Sleepwalking 17 | Jjk

sleepwalking ● 17 | 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 and depictions of medical treatment (mentions of an IV, not overly descriptive), fluff (!), angst, A LOT of pent-up emotions, SLOW BURN

words: 15.5k (help)

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 17 ► looking sideways when i say i’m okay with the past, but i’m afraid of what i might say if you ask

When you regained consciousness, it took you a few more minutes to understand what was happening.

In your hazy mind, the first clear thought you could grasp was a memory: Jungkook had gotten into a fight. Instinctively, you imagined yourself standing up and finding him. Not because your job required you to—honestly, you weren’t sure what job you even had at this point, your mind hadn’t sorted itself out yet—but because you wanted to see if he was okay.

You tried to open your eyes, but the room was spinning, and you felt a little queasy from the unexpected vertigo.

You shut your eyes again and tried to focus on your other senses—as best as you could without moving—hoping that this would answer some of the new questions forming in your mind.

You did not know where you were or how you got here, but the room was warm. The lack of proper ventilation made the air feel stuffy.

You didn’t hear any background noise, so you assumed you weren’t at a hospital. But you could hear a lot of shouting in the room. You thought you discerned three different voices, but they were all talking over each other, so it was hard to tell.

You were lying on something soft but scratchy, and a heavy duvet pressed you into the bed. It felt comforting, but you were starting to sweat.

Someone’s hand was on your wrist, their fingers cold.

Reflexively, you squeezed their hand.

“Don’t move,” someone whispered right next to you. Jungkook, you realised. “We’ve called a doctor.”

Your initial reaction was relief. He was here, so he had to be okay.

Your next reaction, however, was pure panic. You didn’t need a doctor. You just needed a minute.

“We should have taken her to a hospital,” another voice argued. “I’ll never forgive you if anything happens to her.”

That had to be Luna, you were sure of it. Your eyes remained closed, but you could envision your friend with her arms crossed over her chest, regarding the boy next to you with a scorching glare.

You didn’t like this mention of a hospital.

You squeezed Jungkook’s hand again, but even as he tried to explain to Luna that you would go on a particularly bloody rampage if he took you to a hospital—he had a point and you would have felt grateful if you hadn’t been so distressed—she still wasn’t hearing him.

You opened your mouth and felt your chapped lips tighten painfully.

“No hospital, please,” you croaked in the voice of someone who had been a successful chain smoker for over fifty years.

You heard Luna whisper-yell, “you’re unbelievable, the both of you!” and you tried to open your eyes again, but nothing had changed. It still felt a bit like gravity had taken a day off as the room and everyone around you continued to float.

You heard a faint voice that you did not recognise, and from the official tone and the immediate chill you felt inside, you deduced that it was the doctor.

“I’m going to administer a very mild sedative,” he said—to whom, you weren’t sure. Your insides felt very heavy. “And set up a drip. Make sure she doesn’t move much or the catheter will—oh, see, like that. That can’t happen.”

Your muscles spasmed involuntarily. Something pricked your arm. You didn’t mind needles, but you did not like IVs. You didn’t need to be sedated.

“I don’t think—” you tried to say when you felt something cold on your arm—the doctor’s hands, presumably, in very unpleasant, squeaky latex gloves. “I don’t think I need this.”

“Can you open your eyes for me, please?” the doctor asked.

“No,” you said with what you hoped was a shake of your head. In reality, you merely wrinkled your nose. “T-that is not something I can do right now. But in a—”

“Your body needs rest,” the doctor explained. Jungkook moved closer until he was clutching your hand with both of his. “It won’t knock you out, but it will relax you, make you a little drowsy. That will likely help you fall asleep naturally. Is that all right?”

You lacked the strength to tell him that you were already very tired—or the strength to tell him that you still had things to do, so you couldn’t just sleep.

The memory of the flooding at the venue in Manchester came back to your mind and your muscles tensed again.

Really, you were about to refuse, but there was hardly anything you disliked more than inconveniencing people. They had invited a doctor for you. He was just doing his job.

“Okay,” you said in quiet defeat.

“Your friends are in the room with you,” the doctor said. You felt a cold sensation on your arm. “They will stay with you and make sure you get plenty of rest. Even after you wake up, you must spend as much time in bed as you possibly can.”

“Don’t phrase it like that,” you heard Jungkook object. “Give us a specific time, or she’ll be out of bed as soon as she wakes up.”

Silence followed. You tried to imagine what was happening. Jungkook must have looked very eager—in his exaggerated manner, which resembled desperation rather than hope. Luna probably nodded in agreement. The doctor, if he was kind enough, smiled at them patiently.

“Two days,” he finally stated. “Today and tomorrow, at the very least. If she has to walk, someone should accompany her. But don’t keep her on her feet for too long. I’ve seen the crowd of people outside this room—don’t tire her out. There should only be one or two people in the room with her, all right? Proper nutrition, sufficient sleep, and a—”

You felt yourself drifting off, and the doctor’s words faded and merged together until you were no longer sure whether you were imagining what a doctor would say in this situation, or if he was actually speaking.

When you opened your eyes again, Luna and Maggie were seated in the armchairs next to your bed. The room had stabilised, allowing you to take in your surroundings before Luna glanced up from her phone and Maggie pulled out her earpods, noticing that you were awake.

The space around you appeared to be a hotel room. Next to the bed stood a metal bar with bags of faint yellow liquid on it. A catheter was attached to your arm and an intravenous line led to it from the drip. You shivered at the sight of it.

“Oh!” Luna’s gasp drew your attention back to her. She dropped her phone on her seat and straightened up. “How are you feeling?”

Right away, Maggie jumped up and removed her earpods.

“Confused,” you spoke and immediately tried to clear your prickly throat.

Maggie leapt forward and grabbed an empty glass from the bedside table. She poured some water from one of the three bottles on the floor and handed it to you.

You couldn’t remember the last time you had water. It tasted heavenly.

“You’re in a hotel room,” Luna explained as you drank. Maggie sat down on the armrest of her friend’s chair. “In Manchester.”

The mention of the city made you glare at her, and both girls breathed a sigh of relief. At least you knew where you were in a broader sense.

“It’s 7 PM,” Luna said after checking her phone. “The band has a day off tomorrow because the concert’s been postponed—”

“Because of the flooding,” you finished, leaning forward to put the glass back on the table. “I remember, Luna. Thanks. What, um—how come I’m here?”

Luna looked at Maggie for a moment, wordlessly asking her to take over the story.

“Well, you fainted,” Maggie started. She wasn’t usually a woman of many words, and this time was no different, which you found comforting. If Maggie didn’t think it was necessary to talk for hours, then you must not have been doing that bad. “Jungkook found you.”

“Yeah,” Luna had to interject with more details—she was still irked about his decision to book a hotel room instead of a hospital room. “And then he spent half an hour describing your symptoms. It took the doctor all of one second to diagnose you with burnout and put you on a vitamin drip. He told us to keep you on bed rest and watch for any more nosebleeds or fainting spells. If they continue, you’ll need to go into urgent care.”

You wanted to ask questions—where did they find this doctor? Where was this hotel? What was happening at the venue?—but the girls were on a roll.

“Meanwhile, I wasn’t even allowed in the room,” Maggie said, returning to her chair and sitting down properly. She was upset that she had missed what Luna had just summarised for you. “The doctor told us that only one person could stay, but neither Luna, nor Jungkook agreed to leave. So, no one else could come in until you were feeling better.”

“Jungkook was the one who decided on the hotel room, by the way,” Luna remarked, seemingly glad to finally express her frustrations. “I argued. I think you should at least have a blood test done. What if you’re anaemic? But—”

“I’m not anaemic,” you finally interrupted as you settled back on the bed. The mattress quickly adjusted to the shape of your body. Closing your eyes, you had to admit that the bed was really quite comfortable. Perhaps you could stay here for a few more hours. “This has happened to me before. I’ll be fine.”

Luna sighed. Her knowledge of the last time this had happened to you came from Jungkook’s haphazard stream of thought as he tried to explain to the doctor that the two of you had been in this exact situation before—you, unconscious, and he, on the verge of losing his mind.

Honestly, for a moment, Luna thought the doctor had considered sedating Jungkook instead of you.

“I knew you were going to say that,” she muttered after a minute. “Jungkook seemed to believe you’d shoot us all dead if we took you to a hospital.”

Gratitude bubbled up in your chest, but when you saw your friend’s solemn features, you tried to soften your response.

“I wouldn’t have shot you,” you said. “I would have smothered you all with pillows."

Maggie scoffed, and Luna rolled her eyes, but the corners of her lips still turned up.

“Nice to see you haven’t gained a sense of humour while you were out,” Maggie teased.

“Ha,” you responded dryly—but you were smiling, too.

Luna crossed her legs on the armchair to get more comfortable. She glanced at Maggie anxiously. The girls weren’t sure if they were tiring you out with their conversation, but you were looking up at the ceiling, not indicating that you were tired in any way, so they decided to continue.

“So, want to tell us how this happened, then?” Luna asked.

You turned your head to her. “I was hoping you’d tell me. I can’t exactly remember.”

“You fainted,” Maggie reminded you. Luna leaned over and gave her a pat on the arm, thanking her for this valuable reminder.

You smiled gently. “You mentioned that. Where’d the doctor come from?”

“Oh, Jungkook found one,” Maggie said. “There’s a clinic across the street from the venue. And this hotel is right next door.”

“Oh.”

A minute passed as you attempted to piece it all together.

You could not remember any of this, but the news that Jungkook had taken care of most things was not calming. He must have really been going out of his mind.

You were curious about where he was, but you didn’t want to ask. Your paranoid mind made you think that any question about Jungkook that was not related to Rated Riot was unnecessary and would, therefore, be misunderstood. Your friends already seemed like they were resisting a few additional comments for the sake of your health.

“So,” Luna started after a quiet minute, “how come you fainted?"

You exhaled and tried to scratch your eyebrow, but the catheter tugged painfully at your skin, and you winced instead.

You dropped your hand back down. “I-I... I guess I overestimated myself.”

Luna pushed the IV stand closer to your bed so you could have more freedom with your limbs. You nodded gratefully.

“You’re going to have to slow down,” Luna said. “It’s no longer negotiable, I’m afraid. If you don’t listen to us, we will take you to a hospital.”

It was the plural pronoun that bothered you the most, but you forced yourself to swallow your discomfort at disrupting the daily routines of your friends.

“I’ll be alright soon,” you said. “And I promise this won’t happen again.”

“It had better not,” Maggie chimed in. “And what’s with this hatred of hospitals? You don’t like that they’re full of people who want to help you feel better?”

“I don’t hate them,” you said, which wasn’t entirely true. Your experiences in hospitals included your mum crying, and you’d rather not relive that—not so soon after your brother broke his leg. “I just don’t have time for them. I’m okay.”

Luna gave you a stern look. Even Maggie, who was usually quite calm when you said you were fine, was glowering a little.

“Fine,” you conceded. “I’ll endure this drip and then I'll be okay. Thank you for being here.”

Luna made a deliberate scene of fixing the bags on the metal stand—clearly intending to emphasise the seriousness of your condition—and then lowered herself back into her armchair.

“You’re welcome,” she said.

Smiling at both of your girls—to distract them from further discussing your health—you said, “I love you.”

“We love you, too,” Maggie said. “And, babe, just so you know, it’s not just us. There was—everyone was here. The concierge nearly fainted when he saw us all in the hallway.”

Your smile quickly fell. “What do you mean, everyone?”

“We took care of it, don’t worry,” Luna interjected, sensing your growing panic. “Maggie and I talked to Seokjin, Jimin, and Namjoon, who then spoke to the rest of the staff and escorted them out. And Jungkook took care of his band.”

The panic lingered. Your job was solving crises, not causing them. You did not like this.

“He took care of them?” you repeated, swallowing.

“Well, they were very worried,” Luna explained, glancing at Maggie for help. Maggie only nodded, indicating her agreement. “And, uh, they were very loud, too. He told them to go and texted them updates every ten minutes.”

“God.” You closed your eyes and carefully tried to prop yourself up into a half-sitting position. “What updates? I was asleep.”

“That’s what he’s been texting them,” Luna explained. “Every ten minutes, on the dot. And then Taehyung texted me, asking why I kicked his best friend out of your room—which is ridiculous because I did not kick him out. But you’re my best friend, so technically, I would have had the right to kick him out if you were uncomfortable.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose with your hand and shook your head, an involuntary smile creeping onto your face at your friend’s protectiveness. “I’m comfortable. Thank you.”

“Are you going to see him?” Maggie asked.

You looked up at her. “Jungkook?”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “He’s right behind the door, you know. Glued to the wall in the hallway.”

Your gaze slid down her dark blue jacket and focused on the mirror on the wall behind her. “Oh.”

“The doctor said he would need to go to the hospital, too, by the way,” Luna said, earning a surprised look from you. “He said the bandages around his head looked very threatening.”

You pressed your lips together. You’d expected that, but you still felt a fleeting twinge of disappointment—you’d covered his wounds to the best of your ability. And the bandages were honestly not the worst part of this.

“The doctor hasn’t even seen what’s underneath,” you said.

“He has now, actually,” Maggie replied. “He went to the emergency room about an hour ago to have them changed.”

You were too taken aback to properly understand her. “Jungkook did?”

“Yeah,” Luna said, pulling her phone out. Your mind tuned out her next few sentences as you struggled to come to terms with the fact that Jungkook had gone to the emergency room on his own accord. “—and he called us from the hospital. Apparently, he pestered the nurses with questions about what else we could do to help you feel better. They told him to leave, but he wanted to hear from us—in case we thought you needed anything. I wouldn’t be surprised if he brought a heart monitor here, just in case.”

Maggie snickered—but caught the serious looks on the faces around her and covered it up with a fractured cough—while you groaned and rubbed your eyes. You wouldn’t have been surprised, either.

You exhaled. “Yeah—I-I’ll see him. If that’s okay with you?”

Both girls nodded and got up from their seats. Before they went, however, they convinced you to accept their help to complete the difficult task—as you pointed out while rolling your eyes—of walking ten steps to the bathroom, and then ten steps back to your bed. Clearly, they were taking the doctor’s orders very seriously.

“We’ll be right outside,” Luna said once you settled back in bed. “Call or text—”

“No,” you protested. “You can’t—you don’t need to stay here. You’ve already done so much.”

“We were just sitting in your room with you,” Maggie said. “It’s hardly anything. Don’t worry about us.”

“It’s not hardly anything,” you disagreed. “At least get something to eat.”

The two girls looked at each other. Maggie shrugged and then looked back at you, still doubtful. You nodded with more conviction.

“We’ll pick up some food for everyone and come back,” Luna finally decided. “Okay?”

You nodded again. “Okay. Thank you.”

As soon as the girls opened the door to your hotel room, you heard shuffling outside—as if someone had been leaning right up against the door and scrambled away before it opened.

“You may come in,” Luna told Jungkook with excessive dramatics as she and Maggie turned to wave at you again.

You gave them another nod and watched as Jungkook tentatively walked inside. He turned to close the door behind him and lingered, for an awkward moment, at the entrance.

His bandages were fresh and none of the scantily wrapped bruises were visible any longer. Perhaps they would heal in time for the concert.

Before you could express your hopes out loud, however, Jungkook took a shaky breath and approached you.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so fucking sorry, I don’t know what I would have done if—”

“W-why are you sorry?” you cut him off, disturbed by the absolute devastation in his voice.

He was right next to your bed now, barely able to inhale. “It’s—you—you fainted—and—it was because—I shouldn’t—”

It hit you, suddenly, why he was hyperventilating so much. And the shock of this realisation was so great that you could not react immediately, and he proceeded to stutter for another few moments.

“This—it has nothing—this isn’t about you,” you finally said, almost as coherent as he was.

Still, he persisted, “but I—you—I was—I should have—”

“I didn’t faint because of you, Jungkook,” you said more firmly. There were several reasons why he should have felt guilty, of course, but this was definitely not one of them.

He finally stopped speaking, although the rapid process of inhaling and exhaling—which caused his shoulders to hunch and straighten from the intensity of the motions—continued for another minute.

Then he gave you a long, uncertain look. You maintained eye contact and watched as his breathing gradually slowed. You had never seen him panic so much and so suddenly—he had seemed almost perfectly fine when he came in, but it took him all of two seconds to fall apart.

Slowly, he regained control of his breathing and looked you over once more.

“Okay,” he said, shifting his weight to his other leg. “I-I don’t know if that—if it makes me feel better, but—”

“Thank you,” you said.

Lost in his own thoughts, he craned his neck towards you. “Hm?”

“Luna and Maggie told me you’re the one who found me.”

Jungkook looked briefly embarrassed.

“I explicitly asked them not to tell,” he said.

You smiled. “I’m sure this was Force majeure, so don’t blame them. And they’re my best friends anyway.”

“Clearly.” He brought his hands down his face before admitting, “I just—I thought you wouldn’t want to see me.”

A part of you thought he was right to assume that. You shouldn’t want to see him.

But another part of you forced you to lower your gaze and twiddle your thumbs nervously as you linked your hands on your stomach.

“No, uh, see,” you began with a nervous chuckle. “That’s, uh—that’s almost the worst part of this whole thing. My plan, really, was to avoid you.”

Jungkook raised his eyebrows, then politely lowered them. He placed his hand on the back of the armchair and said, profoundly, “very mature.”

“You don’t get to judge,” you warned.

The corner of his lip quirked. “Just making an observation.”

“So, my plan was to avoid you,” you continued. “But we both know how that ended. And then I woke up here, sort of feeling like I was floating in a space station somewhere near Saturn, and you know what my first thought was?”

Jungkook thought he was floating in a space station somewhere near Saturn.

“Wh—um, what?” he asked.

“My first thought was if you were okay.”

You looked at him as you said that, and he thought he saw the rest of his life flash before his eyes—a life that, just a few days ago, he’d deemed meaningless.

Without any proper distractions, it was just him and his thoughts, and they were never good company. They hated him for losing you.

But then you fainted and now that you’ve regained consciousness, your first thought was if he was okay.

He didn’t trust his legs very much anymore.

“Can I sit?” he asked, a little breathless again.

You took a second to reply, and he interpreted it as a sign of hesitation. “You can.”

Suspicious, he asked, “will you try to leave if I sit?”

You gave him a questioning look and nudged your hand, causing the IV bags to wobble. “Does it look like I can move around with this?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “You might still try.”

You snorted and shook your head. “Just sit down, Jungkook.”

He sat down.

The two of you were a peculiar sight like this. If this were a role-playing video game, there would have been exclamation marks over your heads—and if you had been approached, the list of conversation starters the player could choose would have been, simply, endless.

There was so much you wanted to say and ask each other, but the strength of your resistance was absurdly impressive.

One thought, however, overwhelmed everything, and it was very simple: how little everything else mattered compared to your health.

Jungkook took a deep breath and looked at you, taking in your tired, but ceaselessly dreamlike features.

Slowly, he found himself calming down. As long as you were here, as long as you were okay, things would work out one way or another.

“I, um—your mum called, by the way,” Jungkook said. “I have your phone. It fell out of your jacket when I—when I found you.”

Right away, you felt a surge of panic. You and your mum had a deal. She knew you were busy, so she would text sometimes, but never call. Unless something had happened.

“My—she called me?” you repeated with so much concern that Jungkook noticed the drip stand shake a little from the force of your distress. “Did you answer?”

He felt his own hands return to their almost natural trembling. “Uh, well, as it happened—I did.”

“Why did she call? What happened?”

“Well, nothing,” he said. “She said she hadn’t heard from you in a while, and she was worried.”

Mother’s intuition, she had called it when she spoke to you. When you returned to your dorm after your hospital stay six years ago, she had called you because “for some reason” she couldn’t sleep for two nights in a row. She didn’t know you were ill, of course, but it touched you, this maternal feeling that transcended all logic.

It could have been a coincidence, you supposed. Lots of things were.

“What did you say?” you asked.

“I said you had a lot of things to take care of,” Jungkook replied. “But you’d call her when you had a free moment.”

You watched him as he spoke and noticed his eyes widen momentarily, clearly taken aback by what he’d just seen in your expression. You realised you hadn’t expected him to hide this from your mum, and your surprise must have shown.

Blinking, you turned away and gripped the edge of your duvet.

“Thank you,” you said.

“I also told her you’re very stressed,” he added quieter.

“Oh—well, that—you could have kept that to yourself,” you said, less enthusiastic about his thoughtfulness. “She’s going to freak out about it.”

“Let her,” he countered. “You’re her child. She’s worried about you. You have to let people worry about you when there’s a reason to.”

You had a different opinion, of course. But instead of arguing, you chose to find out what conclusions your mum had drawn from this brief exchange. She hadn’t heard from Jungkook directly in years, even though she knew you were working together.

“What did she—was she surprised to hear from you?” you asked.

Your question made Jungkook appear as if he was trying very hard to tap dance while sitting down. He bounced his legs, tapped his feet, and occasionally scratched something under his chin, above his nose, or on the back of his neck.

“Uh, well, we’re, um, you know,” he said. You were almost ready to assume that he was hiding something else. “You and me—w-we’re working together. She wasn’t that surprised.”

“Right, but I mean—”

“I told her not to worry too much, and that you’d love to hear from her,” he finished, skilfully diverting from the topic and speaking even louder so you wouldn’t have a chance to interject with another question. “She said she’d text you, and you should call her when you have a minute. Not right now, though. You’re resting now.”

Again, you tried, “I’m just—”

“She put Kai on the phone, too,” he added. “So, I talked to him for a second. He called you an idiot.”

That took a very unusual turn, you thought in surprise. Your mum hadn’t spoken to Jungkook in years, and now she wanted to put your brother on the phone, too—you were simply confused.

“He—why’d he say that?” you asked, presently more unnerved by the name-calling than your mother’s unexpected choices.

“For forgetting to call your mum, he said. And for working too much,” Jungkook replied. “Which is precisely what I warned you about in Amsterdam, so I honestly can’t believe this happened to you again. We asked you to take it easy, so at least listen to us now, and—”

It was hard to breathe in this still room, with the force of everyone’s concern weighing you down.

Slowly, you kicked one leg out from under the duvet. “I did take it easy.”

“Right,” he said, closing his eyes and mumbling, “you never fucking take it easy.”

You heaved yourself up to your feet, holding onto the IV stand for support. “I was—”

Jungkook looked up and jumped to his feet as soon as he realised what you were doing. “Where are you going? Sit down.”

“I’m fine. I’m just—”

He blocked your way, quickly ensuring that you did not have enough space to take another step.

“See, I told you you’d do this,” he groaned, his chest pressed against yours. “Just sit down.”

You tried not to stagger backwards—which was his intention, of course—and still stood your ground. “I just want to open the window, I’m—”

“Sit down.”

Huffing in angry resignation, you sat back down.

“Okay,” he said, stepping back from the bed to give you more space. “Now lie down.”

You rolled your eyes but settled back into a horizontal position, glaring at him all the while.

“Should I roll over, too?” you bit. “Give you a paw?”

“Not unless you want to.”

You bared your teeth. “Funny.”

“Just lie down, please,” he reiterated. “And just—just rest, okay? For a little while, at least. I’ll open the window.” He saw you open your mouth and added hurriedly, “I know you can do it yourself. But let me.”

Sighing, you surrendered to the warm confines of the duvet. “Okay. Thanks.”

He crossed the room and struggled with the curtains for a moment. He could tell you were watching him, and he felt irrationally nervous—he thought that if he did something wrong, you would try to get up again. Finally, he grabbed the handle of the window, twisted it and pulled. A moment or two later, a welcome breeze finally filled the stuffy room.

Relieved to be able to breathe something other than your discomfort, you watched Jungkook return to his armchair.

“You didn’t tell me if you’re okay,” you reminded him. “How’s your eye?”

He looked confused as he lifted his hand—as if to verify if the eye in question was still there—then paused and dropped it again.

“It’s working,” he said, sitting back down next to your bed.

“And the pain?”

He shrugged. “Bearable.”

“Good,” you said, slipping your hands under the covers and resting them on your stomach. “I’m glad you took out your eyebrow piercing before the whole thing with Sid, by the way. Otherwise, we might have had even more problems.”

Jungkook didn’t want that to be your shared problem—he was determined to carry out his plan, which he boldly referred to as “Getting My Shit Together”—but at the same time, he was glad that he didn’t cause you any additional distress. Honestly, he couldn’t have cared less about his piercings right now.

“I—yeah.” He rubbed his eyebrow absentmindedly. “I hadn’t planned it like that, but it worked out, I guess.”

“Did you get any rest?” you asked then.

The question felt misplaced, and his stomach sank at the sheer wrongness of it. You were always worried about others. And he always gave you reasons to worry.

Really, while he was happy—alright, ecstatic—that you thought of him, he should have been the one asking you this.

“How, uh—how do you mean?” he returned.

“After the flight,” you said.

He looked down at the beige carpet under his boots and shook his head. He couldn’t have slept even if he wanted to—not until he was sure you weren’t on your feet, insisting you were okay.

“I don’t need rest,” he said.

But as you looked at him, it was clear that rest was exactly what he needed. Beneath the imposing bandages, his eyes were bloodshot, and his skin was pale and waxy. He was still beautiful—Maggie would have made a joke about it—but in a way that made your heart ache if you looked at him too long.

“You should go,” you said. “Get some sleep.”

Jungkook gave you a look as if you had just confessed that you enjoyed beheading people in your spare time: incredulous and slightly offended.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said.

This was going to turn into a childish game, you knew it. But you tapped your thumbs together and still tried.

“What if I want to be alone?” you asked.

“Then I’ll call Luna and Maggie.”

Your arched eyebrows challenged his solution.

“When I said alone,” you clarified, “I didn’t mean not with you.”

For just a split second, he looked almost relieved to hear this. Then he bit his lip and brought a hand over his knee.

“If my presence is not the problem,” he said, “then I’m staying.”

“The problem,” you argued, “is that you’re going to end up in this bed, connected to an IV, if you don’t sleep.”

“Let’s cut to the chase,” he offered. “I’m not leaving you alone. In fact, I’m staying. Unless you explicitly tell me you can’t stand to look at me anymore.”

He gave you an opening to tease, and you enjoyed building up to it as you looked down and ran your tongue over your lips.

“And, uh, you’d leave then?” you asked—taunted, really.

“Begrudgingly,” he replied, as discontented as you were amused.

You nodded. “Alright.”

He raised his eyebrows, slightly dispirited. “You’re going to tell me to go?”

“No,” you said. “Stay.”

So he stayed.

And this moment in the hotel room, as the vitamin drip dribbled quietly into the intravenous tube, did not just feel bizarre. It felt a little like a parallel universe—like you’d lost consciousness in a world where you were very angry and very stressed, and had woken up in a world where only subtle echoes of all the fervent emotions you’d once felt existed.

In this world, all that you were feeling was eclipsed by what really mattered: the people who were in this room with you and had been waiting outside of it.

But you felt another particularly prominent sentiment, which was heightened even more by Jungkook’s relentless focus on you. You did not want to name it, however. To identify it was to give it power over you, and you liked to believe that you had your heartbeat under control right now.

“It’s like—this is just like back then again,” Jungkook said suddenly. “Isn’t it?”

You exhaled, returning to the jagged, uncertain moment.

“Yeah...” you said, stretching the vowels in a frantic attempt to fill the space that would soon turn into an awkward silence. “Thank you for not taking me to a hospital this time. This really isn’t so bad.”

“It is bad,” he disagreed right away. “But I didn’t want you to have another reason to feel stressed. I thought a hotel room would relax you more than a hospital room.”

“It would,” you said. “Thanks.”

He hung his head. “Yeah.”

Not the awkward silence, not the awkward silence, not the—

“Well,” you inhaled, “at least you won’t have to study for any finals this time, right?”

You expected him to smile back at the gentle jab about him failing his exam the last time you were in the hospital. But when Jungkook looked up, he looked crestfallen somehow—almost like he was disappointed that he did not have to study for finals this time.

“Yeah, um, actually—I-I didn’t fail my exam because I didn’t study for it,” he said in a slow, contemplative tone. He wasn’t sure if he could ever admit this to you, but he figured he didn’t have much left to lose. He’d already told you so much. He might as well tell you all the rest. “I failed because your friend texted me about twenty minutes before my final, saying that you left your exam looking very disoriented. She asked if I could check on you.”

Horror descended on your face as you realised what he meant.

“You went to look for me,” you surmised painfully, “and didn’t show up to take your final.”

He nodded and you shook your head with a newfound ferocity.

“Jungkook,” you said, remembering how you reacted when he first told you he had failed—how you immediately blamed his recklessness and his friends. How you brought up all of his mistakes and thought this was another one of them.

“You passed out,” he said. “I don’t regret it.”

“I yelled at you so much!” you continued, lost in your own guilt. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth?”

“You helped me study, too,” he defended, feeling almost uncomfortable. He’d never felt your reaction was inappropriate, even under the circumstances. He had failed the exam, after all—like he’d failed several others before.

You shook your head again. “Yeah, but—”

“It’s fine,” he cut you off.

“It’s not fine!” you refuted immediately. “It was my fault you failed.”

“It wasn’t your—”

“I thought it was your friends again,” you said. “I thought they distracted you, and you didn’t study.”

There it was—this vast precipice between what you thought had happened and what had actually happened. Now that years have passed, Jungkook didn’t even know where to start.

The fact was this: you believed that every time he failed you, it was his friends’ fault—and that belief comforted him. It was so appropriate, so fitting.

And sometimes it was true, but even when it wasn’t—when it was just him, not being good enough—your assumption that it was Sid’s fault didn’t paint Jungkook as desperate; merely reckless. Not hopeless, only a little dumb. He preferred it this way.

But now he took a deep breath.

“My friends did distract me from a lot of things,” he said. “But the truth is, sometimes… I tried too hard, and I didn’t want you to know about it. I couldn’t stand the thought of trying to do something for you and then—just completely fucking everything up and letting you down. Sometimes blaming my friends was a convenient excuse.”

You frowned. “What—what are you talking about?”

“Well,” he wiped his palms on his black cargo pants and stretched out his legs, “remember when we were planning to go on holiday together and I fucked up?”

Your frown deepened.

“Hawaii?” you asked. “When you bought the tickets home for the same day we were flying there?”

“Uh…” He hadn’t realised he’d messed up several times. “No. Different holiday. When I missed the train we were supposed to take to the beach? For our summer break?”

“Oh.” You nodded. “I remember. But I saw Sid’s Instagram videos with you, drinking at his garage. I know you were—”

“Those were old videos. And he posted them at a very bad time, which, honestly,” he chuckled sadly, “it’s nothing new for Sid. He seized every opportunity to make me miserable, and I was—I relied on that sometimes. I think he wanted to start an argument between us on the train, that’s why he posted those videos. The truth is, though, I didn’t even see him that day. I missed the train because I wanted to rent out a car and surprise you.”

The quiet confusion on your face prompted him to keep going.

“I didn’t want just any car,” he explained. “I wanted the same Cadillac convertible I’d rented out for our first anniversary.”

You had fond memories of the convertible. Not of the actual drive, which was, honestly, quite painful—there were bugs and unruly strands of your hair everywhere—but of the laughter you’d shared inside.

“It was summer, finally warm enough outside,” Jungkook recalled. “I thought it would be a nice way to relax after studying. I even, uh—I made decorations and everything. Glittery, silver letters that said, ‘just passed our finals’. It’s a play on ‘just married’, you know? It’s a—a joke.”

Eager to understand where this was going, you remained frozen on the bed, and Jungkook felt himself waver slightly. He was glad you weren’t laughing—he dreaded you’d laugh or find any of this as embarrassing as he did—but he slid his hands under his thighs anyway, as if to warm them.

“The thing is, though,” he continued. “I didn’t take my passport with me. Because you don’t need a passport when you’re taking the fucking train, but you can’t rent a car without one, and those fucking assholes at the rental shop—anyway. I went back to my dorm to pick it up, and by the time I got back, the rental shop had closed for lunch. And I missed the train.”

Your heartbeat was steady—fast, absolutely speeding, but steady nonetheless. It hadn’t slowed since he started speaking.

Your expression, however, was almost painfully concentrated. When he looked at you, it seemed as if you were listening to a séance where a spirit was recounting their death.

You cleared your throat and tried to speak. “I thought—”

“You thought I forgot about our trip and went out with Sid,” Jungkook finished for you.

You didn’t have to confirm it, he knew. The hope that this was what you would assume was his safety blanket—this way, he didn’t have to face the fact that he could never do anything right for you, not even when he tried so hard to.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked.

You weren’t angry at him for this because he’d made it to the beach later that night, after all. He had taken the last train and barged into your cabin just after midnight. You had nearly knocked him out with a bedside lamp, assuming it was an intruder.

But you didn’t understand the point of allowing you to believe—for years—that it was Sid’s fault. Why didn’t he defend himself?

“Because—did you not hear me describe the letters I’d cut out from glittery paper?” Jungkook asked, his voice high-pitched in irritation at himself. “It’s embarrassing. I should have just met you at the train station like I said I would.”

“Well, why didn’t you?” you questioned. “Why put all this effort?”

“Because I love you,” he replied. You tugged on the IV tube again as you squirmed and unconsciously flexed your arm. “And because I saw your friends get picked up by their boyfriends in their cars. I saw those boyfriends bring them massive bouquets of roses. I saw all the grand fucking gestures that I could never do for you, because I didn’t have enough—I wasn’t—it was mortifying. I thought that you deserved the world, and all I could give you was… some fucking wildflowers before our dates.”

The corners of your lips twitched as you tried to speak, “it’s—I loved your wildflowers, though. And I never cared about anything else.”

“I know,” he said. “But I did.”

You looked down at the white duvet. “You and your gestures.”

Jungkook hummed, but did not add anything else. He was thinking—and regretting his silences. You were thinking, too—and wondering if this was the only time he allowed you to assume that his friends were at fault when they weren’t.

The room around you stilled, adapting to the atmosphere of the conversation. Even your drip quieted.

But then someone knocked on the door of the hotel room, and you and Jungkook almost lit up with relief.

“It’s us!” Luna’s voice called out just as Jungkook stood up to check who it was.

Your friends had returned with paper boxes of Thai food—enough to feed at least five people, from what you could see from your bed—and waved at you from the doorway.

A conversation followed—one that you couldn’t quite hear, except for irrelevant snippets, such as “are you sure?” and “well, okay”—and then Jungkook stepped away from the door, allowing the two girls to address you.

“Apparently, we’ll be heading back to the bus for a quick nap,” Luna said. Jungkook gave her a disapproving look that she promptly ignored. “Is that okay with you? Jungkook will stay.”

Your reflexive response was, of course, to try to dismiss their responsibility. “He doesn’t—neither of you have to stay—”

“Someone is staying,” Jungkook stated, his voice strict, final. “And I would like to be the one to do that.”

You weren’t protesting against him specifically, but as you prepared to reply, you realised it might seem that way. Your hesitant silence was a chance for Jungkook to nod at the two girls again. They nodded back, but then glanced back at you.

“Our phones are on,” Maggie said, lifting her device up for you to see. “So, you can still call or text us at any point, and we’ll rush over here right away.”

Jungkook raised his eyebrows. “That certainly does not make it sound like I’m about to torture her.”

You bit back a smile on your bed while Luna said simply, “just a precaution.”

“I get it,” he said. “And I’ll personally call you if I say or do anything that’s over the line.”

Neither Luna, nor Maggie had a response to that, and you looked up to meet three pairs of expectant eyes.

“I—it’s okay,” you said to the girls. “You—yes, get some rest. We’ll be fine here. Thank you.”

“Okay. We’ll be back!” Luna promised, shooting a warning look at Jungkook, while Maggie waved her phone and called out at you, “text us!”

You wanted to give them a small wave, but the thick duvet and the persistent catheter digging into your arm made it difficult to pull your hands out, so all you managed to do was just shuffle around under the covers and nod at them.

The girls left the take-out boxes inside, waved at you again, and walked away.

Jungkook closed the door and slowly returned to his seat, his shoulders hunched, hands in his pockets, and steps unsteady. He looked lost and frightened.

He didn’t want you to misunderstand his intentions. He didn’t want to stay here just to have you to himself, to apologise and to beg for your forgiveness. He wanted to stay because he couldn’t breathe when he didn’t know if you were okay.

As his hesitation hung in the air, memories of your previous hospital stay returned to you again, and you closed your eyes to shake them off.

“You should eat something,” you said.

Jungkook refused.

“When was the last time you ate anything?” you prodded.

Again, he mumbled and hummed under his breath, evading the question and sitting very still—as if he was expecting something. As if something was coming.

And you realised that something was coming. But you had to speak to bring that something here.

“So, then—w-was there anything else?” you finally asked.

Jungkook knew you were referring to the moment he’d just revealed, this deliberate misunderstanding. It was all he could think about. This was the something.

“There was,” he said with a sigh. “But I don’t—”

“Tell me about it.”

He had a lump in his throat that he couldn’t swallow—but not due to his lack of trying—and he suddenly felt like he was standing in front of a jury of his peers.

He didn’t want you to keep thinking that he hadn’t made an effort for you when he had, only it never turned out well. But he was also nervous about you learning how hard—and how impossibly much—he tried. He thought it would only highlight his shortcomings—and there were many of them.

He’d convinced himself that if you didn’t know about them, then he wasn’t letting you down. It was challenging to break out of this conviction now.

“Well—t-that Valentine’s Day,” he stammered. “Our second one—do you remember?”

You remembered right away. Despite your distaste for the commercialisation of the holiday, it still stung that Jungkook had avoided you the whole day. And for several days after that, too—although you’d assumed that to be deliberate. He’d missed Valentine’s Day and didn’t want to see you out of guilt.

“Sure,” you said.

“Well, that wasn’t Sid’s fault, either,” he said. “I know you thought we went on a drinking binge that weekend because Sid happened to conveniently go off the grid right at that time. He had a habit of—”

“But you weren’t with him?” you interjected, impatient.

“No. He was—it was nearly a Weekend at Bernie’s situation. There was some event happening at Jude’s summer house that weekend,” Jungkook said, and you tried to control yourself before you made mocking comments about the idea that people had enough money to own seasonal houses. “And Jude got so high that Sid and some of Jude’s cousins had to pretend he was just not feeling his best whenever his parents asked about him. They mimicked his voice through the door and everything.”

“So, where were you then?”

“I was—well, I—I spent that whole day—ah, no,” he stopped abruptly and brought his palms over his face, lacing his fingers over his mouth as he changed his mind. He couldn’t do this. It was awful. He was such a mess. “You know what? Maybe it’s better if you keep thinking I was at that summer house with them.”

“No,” you opposed in frustration, lunging forward to sit up. You did not listen to him drone on about Sid and Jude just to have him change his mind. “Now you have to tell me.”

Jungkook raised his head when you moved—his concern for you overwhelmed his chagrin.

“Okay, okay, don’t—lie down,” he asked, gesturing at the pillow.

You complied to get him to keep going. He took a breath.

“Just so you know,” he cautioned, “this might finally ruin my bad boy reputation.”

“You never had one.”

He clicked his tongue against his lower teeth. “Okay, ouch.”

You grinned. “Tell me. What really happened?”

He hesitated for another second, bouncing his knee up and down, up and down, and then stilling completely.

“Well, for one thing,” he began finally, “I was going to make dinner. That didn’t go well, because the communal kitchens were—well, you know. But that’s fine, I didn’t worry too much because there’s always take-out.”

You nodded. The communal kitchens in both of your dormitories were typically crowded with people or they smelled so terrible from a failed cooking experiment that it was simply wiser not to set foot in there.

“There was a great pizza place literally two blocks from your dorm,” you pointed out.

“Yeah, exactly.” He nodded in agreement. “But, um, we’d already gone out for a fancy dinner on Valentine’s Day the year before, so I wanted this year to be more… special. I don’t know. Or different, at least. So, I thought I’d cook and make you a slideshow. And—okay, you’ll have to stop smiling if you want me to continue.”

You hadn’t realised you were smiling. You pursed your lips and pulled them to each side to compose yourself.

“Sorry,” you said. “Continue.”

“Right,” he said. “So I made a PowerPoint. Added all of our pictures that I could find in my camera roll, wrote some funny captions. There were going to be at least 200 slides, I’m pretty sure you would have fallen asleep in the middle. I even recorded an acoustic Sleep Token cover to use as background music.”

You told yourself you’d stay quiet, but your disbelief was uncontrollable. “You didn’t!”

“I did,” he said, smiling, but trying not to, for the sake of the story. “It’s gone, though. I erased all traces of that night.”

“Why? What happened?”

“Well, I, uh—I didn’t want just to play you the slides on my laptop,” he said, scratching nervously at his chest over his dark grey hoodie. “I wanted something more.”

You nodded. “Of course.”

He looked away instead of acknowledging your comment.

“Then I remembered something I saw on Instagram that could have been cool. It was one of those aesthetic accounts. They had a picture of this dark, cosy room with a projector screening a film right on this white wall,” he said. “So, I thought, well, shit! I have a white wall behind my wardrobe. And the science lab downstairs has a projector.”

You didn’t like this as you stiffened on the bed, mumbling a dreading, “dear God.”

“Yeah.” He paused to lick his lips. “But it’s probably not what you think. I got the fucking projector.”

He said that with so much grandeur that you couldn’t help but raise your eyebrows—questioning if this was really something to be proud of.

He recapped the story anyway, “I took my roommate’s wrench, and it really didn’t take more than fifteen minutes to open the lab door, unscrew the projector, and bring it back up to my room.”

You shut your eyes and scrunched your nose at the step-by-step description. You wondered if there was a statute of limitations here, and if you would have been considered an accomplice now that you knew about this.

“They have security cameras, though,” you said, glancing at him again. “Don’t they?”

“They do,” Jungkook confirmed. He had a sardonic smile on his face. “Why do you think I was suspended for a month after Valentine’s Day?”

You lost him there. “Wait—they knew you stole the projector?”

“Borrowed,” he corrected. “I returned it two days later. But, yeah, uh—Minjun actually pulled some strings here. His dad went to university with the dean, so he vouched for me. Told him it was all a misunderstanding, and that it would never happen again.”

You looked away, frantically sifting through memories of the month after that particular Valentine’s Day. You remembered not seeing Jungkook for a few days after it, but you saw him fairly regularly later on. He would hang out in your dorm while you had classes, claiming not to have anything better to do.

It took you a full minute to properly recall the explanation he’d given about his suspension.

“Oh,” you said. “Minjun told me that you got suspended because you were caught completely wasted, spray-painting one of the campus buildings.”

Jungkook nodded, his eyes cast low.

“To be fair, I did spray-paint that one,” he admitted. “And I was probably wasted when I did it. But I wasn’t caught.”

You weren’t sure if “spray-painting” was a lesser offence than “stealing a projector from a laboratory” in your eyes, but you didn’t want to question Minjun’s decision now.

“Okay,” you said. “So what happened after you stole the projector?”

“Well, I took the borrowed projector up to my room and set it up,” he replied. “Everything looked great. I was going to give you the best Valentine’s Day dinner this world has ever fucking seen.”

He smacked his palms against his thighs as he spoke, showing off his determination, and you found yourself resisting a smile again. Jungkook had a certain way of telling stories—his changing smiles and small chuckles, his hand gestures and even his tone of voice always made it feel more vivid.

“But, um, I had to move the wardrobe to get a bare wall,” he continued. “And, uh, what I did not foresee was that, earlier that very same day, my roommate’s electric kettle had broken. He went out, purchased a new one. And he put the old one on top of the wardrobe to save space.” Jungkook gave you a moment to think back on this roommate. “You remember the guy, he hoarded everything, all kinds of fucking cables and wires, and—anyway. So, I started to push the wardrobe, and the fucking kettle—it fell and hit me right on the top of my head.”

A surprised gasp left your lips—a stark contrast to the easy, laid-back way he had just spoken.

Jungkook nodded in response to your reaction. “Yeah. My vision sort of darkened and I thought I heard something crack—I, uh, I did think it was my skull, not going to lie.”

He chuckled again—to minimise the impact of his words once more—but you sat up despite his inevitable protests.

“Jungkook!” you scolded. “And you didn’t tell me?!”

“Well, my skull obviously didn’t really crack.”

“I’m not so sure that it didn’t.”

“Anyway,” he stressed. “There wasn’t any blood or anything, so after a few minutes of sitting on the floor, I figured I was good to go. Then I stood up, and, uh—I don’t think you need a visual of what happened then.”

You closed your eyes.

Really, no. You did not need a visual.

About a year ago, at one of the smaller Rated Riot concerts—at a club that seemed harmless at first glance—Jungkook had climbed over to a wooden ceiling beam and swung his arms over it to brachiate across the narrow joist. The beam turned out to be heavily lacquered, and his sweaty palms slid right off, forcing him to crash onto the table below.

He gave himself a concussion, sprained his shoulder, broke $200 worth of bottles and glasses, and frightened the living hell out of the middle-aged couple who were sitting at the table that he’d landed on.

“Yeah,” you said in your quiet hotel room. “I can imagine.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook breathed out. He recalled this exact same moment—and he knew that, once again, the cause of his injury was his own overexertion. “So, I spent the whole night in my dorm room, on the floor—because I couldn’t crawl to my bed—hoping that I wouldn’t die.”

“And it didn’t occur to you to call me?” you asked—not gently. “Or the fucking ambulance, actually?”

“No,” he replied, unfazed by your disapproving tone. “Not if it meant having to explain what I was doing before all of that happened.”

“You’re crazy,” you said, shaking your head. “You clearly got a concussion, and you didn’t do anything about it.”

“To be fair,” he said, “it’s not that I was embarrassed about it or anything. I was just—horrified that I’d let you down. It was Valentine’s Day. I wanted to give you a slideshow and a romantic fucking dinner. Not—not lie on the floor of my room, half passed out.”

You fought against a pensive sadness. It seemed unfair that this night had not gone the way he’d planned.

“W-well, what did your roommate say when he returned?” you asked instead.

Jungkook poked his cheek with his tongue. “He wasn’t very happy that I broke his old kettle.”

“You broke his—Jesus Christ.” Your hands were on your face as you fell back and buried your head into the pillows. “So, he just left you there on the floor?”

“I assume he thought I was drunk.”

“Fucking—what a—and he was valedictorian, wasn’t he? What a fucking moron,” you groaned. “I knew I should have kicked his ass while I had the chance. I never liked him.”

Jungkook felt a warm rush of comfort to hear how agitated you were getting on his behalf.

“Yeah, he didn’t like me very much, either,” he said. “But that’s um—that’s the story. I missed Valentine’s Day, almost died, and got suspended. I couldn’t possibly tell you what happened.”

“No, how could you?” you deadpanned. “Your reputation was at stake.”

He smiled. “Precisely.”

Even though you joked about this, and he was grateful that you did, both of you knew that this was not entirely about upholding some specific “bad boy” image.

You’d already witnessed this side of him – the side that felt anxious and dreaded the thought of not being good enough. Of not meeting expectations. Of letting others down.

In fact, now that you thought about it, your first proper conversation during this tour had been about this very issue.

“The time I was arrested,” Jungkook said, his shaky voice interrupting your thoughts, “that was—it might have been another one of those times.”

“What?” you asked, perplexed again. “How—I was at the police station with you—the officers—”

“I don’t remember a lot of details,” he interrupted. “So, I’m—I’m not really sure. But, uh, apparently, that night we didn’t just spray-paint a building. Or spit at the officers, allegedly, while we ran from them. The police assumed Minjun and I were the “drunk and disorderly” call that they received an hour before they found us.”

Your memories of that night were hazy, too—mostly because you refused to go over the details in your mind. All you could remember was Jungkook calling you from the precinct and asking—in the most resigned voice you’ve ever heard—if you could come pick him up. The story that you were given when you arrived at the police station only came back to your memory in fragments: property damage. Assault of police officers. Resisting arrest.

“You weren’t?” you asked.

“No,” Jungkook said. “We had some drinks at a bar outside of town, and Sid started harassing some bikers across the street. Someone called the police. Jude said he even punched someone there, I don’t know. Minjun and I were already back in the city at that time. I asked him to come with me to keep watch. I wanted to spray-paint these song lyrics for you—”

Your head jerked as your surprise prevented you from shaking it properly. “Wait—you—what? What lyrics?”

“It’s—well, you know what lyrics,” he replied, timid suddenly. “There was only one song we listened to all the time.”

You remembered.

It’s you and me ‘til the end of time.

You swallowed, breathless, and almost completely weightless as you clutched the duvet tighter in an attempt to ground yourself.

“The building I chose was downtown,” Jungkook continued. “Right across the street from the park where we had our first—well, our first date. I wanted that place to have something—something that we both loved. To commemorate all that we had, I don’t know. I haven’t been a very good boyfriend to you at the time, and I wanted to redeem that.”

The unexpected tightness in your stomach worried you for a second, but the sedative must not have fully worn off yet, because you took a deep breath and felt your body wind down a little. The room continued to blur behind Jungkook, but you suspected that your condition or medication had little to do with that.

“And, uh,” you tried to ask, “the police found you there?”

Jungkook nodded.

“I think Sid guided them to us,” he said. “It never made sense to me why the police would even go there. No one patrolled those streets, what was the point? Not to mention, it was dark, we were dressed in black, and—honestly, it wasn’t our first time with graffiti. But what happened was, I got a text from Sid, saying that someone at the bar had called the cops on him. And not five minutes later, he and Jude both showed up downtown, and we heard sirens.”

“So, what did you do?” you asked—uncertain, suddenly, if you’d actually asked him this before. You had talked to one police officer that night and had accepted everything he told you as the truth.

“Well, Minjun and I ran, of course,” Jungkook said.

“And the other two?”

“I can’t remember the exact sequence of—I was—I was drunk,” he said, giving you an apologetic look. He wanted to share the whole story with you, but he wasn’t sure if he knew it himself. “I remember Sid and Jude shouting at us that they would hold the cops back while we ran—and I didn’t even—we didn’t even think that there was anything weird about that. Minjun and I just ran.”

You felt your memories frantically rearrange themselves after every word that he said. Your head had turned into a disorderly, confused mess.

“The, um—the spitting, then?” you asked.

“That had to be Sid and Jude,” Jungkook speculated. “But I guess I might have done that, too. I, uh—I want you to have the full story, so I won’t deny things that I can’t even remember. I’m thinking about it now, and I don’t know which moments were really Minjun and me, and which were actually Sid and Jude. We were all very drunk, and nobody at the police station believed a word we were saying anyway.”

You nodded, urging him to continue, and he did—grateful and a little scared that you were listening to him so intently.

“Minjun and I got a good head start,” he spoke. “I don’t know what Sid and Jude meant by saying they’d hold the police back, because three officers still chased after us. But they were always at least five metres behind—I could tell from the distant sound of their shoes. I remember feeling so disconnected from my feet as I ran, I could sense I was going to trip. I don’t—honestly, I’m not saying this to defend myself—but I don’t know how I would have managed to look at the cops over my shoulder, spit at them from five metres away, and keep running without breaking my neck or falling over.”

“Hmm—yeah. I don’t know, either,” you said, turning away from him. You understood that it was important for him to clear his conscience, especially if he had been held accountable for something he didn’t even do, but you had other questions. “I’m confused about something else, though. If you and Minjun were being chased while Sid and Jude stayed back, why weren’t they brought into the station?”

All Jungkook did was raise his head and give you a look.

“Right,” you realised. “Of course. Money.”

He looked back down and nodded.

Exhaling, you studied the ceiling tiles for a few seconds before admitting, “I’ve always had a feeling that Sid had set you up.”

“Yeah,” he replied with surprising calmness. “I think so, too.”

You ran your fingers over your hair and pulled a strand from the back of your head to toy with it as you tried to think.

In every conversation that you’ve had about Sid using Jungkook as a scapegoat, Jungkook had either insisted that you were misunderstanding, or he simply fell silent (to avoid arguments, you assumed, and not necessarily to indicate his agreement with you).

This felt very new and particularly unusual. He wasn’t feeding into your dislike for his friends. He was doing something else now, but you were hesitant to draw conclusions about what it might be.

He had claimed he was done with Sid right after their fight, but after enduring his insufferable friends for years, you weren’t ready to believe that you wouldn’t have to see Sid’s nauseating mug again.

“But, anyway,” Jungkook said after a quiet minute. “Minjun and I apologised. Minjun paid bail. We signed something—I don’t even know what that was. And I went home with you. That’s the, um—the whole story as I remember it.”

You simmered in your cluttered mind for a moment longer, attempting to form a thought that you could voice. But all you could manage was a question. “Why didn’t you talk to me?”

“Would it have made a difference?” he asked. “I was still caught. You had to come and pick me up.”

“At least I—it would have—okay. I don’t know,” you finished lamely. This was a ‘what if’ that you didn’t have the strength to consider.

He hadn’t lied to you, though, you realised—and you weren’t sure how that made you feel. He allowed you to make assumptions that his friends were to blame, and he went along with it. That wasn’t worse than outright lying to you, but it wasn’t much better, either—it still put an unnecessary strain on your relationship.

Logically then, knowing the whole truth about what was happening with him might have made a significant difference. He had good intentions—yet he did not use them to defend himself.

You felt a little sorry that he only told you now, when you couldn’t go back and see what would have happened if you’d known about this all along.

But you realised you did not feel angry. You couldn’t find a specific point in his revelations that you could point at and say, “this is the one. This will be the reason why I can’t stand to look at you anymore.”

You couldn’t say that his choice to be silent made sense, but you knew him. And you understood why he made that choice. The way you saw it, this was partially his friends’ fault anyway.

All on his own, Jungkook wouldn’t have felt this uncertain, this insecure to admit to you that he loved you and that he wanted to show that to you in unorthodox ways—a lot of which didn’t work out.

“So, you just…” you spoke up again. “You were okay with me assuming that you were out with friends every night? That you chose them over us repeatedly?”

Jungkook sighed. If there was anything he’d learned over the past few days, it was that communication was not his strong suit. But now he’d reached a point of no return. He had to talk.

“Honestly, I thought it was a better alternative,” he said. “I thought I was a miserable try-hard. And I realised after our conversation in Amsterdam that, well... this is part of the reason why I didn't—why I assumed that you broke up with me because you didn’t love me anymore. And not because I kept fucking up.”

Your breaths were shallow as you listened to him.

“I think that it turned against me, this unnecessary secrecy,” Jungkook continued. “I wanted to be the best for you, and when I couldn’t be, Sid became a great excuse. But in my head—for me, he didn’t seem to have that big of a presence in our relationship. But of course, after I blamed my own mistakes on Sid, too, they built up. And, in the end, I think what happened was that…”

He faltered and you finished his sentence for him, “I started to see that all the reasons why you fucked up were Sid. Sid. Sid. Sid.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I made you think that if I was given a choice, I’d choose my friends over you. Which I wouldn’t! But, um—I had a very poor way of showing that. Have, actually. Still do. I’m sorry.”

“Hmm.” You turned away. “Do you—you know what else I think this is?”

He looked at you. “What?”

“Sid’s influence,” you said. “You were so scared that he would think you’re hopeless or pathetic that you couldn’t even talk about the things that you did—the things that you wanted to do for me. You thought you were a ‘try-hard’ because your friends convinced you that you were.”

Jungkook felt stunned and a little nauseous.

He didn’t know if this was something he’d implied in his endless attempts to apologise for the bet, but you articulated everything he had struggled to convey.

He was trying to prove to Sid that he wasn’t pathetic—and he was doing it long before Sid suggested the bet. He was doing it every time he went out with his friends. He was doing it every time he allowed you to blame these friends after he missed your dates—just so he wouldn’t have to admit how much he tried to make these dates special, and how miserably he’d failed at that.

Eventually, he began to accept that he was truly pitiful for being so stubbornly in love with you. He hated their pity. He wanted to change it. Make it not so.

But the aftermath of the bet made him realise that all he really did, was prove that he was pathetic—he wanted to get you back in any desperate way possible.

He was okay with that now.

He was okay with being so in love with you that he couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t focus on anything else. Couldn’t stay where he was, repeating the same mistakes, going round and round, because he needed to grow. Needed to become someone who deserved you.

He was okay with it because being pitiful meant being in love with you, and he would never try to fight against that.

And you knew all these things about him. You knew everything.

He didn’t really understand how the world worked and he didn’t know if destiny played favourites. But he remembered writing a line in one of Rated Riot’s earlier songs—you weren't made for me, that much is true / but I was made for you—and he was once again confronted with the weight of this realisation.

He loved you. He’s always been yours so completely and wholeheartedly that you read him without looking at him.

He liked to think he knew you well—but that was extremely presumptuous of him. You were a universe within a universe. Really, it was you who knew him in ways he didn’t know himself.

“I—you’re right,” he said, running his tongue over his chapped lips. “I shouldn’t have given a fuck about what they thought, but I did. And I don’t—I, um—I don’t want this to seem like I am an angel for telling you about all that. No, I fucked up. Many times. We went binge-drinking, drag-racing, we skipped classes, failed tests, spray-painted buildings—”

“Stole projectors,” you interjected.

“—stole projectors,” he repeated reluctantly. “It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, while I only pretended to fuck up. No. I took you for granted many times, I know I did. And I’m—I’ll always be sorry about that. But I’m—I’ve kicked him out. Sid. I’m done. Truly done this time. And I don’t even care if Jude stays.”

The way his voice broke off at the last sentence sounded like he cared a little, but you recognised the determination in his eyes when you looked at him. He’d made a decision.

“And Minjun?” you asked.

Jungkook inhaled. “Minjun… said he’d stay.”

“Good,” you said.

“Good—yeah?” he asked, evidently surprised. “You think so?”

Minjun had constantly looked like a kicked puppy when you were in the room. Now that you understood why, you thought you liked him a little more for it.

“Yeah,” you said. “I think he’s the only one of your friends worth keeping.”

“I’m starting to see that, too,” he admitted. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

You looked down. With half of the vitamin drip gone now, you felt your body start to return to you—and, automatically, the surreal haze inside this hotel room began to clear. You were no longer floating somewhere on the ceiling and only pretending that you were perfectly fine.

You were coming back to yourself. And the return was rugged and painful.

 “You, um—you keep apologising to me like—like you’re obligated to respond to me,” you said. Jungkook didn’t know if you realised it, but your voice changed when you spoke to him as his manager and not as someone he’d known and loved for over seven years. “I’m your manager, but these things—you can—I shouldn’t tell you how to live your life. That’s not my—”

“I want it to be, though,” he cut you off with a sudden boldness that he hadn’t realised he still had in him. “I-I mean, I don’t want you to worry about me like that ever again, but I—I want you to think about me. Sometimes, you’re the only person who truly does.”

You shook your head—not to rid yourself of the responsibility, but to remind him, yet again, that he had people who wanted what was best for him.

And, honestly, he knew he did. He just wanted you.

“You have your grandma,” you said.

“Yeah, of course,” he said, nodding distractedly. “But, um, you know.”

“And you’re loved by thousands,” you continued. “They all want you to stay safe.”

He smiled—appreciative but oddly apologetic.

“I’m grateful for that,” he said. “It’s just that—I want you to be the one who wants that for me. I’ve only ever loved you, I’ve never—never been in a relationship with anyone who wasn’t you. And I don’t want to be, so the next thing that you say better not be about me finding someone else, because—”

“You have been in other relationships, though,” you said despite his warning. You didn't know if this was really true, but you ploughed ahead anyway—just to say something. “I don’t know how long or short, but Sid always bragged about your double dates whenever he called me to pick you up, so—”

“The double dates,” Jungkook said, “meant that Sid was on a date with two girls at the same time. And I was there for decoration.”

You scoffed. “I hardly imagine that to be possible, considering Sid looks like a sewer rat on a good day.”

Jungkook wanted to argue, but he was too amused by this image.

“And, um—what do I look like?” he asked.

You blinked, taken aback by the question, then quickly turned away to gaze out the window instead. “You look… you know what you look like.”

“No,” he said, fully grinning now. “Now that you mention it, I realise I actually have no idea what I look like.”

“There’s a mirror on the wall right behind you.”

“It’s like I’m blind, I don’t know what’s—”

“You’re ridiculous,” you groaned, your face warm. “You look nice. Move on.”

“Oh! That’s high praise coming from you.” He made an effort to bow. “Thank you.”

“Fuck off,” you retorted because you couldn’t smack him on the shoulder. Instead, you motioned with your hand, urging him to keep going. “Sid couldn’t get a date with a personality worse than his looks. Not if you were there.”

“I’m sure the expensive restaurant worked in his favour,” Jungkook remarked.

You threw your head back, realising the significance of money yet again. “Ah.”

“In any case, I don’t care,” he said. He cleared his throat and leaned back in his seat. “I never wanted to be with anyone who wasn’t you anyway. Which—as you’ll be happy to point out—sounds silly because when Sid was in a good mood, he was very dedicated to making sure neither of us left the club alone.”

You shrugged one of your shoulders, trying to come off as casual. “Well, since you brought it up.”

“Yeah, well.” He sighed, not running away from this, because, frankly, there was nowhere to run. “And you’re, uh—you’re my manager. You know what I’ve been doing after hours anyway.”

“Hmm.”

You didn’t have a better response, because there was something that Luna had said to you the other day that would not leave your mind alone.

He had the option to keep the bet a secret from you.

This evening had been filled with these options.

It would have been easy not to mention his miserable attempts at grand gestures or the people who were there after you. But he was bringing up everything—every little detail from your relationship and after it—and you sat expressionless on the bed, not knowing what to make of any of it.

“I meant what I said, though,” Jungkook said, leaning forward again. He felt restless; as if he could jump out of his skin if he tried hard enough. “You’re the only meaningful relationship I’ve had. It wasn’t fair for me to pretend to be interested in a second date with someone else, when I constantly caught myself thinking about if I’d ever see you again. Or when I’d see you again, after we started to work together.”

Your eyes were focused on the sheets of the bet, but he still didn’t dare to look at you.

“I didn’t want to believe that I could still be in love with you after all this time,” he said. “But—well, the evidence is against me.”

“W-why’d you go with Sid then?” you asked—quickly. Before he said something else that you didn’t know how to respond to. “Clubbing and on these dates?”

He clenched his jaw. “Well, you said it. I was trying to prove to him that I wasn’t pathetic. That I wasn’t in love with you anymore.”

“But why did you care so much about what he thought?” you pushed, and there was a hint of hurt in your voice. Jungkook felt his heart leap over several beats as it pounded against his ribs. “Why did his opinion matter to you more than mine?”

He exhaled so deeply that it was almost a miracle his lungs hadn’t collapsed. His insides were burning with regret. With an urge to turn back time. An urge to make things right.

“Because I was—I was a fucking idiot. For years before I met you, I thought Sid had everything I wanted,” he said—which was equally as simple as it was unfair, and, in retrospect, stupid. “The freedom, the audacity to do whatever the fuck he pleased. No consequences, ever.”

You remembered him saying the same thing to you on the bridge in Stockholm and felt yourself shiver as though the wind from that night had followed you all the way here.

“And the way he treated me when I was single was different, too,” Jungkook continued. “I was single, I was in a band, and it finally felt like he approved of me, like we were actually friends. Like we were equals. And I cared about that so fucking much. It felt like I finally had everything that he had, and I was just—blind.”

“But you didn’t,” you said. “You didn’t have what he has. I don’t think you ever will.”

Jungkook was surprised to realise that hearing this did not sting.

He agreed.

“Yeah,” he said. “I actually—I had so much more than Sid would ever have, because I had you. And that’s—that’s probably why he dragged me around with him. He was determined to make me truly lose you like he always made me lose everything. And I let him—I helped him make that come true. I can’t—I’m not much better than him. I want to believe I am, but I’m—I made the bet.”

You remembered thinking that Jungkook and Sid could never be equals, because Sid always needed Jungkook to have less. And now that you heard Jungkook come to a similar conclusion on his own, you thought you felt the room shift a little.

“Yeah,” you said, distracted. “T-that—the bet was fucked up.”

“I know. I’m—I’m sorry,” he said. “I just—I want you to know that I meant everything I had said. All of it. And I understand why you don’t want to believe me. I, uh—I know your family history. But I’ve got mine, too. My grandpa is almost eighty. He’s only ever loved one person his whole life. So did my dad. So will I. It’s just—regardless of what’s going to happen, you’re—I’ll always love you.”

You cleared your throat once, then once more—louder.

Jungkook was about ready to get up, alarmed suddenly, but you quieted and looked around. He caught a glimpse of your eyes as you scanned the room and he realised—in a paradoxical sense of relief—that you were frightened.

Not angry. Not refusing to believe him. Not disappointed or frustrated.

Just scared.

“It’s uh—it’s really late,” you said, looking back at the window. “Isn’t it? The sky’s completely dark.”

He swallowed. You didn’t want to talk about this. And you shouldn’t. You needed rest.

“Yeah, uh… do you want me to close the curtains?” he asked, swallowing all that was still left unsaid.

It was impossible anyway, he supposed, to pour seven years of misguided decisions into one conversation. He was just relieved you hadn’t asked him to leave.

“No,” you said. “Keep them open. I want to see the sky.”

He’d hoped you would say that, and he felt an almost forgotten lightness in his chest when you did. Lots of things had changed over the past few days, but a lot of things hadn’t—including your love for the night.

“A lot of stars tonight,” he said meaningfully. He was glad he had accidentally picked a hotel room with a view of boring back alleys: there were no lights to cover up the stars now.

“Yeah,” you agreed, much calmer. “They’re beautiful.”

There was a quote in a book his grandmother had once read to him: “are we human because we gaze at the stars, or do we gaze at them because we are human?”

He remembered feeling oddly wistful when he heard it. He imagined the night sky behind his closed eyes and he felt as though he was lacking something crucial—something that would come, but not yet.

He remembered watching the way you watched the stars back in Tilburg—hours before it all fell apart.

The night sky had always reminded him of you—really, even before he met you.

“I could open the window wider,” he suggested.

You closed your eyes.

“Could you?” you asked quietly.

“Yeah.” He stood up and approached the window, pulling the frame until he saw the ends of the curtains lift off the floor. “A distinct smell, isn’t it? The night.”

“It is,” you agreed.

It probably shouldn’t have been possible at this point, but as he turned around and traced your features with his gaze, he thought he fell in love with you a little more at this moment.

“We, um, we have this song,” he found himself saying as he returned to the armchair next to your bed. This song had been buzzing in his head nearly the whole night tonight. You could feel his nervousness as he mumbled, “ah, you probably know it already, it’s so obvious. And I told you in Oslo—okay, anyway. We have this song. It’s a B-side on our second single.”

“Cursed,” you said, recalling the title easily enough because this was your mum’s favourite song.

You always thought that the single—“Haunting,” which was their second title track and the very first Rated Riot song that you’d heard—overshadowed “Cursed.” Perhaps unfairly.

“Yeah.” Jungkook nodded. “Who, um—who do you think inspired it?”

Swallowing, you willed your thoughts to clear, so you wouldn’t have to think about the lyrics, but could not do it.

You remembered the entire chorus with perfect clarity, as though you were listening to Rated Riot perform the song in concert right now—Taehyung heavy on the bass and Jungkook yelling out the lyrics with his whole body leaning over the edge of the stage towards the audience.

You’re for the stars and for the moon to see /

You weren’t made for me /

You’re for the night and for the day to breathe /

You’re everything they want to be /

You're the enchantment that makes planets turn /

You’re more than the entire world /

You weren’t made for me, that much is true /

But I was made for you.

“I have no idea,” you said finally. You hoped, against all odds, this was a song that Yoongi wrote when he was drunk—those tended to be very emotional. “Was this the, um, absinthe one?”

Jungkook snickered humourlessly and shook his head.

“Don’t do this to me,” he asked, looking down for a moment—just until he could count the four loose threads in the carpet. Then he returned his gaze to you.

“It was you,” he said. “Your love for the night sky. I know it’s your favourite thing in the world.”

He said that and suddenly your chest was filled with them—with these stars that you loved to watch and he loved to sing about.

“W-well, that’s—you’re, um,” you struggled, “you’re not wrong about that, I guess.”

“It’s a song about my favourite thing in the world, too,” he added.

“W-what’s that?”

He had a sad smile on his face. “You.”

Your stomach tightened again and you squeezed your eyes shut—a feeble attempt to get away from this situation and from all the thoughts that your head could no longer contain.

“Not tonight,” you whispered. “I can’t—I don’t want to talk about us or about—about anything else tonight.”

“Okay,” he agreed immediately. “We won’t talk about it.”

“Okay,” you echoed, even though his laid-back response did not relax you.

You sensed longing in his words, and anguish. He would have done anything you asked him to—and this power scared you. You didn’t want it. You just wanted—

Exhaling loudly to drown out your thoughts, you turned to a side and glanced at the bandages on his face.

“Tomorrow, we will have to—we’ll have to figure out what to do with your eye,” you said.

Jungkook had not fully returned to this planet yet. “My eye?”

“Yes,” you said, giving him a longer look—as if to check if you hadn’t dreamt him—and then closing your eyes again. “Your black eye.”

He reached up to touch the bandages, perpetually confused about his injuries. “Oh—what do you mean, what to do with it?”

“Well, it’d probably be weird to cut it out, so we’ll have to cover it up.”

“Hmm.” He smiled at the ease in your voice. If everything else was lost, he hoped that he would at least get to keep your banter. “Okay.”

“I’ll think of something,” you promised as the gentle night wind brushed a strand of hair away from your face and fluttered your tired eyelashes.

“Thank you,” Jungkook said in a hush—his courage had finally abandoned him. “I’m sorry that this is another thing that you have to—”

“No,” you cut him off. “It’s not that bad.”

You tried to turn your head towards him, but lying here with your eyes closed felt very pleasant. You thought you’d felt revitalised before, you thought your body had started to feel more like it belonged to you again, but that had been momentary. You couldn’t keep your eyes open long enough to properly look at him.

“Do you mind if I… keep my eyes closed for a minute?” you asked.

“Do you mind if I stay here?” he responded.

“You—”

“Actually, I don’t care,” he decided. “I’m staying.”

You forced yourself to look at him. “You don’t have to do that. I’m fine.”

“You always say you’re fine,” he reminded you. “Look at where we are now.”

“It was a one-time thing. Look at this.” Lethargically, you raised your arm with the catheter. “I’m being pumped full of vitamins. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” he said. “I want to believe that. Really, I do, but you have to stop. You can’t keep going like this. I-I mean—”

You shook your head against the pillow. “Jungkook, this is really nothing.”

“I have a hard time believing that when you’re connected to a—”

“It’s—”

“Look, just—” he took a breath and extended his hands, “—p-please—please don’t let this happen again. Please look after yourself. I can’t lose you.”

He knew he might have to keep working with you without ever calling you his again. He’d have to learn how to deal with that.

But he could never deal with being here without you.

“Okay,” you said, your eyelids heavy. “Okay, I’ll be careful.”

“I’m going to need a promise here,” he said, reaching out his hand.

You chuckled weakly and extended your hand to gently graze his palm with the tips of your fingers. “I promise.”

He leaned in closer to fully grasp your hand in his, and saw the gentle—likely unconscious—smile on your lips as you squeezed his fingers. His chest filled with a warmth so big and powerful that, reasonably, there had to be no space left for his heart there anymore.

And yet something kept beating. He felt his own pulse reverberate against your fingers as he clutched your hand in his.

You’d be alright.

You hadn’t foreseen how calming the gentle dripping of the IV would be. You’d only meant to rest your eyes for a quick moment. You didn’t realise you had dozed off.

Only when your mind sobered up sometime in the early morning hours—you based the time solely on the colour of the sky outside—did you force your eyes open and concluded, with a painful jolt of your exhausted muscles, that you’d fallen asleep.

You looked around and for a moment, the dark, strange room filled your exhausted mind with terror. Then you noticed Jungkook sleeping in the chair next to you, and you felt yourself calm down.

Thank God he was here.

Blinking suddenly, you parted your lips as if preparing to argue with your own thoughts.

He wasn’t supposed to be here. He had a performance tomorrow. And a bandaged black eye that you still hadn’t figured out how to hide.

“I can tell you’re overthinking from all the way over here,” Jungkook said, his voice drowsy, eyes half-open. He must have heard the rustling of your covers and woken up. “Go to sleep.”

“What time is it?” you asked.

He was too tired to note the urgency in your voice as he mumbled, “sleeping time.”

“Jungkook, I’m serious,” you said. Finally, he caught your alarmed tone and his eyes shot open. “What time is it?”

He straightened in his seat and regarded you for a minute while he searched for his phone somewhere on the armchair. You didn’t appear to be in pain, but the emergency in your eyes threw him off.

“It’s three-twenty,” he said after a brief moment of blindness from the bright screen of his phone.

“Shit.” You looked around in the darkness, not sure when you had last seen your phone. You couldn’t remember Jungkook mentioning that he’d picked it up when he found you, and you hadn’t asked for it back. “I have to—”

“No,” he said, getting to his feet.

“No,” you argued back. “I need—”

He leaned over your bed and took hold of your hands right as you tried to throw off your duvet and sit up. You tried to evade him, but Jungkook proved he’d known you long enough to guess every move you were going to make—in complete darkness.

“No,” he said again, struggling with your relentless dedication to flail your limbs around until you stood up. “Lie down, please. I don’t know what you think you must do at three in the morning, but I promise you, it can wait. It’ll be done. I’ll do everything to make sure everything is okay.”

You stopped resisting his hold and allowed him to gently guide you back onto the mattress. He only let go of you when your head hit the pillows.

“You can’t be here. You need rest,” you insisted as he pulled the duvet over you, tucking it under your sides until you were firmly cocooned inside. You couldn’t tell if he did that for your comfort or to make sure you couldn’t escape this bed.

“So do you,” he countered.

“I'm fine—”

“No—for once, just... please stop saying that,” he asked, his eyes bright, but his voice completely spent. “You’re not fine. You’re getting a vitamin drip because you fainted. You need to sleep.”

You kept your eyes on his for another minute, trying to adjust to the thick darkness, so you could make out his silhouette as he towered over your bed. He was watching you and waiting.

“Okay,” you gave in. “I'll sleep.”

“I’ll be here,” he said, finally sitting back down.

You knew that wasn’t right. He needed to get proper rest. He shouldn’t have kept watch over you.

“Okay,” was all you said despite everything. “Thank you.”

He mumbled something unintelligible in response and you didn’t dare to ask him to repeat it. The room gave space to the night as your conversation wound down.

You could hear a faint screech of a lost bird outside the hotel window. Bugs were singing somewhere in the distance, too. And, as you drifted off, you thought you heard Jungkook whisper a weary “I love you.”

chapter title credits: bad omens, “the grey”

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𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘫𝘬 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴: (16/?)

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🐇 ♡ 🐤

[cr. namuspromised]

+ happy bun ♡

sleepwalking ● 8 | 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, angst, SLOW BURN

words: 10.3k

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 8 ► let’s search the skies for a while, you and i

Stockholm replaced Copenhagen as the next location for Rated Riot’s European Tour, and it was Day 2 of the 14 days that Sid had given Jungkook to win this bet.

Because of that, Jungkook found himself living in a whirlpool of contradictions.

When you were in the room with him, the bet was all he could think about. It’s what held him back from approaching you, what stopped him from talking to you—out of paradoxical fear that this would count towards winning the bet, but not towards getting back together with you.

And when you weren’t in the room with him, all he could think about was that you weren’t in the room with him.

It was like this right now.

Earlier today, Yoongi had suggested that everyone met up for dinner at a high-class restaurant on the Strandvägen promenade after the show tonight. It made sense for everyone to agree – the band had a day off tomorrow and the restaurant was, supposedly, at a very beautiful spot – and Jungkook figured everyone would come.

Everyone did come. Except you.

And now thoughts of you made their way into his mind while his body winced at every slight noise, every minuscule movement that he noticed out of the corner of his eye, thinking—hoping—that it was you entering the room.

He could remember seeing you at the show—actually, it was difficult for him to see anyone but you when he was on stage; he’d just noticed how impossibly captivating your eyes looked with the stage lights reflected in them as you watched Rated Riot perform—but he wasn’t sure where you had gone afterwards.

He leaned over to Namjoon, who was sitting next to him at the restaurant table, and whispered awkwardly, “so, um, I thought everyone was coming to this dinner.”

Namjoon forced himself to look away from the streetlights reflected in the bay as the band and their team dined on the waterfront. He was still smiling, dazed by the overwhelming beauty of the place, as he murmured, “everyone did come.”

“No,” Jungkook objected before Namjoon could look away. “No, uh, see, our manager didn’t.”

“Oh, Luna said that she had something to do,” the producer replied. “But I think she mentioned joining us later.”

Jungkook knew immediately that that wouldn’t happen. In fact, as he scanned the table for your friends—Luna or Maggie—he glanced at Yoongi, who’d overheard the brief exchange, and shook his head when Jungkook’s gaze landed on him.

The whole band knew you well enough by now: if you weren’t here from the start, you weren’t coming. Luna probably only said that to Namjoon, because you asked her to.

Figuring there had to be a reason why you didn’t come – it was early morning back home, so it was possible that the label had contacted you, although Jungkook doubted it; they weren’t the type to call when things were going well – he looked over to his other side where Jude, Sid, and Minjun were sitting.

The three of them had already drunk a considerable amount of brännvin—the more it burned their throats, the more they seemed to enjoy it, the psychopaths—so they were probably unaware of how loud their conversation was.

He thought this was the perfect opportunity to slip out.

Granted, he probably shouldn’t have worried about his friends catching him leaving – they’d assume he was doing it to win the bet. And perhaps he should have deliberately tried to draw more attention to himself, to show off that he was going to win.

But he snuck out of the restaurant because of you, not because of the bet.

He didn’t think this through very well, however. A taxi van had dropped everyone off at the restaurant earlier, and the ride hadn’t taken very long. But, on foot, he was forced to walk for at least fifty minutes until he reached the parking lot where the tour buses were.

He tried to breathe in through his nose and out his mouth, so it wouldn’t look like he’d just run a marathon—although the muscles in his calves certainly felt like it.

He opened the door of the bus and peered inside. As suspected, you were half-lying in your bunk, laptop on your knees, airpods in your ears.

He entered and closed the door behind him with an accidental slam. There was no one else on the bus, but you didn’t lift your head; not even as he walked down the lane between the bunks, stopping in front of yours. Whatever you were listening to had to be loud enough to drown out the noise he was making.

“What are you doing?” he asked, reaching out to touch your shoulder. Your violent flinch at his touch made him flinch as he nearly tumbled backwards into Hoseok’s bunk.

“Jesus! Fuck!” you cried in horror, yanking the airpods out of your ears. “Stop doing that! What—why are you here?”

Straightening up, his eyes still wide, he replied, “I-I came here to ask you that!”

You kept your eyes on him, your heart still startled. “You came here from Strandvägen?”

“Yes.”

“On foot?”

“Yes.”

You knew Strandvägen was quite far from here, but you didn’t know Stockholm well enough to determine if his answer was plausible. However, his chest was rising and falling at an irregular pace, even though he was trying very hard to appear calm and relaxed, and that was a clear sign of physical exertion.

Still not blinking—as if he’d fade away if you closed your eyes even for a second—you furrowed your brows. “Why?”

“To ask you why you weren’t with us,” he replied simply.

Even more confused, you flipped your laptop screen shut and placed the device behind you.

Jungkook took this as an invitation to sit down next to you (really, he would have sat on the floor at this point, his legs were burning). You watched him and thought about what to ask next.

“You could have used the phone,” you said, figuring there was nothing you could ask him that would make you feel satisfied with his answer.

“I wanted to see your face,” he replied, “when you explained why you made me walk all the way over here.”

Despite the humorous twinkle in his eyes, you felt accused and defended, “I did not make you do anything.”

“You weren’t at the restaurant,” he argued. “So, yeah. You did.”

Averting your gaze, you ran your fingers over the frayed edges of the bedspread underneath the two of you.

“You shouldn’t have bothered coming here,” you began. He ignored the condescending tone in your voice, knowing it was there to make you feel better about having to explain something personal—something you’d undoubtedly categorised under ‘complaining’ and, therefore, would regret as soon as you talked about it. “I didn’t come with you guys, because I’m not really feeling up for socialising tonight. That’s all.”

He figured as much, but he knew that was not all. The pain in his legs eased a little, now that he could see that he hadn’t walked here for nothing.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” you replied—a reflex—and Jungkook had to swallow his frustration. “Just not feeling my best. But I’m fine.”

You seemed unaware of your own contradictory words, but he chose not to point it out, saying instead, “Luna told Namjoon you were busy.”

“Yeah,” you replied with an uncomfortable twitch of your lip. “I asked her to. I didn’t want him to pity me. He’s very sensitive. Makes me feel bad if I upset him.”

Weirdly happy to hear that, Jungkook gave you a small, teasing smile. “But you don’t mind upsetting me?”

“You came all this way,” you replied, meeting his eye and smiling back—but your gaze remained vacant. “I couldn’t just lie to you. But, really, I’m fine. You should go back.”

Funny how you managed to assure him you weren’t lying and then proceeded to lie all in one breath.

“I’m not going back without you,” he said, his voice rougher. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” you said, and then again, “nothing. I’m just tired, that’s all.”

Jungkook knew you never admitted you were tired unless it was an excuse to hide what you were really feeling. And, frankly, he was starting to grow really annoyed. Not because you were refusing to tell him what was going on, but because you were treating him like a stranger.

He’d known you for seven years at this point. He could tell when you were pretending.

And yet, he hadn’t tried to pry the truth out of you in years—he couldn’t even remember what methods he used to use back when you were together.

And he suddenly felt guilty, too, because you spent so much time making sure everyone around you was doing well—citing your job as the reason—but he’d never really asked you about you in return.

“You can talk to me, you know,” he mumbled—the words he’d heard you say to him hundreds of times sounded awkward when he repeated them. “You always tell me that. It’s only fair that I reciprocate.”

“See, but I have to listen to you,” you replied softly, not meaning much by it. You just wanted to relieve him of the responsibility he seemed to think he had to sit here and listen to you. “It’s my duty to make sure you’re feeling your best.”

“Well, I’m making sure you’re feeling your best because that’s what I want to do,” he countered. “Not because I have to.”

Your eyes widened in realisation. “I didn’t mean to imply that I don’t care about you—”

“I get it,” he cut you off. “Talk to me.”

You sighed. There were only so many times you could slither out of answering questions without it becoming frustrating. In your personal experience, most people rarely persisted long enough for you to say “I’m fine” more than twice in a row.

Jungkook, however, sat on your bunk, stiff as a statue. Determined, clearly, to stay here until you talked to him.

You knew you’d have to. And, really, you weren’t purposefully hiding anything. You just didn’t think this was something that you should have bothered other people with. Especially Jungkook, who already had enough on his plate from performing almost every night.

“It’s nothing,” you said—always the introductory phrase in your sentences. “I was on the phone with my mum after the show—”

Jungkook reacted immediately, “isn’t it… very early over there?”

“It was a little after four in the morning when she called, yeah,” you said. “That’s why I knew right away that something bad had to have happened.”

He felt an unexpected pang in his chest. Forgetting the bet completely, he worried about something else for a second—another thing that your mum could have told you about him.

It wasn’t anything bad per se, he knew you wouldn’t be angry if you found out—he hoped not—but you might not like the fact that he wasn’t the one who told you.

But it couldn’t be. You appeared tired, not flabbergasted. You looked surprised to see him, but not enough to toss a flowerpot at his head.

He shuffled on the bunk, and tried to ask, “what, um—what happened?”

“It’s my brother,” you said with a sigh so deep, it drowned out the sound of Jungkook’s relieved exhale. “He got—he had gone on a trip with friends. But then he suddenly returned home with a broken leg. That bonehead thought it was just a sprain, even though he couldn’t walk at all, so he didn’t go to the hospital right away. And now the leg is, apparently, swollen and blue.”

Jungkook cringed at the image.

“Yeah,” you replied to his expression. “Anyway, mum needed his insurance information. It’s not even a big deal, just a broken bone, he’ll be fine. It’s just that my mum was crying like it was the end of the world, and now I’m—I don’t know. It’s nothing. You shouldn’t have come.”

So close. You’d almost finished the whole story without discrediting your feelings again.

Jungkook tried to – quickly – find a way to bring you back to your previous state of mind, “no—it’s—is he going to be okay?”

“Yeah, they were at the hospital when I talked to her,” you replied. “The x-ray showed a common fracture, so he won’t need any surgery or anything.”

“That’s good. And your mum?”

“Oh, she was still hysterical when she hung up,” you said. “She only ended the call, because the nurse came to talk to her.”

This was typical of your mum, who loved her children more than anything—and now that you were rarely home because of your job, she focused a lot of that love on her youngest son.

Naturally, a broken bone was a disaster for her.

And she probably didn’t even realise how much her crying would affect you. No one liked to see their mother cry—it was possibly one of the worst sights a child could endure—but you’d always been particularly sensitive to it.

You had once told him that your biggest dream was to never see your mum cry again. And you put in great effort to make this dream come true ever since your parents’ divorce was finalised and your mother began to get herself back together: shopping trips, beauty salons, and holidays in her dream countries.

Jungkook had never heard anyone’s biggest dream be about someone else. He didn’t think he even believed you at first, but several late-night phone calls when you were pacing in your room, nearly ripping your hair out, because your mum wasn’t feeling well again, convinced him that you’d meant it.

Really, he admired you for this. But now he was clenching his jaw, because he understood where your mum was coming from, but he still thought it was unfair to burden you with this when she knew that the sound of her tears would haunt your dreams.

“He’s her youngest kid,” Jungkook rationalised in spite of himself.

“He’s seventeen,” you retorted irritably. “Surely, that’s old enough to develop a brain.”

“How did he break his leg anyway?”

“He told mum he was climbing a tree, and a branch broke off, so he fell,” you said, rolling your eyes. “I don’t know who climbs trees when they’re travelling with friends, but I do know that he was drinking, and he didn’t want mum to know. As for the thing he fell from, I can’t say anything about that. But clearly, he hit his head pretty badly on his way down, too, the absolute idiot.”

Jungkook couldn’t help a small snicker here. “Did she believe him about the tree?”

“He’s done dumber things, so I wouldn’t blame her,” you said. “And she still told me not to yell at him.”

“I second that.”

You groaned, disagreeing with him just as you’d disagreed with your mum before, “he was stupid enough to think his obviously broken leg would heal on its’ own and did not go to the hospital, and now he’s made mum cry—”

“He made a dumb mistake,” Jungkook’s calm voice cut you off. “I’m sure he knows and blames himself for it.”

Thrown off by his composure, you mumbled, “he’d better.”

“I’m sorry,” he said—the word sudden, almost inappropriate.

You looked at him. “Hm? For what?”

“That your mum cried, and you were on your own in a foreign country.”

You swallowed, your gaze falling from his face to the bedspread underneath you.

You didn’t have to tell him much, he knew your family very well: with only one parent to look after two children, you had to step up and take on the role of the other parent to your little brother and be the helping hand to replace the missing partner for your mum once your parents divorced.

Even before they divorced, actually—but Jungkook didn’t know much about that. You never talked about your family before your parents finally split up, but he had an inkling that things had been bad for a while. You had hardly any contact with your father and that had to come from somewhere.

Being a younger brother himself, he’d always felt this misplaced guilt in situations like this. As if exploiting older children in favour of the younger ones was a common practice of all parents, and he, too, received preferential treatment compared to his older brother.

But he didn’t think he did. He knew he didn’t—his parents called him and his brother the same number of times every day, even if Jungkook couldn’t always pick up. They scolded and praised them equally.

And he knew it was different for you. Your mum called you and asked how you were and what was new with you, but the real reason for her call was your brother and the new problems he was causing.

Jungkook suspected that she did this because you’d never told her that you minded being a parent to a child you didn’t have. You never minded being needed, being everyone else’s shoulder to lean on.

You were you.

You had everything under control, always. You were the only clear head in your household of chaos. Sometimes, even in his household of chaos.

You had taught your mum years ago not to ask how you were feeling, because two things would happen if she did: either she would worry, or you’d have to lie to her so she wouldn’t. You didn’t want either.

So, she knew better than to ask you too much, and she thought—or rather, hoped—that if you really needed help, if you were really struggling, you’d be the one to call her.

At least that’s what you’d told her you’d do.

The fact that she accepted this arrangement so easily, however, broke Jungkook’s heart, because he knew that if you were going through a really difficult time, you wouldn’t even think of calling anyone.

It was a miracle you even admitted what was wrong tonight. You’d been fluent in repressing your feelings and emotions for so long that Jungkook felt a little dizzy hearing you talk now.

“I’m fine,” you repeated as the silence in your bunk became too heavy. “Really. You shouldn’t have—”

“Do you want to walk back with me?” Jungkook asked.

Like Luna, he knew when to push, but he also knew when to stop. When to demand answers and when to distract you.

With Luna, that was understandable. She’d been your closest friend for years. But Jungkook made you watch him in stunned silence for a minute.

It shouldn’t have been surprising how well he knew you, but it was. And as you looked at him, the unexpected lightness in your chest made the inside of the bus spin a little.

Objectively, Jungkook knew that everyone would be done eating by the time you got back to the restaurant. But he suggested this anyway.

And, honestly, you knew that, too. But you still wanted to go with him.

“I would,” you said, your mind whirring with all the reasons why you shouldn’t go, “but we’re probably parked very far from Strandvägen. I don’t know how you walked here in the first place.”

“Let’s go,” he decided, standing up from your bunk.

“Huh? I just said—”

“You said you would. So, let’s go.”

“But I also said—”

“If distance is the only thing stopping you,” he cut in again, “then remember that I performed a whole gig tonight, walked over five kilometres to find you, and I’m still willing to walk back. So, give me a little break and come with me willingly, okay?”

“Hmm,” you ran your tongue over your lips to hide your smile at his phrasing. “And, uh… if I don’t?”

Jungkook was completely serious when he replied, “I will carry you if I have to.”

You immediately stopped smiling and narrowed your eyes. “You wouldn’t.”

“Is that supposed to be a challenge—?”

Noticing the almost predatory look in his eyes, you leapt out of your bunk.

“It’s not,” you said, grabbing your phone from the bed. “I’m coming. Let’s go.”

When you and Jungkook left the parking lot, there were barely any people around—apart from a few cars here and there—which was understandable, considering it was almost three in the morning in the middle of the week.

You tended to get lost in your job a lot of the time, so you took a lot of it for granted sometimes. But it was in times like this: on dark, empty streets somewhere in Europe, that you remembered you weren’t working with regular people. You worked with artists. Musicians.

And walking back to the restaurant on Strandvägen—which should have closed hours ago, but that’s another perk of travelling with rockstars: they had the influence and the money to change the working hours of all the places they went to—you were hyper-aware of all this.

And, for a second, you felt almost intimidated. You’d known Jungkook for so long, but now you realised that he wasn’t just Jungkook, your client. Or even Jungkook, your ex-boyfriend.

This was also Jungkook, Rated Riot’s vocalist, strolling through Stockholm, hours after his concert.

But then he turned to look at you—his gaze so warm that you could see it, feel it, even in the dark of the night, under the fluorescent streetlights—and all of those feelings dissipated as quickly as they’d appeared.

He was back to being someone you’d known for almost a decade. Someone who knew things about you that you’d never shared with anyone else.

“So,” he spoke up as the two of you walked. “Is Kai still playing basketball?”

The mention of your brother made your stomach tighten again.

“Yeah,” you replied. “He doesn’t like it, though. But I’m pushing him to keep playing. He’s good at it.”

“Well, he’s tall,” Jungkook remarked.

“That, too,” you agreed. “But he’s also smart. And cunning when he needs to be. This could be his ride to college, he’s skilled enough to get a scholarship.”

“But he doesn’t want to keep playing?”

“I don't know. This is Kai. He doesn’t want to do regular, everyday things. He wants to skydive and eat cockroaches, and stuff.” You glanced at him before adding, “kind of like you, I guess.”

He was almost ready to argue, but ended up chuckling when your eyes met.

“Okay. Yeah,” he concurred. “I guess that’s true.”

“That’s why I’m relieved you guys are no longer in touch.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Wait, I’m the bad influence?”

“You can be,” you said, a meaningful glint in your eyes.

He watched you for a minute, enjoying the moment and your gentle features as you responded to his smile with one of your own. Then a dog barked somewhere in the distance, breaking the spell, and you both looked down at the pavement again.

“So, uh, if not basketball,” Jungkook said, “what does he want to do after school? Last time we talked, he wanted to be a ninja.”

You snorted. “Yeah, that was Kai in his Naruto phase. He’s into Chainsaw Man now, so I’m afraid to ask.

He laughed, clearly understanding where your apprehension was coming from.

“It could be worse,” he said. “At least he’s reading. Even if it’s manga.”

“Yeah.” You lingered on the last vowel as you sighed. “I wish it didn’t influence him this much, though. But then I feel guilty, sometimes, that I’m forcing him to only do the things that are beneficial for him instead of letting him explore other interests and hobbies.”

Jungkook nodded—indicating that he was listening—and suddenly walked to your other side. Growing confused, you felt him lightly touch your hip and nudge you both out of the way of an oncoming bike—which, at two-thirty at night, was surprising, even in a capital city.

Before you could react, he seamlessly returned to your previous conversation. “You just want what’s best for him.”

“I—yeah, uh—I do,” you said, trying to determine if your heart rate increased because of the unexpected bike, or because Jungkook was still walking right next to you, his arm brushing against yours with every step. Crossing your arms over your chest—in an attempt to shield yourself from the chilly night and your own warm chest—you added, “still, I feel like I’m hindering his growth as a person.”

Jungkook looked at you. Because your eyes were focused on the ground, he allowed his gaze to linger longer.

“But that’s not something you should be worrying about,” he said. He couldn’t help it; he felt offended—and hurt—on your behalf. “You’re not his—you’re his sister.”

“I know that,” you replied. “But he was three when dad left for the first time. He doesn’t even remember there ever being a dad. Mom and I are all he’s got. And, you know. Like a true father, I’m pushing him to fulfil my dreams and play in the NCAA.”

Jungkook found several points in your statement that he wanted to address, but he ended up focusing on your half-joking remark, “you wanted to be a basketball player?”

“No,” you said and he lifted his eyebrows higher. “But I’m committed to my role as the father. A father who desperately wants his son to succeed until the son says, ‘it’s not my dream, dad, it’s yours’. You know? Like in any normal family.”

Jungkook snickered—somehow sadly—but did not play along with your joke. Both of you knew that was just a TV trope you were using to divert the topic.

“You don’t need a father to have a normal family,” he said. “The three of you are perfectly normal together.”

You swallowed as your heart switched from beating three times faster than necessary to nearly stopping altogether.

“That’s true,” you said quietly. “But thank you for saying that. It’s easy to forget sometimes.”

“That’s because you’re so used to thinking that your family is different,” he theorised. “Growing up, I thought so, too. My house was the only one on the whole block with over a dozen people living in it. No one else lived with their aunts and uncles.”

You smiled, remembering the absolute chaos that thrived in his family home—a new argument, a new problem every day. It was lovely, though. Before meeting Jungkook and witnessing his life firsthand, you never imagined that families could be so close.

“Not a quiet moment there,” you said.

“Yeah,” he nodded, stuffing his hands in his front pockets to protect them from the cold late-night breeze. “And when I lived back home, I used to kind of hate that unstoppable noise. Now I miss it.”

“Do you go back often?”

You looked at him after you asked this, and suddenly felt your breath catch in your throat as the lights from the skyscraper across the street illuminated his features. Nearly hypnotised, you followed the lights across his face as they accentuated the darkness of his hair and the lightness of the spark in his eyes.

“I—well, probably not often enough,” he replied. You looked away from him to save yourself from making very poor decisions. “But it’s not the same. My brother moved out, my parents bicker every time they speak to each other. My cousins are still louder than all hell. I… I guess it’s just my grandma, really, that I want to see right now.

“Did you call her when we were in Paris?” you asked, recalling your conversation in the taxi outside of Gare du Nord.

Jungkook swallowed. “No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I wanted to, but, uh, she’s... well, she can’t hear very well right now.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “You scream for a living.”

He looked at you and retorted with exaggerated dignity, “that’s how I sing.”

“My point still stands.”

He shook his head, a small smile appearing on his lips.

“It wouldn’t matter even if that was true,” he said, and, out of the corner of your eye, you could see the smile fade from his face. “She, uh, she doesn’t always understand me. Or, remember me, actually.”

You felt three separate stabs: one in your chest, one in your stomach and one somewhere in your lungs. They left you completely breathless and absolutely speechless for a full minute. It was hard to discern which had affected you more: the realisation that his grandmother—the most lovable lady you’d ever met—was sick, or the way Jungkook looked as he said this.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered. The late hour and this revelation called for hushed voices.

“Thank you,” Jungkook replied with a distracted nod. He unconsciously sped up and you had to take two steps for every one of his to catch up.

You reached a bridge when Jungkook continued, “she has better days. My aunt and uncle are looking after her right now. I asked them to call me when she has a good day, but, uh... I haven’t heard from them since we arrived in Europe.”

Struggling to keep up, you reached out a hand and gently touched his shoulder, bringing him to a full stop in the pedestrian lane of the bridge over the Tranebergssund strait.

The lights from nearby buildings reflected in the water below, and you could sense the beauty around you as you caught glimpses through your peripherals. But you couldn’t tear your eyes away from Jungkook’s cloudy gaze.

You’ve spent over a week in Europe. You didn’t know that he was waiting to hear about his grandmother the whole time.

“That’s really unfair,” you remarked. “Your grandma loves you so much.”

“Yeah.” He looked down at his sneakers, then leaned his back against the railing of the bridge. “She actually once told me I was her favourite grandson.”

You smiled at this, then teased softly, “she probably said that to all of her grandsons.”

“Okay, but to me first!”

“Okay, okay,” you agreed, chuckling. “That might be true. In any case, this is—I don’t even know what to say. How is your grandpa handling it all?”

The brief moment of lightness faded from the conversation as Jungkook inhaled deeply and looked around, searching for a distraction.

“He is, uh... coping,” he finally replied. “Never admits what he’s feeling, but his eyes always well up when he talks to her.”

“Does she remember him?” you asked.

“Sometimes,” he said.

“On good days?” you echoed his previous observation.

“Yeah. On bad days, she pretends to remember,” he explained. “On really bad days, she’s so scared of the familiar face, but unknown person, that she can’t even pretend.”

“God,” you sighed, resting your forearms on the railing. “Both of them must be in so much pain.”

Jungkook nodded slowly and turned around, mirroring your position. The two of you watched the strait in silence for a minute, observing the lights as they danced on the soft, gentle ripples on the surface of the water.

There was a storm inside of him, nothing like the peaceful water below. It was a storm he did not like to think about, a storm he tried to run away from. But with you here, he felt a little less afraid of it.

“They’ve been together for almost sixty years,” he said. “I don’t—I can’t even begin to imagine what this must be like for them.”

“It sounds like a nightmare,” you admitted. “I don’t know what’s scarier: forgetting your loved ones or being forgotten by the ones you love.”

He answered without hesitation, “being forgotten. If you forget, it’s just—it gets scary sometimes, because everything seems so foreign. But most of the time, it’s just empty, I think. Quiet. You can still feel the love of the people around you even if you can’t remember who they are. But being forgotten—that—that’s just unbearable. You’re talking to someone you love so much, and t-they have no idea who you are.”

It felt like your heart was about to tear in half as you listened to the pain in his voice. You did not dare to imagine what sort of warzone his chest had become.

“How long was she sick?” you asked so quietly that the water nearly carried your words away.

“She was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s a year ago,” he replied. “Back then, her worst symptom was very shaky hands. She’s always been distracted and scatterbrained, so we didn’t think it was anything serious. But then she started to talk about visiting her sister who’s been dead for almost six years now, and uh… yeah.”

“Shit,” you whispered, because, for a moment, that was the only word that could capture what you were feeling.

You squeezed your eyes shut as if that would make hearing this easier. The cold wind and the raw emotion of this conversation made it all the more difficult to keep your eyes dry.

A short while later, you added shakily, “this breaks my heart, so I don’t even—I probably can’t even begin to understand what you and your family have been going through. I-I wish you’d told me.”

Jungkook looked at you, startled momentarily by your teary eyes. Then he realised that his own throat had become tight.

Turning towards you, he admitted, “I wish I had, too.”

You responded by turning to him as well.

There was a quiet moment, filled only with the wind as it moved the trees, the water, and the two of you closer to each other.

Jungkook reached for you almost instinctively. His hands were hesitant at first, unsure of how you would react. But your small nod—so small, you weren’t sure if you’d really willed your head to move—gave him permission to come closer.

He enveloped you in his embrace and exhaled so deeply that his lungs almost hollowed out when he felt you lean your head against his shoulder and slide your hands over his back.

“I-I know there’s nothing I could have done,” you whispered, “but I just—”

“You would have known,” he interrupted, tightening his grip around your waist. The side of his face was pressed against yours and you could feel every word on your temple. “That would have been enough.”

He was completely still, focused entirely on the feeling of you in his arms and the way your scent, your warmth, your touch—you—seemed to ease the pain inside of him. The way it quieted the storm, made the noise more bearable, the wind less powerful.

“I know now,” you said, lifting your head to look at him. “You can come find me if you get any news, good or bad.”

Breathing unsteadily, he nodded.

You watched each other, neither one daring to move. He held you and marvelled at how he’d survived so long without the feeling of your arms around him—tentative as if you were afraid he’d disappear if you held on too tightly. As if you’d wake up and leave this—all of this—in a near-forgotten dream.

He was the one who held you tighter in turn; to show you that he was here with you. And to show himself, too.

He understood that he had to let go of you soon—to return his hands to the frigid railing of the bridge or slide them back into his pockets—but he chose to play dumb. He chose to pretend he couldn’t read the situation, so he could keep his arms around you for just a minute longer.

His grandma used to say that a hug made everything better, and for a long time, she was one of two people in his life whose hugs truly made his heart and his mind slow down.

He hadn’t been able to hug her in a while. But he was hugging the second person right now.

“Thank you,” he said, reluctantly unwrapping his arms from around you. “Promise you’ll do the same? About your brother?”

You gave him a sad smile as you took a small step back. The chill of the night felt even more intense.

“I promise I’ll try,” you said.

He smiled back, understanding that this was already a lot coming from you.

You glanced at the water once more before returning your gaze to his face as you nervously stretched your fingers.

This conversation, along with memories of his family and how much they loved each other, reminded you of many things about your relationship that you had tried to forget.

There was something else, too. Something you couldn’t forget and couldn’t escape.

“Can I ask you something?” you said.

“Of course,” he replied, his body still facing yours even though you had gone back to leaning into the bridge railing.

“It’s something I’ve always wondered—actually, I tried to ask you before, but, uh, you never really told me,” you spoke, stalling, as you were too nervous to just spit it out.

“Okay,” he said patiently.

“Why are you friends with Sid and his crew?”

If Jungkook was surprised by the question, he didn’t show it as he inhaled and looked somewhere behind you. Somewhere far, far into the distance.

“You know why,” he said. “We have fun.”

“I understand that part,” you said. “They distract you from the stress. I get it. But… is that really it?”

Now he began to fidget. Sliding his hands into his pockets, he turned to face the water, then got one hand out to scratch his neck, just below his chin.

“That’s very—uh, what brought this on?” he asked, the question functioning more like a defence mechanism than a manifestation of his curiosity. “Why are you asking me that suddenly?”

“Well, because I doubt Sid has even a spoonful of emotional attachment to any of his family members,” you said. “All three of them grew up so rich that their silver spoons were golden. And you’re so different.”

Jungkook swallowed. Coming from anyone else, this question would have probably offended him, even though he understood that you merely meant his relationship with his family.

He’d been friends with Sid, Jude, and Minjun for a long time, but he sometimes wondered if they kept him around out of pity. And so, he wanted to make it clear that he was more than just Sid’s little sidekick. His errand boy.

He may not have had as much money as his friends—not yet, anyway—but now, finally, he had something that none of them did: popularity and acclaim. It pushed him forward until he could walk alongside his friends. Until, he thought, he could truly call them friends and not feel inappropriate.

They were equals now.

And still, deep down, he knew you were right. He was fundamentally different from the three of them. And you were the only person he felt comfortable admitting that to.

“Yeah, uh, I know I am,” he said, rocking on the balls of his feet. “Our differences are what initially drew me to them, I think. I was always restrained by my family and, I guess, our relative lack of money. Compared to them, I mean. Meanwhile, they could just do whatever they wanted without a single worry. Sure, they all have jobs, but it’s different for them. They know they’ll be fine even if they drink those jobs away. All of that seemed exciting and, I don’t know, invigorating to me. It still seems that way. When I say I want what they have, I don’t mean their money. I mean their freedom.”

When he paused, you nodded quietly. You could see he hadn’t finished yet.

“I feel like...” he said, his eyes cast low. “Like I don’t have to worry about the consequences of my actions, either, when I’m with them. I know I do, but it feels good to pretend for a while that I don’t.” He swallowed before continuing, “but, uh… I realise that I have certain responsibilities. I have the band. I have you. Unlike them, I can never truly be free. At the end of the night, I always go home. And my grandma is there to remind me who I really am and where I come from.”

“That’s why I asked,” you said. “It’s impossible she would approve of your friendship with them.”

“She doesn’t know about them.”

You weren’t expecting this, and you couldn’t hide your reaction as your lips parted and eyebrows rose in obvious surprise. “She—she doesn’t?”

“No,” he admitted. “I never told her. I want her to believe that I’m friends with nice boys like me.”

An ironic smile appeared on his face as he said that last part and you couldn’t help but snicker. You wouldn’t have used this particular adjective to describe Sid or Jungkook, but you knew that, unlike Sid, Jungkook did have a different side to him. A side that he rarely showed anyone, but you remembered it in his good morning texts and goodnight kisses.

“Shouldn’t that be a sign to you that these people aren’t good for you?” you asked. “You’ve never lied to your grandma.”

Something inside him prepared to argue, but he held the urge until it dissolved in his grip. He knew you were right.

Sighing, he said, “probably,” and left it at that.

The truth was, he became friends with Sid, Jude, and Minjun, because he wanted to be like them. He wanted what they had.

But, over time, their friendship became something else. A distraction. A way to maintain his sanity. And he didn’t know how to tell you about that.

He didn’t know how to tell you that he had a fear that had ingrained itself into his mind. A fear that he’d never tried to describe before, worried that speaking it aloud would bring it to life. It would materialise around him and swallow him whole.

It was loneliness, he supposed. Or maybe just himself.

Growing up with a family so big and friends so plenty, he never learned how to be alone. He never learned what to do when it was just him and his thoughts in an empty room for an extended period of time. He didn’t know how to distract himself from all that plagued his mind.

He was afraid of silence, afraid of the way it made his mind scream at him. He was afraid of those screams—they came from a dark place deep within his subconscious.

The screams were his doubts and insecurities. His flaws and weaknesses. His anxiety and fears.

And his friends—all three of them—made sure he was never alone. They made sure there were always enough voices in the room to keep him away from his thoughts. To keep him busy, to keep his mind satisfied.

And on this night, as you watched Jungkook drift away from you while you stood on the bridge, you could sense that there was a lot he’d still left unsaid.

“Be honest, though,” you said to the faded look in his eyes. He blinked when you started to speak and returned to the moment. “Does Sid really never get on your nerves?”

His smile was sad. “He does almost every day.”

“So why do you put up with it?” you asked. “Is this distraction really worth it? This feeling of freedom.”

Jungkook sighed. Sid wasn’t worth it. The rational part of him knew that much. Sometimes, Sid was louder than his own thoughts, and that was hardly better. But without Sid…

A silent minute later, you answered for him, “it’s the rest of them, isn’t it? You think if you cut Sid off, Jude and Minjun will leave with him.”

“I know they will leave with him.”

Uncertain how he’d take this, you asked awkwardly, “would that… really be such a bad thing?”

“I’ve known them since I was a kid,” Jungkook said as a way of answering.

“Well,” you clicked your tongue. “That sounds a little like an unhealthy attachment.”

He lowered his head. He knew that he wasn’t the best judge of what was healthy and what wasn’t, but even he could tell that his friendship with Sid had taken a turn for the worse. And still, he’s known Sid and the rest of his friends for years.

“There were good moments, though,” he said, his tone hopeful. “Sid wasn’t always this... obnoxious.”

You assumed as much; otherwise, Jungkook wouldn’t have kept him around for so long. Still, you asked, “what moments?”

“Well… the birthday parties, for example,” he began. “I saw fireworks, stood behind the wheel of a yacht, and drank decades-old whiskey way before I was legally allowed to do these things. And I didn’t have to pay for anything. Oh, and, okay—I also saw Sid dance to Britney Spears, which is, of course, priceless.”

There was unexpected amusement on your face. “Okay. That’s fair. I wish I’d seen that.”

“You really don’t,” he said. “I still have nightmares about it. He brought out a guitar later. Attempted to remix ‘Toxic’.”

Sucking your lips in to keep yourself from laughing, you nodded. “Hmm. Fitting song.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook restricted himself less as he laughed at your comment. “He can’t play for shit, though.”

Finally, you laughed, too.

Grinning, he continued, “the racing, too. I-I know this isn’t something you want to know about, but it’s—I guess, it’s a special memory for me.”

“It’s okay,” you said, a little surprised by the ease in your own voice. Racing used to be a taboo topic in your relationship. For you, that meant ‘don’t do it’, but for Jungkook, it meant, ‘do it in a way that she doesn’t find out’. Now, you said, “you can go on.”

He went on, “we raced in pairs. Jude was usually with Sid, I was with Minjun. We couldn’t do it individually, because I didn’t have a car of my own, and it wouldn’t have been fair. So, Sid bought me a car. You know the one.”

You knew and the knowledge made you lower your eyes. Even four years later, this car was difficult to forget.

But as you listened to him romanticise his friendship with Sid, you weren’t sure if Jungkook was even aware of how much the car and these races influenced your eventual break-up. How these happy moments that he shared with Sid led to unhappy moments with you.

“Then there was the time we were drunk and, somehow, ended up on the beach,” he continued, and you looked up from the water as you listened. “It got really sentimental in a way that it almost never does with us. I think Sid started it, actually, when he said that he wanted to become a musician.”

Your eyes widened, the image of Sid with a musical instrument successfully distracting you from your thoughts.

“No,” you said. “Was he serious?”

“Yeah. Dead serious.”

“Free Britney.”

He snorted. “Not for Britney. Punk rock. He had a bass and everything. He owned all the Sex Pistols records. You can see where I’m going.”

You paused, thinking. Slowly, your eyes narrowed.

“Not Sid Vicious,” you said.

Jungkook nodded and the sound of your exaggerated groaning made him laugh.

“He used to scream—I mean, literally screech at the top of his lungs—if his parents called him Isidore,” he said. “He started to go by Sid as a tribute and, I don’t know, a manifestation, I guess.”

You shook your head. The only resemblance Sid held to the notorious Sex Pistols’ bassist—aside from the drugs—was that he, too, seemed to give everyone headaches wherever he went.

“It was that night on the beach that I said I wanted that, too. Music, I mean,” Jungkook continued. “And we joked, for a minute, that we should start a band together, the four of us. Jude was going to be the lead singer, by the way.”

You scrunched your nose; another absurd image. “And you?”

“The drummer, of course. Rocking a cigarette between my teeth as I dropped killer beats.”

You laughed again. This was the one thing from their fantasies that you could see: the four of them choosing all the wrong positions in the band, but thinking they made it work because they looked cool on stage.

“So, what happened then?” you asked. “After you were the only one who became a musician.”

“Nothing,” Jungkook said. You scratched your forehead to hide the frown that your laughter had morphed into. Defending his friends came naturally to him and this habit was so useless. “I don't know. Sid never mentioned it again. I don’t think he cares.”

You looked down. You thought Sid cared.

Jungkook must have believed that they were equals now. But you knew they weren’t, and they never could be as long as Sid was involved.

The less of a lackey and more of an individual Jungkook became, the more Sid’s jealousy had to grow. Especially now that Jungkook was doing something that Sid had, apparently, always wanted to do.

“These good moments,” you started slowly, “that’s so long ago. When was the last time you had a good moment with him? When you had drinks in Prague?”

Jungkook almost winced at the unexpected memory of what happened at the hotel bar in Prague. Scrambling for a response, he gripped the railing of the bridge. “No, um, that was—that was one of the bad moments.”

“Really?” you were surprised. “You didn’t tell me that.”

“If I did, you would have thrown me in the water.”

You glanced at the strait reflexively. “It’s that bad?”

“It’s...” he sucked in a breath. “Not good.”

“Huh.” You ran your fingers over the railing, confused. With all that had happened—Sid’s lie about Jungkook’s ex, the Paris trip, the unfortunate encounter at the bar in Berlin—it was hard for you to guess what could have constituted a bad moment between him and Sid. “But Sid’s still kicking it. Wreaking havoc on Stockholm.”

Jungkook only hummed in response.

This time, your question was intentionally provocative, “so what does he have to do to cross the line?”

He brought the sole of his sneakers over the ground, rubbing at the pavement to win another moment.

“He’s done everything, I think,” he said finally. “The more time I spend with him here in Europe, the more I realise that things will be different when we go home.”

“Oh.” You blinked. Discomfort and distaste and even a sprinkle of pure dread gathered in the pit of your stomach. “So, he—he’s staying here until we go home?”

He lifted his eyes and noticed the way the light in your gaze seemed to dim. He wanted to assure you, but he also knew that there was something else he wanted, too.

He wanted to defeat Sid. He wanted to make him regret his actions for once. He wanted him to deal with something that he’d never had to deal with before: consequences.

So, all that Jungkook could say to you, was a lame, “I-I don't know.”

The disappointment remained prominent on your face as you said, “well, as long as I don’t see him, I guess, you can… think about what you want to do with him. I just think you deserve better friends.”

He cleared his throat and tried to shift the topic, “I thought Minjun wasn’t that bad.”

You glanced at him and saw the desperation in his attempt at a smile—it was there, but it did not quite reach his eyes.

“He’s tolerable,” you replied kindly.

He snickered. “Okay.”

“Keep him,” you said. “Lose Sid.”

“Hmm. And Jude?”

“Let Jude decide.” You shrugged. It seemed really simple. “It’s not a divorce, you don’t need to divide children. He can choose his real friends himself.”

Sadness returned to his voice as he looked down. “He’ll choose Sid.”

Your voice remained firm. “Then let him.”

Jungkook sighed. There wasn’t much else he could say to you. He heard it in your voice—all the determination that he lacked, you made up for it.

You noted that this wasn’t simple for him, at all. He’d known Sid, Jude, and Minjun since he was a teenager. It was easy for a friendship to feel permanent when it was decades-long. When you got so used to it, you didn’t think to imagine what it’d be like without it.

“Look…” you said, leaning your back against the railing. “If I were more like Sid, I’d be forceful. Maybe I’d even offer something as leverage. Something bad that I would do to you if you didn’t stop being friends with them. But I’m not Sid.”

Flashing back to the bet again, Jungkook groaned. “And thank God for that.”

“Yeah. So, I’m just… all I can do is tell you that you deserve better,” you said. “You deserve to be happy, you know? I don’t always talk shit about your friends because I personally think they’re shit.” You paused when he gave you a look. “Fine. It’s not just because I think they’re shit. I’m—I’m also looking out for you.”

“I appreciate that. You’re…” he stopped, feeling a flicker of fear for your reaction. He decided to push through more quietly, “you’re one of the few people in my life who does that for me.”

“Surround yourself with these people,” you said, too lost in the moment to notice his apprehension. “The ones who really care about you. It doesn’t matter how many of them there are. If they’re the only ones left in your life, I promise it’ll feel enough.”

He shook his head. “It’s not the quantity that matters for me, anyway. It’s… a lot of other things.”

“Think if those things are really worth it,” you persisted, “and if it wouldn’t be more reasonable to just walk away.”

He remembered—so suddenly, it almost knocked him off his feet and his grip on the railing tightened—how you’d done it. How you walked away from him for what was supposed to be the final time.

If it weren’t for a stroke of luck—or destiny, he supposed—he might have never seen you again. He might have never stood on this bridge in Stockholm with you. And if he’d gone after you that time, if he’d stopped you, then maybe he wouldn’t have had to wait for four years to get to this bridge.

Everything required a decision, and he was desperate to know if you ever regretted yours.

“Even if walking away could hurt them?” he asked you.

You looked at him and misjudged the sadness in his eyes for the pain of losing long-time friends.

“You’re hurting me,” you countered, “when you let them treat you like that. When you let them put you in danger.”

He could suddenly hear the silence around you both. With his eyes locked on you, he stammered, “w-why does that hurt you?”

This time, it was you who didn’t have a proper answer to his question. “Because.”

Inhaling until his lungs overflowed, Jungkook lifted his chin and closed his eyes.

A heavy minute later, he asked, “do you know what is the one thing that I’m glad my grandma forgot?”

The sudden change in conversation caught you off guard. “Uh—what?”

“You.”

You continued to watch him, and there seemed to be something burning in this word—a fire strong enough to shield you from the cold wind of the Swedish night and light your skin up with a warmth that felt innate and familiar.

“Why, um,”—you swallowed, interrupting yourself—“why are you glad?”

“Because she’d managed to do the one thing I couldn’t,” he replied.

The fire in your chest spread and you could barely inhale before it consumed everything inside of you.

You looked down at the water below. “Jungkook—”

There it was – his name like a curse on your lips. He didn’t think he was going to last this long in the first place, but this still felt like a forceful slam of a door in his face.

“I know,” he said quickly. “It’s too much, sorry. It’s just... being here with you makes me feel like myself again. Like I’m not just Rated Riot’s vocalist. Not just Sid’s friend. I’m also more than that. It probably makes no sense to you—”

“No,” you interrupted, shivering as the warmth inside of you faded into anxiety. Into fear. “I—I understand what you mean. But I think it’s because we’ve spent so much time together these past few days. It’s easy to get lost in the memories.”

Your guard went back up so quickly that Jungkook scoffed under his breath. He thought he’d broken down some of your defences tonight. Really, he’d merely bent them, if even that.

He still couldn’t tell you anything more out of fear that you would get lost in Stockholm just to run away from him.

“Well, why do you think we’ve been spending so much time together?” he asked, a certain edge to his voice.

You looked at him. “That’s what I’ve been asking you since we came to Prague.”

“It’s because I’m—because—” he started to say and then, in search of the right words, ended up dropping his own walls so he could admit, simply, “I just miss you.”

Still, you looked away and insisted, almost childishly, “you can’t miss me. My job is being with you and the band 24/7.”

He wasn’t sure if you were saying that because it was just easier like this, or because you genuinely felt this way.

Regardless, he shook his head.

“I miss you outside of your job,” he said, gaining confidence now that you weren’t looking at each other. He continued to speak to the water, “I miss hanging out with you. I miss how we used to spend hours scrolling through Netflix, trying to decide what to watch only to get so distracted by our conversation that we’d end up talking the whole night while the movie posters played in the background. I miss the way you’d sing backup vocals for me when I was putting on a show in the shower. I miss the apple scent of your shampoo and how the bottle was the perfect microphone. And the way you screamed that one time, when I nearly blinded you by accidentally squirting shampoo directly into your eye.”

You snickered—quietly, involuntarily, almost painfully—and the sound brought him back down from his memories as he turned to face you again.

“I miss everything,” he finished. “All those little moments.”

Your glance at him was furtive, momentary.

“Why now?” you asked.

This time, it was Jungkook who laughed—incredulously, cynically. “Why always? I don’t think I’ve ever truly stopped missing you.”

As you became more aware of how close he was—physically, of course, because mentally, he might as well have already been inside your head—goosebumps began to rise on your skin. Not just from the cold night, but also because he was right there—right fucking there—and you weren’t touching him.

Clearing your throat, you tried again, “well, why did you tell me now, then?”

Deep inside, he was anticipating the question—it made sense, he could see why you’d want to know—but he still winced when he heard it.

Despite everything that had happened tonight—each moment brutally honest and coming from the deepest parts of his heart; the parts that he’d kept hidden for four years—there was a reason why he was telling you this now.

It’s because he was a fraud.

He’d made a fucking bet.

Inhaling sharply, he lifted his gaze to the cloudy sky above. He shrugged, hating himself with every word that was supposed to be an explanation, “better late than never or something like that, I guess.”

You observed him for a second before you looked away, too. You didn’t say anything, and he was desperate to make things right—at least, as right as he possibly could, without making them worse.

“I’m sorry if everything I said made you uncomfortable,” he tried. “I just wanted to—”

You shook your head, encouraged by the darkness and the emptiness of the street around you—like there was no one else here in Stockholm tonight, just the wind, the bridge, the two of you, and the water below.

“No,” you cut him off. “I’ve missed you, too."

His heart rate sped up so quickly that he thought it might give him whiplash. This night, in its entirety, was a rollercoaster ride.

He looked at you, shocking you with how intense his own shock was. “You have?”

Realising that he’d gone out of his way to do these things—spending time with you, helping you backstage, taking you to Paris—while you continued to find it all suspicious as if there was some deeper, more malicious reason for his actions, you began to feel guilty.

Wanting to redeem yourself, you nodded firmly.

“Yeah,” you said. “I have.”

Jungkook was nearly suffocating, his lungs full of something that he could not inhale.

The rollercoaster had reached its peak—his heart was leaping out of his chest—and suddenly, it plummeted at a rapid, nauseating speed. He felt like he was free-falling, his stomach slamming and hitting everything on its way down, as he realised, in horror, what he was doing.

He was taking advantage of the fact that you didn’t know about the bet. He was taking advantage of you.

You were being honest with him—which was rare for you in general, but even rarer nowadays—and he wasn’t doing the same for you. Not entirely.

There was a real reason why he told you about this now, not months—even years—earlier.

The memory of Sid suggesting the bet that very first night in Prague was sharp and brittle. It added to the weight of the confessions he’d made tonight and each of his words ricocheted off his ribcage and pierced his heart as a reminder that everything he’d told you tonight was a half-truth.

He meant what he said about missing you. He meant every single word, every little barely pronounced syllable that kept getting caught on the spikes in his heart, stabbed there each time he remembered that you were no longer together.

Four years he’d felt this way. And deep down, at the end of every day, he knew that he wanted you. Bet or no bet.

And he saw now—he could feel now—that he may have had a chance. A second chance.

But you were looking at him, the colour of your eyes reflected on every surface around him, and he couldn’t move.

He couldn’t take the chance. Not like this.

“It’s cold,” he said. “Should we go?”

The way the colour seemed to drain from your eyes was painful. He felt nauseous as he looked away.

“Uh, yeah,” you said. There was an emptiness in your voice—a great reflection of the sudden space that had opened up in his chest and in yours. “Let’s go.”

The disappointment came so abruptly, it caught you off-guard. You felt like this wasn’t everything that had to have happened tonight.

You felt like the night had been leading up to something. You weren’t sure what, and you weren’t sure how far you’d let it get, but here it was, instead; the disappointment.

The two of you walked the rest of the way to Strandvägen in silence.

One half of your pair felt confused and unexpectedly dispirited. The other half regretted being born.

There was something else, too; a feeling that the two of you shared. And it was the same thing—the thing that almost happened tonight—that you were both afraid of.

chapter title credits: sleep token, “is it really you?”

prev ○ next

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boyfriend of my dreams <3

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AAAAAHHH MY BABIESSSSSS

They've come so far 😭😭 they're finally together in their happili ever after (?👀) era and I couldn't be more happier nor proud of you mimi🩷

This kind of mature relationship fic isn't easy to come by and i feel like IWYTS has such a refreshing take on it even though it's not a rare trope per se. The amount of tension these two used to have and how they've come to be able to communicate and express their feelings is truly a feat.

This part covers the essence of this fic, I feel like. How they help each other release what they want to be and what they could be. How that's what truly matters when you love someone: that something about them makes you want to better yourself not only for them but for your own self 🥹

You've worked hard mimi!!! Im so so so proud of you and i can't wait for s2 when you get to it🫶🏻

I Want You to Stay (14) - FINALE (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 Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption; arts, business/property devt, and book publishing talk that’s probably inaccurate; mentions of trauma & family drama; lots of fluff; explicit sexual content (lots of making out, oral (m & f receiving), body praise, un/protected sex)  (18+)

Chapter Word count: 32.8k

Series Masterlist

Status: Complete

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: And then it ends! Please bear with the length of this final chapter - it felt right to finish the series with all this 🤭 This was so satisfying to write despite the emotional roller coaster, and I just want to thank you for sticking with me through this and showing me/it so much love. It's a fanfic writer bucket list of mine to write boss JK! I hope you enjoy! 🥰 Like I've said before, I have plans for season 2, but I don't know if I'll actually be able to write it so 🤞🏽

And like always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight for listening to me talk about this for months. 💕

## 

Your heavy eyes flutter open before they close again, and for the briefest moment, you think you see Jungkook smiling at you, his doe eyes gazing at your sleeping form. You do it again, and right after your eyes fall shut, you feel soft lips on your bare shoulder, his warm breath heating your shivering body. 

His absence causes you to quiver, but you’re too tired to move. Even if you weren’t, you probably wouldn’t be able to pull the covers over you, not when you have the said man leaving kisses down your spine and then back up to peck on your exposed cheek. Yet no matter how tempting it is to return them, your mind decides it just needs a bit more time to wake up, and so does your sore body that feels like it ran a marathon that you just weren’t trained for.

Because much as you took on Jungkook’s challenge last night about being able to have sex all night, as it turns out, you’re the one who couldn’t do it.

He first had you on top of him, kneading your ass and directing your movements while he pounded on you from below. The way he felt from that angle had your stomach in knots, and when he wrapped his arms around you to keep you steady while he tried to go deeper as he sucked and licked your neck, you were a goner. 

You were on your back before you knew it. And while he aided you in coming down from your high through languid kisses and licks on your mouth, it wasn’t long before he had you keening again. His tongue lapped up your folds and swirled around your sensitive nub, and despite your mind feeling numb by then, your cunt throbbed for him. It wasn’t long before he was inside you again, thrusting into you fervently before slowing the pace and taking you more gently. 

The way he grunted as you whispered for him to come suddenly rings in your mind. Coupled with his morning kisses all over your body, you moan in pleasure, and he hasn’t even done much yet. 

Perhaps it’s also because of these luxurious Egyptian cotton sheets that are making you feel like you’re in heaven. Or the fact that they smell so good, too, like fresh laundry but more delicate, and all you want is to drown in this softness. So you do something close and bury your face on the pillow while you remain flat on your belly. You take a deep breath and release it with another moan.

“Sounds like someone slept well, huh?” You hear him chuckle, his mouth now detaching from your skin. 

“You tired me out, Jungkook,” you hum, your eyes still closed as you bask in the comfort of his bed. “Why are you even awake?”

“Because I always wake up early. And it’s past 10,” he reasons. “I went for a run then hit the gym. I figured you’d be awake by now and well… you aren’t.”

“I—”

Your mind slightly catches some life as you hear that he’d just done a workout, so you take a peak and the sight doesn’t disappoint. He stands by the bedside with only his track pants on, his hands in his pockets with damp hair while he looks on as you slowly twist and turn on the bed. 

“I—” you repeat.

“You don’t have to get up if you don’t want to. I’m sorry I woke you,” he says softly. 

You catch on to his apologetic tone and it’s what forces you awake. You know he’s used to starting his day early and you… you’re used to burying yourself in your bed until you have to get up to eat. Having someone to spend your days with is probably something you’re both gonna have to start getting used to.

Your eyes finally open and stay that way, and despite his sweat having dried already, Jungkook still looks like he’s glowing against the late morning sun that’s shining through his bedroom window. You shift yourself and sit up, suddenly hyper aware of how naked you are… in his bedroom, and for a brief moment, you think it was all in your head. 

With the sheets finally covering your body, you look at him, prompting him to sit on the edge of the bed and smile at you. You take his hand and caress the fingers that held you, that gave you pleasure, that traced patterns on your skin that you feel are now etched in its memory. 

“Last night wasn’t a dream,” you utter, as if proclaiming it to the universe, as if claiming this reality for yourself. 

“It better not be,” he laughs, softening when you do. “You, uh, you found me.”

“Well, you did tell me where to go,” you point out.

“Yes, unlike you,” he counters, recalling how your letter had just told him to find you with no instructions of where.

Your pout makes him laugh and it’s the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard, one you didn’t know when you’d hear again. But you give him a pass because he’s right, and all you want to do is make it up to him for making these past few weeks quite unbearable.

But he gets to you first, as he kisses your cheek. There’s adoration mixed with shyness in his eyes and tenderness with his every touch. You wouldn’t say it’s something you didn’t expect despite his usual detachment, but it strikes you just how much of this softness has been hiding underneath. You’ve seen him be protective of you and be caring, but this side of him is new. You suppose being mellow and giggly comes naturally once he’s allowed himself to be vulnerable and open up. Maybe it’s also just a result of last night’s events.

He removes the strands of your hair that had stuck to your face, and it dawns on you again that it’s morning and you had indeed just woken up. You whine that you’ve got crusty eyes and morning breath so you create some distance, but he just laughs and says he doesn’t care one bit.

“You’re pretty even in the morning,” he adds.

Jungkook watches you nibble your lips as you try to suppress a smile that you make anyway. When you’re bold about what you want from him, something inside him stirs, a certain kind of desire that explodes because he wants to fulfill your need, to make you feel good, to let you know that you affect him the same way. 

But when you’re shy the way you are right now, as if you’re still trying to wrap your head around your new reality with him, giggling and grinning like a schoolgirl with a crush, he wants to just hold you in his arms and keep you there. Something softens in him because you - strong and stubborn you - gets flustered because of him. The competent and confident woman he knows suddenly doesn’t know what to say when he calls her pretty, which he’s glad he’s able to verbalize now. It used to be a thought that just constantly rang in his head, but one he tried so hard to quell. He gets to say it to you with confidence from now on and he’ll be able to say it everyday. 

Once your face settles with a comfortable smile, he sighs in contentment, once again feeling like that dark cloud that hovered over him for years has gone away. Things used to feel so heavy as he wandered around an unknown place he's been in for so long, not knowing where to go. It’s as if the days just passed him by and he’d forgotten how he spent them because there wasn’t really much that he looked forward to. 

Now he does, and he realized it when he woke up this morning and found you lying next to him. You were in deep sleep with your lips just slightly parted. Your hands were curled under your chin as you laid on your side, and there was this calmness on your face that gave him so much relief. 

He felt light; he felt the darkness subside, too, and the unknown place he’d been wandering about suddenly looked familiar, yet it was still somehow new. There was that feeling of safety, of clarity, like he could do or be anything with you around. Those were things you gave him when you were still his assistant, and he gets to feel them again now that you’re so much more than that. 

“What?” You ask, nudging him with your foot as he briefly zones out just thinking about all the things he wants to do with you. 

“I was just savoring the look of you being flattered,” he hums. “It’s kinda cute.”

“Oh shush,” you laugh. “I’m just not used to it.”

“Well, it’s not like I could just say you’ll looked pretty when I was still your boss,” he points out. 

“True,” you nod. “Good thing you aren’t anymore, then.”

“Exactly. So you’re just gonna have to get used to it.”

He looks at you as if it’s a warning, and you feel the heat rush to your cheeks.

“Noted, Mr. Jeon,” you whisper to tease.

“Fuck,” he groans. “I want to kiss you right now.”

“Don’t tell me that turned you on!” You gasp, giggling now as he shakes his head.

“Only if you say it like that!” He whines, the sultry tone of your voice echoing in his ears. “You know what, I’m gonna take a shower.”

“And I’m gonna brush my teeth so you can kiss me all you want!”

“I’m gonna have to get used to that, too,” he smiles.

“Well, it’s not like I could say that to you when I was still your assistant,” you repeat his words.

“And good thing you aren’t anymore, Ms. Cho,” he laughs, not wanting to get carried away right now.

You laugh as well before he leaves to take a shower. You give yourself this quiet time on your own to process where you are at this moment. You’re in a room you used to enter everyday, and your mere glances made you curious about what Jungkook kept in his personal space. 

You’re here now, and you see that there’s really not much, other than a floor-to-ceiling window, a television, a bar cart, and a couch. He’s got an interesting light fixture and abstract art on the wall. His decorative pieces consist of small sculptures and framed buildings, but there are no photos or other mementos. You suppose he’s not really the type, and that just makes you hope that you can help him add a bit of personal touch so that his room could feel more comfortable, or maybe add a bit of warmth to an otherwise cold, monochromati space. You decide that’s something you’ll eventually figure out. 

You take your phone from the bedside and finally reply to your mom and your friends with more details about last night. You merely told them that you and Jungkook have made up, but it’s just today that you’re telling them how it happened. 

He converted the archives section to a children’s library, you say in your message. Found him in his office, we talked, and I spent the night at his place. That’s all for now. I’ll talk to you soon.

Soomin’s barrage of excited curses is immediate. Jimin says he’s happy for you. And your mom sends you a heart emoji and tells you to stay happy.

You send a message to Yoongi, too, saying that you found Jungkook and that now you can learn what your heart is capable of. You thank him again, even if you know that those words will never be enough.

Standing from the bed, you head to the bathroom to finally wash up, thinking that it’ll take a while more before Jungkook finishes. You brush your teeth as you face the mirror, seeing his silhouette behind the frosted glass of the shower enclosure from the reflection. He exits before you finish, and you slow your movements once he comes into view, naked and all wet, and somehow even more breathtakingly handsome than usual. 

You try to act unbothered as you wash your face, only glancing up to see him with a towel around his waist and another one that he uses to dry his hair. The flex of his tattooed arm brings back memories from last night when it was propped up on your side, supporting his body while he thrusted relentlessly inside you. You gripped that arm when he went deeper, and it was the same one that held you when you started drifting off to sleep. 

He stands behind you and gives you a boyish smile before wrapping his arms around your waist. You jerk a little in surprise but soften when his chin rests on your shoulder, and the way he looks comfortable and content has your heart soaring at this side of him - bold and vulnerable as he expresses the things he feels for you in action.

“Can I do this?” He asks as he buries his face in your neck.

“Jungkook, we’ve done a lot in the last 12 hours,” you remind him. “Why are you asking permission to hug me?”

“I just don’t want to overwhelm you.”

You turn around to face him and look at him questioningly, unable to follow. You’d think that given all that you’ve both done, simple affection like this is far from overwhelming. 

“What I mean is… Sex is sex. With you, it’s meaningful and intimate. We’re so lost in the feeling of desire and all that but this…” he says, wrapping your arms around him as if to explain. “This… this is a different kind of intimate. Waking up next to each other, morning kisses, random hugs… they say something else.”

“And that is?” You ask after a beat of silence, needing that quiet to take in his words.

“That I want you beyond all that lust and that high,” he answers. “And this… This takes more from us. And I know that because this used to scare me. This… I don’t know, vulnerability I guess? Having someone next to me while I sleep, being the first thing they see in the morning, doing ordinary things with them like taking a shower or something. Holding their hand. Hugging them because it just feels right. I don’t know if I’m making sense but—”

“You are,” you interject, knowing exactly what he means. 

You used to say how you were intimate with the men you dated but you couldn’t say that you shared intimacy with them. It was such an abstract concept for you. That familiarity, that emotional connection, that feeling of safety and belongingness, and of certainty and clarity seemed so intangible. 

There’s a reason why you never had them over at your place, why you could sleep and wake up next to them in their homes but prefer to spend the rest of the day by yourself or with your friends. There’s a reason why you were cautious about the personal things you shared, about your dreams and fears, why you never let them close enough to know how to love you. Something was always lacking and a part of that was because you never allowed yourself to give them more than what they could touch. Your body was as far as they could go; your heart was a restricted place that no one could enter.

Until Jungkook, and suddenly that intimacy is something tangible. You can feel it when his arms are around you, you can hear it in his giggles, you can see it in his smile, you can smell it as he stands a breath away, and you can taste it in his mouth, one that welcomes you in when you kiss him tenderly. You know there’ll be more ways that it will be tangible to you, that it’ll be something real and definite, something your mind could at least try to grasp. And he’s right - doing this takes more from you than sex for the sake of it ever could. 

You’re letting someone into a place you’ve kept to yourself for so long. And that itself could be quite disorienting and overwhelming. He gets it because it’s something he’s probably done before, and he’s doing it again now.

You tell him with the way you kiss him that you get it, too. You tell him by the way you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer that that’s where you want him, and that he’s settled in your heart so suddenly yet so certainly that you don’t want him to go anywhere. 

You’re content with this. You feel your need for pleasure heighten, you feel that slight throbbing of your cunt and the need for friction, you feel that desire course through your veins but you’re satisfied with this intimacy you share. You say it with how tenderly your fingers graze his face, with how your hand gently rests on his bare chest, and with how your movements remain slow, focused on the feel of him more than anything else.

He understands your contentment, too, and he says it with how he follows your pace, with how he softly palms your bare thighs, and with how he nibbles your lips in affection. You both pull away to get some air but he tells you, too, through his soft kisses on your cheeks and your forehead before a final one on your nose that this is enough, and that right now, this is all he needs. 

“I bought breakfast,” he tells you as he takes your hand in his then leads you out of the bathroom. He grabs a pair of shorts from his closet while you watch on. “I got those street toasts and some pastries. I’ll warm them up and heat the coffee. Is that okay?”

“Of course,” you respond, giddy at the thought that he bought those for you. You mentioned in passing last night that you’ve missed eating them after being at your mom’s place for much of the week. “You still don’t have anything in your fridge or your pantry.”

“Exactly. So uh, I was thinking we could go do some groceries today and I can make something for you for a change, and no, the eggs on toast that one time don’t count.”

You’re endeared by the shy look on his face, and it’s not really one you can say no to. 

“Sure, that would be nice,” you smile. 

“I was hoping you’d, uh, stay the night again. And again. I canceled work for the team on Monday but I have to meet Hoseok and my father. Maybe I should cancel that, too.”

“And tell them, what? That you’re gonna be with me?” You chuckle. “That’s not happening. This… this can’t come between you and your job, okay?” You remind him, as you don’t want your newly formed relationship to negatively affect him, especially after all the work he’s done to be what he is now. “Work comes first. I’ll always understand.”

“It goes both ways,” he hums, as he sets the food in front of you. “So, when do you start your new job?”

“Next Monday,” you answer. “Which reminds me… I have to shop for trousers and dresses.”

“So, a wardrobe change, huh?” He asks, placing the cup of coffee and glass of water on the table before taking the seat next to you. 

“Sort of. The pencil skirts feel restrictive. Plus, every time we ate out, I was always scared that the zipper would pop or something,” you laugh. 

“It always felt odd that that was the recommended outfit for assistants,” he says. “I liked them on you though… respectfully speaking.”

You playfully shake your head at his statement, but he defends that they always paired well with your pastel-colored blouses that he claims bring out the color of your eyes. 

“Well, I’ll still be using those. I just need to pair them with something else less formal.”

“We can go shopping today then,” he suggests. “Not unless that’s something you want to do on your own. I understand if it is. I mean, I… I don’t want to impose.  I… I didn’t even ask you what you wanted to do today.”

“I didn’t really have anything in mind. My weekends are usually just spent doing chores and errands or watching stuff at home or in my local theater,” you say. “Not unless my friends visit or I go home. Other than that I just… do whatever I feel like on my own. And you? What do you usually do on weekends?” 

“Work, gym, drink, watch sports, sleep,” he chuckles, recalling those days of loneliness and nothingness, which really wasn’t that long ago. “Meet my parents if I have to, hang out with my friends if I’m in the mood.”

“And go to the clubs?” You cock an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, I guess,” he hums, knowing what you’re alluding to. “I do it less frequently now, though. I just go there to catch up with them then I go home. Don’t you do that, too?”

“Only when Jimin and Soomin are here. Socialite stuff, you know?” You explain.

“I guess,” he shrugs. “But we can do anything you want today. It’s up to you.”

“Okay, then shopping it is,” you smile at him, thinking it’s something fun that you could do together. 

You think anything with him would be, and it excites you to know that many of the things you used to do alone is something you could now share and do with him. Maybe you could even do something new, like some outdoor activity or go to the arcades or even do a ghost tour just because.

But something ordinary like going to the groceries and shopping for new clothes are things you want to experience with him, too. They’re those intimate acts that he talked about earlier - simple and mundane, yet special and comfortable. 

As you watch him in his plain shirt and shorts with his legs spread out as he sits on the chair beside you, and with him asking if you’re full and if there’s anything else you want, you think about all the days you’d spent on your own. There was always a certain kind of peace you felt then; you were alone but you weren’t lonely. 

There were days when it got to you though, as you thought that it was probably nice to have someone to share a meal with, to laugh with as you watched your variety shows, and to lay next to as you talked about your day. You dwelled on the scenes that played in your head only briefly, knowing that there wasn’t anyone in your life then that you wanted to do those simple, mundane things with. 

But with Jungkook here with you now, sharing those with someone does seem to require a level of vulnerability you hadn’t really thought about. You’re letting him in a space that’s always just had you in it, doing things that gave you peace, that gave you energy, that gave you those bits of happiness. He’ll no longer just be getting a peek into the world you carved for yourself; he’ll now truly be a part of it. And you want him to know that even if it may seem like it’s overwhelming, you welcome him completely.

“What you said earlier about not wanting to overwhelm me,” you start, “I… I appreciate that. This isn’t just a new side of you I’m experiencing. This is also a new side of myself that I’m getting to know, that I’m going to get used to.”

“I know. And I understand that,” he responds, turning to face you now. “People bring out parts of ourselves that we didn’t know we had. Or forgotten we had.”

“I guess. I’ve just… I’ve just never had a proper relationship before, you know? I’ve dated people but there were sides of me I didn’t wanna show, and there were things that I couldn’t really bring myself to do.”

“Such as?”

“Lingering,” you say after a beat of silence. “Little forms of affection that you mindlessly do,” you continue, fiddling with his fingers. “And meeting the parents. That was always too much for me.”

“Well, you’ve met mine,” he points out. “You knew them before you even knew me.”

There’s no bitterness in his voice but you’re reminded of the secret you kept, and that it’s something you still haven’t really acknowledged.

“I’m sorry about keeping that from you,” you bow your head. “I didn’t plan on deceiving you or anything. And I didn’t think it mattered. It only did once I started liking you. And I got too caught up with what I felt that I didn’t tell you right away.”

“Hey, you had your reasons,” he nudges your knee so you’d look at him. You look up and see the softness in his eyes. “And I’ll never fault you for them. You did what you had to do and I’m just glad you stayed long enough for us to meet again. I admit I… I thought that maybe you mistook your feelings for loyalty. That you cared because you thought you had to. And I’m sorry I did.”

“You had your reasons, too,” you answer. “And I’m sorry that’s what you thought after I kept it all from you. But it wasn’t hard to care about you, Jungkook,” you smile now. “What was hard was stopping myself from doing so. Even your parents noticed that. I guess I don’t have to prove that to them anymore. I’d like to think that with all the talks I had with your father, they already approve of me being with their son.”

His shy smile makes you feel giddy, as he bites his lip and the little dip on his cheek turns up. 

“Well, I hope that your mom approves of me being with her daughter after that one talk with her,” he says worriedly. 

“After expressing your feelings for me like that? Of course she does,” you giggle. “She told me not to go back to the house unless I’m with you so… yes, she definitely approves.”

“That’s a relief. I mean, after everything I put you through?”

His face falls a little and you’re starting to learn that he needs assurance every once in a while. So you give it to him, as you surprise him by sitting on his lap and cupping his face with your hands. 

“We put each other through a lot but we’re together now,” you remind him. “We’re done with being idiots.”

“We are,” he chuckles, agreeing with Yoongi and Mr. Ri who fondly and frustratingly called you that. “But your mother might be serious about not welcoming you back there until I’m with you so let’s schedule that trip, okay? Maybe I could meet her husband, too?”

“They’re not actually married,” you sigh, shifting so that you’re leaning on his chest now. “They’ve been together for over 10 years and Min-woo has even proposed but she doesn’t think marrying is necessary. They’re committed, they’re happy, she treats Yoon-chae and Yeo-jin like her daughters. This… this family is all they need, not a marriage. Plus, it’s quite expensive to do that and she’s just being practical.”

 “Do you agree with her?”

“I guess,” you shrug. “I mean, what else is stronger than love? Than committing your whole self to that person?”

“Committing the rest of your life to them,” Jungkook responds.

He knows it’s not easy though. He’d seen his parents drift apart but he also saw them stand by each other after all that. Maybe they had to because that’s what commitment means - it’s an obligation, a duty; it gives the person no choice but to stay. But then again, after speaking to them more regularly these past weeks, he’s seen their little acts of care and support for each other, of understanding and trust. Perhaps commitment is also that devotion, that promise and constancy, that tangibility of connection and permanence.  

“Maybe,” you hum. “I think it’s just a fear that she never really got over. Her parents divorced. My biological father had plans of marrying her only to leave before I was born. She says she doesn’t want to taint what she already has with Min-woo over some symbolic act that’s hurt her twice before. And I don’t blame her. Things hurt us and then… we just get scared. It’s human nature, I think.”

“That’s true. I… I’m proof of that,” he whispers, as if in shame. 

“So am I,” you utter, shifting now so you can look at him again in assurance. “It wasn’t even my pain I carried; it was hers. But that still kept me from accepting good things. I was scared to open myself up, I was scared to love…”

Love. It’s a foreign word to you in the context of romance. It’s something that seemed easy to understand but you realized that feeling it isn’t. Nor is finding it. You know you’ve never felt anything like how Jungkook makes you feel, and you wonder if love is something like this, and if it’s something that he feels, too.

“I get it,” he looks away. “It’s not easy to do nor is it easy to take. You never know if you’re good enough for it or if you deserve it. I learned that the hard way, and I still don’t think I…” he trails, shaking his head, as if it’s too much or too soon for him to say. 

You suppose it is. You don’t know much about his relationships but you do remember Taehyung mentioning an ex-girlfriend before, someone whom Jungkook seemed to have loved so much, given the heartbreak he suffered through after the breakup. You wonder if he’ll ever talk about her, or if it even matters. He’s already let you in, and you don’t want to give him a reason to shut you out or feel like you’re intruding. Your relationships are hard to talk about, too, not because they hurt you but because you feel ashamed of them. There are crevices in your heart that you want to leave untouched; you suppose that so does he.

“It’s okay,” you tell him, hoping he’d look at you again. 

He eventually does, the softness on his face returning when you tell him you understand. He nods and smiles, pulling you close for a languid kiss, his grip on your waist tightening as you match his slow place. 

Jungkook feels you smile against his lips. Whatever heaviness he felt earlier as he talked about love, something he’s been afraid to have again after he shunned it away, disappears. 

That’s what kissing you does to him, he’s learning now. It makes the pain hurt less. It makes him forget about his burdens. It makes him feel something he hasn’t in a long time. It makes him hope that he’s capable of doing right by you this time. 

And with how you hug him tightly after you pull away to breathe, he knows that kissing you gives him that strength to face whatever it is he’s still afraid of, and that you’ll stand by him until he’s ready.

You watch Jungkook from next to your closet as you wear your slip-on dress, a practical outfit given your shopping plans this afternoon. You’ve gone back to your apartment for a change of clothes and to bring some back to his place, and you left him in your living room as you packed your stuff from several meters away. 

He stands by your couch, hands in his pockets as he looks at your photos on the shelf. He has a faraway look in his eyes, one that’s different from the times he zones out and temporarily escapes to somewhere in his head. You wonder what specific photo he’s focused on and what he’s thinking, so you walk over to him and stand on his side. 

It’s the one of you in your uniform during your first day at your new school in Busan. You don’t remember much from that day but your mom said you were shy to make friends. She told you that she was going to just be around because she worked there, too. You smiled just like she asked as she knelt down next to you while a moment marking your new life in a new town was being memorialized. 

You don’t recall taking that many pictures growing up but apparently she did, as she gave you a box of them when you moved back to Seoul on your own. They were all memories from a past you either couldn’t remember or tried hard to forget, but somehow she kept the good ones, perhaps to remind you that in the midst of all that nightmare, she did her best to keep you safe and happy.

“You have your mother’s smile,” Jungkook says. “It’s very warm and encouraging. I get it now, why my father thought you were just like her. You’ve always had this tenderness ever since you were young.”

“I guess,” you hum. “Who’d know the pain underneath all that, right?”

“I’m sorry for what you had to go through,” he turns to you, feeling that tinge of pain in recalling what you experienced as a child. 

“And I’m sorry for what it did to your family,” you sigh, an apology that took you this long to give.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he responds, turning his gaze back to the photo. “I let the resentment get to me. I guess… my parents didn’t deserve that.”

“It doesn’t change the fact that you were hurt, Jungkook. Your parents will always carry that with them. But they… they saved us. They helped us get away,” you remind him. 

“I know. You get to be next to me because of them and that… that’s helped me alot,” he admits. “It helped me understand and forgive.”

“That’s good. I’m sure that means everything to them.”

There’s silence as his eyes remain focused on the photo, and you wonder what else he’s thinking, if there’s anything else he’s sorry or thankful for.

“I’m trying so hard to remember meeting you that day,” he finally says, with a hint of desperation in his voice. “I’ve buried so many memories and this is the one I wish I kept but I… I can’t because it’s gone. I hate that it is.”

“I’ve been trying to remember you, too,” you respond. “I almost didn’t believe my mom when she said that we’ve met before. She never told me about it but she said it slipped her mind. It was a long time ago and so much happened that day. Seeing you with that chocopie triggered that memory, I guess. We don’t really talk about that time anymore. And I hate that it’s buried somewhere in my mind. But it’s a nice thought, isn’t it?” You turn to him. “We met all those years ago and we never knew. But I kept you with me in the form of a dessert that I still absolutely love, that I eat whenever I’m sad or alone or upset. Connections aren’t fleeting, I’m sure of it now. You’re proof of that.”  

He returns your look, one of sadness but acceptance. It’s one of those things you’re both going to have to deal with, as all the truths about your past come to light. You hope you can just focus on the good things from now on, and with how his lips slowly turn up in a smile, you think that so does he.

“That’s true,” he hums. “You stuck it out for me without even knowing. That’s… that’s pretty special.”

“It is,” you say, wrapping your arms around his waist for a hug and hearing him release a breath when you do. He returns the affection immediately, and realizing that it’s something you both naturally give to and receive from each other makes you smile. “It’s as if there was some invisible string that kept pulling me towards you. It’s kinda stubborn like me, I think.”

It’s a thought you hold close to your heart. You’re not really one who believes in fate, but with Jungkook, it’s easy to fall into it. You can’t help but think that beyond the debt you felt you had to pay, you unknowingly stayed in the company for another reason, and perhaps that’s so you could meet him and remember it this time. 

You held out so you could build something with him, so you could learn to want to be free, and then want it enough to finally put yourself first. You’re only able to be with him because of that choice, and despite what it took for you to get here, it’s that same string that’s keeping you from regretting all your decisions. 

He responds with a soft kiss on your lips, one that you quickly melt into. The tender moment is slightly disrupted when he kneads your ass, something you’re also learning he’s quite fond of doing, causing you to yelp in surprise and laugh in response. But he just giggles and says he can’t help it. He buries his face in your neck, the feel of him so close warming your insides as he seems to crave that proximity, too.

His phone ringing prompts him to pull away, and you let him go once he greets his mother on the other line. 

“Hello, my dear,” she chirps. “How are you feeling today? Your father told me that you left the Arts Center quite early last night.”

“Uh, yeah, I did,” he hums, sitting on the couch now while he watches you finish your packing. “I was just tired from all the socializing.”

“I understand. I can imagine how exhausted you must feel. Were you able to get some rest?”

“Sort of,” he answers, smiling internally at how the night went. 

Sure, there was a bit of rest, if he counts the four hours of sleep he had because he just couldn’t get enough of you. Even when he was spent from all that you did, he’d just take you in his arms and all you had to do was smile at him or softly kiss his lips and then he wanted to go another round. 

He supposes that all the built-up tension and months of holding himself back had just exploded, and he wants every opportunity he could have to show you how much you mean to him.

“Well, even then, I was hoping you’re free for dinner tonight,” his mother says. “Think of it as a celebration now that your big project is completed.”

“I, uh, I’m kinda busy tonight,” he responds. “Maybe we can have dinner another time?”

“What else could you possibly be busy with this time?” She asks, but she doesn’t sound offended. 

There’s a tone of acceptance in her voice. Jungkook knows she’s used to this, but he doesn’t want this to continue being a norm. He genuinely wants to make time for them, and it’s something you encouraged him to do, too. But he’s still caught up with his new reality with you, so he decides to be honest instead.

“Being with ___,” he admits. “We finally talked and we, uh, we spent the night together. And we’re going out today.”

“Oh, that’s amazing news,” she sighs in relief. “Your father can breathe easy now. And he can finally claim to be a matchmaker,” she chuckles.

Jungkook hears his old man in the background say that it took 20 years but he’ll take it.

“Is he next to you?” Jungkook laughs. 

“He is,” she responds. “He said he saw ___ last night and she was looking for you, but he wasn’t sure how to ask you how it went. So he asked me to invite you to dinner and see if you had plans and well, we’re glad you do.”

“Yeah, we just have a lot to make up for,” he explains, glancing at you. “If you were serious about a celebratory dinner then we can have it another day. Is that okay?”

“Of course, my dear,” she responds. “What about next weekend?”

“I’ll confirm with her and let you know.”

“Alright, son. Well, we don’t want to keep you,” his mother says. “You and ___ have a good day, okay? We’ll see you soon.”

You watch Jungkook smile through the conversation with his parents, something you assume hasn’t happened in years. It’s nice to see him slowly start to mend their relationship. And though you want him to spend time with them, you also can’t help but want to have him all to yourself, and staying in where he promised to cook you his speciality for dinner is how you want to spend your Saturday evening.

The thought excites you. Everything that happened last night just intensified your desire for him. For months, the affection you felt towards him slowly developed. And for months after, you tried to downplay it and hold yourself back from all you could feel. Now, you get to have him in all the ways you want, and it’s overwhelming. What once was a battle of conflicting emotions in your head and heart has been replaced with an overflow of them - all good ones, and it’s a new experience. 

It’s a new experience being able to talk about the things that hurt you, that scared you, that you dream about, just like you did last night while you sat on the couch. It’s new being entangled with someone under soft sheets and actually wanting to stay. It’s new sharing a meal with someone while you talk about your plans for the day, and then holding their hand while they drive later on. It’s a new experience welcoming someone into your home and imagining spending days with them here. 

It’s also a new experience being able to openly ogle them, like what you’re doing now as you gaze at Jungkook sitting on your couch, phone still in hand as he now talks to Seokjin on the phone. 

He’s donned in a pair of jeans and plain white shirt with a baseball cap on, a casual ensemble that still has you melting because of how comfortable he looks. The thin, silver chain is an unexpected accessory, and he said it’s something he’s always had but rarely wore. But upon seeing your satisfied look, he said he’ll wear it from now on. The way he smirked at you plays in your head, and with how he’s got his legs splayed out and his hand behind his head, you start to feel that familiar knot in your belly. You turn around before you get tempted to do anything. And while you’re free to do so, some self-discipline wouldn’t hurt. 

You’re not pressed for time so you let him continue with his call. Based on what you hear, he’s updating his best friends about what happened last night, and his groans tell you that they’re probably teasing him about it. Affectionately, you assume. 

You decide to water your plants while waiting. It's been days. Some leaves have started to dry up so you remove those, too. You’re focused on what you’re doing and jerk in surprise when you feel Jungkook’s arms wrap around your waist. But you settle in his hold immediately, leaning on his chest and humming in contentment now that your plants look better and more alive. 

“Sorry I kept you waiting,” he says, his chin resting on your shoulder now. 

“It’s alright,” you reply. “How did the talk with your parents go? And your friends?”

“All fine. My parents want to have dinner and the guys want to go to a club,” he sighs. “But I said you’re my priority right now and not them, so they just have to wait until I’m free, which probably won’t be for a while since we have plans and all.”

“And what are those plans?” You turn around and ask. 

“I don’t know, we’ll just have to make them.”

You playfully shake your head and lay your hands on his chest, a habit you think you’re going to develop with the way he constantly pulls you close. 

“We could make plans with them,” you say softly. “Not unless you, uh, don’t want to.”

“Don’t be silly,” he frowns. “Of course I do. I just don’t want to impose and have you spend time with my family and friends if you don’t want to.”

“Why won’t I want to?” You frown back. “Plus, that’s part of being with you, isn’t it? Spending time with the people you care about?”

“It is,” he smiles. “So, uh, what do you think about next Saturday? We can have dinner with my parents then go out with the guys and then say we’re tired so we can leave early?”

“That’s… that’s quite the plan,” you laugh. 

“Or we could just reschedule time with Seokjin and Taehyung. They’ll understand.”

“I’m fine with that, too,” you nod. “And then maybe we could also, uh, make the trip to Daegu and I can properly introduce you to my family?” 

“That sounds good,” he nods. “And what about your friends? That is, if they want to spend time with me. And by they, I mean Jimin.”

You snort in response to Jungkook's statement, which he’s not wrong for making. The last time they were in the same room together, you felt the tension through the roof. 

“He’s just being protective, as he should,” you explain. “He’s seen me date men who turned out to be shitty and he just wants to make sure I’m treated well. And that I’m happy. And I am, so he’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure that’s all?” Jungkook questions.

“Yes,” you assure him. “We’ve been best friends for 20 years. It’s natural to be cautious about people. At least he is because I’m clearly not.”

“Okay,” he hums. “We’ll make plans, then. And then we can go to one of our properties in Gwangju. And Jeju. And anywhere you want to go to. We could fly to Japan or Europe or wherever, really.”

“Alright, one at a time,” you chuckle, the mix of excitement and nervousness filling you up. “Let’s not forget that I have a budget and limited leaves.”

“Which we’ll work out,” he says, adding that he’s definitely not going to make you spend a single cent. “But we could also just stay in or go to a park or watch movies. Anything, really.”

There’s a sadness in his eyes that you recognize, like this admission of longing that he doesn’t want to acknowledge. You soften as you caress his face, wanting him to know that whatever it is he wants to do, you want to do all of those with him, too.

“I… I don’t know when the last time was that I actually looked forward to the weekend,” he admits. “I didn’t actually like it, only because I was forced to not work. And I always wanted to work. It… it made me forget how lonely I really was.”

He looks away, as he reveals a part of him that he’s never shared to anyone. 

It wasn’t always like this. His teenage years were filled with holidays with his parents and weekends in their scenic properties despite the distance he felt from them. But he couldn’t wait to grow up, to be independent and live life his way. He studied hard and by the time he was in university, he was working at the company already, eager to learn and earn money, something he continued to do when he did his postgraduate studies in Singapore. 

But he had Chaerin then, and his life was filled with excitement and happiness. There was always something to do, something to look forward to, until he lost it all and became a shell of who he was. There was so much void within that continued to get larger the more he spent time on his own after the breakup. 

He worked even harder because he didn’t know what to do with his time. He bought useless things because he didn’t know what to do with his money. He went to clubs and slept around because he didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts, only so he wouldn’t be faced with the reality that he wasn’t happy, that all the things he wanted - a sense of purpose, a hand to hold - were out of his reach.

The Arts Center was his saving grace. It gave his life meaning, as he sought meaning through it. And that’s what allowed him to be here with you. In building something for others, he realized how strong his desire for intimacy was, and how much he wanted to experience the world with someone, to share in its joys and difficulties, to learn what more he could give and get from it. And you’re everything tangible that used to just be a blur to him.

In building something for you, he realized how much he wants you to be happy, how much he wants you to always be safe. And he gets to be that person who makes it happen. 

It’s barely been a day but he supposes it’s why he can’t get enough of you, why he constantly reaches out, needing to know you’re next to him and not some image he conjured in his mind. It’s why he wants to make all these plans, so he could experience all the things he’s wanted but was always afraid to feel because of the fear of losing it one day. 

“There are so many places I want to explore and I want us to do them together,” you whisper, tilting his chin so he faces you again. “There are all these things I want to try and experience, even some things I usually do on my own that I want to share with you. I get you, Jungkook. I let days pass me by. All I did was look forward to something I didn’t even know. Now I know what I want, and that includes having them with you.”

His eyes soften as you utter the words, with your fingers tracing his face as if to see if he’s real, too, and if happiness is something that you can finally touch. 

“You don’t have to feel alone anymore,” you continue. “And I don’t have to feel that way, either, because you’re there. I want you to always be there.”

“I will,” he smiles, gently pressing his lips onto yours. “And we can do whatever you want.”

“Okay. A ghost tour is on my list,” you say, thinking to lighten the mood.

“It is, huh?” He laughs. “I mean, sure. I can definitely protect you.”

“You mean, I can protect you,” you counter. 

“___, I’m scared of thunder, not ghosts. I think I’ll be fine,” he chuckles. 

“And I’m scared of the living, not the dead, so I’ll be fine, too,” you point out. “I’ve always wanted to try it but I didn’t want a spirit to latch onto me because I was alone.”

“I don’t think that’s how it goes,” he playfully shakes his head. “But sure, we can do that. Anything else?”

“Hmm. Something outdoors? I… I really liked it when we were at your lake house and we sat on the rocks by the stream,” you reminisce. “It was very peaceful and it was just nice being out there.”

“Did you like it when you had your arms around me during the ATV ride, too?” He smirks. “Because I did.”

“It was bumpy,” you pout. “I should drive it next time and you can be my passenger.”

“Gotta learn how to drive first,” he teases. “How come you never learned?”

“Because it didn’t seem practical to learn and not have a car to drive,” you reason. “I’ll just forget it so I never bothered. Probably when I’m in my forties and I can afford to buy one.”

“Or I can get you one.”

He looks at you like he’s serious, and he probably is. So you draw the line before he thinks it’s okay for him to do that.

“You won’t. I will not accept it,” you say sternly. “And you will not buy me anything of that kind.”

“Fine. But I can buy you other things like jewelry and clothes and—”

“Jungkook, you know I don’t like you for your money, right?” You frown. “I know we’re leagues apart in terms of wealth and I—”

“I know,” he says, pulling open your crossed arms and wrapping them around him again. “I’m just saying that I want to buy you things because I like you. It’s… just a way for me to show you how I feel. No cars, I promise.”

“Good. I’m not gonna be able to drive it anyway,” you laugh.

“I can always teach you,” he says. “It’s still a good skill to have, you know?”

“Hmm, maybe one of these days,” you smile. 

“So in the meantime, I can get you something else. Maybe something for work? Please?”

He uses his doe-eyes to convince you, and it doesn’t take much. You suppose that for someone who’s not always good with words, buying you things is a way for him to make up for it. He built you a library, after all. You’re not always good with words, either, but perhaps accepting what he gives is a way for you to show him how you feel, too, among other things. 

“Fine,” you give in. “Just one thing.”

You find yourself hours later in a boutique shop on a quiet street in Incheon. 

You and Jungkook agreed that doing your shopping in the neighboring city will keep you from running into people that you don’t want knowing about your relationship at this point, such as the management support team or anyone else, really. 

You went to a shopping center after the hour-long drive. You opted for mid-range brands that offered comfortable basics, stocking up on slacks and tops to match the blazers and coats that you already have. You picked some flowy skirts and dresses, too, while Jungkook convinced you to get some of the statement pieces that caught your eye. 

He was an engaged companion, carrying your basket as you walked around and then finding you when you wandered too far. He gave approving nods whenever you showed something to him, surprising you when he’d comment that you already have a similar colored top. He looked embarrassed then, when he explained that you had outfits that stuck with him. You admitted that so did you, with his charcoal and navy suits as your favorites. 

He sported that shy smile again, a sight you never thought you’d one day be spoiled with. It always gave you a kind of comfort that you’ve never felt before, and you suppose it’s why you wanted to keep seeing it. Doing this with him today has given you that same feeling, especially when he’d look at you satisfied and say that he really likes how the outfit looks on you. 

You passed on the premium outlet shopping center, stating your case to Jungkook that you’re not one to wear luxury brands to a place as constant as your workplace. And while you agreed to him buying you something, you said you preferred it to be one of quality, and not just because it was expensive. Which is why you’re currently in this local boutique store selling the prettiest shoes you’ve ever seen.  

The name sounds familiar, and you remember going through some fashion magazines at Taehyung’s shop and seeing this listed on a best new brands list. Deservingly so, it seems, as the collection before you boasts of a variety of simple and statement designs that look soft and comfortable, too. You’re particularly drawn to the colored ones, since you could never wear those styles before. Your recommended outfits only allowed basic and muted colors, so your black and nude pumps were your go-to. And while you’ll still be wearing those, you definitely want a pair that would stand out. Or two. 

“See anything you like?” Jungkook breaks through your thoughts. 

You turn to him with a sparkle in your eyes as you nod shyly. 

“See anything you really like?” He chuckles as he walks towards you and you nod again. 

“Tell me,” he urges.

You get the ones that caught your eye - a pair of orange satin pumps and these olive green suede heels with ankle straps. You love the hues and how they’ll contrast some of your neutral-colored outfits, but right now, you don’t know which one you want more.

“I can’t choose between these two,” you say, scrunching your eyebrows. 

“Easy. We get both of them,” Jungkook replies as he asks the staff to get your size. 

He stands in front of you as you try each pair, his eyes following you as you walk around the store and check yourself in the mirror. He softens at your smile as you look at your reflection. There’s wonder in it, and he’s glad that he’s able to give this to you, of all things. It’s cliche but those shoes will take you to places; he looks forward to being next to you when they do. 

He giggles when you wear one of each pair and keep turning positions to see how you look in them. 

“Hey, I’m serious,” he says. “We can get both of them. You can even get more.”

“But I don’t want you to spoil me,” you pout. 

“But I will,” he insists, standing in front of you now. “I liked the smile you had earlier. I want to keep making you smile like that. And no, I don’t think you’re being materialistic or anything,” he adds before you unnecessarily defend yourself. “They’re pretty things and I want to give them to you.”

“Fine,” you pout again. “Do you like them, at least?”

“They’re nice,” he compliments.

“Just nice?” You frown. “That’s what you said the first time you saw me in a dress.” 

Your teasing smile makes him laugh, but it somehow comforts him. He remembers that day clearly, when you accompanied him to Taehyung’s shop to fit the suits made for him, and you tried on the gowns that his best friend made for you, too. Seeing you in that burgundy attire made his heart drop, and that’s what’s been happening every single time that he sees you all dressed up. He didn’t think you’d remember but apparently, it stuck with you. 

“It’s not like I could say that you looked stunning then, now could I?” He cocks an eyebrow. 

“So that’s what you thought, huh?” You nibble your lower lip.

“Always,” he responds. “It’s been hard keeping myself together ever since.”

The heat rushes to your cheeks at his confession, and for all the times you cursed yourself for being unprofessional for finding him attractive, you at least don’t feel too bad now that he thought the same. 

“That makes both of us,” you smirk, liking how he playfully shakes his head and turns away.

He wants to kiss you right now but he knows it’s not the time nor place. 

“So, both of these shoes, then?” He confirms. “Are you sure you only want two?”

“Yes. You’ve spoiled me enough already,” you state. 

He concedes, even if he really wants to buy you more. He wants to shower you with so many things but he doesn’t want to overwhelm you with that side of him just yet, so he’ll take things slow for now. 

He walks with you to the counter where he pays for the shoes. He sees the sparkle in your eyes when he takes the shopping bags from the staff and there’s something so wholesome about how you look that has his insides warming up. 

“You like them, too, right?” You ask as you both walk out the store to head back to the car. 

“Of course,” he hums. “They’re pretty and you like them. Plus, I saw the reviews that said the shoes are comfortable and sturdy. And you need that. I can’t have you tripping yourself because of unstable heels and then falling into the arms of some man again. I won’t be there to catch you anymore.”

“Hey,” you pull his arm to get his attention, frowning at him when he turns to you at the reminder of that Arts Center incident. “That was one time.”

“You trip on yourself when you’re on the ladder, too,” he points out. “And I’m always there breaking your fall.”

“And why are you?” You cock an eyebrow. “You always had your eyes on me, didn’t you, Mr. Jeon?”

“Couldn’t help it, even if I wasn’t supposed to,” he says. “I just found myself always looking out for you. And you just happened to be tripping a few of those times.”

You laugh in response because he’s not wrong, but it’s also a way for you to tell him it’s okay. You suppose you weren’t the only one paying attention because he seemed to do that a lot with you. And the more you think about it, the more you realize that the feelings you once doubted were sincere have been present all this time. But he held himself back, just like you did. He tried not to cross the line because he knew it wouldn’t be right until you did, and all he wanted was to keep you close so he could be there for you. Because the moment he knew what was keeping you there, he made the difficult decision of letting you go. 

You smile at the thought, learning now that when it comes to you, Jungkook is attentive. He’s protective and he wants to make you happy, to shower you with gifts, to make you experience good things in life because it’s his way of expressing his feelings. You may be starting a new job that requires you to be apart from him, but in his own ways, he’s still looking out for you. 

You want to carry him with you as you take on a new challenge, too. And you’ll look back on today as a way for you to do that. It’s in the shoes that he bought for you; it’s in his company and patience as you went around looking for clothes earlier; it’s in the experience of doing something together. 

A sigh of relief escapes you as you settle in the passenger seat. It’s been tiring but also really fun, and you smile again at the thought of being able to do this for yourself. 

Since your first visit at Rkive Publishing, you’ve been envisioning how you’d look and how your days were going to be. It filled you with excitement seeing that image of you in your mind - dressed in clothes that made you feel comfortable but powerful, in an environment that was challenging but exhilarating, in a place that didn’t make you feel stuck or constrained. It truly feels like a new beginning, and you didn’t realize that the simple act of shopping could make you see yourself differently, that it could make your approach to work feel more relaxed.

“I didn’t know you enjoyed shopping that much,” Jungkook says. “Guess we’ll have to do that again.”

“I didn’t know, too,” you chuckle. “But I think it’s more than that,” you turn to him with a soft smile. “I don’t think I’ve ever really shopped for a full wardrobe before. All my office clothes were hand-me-downs from my mom when I started working and I just gradually bought my own over the years. But now I get to buy all these new things for what I feel like is a new chapter in my life, you know? It sounds silly but I’m pretty sentimental about it.”

“It’s not silly,” he replies. “You’re doing something that you chose, that you’re happy with. That means everything.”

His eyes soften and you realize that you haven’t really talked about your resignation. And with all your excitement for your new job, the last thing you want is for you to think that you felt burdened by working for him.

“Jungkook, I… I’m sorry for resigning when I did,” you start, earning you a shake of his head. “I don’t want you to think that I wasn’t happy working for the company. Because I had great moments, and you were one of them,” you explain. 

He nods as he takes in your words, and you take his hand to tell him you mean them. 

“It was hard at first but I stuck it out because it felt ungrateful of me to leave,” you continue. “Things got better when I was under Hoseok but there was always that feeling that I didn’t deserve everything, even if I was giving all of myself to the job. And that was all on me. I realized that I was the one who couldn’t move on from my past. And I just constantly felt stuck. Working hard was all I knew how to do until I didn’t know myself anymore but you… You helped me realize what I was missing. You helped me realize what I could be.”

“How?” He asks.

“The Arts Center,” you say. “Learning about why you wanted to build it showed me that it’s what I wanted, too - to create meaning, to connect people to something, to experience something tangible that could stay with us. You were so passionate about it and I wanted to be passionate about something just like you. And I’m sorry I had to leave because of that. And well, I also really like you and it didn’t feel right to stay any longer after what happened.”

“I didn’t realize that it meant that much to you,” he responds, caressing your hand now. 

“It did. It still does. Being there last night made me feel so many things, especially the library,” you say. “I think I’ll need time to really soak everything in.”

“We can do that tomorrow,” he suggests. “It’ll be open until late all weekend and we can go around if you want.”

“I’d really like that,” you smile at him. 

He smiles back but there’s still that tinge of sadness in his eyes, and you continue looking at him to urge him to say what he wants to say. 

“I should’ve asked you why you wanted to leave instead of asking you to stay,” he sighs. “I probably would’ve understood. I mean I… I’m working for my family and it’s all I’ll ever do. I’ve lost myself in it, too. I know it’s not the same but I guess that’s why constructing the Arts Center mattered that much to me. It was different. I felt like it was the only way I could find meaning in what I was doing, something that went beyond my duties to my family. I… I learned what I wanted to be for someone, too, because of you. So I understand why you have to do this for yourself, ___,” he turns to you with an assuring look. “After everything settled, I knew that leaving would be the only way for you to be truly happy because then, you get to do something for yourself. And I just want you to know that I really want this for you, too. I’m just glad I get to be next to you like this.”

You feel your eyes turn glassy. You hadn’t realized just how much you needed to hear that from him. And given all the new experiences and challenges you’ll be facing, having someone to hold your hand and tell you that things will be okay makes it more meaningful. You won’t be going through things on your own anymore. And you get to tell him that he won’t, either. 

His smile tells you that he understands, and it’s one that you mirror.

“Your new boss seems nice,” Jungkook says as he looks back on the road. “He called me one day and asked about you.”

“Namjoon did say he spoke with you,” you respond. “And yes, he’s very kind. He rambles a lot but he’s just very passionate about books and literature. I’m sure I’ll learn so much from him.”

“That’s good. It’s a new industry so it’s important to have a mentor like him,” Jungkook hums. “Just, you know, don’t trip and fall into his arms or something.”

“That is not going to happen,” you laugh. “Are you jealous?” You nudge him. “Are you the jealous type?”

“No,” he frowns. 

“Good. You have nothing to be worried about, okay? He has nice dimples but I like yours better,” you tease. 

He pouts at you but you just kiss his cheek to appease him, your own affection surprising you. You find yourself constantly showing it to him, wanting him to know how you feel instead of words you don’t think you’ll be able to say. 

“Are you the jealous type?” He asks now.

“I actually don’t know,” you wonder. 

Your past relationships weren’t really exclusive so you didn’t have a reason to be jealous. 

“We should go to a club and see,” he says. 

“Hey,” you whine. “All the women will flock to you.”

“And who says the men won’t flock to you?” He arches an eyebrow. “You’re the one that people fall for.”

“And you’re not?”

“___, I’ve slept with women but let’s not pretend they wanted to be with me,” he chuckles. 

“Maybe they did, and you just never gave them a chance,” you reason.

“Well, I never let them stay long enough to know,” he shrugs. “It’s not something I do, and it’s not something I ask of them.”

But you asked me to, you don’t say. You remember the look of rejection in his eyes that night at his office and how you turned him away. Perhaps to him, you’re also someone he was willing to crawl out of his walls for, and for a time, he thought you didn’t want him enough. 

You promise yourself that you’ll make it a point to show him that you always do, whether it’s through words or actions but especially through your way of opening up yourself to him completely. 

You nudge his hand that’s still in yours, prompting him to look at you. 

“I’m here to stay,” you tell him, wanting him to feel the weight of your words because you don’t do that for anyone, either. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You say it almost in a whisper, like it’s a promise you want him to know you’ll always keep. He lifts your hand to his lips and he kisses it, a way to let you know that he’s not going anywhere, too. He’ll keep holding your hand wherever you or he goes because he knows that right next to you is where he wants to be.

It’s a very intimate act, and it’s barely been a day but he’s done so many of those already with you, including expressing his honest and sentimental feelings. He supposes it’s all the time he’s held back. Or maybe all the years that he kept himself from feeling and showing any of that. 

But you have each other to share those with now and he hopes that however he chooses to show them to you, you’ll understand and accept them and like you said, you’ll stay and not go anywhere. 

You spend the rest of the car ride back to Seoul talking about the posts and articles being written about the Arts Center. You go on social media and read them out to Jungkook, warming at how softly he smiles with every compliment from the visitors and artists. Even if you weren’t there during the ceremony last night, you’re glad that you’re at least able to celebrate with him from this day forward. 

You arrive at a supermarket and let Jungkook take the lead. But while he’s buying to fill up his fridge and pantry, he’s taken it upon himself to make sure you have everything you need and want, too. 

He picks up the coffee pods and grounds that you mentioned you like. He asks you for your preferred snacks and desserts on top of the chocopie that he gets boxes of. He lets you choose your skincare and bath products. He grabs containers of side dishes and an array of meat and vegetables, as well as a sack of rice. There are other ingredients he gets and before you know it, you’ve got a cart filled to the brim and a satisfied man pushing it to the counter. 

He pays for his purchases and you realize just how much he’s actually bought.

“Are you throwing a party that I don’t know of?” You tease, as he hauls all the groceries in his trunk. “That’s a lot of shopping for one person.”

“I, uh, I was hoping to have you stay over during the weekends,” he says shyly. “I mean, we can also stay at your place if you’re okay with us being there. But I just thought about buying a lot of what we want when we stay in and stuff.”

“Are you bribing me with food so that I’ll spend more nights with you?” You cock an eyebrow.

“Yes? Well, I’d like to think I’m good company, too,” he chuckles. “And that you’d, uh, want to spend time with me. Is it too much?”

“Of course not,” you say. “It’s sweet actually, how you’re making a space for me in your home. And you don’t have to bribe me, you know? The place is good, the company’s good,” and whispering in his ear, you add, “the sex is good. I… I’d like to spend time with you, too.”

“That’s comforting,” he laughs as you both head inside the car. “Although I’d prefer for that last one to be more than good.”

“Hmm. Good thing you have tonight to show me, then,” you teasingly smile. 

He groans as he playfully shakes his head, this bold version of you still flustering him. But he wants to tease back, so he turns to you and pulls your face close to him. He gives you a deep kiss before booping your nose with his.

“Just make sure to keep up, yeah?” He answers. 

“Rude,” you gasp, earning you a laugh. “It’s not my fault you don’t get tired.”

“It’s not my fault that you do.”

Your pout makes him want to erase it with a kiss so that’s what he does again, and he likes that he can do this over and over, as many times as he wants. 

“I’m kidding. I’ll do whatever you want,” he smiles. “Just as long as it makes you feel good.”

You’re only able to nod now, not wanting to provoke him any further because another word of him telling you what he can do is gonna cause you to spiral. 

The sun is still out by the time you arrive at his penthouse with everything you bought for the day. He insists on having your clothes washed - a perk he has as owner of the building, and you give in. He says it’s so they’re all ready for you next week, and you’re once again reminded of this thoughtful side of him. Sure, money helps, but you suppose it’s easy for a rich man to just think of what conveniences him but not others. In many ways, he’s shown you that he’s more than that. You’re able to see it all up close now, and you can’t help but like him even more. 

After he hands your bag of clothes to the butler, he heads to the kitchen where he says he’s going to prepare dinner. You follow him and look on curiously as he brings out a few of the ingredients you bought earlier.

“What’s on the menu?” You ask, sitting on the counter right next to where he’s got his work space laid out.

“Buckwheat noodles with my special sauce,” he answers. “And some boiled pork.”

“That sounds delicious,” you hum. “And here I thought you hire people to cook for you.”

“Can’t really call someone over at 2AM to make me dinner, can I?” He laughs. 

“Why would you have dinner at 2AM?!”

“Because it’s how I am,” he shrugs. “I mean, sometimes I have dinner out. Some nights I’m so tired from work so I take a nap and wake up at odd hours, or I’d just work all night and realize I haven’t eaten so I make something then. Meat is easy to grill, noodles are quick to make, but for you, I’m making special versions.”

“I feel special already,” you giggle. “But that’s not healthy, Jungkook,” you turn serious. “Meal time is meal time and rest time is rest time. You always work so hard, you need to take a break and not overdo yourself.”

“I know. You used to tell me that all the time,” he smiles softly. “It was nice to hear, and I listened to you. I guess those were the only times when I let myself take a breath. You were pretty stubborn about it.”

“Because you were a hard-head about it,” you frown. “So much for being protective of me when you couldn’t even look out for yourself.”

“I know, that’s why you were there,” he points out. “And you were the same, so that’s why I was there for you, too. We, uh, I guess we complemented each other that way.” 

“I guess,” you smile now. 

There’s some sadness in that thought, though, at how you both went on years just focusing on your respective jobs individually and not having much you share with others. Sure, you had your friends and so did he, but in the silence of your own homes, you lived through every day just waiting for the next, not knowing what to look forward to about it. 

You suppose that’s what happens when you share only the most shallow parts of yourself to someone - your body, your time, your energy - but even those were limited. Now, you get to feel what it’s like to share more of them, in ways that require more. But you’re willing to do all that, and you can see that so is he.   

Jungkook boils the pork in some spices and says that it’ll take some time. He gestures towards the balcony where you see the sun about to set. You’ve never seen it from this high, and he says that he hasn’t watched it from here in months because he’s been getting home late. His office doesn’t offer this same view. 

You head out and take a seat on the couch where he follows. He positions himself next to you, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you closer until you’ve got your legs on his lap and your head on his chest. Being with him like this, you feel comfortable again; you feel safe. 

The sky is beautiful and it’s another version of it that you get to share with him. You know there’ll be more of this that you’ll have, and you’ll keep this in your memory just like all the other times that you did. 

His free hand draws patterns on your knee and you try to decipher what they are, recalling those days of watching him doodle on his leather notebook and wondering what’s on his mind. 

It’s something you ask him and there's a beat of silence before he answers.

“There’s a lot of things I think about,” he says. “Most times I don’t know how to make sense of them or express them so I just draw whatever I feel like. They’re mostly figures and structures because they at least make sense to me even if my feelings don’t.”

“What about now? Do your feelings make sense?”

“A little bit,” he hums, but he assures you it’s not a bad thing. “You always felt familiar. I think that’s why I was so hesitant to get to know you and why I felt like I had to keep my distance. It wasn’t right to feel that way for my assistant. I know now why that was. We crossed paths a long time ago and I guess we made each other feel something that we couldn’t find in others or that we couldn’t find ourselves. It’s familiar but it’s all new. Isn’t it contradictory?”

“Maybe. But it also could be that we felt something like that before and we lost it along the way. And we met again and so we’re feeling it again, but in a different way,” you try to explain. “Familiar but new. Do you doubt it?”

“Not at all,” he shakes his head. “I just couldn’t help but think about it because this version of myself feels different but it’s still me.” 

“I get you. I’m not really like this, either. I’m not fond of affection. I’m not this giggly or this… honest or this bold. I’m terrified of many things so I’m also not this brave but you… you bring all that out of me, Jungkook. And it feels really good.”

“I’m not this honest, too. I don’t know where my words come from,” he chuckles. 

“I was about to say that you’re able to express your feelings just fine,” you smile. 

“That’s barely scratching the surface,” he says. “There’s still a lot I don’t know how to say.”

Regret is one of them, Jungkook thinks. And guilt and fear and an overwhelming joy and clarity that he can’t fully express. There’s still hesitation somehow but vulnerability, too. There’s a feeling of inadequacy and a desire to give you everything he can.

“Me, too,” you sigh. “We can always just keep showing it to each other in different ways. I know that’s not always easy, but we can… we can keep trying. I held so much of what I felt for months and I’m just glad I don’t have to do that anymore.”

“I held back for a year,” he blurts, surprising you. Your questioning eyes urge him to continue. “I… I thought you were pretty. And you put me in my place, you’re honest and caring, you’re so good at what you do, you’re… someone I wanted to be around, even if it didn’t seem like it. And I’ll always be sorry for how I treated you.”

“I have a lot of shortcomings, too, Jungkook,” you admit. “I judged you before I met you because you never smiled during the times I saw you. And then I constantly compared you to Hoseok and I shouldn’t have.”

“Well, look at me now. I don’t think I’ve ever smiled this much,” he chuckles. “But it’s okay. We… we were getting used to each other.”

“We were. And I… I like seeing you smile. There would be nights when I’d fall asleep thinking about it,” you confess. 

“Here I thought I was the only one doing that,” he laughs. 

“We’re so ridiculous,” you laugh back. “We’ve said too much. Now we can kiss.”

“You like doing that, huh?” He smirks, pulling you to sit on top of him now. 

You shift on his lap and find a position that has your heart racing. You moan when his hands guide you in grinding against his slowly hardening length. And he watches you move before his eyes flit to meet yours, the desire heightening and the tension building.

“I do, very much,” you whisper, bending down to graze your nose against his before you kiss him. 

It starts off tender but with the feel of him underneath you and his tongue amorously entangling with yours, it gets rough soon enough. You’re thankful that you’re seated closer to the door, leaving you less exposed than if you were near the railings. It’s enough privacy that he’s able to sneak his hand under your scrunched up dress without you minding, and you moan louder when he pulls your bra so he could flick your nipple that’s clearly screaming to be touched. 

You return the favor, untucking his shirt so you could touch his chest, too. It reminds you of how you’d mapped this out last night, the tautness of it making you imagine all the ways you could pleasure him there. But you settle with your nails grazing against his smooth torso this time, knowing you have all of tonight and perhaps tomorrow to do it. 

“Fuck,” he mumbles against your lips. “Baby, we’re gonna have to take this inside,” he says, although he doesn’t stop nor let you go. He continues to kiss you and drag his hands all over your back.

“We should,” you say, not stopping either. 

It takes a few more nibbles on each other’s lips before you finally pull away, heaving in pleasure and wanting more. But you remove yourself from him before you get into it again. Walking back inside, he surprises you with another squeeze of your ass, prompting you to turn to him. 

“You like doing that, huh?” You repeat his words. 

“I do, very much,” he hums. He hugs you from behind and says, “this, too,” as he nuzzles your neck.

You only laugh in response but deep down, there’s this warmth you feel at how much affection he’s giving you and how much you’re accepting and returning it. You weren’t big on intimacy with your exes. You weren’t the type to hold their hand or cling to them or caress them outside of sex. They weren’t natural for you, and you suppose those kinds of acts required more openness and emotional closeness that you didn’t feel for them.

But with Jungkook, it’s as if it’s all you want to do, and it seems to be the same for him. You didn’t realize how holding his hand could be so assuring, or how feeling him wrap around you could relieve you of your tiredness, or how kissing him could make time stop yet you still feel there’s not enough of it when you’re with him. 

And as he stands by the stove, pan frying dumplings for your appetizer while the pork continues to boil, all you want to do is watch him be. 

You’ve always admired him for his dedication to his craft. You’ve sat through countless meetings, watched him draft blueprints and plans and present them, and listened to him put together ideas and designs. He’s creative, rational, and very smart, and it always impressed you how much technical knowledge he has. He always had such confidence in his abilities and that also made him very attractive to you. 

But seeing him in a domestic setting in his casual clothes while cooking your dinner ignites something else within you. It’s this desire to see and experience all sides of him, and to be welcomed in every nook of his big heart. 

He arranges the dumplings on a plate and mixes the dipping sauce, then places the dish on the counter for both of you to enjoy. He takes a piece, blows on it, then feeds it to you, and you laugh to yourself because this is something that you used to tell Hajoon that you could do on your own so he doesn’t have to. But with Jungkook doing it now, he triggers a swarm of butterflies in your belly that has you giggling. 

He just smiles, the warmth in his eyes telling you that this is something he wants to do for you and you let him. He’s told you he wants to take care of you and you want that, too. You want to show him that you can do it as well.

Jungkook gets a bowl and starts making the sauce while he boils the buckwheat noodles. It’s something he came up with one late evening, adding perilla oil and egg yolk to the different condiments he had on stock. You feed him dumplings while he mixes the ingredients, which he eventually pours over the noodles then sprinkles seaweed on top of it. It looks creamy and delicious, and partnered with the boiled pork that he plates on a wooden board, your mouth starts to water.

It’s all surprisingly delicious, as you tell him that you didn’t think that just putting a bunch of sauces together would create something that good. You enjoy dinner over beer and then insist that you’ll clean up while he takes a bath. 

It’s an hour later when you exit his bathroom, your heart skipping a beat at seeing him sitting on the bed, his back across the frame with the covers over his legs while he scrolls through his phone. He doesn’t have a shirt on, leaving his toned upper body in full display for you to stare at. You’ve already seen this last night; ran your hands all over them, even, but somehow you know it’ll always take your breath away. 

He looks up when he senses you’re back, and he smiles seeing you donned in one of his oversized shirts. He likes you in his clothes. There’s something so domestic about it, even if he’ll end up taking them off of you anyway. 

And that’s what he does, as he moves to sit on the edge of the bed while you remain standing in front of him. He caresses the sides of your thighs while he looks up at you, before pulling up your shirt that you help him remove. 

You giggle when his lips immediately plant themselves on your torso, where he kisses and sucks the soft plane of flesh that has you moaning in pleasure. His hands travel around - kneading your ass, sliding up then fondling your breasts, before they’re removing your underwear and then cupping your bare cunt.

“Jungkook, baby,” you whine, feeling the sensation all over your body. “Want you, please.”

It’s the words he loves hearing from you, knowing the desire comes from somewhere deep. It’s because you’ve allowed him to a place that no one’s ever been to before, and it’s a place he wants to stay in for as long as you’ll let him. 

And he takes it to heart. He wants to feel you feel good; he wants to hear it, to breathe it, to let your pleasure course through his body and let it linger, and that’s the only way he’ll feel good. It’s not just about chasing his own high like it used to be. With you, it’s always more.

He switches places with you, lays you on the edge of the bed while he kneels on the floor for that angle that lets him taste all of you. He laps you up and he feels your clit pulsate against his tongue, your breathy curses complementing the way your body screams for him. He increases the pressure to build you up then slows down to prolong it. 

You seek him. Your hands pull him forward, your cunt thrusts against his face, you yell out his name, and when you come, his lips are what you want all over you, all over again. 

You’re eager. The short second it takes for him to stand up, you’re pulling his boxers down and stroking his length; you’re swallowing him whole before he could even catch a breath. But it’s everything he wants, as your warmth coats his aching cock and he pushes into you, hearing your obscene sounds as you take him in. 

“You feel so good,” he grunts, your tongue swirling around his slit. “Fuck, baby, just like that.”

He manages to open his eyes, and the sight of you eager to please him sends shivers down his spine. You fondle his balls, you play with your breast, you thrust against nothing while you moan with your mouth full of him. He softens for a while, tucking the damp strands of hair behind your ear, before he pulls away then guides you to flip over with your hands and knees on the bed.

You’re able to take a breath while he puts on his condom, but you're already dazed, your mind completely hazy from everything that Jungkook makes you feel. 

The way he fills you up is heavenly. He hits your deepest spot, and the pace of his movement has him grazing every inch of your walls. He pushes your waist down with his every thrust, making both of you feel the sensation in a mind-numbing way.

Your knees are trembling but you don’t mind. Your knuckles are probably turning white from how hard you’re gripping his sheets but it’s your only anchor for now. Your neck is straining and you’re breathless as he relentlessly bucks his hip against you but you don’t want him to stop. 

He switches it up, both his hands on your waist now to keep it steady while he drags himself in and out of you. You clench around him and push against his movements, and it has him moaning curses with your name. His pace becomes erratic, and that’s how you know he’s close.

“Touch yourself, baby,” he instructs you. “Come with me. Fuck, fuck, I want you to come.”

You do as you’re told, reaching down to stroke your clit while he pounds you from behind. And when you hear his deep breaths and a prolonged moan, you quicken your pace until you’re coming once again.

He pants, all the energy being drained out of him, but you still feel him gently kiss your shoulders, then your spine, then your ass cheeks before he lays in bed next to you. 

He breathes heavily but he manages a soft smile that mirrors yours, and all you want to do is wrap him in your arms until you both fall asleep. 

“Sex just good?” He teasingly asks. 

“Were you trying to make a point?” You cock an eyebrow.

“Maybe,” he huffs.

You shift your position, your arm now supporting your body as you lay on your side. Your hand traces his bare torso, which still rises and falls from the ordeal, and he hums in satisfaction. 

“Did you like that?” You whisper in his ear, biting your lip in anticipation of his answer. 

“Uh-huh,” he breathes out. “Fuck, you feel so good. You take me so well, baby. That was just…”

“I want to keep making you feel good, Jungkook,” you moan, liking how he’s at a loss for words. “And I want you to keep fucking me like that.”

Your vulgar words contrast the tender way you graze your nose against his neck, and it somehow makes his mind even more hazy. You’re everything he wants, and he’ll do everything to keep you next to him. 

“I will,” he promises, turning to his side to face you. “I’ll do that and more.”

And he does, as he cleans you up and tucks you under the covers with his arms around your body. You’re cradled in his, and the clarity you feel after such a mind-numbing experience is so satisfying. 

You suppose this is what intimacy is - feeling that high and then landing on a soft field of everything beautiful, and you decide that this is the only place you’ll ever want to be in. Jungkook smiles at you and you just know he feels the same way you do.

You wake up with Jungkook next to you this time, your limbs entangled with his under the comforts of his soft blanket. Your eyes flutter open and you see him propped up on his tattooed arm, smiling at you.

“Were you just watching me sleep?” You mumble.

“Maybe,” he teasingly shrugs. “It’s nice to see you resting well.”

“It’s your sheets,” you say, earning you a laugh.

“Guess I know what to spoil you with next time,” he winks. 

“What time is it? And why aren’t you working out?” You ask, knowing it’s how he always starts his day. 

“11,” he answers. “I’m surprised I didn’t wake up earlier. But when I did I just thought to sleep in with you.”

“Hmm, good decision,” you grunt, your mind still half asleep but awake enough to appreciate his half naked form next to you. You scoot closer and hug him, causing him to lay flat on his back while he wraps his arm around your bare body. “This is better than a workout.”

“Well, I kinda had mine last night,” he giggles.

And he’s not wrong. After he tucked you in bed, you spent another hour or so just talking and cuddling and that led to another round of him pounding into you from the side, and then another one with him over you. He went so hard that he had to take another shower at 3 in the morning and he’s probably done his arm and core exercises for today. 

You don’t even know how you managed to withstand all that, but you did, and you loved every second of it. You loved how he bit his lip in pleasure and how his neck veins popped out as he pounded into you intensely. You basked in his whimpered sounds and the kisses he showered you with as he came down. 

And now you’re in his embrace, curled against him. You'd do this all day if you could.

“But this is nice,” he hums, as he strokes your back while also combing your hair with his fingers. 

He kisses the top of your head while you moan in satisfaction, a kind of soft pleasure that relaxes you, that makes you feel like you’re floating but also enveloped in pure warmth. That’s what hugging Jungkook feels like, as his toned but smooth arms wrap around you. His rough fingers tenderly roam your body, and it eases your tired being; nuzzling his neck, you feel like you could fall asleep again. 

But you’re quite hungry and you assume that so is he, so you slowly disentangle yourself from him and say that you’ll be cooking lunch when he whines. 

“I told you I’ll make something for you this time,” you say, appeasing him with a kiss on the cheek. 

“Fine,” he concedes, stating that he’ll go over the interview questions that a few reporters have sent over for him to answer while you’re cooking. 

He follows you to wash up in the bathroom - then gives you a deeper kiss right after - and then to the kitchen. He sits on the stool by the counter while you cook rice and seafood pajeon, something you boasted about last night. 

“Babe, you think you could help me with the questions?” He asks, catching you off guard with the pet name that he uses in a different context for the first time. 

“Sure,” you hum. “Read them out loud.”

So he does, and you spend much of the hour going through them and sipping your coffee, with him pulling you for a hug when you wander to his side. 

You eat lunch while watching sports highlights on TV, then you spend the afternoon laughing over the variety TV show episodes that you’ve missed these past weeks. 

It’s 5PM when you both start dressing up for dinner that  he’ll treat you to for your first official date, he’d said, insisting that he likes eating at nice places. He has you to share the experience with this time, and he doesn’t want you to worry about expenses of any kind. He wants to eat at your favorite noodle houses, too, and that’s a plan for another day. 

You have on a skirt and top outfit that thankfully matches your new pumps. Once you finish putting on your makeup, you head to Jungkook’s walk-in closet to check on him, your throat drying up at seeing him in an all-black denim ensemble. He’s sexy enough as it is, with the skinny jeans accentuating his ass and his thick thighs. But when the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to his elbows and when the buttons are undone just up to his chest to show the tank top he’s wearing underneath, sexy becomes too simplistic. Even more so when you spot the silver chain around his neck again, simple and classic but definitely dangerous.

He turns to you and takes in your look before he smirks. But just as you expect him to compliment you or even kiss you, he instead reaches out for your hand and interlocks his fingers with yours when you take it. 

“Let’s go,” he says, leading you out. 

He doesn’t say much on the way to the car. He just gazes at you then smiles when you look at him. It’s during the drive when he kisses your hand, surprising you, and there’s that warmth that you feel again. You listen to the soft sounds of the radio this time, sharing in the silence the way that you used to, and it’s far from uncomfortable, especially with him thumbing your hand that he’s not letting go of. 

You make it to the restaurant where you’re seated by the window, able to appreciate the setting of the sun. The food is delicious, with the variety of tender meats causing you to silently moan at how good it is. There’s an array of dishes that Jungkook orders, and you spend the rest of dinner talking about your favorite food and the other places you want to try. 

Satisfied from the meal, you both head to the Arts Center. You know you’ll have another time to fully explore. You’ll remember how the areas looked before renovation and you’ll look on in pride at how different they are now. There’ll be opportunities for you to check every exhibition and watch performances here. When the Center hosts some of the international film festival events in two months, you’ll definitely attend and pay attention to the halls and other spaces. You’ll come during the day and appreciate the light coming through the windows, and you’ll be able to gaze at the art installations outdoors.

But tonight, you want your focus to be on the children’s library, the one that Jungkook had built for you. 

The Center closes late on weekends so you have time to savor it. You want to remember the feeling of being inside it with him, as if you’re making him part of the memory, as if you’re including him in the best moments of your childhood. 

You finally enter the grand library, appreciating the details and the grandness of it. You ask Jungkook where the archive section is now, and what the process of moving it was like. 

“I had to incorporate it in the main area instead of separating it,” he explains. “Yoongi and I found a corner to establish its presence and then scattered the pieces beyond that, putting them in glass enclosures around the desks and on the walls. I think it’s better that way; visitors become intrigued and want to learn more, so they could go around and end up exploring more of the library.”

“That’s strategic,” you say, appeased that there were gains in making the change. You stand at the entrance of the children’s space and then to him. “So, what made you decide to do this?”

He talks about his late afternoon jog one weekend and discovering a park that reminded him of the playground that his father built for him. He tells you about all the apologies his old man couldn’t make, and all the words left unsaid that Jungkook realized had held them together despite the distance and the detachment. 

“I thought about all the times that you needed someone and I happened to be there,” he continues as he follows you around inside. “And then the times when I wasn’t or no one was. I don’t ever want you to feel alone. I thought that if I’m not in your life anymore, I could at least build you something that would make you happy, that would protect you, the way you said your old neighborhood library made you feel.”

His words leave you speechless. You suppose that for someone not good with them, he finds the right ones when he needs to. You were overwhelmed with emotions the first time you saw this, and you couldn’t fully grasp how he could make something like this for you. 

That playground mattered to him, the way your old library did. Only he would understand how a space or a structure could comfort you, how it could take your fears away, and how that feeling could stay with you for a long time. He wanted you to continue feeling that whether you found your way back to each other or not, and now that you have, you feel that happiness and that safety even more.

You run your fingers across the murals then sit on the couch with the fluffy teddy bear next to you. The more you look around, the more you realize that this isn’t just meant for children. The seating areas are big enough for adults, so is the activity space at the back. It’s where those with child-like hearts and minds can stay - to reminisce perhaps, or to make new memories. You think you’ll be doing both.

“Is it close to how your library looked?” He asks, as you both walk past the shelves and you scan the books they have. 

“Jungkook, that was a semi-rundown library that used to be someone’s house. It had chipped wallpapers and creaking wooden floors,” you giggle. “This is definitely much prettier but I see so much of the old one in here. The warm lights, all the colors, the different areas to read and draw and color. The paper dolls,” you squeal. “It’s… familiar but new, just like everything with you is. I… I don’t know what else to say.”

“A thank you is fine,” he smiles, pulling you close to him. You’re behind one of the shelves, and with no one else here this late Sunday evening, he wraps his arms around your waist. “I wouldn’t mind a kiss, too.”

“You deserve more than all that,” you whisper, kissing him softly. “Thank you, Jungkook. I’ll be spending weekends here. Or when I have a tough day at work. Or when you’re away and I’m missing you.”

“Good. That way I know that when you’re down, you have somewhere to go so you could feel better. And less alone.”

That’s all he hopes, after all - that on days when he can’t be what you need, there’s a place that he built that will make you feel better. 

He treasures your smile and the way your eyes shine as you go through the picture books that have their own row of shelves. He beams at how beautiful you look being enamored with the space that reminds you of the best parts of your childhood. And he softens when you look at him with so much adoration, words seemingly not enough to express how you feel. 

You don’t say much as you walk back to the car though. When he drives to his penthouse, you hold his hand. But something inside you stirs so you guide his palm to your thigh, smiling when he caresses it. He sees you bite your bottom lip at the act, and though he’s tempted to do more, he decides that tracing your skin is what he wants to do for now.

The feel of Jungkook touching any part of your body is electrifying. He ignites a kind of desire in you that you’ve never felt before, whether it’s simply holding your hand or stroking the inside of your thigh.

Being back in the library made you feel many things. It brought back memories and made you imagine all the new ones you’ll make. It also filled you with an overwhelming need for him, as you think of all the ways you could show him your appreciation. Including one that you could do tonight.

So after making it past the door of his apartment, and after briefly watching his impeccable figure walk down his hallway, you don’t hold back. He turns around and you don’t even hear what he asks. You just head towards him and kiss him.

You kiss him hard and deep, your hands wrapping around his neck to pull him as close as you can get him, even as you guide him towards his living room, knowing where you want him. He moans when you bite his lower lip, your fingers desperately gripping his shirt now as you want more. 

You pull away to catch your breath, your intense eyes saying everything you want to do to him. He caresses your cheek but only briefly, as his thumb traces your lips before pushing it past them. The sight of you sucking his finger - gentle at first before you do it desperately - has his cock throbbing, impatient to feel your mouth wrapped around it.

“Fuck. Good girl,” he says under his breath, as you lick his thumb teasingly to tell him what you want to do. 

You kiss him again, your fingers now eagerly undoing his buttons. He removes his shirt then you pull his tank top off him before you push him to sit on the couch. You stand before him and stare at him shamelessly, as he sits comfortably and stares back at you. His hands are behind his head now, with his taut arms in full display for you to salivate over. 

But it’s his chest that you want to pay attention to rigjt now, all perfectly toned and every bit breathtaking.

“Take your clothes off,” he says before you can make your move. 

“Is that an order, Mr. Jeon?” You breathe out, knowing how the name affects him. 

“Yes,” he huffs. “An urgent one.”

You smirk as he plays along, and you take your time in undressing. You watch his eyes move with you, his breaths deepening now as you bare yourself in front of him. 

“Don't touch yourself. I’ll do that,” you instruct. “And that’s not a suggestion.”

He chuckles in response but he seems to enjoy it, relaxing in his position. You take that as your cue, settling on his lap and then mapping his torso with your hands as you lick and suck his neck. He angles it to give you more space, and he hisses when you take advantage. 

Your mouth travels south, leaving kisses on his collarbone and sternum before twirling your tongue around his pert nipples that are aching for attention. He starts to pant and you decide to take your time, wanting his pleasure to build up so you could hear him beg for you this time. You moan as you nibble his buds, but your own pleasure builds, too, and with your hand feeling his thick length underneath those jeans, you suddenly can’t wait any longer.

“You like that, baby?” You whisper in his ears. “You like it when I do that?”

“Fuck, yes,” he wails. “Fuck, baby. That’s so good.”

With a few more kisses towards his hips, you move as well, now finding yourself kneeling on the floor and quickly undoing his belt. He lets you do all the work, and you don’t mind. You like how his chest rises and falls in anticipation, and when you finally free his cock, you let out an obscene sound that even you’ve never heard before.

You’ve been graced with this scene these past days, but it still leaves a lump in your throat. He’s thick and veiny and everything you want to taste and have inside you. You pull off his jeans until he’s bare as well. You stroke him once and the moan he makes is all you need. 

With your thumb on his slit, you lick up his shaft until you’re swallowing him whole, his tip hitting your throat that it makes you groan. The vibration has him grunting and it pushes you, so you start moving your mouth and hand up and down his length, with your tongue swirling over his tip and all the other sensitive parts of him. 

Your free hand explores. You stroke his leg and then brush your fingers over his inner thighs. You caress his torso when you go deep and bask in the way he breathlessly curses, over and over again. 

Needing a quick breather, you let your hands do their work. But Jungkook takes this chance to bend over and capture your mouth in his. He kisses you fervently, sucking the air out of you and you don’t really mind running out of it, not when he tastes as good as he does, when he’s as desperate for you as you are for him. He pulls on your hair gently, slowly tightening his grip when your kiss gets more intense. 

He eventually pulls away, leaving you free to tease and suck his cock once again. He moans continuously, cursing under his breath once you let him guide your head to take all of him in. His obscene sounds make it all worth it, especially once you feel his body tighten.

“Fuck, baby I’m close,” he whimpers. “Fuck, I–I need to come inside you, fuck.”

You slowly remove yourself from him, but your hand remains wrapped around his length. You look at him with your glassy eyes, desperate to feel every inch of him possible.

“Come inside me, please,” you whisper. “I want to feel you come inside me. I need…”

You pant, your eyes telling him what you really mean. You don’t want any more barriers. You want to feel him drag against your walls, to release his warmth and fill you up completely. You’ve mentioned being clean and so has he; you said in passing how you’re on implants, too. He looks at you and nods in understanding, just like all the times that you’ve spoken to each other through your gazes. With the way he heaves, he seems to want it just as much as you. 

He pulls you towards him and guides you to sit on his lap. He strokes his cock and drags his tip through your folds, teasing you before slowly pushing it inside you. He feels even more immaculate like this, and your walls embrace him immediately, as if he’s always meant to be there. You get on your knees as you position yourself to ride him, and your gentle movements follow a pace that has you keening, especially when he starts licking your pert nipples that’s been needing his attention. 

You grind against him with his hands kneading your ass to guide you. You feel him deep, and it has you breathless and wanting more.You sit up and wrap your arms around his neck for support as he pounds on you from below, and with his tight grip around your waist and his mouth sucking your breasts, you start to feel hazy.

“You feel so good around me, shit,” he moans. “Fuck, baby. You’re so perfect for me, fuck.”

He continues his thrusts and you’re so lost in the overstimulation. Your body starts to shake as you chase the high, letting it all overwhelm you. 

“Baby, I’m gonna come,” you whimper. “I’m—”

Your orgasm is a loud crash, and you feel it linger. You feel your essence coat him; you feel the slick drip out of you and stick to your bodies, mixed with the sweat from all the work of building each other up.   

He curses again as he feels the wetness all over his cock, and it’s heavenly. Feeling you like this does something to him, and he wants you to do it again. 

So he pounds even harder, not giving you much time to calm down. You moan in response, scratching his back as you hold onto him tightly while he releases all his energy onto pleasuring you and him. He slows his pace and moves in circular motions before he lays you on your back. Your eyes are glassy. Your mouth knows only his name. Your hair is damp and you’re panting. And you look absolutely beautiful as you beg for him to make you come again, and for him to finally come inside you.

Watching you feel all that he can give is what he needs. With his arms propped on your sides to support him, he goes hard and deep. He’s been somewhat gentle these first few times, and he knows that that drives you wild. But he also knows that going a bit rough would make you lose your mind even more, so that’s what he does. 

He pins your arms down as he slowly pushes inside you.

“You like it like this, yeah?” He pants. “You like it when I reach this deep?”

“Yes, baby. Yes, please. Please don’t stop,” you whimper, this view of him with his damp hair and his silver chain hanging over you making you crazy.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head with how good he feels, especially when he hits you at an angle that makes your body come alive but also numb, and it’s a feeling you can’t get enough of. 

He hums in satisfaction, choosing now to suck on your neck while he continues his assault on your pussy. He licks the shell of your ear and whispers how good you make him feel.

“You take me so well, baby. Such a good girl, yeah?” He grunts. “Fuck, you’re so good.”

You can only moan in response, unable to form proper words now. And he senses it, with your mouth hanging open and your erratic breathing escaping it. 

He straightens himself, knowing what he needs to do. So he plays with your clit while his other movements continue, and that’s how you find your voice again. He quickens his pace, his thumb doing its work on your most sensitive spot while your walls pulsate around his throbbing cock. Your legs start to shake until you’re wailing in pleasure, screaming his name as you orgasm another time. He knows enough to focus on kissing you, swallowing your sounds as you come down.

But you want him to reach his peak this time, so you tell him to keep going, to find his spot so he could fill you up this time. He spreads your legs open in response, giving him a view that makes him throb even more. It’s what he needs, as he focuses on his pleasure like you told him. He bucks his hips, finding his pace that quickens then slows down then quickens again, until his erratic movements signal that he’s close, too.

“Yes, baby,” you urge him. “You’re gonna fill me up so good. I want it so bad. Come for me, please baby.”

He does a few more thrusts before he’s spilling his warm seed inside you, with him moaning out curses every second. His cum drips from your hole but he catches it with his tip, pushing it back inside you until so is he. He stays there for a while as you both catch your breaths, with him collapsing to your side while you move along with him. You can still feel his cock pulsate against your walls, and it causes you to moan. You’ve never felt that before, and it’s another intimate thing you share with him, as he wraps his arm around you and languidly kisses you after. 

“That was amazing,” he breathes out.

“It was,” you hum, smiling at him looking spent and content. “I like you here. Stay a while, please.”

He chuckles at your request but he doesn’t mind it either. It’s intimate, as all things with you beyond sex are. He just wants to stay close to you, to hear your soft breaths and revel in the feel of you, sweat and slick included. 

But as much as he could fall asleep here, he knows he shouldn’t. He pulls away and lets you head to the bathroom to clean up. He follows soon after and he catches you on the sink, removing your makeup then turning to him once you hear him arrive.

“My body’s kinda sore,” he says. “Do you wanna have a bath?”

“I wouldn’t say no to that,” you smile. “But we can’t stay long. You have work tomorrow so you need to sleep soon.”

“Alright,” he nods, walking to the bathtub now. “I’ll try to keep my hands off of you, then.”

Jungkook doesn’t. And neither do you, even when you both head to the shower to rinse yourselves. 

You curl in his arms right when he lays next to you, and despite all the intensity from earlier, you know that this will always be your favorite part - his fingers tracing patterns on your back, his lips constantly finding yours, and his eyes telling you all the other things that words or actions can’t say. He’s your safe place. You think from now on, he’ll always be.

You wake up to your alarm the next morning, the ringing pulling out a groan from you; you haven’t needed it this past week and you suddenly miss just sleeping in.

But it’s Monday, the start of a new week. Jungkook will be off to work and you’ll have to go back to your own apartment and start preparing for your own job that will start next week. You manage to get yourself off the bed and his soft sheets and go to the bathroom to wash up.

Once you finish, you head out and immediately hear his grunts from where you are. You know he’s in the middle of his workout, so you peek inside the gym, finally shameless to be doing it this time. He’s shirtless doing some arm exercise on his equipment, but he has his back turned on you so you stare at it instead, instantly feeling hot at the view of his broad shoulders and slim waist. His muscles contract with every movement and you remember how that felt when you held onto them last night to keep you grounded as he pounded into you from every angle. 

His set finishes and he turns around and sees you, donned in his shirt and standing by the door. He moves to another machine, takes a seat, and starts doing a shoulder press while gazing back at you. Half of you is tempted to sit on his lap and kiss him stupid, but the other half wants to stay rooted on your spot to watch him. 

The latter wins and you stand there, thighs squeezing at the sight and sound of him, as he grunts with his every push of the weights. His eyes don’t move away from you and you just know he’s enjoying this, too, especially when he smirks once your mouth slowly opens. 

“Enjoying yourself there?” He cocks an eyebrow. “You like how I look? How I sound?”

“Oh, shush,” you frown at being teased. “You’re overdoing it. You’re not that loud when you exercise.”

“So you listen to me, huh?” He smirks again, walking towards you now. “How did that make you feel?”

“I used to come here every morning, Jungkook. I couldn’t not hear you,” you cross your arms. “And I just looked away.”

“You’re not looking away now.”

“How can I when you’re teasing like that,” you scrunch your eyebrows. 

“Is it working?”

“Were you always this cocky?” You laugh now.

“No,” he chuckles. “Just now. Only because I see your jaw dropping and your thighs squeezing.”

“And what are you gonna do about it?” 

“Oh, don’t challenge me like that,” he warns, caging you against the wall. 

He eyes your lips but he bends down towards your chest instead, biting your pert nipple that’s gotten so obvious under his cotton shirt. He nibbles on it briefly before swirling his tongue around it. You hiss, feeling the sensation all over your body with that small movement, and it’s what urges him to face you again.

“Cute,” he whispers.

He licks your mouth, prompting you to open it and let him inside, and your moan at the taste of him is immediate. Your hands move on their own, pulling him by his neck then caressing his chest like it’s natural. You start to feel the dampness in your underwear and pull away, knowing that you can’t fall into this early in the morning, and not when he has a job to go to.

“Jungkook, you have work,” you say, hating that you have to cut this moment short. “If we start then…”

“I know,” he sighs, given how you both can’t seem to stop once you get into it. “I’ll just do a bit more and then wash up. You can still watch if you like.”

“Tempting, but I’ll be making us breakfast.”

“And what’s on the menu?”

“Fried rice,” you smile.

“Fuck,” he groans. “Now I don’t need to hide how much I enjoy that.”

You giggle and let him go then head to the kitchen where you work on making enough for tomorrow, in case he wants to have it again before he leaves. You brew coffee and work around just like you used to, but with a bit more freedom this time. You hum while you cook and prepare in excitement. You’ve learned that you like doing things for him, and this is one way that you could spoil him.

Jungkook exits his gym after some ab workouts and stretching, his heart racing in a different way when he sees you in his kitchen again. It brings him back to this past year of his weekday mornings and his favorite routine.

But you’re not in your work outfit this time, and it won’t be stolen glances or comfortable silence you’ll be sharing. There’ll be more, and though this won’t be the norm, given your own job that you’ll be starting next week, Jungkook decides this is another favorite of his. He hopes for more moments of domestic bliss where it’s just you and him in his home, sharing meals and hugs and kisses in between. 

He gives himself some time before he calls your attention, wanting to savor this first before he faces a busy week, one he’ll have to go through without you. 

“Enjoying yourself there?” You tease this time. 

“Yes,” he chuckles. “It’s just… nice to start a work week with you again.”

You smile softly at him, knowing that it hurt him to be without this for weeks. You show him the bowl of fried rice you’ve made, and even you’re salivating. Perhaps it’s also because of the man standing in front of you, and the sight of him like this just never fails to take your breath away.

“It’s nice to start with this, too,” you gesture towards the food. “It’s a new recipe but I think you’ll like it.”

“I’m sure I will,” he smiles back, following you to the table and sitting next to you. 

He hums in satisfaction after the first spoonful. You watch him as he eats, endeared by the way he’s enjoying the dish despite looking like a whole meal himself. 

You both finish and you clean up while he takes a bath, quickly dressing yourself then heading to his closet. It’s no longer your responsibility but it’s a task you secretly enjoyed, so you put out a navy blue ensemble for Jungkook and set aside a few outfits that he can pack for his trips this week. 

He walks in with a towel wrapped around his waist, and you stop yourself again from wanting to do anything. It’s hard when he looks as good as he does at any time of the day, but it’s something you’ll just have to get used to. You get to be around while he puts on his clothes now, and he doesn’t seem to mind at all, given his teasing smile and soft laughter. 

You stand in front of him and fix his necktie. His eyes flit from your fingers to your face, liking that he’s able to do that this time.

“You know you don’t have to do this,” he says. “But… I like that you are.”

“It’s intimate, isn’t it? Dressing someone?” You glance at him.

You’ve done something similar in the past, like when you fixed the creases of his suit or the time he put his jacket over you. They were so simple but they stuck with you, and something in you stirs as you do this for him now. 

“It is,” he smiles back, nibbling his lower lip.

You help him wear the coat then fix his tie again. You meet his eyes and then his lips before exiting the room, your gazes saying more than words could. He picks up your bags then you both walk to the car so he could drive you home before he heads to work.

“I’ll see you tonight?” You turn to him.

“Of course. I’ll get to you at 6, is that okay?”

“Yes, I’ll make dinner,” you smile. 

He lets you go after a kiss and you head inside your apartment with all your freshly washed clothes and new shoes. It’s a nice feeling being able to go through them and then fixing them in your closet. It’s nice having this time for yourself, too. While you like being with Jungkook, you know it’s important to not forget how it’s like to be on your own. 

You do your chores for the rest of the morning while talking to Soomin and Jimin on the phone, as you’re finally able to tell them most of what’s happened since Friday night. They’re supportive, as they often are, and they seem to be looking forward to hanging out with him like you suggested. 

You go out for lunch at a small noodle house before settling at a nice cafe where you read the book that Namjoon gave you. At mid-afternoon, you head to the supermarket to buy your groceries for the next two weeks, including tonight’s dinner. Thinking about what you’ll make for him was easy; you just hope you’ll do it justice, considering that it’s one of Jungkook’s favorite things to eat. 

You don’t hear much from him during the day. He messaged you during lunch time just to say he was eating out with Yoongi then asked how you were. He didn’t respond after a few texts, which you didn’t mind. You always felt that he wasn’t the texting type, which is good because you aren’t, either. There’s at least that level of understanding and expectation on both sides. You know of his tendency to hyper focus; he’s also a very busy man, which is why you know that when he’s with you, he’s focused on just you and nothing else, which is really what you prefer. 

He calls when he’s on the way to you and before you know it, he’s ringing the doorbell and you’re being greeted by the said man who still looks impeccable after a long day. He hands you flowers and a bottle of champagne. 

“You didn’t have to but this is lovely,” you smile at him. 

You put the bouquet on a vase then place it on the coffee table. After taking his seat, you serve the dish that you’ve spent the past few hours making, wanting to make sure that the meat is tender and flavorful. The beef looks so soft and the aroma is filling your apartment. You watch him after the first bite, your heart soaring when he smiles and hums in satisfaction.

“This is so good,” he says. “Reminds me so much of the beef brisket from that restaurant near the office.”

“Good. That’s what I wanted. That dish is your favorite,” you explain. “You order it often. It was also the first dish you ever bought for me.”

He stops his movements and looks at you questioningly. 

“It was after the first board report submission,” you recall. “You instructed me to buy the team lunch from that restaurant and this is what I ordered because you always did. I… I treat it as the first meal you got for me and I wanted to try making it for you.”

Jungkook remembers that day. You were surprised that he gave that instruction. You also made sure that the team enjoyed it and thanked him for it. He liked that you enjoyed it as well, but claiming that that was the first dish he got you is technically untrue. And he’s unsure if telling you the truth is a good idea, but he supposes it’s one he can share now.

“It was actually pork cutlets with curry,” he says, prompting you to look at him questioningly. “It was on my first day. I… I made you do so many things and you missed lunch.”

The memory comes back to you. He had you annotate documents and attend meetings and you were starving the whole day.

“Right. I stayed late that day and I think Yoongi got me dinner. How was that…”

You remember more. Yoongi had spoken with Jungkook before he left then came back with a rice bowl. Is it possible that—

“I asked him to get it for you and not say it was from me,” Jungkook interrupts your thoughts. “The pastries during the meeting, too. Those… those were the first things I bought for you, all because I was guilty about how I treated you that day.”

You see the sadness and apology in his eyes. You suppose with how you both started, it’s easy to fall into a cycle of feeling bad about what happened, forgiving, moving on, and then remembering something again. But maybe it’s necessary this time, as you both get to know each other and settle in this new relationship. Mistakes will come up, and it’s on both of you to assure each other that it’s all okay. 

So that’s what you do, as you tell him you’re not upset when he asks if you are.

“I guess in a way, you’ve always looked out for me,” you smile at him. 

“I guess that’s one way to look at it,” he sighs, wanting to be positive about it like you are. 

But you don’t want to dwell on the past. You’ve been apologizing to each other for days and you know you’ll have to stop that at some point. 

“You’ve been soft for me since the start, huh?” You wiggle your eyebrows at him in an effort to lighten the mood.

“I was attracted to you from the beginning,” he admits. “You were nothing like I imagined and you kept proving me wrong. I’d zone out when you spoke to me, I’d hold my breath when you were close… so I detached myself from you and that hurt you in some ways. And I knew that was wrong so I fought the feelings and that made it worse.”

“What changed?”

“I hated seeing you have a hard time, whether it was because of me or not,” he says. “One moment it was out of guilt and then the next… it was just about wanting to see you happy and safe. And then wanting to see all of that up close.”

“You get to do that now,” you smile at him. “Happy, safe… that’s what I am.”

“Good. Me, too,” he smiles back.

You continue with your meal while he talks about his relatively quiet but busy day and you talk about yours. It’s nice being able to share mundane things that happened to you with someone who does the same. 

The sadness in his eyes eventually disappears. He insists on doing the dishes this time and you both laugh as he navigates washing in the tiny sink. You sit on the couch with him, the sounds of the TV in the background merely white noise, and with your head on his chest and his fingers tracing patterns on your arm, you think that ending your days like this is a lot more peaceful and satisfying than being on your own.

“What time do you leave in the morning?” You ask. 

“7,” he responds. 

He’s got a busy week ahead - a trip to Incheon then Busan tomorrow to do some promotions of the Arts Center, and then he goes straight to Japan on Wednesday for meetings with culture and tourism ministers. He comes back on Friday evening, and that’s four days without you. It may sound silly, but that’s four days too long. He managed before though, but then again, he didn’t have much to look forward to after other than seeing you once he returned. Now, it’s that and so much more.

“I can’t believe that we just got together and now we have to do LDR,” he shakes his head.

This causes you to laugh. You angle your head and look at him, with your arms wrapped around his waist now. 

“Wow, Mr. Jeon. I didn’t think you were that dramatic,” you tease. 

He’d laugh back because he really does sound silly, but the way your soft eyes gaze at him makes him feel a little more sentimental. And definitely honest.  

“Just wanna be with you, that’s all,” he shrugs.

“You’re clingy and needy and cheesy too,” you laugh, kissing his cheek after every word. 

He groans and you’re endeared by how he pouts at you. He’s definitely been expressive about how he feels, but you’ll be apart for the next few days. You’ll be outside your little bubble of affection this time and now have to learn how to balance your relationship with every other responsibility you both have. But you want to assure him just like you hope he’d assure you.

You climb onto his lap, interlock your fingers with his, then smile at him. 

“I like it because it’s you,” you whisper. “And I like you a lot. And I wanna be with you, too. But you have duties and so do I. So you’ll get through this week and do well in those appearances and meetings, and then I can meet you on Friday for dinner and spend the weekend together. Does that sound good?”

“It does,” he smiles back, kissing your hand that has your heart racing because of how tender he does it. “I’m not really uh, a texting kind of person, but let me know how you’re doing, okay? We could talk at night and you can tell me how your day went.”

“I will. And you can tell me, too.”

You nod in agreement and hug him. You’re flushed against his chest and there’s just so much comfort in this. You exhale a deep breath as you feel relaxed, especially when he starts to rub your back. It’s calming, until his hands slip underneath your shirt and his touch slowly rouses you. You feel his desire as he hugs you tightly, and now all you want is for those hands to touch everything else, and for yours to do the same.

You sit back up then pull him forward for a deep kiss, cupping his face and inhaling him, tasting him, feeling him. You slowly unknot his loose necktie, and you feel him smile against your lips, knowing exactly what comes next. You pull away and let him lean back, giving you the space to unbutton his dress shirt while you’re snug on top of his length, liking the bit of friction you feel while you expose more of him to you. 

You reveal his torso, and he watches you admire him from this view. You’re stunning like this, especially with the desire for him painting your face. Your hands map out his body, and he tries to steady his breathing but to no avail. It’s only been a few days but he doesn’t think he’ll get over how your touch affects him anytime soon, not when it ignites something feral in him. 

But he’ll take his time just like you seem to be doing. Even your kisses on his neck and chest are slow and tender, as if you’re savoring all this, knowing you’ll be without it for a few days. You’ll both have to be outside this bubble of safety while he’s away, and he supposes it’s the start of how things will be from now on. But he’s excited for it, if his week will start and end this way. It’s something he can now look forward to, and that carries with it excitement and relief. 

Your lips trail south, the soft pecks being accompanied by your tongue and teeth doing more now. You start to rhythmically grind against his semi-hard length, and when you guide his hand under your shirt and on your breast, he lets out a low growl that has you biting your lip in anticipation. 

It’s what does it for him, and soon enough, you’re both undressed, moaning each other’s names, and damp from sweat. He’s holding you in his arms by the end of it, both your chests still heaving and minds probably hazy. But this is what he wants with you - this feeling of passion and overwhelming desire, of a kind of intensity that he hasn’t felt in a long time. Or maybe even ever. 

But he has to let you go, and when he does, there’s that comfort he didn’t think that letting you go would make him feel. He’ll go home knowing you’re thinking of him. He’ll go through his days knowing he’ll be hearing from you. And he’ll meet you eventually, knowing that it will be this same desire you’ll be sharing and expressing, and that’s definitely something he can’t wait to do again.

You’re a little disoriented when you wake up in your bed the next morning. It’s not soft sheets that you bury yourself into this time, but then again, the body soreness is quite familiar. It’s something you don’t mind though, not when you know the reason why.

It’s only been a few days but Jungkook just seems to know your body. He seems to really like it, too, with the way he takes his time kissing it, caressing it, and praising it. He knows just how to work his tongue on your most sensitive parts to make you reach your peak. He knows just how much strength to exert, or how deep he should go in what angle, and when to increase his pace or slow down. He knows just what to say, vulgar or otherwise, or when to look at you tenderly or as if he’ll devour you, or when to grip you tightly and when to hold you softly. 

And he’d done all of that last night. While your tiny couch could only make you do so much, you both still knew what to do whether you were on top of him, on your knees, or under him. 

It was definitely a good way to say goodbye, and he would’ve gone another round if it wasn’t for you convincing him that he had to go home so he could pack his things and be ready for an early trip. You don’t want him to be too tired then oversleep, and you’re glad that he didn’t. 

You check your phone and see that he messaged you at 7:15 to say that he and Mr. Ri have already left and are on their way to Incheon. He’ll attend a meeting and then appear at an event before they take the long drive to Busan for another event where he’ll present the Arts Center and make a speech. He’ll spend the night there before an early morning flight to Tokyo. It’s the first of many post-opening promotions he’ll be doing, and you know there’ll be more of these business trips that you’ll have to get used to.

But you don’t mind being alone this time, not when you have your own preparations and rest to do, and not when you know that you’ll be hearing from him at the end of the day. There’s the weekend you’ll be looking forward to with him. 

Your mom had reminded you during a brief call yesterday about making sure you preserve your independence and identity, and you tell her that you always had.

“Yes, because those relationships were different,” she said of your exes. “You did that because you didn’t want to share much of yourself with them. But with Jungkook, you are, and it’s also the first time. Just… make sure to hold onto the things that made you happy before him, and he should, too,” she advises. “Share them, but don’t forget them. Don’t lose what makes you, you.”

It’s wisdom from someone who’d gone through relationships herself, who’d loved and lost and loved again. And it’s a good reminder. 

This is all new to you, and you suppose it’s easy to fall into this trap of dependence with your partner, of the honeymoon stage and the giddy, euphoric parts of romance. At the end of the day, Jungkook still has duties and you have a new path to take on. You’ll both have days of being too busy, too tired, maybe a bit frustrated, too. You’ll need to ground yourself in other ways and like your mom had said, not depend on the other person to always make things better, even if most days they could. 

It’s the same thing that your next-door neighbor tells you when you decide to have lunch with her after she lures you with some grilled fish. She tells you about the encounter with Jungkook and you narrate how you got together. It may all seem too much, too soon and now that you’re apart from him, maybe it is. Maybe it’s also just all the emotions you both kept in finally being expressed. 

And you think that maybe it’s also good that you have this time for yourself to remind you of all the other things you enjoy in life. Now you don’t have to treat them as substitutes for what you really desire because you already have that connection and intimacy you’ve been yearning for. You get to truly feel the joy of immersing yourself in your interests, and you suppose that’s one way to not lose yourself.

So you go back home and tend to your plants. You go to the theater and watch a local film and not feel like you’re escaping your life or anything this time. You bake cookies after your chicken in broth dinner because it’s something you’ve always wanted to try. 

You share all these things with Jungkook later that evening while you’re on a video call with him, including what your mom and neighbor had said. 

“I was a little down that you’ll be away but now I… I’m thinking I shouldn’t be,” you say. “I’ll always miss and think about you but I don’t want to feel like I miss myself when I’m with you. Am I making any sense?”

“You are,” he smiles on the screen. “It’s the same reason why you didn’t want me to miss my meeting with my father and cousin yesterday. I still have a role. Now that I’m with you, I feel like I’ll stop feeling like that weighs me down. It used to because all I was was tied to that title. I didn’t feel like I was anything else.”

You think about his words and how resigning felt liberating for you. Beyond feeling indebted, it’s clear to you that you felt stuck because it’s all you knew to do; being an assistant was all you knew how to be. It wasn’t just the stress or the pressure because you know every job you take will have those. In fact, you look forward to it in your new position. You realize that you like working, you like the hustle, you like the grind. But if it’s all you do, you lose the joy. 

Now, you have a hand to hold and a warm body to wake up to. You have someone to share your days and joys and frustrations with. You have someone to laugh with and cry to. And so days on your own feel like much-needed time to enjoy things you prefer doing by yourself. And work could feel more challenging in a good way, pushing you to be better and seeing what else you could accomplish. Somehow, being with Jungkook makes you feel like there’s so much more you could do because at the end of the day, there’s someone to celebrate with, to share your thoughts with; there’s someone to cheer you on and support you.

You tell him all this and he seems to reflect on it as well. 

“The councils were very impressed with the Arts Center,” he says after a while. “They said it’s a good complement to their efforts of promoting local artists because of the opportunities for exhibitions. At that moment, I felt proud of what we’ve done. And it reminded me of why I wanted to focus on this aspect of the job. I always told my parents that I wanted to be responsible for the creative side of the company and I am but it felt so heavy even if I asked for it. I don’t have to carry that pressure with me all the time. I get to take a break from it when I’m with you and I think that’s made me enjoy it more.”

It’s a realization Jungkook had on the way home after that dinner meeting with a local artist in Busan. She talked about envisioning her pieces displayed in a space like the Arts Center and he felt that joy of being able to create something for others to be a part of. Structures are beautiful on their own, but then the meaning deepens because of what they mean for users; the sense of fulfillment is different. He supposes that he’s able to appreciate that part of the job even more now. 

“That’s good for us, then,” you hum, as you slowly succumb to sleep. “I have quite the day tomorrow and so do you. Rest now, Jungkook. And I’ll talk to you again.”

He says goodbye with such softness in his eyes. You miss him, but you’re happy that he’s able to experience all this on his own, too. Hearing him talk about it is different than witnessing it yourself and that’s perhaps the joy in being with someone. It’s not just about experiencing what they experience; it’s also about being on the receiving end when they try to make sense of it. 

Maybe that’s what partnership is about, and you can’t imagine sharing all this to anyone else but him. And that’s the difference this time. This is a person you admire and who admires you back.  He’s someone you could trust and feel safe enough to be your true self with, and after tonight’s conversation, you feel like you’re that same person for him.

You wake up early enough the next day and manage to send Jungkook a message wishing him well on his flight to Tokyo. He gives you a call as he’s about to board and says he has so many things lined up this Wednesday but that he’ll talk to you again in the evening. It’s a promise of tonight despite the distance, and you suppose that makes all the difference for him this time. 

You go about your busy day, too. You make yourself a simple breakfast and then head to Rkive Publishing for your onboarding. You requested this to be done earlier so that you could focus on your tasks when you start on Monday, and Namjoon gladly agreed to your request.

He introduces you to Won-woo, your co-production officer who’ll be handling projects alongside you, and to the associates and assistants whom you’ll manage to get the books ready for selling. The team seems a lot more relaxed than what you’re used to, and they share your excitement in working together soon.

Namjoon shows you your desk and turns over your laptop. He introduces you to the rest of the staff and lets the HR go through all the administrative matters with you. He gives you a folder with all the existing and upcoming projects that the associates prepared, including the processes and suppliers list, as well as your team’s personnel files. 

You smile at the documents because preparing these used to be your job, and now you’re at the receiving end of it. It’s a different feeling, but being here today excites you even more. 

You join them at a book launch and take notes of how it’s being run. As a small company, planning these events is done by a special team composed of a staff member from every department but there isn’t really someone who manages it. That’s a responsibility given to you because of your background, and it’s a challenge you’re willing to take. You have more freedom this time and you have ideas. You observe how Namjoon and the other managers engage with the author and his team. It’s definitely different from what you’re used to, and you feel there’s more sincerity in these people than the millionaires you had to deal with at your old job. 

You feel accomplished at the end of it, and it’s something you share with Jungkook again that evening when you eat your Chinese takeout while he munches on some dessert over the phone. 

Not wanting to stay home the next day, you go to a park and finish reading your book. You decide to go to the library at the Arts Center and go through the project documents. You walk around, too, able to take in more of the surroundings with the sun still out. It’s a calming place that has you coming up with ideas for book launches, as you take note of the indoor and outdoor spaces that could definitely hold those types of events. You feel fulfilled, and it’s something you share with Yoongi during dinner later that night. 

You share it with Jungkook, too, over a late evening video call after he had drinks with some business partners. He sounds quite tipsy, and he goes on about having your lemon ginger tea that you convince him to ask room service to make. You remind him of his lunch breakfast meeting and afternoon flight, and tell him that you could both meet for dinner after he clocks out of work.

It’s what you do the next day, as you wait for him at a French restaurant that you reserved for tonight. You turn around when he calls your name, and your smile is immediate when he comes up to you and hugs you tightly. He sounded tired when he called on the way here, and you suppose that he hasn’t really properly rested these past few days. He’s been going from one meeting or event to another, and he’s said before how the socializing drains all of his energy. 

You feel that now, as he exhales deeply while his arms wrap around you. 

“Long week, huh?” You say after you both take your seats. 

“Crazy,” he shakes his head. “Talking about the plans was exciting but the actual talking was tiring.”

He goes on about how the rest of his trip went and you laugh at his commentary about all the people he’s met and his observations. You realize just how much is on his mind, and it reminds you of all the times that you’d seen him look detached when in fact, he’d been making notes and plans in his head. 

Once the food arrives and you salivate at the dishes, he says he’ll stop talking about work now.

“It’s part of your day. Why should you stop talking about it?” You turn to him with a pout.

“I don’t want to bother you about it.”

“But I like hearing you talk about it,” you say. “I like knowing what’s going on in that brilliant mind of yours.”

“There’s always too much going on inside it,” he laughs. “I don’t always know how to make sense of them.”

“It’s because you don’t talk about them,” you point out. “I’m here to listen. I always am.”

He smiles and shares what happened today during the meeting he had with the team to discuss all the proposals they’ve been getting with regards to promoting the Arts Center. A subsidiary company is handling operations and marketing, but other than the planned partnerships with the Culture Ministry and the International Film Festival organizers, Jungkook didn’t expect other industries, as well as local and foreign companies and institutions, to want to partner with Jeon Corporation as well, specifically him. 

He had a phone meeting with his father and Hoseok during the drive from the airport about how they can strategically go about this but that requires more canvassing and research. This is something they can tap on, and it’s good for the company image and sustainability. Residential and commercial infrastructure have always been their expertise but they can build on the cultural sides of property development, too, and Jungkook would be at the forefront of that.

“Monitoring the Arts Center is a big task in itself. I’m gonna have to set a plan for how the VP Office is going to handle it, among many other things,” he says. 

“Maybe it’s time to revisit each team member’s portfolio and responsibilities,” you suggest. “Under Hoseok, only Manager Lee and Chin-sun directly handled projects, but they were all small ones so they could handle multiple. Do-hyun and Yohan managed all administrative affairs and I oversaw a bit of everything. Monitoring the Arts Center might require more than one person so maybe Chin-sun could do it with Do-hyun as a form of mentorship. You have the call to give projects to the young ones now, and maybe add another person to help with administration and events planning. Lucas could need that support.”

Jungkook is quiet and you’re afraid you might’ve crossed a line by advising him on what he could do as VP. You may have been his assistant but that doesn’t mean you could just go on and suggest things. You don’t even know if it’s appropriate to do this. He didn’t even technically ask for your opinion. 

You’re about to apologize when he speaks.

“Those are great ideas. I’ll be meeting them about their development and professional goals soon. Maybe I could align expanded responsibilities and portfolios with that,” he hums. “And mentorship is good, too. Hoseok said he planned on doing that but he had to oversee so many projects that it got pushed back so maybe I can institutionalize that now. And yeah, I’m seeing now that we’d need another person to ease the load off the others. I don’t want them to be overworking and actually, neither should I.”

A smile forms on your face as the ideas come flowing. He probably had thought of those already but needed a sounding board outside of the team. That would usually be his assistant but if it’s about them, he’d need another person for it. 

“I’m sorry I’m bringing this upon you,” he shakes his head. “That’s… that’s not your job anymore. You’re not my assistant anymore. I don’t want you to think that I’m using you for that.”

You didn’t really think of it that way but you don’t blame him for thinking about it. You did accuse him of wanting you to stay for the convenience of it, and maybe that’s still weighing on him.

“I don’t mind,” you assure him. “This is new territory for us, I guess, and it’s something we have to learn to navigate but this is important to you, which means it’s important to me, too. If we treat it like that, then it’s all okay.”

You caress his hand to assure him, and his smile says he understands. He’ll seek advice from his father, he tells you, and you’re glad that he’s actively working on that relationship personally and professionally. 

“How are you feeling about your first day?” He asks, his hand on your bare thigh now while you eat the chocolate mousse dessert. “Do you feel like you’re ready?”

“I’m really excited. And I think I’m ready to just get on with it,” you smile. “Being there last Wednesday helped, and I just have all these ideas for the projects we’ve got lined up. I… I even thought of having book launches in the Arts Center. As long as, you know, it’s not a conflict of interest or anything.”

Your shy smile endears him, and he assures you that it’s not a problem. You’re just using your network. At the end of the day, it’s still the managing company’s call and your own boss’ decision. But you end up bouncing off ideas with him, too, like the Arts Center hosting writing workshops or spoken poetry sessions with the authors whose books you’ll be publishing. 

“We make a pretty good team, don’t we?” He says after you’ve finished dinner and you’re walking to his car. “We’re out here just coming up with these ideas.”

“We work pretty well together so it’s not a surprise,” you smile at him. “I like that there’s no pressure, too. And that we could just share these things with each other, you know?”

“That’s true. I mean, I’m not assessing you or anything,” he laughs. “But I can openly admire you for it. And then think it’s sexy when you use publishing terms that I don’t understand.”

“So that’s what you want, huh?” You giggle. “I mean, I understand. It’s how I am with you.”

“Ah, so you find it sexy when I talk about the blueprints and design stuff, then?” He teases. 

“I do,” you smirk. “A hot guy with a big brain? Of course that’s sexy.”

“Hmm, that’s nice to know,” he says, caging you against the door of the car. 

His eyes soften as he takes you in and you mirror the way he looks. 

“I’m happy I get to be with you again,” he whispers, his lips inching closer to yours. 

“Me, too,” you whisper back. “And I get to sleep and wake up next to you.”

“That’s always a good plan,” he hums, kissing you deeply, something he could definitely do in an empty basement parking that he couldn’t do at a restaurant. 

You fall into him immediately, and all you want is to do this without worry. “Do you mind if we spend the night at my place?” You suggest. “It’s closer.”

He laughs when he pulls away but agrees that getting home as quickly as possible is a good idea. You both enter the car and his palm is glued to your thigh again and you feel the desire heighten now that you’re alone.

Once the door of your apartment shuts, his hands are all over you immediately. You’re undressed by the time you make the short walk to your dining area, and before you could breathe from your rough kissing, you’re whimpering already with how his tongue expertly laps up your sopping cunt. 

You’re bent on the table one minute, coming on his mouth and then the next, you’ve got your leg on it while he pounds you from behind, his mouth on your neck and his hands on your breasts. 

You go another round in your tiny bathroom, and then another one on the edge of your bed before you’re able to properly lie on it. You’re spent after another quick shower, but it’s worth it when he fucks you as good as he does, especially after not seeing him for a few days.

You’re laid on your side, facing him who does the same. The lamp from your living room is the only source of light you have, but it’s enough for you to see his face and the smile that paints it as you explain that your bed is not as comfortable and your sheets are not as soft as his are. He says that he’ll get used to it, but you insist on passing up on your apartment next time because it’s definitely not sex-conducive unlike his penthouse. He laughs at your comments, saying that he could have sex with you anywhere and it would still be amazing. 

But that cheekiness quickly fades away, and the anxious look in his eyes starts to worry you.

It takes a while but you hear it - the pitter-patter on your window that slowly starts getting louder. You turn around and watch helplessly as the drizzle turns to a downpour in seconds, and you rush out of the bed to close the curtains. 

Jungkook looks uneasy - his jaws are clenched, his eyes flit from the window to you, and his breathing starts to quicken. His body shrivels, as he pulls the covers tight around him and you can’t imagine how anxious he feels. You turn on your speaker and put on some soft music to hopefully drown out the sounds. It works only a little, and you’re reminded of all the times that you felt powerless and unable to give him comfort.

But that’s not the case now, as his words prompt you to move.

“Come here, please,” he mumbles. “I need you with me.”

You return to your spot next to him, and he loosens his hold on the blanket to let you in. 

“I’m here, okay?” You whisper, cupping his face and looking at him in the eyes. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re safe with me, Jungkook.”

His eyes soften a bit before they close, and you cover his ears with your hands the way you did all those months ago to block out the noise. It works, as his breathing starts to slow down. But his hold on your arms tightens, and you feel that he needs you as an anchor to get through this, so you shift up and let his arms wrap around you. He finds purchase in your neck while you caress his back, and you pace your breathing with his to let him know that you’re with him, and that you’re not letting him go.

The thunder doesn’t come, but you hold Jungkook the entire night to tell him that you’re there to comfort him even when the storm has passed. You drift to sleep once you hear his soft snores, letting his warmth envelope you as well.

You awake the next morning laid on your stomach like you tend to be, with only the warmth from the blanket covering you. You’re no longer hugging Jungkook. He also isn’t next to you. 

You shift on your back and then find him by the balcony, the curtains open now, allowing you to see the clear skies outside. He stands looking out, with a faraway look in his eyes the way he had the day after his nightmare. You watch him for a while, wondering what’s on his mind, if the fear still remains, or if your comfort helped him get through the night.

He senses you’re awake, so he turns around and faces you. There’s a softness in his eyes now and you wonder where that’s from.

“Hey,” he greets. “Did the light wake you?”

“No. The empty space next to me did,” you say softly, sitting up on the bed now.

“I’m sorry. I… I had to exercise a bit to expend the negative energy,” he explains. 

“What did you do?” You wonder. 

“Just some push-ups and lunges. I didn’t want to disturb your sleep. You looked pretty peaceful,” he smiles.

“I don’t even know what time I slept. But it wasn’t long after you did. How do you feel?”

“Better. It was one of those nights, you know?”

You nod, suddenly overcome with a wave of sadness and regret. He notices the change in your expression and sits on the edge of the bed facing you. 

“Hey, is everything okay?”

You look at him with a pout. “I asked you to come here. Then it rained. And I know how you like to workout in the mornings and I have nothing to offer here.”

“You know you can’t control the weather, right?” He nudges your knee. “I would’ve asked if we could come here if you hadn’t because it was closer. And you… you were all I needed last night. I held onto you like a lifeline, ___.”

“You did,” you nod, appreciating his words, even if he’s not the one who should be comforting you after what happened. “I’m glad I could do that for you. I guess I’m just… a little ashamed because this is all I have and—”

“Baby, I’m gonna stop you there before you say anything else,” he says, scooting closer to you and tilting your chin so you could look at him. “This is your home and I… I know you don’t just let anyone in. I like being here. I like being with you. And last night, that will be one of many. I know I won’t be going through that on my own anymore.”

“I can’t control the weather, right?” You repeat his words. “What if it happens and I’m not with you?”

“I’ll just imagine that you are,” he hums. “And then I can head to you the next day and I’ll feel better. And that’s… that’s new for me.”

“Okay,” you mumble, thankful that you’re able to give him as much comfort and safety that he does with you. “I’m just here even if I’m not around.”

“I know,” he smiles, leaning close to kiss you. 

You give him a soft one then pout again, saying you still have to brush your teeth, so he lets you go and you scurry to the bathroom. You return to your bed with him lying on his back now, his arm folded behind his head as he gestures to the space next to him. You climb up and lay on top of his chest, kissing him languidly as his arms wrap around your waist to hold you in place.

He’s gentle with the way his tongue rolls around with yours, and with how his hands stroke your back as they’ve snuck underneath your shirt. There’s something about the rare cool morning that has you wanting to just lazily make out with him while you feel each other up.

And that’s exactly what happens. You hum and giggle against each other’s lips, and your hand maps his torso while he palms your waist down to your thigh. 

Laying on his chest now, you turn to him.

“I’m nervous about tonight,” you confess.

“Baby, you know my parents. And you know they like you,” he says, turning to you. “Even you think that they already approve of you.”

It’s true, you remind yourself. They have always been kind to you. You’ve had several conversations with CEO Jeon and he was the one who showed you the library. They also sounded excited about dinner when they called Jungkook last week, but being around them in a different context this time makes you anxious. 

“Approval is one thing but meeting expectations is another, and that’s what I’m worried about,” you explain. “They know me as an employee but not as the woman you’re, uh, currently seeing.”

“You mean dating.”

“Yes, that,” you shyly smile. “I worked for their family and now I’m… dating their son. And there are standards to that.”

“Standards that you already meet,” he assures you. “For all that my parents are, I at least know that what matters the most to them is that I’m with someone who genuinely wants me, and considering how you can’t get your hands off me, I know you do.”

You laugh at this teasing but you don’t deny it. 

“You’re quite irresistible, if I’m being honest,” you giggle. “I’m still getting used to the fact that I could, uh, do all this with you.”

“Well, I hope you don’t get tired of it. Because I won’t.”

“Look at you being good with words and all,” you smirk. “You surprise me, Mr. Jeon. I can’t wait to know what else is inside that heart of yours.”

“Me, too, actually,” he hums, realizing that there’s still so much he doesn’t know about what he’s capable of doing and feeling this time around. “I guess we can find out together.”

You smile at his honesty and think the same. You’re on this journey of learning what your heart can do and he’ll be the one to show you that. 

You lay in bed with Jungkook for the rest of the morning, having short naps and then lazy make out sessions before deciding to wash up. You eat at a cafe for lunch then head to his place this time. He works out for a bit then joins you on the couch as you watch a show before you both prepare for that dinner at his parents’ estate. 

Mr. and Mrs. Jeon warmly greet you when you arrive. They lead you to the dining room and you tone down your amazement at the spread before you. There are all types of meat and seafood and other fancy dishes that get you curious, something Jungkook seems to notice as he fills your plate and tells you to let him know what else you want more of. 

“Don’t be shy, dear,” his mother says. “Have as much as you want. We want you to feel at home and comfortable, okay?”

“Yes, Mrs. Jeon,” you smile. 

You try to loosen up but still act proper, not wanting to give the impression that you’re uncultured and ignorant. Their family has so much experience of traveling the world and you want to show that you can keep up, that you’re worthy of sitting and walking alongside them and their son. You seem to be doing okay, but you don’t realize how nervous you really are until you feel Jungkook’s hand wrap around your own and then his fingers interlocking with yours.

He’s warm and stable, and when you tighten your grip, you see him smile from your periphery. You smile as well, wanting him to know that you appreciate the encouragement he’s giving. And it helps, as once you’re asked about your new job, you feel yourself relax in his hold, until he slowly lets you go, showing you that you’re doing well and can hold your own.

You talk with confidence and excitement about the publishing house and your responsibilities. Jungkook watches you beam when you mention your upcoming projects and the things you’re looking forward to learning, and he thinks you’re incredibly beautiful like this. It’s new and exciting for him, too, and it’s at this moment when all the pain and frustration from losing you the first time that it all feels truly worth it. 

Jungkook doesn’t expect to be as engaged as he is once his mother asks about his trips this past week. Oftentimes he’d give simple and straightforward answers, but with you around, there’s this new kind of comfort and feeling of openness towards his parents. Perhaps it’s gratitude that they helped you and your mom all those years ago. Maybe it’s also you, because being around you makes him want to be better. It might be both of that and more - it might also be him, realizing that he’s capable of receiving and returning the love of the two people who've given him the most. 

After dinner, you all proceed to the sitting room outside that overlooks the garden. You settle with a flute of champagne and sit next to Mrs. Jeon, appreciating the moon casting over the grand space filled with big trees and flower beds and a fountain. 

“I’ve added more outdoor lights,” CEO Jeon informs Jungkook as they sip their glass of whiskey. “I’ll show you the new ones.”

Jungkook nods and gestures to you that he’ll just go with his father. You watch them head out and walk around, with the older man pointing to different posts and seemingly explaining the lighting. Jungkook engages with him, and compared to what you’d witnessed in the past, his body language this time is no longer of detachment.

“You’ve done so much for our son, ___,” his mother breaks through your thoughts, prompting you to turn to her. “I hope you never doubt your place in this family. I know it’s all new and it’s just been a week but I want you to feel like you belong here, with him and with us.”

“That’s an honor to give me, Mrs. Jeon,” you respond in gratitude. “Please know that I won’t take that for granted.”

“I feel more grateful that you’re around,” she faintly smiles. “We’re just like most families, you know? I don’t want to be ignorant in saying that but we… We have our troubles. We never say enough, we say things we don’t mean, we let distance keep us apart, we love but we don’t show it the right way. But we try. We try with our sons but it doesn’t always get through. I always feel like too much has happened and we just never knew how to make up for it.”

“I think Jungkook’s seeing that now,” you assure her. “He’s told me about wanting to spend more time with you, to celebrate birthdays and holidays. It might take time but he wants to make plans. He won’t feel so far away from you anymore.”

“And we thank you for that,” she says. “We didn’t know how to make him open up to us and there are still things we don’t know about him. We lost so many years and I… I’ve been hoping that in being back here, he’ll give us a chance and now he has. And that’s because of you. You showed him the good that’s around him and you made him open up to those good things. All it took was you.”

“He did the same for me,” you point out. “I carried a lot of pain, too, and I’ve only started to embrace the good things around me because of him. Your son has such a beautiful heart, Mrs. Jeon, and regardless of what happened, I know he took that from you, too,” your voice cracks now. 

“Oh, dear,” she huffs, taking your hand in hers. “You have no idea how much it means to me to know that.”

She wipes the tears that form in her eyes and you give her a comforting smile. 

“He cares about you, Mrs. Jeon. And he’s slowly learning how to express that.”

“That’s wonderful to hear,” she smiles. “I hope you always stay by his side, dear. It can get hard sometimes, as it is with all relationships. But… I hope you hold each other’s hands throughout all of that.”

“I’m sure we’ll learn that, too,” you nod. 

You turn to where Jungkook and his father are and see that they’ve gone a bit further down. You ask his mother where they might be and she answers that they’re probably by the playground, as new lights have been installed in that area, too.

“You should go to him,” she urges. “That’s such a special place for him and I’m sure he’d want to show it to you.”

You nod and head out, your heart warming at finally being able to be in his safe space this time. You get there without catching their attention, and you look back at the humble structure before you, seeing the love that created it for a man you hold so close to you.

“That’s such a lovely playground, Mr. Jeon,” you say, prompting both men to turn to you. “Did you build this all by yourself?”

“Oh, I thought you were talking to me,” Jungkook states.

“You’re only Jungkook to me now,” you playfully shake your head, although you don’t miss the teasing way he cocks his eyebrow because you definitely still use the formalities as you please.

CEO Jeon laughs but gets back to your question. “I did. It was the first time I ever designed and constructed one and it took a while to do it. I had to figure out how to hide it from Jungkook because he would follow me out here that I had his mother take him to one of our properties in the mountains for the weekend just so I could finish it,” he laughs at the memory. “But it was all worth it. He loved it as a child and it stood the test of time.”

“It’s because you maintain it, father,” Jungkook points out. “That’s, uh, that’s dedication.”

“I knew how much it mattered to you, and that mattered to me,” the older man hums. “I wanted you to have a place where you felt safe every time you were here. Maintaining it was my way of feeling close to you.”

You watch as both of them share a look of gratitude and acceptance, and though mending this relationship will also take time, you know that with this, it’s starting to.

“Well, I’m sure Jungkook would love to show it off,” CEO Jeon smiles. “I’ll leave you both to it.”

You’re left alone with Jungkook now, and with his hand around your waist, you rest your head on his chest and hug him tight. You imagine a young boy running about, excitedly riding the swing and going down the slide and then sitting at his favorite spot while he draws buildings and the sky on his sketch pad. That same boy stands next to you now and holds you close, in a way sharing those memories with you as you stand in silence and take in the beauty of a humble playground. 

Jungkook turns and kisses you on the forehead. 

“Thank you for tonight,” he whispers. “I’m glad you’re here with me.”

“Always,” you smile. “Thank you for taking me here.”

You know that for him, it’s not just about how you managed the evening with his parents. It’s also more than just a celebratory dinner for the Arts Center. Tonight is a way for him to show his parents that he’s ready to receive all the good that they’ve been showing him. 

And it’s his way of telling you that as long as you’re both navigating your pains and your fears together, everything is going to be alright.

You spent the rest of Saturday night curled in Jungkook’s arms as you both watched a horror movie on his living room couch. On Sunday, you slept in and cooked lunch together before he took you to a spa. He insisted on getting a massage to help you relax before your big first day, and with the steam room and afternoon tea included in the couples package, you couldn’t say no. 

He looked happy seeing you satisfied. There was something about the soft kisses and sensual touches that got you relaxed and definitely turned on. You had dinner out after that then he took you home where he stayed until you started dozing off, wanting to spend time with you as long as he can before another busy week. 

Your alarm goes off on Monday morning and you immediately get up, feeling that excitement of your first day rush through you. It’s a different feeling this time - you’ll be establishing a new routine, be around a different set of people, exploring new food places to eat at for lunch, and your days will be filled with new tasks and responsibilities that you can’t wait to get to. 

You’ll learn new things and manage a team this time, and it will challenge you in so many ways. You’ll also engage with authors and artists, and you suppose that's what you’re most excited about - you want to connect with your inner self and your surroundings more, and to find peace and strength in other people’s words. 

Looking at yourself in the mirror after your shower, you can’t help but smile. There’s that joy on your face that’s new. There’s a bit of fear, too, but even then, you wish Jungkook was here to see how excited you look, or maybe to remind you that things are going to be alright. He messaged earlier to greet you good morning and you’ll probably settle with texts for now, as he might be on the way to work with Lucas next to him. 

Wrapping a towel around your body, you head out the bathroom to dress up. But that’s when your doorbell rings, and you freeze for a moment because you’re not scheduled to have anyone this early in the morning. It might be your neighbor. But it could also be—

“Babe?” Jungkook calls from the other side. “Are you still there?”

You immediately open the door to let him in and you stare at him, all dressed and ready for work.

“Hey,” you say, returning his kiss. “What are you doing here? Did Mr. Ri drive for you?”

“No, I did,” he smiles. “I told him and Lucas that I’ll just meet them at the office and I won’t be in until around 9.”

“Why?”

“Well, it’s your first day. And I wanted to get you breakfast. And drive you to work,” he explains. “Maybe ease your nerves if you’re a little anxious.”

You soften as you watch him lay out the pastries and cups of coffee on your dining table. You were just thinking about him, and now he’s here, making sure he’s got your first meal and transportation covered on this pretty important day. 

“I’m actually quite excited,” you beam. “And I’m really glad you’re here.”

“Good,” he smiles, taking his seat. “I… I know you’re a grown adult and all but I didn’t want you to go through this on your own.”

You want to hug and kiss him at this moment but doing so while wrapped in a damp towel isn’t a good idea. So you ask for a second and quickly wear your nightgown from last night, then you scurry towards him. You sit on his lap and bury your face in his neck, taking in his scent while your arms wrap around him. 

His arms wrap around you, too, tightening his grip on your waist the more you curl into his body. He adores this giddy version of you, the one that melts in joy when he does something nice. It’s wholesome, he thinks. He always believed you deserved that kind of care and treatment. He’d spoil you with whatever you like, but it’s this tenderness that he learned from you, that he wants to try to keep showing. 

You cup his face with your hands and kiss him softly while he palms your outer thigh as your legs lay on his lap. You pull away before you start to want more, grazing your nose against his instead then going to your seat. 

The pastries look divine and you already feel energized. You thank him again for making the effort to buy all this and drive to you, and his proud smile makes the butterflies in your belly go off. 

“Dress up now,” he says once you finish. “I’ll clean up here and make you coffee to-go.”

“Okay,” you mumble, leaving him to finally get ready.

Jungkook puts away the remaining food and wraps it for your breakfast tomorrow. He uses the coffee machine that his office gave as a farewell gift to make your drink that you’ll be needing to get you through the rest of the morning. He glances at you and sees you choosing between two blouses. You turn to him to show both of them, your eyes asking which one you should wear.

“Blush,” he answers. “Pairs better with the green.” 

He gestures towards the shoes next to your closet, the ones he got for you last weekend. 

“Thought so,” you smile, turning around to put it on. 

He walks towards you as you tuck it in your beige slacks and look at yourself in the mirror. He watches as you tie the knot by the neckline of your top, aligning the bows constantly. You don’t seem to be satisfied, as you pull the tails then do it all over again, straightening the bows once more. He knows you can do this even with your eyes closed, but a bit of help won’t hurt, especially as he senses that something’s causing you to be quite jittery.

“Hey,” he calls out. “Let me.”

You meet his eyes in the mirror then turn around to face him. He tightens the knot and aligns it, and you watch him the whole time he does. Something about the way he’s focused on this makes your heart race, and you smile to yourself at how the roles have reversed. 

But unlike how both of you used to stand still and hold your breaths when it was you on the other side, this time, there’s calmness despite what you’re feeling.

“Okay, maybe I’m a little nervous,” you admit, prompting him to look at you. “It’s just that… so much has happened for me to get here and I want to do it right. I want to do well. I don’t want to fail at this, Jungkook.”

“And you won’t,” he comforts, cupping your face now as he looks at you tenderly. “You worked hard to get here, to have this kind of freedom. You deserve to pursue what makes you happy, ___, and you deserve to want it, okay? You’re gonna go there and impress everyone with your beautiful mind and admirable work ethic and kindness. And that boss of yours is going to constantly be thankful that you gave him a chance and didn’t shut him out when he spoke to you at that bookstore.”

He thumbs your cheek as you slowly smile, and he mirrors your look of adoration. 

“I’ve seen what you can do,” Jungkook continues. “And this new role, this company… they’ll test you but I know you. You’ll make them believe in your capabilities and your vision. Your heart will make them trust you. And you’ll lead them well; I don’t doubt it one bit.”

“Okay,” you nod, feeling the warmth of his words all over your body.

You’re thankful that he decided to come today, as you probably would’ve stressed about so many things and then become anxious right as you’re entering the office. 

But you aren’t. You feel confident and excited and for the first time, you feel like yourself. It’s not because you’re tying your identity and purpose to a job again, which is what pulled you down before. But right now, you don’t feel the baggage of your past. You don’t feel like you’re performing a role. You don’t feel emptiness or disconnection from things and people around you. 

Perhaps this is when you start to really get to know who you are -  as a professional, as a leader, as a potential artist… Maybe as a lover and someone’s partner, too, as you take what Jungkook is giving you. This is when you get to know yourself as a person and what you can give to others and how much you can receive. This is when you get to know yourself outside of what you do and let it be about what you feel and think and enjoy. 

This is when it could be about what you love. And perhaps this is when you learn what your heart could truly do, and you can’t wait to explore all that with him.

“Thank you,” you mumble, exhaling a sigh of relief once you feel his soft lips against your forehead. “I’m glad I’m not doing this on my own.”

Jungkook just smiles, content on seeing that joy and calmness on your face. You stop him when he pulls you to finally leave the house, and you think there’s one thing you can do for him this time.

You align his necktie, and while he’s been doing it correctly recently, you can’t pass up on this part of your routine together. 

He smiles again and kisses your hand in thanks, then he leads you to his car where he drives the half hour to your office, all while your fingers are intertwined with his. It’s calming and everything you need before your big day, one that will start with a meeting to prepare you for your operations planning at the end of the week. 

Jungkook pulls over on the street and faces you. And just as you’re about to kiss him goodbye, he tells you that there’s something he wants to give you as an added gift. 

You look at him in warning because you said you didn’t want anything else.

“It’s nothing grand, I promise,” he chuckles, as he retrieves a bag from the backseat. 

He hands it to you and you excitedly peek in, feeling a wave of emotion as you hold up a snake plant. 

“I heard it’s good for positive energy,” he says to fill up the silence in the car. 

He’s right because you told him that. And he’s been taking care of the one on his office desk, the one that you gave him for his birthday. He also told you the other day that looking at it now makes him feel your presence, as if you’re rooting for him even when you’re not around. You suppose that’s what he’s trying to tell you, too.

“It is,” you smile. “I heard it’s also good at reminding its owner that someone’s always there for them.”

“I can confirm that saying,” he chuckles. 

You lean over and give him a soft kiss. 

“Thank you, Jungkook,” you smile, feeling the calmness wash over you. 

“You’re welcome,” he smiles back. “Now go. You can’t be late on your first day.”

You laugh and open the door. “I’ll see you tonight,” you say before walking out. 

You turn back and wave him goodbye one last time. 

It’s quite symbolic, as you think about Jungkook as happiness, dropping you off at a new place that already gives you another kind of fulfillment. You used to think there was only one way to feel it, that it only consisted of one thing or person. 

You realize that happiness could be in many forms, and that the feeling of connection and intimacy is alive, it’s ongoing, it’s a constant pursuit that’s both tangible and elusive, and it requires vulnerability; it requires strength. 

As you enter your new office and greet your new colleagues, and as you place the plant with the ‘good luck’ note on it on your desk and retrieve the supplies that your former team gave you, you see all the things that connect you to your past and the ones that clarify your new present. There’s so much to learn and unlearn - how to be good to yourself is one of them, and you can’t wait for that, too.

“Ms. Cho,” a deep voice calls out. 

You look at the man in front of you and you both share a brief moment of silence before bursting in laughter.

“It feels weird,” Namjoon says. He straightens himself before turning to you again. “___,” he corrects. “Meeting time, let’s go.”

It’s casual and comfortable and everything you need. You don’t want the formalities either, and it’s this type of environment that you truly believe will make you better. 

You follow him to the meeting room and there’s a wave of nostalgia that hits you, especially once you start taking minutes that you shouldn’t be doing anymore. 

You laugh to yourself. Maybe there’ll always be that person in you, but you don’t pity her anymore; in fact, you admire her. It’s her strength and grace that got you here, and you know it’s the same things that will make you appreciate and protect and fight for all the things that you have now. 

That includes your job. That includes yourself. And that definitely includes Jungkook.

END.

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