Time. That’s what life bubbles down to, isn’t it? Time.

How much time we spent with loved ones. How much we didn’t.

The seconds fade into minutes, the hours into days and before you know it you’re suddenly nearing thirty years old with nothing to show for it aside from the beginnings of wrinkled skin and a few stray grey hairs. That’s the case for most of us, but of course there’s an exception to each and every rule of thumb.

Jeon Jungkook being the exception. CEO of Jeon Industries, proud billionaire, excellent businessman and soon to be husband to the love of his life. From an outsiders point of view Jungkook has it all. The wealth, the love, the connections; he’s the owner of everything that a man of status requires, anybody can see that. His family, friends, the paparazzi who gawk at him and wait three hours outside in the pouring rain for that one snap shot of him wearing an Armani suit.

But if there’s one thing Jungkook has learned recently, appearances can be deceiving.

It’s been one week since your birthday, one week since his penthouse apartment was broken into yet nothing of value taken. A whole seven days since you and he fought and he’d left in borderline tears. While a week doesn’t seem like a lengthy amount of time for most people, the past seven days has been an excruciatingly difficult period of time in his life.

Usually you are his rock, his anchor. You keep him grounded and support him through the darkest days, shining your ray of light on his future. It’s one of the many reasons he asked you to marry him, you are without a shadow of a doubt the only person he’s ever been able to see a future with. You’re smart, optimistic, caring. And you smashed straight through his emotional walls like a joyous wrecking ball with a bratty attitude wearing expensive lingerie. You’re the only woman Jungkook has ever truly loved, he’s memorised your tiny quirks and questionable habits – so of course he noticed when all these things he loves about you suddenly disappeared.

Your smile was the first to go, replaced with an empty looking shadow of a sinister grin. Next was your positivity, one day you were a glass half full type of girl and the next thing he knew the glass wasn’t even half empty – it ceased to exist.

Last night was the final straw for him, the nail in the coffin, the only absolute definitive proof he needed to confirm his suspicions. The woman living under his roof, sleeping in his bed and for all intents and purposes his fiancé – is not his fiancé. He likes to think he knows you pretty damn well, maybe not as much as your best friend Jimin does, but he knows the things that make you you.

Which is why when he caught ‘you’ throwing clothes over the closet floor in a frenzy, complaining about how you wanted to ‘reinvent yourself’ and ‘throw this old shit out’ he immediately grew suspicious. He eyed you cautiously as you held up a navy blue dress, one that Jungkook remembers very clearly in his mind as what you were wearing the night he first encountered you in Black Swan, with nothing but disgust in your eyes.

“Hey… I uh, got off work early.” Jungkook mumbled, watching you like a hawk from the corner of his eye. The bruising on your face was beginning to settle, and there were differences, teeny tiny insignificant ones that the untrained eye would probably miss, that he caught straight away.

It's no secret you and your sister are identical, but he knows you like the back of his tattooed hand. He knows all the scars, dimples, the texture, the tone of your skin. He knows you, he's seen you in all your glory on your best days and held you in the darkness of the bad days.

The woman in front of him isn't you.

You hadn’t bothered to look up at him standing against the doorway, didn’t greet him, didn’t throw your arms round his neck and tug him into a warm embrace or loving kiss like you usually did. No, you just stared at that god damn dress as though it was the ugliest article of clothing to ever exist. There was no nostalgic twinkle in your eye, heat didn’t rise to your cheeks at the memory of how Jungkook slid his inked fingers down every square inch of that same fabric before fucking you for the very first time. Your smile was empty, unbothered and tainted by the way you rolled your eyes at his arrival.

“Good for you.” You shrugged him off nonchalantly.

His muscles grew tense beneath his tailored grey suit, Taehyung had warned him not to lose his temper in front of you because they needed to find the real you as soon as possible. Letting his emotions get the best of him could possibly put you in danger. And so without thinking too much about it he quirked a thick brow, probing his tongue against the inside of his cheek in an attempt to stop the putrid insults he had waiting from escaping his lips.

“Did you go to work today?” He asked with deep breaths, busying himself by finding a lounge wear set to change into.

While his fingers dug into his drawers he peered over his shoulder, you were still sitting in front of the full-length mirror holding the navy dress. It was like something from a horror movie, the eeriness, the tension, the way he could’ve sworn your reflection displayed an evil smirk but when his eyes flickered to your profile it had completely vanished. Jungkook didn’t know how much more of this he could endure, but the prospect of you being held somewhere against your will, or worse, gave him the strength he needed to bite his tongue.

“No… I’m still pretty shaken up after the break in I guess.”

“Mhm.” Jungkook physically bit his tongue, until the metallic iron taste of blood tainted his mouth. “So what have you been doing today?”

It wasn’t like him to go into a different room to change, but ever since he’d connected the dots of who the woman sitting before him truly is – he’s made a conscious effort not to undress around her. Standing in the ensuite bathroom he slipped into his comfort clothes, fists balling tightly before they slid into his sweatpants. He can't keep doing this. When the ensuite door swung open thankfully he was already dressed, and his whole body grew equally as rigid as his jaw when you stood in front of him with an empty yet flirtatious smile.

“Waiting for you of course.” The purr landed on his ears like a swarm of blood thirsty mosquitos, draining him.

It took everything inside him not to grimace, stomach bile quickly rising to the back of his throat upon seeing your long eyelashes blink at him seductively. There were changes in the details of your face, your skin, down to the way your hair parted. Even if he wanted to be selfish and blissfully ignorant to the fact the woman in front of him was not the one he loved, he couldn’t. Because when your fingertips brushed up his abdomen, tugging up his hoodie in the process, those differences were the only thing he could concentrate on.

“I’m gonna go to the gym.” He barged past you, heart thundering inside his chest threatening to implode. He didn’t spare you a second glance, didn’t listen to whatever words you uttered under your breath. All that mattered in that moment was that he had to escape your presence before his wrath did the talking for him.

It took him five hours of hitting his favourite punching bag to calm down. Five hours of ignoring your texts and calls. Five hours of being anywhere but around you. Because deep down he knew the longer this scenario panned out for, the closer he got to quite literally killing ‘you’. And when he got home last night things went from bad to worse, the hairs on his body standing to attention before his physiological fight or flight response ultimately kicked in.

“Jungkookie… Why don’t you come to bed?”

“Not tonight, I’m tired.”

“You haven’t even kissed me since my birthday…” You said, feigning an upset pout.

"Haven't I?" His stare remained cemented to the television.

He knew full well he hadn't, how could he? You're not you. You might walk and talk, look and dress like you - but you're still not you. Being intimate with you right now is the last thing on his mind. He's only fucking doing this to protect you, keep you safe. At least that's what he says to himself to get him out of bed each morning.

"I guess there are ways you can make up for that though..." Your voice was low and sultry, burning his ears with each syllable. He didn't dare look in your direction, knowing that you were wearing lingerie in an attempt to lure him closer.

Fuck this. He’d thought. Fuck being a pawn in whatever sick and twisted game this was. Perhaps it was a foolish error to make, but he couldn't catch the scoff that emitted from his throat in time, fleeing the apartment within minutes. Bringing him here, the same guest bed he’d just woken up in mere moments ago. The one place he knows you’re avoiding like the plague.

Jungkook doesn’t know the details of how you and Jimin became best friends, but he knows that not even a single day goes by where the two of you don’t communicate. Up until one week ago.

The familiar comfort of the thick cotton sheets slide over his frame when he shifts in bed, stretching. Jungkook has been staying at Jimin and Yoongi’s place almost every night since the break-in, under the ruse of ‘working late in the office’.

Over the past few days himself, Jimin, Yoongi and Taehyung have been working their hardest to get to the bottom of this situation. A private investigator was hired, one who informed the group that no official police report had ever been filed after your birthday. It was a lie. It was all a lie.

Of course the other members of Jungkook’s trusted friends felt for him, they really did, having to live with you and act normal in your presence when they all know full-well that you are not you. For the others, avoiding you had been pretty effortless, giving the fact that you’d actively stayed away from them. But Jungkook hadn’t been so lucky.

The revealing outfits. The bitchiness. The blatant disregard for what had happened. The guilt trips. The attempts to lure him into bed. It’s all chipping away at his heart and truthfully he knows he doesn’t have much heart left to share.

“Hey…” It’s Jimin’s soft voice that pulls Jungkook from his thoughts, opening the guest bedroom door quietly. “Can I come in?”

With a lazy morning voice thickened with sleep Jungkook chuckles, sitting up in bed, “It’s your house Jimin.”

Your best friend smiles nodding once before stepping over the threshold, “I didn’t hear you come in last night, you should’ve woken me up.”

“Nah,” Jungkook frowns, pursing his lips, “You two were already in bed I didn’t want to disturb you, thanks for leaving your door open for me though.”

“Did she make a move on you again?”

“Mhm. Bolted out the apartment and came straight here, I should probably go back soon.” He sighs, feeling the weight of the world struggling to rest on his broad shoulders. He can’t keep doing this for much longer, he knows that, but he can’t risk the real you getting hurt because of his impatience either.

Jimin’s expression is nothing short of pained when he sits on the edge of the bed, keeping a good amount of distance between the two men, “She’s not there, the PI called about twenty minutes ago and said she left, he’s gonna try and follow her and see where she goes.”

“Mmm. Probably for the best.” Kook nods, fingertips messily combing his hair, "I'm getting pretty close to hitting a woman for the first time in my life."

“Jungkook…” Jimin sighs, averting his gaze to the corner of the room, “It’s been a week… Maybe we should go to the police. I-, I know pretending you’re okay is slowly killing you. You can’t keep living like this, and Y/N wouldn’t want—”

“Y/N is the only reason I’m doing this.” Jungkook bites, “You’re right, the situation is less than ideal and if I had it my way that bitch would be six feet under by now. But… She’s the only one who knows where Y/N really is, like Tae said we have to be smart about this.”

“But—”

“Jimin I know you’re worried about her, believe me I am too—”

“Do you really trust Taehyung’s motives here?” Jimin’s question is like a dagger to Jungkook’s spine, forcing him to sit up straighter with furrowed brows and a confused slack jaw, “Look I like Tae, but don’t you think it’s a little suspicious that he’s the one saying we shouldn’t inform the police? He’s in love with your fiancé. Why wouldn’t he want the police to help us? It’s not like you’re a regular guy with a regular problem, the police will actually listen to you because of who you are.”

At this Jungkook pauses, blood running cold while he mulls over the facts. You’re missing, the police should be informed. Except you’re not missing missing. Should the police be informed? Taehyung does love you. As does Jimin, and if Jimin’s suggesting to go to the police why would Taehyung be against that? Is he looking for you himself to play the hero? No. He wouldn’t. Would he?

“I know your head’s up your ass right now,” Jimin wears a sympathetic frown as he speaks, “But it’s obvious Y/N has been replaced by her cunt of a sister. How did she even know Y/N was alone in the apartment? Taehyung was the last person to see Y/N, knew she was home alone, and suddenly there’s a break-in and you ‘shouldn’t go to the police’? Come on Kook connect the dots yourself.”

“I-, I don’t have time for this. Thanks for letting me crash here but I need to get to the office.” Jungkook mumbles, Jimin’s words scratching every corner of his mind until he has the beginnings of a painful migraine. It simultaneously makes sense and no sense at all. Does Taehyung know where you are?

--

The concept of time has been truly lost on you. You don’t know how long you’ve been held captive in this tiny dark room. You don’t know if anybody’s even noticed you’ve gone. All you know is that you’re being held in the same place as your nephew, giving that most of the time you’re the one to care for him in here.

There’s a man in here sometimes too, a faceless man, who speaks quiet enough for you to miss most of his words. You long for a wave of recognition to wash over you one day and know who it is, remember that voice, see his face, who’s keeping you here, but it’s yet to happen.

“I’ll get us out of here I promise.” You whisper to a sleeping Charlie, who’s bundled up atop the small mattress in the makeshift dungeon you’re residing in. This is no place for a child. At least he’s too young to remember any of this, you tell yourself over and over until the guilt somewhat subsides.

A dull vibration earns you to jump, especially when you register that it’s coming from inside your room. Did Ruth leave her phone here? You’re sweating, dirty, scrambling to your feet to follow the sound and try to save yourself from this nightmare. It feels too good to be true. Like being stranded on a desert island and seeing a rescue ship in the distance. Every ounce of hope surges your body and manifests into energy.

It's a black Samsung phone, and Ruth is calling it.

Fuck this, you think, fucking being a pawn in whatever sick and twisted game this is. Your thumb trembles as you decline the call instantly, adrenaline coursing your veins while you weigh up your options. This is it. You’re going to be saved. There’s a lock on the device, because of course there is, so you’re only able to call the numbers you know by heart.

999? Or Jeon Industries?

Against your better judgement you opt for the latter, desperately wanting nothing more than to hear Jungkook’s voice. You’ll call him first, the police second. The battery is only at 2% and you know time is against you if Ruth's already figured out the owner of the phone left it here. But you don’t care. You’ve barely eaten, drank, slept, you’re delirious and wearing a tight frantic smile when the line starts to ring and you hear the familiar sound of the main receptionists voice.

“Hello Jeon Industries, how can I help?”

“Hi! Oh my god hi. Hello,” You clear your throat, voice hot and sore, “Can you put me through to Jungkook please. It’s urgent.”

“Mr Jeon hasn’t arrived to the office just yet, I can put you through to his assistant who’ll gladly take a message for you?” The woman sounds chipper, truthfully you’ve never really liked the receptionist there because the times you have seen her she’s always been gawking at your man. But in this moment she’s without a doubt your favourite person on the planet.

“Yes, yes that’s fine okay pass me to Hoseok please.” You’re nodding, hands shaking, heart pounding, palms clammy from anxiety and panic. Please hurry, you think, please—

“Jeon Jungkook’s office you’re speaking with his assistant, how can I help you today?”

“Hobi!” You sob, tears clouding your vision while you struggle to keep it together, “Hobi it’s me, it’s Y/N. Is Jungkook there? Or can you pass me through to his personal number? Please. I don’t have much time—”

“…Y/N?” Hoseok’s voice is eerily quiet yet oozes surprise, and as quickly as he answered the call he vanishes.

 You peel the device away from your ear, disappointment weighing down every joint in your body. You ran out of time. It’s dead.

--

Running late is something that Jungkook has been doing a lot lately. Usually he’s painfully punctual, to a point where it pisses people off. He hates tardiness, bad time keeping infuriates him so finding himself jogging into the office twenty minutes after he was supposed to arrive doesn’t particularly make him feel great. Never mind the fact he’s going through absolute hell on earth right now, countless conspiracy theories circling his brain.

Jimin has a point, but Taehyung has a point too. Is telling the police about this going to be better for your safety, or worse? What if Taehyung does know where you are? What if he doesn’t? Who does? Jungkook is just about ready to punch the large glass door to his office when he sees his assistant in his peripheral vision.

“Morning Hoseok, do I have any messages?” He waves his hand politely, forcing a smile. The two are dressed almost identically today in three piece black suits, and for a split second Jungkook finds peace within the sense of normality and routine this building brings.

Hoseok’s eyes flicker to his boss, the Adam’s apple in his throat bobbing up and down as he swallows what Jungkook imagines to be his breakfast. It’s early, Hoseok usually has breakfast with your assistant Yuri before making his way here. An unconventional couple, Jungkook thinks, but at least their situation is nowhere near as messy as his own.

“Well?” Jungkook smiles, doe-eyes widening as if to force an answer, “Did anyone call before I got here?”

“No sir… Nobody called.”

They sit together at 13, Jungkook babbling on like an idiot while Yoongi quietly listens like usual. It’s quiet in the bar for the most part, early enough in the day that there aren’t many customers yet. Plus, this corner has been deemed Yoongi’s corner, and if anyone even tried to take his spot he’ll eat them alive.

He’s heard stories from not just Jungkook about this woman and JKs antics, but also from Hoseok. Jungkook fucking his bike up more often (on ours pose? He’ll never know), hanging around the mechanic shop like it’s his new home, finding any and every reason to be there. All because of a pretty receptionist he’s set his eyes on…

“Like come ON, I’m a fuckin catch, I know I am. Have you seen m-me? She acts li-like she hosted me but I KNOW she doesn’t!” Raising a brow, the smaller man says nothing and just nods his head. He’s seen Jungkook in every way; piss drunk, butt ass naked, you name it, he’s seen it. JK turns into a menace when he’s shit faced though, and right now, he’s fucking gone. He turns to Yoongi with big doe eyes, nearly looking innocent before the vulgar worlds leave his mouth.

“You’d fuck me right? I’m fuckable?!” A sigh escapes him as Jimin stops in front of them with a another drink hand, winking cutely before sliding it to Jungkook with a flourish. Minnie watches the younger man down it with a sly smile, poking his cheek before he walks away with a swing to his hips.

“I’d fuck you baby.” Jimin calls it back over his shoulder like a passing thought, Jungkook slamming the glass down on the table, cheeks red. Yoongi watches, slightly concerned, slightly amused as the youngest in their group waves his arms around wildly. And here he thought Hoseok was the dramatic one.

“See? Jimin would fuck me! But she won’t even give me the time o’ day… Maybe she’s intim-intimidated my by ripped bod. Or maybe… She hasn’t seen enough of it! That’s it!” A snort this time and a shake of the head, Yoongi raises his whisky up and takes a small sip of the burning liquid. The kid always gets a little out of sorts over being rejected but this… This is different. Wildly different. He’s never gone so far out of his way to get someone’s attention. It’s a curious thing.

Jungkook sniffs, eyes glazed over as he puts all his attention on Yoongi. The older waits silently with slightly widened eyes, allowing JK to collect his thoughts before he raises a hand up and pats Yoongi’s shoulder. Then his head. Then his cheek. His smile is so sincere that Yoongi can’t even begin to get annoyed.

“Thanks for talkin this out with me Yoon. You’re such a-a good buddy.” And then his lip wobbles and Yoongi’s mood shifts from acceptance to horrified in seconds. One tear leaves Jungkook’s large eyes, then another, and then Yoongi has a grown man curled up in his lap, sobbing like a baby. He pats JKs back gently, unsure of how to handle things.

Looking toward the others, he finds no form of help as Taehyung and Jimin stare back. Jimin’s giggling like it’s the funniest shit he’s ever seen, Tae trying very hard not to lose it in front of the customers. Looking back down, he tucks a small piece of hair behind Jungkook’s ear and sighs for the millionth time in the last hour.