acts like he doesn’t mind.

“I’d actually want you to be as honest with me as possible, Ms. Cho. I don’t want you, of all people, to suck up to me to get on my good graces.”

“Great, since I wasn’t on it in the first place,” you trail, earning you another laugh, and you wish this could at least lessen the pressure he’s putting himself under. 

“That’s true,” he says, holding your gaze. He turns to his food before he gets sucked in your gorgeous eyes even more. “But I mean it. I don’t exactly know how to charm people, much less the Board. I don’t want to add to the narrative they already have of me having terrible social skills. But I also don’t want them to think I’m being fake or pretentious.”

“If I may, you’ll botch that aspect if you keep thinking about it,” you advise. “Perhaps you can just focus on what you’re good at. Delivering a presentation, regardless of what it’s about, is a skill. You have all the information and I can add some more if you’re not confident with them. You also tweaked some existing processes and you can build on it. But also, the Arts Center will definitely be their focus, so talk about it the way you would with your father and the team… and me. You let us envision it with your words and your visuals and those are all you need.”

“Okay then. I’ll just imagine they’re all vegetables or something so I can focus.”

“Mrs. Doi likes making eye contact because she wants to feel like you’re conversing with her,” you say. “Mrs. Seo asks a lot of irrelevant questions but you have to answer as if they’re important. Mr. Ong likes being acknowledged every time he says something or even nods. So I don’t recommend acting as if they’re inanimate. Maybe just with Mr. Wang because he falls asleep in everything, but don’t take it personally. I think it’s a medical condition.”

Jungkook’s amused look encourages you to continue.

“Mr. Mun doesn’t really get design and building terms so you’d have to explain them at least twice. Mr. Bong tends to act all mighty but he doesn’t really know much. Same with Mr. Im and Ms. Hwa. The rest are fine,” you say. “Mr. Saito is very thoughtful. He’s a designer so his insights would be good. Ms. Cheng is unproblematic and overall just supportive. Mr. Yeon is just… there. They’re quite intense when it comes to profits and the company’s image but if you stand by what you know, they won’t really say much.”

“Wow, that’s… that’s a lot to take in. And also very informative,” Jungkook states. “I never noticed any of those.”

“Well, you had your reasons to be in those meetings and maybe you didn’t have a reason to pay attention to them,” you shrug. “I do. I thought it was an added way that I could help Mr. Jung. Assistants are asked to sit on the side of the room so we can be easily signaled for anything and I thought I could use that position to observe the Board members and see how they respond to the presentation. It helped for the succeeding ones and it took the pressure off him in terms of needing to appease them.”

“Makes sense,” Jungkook hums. “Worrying about how they’ll react or what they’ll say is half of the pressure.”

“It is. I couldn’t help Mr. Jung for his first time because it was mine, too, but he picked things up quite easily. He knew who to pay attention to.”

“Well, considering that I don’t seem to be ideal for this relationship-heavy position, I’ll have to pay attention and appease all of them, it seems.”

“If I may, Mr. Jeon, you can take it as a challenge,” you advise, feeling more comfortable in being honest now. “I may be just a humble assistant but I’ve seen things. With all the praises for Mr. Jung - which are deserved, of course - I’ve witnessed his moments of distress, which is perfectly normal for anyone. A-yeong had to remind him of how good he was everyday because he needed that push and it helped him. It also helped that he was trying to prove something and that he was always told that he had all the qualities to do that.”

“Not everyone has a supportive wife like him though. Or like my father,” Jungkook laughs dryly.

“They had supportive assistants,” you offer, trying to be optimistic. “I had to fill-in as Mr. Jung’s sounding board and I was always in awe at his approach to things.”

“Which is very different from mine, I know,” Jungkook says unintentionally, the sigh making you feel like he’s tired of the comparison, and you feel a bit bad at having to seemingly remind him of that.

“And which isn’t bad at all,” you try to assure him. “Just because it’s different, doesn’t mean it’s not right.”

Well, it wasn’t right to treat you the way I did, he wants to say, but the words stay in his head and at the tip of his tongue. 

“That’s… comforting,” he says instead.

“I was trying to be assuring but comforting is fine, too,” you chuckle. “But I mean it, sir. I know there are all these expectations and I won’t be able to truly understand what the pressure is like but if you allow it to challenge you, you might even surprise yourself. And then you’ll end up surprising them, too. But do it for you. At the end of the day, they’re just the Board but you’re the Vice President. And you’re you. You’re all you can control.”

There’s a beat of silence as Jungkook takes in everything you’d said. You have this persistence about you that’s reflected in the way you carry yourself and in the way you relate with others, especially towards him despite how he’d treated you not long ago. Regardless of what you said, he thinks you know exactly what he feels when it comes to dealing with pressure. He supposes that working for his family can do that to someone, especially when it’s him. 

“Such moving words, Ms. Cho,” he finally says.  

“I didn’t mean to give unwanted advice,” you shake your head in disappointment. 

“I needed it though,” he surprises you. “Other than Hoseok or even Yoongi, who are both busy themselves, I only have you as a sounding board. And as support. So, uh, thanks.”

He says his gratitude with a soft tone, almost embarrassingly. You can tell it’s something he doesn’t say that often, but you take it, as you think it’s another step towards him trusting you even more. And you need that trust for now; it’s this peaceful and honest dynamic with him that’s making your job bearable.

Lunch continues with Jungkook asking more questions about some of the Board members and you dishing some dirt on some of them as what you’ve heard in the office washrooms, perhaps the only gossip you don’t take with a grain of salt. He’s amused, and you think this is the most expressive you’ve seen him. 

You proceed to meet with Manager Lee in the conference room where Jungkook goes through each slide presentation, asking both of you for more information he thinks he needs and about how he’s carrying himself, his tone, his pace, and his engagement. It’s good enough for a first run-through, Manager Lee says, and Jungkook decides to dry-run it again on Thursday. 

The rest of your day goes by a little stressfully. There are multiple events that you have to organize and coordinate with other offices, and those are what you work on until you clock out on time.

Jungkook stays behind for only half an hour before deciding he’s had enough of looking through his notes and will return to them tomorrow. He takes the elevator and nods when Yoongi enters.

“Hey,” Jungkook greets. “How are the designs for the Changwon mid-rise?”

“It’s 6:00. I don’t wanna talk about work,” Yoongi whines. 

Jungkook knows this. It’s also why he likes to tease his friend about it. 

“Fine. We can just stand next to each other awkwardly until we have to get off,” Jungkook says.

“Hmm,” Yoongi hums. “Or, we can talk about how my lunch plans changed because someone asked my lunch partner for a meeting.”

The tension immediately rises and Jungkook hates how affected he is by Yoongi’s teasing. 

“Ah, so it was you. Well, she did say it wasn’t as important as what we were meeting about,” Jungkook hits back.

“True. It’s about the Board meeting after all. It’s a pretty big deal.”

Jungkook starts to feel hot all over, as the thought of you and Yoongi conversing about your thwarted lunch plans because of him plays in his head. It’s a mix of frustration and disappointment. While the meeting was in no way confidential, he just hates the idea that it was something you shared with Yoongi. Perhaps it’s just after the fact, considering that Jungkook thinks it was a good lunch. You clearly enjoyed the dish - he could see how you tried to control your reactions to it - and your conversations went by smoothly. You were honest and supportive; he was open and all the more surprised with how well you were able to calm him down. It’s as if someone else was privy to that moment you both shared, even if Yoongi wasn’t there. 

“Huh, I thought you were over her,” Jungkook says, the bitterness slicing through. If his friend picks it up, he doesn’t say anything.

“I am. We were just gonna have lunch at this noodle house because she was craving it,” Yoongi clarifies. “I told you, I’m her only friend here. It’s nice to share a meal with someone who cares about you every once in a while, you know? It’s hard being a working adult and we all need a bit of a break and a companion sometimes. It didn’t mean anything more than that.”

Jungkook chooses not to respond and Yoongi could tell why. There’s this look of annoyance painting the younger man’s face, which makes him a lot more transparent than he wishes he was. 

But Yoongi can see right through his friend. It’s not something he raises though, but he won’t be surprised if Jungkook dwells on this. He just hopes it isn’t to your detriment again.

The ride home wasn’t as terrible last night, and after your elder neighbor gave you some stew because she cooked too much, you had a satisfying dinner and an even more satisfying slumber. 

You feel like the end of the week isn’t too far ahead - although there really isn’t anything exciting for you except for a date with your bed - and you just want to get through all your tasks for the day and get that jjajangmyeon that Yoongi said he’ll get for you today so you can eat it for dinner. You were initially upset at having to pass up on him for yesterday’s lunch, but you’d be the first to admit that sharing that meal with Jungkook was still worthwhile.

Not only was the dish you ordered one of the best things you’ve ever eaten, it was also nice to see Jungkook loosen up a bit after feeling tense all morning because of his presentation. You liked that he’s being open to getting support from you, as it seems that he sees you now as more than just the assistant who’s there to serve him. He seems to appreciate your thoughts and didn’t even act bitterly when you gave him unsolicited advice. You feel even more that your relationship improves daily.

That is, until you enter his penthouse this Wednesday morning with barely a look of acknowledgement from him. Going through your routine, he doesn’t say much; he stays silent the entire ride to the office as well.

When you enter his room to serve his coffee, his furrowed brows have returned and his jaws are clenched as he types away on his desktop.

“Ms. Cho,” he calls out, his voice stern once again. 

You turn around to face him, wondering what has happened since you left the office yesterday.

“Yes, Mr. Jeon?”

“I just wanted to raise that while I understand you have personal relationships with other employees, I do not appreciate you divulging the topics of our meetings with them. Even if they’re my friend as well.”

His last sentence gives away who he’s talking about, and the conversation with Yoongi after you canceled your lunch plans with him rings in your head. 

It was a harmless statement, you want to say; you didn’t share any more than it being a meeting about his presentation. There was no ill-intent in you telling Yoongi why you couldn’t see him for lunch. But you choose to pass up on reasoning with Jungkook. He builds his wall up even more when you do, and you don’t want things to be that way again, not when they seemed to be going okay already these past few days.

So you nod and concede. “I understand, Mr. Jeon, and I apologize. I won’t do it again.”

Jungkook can’t help but just look at you, internally smacking himself as your face falls further and as you, once again, feel far away because of his own stupidity. 

“Is there anything else you need, sir?” 

He shakes his head no, and you bow in response, heading out, with the sadness in your eyes as the last thing he sees. 

Jungkook is unable to focus on his emails and the conference call he takes part in. The words and thoughts are all jumbled when he practices his presentation, as his gaze constantly flits to your spot just outside where you sit, doing your tasks while looking detached and dejected. 

He assumes you didn’t come to work expecting to be called out the way he did with you, which in hindsight, didn’t seem necessary, especially knowing how it’s affecting you right now. Things were going well between both of you after all - he’s being more open and you’re being more comfortable. Information was flowing smoothly, and communication has improved. And he just went ahead and screwed all that up.

Jungkook starts to feel stuffy. He’s been in his office working on things for the Arts Center and practicing most of the day, with you only coming in to bring the lunch he’d asked Mr. Ri to buy and his cups of coffee. You’ve avoided his gaze and haven't said much to him, too. 

He decides to take a walk outside. The outdoor space on this floor has nice benches and a small garden that overlooks the Han River. He’s seen the team eat there sometimes, and while the weather may be a little too hot for it, he’d much rather breathe in the air than his humidifier. 

But as he takes his time to open the door, he hears a familiar voice from outside.

“Fine, if you won’t take the sandwich, at least take the noodles,” Yoongi says. “You’ve been craving that all weekend.”

“Not anymore,” you huff, seemingly annoyed.

“Hey, did I do something wrong?” Yoongi asks, calm and understanding in tone, traits that Jungkook could only hope to have. 

“No… I don’t know,” you sigh. “Just that, whatever I talk to you about or mention, other people don’t need to know them, okay? No matter how harmless they are. Let’s just… not talk about work stuff. Especially in the office. That’s it.”

“Ah, so that’s what this is about.”

“What do you—”

“Mr. Min,” Jungkook calls out, fully opening the door now. “I have design guidelines I need you to go over. I need them by tomorrow morning.”

“Okay, Jungkook,” Yoongi bitterly replies, knowing what’s happened. “Just send them over to me.”

“Ms. Cho will do that right now.”

You nod in acknowledgement of Jungkook’s instruction and remain focused on your desktop. There’s silence in the air and tension that you can’t deal with right now.

“Can I help you with anything else, Mr. Min?” 

“Nah. If I do, I’ll check with your boss first if I can ask you for it. Don’t want you getting in trouble because of me.”

You finally look up at him, a tinge of annoyance painting his face, a rarity since Yoongi doesn’t seem to ever be irate about anything. 

“And I’ll just take this jjajangmyeon if you don’t want it,” he adds, taking the container that’s on the ledge of your desk with him, before walking out of your area.

You can’t help the pout that forms on your lips. You really love that noodle house’s version and you’ve been craving it for days. It’s where you and Yoongi were both supposed to have lunch yesterday but Jungkook spoiled it, and it wouldn’t have mattered as much, until it became a reason for him to be upset with you again. You’re not exactly sure why, but much as you want to question your boss this time, you don’t have the energy for it. It doesn’t seem worth it, but it also doesn’t change the fact that Yoongi might have said something to Jungkook, and that’s a dynamic you’re still unsure how to read or deal with. 

Your gaze shifts to the man himself, who looks less annoyed than he did at the start of the day. You don’t know how his practice has been going, since he hasn’t asked you to run it with him, but you suppose he’s doing alright. He’s been in his room all day doing that and taking calls in between. 

Jungkook looks away and heads out. He lets the summer air clear his mind a little before he goes back inside. It’s 6PM by the time he emerges from his room, surprised at seeing your face still buried in piles of papers.

“Ms. Cho, I’ll be heading to Hoseok’s for dinner,” he says, getting your attention. “Anything that needs my signature or approval can wait tomorrow.”

He hopes you’ll read through his words, as he wishes you’d take a rest yourself, like you advise him to do.

“Finance needs your expense reports first thing tomorrow morning, Mr. Jeon,” you say, a little too stoic than he’s used to. “These can be signed tomorrow when you arrive.”

Jungkook just nods, knowing there’s not much he can do if you don’t want to go home yet. But he does leave you with a reminder.

“Ms. Cho,” he says before leaving. He’s met with curious eyes that he tries not to fall into. “Make sure to eat a proper dinner.”

He walks out too quickly, not wanting to see your reaction.

You’re too tired to react, but that just pushes you to finish all your work and head to the pantry for some biscuits. It’s then that you see the paper bag with a note on it. 

For ___. Do not touch! 

At the back, Yoongi writes, I’m sorry. Here’s a man who knows how to apologize, you think to yourself.

The bowl of jjajangmyeon is inside, as well as a container of gimari. The scent reminds you of how hungry you are, so you heat up the noodles and inhale your dinner as you stand by the table. The empty office and the faint sounds of the air conditioning make you think of how alone you really are - working past your hours on a Wednesday evening, a takeaway meal from a friend you’re pushing away, and a stressful trip back to your empty studio apartment. 

You rarely ever feel lonely. You don’t equate being alone with that specific emotion or state. There’s certainty and clarity you get from being on your own. But on certain days, you let yourself crack a little and be vulnerable. On certain days, you let yourself admit that being alone makes you feel lonely, and that at this precise moment, it’s exactly what you feel. 

You send Yoongi a message of thanks but don’t extend the conversation after he replies. You know it isn’t his fault, and knowing him, he wouldn’t have deliberately said anything that would’ve put you in this position. It could just be Jungkook misconstruing things, but you’ve been caught off guard and you don’t feel like dealing with anyone right now. 

Resuming your work, you do your last review of the expense report and leave it on his desk for his signature in the morning - a struggle considering how messy it is, which is also a rarity, as he always likes to keep things organized. You can tell how stressed he is just by this, and the thought hits you again that it’s the Board meeting in two days, and he needs you to be your best for him; he needs you to be calm and stable for him. 

Whatever you’re feeling can be pushed to the side until next week. You’ll talk to Yoongi after all this is over, you tell yourself; it’s more important that you focus on your tasks and just act as professionally and as unbothered as possible. 

That proves to be easy early the next morning. You go about preparing Jungkook’s day in his penthouse, going over your coordination and organization of the upcoming events and acting as if what happened yesterday doesn’t bother you, with him not acting out of the ordinary, too. It’s easy when you get to the office as well. He signs off on the expense reports and you go to finance with only minimal clarifications needed.

But when you return to your desk and Jungkook calls you to his room, you feel the tension start to build as you find Yoongi seated on the chair, his face turning sullen at the sight of you. 

You nod at him but look away immediately, shifting your gaze towards Jungkook. 

“What can I help you with, Mr. Jeon?”

“Deciding on the pieces to be displayed in the event halls of the Arts Center,” he replies. “Artist Lee Jaemin gave us her portfolio for us to choose from. And I’d like you and Yoongi to work on it together before lunch.”

This prompts you to look at Jungkook in surprise. He just told you off about the things you told Yoongi - which, to your defense, wasn’t even anything substantial - and now he’s making you work with the man.

“What about the run through of your presentation, sir?” You ask.

“I’ll do it with Manager Lee. His feedback will be adequate,” Jungkook replies. “I need your options because I’ll be speaking with her tonight about the chosen pieces.”

“I…, uh,” you stutter. “In what way can I be of help, Mr. Jeon? Wouldn’t Mr. Min be enough to make those decisions?”

“You hold the budget, Ms. Cho,” he reminds you. “We need to make sure we follow it. And you and Mr. Min understand my vision more than anyone and I need both of you to bring that to life with those artworks. I’m packed with meetings today so I don’t have time to sort through all of them. I trust that you’ll make the best decisions.”

“Of course we will, Jungkook,” Yoongi says, a bit of bitterness laced in it. “___ and I work well together. It isn’t the first time.”

Jungkook merely nods, and you feel the tension build up even more as both men share hardened looks that you can’t particularly decipher. 

“I… I’ll go ahead and prepare the conference room. I shall see you there shortly, Mr. Min.”

You exit the office and breathe a sigh of relief from being out of there. You don’t know what their friendship is like, so you’re unsure if the tension is a sign of something serious or if it’s just a normal thing for them. You choose to brush it off for now and prepare for the meeting, walking to the pantry for a cup of tea before you do. 

Back inside, both men remain unmoving, their gazes not faltering away from each other. Yoongi’s look of displeasure is a contrast to Jungkook’s somber, almost guilty face. 

“Driving a wedge between us is kind of an asshole move, you know?” Yoongi finally says. “I don’t know what your deal is but this isn’t how you make it up to her. You don’t get to be nice one day then just decide you’ll be jealous and irrational the next without her even knowing what she did.”

“That’s… that’s not what I was trying to do,” Jungkook reasons. 

“Then what were you trying to do?” Yoongi scoffs. “I was the one she turned down to have lunch with you. Actually, it was her plan, because she’s been spending so much time alone and she just wanted to hang out with a friend. And not only did you hinder that, you also made her feel like she did something wrong when all she said was that you had to talk about the Board meeting. No one would even bat an eye. Now she can’t even talk to me properly without fearing it’ll hurt your fragile ego.”

The truth is a huge slap on Jungkook’s face, and he feels it sting. He’s seen your comfort around his friend a few times. He also knows that Yoongi has been looking out for you when you fail to take care of yourself. And because of that jealousy and his fragile ego, you might just end up pushing Yoongi away, and isolating you is the last thing Jungkook wants to do.

He tries to say something but his throat dries up, knowing that verbalizing anything would prompt him to face feelings he’s trying so hard to suppress. He hopes Yoongi sees right through him, and the sullen look of the older man says he might.

“You’re not a bad person, Jungkook,” Yoongi says. “I don’t know what about her makes you like this. But if all you’ll do is find fault in everything she does, you’re gonna lose all the progress in your relationship. And you've got to know that’s not fair to her. You know she doesn’t deserve that.”

“She doesn’t.”

It’s the way Jungkook says the words that Yoongi knows his friend regrets what he’d done, perhaps not just yesterday but the other times as well. There’s this emptiness in Jungkook’s eyes that Yoongi hasn’t seen before; he doesn’t want the younger man to drown and lose himself in it.

“I’m… I’m, uh—”

“I know,” Yoongi interjects, knowing how hard it is for Jungkook to verbalize what he feels. “And I forgive you. I suggest you find the words and say them to her. Yeah?”

Jungkook merely nods, knowing that would be difficult for him, not because he won’t mean it but because they mean so much more. With you, it always does. 

“I’ll head to meet with her now.”

“Please fix it,” Jungkook almost pleads. “I think she needs you.”

Yoongi gives a look of understanding then heads out to the conference room where he finds you seated already. The lights are dim, allowing him to see Lee Jaemin’s art pieces projected on the wall. You’re focused on your laptop screen, not budging even as he opens the door and sits next to you.

“Are you still mad at me?” Yoongi asks, urging you to look at him.

“No,” you say softly.

“Then why do you act like you still are?” He asks sullenly. “You know I’m sorry.”

“It isn’t your fault though,” you reply, finally turning to him, your own soft eyes mirroring his. “You shouldn’t be apologizing.”

“But I want to. Because I know it matters that you hear the words even if they’re not from the person who needs to be saying them.”

“You know he doesn’t do that,” you sigh, knowing exactly who he means.

“He’ll have to learn how to. Or just stop having a reason to apologize in the first place.” 

“We’ll see about that,” you shrug. “But I’m sorry, too. I just didn’t know how to act yesterday and earlier. I just didn’t want any more drama.”

“I know, and it’s okay. It’s not your fault either. I had to call him out for it.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. I called him an asshole.”

“You–what?”

“Well, sort of. He had to hear it, and it seemed like he knew it, too. That's why he wanted me to fix things. Not that anything was broken, as far as I know.”

“Is that why he made me meet with you?”

“Yes, about something that he and I could easily do over coffee or a meal,” Yoongi chuckles. “But like I told you before - he tries. It’s usually just a misstep or something more complicated than actually saying sorry.”

“It’s hard for him to say, I guess. Maybe he just has his own ways of saying them.”

“It’s still not an excuse to be an asshole though.”

“At least you’re there to call him out for it,” you chuckle.

Yoongi laughs along, knowing it’s a role in Jungkook’s life that he wouldn’t mind taking. And just like that, the tension between the two of you is gone. He throws in a few jokes in there that take seconds for you to process, and it’s his crinkled smile that makes you smile and feel comfortable as well. It’s the icebreaker you need before getting to work, and it takes you both until lunchtime to decide on which of Lee Jaemin’s pieces you think would fit well in the event halls that Jungkook wants to put them in. 

It’s a different experience for you, as you’ve never made decisions like this before. You wouldn’t say you’re artistic in any sense, but Yoongi’s approval of your choices and agreement with your reasoning make you feel that you aren’t as design-blind as you think. And while Jungkook has the final say - you’re not even sure if your choices would make the final cut - it’s still satisfying to see the empty spaces come to life on your screen with artworks that you chose with Yoongi, while still being within budget.  

You both walk back to your work area where you see Manager Lee, and he tells you that Jungkook seems ready for tomorrow’s Board meeting. You enter his office with Yoongi, presenting what you’ve come up with - the greens and pinks common in her pieces give the room so much life, and the imperfections of her subjects leave viewers with much to admire. From the tropics to intimacy, the bright yet muted palette of the images elicits both joy and loneliness.

Jungkook goes through them while you and Yoongi look on.

“I’ll check each piece again later,” Jungkook says. “But these look good; I’d choose these myself.”

“___ chose most of them,” Yoongi says, earning him a glare from you.

“Is that so, Ms. Cho?” Jungkook asks.

“Mr. Min helped. And those pieces just spoke to me, I guess,” you answer shyly. “They’re beautiful pieces, Mr. Jeon. But I don’t have any arts or design background so please feel free to change them.”

“We’ll see,” he says, looking at you with a kind of affirmation that you’re not used to. 

You nod in response and check the time. He’s got another meeting in an hour and he should be having lunch soon.

“What would you like to eat, Mr. Jeon? I can get it for you,” you say.

“No need. I asked Mr. Ri to get me something. I figured you might have lunch plans,” Jungkook responds, glancing at you and then Yoongi. 

You look at the man next to you, who motions towards the door and you get what he means immediately. 

“Okay, Mr. Jeon. I’ll go take my break now.”

You walk out with Yoongi who asks you what you’re craving, and sweet and sour pork comes to mind. He chuckles at your excited face, and you grab your purse and head out, turning back once to catch Jungkook watching you walk away.

Maybe this is his apology. In whatever form it is, you’ll take it. You find sometimes that the silence in place of words means a lot more, in ways that feel more. 

The rest of your afternoon again feels like a blur, as you meet with the support team about the upcoming events and make sure everyone is on the same page. You spend an hour on the phone with Lucas about some Singapore and Malaysia-based Korean artists who are flying for the project launch in a few weeks while Jungkook goes from one virtual meeting to another. 

It’s 5:30 before you know it, and you’re working on your spreadsheets when Jungkook walks out of his office, saying that he’s meeting with Lee Jaemin later in the evening and that he’ll just update you about the final pieces. 

You acknowledge him and wish him goodbye, but he stops on the way, at the entrance towards the hallway, making sure he remains present while unable to see you.

“Ms. Cho,” he calls out, surprising you.

“Yes, Mr. Jeon?”

“About what I said yesterday, I apologize,” he says, almost stuttering. “Especially if it caused a rift between you and Yoongi. I didn’t intend that.”

You’re too shocked to say anything, much more process the words that you can’t believe he’s saying. But he really is apologizing; he really is trying.

“It… it’s okay, Mr. Jeon. I understand.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you’re left to observe him from this angle - jaws clenched, head bowed down. 

He deeply exhales. “I’ll go now. No need to stay late; you can go home when you’re able.”

“Okay, sir. Have a good night.”

He finally leaves, and the silence engulfs you. Sometimes, words in any form truly matter. You could only hope that Jungkook knows that.

The suit that you choose for Jungkook for today’s big day is a dark gray textured piece. He looks immaculate as he stands before you, and you try your best to even your breathing as you fix his tie like you do every morning. There’s something about him today that makes him more handsome than usual - a quality that you’ve found yourself admitting and accepting more easily as the days go by. He exudes a certain kind of confidence and power with his attire and his parted hair. There’s determination in his eyes as he stands tall, ready to face the day. 

And you’re there, admiring the way he carries himself just inches away.

You fix the collar of his suit and make sure that all creases are flattened. You meet his eyes and the confidence melts away a little.

“Do I look respectable enough?” He asks, a little less serious than you expected. It’s when you see the nervousness in his eyes that you know how important today is for him.

“Yes,” you assure him. “You also look ready to impress the Board members with your presentation and get them on your side. I’m sure your vision about the Arts Center will make them believers.”

“Ah, well, that’s asking for too much, I guess,” he laughs dryly. “But I was on the call with Lee Jaemin last night and she was so excited for the launch. It would get her to visit Seoul often, she said, and that made me realize that artists like her and the consumers, the ordinary people, the ones who the Center is for - they’re the ones who matter. It’s their interest and appreciation that I value, not the Board’s.”

“That’s a good realization to come to, then, Mr. Jeon,” you smile, suddenly feeling like you’re seeing a different man - someone who cares about meaning and the power of art. “I suppose if that’s your mindset coming into the meeting, then you’ll definitely do well.”

“I think if there’s at least one other person who ends up believing in the value of the Center, that would be enough for me,” he says, holding your gaze for a while before turning away. “But uh, today is more than that. You and I both know they’re there to assess my capabilities - social and otherwise - and definitely point out what I lack, or probably tell me I’m not cut out for this job or that I’m terrible or something. I mean, you would know, right?”

His eyes, focused downward, slowly shift to you. You know what he means, and given that he isn’t the type to admit to things, this is probably the only other time that he comes close to acknowledging how he was to you.

“Mr. Jeon, if you’re indeed terrible, I would have quit after a week. Or… well, after the second day,” you admit. 

“Why didn’t you?”

“Well, I couldn’t afford to,” you chuckle to ease the tension. “But also I… I saw the change. And that’s always a good thing. Lacking something is normal. We all have things we need to work on but that doesn’t make us terrible people. That just means we need a bit of understanding from others. And that also means we just have to keep trying to be better.”

There’s a sullenness in Jungkook’s eyes but there’s acceptance and understanding, too. Perhaps it’s the most sincere you’ve seen him look, and of all the days that he needs assurance about how he’s been, today is when he needs it the most. Sure, there are still things about him that you wish he’d work on. He’s still not the best person in the world. He could still be a bit impulsive with you and can sometimes be irrational in your eyes and definitely needs work on dealing with his emotions. But he’s trying. That always counts for something.

“We do,” he nods.

“Your father believes in you. Hoseok believes in you, so does Yoongi.” Holding his gaze, you add, “so do I. So trust in yourself. If you can’t do it for you, you can do it for us.”

“Is giving pep talks part of the job description?” 

“It should,” you giggle. “But I’ve given several of them to Mr. Jung. I’ve learned that during stressful moments or just when we’re a little overwhelmed, it makes a difference to hear the things we already know from someone else.”

“I’m a little stubborn, but I hope you continue doing that for me. For as long as you think I deserve it.”

Jungkook doesn’t know where the honesty and vulnerability are coming from. But he’s found that with you, it’s natural - difficult because they’re things he rarely is around other people, but natural. He doesn’t want to question it anymore for fear of learning what else is instinctive for him when it comes to you. But with the way his insides melt with how you sweetly and assuringly smile at him, he realizes that his defenses against you are not that strong to begin with.   

“Well, we don’t have time to pass by a cafe for a nice breakfast so I asked Mr. Ri to get some instead,” you announce, changing the subject now. 

You walk towards the dining room where he follows, and you present a spread of pastries, walnut tarts, and sausage rolls alongside a large cup of coffee. 

“I don’t really eat before a big meeting,” he says, frowning a little. “I’m sure Lucas told you that.”

“He did, but I’m a little stubborn, too,” you counter. “Breakfast is important before a big meeting, Mr. Jeon. It’ll help you focus, even if that’s just one tart or half a danish or a quarter of a roll. Eating will improve your energy levels and lift your mood. It might help ease your nerves somehow.”

“Fine, but I’ll just have half a roll.”

“No worries. You can always eat some more throughout the day,” you say.

Jungkook ends up finishing the entire roll and a walnut tart, while you finish a danish and settle for tea. You pack up what’s left, and he instructs you to give the rest to the team. 

The car ride is quiet, save for the gentle sound of his pencil gliding through the pages of his leather notebook. He seems to be channeling his energy in a way that allows him to be calm, you think, and that’s a good thing. 

You arrive at the building and Jungkook goes straight to his office while you excuse yourself to go to the conference room to help the other assistants prepare it. You don’t see Jungkook until an hour later when he enters, and you lead him to his seat then serve his coffee afterwards. It gets busy quickly as the Board members arrive, and you help in ushering them to their seats and catering to their needs. Before you know it, the assistants are heading out, leaving them and the executives to discuss confidential matters that none of you are required to know.

It’s another two hours before the presentations start, but Jungkook won’t go until after lunch. So you settle in your desk and work on various things, unable to fully focus because your mind constantly goes to him. 

This is normal, you convince yourself; you had the same nervous energy for Hoseok the first time he did this. But then again, it was your first time, too. Perhaps it’s knowing how much it means to Jungkook and his own worries that makes you feel uneasy.

You understand the feeling of wanting to prove oneself, and not always being able to fully express that desire to others. He’s been honest with you recently, and sometimes it can feel quite isolating when no one is there to share the burden, which is why you’ve been trying to cheer him up and encourage him, in hopes that he’ll feel supported, that whatever happens today, he knows he has you on his side.

You proceed to the function hall for the catered lunch where you meet Jungkook. He shares the table with Hoseok and Bitna, as well as Ji-woo and her assistant, and you engage in conversation with them like old times. 

Jungkook watches you speak to his cousins casually but respectfully, and he doesn’t miss the inside jokes and personal details that you all share. You still look a little reserved, but there’s this comfort in the way you express yourself around people who trust and care for and respect you. 

He’s always known Hoseok and Ji-woo to be great with the employees, and a part of Jungkook envies that they’re able to just share parts of themselves with others, that they’re able to expend their time and energy being around them, something that’s always been difficult for him. He likes his privacy, likes his own space; he revels in the silence to battle the noise in his head. He’s protective of his thoughts and his feelings; he’s particular with who uses his time and energy on; he keeps his distance because it’s always easier - to not be involved, to not be invested, to not be known at all rather than be judged because of what people know. 

He also thinks it’s quite isolating. Outside of his family - whom he keeps his distance from as well - the only person who knows him enough is Lucas, but it’s as shallow as just knowing his preferences and his technical opinion on things, not his dreams or fears or everyday thoughts and emotions. 

Jungkook isn’t someone that people go to for advice or for encouraging words; he’s not someone that people ask about how he’s doing; he’s not a person that others seek for comfort or warmth. He’s just a man who does his work, that people serve, that people want approval from for their own gains. He’s not someone they’d go through lengths for. He just takes up space that others orbit around but he’s not the center of their world; he isn’t anybody’s.

“Is everything okay, Mr. Jeon?” You disrupt his thoughts. “Is there anything you want?”

“Chocolate milk,” he says too quickly. “Uh, only if there is.”

“Hot?”

“Yes.”

You call the server and ask if they have any, but the man says they don’t, so you decide to head to one of the stalls at the food hall downstairs.

“You don’t have to,” Jungkook says, pulling your wrist in reflex as you stand up.

You’re caught off guard and so is he, and he immediately lets go and apologizes for it. The guilt in his eyes is similar to the one you saw at the restaurant when you’d admitted that he made you feel uncomfortable, and something about it makes you feel moved. 

“I mean, uh, it’s okay. It’s not urgent,” he adds, looking away.

“If it’ll help, then I should get it for you, Mr. Jeon,” you insist. “It won’t take long. I’ll be back before lunch ends.”

You don’t wait for a response and head out, leaving Jungkook with curious looks from his cousins.

“So, I see you’ve warmed up to her already,” Ji-woo hums, smiling. 

“You could say that,” Jungkook shrugs, acting nonchalant.

“Well, it’s about time you did,” Ji-woo shakes her head. “She works incredibly hard and she’s very reliable.” At the younger man’s nod in agreement, she adds, “you just had to give her a chance. There’s a reason why uncle and Hoseok wanted her around for you.”

“I guess,” Jungkook hums. “She’s… she’s a good person. I don’t really know if I deserve that but she is to me. She’s required to be, I suppose.”

“Or she sees you as a human being who needs a bit of warmth and joy in his life,” Ji-woo suggests. “Kindness goes a long way, you know? She’s said before that there are people who have extended it to her and maybe she’s just doing that, too.”

“Or maybe she sees something in you,” Hoseok says now. 

“Like what?” Jungkook scoffs, knowing himself that after he’s treated you, there’s no way you’d see something in him, whatever that is.

“Like an emptiness, or yearning. Something she feels, too,” Hoseok responds. “Maybe she’s unknowingly making you feel something that she wants to feel herself, you know? I had A-yeong, my sister, my parents, my friends... Seeing her now with you, she didn’t pay attention to my every need the way she’s doing now, and that’s not a criticism of her. Perhaps she just knew that I had other people to do that.”

“And I’m the lonely, single, friendless man that she’s stuck with,” Jungkook laughs dryly, although he’s not offended. Deep down, he knows it’s true.

“Sort of,” Hoseok chuckles. “But what I really mean is that she knows what it’s like to not have someone to look after her like that. You may think it’s just her job but I think it’s her not wanting you to feel like there’s no one there for you. Maybe if you see it that way, you wouldn’t think you don’t deserve it. Then you can accept it and maybe you can do the same.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Jungkook counters, given that keeping his distance is exactly what he plans to do because any closer would just lead him down a path that he won’t be able to escape from.

“It’s not that deep,” Ji-woo says. “I think what my brother is saying is that it’s okay to be friends, you know? Or just allow her to be nice to you and then return the favor. It’s a much better dynamic. I mean, I’m sure he’s told you but things are just gonna be more challenging down the road, once you’re past the adjusting phase. You’ll need her like you’ve never needed anyone before. I do mean that professionally, but that also requires a kind of relationship where you know and trust and respect each other. It goes both ways.”

Jungkook takes in his cousins’ words, knowing that they speak from experience, and they’ve been doing this longer than he has. He already knows he needs you. That itself terrifies him. He also knows he has to rely on you, and maybe that entails allowing you to care for him in ways that no one - not since Chaerin, at least - has ever done before. That means letting you come close, allowing you to know him, letting you be there for him. Doing the same for you isn’t a question of whether he wants to or not - he’ll probably be denying it to his grave, but it’s about whether he can remain within the boundaries he set for himself, knowing already how you affect him without even doing much. 

The thought gives Jungkook a headache, but it’s not something he can give attention to right now. He’s got a presentation to do in less than an hour. He’ll be scrutinized and questioned and probably judged and then he realizes it again - he needs you through all that. He already knows you’ll be encouraging and supportive; you’ve shown that in the past week especially, and he’s appreciated and hated every single moment of it.

The hurried footsteps signal that you’re back, and you take your seat next to him.

You’re panting as you place the cup on the table. “Here you go, Mr. Jeon. I’m not sure if it’s as milky as you want it but the really good cafe downstairs said it should be good. Oh and uh, wrap your hands around it,” you instruct, earning you a curious look. “Your hands are very cold.”

Jungkook does as you say, feeling the warmth of the drink through his skin, even more when he takes a sip and finds that it tastes just as he wanted. 

“This is good. Thank you,” he utters, not wanting to meet your eyes.

You exhale a sigh of relief. You know how he has particular tastes and you just went with a hot chocolate even if he specifically said he wanted chocolate milk. There’s a brand he likes from Lucas’ list and you didn’t have time to actually get it or even store the office pantry with it - which you realize now you should do, and you make a mental note of doing an inventory so you could request for more of the things he likes later on.

“You’re welcome,” you reply. “I… I hope it helps for the presentation. Or the nerves. Or just in general.”

“It has,” he confirms, humming with every sip.

Not long after, everyone is instructed to head back to the conference room so the meeting can resume. You take your seat with the other assistants at the side after you’ve ensured that the presentation is ready while Jungkook heads to the front. You watch him go through his notes a final time, and when he sets them aside and looks up, his eyes find yours.

They’re still tainted with worry, you can tell even from several feet away. So you give him a comforting smile, knowing it’s what he needs. You gently nod and give him a double thumbs up as if to say that he can do it, and he nods back, as if to say that he’ll do his best.

And that’s exactly what he does.

The presentation goes for a quarter of an hour, and while he does give a good rundown of the achievements of the past three months, it’s his pitch of the Arts Center that really makes him shine. The visuals are good to begin with. He did those blueprints himself and the designs give life to his vision, but he explains every aspect of the project with just enough detail to enable the audience to imagine how it looks and what it makes them feel. He took into consideration earlier worries about profits and brand reputation, as well as anticipated questions and points of attack, so he goes ahead and addresses them to the point that he can’t be scrutinized for anything that’s lacking. He keeps in mind the qualities of each Board member, so he makes eye contact if he needs to and acknowledges side comments and builds on them. 

He’s definitely added more - and improved - since that first runthrough you did with him, and he looks very confident and very respectable. You can tell that he values not just profits but art itself - its creation, its appreciation, and the various ways it can be experienced. As someone who yearns for that kind of passion for something, seeing him like this is quite moving. 

It doesn’t help that he looks as good as he does standing up there, and it’s a thought you let yourself have before dispelling it quickly. 

He gets approving nods from most of the Board members. The rest still look a bit doubtful, but you suppose they wouldn’t directly criticize Jungkook and his plans in front of everyone after a presentation like that. You also take a peak at CEO Jeon who’s unable to hide how proud he is of his son. Hoseok and Ji-woo exchange smiles as well. But Jungkook remains focused, ready to answer any questions or comments from the Board.

Mr. Mun is the first to commend him and doesn’t ask much. Mr. Im surprisingly praises Jungkook after admitting his reservations, and Mr. Saito, as you expected, asks clarificatory questions that just builds on what was earlier presented. Jungkook’s readiness and creativity are highlighted as well, and you can tell that the older man is extremely excited for this project. 

The hour is up before you know it, with only minimal questions and a few comments from the attendees. Ji-woo and Hoseok raise points to help with marketing and earning profit, and you take note of all those for discussion and debriefing next week. 

Jungkook thanks everyone before returning to his seat, and you see the breath he lets out after, seemingly glad that that’s at least over. You catch his attention again, and you can’t help your smile. He acknowledges you with a nod, and he turns his focus towards Hoseok as the next presenter. The afternoon goes by like this, with Ji-woo going last and CEO Jeon closing out the meeting. 

There’s some time before the fellowship dinner, which is spent with side conversations and check-ins. Mr. Saito goes to Jungkook right away and you see the latter’s face light up a little, although you don’t miss the sniffing and the throat clearing that he does. You think that his cold hands earlier weren’t due to his nervousness; perhaps the last month has finally caught up to him because you truly believe that this man does not rest. 

You head out to return to your desk, knowing you’ve got several things to do before the dinner that assistants are invited to. You fly through your notes from earlier and some administrative tasks before heading back to the event hall where you find Jungkook talking to Mrs. Seo and Mr. Ong this time, two people who’d most likely be critical of him so you’re glad that he’s at least forging some relations, if their animated way of speaking is any indication. 

You see him excuse himself to head to the washroom, and you take this time to order a cup of ginseng tea for him. It arrives just as he returns to his seat, and when it registers why you’d ordered it, he nods and mumbles his thanks.

“If I may, perhaps you shouldn’t stay long, Mr. Jeon,” you suggest. “It’s been a tiring week and you need to rest.”

Jungkook hates being told what to do, but he’s also never had someone tell him to rest because he needs it, much less even know that he’s not feeling alright. 

“I need to engage with the Board,” he reasons. “I’m sure that’s what father would like. I can rest during the weekend.”

“Okay, sir,” you sigh, knowing he’s also right. Perhaps he’s accepted that this is a critical part of his new role as Vice President. “Just let me know if there’s anything more that I can help you with.”

“I will.”

You sit at the table where the other assistants are, engaging in hushed conversations as you talk about the Board members and how tired you all are. It’s nice being around them, as you all share the experience of stress and isolation, of knowing too much sometimes, of security and stagnancy. They know what you’re going through, partially at least - unlike you, they have people to go home to and proper hobbies that excite them. They have loved ones close by and things they look forward to during the weekends. So while they do make you feel understood, you also can’t help but be a bit jealous. 

Your thoughts are suspended when Bitna offers to take you home. It’s well past 9 and you’re not keen on staying longer to drink with the rest of the big bosses here. You glance at Jungkook who has a wine in hand, clearly trying his best to keep up with the conversations he’s a part of. He looks incredibly tired - much more than usual - and you feel bad that this isn’t something you can help him with. 

You take Bitna’s offer and you both head to your respective bosses to bid your goodbyes. Jungkook nods and mentions his meeting with the artist last night that he says he’ll discuss with you on Monday. There’s more you want to say, but you worry he’ll think you’re nagging about his health - which, you remind yourself, is also part of your job - and you don’t want to end the week on a sour note. 

Jungkook watches you leave the event hall and he immediately feels your absence. Even when you spent much of your time apart, he could feel you there, partly because of the ginseng tea that you ordered for him twice at your insistence and partly because the knowledge that you’re around is enough. And now you aren’t, and he suddenly can’t stand any more of the socializing he has to do. 

But he powers through it for another hour. When he bids his father goodbye, the older man commends him for his presentation earlier and the way he handled himself throughout the fellowship dinner. It’s assuring, but he knows there’s so much more work to be done so he doesn’t revel in it any longer than a few seconds. 

The drive home is quiet. His soft groans as he massages his temples are the only sounds in the car. When he arrives at his empty penthouse, he grabs a bottle of whiskey from the counter and sits on the couch - a glass in hand, necktie and buttons undone, feet on the coffee table, and head rolled back as he reminds himself that he survived the day, that he did a good job, and that he changed some of the Board members’ minds about him. 

And much as he tries to keep away the image of you, he’s unable to - there you were in the room, on his side, cheering him on. He didn’t miss the satisfied smile on your face once he finished his presentation, nor your look of worry after the ginseng tea was placed on the table. 

You’re just good at that - making him feel like someone looks out for him, that someone else minds that he succeeds, that someone cares that he’s not well and that he should rest. 

The smile on his face fades once he’s reminded that you’re supposed to do all that, and that he isn’t anyone special, nor should he be. It’s the thought that keeps him behind the lines - you’re unattainable in so many ways, yet he’s also glad that you are. It’s easier to be mindful of his place like that; it’s easier to accept that you’re you and he’s him, and it’s easier to do his job when he knows you’re just doing yours.

At least, that’s what he hopes. 

But when he gets a call from reception the next morning about a package that you dropped off, all that wishful thinking seems pointless. And as he stares at the bowl of chicken noodle soup in front of him, all his thoughts from the night before come crashing down.

Why is everything so hard when it comes to you?

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[61/547] — until we meet again, jungkook ♡ (cr. heybaetae)

#just_how_fast_the_night_changes 🐰

Ok i read this on the day it dropped but work got in the way and I couldn't write proper feedbacks so here i am now✨️ gonna put it under the cut just in case aha

Spoiler alerts!!!

This was such a rideee wtf 😭

I didn't expect the whole story to focus only on the holiday and the whole time I was scrolling down, seeing the scrollbar getting closer and closer to the end and we're still at the house?!!! My anxiety was through the roof 😭😭

I expected a cliche (affectionate💕) accident pregnancy story in which OC would try to hide it more for quite some time or would at least try to tell tae when they're not in the house. Yknow, get his number and maybe meet up later when they're back in the city. It was quite the surprise when I read that she planned on telling him right then and there on that very day, she has guts alright i could never 😭

I also didn't expect Honey to be the catalyst if anything lmaooo😭😭😭 i felt so bad for OC my heart practically dropped when she panicked the moment Honey jokingly asked if she's pregnant 🥲🥲🥲

The way this story also told us about OC & her is another surprise, as I didn't really care much for alia at first but to see them sit down with each other and finally talk was quite healing in its own way🥹

I wish we could've seen more of OC & Tae & their baby, but this was alrd quite a ride and such a good read so thank you sm op for writing this 🥹 i was so looking forward to this and i wasn't disappointed hehe

A Christmas Fix — 02 (m) | kth

⟶ Summary | One-night stands are supposed to be nothing more than just. It shouldn’t have involved seeing those two red lines looking back at you weeks later without a name or a contact number linking you back to your mystery man. Nothing more but his face. The unforgettable face that would sometimes appear in your dreams at night. So unforgettable that you immediately recognise him the moment he walks into your family home at Christmas, hand-in-hand with your older stepsister.

With special collab prompt: "the holidays aren't so bad with you around."

⟶ Title | A Christmas Fix

⟶ Pairings | Taehyung x female reader

⟶ Genre | Secret Baby!au, Second Chance!au, Strangers to Lovers!au

⟶ Ratings & Warnings | +18 / M for Mature; including: alcohol consumption, mentions of pregnancy, morning sickness, surprise babies, miscommunication, profanities/swearing, fake dating trope on the side, minor body insecurities (implied), fight scene, some family drama; involves multiple explicit sex scenes, including: sexual tension, one night stand, drunk sex (with clear consent), minor dom/sub dynamic, brat!reader, size kink, rough sex, light choking, restraint, hair pulling (M, F), protected & unprotected sex, pregnant sex, fingering (F), oral sex (F), clit play, breast play, stripping, biting, minor hand job/groping, grinding, masturbation (M, F), mutual masturbation, dirty talk, implied pain kink, praise kink, body worship, marking, multiple orgasms (M, F), overstimulation.

⟶ Word count | 29,410 words (of 54,773 words)

⟶ Story Notes | Part of the Jingle All the Way collaboration with @leahsfavefics, @kithtaehyung, @kpopfanfictrash, @cybrsan, and @sugaurora | Written in 2nd person POV (in case you’re new to my writing, I don’t use ‘y/n’ coding as all of my lead characters are considered as OCs) | Moodboard was done by me | Posted in: February 1st, 2024 by @yoonia

⟶ Author Notes | And we're finally at the end. Thank you so much for everyone who has read part 1, and those of you who have been so patient with me. I'm sorry I had to wait for a day to post this. I hope you'll enjoy the rest of the journey to see how this story ends :)

⟶ Jingle All the Way collab masterlist | A Christmas Fix: ⤎ previous chapter

⟶ Main Masterlist | Taglist | Feedback | Mailbox | Ko-fi

⟶ Read on AO3

The house has been quiet all morning. 

There is only one day left before Christmas Eve, and everyone has been busy for the past couple of days. Your mother and Honey are hosting the Christmas Eve’s family dinner this year, with close relatives from their side of the family joining in, so everyone has been busy going around and about to prepare for it. 

After days filled with all the bustling activities, it feels like you finally have some downtime. With both of your parents gone—your mother is out with Honey to shop for a couple of necessities needed for the event, and your stepfather out doing some errands, assisted by Taehyung in place of Hansol—it feels like you can finally breathe easy. 

While the pre-Christmas rush helped smother the loud thinking constantly happening inside your head, the silence that you are experiencing now feels comforting. The underlying tension that is also present, however, isn’t so much. 

When you agreed to stay home and help out with the rest of the Christmas baking still needed to be done, you didn’t expect that Alia had volunteered to stay behind and help too. So you have been using this silence as a protective shield. 

Almost an hour has passed since the two of you started getting busy in the kitchen. No meaningful conversation has been shared so far, aside from the times you had to talk through the recipes together or talking about passing things over. The only sounds that are keeping you company are the occasional sounds of kitchenware hitting the counter, the shuffling sounds coming from both you and Alia as you move around the kitchen, and the burning oven behind your back. 

Slowly, you are beginning to enjoy this routine, finding calmness in the steady rhythm of baking and cooking which helps quiet the voices in your head. Too bad it doesn’t last long enough for you to relish it when Alia suddenly speaks, bringing up something other than the task in your hand for a change. 

“I’ve been wondering for a while, but you look like you had a rough night. Is your stomach still bothering you?” she asks, breaking the silence. 

To say that you are caught off-guard seems like an understatement. And you have no idea how to respond to her question. For her to suddenly ask something personal is completely unexpected. 

It’s not that the two of you never had an actual conversation with one another like a pair of normal human beings. It’s just she never seemed to truly care or have any interest in getting to know about you other than the stories shared at family dinners with your parents around. 

It’s making it even harder to answer when you have this underlying guilt brewing inside you. A feeling that comes from hiding a secret that keeps getting heavier to carry. And you are afraid that the moment you open your mouth to speak, they will all come spilling out of you. 

You wish you could just lie to her face. Tell her that everything is fine so you can continue working in silence. 

But when you look up and actually look at her, she seems—genuine, in her concern, and almost as much with her curiosity. 

But there is no malice or pretence in her question that you find yourself reaching out to accept the olive branch that she is offering you and answer, “It’s—okay. I mean, it’s been pretty rough the past few nights. I think it’s because of the lack of sleep I’ve been getting.” 

And you’re not completely lying. Because the past couple of nights have been rough. But you couldn’t possibly explain to her why.

Alia scrunches her nose, oblivious to this. “I heard from Honey that you get this way when you’re stressed out. Has work been stressful for you lately? I mean, with your latest work promotion, I can only imagine that you’ve only gotten busier lately.” 

You purse your lips and avoid her gaze, once again biting back the secret that is threatening to slip out. 

“Maybe—” you start to answer, “I haven’t been eating well, and I’ve messed up my sleeping schedule so bad lately, that it’s been hard to fix it even when I’m home. I’ve been having trouble sleeping, and I woke up with a headache this morning.” 

Alia frowns. “Have you been taking meds? I have some vitamins that may help you sleep better. I’ve been taking them lately to—” 

Thinking about taking vitamins makes you cringe. The doctor’s warnings come floating through your mind—reminding you that you should be wary of the medicines and vitamins to take, as they may not be safe enough for the baby in your belly, her warning about keeping your stress level low, and her reminder of watching over your diet at the beginning of your pregnancy. 

“No, it’s fine. I don’t usually take medicines or vitamins to help me sleep,” you gently refuse. Even without your doctor’s warnings, you know that nothing could really help you with your sleeping problems. 

Because the truth is, your nausea and ‘stomach bug‘ haven’t been the sole reason why you have been having trouble sleeping as of late. 

It was Taehyung. 

Ever since you came across Taehyung that night in the hallway, memories from the night of your wild hookup have been coming back to you. They have been haunting you at night, whether you were sitting in bed wide awake or when you were deep in your restless sleep. 

When sleep failed you, you would be left spending long hours recounting every action and every conversation that you could remember. Every single detail had been coming back to you in bits and pieces jumbling together, and you would spend the next long hours trying to piece everything together. You went through it all to answer the resounding questions that are still messing up with your mind. 

How many times did we do it that night? 

More than twice, for sure, you recall each time you try to look back. Was it three, or four times? 

You remember feeling sore and tired the next day, yet you were content enough to sleep the whole flight away towards your dream vacation with your whole body humming with the waning pleasure. And while you weren’t completely drunk that night, you were surely tipsy enough that you were unable to memorise every single moment with a clear mind. 

But the biggest question that you have yet to answer—

He really did wear condoms that night, didn’t he? 

You remember watching him roll the condom down the length of his impressive cock. It wasn’t really a memory that you could easily erase, no matter how tipsy-minded you were that night. Not when the way he did it left you completely transfixed. 

For some reason, everything about the first intercourse you had with him remains vivid in your memory. Because it was the first time for you to ever feel that kind of pleasure. To feel wanton and free with someone who was willing to help you open up a part of you which had been locked and sheltered during the long period of time you spent in your past relationship. 

The second time always seems a bit blurry. But you can still recall waking up to his sinful lips devouring your sore pussy in the middle of the night. 

He claimed it as a way to make up for the rough and dominating way he took you the first time and the lack of foreplay. So he spoiled you by giving you pleasure through his mouth and tongue and the work of his fingers, before he fucked you gently, slowly, until you were arching into him and crying out his name once again as he helped you embrace your slow rising climax. 

And the third time—

“Um, earth to ________.” 

Alia’s sharp voice pulls you out of your dark thoughts. Her curiosity seems to grow more palpable, and so does the concerned look you see on her face. 

“Are you okay? Seriously, you don’t look so well. You keep spacing out today and now it’s like you’re burning up or something.” 

With a gasp, you reach up and touch your cheeks, quickly realising that she is right. You are burning up. Except that instead of burning from a fever, your body is growing hot from the inside for a different kind of reason. 

You are burning from being drowned in your dirty thoughts and recounting all the pleasure that you felt back then. To be thinking about all the wanton things that you shared with—

Your eyes fall open as you draw a shocked gasp. Realising too late that you are thinking about your stepsister’s new boyfriend while she is sitting right in front of you. Guilt pierces through your chest right at that moment, and you quickly rise from your seat. 

“Excuse me, I think I need to cool down a little bit. I’ll be right back,” you quickly say to her before slipping away from the kitchen without waiting for her response. 

Needing distance from Alia, you rush to your bedroom upstairs, finding solace in your safe space as you lock yourself in it. The feeling of shame washes over you. You can’t believe that you had allowed yourself to think of dark, sultry thoughts while you were sitting right across your stepsister. 

Worse yet, that doing so made you feel aroused. 

The same thing always happens each time you think back about that night. As if your body has memorised what your mind has failed to remember. Each memory of his touch brings back sparks on your skin, reigniting the same reaction that he managed to draw from you then. 

By the time you lie down on your bed, the heat in your body has spread all over the place. Even to the places that you didn’t expect to be affected, as it spreads down between your legs. 

At the same time, your skin seems to be humming with need. There is a desire that has been awakened simply by reliving that night in your thoughts, which would be impossible to quench. 

You close your eyes, and immediately feel as though you are under a spell. Your hands begin to move on their own, searching for the source of the heat rushing within your body. They continue travelling their way down, following the pulses that you feel emerging from your core. 

You slip one hand down your pants, reaching down until you feel skin. A gasp threatens to come out when the tips of your fingers are met with dampened skin. Just as expected, thinking about that night and the things you did with Taehyung then has made you wet. 

Your fingers tremble, and your heart starts pounding like crazy as you continue touching yourself. Slipping your fingers across your slit, you make use of the slickness that has formed to slide back and forth, playing with yourself until you feel only pleasure. A shudder erupts through you as you stroke your clit. 

You shouldn’t be doing this. But before you can stop yourself, an image of his face hovering right above you comes to you. In that moment, you are back to the night when you were with him. 

The fingers that are touching your hot center are no longer yours. They may not be the same size as his fingers, and not as firm, but your memory easily replaces your dainty digits with Taehyung’s longer and wider ones as you push them into your throbbing core. 

There is a voice in your head that keeps telling you how wrong for you to be doing this. How inappropriate for you to be thinking naughty thoughts about someone who isn’t yours and pleasuring yourself with it. 

But your body wouldn’t listen. 

Your hand continues to move, pumping your fingers in and out of your pussy while your hips push back against them. The pleasure rises, increasing quickly the faster you move your hand, the more you ride your fingers like an animal in heat. 

And you don’t stop until your orgasm starts building. It keeps growing stronger, until everything within you snaps. 

As you fall into bliss, his face is all you see. His voice is the one you hear instead of the soft, muffled moans coming out of your lips, whispering to you the same sweet soothing voice that he gave you that night while you were succumbing to pleasure. 

“Good girl. You’re amazing, Red. Rest up, and we’ll play again once you’re ready.” 

“I suppose this is what people call a Christmas miracle.” 

You start to roll your eyes before you remember that Skye wouldn’t be able to see it. For the past hour, you have been on the phone with your roommate while you were hiding from your family. 

Locked in the safety of your bedroom for the second time today because you still couldn’t get over the mortification that has fallen upon you after this morning’s blunder. 

Having your arousal slowly pooling between your legs by the mere thought of Taehyung and the sinful deed you shared with him seemed scandalous. Allowing it to happen while you were sitting right in front of his girlfriend, someone closely related to you, made you feel as if you were more deserving to be burned in hell rather than sharing the joy and laughter of Christmas. 

And instead of brushing those nasty thoughts away, you took it one step further by seeking pleasure with the touch of your fingers. With your head filled with thoughts of Taehyung and while your stepsister was waiting downstairs for you to return. 

Shame and guilt plagued you once you were done. And you were also too sated and tired to even function. But you couldn’t hide in your bedroom for long. Doing so would only cause people to grow suspicious of your behaviour, and you already gained enough unsolicited attention to let it happen. 

So after cleaning yourself up and wiping off any remnants of your misdeed, you put your big girl pants on and went back downstairs to finish the Christmas baking with your stepsister. This time, you kept to yourself more, avoiding as much conversation with Alia while you continued to pretend that nothing happened while you were away. 

Thankfully, you didn’t have to be alone with her for far too long when everyone returned from their outing.

Masking your shame no longer became a struggle when you stopped being the main focus of the room. Everyone was busy with Christmas Eve’s preparation; your mother with the holiday decorations, your stepfather with his handiwork as he went out to fix the porch and the locks on the front door, while you and Alia remained in the kitchen to finish baking. 

Honey stayed nearby, as she sat at the kitchen counter, watching everyone doing their own thing while she was nursing a mug filled with steaming hot cocoa and sharing the most recent gossip about the old ladies living in her apartment complex. 

While all of this was happening around you, you were blessed with the absence of Taehyung, who was said to have gone back to the motel where he and Alia have been staying to finish some work before Christmas Day.

You didn’t question it, trying not to care too much about him and making use of him being gone to try and forget everything that had happened. 

But then lunchtime came, and he returned just in time to rejoin your family for the meal. Seeing his face again, hearing his voice, watching how your stepsister kept being all touchy feeling with her boyfriend and clinging to him all the time gave you an unpleasant feeling that you felt sick to the stomach. 

That was when you rushed back into your bedroom. You convinced yourself that you weren’t hiding from them. That you simply needed some time alone; alone with your thoughts, to gather your wits, and calm your nerves that had become unsettled during lunch while he was once again sitting right across the table, subtly watching you when others weren’t looking. 

But being alone with your thoughts hadn’t been quite helpful. 

Your mind kept wandering into places that you shouldn’t dare to visit. You needed someone to talk to. To vent and get everything out of your system. And Skye, who is currently on the other side of the country to be with her family, was the best option to call. 

And yet, after telling her everything that has happened and keeping her up to date with the latest developments, you are starting to regret calling her. 

“Do tell me why you, of all people, would call this catastrophe a miracle?” you ask her while pinching the bridge of your nose. Your head feels tense, although you are relieved that it has somehow stopped pounding after sharing all of the drama to your roommate through the phone call. 

You can hear the subtle sound of her humming to herself, contemplating her answer. “I mean, think about it. We already made an elaborate plan to track him down, to the point that we nearly booked a ticket to go back to the place where your flight made a stop for transit in case we can’t easily find him,” she says with the same no-nonsense tone of voice that she always uses when she is laying out all of the facts, “and then he suddenly appears, right at your family’s home, as if saying ‘Here I am, look no further’.” 

She laughs, and you can picture her shaking her head when she adds, “Tell me that’s not a miracle.” 

Instead of answering her, you only bite your lips. It does sound almost too good to be true. Except for the one simple fact that is impossible to ignore. “You’re forgetting the fact that he’s here as Alia’s plus one. I’d say it’s a curse, instead of a miracle.” 

You can her chuckling bitterly on the other side of the phone. “And once again, I’m going to say that I don’t envy you.” 

You let out a groan as you fall back on the bed. “This isn’t funny.” 

“I know, sweetie,” she says, comforting you with a sigh. “It’s just so absurd to think about all the coincidences happening around this baby business.” 

You close your eyes, hating the fact that she’s right. There are too many coincidences happening around you, and it’s astonishing to think that everything could come to this point. 

“Yeah, it does sound absurd.” 

“I’m just sad I’m not there to witness it,” she says, laughing, while you barely have the energy to scoff at her. 

For the longest time, Skye has always been the one you turn to whenever you need someone to vent about your ordeal with your stepsister. But compared to the other times you clashed against Alia, this one surely takes the cake.

“You haven’t told him about the baby, have you?” 

You wince. “No,” you answer with s sigh. “I can’t think of a way to do it.” 

And you have been avoiding being in the same room with him to even have the chance to talk about it. Not that you would have found that chance anyway if you did, as Alia has always been by his side. You suddenly remember the way Alia suddenly sidled to his side when he was alone at a time, making a complete show about her doting on him.

Grimacing, you shake the image out of your head. “I’ve thought of different scenarios involving me talking to him and revealing about my pregnancy, but everything has changed now that Alia is involved in this.” 

Skye grows silent for a moment. “Just tell him,” she says. Her voice softens, which only means that she is being serious about this. “The sooner the better, even more so because he is involved with Alia. It’s better to let him know now rather than later, once they’ve been dating longer and the baby is here.” 

You bite your lips again, refraining to tell her that you had thought about the same thing. “He did say he wanted to talk—” 

But he never made it clear what he wanted to talk about. What is there to talk about if he still has no clue about the baby? Is he trying to convince you again not to let Alia know about your past hookup? How would that work if you’re having a baby together from that hookup? 

You hate to admit it, but being kept as a secret feels—painful. 

“Well—” Skye hesitantly says, “It’s not like you’re planning to have an actual relationship with him, right?” 

Her question makes your stomach drop. Have you ever really had any hope of having a relationship with him, just because you are expecting a baby with him? 

Thinking back to the night of your hookup makes you look back and relive the emotions that you felt that night. You are sure that you felt a connection with him that night. A connection that you never felt before with anyone else. It felt real, yet you denied it simply because neither of you had been using your true identities when you climbed on that bed together. It had seemed to you that both of you had only wanted that night to be a one-time thing. 

The sparks you felt with him had also been real, and you are quite sure that you felt them again the last time you were alone with him in that hallway, when he confronted you after the first family dinner that you shared with him. Sometimes, you can also feel that same sparks coming back whenever he is in the room, no matter how far away you try to distance yourself from him.

Could it be that somewhere along the line, you had unknowingly harboured hope that you could be together again? When did this happen? 

Or did having his baby growing inside you make you think that you could somehow build something real with him, to develop the connection that you felt that night into something else entirely? 

Is that why seeing him with Alia has been bothering you so much? Not only because you are hiding this secret, but also because nothing can come out of it once you come clean to him? 

Not for the first time today, you feel like you’re about to throw up. 

You only had one night with him. You keep reminding yourself this, hoping that it will be able to snap you out of the silly illusion that you had allowed your mind to possess. 

“No, I just want him to know about the baby,” you answer weakly, hoping that voicing this promise out loud would help put an end to your wishful thinking. To stop it before it gets too far. 

“But having this baby with me while he’s dating my stepsister will complicate things. And things are already complicated between me and Alia.” 

“Right,” Skye sighs on the phone. Knowing exactly what you mean without you having to say it out loud. 

Over the years, Skye had both witnessed and heard every single spectacle that had become a major part of your relationship with Alia. You can tell that she understands what to expect once this thing blows up. 

“You’re right. I can’t imagine how she’ll react,” you hear her say, before releasing an overly dramatic sigh, and you immediately know where this is going. “Maybe she wouldn’t have hated you so much if you didn’t break that doll of hers when you were a kid.”

You scream into the pillows while she laughs historically on the phone. “Why do you have to bring that up?” you groan, hating yourself for sharing this with her during one of your late-night drinking fests. “Out of all the ludicrous things I shared with you, that’s the one crossing your mind right now?”

“Hey, you were the one who brought it up first. How would you know that it wasn’t true?” 

“How could you possibly remember that when I barely could?” you whine out loud. 

One drunken night was all it took for you to disclose the severity of your childhood crime. Even if you barely remember the details of it. Thankfully, your roommate had been the only witness to listen to your drunk confession. 

“It was an accident that happened ages ago, and I already told you that she couldn’t have possibly started resenting me for years because of that ugly doll.”

Because it sounds ridiculous if you think about it with a sober mind. And you refuse to believe the disdain that Alia has shown you for years had all stemmed from the small incident that happened when you were a child. 

At nine years old, your small family—originally consisting only of you, your mother, and your sweet grandmother, Honey—suddenly expanded. Everything changed for you the day your stepfather, Cliff, came into the picture. Not only did he fill the void that was left behind by your late father, but he also brought with him another girl, and you suddenly had an older sister to play with and to look up to. 

A few years older than you, Alia appeared in your eyes like the coolest kid you have ever met. Beautiful, smart, witty, though she could act a bit snobbish whenever you tried to play with her, yet she still shared her bedroom, her toys, and sometimes her collection of dolls. 

One sleepover, a pair of clumsy little hands, and a ripped old doll later, everything turned the other way around. It happened so long ago that you eventually forgot about it. As Alia entered high school, she rarely came to visit her father, and the incident was simply overlooked with all the other things happening in your life soon after.

The moment she came back into the picture, Alia began acting differently towards you and your relationship was quick to turn dreary. 

Forced smiles and tensed, courteous chats. The hard and solemn look coming through her eyes that she would always reserve for you when others weren’t looking, always at the times when you earned everyone’s attention or when you accomplished something good in life. Plotting schemes by arranging her own agendas to match the significant moments of your lifetime—graduation days, birthdays, anniversaries—oftentimes forcing Cliff to have to choose between being there for you or to be by his biological daughter’s side, while mostly finding excuses to miss out on your important dates altogether. 

After another incident where she caused another drama back home years ago, you came back to your apartment with an opened bottle of tequila and spent the night drunk-venting with Skye. 

Somehow, as you drunkenly wondered why your stepsister would treat you with so much disdain, that small incident from a long time ago came back to mind. And that moment, it seemed that your subconscious linked the incident with the way she treated you years after, and you let it slip to Skye for her to later make it a running joke between the two of you whenever you came to vent about your stepsister drama. 

But really now…all of that hate and drama over a doll?

As if that would justify the way she has been treating you for years. It also makes you wonder if last year’s incident had anything to do with that as well. 

Shaking your head, you hate to think of what kind of hell she will be giving you once she finds out that you are carrying a baby from the man she’s been flaunting around since the day she came home. 

You shudder at the mere thought of it. 

“You know that my offer still stands, right?” Skye suddenly questions you, much to your relief, as she changes the topic right before your head begins to ache again. “If things get too hard or if he wants nothing to do with the baby, or if he mistreats you at all after knowing that he got you pregnant, we can still run away and raise the baby together. Maybe Europe is a bit too far, and too cold for me, so how about Australia?” 

Unprepared to hear her comment, you immediately erupt into laughter. Like always, your best friend knows how to ease your mind. The tension that comes from the stress is lifted, and so are your worries. 

It doesn’t change the fact that you are still going to have to face the music the moment you are given the chance to, but at least you are starting to see some light waiting at the end of this. 

“Running away sounds awfully tempting right now, I’m not going to lie,” you murmur into the call, knowing that Skye can hear you perfectly. But she wouldn’t be able to see it as you rise from your bed and reach out to the beside table, picking up the sonogram which you had gotten right before you left for home. 

Running away does sound tempting. But it is not the choice that you can make. And you won’t. 

You are going to have that talk with Taehyung and tell him everything. Soon. You just need to be ready to face his reaction and the consequences of what the truth might bring. 

As much as you kept telling yourself to prioritise finding the chance to speak to Taehyung, all of your bravado simply vanished by the time you rejoined your family for dinner. 

Sitting down at dinner, once again taking the front row seat to watch Alia making a good show of being the doting girlfriend, as she kept clinging onto Taehyung while he was trying to keep his composure in front of you, you felt suffocated. 

And you couldn’t escape it. 

You had done it once, masking your discomfort with your sickness. And then doing it again a couple of more times under various excuses while everyone was spending time together.

Despite feeling like you wanted to run away, you were running out of excuses and there was nowhere for you to hide. Even once dinner is over, your attempt to escape unnoticed quickly fails when Taehyung finds you first. 

“What are you up to now?” you nearly snap at him as Taehyung slips into view, intercepting you when you are about to slip past the backdoor, hoping to get some fresh air. 

Pursing his lips, he hides his smile and shrugs. “Nothing, just trying to see what you’ve been up to.” 

You squint your eyes at him, finding him suspicious. “Does Alia even know you’re here? Cornering me instead of chaperoning her out there?” 

As you cross your arms over your chest, challenging him with your question, Taehyung simply stares at you with an amused look in his eyes. “You know, everyone is in the living room and they’re wondering where you are. Honey is about to make a show of making that rum cocktail that she was bragging about at dinner.” 

An overwhelming feeling of craving and queasiness comes over you as you picture Honey and her rum cocktails that you would normally enjoy during the holidays. You swallow the tightness in your throat and force a smile. “So you offered to look for me?” 

Taehyung grins, making it seem like he has no fault whatsoever for being where he shouldn’t be. “I’m currently free, so why not?” 

You scoff at him and shake your head when you fail to hide your smile. “Yeah, well. I doubt that they’ll be missing me.” 

There’s already Alia in the room with them to steal the show and everyone’s attention anyway, you silently wonder. 

And yours. 

Surprisingly, a frown forms on his face upon hearing this. “That’s where you’re wrong. Honey kept asking for you. Said something about making a special recipe for your, um…stomach bug,” he says with a small smile, and then lowers his voice to add, “and I also wondered why you weren’t there.” 

Your heart makes a sudden leap inside your chest. “Thank you for caring,” you say to him with a sarcastic tone of voice, trying not to look deeper into it or feel to happy about him looking for you. 

Having the flutter in your chest gives you more reason to walk away. “Please tell Honey I’m sorry that I can’t join her tonight. I’m not feeling up to it.” 

“Are you sure?” he asks before you can get away. “I remember that you enjoyed drinking sweet cocktails the last time we met. With how Honey kept bragging about it, I’m a bit curious to try the drinks she’s making. Don’t you? 

Of course, you would be interested, you wonder. But I can’t possibly drink whatever it is that Honey is concocting, even if I feel like I need a glass of whatever she is offering.

But he doesn’t need to know that yet—or should he? 

Suddenly, you start doubting yourself. You can feel the words hanging by the tip of your tongue already, the urge to spill everything to him right this moment grows so strongly as you look at his smug face. 

So what if he wanted to wait until the time is right to talk? When is the right time to talk about this? 

You take a quick glance around, noticing that you are all alone with him. This would be the perfect chance to tell him about the pregnancy, wouldn’t it?

“Maybe her cocktail can help you feel more at ease and less—tense,” he suddenly adds with a hint of a teasing tone in his voice that rubs you the wrong way, taking away every good will you ever have of talking to him properly about your ordeal. 

“Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve dinner. There’s going to be enough drinking then,” you say to him while gritting your teeth. But you know that it would be highly unlikely that you are going to drink even then. 

You realise that you will have to find more excuses tomorrow to avoid any alcoholic drinks being passed onto your hands. But you can figure that out later. You first need to figure out how to share him the news. 

“You should go back. Alia would be looking for you by now,” you say to him with a bite while avoiding his eyes as you try to walk around him, yet he stops you from running away again. 

This time, he isn’t using his words. 

Your entire body freezes as he catches your wrist. Once he knows that he has gotten you right where he wants you to, he starts pulling you gently back to him. You look up at his face, surprised that he would do something so daring when he was the one who had been so adamant about keeping your history with him a secret. 

“What are you doing?” you hiss at him, yet you don’t make a move to pull away. You throw a quick glance towards the hallway leading to the living room, worrying that someone might suddenly show up. “Are you crazy? What if someone comes here?” 

Taehyung steps closer until you can feel his warmth engulfing you. He only stops once his chest is merely a few inches away from yours. His move seems menacing, and so does the look in his eyes as he looks at your face. 

Those are the same eyes that had been looking back at you that night. You get to see the same look you saw then. Passionate. Enthralling. He grounds you with nowhere else to go even without having to restrain you to him, only refraining you from escaping him with nothing more but the look in his eyes. 

Suddenly, the room feels tight. As though there is not enough air in your chest for you to breathe, much less to speak. And he is getting too close for comfort. 

His hold on your wrist loosens, yet he doesn’t pull away. The dark look in his eyes also wanes, and he looks almost as if he is in pain when he leans down, getting even closer until your faces are almost touching each other. 

“Is it making you feel uneasy that I’m around? Is that why you keep running away from me when I’m there?” he questions you with a voice so soft that you would have missed it if he hasn’t been this close, with his lips hovering close to yours. 

So close that you can almost feel his kiss, even without touching. Each word he murmurs to you sends your skin shivering, while the cavities inside your chest seem to tighten on themselves when he whispers, “You might be able to ignore it and pretend nothing happened, but I can’t.” 

You take a sharp inhale of breath. What is he saying right now? 

Suddenly, you feel as if you have just walked into a dream. The same feeling that you had that night returns to you; all the sparks that seem to be floating in the air around you; the way your head seems to be in a haze, as if his entire presence is intoxicating you. 

And his words are making your head spin. 

Once again, you feel as if you are under his spell. But at the same time, you feel irritated at him for doing this. For choosing to act like this now, when he was just holding hands with your stepsister just moments ago.

While your irritation lights up, he rubs his thumb across your wrist, and the sparks explode around you like fireworks. “Tell me you’re not feeling it too.” 

And just like that, his voice snaps you right out of the spell that he placed on you. Closing your eyes, you suck a deep breath and try to compose yourself. 

“This isn’t right. Alia is in the next room,” you grit your teeth. You open your eyes and glare at him. “You were the one who told me not to tell Alia about us. Was that not your way of telling me to forget everything?” 

Taehyung’s eyes grow wide and he slowly pulls back. To his credit, his face is filled with shame when you remind him of his own words. 

Leaning closer, you whisper to him, doing your best to keep your voice from shaking when you question him, “Or do you make it a habit of jumping from one woman to another as long as it’s convenient for you?” 

He winces. Once again, he looks pained after hearing your accusation. “We’re going to talk. Once the time is right,” he whispers. He clenches his jaw, looking tense for a moment until he lets everything go with a sigh. “But you need to stop avoiding me.” 

You rear back, not expecting to find that he has noticed that you have been deliberately keeping your distance. 

How are you going to explain to him the reason why you can’t possibly stay in the same room with him? 

For you, the reason is quite obvious. You are still feeling it now, when your skin feels tight and your chest grows warm the longer you are in close proximity to him. Even when you entered a room once he left, you could still feel his presence lingering around you, and it was starting to drive you insane. 

And yes, seeing him with Alia bothers you so much that you can never bear being there to witness it.

After your last conversation where he made it seem like he wanted to move on and forget everything, you thought that he would only notice Alia and wouldn’t care to notice your predicament. But obviously, he isn’t completely oblivious to your turmoil. 

“I’m not avoiding you,” you insist. 

Taehyung raises his eyebrows. “Are you sure?” he questions you with an accusing tone. “I don’t think I imagined it when I saw you turning away and running out of the room whenever I came in.” 

He is right, and you find it impossible to lie about it when you barely tried to hide it.

Tired of holding out the truth, you finally admit to him with a small voice, “No, you’re not imagining things. Do you really think it’s fun for me to watch you both together with Alia getting all over you the entire time you’re here?” 

The light in his eyes dims. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—” he sighs, “I’ll talk to her so she can tone it down.”

You shake your head and chuckle bitterly. “Don’t bother. She’s your girlfriend. I’ll be out of here right after Christmas anyway.” 

This makes him frown. “Look, ______,” he starts, but you are too exhausted to deal with this right now to listen.

“I have to go,” you whisper as you pull your hand away. “We’ll have that talk—” 

Because there are a lot of things that I need to tell you.

“And then I’m gone and you can go back to Alia with her family thing on Christmas Day. But tomorrow night, we talk. Right after the family dinner.” 

Not bothering to wait for his response, you turn and walk away, once again leaving him behind in that dimly lit hallway as you search for solace, somewhere far, far away from him. 

Taehyung has been restless. 

He has been feeling uneasy for days. The truth is, it has been like this for him since the moment he stepped foot into Alia’s father’s house and saw you standing there. It has been a struggle to hide it and keep everything in. But last night, after talking to you again, the urge to speak to you about everything and explain himself has been growing even stronger. 

The look that you gave him when he first saw you has been haunting him, weighing him with guilt. Ever since that night six weeks ago, he has kept your smile deeply ingrained in his memory; the coy smile that you gave him as you flirted with him at the bar; the sultry look you wore when you clung onto him at the elevator while testing his limits with your lips tracing his neck; the content smile that he saw on your face the morning after the long, passionate night he shared with you before he took you again one last time. 

And yet, the smile that he kept wishing to see again for the past month was not there when he finally met you again. The expression that he has yearned to see had been replaced with shock, as you stood there looking like a deer caught in the headlights, while at the same time, you also seemed as if you had just witnessed someone kicking your puppy. 

Which was quite understandable, looking back at it now. It must have been a complete shock for you to see him entering your home, holding Alia’s hand and introducing himself as her boyfriend. Just as shocking it was for him to find out that you are Alia’s stepsister.

Fuck, how did things get so messed up?

”You’re not ready yet.”

Taehyung has been so out of it when he enters the motel’s bedroom that he fails to notice Alia watching him. Sitting right in front of the dressing table, she barely gives him a glance as she is busy putting on her makeup and doing her hair for the night. 

Normally, she doesn’t take this much time getting ready. But Taehyung understands that tonight is different. 

According to Alia, the family’s Christmas Eve dinner is a small annual gathering that is quite important for them. Held on behalf of Honey, who often spends the holiday with Cliff’s side of the family. It is when family members and second cousins would come to her Dad’s house to celebrate both the holidays and Honey’s good health. 

Ever since early this morning, Alia has been saying how she needs to look as her best self tonight—spoken in her own words—because she wants to make a good impression on her stepmother’s family. The only problem was that she also made it clear that she wanted Taehyung to play his role as her boyfriend perfectly, to continue to show that they have a great relationship right in front of everyone, just the same way he has been doing it for the past few days. 

It shouldn’t be bothering him so much that she would ask him to do this. Since that was the main reason why he is here in the first place. 

The original plan had been simple. All he had to do this holiday was to accompany Alia on her trip home to see her family. The family gathering from her mother’s side has always been so stressful, and he simply wanted to help her lessen the pressure so she could enjoy the holidays for once. 

Yet her mother’s special Christmas gathering tomorrow had not been the only thing that was bothering Alia before this holiday came around. Once Taehyung agreed to be her plus one, she extended her desperate plea for help by asking him to come with her as she spends Christmas and the upcoming days to it with her father’s family before heading to see her mother.  

He can’t remember well what Alia told him about having to be here. He understood the reason when it came to her mother, but he barely knew anything about her father’s family. He remembers her talking about something that had to do with clearing her name. Obviously, he should’ve paid more attention, and maybe he should’ve taken the time to know more about Cliff’s family. 

Not that it matters now. When he has travelled all the way here for this, and now he is stuck in this mess without having any clue how to fix it.   

“Taehyung?” 

Taehyung blinks. “What?” 

Alia doesn’t say a thing at first. For a moment, Taehyung wonders if she notices anything when she tilts her head at him, finally looking directly at him as if she is trying to read him. 

Yet he is proven wrong when Alia merely sighs. “I just said that you need to get ready,” Alia says, unaware of the battle happening inside Taehyung’s mind. Before he can say a thing, Alia averts her gaze and looks back at the mirror as if she is trying to solve a puzzle. “You need to look your best if you’re going to stay beside me and we’re going to be late if you’re not moving it.”  

Chuckling to himself, Taehyung walks over to stand right behind her. With his face appearing in the mirror, she has no choice but to look at him. “Should I wear my best suit tonight, then?” he taunts her as he leans down, breathing in her perfume that is a bit too extravagant to his liking. 

I was right, this perfume is nowhere near my taste, he says to himself, while he silently recalls breathing in your perfume and thinking just how much it suited you.

Alia looks up at him through the mirror and rolls her eyes. “You can wear whatever. A suit would be too much, since we’re having the dinner at home, not at some fancy and way too expensive restaurant like how my Mom would have it. You did bring your suit, didn’t you? Wear that at my Mom’s party tomorrow,” Alia instructs him, and for some reason, it doesn’t make him feel good about it.

Usually, he wouldn’t take it to heart and just laugh it off when she acts this bossy around him. Not this time, however. The entire situation has made him grow a bit resentful to her, something that he has been realising for a while now, even if it isn’t fair for her to be treated this way when it wasn’t really her fault. 

Alia keeps her eyes on the mirror when she continues to speak to him. “Wear that black jacket that you love so much. You always look good in it,” she says, flickering her gaze in a teasing way when she adds, “Even I would swoon when I see you wearing it, and that doesn’t happen a lot.” 

Taehyung scoffs at Alia and lowers his head to avoid her gaze. The black jacket brings back a lot of memories. He didn’t think much of it when he brought it with him on this trip, but maybe a part of him already felt that he would be needing it. 

Would it be okay to wear it tonight, right in front of her?

“Are you okay?” Alia’s voice snaps him out of his musings. As he looks up to meet her gaze through the mirror, she surprises him by not only softening her voice, but looking as if she is worried about him. “You know, you don’t seem like yourself lately.” 

How nice of you to notice, Taehyung wonders to himself but bites his tongue so he wouldn’t let those words slip. He has been wondering for a while now just how she could remain oblivious to everything that has been happening around her. 

If only she would notice how uncomfortable he feels whenever she clings to him, or how their act in front of her family bothers you so much. 

Maybe she does notice it, he muses. Maybe she’s been doing it on purpose by pushing it on him. Does it have to do with—

Before Taehyung could finish his own thoughts, Alia seems to have enough of his silence and turns on her seat to look at him straight in the eyes. 

“What is it? Spill.” 

Taehyung only continues to remain silent, having no idea how to answer that question or if he should try to. Even if he can explain himself, where should he even start? 

Is this the part where he needs to tell her that her stepsister—the reason why Alia decided to come to see her Dad after spending weeks complaining that she didn’t have any desire to, and also the reason why she is trying so damn hard to impress everyone this holiday, even to the point of bringing Taehyung home to meet her family—was his last sex partner? 

“You need to tell her.” 

Taehyung closes his eyes as your voice echoes through his head, as if you are the voice of his conscience. 

You were right. He needs to tell Alia about his connection to you. But knowing her mood swings, and the reason why she has been trying to be ‘perfect’ the entire time she was spending time with Cliff’s family, he was hoping that he could postpone talking to her about it until tonight’s big family dinner is done. 

An event that Alia claimed to be more important for her than her mother’s fancy family gathering. 

No, I need to talk to her first, he decides. Maybe we could figure something out once she knows everything. 

“Nothing. I’m just overwhelmed. You didn’t tell me—” he stops himself as he almost let it slip that it was your presence that bothers him. 

You didn’t tell me anything about your stepsister. 

He keeps those words to himself. But he makes a mental note to bring it up once he gets back to her again by the end of the night to have a different kind of conversation to the one he is having with you. “So, black jacket, huh? Got it.” 

“Good, now go get ready and make it quick. The trip from here back to Dad’s house will take some time,” Alia says with a sigh as she turns back to the mirror, her concern is quick to vanish as she proceeds to complain, “We could’ve spared that trip if you hadn’t insisted that we stay in this motel instead of using the guest room like me and my Dad suggested.” 

“I already told you,” Taehyung says with a deep chuckle, leaning back down again to whisper, “I’m a terrible actor.” 

He straightens up while looking pleased with himself for drawing a frown on Alia’s face. “And being in your Dad’s house the entire time we’re here would cost me too much work. The gig would’ve been up before you know it.” 

“Fine, whatever. Just go,” Alia waves him off. 

Taehyung nods and makes his way to the door. He stops before he opens it and asks her, “Remember what I asked earlier?” 

Once again, Alia rolls her eyes at him. “Yeah, yeah, tone it down with the clingy girlfriend act. I get it. Now go get ready, we’re going to be late.” 

Taehyung breathes a sigh of relief to hear it. He can’t seem to forget the way the light in your eyes seemed to dim when you talked about the way he kept putting on the new couple act in front of you. On top of this whole mess, the last thing he wants is to leave you feeling hurt by his actions, so he made a deal with Alia to tone it down, even if he couldn’t explain to her the reason why. 

Pleased to know that Alia is listening to him for once, and that he has at least one problem handled before tonight, Taehyung leaves Alia’s motel room, closing the door behind him with a click before he goes to his own room to get ready.

You turn to your side and have a good look at yourself in the mirror. On instinct, your hands run down your belly, pressing down gently at the spot where the baby should be. 

The knitted dress that you have chosen to wear tonight may not be the fanciest one, but it is the one that feels comfortable on your skin. It isn’t tight enough on your body to make you feel self-conscious about yourself and definitely not enough to show the changes happening in your body. 

With just over six weeks of gestation, the baby bump isn’t showing that much yet. But you can still feel the way your body is changing. Perhaps it is all happening in your mind, only from knowing that you are keeping a living being inside you, but you can almost see it when you look at yourself in the mirror that you cannot help but try to do anything you can to hide it from your family. 

For now, at least. Only until you are ready to reveal everything to them. 

Thinking about this only makes you grow more anxious. You have been feeling this way since morning, all for the thought of having to face Taehyung again, and to finally talk about everything that is needed to be said before the night ends. 

“Tonight,” you tell yourself as you straighten up to look at your reflection in the mirror for one last time. “I’m going to tell him about the baby tonight.” 

Tonight will be the only chance you will ever have to talk to him, after all.  

Tomorrow, Taehyung will join Alia to visit her birth mother. Alia’s mother has always held a massive luncheon or dinner event on Christmas Day that Alia would be required to attend, so you doubt that she would miss it this year, even if you had always overheard her complaining about it to your stepfather.  

Every year, Alia would always prioritise her mother’s family event over her father’s during the holiday season. Coming from a wealthy family, Alia’s mother had always appeared to you like a different breed. Her holiday parties had always been so fancy, almost too extravagant compared to your family’s simple ones. 

Every year, Alia would focus on preparing for those events, always stressing about it before going, and barely focusing on her days spent with her father and his family that it did come as a surprise to you when she came early this year to join your family and to even get herself involved. 

Perhaps that was the reason why she had decided to bring a date with her this time around, and to introduce her boyfriend to the family like you did with your ex. 

Shaking the thoughts of Alia out of your mind, you finish getting ready and walk over to your purse. With gentle fingers, you pull out the sonogram that you had printed during your latest trip to the doctor. 

Holding it up under the light, you brush your fingertips across the blurry image of your growing baby. Sometimes it is still hard for you to process the fact that you are carrying a human child within you. Even through the nausea, the cravings, the lethargy, and any other peculiar things that have become parts of your life as of late, you still have a hard time grasping this fact. 

But this sonogram shows you the undeniable proof that the baby is there. You had even gotten the chance to hear the baby’s faint heartbeat on your last appointment, making it clear that you are carrying a life inside you. 

A life that seems so fragile, that you have developed a strong urge to protect it from the world. Even from its father, if he ever tries to deny or reject it. 

“It’s going to be okay,” you whisper to yourself while brushing your fingers on the picture again, speaking of it like a mantra. At the same time, it also feels as if you are talking to your baby, soothing it like you would if the baby is here with you. “Everything’s going to be okay. Let’s just get through tonight first.” 

For a moment, you contemplate between carrying the sonogram with you or to leave it here. With no purse or a pocket to hide it in, you finally decide to leave it on top of the bedside table until you are ready to show it to Taehyung later tonight. 

With one last look at the mirror, you rub your palms down your dress and give yourself the final pep talk before heading out. “Let’s go,” you whisper to yourself as you walk out of your bedroom, strengthening your shoulders and keeping your chin up as you prepare yourself to face the inevitable.

It’s finally Christmas Eve. 

The holiday spirit hasn’t completely sunk in on you until you finally sat down at the table for the annual Christmas dinner, surrounded by your immediate family and the family members that you haven’t met for a period of time while you have been pursuing your dreams away in the city. 

Outside, the temperature has dropped down even lower than before. The layer of snow that your stepfather had spent hours shovelling away are piling up with fresh ones as snowflakes keep falling from the evening sky, while the windows would tremble once or twice with the flowing breeze that seemed to have picked up as the day turned into evening. 

Inside, however, the warmth of the festive season fills the air, as everyone gathers around the overflowing feast that has been set up on the table—your grandmother’s specially made ham and turkey with the additional main of lamb skewers and turkey meatballs, Aunt Dara’s potato bake and baked salmon, and Uncle Marco’s signature casseroles, with smaller bowls of side dishes set on the side. 

A couple of bowls of the fennel salad that you helped prepare are being passed around on the table. Once everyone is done with their meal, your home-made cinnamon bread rolls and your cousin June’s apple and caramel pie are ready to be served as desserts. 

Once everyone has filled the dining room, your mother’s Christmas decorations which you perviously thought was overdone no longer seemed as much. The twinkling lights and the fragrant pine garlands adorning the room are enough to rival the festive sweaters and bright-coloured dresses that everyone is wearing for the night. The scent of cinnamon and cloves wafts around you all the way from the kitchen, and it makes your head swim even without sipping on the champagne that are being passed around.

As everyone took their seats at the table, you stepfather stepped aside to let Honey take the head of the table as the matriarch of the family and the night’s host. The radiant smile on her face which never seems to wane sets the mood in the entire room, helping you to also forget about your personal troubles that no longer seem as dire as your mind had made them up to be. 

The laughter and chatter filling the room becomes the perfect distraction that you need to pay no heed to the unwavering gaze that Taehyung keeps stealing your way. Even as he chats with June who had sat down by his side, Taehyung continues to throw a few not-so-subtle glances your way, making you feel uneasy and self-conscious whenever you aren’t having your attention dragged away from your younger cousin, Maya, who is chattering right beside you while sipping her glass of champagne.

You turn your gaze at Alia, who had chosen to sit by Cliff’s brother, Kyle, who had decided to join your family this year. Too busy catching up with her uncle, she doesn’t seem to notice her own boyfriend’s wandering eyes. She doesn’t even seem to care as much as she should, you realise, as you have also noticed that she hasn’t been clinging or openly doting on Taehyung throughout the night since they had gotten back from the motel. 

It has given you a sense of relief, because you can finally have one night where your heart isn’t being crushed from watching them together, but also a twinge of guilt, knowing that your last conversation with Taehyung may have had something to do with it. She did appear tense when she first came in, and you never figured out why when it quickly faded the moment she saw her uncle in the room, and her stiff expression quickly turned into relief. 

The sounds of glasses clinking and the pouring champagne continues on as everyone is starting to finish their meal. Nursing the glass of fresh juice that you have had all through dinner, you hope that nobody notices that you have left the glass of champagne on your side mostly untouched—apart from the occasional raise of the glass when someone makes a toast or pressing your lips lightly on its rim to disguise the fact that you are not drinking any drop of it. 

Not too long, dinner is over, and everyone filters into the spacious living room to gather around the fireplace while the kids loiter around the Christmas tree to curiously shift through the wrapped presents to try and find which one of them would be theirs. 

There are a selective few that separate themselves to head out to the back porch to smoke and talk business—mostly your male cousins—while the others quickly follow Honey to where she has set up the minibar for her signature rum cocktails and act as the designated bartender for the night. 

As you follow to join everyone in the living room, the impending conversation that you are about to have with Taehyung keeps weighing you down, making you grow more anxious with each passing second. It makes you feel vulnerable, causing you to be hyper-aware of his presence inside the room even before you catch the sight of him mingling with your family. 

Moving one feet after the other without tripping feels like a struggle under the heat of his gaze. It bothers you to no end to notice that Taehyung seems to have disregarded any last bit of subtlety, when he is now openly staring at you even while he is chatting with someone else by the Christmas tree. 

You have no idea if anyone, especially Alia, has noticed it. You wouldn’t be surprised if someone has caught on, when he makes it so obvious that he is watching you from across the room. 

The only reprieve that you have to cover you from Taehyung’s gaze and the silent questions that may linger within any observant pair of eyes would be your grandmother, Honey, who steals most of the attention by running the show as she mixes her sweet cocktails and shares new stories about her friends back at her apartment complex and gossips that she heard recently from the neighbours here. 

“Congratulations.” 

A deep voice greets you, pulling you out of the stupor that you are in. You look over to see Kyle, your stepfather’s younger brother, coming to your side. 

It was a nice surprise to see him this year to join your family gathering, as your step-uncle has been working at another state for the past year and you haven’t seen each other since. Carrying a glass of wine with him—red, just the way he enjoys it—instead of a glass of cocktail, he gives you a warm smile that looks like a mirror image to his older brother. 

“I heard from your Dad that you just got another promotion. I’m guessing that this gathering is part of the celebration too?” he asks, while your skin warms at the mention of your stepfather. 

For as long as you could remember, you have been calling Cliff as ‘Dad’. You can no longer remember how it started, but ever since you were little, the only ‘Dad’ you have ever known has been Cliff, not the birth father who had been gone almost your entire life. He may not be your birth father, and there has been no talking about him adopting you yet, but he is the one and only Dad that you’ll ever know. 

Having someone else noticing and acknowledging it feels gratifying. Especially when it is coming from his side of the family. 

Nodding your head, you answer your step-uncle with a bashful smile. “Yeah, that’s what Honey said and she insisted that we host the annual dinner this year instead of Aunt Dara. But we all know that she’s the main star of the show,” you joke with him as you nod your chin to point at Honey, who is teasing your mother about dropping rum into her hot cocoa instead of taking one of her sweet cocktails. 

Kyle laughs with you as he watches the scene. “Still, you should be proud of yourself.” 

“Oh, I am proud,” you answer him with a smile. “I worked hard for it, but I’m feeling a bit guilty too since the busier I had gotten, the lesser I was able to make time to contact my parents.” 

Your step-uncle nods. “You can’t help it. That’s often the cost of building a career,” he says, understanding your situation, as he too has the same troubles of making time for his family with his busy life. 

“But your parents would understand. In fact, your Dad has been bragging about his girls quite a lot lately. One who keeps traveling across the globe to see the world, while the other who keeps climbing the corporate ladder, and I have to say—” he sighs, “I’m kind of jealous.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Has he now?” you chuckle a little, somehow feeling good about being your stepfather’s pride. “Oh, you shouldn’t be feeling too jealous of Dad. You know your kids are doing great too. They’re both in college now, aren’t they?”

At the mention of his children, Kyle’s eyes seem to grow brighter. He speaks with a voice full of pride as he talks about the two young boys who had just returned from the back porch and now huddling in front of the fireplace to warm up while bickering on their own. 

You stay to talk to him for a while longer, until your stepfather steals him away to share a bottle of a much stronger liquor in another room and you continue to mingle with the other family members that you haven’t met for a while. 

By the time you are done catching up, the object of your frustration—who is coincidentally also the father of your baby—forgotten, you are feeling drained and your legs are giving up from standing for too long that you unceremoniously collapse on the couch in the corner of the room without a single care. 

For a moment, you find calmness by sitting on your own, staying in the corner where you are mostly unnoticed. The festivities is still high around you, but you find freedom here, away from everyone’s attention. Too bad that you aren’t given the chance to savour it when someone decides to slide in and sit right next to you. 

“So—I suppose that aside from the cocktail tasting, the gift exchange is going to be the main part of the night’s event, huh?” 

A shudder rocks through your body. His deep, distinctive voice does that to you even when you hear it in your dreams. Taking a deep breath, you compose yourself before turning to him, hoping that you have enough strength to look at his face without feeling like your heart is about to burst. 

Slowly, you turn to look at him, and immediately, your entire body betrays you. Your heartbeat picks up, and the cavity in your chest is overflowing with gentle flutters, as if there are a thousand of butterfly wings inside you coming awake with just one look at his face. Taehyung lets his gaze linger on the children who are showing off their wrapped gifts to their parents before looking back at you. 

Your cheeks burn the moment your eyes meet each other, and you look away before it gets too much. “Yes, we’re exchanging gifts before the night ends, and then everyone will go on their merry way. Some drunk, while relying on their designated drivers or a cab, and some others to continue with their own thing back home,” you explain to him while trying to keep your voice calm. “It started mostly with Honey being the one giving out the gifts on the Eve, since it’s her thing to give something to everyone she cares about.” 

A smile is lifted on your face while you watch Honey handing out small wrapped boxes of gifts to the children first before the older ones get their turns. The cheerful laughter shared by everyone who has received Honey’s special gifts fills the room. Curious expressions that quickly turn into joy has always been the high point of these Christmas gatherings in your family. 

You should be there to join them, to enjoy the festivities, yet with everything that has been going on, you are feeling too overwhelmed to take part in it. “After a while, the relatives who are often invited to these things started joining in, bringing in their own gifts in addition to the plates of food that they bring for dinner.” 

“Sounds like so much fun,” Taehyung muses. “Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves.” 

“Why are you sitting back here? Aren’t you supposed to be with Alia?” you question him as you wonder why he would be so daring to join you instead of staying by his girlfriend’s side and play his role as her plus one. “You could’ve asked Alia about these things.”

Taehyung grins. “She’s busy with her own thing. Besides, every time I ask her about these things, she would just brush it off and tell me to ask someone else.” 

Frowning, you find his comment to be odd. It isn’t something that you could expect to hear from a new couple such as them. Lest of all from one half of the couple that haven’t been shy with their constant public display of affection from the day they arrived. 

Once again avoiding Taehyung’s gaze as he looks at you again, you find Alia across the room, conversing with one of Kyle’s sons. Judging from the way she seems to be enjoying herself with the glass of cocktail in her hand, she doesn’t seem to care much about what her boyfriend is up to, much less to feel curious enough to find him. 

That’s odd, but it’s not really my problem, is it?  

You remind yourself and put your curiosity aside. “You could’ve asked Honey. You seem to have grown closer to her lately,” you tease Taehyung, pointing out how often he has been spending time with your grandmother whenever he isn’t busy helping others in the house or catering to Alia’s need for attention. 

Taehyung chuckles softly. “How could I bother the host of the party? Look at her enjoying herself. She’s the superstar tonight, so I’d rather not take her out of the spotlight just to be my guide.” 

Even without looking, you can hear the smile in his voice as he talks about your grandmother. And when you look ahead, you can obviously see that he isn’t completely wrong. 

Honey is clearly having the time of her life; whether it’s about watching the happy faces receiving her gifts or seeing people enjoying the drinks she is making. She may have lessened her own drinking habit—except for the occasional drop of rum that she sneaks into her hot drinks—but she still knows how to make amazing sweet and fruity cocktails for others to enjoy. 

That should explain why you have the penchant for sweet alcoholic drinks instead of the bitter ones whenever you feel like it.

“So,” you turn to Taehyung with a sly smile. “I guess that means I’ve earned the honour to answer your questions?” 

Taehyung seems surprised to see that you smiling back at him. His gaze softens, and so does his voice when he leans closer to say, “You’re the only person I know in this room.” 

Fuck. Your cheeks shouldn’t be getting warm just because he says something like this. You look away to hide it. “Is Alia the jealous type? Would it bother her to see us chatting as friendly as we do now?” 

Taehyung scoffs. “I don’t think she even bothers to notice. Not tonight, anyway.” 

“Yeah…she can be the least perceptive person in the room sometimes,” you sigh as you watch your stepsister joking with her cousin without a single glance at her boyfriend. Realising what you just said, you turn to Taehyung to apologise. “Sorry, that was uncalled for.”

“It’s fine,” he scoffs. “Trust me, I know it full well from experience.” 

There is a sarcastic tone in his voice that should have made you wonder about his comment. Yet there is a bitterness that you feel inside after hearing those words. Of course, he would have enough experience dealing with Alia’s attitude. 

They are dating, after all. 

You look away and bite back that bitter taste in your tongue. “Right, of course.” 

Unlike Alia who can be completely insensitive to her surroundings, Taehyung notices your change of mood right away. You feel him sliding closer, just enough to allow him to speak in a low voice, but not enough to make people grow curious or suspicious that something is going on between the two of you. 

“You promised that we could talk,” he says, almost a whisper under the noises around you.  

Your stomach feels tight with nerves. It’s time. “I did, and we do,” you say to him while clenching your hands. You are beginning to wonder if you had made the right decision of leaving the sonogram behind. Maybe bringing him back to your bedroom wouldn’t be a good idea. “I have—something to tell you. Something important.” 

Taehyung nods. “Do you think we can slip out of the room unnoticed?” 

“You mean…now? You want to do it right now?” you hiss at him, glancing at Alia before looking back at him again. “Wouldn’t Alia be looking for you?” 

Taehyung merely scoffs. “Like I said, she’s busy. Once she gets a few more glasses of drink, she’ll be more focused on looking for a sofa to lie down on instead of noticing that I’m gone.” 

As if on cue, Alia’s laughter echoes through the room, and she turns away to joke with both of her male cousins now. You also notice that she has somehow gotten a fresh glass of cocktail in her hand, and she must have drank it halfway already by the looks of it. 

Looking around the room, you notice that the guests crowding the living room is slowly dwindling. Most of your relatives who had gotten enough of Honey’s cocktail and received their gifts are starting to bid their goodbyes, hoping that they could return home before it gets too late and preferably before each of their designated drivers join in with the drinking. Yet there are some family members who have yet to show any sign of leaving soon, still enjoying their chat with Honey by the Christmas tree. 

There will be no other chance, you tell yourself as you silently make a decision. The lesser people there are left, the more obvious it would be for everyone that you had gone missing from the room. 

And with whom you may have disappeared together. 

“Can you, uh—meet me in my room in about ten minutes, maybe less? I think we can get some privacy there and people don’t normally get upstairs unless they’re staying the night.” And because I left the sonogram there. 

That’s right, it would be easier to show the sonogram to him right away when you tell him everything, just as how you initially planned it, even if you haven’t been too sure about it. “I’ll have to mingle a bit more and make sure that Honey can see me before I disappear. She’ll be looking for me if I don’t join her even if for a minute.” 

“Yeah, I can do that,” Taehyung says as he straightens up, “You go ahead and talk to Honey, and I’ll sneak us out some drinks so we have something to do while we talk.”  

“Drinks. Right. Good idea,” you simply say to him, not bothering to try and turn down his offer, or to insist him to bring you the non-alcoholic ones. He’ll figure things out later once you are alone with him anyway. 

With a nod, Taehyung rises from his seat and walks over to June, your cousin who seems to have gotten along with Taehyung over dinner. You wait for a few more minutes before making your move. Honey seems to be busy as more and more relatives are preparing to leave. So you turn to Aunt Dara and have a quick chat with her, making sure that the two of you remain within Honey’s peripheral vision so she can still see you. 

Too restless to linger around and stay a bit longer, in not more than five minutes, you end your conversation and turn away from your aunt, hoping that you can slip away from the room before anyone notices your stealthy escape. Not even Honey. Because the moment you are caught by your grandmother, you know it would make it even harder for you to leave the room. 

But just as you slip through the guests, staying clear from your mother’s relatives who are crowding Honey, your grandmother catches the sight of you and calls out—

“______, there you are. We were just talking about you. Come over here,” she says, waving her hand so you can join her and the small group that still remains to accompany her after a couple of more relatives have left the party. 

Fuck. Too late. 

Forcing a smile, you slither towards her, practically dragging your feet. “What is it, Honey?” 

Honey leans against the minibar and picks up a small bottle. She continues mixing and pouring the drinks as she starts talking to you, “I was just talking to them about your recent promotion and how proud you made us. And then Jennie here shared that she is starting a new job and moving to the same city where you work. I told them that you have a big apartment that I love so much—” 

You roll your eyes and laugh. “Honey, I already told you. I don’t own the place, I rent it with a roommate.” 

“Anyway,” she brushes you off, “I wondered if you could be a dear and help Jennie out to find a nice apartment. You know people in the city can be a bit sneaky. We’ve heard stories of young girls getting scammed the first time they’ve gone into a big city, so obviously, I was worried.” 

Before you can say anything, Jennie raises her hand and cuts in, “I told Honey that I’ve already been looking up at a few places so—”

Jennie’s voice fades in and out and you can barely focus on what she is trying to tell you. Something about making arrangements with property agents to look up for a few affordable apartments not far from where you live. But your attention is being drawn elsewhere, as you notice from the corner of your eyes, that Taehyung is nodding at June and walking away, barely giving you a glance as he slides towards the small corner table filled with bottles of beer to grab the drinks he promised you. 

“You know what, why don’t you call me up once you start moving. Maybe you can crash at my place and use the couch while you’re looking. Then I’ll see if I can arrange my schedules to go with you when you’re looking into those apartments so you won’t have to go alone.” 

“That sounds great!” Jennie says, looking relieved, and you see it as a chance to also slip away so you can get to your bedroom before Taehyung could. 

“Honey, I—” 

“See? I told you that _____ is an angel,” Honey cuts you off before you can get a word out. Then she turns to you, handing you the glass of cocktail that she was mixing while you were chatting with your cousin. 

“Here, you should try this. I made this specially for you,” she says as she gives the drink a few more stirs. “I remember that you loved the rose scented drinks I bought you, so I ordered this infused—” 

You bite your lips, trying to hide away your revulsion as Honey raises the glass to you so you can take it from her. On reflect, you lift your hands to refuse. “No, thank you, Honey. I’m sorry, but I’m not in the mood for cocktails right now. I’ve just finished my hot chocolate, after all.” 

“That’s too bad. Well, I guess someone else has to taste this one for me.” She pouts, making you feel guilty for refusing her offer as she lowers her hand. “Speaking of which, I haven’t seen you drinking tonight. In fact, I haven’t seen you drink any alcoholic drink at all this holiday. Are you sure you’re not pregnant?”

Your stomach drops. An incredulous laugh leaves your lips. “W-what?” 

What did she say? You wonder. You must’ve heard her wrong. Right?

Honey shrugs as she puts away the rejected drink and places it on top of the minibar. “Seeing how you keep getting sick and avoiding alcoholic drinks since you got here, I would think that you’re secretly pregnant,” she says while laughing and looking proud, as if she was simply throwing her crude joke as she usually does without realising how spot on it was to the truth. “Are you carrying a child in that belly, dear?” 

The room falls into a rapt hush after Honey throws that comment into the room. You can feel everyone’s eyes on you, while Honey remains unfazed, still wearing her curious smile as if she hasn’t done anything wrong. 

“Honey? W-what are you saying?” you nervously ask her, while your sweet grandmother merely shrugs and innocently waves you off. 

“Oh, it’s nothing, sweetie. Just thinking out loud. It’s just that seeing you get sick every morning, and being so sensitive with certain smells reminds me a lot of myself when I was pregnant with your Mom. You haven’t even touched a drop of alcohol I offered since you got home, and I know that you barely touched your glass of champagne during dinner,” she says with a wicked chuckle. “Don’t pretend that you didn’t. You tried to hide it, but I knew. I have eyes, you know.” 

Fuck. I didn’t think she would notice. 

Gritting your teeth, you can only curse at yourself for acting such a fool. You thought you were being clever about it, but you must have been distracted by Taehyung’s presence at dinner that you failed to notice that Honey had kept her eyes on you all night. 

“I—” 

You try to speak, but words fail you. How do you respond? What do you say to this? 

Ever since from the moment you came back home, you had expected that Honey would be the one who is able to put the pieces together, being the perceptive person that she is, and she had been the reason why you have been extra careful in hiding it, especially when you were around her. 

Never once did you ever expect that she would so quick to draw up this conclusion and speak of it so nonchalantly with a few relatives are still around. 

“Mom, stop talking nonsense,” your mother gently chastises your grandmother while laughing nervously. She looks back and forth between you and her mother, her eyes flickering on your face, then to your belly, as if she is trying to find what she has been missing. “_____ can’t be pregnant. Right, sweetie?” 

Your tears begin to form. “I, uh—I don’t—” 

Your head starts spinning harder the more you try to speak up, to explain, knowing that it would be futile to lie. Not to Honey. And certainly not to your parents. 

Under the attention and distress, feeling the burden of having all eyes on you, all of them waiting for your answer, your hands move on their own, finding comfort in embracing the very spot where your growing baby is hidden as you press your palms on your barely-there bump. Noticing this, a collective gasp spreads through the room. Honey’s smile falters, while your mother’s eyes grow wide in shock. 

But the most devastating of all is to see your stepfather walking around his brother to get to you from across the room. “You’re pregnant?” Cliff asks you carefully as he slowly comes to your side. When you look up at is shock slowly turns into rage when he asks, “Is that why that prick left you? Did he get you pregnant and choose to walk away like a fucking coward?” 

“No, Dad. I—” 

While you are struggling to answer him, your stepfather’s voice continues to rise. “Tell me where he is and I’ll chase that fucker—” 

Everything moves in slow motion. Your stepfather who keeps cursing at your ex. Your Mom who keeps pulling him back to try and calm him down, and her pleading gaze silently asking you to explain. The whispering gasps and questions shared among the nervous glances that the guests are sending each other.

Everyone is talking at the same time, while you continue having a hard time to speak up. Your stomach feels tight. Even the touch of your hands no longer bring the calming warmth that your body needs. 

Gentle hands press down on your arms as you are slowly being pulled away from the chaos. You can only make out Jennie and Honey’s voices whispering to you, guiding you to breathe while helping you to sit down before you would pass out. 

Amidst the confusion, your eyes travel across the room, immediately finding Taehyung who is standing there in the corner with a frown on his face and a couple of bottles of drinks in his hands. As your eyes are locked with one another from the distance, you can see him processing through everything. His emotions are clearly written in his gaze; confusion, bewilderment, wonder. 

You have no idea what kind of look that he sees on your face, but slowly, you can tell that everything seems to sink in on him. A dawning realisation sparks through his eyes when he finally puts the pieces together, and his shoulders fall to slump.

He knows. 

And he isn’t the only one who is putting the pieces together. 

With a quick glance, you find Alia standing on the other side of the room, her eyes keep flickering between you and Taehyung, evidently noticing the silent exchange happening between the two of you. There is a clear sign of shock and hurt in her eyes that you get to see a glimpse of when she looks at you one last time, before she turns away and runs out of the room. 

“You need to rest. The stress wouldn’t be good for you.” 

Jennie’s voice sounds subdued, worrying. She has always been shy, but she seems particularly cautious as she looks at you. As if she is trying her best not to look down at your belly. But her presence here and her small, careful voice offers you comfort. Something that you need as you lean against the doorway to your bedroom, feeling a bit too weak to stand on your own. 

“I’m sorry you got entangled in all of this,” is all that you can say to her. You feel guilty for having your cousin and your aunt roped into this whole drama, all because they had been there to witness it when everything unfolded. 

While your step-uncle, Kyle, took over escorting the departing guests, and your mother is somewhere in the house to talk with your stepfather, Jennie had volunteered to help escort you back to your room. She becomes the calming force amidst the storm that helps clear your mind. 

“It’s fine,” she waves you off. “You’ll be paying me back once I’ve moved closer to you anyway. The couch is still available, right? You said I could crash until I’m settled.” 

That helps bring a smile to your face. “Yes, my door is always open. I’ll let my roommate know that you’re coming. She’s usually open to welcoming family who needs help anyway,” you say to her with full gratitude before adding, “Thank you for staying to help.” 

She nods and begins to turn away. “I better go check on Honey and see if my Mom is ready to go. I’ll see you soon.” 

Too exhausted to say anything else, you simply thank her one last time and watch her go down the hall before closing the door. Once again, the silence in your bedroom gives you the perfect solace. It does nothing to erase the weight in your chest, however, or give you the answer you need as you wonder how you are going to talk to Taehyung about the whole thing. 

You never expected that things would turn into such a mess, robbing any chance of you telling Taehyung about the baby properly, free of drama and uncertainty. 

Just as you start dragging your feet towards the bed, you hear a soft knocking on the door, pulling you back to it. Thinking it might be Jennie, you immediately open it. “Did you forget—” Your voice falls to a hush when you find Taehyung standing there instead, giving you a small smile that draws back all the slow flutters in your chest. 

“Oh, hi.”

“Hey,” he gently greets you. His smile is cautious, restrained, and his exhale of breath seems shaky. But he sounds calm when he speaks to you, “May I come in?” 

You prepare yourself to answer, but your eyes flicker out the hallway, searching, a gesture that he easily notices. “Alia is with your parents. They’re worried about you, but your Mom seemed a bit frantic because she didn’t see the signs. Alia probably won’t be looking for me until later. I wanted to talk to you first.” 

“Okay,” you answer him with a sigh of relief. “Come in,” you beckon him, stepping aside so he can enter your room. 

He steps deeper into your room while you take your time, gathering courage before you can turn to face him. His voice fills your room as he continues to talk, “I left our drinks downstairs. Things were so chaotic, so it slipped my mind—” 

“That’s okay, it’s—” you say in return, failing to notice that his voice has faded out into silence. When you finally turn to him, you find him standing in front of your bedside table, his eyes are locked on the tiny thing that he is holding up under the dim light of the bedroom. 

He found the sonogram. 

“How far along are you?” His voice seems quiet against your thundering heartbeat, drowning even in the silence surrounding you.

You draw an unsteady breath before speaking up. “Six weeks, give or take.” 

Taehyung remains silent for a moment longer before a sigh comes out of him. “Is this what you wanted to talk to me about?” he asks, still with his eyes on the sonogram. His expression is unreadable, something which you cannot fault him with, knowing that this must have come as a shock to him. 

“I’m sorry, I should’ve gone to you sooner,” you quickly apologise to him. A part of you wants to rush by his side, even if you cannot decide whether you want to calm and soothe him or rip that sonogram from his hand. Yet your legs seem frozen, and you are locked at one spot with no ability to move.  

“From the moment I found out, I was planning to find you and figure out how to share the news to you in person, but then you showed up here with Alia, and I got”—blindsided, aghast, confused, terrified—”I just couldn’t figure out how to do it.” 

“So, I was right. This baby is mine.” 

Just as he says those words, you finally understand the look that he is wearing on his face. Captivated. Entranced. Amused. As if this revelation is more fascinating to him rather than it is frightening. It brings a twinge of hope rising inside you, telling you that maybe you can both figure out on how to deal with this. 

But what about Alia? 

“It was from that night, wasn’t it?” he asks again, breaking you out of your thoughts—from thinking about Alia. And you can almost sure that you catch the corner of his lips lifting to a smile.

“Yeah,” you cautiously say to him. “It happened the night we got together. I’ve never been with anyone else since—” 

“What is this all about?” A deep voice bellows through your small bedroom, cutting through your words before you can finish talking. Both you and Taehyung turn to the door, noticing too late that your stepfather is standing there, watching the two of you with grief and horror in his eyes. 

“Dad—what you are doing here?” you ask him as your eyes flicker towards the door behind him. 

Crap. Distracted by your own nerves that had been affected by Taehyung’s arrival, you must have failed to shut the door tightly behind you. 

“I came to check on you and apologise for freaking out,” Cliff says, frown deepening, his voice and the expression you see on his face convey a mixture of anger and hurt. “But what is he doing in here?” he continues, pointing at Taehyung. “Why is he in your room, when he’s supposed to be with Alia?” 

The atmosphere grows heavier, yet Taehyung—the brave soul that he is—carefully steps forward to face your stepfather. “Cliff, I can explain—”

“And what did I just heard about the two of you being together? Is that baby—” Cliff turns to point at you, then back at Taehyung again while keeping his eyes on you, expecting you to answer him. “Was he the one responsible?” 

Still holding the sonogram in his hand, Taehyung straightens his shoulders and lifts his chin. And it seems to be enough to answer your stepfather’s question. But what it only does is to aggravate Cliff even more. The air crackles with his rage, and he moves so fast—too fast for your mind to comprehend—as he grabs the front of Taehyung’s shirt and starts dragging him out of your bedroom. 

“Dad, no!” 

The moment you see your stepfather dragging Taehyung out the door, that is when you snap out of it and start running to chase them. As you run out the door, you see Alia who was clearly on her way to your bedroom. Her eyes are wide with shock, and though you are unable to interpret the gloss in her eyes—whether they are tears of hurt or her tipsiness—you can tell that she has been standing there long enough before anyone noticed.

But was she there long enough to hear everything?  

“Daddy? What are you doing?” Alia screams out, though she doesn’t make any move, seemingly in shock to see her father dragging Taehyung across the hallway. 

“Alia, you need to stop him!” 

Your scream snaps her out of her shock, and she quickly rushes to chase both men down the stairs. You try to follow them as fast as you can, but your heart is racing, your legs feel weak, you can barely manage to come down the stairs without tumbling down. 

“Careful!” Alia snaps at you in panic as she catches you at the final flight of stairs. You lift your head to thank her for helping you, only for her to give you no chance to as she turns away right after, chasing after her Dad who is now dragging her boyfriend out the yard. 

Once the both of you are out the house, you can hear your stepfather’s voice bellowing through the air. His accusations echo through the chilly night, his eyes are blazing with frustration and rage, and he still has his hand pulling at Taehyung’s shirt, nearly lifting him off the ground as he continues shouting profanities between his grievance. 

“—the fuck are you trying to pull?” he yells at Taehyung’s face, and you wince at how loud he is being against the silent night. 

The only relief you can savour is the fact that he hasn’t gone physical. No hits are thrown, and the only rough handling he has been doing is to shake Taehyung back and forth with his tight grip on his shirt as he demands the truth. An answer. Anything that could clear this whole misunderstanding.

Taehyung’s eyes dart over Cliff’s shoulder as he notices you and Alia coming. Your stepfather follows his gaze and is caught by surprised to see you chasing him. But as he looks at you, his gaze hardens as he pleads, “Tell me that it’s not true. Tell me that you weren’t sleeping with him while he’s seeing your sister.” 

No, it’s not true. They weren’t together. You remember hearing Taehyung denying it when you first questioned it, so it must’ve been the truth. Right?  

The night you hooked up with him flashes through your head. That night from six weeks ago, the shared moment that he claimed to be a time where he hadn’t gotten involved with Alia. You want to speak up, to deny that he was playing both you and Alia, that the only thing behind this whole mess had been mere coincidence. 

If only you could stop shaking. Get some words out. Anything. 

But your chest feels tight. You can barely breathe in air, much less to let your voice out. 

“Cliff, please! I told you, I can explain!” Taehyung tries to get your stepfather to listen. You see his hand reaching to grab Cliff’s wrist, though it doesn’t seem that the hold would budge no matter what he does to pull it off. His eyes turn to you, then to Alia, right before he screams out with fear in his eyes, “Alia!” 

“Don’t you dare say her name!” Cliff yells at him, and you force yourself to speak. 

“Sto—” you try once, failing when your chest tightens. “Stop,” you cry out again, “Dad, please—” 

Your voice comes out as nothing more than dried paper, a silent hush compared to the loud voices as Cliff and Taehyung continue to argue with each other at the center of the front yard. But Alia is standing close enough to you to hear it. Close enough to see your hands shaking, your face turning pale and sickly, and she quickly moves right in front of you, standing between you and the quarrelling men. 

“Daddy, stop yelling. You’re going to stress ______ out,” she yells at her Dad while pushing you behind her to keep you away from them, as if she is making sure you won’t get hurt.

She’s…defending me? 

Your head starts spinning harder. Everything is so confusing right now, and it makes you feel worse when you look at Alia, seeing her getting caught in the crossfire as she tries to separate the two while shielding you from the chaos. 

“And it’s not Taehyung’s fault!” she yells again, and this time, it seems to do the trick, because Cliff finally lets Taehyung go. 

Now free from your stepfather’s clutch, Taehyung steps back. He tries to catch his breath while fixing his shirt. You notice then that he is still holding your sonogram, surprising you when even amidst all the chaos, he is still gripping onto it protectively. 

“How is it not his fault?” Cliff snaps at your stepsister. “Why are you defending this asshole? He slept with your sister when he’s dating you, and he even dared to show his face at my—” 

“Because we’re not dating!” Alia cuts him off with a scream, and everything stops. Her scream even shuts the voices in your head, drawing a single question in their place—

What—? What did she just say? 

With all eyes on her, Alia begins to shake with nerves. And then the truth spills out of her mouth. “We, uh—Taehyung and I—we’re friends. I wasn’t planning to come this year but you kept calling me to come for Honey’s family dinner, and—” she says, stuttering as she points at her father, and then turns to face you to add, “I thought that your—I mean, Hansol. I thought he was going to come with you this year like he always did and I didn’t want you to think that—” 

Drawing a shaky breath, she pushes through her nerves and forces the rest of the truth to come out. “I asked Taehyung to come with me and pretend to be my boyfriend so you wouldn’t think that I was going to try to make a move on Hansol again.” 

“Wait—what?” Taehyung snaps at her. He seems confused, and it is evident in your eyes that he never got to hear this part of the ordeal from Alia when he signed up for—whatever it was that they had agreed upon. “What did you do?” 

Alia opens her mouth to continue, yet Cliff cuts her off before she could. “Enough,” he says, no longer yelling. His voice sounds drained, exasperated, and yet there is an eerie calmness underneath that makes your skin shiver with fear. His silent rage terrifies you more than his loud, raging voice does, while the defeated look in his eyes hurts you deeply. “Alia, get inside. And you—” he turns to point at Taehyung. “Get out of my sight.” 

“Dad, no—” you step forward to stop him, yet Cliff doesn’t even look at you when he calmly orders Alia to move. 

“Alia, get your sister back in her room,” he says as he turns away, making his way back into the house.  

Left with no other choice, and feeling like the fight has left you, you let Alia place her hands on your shoulders. “I’m sorry,” you turn to Taehyung one last time as she starts guiding you back to the house, but then your stomach drops when he remains silent. His eyes are cold, as if he is trying to mask his true emotions as he looks at you. Something twists in your gut as if he had pierced a knife deeply through it. “Tae, wait—” 

A small smile is lifted on his lips, though it seems closer to a sneer, something which doesn’t seem to reach the pained look in his eyes, and that is the only thing that he gives you before he turns away and leaves the property without saying a single word. 

Sleep, without a doubt, has become fruitless. 

All night, you have been tossing and turning in your bed. Even when you manage to close your eyes and doze off a little, your stepfather’s grievance and Taehyung’s bereft smile flash through your mind, sending you to an abrupt wake each time. 

At the very last time you find yourself being forcefully pulled away from your restless sleep, you glance out the window, its curtains left partly opened, you see the shadows of nightfall slowly shifting. A blush of hue in gradient colours of purple and grey is beginning to emerge amidst the dark, and you can feel it in your skin the awakening of dawn. 

Too anxious to remain still on your cold bed, adrenaline and stress still flowing violently through your body, you finally give up trying to rest and tiptoe your way downstairs. 

The stillness in the house at night has always been something that you have come so familiar with, but as you walk down the stairs and into the quiet kitchen, the house feels more eerie that it usually does. You can almost hear the creaking sound of the floors and the walls around you, as if they are whispering to you all the things that they have witnessed from the night before. 

The air feels unusually cold. You fight the temptation to light up the fireplace once more and huddle up right in front of it, resisting only to avoid waking everyone else up, and then walk into the kitchen in search for another source of warmth. 

You are just beginning to make yourself a cup of hot chocolate to warm up when a figure steps into the archway leading towards the hallway. You turn with a jump, realising with relief that it is Alia. 

Giving you a hesitant smile, she walks into the kitchen. With her arms wrapped around herself and a thick shawl cloaking her shoulders, you realise that you are not the only one struggling with the cold. 

“Can’t sleep? Or did you wake up too early?” she asks you with a soft whisper. 

“A little bit of both. How about you?” 

She stands by the kitchen counter to watch you work. “Tried to sleep, but I kept having nightmares. I was running downstairs to catch up with Dad, and it kept repeating over and over”—she visibly shudders—“and then I woke up with this crappy headache.” 

You give her a smile and tip your chin at the high stool right by the counter. “Take a seat. I’ll make more,” you offer her, which she accepts with a smile. 

Neither of you says a word for a moment, only breaking the silence once you are done pouring the hot drinks into two separate mugs and handing one to her while whispering, “Here you go,” to which she responds with a soft, sleepy murmur, “Thank you.” 

Taking the seat on one end of the counter with Alia sitting on the other, silence stretches between the two of you once again. There is an awkward tension in the air. You cannot remember when you have ever found yourself alone with Alia like this, deep in the night and with nothing else to do but to talk. Not since those many years ago when you were children. 

You remember how your parents made you share the same bedroom. It was their way of getting you to bond with your new stepsister at the time. Even then, you could tell that Alia wasn’t exactly thrilled by it, already so used to having her own bedroom before she had to split her time between spending the weekdays with her mother and then with her father on the weekends. 

But at least back then, the silence didn’t feel as stifling. And she had let you borrow her personal things to play with, as long as you got out of her way. And that included her books—so many of them, you remember—with her occasionally sitting right beside you so she could read you some of the hard ones to follow for a little child.  

Taking a sip of your hot cocoa, you decide that you have had enough of this silence. “So—” you breathe out a sigh. “You and Taehyung.” 

Alia groans and closes her eyes. “You heard me last night, didn’t you? I know I was drunk off my ass, but it’s true,” she says, scoffing as she glances sideways and meets your gaze when you do the same, “It’s stupid, I know.” 

You sip your drink before asking, “Why did you have to go make an entire scheme out of this?” 

“I don’t know,” she breathes out an exhausted sigh. “It sounded like a good idea at the time.” Her voice sounds wistful when she says this, and then she breaks out into a bitter chuckle. “But I guess, just like a ton of other bad decisions I’ve made my entire life, it only added to the long list of fuck-ups that have tainted most of my adult life.” 

You let out a snort, something that is so uncharacteristically you, but still comes out with all honesty. “At least you’re taking accountability of it,” you say to her almost teasingly, “I know some people who wouldn’t even admit that they fucked up and simply move on while everyone had to pick up the mess they left behind.”  

Alia laughs. You can see her eyes warming up. “When did you meet him? How did it all happen?” 

Your lips curl up to a smile. You drink your hot drink slowly before you begin telling her everything—the trip that you went to after your breakup, the frustrating debacle with your flight getting delayed and cancelled and meeting him at transit, the hookup, everything that you already shared with Skye the first time you revealed about your first promiscuous night abroad with the stranger, the agreement you both made about shedding your identities, which had lead to this whole mess, and more.

Surprisingly enough, Alia merely responds with a soft chuckle. As if this is something that is to be expected when it involves her friend. “That explains it,” she muses softly. She has this faraway look in her eyes for a moment, as if recalling something in the past—perhaps something that happened during that period of time. 

“He was going through some stuff when we got in contact again about a year after the last time we met. We lost contact again briefly during that time”—the time he went to take that trip, you tell yourself—”I think he said he was off to some sort of a business trip and was using it to ‘escape’ from everything. He never told me any of the details, though.” 

You are curious, wanting to know more. But you also know that it isn’t your place to pry. You can also tell that Alia may not answer if you try to ask her. Yet she then surprises you by adding, “Then he contacted me not too long ago and said something about needing my help. I thought it was a wild coincidence and decided to use the chance to get him to help me in return. One thing lead to another, and here we are now.” 

You both share a laugh, despite how pitiful the two of you seem at this moment.  

When you both grow quiet once more, each of you taking the moment to savour your drink and the silence that is starting to bring more comfort than the uneasiness you felt earlier, your mind wanders. You recall the events that have been happening for the past few days, to tonight, seeing everything with a new light now that the truth has come out. You also find that you no longer feel the weight of your secret shadowing you, allowing you to breathe easier. 

And then the conversation you had with Skye on the phone from a while ago comes back to you. 

“I’m sorry I broke your doll,” you suddenly blurt out, while Alia snaps her head to look over to you. 

“What? Which doll?” she asks, her face is filled with incomprehension, before her expression shifts into knowing, and then to shock. “Oh, that one? That was a long time ago!” 

You laugh at her reaction. “Yeah, but it feels like you started resenting me since then.” 

“No, I’m—” she shakes her head and scoffs at you. “It’s actually fine. I hated that doll. That was the ugliest piece of shit I’ve ever owned when I was a kid.” 

“What—?”  you let out an incredulous laugh. “But you made it look like I’ve ruined your entire world. All hell broke loose because of it so I thought—” 

Alia laughs, though she also looks somewhat guilty when she explains everything to you. “One of Dad’s ex-girlfriends bought it for me on my eighth birthday. I never liked any of the women he brought home and introduced me, but she was probably the sanest and most normal one of all,” she calmly tells you, quickly adding, “That was before your Mom came in, by the way.” 

That makes you smile. Especially when you notice that her eyes are filled with fondness as she talks about your mother. 

“Anyway, she gave me the doll as a gift after she went for a trip abroad, and maybe I did like it because it made me happy to know that she thought about me. But the older I got, the weirder it felt for me to keep it, but every time I wanted to get rid of the doll, it made me feel guilty for even considering it because of how sweet she was to me,” she winces as she recalls the past. “When you ruined the doll, I was actually relieved. But I couldn’t show it to Dad since he thought I loved the doll so much that he even went out on his way to help take care of the doll for a long time, so I made it seem like losing the doll made me sad.” 

Your jaw drops and you laugh again. “Damn, I can’t believe I was gaslighted and framed by a twelve year-old.” 

“Sucks to be you,” Alia laughs back at you as she sips her drink. “Sorry for causing you some childhood trauma or whatever.” 

“It wasn’t so much of a trauma,” you say to her while scoffing. But that incident did leave an impression on you, regardless. And it wasn’t a good one. Looking back on it now, it does seem ridiculous for you to let it haunt your memories for so long. 

You are just about to share your thoughts to Alia when she finally speaks again. 

“On your eleventh birthday, you started calling him Dad,” she says, her voice dull, but you can feel the weight of her words when you hear them. It takes a moment for it to sink in, until you finally realise— 

“Oh—” Oh. You swallow hard and take a deep breath, realising that she is talking about Cliff. “Did you, uh—were you worried that I might take him away from you?” 

Alia smiles bitterly. “I’m not sure. Maybe?” She shrugs. “As a kid, I may have harboured an unrealistic fantasy that one day, my Mom and Dad would make up, get back together, and everything would be back to how it used to be.” 

She looks at you with a small smile. “But then Daddy met your Mom, and my Mom became more unhinged after the divorce and dealing with the consequences of her affair that it was becoming more obvious Dad would have never taken her back, no matter what.” 

The more she speaks, sharing her deep, darkest secret, the more you are able to understand her. For all these years, you simply thought that Alia has resented you for childish reasons. You never knew that she had nurtured the heartbreak of an innocent child for so many years. Silently hurting without anyone else knowing. 

“But it was the day you began calling him Dad that finally broke me out of that fantasy and forced me to accept that they were never going back together,” she says, sighing deeply with a broken smile on her face, which only deepens the guilt that you feel for becoming a part of it. “Maybe—that was the moment I started seeing you differently.” 

“I—didn’t know,” you murmur, and then you begin to recall how Alia kept avoiding to spend time with her father on the weekends when she was a teenager. “You started to come by less and less by then.” 

Your parents had excused Alia’s absence at the time as her newfound need of being independent. But you know better now. 

Alia releases a sigh, as if opening to you is helping her relief some of her own weight. “Dad was so happy because you and your family welcomed him into your lives. I guess that was really important to him. The more I watched him having a new family that was a whole, the more I resented it. Seeing you with Daddy—” she stops with a sharp intake of breath, “I guess the child in me felt like I was being replaced and I couldn’t take it.” 

“Alia—” 

She cuts you off with one look, with a gaze that is surprisingly warm. “You know what’s worse?” she asks. 

“The way Dad keeps bragging about you in front of me and anyone from his side of the family whenever he has the chance to. You have always been smarter, you’ve gained everything you wanted in life with your own effort. You have a good job, a nice apartment and, for a time, you had a long-time boyfriend, while I’m still floating through life,” she says with a wistful tone of voice instead of a bitter one. “I have no steady job, and I’m still moving around instead of settling down, which left me with no chance to start any serious relationship to brag about in front of everyone. So I suppose that makes me feel inferior when I have to face you.” 

You have no idea what to say. Because you had no idea about any of this. Still, you feel guilty, even if none of this was your fault when all you ever did was live your life the way you wanted it to. 

“Last year, I think that’s when I came to my limit,” Alia adds with a chuckle. “I guess somewhere in my mind, I had this thought that since you already stole my Dad, maybe I could steal something that was yours for a change.” 

Once again, your jaw drops. You let out a gasp. “Hey, that’s fucked up!” 

She laughs at your reaction. “I know! And I’m sorry, alright?” she says, still laughing and lifting both of her hands at you. But she quickly sobers up, looking genuinely concerned when she asks, “Seriously, though. Did you break up—” 

You quickly shake your head. “No. He chose his career over our relationship,” you admit to her. “He has always been like that. He’s always so crazy about work, a perfectionist, and not only does he have a big ego, he also has big ambitions. I think he pushed me to match his pace, whether he realised it or not, which became the reason why I managed to gained everything I have now.” 

Looking back, you have to admit that your ex was the one who gave you the drive which helped you get where you are now. As much as you hate to admit it, you do owe him that much for your current life, despite everything. 

“In a way, he pushed and motivated me to constantly be a better version of myself. But, deep down, I was starting to get tired of it.” You recall all the fights, the arguments, the agony that you felt when he belittled you for your need to start going in your own pace instead of following his. “I never realised how exhausting it was with him until we broke up. He made me feel like I was on a race against him instead of in a relationship where we were both equals in life.” 

Alia slowly nods her head with a silent understanding. “What happened last year with your ex was also the reason why I asked Taehyung to come with me,” she confesses with a shy smile.

“I felt so bad for everything that happened, and I had no idea how to fix it. I thought that if I brought someone with me this year, not only would I be able to shut my Mom up about trying to hook me up with some snobby guy from her circle and pushing me into marriage”—she rolls her eyes—”I would also be able to show everyone here, and you, that I had no desire to steal your boyfriend from you.” 

You grin at her. “That explains why it was shocking for you to find out that I already broke up.” 

“Obviously,” she scoffs. “That thwarted all of my plans.” You laugh together while she continues to complain about it. How she had meticulously planned everything to clear her reputation and avoid adding more drama between you.  

“But I couldn’t give up the gig. I know that Dad still keeps in touch with my Mom once in a while because of me, and she would call him to check on me if she’d heard I was coming, so if I let everyone know that Taehyung and I aren’t actually dating, my Mom would sit me down next to any bachelor of the year that she had chosen for me at the family gathering with just a snap of her fingers,” she sneers, lifting her hand to snap her fingers in the same manner that you imagine her mother would do. 

“And, as always, I had to mess everything up too because of my stupid plans,” she heavily sighs. “Sorry, by the way.” 

Scoffing lightly, you simply wave her off. “It’s not your fault. If only Taehyung and I had talked when we had the chance,” you finally admit, realising that you are also to blame for avoiding to speak to him right away, “Or if he had told you about me when I asked him to, then maybe the three of us could have figured something out.” 

Alia nods her head in agreement, and then her lips rise to a slow smile. “I didn’t expect that Honey would be the one stirring the pot when it was already boiling.” 

That makes you laugh again. “Honestly? I had expected that Honey would be the first to notice. I just didn’t expect her to blast me right in front of the whole family.” 

Sipping her hot cocoa slowly, Alia hums. “Maybe it was meant to work that way. Or else, I feel like neither of us would find any chance to spill out the truth, as bitter and ridiculous it might sound to admit,” she says, and you cannot help but agree with her. Even with no resolution have yet to be made, you can feel some of the weight of your troubles being lifted from you. 

Everything may have gone messy, yet for some reason, the future doesn’t seem so bleak when you are looking at it one last time. Then Alia gently adds, further encouraging the hope that is slowly blooming inside you. 

“Taehyung—he won’t be joining me to see my Mom. He’s driving back home, either in the morning or before noon, I’m not sure. You should go see him and talk.” 

“I—” you swallow hard. “I want to. We do need to talk, but—” 

Alia stops you by shaking her head. “No buts. You have a baby on the way, and I’m sure—seeing his reaction last night—he would want to be a part of it. Only if you’d let him.” 

That immediately shuts you up, taking away all the excuses that you have to run away and avoid facing him. You still remember seeing the way he was clutching your sonogram possessively as if it was his lifeline, and you have yet to get the sonogram back from him when he left. 

“Even without the baby—” Alia continues, noticing how you are still deep in your thoughts. “The favour that I mentioned? I think it might have something to do with you. I’m not sure what it was though, because he hasn’t had the chance to say anything about it. He only said that it had something to do with what happened during his trip from that time.” 

You know that she is right. The only problem is mustering the courage to go and see him in person. After what your family had put him through last night, you have no idea how to face him, feeling too guilty that he got roped into so much mess because you couldn’t tell him the truth when you had the chance.

“Well, while you take your time considering it, I should go back to my room. I have another Christmas event that I would need to mentally prepare to,” Alia says as she steps out of her seat. You watch her walking around the counter to put away her empty mug before smiling at you. “Thanks for the nice chat, and the hot chocolate.”

You return her smile and nod. “So—are we good?” 

That makes her chuckle. She stops before going out into the hall and shrugs. “Yeah, you’re okay. I guess we are.” 

“Does that mean we’re friends now?” you tease her, drawing a scoff from her. 

“Ugh—don’t push your luck, kid. Don’t even think about us being sisters,” she says, pointing at you. 

“Never would’ve dreamed of it,” you respond with a chuckle. Still, you are overcome with relief now that the old tension between you are lifted. “Good luck with your Mom.” 

“Thanks. Good luck with—” she says, “well, everything.” She turns away, but not before giving you one final warning, “I’m serious. Go talk to him. Don’t worry about the others, or about how Daddy would react. I’ll hold down the fort and explain everything to them until you’re back.” 

Your grip on the steering wheel tightens just as your stomach tightens with churning doubt. 

The thought of seeing Taehyung, alone, seems nerve-racking. You have no idea what to expect once you get there, or what you are going to say, which only makes you even more nervous the further you are getting from home. 

Your thoughts are filled with worrying that things may not go as planned. Not that you really had any plan to go with other than to talk to him, stop him from leaving, and maybe find out what the future hold—if there is any hope there. 

The weather outside seems dreary, which is no help at all. Even under the winter sunlight that appears brighter than usual, the snow keeps falling thickly from the sky, the trees standing on either side of the streets are swaying dangerously towards various directions due to the intense wind. 

Weather does hate me, you wonder to yourself as you glance through the side mirror, wondering why these things keep happening to you during critical times such as this one.

Getting more impatient, the urge to press down on the accelerator feels so strong, yet you fight it the best you can, recalling the promise you made when you stepped out of the house. 

Honey was right, it was a bad idea to be driving out under this weather. She was the one who warned you about the weather when you were about to leave, which you simply ignored because the sky was bright, the wind was steady, and your intention to see Taehyung was strong. 

You should have learned from experience and took your time checking today’s weather forecast to find out just how quickly the weather could change. 

Looking at the fierce weather, it seems obvious that things are about to get even worse. A white jeep breezes past your tiny city car, causing your car to sway, and you feel a pull to match its speed. But then you see it nearly slipping on the road as the jeep makes a turn right ahead, and you heart stops. Your car slows as you start hearing Honey’s voice warning you about how easy the road becomes slippery on days like this. 

“Drive carefully. Even if you want to risk your life getting out there, at least think about that baby,” Honey’s voice echoes in your head, stopping you before you could even think of picking up speed again once the road clears up before you. 

“There’s nothing to worry about. With this weather, he couldn’t have left yet,” you convince yourself, though your doubt keeps pushing back nearly tenfold. 

He couldn’t just leave, right? 

Turning with reduced speed on the next intersection, you curse under your breath. It feels like it’s taking you forever to reach the motel, and when you still see no sign of getting any closer to the motel, you begin to wonder if you’ll manage to get there at all. 

“Damn it, Alia. Why did you have to choose that motel? There’s a bunch of them closer to home.” 

Obviously, there is nobody here to answer your question. So the only thing that you can do is to force yourself to calm down, focus on the road—and in not slipping or sending your car into a ditch—and find the motel as fast—and as safely—as you can. 

Quiet Peaks Motel. Room 1109. 

You almost laughed when Alia gave you the room number where Taehyung has been staying in. The irony of having those numbers shown to your face, reminding you of that night from six weeks ago. 

“I suppose this is what people call a Christmas miracle.” 

You let out a scoff as Skye’s words ring back to you. Christmas miracle my butt, you inwardly scoff at the notion. A queer coincidence, that’s what this is. 

Not too long, you are driving your car into the small parking lot of Quiet Peaks Motel. With your head covered under the hood of your coat, you challenge the cold to rush into the motel without taking a look around to see if his car is still here. Past the receptionist desk, you follow Alia’s guide to find Taehyung’s room. 

Room 1109. 

Shaking off the snow that has gotten all over your body, you take a deep breath, and knock on the door. A few seconds pass. 

No answer. 

Another knock, just a bit harder this time. And all you have in return is silence. No. No. No—

You raise your hand again, ready to give it another try while refusing to accept the possibility that he is no longer there, when finally—finally—you hear a click, and the door slowly opens. Taehyung appears before you, with wide, curious eyes and a smile slowly lifting on his lips, like a piece of a fantasy manifesting into something real. 

“You’re still here,” you breathe a sigh of relief, drawing a low chuckle from him. 

Taehyung crosses his arms over his chest as he hovers by the doorway, the small smile on his face unwavering. “Alia called. Warned me not to run away,” he gently says.

The thought of him driving off to leave town, running away before you could see him, feels like a bolt piercing through your heart. “Were you—trying to run?” 

“I felt the urge to,” he admit while lowering his gaze, briefly avoiding your eyes. “But I couldn’t.” 

You can hear the sound of your heartbeat. “Because of the blizzard happening outside?” 

Taehyung looks up, and his smile deepens when he steps aside. “Why don’t you come in? It’s getting colder. You can warm up inside.” There is a playful glint in his eyes which says the unspoken words—

With me. 

Drawn by the look in his eyes, your legs begin to move on their own. Your arm brushes against him as you walk past him, just barely, and your skin prickles warmly, as if the thick winter coat that you are wearing is nonexistent.  

Taehyung takes your coat, shaking the remaining snow that is still attached to it before hanging it on the coat rack by the door while you step out of your snow-coated boots, refusing to leave trails of snow and dirt on his floor as he pulls you inside. He guides you to take a seat on the edge of the bed while he takes the one-seater from the corner of the room and places it across from you. 

Sitting back, he wears a playful smile on his face. He seems giddy, with a twinge of wariness that is quite noticeable coming out of him—both feelings are something that you also share as you sit with your back straightened while your legs are shaking.

Sitting here like this allows you to get a good look at Taehyung. And for the first time, you notice the boyish charm in him that looks—adorable. You can see it better when he smiles, when he looks at you with an expectant look in his yes, and when he doesn’t seem to be able to remain calm. 

You have no idea why you had never seen this side of him before. Has he been hiding this part of him? Because, if you want to be honest with yourself, you like seeing this side of Taehyung, maybe even more than the side that he has allowed you to see before today. 

If comfort is a person, this side of him fits the picture, you wonder to yourself with a smile. 

Speaking of pictures—

Your eyes travel around the room, taking notice of the place where he has been staying at. The room is undoubtedly smaller than the suite that he booked back at the transit hotel, but not any smaller than your own bedroom back home. The bed that you are sitting on feels soft, with wooden bed frames that makes it seem sturdy. There is a single vanity table that stretches out on one wall, also functioning as a writing desk, an electric fireplace in the corner that is running with a soft hum, and a wall-mounted television that has been kept on with its volume lowered to fill the room with its white noise. 

Your eyes fall on the long table, on the small object that catches your attention.

“Would you like to drink?” Taehyung asks you as the silence stretches out for too long, and you look at him with a smile. 

“Sure, I’d love to.” 

Nodding, he rises from his seat to grab a drink from the corner cabinet, while you do the same. Drawn towards the small object that Taehyung had placed on the table like a precious jewel—your sonogram. 

“I didn’t mean to keep it with me. But throughout all the chaos happening last night—” you can hear his voice getting closer and closer, yet you do nothing to look his way. Holding up the sonogram between your fingers, your eyes are focused completely on it, fixated at the clear proof of your future. You still have your eyes on it as his warmth comes pressing on your back, his voice feels like a gentle brush on your skin as he whispers close—

“—I just couldn’t let it go. It felt surreal whenever I looked at it. It was almost as if—I was actually holding that baby in my hands, and I needed to protect it.” 

His words send your mind into a daze, even when you notice the tremble in his voice. Everything he does next seems like parts of a dream. You notice his hand reaching out beside you, placing two objects which seem to be bottles of fresh juice on top of the table. And his hand stays there, palm pressing on the edge of the desk while his other hand is resting on your other side, practically caging you in place. 

Slowly, you turn around to face him. The sudden closeness makes you feel dizzy, yet the feeling is incomparable to the way your body is reacting when you look into his eyes. 

His dark eyes somehow appear even darker from up close. You feel nothing carnal in the way he is looking at you, nor the way he is giving you no chance to escape. But there is the heat that you feel reaching out to you, vibrating through his chest together with his heavy breath. 

“We are—” he murmurs, stopping briefly with a deep exhale of breath. “We’re expecting a baby.” He speaks as if he is trying to rewire his brain into accepting reality.

Your heart starts racing when you hear his words. 

We. That word seals everything in. 

And you can feel that sense of acceptance coming from him. You can easily see it written all over his face; in his gaze that looks resolved and in his warm smile that seems inviting. And then you get to see it coming together when he takes you in, his eyes landing on your belly. Even though covered under your thick sweater, he looks at you as if he can see what is hidden underneath. 

“We’re expecting a baby,” you whisper with a smile. “It’s still early. Very early. Which is why you might not see any changes, like seeing the baby in its fully grown form, or find out the gender yet, but we can already hear the heartbeat. We can arrange so you can join me on my next appointment with the doctor. That is, if you’d like.”

Putting all of your hopes into words feels risky. But thinking about him being there puts a smile on your face. That smile fades for a brief moment when you realise that you are also putting your heart at risk of being broken—be it from him, or from life. 

“Anything could still happen,” you add with a wry smile. The sceptical part of you slowly sneaking its way into your mind to take control. “But if you’re willing to go through this with me and—” 

He doesn’t let you finish your sentence when he suddenly reaches out to touch you. He brushes your cheek with the gentle touch of his fingers, and wraps his other arm around your waist, pulling you gently to him until you are nearly pressed into his chest. You bring your palms up to his chest in reflex, pressing against him as a barrier, separating you from his overwhelming warmth. 

You can feel his heartbeat picking up under your palms, just as your own heartbeat starts thundering inside your chest. 

“Last night, Cliff stole my chance to figure out or express how I felt about this,” he says with a nervous chuckle. “I was in so much shock both from the news and then Cliff’s reaction that I couldn’t say a word about it. But the moment I left your home and spent the night alone in this room, I finally got the chance to process everything.”

He stops, shaking his head before pressing his lips on your temple. “Still, I can’t believe that this is happening. But this is our new reality right now and I have to face it. No matter at what cost,” he whispers with his lips hovering against your temple.

“What—what are you saying?” 

“I’m saying that I’m all in,” he says, pulling back so he can look at you. “I told you, didn’t I? You never really left my mind after that night. I’m not sure why, but waking up in the morning to see you gone back then got me curious and, well—” he chuckles. “It was all the reason why I got roped into Alia’s sneaky scheme, which I’m beginning to regret ever being a part of, but since we’re here anyway.” 

Taehyung lets out a dramatic sigh, drawing a curious smile to your face. 

His chest rises and falls as he exhales a deep breath. “Alia promised to help me once we’ve done the deal. And although I never told her specifically what I needed help with—” he grins, looking as if he is thinking back to the day he planned out this whole scheme with your stepsister. 

A scheme where he pretended to be dating her to trick your and Alia’s family. 

“Actually, I was already trying to find you. Alia has a lot of connections, gathered by traveling to different places and jumping between odd jobs, so I thought that maybe she would know how to solve that problem of mine,” he admits, and your skin flushes warmly when you realise that not only has he been thinking of you this whole time, but he had also thought of looking for you when you thought that he would have simply forgotten everything and moved on. 

“Things may have gone differently than I imagined, and not entirely in the right order. But technically speaking, she made it happen, just as promised,” he chuckles again, looking just amused at the situation as you are. “If I had known about the baby, I wouldn’t have asked you to hide from Alia that we got together at one point,” he grimaces. “I wasn’t sure what kind of situation Alia was in that would require her having a fake boyfriend, so I don’t know what telling her that we hooked up would do.” 

Frowning, you simply shake your head and murmur, “No, I should’ve told you right away. But like I said, I wasn’t prepared to see my baby’s daddy coming into my parents’ home holding hands with my stepsister.” 

Taehyung smiles and rubs his thumb across your cheek. “I’m sorry.” 

Your body shudders under his touch, but you cover it with a sigh. “Likewise,” you whisper. “But can we please stop talking about Alia right now?” 

He barks out a laugh. “Okay, if that’s what you want,” he says with a wide grin on his face. “Maybe you’ll be more interested in talking about something else, then?” 

You suck a deep breath as his eyes bore into yours. Even before he says it, you can somehow tell what he is thinking. There is something in his eyes that makes you feel hot inside. Something that feels intimidating, yet comforting at the same time, and it makes you want to dive into whatever it is that is offering you. 

As if he can read your mind, Taehyung starts staring at you the same way he did that night—with the same passion and hunger that are enough to engulf you as a whole. 

While you are captivated with his gaze, Taehyung leans in, stealing a kiss from your lips before you realise what is happening. He begins with a gentle, tentative kiss, as if he is testing to see how you are going to react. But with your emotion heightened, and relief warming your chest, the innocent kiss that he is giving you is already enough to send heat flushing through your body.

Your fingers sink into his sweater in a desperate clutch as you return his kiss, pressing your mouth onto his without any inhibitions. A sigh escapes from your throat, while he releases a deep grunt and begins to deepen the kiss. 

His tongue presses between the seams of your lips, penetrating into your mouth in seek of control. All the heat inside you starts swirling violently as he devours your lips, and it’s driving you crazy. Your thundering heartbeat presses against your chest and he keeps stealing your breath, leaving you gasping the moment he releases your lips. 

Yet Taehyung doesn’t stop. Giving you a few more pecks on your swollen lips, he then moves his kisses down the column of your throat, and your head falls back in an instant, helping him to travel lower until he rests his lips beneath your earlobe where he breathes out a sigh.  

“This wasn’t—” you gasp as he nips at your pulse, rocking your entire body at the touch of his teeth on your skin, “This wasn’t the reason why I came here for.” 

“Are you sure?” he hums against your skin. “We can stop if you want to. But you have to be the one to say the words.” His words make you swoon, but contrary to what he is saying to you, Taehyung continues to press his lips on your skin, making it hard for you to say a thing. “It’s been pure torture having to hold back, being in the same room with you but unable to do anything about it.” 

He leans back, looking at you with a deep gaze as he brushes his thumb across your swollen lips. “I kept seeing these lips and wishing I could kiss it.” 

Silently admitting that you feel the same way for him, your eyes move to his lips, noticing its swell, the faint crimson shade and the moisture that are left there after kissing you, and hazily blurt out, “Did you kiss Alia with that same mouth?”

“Fuck, no!” he says, making you laugh when he seems horrified at the thought of kissing your stepsister. “We’re friends, but not that close as friends to be smooching at each other.” 

The way he is scrunching his nose still makes you giggle. “Sorry, but—you know, I had to make sure.”

Taehyung snorts. “Of course you do,” he grumbles, although the mirth in his eyes turns, as he gives you an understanding look through them, now knowing what kind of relationship that you share with Alia. “There are a lot of things about your stepsister that you might not know about.” 

His words remind you of the short conversation that you had with your stepsister this morning. Deep down, you realise that he is right. With so many years spent harbouring a deep misunderstanding between one another, you realise that you never really knew her at all. Closing your eyes, you tell yourself that you can revisit this later. 

“Are you going to spend the rest of the day trying to butter me up so I can start being best friends with my stepsister, or are you going to kiss me again?” you question him with a grin on your face once you open your eyes again. 

He returns your grin with his own, showing you that same boyish charm that makes you swoon as he murmurs, “I think I like the second option a lot better.” 

Giggling, you release your grip on his sweater and move to wrap your arms around his neck, meeting him halfway just as he leans down to capture your lips again. “An excellent choice, Sir. I do like that option much better as well.”

Once his lips descend on yours once again, they don’t come down gently. They crash into yours, and you can feel his urgency, his hunger, everything that he had spent days withholding for the sake of the god-awful scheme. The kiss melts every cell in your body. It weakens your knees, leaving your arms as the only thing holding you up against him. 

His hands feel hot on your skin as he runs them down your waist, your hips, the heat penetrating through your thick sweater and jeans. You instinctively arch your chest against his, while your legs are moving, rubbing against each other when his touch sends your pulse rising, hot blood flowing down right between your legs. 

Fuck, why I am so sensitive? 

Right as you are wondering if your pregnancy has anything to do with the way your body is reacting, Taehyung folds his body and grabs the back of your thighs to lift you up. 

“Oh, God—” you pull away with a gasp, surprised with the sudden lost of balance. Tightening your arms around his neck, you hold on to him as he turns. His smile widens, looking as if he is proud of himself, and then he drops you onto the bed, gentle as he puts you down until you are lying on your back. 

You shift backwards until you are at the center of the bed with him following close behind. His gaze remains on your face as he starts crawling over the mattress, not stopping until he is hovering above you. He doesn’t settle his weight on top of you right away, but instead grabs a gentle hold at the hem of your sweater. With a quick work of his hands, the sweater is gone, tossed somewhere across the room. He doesn’t let you see where it went as he bends down, hovering close above you.  

“Doesn’t this make you think back about that night?” he asks, with a deep voice that has your entire body trembling. He ignites more reaction out of you with a gentle kiss at the crook of your neck. 

“Something is”—you gasp, shuddering under his kiss—“something is different, though.” 

His warm breath comes brushing on your skin with his deep chuckle. “You can tell, huh? I did some workout after that vacation,” he brags to you while wiggling his eyebrows, making you laugh. 

“I’d say you may have gotten your money’s worth. A little bit,” you tease him as you reach down between your bodies for his zipper. 

You can feel his hard cock pressing against your palm. Even while hidden under his pants, you can feel the heat coming from him as you rub your palm against his covered bulge, moving it back and forth until you feel him hardening under your touch. 

“Are you going to continue staring at me, or are you going to fuck me?” you whisper, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with how much you need him. 

And he is the only one to blame. When his sole existence stirs your every being. With one glance coming from his eyes, butterfly wings flutter inside your body, touching all the crevices that aren’t filled with past hurt and the baby’s presence and filling them with warmth. 

With one touch, your whole body comes alight, and you are feeling it now as he brushes his fingers along the expanse of your waist. As tough your blood is on fire as it runs through your veins, even with nothing more but a light graze on your skin. 

Taehyung licks his lips. His desire is written so clearly on his face. But then his gaze moves down your body, lingering on your stomach that is completely exposed now that you no longer have your sweater covering your skin. 

“Will it be okay?” he asks, sounding genuinely concerned. His voice sounds tight, filled with worries, which gives your chest a tight pinch. 

When was the last time you had someone—other than your family—to be so concerned about your wellbeing? Granted, there is a baby that is involved in all of this, and it would be normal for him to care, but that doesn’t stop you from feeling like he is seeing right through you. 

“I think I read somewhere that the baby will be okay,” you look down at your stomach and start rubbing your hand gently over it. “Maybe we can go gentle. At least until we get to see the OB and ask more.” 

“Good idea,” he says with a smile, while you feel soft inside. But when his hand begins to move again, his thumb grazing down your exposed stomach, the heat rises back up and he is back in the game. 

His smouldering gaze feels like a complete opposite to the softness in his voice when he says, “Alright, I can do gentle. Just tell me if it gets too much, or you can lead the pace so I won’t make any mistake.” 

He wears the same wicked smile that stole your heart many nights ago as he lifts off from your body. You watch with your teeth nibbling at your bottom lip as he begins stripping himself. His sweater comes off, showing you his hard chest and filled arms which you haven’t had the chance to appreciate in the past. 

This time, you get to see everything with a clear mind. Instead of feeling hazy with intoxication, all you can feel now is the haze coming from your need for him.  

Reaching down to his pants, he pushes down his zipper. With a mocking grin, he makes a great gesture of pushing down his pants, only to stop once he hears your moan. 

“God, I missed hearing that sound coming out of your lips,“ he murmurs. He immediately returns to you and pushes your pants and panties down in one motion. Your bra comes off right before your butt comes back down on the bed. Having not an inch of your skin covered while you are lying there makes you feel exposed and vulnerable. Yet he keeps a gentle hold on your waist, holding you still while he takes you in. 

“I remember thinking that you were beautiful, but it beats seeing you in this kind of light to see what I didn’t get to see,” he murmurs, almost groaning as he takes you in. 

Licking your lips, you hold back, keeping your voice from trembling to answer, “We were both kinda drunk, so—” 

“Were we?” he chuckles softly and returns to you again, as if he can’t take being apart from you for too long. He presses his lips on your collarbone and whispers, “Good thing we get the chance to change that.” 

Your legs come up and wrap around his waist the moment he is back on top of you. The way his hard chest is pressing on your bare breasts feels heavenly. You can feel his heartbeat pounding against your chest, almost at the same rhythm as yours. But your attention is quickly drawn away once you try to move your hips to get comfortable beneath his weight, only to unintentionally rub yourself against his body.

You can feel his hard cock pressing against your thigh as you brush against him. Heat pools right at the depth of your core once you feel just how badly he wants you. It grows more intense as he pushes back into you, rubbing his covered cock against your center until you feel your wet arousal soiling the front of his pants. 

Yet still, the friction isn’t enough to satiate your needs. 

“Taehyung—” 

The moment he hears you calling his name—his real name—something dark and feral flashes through his gaze. As if saying his name in the heat of desire snaps something inside him that needs to be unleashed. 

His mouth comes down to capture yours just then, claiming you with a deep kiss. You writhe beneath him while he devours your lips, pressing against his center in a silent plea to have him striping himself off of the restricting pants and letting you feel him. 

Without saying a word, he understands what you are asking for and complies. With a reluctant sigh, he pulls back. He keeps his eyes on you the whole time as he pushes down his pants and boxer briefs until he is completely bare. His hard cock immediately springs free right before your eyes, drawing your attention towards it the same way it did the first night you were with him. 

“Say it again,” he says to you with a deep voice. A rough sigh escapes him as he wraps his hand around his girth and starts stroking himself, making himself hard and ready while he pleads with you, “Say my name.” 

“Taehyung,” you call him with a soft moan, and he lets go every last bit of his restrictions and covers your whole body with his. 

His mouth crashes down on yours, kissing you passionately until your body grows hot. A moan slips from you, and his tongue sweeps in between your parted lips, getting entangled with yours and you are immediately lost. You barely notice it when his hand moves down, slipping between your bodies to find the source of your heat. 

He flicks at your nether lips, drawing a gasp from your lips, and your hips rise up to welcome him. Then he slides a finger into your pulsing core, entering you until you are arching against his chest, overwhelmed with the sensation that he draws out of your body as he buries his finger deeper into your pussy. 

While he slides his finger in and out of you, his mouth remains pressed on yours, swallowing every sound you are making. Drowning every cries, every moans, while he continues devouring you as though you are his lifeline. 

The pleasure rises, and your body starts moving on its own before you can control it. You start grinding against his finger, needing more. It starts with a slow rock, but the more the pleasure climbs within your body, you continue grinding harder and harder onto his hand. This seems to amuse him, as you can feel his smile growing against his lips before he pulls away, freeing you from his searing kiss. 

Yet his hand continues to move, not resting until you can finally find release. “That’s it, ______. Give it to me, baby. Come for me,” he whispers with his deep voice like a spell. 

Under his encouraging words and his relentless strokes, you finally reach your orgasm. It feels so intense you can almost feel as if your body shatters in his hold, with your breath coming out in broken pants and your moans rising higher. 

With a gentle move, he pulls his finger out of you, leaving behind a series of small spasms inside your pussy from the climax. 

You immediately feel empty. But he doesn’t make you wait long as he positions himself between your parted legs, and his heavy hard-on comes right where his finger had been. His cock slides in between your slit, moving back and forth as he rocks his hips. The friction draws the slick sound of your release as he continues rubbing the entire length of his cock against your hot cunt. 

As your body continues to shudder beneath him, Taehyung lets out a deep groan. “Can’t wait, baby. Need to be inside you now.” 

“Yes, fuck me, Taehyung,” you cry out, and those exact words are the ones that draw him to move. 

You should have been prepared for it, yet your mind and body are somewhat occupied. Distracted by the blinding pleasure that he keeps pulling out of you, you are not ready when he slams his cock into you. You instantly cry out, and Taehyung stills inside you. 

You can feel your muscles clenching, pulsing around him in small spasms of pleasure at the sudden invasion. It draws a moan out of him, and he holds you in his arms to help soothe you through it until you are more accustomed to his width filling you up. 

“You okay, baby? I’m sorry,” he whispers with his lips pressing gently on your skin. Starting from your neck, your chin, and then he keeps making his way up to capture your parted lips. His kiss is soft, barely a flutter, but with every pulse rising in your body, you can feel the heat shooting right into your core. 

You wait just long enough until the pounding sound of your heartbeat eases before answering him, “I’m okay.” 

You start to wiggle under his weight, moving your hips to test if it’s going to hurt. When you feel that your muscles are no longer tense, and nothing but pleasure rushes through your body, you start moving your hips more. Grinding down his length, you can feel your hot walls contracting around his thick cock. It draws a sharp hiss out of his lips, and he jerks his hips against you, as though he is close to losing control. 

“Are you going to stay there the entire time we’re here”—you tease him while tightening your legs around his waist, your hands on his hard shoulders—”or are you going to fuck me?”  

Taehyung lets out a deep chuckle and begins to move. “So impatient. It’s been a while, so I’m only letting you act like a brat just this once,” he growls against your lips as he rocks his hips, moving in a slow pace. 

It feels so good. But you want more. You need more. 

With your heels pressing on his back, you rock back against him, grinding into his cock. He reacts with a groan, murmuring to you, “Fuck, that feels good. You want more?” 

The pleasure continues climbing. It starts to feel overwhelming that words fail you. The only thing you can give him is a nod. A sharp gasp comes out of your lips when he starts picking up his pace, going faster while pushing deeper with each thrust. 

“Tell me if it hurts,” he nearly begs, sounding desperate when you have yet to give him words in response to him. “Please, baby. Promise me. I’m barely holding on here, but I don’t want to hurt you or the baby.” 

His voice goes in and out of your senses, yet you still manage to hear what he is trying to say. “I’m fine, Taehyung. I won’t hide it, I promise.” 

He lets out a relieved sigh and smashes his lips on yours. “Good,” he groans against your lips. “Hang on tight then, baby.” 

Those words become the last warning as the force and speed of his thrusts escalate, hitting you deep and hard until your toes are curling and your throat feels tight with the urge to cry out in pleasure. Your chest rises in an arch at the sensations you are getting as your hard nipples are rubbing against his chest. 

But your mind is clear enough for you to do exactly what he asked of you. 

Your legs are pressing around him, not tight enough to make it hard for him to move, but enough to keep you attached to him. Your arms are around him, fingers running up to the nape of his neck and pulling at the back of his hair, while the other hand runs down his back, nails sinking into his skin as he takes you on a wild ride.  

Pleasure explodes through your body under his hard strokes. Your mouth falls open with a series of strained cries, calling his name. You wish he would lean down, to kiss you, to drown the sounds of pleasure that you are unable to hold in. Yet Taehyung chooses to pull back, allowing himself to keep his eyes on you as he continues with his relentless thrusts, making sure that he wouldn’t miss any sign of pain that may show on your face. 

But the pain that you had expected to come from his rough lovemaking only extends the pleasure. The wet sounds of his thrusts pushing deep inside you fills the room, growing intense by the minute. Your skin flushes warmly as blood pulses deep in your core, your pussy walls flutter around his girth, letting him know how close you are to reach the edge. 

“Are you close, baby? Do you want to come?” he whispers to you with a groan, and you find yourself crying out,

“Yes, Taehyung—I’m close. Please, let me cum. Please—” 

With his hands reaching down your hips, he lifts your bottom half slightly off the mattress, placing you in a new angle that allows him to reach deeper. Your whole body quakes once he finds your sweet spot, and as he repeatedly pushes his cock against that hidden spot inside you, you soon feel him pushing you over the edge, with him not slowing down even for just a moment. And you take it all while you continue clinging desperately to him with your nails sinking into the skin on his back. 

Pleasure flares through you like fireworks. A new wave of raw pleasure overcomes you, and your body erupts with the first wave of your orgasm. It flows smoothly through your body, but still intense enough to knock the air out of your chest. You cry out with a strained voice, your entire body shuddering beneath him. 

You heave as wave after wave of pleasure overcome your body, yet Taehyung shows no sign of stopping. Still not having enough, he still fills you up with long, deep strokes that rock your body and the entire bed together.

With every shake of your body, your nipples grow hard that they start to hurt as your skin keeps rubbing against his chest. Looking between you, Taehyung’s eyes turn darker with lust. You force yourself to watch him through your haze, feeling more than seeing it when he runs one hand down your belly. 

His big palm stays there, as if silently greeting the baby growing inside, before it continues to travel lower, finding home right where your bodies are joined. With his thumb and forefinger, he flicks at your engorged clit. Already throbbing and growing sensitive with the amount of frictions happening all at once, it sends your hips rising as another wave of pleasure rises from your core. 

Deep groans escape his lips as he savours the sight of you embracing the pleasure, and he continues playing with your clit—rubbing, flicking, pinching, drawing pain and pleasure over the constant thrusting of his cock. And just when you are feeling it building up once more from within, the telltale of your orgasm that you have been depraved of for so long, Taehyung leans down, capturing one taut nipple between his mouth and bites down. 

"Oh god. Oh god. I'm going to come again,” you cry out with your hips rising to meet each hard thrust that he is giving you.

“Yes, that’s it. Cum for me like a good girl," he croons against your skin, which sends you straight into the next round of climax while you are still riding the aftershock of your last one.

Your body shudders as another orgasm rocks your entire body, and your muscles clamp around his hard cock, sucking him with a tight clench as he thrusts in and out, pushing deep and sending your body shaking violently as you finally succumb into an earth-shattering orgasm that takes away the last drop of strength that you still have. 

And the force of your final orgasm is what sets him off. 

With a deep groan, and a rough tremble of his chest, Taehyung finally finds his release. You can feel his warmth filling your insides, his cock twitching and pumping between your spasming walls, and you are almost sure that the wicked sensation of him filling you up with his cum is enough to send you to a smaller, much more subtle climax. 

It takes a while for you to come down from the height of your release, and Taehyung is there, helping you to ride off your orgasm with the slow strokes of his cock and the gentle brush of his fingers as he slowly comes to halt. 

Once everything is done, your body is completely spent that you are unable to move. Your legs have turned languid as Taehyung gently drops them back onto the bed. The room is filled with the sound of deep breathing as both of you are fighting to catch your breaths. 

You can barely feel your arms moving, but essentially, he is freed from your tight hold, allowing him to pull out of you before dropping down beside you. 

The room no longer feels cold now that your entire body is burning hot. Seeing the thin sheet of sweat on his skin, you know that Taehyung is feeling the same heat, yet it doesn’t stop him from turning to his side and wrapping his arms around you to pull you close. 

The sound of your intense heartbeat makes it hard for you to listen to any other sounds. You feel so tired. The lack of sleep you had last night is making it hard for you to fight off the drowsiness that is coming over you. Feeling relieved and sated, you just want to give in to sleep. 

Your eyelids keep growing heavy, and once your breath is calm, you can feel Taehyung’s gentle kiss pressing on your temple. His voice is barely a whisper when he murmurs to you, “——sleep, rest for a while. It’s not like we’re in any rush to get anywhere, right?” 

You open your mouth to answer him, yet your body fights against it. His words seem to act like a spell, when you are soon taken deep into slumber, falling into a dreamless sleep with his arms wrapped around your body. 

When you finally come to, the soft light of the afternoon sun is slowly penetrating through the windows. 

It feels warm inside, especially now that you have a blanket covering your naked body and his heavy arm resting languidly around your waist, yet you know that the same cannot be said with the weather outside. Even without opening your eyes, you can still hear the sound of the fierce wind hitting the windows, and you doubt that the road would be safe enough for you to drive out of this place. 

You find yourself curling against Taehyung’s bare chest as you properly come to wake. His heartbeat is steady, and you can feel it when he starts waking up. 

“Hey, there—” you whisper, greeting him with a sleepy smile, which he returns with his goofy smile. “Was I asleep for a long time?” 

Taehyung shakes his head. “No, not long enough,” he whispers. “I also just woke up, though. So—” 

Chuckling softly, you stretch out next to him. Your muscles are lax, and while you still feel worn-out, the short nap has restored your energy some. It helps clear your mind, yet you still refuse to move a muscle. 

Glancing at Taehyung, you notice that he has a faraway look in his eyes. He keeps his gaze out the window, and you start wondering what he is thinking about. 

“Do you think we’re going to be okay?” Taehyung asks you with a gentle sigh.

You close your eyes briefly and sigh contently before answering, “With the baby? I mean, it might be a struggle at first. I know because I haven’t really grasp the fact that I’m carrying your baby, but—” 

“No, I’m not talking about this,” he says with his hand waving around your entangled bodies. “I’m talking about—” he waves his hand to point at the window. The muted light of the sun that you saw earlier is still looking bleak, more of a pale-grey than the usual golden, with the wild swirls of snow dropping from the sky and no sign of the blizzard letting up anytime soon. “That.” 

He sighs. “I feel like we’ve had strings of bad luck constantly following us.” 

Smiling against his chest, you know what he is trying to say. “We slept together twice, and both happened due to bad weather,” you deliberately deduce his thoughts with a hum. “Is that what you’re saying?” 

“Yeah,” he says with a delirious chuckle, finding it somewhat funny now that you have voiced his thoughts out loud. “Looks like we’re stranded together, again, until the wind starts letting up. They say it’s going to be soon, but I’m not sure.” 

You cannot stop smiling the more you think about it. “Funny how it keeps happening to us, huh? At least we can remember this day as the first Christmas morning we celebrated together,” you say this with a grin, as you pull back to rub at your stomach from over the blanket. “Just the three of us.”

Taehyung follows your gaze and scoffs. “Way to go for making me feel guilty about stealing you from your family on Christmas Day,” he grumbles, making you laugh. “And if we’re actually doing this, uh—this relationship, do you think it’ll be weird?” 

You look up to him, seeing the frown forming on his face. Before you can question what he means by it, Taehyung continues to explain, “Maybe I shouldn’t come to see your family again next Christmas, or anytime soon. At least until we’re settled and everyone has forgotten about everything.” 

The way he says it, and the way he looks when he did, makes you want to laugh. “I think we’re good. And you can always join us next year. Besides, the holidays aren’t so bad with you around. Not this year. It beats sitting down and listening to other people’s stories for once.” 

Hearing this, Taehyung raises his eyebrows at you. “Even with all the drama we had with your sister?” he asks, sounding doubtful. “In case you forgot, I almost had a brawl with your stepfather.” 

For the first time ever, you doesn’t feel any need to correct him by calling Alia as your stepsister. That thought makes you smile. But you keep it to yourself, and instead lean up to kiss his cheek to help ease his mind out of it. 

“What we had?” you question him with a teasing voice, “that’s nothing. You haven’t experienced having Aunt Janey around. Have you ever read or heard those Reddit stories about entitled aunts? She would have gotten all the trophies if anyone in the family has ever written anything about her online.” 

You smile as Taehyung listens to you with a chuckle, and you can feel his worries slowly being lifted. “And as for Dad—” you let out a sigh as you think about your protective stepfather, “let’s just hope that Alia manages to butter him up to let things go. You know that he’s weak when it comes to her. Or, you can buy him a drink the next time you see him.” 

Taehyung purses his lips as he considers this. For a moment, he doesn’t seem to believe your words, but he still nods his head either way. “Fine, I guess we can talk about that later. We’ll cross the bridge when we get there, I suppose?” he asks with a bashful smile. “Why don’t we focus on you for now, and the baby?” 

You prop yourself up on your elbow while holding up the blanket with the other arm to cover your nakedness from his hungry eyes. “Alright, what do you want to know?” 

“Everything,” he says with a grin as he sits up against the bed’s headrest. “Should we continue and maybe do this with a late lunch, though? I’m starving. I couldn’t eat anything at breakfast.” 

“Are you famished for food, or—” you tease him by leaning closer, “Do you have an appetite for another thing?

He groans. “If the second option has anything to do with you, then the answer would be both. But we need to get some food in our system if we want to get back into the other.” 

Laughing, you finally step out of the bed to call for the room service. You continue to spend the rest of the day with him, chatting over the meal, talking about your future plans and all the mundane things that you need to know about each other, before the heat between you picks up again and he pulls you back into bed.

Warmth envelopes you the entire time you are with him, regardless of the winter storm that is still happening outside of these walls. 

Author’s Note 2.0 | Thank you for reading this story! Any likes, kudos, comments, and feedbacks will be appreciated. See you in the next story :)

© All rights reserved. 2024 Yoonia — Unauthorized use and/or duplication of these works, including reposting, translating and modification in any form, is strictly prohibited. 

his nose scrunch i'm going to cry 🥺

bonus — I'm not crying you are 🥹:

hoW IS THIS 25K WORDS???? It feels like it's only 3k words wtf I was shocked when i reached the end like? Why am I at the end already???? What universe was I in???

First thing first. Is Skye single. Can I have her. I will raise the baby in Europe w her 🥹🥹 more of my scream under the cut bc there might or might not be spoiler !!!!

My shock when I first read the teaser and see that OC got pregnant without really knowing the father and the father showing up as her stepsister's boyfriend in a family function??? Op big brain🤍

I think it's safe to assume they're the one doing the fakedating but like ??? The audacity ??? For him to call her red when he's in their family house??? Alrd introduced as alia's boyfriend ?? This guy 😭😭

I feel so bad for OC and her continuous misfortune... just imagining how nothing ever works the way she wants it to despite the silver linings and all that... I'm glad she has Skye and I hope Skye beats tae's ass (/j lmaoo). I really just want to wrap her in a blanket and give her all the hug she deserves😭😭

A Christmas Fix — 01 (m) | kth

⟶ Summary | One-night stands are supposed to be nothing more than just. It shouldn’t have involved seeing those two red lines looking back at you weeks later without a name or a contact number linking you back to your mystery man. Nothing more but his face. The unforgettable face that would sometimes appear in your dreams at night. So unforgettable that you immediately recognise him the moment he walks into your family home at Christmas, hand-in-hand with your older stepsister.

With special collab prompt: "the holidays aren't so bad with you around."

⟶ Title | A Christmas Fix

⟶ Pairings | Taehyung x female reader

⟶ Genre | Secret Baby!au, Second Chance!au, Strangers to Lovers!au

⟶ Ratings & Warnings | +18 / M for Mature; including: alcohol consumption, mentions of pregnancy, vomiting/morning sickness, surprise babies, miscommunication, profanities/swearing, minor body insecurities (implied), some family drama; involves multiple explicit sex scenes, including: sexual tension, one night stand, drunk sex (with clear consent), minor dom/sub dynamic, brat!reader, size kink, rough sex, light choking, restraint, hair pulling (M, F), protected & unprotected sex, fingering (F), oral sex (F), clit play, breast play, stripping, biting, minor hand job/groping, grinding, masturbation (M, F), dirty talk, implied pain kink, praise kink, body worship, marking, multiple orgasms (M, F), overstimulation.

⟶ Word count | 25,363 words (of 54,768 words)

⟶ Story Notes | Part of the Jingle All the Way collaboration with @leahsfavefics, @kithtaehyung, @kpopfanfictrash, @cybrsan, and @sugaurora | Written in 2nd person POV (in case you’re new to my writing, I don’t use ‘y/n’ coding as all of my lead characters are considered as OCs) | Moodboard was done by me | Posted in: January 31st, 2024 by @yoonia

⟶ Author Notes | I know that this is so late, but December has always been a rough month for me and this time it continued until January. I hope you can still enjoy this story regardless. Happy belated holidays and happy new year, my loves!

⟶ Jingle All the Way collab masterlist | A Christmas Fix: next chapter ⇢

⟶ Main Masterlist | Taglist | Feedback | Mailbox | Ko-fi

⟶ Read on AO3

One month ago…

You already had everything perfectly planned out when you first thought of this trip some long months ago. 

Everything. 

From your personal bucket list full of wonderful things that you wanted to experience during your time away and the places that you wanted to see, down to the smallest details that you could possibly think of to be able to enjoy every single moment of your secret getaway.

Just like the red dress that you had chosen to wear tonight. The dress you had meticulously picked and bought to wear on the trip as you went to celebrate your newfound freedom. 

In your well-thought-out plan, you were supposed to have landed on the tropical island you were headed to by sundown. The warm tropical breeze should have been embracing you at the start of your trip instead of the cold, chilly wind flowing right outside these walls. 

By this evening, you should have already settled in nicely in the comfort of your hotel room right by the beachside. The calming sound of the rushing waves outside your window was the sound that you should have been listening to while resting from your long flight. 

You had pictured yourself embracing your freedom in a foreign land. To feel the soft sand slipping between your toes as you were playing chase with the rushing waves, and to find calmness that you could only get far away from the treacherous city where you came from. 

The trip was meant to help you mend your soul. Perfectly planned out as an escape from reality and leave all of your past hurt behind before starting a new chapter of your life. 

And yet, no matter how thoroughly you had it all planned out, somehow life simply found a way to mess it all up. Just like how it had always been. So perhaps you shouldn’t have been so surprised when it happened to you again, just when you thought that you had everything under control. 

You should have seen the signs long before everything started crumbling down.

The sky that kept growing darker ever since you left the city. The constant turbulences happening during your first flight that made the trip feel intense. The unsettling feeling you met the moment you landed in this place for your transit. The constant announcements echoing through the airport about flights that were getting delayed and cancelled while you were getting no news about your transit flight’s departure. 

You should have been prepared to face reality, keeping in mind that life hadn’t been so nice to you lately to let you slip away that easily. Yet your stubbornness prevailed. And after your most recent predicament, you needed this trip to happen. You needed to be right. 

After all, you have made it all the way here. It would have been impossible for you to return home, wouldn’t it?

So you remained in denial and were so stubbornly holding onto hope that you would soon be taken away from this place towards your dream destination. Even when the world around you seemed to be falling apart. 

But after long hours of waiting, you were finally forced to accept your fate, letting go of any hope you had left to escape this place when they officially cancelled the rest of today’s flights due to unresolved weather issues. Including yours.

“I’m sorry, but we really can’t promise you anything at this moment. There will be no flights until the storm passes and our pilots are cleared to fly again. Until then, we have nothing to tell you.” 

The staff’s swift response to your inquiries about getting on the first flight available to take you to your destination only left you with a dead end. Even flying back home was no longer an option, only because that would only mean that you were admitting defeat. 

And that was how you ended up here tonight, stranded right between the daunting city that you called home and the paradise that you wished to be in until an unforeseeable future. Your dream of enjoying the night in the comfort of the beachside hotel room overlooking the wide, clear ocean, had been replaced with the reality where you had to spend overnight at the airport’s transit hotel that the airline staff helped book for you. 

You released a sigh as you leaned back against the elevator wall. Recounting the events again only brought back all the terrible mood you were having. And it didn’t help that the last message that your roommate sent you only reminded you of your setback. 

From Skye: Just checking on you on your secret getaway. I hope you’re having a blast right now. I wish you’d tell me where you’re heading so I can have a good reason to be jealous. Be safe!

Another sigh came from your lips as you wondered—

Now how am I supposed to answer her text? 

Before you could find an answer, the elevator doors opened as it reached the lobby downstairs. You put away your phone as you stepped out, and immediately got lost in your thoughts. Your mind once again getting too loud as it keeps you company. 

At first, you had no intention of hiding this trip from her. Yet all the circumstances leading to this weekend had made it hard for you to share anything to anyone.

You were planning to wait until you were finally there so you could surprise her with pictures from the beautiful beach or your comfortable hotel room. Showing her the pretty nighttime scene from the tropical island would have been a nice way to flaunt your secret getaway rather than boasting it when your fate had been filled with uncertainty. 

But instead of having an evening walk down the beach, you were trudging across the lobby inside an airport hotel, accompanied by the sound of your heels clicking on the marble floors instead of having sand soiling your feet. 

And the view outside the window that you got to see earlier had been nowhere close to the pretty beach with its white sand and rolling waves. Instead, you had a clear view of the dark night sky, painted with the raging storm and its blaring thunders so strong they almost caused the entire bedroom to shake. Neither showed any sign of calming down any time soon, leaving you with no other choice but to do what you could to enjoy your temporary stay.

And you were going to start doing so by having a quick drink to help you unwind for the night. 

The red dress that you were wearing might seem a bit excessive for a nightcap, but for a short while, it helped you forget where you were. It felt almost as if you were walking in a dream as you strolled down the lower lobby in search of the hotel bar. 

Entering the hotel bar, however, became another wake-up call. 

The bar was quite large for a transit hotel, accommodating the patrons filling the place tonight. You had hoped that you could have a dance or two with a friendly stranger before retreating to your hotel room to rest, yet the closed-off lounge area had more space filled with box seats than the open dance floor. The seating area was the only place in the bar which was dimly lit, allowing the guests some privacy while they settled in with their drinks. 

The small chandeliers glittering from the ceiling were far from the hanging lights that you pictured hanging in a beachside bar. Just like the one place you had seen pictures of while planning for your trip. The lights you were seeing here made the entire space beneath seem luxurious, spreading a soft golden glow over the wary faces trying to enjoy the night. 

The pulsing bass that came out of the speakers was enough to drown the sound of the violent storm happening on the other side of these walls, further helping to create an illusion that you were in another place. That you were somewhere else instead of being stranded inside an airport hotel, together with all the strangers who seemed to be facing the same fate as you did. 

You made your way towards the main bar, suddenly feeling hyperaware of your surroundings. Even without looking, you could feel people’s eyes following your movements. Yet you paid no heed to them. You were only here to quiet down the raging storm happening inside your head, after all. 

A strong scent of old wood took over the bar area. Mixed in with the excessive scent of air fresheners and cleaners, it was enough to remind you that you were miles and miles away from the beautiful island where you had been so desperate to be. 

Smoothing your palms down your red dress, you took one empty seat at the bar. You caught the bartender’s eyes as he walked past, and within moments, a glass of strawberry daiquiri ended up in your hand. 

This feels nice, you wondered to yourself as you sat back and tried to relax.

One sip of the sweet alcoholic drink was all that it took to refresh your mind. As the warmth from your drink ran smoothly through your body, any doubt and wariness you felt began to fade. 

The next sip of the drink managed to ease your thoughts down a bit more. It helped push away the reminders of your troubles to the back of your mind. Finding calmness, you took another quick look at your surroundings.

The seating lounge seemed to be filled with guests more than the main bar was. Stranded travellers like yourself. At first glance, the nicely dressed men in suits made it seem like you were in a bar downtown. As if they were nothing more than a group of businessmen seeking leisure on a Friday night with drinks. 

It only took you looking a few seats away from them for the illusion to shatter. Your eyes fell on a group of men and women wearing their summer clothing who were making a toast, acting as if they were at the peak of their vacation. 

Looking at the scene made you realise that you weren’t the only one feeling miserable tonight. You wondered just how badly these people here needed to forget. How many of them here might be similar to you, stranded in an unexpected situation while trying to escape reality? 

You raised your glass to hide your bitter smile. The smooth liquid continued to flow through your body and you slowly began to find some peace of mind. Before you knew it, you had finished your drink, though you weren’t exactly ready to return to your cold bedroom. 

“Can I order you another glass of drink?” 

A deep voice invaded your senses after a long period of silence, and it was coming from your side. You had been far too deep in your reverie that you didn’t even realise that someone had taken the empty seat right beside you at the bar. 

Curious to see this friendly stranger, you slowly turned around to look at him. And what you saw in him nearly took your breath away. 

A tall, lean man was sitting there. His slick hair had a few curls at the end of each strands, and he had combed them back, leaving nothing more than a few stands framing his handsome face that looked almost as if it had been sculpted by the fine hands of masters in art. His sharp nose and jawline drew your attention, while his deep and soulful eyes that appeared like pools of rich mahogany drew you in, as if he was hiding a story behind his intense gaze. But it was his plump lips that formed into a smile which caught your eyes the most.

At your silence that stretched out while you were busy being captivated by him, he raised his eyebrows. It made you realise that he was waiting for your answer. An answer to a question that you had so obviously missed. 

“I’m sorry?” 

He tilted his chin to point at your now empty glass. “You look like you could use another glass, and I’d love to get one for you,” he said with an amused tone of voice. 

Once again, his deep, velvety voice hit you deeply. It resonated through your body, and a shudder ran down your spine. You refused to believe that he was able to cause this effect on you solely through his voice or his pretty smile. 

But how else would you explain the reaction that was drawn from your body? 

I don’t think I’m that drunk already, you wondered.

It was probably the way he spoke to you which affected you so much. The way he was asking a question with pure confidence. As if he already knew your answer, and that it would be impossible for you to refuse his offer. 

And he wasn’t completely wrong about it. 

What remained from your sullen mood immediately shifted in his presence. And while you have no intention of turning him down, you decided that you were not going to make things easy for him. 

“An interesting offer that seems like such a waste for me to refuse,” you sweetly said to him, smiling as your eyes fell on his empty hands. “But how would a woman feel at ease to accept such an offer from a man who isn’t even holding a glass in his hand?” 

He squinted his eyes at you, which only made his gaze feel more intense. “Are you afraid that I might be planning to get you drunk?” 

You softly laughed. “Not sure if I should be so worried about that. Getting drunk tonight has always been my initial plan all along,” you coyly said, hiding the fact that it was never your intention to get wild tonight. But his appearance intrigued you enough to change your mind about ending the night so soon.  

The mysterious man remained oblivious to this as he laughed with you. His wide, almost boxy grin mesmerised you in an instant and you were once again left speechless. 

He waved his hand to grab the bartender’s attention. It was nothing more but a simple gesture, yet you were somewhat drawn to it. To him.  

While he greeted the bartender, you took the chance to have a better look at this man. You noticed that he was a bit different compared to the other men that you saw around you earlier. 

Dressed in a black jacket over his plain white shirt, he didn’t seem as sophisticated as the stranded businessmen in their flashy suits sitting together at the bar’s lounge. Yet he had a different level of confidence which was enough to make your cheeks feel warm. 

In your eyes, he was alluring, almost as intensely as the dark storm happening outside. And you couldn’t resist being pulled towards him. 

“Another glass of the same drink for the lady and a glass of grasshopper for me,” he smoothly spoke as he ordered the drinks for you.

The bartender nodded and went to work, while you slid closer to him. His fresh-scented cologne immediately hit you, and your confidence nearly wavered that you almost slid back. But then he caught you with his gaze as he turned back to you, giving you the kind of attention which boosted every bit of ego you had. 

“So you also prefer something light and sweet. How intriguing,” you teased him, bringing back his alluring grin. 

“Why do you think I came here to join you? It was obviously for the fruity drinks and to have someone to drink it together with,” he joked.

You rolled your eyes at him and smiled. Before you got to say something in return, the bartender came back with his order. The man took a sip of his drink first before you took yours. Once again, the sweetness from your drink swirled through your body, chipping away at the tension that had been weighing you down ever since the day’s saga began. 

“To be honest, I also thought that you were looking a bit rough.” His remark brought your attention back to him. The tease was gone from his voice. All that was left was a gentle concern that seemed genuine. “And you looked like you needed a friend. That’s why I invited myself to join you.” 

It makes you feel uneasy to think that you were being so transparent. So much so that a complete stranger like himself was able to see right through you. 

“You think so? Wait until you hear how rough I’m feeling inside as well,” you bitterly said to him, drawing a soft smile to his face. 

“That makes the two of us then,” he said to you gently with his eyes on his glass of drink. There was a forlorn look in his eyes as he slowly twirled the glass, causing the liquid to swish around before he took another sip from it. 

“Care to share?” you questioned him before you could stop yourself, only to pull yourself back. “Sorry, that sounds creepy. We just met and here I am, prying into someone else’s business,” you nervously laughed.  

His gaze softened when he looked at you. Furthermore, he also seemed intrigued. 

“No, not at all.” His voice was calm, and it somehow helped to calm your nerves. “I was just about to lend an ear in case you needed someone to vent to. I never expected that you would be a step ahead of me before I could make the offer.” 

The comment he gave you made you feel warm inside. 

“Mine’s a long story,” you bitterly said to him as you raised your glass, almost giving in to the urge to take a hefty drink and finish it off when everything started coming back to you again.

The reason behind this trip, why you were stranded here on your own, while being far, far away from home, and all the drama that had gotten in the way when you had been so desperate to get away from everything. 

Unsurprisingly, the man merely shrugged. “I’ve got time to spare. My flight won’t leave until tomorrow. And that is if they’re allowed to fly out of here at all.” 

You smiled at him. “Same here. I guess we’re both stranded here all night, huh?” 

He leaned in just then, invading your personal space and filling it with his presence. And you didn’t even mind it as you leaned into him, meeting him halfway to welcome him into your little safety bubble. 

“And I was worried that I might get stuck feeling lonely while being stranded in this place,” he gently murmured, drawing a smile to your face.  

“I doubt that you would end up alone tonight,” you teased him, simply because there was no possible way that someone as attractive as he was would be returning to his hotel bedroom alone. 

His smile grew, yet the deep, dark look in his eyes shifted into something else. Something naughty and sinful. It made you feel a new sensation brewing inside even without him ever having to touch you. 

“Is that an invitation?” he asked with his deep voice that came grazing at your skin. 

Normally, you wouldn’t know what to say in return. It had been so long since you played this kind of game with someone. With anyone. But his presence and his words were drawing something out of you. A part of you that you never thought existed. And you surprised yourself when you played along, taunting danger head-on as you challenged this handsome stranger before you— 

“Would you like it to be?” 

Something flashed in his eyes. It was dark and intense, and it was sucking you in. It brought a myriad of sensations that unexpectedly went straight down to your core. 

In the deep silence that fell right after, the world around you faded. Even before you got to know his name, before you had the chance to share your story, you already knew the answer that he was about to give you as a response to your question. 

And you also knew right then, that the sparks that came rising around you were something that you would never be able to easily forget, even if every bit of memory you had about him would fade over time. 

Present…

Why do I keep thinking about that night all over again?

You can only wonder, as you keep being reminded of that eventful night. 

Weeks, nearly a month have gone by ever since, yet the memories seem to have been engraved deeply in your thoughts. And today, even though you haven’t really been thinking about it since, you suddenly find yourself having no trouble recounting everything that happened then. 

Well, almost everything. 

Some parts may seem blurry now. All due to the passing of time and the fact that you were partly inebriated at the time. But you can still recall some parts of the night that had clearly left a strong impression on you—the first encounter and the conversation you shared before alcohol took over, the instant attraction that you felt, but most of all, his entire presence. 

And they all have been coming into your thoughts while you are sitting here in the corner of your bathroom. Alone. With your arms wrapped around your folded knees and your eyes closed. As if you are waiting for a miracle to happen. 

You scoff at the thought. 

Right. Miracles. 

Years have long passed since you stopped believing that miracles do exist. Life always has its way of blindsiding you with its twists and turns that miracles no longer seem to matter anymore. 

Not for you, at least. 

Your past experiences have only caused you to look at it with sceptical eyes, sometimes even with bitterness, knowing that life has never been on your side. 

But here you are now, wishing, praying, holding onto hope that there would be a miracle to stop you from getting into a messy situation. One that you know you wouldn’t be able to handle on your own. 

After all, the perfect season of miracles is right around the corner. So it wouldn’t be so wrong for you to have some faith in them again now, would it? 

Your phone starts blaring with the sound of the alarm, snapping you out of it. Slowly, you rise on your wobbly feet. It feels as if your entire body has grown numb even before you get to face reality as it comes glaring back at you. 

Clutching onto the edges of your bathroom counter, you try to hold yourself together, and immediately failing, as you look at the two thin white strips lying on the cold counter and feel your entire world tilting off of its axis. 

All because of the two red lines that are clearly visible on each strip.

“Oh, fuck,” you softly groan. Deep down, you had already predicted this. Yet you kept denying it, hoping that you would be wrong.

“No, no, no—” you continue murmuring to yourself while wishing that you could somehow turn back time and change everything before things started going the wrong way. 

Back to this morning, when your roommate caught you—once again—throwing up last night’s dinner before handing you the unopened pregnancy test packs that she has been keeping safe in her room with the premise, “Just in case.” 

Or maybe you could return to last night when she pointed out your odd cravings—like dipping apples into peanut butter and eating leftover mac and cheese straight from the fridge without warming it in the microwave first—and joked about how you have been acting like a pregnant woman with your mood swings. 

Better yet, you wish you could go back to that night, back to that many weeks ago, when you allowed yourself to fall for a stranger’s charm which led you to spend the night with him. 

You close your eyes, once again murmuring to yourself, “This has got to be a dream.” 

But the moment you open your eyes again, nothing has changed. You are still standing there with your hands holding tightly onto the edges of the bathroom counter. And the two pregnancy test kits that you used are still lying on top of the counter for your eyes to see. 

A rapid sound of knocking on the bathroom door sends you jumping back. 

“Hey, ______? Is everything okay?” you hear your roommate, Skye, calling out for you. Her voice seems calm, yet when you recall hearing the sound of her footsteps moving back and forth outside of the door while you were taking the test, you know that she has been waiting just as anxiously as you were. “So—? What does it say?” 

Still in shock, and quite stuck in denial, you open your mouth only to have no words coming out of you. Your brain feels a bit hazy as you walk up to the door and open it for her. 

Skye takes one look at your face and her gaze softens. “What did it—” She shakes her head. “Oh, never mind, I’m dying to know. Let me see it,” she says as she brushes past you before you can say anything. 

Hoping that there is a chance that reality can change within the next few seconds, you refuse to turn around and once again close your eyes while she suddenly grows quiet.

Maybe you were just imagining things. Maybe you weren’t even looking at the test properly. Maybe—

“So, uhm—” you can hear Skye’s voice trembling a little as she hesitantly asks you, “Two lines mean it’s positive, is that right?” 

And just like that, every bit of hope you have in you flies out the window. “I wish I could say that it’s the other way around,” you softly murmur, feeling defeated. 

And the feeling grows stronger when you hear her cursing under her breath,

“Well, fuck.”

“What are you doing?” you ask Skye as you gingerly take a seat on the sofa. 

Once you both stepped away from the bathroom, she guided you to the living room while she sauntered away to the kitchen without a word. You can hear the noises she makes as she is busy rummaging through the counters. Yet you are too far away to see what she is up to. 

“Hang on a minute. Stay there,” she calls out without even looking. 

“Okay.” 

It’s not like you have any energy to go anywhere, after all. Your head is still spinning and you can barely feel your legs. It feels as if you are stuck in a bad dream and you just can’t get out of it. 

It doesn’t take long before Skye returns to your side, carrying with her two clean tall glasses in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. It was the same bottle that you opened when you celebrated your promotion a couple of weeks ago after coming back from the trip. 

Holy shit, you inwardly cry out. Your heartbeat rises as your hands find their way to your stomach. 

“Okay, let’s try to calm down,” Skye says to you as she places both glasses on the table before you, although it seems to you more as if she is talking to herself instead of reassuring you while you are panicking inside.

A couple of weeks ago? Wouldn’t I have been already pregnant then? 

These thoughts keep running through your head as you watch your roommate pouring wine into both glasses, just like the night she did the same when you first opened that same bottle. 

Dear God, how much did I drink that night? You ask yourself with a grimace as you try to remember. 

Wait, no. I didn’t drink anything, you remind yourself. Relief washes over you look back at the celebration night where you barely took a sip before Skye took the glass away from your hands. 

Because you were already feeling sick that day. 

You had been feeling nauseous for days, throwing up once in a while and mostly on the days when you were lacking sleep because of the workload you had to handle for the upcoming promotion. All you ever did was wet your lips with the wine after the celebratory toast. That was the only contact you made with the drink before Skye replaced it with a tall glass of alcohol-free smoothie that she made especially for your ‘upset stomach’.

Of course, how did I not see the signs? You wonder again as you remember the sickly feeling you had after vomiting each morning and feeling powerless for the rest of the day. It even got so bad that you had to skip work for a couple of days at the beginning of your ‘sickness’. 

If only you knew then. 

Your eyes are still on the wine glasses as Skye places them side by side and puts away the bottle. 

“Uh—I believe we both just saw the two lines appearing on the test packs.” 

She lets out a light scoff and waves her hand at you. “They're both for me. I’m going to need them while I process this,” she says, shaking her head as she sits down to join you on the sofa. “You get to keep that smoothie.” 

You follow her gaze and look down at the glass of smoothie that you left on the table during the whole fiasco with the pregnancy test. While you pick up your drink, Skye takes a hefty drink from one of the glasses of wine and sits back. 

“So—you’re pregnant,” she murmurs to herself. Her gaze flickers to your face for a brief moment and nods to herself before taking another drink. 

Why does it seem like she is the one panicking? 

She releases a sigh. Neither of you says anything for a moment. But you can tell when she grows more anxious by the minute. You don’t understand why, until she carefully asks you, “Are you going to tell Han?” 

Confused, you look at her with your brows furrowed and ask, “Why would I tell Han that I’m pregnant?” 

Skye looks genuinely confused, almost as much as you are, and you only realise the reason why when she asks you, “Isn’t Hansol the father? You guys have been dating for a long time and I can’t remember ever seeing you with anyone else while you’re on a break.” 

You wince, realising too late that you have yet to tell her the truth.

“Actually—we’re not on a break,” you slowly admit with a low voice. Months have gone by, and even though it no longer hurts whenever you start thinking about your failed relationship or to mention your ex’s name, you cannot help but still feel bitter about how it ended and you hate talking about it. 

That is the reason why you haven’t said anything about it to anyone. Maybe you were just too embarrassed. After all, it isn’t so easy to admit that you may have been the reason why the four-year relationship fell into pieces. 

“I lied,” you say with a burst of deep sigh, “It was over, done, finished—”

“So you already broke up?” she cuts you off with a calm voice. 

You bite your bottom lip as you slowly nod your head. “Yeah,” you whisper, suddenly feeling like your throat is tightening up. Not because you feel the sudden urge to cry. But only because this is all becoming too much to take at once.  

“And the baby?” she carefully asks you. “It wasn’t Han—” 

“The baby isn’t his,” you quickly answer before she even gets to question about it. 

It’s hard enough to hear his name being mentioned after a while. It feels harder to think that you might be carrying his baby. 

But the moment those words come out of your lips, reality finally sinks in. Grabbing the glass of your drink, you take a hefty drink out of it. You wish there was some alcohol in this thing. Maybe it would have helped you think more clearly. 

That’s right. It couldn’t have been his.

Sighing to yourself, you begin to do the math. “We’ve been broken up for months, so if the baby is his, I’m sure I would be showing already by this time around,” you say this while gently rubbing your palm over your stomach. 

Now that your suspicions have been confirmed, the gesture feels almost natural to you that your hand simply moves before you realise it, though it helps confirm that nothing much has changed with your body.

It feels odd to think that there is a life existing inside you, yet you cannot really see it with just one look. This convinces you further that the baby couldn’t have been conceived while you were still dating your ex. Looking back to it now, once you remember when exactly the sickness and craving started, it would only make sense that the baby was conceived on that specific night. 

“So—if Hansol isn’t the Dad, then who was it?” 

Biting your lip, you turn to look at Skye. Of course, if there is anyone in this world that you can talk to about this, it would only be her. Just like how she would come to you first whenever she is in a bind, whether it’s about her relationships, about work, or even the smallest things like having a bad day where you end up sharing a tub of ice cream to feel better. 

After all, she isn’t just a roommate, but also someone you have known the longest compared to the other friends you’ve made since moving into this city. You have known each other since college, since back in freshman year when both of you were nothing more but young kids from small towns being thrust into the big city. 

Being put together in the same dorm room led you to become fast friends. After years of enduring the same hardship in college, the two of you remained so close that you even moved to this city together and continued to live in the same place to keep each other company. 

You have gone through everything with her, and you have always been honest with each other. It should have been easy to tell her everything. If only you could find the right words to begin sharing your story. 

“I have no idea where to start.” 

“Well,” Skye patiently says while twirling the glass of wine she’s holding. You squint your eyes at her when you find it almost empty. So unfair. “Why don’t you start from the beginning?” 

“Right. From the beginning,” you say this with a nod. “Do you remember when I went away last month?” 

She nods. “Your secret getaway. Still jealous of that, by the way.” 

You give her a small smile. “Yeah, well—there’s a reason why I insisted on going alone on that trip. I actually planned it as a surprise vacation for me and Hansol. The original idea was for us to have a romantic getaway for our fourth anniversary.” 

Skye raises her eyebrows. “Well, damn,” she mutters. “Let me guess. You broke up before it happened?” 

You grimace as you recall what happened. “Close enough,” you answer with a bitter smile. “It was because of the trip that we got a huge fight in the first place.” 

Skye tilts her head. “I’m not following.” 

Sighing, you drink your smoothie to cool down and swallow the bitter feeling you are suddenly getting. Recounting the break-up isn’t so much fun to do. Not even after this long. 

“I planned the entire thing on my own. Booked the flight and the hotel, and rearranged our schedules to fit each other so we could go on that exact date. But I never shared anything with him, except to confirm that it was a place that he also dreamt of going so we could both enjoy it together.” You let out a defeated sigh. “I wanted it to be a surprise. He used to love those in the past, so I figured it could be fun to celebrate our anniversary this way and get away from all the stress both of us had been getting.” 

You stop talking for a moment to remember those days. Both you and Hansol had been so busy back then that you could barely spend time with each other. 

It was the exact routine every day. Having long hours in the office and since you weren’t living together, you could only keep in contact with each other through texts and calls. By the time the two of you were able to see each other, all the stress had been piling up that you were almost always arguing and fighting instead of making up for all the time you missed while being apart. 

“We were talking about moving in together but all of a sudden, we stopped discussing it and I could feel us growing further apart. I thought going away from all the stress for a while would help us get along and make up for all the fighting. Maybe we could have had a chance to talk things out and figure out what to fix.” 

You stop with a soft sigh. “We were getting bored. With work, with life, and maybe we did get bored with each other but neither of us could open up about it, much less admit it. Not even to ourselves.” 

Skye lets out a groan. “This is why I don’t do relationships,” she mutters before finishing her drink. The first glass. With the second one waiting on the table.

You give her a scoff, but smile at her comment before continuing, “He found out about the trip by chance. I was still logged in on his laptop after I borrowed it to check on my work email while I was staying over on the weekend. He accidentally opened the booking details when he was checking his email, thinking it was his account. He suspected me of planning to go with someone else, but even after I told him that the trip was for both of us, he wasn’t having it.” 

Skye leans forward when she hears this. “Wait, he’s pissed about a secret vacation?” she asks, looking unhappy and confused at the same time. You can’t really blame her. Because that is exactly how you feel about your ex’s reaction. “Why would he be? If it had been me, I would’ve been ecstatic about going.” 

“I wish I knew,” you groan, feeling just as frustrated as you had been then. “But he wasn’t just refusing to go. He started blaming me. Saying something about me holding him back or something. He said he had no time for a trip when he needed to be there and work for his promotion.” 

Thinking back to that day, remembering about the fight and the things you said to each other, you are reminded of the moment the fight left your body. Because you knew then that there was nothing left to fight over. 

“He never even brought up the fact that it was the date of our anniversary. I don’t think he even knew or remembered it,” you say with a bitter chuckle. “He broke it off, saying that he wanted to focus on his career and I would be keeping him behind. And I agreed because I knew that we’d wound up hurting each other if we’d stayed.” 

“I can understand that,” Skye gently says. The two of you share a sad smile when your eyes meet. “And you still went on that trip,” she guesses, sounding proud. She lifts her glass to you and says, “Good girl.” 

You merely shrug. “When I went to cancel the tickets for the trip, I thought it would be such a waste to throw everything away. So I decided that going solo would be a good idea and kept mine. Besides, I needed a moment to heal myself and get away from the city for a short while.” 

She laughs, agreeing with you. Then, just as she is about to say something, she suddenly stops. A knowing look comes across her gaze and she slowly gasps. “Don’t tell me—” she says, “You met someone while you were there.” 

You nod your head slowly and press your lips together. “Once again, you’re close. But that’s not exactly what happened.” Blowing out a deep breath, you slowly ask her, “Remember when I told you that I got held up for a day in transit?” 

“Yeah, I was so jealous of you that I still remember everything you told me about that trip,” she lets out a dreamy sigh, then her gaze snaps back at you. “But, it seems to me that you haven’t told me everything about the trip.” 

“No, I didn’t.” You grimace. “Anyway, that’s when I met him—” 

The memories return to you again as you share with your roommate about your encounter with the beautiful stranger. You remember vividly the way he spoke, the deep and gentle voice that he spoke to you with, and his captivating smile that made you swoon. Everything about him that made it hard for you to leave and say goodbye to him. 

You recount the way you enjoyed each other’s company that even after your terrible mood gradually became much better, and after you finished yet another drink, you simply couldn’t walk away and end the night with him so soon. You stayed longer, losing count of the time you spent with him and the drinks you had. 

“And then, one thing led to another, it just happened.” 

Skye’s eyes have grown so wide at this point, and her jaw has dropped in her surprise that she looks almost comical. “You hooked up with a stranger during your transit?” she asks you. The moment you nod your head, she switches her empty glass with the other. “I would drink to that.” 

You laugh just as she takes a hefty drink as if celebrating on your behalf. “Why do you sound so proud of me?” 

“Well,” she slowly starts, “We’ve known each other for so long. You have always been so put together, always followed the rules, and you are always so good at what you do. From school, to work, even the little things you have been doing on the side. But not when it comes to your sex life.” 

You know that she is right about everything. But it doesn’t stop you from picking up a cushion and hitting her with it. 

“Hey, you know I’m right,” she says while laughing and protecting the precious glass of wine. “Come on, you’ve never had any casual relationships or random hookups, and every chance I could have gotten to hook you up with my guy friends was gone when Hansol came into the picture.” 

Pouting, you pull the cushion back and hold it tightly in your arms. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” you admit with a sigh. “How do you get to know me so well?” 

“That’s because I love you enough to pay attention,” she smugly says while waving her glass around, sloshing the wine everywhere. “Why do you think I’ve been so protective of you over the years?” 

You roll your eyes and hit her with the cushion one last time, making her laugh, even though she is right. For as long as you have been friends with her, she has always been like an older sister to you. Not only for coming hard like a shield against the guys you ever introduced her to but also for the trivial things that not many people would pay much attention to. 

Like reminding you to eat properly when you are stressed out or too busy with work and school. 

You feel bad for relying on her so much over the years. But you also feel grateful about it. Just like how you’re feeling right now once you notice that you’re no longer feeling as stressed as you had earlier once you’re done dumping everything to her. 

Skye’s eyes turn back to you, landing on your covered belly as she curiously asks, “Are you positively sure that Hansol wasn’t the father?” 

You slowly nod your head. As much as you wish that you were wrong, you couldn’t have been mistaken about this.

“What are the odds that it was a false positive?” you suddenly question her, while she shrugs. 

“It’s possible,” she says. “But we can get some more test kits and redo the test. Just in case. Or you could make an appointment with the doctor straight away to make sure.” 

“Right, the doctor—” You let out a soft sigh and close your eyes briefly. It has been a while since you’ve seen your physician. The last time was before—

Oh, shit. 

Your eyes snap open right then. How long ago has it been since you’ve gone to see your physician? The last time was when you went to your regular appointment for your birth control. But that felt so long ago. 

Long before the trip. 

After that appointment, and once the break-up happened, you simply threw yourself into work so much you completely forgot about everything else. And since you were newly single, getting your birth control was the last thing you had in mind at the time. 

Fuck me, you inwardly groan without saying a thing to your roommate who is busy chattering about the doctor, making appointments, and offering to take you there herself. You know that she would lecture you about safe sex like a mother hen if you ever share this with her.

But wait…he wore a condom, right? Yes, you are quite sure he did. The details are blurry when you try to remember, but you do remember protection being involved. 

Groaning to yourself, you fall back on the sofa. Your head starts spinning again when you start worrying about other things. Once you start thinking of a problem that you may have to face, another one comes to mind. 

“What am I supposed to do with this baby?”  

Skye once again raises her eyebrows at you. “I think the right question should be what do you want to do?” she asks, while you can only shake your head.

“I don’t know,” you answer with a small voice. The only thing you can think of right now is how you are going to get through this holiday while being pregnant. You are supposed to be home for Christmas in two weeks, and knowing just how crazy your family truly is, you cannot imagine how they would react if they found out you are with a child. 

You close your eyes and let out a sigh. “And my family still have no idea that I broke up with Han.” 

“For once, I’m not jealous of your life,” Skye says as she sips her wine. But she is ready for it when you fling the cushion back at her and avoid it without spilling her drink. “Don’t worry. I think they’ll catch on about your failed relationship as soon as you walk into your family home without that hunk by your side.” 

Huffing, you hug the cushion in your arms and lean back. “I guess if they’re going to find out either way, I might as well just tell them the moment I got home.” 

Besides, it might be even harder to hide the fact that you are pregnant. You might not be showing yet, but there is no possible way you could avoid the questions that may come if you are still feeling so sick right in front of your family, or if your cravings suddenly get out of hand. 

Especially if Honey is there. Despite the early signs of dementia showing on her lately, your grandmother has always been so perceptive. And there is no telling what random things she may blurt out once she has some rum in her system. 

With so many different things to think about, you almost forget one important matter that you should be thinking about when it comes to the baby. And just like always, Skye is there to remind you of it. 

“Do you remember his name?” 

You turn to Skye with wide eyes, suddenly panicking inside. You can tell that she can see it on your face and is now sharing the same feeling when she suddenly knocks back the rest of her wine and groans, “Fuck, I’m gonna need more.” 

You watch her pour more wine into her glass, hastily drinking it right after, before turning to you again. “You didn’t get his name? At least tell me that you got his number before you went separate ways.”

You bite your lips. “It’s Tae.” 

“Tae—what?” 

You shake your head. “That’s it,” you let out a frustrated sigh. “That was the only name he ever gave me.” 

“Seriously?” 

Skye is freaking out, you can tell. But you close your eyes and rest your head back, shutting everything down as she starts ranting about how she was supposed to teach you better about hooking up with strangers and keeping yourself safe. 

With her voice turning into white noise at the back of your mind, your memories return to you, taking you back to the eventful night. 

You can almost feel yourself being back there again—back in the cold hotel bar with the scent of old wood and liquor lingering in the air; the murmuring sounds of people chatting and laughing, accompanied by the sound of glasses clinking together resonating through the space around you; back to his presence that felt so strong and intense you could barely feel anything else other than him as long as you had your attention fully on him.

“What’s your name?” You remember him asking you with his voice that grew more gentle and deeper the more he drank. 

You leaned into him and giggled in response as if he just said something funny to you. “Does it really matter?” 

His soft chuckle rumbled around you. The voice was so soft, yet you could hear it clearly because of how close you were leaning into him. “I’m sure I remember being taught not to talk to strangers.” 

“Are you telling me that you’ve been a good boy for listening to what your Mom taught you?” you teased him. It was obvious how tipsy you were at this point, which may have been the reason why you were growing more confident. 

“Oh, I’ve always been a good boy,” he answered you while looking amused. He went silent right after. His gaze seemed far away just for a fleeting moment before he finally said, “My name is Tae.” 

“Tae? That’s it?” you asked, “Is that a codename or something?” You feigned a surprise gasp before you leaned into him further to whisper, “Are you secretly a spy?” 

You felt his chest rumbling when he softly laughed. “Something like that, yeah,” he said, as he played along with your joke. 

But the moment you leaned away from him, you were surprised when you got to see something in him that you couldn’t see before. His guard was down, allowing you to see the vulnerability that was buried deep under his suave and smooth talking. 

For a brief moment, he looked broken. Just like you did. 

And from the way he was hiding himself, not only under the short nickname but also from the way he was masking his emotions, you could tell that he was looking for an escape from reality. The same way you did that night. 

So you simply smiled at him, choosing not to pry further to see beyond the mask and play along. Because at the same time, you wanted to hide your broken heart and become someone else to be able to forget everything. Just for one night. 

“Then you can call me Red. It’s my special codename for tonight.” 

His grin widened. You could almost see the relief washing over him through his warm gaze when he looked at you.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you tonight,” he said, still with his gentle voice that almost felt like sin licking on your skin when he called you, “Red.” 

Two weeks later…

“Here you go,” your mother’s voice snaps you from whatever stupor you have been stuck in. When you open your eyes, a glass of ginger tea has manifested right before you. 

“Drink this,” your Mom says as she points at the drink. “It should be good for your stomach.” 

Your breath gets caught in your throat. Furrowing your brows, you keep your eyes on the drink instead of reaching for it. Thoughts of those past mornings when you and Skye spent searching through the internet to find a way to get rid of your morning sickness come through your mind. 

Does she know? Did she figure it out already? Is it really that obvious? 

You clench your hands and resist the urge to rub against your stomach. It has become a habit of yours to rub around your belly as if trying to feel the baby that is hiding inside whenever you feel agitated.

After getting the positive results through the home test kits, you had gone straight to the doctor only days before you left the city to have it checked, confirming that a baby is growing inside you. It still feels unbelievable to think about it, even after you saw it yourself with your own eyes. 

“It’s still really early, and we might not be seeing much yet, but that’s your baby,” the doctor’s voice echoes through your mind as you tighten your clenched hands, thinking back to the day you went to have an ultrasound and saw for the first time the growing fetus that was said to be viable to grow fully as a baby. 

Just like how the baby inside you has been nothing more than a blob of mass floating inside your stomach in your mind, your belly itself has yet to change shape. Even if your full awareness of the baby’s presence has only been causing you to find small changes in your body that nobody else might be able to see. 

But Mom has been pregnant before, so wouldn’t she be able to see it? Will that be possible?

“Ginger tea is good for nausea and will give you some energy boost. Your grandma always made it for me whenever I had a stomach ache. I’m sure it’ll help get rid of your nausea and your upset stomach will turn better in no time.” Your Mom stops talking and sighs. “You should’ve told me that you were sick. I wouldn’t have let you drive all the way home if I had known.” 

Ah. 

You breathe a sigh of relief. You should be thankful that she believed you when you told her about having an upset stomach from the long drive home from the city. It was the only thing that you could think of as an excuse when your Mom wondered why you hadn’t been eating well since you got back home and why you were feeling sick.

It makes you wonder why you have been feeling unwell since you got home. Just when you had purposely waited until you were well enough and had stopped throwing up when you planned for the drive. 

It’s almost as if the baby is deliberately making you sick to let everyone know about your secret.

“Thanks, Mom,” you say to your Mom as you reach for the tea, hiding your relieved sigh as you gingerly drink in small sips. 

You have lost count of how many times Skye has made you this drink specifically to stop you from vomiting in the morning before going to work. It has been helping a lot to ease your ‘sickness’, and you are feeling it calming your stomach already as the drink warms your body. 

You can feel your mother’s eyes on you, making you feel uneasy to be under her watchful gaze. “I think it might be better if you get some rest and take things easy. But are you sure you’re okay?” your Mom asks again, still worrying about you. 

You continue drinking the ginger tea slowly while pressing down your guilt. You hate lying to your Mom the most, and now you are starting to regret driving home on your own. If the baby hadn’t been the one responsible for your current sickness, then perhaps driving the long distance has been the reason why your nausea is now coming back with a vengeance.

So much for trying to not draw any suspicions. 

“I’m fine, Mom. Really,” you sigh as you place the glass down. “The tea is helping me already. I’ll feel better soon, I promise.” 

Your Mom says nothing for a moment, but the crease you see forming on her forehead says differently. “I’m not just talking about you being sick. Maybe there’s another reason why you’re feeling faint?” 

You look up at her just then. The moment you catch the pitiful look she is giving you, you finally understand what she is trying to say. 

Just as Skye predicted, it didn’t take long for your family to take notice of your solo arrival. In the past, Hansol would have joined you to visit your family for a day or two during the holidays before he would return to his family on Christmas day. So his absence was quite obvious from the get-go. 

And with the big lie that you have to hide from everyone at home, you had to at least give them one honest truth the moment they started asking. 

“We ended things a few months ago,” you admitted to your family during the first dinner you had since you got home. By that time, you had already tried to avoid the questions for long enough. Nobody has brought up about it again since then. 

Until now. 

“If you’re talking about the breakup, there’s nothing to worry about. I’m okay, Mom. It’s been months since it happened. I’ve been trying to move one.” 

In fact, you haven’t been thinking about your ex at all for a long time. Not until you brought it up to Skye and then again when your family started questioning. The only thing you have been worrying about lately is the baby growing inside you and finding a way to search for the father of the baby. 

It was the one thing that you talked about with Skye before you left. While you are capable enough to raise the baby on your own, you decided it would be the best course of action to contact the father and let him know.

In Skye’s own words, “Just in case.” 

Just in case the father would care enough to know that he has a son or a daughter coming into this world and wants to be in their life. 

“But if we fail to find him or he wants nothing to do with the baby, then we’ll deal with it on our own. You just got your promotion, I got my good pay. We can raise the baby together. You and me, just like old times.”

Skye’s words put a smile on your face. She always knows how to lift your spirit up whenever you feel like giving up, and those exact words have helped boost your confidence and made you believe that you could get through this. 

But first, you just need to get through spending this holiday with your family. 

“I know you said that. But as your Mom, I can’t help but worry. I thought you were serious and we’ll be hearing some good news about you getting married this year.” 

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen. Sorry, Mom,” you tease her with a bitter chuckle. You don’t bother to mention that the two of you had never once talked about marriage throughout your relationship.

Yet another sign that you overlooked. At least you never got to waste anymore time with him.

“Things just didn’t work out between us. It happens when a couple grow into two different people in the course of their relationship. Which was exactly what happened to us. Hansol wanted to focus on his career, in return, I also got the chance to focus on mine.” 

Just as you said the words, you realise that this is true for your case. 

Hansol has always been career-driven, and it has been growing stronger lately for him with the constant rise he was experiencing in his current company. And breaking up with your long-time boyfriend has allowed you to turn your focus on your job. The recent promotion you gained was a testament to your hard work to show you that there might be a silver lining to everything that has happened. 

“I suppose you’re right,” your Mom says with a smile. You are beginning to feel a bit relieved that she seems to understand. You are hoping that she would start talking about something else when she adds, “I just feel sad that it didn’t work out for you. And we were all expecting to have Hansol joining us again this year. I guess it’s too late now to let your sister know about this since she’s supposed to arrive today.” 

Stepsister. 

You lift your glass and slowly drink your tea to stop yourself from correcting her. For some reason, you feel a bit bitter having your mother mention her all so suddenly. 

It isn’t that you hate your stepsister. It’s hard to feel something so extreme when you barely had any relationship with her at all. Back when you were younger, your mother did try to get you two to get along and be friends. 

To make her happy, you tried your best to act friendly, or at least to be cordial whenever she was around, even when the only thing she showed you over the years had been nothing but contempt. 

But things changed after a drunken fit that she had last holiday season, when she got drunk and tried to make a move and openly flirted with your then-boyfriend. Even if nothing ever came out of it except for her own embarrassment, as Hansol openly rejected her and stayed away from her for the remaining time he was here, the incident still left a bad taste that made you feel bitter. 

That was when you finally decided that you would stop trying to be nice.

You put down the glass and try to remain calm. What’s done is done. All you have to do is focus on getting through this holiday before going back to the city and start with your mission to search for the baby’s father.

“What does Alia have to do with my break up?” you ask your mother, hoping that she wouldn’t bring up the drama from last year. 

“Oh, it’s nothing serious, really,” your Mom answers with a soft chuckle, “It’s just that Alia called home sometime last week, asking if she could bring someone over this Christmas. She said that she’s been seeing someone new and since she was bringing him to meet her mother, she wondered if it would be okay if she could bring him along to meet us too.” 

Your Mom sighs, looking a bit guilty when she adds, “We figured since you might bring Hansol with you, it would be okay if she has her new boyfriend along. Maybe the guys could get along and spend time together while you and Alia catch up.” 

You try to imagine you and Alia catching up like old friends or—just like what your Mom has been wishing you to be—as sisters, and you almost shake your head. 

Yeah, that seems unlikely, you bitterly wonder to yourself, yet you don’t have the heart to tell your mother that there is not much hope for you and Alia to be good friends. 

“I guess it’s a shame that Hansol isn’t here,” you simply say to your mother while you inwardly wonder just what your stepsister is really up to this year. 

“Yeah, it’s unfortunate,” your mother says with a sigh. “But I’m glad that at least both of you girls can make it home this year.” 

“Me too, Mom,” you force a smile, silently hoping that you can start talking about something else. Something that doesn’t concern your bitter stepsister coming home or bringing up any dark thoughts about your ex. “So, what are we having for dinner? Want my help in the kitchen?” 

Your question immediately puts everything into motion, drifting her attention away from your sappy story and the false hope of sisterhood that may never happen between you and your stepsister. Your Mom tries to stop you from helping out in the kitchen at first but finally gives in when you keep insisting. 

At least, this way, you can keep your mind busy enough to stop it from thinking about unnecessary thoughts the way it often does when you are alone. 

Things seem to be going on well enough at first, until your sickness returns and you have to give up trying. 

”See, I told you that you should be resting until you feel better,” your mother complains as she watches you bending over, keeping away from the stove and what is currently cooking on top of it which seems to be making you feel dizzy and sick. 

After garlic, lemon-scented air freshener, and coconut milk, seems you are going to have to add raw chicken to the list of things that may trigger your nausea.

“But then I’ll be bored like hell,” you argue, “I’m fine, Mom. Just let me take a quick break for a minute.” 

Your mother looks as if she wants to say something, but the sound of a car coming into the driveway interrupts her. Both of you turn to look out towards the living room, just in time to see your stepfather, Cliff, turning in the corner of the hall and rushing towards the front door. 

“Honey, they’re here!” he calls out, and you urge your mother to join him. 

“Go, Mom. I’ll finish things up and make sure nothing gets burned before I join you guys.”

Once your mother is out of the kitchen, you can no longer resist pressing your palm on your stomach. 

“Seriously, baby,” you whisper to the non-existent bump under your sweater, “Please take it easy, will you? I’m really struggling here, and you’re not making things easy for me. Trust me, it would be too soon for everyone to find out about you. At least wait until we can find a clue about your Dad, okay?” 

As if the baby inside you is listening, even if it is still barely full-grown at this point, your body grows calmer and the nausea slowly wanes. 

“Thank you, baby,” you whisper to your stomach once again before finally focusing on the stove and the oven, deliberately taking your time with what you do just so you can have a reason not to join the dramatic reunion happening right this minute. 

From this side of the kitchen, the front door isn’t completely visible. But you can hear everything as the door opens and your stepfather joyfully welcomes his daughter. 

Hearing his voice makes you smile. You may have had a tumultuous relationship with your stepsister, but the same cannot be said with your stepfather. Cliff has always been a great role model, and your relationship with him has always been great from the start. 

It makes you feel guilty when you think about the previous encounters where you and your stepsister simply gave each other cold shoulders or when you were met with altercations just because of how different the two of you are. But there is no helping it. Nothing has changed over the years no matter how hard you tried. Not even once you have become adults. 

You can’t even remember how it first started. And frankly, you no longer care. Last year’s incident was already enough to let you know that the sisterhood that your parents have been forcing you into was beyond saving. 

The voices coming from the front door continue for a moment longer. This time, you get to hear your mother’s voice joining in the conversation and Alia’s soft voice answering her questions. You make no effort to listen to what they are saying and tune out their voices, until your mother’s voice calls out to you. 

“______, your sister is here. Come and say hi.” 

Your mother’s words make you stop. Slowly, you turn down the heat on the stove and turn to make your way towards the front door to join the family reunion. 

“It’s stepsister,” you mutter under your breath as you drag your feet, taking your sweet time while you try to compose yourself before having to face the unwanted guests. 

As you turn around the corner, merely moments before the front door finally comes into view, you get to hear another voice speaking. The voice that you couldn’t clearly hear from the kitchen while you were tuning their conversation out. 

“I’m sorry for intruding. But thank you for having me here.” 

That voice. 

You immediately come to a halt. An uneasy feeling runs through your body when you realise that you recognise this voice and have grown to know it quite well. 

There is no mistaking it. You may not have gotten his full name on the night you met, and his face has somewhat become a faint mirage in your dreams at night whenever you are taken back to the night of your hookup.

But you cannot say the same about his voice. 

That deep and gentle voice will always be engraved in your memory. Even now, the only thing you would need to do is close your eyes and listen, and allow the voice to take you back to that specific night once more, where he used this voice to say sinful words that you could feel caressing your fragile heart while he was bringing you to the peak of pleasure.

And now you are hearing that voice here, at your home, idly chatting with your mother by the front door. 

“_______, are you coming?” your mother calls again, and you know that there is no avoiding it. You have to face reality, even if that means you must come face to face with the man who is responsible for placing you in this situation.

Tamping down the rush of nerves going through your body, you slowly march ahead. Bracing yourself as you turn around the corner and enter the living room where everyone is currently gathering in.

Your eyes fall on your stepsister first. 

Alia has always looked so vibrant and beautiful, drawing all kinds of attention from everyone in the room whenever she is present. Yet when you look at her now, there seems to be a new kind of light emerging from her. Even her smile seems brighter as she chats along with your stepfather.  

And you soon realise the reason why she is shining brightly today as you turn your gaze to look at the person standing beside her. To finally see him. 

He looks just like how you remember him. Tall and lean, with his arms and chest filling up his sweater. He has his hair falling over a part of his face, just enough of a mess that seems as if he has been running his fingers through the wavy strands. As he converses with your mother, he shows his boxy grin that seems familiar to your eyes. 

Too familiar. 

Because it looks just the same as the wide grin that was teasing and flirting with you on one eventful night at the transit hotel weeks ago. 

No. That can’t be.

The baby’s daddy is here. The man who you were planning to look for once you return to the city. 

He is here, today, appearing at the front door of your parents’ home together with your stepsister. His long fingers that had once entangled between the strands of your hair are now entwined with your stepsister’s dainty fingers. And there is no mistaking the matching couple rings that are glowing under the sunlight coming from their entwined hands. 

Before you get the chance to process what is happening, you hear him introducing himself to your stepfather, “It’s good to see you, Sir. My name is Taehyung.” 

No. 

You stifle a gasp. It feels like you have been sucker-punched right in the chest that you can barely breathe. 

Taehyung, you wonder. Tae? 

All of a sudden, you feel as if the ground beneath your feet is tilting over, slowly taking you down with it. And since you seem to have lost the ability to move your feet, the only thing you can do to stop yourself from falling is to clench your hands tightly by your side. Tight enough to feel pain as your nails are sinking into your palms, convincing you that this is not a dream. 

Yet you are still in denial as you watch the interaction happening right before your eyes. Because there is no way this is happening. There is no possible way that it is truly him. 

Please. Please don’t let it be him. 

It must have been your mind playing tricks on you. Because there is no way that he is here. Not as your stepsister’s new boyfriend. 

This must be a mistake. Yes, you are probably confused and all the thoughts of finding your baby daddy are messing up with your head, forcing you to believe that your stepsister’s new boyfriend is your mysterious baby daddy. The fact that they have the same name must have been pure coincidence. 

For once in your life, you don’t want to be right. You have to be wrong. 

Please tell me that it’s not him. 

Just then, as if life was listening to your prayers, as if life has yet to have enough of its games to play around with your heart, the man turns his gaze away from your parents. And those pretty eyes land on you. 

As if there is a switch turned, the brightness in his gaze fades. His beautiful eyes are filled with recognition. It is so subtle that you are quite sure that nobody else around you notices it, but it is enough to let you know that your memories have been right all along. 

Because those are the same eyes that you saw looking back at you with pure lust and sin while he was bringing you wanton pleasure, when you made love as if both of you had been under a spell, right on the very night that may have changed your fate forever. 

Fuck. 

Me.

At one glance, this moment would seem like any other pre-holiday family dinner. It may seem picture perfect, even—if you had been a stranger looking in. 

There are still a couple of days left until Christmas Day, yet the festive mood has already filled the room. From the living room, all the way to the dining room, Christmas decorations are already plastered across the walls and hung from the ceiling. On the dining table, the delectable meal that your mother worked hard to prepare—with your poor assistance—had been perfectly laid out. 

With Alia’s arrival today, the immediate family is now complete. Ever the charming daughter, Alia takes up the attention of everyone around her as she shares her story—about how she has been travelling between different states and some neighbouring countries, changing jobs, finding new hobbies, and even planning to adopt a new pet. 

Sitting at the head of the table, your stepfather is soaking it all in, enjoying the time he has with his daughter whom he rarely gets to see throughout the year. Your mother sits on his right, getting the front seat of their merry reunion. She would sometimes chime in, never failing to try to get you into joining their idle chat even when you are not feeling up to it. 

Other times, you would have been able to easily play along. From making cordial comments and joining with all the light jokes shared by your family, or feigning interest in anything that Alia might be sharing at the table—even when she rarely would share the same courtesy when you did the same. 

Tonight, however, it feels like a struggle for you to focus on the conversation shared at the table, let alone pretend to be interested. Not when you are busy trying your best to calm your nerves. 

You can't even embrace the same warm atmosphere that everyone seems to be sharing. 

For you, the air around feels stifling and tense. It has been this way ever since you sat down right next to your mother for dinner. Because due to the seating arrangement, the special guest of the night is now sitting right across from you at the table. 

Taehyung. 

The last person that you had ever expected to see. Not here. Certainly not at your home or sharing the same space with your parents. 

It seems surreal to meet him here like this. Even more so when he was introduced to your family as Alia’s new boyfriend.

Judging from the way he reacted when he first saw you, you can tell that he never expected something like this could ever happen. You know that he has questions, perhaps just as much as you do, yet the situation that you found yourself in right now isn’t allowing you to even show any sign that the two of you know each other or to have met before today. 

But there is something in the way he is looking at you that doesn’t sit right with you. Aside from the lingering shock you see each time your eyes accidentally meet each other, there is a look that shows a semblance of guilt, despair, and at the same time, filled with wonder. 

Was it because he never expected to see you again after that night, much less to find out that you are somehow related to the woman that he is dating? Or was there something else going through his mind? 

“This is Alia’s sister, ______,” was what your mother said when she first introduced you to him. At that point, you and Taehyung were stunned to silence, and for a brief moment, neither of you reacted. 

Thinking about it now, you can’t even remember how you managed to join your family in the living room. The moment you saw Taehyung standing there, your legs nearly gave out. It was a wonder how you managed to stop yourself from falling or tripping as you walked over to them in a state of distraught. 

“Hi, it’s good to see you,” was all that you managed to croak out of once you snapped out of it. You didn’t even give him a chance to respond when you suddenly turned your attention to your stepsister, forcing a smile on your face when you greeted her, “Hey, Alia. It’s good to see you. You seem well.” 

You can’t even remember the expression that Alia gave you when she responded to you, “Uh yeah, thanks. You too.” 

“Right. Well, I’ll let you guys settle in. I left the stove on, so—” 

That was the last thing you said before you turned away and quickly left the room, practically running away from him to hide back in the kitchen. The last thing you heard as you walked away was your mother’s voice saying something about you being her assistant of the day in the kitchen while you were feeling unwell, as if excusing you for your unmannerly attitude. 

By the time you got back in the kitchen, your hands were shaking, your heartbeat was racing so fast you could barely breathe. It took a long time for the shock to wane, and you had spent the rest of the day staying away from both of them, avoiding him entirely until you were finally called to join dinner. 

And you are still avoiding him even now, keeping your head down as much as you can and resisting the urge to look his way. As if it isn’t hard enough for you to have him sitting right in front of you, you can feel the heat of his gaze constantly following you whenever you are not looking.

He doesn’t make it so obvious, and it doesn’t seem like anyone else has noticed it yet. Perhaps you are just too hyperaware of his presence that you caught on to it so easily.

You sneak a glance at your stepsister, wondering if Alia has taken notice of her boyfriend’s wandering gaze or where he has been directing his eyes. It takes you watching the conversation between her and your parents more closely to see it. 

Because it turns out that she also has her own gaze wandering to questionable places at the same time that she isn’t paying much attention to her boyfriend. 

Each time Alia turns to regard your mother or speak to her, her gaze flickers away briefly, ever so subtly landing on the seat to your right. At the seat that Hansol would usually occupy whenever he joined you during these holiday visits. 

It is easy to catch it when you are seeing it from your angle. And it is easy to guess what is going through her head when she keeps doing it with a curious look written all over her face. An unspoken question seems to linger, while the incident from last year keeps flashing through your head when you picture Hansol being present beside you. 

Even if nobody notices her intention, you doubt that anyone would question her about it, seeing that the seat that was supposed to be left empty has been taken by someone else. 

While you are busy trying to make sense out of everything, your grandmother makes a disapproval noise with her tongue, grabbing your attention. “Are you still feeling under the weather? You’ve been drinking that boring thing the whole day,” she says, referring to the glass of iced tea that you have just put down after taking a drink from it to cool down. 

You turn to look at your dear grandmother, Honey, and smile at her. She probably hasn’t realised what a saving grace she has been for taking the unoccupied seat to your right the minute she came in for dinner. 

And she is now helping you again by drawing your attention away from the source of your dismay. Immediately, you feel better the moment you are met with Honey’s smile. 

“I’m feeling much better, actually. I’m just being careful not to drink anything that might get me sick,” you answer carefully, hoping to sound reasonable enough without making anyone question your ‘sickness’ any further. 

The more you lie to your family about it, the more guilty you feel. You don’t have much choice at the moment but to hide it just a bit longer. 

At first, you couldn’t share the news with your parents simply because you were still clueless about how you were going to find the father of the baby with only limited information you had of him. But then things only got even more complicated for you to ever come clean when he walked through the front door of your parents’ home. 

What are the odds that the man you hooked up with turns out to be the man your stepsister is currently dating? And here you are now, stuck in the same room with them while hiding a secret which may change the course of everyone’s entire life.

Yeah, miracles don’t exist. Not for me, at least.

Honey taps at your hand on the table as you grow silent, oblivious to the thoughts running through your head. “You know what you need?” she asks, whispering in a conspiring tone that she barely keeps down so that everyone at the table can still hear her voice. 

And she does it while looking at you with her wide, expecting eyes, with the barely concealed mischief written all over her face. It makes you smile, knowing where this is going. So you simply play along. 

"No, Honey. What would that be?” 

Her mischievous smile widens as she leans closer. “A hint of rum. With a few drops into that boring tea of yours, you’ll feel better in no time,” she says, lifting her hand and showing you a pinching gesture with her thumb and forefinger nearly touching each other, “Just a pinch. Or better yet, just trade your whole glass—” 

The sound of your Mom’s frustrated sigh cuts her off. “Mom, I already told you, giving her alcohol isn’t going to make her feel better. I’ve already given her some herbal tea, that should be enough until she can get a proper rest.”

“Oh, posh,” Honey says, waving her hand at your mother. “Ignore your Mom,” Honey says just as you are about to respond. “I’m telling you. Alcohol is best to cure your heartbreak,” she adds, and you certainly have no arguments against that. Alcohol might be able to help you forget. 

But, alas…

But, wait a minute. You stop and look closely at Honey. What is she talking about? 

“What do you mean?” you question her while tilting your head, wondering deep down if she had noticed something. Surely, she wouldn’t be able to tell the high tension rolling between you and Taehyung through dinner. 

Nobody else could. But you also know that if there is anyone in your family who might be able to catch on with the tension rolling between the two of you, it would be Honey. 

Once again, Honey reaches out and taps her dainty fingers on the back of your hand. “Isn’t that why you’re feeling down, peaches? I know you’re still thinking about that good for nothing—” 

Honey stops herself and bites down her smile before you can figure out what she is about to say. But you have heard enough to understand who she is referring to. 

Relief washes over you when you realise that she was talking about your ex, Hansol. She must have thought that you have been stressing over the breakup and you have been feeling unwell because of it.

Honey leans in, this time lowering her voice just enough only for you to hear. “You must’ve taken it from me. I also get a stomach bug when I’m stressed out. Just like last summer when I lost a go-stop game against the ladies from the block,” she says, before she continues blabbering about how she had made bets during the game and went all-in only to lose everything. 

“You might think that they’re nothing but small pennies used for gambling coins, but I spent a whole week collecting them. How am I supposed to replace all of them before the next game?” she continues to complain, while you laugh at her. 

Her story takes away the tension on your shoulders for a brief moment before she adds, “And then you had to come here and watch these two being all lovey-dovey with each other.” 

As Honey mentions the pair sitting across the table, waving her hand at them to make a point, your eyes are drawn towards them once more. And your gaze lands right on Alia’s hand which is now resting on top of Taehyung’s. 

Seeing this makes you feel tight in the chest. Bitterness fills your mouth which you can barely hide with a tight smile. Honey may not have been entirely correct with her assumptions, yet her comment still hits the mark somehow. 

Not about Hansol, obviously, as he is the one to occupy your mind the least. Yet she wasn’t too far off when she talked about the new pair of lovers before you. Seeing them does make you uncomfortable, miserable even, but for entirely different reasons. 

Looking away from their joined hands, your gaze meets Alia’s. She is wearing an unreadable expression on her face as she listens in to Honey’s words. And the strange look that she is giving you now is making you feel uneasy.

Just as you start wondering if Alia has noticed something, she instead asks you, “You guys broke up?” 

She throws a quick glance at Honey’s seat with a frown. For others, she might seem concerned, yet there is a look in her eyes which tells you that there is something more. “I was wondering why I haven’t seen him around. He was with us last holiday.” 

Her comment rubs you in the wrong way. You have no idea why she would care when your relationship has nothing to do with her. But you try to not let it bother you. “Yes, it’s been months now since we broke up. I only told Mom and Dad yesterday when I first got home.” 

“I see,” she says. Her voice comes out so softly that it almost comes out as a murmur. She pulls her hand back and places it on her lap. “That’s too bad. I’m sorry,” she adds while offering a small smile. And for some reason, she also seems guilty. 

Does she think it has something to do with what happened last year? 

Her words remind you of something that she said to you last year, back on the morning you confronted her after her drunken blunder which happened the night before. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking. I didn’t mean anything, I swear. It’s just drunk talking.” 

That incident shouldn’t be bothering you today. Yet it still makes you feel bitter when you think about it. The feeling only grows worse when you glance at Taehyung who is showing a sudden interest in this whole thing. 

“It’s fine. Sometimes things just don’t work out,” you simply repeat the same thing you said to your mother earlier while biting back the real question that is hanging right at the tip of your tongue. 

But what’s in it to you? 

No matter how curious you are to know what kind of scheme that is going through her pretty little head, you know it’s not worth all the drama that it might cause. You cannot even possibly imagine the drama that would unfold once this whole baby thing comes out.

God, just thinking about it is already making your stomach churn. Your lower abdomen suddenly feels hard and heavy. As if you have a full-size lead inside instead of a small, growing blob that is about to form into an actual living baby within a few weeks from now. 

Thinking about the baby, your eyes find the man who is behind all of this. He has grown oddly quiet while you were conversing with your stepsister and is now staring at his food with a frown on his face.

“So tell me,” you ask calmly while clenching your hands, doing your best to hide the trembles, “How did you two meet?”

This question immediately draws Taehyung’s attention. His eyes snap up, but the moment he looks at you, his face seems to grow pale and he becomes awfully nervous.

“We, uh—we used to work at the same company before Alia left to venture into other things,” he says, almost stuttering. He also keeps stealing glances at Alia, as if begging her to help him out. 

Huh, strange.

What is it about answering your simple question which makes him so nervous? 

Or perhaps…

Have they been seeing each other when the two of you hooked up? 

Fuck. 

The moment this thought crosses your mind, you suddenly feel sick. Your stomach grows heavier with anxiety. Meanwhile, Alia’s smile seems to beam brighter. 

“We didn’t work in the same division back then, but we would frequently meet during breaks and company hours. Had it been, what, a year after we last met?” Alia turns to Taehyung, who stiffly nods his head. She grabs his hand once again and looks at him lovingly as she continues, “We met again last summer by chance while I was travelling and started talking since then.” 

Last summer? But that was before—

Your head starts spinning. You grab your glass and take a couple of small sips of your tea to regain composure, yet the drink suddenly tastes bitter on your tongue. 

Honey’s voice barely registers in your brain when she responds with a hum. “Travelling in the summer? That sounds like a charming way to meet a new lover,” she says, lifting her mug to her lips as she continues marvelling at your stepsister’s story. “You must have felt some sparks when you two met. I bet you’re still feeling it now, aren’t you?”

You have no idea what she has inside that ceramic mug, as she had been nursing the same drink since even before dinner started. You can bet money that she had more than a pinch of rum dropped inside that drink of hers, seeing how talkative she is becoming. 

Oh, how you wish you could have a taste of it. Just a sip would have been good enough. Maybe it can also help to stop your hands from trembling. 

“And the ring?” Honey asks again with a teasing tone as she points at their entwined hands. “I noticed that you two are wearing matching rings. You can’t possibly be engaged already, can you?” 

Almost choking on your drink, you slowly set your glass back down and pull your hands onto your lap, hiding them from prying eyes just in time as they begin to shake.

“But it wasn’t that different back in the day,” Honey continues, “I remember that Russ—that’s my dear late husband,” she explains to Taehyung, “he bought me a cheap ring at the beginning of our relationship to show me and my parents that he was serious about courting me.” 

On any other times that Honey would speak about your late grandfather, you would always enjoy listening to every word, admiring how she would always share her story with pure love in her voice and wonder glowing in her eyes. 

But not this time. 

Ever since she pointed out the ring and started talking about your grandfather’s old promises, you start having trouble breathing. The more she speaks, the worse it gets, and now there is a ringing sound echoing in your ear that seems to be coming from different directions. 

“I still keep the ring with me, side by side with the wedding ring that doesn’t fit anymore on these wrinkly fingers of mine,” Honey keeps gushing. She raises her hands and starts wiggling her fingers to show them off, while your whole body grows tense. 

Alia shares a nervous laugh with Taehyung and waves her hand at Honey. “Oh, no…it’s actually a part of a joke that we—” 

You try to tune out the voices, the words that are being said, while clasping your hands tighter together on your lap, but the shaking doesn’t stop. Alia’s voice fades in and out beyond the loud ringing in your head as she continues to tell her story about how they started dating and the ring came to be. With everything that is going on, added with your awareness over Taehyung’s intense gaze that doesn’t seem to waver, it becomes too overwhelming that you feel as if you are slowly being swallowed into the ground beneath you. 

With a sharp gasp, you slowly push yourself out of your seat. “Excuse me, I have to—” your voice cracks as you speak. As you stand, you notice that everyone has their eyes on you, all curious to know what is happening with you. 

“_______?” you hear your mother calling you.

You can feel the blood draining from your face under all the unwanted attention, making you wish that you could just fade away right at that moment. But then your hand find its way to your stomach, and it almost feels like there is a touch of warmth forming under your palm. It helps you force a smile and gather yourself just enough to say, “I’m sorry, but I’m not feeling well, so I’m going to step out early. I hope that’s alright. You guys enjoy the rest of dinner.” 

You don’t wait for anyone’s response as you turn away, finding your escape merely moments before you get into a full-blown meltdown right in front of everyone. 

Your legs are wobbly as you walk down the hall, yet you still manage to slip into the guest bathroom downstairs. With trembling hands, you lock the door behind you, shutting yourself from the world outside. 

And that is when you fall apart, turning into a heaving mess as everything that you have been bottling up inside comes flooding out of you. 

“Breathe,” you command yourself while you fight back against your nausea. Holding onto the bathroom counter, you keep yourself and try your best to focus on controlling your breath. 

Take a slow, deep breath. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. 

Little by little, all the tension, the trembling, and the tightness in your chest begin to wane. But once everything is gone, once you begin to find calmness, your emotions seize control of you.

The next thing you know, an unstoppable flow of tears comes running down your face and you start sobbing, crying in defeat. 

“Shit. Fuck. What a mess,” you curse between each sob, feeling absolutely helpless and alone. You close your eyes, hoping that you can clear your head by doing so. Yet your mind keeps going to dark places. Constantly wondering and questioning about all of this. 

About him. 

“Did he ever mention anything that was related to his personal life that night?” you cannot help but wonder out loud. 

Only silence answers. Because you hold little to no recollection of the details from the conversation you shared with him that night. Whenever you try to remember, it always feels like there was a part of your memory that had gone missing. 

You haven’t had the slightest clue of the things you shared with him at the bar once the drinks started coming more frequently. Which is a wonder, because you are completely sure that neither of you had gotten drunk enough to experience a blackout, much less lose a memory.

At least for you, the alcohol was just enough to burn through your nerves and help build your confidence to take the lead and openly show the attraction you had for him. Even if he did end up taking back control the moment the two of you finally gave in to temptation. 

Your head starts pounding, aching the more you try to remember the missing details. Meanwhile, all the questions won’t stop coming, making it harder for you to regain a peaceful mind.

Did he ever mention having a girlfriend, or at least give any hint that he was taken? 

Was he wearing that ring on his finger when he was touching your skin under the dim light of his bedroom suite? 

You shake your head and close your eyes again when you still remember nothing. The only thing that remains in your memory is the look you saw in his gaze that night. The pitiful look that seemed to mirror yours, making you believe that he was looking for the same thing you did that night. 

An escape. A way to forget even if for a moment. 

But what if that was all just another lie? 

Your stomach churns. A sharp pain comes shooting through your body. It starts from your lower abdomen, causing you to almost double over. 

Fuck. Now what? 

Your hand instantly comes down to your stomach, pressing and rubbing gently against it until the uncomfortable ache ebbs under your touch. 

Right, I’m supposed to avoid any form of stress, you remind yourself as you recall what your doctor told you the last time you went to see her. Something about getting your blood tension rising when you are stressed, and that it wouldn’t be good for both you and the baby in the long run. Closing your eyes, you try to think of happy thoughts, all while keeping your palm pressed on your stomach.

To your surprise, rubbing your palm against the barely-there baby bump on your belly isn’t just helping you to soothe the pain away, but also to calm yourself down. 

With a sigh, you gently wipe your tears and look down. “I’m sorry for swearing so much, baby. I promise to stop doing it once you’ve grown big enough to start hearing things so you won’t learn any of it too soon. But fuck, this is too much.” 

It feels odd to speak like this to the living being growing inside you that is barely more than a piece of flesh. Yet speaking to your growing baby seems to help ease your anxiety a little. 

Better yet, it helps make you feel less alone. 

“Let’s not think any bad thoughts. Let’s not assume that your Dad is an asshole, okay? Not until we get to hear the full story,” you whisper to the tiny human growing inside you. The more you speak to it, the more it seems to be helping you to find some ease of mind. 

But even if it turns out that he was…

“Then I can deal with it later with my head held high,” you murmur to yourself in a soft, yet reassuring tone of voice. And you repeat it again, and again, almost as if you are chanting a spell which would be able to give you a boost of confidence. 

It may not immediately change the way you look at things, yet you can feel it slowly rising within you. It feels like a ray of light, the first spark of hope that you get to feel amid all the uncertainty which surrounds you.

Soon enough, the strong urge to cry no longer overcomes you. Even your hands have stopped shaking. All that you have left is exhaustion. It rolls through your body with a vengeance, and there is nothing that you want more right now other than to curl up like a ball on your bed and sleep it off. 

You raise your head to look at yourself in the mirror, and instantly a bitter laugh escapes you at what you are seeing.

Because you look like a complete mess. Your life is slowly turning into shambles, and it seems to be mocking you through your own reflection that is now staring back at you. 

“Just exactly what I need,” you whisper with a sigh.

I need to be stronger, if only for the sake of this little one in me, you tell yourself as you splash cold water at your face to wash away all the mess—the drying tears, your swollen eyes, and the skin on your face which has yet to regain its normal colours. 

It feels therapeutic to be washing everything off, leaving nothing more but your swollen eyes which you can explain as a part of your sickness. You may not be strong enough to take on the world, but at least now, you are prepared to face the reality that is waiting for you right outside of this door. 

No matter how fucking messy it is. 

Having this new revelation should be giving you a newfound credence that could push you forward. And yet there is none of that here. The only thing you are feeling now is the new bout of anxiety rolling up through your body, starting from your stomach as it churns painfully.

“Yeah, now I feel sick,” you groan as you rush to the toilet bowl, seconds away before you start dumping the small amount of food you had during dinner into waste. 

It takes a bit longer than expected before you finally find the courage to step out of the bathroom. 

Soft murmurs filter into the bathroom the moment you open the door. You can tell that the voices are coming from the living room, which means that the family has gathered there after dinner. It allows you to breathe a sigh of relief. At least this way you wouldn’t have to hide or make excuses if you have to bump into someone on your way to your bedroom.

Stepping out of the bathroom, you are relieved that nobody is around. Everyone should be in the living room, so you make haste, hoping to be able to escape before anyone notices. 

But as you turn to the next hallway, someone is standing in your way. The light is dim, yet you can easily recognise him before you get any closer. Standing with his back leaning against the wall, he has his hands tucked into his pockets and his eyes looking absently into the distance. 

As though he has been waiting for you. 

Taehyung turns when he notices you coming. Before you can start to wonder what he is doing here, a smile grows on his face.

“Hey, is everything okay? Everyone was worried,” he asks you, sounding genuinely concerned. 

The calm tone of his voice might be a bit deceiving if only you are not looking into his eyes. His gaze keeps wavering as he speaks, as if he is unable to look at you for too long. The same guilt you saw earlier is still present in his eyes. And you hate seeing it there. 

It only tells you that he has a secret that he is keeping from you. You have no idea how to feel about it. But if it has to do with his relationship with Alia, then—

“I’m fine, it’s just—” 

Your cheeks grow warm the moment you speak, feeling embarrassed at how dry your voice sounds. “It’s nothing. You heard my Mom, I’ll be better in no time.” 

You have so many things to say to him. So many questions that you would like to give him. But you are too tired to do anything. Much less to talk. As much as you can convince yourself that you are ready to face anything, now is not the right time to do it. 

So you keep your mouth shut and try to walk past him instead. Only that he isn’t letting you go that easily. 

“You know, it really is nice to see you again, Red.” 

His voice sounds so subdued that you almost miss it. You come to a halt. Your heartbeat starts picking up again. If you ever needed confirmation that the sinful night you shared with him truly happened, and that he remembered any part of it, then this is it. 

His comment which instantly brings you back to that fateful night. The nickname that he used to call you then.

You close your eyes, refusing to remember the way he managed to draw out a myriad of sensations with his voice alone. You refuse to be brought back there again. Not now, when your mind isn’t clear enough to be dealing with this. Taking a deep breath, you compose yourself just enough to face him.

Only to be met with his amused smile as he looks at you. 

“I was surprised to see you. I never would have thought that you could somehow be related to Alia.” He lets out a chuckle. It sounds empty and a bit bitter, mirroring exactly how you are feeling right now. 

Your chest feels tight, hating the way he is saying her name. Nor do you enjoy seeing the way his gaze changes when he does it. Annoyance fills your chest that you can barely speak, while he remains in his blissful ignorance as he continues talking, 

“Funny how life works, doesn’t it? I kept thinking about you after we met and wondered if we would ever see each other again. I regretted that I didn’t ask for your number before we parted ways. I didn’t even get to ask for your real name.” 

The tightness in your chest grows tenfold. 

You never admitted it before—not to yourself, and not even to Skye, when you first talked about him—yet there was some point between that night and the day you found out about the pregnancy that you spent your nights wondering if you would ever see him again. 

If there had been one thing that you regretted about that night, it would be the decision you made to leave the next morning without asking for his real name or leaving any means of contact. 

A night to escape from reality. 

That was all it meant for you at the time. So when the morning came, it was time for you to return to reality. Your reality. Your real life. And you were too busy preparing yourself to face all the hurt, the bad memories, and the stressful life that had nothing to do with the desirable woman that he brought into his bed the night before to even consider exchanging contacts with him. 

It didn’t matter if you were still riding the high of that night’s self-gratification and wanton pleasure through the rest of your trip. The moment everything ended, you simply moved on from it. Putting everything about that night to the back of your mind as you returned to your normal life and quickly fell back into your normal routine. 

Until weeks later, when life decided to fuck you over and you ended up with a baby growing inside you, and you had no way to find or contact him to inform him about it. 

“I guess it can’t be helped, given the circumstances.” Your conviction quickly melts into dread once you are reminded of the current circumstances. “It’s kinda too late now to talk about it and regret what didn’t happen, don’t you think? Seeing that you’re now dating my stepsister.” 

Taehyung winces. For a brief moment, you almost believe you can see a glimpse of hurt flickering through his gaze. And for some reason, it only pisses you off. 

So he doesn’t like being reminded of the fact that he is here for someone else? 

“Look, about Alia. I was hoping that we could talk. Maybe when all of this is done, or maybe after the holidays we can—” 

He continues talking, but you aren’t hearing anything. The questions that flooded your brain earlier come flashing back. The ringing that pained you returns. Everything lasts for a few more seconds before your mind clears out, and only one question remains. 

“Were the two of you already dating when we slept together?” 

He falls silent, taken aback. 

“No!” he immediately says, almost shouting. But he quickly reins himself before his voice would reach where everyone is and draw their attention. “Fuck, no. Is that why you’ve been sulking all through dinner?” he asks you with a hiss. He seems offended and hurt at the same time. “I’m not that kind of guy. Trust me.” 

“Sulking?” you let out an incredulous laugh. Is that how he saw it? When you were coming close to breaking apart right in front of everyone because of him? 

“How am I supposed to trust you when I barely know you? How am I supposed to know that you’re telling the truth?” you snap back at him with a hiss. “Just because we fucked it doesn’t mean that I’d magically know everything about you.” 

Again, he winces at your question. As if your words come to him like a slap on his face. He takes a deep breath and speaks more calmly in response, “Look, we should talk. Soon. I can explain everything. But not now, okay?” 

As much as you hate to admit it, or to agree with him, you decide that he is right. There are a lot of things that you need to discuss with him, and now is not the right time to do it. Not when your emotions are all over the place and when he has his girlfriend keeping him in close sight most of the time. 

“I agree. We do need to talk,” you finally agree, even though you know that both of you have different things in mind. 

You have no idea what he intends to discuss with you. The only thing that matters to you is to talk about the baby that you conceived together. And hopefully, decide what will happen next. 

“I should go,” you sigh, feeling exhausted and drained. “I need to lie down. This is too much for me to process.” 

You try to walk around him so you can continue on your way. Your head is pounding, and you have the dire need to rest in your comfortable bed, where you would be able to feel safe and hide away from all of this. 

“Wait,” Taehyung stops you before you can go too far. 

“What?” you ask him, feeling exasperated—both from the stress and from the way your body still tingles each time you hear his voice. You really need to get away from him. 

“Nothing, it’s just…” he starts, suddenly looking nervous with what he is about to say. The sound of laughter echoes from the living room, making him glance over his shoulder briefly before speaking to you with a lowered voice, “Can you do me a favour?” 

You frown at him. “What is it?” 

He looks wary, and it makes you feel uneasy in the stomach as you wait for him to speak. 

But what he says next makes you feel even worse. “Please don’t tell Alia that we’ve met before, more importantly that we hooked up that night.” 

You say nothing at first. Even if you are well aware of the situation and where Alia’s position in all of this, it still doesn’t stop the sharp pain you feel in your chest as he mentions her name, or to express his request. 

Taehyung steps closer when you remain quiet. His voice comes as a desperate whisper when he pleads with you, “Please? Can you do this for me?” 

You grit your teeth. “Fine, I won’t,” you finally say to him. But you refuse to give in that easily.

Taking a step closer to him, you point at him and demand him, “But you need to tell her.” 

He clenches his jaw as he listens to your demands, but you ignore it and continue to talk. “She needs to know—” your voice nearly wavers, because you know what would happen once everything is revealed. 

Telling your stepsister that you had slept with her boyfriend would not only be hard, but it would be ugly. 

But it would be better than keeping it a secret for much longer. Because secrets don’t always remain hidden, no matter how hard you try to keep them in the shadows. And things would even get messier once the baby comes while she is still being kept in the dark. 

It’s better to bite the bullet as soon as possible, rather than waiting and living your life in uncertainty until the day comes. 

“If you don’t, and we keep this a secret much longer, things might get messier if she somehow finds out on her own. The last thing I’d ever want is to get into any drama. Not with her,” you try to convince Taehyung, despite him looking like he would rather bolt and have nothing to do with any of this. 

After all the drama that happened last year, the last thing you need is to get involved in another. 

“I’ll tell her myself if necessary.” There is a bite in your voice when you are telling him all of this. To his credit, Taehyung—despite looking shell-shocked and cornered—seems to respect and understand your request. 

He lowers his head and nods. “Give me time. I’ll—” 

You are surprised to see him looking defeated. It makes you wonder if there is something more about their relationship that you need to know before going further. 

As Taehyung raises his head again, he seems more resolved. He looks straight into your eyes as he promises, “I’ll tell her myself once I get the chance to. I promise. But we’re going to have that talk first, and soon.” 

“It’s a promise.” You bite back the ache that suddenly pierces through your heart, seeing how he is so adamant about protecting his relationship with your stepsister. Trying not to look too deep into it and get yourself hurt further, you avoid looking into his gaze and start walking away from him. 

“Goodnight then—” you whisper to him as you turn away from him, biting back the sound of your defeat when you call his name, “Tae.” 

The moment you are within the safety of your bedroom, your knees buckle. Thankfully, you still manage to close the door and lock it behind you, once again shutting yourself from everyone to give you some moment of peace.

Although it doesn’t stop him from entering your mind in the silence that follows. 

As you lie down in your bed, curled up in a fetal position with your arms wrapped around yourself, your mind wanders back to the conversation you just had with Taehyung in the hallway. 

You can’t help it. His words keep coming back to you, and you keep finding yourself dissecting everything he said. You close your eyes, and keep telling yourself to stop. The situation that you are dealing with right now already seems absurd enough for you to waste your energy trying to understand him. 

You begin to wonder if things would have been better if you hadn’t come across each other again. Things would probably turn out differently. You may have to keep the baby’s existence a secret from him, and the truth about the father a secret from your family. 

You may have to deal with everything yourself. 

The possibility seems petrifying, but it still sounds a lot better than having to go against your stepsister. Better than causing your frail relationship to become even worse. This time, you know that this would be big enough to ruin any chance for you and your stepsister to have any kind of relationship at all. 

He was right. It’s funny how life works. If only it doesn’t have to be this hard to laugh it off. 

Stop it. 

Keeping your eyes closed, you let out a deep sigh and force yourself to think about something else. Anything. As long as you are not thinking about him. His face, his voice, the scent of his cologne, everything that belongs to him. 

Your head starts swimming. No, everything about him now belongs to someone else. 

Once again, you force yourself to start thinking of less stressful things. Like Skye’s text message from this afternoon suggesting that you could run away with her to a secluded place somewhere in Europe so that the two of you could raise the baby together. Or the little stories that Honey shared about the cute new gardener now working at her apartment complex—the complex specifically built for elders like herself—that she wanted to introduce to you the next time you come by to visit.

You regret forgetting to pick up the smoothie that your mother made for you while you were throwing up in the bathroom, all due to Taehyung’s distraction. You wonder if having the smoothie would be able to help you feel better. Picturing the drink being left attended in the kitchen, you can picture your grandmother—the sweet little mischievous angel that she is—sneaking in a few drops of rum into the smoothie when your mother isn’t looking. 

This thought makes you smile. It replaces every ugly thoughts that keep circling inside your mind and calms you down. 

Your heartbeat is no longer beating like crazy. The more you fill your head with wonderful thoughts, the sooner the uneasy feeling in your stomach begins to wane. 

And soon enough, you start drifting away to a restless sleep. 

But just like how he invaded your home with his sudden appearance, Taehyung invades your sleep once your mind is left unguarded. 

Speaking to him, albeit briefly, brings you back to that night. The moment you close your eyes, you start seeing everything from back then that you couldn’t remember in your waking hours. Even the smallest details that your conscious mind has forgotten. Everything comes crashing down on you as you toss and turn in your bed, unable to give in completely to a peaceful slumber as memories continue to flood your dreams. 

Six weeks ago…

You opened your eyes and squinted. 

The overhead lamp above your head was bright, and it was hurting your eyes. You could barely see a thing through your bleary eyes, until your gaze drifted further, looking into the dimly lit bedroom far across the foyer. 

The room looked more spacious than yours, albeit a bit messy. The massive bed looked comfortable, and there were two lounge seats set up near the windows that looked more luxurious than the ones you had in your room. 

“Your bedroom seems a lot more cozy than mine.” 

The words came out of your lips with a moan. The sound seemed foreign. Barely recognisable through your hazy mind. But there was a familiar sensation slowly rising in your body that hadn’t at all come from the alcoholic drinks you were having tonight. 

“Hmmm…You think so?”

A deep, sultry voice spoke as a pair of hot lips made their way down the side of your neck, tracing your skin with delicate kisses that made it even harder for you to think straight. 

Shivers ran down your body. Heat rolled through your chest. And it almost seemed to you that your skin was becoming even more sensitive to the touch when even the most subtle caress of his fingers was able to light up your senses. 

Right after the voice spoke to you, he suddenly switched and started kissing his way up. You blinked, and his face came into view just as he looked down at you. The beautiful face that captivated you when you first met him at the bar was presented right before your eyes. 

So close. So tempting. And his eyes were so intense that you nearly lost your breath. He smiled and leaned down, capturing your lips with a kiss. 

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” he murmured against your lips, drawing another moan out of you which snapped you from your daze. 

You sighed as you gave in to the chaste kiss he was giving you. “It’s kind of hard to look around and see anything when you have me pinned to the door.” 

He let out a soft chuckle and once again pressed his lips on yours. As if he was both pleased and amused that he got to put you in this position. When he pulled back, the look in his eyes softened. 

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself. It’s all your fault for teasing me all the way here while I couldn’t allow myself to touch you with so many eyes paying attention,” he said without any hint of regret in his voice. 

“Well, forgive me because I wasn’t aware,” you taunted him back, knowing fully well what you had done to tease him until he was on the verge of breaking apart even before you reached his hotel suite. 

As much as you wanted to hold back, you were quite sure that you hadn’t gotten things wrong. You couldn’t have possibly mistaken the chemistry that kept sparking between you. And the way he kept openly staring at your body was enough to make his intention clear, as his eyes seemed more honest than the words he gave you. 

But back at the bar, you had let him be the first one to make the move. 

With his sturdy hands, he was the one who pulled your seat closer. By placing his arm on your backrest, it may have seemed as if he was marking his territory for anyone else at the hotel bar to see. Normally, something like this would’ve put you off. But there was something in the way he did it that made you feel otherwise, allowing you to give in and lean more into his warmth instead of pushing him away. 

That was when you reciprocated his actions with your own. The light and subtle touches of your fingers on his arm drew soft shudders through his body. The accidental brushes that happened when you moved against his body pushed him into wrapping his arm around you, keeping you close before he finally pulled you out of the bar. 

When you leaned close enough to whisper softly against his ear, you could feel goosebumps rising on his skin, his heartbeat escalating under your palm, and he could barely hold himself back from devouring your lips right there at the hotel lobby. Right where everyone could see you falling into pieces under your sinful desire.

By the time you were alone with him in the elevator, the tension between you just kept escalating until he finally snapped. 

He nearly dragged you across the hallway leading to his bedroom suite in his rush to get you alone. The moment he pulled you in through the door, every bit of his composure simply left him. He barely gave you a chance to catch a single glance of the suite, as he immediately pushed your body against the door and kept you there. 

Until this moment. 

His eyes grew dark after listening to your answer. His breath is still ragged after the hot kiss that he gave you once he got you pinned between his hard body and the locked door behind you. 

With his broad chest locking you in place, his hips pressing against your lower body, he left you with nowhere else to go. But this didn’t seem to be enough for him. Looking into his eyes, you could tell that he needed to see you become even more vulnerable. Almost as if he wanted to punish you for putting him on the edge. 

And he did exactly that as he slipped one hand around your neck and pulled your hair, tilting your head back so that he could continue exploring the column of your throat with his sinful lips. Instead of resisting it, you simply gave in. Arching your back to him further as he trailed kisses on your skin, your hands clutching on his jacket to hold on. 

He used his other hand to explore the rest of your body. Starting from your waist, he continued to move further down to your hips. Tracing every curve, every dent along your body with his firm fingers pressing through your thin dress. 

Just as he was about to reach the hem of your dress, he suddenly stopped and pulled back. 

“Tell me again. Are you sure this is what you want?” His voice was quiet when he asked you this. It sounded as though he was caught between convincing himself that this was happening while giving you an out for one last time before getting too deep. 

But you had gone deep. 

And you knew then that the moment you let everything happen, there was no going back from it. Everything about this was new to you; hooking up with a complete stranger while you were in the middle of nowhere, and knowing that once the night was over, both of you were going to move on with your lives. 

It felt thrilling to think about it, and the liquid courage should help you in letting go of your inhibitions. Yet you couldn’t deny the fact that you are feeling slightly nervous about jumping fully into this. 

When you failed to answer him, Tae leaned down, pressing a chaste kiss right below your ear and whispered, “Well? Talk to me. Because there is no going back from this once we begin, and I won’t let you go until you tell me what you want.” 

The way his breath tickled your ear and caressed your skin broke you out of the walls you put up. Every flicker of doubt you felt immediately melted. You brushed against him, allowing him to feel every bit of heat coursing through your body before you answered with a whisper, “Yes. I’ve never been so sure in my whole life.” 

You could feel the way his breath was caught as you pressed your palm on his chest. Pressing against him, you raised yourself up and nipped his chin with your teeth. 

“This is what I want.” 

You weren’t completely sure if you ever got to finish your sentence when all of a sudden, his lips came crashing into yours, pressing firmly as he kissed you, barely concealing his desire for more. 

The kiss unleashed your own desire. You opened your mouth for him in return, allowing him to devour you, to have a taste of your demands as he thoroughly kissed you until you were left breathless in his arms. 

His hand began to move again just then. Tracing down your hips, he pressed the tips of his fingers harder into your flesh. He made it seem as if your dress had melted into your skin with the heat of his touch that you felt completely exposed to him. And he didn’t stop until he finally found the exposed skin of your thigh. 

Your body quivered upon contact, and you could tell that he felt it too. He began stroking your skin, moving at a slow, agonising pace just to put you on the edge. 

And he easily succeeded. Already, you could barely breathe, even when he was still far from touching any part of your body that needed him the most. 

Overcame with need, your body started moving on instinct. As if his touches were controlling you as you lifted your thigh for him. His grip on your thigh tightened, helping you to keep your leg up and open yourself to him while his kiss became sloppy yet gentle as he released his hold on your hair. 

He moved his other hand down, brushing against your covered breast with a brief contact and continued trailing down. You felt him pressing at your hips, before pulling the hem of your dress upward until your lower region was completely exposed. His hand continued its travel as it climbed up your inner thigh. So you opened your legs to give him better access. A move which he appreciated with a deep hum, before you felt his thumb brushing up just an inch away from your throbbing core. 

“Should we move this someplace else? Somewhere that would be more comfortable for us?” he asked you with his lips hovering close to yours. 

It took a moment for his words to sink in. Too lost in the sensation that you were made to feel, you felt as if you were drunk and high, not from the alcohol that was no longer running wildly through your veins, but from his entire presence alone. 

All thoughts faded further as his thumb grazed across the front of your panties, finding your folds through the fabric before he pressed down, enough to give pressure on your covered clit. Sparks flew through your half-lidded eyes as pleasure came rushing through you in waves. You couldn’t stop the moan slipping out of your lips, nor the way your hips rocked into his touch to feel more. 

“So responsive,” he murmured against your neck before he planted a light kiss on your skin. “I would have loved to watch and enjoy every reaction that you would give me, every sound you make, while I have you lie down on my bed and fuck you senseless.” 

Your breath hitched and caught in your chest. Not only because of his words, but also from the way his thumb continued to rub against your covered clit. It felt sinful, yet so delectable the way he kept drawing more and more sparks and shuddering pleasure through your body.

After being deprived of such attention for quite some time, your body became more sensitive to every friction, every treatment he was giving you, and you simply wanted more. 

“Then take me there. Take me to your bed.” 

As if you had flicked a switch in his brain, his expression changed. His gaze darkened as he captured your lips with unrestrained need, yet he was careful when he picked you up, pressing you against his chest when he turned and moved to take you away from the door.

You wrapped your arms and legs around him for balance, while your lips remained locked in a deep kiss. You could feel his long stride as he began carrying you across the room. His kiss and his firm hold on your bottom cheeks were enough to draw your attention away from his clumsy footsteps, but not enough to deny you from sensing the changes happening around you.

The scent of his cologne grew thicker as he went deeper into the room, and you were getting more and more lost in him. Drowned in his heat, his kiss, and the traces that he had left behind all over his bedroom, you felt him everywhere all at once that you felt like you were being put under a spell. 

All so suddenly, you were pulled out of it when he broke away from the kiss. He laid you gently over the cold white sheets of his partly-made bed. Instead of joining you right away, he chose to pull back. His eyes seemed to glint in the dimly lit room as he took this moment to take you in. 

“Beautiful,” he murmured softly, drawing heat back to your face. 

He kept his eyes on you as he shrugged off his jacket and began peeling his shirt from his chest. Desire pulsed through your body as you watched every move he was making without ever drawing his attention away from you. 

The more you watched him, the stronger the pull that you felt towards him. Once the need to touch him took over, you reached up and tugged on his pants, hoping that you could quickly shred them off of his body. 

You barely grazed against his covered hard-on when he stopped you by catching your wrists. Like a disappointed teacher, he made a disapproval sound with his tongue. 

“Patience, Red,” he teasingly said to you as he grabbed the hem of your dress and pulled it off of you with one swift move. You fell back to the bed with a gasp, shocked to see how easy it was for him to take over until you were left with nothing more but your lacy underthings. 

The intensity you felt from his gaze made you want to wrap your arms around yourself and hide. But being half inebriated was making you slow in thoughts and movement that you couldn’t do anything but lay still. At the same time, you enjoyed the way he was looking at you, loving how he was losing himself to you the same way you did to him. 

But it was the words that he said next that further brought out your wanton needs.

“Be a good girl and stay still. I want you to stay just like this,” he said with a murmur while his eyes ran down your body, “I want you to lie on your back while you are screaming out my name.” 

If only you hadn’t been so lost for words, perhaps you would have challenged him in return. Instead, by the time every piece of his clothing was gone, you felt like you had melted further into the sheets. The raw passion you saw in his gaze and the way he was tracing his fingertips on your skin had locked you completely in place, leaving you with no other option but to surrender as he took control.

He bent down, his lips came down to your neck. Planting his kisses on your skin, he kept your attention away from his hands as he snapped off your bra and went down to pull your panties down your hips. As he dragged your panties down your bare legs, he continued his kisses further down, not stopping until he reached your heaving chest. 

You couldn’t even remember what happened to that flimsy piece of fabric that he took from you. Everything else faded as his tongue grazed across your chest, drawing a gasp out of your lips. His firm hands returned to your hips right then, holding you down while he captured your taut nipple between his teeth. 

The feeling that coursed through you was heavenly. A shooting pain came with a flare as he bit down, yet it was quickly replaced with an overwhelming feeling of pleasure when he lapped the pain away with his sinful tongue. 

“Tae—”

His body quivered against yours at the sound of your voice. He pulled away with a grin, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he watched you arching your chest as if you were chasing him. 

He ran his gaze down your body. Perusing you while silently admiring what he was seeing while he licked his lips. As if he was picturing the way you would taste. 

“Tell me how badly you want this, Red,” he taunted you with his hand reaching out to the nightstand. You vaguely saw him grabbing a condom while you were struggling to breathe. Your eyes fell on his exposed, throbbing cock, and words simply left you. 

Seeing its impressive size and girth, your entire body erupted with a pulse. It started from deep inside your core, right where you wanted to feel him the most. Astonished, you failed to remember that he was still waiting for your answer with his eyes locked on your face. 

And he made you struggle further to find words when he reached down, wrapping his long fingers around his cock and started giving himself slow, lazy strokes. You could see the bead of his pre-cum glistening under the dim lighting. It took everything in you to stop yourself from leaning forward and lapping him dry. To have a taste, before you let him devour every drop of your essence. 

“Red? Talk to me,” he spoke to you again with a curious tone in his voice. 

He knew that he wasn’t getting any attention, as your eyes were locked only at one place that was not his face, and he seemed to be curious to know what was making you so lost in thoughts. 

Instead of answering him, you continued to watch, completely transfixed by his actions, as he slowly spread his pre-cum along the length of his cock. You licked your lips, almost as if you could taste him. A barely concealed whimper slipped out of your lips when you watched him slowly roll the condom to cover himself from the tip of his cock and down to the base. 

Seeing him covered with protection seemed to snap you back to the present. Even if your pulsing need still refused to tame down. 

Resting back against the pillows, you dragged your eyes away from his impressive cock to his beautiful face. 

“I want you here. Inside me,” you finally responded to his question. Placing your palms on the underside of your thighs, you parted your legs open, making him see the mess that had been building up right between your legs while you were enjoying the show he was giving you. 

Now it was your turn to give him a show. 

Reaching between your legs, you moved your fingers to find your folds. You bit back a gasp once the tips of your fingers were met with your wet arousal. It felt slick as you moved your fingers around, parting your nether lips so he could see your swollen clit, before you moved your fingers in circles, pressing at yourself the exact same way you wished he would. 

“Please, fuck me, Tae. Fuck me good.” 

His pupils dilated at the sound of your voice, at the pleading words you were giving him. You loved the way he was reacting to you just as much as he did with you, yet you decided to push his buttons further by adding, “And then I want to hear you scream my name while you cum inside me.” 

He raised his eyebrows. “What a little brat,” he said, chuckling. “So you like to play games, hmmm?” 

You bit your bottom lip, holding back a moan that was threatening to come out when your touch inadvertently pushed against the source of your heat. “Oh, I do. Games are always fun.” 

While he continued stroking his cock at a lazy pace, he used the other hand to grab your neck. His palm fit perfectly as he wrapped it around the column of your throat, putting pressure that was not enough to choke you, yet enough to show you who was in control. 

“Then let’s play,” he groaned while he pressed you back down on the bed. “But this time, I make the rules.” 

You felt the electrifying pleasure surging through your body as he brushed your hand away and lined himself against your entrance, shutting down the circuits inside your brain for a moment and stopping you from wiggling too much beneath him just to feel more friction. 

A sharp moan was drawn from your lips as Tae slammed his full length deep inside you. The sensation that you felt from being filled by his width was so feral and explosive that you were sure you immediately experienced your orgasm right then and there. 

Your body must have been shaking, which was a response that you failed to notice as you had your senses filled with the steady pulse of pleasure pressing across the girth of his cock. He must have noticed it when he came to a halt, giving you a chance to process everything and adjust to his presence inside you.

Nothing made sense to you beyond the pulsing pleasure that you felt from your hot pussy. Your senses were filled with the sound of your racing heartbeat, the soothing touch of his fingers on your skin, and the whispers of his voice calling you back to him. 

He only managed to bring you back to the present by pressing gentle kisses on your lips, nose, and then on the rest of your face, stopping only after he kissed your lips again to draw your attention back to him. 

Your legs were quivering when you opened your eyes to see him, yet you could already tell from the way the pulses that came right where you were joined started to settle, that your body had adjusted perfectly to his size. 

But it didn’t mean that you would simply take it without sharing your thoughts. 

“You’re—big,” you complained with a soft moan when you felt him growing harder inside you. It didn’t stop you from rocking your hips, trying to feel more friction, while he merely chuckled at your words. 

“And it’s perfect for your tight pussy.” 

His words drew a gasp from you. But he didn’t pay much attention to it, as he slowly began to move. He started with a slow pace, which was torturous and agonising, forcing you to feel the delectable way his girth was brushing against your pulsing walls. 

Back and forth he went, going so deep you could almost feel him pressing up your stomach before pulling out until only the tip was buried inside you. He kept moving at the same pace, until you began to feel more desperate. Even your body was shaking with the need to feel more. 

“More—!” you whispered with a strangled moan, “go faster.” 

Hearing this, instead of doing what you were begging him to, Tae denied your plea by doing the opposite. With a wicked grin on his face, the fucker slowed down, bringing the pleasure that had been rising back down a notch. 

You opened your mouth to protest against it, and he moved his hands down your hips, stopping at your thighs where he gave you a tight grip. 

“You want more?” he asked you, his voice almost seemed to grow deeper, and you could feel a tinge of danger when he spoke. The same danger you saw coming through his gaze as he slowly brought your legs up. 

You expected him to stop once he got your legs up his shoulders. But he just kept going. And going. Until you were nearly folded with your legs almost pressed to your chest.

“Tae—!” 

It made you feel vulnerable, with nothing but your hands to use to hold on while he had full control of your body. He was still buried inside you, and this position allowed you to feel him more. As though you had grown tighter around him and he was growing bigger. His entire length and width made you feel full, as his cock was pressing tightly against your hot walls. 

“You wanted more,” he murmured as he began moving, rocking his hips slowly back and forth, going in and out of you, drawing more and more of that shuddering pleasure out of your body as he continued fucking you gently. “I’m giving you more.” 

He began increasing his pace. Going faster the more he heard you moaning in pleasure. “Lift your arms, Red. Bring them up and hold the pillows.” 

It took a moment for his words to register in your head. Your hands had been clutching tightly on his forearms and it was a struggle to let go. And he waited, tormenting you by keeping his pace much too slow to your liking until you followed his command. 

Your hands trembled as you unlatched them from his skin. You could barely feel your fingers as you dragged your hands up, as every part of your body grew more sensitive the more you opened your entire self to him. Keeping your eyes on him, you got lost in his intense gaze. 

It was then when you finally came in contact with the soft pillows above your head, and your fingers easily sank into them, latching onto them as you did when you were holding onto his arms.

“That’s it. Good girl,” he murmured gently, and you were pleasantly surprised to realise how much you loved hearing his praise. Warmth bloomed in your chest, and it easily made its way down right to your core. “Now hold on tightly and don’t let go.” 

And you did just that. Holding on tightly the way he wanted you to. 

Only once he gained complete control of your body, once you fully submitted to him, he finally fulfilled your wish. He held firmly on your thighs to keep them folded and open for him, and he began ramming his cock deep inside you. 

He was doing it faster. Harder. Sending you high in pleasure while all you could do was take his constant pounding. The only leverage you had to hold on was the tight hold you had on the pillows and the weight of his body that was pressing you down each time he pushed deeply inside you. 

The anomalous sounds coming out of both of your lips kept bouncing off the walls. Followed by the sound of flesh clashing against flesh, the slick sounds that came from right where you were joined, and the creaking sound of the bed beneath you. 

He kept going, relentless in his rough thrusts and his need to push you over the edge, until you could feel the rise of your orgasm coming in waves. The wanton pleasure that was hot and intense came rising inside you, growing rapidly with his deep thrusts until you finally succumbed to it, coming into your climax with a scream. 

“Tae, I’m coming,” you cried out to him as you fell over the edge, though you weren’t completely sure if the words coming out of your lips were as coherent as you thought they would have been. 

The sound of your pounding heartbeat seemed to drown everything away. Except that you could still hear the sound of his breathless grunts as they grew clearer, and the strangled moan that came out of him when he shouted, “That’s it, Red. Fuck, I’m coming!”

With a sharp intake of breath, he came to his climax. You felt every pulse of his release as he came inside you, and the tremble in his chest that surged through him with his deep groan as he relished the pleasure. Even after his release, he kept moving, rocking slowly and steadily until the spasms of your orgasm slowly began to wane down. 

He remained buried inside you when he gently released you from his hold. You could barely feel his lips pressing on your quivering thighs before he lowered them back on the mattress, yet his gentle fingers remained hot on your skin when he brushed up against you. 

He reached up and gently pried your fingers away from the pillows before slipping his fingers between yours. The way your fingers were entwined together felt so intimate. So unlike anything that you had ever thought about what a one-night stand would entail. 

Your body felt hot, and your muscles were lax, but there was a series of small spasms still going strong from deep inside you, coaxed by his incessant rocking. You should have been pushing him off of you, instead of embracing his weight as he lowered himself, covering your body with his own. 

“Tae—” you whimpered against his lips as he kissed you. Holding your hands in his, he continued to rock his hips. 

How he managed to remain so hard and stiff even after his climax was beyond you. He still felt thick as he moved. His cock brushed against your pulsing walls as he went in and out, awakening all sparks of pleasure that were supposed to have dwindled. 

And with how sensitive your body was, it rose and peaked so quickly and you had no power to stop it. 

“Too…much…” you cried between the strangled moans coming out of your lips, right before he swallowed them with another kiss. 

“One more,” he groaned as he picked up his pace. “Just do it one more time for me, Red.” 

You were so sensitive it was beginning to hurt, but the pleasure was also maddening that you didn’t want to stop. This time, he wasn’t holding you down so strongly, allowing you to move beneath him. So you rocked back against him, pushing up each time he was thrusting into you. It only took a couple of more strokes before the coil in your core snapped, and you were sent to another climax. 

And he joined you in your release, falling into a smaller climax of his own as you clenched tightly around him. 

He came with a deep groan. His whole body quaked against you before he finally fell on top of you. While you were trying to control your breath, his lips came brushing your neck, kissing you gently to help soothe down the shudders running through your body.

“Fuck…so perfect,” he sighed between his kisses, his voice came in and out through your senses, and the sparks you felt rushing through your body started waning as you were slowly drifting away into the night, with his words echoing in your dreams,

“You are perfect.” 

Author’s Note 2.0 | Thank you for reading so far. Any likes, kudos, comments, and feedbacks will be appreciated. The story continues in part 2.

© All rights reserved. 2024 Yoonia — Unauthorized use and/or duplication of these works, including reposting, translating and modification in any form, is strictly prohibited. 

INTRO: Bulletproof Boy Scouts

@fireworksgalaxy 💜

JUNGKOOK Memories of 2018

[cr. 0613data]

“You’ve read it?” You speak too soon, realizing a second too late that the words didn’t stay in your head. Your widened eyes don’t help you though, as Jungkook scowls at you.

THIS SCENE 😭😭😭 i can just imagine them going back and forth in this banter and Yoongi just holding back his laugh trying to blend with the wall 😭😭😭 pls ms. Cho you are doing Great let's not get too pulled down by jungkook and his prejudiced ass ok 🥹

“I guess… I mean, it’s been two weeks since my mishap. He’s been quite tolerable these past few days. Maybe he hit his head and some loose screws tightened. Maybe he had a bad dream and the ghost of the future me visited him. Maybe he had a change of heart… though that’s highly unlikely. Maybe he–”

MAYBE HE LIKES YOU MA'AM but for her to be in this much denial about his kindness is really sad if you think about it 🥲 work is never easy even if you like what you're doing, and to be pressured by a superior who was convinced you cant work despite a whole ass prove that you're capable is just a blow to someone's confidence and security no matter what🥲🥲🥲 im glad she hung in there 🥲

Jungkook sees your pout, and he crosses his arms and legs to keep himself from doing something as stupid as wiping it off you. It’s a little disarming for him, if he’s being honest. 

Fuck u jk for ridding us of this moment.

“May I be honest, too?” He asks, surprising you again.

^^^^ this line is basically the whole dynamic of these 2, i feel like. Kook needs someone to push him and OC does that without even knowing. Her honesty invites his, and so does her kindness. And that... makes him a better person? Even if, at this point, only to her personally but (hopefully👀) eventually to people in general in the end🥹

I Want You to Stay (04) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 11.4k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: Hiii I'm getting slower with editing and writing so please bear with me moving forward! Also pls remember, this is a slow burn haha. But anyway, been loving your replies (I see you) and messages, thank you. I hope you enjoy this one!

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight  🥰

PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!

The events of last weekend remain in your mind, as you approach Jungkook’s apartment the next Monday and feel like your heart will leap out of your chest. 

You remind yourself that he wasn’t angry at you; he’d even tried to apologize and didn’t make a fuss when you left the restaurant last Saturday. But still, the whole incident would make anyone feel agitated, and you know his capacity to feel and express that. He was inconvenienced and put on the spot, after all. 

You enter, and shortly after, Jungkook exits the gym then greets you with a nod when he sees you. He looks more tired than anything. He doesn’t have a hint of frustration in his eyes, and you could only hope that he’d forgotten about what happened or, like how he is when it comes to personal matters, he’d chosen not to acknowledge it. 

You bow in return, sneaking a glance as he walks towards his bedroom, with your throat drying up when he removes his shirt, briefly gracing you with a view of his glistening toned back right before disappearing inside. You wait half a minute before you follow him to prepare his clothes, giving yourself time to breathe before you have to face him again. You return to the kitchen and prepare his breakfast, looking up when you hear him walk in.

You approach him to do an act that’s become a routine for you, and for him as well, as he stands straight and unmoving while you tighten his tie and make sure he looks fine. Even when your fingers only graze his clothed chest, the memory from last Saturday becomes vivid, as you recall wiping his wine-soaked top, feeling the taut body underneath. 

You shake your head at the thought, realizing that there are more things about that night that you should not acknowledge at all, including the heat you felt at seeing him in the washroom, a little exposed and definitely sweaty. There was that tension and the dropping of formalities that felt too foreign and quite disorienting. You don’t know him as anything other than the ‘Mr. Jeon’ you assist; seeing him as just ‘Jungkook’ was different. But you suppose that that’s the man you help everyday, and you wonder how much of himself he leaves behind in the office and how much of him now is just… him. 

As you go about your routine during breakfast, you’re reminded that for Jungkook, there doesn’t seem to be a difference. How he is at work is the same as how he is elsewhere - serious, quiet, and detached. Except maybe when he’s with those women he meets at clubs, though. Perhaps the thrill and pleasure inject a bit of emotion and passion in him. You wouldn’t know, but at least it’s a way for him to take a break from the responsibilities he carries. 

You scold yourself internally again. You’re not supposed to be curious; you’re not supposed to care. So you shake all of them away and remind yourself of who you are and your own distance that you should observe.

You get to your senses and proceed accordingly. You go about as usual in the morning with his meetings, and then he shuts his office so he could focus in the afternoon. You see his furrowed brows from the window, as he works on what seems to be the Arts Center again, given his requests for financial and marketing reports of the company's non-residential projects from the last five years.  

You’re busy with organizing his Singapore trip and coordinating with the CEO’s office about the upcoming Appointment Dinner to formally introduce the new appointees, when he exits his room and looks through the folders lined on the shelf behind you.

“Where are the portfolios of our collaboration projects from 2017?” He asks. 

“They’re in the archive room,” you answer, standing up to head there. 

But he does it first, beating you to the corner area just off the hallway to the left. Your steps are obviously not at pace with his, and he’s tiptoeing to reach for a large folder by the time you get there. He’s able to retrieve it, laying it on the ledge as he goes through some pages. 

“I could’ve gotten that,” you say softly, and Jungkook turns to you and wishes he hadn’t, as your pout makes his insides melt. 

There’s something about your disappointment that you didn’t get to help him that makes his heart race a little, and while he knows it has everything to do with you thinking that he’d think you’re not doing your job properly, he still likes to keep the thought that you’d wanted to help him in the first place.

“It was heavy,” he explains. 

“I’ve carried and pulled and pushed things way heavier than that folder,” you scoff. 

“Really?” Jungkook cocks an eyebrow, trying not to show amusement on his face. “My cousin let you do all those things, huh?”

You frown at his attempt to catch you slipping. “I do many things in the background during events, Mr. Jeon, things that get everything functioning properly while Mr. Jung engages with the guests.”

Jungkook can only imagine how much work you put into getting those events hosted by the VP’s office running. Perhaps retrieving heavy folders is no big deal for you. But still, he doesn’t want to come across as a jerk for making you do something he can do on his own. He already was, he reminds himself, and you also definitely think he is;  he doesn’t want to add to that any more, not after everything that’s happened. 

So he just nods. “It’s a simple task I can do.”

Jungkook looks at the labeled boxes and folders. He’s got materials and design points to finalize by tonight. There are some more past projects he wants to go through to take inspiration from, and he finds another one he wants to look at, underestimating its weight, which is why he jerks in surprise when he feels how heavy it really is.

You’re there on cue, as if you knew it was gonna be too much. And if he’d asked you, you probably would’ve told him so. 

You’re standing much closer to him, your fingers grazing against his as you hold onto the folder. It’s almost familiar, only because you stood this close to him that night at the restaurant, too - when you cleaned him up, and then when you handed him his clothes in the washroom. You actually stand this close to him everyday when you fix his tie. Perhaps after all that, it’s only dawning on you just how little space between you two there are sometimes, and you’re suddenly hyper aware - of the distance, of his scent, of the way he’s looking back at you when you turn to look at him. 

“It was heavy,” he admits. 

And for some reason, you laugh. Maybe it’s the slightly embarrassed look on his face or it’s just your defense mechanism when you feel tense but you let out an amused sound, with it fading as the time goes by and you realize you’re actually laughing at your boss. 

“Making fun of me, Ms. Cho?”

“I… I’m sorry, Mr. Jeon,” you stammer, stepping away. 

You’re about to mentally curse yourself until you see his slight smirk, and the thought of him making fun at you by scaring you like that makes you feel better. He may have some sense of humor after all. 

Still, you bow in apology, and there’s a moment when you meet his eyes, with something not anger or frustration in them, that you both linger, as if there are things both of you feel that need to be said; you just don’t know what they are.

“Did the dry cleaners get to remove the wine stains?” You manage to get some words out, turning away now as you bring up last Saturday night. 

“Uh, yeah,” he responds. There’s a pause before he continues. “Did… did you get home okay?”

You’re too stunned to be able to answer right away but you eventually do. “Uh, yeah. Jimin, Soomin, and I just bought food and then went to my apartment. And you?”

“I did,” he nods.

“Did… did Hajoon bother you again after we left?”

“No. Well, he just kept giving me the death stare but he didn’t do anything else,” he says. 

“I really don’t know what got him so worked up,” you sigh, feeling bolder at having to share this much. “He’s not usually confrontational and he knows I hate it. That shouldn’t have happened.”

“People have their reasons for getting angry. They’re not always valid, though, and definitely not always warranted,” Jungkook replies, briefly looking away. “Whatever it is, at least he didn’t throw a punch.”

“Oh, if he did, that is it for me,” you chuckle, feeling unfamiliar with being able to talk to Jungkook so casually like this. “Goodbye, job; goodbye, Seoul. I will probably just work as a librarian somewhere.”

Jungkook wants to say he wouldn’t accept your resignation for that reason, that he doesn’t want you to go anywhere, actually. But that’s too much and probably inappropriate to say given the circumstances. So he just hums and turns back to the folder and looks through them. 

“I’ll need these back in my room,” he says, carrying one while you take the other. 

You appreciate the topic change, knowing you won’t know how to handle more if the conversation deepens. You both walk back quietly, as it dawns on you that the casual nature you both talked to each other is a little disorienting. 

You’re not used to him sounding concerned.

He’s not used to you being honest and open. 

Perhaps seeing a different side of him isn’t all that bad, you think. 

Jungkook wants to believe it’s your way of forgiving him, too, even if he hasn’t actually apologized for anything. 

The minute it takes to return to your respective desks ends, and Jungkook is back to focusing on his designs while you get back to making reservations. You peek inside his room every once in a while to check if he’s okay, if there’s anything else he needs, if there’s anything you can do for him. 

The frustrated look on his face isn’t new, but the fact that it isn’t directed at you, is. So is the worried feeling you have for him. You’re a mix of emotions from everything that’s happened this past month, so you can’t deny that the way he’s been acting towards you has left you confused, maybe even doubtful. You have to be cautious, you think, and not fall into a comfortable dynamic with him so easily. 

The next day, he’s back to being serious once again, as you sit to his right in the restaurant that will be catering the upcoming VP event. Jungkook decided for both of you to have the food tasting for lunch, and so a spread has been prepared for him to make the final decision on the menu. 

You’d like to think that you’ve developed quite a sophisticated palate, all thanks to the numerous events that Hoseok asked you to organize in your three years working under him. With this upcoming dinner party a sort of introduction of Jungkook and the project to the art world, he wants to make sure that he serves only the best to the guests, which is why he carefully tastes each dish, trying to determine the best combination that’s both delicious and creative. 

You give your comments, some of which he acknowledges, and you feel like you’re both making headway in terms of the menu, as well as with his disposition for the day, given that he’s looking more comfortable and relaxed than he was half an hour ago.

That is, until he sips his wine for the first time, and clears his throat.

“I believe I specifically said that lunch today is a work matter, Ms. Cho,” he says sternly. “You’re on the clock and this isn’t a break.”

“Y—yes, Mr. Jeon,” you answer, curious as to the reason for his statement.

“Then why is your boyfriend waiting outside the restaurant, trying to catch your attention?”

“What?” You exclaim, turning around and spotting Hajoon standing by the lamppost, his sullen eyes getting a bit of light in them once they meet yours. “I… I don’t know,” you respond. “I haven’t spoken to him since Saturday.”

“How did he know you’re here, then?”

“His restaurant is just up the street,” you sigh. “He must’ve seen me when he was walking there. This area is his usual route. Please just ignore him.”

“I can’t when he’s in my peripheral vision. He’s still the man who got in my face the other night. He clearly wants to speak to you and I don’t think he’ll go away,” Jungkook reasons. 

You look at him, waiting for his instructions. 

Jungkook doesn’t like that Hajoon is there and he also doesn’t want you to speak with him during work hours, especially if it’s going to affect you for the rest of the day. But the man seems desperate and persistent; he really doesn’t seem like he’ll just let this moment of seeing you pass.

“You have five minutes,” Jungkook says. 

You don’t exactly want to go out there; there’s a reason why you haven’t returned Hajoon’s texts or calls these past days. But you can imagine that it’s a worse look for him to be staying around; a distraction during this work matter that you know Jungkook would not appreciate one bit. So you stand up and tell him that you’ll be back shortly.

Jungkook returns to the dish in front of him, noting that the Japanese mushroom risotto is a good addition to the set menu. The event his office is planning includes a sit down dinner and then an offering of canapés and champagne while guests walk around the venue to see the presentation of the Arts Center in large boards and on screens. It will be a good way for him to socialize - something he’s incredibly nervous about because it’s not his strongest suit, nor is it something he enjoys, unlike his cousin. The primary goal, though, is to introduce the project. Jungkook needs important people on board so they can be involved in the launch and the succeeding special activities.

He tries to think about that night and how he wants to design the place. He tries to think of other things, too, like the music and decor, even if he’d said that’s for both of you to plan next week. He’s even thinking of a follow up already, even if his management support team is in charge of that and would be dependent on how this first one is gonna go. 

Jungkook tries to think of anything, really, just so he won’t constantly be glancing at you in his periphery, as you talk to the man from the other night and possibly make up. You did leave him at the restaurant last Saturday; you also did clarify that you’re not together. You just said you haven’t spoken since then, so it’s safe to say that both of you aren’t in good terms. 

Jungkook can only assume, though. He doesn’t know the story, nor would he ever; he reminds himself he shouldn’t be thinking about it in the first place. He was never one to be privy to his staff’s personal lives; he spent most of his time with Lucas but didn’t know more than his family's composition. Jungkook doesn’t even recall knowing if Lucas had a partner, or if his then-assistant even mentioned it. 

But clearly, Hoseok knows more about you than Jungkook would’ve expected. Perhaps it’s just how his cousin is, or maybe the time spent together just created that environment where it’s natural or normal. Maybe it’s the culture that his father encouraged; his old man is quite close with Mr. Ri - his former chauffeur and bodyguard - and Mrs. Myung - his executive assistant, after all. 

But it’s not what Jungkook is used to; it’s not how he spent his few years in the Singapore office because like always, all he did was work and party. His mentor in graduate school also advised him that professional lines are ones he shouldn’t cross. Though Jungkook never really knew what exactly those were, he just dared not get close to anyone or be remotely interested at all, and that never caused him any problem. He’s always been safe where he was, guarded and unbothered.

But ever since you walked through those doors at Hoseok’s office that first Friday, Jungkook has been finding himself skirting near the boundaries far too often, and it’s only been a month. It began with making sure you’re eating well and that you’re safe on the way to work; he convinces himself that’s human decency, although he never really bothered much before. 

And between wanting you to get proper rest before your trip to your hometown, to seeing you with that man from last weekend and being so bothered by it that it caused a scene, Jungkook’s internal alarm bells are ringing, telling him that he’s getting too interested, too close. It doesn’t help that he finds you attractive, something he doesn’t have control over. What he does have a say in is how he responds to it, and that has been incredibly tough, especially given the weekend he’s had. 

He’d spent the rest of it trying to keep his mind off you - the way you looked in that outfit, the way your touch sent shivers down his spine, the way you’d looked at him worriedly… And when you walked out of that restaurant, he wondered what you were thinking, how you were feeling, how you’d be spending the rest of the night, and if you were gonna be home okay. He hasn’t really stopped since.

Even now, as he stays in his seat and tightly grips his glass of wine at the scene unfolding outside. 

You’re standing with your arms crossed - setting the boundaries, and perhaps signaling your detachment, though he can’t see your face. The man, on the other hand, seems emotional, the tinge of sadness evident on his face. But there’s a mix of frustration and anger, too, as his arms flail around. He points at you, then at himself. His voice seems raised; Jungkook swears he can see the veins from the man’s neck popping out while you… you’ve got your head turned to the side, your body not eliciting much of the emotion the way the man’s is. 

Jungkook stops himself from making an excuse for you to come back inside, just so he can pull you away from a conversation that you don’t seem to be wanting to have. But he knows it’s not his place, and the man might make a scene again if Jungkook decides to step in. You know how to stand up for yourself; you’d done it to him, he reminds himself. You’ll do what you need to do, whatever it is.

The man heaves, as whatever monologue he was giving ends. He reaches out to you, perhaps making a final plea, but you step back, widening the distance. It’s what prompts him to bow his head and turn around, leaving you by the lamppost on your own. 

Jungkook sighs in relief now and he waits for you to return, but he’s surprised when you stay rooted in your spot, your arms wrapping around yourself despite the heat outside. He worries when you enter, your head bowed down and unable to look at him. 

He wants to ask how you are, but he’s unsure if he’s ready for your answer, knowing that there isn’t much he can do anyway. So he goes with what he knows - detachment. 

“I’ve chosen the last two dishes,” he says. “They’re serving the desserts soon.”

You turn to him immediately, your misty eyes painted with worry meeting his own.

“I didn’t think I was away that long,” you state, worried about the time you left your boss waiting while dealing with a personal matter that for the first time made you wish you were stuck with Jungkook instead. “I’m sorry, Mr. Jeon.”

He didn’t expect you to look so upset. He’s terrible at comforting people, but even if he wasn’t, he doesn’t know if he’d manage to comfort you. So he just shrugs and says that they were straightforward dishes. 

You both try the desserts then the canapés, exchanging thoughts about all the options before shortlisting your chosen dishes. By the time the food tasting is over, you’re stuffed and set for the rest of the day. 

You try not to look at Jungkook. You don’t know if he’d seen how your conversation went with Hajoon, but if he had, he could probably tell what was going on even if he couldn’t hear anything. 

He’s had his moments, but you’ve never seen Hajoon look that upset and emotional, and you stood there, afraid to face all his feelings that you didn’t know what to do with, all those words that you didn’t know how to take. You’re usually one who’s able to let negative things said to you just go over your head, but something about what he’d said today hit you; you know it’ll take you until tomorrow to get over them.

But you try to get through the rest of the day the way you usually do - going through reports, organizing schedules, finalizing tomorrow’s presentation, and then working on the revised interdepartmental guidelines that Jungkook tasked you to do. 

There are draft letters you send to him, thinking that you’ll work on some administrative matters while he reviews them, but you’re surprised when he calls for you 10 minutes later, saying the letters are approved and you can send them in the morning. You’re left wondering, given that anything you submit to him usually goes through intense scrutiny. Perhaps you’re not used to this easy pass, but you try not to overthink it, given the day you’ve had.

“You can go home, Ms. Cho,” he says as he types away. 

It’s 5:30 PM. Usually this time, he’s still handing you things to review or instructing you on what else to do. 

He seems to pick up on your silence, as without looking at you, he clarifies. “I don’t need you to do things you can do tomorrow. We’ll have meetings all day so I understand if you want to stay behind but you don’t have to.”

He doesn’t seem like he’ll be finishing soon, and you’re really not in the best mood so you nod and bid him goodbye.

The conversation with Hajoon stays in your mind all night and lasts until the next day. You’re in Jungkook’s penthouse the next morning, preparing his breakfast while he takes a shower. 

With your phone snug under your neck, you relay to Soomin what happened yesterday. She was too busy last night for a call and she’s been bugging you since you got in the car - that you continue to ride as per your boss’ instructions - so you finally picked up, knowing how long it usually takes for Jungkook to finish.

“It started with him apologizing, then wondering why I haven’t been picking up his calls, then justifying his actions from last Saturday as him, standing up for me,” you narrate. “Obviously, I didn’t take those too kindly.  But he said he wanted to be with me, like, have an actual relationship. And I said I didn’t want to then he just… he kinda just said everything he’s been keeping in.”

“Which is what?” Soomin asks.

“That I’m selfish, that I don’t think about what my actions may mean to others, which is silly since I was clear from the start about what I wanted from him,” you sigh. “He said that I act independent but that’s just a front, that deep down I’m a lonely woman who’ll probably push away every person who’s shown me they care until I have no one left and that’s why I’ll be alone forever, which he says is a deep fear that I have because I apparently told him that when I was drunk. And even after all that, he said he still cares about me, that he wants to try to be something for real this time, that if I just let him, he’ll love me right and make me happy and I just backed away, like, why would you—”

The clearing of the throat cuts you off, and you nearly drop the expensive plate due to panic once you look up and see Jungkook standing by the kitchen.

“I’m so sorry for taking a personal call, Mr. Jeon,” you say immediately, putting away your phone. “It won’t happen again.”

You bow your head down in apology, which is why you don’t see the way Jungkook’s eyes soften as he looks at you. Words like that hurt, and he can’t imagine what it must’ve felt like for you hearing them. Still, you went about yesterday with your accomplished tasks and completed deliverables like it didn’t happen, displaying a kind of strength that he could only hope to have.

“Yesterday was a tough, I suppose,” he states, choosing to ignore your apology. 

“It was a normal one,” you brush off, walking towards him to fix his tie, not meeting his gaze. 

Jungkook doesn’t reply, knowing you don’t want to acknowledge that he’d overheard your conversation, which he didn’t mean to walk in on. It did bother him, too; he suddenly wishes he’d fought back if that man was just going to speak to you that way. 

There’s a sadness in your eyes that he tries not to mind and which you try to trivialize. Perhaps the man matters that much to you for you to be feeling this bad; Jungkook doesn’t really know what to do with that thought. So he tries to brush it off, too, telling you instead to be ready for today’s meeting with his father. 

You ask if he’s checked the presentation you worked on, as you added things from the last time. He nods and says he only added minimal details that he came up with last night, and you check to find that he indeed just made minute changes, another thing that you’re thankful for yet wary of, especially given how critical he was about your work in the beginning. 

You continue with your morning routine of debriefing about yesterday’s meetings, then you finalize the Arts Center event’s menu in the car. When you arrive at the office, you wait patiently as he goes through some reports that you’ve checked, then he reviews some memos that he asked you to work on. 

The last one finishes faster than you expected. It seems now that his comments are what you look for, only because it reminds you that he hasn’t changed; somehow that seems like a better thought to have than him suddenly being lenient or lowering his standards for you for some unknown reason. He’s definitely witnessed some of your low moments; you don’t want to think those have anything to do with how he’s been lately.

The meeting with the management support team ends before lunch time, and you work on the minutes and the other things Jungkook had asked of you during the time that he meets with Yoongi in his office. That takes another half hour, and by the time they’re done, you’re done with your tasks, too, so you send those documents to Jungkook for checking in the afternoon.

Another one off the list, you think to yourself. At this point, you’re just going over all your deliverables with a focused mindset and waiting for the day’s end so you can spend time for yourself, just on the couch watching variety shows and movies until the weekend comes when you can do that for longer hours. 

Having your friends over or traveling to Daegu are the only other things you look forward to. You used to look forward to spending the night at Hajoon’s, too; you could at least feel something pleasurable - the closest you could get to any form of intimacy that didn’t require you to bare yourself other than your body. But that’s a thing of the past now - there’s that amazing life-changing toy that Soomin got you last Sunday that’s got you thinking that you’ll be fine being alone for the rest of your life.

“Long day, huh?” 

You look up and see Yoongi, his curious eyes scanning your desk full of papers, folders, and half-eaten biscuits.   

“It has been,” you sigh.

“I see. It’s also only just 12 noon,” he points out.

“What a shocking revelation, Min Yoongi,” you grunt. “I don’t need to be reminded that I have another six hours here.”

“Hmm, just like me. So, what are you looking forward to when you clock out?”

“My leftover stir-fry for dinner that I’m going to add beef to,” you respond. “And The Zone. I missed it last Monday.”

“You and your variety shows,” he chuckles.

“What other reason do I have to laugh, hmm?”

“I’d say me, but you don’t find me funny.”

“You aren’t, sorry,” you smile, your first of the day, and Yoongi smiles back, knowing you haven’t been doing it the past few weeks.

“So–”

“Ms. Cho,” Jungkook’s voice cuts Yoongi off, as your boss stands by his open door with curious eyes that flit from you to the man in front of you. He recovers though, as he instructs, “the minutes are fine. Send it to the team now so they can work on their tasks.”

“You’ve read it?” You speak too soon, realizing a second too late that the words didn’t stay in your head. Your widened eyes don’t help you though, as Jungkook scowls at you.

“Are you asking me if I’ve read the file that I just approved and instructed you to disseminate?”

Yoongi purses his lips to hold off a laugh, and you glare at him because his teasing isn’t really what you need right now. 

“I meant, uh, you’ve reviewed it already, sir? I… thought… you were going to prepare for the lunch meeting instead,” you reason, which isn’t even a lie. 

“I have. Father hasn’t called me up so I just reviewed the minutes while waiting.”

You look at the file and see that nothing has been added. “And? That’s it?”

“Ms. Cho, are you questioning my ability to review?” He asks, his eyebrows furrowed as he starts to look displeased, although they seem harmless compared to his frustrated expressions from the past. 

“No, Mr. Jeon, I apologize,” you say. “I was wondering if you didn’t have anything more to add, that’s all.”

“There’s none,” he clarifies. “Just send it to the team and uh… get ready for the meeting.”

He glances at Yoongi before closing the door.

“Questioning your boss’ ability to review now, huh?” Yoongi teases.

“Shut up. He’s just been weird,” you pout.

“That’s new. How so?”

“He hasn’t been an asshole for a few days.”

“Well, that’s quite the standard but I get you, I guess,” Yoongi hums. “In what way has he been out of character?”

“He just… hasn’t been pointing things out and correcting my submissions or asking a lot of questions about the reports I review,” you say. “Or just… you know, he hasn’t been him. He makes Mr. Ri pick me up every morning, he doesn’t email on the weekend, I get to leave on time, I get to eat properly…”

“In short, he’s been a decent boss recently?”

“I guess… I mean, it’s been two weeks since my mishap. He’s been quite tolerable these past few days. Maybe he hit his head and some loose screws tightened. Maybe he had a bad dream and the ghost of the future me visited him. Maybe he had a change of heart… though that’s highly unlikely. Maybe he–”

“Realized he hasn’t been good to you and doesn’t want you to go through the horror of another Mrs. Byun,” Yoongi interjects. 

Your curious eyes prompt him to continue. “We had a meeting the other day and I saw a folder on his desk with her name on it. Formal complaints are only available in physical copies; other personnel files are stored in the server, so the only documents he’d have of her are the ones of her investigation. And he’d only be interested in that because of you. Those include your written statements.”

“As do you yours,” you point out.

“Yes, he’d totally be interested in how his design lead witnessed a manager’s abuse of power three years ago,” Yoongi sarcastically says.

You sigh to yourself. You’ve never told Jungkook about your experience with Mrs. Byun, but you wouldn’t be surprised if Hoseok or even Yoongi has mentioned it to him. It’s an experience you don’t like to think about; you were a young woman who had everything to prove, who had a lot to lose, and conceding to someone taking advantage of you seemed like the only way to survive. Not once did you put your foot down, and not once did you stand up for yourself. You experienced all those then went home to an empty house and found comfort in your own warmth and your own breathing. 

You don’t want that experience to determine how others would treat you after. Hoseok was all things gentle and warm and you know that whatever you went through wouldn’t have determined how he treated you. 

But Jungkook… Jungkook is different. This isn’t his default state. This isn’t how he normally is. This isn’t how you started. The last thing you want is for him to feel pity for all that you went through - in the past and recently - and then treat you differently because of it. He’s been less critical, less judgmental, and less doubtful of your capabilities. You only wish it isn’t for anything that he’d read or seen you experience. 

“I doubt it,” you shake your head. “A man that perpetually displeased doesn’t just decide one day that he’d give the bare minimum of decency to his assistant.”

“Look, ___. Jungkook is a lot of things. He has a lot of feelings that he doesn’t want to deal with, and a lot of emotions he doesn’t know how to express,” Yoongi tries to explain. “I wouldn’t be friends with him if I didn’t believe there’s an ounce of goodness in him. And there is. Maybe him showing it just isn't good timing. He’s terrible at that, too. In fact, he’s terrible at a lot of things, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t try. It doesn’t mean he isn’t capable of kindness.”

“Kindness,” you huff. That’s quite a reach, but Yoongi’s always been a good judge of character. You do want to believe what he says about Jungkook; it’s just not an easy switch to flip. “I’m just trying not to care much at this point,” you sigh. “I come to work, focus on my tasks, do whatever I’m asked, go back home, rinse and repeat.”

“Is it satisfying, though?” 

“When was work ever satisfying, Yoongi?” You laugh bitterly. 

“Well, I could at least recall seeing you enjoy organizing those events for Hoseok and even joining him in some,” Yoongi points out. “I… I saw you smile a lot. There was a bit of satisfaction there, yeah?”

“Somehow, I guess. But I just had to make do. Hoseok was great, but this is also my job, really the only thing going for me.”

“What are you working towards, then?”

“I don’t really know. Maybe at 30 I should know but I really don’t.”

“Then why are you still here?” He asks, softly, desperately. “Why do you stay?”

“And find out who I am outside of all this?” You wonder out loud. “What if I don’t like her? What if she isn’t good?”

“Then this place hasn’t been good for you if you doubt who you are outside of what you’ve done here,” Yoongi says. “You’re just 30; there’s a whole world out there where you can learn who you are and be someone you actually like. I don’t know what’s stopping you.”

A lot of things, you think to yourself. But when you find comfort in discomfort, when you find security in chaos, and when you find companionship in loneliness, it’s not that easy to leave all this behind, even if deep down, you know it’s what you have to do.

“I don’t know, too,” you lie. “Maybe I’ll find a good enough reason one day and that would be it; I’ll be out of here and then I can find out if I like myself outside of everything I know.”

“I think you would.”

I did, Yoongi thinks to himself. He knows you’d laugh and agree; he’s moved on from you and things can’t be any better than how your friendship is right now, but he also knows you’re not the best at feelings, a similarity he realizes you have with the person you supposedly dislike. 

“I won’t know until then, I guess. So I just gotta bear with who I am now,” you say.

There’s so much of you that Yoongi doesn’t know. It’s why he wanted to, why he asked you out for coffee and why he felt a bit of a heartbreak when you turned him down. But there are parts of you that he does know, that you let him see, and sometimes he finds himself wishing you’d find someone you’d feel safe enough with to share everything else you keep to yourself. 

He keeps these things to himself, too. He’s learned that the only way to keep you close is to keep his distance; you’ll reach out if you need to, even if it’s something you rarely do. But what’s important is that he’ll be there just in case; what matters is you know that there’s a hand available when you need it. 

So he just nods and takes your word for it. You’ll find yourself somehow, in whatever way you will. And you’ll find a reason to leave, whenever that is. He could only hope it’s a decision you’d make on your own, one that you won’t regret, and one that’ll lead you to find whatever it is that you’re looking for.

“So what, they want to put a stop to the Arts Center? They’re not the ones working hard for it. And quite frankly, I don’t need their help in any way to make it happen.”

Jungkook shakes his head in disbelief, anger manifesting in the way he clenches his jaw and groans repeatedly. It’s a sight you’re familiar with by now, and for the first time, you feel for him. It feels as if with this project, he doesn’t seem to have anyone on his side, aside from Hoseok, who’s been encouraging and helpful in many ways. 

“They don’t want to stop it, son,” CEO Jeon says. “They’re merely questioning some of your decisions about the prices you’ve set out.”

“In short, they’re undermining me,” Jungkook groans. “This is my project. We’ve done the necessary research. If they read the report, they’d know. But clearly, they just want reasons to doubt all this, to doubt me.”

“It’s just the first project of its kind,” his father reasons. “The arts institution from 2017 was a collaboration and it wasn’t this big. The Arts Center just isn’t the usual commercial establishment that the VP office undertakes. The Board just wants to be clear about the profits because it’s not as straightforward as the others. They want to know how the property will earn.”

“Exhibition entrance tickets, bookings, rent,” Jungkook replies. “What’s not straightforward about that? Might as well say they don’t understand or even value arts and culture because that makes money, and if done right and respectfully, it can make a lot of money. I know what I’m doing.”

“It’s not like I didn’t make those points, son. It’s your first big project. I think they just—”

“Don’t believe I can manage it on my own.”

“They don’t think you can make the necessary connections on your own,” CEO Jeon finally says. “We all know how important that is. They doubt you’d be able to forge good relationships with professionals in an industry we don’t really have strong connections to. And with a project this big, it’s the company’s resources and reputation on the line.”

There’s silence in the room, as Jungkook seems to process the core issue that the Board has with him. You can tell it’s affecting him so much, as the anger in his eyes slowly turns into resignation. 

It’s no secret that Jungkook’s way of engaging with others leaves a lot to be desired. From what you can see, he’s used to thinking more, envisioning, planning - the concepts and designs are amazing in his head and there are others tasked to sell that idea, to make it connect with people, to express why it matters, and to make sure it earns. That’s what Hoseok is good at; Jungkook never seemed like the type who enjoys that aspect of the work. 

“You should’ve thought about my outstanding interpersonal skills before appointing me as Vice President, then,” he says bitterly. “Clearly that’s what the Board and everyone else value more than anything.”

“Hey, Kook. We know you’re good for this role,” Hoseok comforts. “And we believe in your project, we really do. Just focus on that. Make sure you’re constantly adjusting and refining the plans, and remind the Board that your ideas are even better when they’ve come to life. You’ve done it with your other projects before. Eventually you’ll be able to show them that you’re more than capable of forging relationships, too. That’ll come naturally. But in the meantime, you just have to give them something to make them believe it’ll be good for the company and our image in the long-run. Make them envision it.”

“I have,” Jungkook argues. “And I’ll keep doing that. I just need father to be on my side. I just need him to back me up, to trust me and every single one of my decisions.”

You’ve never heard desperation in Jungkook’s voice until today and you’re surprised with how much it’s affecting you, not just because you know how much effort he’s put into conceptualizing the place but because you’ve come to believe in it, too.

“Ms. Cho.”

CEO Jeon’s voice pulls you away from Jungkook, and you turn to the older man and ask if there’s anything he needs.

“Your thoughts,” he responds. “What would the Arts Center mean for the company? Do you think it will yield profits?”

They’re not questions that are new to you. Hoseok would often ask you these things about the smaller projects that go through him. CEO Jeon has asked you the same things in informal situations before, not so much to gain new insight - although he claims that your thoughts are interesting to him - but to gauge your belief in the project. He has a good read on people; you’ve observed him ask questions and pick apart not what they said but how they said it. You suppose that’s what he’s doing now, too.

“You’ve mentioned a few times that you want to expand the company’s market, Mr. Jeon,” you start. “And if I remember correctly, the Board agreed. Efforts to cater to expats and the middle class have been successful, but perhaps another type of expansion is in engaging the field of the arts and culture and its creators and consumers. More people from all walks of life and all over the world are gaining interest in Korean art and culture in all forms and the company has the resources to create a space for it. Like what the Vice President said, there’s an opportunity to earn from it while, of course, respecting it.”

You see CEO Jeon and Hoseok nod, a sight you’ve seen before as well. But Jungkook looks at you with curiosity, with a look of anticipation, as if he’s hanging onto every word you’re saying. 

“The Arts Center was conceptualized and designed to be a hub for all things creative,” you continue. “Making general admission free makes the arts accessible to people, and once that appreciation grows, they’ll pay to see it, to experience it. Just go to any online forum and you’ll see that the public wants to experience art, not just observe it. They’d travel for it. The Center has spaces for that. I think that’s the ultimate goal - for anyone to be immersed in it. And that can happen through art pieces in a gallery or in a garden, through books, music, or spoken poetry, or even a photoshoot. Patrons can book rooms for private events, they can buy from the gift shop, they can do art themselves. It’s like a canvas and they can take part in creating meaning for the space. That’s what we’re selling. And that’s something people are willing to buy.”

“I see your point, Ms. Cho,” CEO Jeon says, nodding satisfyingly at you. “And it’s a good one.”

“It’s what Mr. Jeon has been saying all this time,” you counter. “It’s easy to understand and to buy into the idea… if only the Board would listen to him. If only they’d open their mind to what he envisions.”

“Well, that’s one way to get through to them, then,” Hoseok voices out. “Invite them to the arts event, treat them like creators and consumers, not as Board members.”

“That’s a good idea,” CEO Jeon says. “Maybe then they can see how you engage with the guests, which I hope you’re working on. And while you’re at it, work on your relationship with them, too. That means initiating conversations, seeking them out… It's part of the job, son. The Board are our stakeholders, too, you know this.”

“Aren’t some of them based in Japan and Singapore?” You wonder aloud, hinting at another suggestion that you want would come from Jungkook himself, given his scheduled plans to fly there.  

“Yeah. Maybe I can meet them the next time I go,” he says, picking up on your thoughts.

Jungkook isn’t really fond of engaging with them. He always just left the socializing part to his uncle who used to head the Southeast Asian office. When Jungkook would be in Seoul, he let his father, Hoseok, and Ji-woo deal with them, with nothing but an acknowledgment on his end. He tends to stay at the bar on his own just to drown out the sounds. Yoongi sometimes joins him but most times, Jungkook finds himself alone even during such events; being with a lot of people is tiring, lonesome, isolating. With this new role, he’s started to accept that he has to do more. It doesn’t mean he’ll enjoy it though. 

“I’ll have that arranged for you,” you tell him. 

“Well then, that’s one way to revamp your image,” the older man smiles. “You just have to keep that up moving forward. That’s why Ms. Cho is there. She’s used to these events and these engagements with them. You’ll be fine.” 

You give a reassuring smile to Jungkook - a genuine one, as you see it’s what he needs, given all that you learned from today’s meeting. He merely nods, and you think that should be enough of an acknowledgment from his end.

Hoseok wraps it up, going through a few policy-related items and then reminding the other men about upcoming social gatherings that they all need to attend. He asks to briefly speak with Jungkook, whom he pulls aside, while the elder Mr. Jeon approaches you.

“Thank you for standing by Jungkook, Ms. Cho, especially since I haven’t been able to show my support the way I want to,” he says. “I know it hasn’t been easy.”

“It hasn’t, but he made me believe in his vision for the Center,” you respond. “I’m starting to see what he sees. And it’s quite beautiful.”

Jungkook overhears the exchange, as he zoned out on Hoseok once he heard his father address you. 

It’s something that his cousin picks up, as he repeats what he just said, totally unbothered by it. 

Hoseok, of all people, knows how important it is that you have Jungkook’s back. He also knows how difficult that must be for you, given how the man has been towards you all these weeks. 

But you’re unwavering. You’re able to withstand the challenges, and while Hoseok knows that you do have a tendency to also allow yourself to suffer through it, he also knows you’ve learned, and you’ll stand your ground if you need to; he’ll back you up, and he can only hope you know that.

You all exit the private room of the restaurant and head back to the office across the street. It’s 4PM by the time you return to your desk, given that Jungkook called for a meeting with the management support team after what transpired during lunch. 

You immediately work on the minutes and action points, finishing two hours later and then deciding that you’ll work on your next deliverable tomorrow. 

Jungkook exits his room, informing you that he’ll be leaving for an early dinner with Hoseok at a nearby restaurant, and that Mr. Ri can drop you off at your place. You’ve contested the service that was offered to you, and you and Jungkook settled on a compromise that you can go home on your own except for late nights.

“Mr. Ri will just be waiting for me anyway. No harm in driving you home tonight,” Jungkook says, knowing you were about to turn down the offer.

“Okay, sir,” you reply.

You do last minute things and pack up immediately to go home, taking this chance to get proper rest because you know the last two days of the week are going to be tiring. 

The next day, Jungkook does conference calls and closed-door meetings, leaving you to do summary reports and other administrative backlogs that have your eyebrows scrunched the entire day. If it wasn’t for Do-hyun reminding you about lunch that you promised to have with her, you would’ve totally forgotten. 

You’re in the zone as you go through the afternoon - two meetings straight that have Jungkook rubbing his temples constantly and you doing the same. But you pop in some aspirin and ginseng jelly next to his cup of tea, feeling satisfied when he takes them.

You go home on time, not wanting to be offered a ride for a consecutive night, and you get proper rest to face the final day of the week. 

It’s all going well, as you find a rhythm early on as you work on your deliverables while Jungkook remains focused on his own tasks. You’re the one who reminds him now to eat his lunch, and seeing the blueprints sprawled on his desk, you offer to buy him one yourself. 

He nods in appreciation as you state his usual order for confirmation, and you eat your sandwich while waiting for his curry rice bowl in the food hall. You get back to your tasks, thankful for the unusually quiet and uneventful Friday. 

You see now how hyper focused Jungkook could get. He’s got his blinds closed but you can tell that he’s immersed in his designs and proposals and plans. He’s not allowing calls or visitors, and he only rings you to ask for coffee, which you’ve given him four times so far. Towards the end of the day, you’re the one who asks to go in, informing him that the Board meeting has been moved to a week earlier than scheduled; it’s two Fridays from now, which means his team has to finalize everything soon.

It’s his first one since becoming Vice President, and given how he used to question you, you’re surprised when he asks your proposed timeline to prepare for the meeting. 

“Manager Lee is already consolidating all the departmental reports,” you respond. “You can instruct him to finalize the VP report with all those by Wednesday; the presentation can be due on Friday so you can go through all of them. We can submit the report for CEO review the Monday after that and then you can prepare for your run through until the meeting.”

“Sounds good,” he replies. “I’ll send them an email with the instructions shortly.”

“Noted, sir,” you say. “I’ve also submitted the minutes of the past two days’ meetings as well as the policy guidelines you asked for.”

“Oh, right,” he says, taking his iPad. “I’ve looked through them. The minutes are good; you can disseminate them accordingly. I’ve highlighted the parts for the condensed version you’ll send to the CEO and the President. I also have minimal corrections and remarks on the policy guidelines and I’ve edited them directly on the file. Just proofread again and then affix my signature once you’ve finished.”

“Y—you’re done?” You ask. You hope he doesn’t pick up the shock in your voice.

“Yes, and I’ve read them. Thoroughly,” he answers.

You smile in embarrassment after the other day. 

“Does that bother you?” He follows up. 

“N-no, sir,” you say, knowing he’s waiting for an answer. “I guess I was expecting you to take longer because, you know, more comments. And you’ve been busy all day, too.”

“More comments… Is that what you’re expecting?”

“Sort of,” you admit. “I mean… you made a lot of them before.”

You pout in reflex as you realize how you sound. You’re basically pointing out how critical he used to be, and if you’re being honest, you do wish he still was. At least that tells you that he’s still the same, that no knowledge of your past experience with your former boss has made him change his disposition towards you. 

Jungkook sees your pout, and he crosses his arms and legs to keep himself from doing something as stupid as wiping it off you. It’s a little disarming for him, if he’s being honest. 

“I didn’t mean that in a bad way,” you clarify.

Liar, you think to yourself.

“Well, if I used to do it a lot and I still do that after a month in, wouldn’t it reflect poorly on you and me if you still haven’t learned from all that?” He asks.

You think about it and eventually nod. He does have a point.

“You’ve adapted. I’d be worried if you continued to do things the way you used to,” he adds. 

You nod again, taking in all his words. Much as you appreciate them, there’s another thought still bugging you. 

“May I be honest, Mr. Jeon?” You ask, your heart beating fast now as he looks at you curiously. 

He nods anyway and asks you to continue. 

“I don’t think you’d lower your standards or anything when it comes to my work,” you start. “So I don’t want to believe that you pity me just because you know what I experienced in the past.”

He looks at you questioningly, as if to ask what you’re talking about.

“I spotted Mrs. Byun’s files on your table,” you lie. “I assume you’ve read about how she treated me. And I… I don’t want to be pitied, Mr. Jeon. If it’s that, please don’t. Please don’t let it affect how you’d treat me. It wasn’t even that bad—”

“It was,” he interjects. “This company doesn’t tolerate people who abuse their power. I only knew about your case because I’m thorough with my work. And that includes looking into my staff and their past. I did it for everyone,” he lies as well. 

Hoseok and Yoongi had mentioned something about a past experience and Jungkook did dig deep. It was so he could help you professionally, he convinced himself.

“You should also know that I don’t make compromises when it comes to the quality of work of my staff and that means I don’t pity people if they fail to meet my standards. But I suppose you think that I do because of how I was in the beginning,” he continues, surprising you. “I admit I was being too critical. And I don’t have an excuse, just that I absolutely hate change. I’m not good at managing it and I reacted in a way that I’m used to, which is not a good way at all. I know now that I was not fair to you.”

The apology doesn’t come, but you know that the admission means enough already. It’s definitely taken a huge burden off of you. You didn’t dream up all those incidents and it wasn’t entirely on you. That itself gives you relief. 

“My father and cousin were right. You’re a fast learner. You pick up on the comments, work on them immediately, and adjust accordingly. It’s a good trait to have, Ms. Cho.”

“I appreciate that, Mr. Jeon.”

“May I be honest, too?” He asks, surprising you again.

You nod, anticipating what he’d say, knowing he’s never been this quiet nor looked this nervous in all these weeks you’ve known him.

“What you said to my father about the Arts Center the other day, I appreciate that, too,” he says. “I guess you could’ve said something general or basic but you didn’t.”

“Your father wouldn’t have minded what I said,” you reply. “What mattered was how I said it. I guess as the person who’s privy to a lot of things about the project, he sincerely wanted to know what I thought about it, if I genuinely believed in it.”

“Well, it was a good way to convince him. And it seemed like he believed you.”

“I’m not a good actor, Mr. Jeon,” you chuckle. “He believed it because I meant it. And he saw that I was on your side. As I should. I still meant it, though.”

“That’s… encouraging,” he huffs. “At least one person is.”

“I’m sure he does, too.”

“It’s ironic that people like Mr. Ri think that my father and I are so alike, yet we don’t see eye to eye most of the time.”

“It’s because you are alike. You both think you’re right all the time,” you joke, teetering on the edge and sighing in relief when he laughs, a sound you don’t think you’ve ever heard. 

“You make a good point,” he smiles a tiny bit, something you also don’t think you’ve ever seen him do. “But I’m still adjusting to working directly with him, and in a bigger role, too. We'll probably butt heads a lot.”

“You will. I already know it. In fact, I can already see it,” you laugh again. 

It’s a moment you share with him that you didn’t imagine you ever would. He’s being honest about his concerns and you’re giving comfort in the way you know how and neither of you seems to mind. 

“I’m… I’m gonna need your help, Ms. Cho,” he says so softly, his eyes turning away from you. “I’m gonna need your assistance. Not just in seeing the Arts Center through but in everything - navigating this role, dealing with my father, dealing with people. I… I know what I’m good at. So I don’t really focus on the things I don’t do well in but this position forces me to confront those and I… I’ll need help.” 

For someone who doesn’t seem to like being vulnerable in front of others, seeing this side of Jungkook makes you sympathetic. The soft tone of his voice, the lack of eye contact, the crossed arms… they’re familiar because it’s how you are, and you know it’s difficult to be this honest with another person, especially when it’s about what you need. 

More than wanting to help him because it’s your job, you find yourself wanting to see him succeed, too, to see him manage it all. That way, when you do eventually leave the company and search whatever it is you’re looking for, you can rest easy knowing that he’ll be okay, that the team will be okay, that the Arts Center will be all that he imagined it to be. 

“I’m here, Mr. Jeon,” you assure him. “I’ll do my best to provide you with the assistance you need.”

“Thank you,” he mutters, and you don’t think you’ve ever heard him say those words with such sincerity to you, too.

You bow in acknowledgement and head out, leaving Jungkook in a haze, as he realizes that in your presence, he’d done what he's been trying to avoid ever since you walked in his life - be honest. He’d told you his concerns, his needs, and it seems that his honesty is something you appreciated as well. There was that acceptance that he wouldn’t have expected from you, not because you aren’t the type to give it but because he hasn’t given you a reason to. But you gave it regardless; you let him feel that it was okay. 

It’s another half hour before he’s packing up to head home. It’s been a tiring week and he just wants to have a long bath, watch sports, and drink a cold beer over grilled meat. He’ll probably get some work done but maybe he’ll drive to some resort out of town, have a good workout, get in a sauna, and have a massage. He’ll have a nice meal with his friends and then go to a club. Or maybe he’ll just stay in. There’s something about being honest that makes him want to keep to himself for a while. He’ll start with that tonight, as he turns down Taehyung’s invite to another one of his client’s party.

Jungkook walks out and sees your desk empty, but he does hear your voice coming from the management support team’s room, telling them about your weekend plans as well.

“I’m going to the film festival in Incheon,” you say. “And probably just stay at a hostel.”

“Are you going by yourself?” Do-hyun asks.

“Uh, yeah,” you reply. 

Hajoon was supposed to go with you. He invited himself, actually, and you should’ve read into the fact that he’d wanted to experience your interests with you. You hadn’t minded, and that’s clearly out of the picture now. 

“I usually go to them by myself,” you add.

“Well, if you decide you want to invite one of us or hang out, you can always let us know,” Chin-sun teases, knowing you probably won’t. 

“Let’s wait until we’re not too tired and busy, okay?” You chuckle. “That way, we can afford to do whatever we want on the weekends.”

“Yup, that’ll probably never happen,” Do-hyun pouts. “When are we not tired and busy? It’s probably worse this time because we don’t get to laugh and joke around like we used to. Are we even getting a holiday? Will we have an out-of-town team building? Or dinners and karaoke like how Mr. Jung used to treat us to?”

“The team-building is budgeted so yes, we’ll have it,” you tell them. “And dinners? I can maybe suggest that to Mr. Jeon. And come on, no one’s stopping you from laughing or joking around. You can still do all that.”

“Yeah, but sometimes I feel like I’m not allowed to because it might seem like I’m not serious about my job because our boss is too serious and it doesn’t seem right,” Do-hyun whines. 

And for the first time, you feel genuinely bad for how they think about Jungkook. You don’t blame them though, but the man you saw earlier who broke into a small smile is definitely capable of laughter; you just don’t know how to elicit it from him again. 

“He’s just been under a lot of pressure, but he doesn’t prohibit you from finding joy in anything,” you say. “Just… give him some time, okay? He’ll come around. Let’s just focus on our work and then focus on ourselves when the weekend comes. So all of you, pack up now and go home to your families and your pets. We’ve got a long few weeks ahead.”

Jungkook hears a collective okay then heads out right away, the initial thought of saying goodbye to the team having dissipated. He can’t blame them for voicing out their frustrations over the change in how they’re being managed. Hoseok was loved. He built a competent team whose spirit Jungkook is afraid he’s now breaking. But he’s not like his cousin, and he doesn’t know how to reach out to them in a way that’s genuine. He let the pressure get to him too much early on and while he’s not the type to forge connections with his staff, he’s seeing now how important it is for him as Vice President to do that. 

But it’s too much to think about for today. He’ll let this affect him a little bit and then figure things out. Based on what he heard though, he’s not on his own. You were on his side again, even when you thought he wasn’t around. There’s something about the way you stand up to him and stand by him that’s refreshing. There’s honesty there, too, and he’s learning that it’s what he needs. 

He makes it to the elevator but then holds the door once he hears rapid footsteps. You mutter your thanks as you enter, and he feels the tension build as you’re together after the exchange earlier. He hasn’t gotten over that yet, so he’s unsure how to talk with you. 

It seems like so are you, as you drum your fingers on the strap of your bag and focus on the door while you both wait to make it to the ground floor. Jungkook is tempted to offer you a ride with him but he decides against it. Even then, he slows his steps so he could walk alongside you, as you both head out the main doors.

“Get some rest, Mr. Jeon,” you finally say. “And have a good weekend.”

You look at him with sincerity in your eyes, your smile soft and assuring, something he’s never seen you direct at him before. It’s even different from earlier. There’s more understanding, he thinks. Perhaps there’s care.

“You, too, Ms. Cho,” he replies before entering the car. “Get home safely.”

You bow to him and wave at Mr. Ri before walking down the pathway to the street that leads towards the bus stop. 

Jungkook lets himself be comfortable in the seat while he forces the image of your smile out of his head. The sun has set and it’s Seoul at its busiest on another hot Friday evening. There are more cars than usual and so movement is slow, but that’s how he sees you - walking down the sidewalk in the midst of all these people. And there you are, somehow looking at peace. There’s an air of isolation that surrounds you, but you don’t look lonely. Just… alone. There’s still that warmth in your eyes and your smile that he finds himself wanting to see more of.

This is when he realizes he might be in trouble. There’s a line he shouldn’t cross, but there’s this desire to get to know you, to know your thoughts and your feelings and your words. He reminds himself that he needs you, in a way that an authority figure needs support and assistance. He needs you to be focused and capable, and he needs to be the same. 

With his attraction that he can’t get over, he knows that the only way to make sure that he keeps things professional is to keep his distance - not just physically, but more so emotionally. You’ll definitely be spending more time together and he needs to constantly remind himself of who you are and who he is. That much as he feels safe and honest with you, he can’t go any further; he can’t let you get any closer. He doesn’t know how he’ll do it, but that’s one other thing he’ll figure out.

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240124 - 'love wins all' mv behind the scenes melon exclusive photos

[43/547] — until we meet again, jungkook ♡ (cr. heybaetae)

"love wins all"

TAEHYUNG IU 'Love wins all' MV (2023)

[42/547] — until we meet again, jungkook ♡ (cr. moreloveforhobi)

i want two boyfriends so i can dress them like twins for @sopekooks

i want two boyfriends so i can dress them like twins for @sopekooks

the k-drama vibes I get from this photoshoot (cr.0613data)

Of course, he’d want you to get a car so that you’re more accessible to him. Just when you thought there’s actually a bit of his heart working this time, he reminds you why there isn’t.

JUNGKOOK STOP PRETENDING NOT TO CARE CHALLENGE 😭 dude there's no audience and it's not a crime to be nice and caring pls stop this act alrd 😭😭

You didn’t think those two words from him would ever make you feel discouraged, but one thing you’ve come to learn about Jungkook is that he easily expresses his anger and frustration towards other people. It’s when he keeps things in that they seem more serious, and you wonder what words he heard yesterday that might have made him this closed off, this quiet, this much more distant.

Dude isn't expressive unless it's about his anger and frustration and now I'M angry and frustrated 🤬🤬🤬🤬 it's been 3 (three!!!!) chapters and he's already breaking down her confidence in herself like 😭😭😭 Sir if you're interested pls just say so and stop hurting me like this 💔💔

I Want You to Stay (03) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 14.8k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: I've been thoroughly enjoying your asks and replies about this story (sorry I can’t get to each one!) I see that a lot can relate to what OC's going through and I'm sending you hugs! 🤗 Again, I appreciate your love and excitement. And uh... Golden JK in that white tank. YUP. 🤭 Hoping you enjoy this one!

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight  🥰

PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!

The spring in your step tightens the closer you get to Jungkook’s penthouse the next Monday. Walking here to start another week, there’s a mix of emotions you’re carrying with you. 

You got to spend a proper weekend. On Friday, you made yourself some cold noodles and then watched a movie with Jimin and Soomin on video call, who’d said they’ll be visiting you in a week. You took the train to Daegu on Saturday, went to the park, then stayed in to enjoy Min-woo’s cooking and the girls’ stories about school and their youth clubs. You then buried yourself in your mother’s embrace as you told her about your week. You didn’t want to say too much, not wanting her to worry that her daughter isn’t being treated well at her job, but you suppose you said enough. 

“I wish I was strong enough to protect you from everything,” she’d told you softly. “All I can do is just give you hugs and say words of encouragement that might not even mean much.”

“And you still are, mom. I look forward to being with you because of those hugs. But more than that, you were strong enough to protect me from the bad guys,” you’d assured her. “Jungkook is many things but he’s not a terrible person. I can handle him.”

And you meant it. He may be hot-tempered sometimes but he’s not evil. But just because he made you go home early last Friday, it also doesn’t mean he’s suddenly redeemed in your mind. Sure, he didn’t email you at all over the weekend unlike last time, but he also still didn’t apologize to you nor show remorse. 

Perhaps that small nod after he called you telling you that you could go home was his way of saying sorry, or maybe it just isn’t in his vocabulary. You wonder if Hoseok had told him off but even then, it’s a pretty quick change, if you could call it that. 

Regardless, you felt like a human being again these past few days; you just wish Jungkook woke up on the right side of the bed this morning and doesn’t find a reason to complain about you. 

Unlocking the door, you’re surprised to hear silence - there are no grunts and deep breaths nor the sound of leather hitting leather from his morning workout. You scan the floor before walking around - a habit you’ve developed after finding that laced underwear last week - and then peep into the door on the right, only to find untouched equipment and no other traces of him. 

You’re in the living room when you hear another door close, prompting you to turn around and see a woman appearing from the hallway on the other side of the penthouse. Her hair’s a bit disheveled and she’s wearing one of Jungkook’s coats that you saw in his closet. 

“Uh, who are you?” The woman scoffs, her arms crossed and eyebrows raised now. 

Taken aback, you just stare at her, until you realize she’s not wearing anything underneath so you look away.

You try to make sense of who she is and how you could get out of this situation. You know for a fact that Jungkook doesn’t have a girlfriend, at least that’s what Lucas had told you, but who knows what Jungkook’s been up to since he got back? There was that red laced underwear from last week after all. Maybe he does sleep around like what Do-hyun said. Maybe this woman just doesn’t know Jungkook has a female assistant. Maybe he’s—

“Hey, I’m talking to you,” she says, sounding more annoyed now. 

“Oh. Uh, I’m Mr. Jeon’s—”

“She’s my assistant,” Jungkook answers, catching you off guard, given that you hadn’t noticed him walk in. 

He’s not in his usual workout attire, although him in a white tank top and gray sweatpants with mussed hair somehow seems more overwhelming than him in nothing but gym shorts. You glance at him as he stands next to the woman, whose face suddenly lights up. Not wanting to look at her, you shift your gaze towards the ceiling, trying hard not to look awkward as you’re rooted in place. 

The woman looks at you from head to toe and you feel her judging you, assessing you, while Jungkook stands there, yawning and combing his hair with his fingers.

“Just your assistant?” She asks, sounding incredulous. 

“Yeah. What else would she be?” Jungkook answers nonchalantly. Looking at you, he nods ever so slightly that you almost miss it, another hint of acknowledgement you’d seen last Friday. “Just eggs on toast. And coffee.”

“Yes, Mr. Jeon,” you say, exhaling the breath you were holding and then walking to the kitchen to start on his breakfast. 

“I don’t know, another one of your girls? I see you with a new one every time,” she huffs, sounding bitter, but Jungkook doesn’t sound amused.

“What are you still doing here?” He asks, walking to where you are then taking the glass of water you prepare for him. “I called a service for you last night.”

“I was too tired,” she says, and you don’t miss the sultry tone of her voice now. “You tired me out, Jungkook. I could barely get off the bed.”

“And why are you still here?” He asks, clearly not having it with her teasing. 

“Because I’m still tired,” she smirks, having followed him to the kitchen. 

You feel tense once more; you definitely don’t want to be part of this conversation in any way nor be privy to it, especially given what obviously happened between them last night. And especially not with Jungkook looking and sounding the way he does this early Monday morning.

“And I was thirsty,” she continues. 

He sets his glass down and opens the refrigerator and takes out a bottle of water that he hands over to her. 

“Ugh, how romantic,” she rolls her eyes, finishing it in a few gulps. 

“I have to go to work,” he tells her, frustrated that she’s being stubborn about not leaving when he no longer seems to want her around. 

“Actual work, or, you know, work?” She says, gesturing towards you.

You make the mistake of looking at her smug face, the insinuation not lost on you. It’s insane how she can just make claims like that, and you feel that just like you, Jungkook’s getting pissed.

“Can you just leave?” He says much more sternly now. “I can’t start my day with you still here.”

“Ooh, how rude,” she giggles. “Should’ve expected you’d be like that even outside of bed. I like that.”

She walks back to the room, leaving you and Jungkook on your own. You continue to work on his eggs while he stands by the counter, rubbing his temples. You’re unsure if it’s because of her or from last night’s alcohol, but you get aspirin and also a bottle of energy drink and set them in front of him before returning to preparing his meal. 

The woman comes back shortly in last night’s attire then walks towards Jungkook.

“I’m leaving,” she announces, tilting his chin so he would face her. “I’ll see you again, yeah?”

Jungkook turns away and does not respond, leaving her to laugh as if there’s a joke that only she’s in on.

“Going all quiet on me now, huh?” She says. “You weren’t like that last night. I can still hear your moans, actually. Fuck, they sounded so good and so loud.”

You almost hit your finger as you slice the apple, clearly not expecting for this stranger to say something so intimate, knowing there’s another person in the room with them. You don’t know if she wants to intimidate you for whatever reason or maybe just make you feel uncomfortable. Whatever it is, it’s working, as you’re unable to focus on the task at hand now. 

Jungkook still doesn’t say anything, and it’s what prompts her to finally say goodbye. 

“Fine, I’ll leave now,” she whines. “But that was an amazing first time. I hope it won’t be the last.”

Her giggle annoys you for some reason, even more when you mistakenly look her way. Her smug face unnerves you as she holds your gaze while she says, “I’ll see you again, okay? I’ll make sure you’ll scream my name next time,” the words obviously directed at Jungkook. 

She finally exits the penthouse but she doesn’t take the tension with her because in this large apartment with you and him, you feel a little too hot, a little too alert, yet somehow a little too curious.

Jungkook groans now as he finishes his energy drink, and he doesn’t know what he’s more frustrated about - the fact that the woman whose name he doesn’t remember didn’t go home, or that you’d found out about it in the most embarrassing way and he’d done nothing to stop her attempts at making you feel uncomfortable because that’s definitely what she was doing. 

He doesn’t know how it affected you but even he can tell that it wouldn’t have been good. Not that he’s ashamed of his lifestyle but it’s different when you, of all people, get to see what that looks like. You did see the laced underwear on his kitchen floor last week, and he knows you definitely tried to pretend you hadn’t. Perhaps the image of arrogant, playboy Jungkook just solidified in your head and the fact that maybe that’s what you think of him is making him feel uneasy. 

Not that he cares about what you think - he definitely does not - but he just doesn’t want that to affect how you would treat him in a professional sense, as if he’s some reckless man who works too hard and parties much harder, even if that’s kind of what he does. 

The hangover doesn’t help at all; he shouldn’t have chugged that wine while the woman was giving him head, which was amazing, he reminds himself. He just knows he won’t be seeing her again after this morning because she’d been stubborn and shameless, and definitely not because of how she spoke to you and the insinuations she made.

“Mr. Jeon, your breakfast is ready,” you inform him, breaking him out of his thoughts. 

He takes a seat on the table and you sit next to him, taking out your iPad to start your rundown of last Friday’s meeting and this week’s schedule. 

“So—”

“Wait, give me a minute,” he stops you, and he realizes just how little sleep he actually got and he’s gonna have to push through today’s busy schedule despite feeling physically out of it. 

“Okay, sir,” you say softly.

He munches on his toast with his eyes closed, and when he opens them, his gaze falls on you, sitting upright on the chair looking clean and proper in your blush blouse and beige skirt. You seem to be reviewing the reports from last week, your eyebrows scrunched as you scribble on the screen. He knows you took the hours-long trip to and from Daegu over the weekend; the visit, just like any, must have been tiring. Yet you come to his place everyday without fail, ready to do what he needs you to do, and he doesn’t even know if you’ve had anything to eat yet. 

“Have you had breakfast?” He asks.

“E-excuse me?”

“Breakfast. Have you had it?”

“O-oh. Yes, I had some crackers and fruit on the way. I ate on the bus,” you respond.

He remembers your address from your staff profile. You live about 40 minutes from him, almost double if you commute. You come at 6:30 everyday, so he can only imagine what it’s like for you every morning. 

“Why don’t you drive?”

“I don’t have a car, sir.”

“Shouldn’t that be part of your contract? Or a benefit of some sort?”

“It isn’t. I believe only the CEO’s assistant does,” you respond. 

“Bitna has a company car.”

“Ms. Jung requested that when she was still President.”

“Then I’ll request one for you. It's… it’s too early. And you can’t always be assured of public transportation. There could be delays. Or an emergency that would require you to drive.”

Of course, he’d want you to get a car so that you’re more accessible to him. Just when you thought there’s actually a bit of his heart working this time, he reminds you why there isn’t.

“That’s true, but nothing has happened so far. And there are other options should there be,” you say. “I also don’t know how to drive so there is no need, Mr. Jeon. I leave my apartment early enough to make sure I get here on time, and I’ll let you know if I will be late.”

Jungkook just hums, even if there’s more he wants to know. What about late nights? What if there’s a storm? Well, he does know - he did see you miss out on taxis and then just walk last Tuesday; he wonders how you got home then, and how many hours of sleep you had after all that. 

He lets it go; it’s too early to think about this.

“Good. We can run through the minutes now,” he says.

So you do, stating the points and confirming your actions for each one and then noting down his as well. You try to focus, and you’re able to for the most part, but it’s not easy when he sits just a few feet away from you, with his bare arms propped on the table that’s just hard to look away from. 

You’ve always liked tattoos on other people, and the art on his right arm looks so delicate and personal; you wonder what someone like him would value enough to ink permanently on his skin. Even his untouched arm is mesmerizing, toned like every other part of him, with beauty marks that you spot as well. It doesn’t help that his slightly long hair keeps falling over his eyes, prompting him to comb them with his fingers every time. 

What also doesn’t help are the woman’s words from earlier, as she’d managed to make you think of Jungkook in a very different way, given her descriptions of how he’d been last night. You don’t know what she intended by doing that, but you didn’t miss her insinuations about your relations with him, which are definitely far from the truth. Learning that he’s rough and loud in bed is also knowledge that you could’ve done without. Somehow, he sounds like how he looks - expressive of negative emotions, and the type to drain the other person. 

He also sounds like the guys you’ve slept with.

The thought alarms you. These are things you shouldn’t be thinking about your boss, about the man who pays you, about the one who makes you miss meals and buses and who makes you angry because of how he treats you. 

You try to dispel these ideas by coughing - the loud sound helps, and you also want to distract yourself from how distracted you are at your task because somehow he keeps getting more and more attractive after every glance. 

He stands up, and just when you thought he’d be angry after your disruption, he surprises you by placing a glass of water in front of you.

“You can drink, you know? You can make yourself a cup of coffee. You can even cook yourself breakfast if it’s just crackers you eat in the morning,” he says. 

Yes, you think to yourself. You’ve been wanting to try his coffee because of the fancy machine but breakfast sounds… too domestic. 

“Thank you, but I’m okay. I mean, the snacks fill me up just fine.”

“It’s not proper breakfast, though,” he argues. 

“With all due respect, sir, eating takes time away from all the things I have to do. I manage just fine.”

Expecting an annoyed expression from him because you did just imply that you do too much, you instead see the tiniest hint of guilt on his face, as if he actually feels bad that you’re unable to take care of yourself because of him. 

“You’re not a servant, Ms. Cho. You’re not disallowed to do basic things just because of your job.”

“You have standards, Mr. Jeon,” you say, throwing his words back at him. You don’t expect to see his face fall a little, and you’re surprised that you seem to care. “I need to meet them, and I’m still familiarizing myself with how you want things done, and that takes time. I don’t mean to imply that you treat me like a servant because you don’t. I just… I want to be able to do things right and I’m still learning.”

The words hit Jungkook. He knows he’d been too critical during these first weeks, and that’s more because he’s unable to manage the initial attraction that he’s trying so hard to temper. He could’ve gone on correcting you constructively, with no need for harshness the way he did with Lucas when he started. 

You’ve also been doing this for a few years. You’ve been working for the VP’s office longer than he has - you know the people and the processes more, yet you’re the one claiming you need to learn and do things right. Even he thinks his father, whom he never thought was the best at looking out for his people, wouldn’t be angry at those below him for irrational reasons. Somehow he thinks he’s worse than his old man now. 

But the word sorry isn’t in his vocabulary. He’d rarely ever said it, and the only reason he’d heard it a lot growing up was because people caused his inconvenience, and not because they’d hurt his feelings. He doesn’t know what that’s like - forgiving and wanting to be forgiven. They’re foreign to him, but somehow those are what you’re making him want to know. 

“I—”

“Can we move on, Mr. Jeon?” You interrupt him. “You have a scheduled check-in with your father before the 8:30 team meeting.”

“Right, that’s today,” Jungkook says, letting go of any form of apology he could muster. 

He nods then stands up to head to his bathroom, and you follow shortly after to arrange his outfits for the week. You clean up in the kitchen after and wait for him to come out, with you reflexively walking up to him to fix his tie and make sure all the creases on his clothes are fixed. 

Jungkook tries to remain still as you, like everyday, make sure he looks proper. It always took him a long time to get ready because he used to do all this on his own, but with you taking on the unofficial stylist role - which he admits you do a great job at - he’s relieved of that added stress of looking the part of a Vice President. It just also means that every morning, he has to look unaffected as you stand close to him like this, with you tightening his tie and your fingers grazing his clothed chest.

You smell like roses. It feels warm and nostalgic, like it’s familiar but also something new. It’s refreshing on you, and it wafts through his nose and paralyzes him a little. He tries to hold his breath like always, only briefly glancing at your focused eyes as you make sure he looks impeccable. 

He’s caught off guard when you look up and meet his gaze. He doesn’t react, but he does linger and surprisingly, so do you. He wants to apologize but he doesn’t know how to. He just hopes you feel it somehow with how he looks at you; he’d like to think you do, as you gently bow and step back, taking your things to go down. 

You go through his schedule while in the car, noting his dinner meetings and that the food tasting for next month’s event with the art industry professionals that you’re both organizing has been moved to next week, freeing up his Thursday lunch hour.

“I’ll schedule my visit at Taehyung’s tailor shop that day then,” Jungkook states. “I’ll have a few suits done.”

“Noted, Mr. Jeon,” you reply, adjusting his calendar. 

He doesn’t say anything after. He takes his leather notebook and sketches like he often does, looking out his window only a few times as he’s engrossed in his drawings. Even with all that he is, you can’t deny Jungkook’s talent. You only know he took an architecture course but you don’t know if he actually practices it. 

You start to wonder if Jungkook wanted that to be his profession but couldn’t pursue it because he’s expected to manage the company with his cousin. You wonder if he’d always been into drawing and the arts, if it was an outlet the way reading picture books was for you; you’d wanted to become an illustrator but your mother couldn’t afford drawing classes and that profession just didn’t seem like it could sustain you financially. You wonder what Jungkook thinks when he sketches and what his subjects are, if he feels at peace the way he looks, if he hopes he could just spend his days doing this. 

The seeming warmth in your thoughts about this man concerns you, prompting you to turn away from his direction and stare out the window instead. You remind yourself that this is the same person who’d made the past two weeks miserable for you; he doesn’t deserve warmth from you in any form, even if, for the briefest moment earlier after you fixed his tie, that’s what you gave him. You learned that he’s quite mesmerizing when he doesn’t talk or when he isn’t scowling. You also learned you’re quite quick to fall into it when you let your guard down a little. 

You groan internally. There’s a lot you don’t know about him and you don’t really care to know more; what you know is enough to put you off anyway. And so these moments of weakness - of curiosity, of concern -  should not happen again. 

Except, they do happen, over an hour later after Jungkook returns to his room from his check-in with his father. He sits on his chair, his eyes closed and jaws clenched, unmoving for a good few minutes, and you watch from your seat, wondering what transpired that’s got him this disturbed. 

It happens again an hour later. He moved the team meeting to the afternoon and he’s now furiously typing on his desktop, making calls, sketching, making calls again, then sitting still with his eyes closed once more. Hoseok walks in, merely nodding at you, then enters the room and speaks with the younger man. Jungkook closes the blinds, and you’re left to wonder what’s going on behind closed doors and what’s got him angry and frustrated.

You take your chance at finding out when Hoseok emerges, asking him if everything’s okay, if Jungkook is okay.

“Yeah, he’s fine,” Hoseok says, a half smile on display, something you’re only a tad familiar with. “He’ll manage.”

He rushes out, saying he has a meeting to get to, and you nod, glancing at the closed door and blocked window, wondering what troubles Jungkook is handling on his own. If it’s personal, it’s clearly not your business. But if it’s work-related, then it is. You’re there to make things easier for him, after all. You also don’t want to be surprised and be bombarded by new tasks just in case, so it’s better to know if there’s something you can help in resolving things as well.

You walk in his room then place the ginger lemon tea on his desk, a common home remedy for hangovers, just in case last night’s events are still affecting him. You inform him that you’ve sent the reports already for his sign-off, and he responds that he’ll get to them tomorrow.

Glancing at his drink, he halts his typing to look at you. 

“Do I look hungover to you?” He asks pointedly.

It’s clearly not what you meant, but you suppose the insinuation isn’t what he needs right now. You want to be swallowed by the ground. He was already calm towards you, civil even, and now there’s another reason for him to be upset at you. You wanted to avoid any possibility of that as much as possible, and now you’re here, at the verge of being told off again, just because your stupid brain decided to care the tiniest bit.

“I, uh, no, Mr. Jeon,” you stutter. “I just…”

You don’t have a reason. Clearly, you can’t tell him that he hasn’t seemed okay all morning - whatever that means - and that just in case it’s last night’s alcohol affecting him, there’s a cure. You stare back at him with worry, but instead of challenging or questioning you, he just sits back with his eyes closed again and dismisses you. 

“You may leave,” he instructs. 

“What about lunch, sir?” You ask. 

You’d never cared before, why the change now? 

“I’m fine,” he responds. “Call me when the meeting’s about to start.”

Your stubborn self takes the box of biscuits from the coffee table and places it in front of him. You’re pushing it, you think, but there’s a meeting he’ll be leading and he can’t be unfocused; when he is, it’s all the worse for you. 

He doesn’t react and you walk out. When you enter an hour later to call him, you spot the empty cup and the crumbs on the saucer, and you can’t help the tiny smile that you make internally.

It’s short-lived though, as that whole afternoon, he acts unusually - he barely makes comments at updates, he doesn’t make eye contact, and doesn’t ask further questions. He just nods when you say you’re heading out at 6PM, giving you no added tasks to keep you from leaving.

You enter his penthouse the next morning to the banging of leather hitting leather, prompting you to jerk from the loud sounds. He’s grunting and panting heavily, and you just know that whatever it was that transpired yesterday, he’s releasing all his emotions right now, through this. 

He exits the gym and walks to the counter where you are, finishing the water you laid for him in three gulps. 

“Do you need that tended to?” You ask. 

He looks surprised. You gesture towards his hands and he looks at his bruised knuckles; he really let it all out this morning, it seems. 

“I’m fine,” he shrugs. 

You didn’t think those two words from him would ever make you feel discouraged, but one thing you’ve come to learn about Jungkook is that he easily expresses his anger and frustration towards other people. It’s when he keeps things in that they seem more serious, and you wonder what words he heard yesterday that might have made him this closed off, this quiet, this much more distant.

But fortunately, your feeling of worry fades with each day that passes, as he slowly returns to his normal self after - the focus, the perpetually serious look, the attention to detail, the sketching on his notebook. Perhaps Jungkook just needed a particular kind of release and he’s maybe handling things better now. 

For his sake and yours, you wish the issue has been resolved, otherwise another blow up might happen and that wouldn’t be good for your newfound dynamic that’s a lot more civil than anything. 

It’s Thursday when you get a call at 5 in the morning, just as you’ve woken up to get ready for work, and Mr. Ri’s voice greets you on the other end.

“Hi, ___. How are you this morning?”

“Hi, Mr. Ri,” you yawn, curious as to why he’s checking up on you this early. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” he hums. “I was instructed by Mr. Jeon to pick you up today.”

“Why would CEO Jeon ask that?” You wonder, as you sleepily walk to the bathroom to wash up.

“He didn’t. Jungkook did.”

You stop on your tracks. You don’t recall being informed about this, nor do you know of any particular reason why you should be at his place so soon.

“Oh, uhm, okay. I should be ready in–”

“I’ll be there in about 50 minutes,” Mr. Ri interjects. “Sleep in a bit more and have some breakfast. I’ll see you shortly.”

You try not to think about what prompted Jungkook to have you picked up, so you focus on getting ready and then whipping yourself some fried rice using the leftover seafood from last night. You won’t lie, it tastes delicious. It might be that you just haven’t had proper weekday breakfast in a while, but it could also be that you’re energized enough and not pressed for time that you’re able to make this as good as it is. 

You decide to bring some to Jungkook’s place just in case you get there late. Sure, Mr. Ri will be driving you, but you don’t know how the traffic is at this time, and this change in schedule is somewhat making you anxious. But then again, there’s always bread or cereal for him to eat; you just think that a little act of thanks wouldn’t be so bad.

Mr. Ri arrives exactly 50 minutes later and he assures you that he’ll get you to the penthouse in half an hour. You trust him of course; he’s been with the Jeons for decades and he knows these streets like the back of his hand. Seated in the passenger seat, you try to figure out what about today has got your boss a little kinder than usual. 

“I arrived five minutes late yesterday,” you wonder out loud. “Is that why? He has a meeting with a local artist in the morning and he doesn’t want me to be late. That should be it. Ugh, stupid,” you groan. “I should’ve taken the first bus I saw, but it was so full and–”

“___,” Mr. Ri stops you. “Five minutes isn’t much. Plus, you always arrive 10 minutes before 6:30 and then just wait at the lobby. I don’t know why you do, you could always just go up to the penthouse when you get there, you know?”

“No, I don’t. Mr. Jeon has boundaries and clearly likes keeping his distance. Going to his penthouse before I’m supposed to be there feels like I’m intruding,” you argue.

“You’re literally his assistant, and you go to his bedroom and his closet, fix his things, prepare his meals… there’s no intrusion happening,” Mr. Ri counters. “I know the man. He’ll probably just look at you curiously then go about his routine.”

“Well, since you know him so well, then why did he have me picked up this morning?”

There’s a brief silence before the man next to you responds.

“He did note that you were late for the first time, but that wasn’t his issue,” Mr. Ri says, appeasing you before you react negatively and think that your tardiness was a big deal. “He asked if I knew how you got to Hoseok’s place before and I said you would just take the bus; it was closer to your place so it was fine. They have someone to make his breakfast, too, so you didn’t need to come early; plus, you only went every Monday.”

“What a change, huh?” You attempt to poke fun at yourself and the new arrangement you’re in. 

Not that you’re complaining; you know of other executive assistants who do much more for their bosses and what you have with Jungkook isn’t even that bad. But it is quite the shift compared to what you did for Hoseok. You’ve figured out your own routine, though. And the commute isn’t always terrible, for as long as you’re not one of the unlucky ones, given the recent incidents. 

“It’s quite the change. I don’t think he realized that until yesterday. He also asked me if I know if you eat properly in the morning. Maybe he thinks you don’t?”

“I’ve skipped meals…” you trail. “And well, I told him that I just eat crackers on the bus. Maybe he thinks I’m losing focus some days.”

“Maybe he’s just concerned.”

You snort at the absurdity of the statement. 

Mr. Ri sighs. He knows that Jungkook hasn’t been his best self since he arrived in Seoul, and especially towards you. He’s noticed the young man’s indifference, the occasional passive remark, the frustrated looks, and the tension every morning. He’s noticed your faraway eyes, too, your constant anxiety, and unusual lack of confidence in your usual tasks, given that you look to be second-guessing everything you do. 

As someone who’s worked for the Jeons for so long and who’d watched Jungkook grow up, he’s used to the detachment, but it was always because the young man often lived in his own head. There are always lots of thoughts and ideas, and lots of feelings he keeps bottled in. 

But he’s also seen Jungkook’s kindness that he doesn’t always show, the guilt and anger that restrain him from expressing his emotions, and the care that he seems to put a brake on when he shows too much of it to someone, and so it isn’t much of a surprise to him to him when the young man gave this specific instruction to pick you up, not just today but everyday moving forward.

“The news on the radio reported on the robberies and complaints of sexual harassment against female commuters last night,” Mr. Ri continues. “They attack at any hour now. I’m sure that’s why. He wants me to drive you home everyday, too.”

“Mr. Ri, that’s too much,” you protest. “That’s not part of my contract and it isn’t his responsibility.”

“Maybe, precisely why I think he’s concerned. It isn’t about making sure you’re not late to work or anything. He’s worried that something might happen to you. And I agree. It isn’t safe, ___.”

“It’s not safe for me anywhere. I just… it’s too much,” you sigh. “I don’t need this kind of service. I’m not entitled to it.”

“He’ll insist though. Will you argue with him over your own security? I mean, it’s either this or he’ll pay for your driving lessons and then request for a car for you to use.”

You sigh, knowing he has a point. You don’t think you deserve it but you also can’t deny that the concern makes you feel a certain kind of way for him; gratitude, for one, and something else you can’t exactly name. 

“Okay,” you say softly. 

“Good. It’s about time he makes it up to you,” he chuckles. “Boy’s been a brat these past weeks. I wanted to just knock some sense into him.”

“Hmm, not like I expected any less,” you huff. “He just looked grumpy or disinterested during the times I’ve seen him before. Unhappy people like that aren’t always the kindest. Has he always been that way?”

“I wouldn’t say he has. I mean, he just wasn’t joyful or expressive, not like his brother. Jungkook liked to keep to himself; Hoseok often tried to push him out of his comfort zone but the boy wouldn’t really budge. I think as he grew up, that just amplified. People who prefer being alone have their reasons, don’t they?”

They do. You know this just like anyone, perhaps as much as Jungkook. It’s comfortable being alone; there’s no one to hurt you and no one you could hurt. You wonder if his reason is the same, and if, like you, he feels the loneliness creep in every once in a while. 

You nod in silence and the conversation doesn’t continue until you arrive at Jungkook’s building. You have five minutes to get to his unit and you get there in three. When you enter, you hear grunting from the gym, and it’s shortly after when he exits and drinks the glass of water on the counter.

“What’s that?” He gestures at the plastic container next to you.

“It’s fried rice. I made it this morning because I had time to eat breakfast at home,” you say, softly smiling and then bowing at him to show your gratitude. Whatever his reason is, the act was appreciated. 

“And you’re gonna eat again?”

“I was actually–”

You stop midway. You actually meant to serve it to him in case you arrived late, which you realize is pretty ridiculous. 

“Actually what?” He asks, leaning forward on the counter now, with his bare arms from his tank top blinding you a little. 

“I didn’t know what time I was gonna get here so I thought as a last resort, I’ll bring this to heat up and serve to you but then I realized that that’s pretty stupid because it’s leftovers and definitely not high-quality ingredients and it’s… just silly. Plus, you don’t eat rice in the morning.”

With his scrunched brows, he asks, “is it good?”

“It’s pretty delicious,” you say. “I mean, I liked it. I don’t know how sophisticated your palate is… Mr. Jeon.”

You smack yourself internally for rambling. 

“What’s that got to do with anything? If it’s good, then it’s good.”

“I’m an ordinary person, Mr. Jeon. I have normal people’s taste buds.”

“So that makes me, what? Abnormal?”

“No… I–” you unknowingly pout. You shouldn’t have brought this in the first place. 

Jungkook is disarmed again at the sight of your pouty face. If this is your way of thanking him for this morning, he’ll take it. The fact that you’d brought something you cooked from your own place to feed to him is already enough to make him feel hazy, which is why he needs to get away from you right away.

“Just heat it up. I’ll have that. There’s not much food in here anyway,” he says, walking away, leaving you no room to resist.

You do as you’re told, not wanting to overthink and change anything. You do check the cupboard and see a stashed pantry, and you wonder if he’d wanted to find something to criticize about your cooking, too. 

He walks in and lets you fix his tie again, and for some reason, you feel more nervous than you normally do today. You sit and busy yourself with responding to emails as he eats his breakfast, careful not to look at him while he does.

“It’s good, a little better than how I do mine,” he says, surprising you.

“You cook?” You ask too quickly.

“Of course,” he frowns, looking a little offended. “I lived on my own for years. How do you think I survived?”

“Hiring people to do it for you,” you shrug. 

Peeking at him once again, you see that he’s almost finished with the dish, and you can’t help the little smile on your face at the thought that he might actually enjoy it. It’s just fried rice, but you let yourself feel the shallow happiness from this. He’s at least not berating you or anything.

He finishes his meal as you go through yesterday’s meetings. There’s not much about the Arts Center he says, just like yesterday and the day before, and you start to wonder if the issue with his father has anything to do with that. 

You let it go, opting to just follow his pace and let him talk about it when he’s ready, if he ever will be. 

The morning goes by smoothly. Jungkook meets with Yoongi in his office then reviews the reports you’d sent last Monday. He sends you an email, saying that they’ve been approved and for you to attach his signature for sign-off and dissemination, leaving you perplexed at the lack of any other comments again. 

He goes for a quick lunch at the dining hall while you eat a sandwich at the pantry, and not long after, you’re back in the car to head to Jungkook’s appointment with his best friend.

Kim Taehyung’s tailor shop boasts of classic European design. It’s elegant in all the ways that he is, as he stands by the desk in his working space, a smaller room on the mezzanine floor with an exquisite couch and displays of his work. He’s donned in an orange suit that you think only he can pull off, while his brother, Seokjin, sits on a chair in an impeccable black 3-piece. 

You know as much that Jungkook grew up with both men, but while the brothers are often a hot topic on the news because of their wealth, their successful businesses, and colorful dating lives, you now wonder how Jungkook managed to stay out of the spotlight despite being a lot of the things that they are. 

You bow at them after Jungkook introduces you as his assistant, and you’re surprised when Seokjin reaches out his hand to shake yours, bowing as well and offering you a kind smile. Taehyung does the same, and you can’t help but feel the warmth on your cheeks. They’re clearly incredibly handsome men with amazing styles, just like your boss, but they’re obviously respectful and gentle, unlike him. 

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Cho,” Taehyung smiles. “So, what events do I need to dress my best friend for?”

He looks warm, friendly, and you can’t help but mirror his smile as he offers you a seat and some tea. You take out your calendar and enumerate at least three big events in the next months, which would require standout designs. Jungkook also wants four additional everyday classic suits, and Taehyung starts sketching on his pad as you speak. 

“Make one for my event, too,” Seokjin says. “I’m launching my traditional alcohol brand in Singapore in September. It’ll be a big thing so Jungkook needs a fancy piece for that as well.”

“That soon?” Jungkook asks.

“Yeah, it got pushed early,” Seokjin replies.

Jungkook asks you to check his calendar for any activities in the Singapore office, and you state that there’s nothing scheduled during that time. 

“There’s a landscape designer I want to meet while I’m there. Schedule one with her later,” Jungkook instructs you, and you make a note to coordinate with Lucas, who will continue to serve as the assigned assistant for the Vice President’s Southeast Asia trips. 

Taehyung finishes the rough designs quickly, given that he’s already familiar with the style his client wants. He’s done a lot of Jungkook’s suits, which you know from all the weeks of preparing his clothes, and you do admit that he looks best in these custom-made pieces.

As Taehyung takes Jungkook’s measurements - given that, as per his words, Jungkook has gotten wider since the last time - he asks if you have something to wear for those big events, too. 

“Uh, yes,” you say. 

“Are they from company events from before?” Taehyung asks.

You nod shyly. It’s not like you’re paid enough to afford a new one every time nor can you wear them anywhere else; there aren’t exactly regular fancy dinners and social occasions you get invited to.

“Have new ones made, then,” Jungkook says, his back turned to you.

“Uh, there’s no need, Mr. Jeon. The gowns still look new and they’re well-made,” you insist.

“Store-bought?” Taehyung asks, his eyebrow cocked.

“Uh, yes, Mr. Kim.”

“Nothing beats custom-designed ones though. And I must say, I’m kinda good at them.”

“I, uh… it’s really not necessary,” you stutter, feeling a little too shy and definitely undeserving. It’s Kim Taehyung; his name is the brand.

“I believe it is,” Jungkook says now, turning to you. “They’re big events and we’re organizing one with the arts professionals. Some dignitaries will be coming, too, including the culture minister. I’d prefer if you looked the part of working for the Vice President, Ms. Cho. You represent me in that way.”

“I… uh, okay,” you sigh, knowing you don’t seem to be in a position to turn him down. 

“Great. Start thinking of designs, then!” Taehyung beams.

It’s some minutes later when Jungkook’s measurements have been taken and Taehyung calls for you. You sit on the chair facing his desk not far away while Jungkook and Seokjin talk about sports and this new club that opened in Gangnam. 

Seated in front of you, Taehyung takes his sketch pad and starts asking what design you want.

“Something simple and comfortable since I’ll be moving around,” you say softly. “And nothing form-fitting or revealing since, uh…”

“I understand,” Taehyung smiles, revealing a gentle side of him that the paparazzi and tabloids clearly don’t capture. 

He starts drawing your silhouette, glancing at you then at Jungkook before speaking.

“So, he’s been in this role for a few weeks now. Has he been nice?”

“Define ‘nice,’” you respond, earning you a chuckle. 

“I guess that’s my answer, then.”

“I don’t mean to say he isn’t,” you backtrack. “Mr. Jeon just has a different leadership style as Mr. Jung’s, that’s all.”

“I suppose that’s quite a difficult adjustment for you, huh?”

You purse your lips and Taehyung laughs, the soft way he does it is something new and refreshing to you. You didn’t realize how deprived you are of such gentleness, of such acts or sights as simple as a smile. Hoseok is no longer your source. Your team hasn’t been as jolly these past weeks. The only other person you talk to regularly at work is Yoongi, and while he’s definitely been smiling more, it’s a lot more teasing than it is comforting. You’ve been missing your best friends more because of that, you think - Soomin’s smile is blinding, Jimin’s is sweet and infectious. Perhaps it’s why you haven’t been smiling much yourself. 

“I won’t tell, don’t worry,” Taehyung assures you. “I just wanted to check on him. This whole move has been tough but he doesn’t say much. I’m guessing he doesn’t tell you, either, but he’ll definitely show it.”

“He has, actually,” you say softly, knowing now that even with his closest friends, Jungkook tends to keep things to himself. “He’s pretty stressed most days, always working and stuff. He’s been a little hard on me but I guess that’s a natural reaction for some.”

“That’s not an excuse though.”

“It isn’t, but… it’s okay. I can handle it.”

It’s not as much of a lie anymore as it used to be. Jungkook hasn’t been overly critical about things as he was just last week. He rarely makes comments on your minutes now, doesn’t correct the reports you reviewed, doesn’t talk over you or doesn’t yell. There’s been a change, definitely, and you wonder what triggered it. 

“He doesn’t really smile, does he?” You ask, your curiosity getting the better of you.

Taehyung’s laughter is one of disbelief and pure amusement, catching the attention of the other two men but he waves them off. 

“He still does, just not as much,” he responds. “It kinda stopped after the breakup with Chaerin but I guess that’s what heartbreak does, right?”

“I… wouldn’t know. I’ve never experienced it,” you shrug.

“Lucky,” he hums. “I don’t wish it on anyone.”

You glance at Jungkook, briefly letting yourself imagine a version of him that’s a lot more carefree, relaxed, perhaps happy. Maybe it’s the loneliness and that you’d understand; that, you’ve experienced. It’s both liberating and isolating. You wonder if that’s how he’s been feeling all these years since then.

“I’m done,” Taehyung announces, showing you three designs that are exactly what you asked for. 

“These look nice. And way out of my price range,” you laugh.

“Perks of having a rich boss,” he winks. “I don’t want you to worry about anything, okay? You’re my client and I want you to wear these with confidence. Now, if you’re okay with all this, I’ll get one of my female assistants to get your measurements.”

You nod in response. There’s absolutely nothing you would change about those designs. And if you’re being honest, you now can’t wait for those events just so you could wear them. Hoseok had obviously paid for the gowns you had to wear for the big events, but those were store-bought that A-yeong helped you choose. Some were your own purchases, but this is the first time that you’re getting measured for custom-made clothing designed by Kim Taehyung. 

You walk towards the fitting room at the corner where one of his staff meets you. She’s meticulous, which is why it takes longer than usual just to get this done. With her silence, however, you’re able to hear the conversation happening outside, with the brothers now asking Jungkook about the same thing you’ve been wondering about.

“By the way, what was up with you last Monday?” Seokjin asks. “I thought that was gonna be night 4 of you going home with a new woman. But you passed out before you could even ask. And that was just 9PM.”

“Four nights isn’t much, though,” Taehyung laughs. “Didn’t he do that with seven women on seven straight nights when he was in Singapore? That was wild. Was it that stressful there? Or were there just so many to choose from?”

“Shut up. I’m not proud of that,” Jungkook groans. “And that was one time. It never happened again.”

“It never happened seven times straight again,” Seokjin corrects. “You were really living your life out there, huh? Stressful job, a rooftop bar in your apartment building, chauffeur and butler services 24/7, women from all over the world begging to sleep with you…”

“It’s called the post-break up stage,” Taehyung says. 

“For six years?!” Seokjin asks incredulously. “It’s either you loved Chaerin that much, you blamed yourself too much, or you just really sucked at moving on.”

“I vote all of the above,” Taehyung states.

“Me, too,” Seokjin claims.

“Fuck you both,” Jungkook groans again. 

“I think he also just missed us too much,” Seokjin adds. “Lucas was cleaning up your messes every time, not snapping you out of it. But we’re here now so I guess three straight nights is as far as you’ll go.”

“Two, if you stopped me last Sunday,” Jungkook points out. “You both always insisted that Sundays are a no-no. You were too busy with your own women.”

“May we remind you that you didn’t even make it to our table. You stepped foot in the bar then left five minutes later,” Taehyung says. “But really, what was it about Monday? You seemed angrier than usual.”

“Just… a bunch of things my father said,” Jungkook huffs.

“Did he tell you off again?”

“Not really, surprisingly. He just delivered a message basically, about what the board members were saying about me and my project. Bullshit stuff, you know? I just wanted to forget about it.”

“Did you?”

“Sorta,” Jungkook says. “I still don’t want to talk about it.”

“But it’s still happening, right?” Taehyung asks worriedly. “The Arts Center, I mean. You’ve been wanting to work on that since the building was abandoned five years ago.”

“I don’t know,” Jungkook responds. “I guess. We already put money into it. I’ll just have to make concessions if my father doesn’t side with me on this. I hate to think he’s buying into what those old folks are saying.”

“Ms. Cho, we’re all done,” the staff member tells you, muffling the conversation outside that you couldn’t help but hear. 

It felt quite intrusive, hearing how life was like for Jungkook in Singapore, but then again, his personal life seemed to be the topic in the office comfort rooms, and you don’t know how to feel about getting confirmation about those rumors. It felt sad more than anything though, living that kind of life away from friends and family. You wouldn’t know what moving on from a breakup feels like, but you suppose people grieve a lost love in their own ways; you can’t blame them for how they choose to repair the parts of them that broke. 

But the bit about his conversation with his father is what bothers you. You’d hate to think that there’s a possibility that Jungkook’s plans won’t be fully realized, and whatever the reasons for that are, you hope they didn’t break his spirit too much. You know the plans now like the back of your hand and the more you learn, the more you believe in it. You hope Jungkook continues to believe in it, too.

You exit the fitting room, catching the end of a conversation where Seokjin suggests a wholesome weekend for the three men of just dinner and drinks. The two other men agree, and they all turn to you once you make your presence felt.

“All good?” Taehyung asks you.

“Yes,” you bow in thanks. 

“Great. The gowns will be ready at the same time as Jungkook’s suits will be. I’ll just let you guys know, okay?

“Sure,” Jungkook says. “But anyway, we have to get back to work. Thanks again.”

The brothers bid you and Jungkook goodbye, and you head back to the office with not much words said. Jungkook seems less frustrated, but the worry you feel suddenly returns. It’s the thought that maybe he doesn’t feel supported, that maybe what he’s doing isn’t enough, and that more than that, it's him choosing to deal with all this on his own, not even looking to his friends to comfort him.

Jimin and Soomin meet you for lunch at a restaurant that Saturday afternoon. The drive from Busan took longer than expected, they said, but you say you don’t mind. They’re visiting you like they always do every month, regardless of how busy they are back in their hometown, which was your home for a few years, too.

You were in the same class; your mom worked at the school, which was the only reason why you were able to attend a prestigious one in the first place. Even when you moved back to Daegu, you remained in touch with them. Despite the distance, none of you wanted to just let the friendship fade, and even when they had to stay back and you made a life out here in Seoul, they made sure to visit you as much as they could.

They’re why you were excited for the weekend to come and now, you’ll be enjoying a hearty meal, getting your nails done after, lounging at your apartment, and then heading to a club for a night out, which you only do whenever they’re around. 

“So, has the boss situation improved?” Soomin asks, her eyes soft and laced with worry “Or should I storm the jerk’s house and give him a piece of my mind?”

“It has,” you chuckle. “So no need to call him names or fight anyone. I’m okay.”

“Well, you did call him a grumpy old grinch with nice hair the other week,” Jimin points out. “So… did he get a haircut?”

“No,” you laugh again. “And that was in the heat of the moment. I… I mean, he’s still grumpy but he’s not… as grumpy or unbearable. He’s been—”

“Oh hun, please don’t say he’s been kind and then give him a pass for how he’s been to you,” Soomin reprimands. “Mean people don’t just become nice all of a sudden. And if they do, that’s a controlling tactic - they want you to think they’re capable of change so you’ll soften up to them and then give them a pass every time they do asshole-y things again.”

“You watch too many shows,” you frown, although knowing her statement isn’t wrong; it’s just not something you can relate with Jungkook.

Sure, he hasn’t been the nicest, but he also hasn’t been the meanest. He’s just been… him, you suppose - a bit in the middle; frustrated at worst, quiet at best, stoic on most days. He does seem to live in his head a lot, and while you won’t go so far as characterizing him as kind, he definitely hasn’t been insufferable these past few days. 

“I’ve just dealt with too many assholes, ___,” Soomin corrects. “They’re all the same. Men are shit.”

“Except for Jimin,” you correct.

“Except for Jimin,” she concurs. 

“I accept the honor,” he bows. “But seriously, ___. How has it been? You… you seemed really sad last week and I would’ve driven here then if we didn’t have that work emergency.”

“I’m okay, I mean it. I’ve experienced worse,” you try to assure them.

“You do know that having experienced something worse doesn’t mean it’s fine for you to experience something bad again, right?” Soomin points out.

“I know, but it also means that I know my threshold for bad behavior,” you say. “Jungkook was in a lot of stress and I did mess up. But I think he’s making up for that.”

“By apologizing, you mean?” Soomin cocks an eyebrow.

Your sigh tells her that’s definitely not what Jungkook has done. 

“Well, he approves my minutes and reviewed reports much quicker,” you reason. “And he doesn’t comment as much. But actually, I think he just pities me. And that’s worse.”

“Why would he pity you?” She asks.

“I don’t know. Maybe because I said that a tree fell on our roof and that mom got injured the weekend before my mishap,” you explain. “And then he found out how early I start my day just so I can get to him on time. He’s made adjustments after those and I… I think he’s guilty or something. And he’s just not being his usual angry self around me to make it up to me.”

“So in short, he’s still kind of an asshole,” Soomin says, prompting Jimin to snort and you to pout. “He could always just apologize if he’s guilty and realized he should treat you better.”

“Some things aren’t easy for other people to say, you know?” You say softly. 

“That’s not an excuse,” she points out.

“It’s an explanation,” you counter. “Or one of them, I guess. I don’t know him well enough, but it’s better to think that he’s a decent person who just struggles with emotions than someone who willingly makes people’s lives difficult. I mean, that’s easier to manage and accept.”

“If that helps you deal and he’s indeed improving, then maybe I won’t have to storm his place then,” she smiles, taking your hand and kissing it as she likes to do. 

She knows your habit of pressing your nails onto your skin, and she always said she likes to remind you that you deserve gentleness, too; she’ll give it if you can’t give it to yourself. 

The rest of the afternoon goes as you planned, with all the banter you’d expect from your best friends amid the pampering and then the chick flick in the background as you get ready in your tiny apartment. 

You smile at your reflection in the mirror. The high-waist trousers and sleeveless top ensemble is a refreshing sight for you, as you only really dress up like this for a night out. You’re in your usual pencil skirts and blouses otherwise, and in jeans and tops or oversized jumpers on a normal day. 

Soomin’s done your makeup and Jimin compliments you as he looks on, and soon enough, they’re ready as well to head out. 

“Where’re we going?” You ask from the passenger seat as Jimin navigates the busy streets of Seoul on a Saturday night. 

“Some new restaurant the guys discovered,” Soomin responds. “I think it’s not far from here.”

“Okay, good. Hajoon’s been texting, asking what time we’ll get there,” you tell them. 

“Geez, you were already with him last night. Tell him to be patient,” Jimin rolls his eyes. 

Soomin laughs from the backseat as she teases that he’s just being jealous, to which he points out that he just hasn’t seen you in a while so the man can wait. And you assure Jimin that you’d gladly skip a night with Hajoon to be with your best friends, no questions asked. 

You get there eventually, and you immediately spot the group because of the laughter coming from their table. There are four men; the two women are Soomin’s friends, which is how you got involved with Hajoon in the first place. You met some time last year and you’ve been hanging out with him since then - among other things - and you’ve been enjoying it, given the simplicity and lack of drama when he’s not being moody. He’s a warm body who knows how to use it and you’re a good type of relief, as he’d said; there’s really not much more you need as you just try to survive through life and make something out of yourself in however way you can. 

Hajoon waves at you from his seat, gesturing to his left to say he’s saved that spot for you. You head there after greeting your other friends, with Jimin and Soomin following you. 

Right as you sit down and greet the man next to you, you’re caught by surprise when he kisses your cheek and snakes his arm around your waist. 

“Hey, I missed you today,” Hajoon hums, smiling at you the way he did last night and this morning; it definitely wasn’t this sweet when he left for a work trip last month.  

“I… saw you today,” you frown, earning you a chuckle. 

“I know; I was still thinking about you, though,” he says. 

You give a smile - as genuine as you can make it - and then turn towards your friends to your left who are trying to hold in their laughter. 

You order a beer after he offers you a glass of wine, and then go for the pork belly when he says the salmon here is good. 

“Just craving for meat, that’s all,” you tell him. 

“Is there anything else you want? Just let me know, okay?”

You hum your yes and then turn back to your friends after Hajoon makes jokes with his.

“Since when was he this sweet to you?” Soomin whispers with wide, curious eyes. 

“Since never,” you reply. “I mean, we’ve never been affectionate outside of bed…”

“Is anything else different?” Jimin wonders, careful not to bring attention to your conversation.

You look back at how things were before Hajoon left and how it was when he was away. Nothing seemed different. You hung out at his place before he flew out, then you messaged each other every now and then during the one month he was abroad. He was more interested to talk, but given the time difference and the pressure and stress you’ve been under the past weeks, you didn’t bother much, neither did he. 

But you also think back to last night - how he picked you up from your apartment, which he’s never done before, and how he prepared a luxurious dinner. He made you breakfast this morning, too, whereas you both usually just sleep in in tangled limbs and then separate once you wake up.

“He cooked me fancy stuff but I just thought he wanted to show off what he learned during his cooking masterclass,” you shrug. “And well… he seemed sweeter than normal.”

“Maybe he hooked up with someone while he was away and he’s guilty about it,” Jimin suggests.

“He didn’t say anything about it and he knows I wouldn’t mind,” you say. “We’re not exclusive, even if I don’t hang out with other guys.”

“Maybe he’s over the fucking and wants to do the loving bit now,” Soomin offers. “I mean, he always seemed more into you than you were into him.”

“He’s hot and decent when he’s in a good mood; that’s all I need,” you admit. 

“But honestly, that’s probably it,” Soomin continues. “I think he’s hinting that he wants to be more.”

“But I don’t want to,” you whine. “I’m not ready.”

“You’re 30! When are you ever gonna be ready?” Soomin whisper-yells.

“Never!” You pout now. “I mean… Not with him.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to tell him soon, then,” Jimin sighs. “Before it gets messy. And you hate messy.”

“What if men just don’t have feelings?” Soomin wonders out loud. “That way, you can’t hurt them.”

“So that way, they can hurt you?” Jimin points out. “No. I’m not letting any men hurt either one of you, okay? I love you both too much.”

“We know,” you and Soomin say at the same time. 

“But I agree with Jimin, ___. You’re gonna have to let that man next to you, who’s thankfully deaf, go. And then just find another person who can give you what you need,” Soomin continues. “Like, uh…” 

She looks around the semi-packed restaurant to find some random man to just point to, her eyes widening in awe as she spots a table close by with the type of men she was just thinking about. 

“Like them.” 

You laugh at her, not taking her seriously, but still, you look towards the direction of her cocked head, only to feel your throat dry up and your heartbeat speed up. Your eyes widen in reflex as they meet the piercing gaze of the man who’d given you a headache for weeks. He also happens to look unfairly handsome in his white top and slicked back hair. 

“Shit, I would totally go for them,” Soomin adds, “and I only even like men a quarter of the time.”

Your best friends look at you as they wait for a response, only to see a nervous look on your face, as if you’re seeing a ghost or something, and the way you turn to them and stutter almost seems like you are.

From the other table, Jungkook pants quietly. You finally looked his way, and he didn’t know what to expect your reaction to be - maybe a bit of shock, but definitely not this worried. Granted, you’re out with your friends at a restaurant that he and his friends frequent. It’s not the type of place they’d normally go for - this is a lot simpler, less private, and more accommodating than the exclusive restaurants and hotels they go to for dinners before heading to a club. But Jungkook loves their pork belly; he orders it every week, and tonight, he was craving for this specifically before going to a private party of one of Taehyung’s clients. 

Jungkook had seen you when you sat down, and he’d been taken aback when the guy to your right immediately kissed your cheek; it seems he’s barely let go of your waist since then, too. Perhaps the man is your boyfriend - and Jungkook doesn’t know what made him think you wouldn’t have one - but it also seems that the one to your left is into you, too, at least based on how he smiles at you sweetly but rolls his eyes at the affectionate guy to your other side. 

But other than the embarrassing obvious affection that both of them are directing at you, what made him lose his senses is how you look, and you’re even more beautiful than he imagined. Your hair is styled, your makeup is bolder than usual, and he won’t even start with how you’re dressed. It’s a lot more skin than he’s used to - you’re out, after all, and if he’ll go by what your companions are wearing, he supposes this is your stop before heading to some club to party, too. Whereas when you’re at work, you have the skirt and long-sleeved blouse ensemble that you wear everyday - still pretty, perhaps just a lot more reserved than what he’s seeing now. 

He can’t take his eyes off you, even as you entertain your suppose-boyfriend, even when you engage in hushed conversation with the man and woman to your left, and even when you stare back at him, the initial shock now wearing down to a look of curiosity. Perhaps you’re wondering why he keeps glancing at you, too.

“I told you he’s got it bad,” Taehyung laughs from the other side of the table. 

He’s noticed how his friend hasn’t said much in the last 10 minutes, his gaze directed at the loud table close by. One glance and Taehyung knew why. 

“Well, we told him,” Seokjin corrects. “He only ever acts out when he’s threatened and he’s apparently threatened by his pretty assistant.”

“I’m not acting out,” Jungkook scowls, finally breaking the staring contest with you.

“You’ve never been this much of a jerk,” Seokjin says. “So yes, you’re acting out.”

Jungkook ignores them, his eyes turning back to you, and finds you downing two shots of tequila consecutively, then using the beer as your chaser. His knuckles unconsciously clench when your suppose-boyfriend scoots closer, whispering something in your ear, his lips grazing your skin. 

Jungkook exhales deeply, trying to get a grip of himself. He’s acting foolishly. You obviously have a life outside of work, and it obviously includes going out for dinner and drinks with friends, having a boyfriend, and enjoying your youth the way he is. There’s a world outside of the routine you’ve both created, of the silence you both share, and the time you spend together, unknowingly learning about each other without meaning to, without wanting to.

“___,” Soomin calls your name one more time. 

“Huh?” You answer, finally tearing your eyes away from Jungkook, who’d unfortunately captured your attention after you noticed he was there. 

You’ve been used to his impeccable looks in his fancy suits; you’ve even gotten used to his tank top and sweatpants post-workout outfits every morning, and while you’re still not immune to that look, his night out wear fit for a party leaves you more choked up than normal. 

Maybe it’s the black jeans that you spot as he sits on the edge of the couch, or the white button-up top with the rolled sleeves up to his elbow, or his haircut that makes him look a little more mature. Maybe it’s all that and the way he’s gazing at you, the look in his eyes something you can’t quite read. Perhaps like you, he’s surprised to see you here the way you’re shocked that he’d chosen this place to eat; it’s not exactly a fancy restaurant you know he likes eating at. 

But he’s here, and so are you, and suddenly you feel exposed, as if the world outside of work that you’ve kept to yourself is baring open to the man who stands at the center of what you do everyday. And you’re not sure how you feel about that.

“I was just saying… those men are pretty hot and they look interested, too,” Soomin wiggles her eyebrows. “ I mean, they keep looking here.”

“One of them is my boss,” you finally say. “Guy on the right. That’s… uh, that’s Jungkook.”

“Holy fuck, hun,” Soomin chokes on her drink. “Why did you leave out the part about your rude boss being a fucking god?”

“Does it matter?” Jimin scowls. “He’s still rude.”

“It’s different when the guy’s hot. It makes the anger more intense, you know?” Soomin says. “Attractive people elicit more passionate feelings sometimes.”

“Excuse me, that’s not why I was angry,” you pout. “He was really being unfair.”

“Well, he was. But I think my point also applies,” Soomin argues. “I’d just like to warn you that workplace hotties are a menace. Except for Yoongi - he was heaven sent. ”

“Ah, the man who could’ve been,” Jimin sighs. “We at least knew he wouldn’t hurt you. He didn’t seem like the type.”

“Yeah, this dude over here is hot but he’s mean. And that’s your type,” Soomin smirks.

“Can we… not talk about this while he’s there? And while this other dude is right next to me?” You glare at your friends, especially at Soomin whose insinuation wasn’t lost on you. “It’s so… weird.”

“Hey, we’re here for you, okay?” Jimin softens as he looks at you. “Just let us know if one of them makes you feel uncomfortable. We can always just stay at your place and watch horror movies until morning and you and Soomin can lose your voices from screaming and then I’ll lose my hearing because of it.”

His words make you laugh. There’s a tenderness in Jimin that you’ve never heard from anyone else before. Even when he’s telling you to stop yelling because you live for the thrill of a jumpscare, he says it so tenderly while laughing before pulling you both in his embrace. 

“I’m okay. I’m just… I don’t know, probably just not used to seeing him somewhere that isn’t the office or his home,” you reason. “And I feel a bit exposed, I guess. This is my world and his is… right there.”

You wrap your arms around your body subconsciously, realizing only you’d done it when Jimin asks if you’re cold, offering his jacket then taking it back because Hajoon might smack him or something.

You turn it down, knowing you actually feel hot more than anything. You’re dressed up and definitely dressed in less, and somehow having Jungkook see you like this is oddly making you shy, perhaps a little too conscious.

“Just don’t mind him,” Soomin advises. “It’s a restaurant. You obviously have a social life and he can’t fault you for it, nor make you feel weird about it. Just focus on us, okay? Or on Hajoon, if that’ll happen.”

You follow her words and try to block out Jungkook. You do slightly nod at him, as well as at Taehyung and Seokjin just to acknowledge their presence, but you continue on with your meal, as the dishes arrive soon after. 

The pork belly is a winner; you’ll probably come back here for that alone. You do manage to dodge Hajoon’s attempts at feeding you, and your other friends engage with the three of you at the other end of the table. It’s going well for the most part, until Hajoon starts to act a little wary, a little tense.

“Hey,” he says, leaning close to you. “The guy on the other table has been looking at you all night. It’s kinda annoying.”

You glance at Jungkook’s table and he looks away when you do. “Oh, just don’t mind him,” you wave Hajoon off. “Maybe I remind him of someone or something.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you feel him tense even more, as you look up and see that he’s staring down the man on the other side. Hajoon’s had a bit to drink, and you know he tends to be cocky and irrational when he is. You groan once he shakes his head, saying he’s gonna give “that stranger” a piece of his mind because “he can’t be looking at my girl like that.”

The initial annoyance you feel turns into panic once he stands from his seat and storms to the other table. You follow him, with your friends just looking in worry. His friends are more encouraging of what he wants to do though. 

“What the fuck is your problem staring at my girl like that?” Hajoon mumbles, acting all tough when he’s never threatened nor confronted anyone like this, even when he’s drunk. 

Jungkook seems taken aback. Perhaps it’s the aggression he didn’t expect, or maybe it’s finally having to acknowledge your presence in the restaurant, just in an unfortunate way. 

“Your girl?” He scoffs. 

The way the man is speaking to him is quite annoying, but he also knows your boyfriend is slightly drunk, so he dismisses him because Jungkook doesn’t need this drama tonight, especially not in front of you. 

Hajoon hates the way this stranger is looking at him and not taking him seriously. He’d seen how he kept glancing at you, perhaps trying to get your attention away from him, and he’s really had enough. His words are slurring but this is the courage he needs to stand up for you. You’ve said before how unwanted attention makes you uncomfortable, and he’s gonna do something about it before the man gets to try anything with you. 

“Yeah, my girl. You seem to have a problem with that, don’t you?” Hajoon grunts. 

“My only problem is you making a scene right now,” Jungkook shakes his head. “You’re drunk and insecure and you’re embarrassing yourself in front of your girl.”

Not that you expected him to back off, but you didn’t actually think that Jungkook would further press Hajoon’s buttons. The man is drunk and insecure and indeed embarrassing, but getting told so is a blow to the ego, especially in your presence. And so you’re not surprised that this just makes him angrier, and since you’ve never dealt with this version of him before, you don’t know how to pacify him.

You didn’t actually think that Hajoon had a daring bone in his body despite being the way he is, but when he attempts to lunge at Jungkook, you’re left in disbelief. You’re quick enough to pull Hajoon back before he lands a fist on the other man’s face, but he’d been worked up enough that he hits the glass of wine on the table, knocking it over and causing the drink to spill on Jungkook’s thin white top. 

“Mr. Jeon!” You shriek, pulling Hajoon back more forcefully before pushing him to the side so you can get ahead. 

You take the napkin from the table and wipe Jungkook’s wet clothed torso, slowing down immediately as you realize what exactly it is you’re doing. 

“I… uh,” you stutter, standing straight up and mirroring his questioning eyes. 

It was a reflex for you, considering that you constantly make sure that he’s dressed impeccably. 

“You know him?!” Hajoon asks in disbelief, tugging on your hand now so you’ll turn to him.

“He’s my boss, you idiot!” smacking him on the chest as you glare at him. “And you just put my job in jeopardy and for what?”

“Well, what can he do?” Hajoon challenges. “Get you fired because of me? Does he own the company and shit?”

“My father does,” Jungkook responds. “And I’m the Vice President.”

Hajoon just rolls his eyes but you aren’t amused. You glance at your table and gesture for one of his friends to take him, so one of them does. He stands up and pulls Hajoon away before he can do or say anything else.

“I’m so, so sorry, Mr. Jeon,” you say, your head bowed down as you apologize. “I…” 

The mess on his outfit is too much; the red has stained the white top and you know he feels sticky. He looks like he has somewhere to go after this and that makes it worse.

“I– I can call Mr. Ri to get the car in here. I can get extra clothes from your travel bag,” you say, knowing that Jungkook always has a bag filled with clothes for emergency flights or check-ins. 

You get your phone and make a call, telling Jungkook that his chauffeur will be here soon. You glance towards your friends who are still pacifying a drunk Hajoon, and you decide that they can handle all that. Right now, your priority is Jungkook.

You walk out towards the car that’s on hazard mode outside the restaurant and pick out the top that’s most appropriate for a night out, which happens to be a semi-loose black button-up. You head back inside, with Taehyung and Seokjin informing you that Jungkook has gone to the washroom, so you scurry towards there and knock at the door.

“Mr. Jeon, I have your black long sleeves here,” you say as your knuckles tap on the wood. “Just tell me–” 

You’re interrupted by the sudden opening of the door, the sight of Jungkook in his jeans hanging by his waist and his unbuttoned white top catching you by surprise. His hair’s a bit damp and so is his bare torso, as you see that he’s tried to clean the wine off his body. 

You catch yourself looking longer than you should, and you immediately look away as you hand him over what he needs. 

“Please let me know what else you need, sir,” you say, your eyes glued to the pretty wallpaper as you awkwardly stand outside the washroom. 

“Jungkook,” he says, earning him a curious look. “I mean, you don’t need to be formal. We’re not at work.”

You nod, realizing it does sound weird to address him as such in a casual setting. 

“Okay… Jungkook,” you mumble, but even the way it rolls off your tongue is a bit odd. You’re not used to it, and you hope you won’t ever be. 

He closes the door and you take this time to calm yourself down. You’ve been so worried since you saw the glass tip over and mess up his outfit, and given his hot-headedness, you’re a little surprised that he didn’t fight back. He does have a reputation to uphold but even then, stopping himself from punching Hajoon must’ve taken a lot. 

The door opens and you sigh in relief; his outfit still looks good and he’s fully clothed, so there’s no lingering looks this time anymore. You take the top that he gives you, and you take the chance to apologize.

“I’m so sorry,” you start. “I don’t know why he— I mean, he’s a bit drunk and he’s not usually like this.”

“You’re not the one who should apologize so don’t,” he responds. 

“Well, he won’t apologize so I will.”

“You didn’t spill the drink and you didn’t come at me. That was him,” he counters. 

You just shrug, choosing to just concede. “I’ll just return this to Mr. Ri.”

He calls your name before you turn around to leave. 

“I didn’t mean to cause a rift between you and your boyfriend,” he says, much too low and too gentle than you’re used to. “I hope I didn’t ruin anything.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you answer softly. “We just, uh, we just hang out.”

You don’t know why you feel the need to correct this misinformation. Maybe you just want to remind yourself because you’re not anyone’s anything; hearing Hajoon claim you as yours made you want to just create that distance even more.

Jungkook wants to push it, to ask more. The man clearly acts like he’s your lover, given the physical affection and the way he tried to stand up for you. But there’s a bit of shame as you state that you and the man “just hang out,” and there’s that wonder he feels - how can you be with someone without being with them, and if turning away people who are clearly into you is a tendency you have. There’s Min Yoongi, after all, who’d liked you enough to remain as your friend when you needed one despite how he felt.  

“Okay then,” Jungkook nods. “And your job’s not in jeopardy. Don’t take responsibility for a stupid act you didn’t do.”

You bow in thanks, not much used to this side of him that’s understanding and even calm. You suppose he’d seen you worry about your job, had seen you look embarrassed over something that you didn’t even do, and perhaps he saw the discomfort over how Hajoon was talking about you. 

You’re about to walk out of the hallway when his call of your name stops you again, prompting you to turn around.

“About earlier… did I… did I make you feel uncomfortable?” He asks, the worry in his voice surprising you. 

You debate over playing it down or telling the truth, but you go with the latter. 

“A… a little,” you admit, looking away. 

You hear him sigh, and there’s a look of guilt in his eyes as you turn to him. 

“I’m so—”

The footsteps of another diner in the hallway disrupts him, and you both make way so he can use the washroom, too. Perhaps you and Jungkook had taken so long, and you don’t want others to conspire about what’s happening, so you walk out and tell him again that you’ll just return his clothing to Mr. Ri. 

From your table, Soomin and Jimin watch the awkwardness of your parting of ways, with you scurrying out the door and Jungkook returning to his seat with a deep sigh before glaring at Hajoon.

“He does sound and look like an asshole, aside from being hot,” Soomin observes. “That’s totally ___’s type.”

“Are you saying she likes her boss?” Jimin asks incredulously. 

“I’m just saying that’s her type, not that she likes him,” Soomin corrects. “There’s a difference. I still hate him for making things hard for her. I wish he would stop treating her like that. You and I know she won’t quit anytime soon. Especially because he’s a Jeon.”

“I know,” Jimin sighs. “I wish we could protect her from all this, too. But she’s always done what she wanted to do. And we wait for her to tell us when things are hard; we just hold her hand whenever it is.”

“That’s all we can do, I guess,” Soomin responds. “Sometimes though I wish she’d just… let someone else do more than just hold her hand, you know? It could’ve been Yoongi, or even Hajoon before all this mess. It could’ve been you.”

“You know that’ll never happen,” Jimin laughs bitterly, with Soomin knowing exactly what he means. “You’re only ever just her friend or her lover; you can’t be both.”

Soomin hums in agreement, as she’d seen you draw the line with the men you’d come across with. You’d make it clear if friendship is all you want; you’d be straightforward if it’s just sex you’re seeking. You give either just your heart or your body and you’re always careful not to give both. There are parts of you that you don’t want to share, that you don’t want to expose to them; there’s a kind of hurt that you don’t want to experience. 

They watch you walk back inside and then head to their table, where you sit next to a buzzed Hajoon who still has half a mind to look at you guiltily. 

“I think I’ll head back home after this,” you tell the group. “Kinda not in a partying mood anymore.”

Your other friends apologize on Hajoon’s behalf, proceeding to ask you if that was really your boss and if he’d threatened your job because of it, remarking that it would be such an asshole move of him to do that or to even get mad at you for something you didn’t do. 

You come to Jungkook’s defense; he didn’t say anything to that effect at all. Perhaps you’d been the unfair one who assumed that he would - that he’d demand that you apologize, that he’d use this against you. 

“He’s… not like that,” you say, meaning it. You turn to your best friends who have disagreeing looks. “He… he tried to apologize for making me feel uncomfortable,” you say softly. “No one’s ever done that before.”

“Look, ___,” Hajoon starts, but you cut him off. 

“I don’t really wanna talk about it,” you sigh. “I’ll just pay my bill and head out.”

You, Soomin, and Jimin all pay accordingly and then leave the restaurant, with you turning to Jungkook and his friends, bowing as a form of goodbye.

“Hey, why don’t we buy desserts at a convenience store and have our own party at your place?” Jimin suggests as you all settle in his car. 

“That would be nice,” you hum. “This outfit wouldn’t be such a waste then.”

So that’s what you do, as your best friends treat you to all the snacks you love - a usual occurrence, really, as they used to do that back in Busan to cheer you up during the days when you were feeling sad. It’s one of the things that you allow them to spoil you with and they take advantage of that, as you go home with weeks’ worth of goods for you to enjoy.

You also picked up some drinks on the way, so you play some music and dance around with your wine glasses and take shots in between. It’s too early to be drunk but 11PM might as well be 3AM. You’re all seated snugly in your tiny couch as you watch some variety show on mute, laughing at the hosts' antics even if you can’t hear anything. 

“Tonight wasn’t so bad,” you huff, leaning on Soomin’s shoulder as you doze off. “Both of you are all I need. Thank you for never disappointing me.”

They know you don’t always let yourself be this sentimental. They also know that when you do, all you want is for them to listen and to hold you. And that’s what they do, as you eventually clean up and fall asleep on the mattress with them, the events from earlier slowly fading away.

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he’s so dreamy ♡