Luctor Et Emergo

The following morning, you wake up in your own bed but covered faintly in the scent of lilies. 

Jungkook must’ve put me to bed. You note, rubbing your eyes sleepily. 

You get ready for work as usual, then meet the pack members in the dining room as you did yesterday. To your surprise, only six of the seven alphas are present today. “Where’s Seokjin?” You ask, causing six pairs of eyes to snap to yours. 

Yoongi glances up from the iced coffee he’s making. “He’s visiting his parents today. His mother has her annual checkup today.”

“That was today?” Jimin pipes up, surprising you. The alpha cranes his head to look at Yoongi, thumb hovering over his phone mid-scroll. “I told auntie I’d bring her.”

Yoongi shakes his head. “Hyung told me it didn’t work with your schedule, so he took a day off instead.”

Jimin looks unimpressed. “I can take a day off, too.” He grumbles.

You take your seat at the table, meeting Jungkook’s eyes. He smiles gently at you. You smile back, wanting to thank him for carrying you back to bed, but miss your chance when Hoseok and Jimin continue their banter. 

Hoseok chuckles. “Jimin’s losing his son-of-the-month streak.” He teases, and the others laugh, too. You feel confused.

Jimin huffs, going back to scrolling on his phone. “It’s okay, auntie likes me more anyways.”

Yoongi walks over, placing a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of you. “I’ll drive you to work today.” He informs you before taking his own place at the dining table. 

After breakfast, Yoongi goes to start the car because it’s chilly out today. The other members do the same, chatting among themselves about who will drive which car. With Seokjin not here to chide you, you grab your comfiest (and oldest) pair of black flats and throw them on. It’s not like anyone would be seeing them under your desk anyway, seeing as you have minimal meetings for today. You’re bundling up when Jungkook walks past you in the foyer.

“Jungkook?” You call out to the alpha.

He turns around immediately, round eyes widening slightly. “Yeah?”

You blush. “Thanks for putting me to bed last night.”

Jungkook’s cheeks turn pink. “No biggie.” He says, then leaves faster than you think he really needs to. 

You smile into your scarf. You like Jungkook’s cute side, it’s charming and makes him seem more…human to you.

“Ready?” Yoongi asks and you nod, following him into the garage. You hadn’t noticed before, but the alphas seem to have an unspoken rhythm to how they leave the house. Hoseok drives Namjoon’s car this morning, with Namjoon and Jungkook inside. They leave first. Taehyung and Jimin decide to take the latter’s red Maserati, but Jimin is the straggler of the group so you and Yoongi leave first. 

Yoongi pulls the car out of the garage onto the driveway, then rolls down his window. “Hurry the fuck up, would you? You better not be late for your meetings!”

“I’m going, I’m going!” Jimin yells back, buttoning his coat up as he jogs toward the car. Taehyung is already standing at the passenger side of the vehicle, rolling his eyes as he adjusts his hold on a duffel bag.

Yoongi scoffs, rolling up the window. “Those two are insufferable.” He complains to no one in particular, shaking his head. “Would it kill those two to wake up and go to the gym earlier? Always cutting it so close.”

You’re surprised. “They’re going to the gym right now?”

Yoongi nods, still annoyed. “Their schedules are free until ten today so they’re going to hit the gym first. I’m surprised Jungkook didn’t go with them, but I think he has a meeting at nine.”

As expected of executives. You think. I wish I could do that.

Yoongi connects to his Spotify and the rest of the drive is silent except for the music between you. To your surprise, you and Yoongi have similar tastes, nodding along to the same songs. It’s comfortable. All too soon, the alpha pulls the car up to the familiar convenience store. 

“Thank you.” You say. Yoongi nods nonchalantly. You feel slightly awkward, but decide to say what’s on your mind anyways. “Their new album is really good.”

Yoongi looks slightly surprised. “You know them? Not many people do.”

You nod. “Yeah, I like them. Their last album did better chart-wise, though.”

The alpha wrinkles his nose. “That’s because people have no taste.” He says, making you smile. Yoongi’s eyes soften. “See you.”

“See you.” You say as you get out, face oddly warm despite the November air. Was that okay? Was I normal? You wonder as you make the short walk to the office building. Oh well, at least we’re coexisting. 

For now.

*:･ﾟ✧☆*:･ﾟ✧

You don’t expect anything crazy from your first meeting of the day, but Mr. Lim decides to drop a bomb on all of you.

“After much deliberation, we’ve finalized the list of celebrities and influencers who will be working with us for the Love Maze project.” Mr. Lim announces, standing at the front of the room with a powerpoint loaded up. His face is as serious and composed as always, but your stomach churns. The lights are dimmed. In the dark, the managers exchange glances. You glance at the empty Director’s seat.

“Here is the finalized list from the London branch. In particular, we were able to secure…” Mr. Lim’s voice fades into the background as you read his slides intently, eyes scanning over the list. Despite their delays, the London branch managed to secure some big names. But you all know that although promoting in the UK/European market is important, all the names involved will only help prop up the US side of the campaign. After all, it’s the US market that you’re aiming to secure. After much note-taking and anxious waiting, Mr. Lim gets to the main part. “And finally, this is the list of Asian-American celebrities and influencers we’ll be working with. It will be Chloe Choi, Olivia Zhao, and Emma Kwon. ”

Immediately, the room is unsettled. “Emma Kwon?” Someone murmurs. You tighten your grip on your notebook. You feel eyes on the side of your face. “Forgive me, Mr. Lim, but isn’t Emma Kwon too junior to be part of this campaign? She only really broke out last year.”

Mr. Lim glances at you, then back to the room. “Director Kim felt that was the most appealing part, actually. Emma Kwon used to work as a child actress in the US before moving back to Korea to work here. Her freshness is what we need, and her rising success makes her give off a more laid-back feeling which can attract younger girls to the brand.”

Those reasons were precisely why you chose Emma Kwon to substitute out the much more successful Stephanie Kim when Seokjin had told you the latter was a no-go. You aren’t fully convinced by it either, but Seokjin’s word is law around here.

Another manager pipes up. “Isn’t Emma Kwon under Stephanie Kim’s label, Dynamite Productions? Was Stephanie Kim not available?”

“I’m not certain about Miss Kim’s schedule, but what I can say is that Miss Kwon was chosen by Director Kim as our third celebrity partner.” Mr. Lim replies, and his tone conveys that his words are final. Your fellow managers look dissatisfied but reel in their complaints. “Now, the focus is to finish filming the promotional materials for the US market first. I have reached out to the three celebrities’ agencies and have created a filming timeline.”

Your stress levels go up even more as you read the next slide. It ends in February. You have only three months to finish recording all of the promotional content and have it ready for release. As if it wasn’t bad enough, Mr. Lim turns to you next. “Team 3 will work with Miss Zhao, Team 4 with Miss Choi, and Team 5 with Miss Kwon. We will have preliminary meetings next week with each agency. By the end of the month, we will have our finalized ideas sent to the production team and begin filming in early December.”

Your head is spinning at the pace of it all. You’re lucky you have some ideas for the ads and social media content ready, but it will require a lot of work to tailor it to Emma Kwon’s branding. Everyone else just looks relieved that they’re assigned to the more established celebrities.

You return to your desk after the meeting, a headache already building. For the first time, you’re beginning to doubt if you can handle this. You’ve never marketed skincare and makeup products, so it’s all unfamiliar to you. Not only that, but the celebrity partner, the timeline, it’s all too difficult! You fight the hopelessness you feel, opening up Emma Kwon’s social media to get a better feel for her aesthetic. You’re deep in her feed when your eyes catch on one post with an unusually high amount of likes for the actress’s page. You click on it. It’s a set of photos of the junior actress at an award show. It’s the usual stuff—a glamorous dress, a few smiling photos with awards in hand, some of her getting ready back-stage. But the reason the post is so popular is a picture right in the middle: one of her with a fellow actress.

The caption reads: Always so grateful for my friends, family, and fans who cheer me on! And of course, to my beloved Stephanie-unnie who supports me and helps me grow <3 I will continue to work hard!!

Emma Kwon is a beautiful girl in her early 20s with a girl-next-door kind of aesthetic, who looks kind of like a fairy when all dolled up like she is in the picture. The woman next to her couldn’t be more different. Stephanie Kim has the distinct look of an accomplished, confident woman in her early 30s: she knows she’s the best and she’s not afraid to let you know it. She’s taller than Emma Kwon and has proportions like a model despite being an actress. In contrast to your brand’s partner, Stephanie Kim looks like someone who’s never been ordinary a moment in her life. She looks perfectly comfortable in a red gown with a plunging neckline, her expensive jewellery and smoky eye look like they’re just part of her skin. She is the definition of an A-list celebrity.

You sigh. Seokjin’s an idiot. You think, admiring both women. Emma Kwon is undoubtedly talented and beautiful, but, well, there’s rankings among celebrities for a reason. I’ve got my work cut out for me.

You send an email to Emma Kwon’s manager to introduce yourself as well as some reference materials for the overall vibe of the promotional content. You don’t beat around the bush when you explain the situation to your team, delegating the heavy workload with a reminder of the tight deadlines. They all look as unimpressed as you feel.

“And here I thought you were Director Kim’s prodigy.” Alexandra complains, making you smile despite the situation.

“Even prodigies have to work, no?” You joke, trying to ease the tension.

“I need a drink already.” Hailey says, and everyone chuckles. “Okay, we can do this!”

“Team 5, let’s go!”

You suppose multiple truths can coexist. Emma Kwon might not be the best pick, but she’s Seokjin’s pick which means he must see potential in the rising star. And while you might not see his vision, you’re obliged to support it. And you’re going to do the best job you can, damn it.

*:･ﾟ✧☆*:･ﾟ✧

To your utter frustration, Seokjin is sitting on the couch wearing a sheet mask when you get home. “What?” He asks when you glare at him. “What is it? What noooooow?” He calls after you, pronunciation limited by the luxury wet tissue on his face. You just shake your head as you go to change into comfortable clothes. The audacity.

When you come back out, Seokjin follows you to the dining room. “What are you mad about now?” He complains.

“I’m not mad, just tired.” You reply as patiently as you can. It’s true, you’re not mad, just annoyed. But at this point, being annoyed at Seokjin is just your baseline.

Seokjin scoffs. “Yeah, right. Is that your I’m-living-my-best-life-face?”

You give him a blank look. “No, it’s my I'm-co-existing-with-you face.”

Jungkook and Hoseok are at the gym tonight, Taehyung and Jimin are out, and Namjoon reports he had dinner already with his sister. So dinner is simple and quiet with just you, Seokjin, and Yoongi. After dinner, you lay in bed with your laptop, still doing research on similar campaigns and ideas. A few hours go by and you yawn, sleepy despite the early hour. Not wanting to go to sleep yet, you decide to take your laptop out to the living room for a change of scenery. To your surprise, someone is already there. Taehyung.

The alpha glances up from his laptop. His expression tenses. You hover awkwardly. “Can I sit down?” You ask.

Taehyung nods, going right back to his work. You sit on the carpet, placing your laptop on the coffee table as you work. Despite only a few feet between you, you feel like you belong to different worlds. Neither of you speak, the hours stretching out between you as you focus on your work.

Around midnight, you rub your eyes tiredly. You sit back, watching a video for reference. One moment, you’re taking notes and the next you’re out cold against the sofa cushion behind you. You wake up several hours later, wiping drool from the corner of your mouth. You glance over to see the spot Taehyung was sitting in is empty. You frown. He could’ve woken me. You think, displeased as you close your laptop and make your way back to your bedroom. You wince, trying to get the crick out of your neck.

Seokjin and Hoseok usher you into a Maybach with a soft white interior, whisking you away from home like burglars in a museum. But when you get on the main roads, there’s no rush anymore as Seokjin calmly sits in the lunch hour traffic. Hoseok turns on the radio, humming along to the songs. It’s almost as if they’ve forgotten you’re in the backseat. Almost.

“Where are we going?” You ask, unnerved at how quiet the two alphas are being.

“I was thinking about your whole broken heel incident and thought it’s time to get you some new outfits.” Seokjin says, glancing at you in the rearview mirror. Beside him, Hoseok pretends to be engrossed in the view of Seoul. 

You glance between the two of them, suspicious. “Why did that have to be kept secret from the others?”

Seokjin’s ears begin to turn red. “Because if we told them, they’d want to come with us! Don't you wanna hang out with us?”

“Mm-hmm.” You nod, but you’re not convinced. I’d rather not hang out with the two alphas that know my secret, actually.

The awkward silence stretches on for what feels like forever, until Hoseok can’t take it anymore and turns on the radio. The three of you listen to the news and you look out the window, tensing up every time you pass a hospital or clinic. By the third one you pass, you feel like Seokjin is about to catapult you right into an Omega’s Health ward. But to your surprise, he pulls into the parkade of a department store. At lunch hour on a weekend.

“Wait,” You say as the alphas unbuckle their seatbelts. Both handsome men turn in unison to face you in the backseat, their dark eyes gentle but focused on you. You squirm in place. “There’s a lot of people here, will it be okay?”

Hoseok blinks. “Are you claustrophobic?”

You shake your head. “No, but…People aren’t supposed to know about us. Remember the confidentiality condition?”

Hoseok’s mouth makes a little ‘o’ and he looks at Seokjin. The eldest alpha, however, hardly bats an eye. “You’ve got a bite on your neck and a small cultural heirloom on your left hand, Y/N. We don’t. To any onlookers, we could be friends or family shopping together. Not that we owe anyone an explanation anyways.” Seokjin explains easily, then gets out of the car without waiting for a response.

You trail behind the two alphas as you walk towards the underground entrance. Seokjin walks ahead for a moment, then stops in his tracks. He sighs, then grabs your hand and pulls you forward. “The more you try to be nonchalant, the more chalant you look, you know.” He mutters, placing you between him and Hoseok.

“That’s not even a word.” You mumble, but fall into line behind him as you enter the building. Ahead of you, dozens of people wait for the multiple elevators in the long corridor. As expected on a weekend, it’s busy and pretty much all of the elevators are full. You wait for a few minutes in an orderly line with Seokjin in front of you and Hoseok behind. You think you’ll make it into the almost-full elevator in front of you when you spot an elderly couple holding hands. Without thinking, you meet their eyes and gesture for them to go ahead of you. They smile, thanking you as they get on.

You rock on your heels, waiting for the next ride up. You glance at your simple outfit: clean slacks, an old t-shirt (thankfully hidden by your coat), sneakers, and your purse. Nothing, except for the ring on your hand, screams “high-class omega”. You glance at Seokjin. He’s dressed simply, too, but his handsome face and self-assured aura distinguish him from the people around him. Even in jeans, a sweater, and a simple grey coat, he looks runway ready. The pink Rolex on his left hand and the fact that his coat and shoes are both designer help but they certainly don’t make or break Kim Seokjin. You glance at Hoseok, who wears baggy (designer) pants and a hoodie that peeks out from his coat. His outfit is stylish and relaxed, but his eyes are attentive and his jawline is sharp enough to cut. 

The true definition of a face card. You admire them quietly. A face economy, even.

The elevator doors open in front of you. Empty, luckily. You make your way towards the back, pressing yourself into a corner as it fills with people. Wordlessly, Hoseok nudges you out of the corner and puts his back to it instead. He places his hands on your upper arms and guides you to stand in front of him. Your heart rate picks up as your back touches the alpha’s chest. As if sensing your nervousness, the alpha tightens his grip slightly as people continue to cram into the small space. But you’re not nervous because of them.

In front of you, Seokjin shields you from the crowd with his body. You swallow, looking up at him with wide eyes. Seokjin keeps one hand in his pocket and the other on the wall, essentially hiding you from view. Despite all the people in the tight space, all you can smell is citrus and roses.

You feel slightly dazed when you get off the elevator, following quietly as the alphas lead you away from the bustling main area. You stop outside a boutique in the corner of the floor. Ko’s Creations. The interior is plum, black, and maroon. 

Almost immediately, a man in a tailored suit approaches. “Mr. Kim, a pleasure to see you again.” He smiles politely at the three of you, but lingers on you a bit. His smile seems to lose some of its cheerfulness when he notices the bite on your neck. Behind you, Seokjin settles a hand on your waist.

“We’re here to see Miss Ko.” Seokjin says, displeased. “Tell her we have an appointment.”

“Ah. Yes, of course.” The man says, guiding you to a separate room. “I’ll bring refreshments.”

Seokjin nods tightly, and the three of you sit on the sofa. The eldest alpha is unusually quiet now, eyes following the worker as he leaves. As soon as he’s out of sight, Seokjin scoffs. You blink. “What’s wrong?” 

Seokjin shakes his head, refusing to answer. You’re confused, then return your attention to the rest of the room. On the far side, there are several racks full of beautiful clothes. Directly in front of the sitting area is a small platform with three large mirrors angled to make a sort of semi-circle. 

In a quick moment, a tall woman strides into the room. She’s as beautiful as a model, with cold, calculative eyes and a don’t-fuck-with-me attitude. An alpha woman. The woman smiles faintly as she approaches you, holding out her hand in greeting. “A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Kim. I’m Ko Mun-Young.” Then, she glances at Hoseok. “Or is it Mrs. Jung? Pardon me, I’m not familiar with the workings of all-alpha packs.”

“Oh, you can just call me Y/N.” You say, blushing.

“How cute!” Miss Ko coos at you. “Ugh, I miss this honeymoon phase. My husband used to be just like this.”

She leads you over to the various racks, launching into a quick-paced explanation about the different materials, collections, and what she thinks would suit you. “I assume you’re at a director level, so perhaps something bright would be suitable—”

“Oh, no. I’m a manager.” You correct her politely.

Miss Ko looks confused for a split second. “Hmm, okay. Well, I have some subtler styles as well.” In the blink of an eye, she gathers up an armful of clothing and hands it to you. “Try these on first. Once we get an idea of the style we’re going for, I’ll do your fitting.” She orders, steering you off to a changing room in the corner. 

You put on the first outfit: a silky black shirt paired with a grey blazer and pressed slacks. Outwardly, it looks very similar to what you already have but the quality is incomparable to anything you own. As you step out of the changing room, you hear the alphas chatting.

“Quit being nosy.” Seokjin snips in response to something Miss Ko asked. You’re surprised to see him be short-fused with someone other than you.

Miss Ko raises an eyebrow. “What’s got you all worked up, Seokjinnie?”

Seokjinnie. The nickname leaves a bad taste in your mouth. Seokjin scowls. “Your store attendant over there seems to have a wandering eye.” He comments. You’re surprised. Is he…jealous?

Miss Ko’s lips twist into a smirk. “What can I say, I train my kids to have an eye for the finer things. He’s young and dumb, but he’s not stupid enough to go after a married woman, and certainly not your woman.” Then, her eyes catch on you. “Oh, Mrs. Kim! You look wonderful.”

You smile bashfully as you walk to the centre of the room. Miss Ko watches you for a moment, tapping a manicured index finger to her chin. Then, she walks over to the other side of the room and fetches a pair of black pumps. “Try these, the added height from the heels will make the slacks sit nicely.”

She’s right, as expected of a professional. “Do you like this one?” She asks.

You do, but you’re nervous at how much it will cost. Also, secretly, you’d like to try some of the fancier colours and fabrics, too. “I’ll try the others first.” You say, glancing at the two alphas watching you from the sofa.

Miss Ko looks amused. “Don’t worry about them. Their job is just to say you look good and swipe their cards. And if they get bored waiting, I’ll send for more refreshments. Isn’t that right, boys?”

Seokjin and Hoseok both chuckle. “That’s right.” Seokjin answers easily, putting his arm on the back of the sofa. You break eye contact.

You scurry back to the changing room, ignoring Miss Ko’s giggle at how cute you are and change into the second outfit. This one isn’t very work appropriate but it is beautiful. It’s an off-white set with a strapless top, long flowy pants, and a loose blazer. You like it, but you’re not sure you want the alphas to see it. 

When you take a bit too long, Miss Ko knocks on the door. You peek your head out. “Anything wrong?”

“No, but…This is a bit too revealing.” You whisper.

Miss Ko chuckles again. “Secondary gender aside, let me give you a woman-to-woman tip, Mrs. Kim. I can tell you’re a simple lady, but sometimes, you have to be indirect to get what you want. Give a man a crumb, and he’ll be salivating for the whole meal. Trust me, get this one without showing it to them.”

Is that a saying? You wonder, but Miss Ko is so convincing that you decide to keep it.

You cycle through various other suits and matching blazer and skirt combinations in multiple colours, fabrics, and styles. After a while, it all begins to blur together. Miss Ko convinces you to get seven sets: four full suits and three blazer and skirt sets. Along with the secret eighth: the ivory one.

It’s a good thing you’re a fashion designer. You think as Miss Ko leads you to the little platform and begins taking your measurements. You’re kind of scared to wonder what the slightly-unhinged woman would be otherwise.

By the time you’re done, Seokjin and Hoseok are already at the cash register. “All of the items will take about a week to be fitted and then will be delivered to your home. Would your wife like the heels she tried on as well?” A female employee at the register asks politely. Neither of the alphas notice you as you draw closer, too busy chatting.

“No, we’ll get her heels from somewhere else.” Seokjin answers easily. He swipes his black card without a thought, then mentions to Hoseok: “Dior’s fall/winter collection had some nice heels when I looked online.”

“It’s not bad if you just want the go-to staples for daily wear.” Hoseok says, but doesn’t look fully convinced. “I thought the collection was kind of underwhelming personally. I liked the Gucci heels you got her a lot more.”

You frown. Hoseok knows about the Gucci heels Seokjin bought me? “You two are very attentive, your wife must be very lucky.” The worker compliments the two alphas.

“Thank you!” The two say in unison, giving her matching fake smiles. The worker bows politely and thanks them for their patronage, then walks off to fix the display in another area of the store.

As soon as she’s gone, Seokjin lowers his voice. “Don’t even get me started about the fuss she made about those heels. I doubt she’ll ever wear them. I’ll be lucky if I get her within a mile of a Gucci store ever again.”

“I never said that.” You reply defensively. Your presence scares both alphas, who jolt and whirl around to face you. They both look terrified. It brings a slight smile to your face. I need to get out of this store before I turn into Miss Ko. “Also, what happened to keeping our relationship a secret?”

Seokjin rolls his eyes, then guides you out of the store. “Miss Ko is chatty, but she’s professional. I trust she’ll keep things quiet. I don’t know her that well, but her husband is a close friend of Jimin’s brother.”

You tilt your head to the side, taking in the information. “Jimin has a brother?” 

Hoseok nods. “Yeah. We all have siblings. Jin-hyung, Yoongi-hyung, and Jungkookie all have an older brother. I have an older sister. Namjoon has a younger sister. Jimin has a younger brother and Taehyung has a younger brother and a younger sister.” He rattles them each off from memory. Then, his smile softens around the edges. “Jimin is especially cute with his brother, though.”

Seokjin nods, smiling gently at a memory. “Why’s that?” You ask curiously.

“Jimin’s brother is an omega.” Hoseok says easily. You falter in your steps. “The rest of us either have alpha or beta siblings, so it’s confusing for us to deal with omegas. But it’s second nature to Jimin.”

“That’s not true, my baby cousin is an omega. I’m a pro at omega stuff.” Seokjin pipes up confidently.

Hoseok laughs. “He only presented as an omega this year, hyung. That hardly counts.”

Seokjin looks haughty. “So what? I changed the kid’s diapers and taught him how to stick up for himself. I’m basically a pro.”

Hoseok giggles. “You mean when you taught him how to steal other kids’ candy and made him the most hated kid in his kindergarten class?”

Seokjin is smug. “It’s a dog-eat-dog world, Hobah. You gotta teach them early.”

As the two continue their banter, you think about the alphas’ families. You silently try to remember which kind of siblings they each have, although you’re sure you’ll forget parts of it by the time you get home. You know right away you won’t have trouble remembering the fact that Jimin has an omega brother.

Who would’ve thought that the cold alpha was actually someone with a lot of experience in taking care of omegas? But just like your encounter with Taehyung and the little kitten, you remind yourself that just because Park Jimin doesn’t like you, it doesn’t mean he can’t like others. People are multi-faceted at the end of the day, it just so happens you only see Jimin’s jaded side.

Seokjin and Hoseok drag you to various other stores, getting you to try on hundreds of items from clothing to shoes to bags. You give your opinion once in a while, but you’re not really present anymore. If he knows better than to believe in the gold-digging omega stereotype, then why does he hate me? 

An even uglier thought arises. What if he just hates me for me?

And then comes the quiet, bubbling anger under the surface. But he doesn’t even know me.

By the time you’re leaving the fifth store, Hoseok and Seokjin are both holding armfuls of shopping bags. Your stomach knots into itself as you wonder how much this shopping spree has cost. Easily millions, if not into the range of tens of millions of won. 

“Can we eat now?” You ask, but they don’t hear you.

“Can we please eat now?” You ask again, louder. The alphas chuckle. 

“Where should we go? I know a good restaurant nearby.” Hoseok offers.

“I’m too hungry to wait at a restaurant. Let’s just get some fast food from nearby.” You suggest, and the two men nod in agreement. You glance at your watch. It’s 2:30 PM. Too late for a proper lunch, so you decide something greasy and simple from a fast food chain will have to do.

As you walk toward the elevators, Seokjin gets a text. He shifts the bags into one arm to reply. You reach for the bags to help but Seokjin raises an eyebrow at you. “What?” You ask. “Just helping.”

“It’s okay, I’ve got it.” The alpha replies as you reach the elevators.

With their hands full, the alphas just stand in front of you in the elevator this time. You glare at their stupidly wide backs, pinned between them and the cold metal wall behind you. Why won’t you let me do things?

The same annoying treatment continues when you reach the parking lot. Seokjin opens the trunk of the Maybach with his key, and you wait patiently to help them load things inside. But neither alpha lets you grab even one shopping bag. Annoyed, you try to grab at multiple. Hoseok chuckles, holding them out of reach from you then placing them carefully in the trunk. “Nice try.” He says, lowering himself so you’re at eye level. You frown, irritated for a reason you can’t exactly place.

“Let’s go, you two.” Seokjin says, then gently nudges you out of the way so he can hit the button to close the trunk. 

“I can drive.” You say, reaching for Seokjin’s car keys. Quick as a dart, Seokjin pulls the same trick as Hoseok. He holds the keys above you, far out of reach. 

Seokjin grins down at you, thoroughly entertained as you swipe at the keys: “I sure hope so considering you own a vehicle.”

“I will drive.” You grunt, chest pressed against the alpha’s and fist curled into his coat to try and give yourself leverage. But it’s meaningless. Your heart rate continues to go up, irritation only deepening by the minute. Finally, you give in and get back in the car with flushed cheeks. However, you take Hoseok’s spot at the front with a huff. Both alphas chuckle, then get in.

Smiling at you pouting in the passenger seat, Seokjin caresses your face. You glare at him, but don’t break free from his gentle hold. “Don’t be too mad, sweetheart. Alpha’s just doing his job.”

You roll your eyes. Seokjin puts the car in drive, and within minutes, he’s in a drive-thru of a familiar fast food restaurant. You mumble what you want and Hoseok tells Seokjin the same. Then, Seokjin orders for the three of you. 

When you get to the window, you decide to take the lead. 

“Here,” You say, holding your card out for Seokjin to pass to the waiting drive-thru employee. Immediately, Seokjin’s hand covers yours and lowers it like it’s something he doesn’t want them to see. He holds his own out instead. The worker nods as the payment goes through and gives you the usual it’ll be a few minutes line. As soon as the drive-thru window is shut, you glare at Seokjin. “Why’d you do that?”

“Do what?” Seokjin plays dumb as always. 

“I held my card out, why’d you stop me?” You retort, feeling your same irritation rising. Subconsciously, you rub your thighs together. 

Seokjin smiles at you. “Why would you worry about that?”

“I’m not a kid. I can pay for lunch.” You glare. 

Seokjin says nothing, turning his attention back to the fast food worker. He gives her a beaming smile and thanks as he accepts your order and hands the food to you. He rolls up the window, then begins the drive home. With a glare, you pass Hoseok’s food to him in the back seat. Seokjin’s accomplice has the decency to avoid your eyes this time.

“It doesn’t matter if you can or can’t. It’s alpha’s job.” Seokjin says matter-of-factly.

“Why are you doing that?” You complain, but it comes out more as a mumble.

You eat in relative peace until you get home. Hoseok and Seokjin spring into action as soon as the car is parked, grabbing up the countless shopping bags before you can get your hands on them. You pout, following them quietly. You don’t know why you’re so frustrated, but it only seems to get worse as the minutes go by.

“Wow, Yoongi-hyung did a great job with this room.” Hoseok compliments as he drops the bags off in your room. He stops for a moment and marvels at the work. “Should I ask him to re-do my room for me?”

“He’ll probably say no.” Seokjin says, shutting the door behind him. 

The three of you take turns cleaning your hands in the ensuite bathroom, then return to your bedroom. Seokjin unbuttons his coat, throwing it on a comfy chair in the corner near your TV. Then—without pausing his conversation with Hoseok about how obsessed Yoongi is with lighting fixtures—he steps up to you and begins to unbutton yours, too.

You press your thighs together again, annoyed. “Why are you doing that?” You whine as Seokjin helps you out of your coat. “You’re not letting me do anything. It’s so weird!”

“But you like it.” Seokjin replies. You look up at him. The alpha looks down at you with dark eyes and an amused look. “I haven’t even touched you and you’re this worked up already. That means you like being doted on, don’t you?”

“I-I–Not fair.” You whimper.

Hoseok smiles, slowly approaching you. He unbuttons his coat and sets it aside with the other two. “Be honest, sweetheart.” He sits on the edge of your bed, then gently guides you to sit down next to him. You cross your legs tightly. The alpha leans in to whisper in your ear. “Even if you sit that tightly, I can smell how sweet you are.” His words send a shudder down your spine.

Seokjin sits down on your other side. The two alphas press in on either side, and you feel the same way you did in the elevator. Stuck but safe.

“Pretty girl’s head is spinning, hmm?” Seokjin asks in a low, deep voice. You shudder, squeezing your thighs together again. “Alphas are being so good to you, hmm? Spent all day spoiling you with pretty things, not letting you lift a finger.”

“Y-You’re mean!” You protest, realizing quickly this has been a trap.

In a heartbeat, Seokjin is on top of you. He pins your wrists to the duvet, hold loose for now, but you know it would be easy for him to tighten his grip.

“Be polite, sweetheart.” He warns gently. “Alphas have been good to you, right? So you have to be respectful back.”

By now, your legs are spread and you can’t hide the sweet, sticky smell of lavender that spreads through the room. You purse your lips to hide a moan as a small trickle of slick slides out of your panties and stains your pants.

“Mm, Alpha. Please.” You groan. Seokjin smiles, but not at you. He smiles at Hoseok, who is lying on his side, watching your turned-on expression.

Absentmindedly, Hoseok brushes a stray hair back from your forehead. “Do you wanna be fucked, baby?”

You wriggle in Seokjin’s hold. Immediately, the alpha tightens his grip. You pout and Seokjin shushes you gently. “It’s okay, we’re here. Pretty omega doesn’t have to think about anything except us.” You melt into the bedding as he presses a kiss to your bite.

“Please, please fuck me.” You whisper to Hoseok. “P-Please. Want a knot.”

The alpha smiles at you. “I don’t know about that, sweetheart. You’re not exactly in the best condition, are you?”

You’re so hot and bothered that it takes you a moment to connect the dots. But when you do, you’re pissed. “Fuck, you’re so mean.” You curse, fighting Seokjin’s strong arms futilely. Both alphas laugh at you. “Can’t you just ask me normally?”

“If I asked you normally, you could lie.” Hoseok retorts, propping his chin in his hand as he looks down at you. He cups the side of your face, stroking your cheekbone. “I figured this was the best way to get a truthful answer. And ultimately, it’s an alpha’s job to know if their omega is sick. Isn’t that right, Jin-hyung?”

“Our Hobi is a genius.” Seokjin replies sagely, as if he’s not literally on top of you. 

“Nngh, get off me.” You whine and the alphas laugh at you. You glare at Seokjin. “I want Jungkook.”

“Are you asking for your alpha or for an attorney? Jungkook’s not an attorney, by the way.” Seokjin replies matter-of-factly. You want to shrivel up and die. Here you are, horny as fuck and you’re being mocked. 

Seokjin leans in. “Not only that, but there’s no way Jungkook knows about you being hospitalized. If he did, he would’ve crashed. out. Considering that all of Seoul doesn’t know about it by now, Jungkook must not either. Or do we want to change that? I can call him now, if you want.”

“If you ever get tired of being a businessman, you’d make an excellent mobster.” You snip back. Then, you glare up at Hoseok. “Who negotiates with their omega like this? Are you some kind of low-life? Get off me!”

“So you admit you’re our omega.” Seokjin says, sounding eerily like Regina George.

“I don’t have a choice, I have a fucking bite and a contract stating I am. Now get off me before I kick you in the nuts.” You retort, voice rising.

The threat is enough to move Seokjin. He gets off you, sitting on the bed. You sit up. “Just so you know, I’m not leaving until you answer us. I’ll even sleep in your bed tonight.”

“I won’t answer until I’m fucked.” You reply, so horny that you no longer care that you’re being crude.

Seokjin swallows, but his face remains resolute. “Oral only.”

“No.” 

“What kind of a conversation is this?” Hoseok cuts in, frowning at both of you. “Y/N, just fucking tell us what happened to you already.”

You’re so wet that you want the alphas to either fuck you or leave you alone so you can finish the deed yourself. But clearly, you’re not going to get either. Driven into a corner, you finally decide to be honest. “Iwasonheatblockersforareallylongtimeandcouldn’taffordtimeoffinbetweenuniandworktohaveaproperbreak-throughheatsoIwentwaytoolongwithoutoneandnowmybody’sbasicallybreakingdownandIhadnochoicebuttostoptakingtheminordertohaveanormalheat. Okay, now will you fuck me?”

“What?” Both alphas ask in unison. 

You throw your head back dramatically and groan. “You!” You exclaim, reaching to strangle Seokjin. The alpha winces as you wrap your hands around his thick neck. “You’re always fucking blue-balling me!”

“Say it again, we couldn’t understand it the first time.” Seokjin says, easily prying your hands off his throat. He looks up at you in his lap. “Slowly.”

You decide in that moment that even if Seokjin or Hoseok or both alphas decide to fuck you after this completely unfair interrogation that you won’t have either of them. Worst comes to worst, you’re going right to Jungkook and making this his problem. That, or your vibrator. Or both. “I was on heat blockers for a really long time and couldn’t afford time off in between uni and work to have a proper break-through heat so I went way too long without one and now my body’s basically breaking down and I had no choice but to stop taking them in order to have a normal heat.” You repeat. 

The two alphas are stunned. You wait for them to process the information, afraid of what they’ll say next. You wonder if they’ll ridicule you for not having enough money to take care of your body. Or maybe they’ll pity you and treat you like a pathetic stray animal or something.

Slowly, though, the alphas process your words. “What do you mean your body’s basically breaking down?” Seokjin asks, now dead serious. 

You sigh, getting off him and sitting on the bed. “I didn’t have enough money to afford time off when I was younger, so I kept taking blockers when I shouldn’t have—”

“We understood that part. But what do you mean your body is breaking down?” Hoseok cuts in. The alpha’s eyes are serious now and he folds his arms over his chest.

You wriggle, uncomfortable. “It was just the usual side effects at first, but they got much worse over time. Nausea, poor appetite, dizziness, headaches, messed up sleep. Some days, I can’t eat anything if I forget my nausea meds at home. Other days, I have a non-stop throbbing headache that not even prescription pain meds can fully get rid of. I rarely, if ever, have a day without symptoms anymore.”

“That’s terrible.” Hoseok whispers, eyes softening. “So you stopped taking them?”

You avert your eyes. “I wasn’t going to, but my doctor refused to prescribe me anymore because she knew I’d never stop. So I’ve been off them for a few weeks now, and it’s terrifying.”

“Why?” Seokjin asks, startling you by placing his hand on your arm. 

“Because I haven’t had a heat in years, so I have no clue when it could start. My doctor said it could be anywhere between a few weeks—which is right about now—or a few months. And now I have this fucking bite, too, which will make it even more intense and painful.”

“Why would it be painful?” Hoseok asks, frowning. He gestures up. “Jungkook’s here. He’ll take care of you.”

You hesitate. Sure, that might be a possibility now. After a moment, Hoseok’s eyes widen. “You weren’t thinking of having your heat alone, were you? As a newly mated omega?”

“Y/N.” Seokjin says your name more sternly than you’ve ever heard him. You look at him. His eyes wander your face, searching for an answer. “You really were going to do that.” 

“I told you when we met that I didn’t want to play games and I meant that.” You say quietly. “I left Jungkook that night for a good reason. I had no intention of ever searching for you or asking you to be responsible for me. And I had no plan of asking Jungkook to take care of me during my heat either.”

Hesitantly, Seokjin adds: “You could’ve at least had a heat partner.”

You scowl. “No. There was no one else it could’ve been.” Then, you add: “Even after we signed the contract, I still had no plans to tell you any of this. I was actually waiting for Jungkook to come get me from my apartment the day I passed out and ended up in the hospital. I knew what I was doing to myself, but I was too afraid…”

“Too afraid to be vulnerable?” Seokjin completes softly. He cups your face, wiping away tears you didn’t even notice. You nod. “That’s horrible, I’m sorry.” Seokjin looks genuinely upset. Hoseok looks heartbroken on your behalf. 

You shake your head. “You don’t understand how hard all of this is for me. I work for you, live with you, wear your bite on my skin. I’m completely at your mercy and have nothing except my secrets. And now, you know one of those, too. I’m not fighting because I have nothing better to do—it’s because I have nothing to protect myself with. I can’t give in to you, I don’t know you.” You cry.

Seokjin peels back the duvet, pulling you in under it. He holds you to his chest and lets you cry. Immediately after, Hoseok wraps his arms around your waist and spoons you. “I’m sorry.” Seokjin whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “We’ve never fully understood your side of things. I’m so sorry.”

“Fucking jerks.” You complain, smacking Seokjin’s stupidly-firm chest. “Mobsters. Low-lifes. Swindlers.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Seokjin replies. 

Hoseok grabs your hands, pressing them firm against your belly. “Enough, sweetheart. You’ll tire yourself out.”

“You’re so mean to me.” You cry. Hoseok places his head in the crook of your neck, scenting gently. You thrash and fight, wanting to rip the alphas off you and throw them out. But you’re so pathetically needy you can’t even do that. “Be nice to me! Isn’t that an alpha’s job?” You cry. Hoseok turns you onto your back. Both alphas wrap their arms around you, each scenting your neck, peppering kisses along your jaw and cheeks.

“You’re right.” Hoseok and Seokjin both reassure you. “Alpha’s job.”

Facing him held nothing but humiliation for you, the idea of having to reckon with falling apart so easily on his sofa triggering your fight or flight.

Floor boards creaked beneath your soft tread to the kitchen, placing the water bottle on the counter with the speed someone would defuse a bomb with, keeping a watchful eye on his face to make sure he wasn’t stirring.

Something about his face had you stopping. Half smushed into his forearm that draped over the side of the couch, the book now dangerously close to clattering to the floor and shredding the quiet of the early morning.

You told yourself it was to protect your secret mission to leave undetected–that it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that the idea of disturbing his slumber made a sticky feeling coat your stomach, sloshing around like glue.

Grasping the textbook, you gingerly lifted it from his hands, tucking a scrap of notebook paper between the page he had stopped on and situating it back on the end table.

You eyed the little sticky note pad for longer than necessary. A nice person would leave some kind of note, maybe even write out a sweet thank you, and decorate it with smiley faces and a promise to return the favor. The pencil in your hand might as well have been a cactus gripped in your fist with the face you made at it.

While things might have changed, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave a note. Couldn’t sound out the words ‘thank you’ in your own mind without your mouth going dry. Trust was a funny, yet incredibly delicate thing. And to show gratitude was vulnerable. It left room for rejection and mockery, two things you didn’t feel like opening yourself up to.

It wasn’t something you were ready for. That felt more intimate than how his hands had run up your neck or your cheek pressed to his thigh.

The sun was just starting to stretch over the horizon when you scurried up the steps, washing off the night with a hot shower and crawling beneath your own covers to get a few more hours of sleep. Promises whispered to yourself that it would only be a few hours. That you would wake up and tackle your day and everything that needed doing.

What a joke. When you finally stirred a quarter past noon to wash your face in the bathroom mirror, there were no thoughts behind the eyes that looked back at you. The day was spent yelling at yourself in your own mind to just get up and do something–anything on your list would do. But you were a prisoner in your own body, curled up on the couch that wasn’t as comfortable as Namjoon’s and in an apartment that didn’t feel as warm. Nothing got done. Not an ounce of sketching or the extra homework you had taken on to replenish some of your grade. Just you, the dark, and a mind that couldn’t stop beating the shit out of you.

You went to bed early despite having slept in so late, spending the following Sunday trying to catch up on school assignments while your housework fell to the wayside. Again. The shapes you drew into the paper were flat and bland, void of any life and dull in color. Each one of them crumpled up and tossed straight into the nearest trash can. It wasn’t until the sun had started to descend and you tried to pick out your outfit for the following morning that you were harshly reminded of the mess that had probably started to disintegrate and sour in the passenger seat of your car.

The only thing that would take it out of the lining would be the machines at the car wash, but the thought of getting behind the wheel at night (or at all if you were being honest) was terrifying. With your thumb hovering over Namjoon’s contact information, you bit your lip, feeling the skin split beneath the tension. If the you from the year prior were to see what you were doing now, she’d turn into a demon from some modern horror film and sink her claws into your flesh for even looking at his contact. She would’ve died, dramatically sunk into the pits of hell, then summoned herself out when you had fallen asleep on his couch–touching him.

Tucking the phone back in your pocket, you went to swipe your keys from the bowl by the door but stalled over the mouth of it, the center empty. A thousand thoughts ran through your mind–the first of them being that you had lost them in the pile of laundry in your room.

Now you really were a demon; lifting up cushions, burrowing through clothes for the outfit you had worn to the diner, even sticking your head in the washing machine and sweeping beneath your mattress. Hell hath no fury like someone who ‘just had something’ and now can’t fucking find it.

Pacing about the mess of your room, you pulled at your own skin while retracing your steps since you had gotten home.

Woke up.

Came upstairs.

Opened the door.

Dropped the keys in the bowl.

….Dropped the…keys…

“God-fucking-damnit!” You spat, ripping open the door and craning your neck to the lock on the other side where you were 90% sure you had left them. The empty space in the lock made your stomach sick. For two whole days you walked around your house with your fucking keys in your door and now they were gone.

Now not only did you have whipped cream curdling on the bottom of your car, you now had to call the landlord to get the locks changed and a new key minted. Tracking your eyes down to the doormat to see if they had fallen, you paused, not expecting to find a local grocery bag tied and off to the side, a small sticky note with the corner bent like the deliverer had struggled to place it on the bag the first few tries.

Snatching it up, you read the rest of it with feelings as muddled as the bile in your stomach.

‘You left your keys in the door so...I took the car to get cleaned. Sorry I didn’t ask first T . T, but you didn’t answer the door. Grabbed you a couple things while I was out. Hopefully they help ‘fix it’.' –Namjoon

Beside his name was a smiley face that he hastily scribbled out and tried to make it look like an accident. You tried not to let it make you smile.

Placing the bag on the counter and untying the handles, you found three of the biggest water bottles one could buy before they were considered jugs, two different kinds of electrolyte drink mix, and a candy you didn’t particularly care for–but it was one your mom had always had around the house when you both were young, stashed in a kitschy dish on an end table for guest to pick through. It made you think of when you two would try and see who could swipe the most without your mom noticing, carefully lifting the lid and wiggling two fingers in to steal a couple before dinner. He always lost.

You didn’t text him that night. Yet again, it felt weird to text him something so heartfelt and casual as a thank you. Way too personal for your liking, and your pride was still healing from being so pathetic on his couch.

But you did bring the pouch to the following morning’s lecture, plopping in the seat next to his and popping one in your mouth every now and then as you took notes. Occasionally, you’d see his hand disappear into the bag like he was trying to be sneaky. You pretended not to notice.

Even when your gaze met his for a few moments, one of the candies notched between your teeth, withholding a smile at how he clumsily shoved the piece in his mouth he had just smuggled out to hide it from you. With eyes glazed over, you slid them back down to the paper and continued with what you were doing, grin only growing wider when you could hear him cheer under his breath at his successful thievery.

You’d let him win–just this once.

While the two of you didn’t talk to each other much over the following weeks, besides the random invites to the Friday night diner excursions–you had gotten quite comfortable sitting next to each other in class, his knee periodically bumping into you, and a freshly washed reusable water bottle placed on the desk for you to drink. You didn’t ask how he just so happened to have one in your favorite color with a sticker of a cat doing the middle finger to greet you every day, you just drank it, slid it back, and tapped the side of his sneaker with your shoe in place of a thank you.

Let him believe things were going well and nothing was awry with every 'good morning' you tossed his way.

But of course, you couldn’t have nice things without it costing you everything.

Your grades were slowly trickling downwards, your body’s tolerance threshold following close behind no matter how hard you tried to push it back up. Assignments you were giving your all to juggle kept falling from your grasp because you couldn’t keep up. Nights were spent crying quietly into your pillow at how much shit just fucking hurt, lying down offering no relief to the pain that rusted your productivity.

And the worst part? You couldn’t be bothered to care about things that had once mattered the most to you.

Numbness was becoming both a defense mechanism and a personality trait. There were only three weeks left of the semester before the winter break and you were just counting down the days, your body unraveled to its last thread and your metaphorical duct tape running low.

The tipping point hit one random Wednesday. You would have thought you had run barefoot in the snow after a cold shower with how you felt all night; every joint aching and a fever-like malaise taking over your whole body, throat sore but not like one would normally attribute to illness–like it too couldn’t commit to being sick or not. And all you had done was fold your laundry, wash the dishes, and cook dinner. That’s it. You hadn’t even been able to study.

So when you slept through all four of your Wednesday lecture alarms, you didn’t have time to eat breakfast or take your normal dose of ibuprofen–just to throw on the same clothes as the day before and run faster than you could handle down the stairs to your car. With your head down and your throat tight, you tried to enter the room unnoticed, the professor knee deep in reviewing students progress on their mock portfolios and not sparing you a second glance. Trying was futile, because she didn’t notice you anyway.

Or maybe she didn’t care to.

You couldn’t blame her.

You didn’t sit by Namjoon, letting the metal water bottle sit untouched at an empty seat, its contents going from crisp and fresh to stale and room temperature. Instead you hid in the back, pencil held in a vice grip to make it look like you were taking notes when in reality you were trying not to cry. Say good-bye to your perfect attendance record, because there was no way to undo what had been done. Everything in that class went in that ear and out the other, the professors critique of your lines or the organization of your drawings might have well been said in a language you didn’t speak. She had almost nothing good to say about it anyway.

When she dismissed everyone, you saw Namjoon’s gaze find you when he stood–felt it crawling over your back with silent questions as you sped out of the heavy doors before his long legs could carry him halfway up the stairs.

He’d look for you, head poked around the wide hallways or lingering by the apartment building doors. But little did he know that you were doing the same, waiting around those very corners with your breath held between your teeth, watching for him to lumber on home or onto his next class before you’d dare slink out. He had questions you didn’t feel like answering–or maybe it was cowardice finally rearing its ugly head. The answers were clear enough; you were just choosing to look right through them. Maybe even pull down a set of blinds so you wouldn’t have to see them at all.

That Friday night you didn’t go to the diner. You found yourself hovered over your cluttered desk, your pencil gripped in a hand that couldn’t stop trembling with fatigue while you begged it to move. Cried tears onto the pages of textbooks your aunts and uncles had gifted you during your youth, willing the pictures in there to invoke the same feelings they used to. The bright colors made you nauseous instead of curious. The valves of the heart no longer fun to trace with a child-like wonder. Joy was the last thing you felt when you looked at them, forcing your hand to imitate the shapes on the paper next to it.

Horror came with rampant hunger, gnawing away at your lungs and sucking out the air with blood-stained teeth, seeping its icy venom into your bloodstream until your whole body shivered.

You flipped to the next page, scanning the mapped out sections of the brain that you used to love reciting for your mother at the breakfast table. Hell, you had been able to draw them from memory by the time you were thirteen.

Nothing. No quickening of the pulse or spark of inspiration.

Frantically splitting the book open to a page near the end, you pawed about for one picture in particular–your favorite. A skeleton torso in dynamic movement, the shapes so satisfying to your mind and the flow of your pencil. A diagram you always came back to when you needed to get the creative juices flowing.

The flood of emptiness in your chest was unstoppable, steadfast with a current strong enough to wash any other feeling away. Your hand quivering as it struggled to hold the pencil up against its suffocating depths. Every shape you attempted wrong. Every drag of lead across paper a few degrees off or too shaky. All you could see when you looked at those drawings was a body you didn’t have, and a reminder of what you could no longer do.

Something snapped within you, ripping the blinds open and revealing what you had been too frightened to face.

What the fuck were you even doing anymore?

You had been fighting through every day for what?

Ripping the page from the sketch pad, you held it up to your face, the lines all wrong and the proportions fucked up in ways that would get you less than savory grades. If you couldn’t draw something you use to be able to recreate with a blind fold and a crayon, how could you ever expect to hold a job that required you to draw on command?

A job that needed you every day at the same times without fail; a job that called for steady hands and consistency.

You must not have hated it as much as you thought, otherwise the slam of reality wouldn’t have been so heartbreaking. You loved this. Loved it so much that the only way to deal with the pain was to pretend you didn’t feel anything at all.

You had to give up dinner to do this tonight. The cost of sitting here to do unacceptable work was to leave the house a wreck and your body crying out in agonizing pain from having to sit at the desk.

What you loved was killing you. Yet keeping yourself alive meant not doing what you loved.

There was no way to have both anymore.

This felt like death.

But worse–because you still had to live after this one. Tomorrow would come and leave you behind here, staring at what you once had and drawing numb, repeated circles. Convincing yourself that if you walked those lines enough, the never-ending curve would take you somewhere new and not spiraling deeper into insanity.

You don’t know when you had moved to the floor, but you did; holding the decades old text book to your chest like it could stop the pain that stabbed through it and staring off into the dark room, tears making the light from the window streaky and undefined.

You couldn’t do this anymore.

_________________________________________

The next week came and went, but you didn’t.

Lectures happened without you. Assignments were missed. Grades plummeted faster than a theme park ride. Namjoon had tried to call you once or twice but you didn’t answer. Hearing his voice would send you over the edge.

Your body had given up, and you had no choice but to let it; you just prayed Namjoon would let it go quietly.

The semester ended, and you went to stay with your mother for winter break to get away from an apartment that didn’t feel like home anymore. It felt like a ticking time bomb, because it wasn’t yours. Not for long anyway.

Your mother must have been able to sense something was wrong, for she actually let you be without much of a fuss. Maybe it was the attention she got from her friends regarding you being home that she liked, or the way she got to feel important when she’d make you soup that tasted like water with a hint of vegetables. Whatever she was getting from it didn’t matter, because this was one of the few times she actually acted like a mom.

Emphasis on the word “acted”.

She didn’t like to maintain the title or the relationship, but she liked being able to swoop in and be a hero she could brag about. Liked knowing you needed her.

When she hugged you in the evenings after noticing you looked particularly down, you pretended it was warm from love and not from the glass of wine she had drunk at dinner. Looked away when she took you along to book club and rambled with excitement about how much of a ‘good mother’ she was being by letting you stay in her office.

That room used to be yours once. Except every little detail of you from that room had been washed out with thick layers of gray paint and vaguely motivating wall art. Another thing that was never really yours.

She was trying (at least that’s what you told yourself). She would leave little bottles of essential oil on her desk for you to use and ramble to you about some self-help yoga routine she had read about, even though you had told her countless times you weren’t supposed to do that while being hypermobile. She was trying. You just wished it felt real. Wished that it was where she needed to be instead of where she had to be.

When you told your doctor about the night in the car and your fight with processing movement at high speeds, she gave the gentle recommendation that you don’t drive as much anymore. Take the bus. Carpool with a friend. Give up something else. Lose another piece of your autonomy.

The email reminder to enroll in your spring courses came with a bolded subject line and exclamation points. You deleted it without opening it.

It was time to melt away into the background like you were destined to, spilling over pristine wooden floors and warping the energy in any room you walked into. A sore crusted over and torn open with each breath. Potential left at room temperature to curdle, and no one wanted to stick around to help clean it up.

If Namjoon could see you now, a corpse of who you were walking, he could probably study you. Draw out the shapes of your tattered hopes and the empty, gaping wound the loss of your dreams left straight through your chest. He could probably see your heart if he just peered right into it–recreate the path of their pulsing veins on paper and label where you went wrong.

Namjoon’s mom texted you with a personal invite for Friday night’s dinner, saying she would love to see you there. Said she was worried. Your mom had told her you weren’t doing well.

So you went, a shell of yourself out on display to quell her concerns. No fancy outfit or put-together facade. Just you, a pair of sweatpants that didn’t hurt to put on, and a hoodie that staved off the winter chill. Namjoon looked like he might pop a blood vessel when he saw you sit across from him, observing the way your mom fretted about you too much to a point where it felt forced.

Her care was rooted in humiliating you in front of the table so she could show how well she swooped in to lick the very wounds she created. A mother hen with a beak wrapped in barbed wire, pecking at your tenderest parts.

“Are you okay sitting there hun? I know your back was really hurting today. Must be from how you sit at that desk!”

“I had to help her wash those clothes you know! Poor thing. She’s going to use up all my detergent...But she’s my daughter, so what can I say?”

“This is her first time out of the house in ages. I’ve been trying to get her to come out for some air but she’s too stubborn. Maybe go clean up that filthy apartment together. Really the state of it is…well, you can imagine. I keep offering to help but she won’t take it.”

You ate each comment with a spoonful of stew Namjoon’s mother had made, letting the savory goodness wash out the salt each word by your mother coated your tongue with. At one point after a particularly back-handed compliment about your work ethic, there was a sudden tap at the toe of your shoe. Just three quick jolts of your foot to the side.

Before you could stop yourself, your eyes snapped up to meet Namjoon’s that swirled with everything he wanted to say but couldn’t, his chest rising and falling a bit too quick.

Looking at him almost shattered you.

He looked so warm in his navy blue sweater, his gaze alight with something much brighter than the impassive glances your mother would cast your way. His fingers tapped against the lace tablecloth impatiently, speaking without moving his mouth. Just a simple look. Something the two of you had gotten too good at.

What the fuck?

You tried to look away, but another three taps to your foot pulled you back in.

He hadn’t moved. What. The. Fuck?

Shaking your head, you dropped your attention down to your plate. Leave it alone.

Namjoon’s sneaker hit yours, swift and adamant. No.

The carpet scuffed beneath your feet, your ankles now crossed beneath your chair and out of reach. Final and detached. Head turned to stare unfocused at the side of your mothers faced as she spoke about her new favorite streaming show you couldn’t give two shits about.

Namjoon never stopped looking at you, his unyielding attention spiking your blood pressure and increasing the difficulty to breathe. Your hands unable to stop plucking at the tablecloth. When he volunteered to collect everyone’s plates, he hovered behind you for too long, collecting the plate at a glacial pace with his front practically pressed to your shoulder, his irritation wafting off him in palpable waves.

I’m waiting, his presence seemed to say.

Yours said nothing. You didn't feel like you had a presence worth speaking for.

Dessert was even more tense, the energy pulled taut and ready to snap at any moment. Thank god you had convinced your mother to grab a cake from the grocery store, or else whatever concoction she would have come up with in the kitchen might’ve set the room ablaze. Your fork dove through the fluffy layers of sponge and whipped cream repeatedly, making shapes from the crumbs and dragging frosting in mindless circles, focusing all your mental energy on not giving into Namjoon’s demanding stare.

His mother’s voice carried over the white noise, unknowingly setting off a bomb on the room.

Her hand rubbed a soothing stripe on your arm, her smile warm and well-meaning. “I’m sure you’re more than ready for graduation. One final lap, huh?”

Before you could even get your mouth open, your mother spoke for you. “Oh, did I forget to mention it at book club? She is taking a break. There’s a specialist she is seeing in the spring that will hopefully give us more answers to help her tackle her last semester. We are hoping to have her graduate with the summer or fall class, but with her?” Lamenting over her next bite of cake, your mother shook her head mournfully. “Who knows….”

Namjoon’s fork paused on the way to his mouth, his head switching back and forth between looking at you and looking at your mom like he was waiting for you to jump up and disprove what she had said. You didn’t.

Now it was his turn to neglect his cake, his lips pursed and attention painfully stuck on the artsy salt and pepper shakers in the middle of the centerpiece, leg bouncing so fast it shook the table. It wouldn’t have surprised you if he had leapt across the table and dragged you into the nearest room in some sort of heated hostage interrogation.

The women’s discussion trailed on with neither of you paying attention to it, not until Namjoon’s mother sharply rose from her chair, excitably babbling about the inversion table her new boyfriend had built for her in the basement. Hooking an arm through your mom’s elbow, she led her down the stairs to show her the new device, a glass of wine cradled in one hand and oblivious giggles trailing after their descent.

You swallowed down the bite of cake that had turned into cement in your mouth, their voices growing more distant as they descended, leaving you to choke on the silence that had enveloped you and Namjoon. He didn’t let it live for very long.

“You’re not graduating?”

The sharpness of the question had you wincing. “Don’t plan on it.”

His eyebrows shot up into his hairline. “Ever?”

“What does it matter to you? Just means there’s more job opportunities you won’t have to fight for.”

Namjoon scoffed in utter disbelief, fork spinning circles in his fist. “You’re giving up–just like that?”

Glare snapping up to look at his face, you snarled. “Don’t say it like it wasn’t the hardest decision I’ve ever had to make.”

“Then don’t make it,” He promptly countered.

“That isn’t a choice.” You lent over the table, voice a hoarse whisper. “I don’t have a choice anymore.”

“You do, and the choice is to graduate. It’s one more semester-”

Slamming your hands down on the table you stood, shaking water from the tall crystal glasses and startling even the mother’s conversations to cut short downstairs. “Don’t. I’m not arguing about it. This isn’t a challenge, it’s a statement. You said it yourself–I’m disabled–and right now the “choice” is to stay alive, or get a degree I won’t even be able to handle a job for. So you tell me, Mr. Know-it-all, what would you do? Because where I’m standing, this was just how it was always going to be. You getting ahead while I fall behind. Nobody believed I could do it anyway, so I’m making all of your lives easy. No one has to pretend anymore. I quit.”

You didn’t wait for him to respond, shoving your chair back and beelining for the door, fisting your mother's keys from her purse on the way out. Pausing by the basement stairs, your voice cracked as you called down.

“Hey mom–I’m really not feeling well. I’m headed out. Namjoon said he’d take you home.” With that, you escaped down the front steps and barricaded yourself in the car, resting your forehead against the wheel while you caught your breath. Your fingers trembled trying to get the keys into the ignition, both from the fallout of having to face him so suddenly and the fear of driving a car after sundown.

Before you knew it, the drivers side door was wrenched open and Namjoon’s head ducked in, prying the keys from your hands like two children would fight over a toy on the playground.

“Give me that!”

“No!” Gasping at his audacity, you smacked the keys down from his hand onto the car floor, bending down to curl your fingers around them before he could. Using one of his long arms, he barred your chest to keep you from bending down fully, the keys slipping out of your grasp and into his.

“I’m not letting you drive!” He grunted, practically sitting on you now, butt shoving you to the side to make room for himself.

“I wasn’t asking for permission!” You shot back with a jab of your elbow.

“And I don’t care!” He stumbled victoriously out of the car with the help of your shove, holding the keys out above his head. “Move. I’m driving.”

You crossed your arms over your chest and sunk further into the seat. “It’s my mom's car. She won’t let you.”

“Actually, she’s the one who suggested it. Said she was too uncomfortable with you driving her car at night. Guess you lied about it not being an issue, huh?”

“Ugh!” Throwing your hands up with a childish groan, you slumped out of the car and stomped to the passenger door, gritting your teeth. “You piss me off.”

“And you make me want to rip my hair out, but I’m still standing here.” He lowered himself into the driver's seat, hesitating just long enough to nod at you from over the car. “Get in.”

Something about what he said lodged itself in your chest and weaseled its way in through the walls you tried so hard to maintain. Hot and fuzzy in a way that both pissed you off and made the urge to cry come back. You slammed the feelings into the way you closed the car door, buckling your seat belt like it owed you money and squeezing yourself closer to the window, arms folded and forehead squished to the glass. “Fine. But I’m not talking to you anymore.”

“Funny, because I can distinctly hear your voice.” Namjoon tossed his arm over the back of your seat, angling himself for a better view of the driveway as he backed down into the quaint street.

Rolling your eyes, you wanted to barf at how your stomach turned in circles at the mere proximity of his arm to your shoulders, his warmth so inviting compared to your mother's cold. Streetlamps whizzed by, the darkened suburb tree lines blurring and congealing into shapeless masses that moved too fast for you to really see. Another sting cracking through you at how reckless it would have been for you to drive.

God, this fucking sucked. You couldn’t even escape from a situation if you wanted to–you would’ve been trapped had it not been for him. And he was part of what you wanted to escape from.

Stealing a glance at his profile, your mind replayed what he had said before he got in the car.

And you make me want to rip my hair out, but I’m still standing here.

But I’m still standing here.

You don’t know why that made your throat tighten or your eyes well with tears, but it did, and god you hated it. With a frustrated growl, you frantically wiped at your cheeks, your embarrassment moving hot and fast to cover up the mess when they wouldn’t stop.

In an instant, he was shifting his attention from the road to your face, mouth open to say something you didn't want to hear.

"Don't look at me. Fuck–just look at the road or something like you're supposed to."

Snapping did nothing to quell his tics. Namjoon almost broke his neck trying to look at you in between stoplights and empty back streets, constantly shifting, hands unable to sit in one place on the wheel like he wanted to reach out but didn’t know how. You couldn’t blame him. If he had tried to place a comforting hand on your knee, you might have bitten it.

Curving around the entrance of the parking lot of the apartment building, he came to a slow stop outside the door, twisting his body to look at you.

“What a-are we doing here?” You seethed, rubbing at your eyes.

“I’m not taking you back to your moms,” he shot back like the thought alone was offensive.

“Well I’m not getting out here.”

Namjoon let out a long, aggravated sigh, taking a moment to center himself with a glance out the window. “Don’t be stubborn. I took you home like you asked.”

“This isn’t home.”

“Yes it is,” He rebutted, turning his head to look at you for further emphasis. “Your mom’s house is going to destroy you.”

You snapped. “Well I don’t have a choice-”

“You have a choice. Just like I have one.” He was breathing heavily now, running his hand through his hair before letting it fall unceremoniously onto the center console. Leveling his gaze with yours, he spoke so matter-of-factly it startled you. “If you aren’t graduating this semester, I’m not either.”

“Don’t be fucking stupid, Kim.” You wanted to sound angry, but your voice was shaking too much. “You can’t just throw it all away like that.”

“Neither can you.”

Shaking your head, you muttered “Whatever, I’m not humoring this” while reaching for the door handle and giving it half a tug before the locks activated with and audible click. Rounding to shoot him an incredulous look, you gave the handle another testing tug only to find it immobile. “What the fuck, Kim?”

He didn’t answer, just stared at you with his cheeks hollowed in for him to chew on. You used two fingers to pry open the lock only for it to suction back into the door with a quiet ‘schoomp’ .

“I thought you didn’t want to get out here?”

“Yeah, well that was before you started talking crazy.” You hissed. Clicking the unlock button you fixed him with one final warning look. “Don’t you dare.”

Namjoon held your gaze, one eyebrow inching upwards. His index finger twitched on the button.

‘schoomp’

“Fucking hell!” Rotating in your seat so you sat on your hip you looked at him fully. “This isn’t fair and you know it. Don’t be so immature.”

“I’m being entirely fair.” He was holding his finger down on the lock button now, preventing you from unlocking it again. “You want to take a break? Fine. We’ll take a break.”

Groaning for the hundredth time you pointed a finger between the two of you. “Me! There is no we!”

“Yes there is, because I’m challenging you.”

“You’re doing jack sh- What?” Your argument died in your throat with a squeak. Dammit. He really knew just how to get that demon’s attention, huh?

Namjoon shrugged, treating the discussion far too casually for your liking. “I take one semester off to convince you that you can do this. If I lose, you get to quit. If I win, you sign up for summer classes and we graduate. Together.”

Gulping down the tinny ringing sound in your ears, your grip faltered on the door handle, slipping off to land on your thigh like dead weight. “You can’t...We are…” You found your voice again. “Our challenge is supposed to have lower stakes. Not higher stakes.”

“It’s not a challenge if it isn’t difficult for either of us,” Namjoon tapped the unlock button. “The stakes are low anyway. We get a break, and we graduate together; we get a break and you get your way.”

You closed your eyes to think. He was right in a way, the stakes sounded a lot higher than they were. In this little game he still graduated either way, it was just your life that would be up to chance–which it already was. Humoring him held no risk other than having to be in his presence more than usual.

“I guess I can handle that,” Opening your eyes to look at him, you held out your hand for him to take. “You win, I graduate. You lose, I quit.”

“Deal.” Namjoon’s palm slid over your offered hand and gave it a firm shake, dainty sparks shooting up into your elbows and down your spine where his skin met yours. “We start tonight.”

_________________________________________

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To say Yoongi’s words take you off guard is an understatement. Even almost a week later, you’re still turning his words over in your mind. Needed? You? It just doesn’t make any sense.

The radio silence following that day doesn’t make it any better. For someone who claims to need you, Yoongi sure doesn’t text or call. None of them do, in fact.

Not that I care. You tell yourself, stretching in your desk chair. You glance at the clock in the corner of your monitor. 4 PM. 

“Manager-nim!” Your co-worker Alexandra calls out to you. You jolt, looking up from your work. “It’s time to go, remember? Also, have you forgotten what day it is already?” She pouts cutely at you. You glance at the screen, realizing it’s Friday.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You apologize, realizing your entire team is still waiting for you to get off the clock. You had been absorbed in the work files you were reviewing, ensuring everything was perfectly lined up for Monday.  In truth, you’re ahead of schedule in terms of the work needed for the Love Maze expansion project. You have several reports pending approval from Mr. Lim and Seokjin, and you won’t be able to continue until you get the go-ahead on those first. Unknowingly, you’ve already formed a habit of being too into your work. You close your computer quickly and grab your purse, smiling at your team members. “Let’s go.”

By now, you’ve slipped into your carefully crafted role well enough that no one questions it. You wear a fake ring on your left hand, don’t bother to hide your bite, and block only your scent. Others assume you’re a beta, and you like it that way. Nice and peaceful.

“Cheers!” Everyone calls out, clinking glasses.

“The food here is always so good,” Ken says, genuinely shocked as he continues to eat. “I swear they put something in it.”

“Probably just MSG.” Alexandra quips, making the table laugh. Then, she glances at your glass of water. “Manager-nim, are you sure you’re not drinking tonight? I mean, it’s your welcome party!”

You shake your head. “No, no, I’m driving. I can’t.” You say. It’s only half a lie—you do have to drive tonight, but you also don’t want to take the risk of drinking with the current state you’re in. Ken is right, the food here is good, and you want to eat as much of it as you can stomach without risking nausea.

“Just get your husband to come get you.” Hailey butts in, winking. You flush as the table eggs you on. “Why, that’s what husbands are for.” She says, subtly flashing her own diamond ring on her left hand.

“He’s—” You don’t really know what to say. You don’t have a husband. You barely know Jungkook, you highly doubt he would catch a cab here for you just to drive you home. In fact, you don’t even know if he’s in Seoul right now, you haven’t seen or heard from him in a while. You glance around the table as they eagerly wait for your answer, then put a brave smile on. “He’s a busy man, he works long hours. I don’t want to bother him, I’ll get home just fine on my own.”

“Aww.” Hailey and Alexandra gush in unison.

“Men, take notes!” Hailey tells the boys, making them chuckle. 

“Don’t tell us, I’m engaged and Ken’s married.” Josh deflects. “Tell Liam, he’s single.”

“Hey, why’d you pull me into that?” Liam wrinkles his nose. As you all laugh at his misery, the beta’s face flushes. “Anyway, tonight’s not about me. Manager-nim, please tell us about yourself!”

“Well, where do I start?” You chuckle. “I’ve got a pretty boring life. Let’s see, I’m 25, I’ve got one younger brother, and I went to SNU for Marketing.”

“You went to SNU?” The group echos, impressed. You blush and wave them off. You always get that reaction. 

“You’re so smart, no wonder you’re a manager already.” Alexandra compliments you earnestly, looking at you with awe. Then, she considers something. “Is that where you met your husband, SNU?”

You giggle nervously. I don’t know where Jungkook studied. “God, you’re so curious about my husband, aren’t you?” You deflect, making Alexandra blush.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be nosy, I’m just a romantic. I love hearing people’s love stories.” She says, her cheeks turning pink. You chuckle, patting her shoulder to let her know it’s okay. If only I had a love story to tell you. You think as the conversation shifts to other small talk and someone suggests playing a game to get to know each other better. One game leads to a second and a second to a third and then dessert.

You’re coming back from the bathroom after washing your hands when you hear a familiar voice. “No, take out. I ordered over the phone.”

You spot Jungkook near the front, speaking to a hostess as she tries to locate an order for him. The alpha looks unmistakably handsome—wearing dress pants and a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He looks somewhat messy, though, missing his suit jacket and tie like he doesn’t intend to be here for long. Indeed, as Jungkook’s gaze moves to yours, you see exhaustion on his face. Jungkook’s eyes widen slightly as he sees you, then he glances over your shoulder.

“No way, that’s Mr. Jeon.” Alexandra whispers, coming up behind you. She cranes her head subtly, catching the attention of your other teammates. They all look confused for a second, then clamber up as soon as they spot Jungkook. Near the entrance, the hostess puts takeout containers in a paper bag for him. The alpha thanks her with a smile, then starts to walk toward you. As he does, Alexandra leans in again. “That’s CFO Jeon, he’s one of the co-founders. But he doesn’t like being called by his title.” Alexandra quickly whispers to you.

As Jungkook draws closer, the rest of the team scrambles over. Alexandra smiles brightly, leading the chorus of your teammates as they greet Jungkook with smiles and bows. “Good evening, Mr. Jeon!”

Jungkook nods in hello, but he still looks tired. His eyes flicker over the group, resting on you for just a second too long. Is he not sleeping well? You wonder. Then, he licks his lips and smiles wide. “Oh, nice to see everyone. You’re all from Marketing, correct? Are you here for a team dinner?”

“Yes, we’re from the new Marketing Team 5. We’re here for our manager’s welcome dinner!” Ken says over your shoulder.

Jungkook turns to you, still smiling. He holds a hand out. “Nice to meet you, I’m Jeon Jungkook.” He says, his big, tattooed hand hanging in the space between you. To an outsider, his body language is relaxed but you can see the subtle nervousness in Jungkook’s eyes. You can smell the undertones of sourness behind his cologne that no one else can. You’re not a good liar, are you?

Well, that’s one thing I’m better at than Jungkook. “A pleasure to meet you, sir. I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” You smile wide, accepting his handshake.

You shake and let go half a beat too fast, something Jungkook seems to notice from the way his smile falters slightly. But he recovers fast, turning his attention to your team members. “Are you just sitting down now?” He asks.

“We got here a while ago since this place is always full on Fridays. We were just about to pay now.” Liam takes subtle credit for his restaurant selection, making Jungkook chuckle.

“Perfect. I’ll foot the bill then.” He says, reaching into his back pocket and pulling his wallet out. You don’t know how to feel as he pulls his black credit card out, unable to say anything amid your co-workers politely declining his offer. Jungkook glances your way, then back to the others. “Oh, don’t worry, I’ll make sure to brag in front of Department Head Lim so he’ll feel guilty. You might get another free dinner that way.” He says, winking at the boys. 

“Thank you so much!” Your team members chorus, one of them grabbing the card from Jungkook as they all walk towards the register. 

Jungkook hangs back with you. You purse your lips, feeling awkward around him. It’s been a few weeks since you signed the contract, and even then, the two of you hadn’t spoken much. “How was dinner?” Jungkook asks softly. You glance at him. His eyes soften at you. “Was it good?”

“Yeah.” You mumble. Then, you nod to the bag of takeout he’s holding. “You haven’t had dinner yet?”

Jungkook scratches the back of his neck. “No, but I’ll eat soon.” He says, making you frown. You glance at your phone. 8:10 PM.

“It’s already 8, though.” You say. Jungkook just shrugs.

Just then, your team members return. Jungkook smiles as he receives his credit card back from Ken. He follows your group out. You all say your goodbyes. You offer your team members rides home, but it turns out most of them live near each other and end up sharing cabs. You smile as they head off in the opposite direction as you, waving goodbye.

That leaves just you and Jungkook as you begin the walk towards your car. 

“Hey Y/N?” Jungkook says after a moment.

You blink, looking at him. “Yeah?”

The alpha seems to search for his words. He bites his bottom lip, toying with his piercing for a moment. Then, Jungkook says: “You don’t need to be scared of me, you know.”

Your heart thuds in your chest at how easily Jungkook reads through you. “I’m not scared, just nervous.” You mumble.

Jungkook shakes his head, not believing you. “I…I’ve actually wanted to apologize for a while. I’m sorry I was rough with you on the day of the gala. I know you must’ve had a reason for the decision you made, but I was too focused on my own anger and the tension in the pack at that time. It’s not an excuse for my behaviour, but I want to be honest.”

You consider his apology. It’s true Jungkook did scare you that day, as did his entire pack. And although you’re uncertain about if you forgive that behaviour, you know why they treated you that way. You’re strangers, and you don’t know each other yet.

“I think it takes time to get to know people. Even with this bite, I think it will be a while before we understand each other. But we have that contract for a reason.” You say softly. Jungkook’s shoulders sink somewhat as you mention the contract. You scratch your cheek nervously. “It’s a weird situation for all of us, but I think we’ll work around it somehow.”

Jungkook avoids your eyes for a moment. “I’m sorry I did this to you.” He says. He glances at you, then gives you a wobbly smile. “I know you probably don’t want anything to do with me or my pack, but I…I want to keep you around. If you let me, I want to take responsibility for you. I want to prove I can be good to you, that all seven of us can.”

Come to me. Namjoon’s words echo in your mind.

We’ve needed a pack omega for a long time. Yoongi’s voice follows after.

You exhale, not really knowing what to say to that. Sensing it, Jungkook adds: “I don’t need an answer right away. I just want you to know that’s how I feel.”

You stop in front of your car. “Okay.” You say softly. Then, you swallow. “Thank you for walking me back to my car.”

Jungkook nods quickly. “No problem.” Then, he glances over his shoulder, back where you came from. “Have a good night. I’ll see you later.”

You blink at him. He isn’t walking this way? You wonder. “Is your place the opposite way?” You ask him.

Jungkook shakes his head. “No, I gotta head back to the office. I only got back from the New York branch two days ago, so I have to catch up on the Seoul branch’s work.” Jungkook explains. You blink. Jungkook is going back to the office at this hour, and on a Friday night at that?

“Oh, okay.” You say. Then, mostly because you can’t help yourself, you add: “You didn’t have to walk me to my car if you were busy.”

Jungkook looks down at his shoes, his hands still in his pockets. The alpha glances back at you and you notice his cheeks are pink now. “I don’t mind if it’s for you. You’re an exception.”

Your gaze softens and Jungkook notices. He takes a half step forward, then stops himself. “Ah, your team members might still be here, right?” He says, looking up and down the road. Jungkook plays with his lip piercing as he thinks, then takes two steps back. “Get home safe, Y/N.”

“You too. Thanks again for walking me back.” You say, feeling as nervous as Jungkook looks.

Jungkook waves a hand, already pulling a box of cigarettes and a lighter out from his pocket. “Don’t thank me for little things like that.” He grumbles as he puts a cigarette in his mouth. Then, more to himself, he adds: “Makes me seem like a good for nothing alpha.”

You nod awkwardly. You unlock the car and begin to walk around the front. Then, with your hand on the driver side door handle, you call back to the alpha. “Jungkook.” You say. 

Immediately, Jungkook whips around, still taking a puff of his now-lit cigarette. He pulls it from his lips and exhales a wisp of smoke, walking back towards you. “Yeah?”

Your cheeks warm under his eager gaze, like he thinks you are going to ask something important. “Where did you go to university?”

Jungkook blinks twice, confused, but answers immediately. “SNU.”

“What did you study?” You ask, the two of you still standing on opposite sides of the car.

Jungkook smiles and there’s a bit of disbelief to it, like he can’t take you seriously right now. You can’t take yourself seriously either, your heart is beating too fast. “Well, I majored in finance at SNU for my undergrad. And then I did my MBA at Harvard.”

You’re impressed but at the same time not surprised. Of course a genius like Jungkook would have both SNU and Harvard on his resume. 

Jungkook calls back to you. “Why did you wanna know that?”

You swallow. The alpha tilts his head curiously. He takes another puff, then walks away for a moment to put it out in a nearby public ashtray. When he returns, Jungkook walks around the car and stops in front of you. He grins down at you and this time, he’s not nervous at all. In fact, you’d venture as far as to say you see some cheekiness in his eyes.

You look away from him. “My team members were asking me what my husband does and if I met him when I went to SNU. I couldn’t tell them I don’t know where he studied.”

“Your husband.” Jungkook repeats the word slowly, like he’s never heard it before. You wring your hands nervously, still looking away. Jungkook reaches for your hands, holding them in his. “Hmm…” He says, looking down at your hands in his. You glance up, noticing his frown. “Don’t wear that ring anymore.” He says firmly.

Something squeezes in your chest. Oh. “I-I just wore it because people will notice my bite and it would cause weird rumours if I have a bite but no wedding ring…” You trail off.

“Yeah, but it’s embarrassing.” Jungkook counters, reaching down and easily sliding the fake ring off. He scoffs, taking the ring in his palm. Your chest tightens further. “It’s so plain and not even your size. Plus I’d never hear the end of it from the hyungs if I got you a diamond this small.”

What? You blink at him. Jungkook chuckles. “Are you busy tomorrow?” 

“No…?” You say.

“Then we’ll get you a proper wedding ring.” He says, tossing your fake ring up in the air and catching it again. You must stare at him a second too long because Jungkook’s cheeks start to turn pink. “I mean, a proper fake wedding ring. For work.” He emphasizes.

You nod, trying to shake your surprise. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Jungkook repeats, and he looks a little giddy. “I’ll text you later! Bye.”

“Bye.” 

You expect your heart to calm down by the time you get home, but even as you lay in bed that night, your heart continues to race. Jungkook’s words repeat in your mind like a broken record. 

I don’t mind if it’s for you. You’re an exception.

*:･ﾟ✧☆*:･ﾟ✧

It’s not a date, Y/N, calm down. You tell yourself the following morning, staring at the proposed time of your not-date which Jungkook texts you. 10 AM. A very reasonable time for a not-date, you think. You text him back that it will work.

Even though it’s not, somehow half of your closet ends up on your bed. You pace back and forth, trying on your cutest outfits until you settle on one. It’s an off-white cardigan paired with a mid-thigh length black dress. You match it with warm fleece tights and knee-high boots, then put your coat on. 

It’s not a date. You tell yourself as you put extra effort into your hair. Really, it’s not. You say as you apply lip gloss at 9:50 AM.

I mean, why would it be? You reason, adjusting your coat so your bite peeks out ever so slightly. After all, air circulation is really important for wounds, right?

You’re so not excited for your date that you forget to pack nausea and pain meds. You even ignore the soreness in your body and the unusual ache in your bite, along with the throbbing headache. It’s all normal at this point, right?

“Good morning, Miss Y/N!” The neighbour’s kids greet you as you pass them in the hallway at precisely 9:55. I mean, it’s not good to be late if he’ll be here at 10, right? That’s just basic manners.

“Good morning!” You greet them with a smile, walking toward the elevator. You feel shaky, but you think nothing of it. Once you’re almost there, you reach for the down button but you miss. You frown. That’s weird. Everything hurts, and your heart pounds. Your phone clatters out of your hand. You stoop to grab it when the whole world goes sideways, then black.

*

*

*

Once again, if anyone was curious, this is the image I had in mind for the fake ring Y/N wears.

It was as though the entire eighteen months did not happen. Hybe, their own kingdom, welcomed them with open arms, fans were roaming the streets in show of their unwavering support for the group and media from all over the world were broadcasting of their return. Likewise, the boys headed straight to the company as soon as they stepped out of the military compound as though they couldn’t wait a single second to reclaim their thrones.

Except for the apparent changes in their bodies as they adapted to the rigorous routine of the military, it was like nothing changed. It was evident by the way he was shamelessly staring at you as the meeting presided. Unwavering. Unblinking.  You could feel the hair at the back of your neck stood up from the crushing uncomfortableness brought by his unwanted attention. You kept your gaze fixed forward, refusing to meet his eyes, except for that one slip—when you caught him sitting back, arms crossed, eyes heavy on you. Taehyung chuckled lowly at the sight of his hyung who looked like he was barely constraining himself. Meanwhile, you wanted to leave the building and perhaps if not for the ironclad contract, the country.

You had gone without this for eighteen months.

You thought those months were enough to extinguish whatever fire he had for you.

You couldn’t have been more wrong.

You should have known that a man such as Kim Namjoon wasn’t someone who let go so easily as evident by the way he persevered to lead BTS from a small company’s gamble to a worldwide phenomenon.

You should have known that he was someone who held promises in high regard, especially when it came from you.

“And so, that concludes our meeting!” Bang PD announced with a clap before addressing Namjoon and Taehyung. “Welcome back, boys and let’s take over the music industry once again.”

The staff cheered for them, some clapped their backs, congratulating them. You, on the other hand, were already one foot out of the room, so close to freedom when Bang PD called you. You groaned inwardly. There just went your escape. “I’m sorry for pulling you out of the TXT team. I know how much you like working with them. But you know how particular Namjoon is,” he sighed, his tone apologetic. “He didn’t want to proceed with his schedule if his usual team is not there.”

You didn’t know how to react. It wasn’t that he was particular with his team. No. It was just that he was particular when it came to you. You must admit that the entire time you spent working for them was one of the best years of your life. Despite the job being demanding, the boys made it worthwhile with the salary, benefits and of course, the friendship you built with them. The job honestly opened a lot of doors for you, doors that you could walk through any moment had it not been for one foolish mistake.

Everyday felt like living your dreams. You were literally living the life people dreamed of until he turned it into a nightmare. Or was it you who sabotaged yourself? Was it you who flew too close to the fire only to find out that the fire would rather burnout than let go?

It honestly started with a simple, harmless admiration.

You were with them almost every single day. You weren’t blind. You saw how the boys held this unexplainable charm that inevitably drew the fans. You noticed. But it was harder not to notice Namjoon more. He was charming, polite, a true leader in every sense of the word, intelligent, and well… he was like a man written by a woman.

As someone who had to work closely with his face, you could see the dark bags in his eyes, the tiredness that could only be hidden by makeup. He was always quiet while you worked with him, only greeting you a quiet good morning before closing his eyes and letting you do the work while the other members filled the room with noise and energy.

The next schedule with him, you were sure to buy him coffee after asking around the staff what he preferred. When you placed it on the table in front of him, he blinked at it, bleary-eyed.

He looked surprised, blinking his sleepy eyes before slowly drinking the coffee, hiding his dimpled smile. It became a quiet ritual after that. You’d bring the coffee; he’d give you a warm smile and a soft “thank you.” And each time, those simple gestures were enough to warm you far more than the drink ever could. It started with coffee.

Then came the conversations—short at first, until one day he asked about the book in your bag. The next thing you knew, the two of you were trading thoughts about novels while you brushed powder across his skin.

He smiled more now. His eyes seemed brighter. And in those moments, it was easy to believe he was warmer too.

If there was a thing such as a slow burn, yours was probably the slowest.

You didn’t even think your crush would turn out to something more, and at that point you just truly felt bad for the guy. He was falling asleep from working too hard. You’d been pulled from your usual schedule and assigned to another group, accompanying them overseas for an entire week. By the third day, you were exhausted, halfway through a late dinner in your hotel room, when your phone lit up.

Where are you?

You stared at the unknown number.

I’m sorry. Who’s this?

A pause. Then—

Namjoon.

Before you could even process, another message came through.

Where are you?

You hesitated, fingers hovering over the screen.

I’m in Japan. Do you need anything?

When will you come back?

On the 28th. Why?

The next day, you were asked by the company to come back immediately. You weren’t told why.

When you walked in the makeup room once again, you heard someone muttered thank god.

Namjoon was already there, one leg crossed over the other, glancing up from his phone—not at you, but at your reflection in the mirror. His gaze was sharp, unblinking, the kind of look that pinned you in place.

Looking back, that should have been the first red flag.

You weren’t assigned to another group since then.

 Suffice to say, it was the beginning of Namjoon monopolizing your time —one subtle scheduling change at a time, until every shift, every day, every hour seemed to circle back to him.

“What are you two?” Hoseok once asked, the ever-present smile in his face was as wide as ever.

His question caught you off guard you until he clarified that he was asking about you and the group’s leader. You said that you were friends. Hoseok lost his smile right then and there.

You weren’t delusional to hope that a simple harmless crush of yours would turn into a relationship. First, you didn’t think you would survive being in a relationship with an idol and second, Namjoon didn’t even like you.

You shrugged off that peculiar interaction.

“You should come to the party!”

You were already shaking your head before they could even finish their sentence. Parties weren’t your scene, and after the exhausting wrap on their album shoot, all you wanted was to go home and collapse into bed.

“Just stop by, noona! We promise we’ll have the drivers take you straight to your apartment!” Jimin pleaded, leaning forward with that disarming smile that made it harder to say no.

“I don’t want to be an imposition, really—” you began, already rehearsing your polite refusal.

“I’ll give out a bonus if you come,” Namjoon said suddenly, his voice cutting cleanly through the room.

You turned to him, startled. He’d been quiet through the entire exchange, absorbed in his phone—or so you thought. But now his eyes were on you, calm, unreadable, as if he’d been listening the whole time.

“…I’m going.”

Jimin whooped in victory. Namjoon just went back to his phone, but you caught the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth in the mirror.

It was where it all truly went down.

The party was exclusive only for Hybe, everyone was having fun with all the drinks, food and the music. The members were obviously enjoying themselves as they should. They deserved it after the crucial several months of back-to-back schedule. You’d been content to ride the wave of celebration for a while, but the alcohol was beginning to blur your thoughts, the heat of the room pressing in. Fresh air seemed like the only solution. You weren’t sure why the balcony called to you, but you went, slipping out into the cool night. The muted bass of the party thudded faintly behind you as you inhaled deeply, the crisp air clearing your head.

Leaning against the railing, you tilted your head back to admire the stars—until a puff of smoke curled into the air on your right.

You turned.

There, half-swallowed by the shadows, stood Namjoon. The glow of the ember lit the edge of his face, the cigarette resting casually between his lips. His eyes met yours through the haze, unreadable.

You blinked, owlishly.

He looked at your lips, heat in his eyes apparent. It was quiet, no one dared to say a word. Namjoon stepped closer to you, his thick thighs enclosed by dark slacks and he didn’t stop until he was just a shy inch from you.

Your eyes were at his chest, and ever so slowly, you met his draconic eyes.

He smiled.

And you were gone.

His hand was on the back of your head, the other tilting your jaw up to meet his as he kissed you.

It wasn’t slow. It wasn’t soft. It was hungry, ravenous, dangerous. Namjoon drove you back until your spine hit the wall, hidden in shadow. His lips devoured yours, his tongue claiming without asking, playing with yours as if it already belonged to him. He tasted right—alarmingly right.

His hands roamed lower, gripping your thigh, thumb tracing along the strip of skin your dress exposed. The restraint in his touch was thin, trembling.

“I’ve wanted to do this,” he growled against your mouth, “every single fucking day.”

A beat.

Your breaths filling the air.

“…What’s stopping you?”

That was your second mistake.

The night was a blur.

Not because it was unmemorable, but because everything happened so fast.

Before you knew it, you were in his apartment. You heard the door click shut behind you, and as ominous as it sounded, you remembered thinking you just sealed your fate. Namjoon was looking at you, the apartment dark saved by the moonlight from the floor to ceiling window.

His hand slid across your jaw, his eyes fascinated by you.

You touched his hand, grappling with a semblance of control even when his erection was pressing against your stomach. “I..I don’t usually do this-”

His smile was slow, dangerous, the kind that promised nothing good.

“Good.”

It was all he said before he lifted you by the waist and hoisted you up the table. He pushed your legs apart, his hips in between them as he kissed you, his lips soft against yours. You couldn’t help but moan as he peppered kisses down your shoulders then his lips landed on top of your breast.

He was patient, but not when it came to this as he ripped down your bra and suck on your nipples like he had been starving for so long. His fingers went down to your core, pressing on your clothed clit and without any preamble, ripped your panties.

“Fuck, baby, you’re wet just for me,” he growled before he lifted your legs over his broad shoulders. He thrusted his tongue while sucking your clit. He was animalistic, hungry, savage as he made you come and come again until your begged him to stop. At one point you did try to crawl off the table only to be stopped by his strong arms.

“Where are you going, baby? We’re not yet done,” he crooned at you as he fingered you, too overstimulated to notice that you didn’t once discuss about protection.

“N-Namjoon–”

“Yes, baby girl?” he whispered and you heard zipper and the buckle of belt. You looked down and your eyes widened at his size.

“I…I don’t think that’s going to fit..”

“Of course it will,” he assured and wondered what you were talking about when you were made for him.

He guided the bulbous head of his cock, bumping your clit every so often. You mewled from the sensation. You were a mess. He knew it and he loved it.

“Namjoon…baby, please daddy–”

“What do you need baby?”

“Y-your cock. Daddy please!”

“Hmm,” he pushed the head of his cock in you and you knew you came a little from being so overstimulated, his thumb rubbing your wet clit. “I only take what’s mine,” he murmured. “Are you mine?”

“D-daddy –”

“Are you mine, baby girl?”

“Y-yours –”

You didn’t even finish when he slammed in you. you were squeezing your tight cunt around his hard cock. You could feel everything. You could feel the vein, the hardness and how deep he was in you. To Namjoon, this was nirvana. He could feel himself already becoming addicted. Obsessive, even. This was why he never allowed himself to indulge on his desires.

He was an obsessive man.

He never expected it to feel this fucking good. His fingers were going to leave marks, your neck would display his ownership.

“You’re doing so good for me, baby. You feel incredible.”

He could feel you tremble as he shuddered out of his orgasm, his hot cum inside you.

You remembered waking up the next day with your body sore and his arm wrapped around you. You didn’t know how you made it out of his apartment quietly, but you did.

Shame burned through you, vivid and suffocating. You kept replaying the night in your mind—his hands, his voice, the way you’d let go of every line you’d sworn you wouldn’t cross. It wasn’t just unprofessional. It was reckless.

He must think you were the kind of person who let desire dictate their choices. You couldn’t even bring yourself to blame him if he did.

So when your phone began lighting up with message after message from him, you didn’t open a single one. You didn’t have to—not when you’d already decided you were taking the month off. No work, no meetings, no chance encounters in dim-lit rooms with him standing far too close.

“What do you mean I am off the group’s shoot?”

The manager exhaled heavily, like he’d been dreading this conversation. Around the conference table, the other staff avoided your eyes, staring down at papers, coffee cups, anything but you.

“Y/N,” he began carefully, “I wish I could give you a better answer, but… BTS specifically requested for you to be exclusive to them.” He hesitated before adding, “They said Kim Namjoon is… very particular.”

And there it was. The consequence of your actions. The price for leaving his bed.

The weight of it settled in your chest, cold and suffocating. You didn’t have to ask why. You already knew.

It only worsened from there. Namjoon wanted you around all the time—on sets, in meetings, in the shadows of every event. You weren’t just working with BTS anymore; you were orbiting him, tethered by something you didn’t remember agreeing to but somehow couldn’t break free from.

You were starting to suffocate. How could you even know that that horrendous mistake would turn your life into a nightmare?

You didn’t want to be in this situation, much less being in a pseudo-relationship with the leader of one of the biggest groups in the world. You wanted your old life back. In fact, you tried to break it off whatever was between the two of you one dinner.

“I can’t keep doing this,” you said, barely able to meet his eyes. “It’s not… right. I want things to go back to normal.”

Namjoon, with that practiced calm that made you want to scream, simply asked, “And what happens if the industry finds out you left because you fucked one of the members… and you’re in a relationship with one of them?”

You blinked at him, pulse skipping. “You’re not my boyfriend—”

He tilted his head slightly, setting down his chopsticks with deliberate slowness. “You’re right,” he said, voice soft but unyielding. “A husband and wife sounds better. More ironclad.”

Your stomach dropped. “Are you insane?” you asked, half-hoping he would laugh and tell you this was all some sick joke.

But he just shrugged, like the idea of marrying you on paper to keep you locked in his orbit was the most natural thing in the world.

The air in the meeting room was already taut, but the moment the door opened, the tension doubled. Seokjin walked in during his rare break from service—still in casual military uniform, the air of authority he’d gained during service clinging to him.

You and the other staff scrambled to your feet out of habit, but Seokjin’s eyes didn’t waver from Namjoon.

“Stay,” he said—not to the room, but to you specifically.

You froze, halfway standing.

His gaze slid back to Namjoon. “Are you changing our plans because of her?”

Namjoon leaned back in his chair, hands folded loosely on the table as if this was nothing more than a routine discussion.

“She’s going to leave once I’m in there.”

The bluntness of it hit like a slap.

You opened your mouth to protest, but Seokjin’s eyes cut to you sharp, assessing before returning to Namjoon.

“That’s not a reason to disrupt the schedule,” he said, voice clipped.

“It’s reason enough for me,” Namjoon replied calmly, though his eyes flicked toward you like a silent warning.

And suddenly you understood: This wasn’t just about enlistment. It was about making sure you had nowhere to run.

And now, you saw an out. A rare opportunity for you to be free from him.

Eighteen months of freedom.

Eighteen months of breathing space.

Seokjin rubbed his forehead, the kind of motion that said he’d been dragged into too many of Namjoon’s storms before. He leveled his gaze at his younger brother.

“This isn’t you, Namjoon.”

“Is she not going to run?” Namjoon asked, voice calm, but the words were like a blade. “If I enlist?”

Your stomach sank. Hypothetical, he said—except you knew he already believed the answer.

Seokjin exhaled through his nose. “What if we get her to sign a contract? Will that be enough?”

Namjoon didn’t hesitate. “I want her to promise me that she’ll marry me after.”

Your head snapped toward him. “What?!”

He didn’t even flinch. He just looked at you—steady, deliberate—like the idea was no more outrageous than asking you to pass the salt.

“Promise me,” he said quietly, “and I’ll go.”

What would a false promise cost you, right?

This.

This was what it cost you—eighteen months of deliberate silence.

Eighteen months of ignoring every call, every text, every midnight voicemail where his voice cracked as he told you he couldn’t sleep without you. That he was wasting away. That he didn’t know how to breathe in a world where you didn’t look at him.

And maybe you should’ve felt something—guilt, pity, even the faint ache of what used to be but you didn’t. You were just counting days, waiting for the lock on your cage to rust.

Your contract was almost up. One more month and you could be free from HYBE, from the constant eyes, from him.

You’d already mapped out your exit like a military operation. No forwarding address. No lingering contacts. No chance encounters in dim-lit corridors with him standing too close.

You thought he got over you now.

You were wrong.

 “It’s just for one two days. Think of it as the last thing you’ll have to do for the company before you leave,” Bang PD said with a smile before leaving the room. You sighed, shoulders sagging, and turned—only to freeze.

There he was, blocking the hallway like he’d been waiting all morning just for this exact moment.

You blinked, owlish and unprepared, words stuttering in your throat. What did you say to someone you’d ghosted for almost two years? Someone whose messages you’d ignored, whose calls you’d silenced until the sound of his ringtone felt like a warning siren?

“W-welcome back, Namjoon,” you managed, voice too soft, too unsure.

He didn’t return the greeting. His eyes stayed locked on you, dark and unreadable, his arms folded across his chest as though he had every second in the world to stand there and dissect you.

“You’re resigning?”

It wasn’t an accusation. It wasn’t even a question, not really. More like a quiet confirmation of something he already knew.

You hesitated, then nodded. “Yes.”

A beat passed.

“Okay,” he said finally, turning slightly to let you pass. “See you in the shoot.”

And that was it. No anger. No plea. No demand.

For a second—just a fleeting second—you thought maybe he really had gotten over it. That maybe eighteen months had dulled whatever hold he thought he had on you.

The shoot happened to be six hours away from Seoul. The company car dropped you off with your things in front of what seemed to be a rest house.

It was too quiet to be a shoot.

You were used to chaos—the constant hum of chatter, the thud of heavy equipment being hauled around, cars lined up outside ready to transport anything that needed moving. But now? Nothing. Not even the faintest echo of footsteps.

Peculiar didn’t even begin to cover it.

But still, this was your last work for the company. After this, you were done, you told yourself. You just had to suck it up.

You opened the door only to be met with silence. Despite the house being homey filled with paintings and books, there was something eerie about it that you just couldn’t put your finger to. You walked deeper into the house, your phone on your hand calling your co-worker about where they could possibly be.

“Honey, what shoot? We are all in a break.”

You froze. “What?”

A low, velvety whisper brushed against your ear. “Welcome home, baby.”

You gasped, spinning around only to find Kim Namjoon standing far too close. Shirtless, his broad chest damp and glistening, grey sweats hanging low on his hips. His hair was tousled, droplets still sliding down his temple.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, as if this were the most normal thing in the world. “I didn’t know you’d be this early, but I cooked just in case. Come on.”

Before you could process, his hand wrapped around yours, warm and firm, pulling you toward the kitchen.

You struggled, twisting your wrist. “W-what’s going on? Where’s the shoot? W-ha—”

Namjoon chuckled, finally stopping. He turned to face you, closing the distance in a single step, his hand sliding to your waist until your bodies were flush. His breath was warm on your skin as he dipped his head to inhale at your neck.

“God, I missed you,” he murmured. “I barely slept in there, did you know that? I was losing my mind not being able to get to you.” His grip tightened, possessive. “Ah, but regardless… you’re here now.”

You attempted to push him away to no avail. “Namjoon, seriously, where is everyone? My team was supposed to—”

“They’re not coming.” His tone was casual, almost lazy, but it landed like a brick in your chest.

Your phone was still in your hand. You glanced at it, thumb hovering over the screen to call again only for him to pluck it away with ease. He set it down on the counter like it was nothing.

“You…” Your mouth went dry. “…you set this up.”

Namjoon didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned in again, brushing his lips against your temple. “Do you know how many strings I had to pull to make sure you were here alone?” he murmured, almost proudly. “No interruptions. No distractions. Just you and me.”

The warmth of the house now felt suffocating. Your gaze darted toward the front door, but Namjoon’s body shifted subtly, blocking the way without even touching you.

The air between you crackled with something you couldn’t quite name—part longing, part danger.

You swallowed hard. “Namjoon… what do you want from me?”

He grinned then, eyes crinkling in a way that would’ve been charming anywhere else, with anyone else.

“Your promise, my dear wife.”

You froze. “That was… I didn’t mean it, Namjoon. We would never work out, and you know that.”

His gaze darkened—not with anger, but with a strange, unshakable certainty. “You know what I realized in there? I realized that I want… no. I crave a family. I was hoping the seed I kept on planting in you would bear us a child, but maybe it wasn’t time. I was so disappointed every time your period came. But we have all the time in the world now… wife.”

Your stomach churned. “I’m not your wife. I will never be your wife—”

“Baby,” he interrupted softly, almost pitying. “You already are. Didn’t you think I wouldn’t… pull strings for you?”

You shook your head, taking a step back, but his hand caught your wrist with the precision of someone who had imagined this moment a thousand times.

“What strings?” you demanded.

Namjoon’s smirk deepened. “Immigration can be so… accommodating when the right documents cross their desk. You signed things you didn’t read, remember? When you thought it was just for a work visa?” He leaned in, eyes locked on yours. “Turns out you signed our marriage license, too.”

The room tilted. The paintings on the wall blurred. “No—”

“Yes,” he murmured, brushing his thumb along your jaw, as if comforting you. “And now there’s nowhere for you to go. Korea is home. I am home.”

You tore your wrist free, stumbling back, breath ragged. “You can’t—”

“I already did.” His voice was gentle, final.

And then, as if to seal it, he reached over to the counter and slid a small velvet box toward you. Inside was a simple gold band.

“Welcome home, Mrs. Kim.”

The phone buzzes on your nightstand, pulling you out of a restless haze. It’s 2 a.m., but sleep’s been a stranger lately—not with Namjoon halfway across the globe, his world tour stretching on for months. Your body’s been a traitor, aching for him in ways that keep you up, thighs pressed together under the sheets. You glance at the screen, and your heart skips. Joonie.

You fumble to answer, voice thick with sleep and something else—need. “Hey, baby.”

“Couldn’t sleep, huh?” His voice is low, a rumble that sends a shiver down your spine even through the phone. You can hear the smirk in it, the way he knows exactly what’s got you so wired.

You shift under the covers, the cotton of his stolen T-shirt brushing against your sensitive skin. “Miss you,” you murmur, and it’s not just sweet talk. Your pussy’s been throbbing for days, a dull ache that no amount of distraction can soothe. He warned you before he left: no touching without my permission. And you’ve been good—mostly.

“Miss you too, baby girl,” he says, softer now, but there’s an edge to it, like he’s testing the waters. “What’s got you up so late? You sound… tense.”

You bite your lip, heat pooling between your thighs. You could lie, but Namjoon’s got a sixth sense for your bullshit. “Just… thinking about you,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s been too long, Joon.”

There’s a pause, and you can almost see him—sprawled in some hotel room, shirtless, maybe, his dimpled smile turning sharp. “Thinking about me how?” he asks, and oh, he’s definitely onto you now.

Your breath catches. “I… I need you,” you say, the words spilling out before you can stop them. “It’s bad, Joon. I can’t stop thinking about your hands, your mouth… your cock.” The last word comes out desperate, and you press your thighs together, trying to ease the ache.

He chuckles, dark and dangerous. “Oh, baby, you’re in trouble, aren’t you? Been keeping those pretty hands off like I told you?”

“Y-Yes,” you stammer, but it’s half-hearted. You’ve been teetering on the edge, fingers itching to slip under your panties, but you’ve held out. Barely.

“Don’t lie to me, Y/N.” His voice drops, all command now, the idol charisma bleeding into something possessive. “You know what happens when you disobey.”

Your heart races, arousal spiking at the warning. “I’ve been good,” you insist, but it sounds like a plea. “I swear, I haven’t touched. But it’s… it’s so hard, Joon. I need you so bad.”

He hums, considering, and you can picture him leaning back, one hand dragging through his hair. “Poor baby,” he coos, mockingly sweet. “Your pussy’s aching for me, isn’t it? Bet you’re soaking through those little panties right now.”

You whimper, because he’s right. You’re drenched, the fabric clinging to your folds, and every word he says makes it worse. “Namjoon, please,” you beg. “Let me touch. Just a little.”

“Not yet,” he says, firm. “You don’t get to decide, baby girl. That’s mine to control, even from here.” His voice softens, but it’s no less commanding. “Put the phone on speaker and lay back. I want to hear every sound you make.”

You obey, hands trembling as you set the phone beside you and settle against the pillows. The air feels heavier now, charged with anticipation. “Okay,” you whisper. “It’s on.”

“Good girl.” The praise sends a jolt through you, and you clench around nothing, desperate for friction. “Now, tell me exactly what you’re feeling. Don’t hold back.”

You swallow, heat creeping up your neck. “I’m… wet,” you admit, voice shaky. “So wet it’s embarrassing. My clit’s throbbing, and I keep imagining your fingers there, or your tongue. I can’t stop thinking about how you’d feel inside me, stretching me out.”

“Fuck,” he groans, and the sound of him shifting—maybe adjusting himself—makes your mouth water. “You’re killing me, baby. But you don’t get to touch until I say. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” you breathe, the honorific slipping out naturally. It’s what he likes when he’s in this mood, and you’re too far gone to care about pride.

“God, you’re so fucking perfect when you’re like this,” he murmurs. “All needy and obedient for me. You wanna know what I’d do if I was there?”

You nod, then remember he can’t see. “Tell me. Please.”

“I’d pin you down,” he starts, voice rough with want. “Spread those pretty thighs wide and tease you until you’re crying for it. Lick that sweet pussy so slow you’d be begging me to let you come. But I wouldn’t—not until I’ve got you shaking, not until you’re so desperate you can’t think straight.”

You moan, hips bucking involuntarily, and he catches it. “Y/N,” he warns, sharp. “Don’t you dare move. You stay still, or I’ll make you wait another week.”

“I’m trying,” you whine, gripping the sheets to keep your hands from wandering. “It’s so hard, Joon. I need something.”

“I know, baby,” he soothes, but there’s a wicked edge to it. “You’re gonna be good for me, though. You’re gonna wait until I say. Now, spread your legs wider. Imagine me there, watching you fall apart without a single touch.”

You do as he says, legs trembling as you spread them, the cool air hitting your soaked core. It’s torture, the kind that makes your whole body hum with want. “Joon, I can’t—please, let me touch.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and you think you’ve pushed too far. Then, finally: “Alright, baby girl. One finger. Just one. Circle your clit, nice and slow.”

You nearly sob with relief, hand diving under your panties. Your finger finds your clit, slick and swollen, and you start circling, slow like he said. The pleasure’s so sharp it’s almost too much, and you whimper his name.

“That’s it,” he growls, and you hear the faint sound of a zipper, then a low groan. He’s touching himself too, and the thought makes you dizzy. “Fuck, Y/N, you sound so pretty. Keep going, but don’t speed up. Let it build.”

You obey, even though it’s agony to keep the pace slow. Your body’s screaming for more, but his voice anchors you, keeps you tethered to his control. “Namjoon,” you gasp, “I’m so close already.”

“Not yet,” he says, and you can hear the strain in his voice, like he’s fighting his own urges. “You come when I say, baby. Tell me how it feels.”

“It’s so good,” you choke out, finger still circling, your hips twitching. “But it’s not enough. I need you, Joon. Need your cock, need you to fill me up.”

“Shit,” he hisses, and there’s a slick sound on his end, his hand moving faster. “You’re gonna get it, baby. When I’m back, I’m gonna fuck you so hard you’ll feel me for days. Gonna make that tight little pussy mine again.”

His words push you closer, your finger trembling as you fight to please him. “Please, sir,” you beg, tears prickling at the edges of your eyes. “I can’t hold it much longer.”

“Stop,” he commands, and you cry out, ripping your hand away. Your body’s screaming, clit pulsing with need, but you obey, because it’s him. “Good girl,” he says, softer now. “You’re doing so well for me.”

You’re panting, chest heaving, and he’s breathing hard too. “Joon,” you whisper, “are you…?”

“Yeah,” he admits, voice rough. “Got my hand wrapped around my cock, thinking about you. You’re driving me fucking crazy, Y/N.”

The image sends a fresh wave of heat through you, and you clench around nothing, desperate. “Let me come,” you plead. “I’ll be so good for you, I promise.”

He groans, long and low, and you know he’s close too. “Alright, baby,” he says finally. “Two fingers, inside. Fuck yourself for me, but don’t touch your clit until I say.”

You scramble to obey, pushing two fingers into your dripping core. The stretch is nowhere near enough, but it’s something, and you moan his name as you start to move. “Feels so good,” you gasp, “but it’s not you.”

“Fuck, I know,” he growls. “Just keep going. Imagine it’s me, filling you up, hitting that spot you love.”

You do, curling your fingers just right, and it’s almost too much. “Namjoon, please,” you beg again. “Need to come.”

“Touch your clit,” he says, voice wrecked. “Fast, baby. Come for me.”

Your thumb finds your clit, and it takes three quick circles before you’re shattering, a broken moan spilling out as your orgasm crashes through you. You hear him groan, a string of curses, and then his own release, the sound of his pleasure pushing you even higher.

For a moment, it’s just panting, the two of you catching your breath across continents. Then he laughs, soft and warm. “Fuck, Y/N. You’re gonna be the death of me.”

You smile, sated but still aching for the real thing. “Come home soon, Joon.”

“Two more weeks,” he promises, voice tender now. “Then you’re mine.”

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this steamy little piece! Reblog/like if you want more Namjoon content, and let me know your thoughts in the comments! 🖤

He was there.

He lived there. In fact, hell was an old friend of his, one that he spent too much time with. Hell was before you, long before. He just never thought there could be a hell after you.

Each day after your supposedly demise was hell for him– a nightmare that just wouldn’t end. It was something he couldn’t escape. It was as though his world was devoid of any good, of any color and taste, of any happiness. Hell was not a place. No. Hell was a feeling.

It was the weight that pressed down on him every morning, the heaviness in his chest when he opened his eyes to find your side of the bed empty. Hell was the silence that replaced your laughter, the absence of your voice calling his name, the ghost of your touch that never quite left his skin. Hell was the cold, unrelenting thought that you were gone, and that he'd never get to hold you again.

It was exactly what he was feeling as you looked at him with disgust in your eyes. It was the way you looked at him as though you no longer recognized him. It was the way you wanted nothing but to leave him again.

Yet Yoongi knew what heaven was, too. He had known because of you.

You were his heaven. You were his latibule, his safe place, the one person who could calm the storms inside him. When you were with him, he could breathe.

You had been the anchor, the one thing that kept him tethered to a life that wasn’t just pain and darkness. When you ‘died’, he just kept sinking. It was too cold without you. You took the sun with you and every day since then felt like he was drowning. It didn’t matter how much time had passed or how many things had changed in the world around him—nothing mattered when you were gone. You had been everything.

He wanted to tell you that hell wasn’t a place. It was a life without you in it. And for Yoongi, that was the cruelest punishment of all.

So, forgive him if he couldn’t let go. Forgive him for holding on so tightly, because after all the pain, after all the years of suffocating, the thought of losing you again was simply unimaginable.

He wouldn’t let go, not even when you were glaring at him so hard from your position on the hospital bed. All that mattered was that you were here, you were alive, and he wasn’t going to let you slip away again.

And that was how Seokjin found you and Yoongi.

He blinked at the atmosphere in the hospital room. The animosity coming from you was too strong, while Yoongi was just shrugging off your irritation., his hold on your hand not letting up for even a second.

The scene was enough to suffocate him—his eyes flicking between you, still glaring at Yoongi with fire in your eyes, and Yoongi, whose posture was relaxed but whose expression was softer, almost... defeated. It was clear to Seokjin that Yoongi was not going to move an inch, and you, in your hospital bed, weren’t about to give in. The tension in the room was so thick it almost had a physical presence.

“For the record,” Seokjin started, trying to cut through the tension as he checked your dextrose and adjusted the IV drip, his voice light and casual as though he was merely talking about the sunny weather outside. "I’d rather be in a ten-day conference with a bunch of idiots than be here right now. Scratch that. I’d rather be with Jungkook and listen to him go on and on about missing his wife than be here. Honestly."

Silence.

Seokjin sighed as he turned away from the bedside table, jotting something down on his tablet. “I also know a good relationship therapist. I’ll give you her card later, Yoongs.”

Yoongi finally looked up at Seokjin, his eyes tired but steady. “Not in the mood for your jokes, hyung.”

“Are you in the mood to let me go?” You asked dryly, you brain itching to leave the hospital and go back to your own life.

Yoongi smirked, his eyes flicking to yours, a teasing glint softening the sharp edges of his gaze. His fingers tightened around yours just enough to remind you he wasn’t letting go anytime soon. “Not a chance, angel.” His lips curled into a playful smile, and before you could even process what he was doing, he leaned down and kissed the back of your hand, much to your reluctant surprise.

He wanted to say that he would rather clip your wings. That way, you wouldn’t be able to fly away from him like the angel that you were.

“Drama,” Seokjin singsonged. It would have been impressive how effortlessly his voice flowed, how rich it sounded despite the absurdity of the moment. It would have been, had you not been absolutely annoyed at him. “I’m allergic to that, by the way. Jimin, on the other hand, would thrive in this. I will call him as soon as I finish this.”

Before Yoongi could even respond, Seokjin turned his full attention to you. “I have the results, as well as your records from your previous doctor. I am sure you're already well-aware of your diagnosis. I’m not going into details—"

“Do go into the details,” Yoongi insisted, almost impatient, as he wanted to know all about what happened and who he had to go after for turning you into this. They took something from you and he firmly believed that he should take something from theirs, too.

"I don’t want to," Seokjin said with a simplicity that dripped with smugness, his voice cool and collected in a way that only he could pull off. His gaze shifted to Yoongi, and he pouted exaggeratedly, lips curling into the perfect picture of a petulant child—a brat, through and through. "Time is gold, and you know I’m scheduled every day from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. to look for my runaway sunshine. It’s already 9:23 in the morning, and my sunshine won’t find itself, now, will it?"

“Hyung, it is important that I find-”

 “So, going back before we were rudely interrupted,” he cut him off, completely turning his body to you with a smile on his face. “Operation or no operation? Blind or no blind?”

You blinked owlishly at his approach. The way he phrased it made it feel almost… casual. As though your fate were just another routine decision, like choosing a drink at a café. There was no warmth in his tone, no hesitation. Just… options. And a lack of them at the same time.

The stakes were far higher than Seokjin seemed to realize, but then again, maybe that was exactly how he managed to remain so calm. He had mastered detachment.

“What are the chances of success?” you asked, finally finding your voice. The question tumbled out before you could stop it, and you immediately regretted how small it sounded in the weight of the room. Despite your acceptance with your situation, there was still a part of you that clung to hope that you could live normally again and without the weight of the impending disability. There was a part of you that was praying so hard that you’d get to witness your son grow up.

Seokjin didn’t flinch. In fact, he didn’t even seem to think twice before answering. He spoke almost like he was offering you a simple piece of advice.

“Forty-sixty,” he said, his eyes locking onto yours with a casual coolness that didn’t match the gravity of his words. “But since I’m the doctor… fifty-fifty.”

Suddenly, it hit Yoongi. It wasn’t immediate. It wasn’t one moment, but a sudden avalanche of all the things he hadn’t seen—the things he should have noticed, the things he was too blind to acknowledge, and yet, here they were, all crashing back to him with the force of a thousand waves.

How you had always moved through the dark like it was second nature to you, as though you had already prepared for it. How you never stumbled, never hesitated, even when the room’s lights were out, your steps confident and sure, like you already knew the path in the pitch blackness.

Then there were the nights. Every night, without fail, you would step outside and look at the stars, your gaze soft and wistful, as if you were committing each constellation to memory, as though you feared you might never see them again.

And those mornings. The mornings when you would wake up, your eyes still heavy with sleep, but you would always look at him with such tenderness, a kind of reverence in your gaze that he had never fully understood. Sometimes, when you thought he was asleep, you’d trace the angles of his face with your fingertips, gently memorizing the curve of his jaw, the shape of his nose, the lines of his brow—as if you feared forgetting them, as though you were trying to make sure every detail was etched into your memory forever.

But it wasn’t until that dreadful day that everything crashed down around him.

The day when you failed to see the car coming, when you didn’t even flinch as it came dangerously close, and he had to shout your name to pull you back in time. That moment, when his heart had stopped, and he had felt something break inside of him, but he hadn’t understood why. He thought it was just a close call. He thought you were distracted.

But now, in the quiet aftermath of Seokjin’s words, it all made sense. Your condition was worse than he anticipated.

The decision itself was no brainer to you. You knew what you would choose. There was no assurance that you would see again, and you had long accepted your fate. It just became more difficult now that you had a son. You thought that you would rather lose your sight slowly than lose it all at once. That way, you reasoned, you could still bask in his innocent face and commit his form to memory than to never see him again.

You were about to respond, your mind racing with all the things you wanted to say, but before you could open your mouth, Yoongi stood up suddenly, his chair scraping harshly against the floor. His face shifted from quiet tension to outright frustration, morphing into an expression of disbelief, as if this whole conversation was beneath him.

"Why are we even discussing this?" Yoongi said, his voice rising with impatience. "My Angel will go under the operation—"

You cut him off immediately, spinning to face him with a glare sharp enough to cut through his words.

“Who says I will?” You shot him an incredulous look, appalled by his audacity. You turned to him with an incredulous look. The audacity of this man who fooled you to decide for you! “You don’t have a say in this.”

Yoongi froze, his expression falling into an unreadable mask for a moment before a humorless chuckle left his lips. He didn't like this, not one bit. In fact, he seemed almost offended by your defiance. He barely spared you a glance before turning to Seokjin, his entire posture brimming with the kind of authority he rarely let slip.

“I’ll pay double the cost, hyung,” he said with the kind of conviction that usually made people back down. “Whatever the cost is, I’ll double it. No, I’ll triple it, hyung. She will be well.”

 “Does my decision not matter?!”

Seokjin, thankfully, didn’t let the moment drag on too long. With an exaggerated grimace, he turned to Yoongi, his voice dripping with mock disgust.

“Ew,” Seokjin said, his tone like he’d just stepped in something unpleasant. He glanced Yoongi up and down, as if inspecting him, before tapping away at his tablet with exaggerated speed. "You should know that money does nothing for me." He paused, just long enough to let that sink in, then flashed the tablet at you like it was some kind of trophy.

"Look!" he said with a wide, almost smug grin. "And that’s just my money in one of the many, many, many accounts I have. My and sunshine’s future children can live off of my wealth for several generations." He flicked his eyes over to Yoongi, his expression gleeful, as if he’d just won an argument that wasn’t even his to win.

“And besides!” Seokjin continued, not missing a beat. “I cannot operate on someone in my hospital without consent! That is malpractice!”

Yoongi’s eyes flared with incredulity. "That is where you draw the line?!" His voice rose again, this time laced with disbelief, frustration, and something else, something darker. "Malpractice? You—"

“Well, I have to draw the line somewhere!” Seokjin said, his voice light and teasing, though the words held a strange weight, the corners of his lips curling into a playful smirk. “If I don’t, I’ll be just like the Joker—only with a more handsome, perfect, and immaculate face. Wouldn’t you agree?”

He winked for emphasis, clearly pleased with his own self-deprecating humor. But as ridiculous as his words sounded, there was a sharp truth to them. Heavens knew what might happen if Seokjin ever truly lost the tiny bit of humanity and morality he still clung to. That would be a terrifying thought.

But Yoongi wasn’t laughing.

He was standing in the middle of the room, his fists clenched at his sides, jaw tight with frustration. His eyes were a storm of emotion, and as much as he tried to suppress it, there was a flicker of desperation burning beneath the surface.

Seokjin seemed to sense it, his tone turning a bit more serious as he let the joke fall away. “But hyung—” Yoongi began, stepping forward, his voice cracking with a rare vulnerability. “You don’t understand, I need her to be—”

“Only family members can decide for a medical procedure on behalf,” Seokjin interrupted him with an almost bored finality, his tone sharp enough to cut through the tension in the room. “Are you her husband? No? Then no. She has to decide for herself.”

Seokjin turned to him, and this time his eyes didn’t have the usual glint they had on them. This time, it was cold and serious. It was as though there was a switch in his hyung, one that he could freely turn on and off. “Trust me on this, Yoongi.”

He looked down at his watch with a frown. “You made me late. It’s already 10:01! I am definitely going to charge this in your bill!” He ranted on, his long legs moved with purpose, and for a moment, Yoongi almost forgot how ridiculous Seokjin could be when he was trying to make a point.

But just as Seokjin reached the door, he stopped and turned on his heel, his gaze shifting to you.

“And you,” Seokjin pointed directly at you with an overly dramatic flourish, “you have a week to decide. A week, understand? You have to decide, or I will,” he raised his brows at you, hinting another thing that you should disclose to his brother. Your eyes widened at what he was insinuating and you knew your time was running out. You were starting to wonder what his play was that he was actively keeping quiet regarding the other thing that he found out – the secret that you never wanted Yoongi to know. “For the meantime, I’ll discharge you. Don’t get too comfortable here. The two of you are ruining the vibes in my immaculate hospital with your angst that’s definitely worse than Nicholas Spark’s drama novels!”

Yoongi, still standing stiffly in the middle of the room, opened his mouth, probably to protest or to demand more information, but Seokjin wasn’t finished. No, the grand finale was just beginning.

He turned, his finger now wagging at Yoongi with comical intensity. "And you!" Seokjin’s voice rose again, sharper now. "Unless you can become her husband in a week, the decision is just hers to make! Got it? Are you sure you understand? You do? You don’t? Okay, bye!"

“This is kidnapping,” you noted as he lead you inside his penthouse. To be honest, you were terrified of entering another unfamiliar territory. You got so used to your old place and knowing where everything was, knowing which direction to step to avoid uneven floorings, and of knowing all the edges and corners your place had that it became your comfort zone. You were independent there, so opposite to who you were reduced to right now in his space. When your sight worsened further, Hoseok suddenly stopped moving places so often. He decided that it had been long enough and that the family he took for his own was safe and forgotten by him. He decided to show you the soft side of his heart when he noticed how bad you were starting to struggle.

He didn’t know that that was going to become his downfall.

And now, you were back to square one.

“You can call it what you want, and I’ll call it what I want. This is called taking my Angel home,” he replied, his voice deep. He surmised from his drive home that it didn’t matter what you were feeling right now nor the hatred that you kept deep in your heart for him. You loved him once, you sure as hell could do it again.

He’d make you.

He was sure he could because the opposite of that happening was unimaginable to him.

“I’m not your property. I’m not your angel,” you seethed as you attempted to pull your hand away from his. Everything had gone by way too fast that it left you reeling. Your past and present collided, and you feared that you could no longer keep up. At the end of the day, you just wanted to see your son. You wanted, no. You needed to see him longer, to be able to use your sense of sight for far longer before you were subjected to a life of darkness without ever seeing his face again.

Yoongi’s mouth curled into a small, unreadable smile as he gently guided you toward the sofa. His touch never wavered. He was careful, but in a way that only made the underlying control more apparent. When he finally settled you down, he didn’t back off. No, he planted himself right in front of you, on the coffee table, his knee brushing against your thigh, forcing you into his orbit, where you could no longer escape.

"Why is that, angel?" he asked, his voice low, each word dripping with something that could have been sympathy, if it wasn’t for the edge in his tone. You knew that tone well enough. It wasn’t about soothing you. It wasn’t about offering comfort. It was about breaking you down, piece by piece, until he had enough of your cracks exposed to know how to fix what was broken between you two.

The smile on his lips widened slightly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. His eyes were cold, searching, calculating, and you hated how easily you could feel the weight of his gaze as it settled on you. He wasn’t asking a question, not really.

“Because you claimed that I want you gone? That it was me who wanted you dead?” His voice was calm, too calm, but you could hear the quiet fury behind it. His words were deliberate, every one of them cutting through the air like a knife, honing in on your weak points with pinpoint accuracy.

You clenched your fists, nails digging into the fabric of your jeans, trying to hold onto the shred of control you still had. His proximity made it harder to breathe, harder to think, but you refused to let him see you falter. You wouldn’t let him think that you were weaker than you’d been before. You wouldn’t.

“You’re asking me that now?” you spat, the words hot with defiance, but your voice wavered slightly, betraying you. “After everything that’s happened? After you… you did what you did?”

Yoongi tilted his head, an almost imperceptible shift in his posture that made it clear he wasn’t even close to finished with you. He had no intention of letting you get away with anything. Without warning, his hands gripped yours—gentle, but unyielding. You tried to pull away, but his hold was steady, calculated, as he brought your trembling hands to his lips. The warmth of his mouth pressed softly against your skin, and each kiss felt like a slow burn, searing through the thin walls of your resistance as he whispered. “And what exactly did I do the night of the accident? Didn’t I do my absolute best to save you? Didn’t I almost die, too?” You were shaking your head even before he finished speaking. All the thoughts in your mind were chaotic. The constant statements of Hoseok that Yoongi lied, that he was Agustd and that he wanted you dead were clashing with what Yoongi was saying.

Your breath caught in your throat, a wave of panic hitting you like a slap to the face. He was wrong. He had to be. His words were poison, they twisted things, warped them into something unrecognizable. The chaos in your mind roared louder, drowning out his voice, but still, the cracks in your resolve grew wider with every second he spoke.

“No?” His voice dropped even lower, and you could hear the challenge in it, the subtle shift of control. “Angel, just because you didn’t know that I was crazy looking for you doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”

Your heart hammered in your chest, an erratic beat that only matched the mess of thoughts colliding inside your mind. “If you really looked for me, then why didn’t you find me?!” The words slipped out before you could stop them. Your voice trembled with all the pain, the months of waiting, the helplessness that had turned into something darker, something bitter.

You wanted to scream that you waited. You wanted to say that for months, there was a part of you that clung to hope that he’d find you and your son, that he would explain and that everything would be back to the way they were. You wanted to say you waited and waited until hope morphed into an ugly hatred. You waited until the love turned into suspicions and manipulations. You waited until love had to fade in the background.

But your voice faltered. The words caught in your throat.

“Who looked for me?” you whispered, your voice cracking under the weight of your own disbelief. “Was it Suga? Was it Yoongi? Or was it Agustd?”

Yoongi’s expression darkened, and for a moment, his eyes flashed with something close to anger—an emotion so raw, so real, that it stopped you in your tracks. But then, just as quickly, his face softened, and he reached for you again, his thumb brushing gently over the back of your hand.

“Me, my angel,” he replied softly, his voice carrying a tenderness that made your chest ache. “Your Suga. I looked for you. I searched for you.”

The silence that followed hung heavy, thick with the unspoken truths you were both refusing to face. Yoongi exhaled a long, weary sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly as if the weight of everything pressing down on him was almost too much to bear.

“I already told you that I don’t want you gone,” he said, his voice edged with frustration now, the calmness cracking. “Whoever has been feeding you those lies is the one manipulating you. Not me. I already told you the truth.”

You flinched at his words, the sting of them cutting through your confusion like a blade. He was still trying to make you believe him, trying to make you accept his version of reality. And the worst part was, part of you—part of you—wanted to.

But the pain, the years of waiting, the broken trust, the sense of abandonment—it was too much. You had to protect yourself, even if it meant shutting him out. Even if it meant believing the lies, the twisted stories you had heard from others. They had to be true. Didn’t they?

“But you’re not ready to hear that, are you?” Yoongi’s voice broke through your thoughts, colder now, sharper. “You’d rather believe the lies that that person is telling you.”

“Think, angel,” he said, his voice low but forceful, each word coming out with such purpose that it shook you to your core. “You know my past. You know how my parents were. You know I would never do to someone I love what they did to me, more so I would never do that to you.” He leaned in, his breath brushing against your ear as he continued, his voice a soft, almost desperate whisper. “So why do you think that I would do anything to hurt you? Why would I want the only person I have ever loved so fucking sincerely and dearly that it physically hurt?”

You felt the weight of his words pressing down on you, the intensity in his voice pushing you to the brink of something you couldn’t yet grasp. The emotions, the memories, they were swirling in your mind, fighting for dominance. You could feel his pain, his truth, but you couldn’t let yourself go there—not yet. Not when everything was so raw, so broken. Not when he had been the one to break you in ways that couldn’t be easily fixed.

“Stop,” you cut him off, your voice barely above a whisper, but it was a sharp, desperate plea. “Just stop, Yoongi. I can’t do this with you anymore.”

His eyes darkened, not with anger, but with something else—something deeper, something you couldn’t read, but it made your chest tighten. He wasn’t letting you escape. Not this time.

“No.” His voice was firm, unyielding, and it made your breath catch in your throat. “You will hear this, angel. You need to hear this once and for all. I would never hurt you. You have my whole heart. You have my soul.” He was so close now, his presence overwhelming, and the words spilled out of him like a confession. “The only thing I did wrong was failing to protect the only person I have and will ever love.”

His gaze locked onto yours, raw and unfiltered, as though he was trying to pour every ounce of himself into you. You wanted to turn away, to block him out, but your body felt like it was frozen in place, unable to move under the weight of his words.

“I am Agustd,” he said, his voice a low growl that vibrated through your bones, “but to you, I am your Suga. I breathe and live for you.”

You shook your head, trying to push the conflicting emotions away, but they only pressed harder against you. You didn’t know what to believe anymore. His words twisted around your heart, like hands pulling at your insides, but the damage—the damage—had already been done. The things he had left unsaid, the lies, the betrayal, you couldn’t just let that go.

Jung Hoseok’s warnings echoed in your mind, "Yoongi's a liar. Agustd is a monster. He's the one who wanted you dead." The words were like knives, cutting through the fragile web of trust that you had left for him.

“Jung Hoseok was a master manipulator,” Yoongi continued, his voice steady, even as he leaned closer, his forehead nearly brushing against yours. “If he’s the one feeding you lies—and I bet he was—then you need to hear this. His skills could rival that of Taehyung’s. I don’t blame you, even someone trained to resist would find it difficult to not believe in his well-crafted lies.”

You flinched at the mention of Hoseok’s name, the anger in your chest flaring, but Yoongi wasn’t finished. His words were no longer pleading; they were final, like he had made up his mind, and there was no turning back.

“Now that everything is said and done, you will never leave my side again.” His tone was possessive, unyielding, and something dark flickered in his eyes—like a promise, or a threat. “You will be better. I will give you my fucking eye if I have to.” His hands tightened around your wrists, almost painfully, as if to remind you that you were his. “I will find the ones who did this to you, and I will take their eyes for you.”

The words made your stomach churn. The anger, the rawness in his voice—it was like a wild thing, untamed and dangerous. But beneath it, you could hear the desperation, the hunger to make things right in his own twisted way. He was fixing things in his mind, as if it was so simple. As if all of it could be erased with promises and force.

Kim Namjoon POV

“A marriage license? All of a sudden?”

Yoongi’s tone came through the receiver, flat and unbothered. “Don’t act like you can’t procure a legal marriage license if you wanted, Joonie. You do have judges on your payroll,” he said, almost lazily, as though this wasn’t the kind of thing that should set off alarm bells. As if asking for a favor that would change the entire course of someone’s life was a casual thing.

Namjoon pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezing shut in frustration. He knew that tone. Yoongi was done. He was already over the conversation before it even started, and now Namjoon was being roped into cleaning up his mess. "You owe me one, hyung," Namjoon sighed, already thinking of which legal connections he could call in. Who did he know who could bypass the usual bureaucracy of marriage licenses, and who could expedite the paperwork without it being flagged?

Yoongi chuckled on the other end of the line, a sound that made Namjoon’s jaw clench. “I thought helping you make him disappear was payment enough for several favors?” he teased. There it was—the casual reminder of the past favor Namjoon had done for him. That particular favor had been a little more… permanent than he had bargained for.

Ah, yes. His little love’s ex-boyfriend, also known as the sperm donor of who he now considered as his own child. “I’ll have it delivered tomorrow.”

Namjoon sighed as he removed his glasses. His back was turned to his surprise guest as he took in the twinkling city lights from his office window. It was past midnight and yet, he was still as busy as ever because of family matters. It was too bad, though, because he was planning to come home early to the family he took for his own.

“Why are my brothers stressing me out?” Namjoon murmured to himself, sitting back in his chair, his fingers massaging his temples. He didn’t even realize how much tension had been building until he felt the muscles in his neck protest against the pressure.

Jung Hoseok chuckled softly, his form entirely at ease, as though he hadn’t disappeared for years and the world hadn’t been turned upside down in his absence. His posture was relaxed, leaning back slightly in the chair, with a sense of calm that only he could exude. Despite everything—the years, the distance, the mess he’d left behind—he carried himself with the same unbothered grace.

“What did he want, Joonie?” Hoseok asked, a teasing lilt in his voice, the kind of question that usually came with a hint of mischief or curiosity. His eyes, warm and inviting, locked onto Namjoon’s, as if he were trying to brush off the tension hanging in the air.

Namjoon, however, was not in the mood for any of Hoseok's usual lightheartedness. He tossed his glasses onto the desk with a frustrated sigh, his shoulders tight with the stress of being dragged into yet another one of Yoongi’s messes. He had tried to be patient, tried to play the role of the level-headed one, but his temper was running out.

“You know, just normal things like a fucking marriage license,” Namjoon snapped, his voice edged with frustration. “I swear, you all ask for the easiest things from me. Who do you think I am? You think I studied my ass off for years to become a lawyer for you all to ask me to bend the laws for you, and for fuck’s sake, I can no longer ignore this—whose child is that?!”

His finger shot out, pointing sharply at the bundle cradled against Hoseok’s chest.

The baby slept soundly, wrapped snugly in a soft, cream-colored blanket, oblivious to the storm swirling around the adults in the room. Hoseok’s hand gently brushed the child’s head, as if to reassure Namjoon that everything was just fine, as though nothing about this situation was worth stressing over.

“Language, Joonie,” Hoseok chided, his voice a low, soothing murmur, as if Namjoon’s outburst was the least important part of the situation. “Yoongi’s son is sleeping.”

Unlike the others who were punctual, he was a minute late. He was grinning though like he had a secret he couldn’t wait to share to you.

“You seem happy, Taehyung,” you remarked as you stepped closer, the distance between you shrinking with each heartbeat. With his hands tucked into his pockets, he waited eagerly for you to reach him. The only indication of his bubbling excitement was the way he bounced slightly on his feet. He looked so much lighter in this light, you noticed, the usual darkness in his eyes was nowhere to be found.

He looked truly happy like the sun had decided to shine just for him.

“I am,” he said, his grin widening even more. His eyes sparkled with anticipation. How can he not be happy when you were near? “You’re here with me. With us. How can I not be happy?” he murmured, gently pulling your hand into his and clasping your fingers tightly.

You blinked, surprised by his blatant statement. The potion was indeed so powerful that even the cold Taehyung turned into this kind of person you would want for you own had it been a different circumstance. You thought that whoever he would choose to love after all this fiasco would be the luckiest person.

However, you chose to not dwell on his statement. You were extremely happy with the good news your friend shared with you. There would be a cure soon, and you just knew that you would be nothing to him and all of them after this but a fleeting memory. You decided to hold on for a little while longer, and maybe just lived in the moment where this was a possibility. Sooner rather than later, they would go back to not knowing and caring who you were.

You cleared your throat, “So, where are you taking me?”

Taehyung took a sip from his coffee, the takeout food laid on either side of you on the bench. A smile tugged at your lips at the peculiarity of it all—here was one of the richest men in South Korea, someone with immense influence, choosing to share a simple day in the park with you. It felt surreal, the laughter of children and rustling leaves wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

“This is really good,” he hummed appreciatively, his eyes lighting up as he sampled one of the dishes from the food truck. “And it’s really cheap. I cannot believe those fancy restaurants charge so much when the food is just so-so.”

“Right? Finally, someone from the rich admitted it!” you laughed, your voice mingling with the sounds of the park. “I always wondered if the taste buds of the rich are just inherently different from us. There’s no way you guys are satisfied with those little servings of dishes. Also, is this your first time eating here?”

“Yes…” Taehyung rubbed the back of his neck, glancing at the pond sheepishly. “I always wanted to do this with a girlfriend. You know, those TV dramas show how romantic this is.”

You couldn’t help but grin at his confession and the innocence in his voice. The sincerity of his confession made him endearing, if not more. “So, here we are, living the drama, huh? Too bad you didn’t do this with your real girlfriend.”

He glared at you, his expression mock-serious, before playfully snatching your hand and fully enclosing it with his. “You’re my real girlfriend,” he grumbled childishly, a spark of mischief dancing in his eyes.

Your heart raced at the sudden intimacy, warmth flooding through you. “Oh, really? Guess I should start practicing my dramatic sighs and longing gazes then,” you teased, squeezing his hand gently.

“Absolutely,” he said with a grin, his earlier shyness melting away. “I expect nothing less from my leading lady.”

It was a nice lunch out which should have ended as nicely as it started.

But you should have known your wish was too good to be true.

You were walking with him on your way back to the office when he randomly decided to go back and buy his brothers takeout food. He claimed that since he thoroughly enjoyed it, his brothers should too so that they would know just what they were missing. He asked you to wait for a little while before he turned back. And you did. You were contented with scrolling through your social media when you were interrupted.

“Excuse me, miss?” A man called for you, his smile was warm as he looked at you. “May I know what time it is?”

“Oh uhm, it’s 1:37,” you replied, glancing at the screen of your phone.

He thanked you politely before resuming his walk when he abruptly stopped. He chuckled sheepishly, looking at you over his lashes. “I really don’t need to know the time. I’m sorry, I’m really bad at this. You’re just so beautiful –”

“May I help you?” Taehyung’s voice suddenly cut through the air, firm yet protective as he reappeared, a bag of takeout in hand. He stepped in front of you, effectively blocking you from the other man’s view. His face was void of any emotion, yet he managed to terrify the man.

The man straightened, clearly caught off guard. Taehyung’s presence shifted the atmosphere, his expression a mix of confusion and an underlying feeling of intimidation. “Uh, I was just… asking the time,” the man stammered, taking a step back.

Taehyung’s gaze narrowed slightly, a hint of a challenge in his posture. “Right. And now you’ve got the time. Anything else?”

“Man, I’m not looking for any trouble. I-I just really thought she’s single. I meant no harm!” the man protested, his voice shaky.

“Why are you still here?” Taehyung whispered, the sound of irritation was heavy in his tone. “Why are you still looking at my woman?” He asked, the words coming out as a low growl, each syllable deliberate and heavy.

The air between you crackled with tension as the man’s face blanched, realizing he had crossed a line. He raised his hands defensively, backing away further. “I—I didn’t know! Sorry, I just thought—”

“Thought what?” Taehyung pressed, taking a step forward, his stance unwavering. “That it was okay to interrupt her? To make her uncomfortable?” He was too close to the man, his hands closed to a fist as though he was just one look away from exploding. “That you can steal her away from us?!”

How could you ever think that he was something other than the darkness that was caging his heart? How could you ever be so naïve? “Hey, it’s fine. He didn’t bother me at all,” you interjected gently, trying to diffuse the situation before it escalated further. “Let’s just let him go.”

Gone was the sweet man you perceived him to be not long ago, and in his place was the darkness you always knew him to be when he slowly turned around after the man swiftly escaped the situation. “Remember this, little one,” he started, his voice grave yet commanding, a blend of promise and threat. “We are the only one for you.”

You couldn't shake off the discomfort that Taehyung's interaction had stirred within you.

You were deep in your thoughts, terror and anxiety in your heart. He was the third in the schedule and you still had four to go. All the interactions you had with the boys so far only made you see the warning signs flashing in your mind. This was a wrong decision. You should have heeded your friend’s warning about spending time with them and avoided skinship as much as possible.  

You should have focused on finding the cure. However, you couldn’t just turn your back on them, not when they all acted like they were on their deathbeds as though you were the only cure, badly needing you to take their next breath. The weight of their dependency tugged at your conscience, making it harder to escape the turmoil that surrounded you. Hence, your predicament.

Taehyung’s reaction was too much. The potion was turning them into jealous, possessive men, their natural temperaments amplified into something almost unrecognizable. It had only been three days since the potion had taken effect, yet it seemed to amplify their emotions, turning them into jealous, clingy versions of themselves. You felt a chill run down your spine as you recalled the way his eyes had darkened, how intense his gaze had been, as if he saw you as something he needed to protect at all costs.

Consumed by these unsettling thoughts, you almost forgot about Jungkook entirely. His presence had slipped into the background amidst the chaos Taehyung’s behavior had caused. That is, until the hurried sound of footsteps interrupted your spiral. You turned, startled, to find a group of Jungkook’s guards, their expressions tight with fear. Wide-eyed and breathless, they approached you swiftly, the urgency in their movements sending a wave of panic through you.

“What—what’s happening?” you stammered, confusion mixing with dread.

“Mr. Jeon… he’s not well,” another guard murmured, his tone serious. “It’s bad.”

Your heart sank as the weight of their words hit you. Jungkook was not well.  If Taehyung’s possessiveness had shaken you, the thought of Jungkook in a similar state terrified you even more. Without hesitation, you followed them, a knot of anxiety tightening in your chest.

As you neared his floor, the muffled sounds of destruction reached you—sharp crashes, the unmistakable sound of something heavy being thrown, followed by a guttural, enraged grunt. The noise alone made your skin crawl, but you pushed forward.

“Go in,” one of the guards pleaded, his voice quiet but urgent as you hesitated. You could hear the familiar voices of Jin and Namjoon on the other side of the door, their tones strained as they attempted to calm him.

“Jungkook, breathe,” Namjoon was saying, his voice low, trying to inject calm into the chaos.

“Come on, it’s okay,” Jin added, though the strain in his voice betrayed the calm facade he was trying to maintain. “She’ll be here. She didn’t leave… relax.”

The guard beside you pushed the door open, leaving you no choice but to face your oversight. Suffice to say, the scene before you sent a fresh wave of fear through your body.

Jungkook’s office was a mess. Papers were scattered across the floor, a desk chair lay on its side, and the corner of the large wooden desk had a jagged crack running through it as if something—or someone—had hit it too hard. A shattered vase lay in pieces, its contents scattered across the floor.

In the center of the chaos stood Jungkook. His back was to you, his broad shoulders heaving with labored breaths, fists clenched tightly at his sides. Even from where you stood, you could feel the tension radiating off him like a living thing. His stark, dark hair was disheveled, his usually sharp, precise appearance completely undone by whatever storm was raging inside him.

You knew you caused it. You were aware of you effect on them, but heavens, you didn’t know it to be this bad.

Namjoon was the first to notice you. His draconic eyes, once calm and calculating, now burned with an intensity that made your breath catch in your throat. The second your startled gaze met his, you saw it—the darkness swirling in him, consuming him. He hadn’t seen you since last night, and the distance had frayed his already strained control. His jaw clenched, muscles tensing as if he were holding himself back from lunging at you. He needed you. Desperately.

But the leader in him fought against the urge, restraining the primal hunger clawing at his insides. He knew he had to hold back—for now. The others needed you just as much as he did. He could wait. He had to wait. His fingers twitched at his sides, betraying the struggle within him.

He could wait until tonight.

He had to.

“Thank God,” Jin breathed when he noticed your presence. He stepped away from Jungkook.

Jungkook’s head snapped up the moment you stepped further into the room. His body froze, as though sensing your presence before even turning to look at you. Slowly, he turned around, and the intensity in his eyes when they locked onto yours was nearly suffocating. His dark eyes, wide with emotion, bore into you, his lips parted slightly as he struggled to catch his breath.

The room went still as Jungkook’s gaze never wavered from you. You could feel the raw intensity behind his eyes, the same kind of possessiveness you had seen in Taehyung but magnified tenfold in Jungkook. It wasn’t just desperation; it was obsession, need, something far more dangerous than mere jealousy.

“You…” he stammered; his voice rough from all the screaming he had done. His words were laced with desperation and disbelief. “Y-you didn’t leave us, Noona?”

The room was too silent as though their stability rested entirely on your next move. You knew you had to thread extremely carefully.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest, your knees locked. You brain was screaming for you to run away from him. “Jungkook,” you whispered, his name fragile on your lips.

It was him who decided for you.

He hated the distance. It gnawed at him, fraying what little control he had left. He took a step forward, his fists still clenched, muscles tense as if he were fighting some invisible restraint. “Don’t leave me,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, but there was a command beneath the words. His hands caressed your cheeks and tilted you face to meet his eyes. “You… you can’t leave me. You cannot leave us.”

He didn’t let you leave. And you couldn’t as well, not when he was visibly distraught. Most especially, not when his arms were wrapped around you like a vine. Before you knew it, you were lying on the sofa in his office, Jungkook’s arms wrapped around you like vines, pulling you impossibly close. His body pressed against yours, seeking warmth, seeking comfort. He didn’t say anything, but the weight of his emotions was palpable. His grip on you never loosened, his head buried in the crook of your neck as if he was afraid you’d vanish if he let go.

The only reassurance he seemed to accept was having you there, physically close to him, where he could feel you, touch you, and know that you hadn’t disappeared. But as comforting as your presence was to him, it left you uncomfortable, stressed by the weight of the situation. Jungkook was too close, his grip too tight, and the intensity of it all made your mind scream for space, for distance. But you couldn’t move—not when each time you tried to shift even slightly, he would hold on tighter, and the quiet, broken sobs would return, muffled against your skin.

Your unlikely savior came at exactly 3 in the afternoon.

Min Yoongi opened the door in a relaxed manner as though he was the owner of the office, his bored eyes finding your form on the sofa. His relaxed demeanor was a stark contrast to the tension that hung in the room. Jungkook hadn’t noticed him yet, but you softly calling Yoongi’s name alerted him of his presence —more a sigh of relief than an actual greeting—it was enough to pull Jungkook’s attention. Yoongi raised his brow at Jungkook, his expression impassive as ever, a silent question if the younger man was finally okay. Jungkook’s only response was the slight untightening of his grip on you. The shift was hesitant, reluctant, but it was there. Slowly, his arms loosened, though his body still remained close, not quite ready to let you go entirely. His possessiveness had dulled, but it was far from gone.

Yoongi’s gaze softened when he turned it back to you, his expression warm and unexpectedly gentle. He knew what you had endured, the strain it had caused you, and for once, the sharp edges in his usually indifferent demeanor softened into something close to tenderness.

"Good afternoon, darling," Yoongi said in his low, easy drawl, a hint of amusement dancing behind his words. “I’ve come to save you.”

Yoongi knew how overwhelming and overstimulating things could be sometimes. For the life of him and despite the instincts screaming in his head to have you close, he chose to silently walk beside you. You had been through enough for today.

You didn’t even question where the two of you were going. It was like all the energy you had was drained from you. You were silent even as he closed the car door for you, was speechless even when he expertly drove away from the building. Min Yoongi was just exactly what you needed after the conundrum being with Jungkook brought.

“I know it was tough,” Yoongi said, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between you two. His voice was low, steady, as though he had been waiting for the right moment to speak. His hands gripped the steering wheel loosely, his gaze fixed on the road ahead, but you could feel the weight of his attention on you. Even without looking at you, Yoongi had this uncanny ability to make you feel seen, like he was always aware of what you needed before you even realized it yourself. “But still, thank you for calming him down.”

The soft hum of the car filled the space, and though you didn’t respond immediately, you knew Yoongi didn’t expect you to. From the short time that you were with them, you noticef that he had always been like that—patient, never pushing you to speak before you were ready. His quiet understanding was something that set him apart. There was no rush with him, no urgency to force words or explanations from you. Just his presence, calm and grounding, allowing you to gather your thoughts.

You nodded slowly, not trusting yourself to speak just yet. The memory of Jungkook’s desperate grip on you, the way he had refused to let you go, still lingered, and it was too raw to put into words. But Yoongi didn’t push. He never did. He was just… there, giving you the space to process, to breathe. “I owe it to all of you. This was all my fault…”

Yoongi’s gaze shifted toward you, and for a moment, he looked at you as though you’d just said something utterly ridiculous. His brow furrowed, and the corners of his lips tilted into a frown of disbelief. Then, with a sigh, he shook his head. “This isn’t your fault. How could you have known? Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Min Yoongi was just the reprieved you needed. Where the others seemed consumed by their need for you, Yoongi remained steady, unaffected by the storm raging around them.

He took you home and told you that he already took care of your supervisor and said that you were needed for a meeting. A wave of gratitude washed over you, and you couldn’t help the small, tired smile that tugged at your lips. You didn’t know how to thank him properly, but it seemed Yoongi didn’t need grand gestures. His way of caring was quiet and understated, but it spoke volumes.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath, but Yoongi’s small nod told you he heard it.

Your schedule with him was calm, much like his demeanor. The kitchen felt like a small sanctuary, the aroma of garlic and herbs wafting through the air as you chopped vegetables together. The music of your choice filled the space, a playful backdrop to the evening.

You smiled to yourself, caught up in the moment. Suddenly, a chuckle broke your reverie. You turned to see him shaking his head, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Bad Romance by Lady Gaga?” he teased, but there was no edge to his words—just a warm acceptance of your quirky taste. You shrugged, a grin spreading across your face. It felt domestic, this shared moment, and you savored it. And yes, Bad Romance was truly a banger song.

But then, the atmospere shifted. Lost in thought, you almost missed his sudden remark. “I heard from Hoseok that your friend found a cure for the love potion.” His voice was steady, almost indifferent, yet you caught the tension in the way he gripped the counter, knuckles whitening against the cool surface. His eyes were focused on his task, a deliberate action on his part.

You nodded, surely this was good news for them, right?

 “That’s…good.”

It did not sound like it was good. You considered asking him, pressing for clarity, but you hesitated. This was Yoongi, after all. He wasn’t a man who wore his emotions on his sleeve, and pushing too hard might cause him to withdraw further. But your instinct, the one that had kept you grounded in moments like this, told you to be careful. You trusted him, both him and Seokjin, but trust was a fragile thing—especially when it came to the men who surrounded you.

After you two finished cooking, he found you sitting on the sofa, mindlessly searching for what to watch when he lied down, his head resting on your legs. You looked down, surprised but not displeased. You noted how he refrained from physically touching you the past hour, his control and thoughtfulness of your situation did not go unnoticed by you. “I tried to hold off as long as I could,” he murmured, his eyes drifting closed as he settled in.

You chuckled softly, brushing a hand through his dark hair. “Thank you for being considerate, Yoongi.” The weight of his head on your lap felt grounding, a connection that made the world outside seem distant.

It was five in the afternoon when you decided to freshen up. The entire day, despite it being only being afternoon, left you exhausted. It wasn’t just the physical exhaustion that clawed at you; it was the emotional toll of navigating conversations that felt more like tightrope walks than exchanges. Each word had to be measured, each response carefully calculated. It was like it would only take one wrong word for them to crumble. Each of them just as needy as the others.

It did not come as a surprise when you stepped out of the bathroom and found the one and only Park Jimin in your bedroom. His head was hanging low as he sat on your bed, his form slouched as he stared down. Gone was his suit, and his necktie hung loosely around his collar as though he had spent the entire day tugging at it.

“Jimin?”

Slowly, he looked up. His dark eyes were impassive, the usual glint gone. He looked so far from the sweet persona he usually had, and in his place was a man that was emitting dangerous vibes. “Little one,” he called, his voice low and toneless. “I heard your...” he trailed off, his scoffed a telltale sign of what exactly he was feeling. “-friend found us a cure.”

You blinked owlishly, caught off guard with how displeased he looked. He raised his brow at your prolonged silence, “What’s wrong, honey?” He stood up and sauntered to you, his faux concern so thick that you could almost choke at it. “All seven of us are sick from that love potion, right? So it’s only correct that we get the ‘cure’, right?”

You looked up to meet his eyes as he neared you, his chest almost touching yours from his proximity. “Are we sick to you, little one?”

“I—” you started, your heart beating fast from his line of questioning. The intensity of his line of questioning made your pulse quicken. He tilted his head, his finger catching droplets of water that had escaped from your hair, trailing slowly down your neck.

“Hmm? You what?” His voice was low, teasing yet laced with something darker.

“I just want you all to return to your normal life,” you answered truthfully. “I know everything happening is not normal for any of you. Your life does not involve around…” You hesitated, searching for the right words. “This chaos. You deserve to be free.”

He paused with his ministration, his hand hovering near your chest. A flicker of something crossed his face and you failed to decipher whether it was from amusement or annoyance. He stepped even impossibly closer. He looked down at you and whispered something that terrified you. “Did you ask us if we want to go back to how it was? Little one, did you even ask if we need a cure?”

Involuntarily, your foot took a step back. The weight of his words came crushing down on you. You were shaking your head even before he could finish saying his piece. You thought that it was a ridiculous thought anyway. “You don’t know what you’re saying, Park Jimin. None of what you’re all feeling is real,” you implored him, willing his true self to understand what you were saying, and not the version of himself that was ‘in love’ with you. “This potion-it’s not who you are.”

His gaze held steady, dark and penetrating as though what you said set off something in him…something they all tried so hard to contain. “And what will you do if this is who we want to be? What if we want these versions of ourselves that are so utterly in love with you, little one? What then?”

You felt your breath hitched at every word and expose he was telling you. “But it’s a lie. You can’t love something or someone that’s been forced upon you. This isn’t love. You have to know that.”

It was a little while before he even responded again as silence enveloped the room. The only indication that he heard you was that subtle tilt in his head. “I see you still see all this as lovesickness and not destiny.”

“Because it is!” you insisted, the desperation for him to see the truth made your voice rose. “You can’t really believe that this is meant to be!”

Jimin shook his head, strands of his hair cascading on his forehead, breaking the carefully gelled up appearance of his. “You’ll get sick, too,” he whispered as though it was an omen, as though foretelling a fate that even you couldn’t comprehend.

But you would later on.

You heard him wrong…right? There was no way he said that.

“What?” The word came out as breathless gasp, disbelief flooding your senses.

He smiled innocently, the sudden playfulness in his expression felt like a mask. “Let me dry your hair before you get sick, little one.” His tone may have seemed so casual, yet it sent a shiver down your spine. You knew you couldn’t talk sense into him, not when the seven of them were neck-deep in the effects of that love potion. Furthermore, you knew that insisting that what they were all feeling was far from reality would only leave them feeling abandoned by the supposedly love of their lives: you. You couldn’t make them see reason, at least not now.

Right now, the only way to calm down the simmering annoyance and angst in him was to let him do what he wanted to do. Jimin was gentle and thorough as he dried your hair, his touch so soft as though you were made of porcelain, something he feared might shatter.

“See how good I take care of you, little one? How good we all treat you?” he murmured, his voice particularly low and soothing as he worked the towel through your damp locks.

You felt your heart ache at the sincerity in his words, even if they were colored by the potion’s influence. “Jimin…” you started, but the protest caught in your throat as he leaned in closer, the warmth of his body enveloping you. He met your eyes through the mirror, his chin resting on your shoulder and rush of warmth and happiness passed through him. He fucking loved you, he thought to himself as an even fiercer conviction took root. You would see it soon.

“You are our queen, my love,” he continued with fierce intensity. “Don’t you see?”

But if this was love, then it felt like a prison to you. The sensation of his arms wrapped around you felt less like an embrace and more like shackles, binding you to a reality that terrified you. The walls felt as if they were closing in, the weight of his affection pressing down on your chest. You felt it even more when he placed his plump lips on your neck.

“And we will always sacrifice everything for our queen.”

As soon as the clock hit 7 in the evening, you tore yourself away from his embrace and ran down to the living room, already typing down on your phone to call for a meeting with the boys when you saw them already sitting there. They seemed to be in a deep conversation, their voices low and their faces serious. Sitting in the middle of them all was Kim Namjoon who had his eyes closed and his head resting against the backrest of the sofa. He looked similar to how he was when he trapped you in the elevator. He almost seemed to be sleeping had it not been the slight tremors in his hands that gave it away.

It was as though they were attuned to your presence when they all turned their heads to where you were, sans Namjoon, their conversation coming into a halt. It was eerie, you thought. You felt a shiver run down your spine at the synchronized movement, as if they were all part of some unsettling choreography.

“There she is,” Hoseok said brightly his face lighting up with a happiness that seemed almost out of place in the tense atmosphere. On his lap was your cat who was sporting a new collar. And was that gold?! “How was your day, little one?”

“We need to talk.”

“Uh-oh,” Taehyung plainly commented, his hand absentmindedly playing with Jungkook’s hair. His carefree gesture was a complete contrast to the seriousness in his face. “I already don’t like this.”

“Park Jimin, what did you do now?” Yoongi quipped, raising an eyebrow as he caught sight of the mentioned man entering the living room behind you. There was a teasing lilt in his voice, but the underlying concern was palpable.

Jimin smirked, holding your hand briefly when he passed you and sat down beside the quiet Namjoon. “Nothing. I just…dried her hair.”

Jin shook his head, shooting the maknae line a look of disappointment. He just knew that they did something today. Afterall, he thought that the younger men didn’t know the meaning of control and working in the shadows. He would talk to them later. They should have known how much of a flight risk you were. They were just banking on the kindness of your heart and how they used it to play with your conscience. It was that and Namjoon and Hoseok’s tactics that got you here, after all. They should all play smartly if they wanted this to last forever. And for now, making you happy was the way to that. He stood up and walked to you. He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear.  “I heard from Hoseok that there is a cure. Is this about it, my love?”

“Let’s hear it then, noona,” Jungkook said with a smile on your face. It was a deceitful smile, you noted to yourself. How he could turn his playfulness and innocence on and off was terrifying, and the evidence of it was staring right at your face. You looked down and saw his bandaged hand from the breakdown from earlier.

Yoongi offered you an encouraging smile and you were only too thankful for his quiet support. You didn’t think twice to sit when he tapped down the empty space beside him. “A-as you all know, my friend’s grandmother knows of a cure in the mountains-”

Taehyung’s sharp scoffed interrupted you. “You’re tired of taking care of your mess when it’s only been a day?” His tone may be playful, but there was an edge to it.

You took a dee breath, “I know this is all difficult for all of us. But if she knows something, if there is even a small chance that there is really a cure, then shouldn’t we go for it? If this can help-”

“Help us?” Jimin interjected, his tone softer but laced with frustration. “Help us how? By running off to the mountains while we’re all here struggling with these feelings?”

“And how will we even know that you’ll come back to us?” Hoseok added, his anger bubbling to the surface. “What if you just leave?” he voiced the heavy question everyone in the room had been thinking about, not that they would let you, anyway.

The atmosphere grew tense, and you could feel the weight of their accusations pressing down on you. “It isn’t fair,” you retorted, your voice trembling slightly.

“Well, it was never fair to the seven of us,” Taehyung shot back, his tone sharp. “We were minding our own business when your negligence caused us this situation. You are to blame, and all you want is to escape from it.”

You could no longer take all the blamings, you realized. You were not the only one to blame in this, right? You were just as victim as they were! And the oldest should also share the blame! “But he knew!”

Seokjin blinked owlishly, attention now on him as you pointed your finger at him. “Knew what?”

“You knew that that pink tumbler wasn’t yours! You said so yourself that you knew it wasn’t yours because yours had coffee in it! You knew and you kept on drinking!”

“Ah, right” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck as he offered sheepish looks at the other CEOs who were all looking at him with seriousness and disbelief in their eyes. “What? It was delicious, right?!”

“Well, yeah it was,” Yoongi approved, his voice low. He looked like he was already long done with this conversation with the way he was leaning against the backrest and you knew with just one push he would already be lying down and dozing off. However, his attention was still on you as he played with the strands of your hair.

“So, if you are all blaming me, shouldn’t you put blame on him, too? He offered you the drink knowing that it wasn’t his! And he didn’t tell you all!”

Jungkook nodded, completely agreeing at whatever you were saying as long as you kept talking. Your voice was melody to his ears, like a siren, he thought. If he was a cartoon, you were sure that he’d already have heart coming out of his eyes from the way he was looking at you. He was giggling like a child, his chin resting on his palm, his body turned to you. “You’re right, noona. It’s Jin hyung’s fault. We should kick him out of the house or exchange him for ice cream…Speaking of! What’s your favorite flavor, my love?”

“Fine! Then sue me! Arrest me! But lock me with her forever!” Seokjin exclaimed dramatically, throwing his hands in the air.

“Seokjin, for the love of all that’s good-“

“I love it when you call me that,” he said with sincerity in his voice.

“I literally just called you your name!” you shot back in exasperation.

“Yes. That. I love it.”

“Oh my God, we’re getting off track!” You exclaimed in frustration. “The cure. It’s worth pursuing, don’t you all think? Isn’t that why I’m here in the first place? To alleviate the effects of the love potion?”

You knew you had them when they looked at each other in silence. “And what’s more alleviating than actually freeing us all from the effects of that potion?” you continued, your voice steady, determined. “If we have a chance to break this spell—if we can find a way to return to our normal lives—shouldn’t we take it?”

“You’re not going alone. We are coming with you,” Kim Namjoon broke his silence for the first time that night. You couldn’t help but notice the strain in his voice despite the firm way he delivered his demand, a telltale sign that he needed you now. It was already past seven, and he was the last one in the schedule. It was already way past his schedule, and he had been patient and enduring enough. He just knew that anytime now he would break. He opened his eyes, and his gaze locked onto yours, “Tomorrow. We go to the mountains.”

Before anyone could respond, he stood up swiftly, his long legs carrying him away from the eruption of chaos and disagreement that erupted from his statement. The others began to voice their objections, a flurry of protests filling the room.

Yet, he never stopped.

“You know you have to come to him, right, noona?” Jungkook said amidst the chaos. “Namjoon hyung is suffering…”

“He has been patient,” Hoseok added, admiring the strength and resolved that their lead CEO had. “But he needs you, too.”

The walk to his room was long despite the reasonable distance. It must have been because of the rapid beating of your heart as you walked to the unknown. The six of them all showed their dark side, the possessive, obsessive and jealous side that terrified you. You wondered what the last member would show you tonight.

But they were right.

Despite your fear and restlessness, you had to honor your responsibility with them.

Your knuckles had barely grazed his door when it opened from the inside, revealing the disheveled lead CEO.

Kim Namjoon was breathing hard despite the cool air inside his room. The usually composed lead CEO looked disheveled and visible exhausted. Beads of sweat were forming on his forehead, strands of his dark hair tousled as if his fingers had raked through them in frustration. He had already donned out his dark suit, his white and crisp shirt was unbuttoned. His muscular chest was glistening with sweat. Your eyes traced his form and found him barefooted.

This was as unmade as you ever witnessed him to be.

You were right, you realized. Kim Namjoon suffered the most today as he was the last one in the schedule. The way he was looking at you made it seemed like you were nothing to him but a prey, one that he had been desperately hunting the whole day. His silence only made you more tensed. "Namjoon," you began softly, concern evident in your voice as you stepped closer despite wanting to run away. "Are you alright?"

Instead of a reassuring answer, his demeanor shifted. His answer was pulling you inside his lair. His movements were quick. Desperate. Frantic. The sound of lock clicking loudly in the quiet of the room. This wasn't the controlled man you were accustomed to—this was someone else entirely, someone driven by raw instinct and need.

Every step he took towards you was a step you took backwards. He was sauntering to you like a predator would, his movements slow and deliberate like someone who knew had you trapped. His muscles were tensed like he was barely holding onto his control. His eyes, usually so warm, now bore into you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. You could feel the tension radiating from him, his body coiled like a spring about to snap. You had an inkling that he wasn’t okay, but you never expected him to be this intense, this desperate.

"N-Namjoon, please," you stammered, your concern growing as his presence overwhelmed you, "You’re not okay. Let me get some help, okay?"

He scoffed softly, a sound that dripped with frustration and desire. The truth was plain to see—he wasn't just physically spent; there was something deeper unsettling him, something that demanded your presence, your touch, as if you were the anchor he desperately needed.

He knew if he didn’t have you in his arms in the next second, then he would truly lose it. He was desperate for you. And so, for the first time ever, he damned the consequences.

“Take off your clothes.”

“What?! No-“

“I need to feel your skin or I will fucking lose it, little one,” he gritted, his hands formed into fists in an attempt to ground him. He didn’t want to scare you, that was the last thing he wanted.

But he was scaring himself. The dizzying need for you was terrifying him. Dark thoughts were swirling in his mind: all of them were of losing you. He didn’t know what would happen if they lost you. He didn’t know what they would be capable of if you had someone else.

The only thing that could calm him down was you. But you were stubborn, weren’t you? He saw your eyes darted to the door behind him, assessing the probability that you could escape him. It wouldn’t happen, he was certain. Not in the state he was in.

“Don’t,” he whispered with a shake of his head. “Don’t test me tonight, little one. I am barely holding it in.”

“You’re scaring me,” you whispered in admittance, your eyes begging him to be sane, to at least reach the Namjoon inside him that knew this was a grey area.

He paused in front of you. he was breathing hard and his eyes seemed to be all dark. His voice was low as he explained his need for you and his promise that the two of you would only be sleeping.

Tonight, he claimed that you would be safe.

“I won’t ask again, little one,” he whispered as he looked down at you. “Remove your clothes and get on the bed.”

“And we’ll just sleep?”

“Yes.”

“You promise?”

He nodded. What he didn’t tell you was how he wasn’t sure if you could still be safe from the monsters you woke up inside them tomorrow. But that was tomorrow’s problem.

His eyes followed your every reluctant movement as you walked near to his bed. This was all so sudden, and the darkness of the room didn’t help you observe his personality that was reflected in his room. However, you were thankful for the darkness because it gave you the courage to do as he bade without the full weight of his gaze on you. Shadows danced across the walls and with a shaky breath, you finally sat on the edge of the bed, the sheets soft and inviting beneath you. The room, dimly lit by the soft glow of the moon filtering through the curtains, seemed to wrap around you like a comforting shroud. It was easier to let the shadows obscure your uncertainties.

You began to remove your shirt, your heart racing as you felt his eyes on you, the intensity palpable. The fabric slipped away, leaving you feeling vulnerable yet exhilarated.

“The shorts, little one,” he ordered quietly, his eyes still on you as he shrugged of his white shirt. He raised his brows when a flicker of stubbornness crossed your face, a silent warning that he was at the very edge of a cliff. With shaky hands, you pushed off your shorts before quickly getting under his thick blanket, hiding your exposed skin from his eyes.

Your heard the buckle of his belt coming undone, and the sound of zipper following next was too loud in the silence of his room which made you shut your eyes closed. But the prolonged silence made you take a peek. And there he was. He was stalking to you, his muscular chest bared for your eyes, his thighs so thick and strong. The only thing he still had on was his black boxers that leave nothing to the imagination.

You shrieked when he got on the bed confidently and flipped the blanket to the side, baring your body to him, both his arms encasing you as he hovered above you.

“N-Namj–” your words left you when he settled his weight on you, every ridges and corners of his body was touching you. His nose was on your neck, breathing in your scent. His hands moved from the side of your head down to your wrist, and everything he touched left goosebumps on your skin. “Don’t fight this,” he whispered as he pulled your wrist above your head and kept them prisoned there.

“Y-you told me we’re just going to sleep,” you reminded him, your voice shaking slightly as you felt the heat radiating from Namjoon’s body. The tension in the air felt electric, and your heart raced.

“I told you. You are safe with me tonight.”

His hard member certainly did not make you feel safe. You could feel his hardness poking your stomach, and you were no saint to not know what it meant. You were certainly not that innocent to not be affected by this. You were embarrassed with how you could feel your arousal seeping to your underwear, and you hoped that he wouldn’t notice.

You jumped when you felt his tongue swiped at the expanse of your neck. You were trying to free yourself away from his hold when he nipped at your skin, sucking at it hard enough to know that it was going to leave a mark. All the while, his hips were slowly thrusting to you as though he was barely holding onto his thin control.

“Do you not feel safe, little one?” he taunted, his voice deeper than you ever heard of him. He lifted his head from your neck, his dark eyes glinting with something akin to an animalistic desire to have you. “Is the pleasure too much for you?” he asked in faux concern before thrusting his clothed cock directly to your heat. And by heavens, a moan escaped you. “Or is it not enough?”

“F-fuck, Namjoon- please!” you gasped as his hand pinched your nipple over your bra. His lips hovered over yours, so impossibly close that you knew one wrong movement was enough to make yours touched his. His cock was brutal as he humped you.

“Don’t you feel safe with the desires you are feeling?” he whispered directly to your ear, his hot breath leaving tingles down your spine. “Don’t you feel safe with just one cock? Do you want me to call the six of them? I bet they’d be happy to make you come. I know Yoongi does.”

“S-stop!”

He chuckled, his thrust stopping altogether. “Little one, you’re free. You can push me anytime you want. But you don’t want to, do you?”

It was only when he pointed it out that you realized he was no longer holding you down. In fact, he hadn’t for a while. You were too drunk with the sinful desire and his primal need to be with you that you didn’t notice that you had the choice to push him away.

And the horrifying realization that you deliberately didn’t want him to stop came crashing in.

“Don’t you just want to give in? I promise…no one will know. It’s just the two of us,” he whispered seductively, his breath warm against your skin. The way his words wrapped around you felt almost hypnotic, stirring something deep within. “Turn that mind off, darling. You’re so fucking wet,” he growled sensually. “I can feel your wetness in my thighs. You deserve this, little one. You deserve to be worship. All you need to do is to move.”

Your heart raced at the intensity of his gaze, each word wrapping around you like a vice. There was a part of you that yearned to give in, to surrender to the pull between you.

And you did.

Your hips lifted slightly to meet his, and it was all he needed before he rutted on you, the control he had snapped like a twig when you took the first step. You could feel you were getting close, his movements were all unforgiving and sensual.

“See?” he growled, his voice low and intense, sending shivers down your spine. “I just want to take care of you, little love. We all just want to give you all you desire.” He stepped closer, the heat radiating off him like a tangible force, drawing you in. “I told you. You are safe with me. But you aren’t safe from your own desires.”

You could feel something hot, something with urgency. And it wasn’t long until you shuddered, you trashed with your back arched. And just like clockwork, Namjoon’s warm essence spurted out and onto his boxers.

“That’s it, little one. Good girl.”

And as he held your body in his arms that night, he lied awake with thoughts of how to keep you. You were so beautiful. And perfect for him. You were perfect for them. He was sure that all of his brothers were thinking of the same thing: how to keep you forever.

Day 4, morning

It didn’t come as a surprise when he woke up and found you gone, nor did it come as a surprise when you couldn’t meet his eyes when he came down early in the morning ready to leave for the mountains. Seokjin, ever the observant, noticed the tension between the two of you. Actually, it was more so from you as you tried your very best to stick with who you thought was the safest among the seven, Seokjin and Yoongi.

Seokjin, with his soft smile and easygoing charm, had managed to pull the wool over your eyes. How could you have known that Seokjin was a wolf in a sheep’s clothing while Yoongi was only patient until he wasn’t? How could you have known that they were truly far from who you thought they were?

The maknae line were already waiting by the door, talking animatedly among themselves as though all of you were just going to the mountains for a fun fieldtrip and not for the love potion cure.

It was Hoseok that broke the silence, “How was your sleep, little one?”

“G-good,” you stammered, your eyes lifting to meet the lead CEO’s gaze, only to find him already looking back at you with an intensity that made your heart race. You quickly looked down, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks. “L-let’s go? It’s quite a far drive.”

You swallowed hard, trying to shake off the knot of tension in your stomach. The closer you got to the mountains, the more real the journey felt, and the more daunting the implications of finding a cure. You turned to Namjoon, who stood nearby, arms crossed and expression unreadable. “Are we ready?”

It took him a moment to answer, as though weighing your question with care, his eyes lingering on you in a way that felt too heavy for casual conversation. The air between you felt thick, charged with something unspoken, and the silence stretched on, longer than it should have. “Always ready,” he replied, though the weight of his gaze suggested he had more on his mind than just the drive ahead.

You sat quietly the whole journey. The feeling of freedom was so near, yet the implications of what happened the past three days weighed down on you. You knew things could never go back the way it was. You knew you had to leave your job and move someplace else. Despite the possibility of a cure, you knew that everything that transpired was far more complex that a simple remedy couldn’t fix.

You glanced around the van, taking in the familiar faces of the men who had turned your world upside down. This was probably one of the last times you’d be in their proximity, and that thought sent a shiver down your spine. You felt both relieved and terrified at the prospect.

It was as though Seokjin, the designated driver, could hear your thoughts. He glanced up into the rearview mirror and met your eyes, concern flickering in his expression. “You okay back there?” he asked, his voice steady but laced with something deeper, an awareness of your internal struggle.

You offered a small smile, not quite reaching your eyes. “I’m good,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

You looked down at the address your friend gave you. The mountains loomed in the distance; their imposing silhouettes framed by a clear blue sky. You could hear the faint rustle of leaves in the cool breeze, a stark contrast to the tension that had built up during the drive.

Namjoon was off to the side, deep in conversation with an elderly man. You couldn’t help but catch snippets of their dialogue—words like “cure” and “love potion” floated through the air, drawing your attention. You watched as the man gestured toward a narrow, winding path leading deeper into the woods.

After a few moments, Namjoon turned back to you, a satisfied smile on his face. “We have to walk. The car cannot pass through,” he shared the information with the group.

You nodded, feeling a mix of anxiety and excitement. “How far is it?”

“Not too far, just a little hike,” he assured you, though his eyes held a glimmer of seriousness. “Are you ready?”

Taking a deep breath, you glanced at the rest of the group, who had gathered around. The maknae line looked eager, bouncing on their feet as if they were about to embark on a thrilling quest. Yoongi leaned against a tree, his expression contemplative, while Seokjin was busy checking the supplies they brought along.

“Yeah, I’m ready,” you replied, your voice steadier than you felt. “Let’s do this.”

It was almost an hour into the hike, and your little group was nearing the top when you saw it. “That must be it,” Hoseok said, pointing excitedly at the small house perched on the summit. It looked quaint, surrounded by trees and flowers, with smoke curling from the chimney, hinting at warmth and life within. For a moment, the sight was serene—peaceful even. But there was something about it that made your skin prickle, a sense of wrongness you couldn’t quite shake. The beauty of it felt... too perfect. Like an illusion meant to distract. A narrow pathway led to a flight of stairs, and just as you felt a rush of exhilaration, a pained gasp broke the tranquility.

You turned around to see Jungkook wincing, his hand clutching his ankle. “Jungkook!” you exclaimed, rushing to his side. He was sitting on the ground, his face contorted in pain, his doe eyes looking up at you as though he was asking for help. Beside him, Jimin crouched down, his innocent-looking face betraying none of the tension in the air. He looked concerned, but there was something about the calmness in his expression that made you pause—something about the way he was sitting too still, too perfectly for the situation at hand. How he hurt himself when the path was no longer steep like before, nor was the ground slippery was lost on you. You foolishly thought that you were out of the danger zone.

"Jungkook!" you repeated, kneeling beside him, your voice trembling with concern. "What happened?”

“I think I twisted it,” he admitted, his voice strained. “It hurts so bad, noona. P-please stay with me.”

You blinked at his request, your heart aching at the sight of him so vulnerable, but a wave of doubt swept over you. You had to make a decision, and fast. The cure was still ahead of you, and the house at the summit was growing nearer with every step you’d taken. But now, Jungkook was down, and his injury looked serious.

You glanced around, unsure what to do. You could stay with him, of course, but you weren’t the only one in the group, and there were others who might be able to help him. Maybe someone else should stay with him while you continued on to the house? Just as you were about to ask Taehyung, Namjoon stepped near you and interrupted your thoughts.

“Stay with Jungkook,” Namjoon urged you, glancing back at the house. “We can take care of the cure. Don’t worry.”

You hesitated, torn between the urgency of reaching the house and your concern for Jungkook. His face was twisted in pain, and you felt a pang of guilt for even considering leaving him. But the reassuring nod from Seokjin was enough to convince you that the men could handle the cure without you.

“Okay,” you finally said, your voice steadying. “I’ll stay here with Jungkook.”

As you knelt beside him, your focus solely on his ankle, you completely missed the meaningful look shared between Taehyung and Yoongi, a silent conversation that hinted at something more.

“Just take a deep breath, Jungkook,” you said, gently placing a hand on his knee. “Let’s see if we can wrap this up.”

The six men trudged up the pathway leading to the small house in companiable silence when Seokjin suddenly stopped, halting the progress of the six men following him. They were almost near the house that his sudden pause caused confusion to the maknae line. It was a moment before he turned to face the group.

“Hyung?” Jimin asked, his brows furrowed. “What’s wrong?”

Seokjin and Yoongi shared a meaningful look, their jaws set in stone and expression serious. “Taehyung and Jimin, I think you should stay guard here,” he said, his voice low and firm.

“Hyung, what if you need us there-”

Namjoon, who was quick to notice the peculiar seriousness in their eldest placed a reassuring hand on Taehyung’s shoulder and faced him. He flashed him a dimpled smile as though assuring him that everything was fine. “I think what hyung means is that this way, you can look out for little one and Jungkook.”

He tilted his head slightly, catching sight of you and Jungkook, a little ways down the path, peering curiously at the house.

“Don’t worry, we can handle this,” Hoseok assured the two age-mate with his charm. He gave a playful nudge to Taehyung as he stepped past them, confidence radiating from his every move. “Just keep an eye out, okay?”

With that, Hoseok entered the house, the door creaking softly behind him. The rest of the older members followed, leaving the maknae line standing in the fading light.

You didn’t have to wait long before the six of them descended the path, their expressions were mixed of triumph and satisfaction, and something that you couldn’t quite pinpoint. It wasn’t even that long when the six of them walked down to you. Yoongi led the way, a confident stride in his step, and in his hand was a small bottle filled with a shimmering pink liquid.

Your heart raced as you caught sight of it. “Is that—?”

“It’s the cure, little one,” he confirmed, holding it up to the light. The liquid sparkled, catching the sun in a way that made it almost mesmerizing, almost tantalizing, almost too hypnotic that you couldn’t tear your eyes away from it.

You felt your heart leap in your chest. The weight of the world seemed to lift off your shoulders, and a wave of disbelief rushed through you. You could barely comprehend it, but there it was. “We’re free…” you said with disbelief in your tone. You were too happy that you jumped up and hugged Jungkook. “I cannot believe it!”

“Well, almost, little one,” Namjoon said, his expression shifting to something more serious. “We’ll take it at home where we can safely observe the effects. We can’t risk anything happening here.”

The words hit you like a splash of cold water. For a moment, the excitement faltered, and a small knot of worry tugged at your stomach. You had been so caught up in the euphoria of it all that you hadn’t stopped to consider the reality of it. There were still risks, still unknowns.

“Aren’t you just a little too excited about leaving us, little one?” His words were offhanded, but there was an undercurrent of something else, something you couldn’t quite place.

Your eyes darted to him, surprised by the sudden comment. Jimin’s gaze was still fixed on his nails, as though the conversation were of no consequence to him. But there was a subtle tension around him, something in his posture that didn’t quite sit right.

Instead of dwelling too much in what he was enunciating, you decided to face Namjoon. “Right, of course,” you said, stepping back from Jungkook and if you noticed the reluctant way he let go of you, you didn’t mention. You rationalized that they were still under the influence of the potion. You just had to hold on a little bit more.

Seokjin clapped his hands together, breaking the tension. “Then let’s get moving! The sooner we’re back, the sooner we can celebrate properly.”

The ride back to the civilization was filled with different vibes, it was quiet yet there was a profound peace within the group. This time, it was Jungkook who was driving while Taehyung was in the front seat with him. Seated next to you was Yoongi who was quietly contented in engulfing your hand in his, both your hands resting on his thighs. On your other side was Hoseok who was uncharacteristically quiet until he caught you looking at him.

“J-Jin, this is a lot,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper as you took in the lavish spread laid out on the table. Plates piled high with vibrant dishes, each one more mouthwatering than the last, sparkled under the soft glow of the lights. It was hard to believe he had managed to prepare all this while looking like he just stepped off a magazine cover.

“I want to celebrate us,” Jin replied, his smile warm and genuine.

You blinked owlishly, caught off guard. Us? What did he mean by that?

“You know, how we…survived this.” His eyes sparkled with sincerity, but confusion washed over you. You opened your mouth to ask him to elaborate, to clarify what “us” really meant, when suddenly, Taehyung appeared beside you. He leaned in so close that his lips almost brushed your ear, his voice teasingly conspiratorial.

“Hyung is so dramatic. He wants to do a big toast before drinking the cure.”

You missed the look the two men shared over your head when Jimin walked in and tugged you to sit next to him and Yoongi. “Come on, little one. I’m starving.”

One by one, the four other men took their seats around the beautifully set table. Directly across from you was Taehyung who was watching you intently, and beside him were Hoseok and Jungkook. On the other end of the table was Namjoon, manspreading like a king sitting in his throne. Seokjin moved gracefully around the table, setting down seven glasses that glinted like jewels, each filled with the pink liquid of the cure slushing around with every step. Your breath caught slightly as he approached, and when he stopped behind you, leaning down close, a shiver ran through you.

“And of course, for the lady. Only the best of wines,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear, leaving goosebumps in its wake. You turned slightly, catching a glimpse of his serious and dark expression before he straightened, and just like that, he transformed it into a sweet smile that lit up the room. You wondered if it was just the light playing tricks on you.

“Hyung, ready for the toast?” Jungkook asked, his eyes on you even as he directed his question to Namjoon.

“I think it should be our little one that we ask,” Yoongi spoke for the first time that night, his tone unexpectedly serious. He turned to you, his eyes piercing through the moment, as if trying to read your thoughts. “Are you ready for what comes next?”

You felt a knot form in your stomach, a mixture of excitement and anxiety churning inside you. “Are you ready… for the rest of your life, love?” Taehyung voiced, his expression uncharacteristically solemn as he toyed with his glass, tracing the rim with his fingertip.

You blinked owlishly, wondering why there were too many questions from them as though they were asking something else. But they weren’t, right? They weren’t implying anything more, were they?

You wanted your old life back.

You wanted your freedom back.

With a steadying breath, you raised your glass of wine, a quiet resolve settling over you. “To our freedom,” you declared, your voice clear despite the whirlwind of emotions.

Namjoon smirked, a fondness in his eyes as he confidently raised his glass in response. “To you, little one.”

“To us,” Seokjin added, his voice warm as he joined the toast, and one by one, the others followed suit.

You all drank to the last sip of your drinks, the sweet, fruity flavor of the wine lingering on your tongue. Seokjin’s gaze remained fixed on you, his watchful eyes never leaving your face as he set down his empty glass. There was an intensity in his stare, an unspoken question hanging in the air, as if he were waiting for something to unfold.

And he waited.

And waited.

Until it happened.

You felt the warmth of the wine spreading through your body, a comforting buzz that made everything feel lighter, more vibrant. But in the back of your mind, there was a nagging sensation, a whisper that something wasn’t quite right. The room began to tilt slightly, chatter of the CEOs was fading into a soft murmur. “S-something’s not right,” you whispered, turning to your ever dependable Yoongi, the one who never put you down.

Your hand was clutching his sleeves, yet he paid you no mind. You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the liquid in you, and that nagging sensation began to twist in your gut. The wine—was it the wine? The warmth, the lightness, the almost too comfortable feeling that was settling into your bones—had it been too easy? Too perfect?

“W- what was in t-that w-wine?” You asked shakily, barely a whisper, your eyes finding Seokjin’s apathetic ones.

He waited.

“Seokjin…” you breathed out, your voice barely a whisper, as the fear settled in your chest like a stone.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he simply stared at you, his expression unreadable as his fingers lightly drummed against the table, almost too casual, too relaxed.

The realization hit you like a gut punch: This wasn’t a celebration. This was a trap.

Your vision blurred, and you struggled to focus, the faces of Jungkook, Taehyung, Hoseok, and Namjoon becoming indistinct. Slowly, your world faded to black.

The seven men watched you as Yoongi wrapped his arm around you, securing your head to his shoulder as though he didn’t do anything.

“Why… why would you do that, hyung?” Jungkook asked, his voice a mix of confusion and disbelief, eyes wide with shock as he processed the scene.

Yoongi remained focused on you, his other hand gently caressing your face, a gesture of comfort that felt surreal. It was Seokjin, however, who broke the silence, his voice calm and measured as he quietly sliced his food. “She was going to leave us.”

Taehyung’s shock morphed into something deeper, worry etching lines on his forehead as he glanced between the two of them. “We can’t just keep her here!”

“She belongs with us,” Seokjin replied softly, an edge of finality in his tone as he continued to slice his food, unbothered by the tension brewing around him.

“But there is a cure—” Jungkook started, his voice rising in protest.

“There is no cure, Jungkook,” Namjoon interjected smoothly, his form relaxed as he poured himself a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid swirling in the glass like a tempest. “There’s no cure because we aren’t sick.”

“The hyungs are right, Kookie,” Jimin said, his expression softening as he held your hand close to his face, as if trying to draw strength from your presence. “We just love her so much.”

“And now, she’ll love us too just as much,” Hoseok smirked, his gaze darting to the wine you had drunk.

A phone beeping continuously rose Seokjin from his slumber. His eyes fluttered open, and he looked down to find you snuggled peacefully in his arms, your face nestled against his chest. On your other side, Jimin had draped his leg over you, a content smile gracing his lips in his sleep. It was only four in the morning, yet the incessant beeping of your phone pierced the quiet.

You must have been too exhausted to not notice, he noted. Of course, why wouldn’t you be when the seven men showed you just how much they loved you. And this time, you were only too enthusiastic to show them how much you adored them. With a sigh, he reached for your phone and opened your messages, curiosity piquing as he scrolled through the frantic texts.

You have to get out of there, Y/N. The effect of the love potion only lasts for 60 hours!

Y/N, honey, I’m fucking serious. The potion won’t even be effective if they have no feelings for you.

These men are insane. They know you before this, Y/N. You’re in danger there!

Where are you?

Seokjin scoffed, irritation bubbling up within him. He glanced down at your serene expression, blissfully unaware of the turmoil outside this moment. With a few quick taps, he deleted the messages, each one disappearing like smoke. You didn’t need to know.

It didn’t matter how you got here because you were here now.

And they would never, ever let you leave. As you nestled deeper into his side, he pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, determination flaring within him. They would make you see that this was where you belonged, that you were one of them now. There would be no turning back.

More so now that they had access to that love potion. With just a few drops, they could weave the very fabric of your feelings, ensuring you remained anchored to them. They tasted heaven with you. What fool would let that go?

END

You slowly turned to the direction of the voice, your eyes were slow to adjust from the sudden brightness of the white and sterile room. You could make out a man with a tall form, and even with the little vision you were left, you were sure you have seen this man before.

You blinked owlishly, clearing out the sleep from your eyes and little by little, your vision cleared out as best as it could. When it finally did, your breath hitched from the recognition of who this man was.

The man who claimed to have lost his cat years ago– Suga’s hyung.

He smiled at you when a stark recognition crossed your face.

“I never thought we’d see each other again,” he chuckled from his seat, on his lap was your chart. “Let alone in this circumstance."

You quickly sat up. Only now did you feel a restriction form your left hand. Your other hand was quick to reach out, feeling the dextrose drip attached to your skin. You turned to him with caution in your movement, memories of what transpired before this rushing into you.

He found you and he was going to end you.

“W-where am I?” trying to steady your trembling voice and muster some courage.

Seokjin tilted his head to the side. If he noticed your trembling, he did not mention. Apparently, he was content with observing you with almost scientific curiosity. “You’re in my hospital,” he replied.

He followed your eyes as you tried your very best to see what this room was, your eyes drifting across the whole room as though you were looking for something.

“Are you looking for Yoongi?” he asked when enough silence passed with you looking like you were ready to bolt in any given moment. You were sure that

Your refusal to answer was an answer in itself. Your silence spoke volumes.

Seokjin’s relaxed demeanor was just adding up to your nervousness. Why was he not doing anything, you wondered? You were sure that he was a part of whatever shady business Suga was part of. It was impossible that he was not aware of that. After all, they did seem close and they were brothers. The correlation alone was enough to make you be wary of him despite the friendly act of his.

“He’s outside the room,” Seokjin shared with lightness in his words. He chose not to divulge that his younger brother was literally just outside the room, standing guard as though someone was going to take you from him. Worse, that you would disappear right under his nose had he left his pose. “Wanna know why? Apparently, he, and I quote, ‘cannot bear to see the frightened look his angel gave him’.”

“Do you want to see him?”

“I want to leave.”

He stood up calmly and proceeded to check and adjust your dextrose. “Don’t move this hand too much. You’re going to bleed,” he advised, murmuring under his breath how Yoongi was going to hurt him if you were hurt under his care. He also noted how none of his brothers treated him with the respect the eldest should be given. Also, he grumbled about how he kept on feeding them despite their disrespect.

It wasn’t lost on you how he didn’t answer nor acknowledge what you said.

He fished a penlight from his white coat, “I’m just going to check your eyes, Y/N,” he said as he turned the penlight on and instructed you to open your eyes. “Minimal reaction to light,” he murmured to himself before writing down on your chart. “When did this happen?”

“Should I answer?”

“That’s alright. I’ll just check with Doctor Choi-“

“How did you know my doctor?” you asked in aghast. Did their hold know no bound? If not, how then would he know something of confidential matter?

“Hmm?” he moved away from you slowly, his eyes comically wide and his hands raised as though in retreat. It would have been funny had you not been sure that he was one of the bad men you despised so much. “Y/N, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You squinted your eyes at his retreating form. The room that you were in seemed to be ridiculously large and despite the number of steps he was taking, he was still far from the door.

“I swear I don’t know. But also, while we are in the topic of things I certainly do not know and have absolutely no way of knowing, I also have no knowledge of the scar on your stomach that suspiciously do not look like a cesarean scar.”

---

Seokjin jumped from shock when Yoongi stepped in front of him as soon as he exited the room. “I’m going to die early because of my own brothers,” he grumbled in irritation, clutching your chart to his chest. “I can’t go without seeing my sunshine one more time.”

“How is she?”

“Hey, hyung! Have you eaten, hyung? Thank you for staying up all night to take care of the love of my life. I owe you one, hyung. You’re just the best, hyung. You’re so handsome, hyung– really?! Is that so hard to say those things?!” Seokjin finished, his heavy breath a telltale sign of his agitation.

“Let’s just go ahead and pretend I said those things. Anyway, how is she?” Yoongi asked, his face couldn’t hide the exhaustion from staying up all night and refusing to leave despite his assurance that you would be fine under Seokjin’s care. His face was even paler than normal.

He didn’t even leave his post to eat that he had to call the only available brother (and not even his second nor third choice, but his last resort), Kim Taehyung, to disguise himself and come to the hospital with food. Taehyung then had to force the other brother to eat at least two spoonsful of rice.

Taehyung was rarely denied by Yoongi, so maybe Seokjin chose the right brother for this task. Never mind the fact that he was later on kicked out by Yoongi because he kept on looking closely and taking notes of the way he was acting because he said that it would be useful for his next movie character.

“Hopeless. All of you are hopeless-“

“You are, too. How’s your sunshine, by the way?” Yoongi shot back and despite his lack of sleep, his words were sharp as ever.

“I don’t know where she is, okay!? Why are you hurting me like this?!” he asked dramatically, childishly glaring at him. “I hate you! If you want to know how your Angel is, you better ask her yourself!”

Seokjin walked away, his steps quick and his white coat was trailing behind him which further added to his dramatics. A paid actor, if you would.

“I…I can’t, hyung,” Yoongi admitted behind him. The quietness of the hospital wing was enough for him to hear his younger brother’s vulnerability. Further, it was just enough to stop him from walking away.

“Yoongi, you little shit, what do you really want to happen?”

Yoongi sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping in a rare display of weakness. The image of the strong, composed leader seemed to dissolve in the face of his fear. The man who was usually a pillar of strength was now showing vulnerability. It was true what they said—even the strongest man falls to his knees for the woman he loves.

“Hyung,” he started, his voice low and his dark eyes down casted to the floor. “I just want her to be well. I want her to get back the life she had before I destroyed it. I want her to have a chance at normalcy. She deserves it. She deserves peace-”

 “She will be well.”

“How can you even be sure, hyung?” his voice, despite hinting a bit of hope still held despair. “You didn’t see her like I did. She was so…far from who she was.”

Seokjin smirked, “Because I said so. Now that that is out of the way, what do you really want? What’s really in that disgusting thingy you so fondly called a heart?”

Yoongi looked at him, his eyes held a certain darkness Seokjin was all too familiar with. He stood up straight, a strand of his hair fell to his face as he scoffed, “Her.”

He chuckled before leveling him with a serious stare. “Then go and get her.”

---

Your breath hitched when the door opened and your steps haltered.

Coincidentally, you knew who it was before he could even make it two steps inside the room. Even with your eyes failing you, you could never not know who he was. The sound of the door clicking shut behind him was unmistakable.

This was the moment of truth, you realized. This was your nightmares all and simultaneously coming to life.

You took a hesitant step back as his shoes made a sound. Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat louder and more frantic than the last.

“You shouldn’t be walking around just yet, Angel,” he admonished quietly, and by doing so, effectively broke the silence between the two of you. You had never forgotten how his voice sounded like despite attempting your very best to erase his existence from your memories. You had never forgotten how deep his voice sounded like, nor how to tell what he was feeling by the timbre of his voice alone.

Despite all that, you couldn’t help but feel something when you heard his voice,

The anxiety was almost suffocating that your breaths came out short and quick. “W-why am I here?”

“You lost consciousness, Angel.”

You stepped back when you heard his voice nearer. Unlike back home, you didn’t know the layout of the room like the back of your hand. You were utterly and truly helpless in his presence. You only had yourself this time. “I want to leave.”

“You need to get treated, Angel-”

“I want to leave!” you screamed at him, your hands now shaking uncontrollably from having to face the person who destroyed your world.

“Angel, calm down,” he implored, worry apparent in his voice but you didn’t care. It didn’t matter what he felt. You wanted him gone. You wanted to get away from this situation. You wanted to go home where everything was familiar. You wanted to hold your son again. You wished he never found you again. You wished that you could just wake up from this nightmare and back to your life.

Suddenly, the back of your leg collided with something solid, and you lost your footing. The room tilted as you fell, the moment drawn out, weightless—until strong arms caught you before you hit the ground. His reflexes, honed from years of instinct, were faster than gravity.

You were in his arms again.

For a breathless moment, you were in his arms again. Your body stiffened immediately, every muscle tensing in protest. Panic flared hot in your chest, overwhelming every sense. The touch you had once welcomed now filled you with terror. You shoved at him, desperate to get away.

“Don’t touch me!” Your voice was sharp, trembling with fear, and you struggled to free yourself, needing to break the contact. He loosened his grip, and you stumbled back to the floor, but his eyes never left yours.

“You’re scared of me…” he said in horrifying realization. Never in his wildest dreams did he ever want you of all people to be terrified of him when he had been nothing but gentle to you. Not when you looked at him before like he held all the answers and hang all the stars in the sky- too opposite of how now your eyes never left his in terror that he would do something terrible to you. Now, your wide, terrified gaze was locked on him as though he were something dangerous, something monstrous that might strike at any moment. The realization seemed to tear him apart, slowly, painfully.

“I-I’d never hurt you,” he stammered, his voice shaky with desperation as if each word might be the last thread keeping him tethered to something he no longer understood. “You have to know that Angel–”

“Don’t call me that,” you cut him off, your voice harsh as you pulled yourself further away, dragging yourself from his reach, from his proximity. And inching toward any corner. The endearment that had once meant so much now felt like an insult, a reminder of everything he had taken from you. His very presence was a wound you were desperate to escape, a scar you could never heal while he was near.

He recoiled at your words, the pain in his eyes deepening as if the rejection physically hurt him. "Please... I’d never—"

"Stop." Your voice shook as you raised a hand, as though the very sound of his voice was too much. "You don’t get to talk like that. You don’t get to act like you weren’t planning to use me and kill me the first chance you got."

A deafening, soul-crushing silence settled over the room, so thick and oppressive it felt like you could choke on it. The accusation hung in the air, heavy, suffocating, leaving no room for either of you to breathe. His face went blank, as if every emotion had been stripped away in an instant, leaving behind only a hollow shell. His eyes searched yours, trying to find something, some trace of the person you used to be, the person who used to believe in him.

If you didn’t know any better, you would think that he already left. His presence felt ghostly, his body frozen as if he couldn’t bear the weight of your words.

“Is that why you are so scared of me? Is that why you let me believe that you were dead?” he asked lowly, disbelief apparent in his tone. Was all the agony he endured because of a misunderstanding, a mistake on his part?

Your heart skipped a beat. What?

He believed that you were dead?

"What are you talking about?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper, confusion mixing with the fear that still pulsed through your veins.

Suga took a shaky breath. If you could see him, you’d see the tears pooling in his eyes, glistening as they threatened to fall. His gaze never wavered, locked onto yours, a painful mixture of sadness and confusion reflected in the depths of his eyes. “T-that night, Angel, you disappeared. We couldn’t find you anywhere. You just…vanished without a trace-” he paused, swallowing hard as if the memory was too painful to relive. “Everyone said that you died. Everyone told me that it would be impossible for you to survive that fire, not after the wounds you got. I never believed them. You must understand. I searched for you—years, Angel. Years of believing I lost you forever."

Your stomach twisted as his words settled in. The intensity of his gaze, the genuine anguish in his voice—it was as if he truly believed what he was saying. He had spent all this time believing you were gone, that you had died. But how? Why?

None of this made sense.

You shook your head, trying to clear the fog of disbelief clouding your mind. Your heart pounded in your chest, and your pulse roared in your ears as you tried to hold onto your version of the truth—the one you had built to survive. "I didn’t let you believe anything," you whispered, your voice shaking. “You’re lying. You’re making a fool out of me again. You didn’t look for me because you wanted me gone! H-he told me that if you find me…that you’d kill me. That you’re scared of being exposed for who you are-“

"Who’s he, Angel?" His voice was soft, but there was a hard edge beneath it—an urgency, a desperation to understand what had led to this moment, what had driven you so far away.

You froze, realization crashing over you like ice water. No. You shouldn't have mentioned him. If Suga thought you had died, then maybe—just maybe—he believed that Hoseok had disappeared with you in the fire. If that was true, he had no reason to go looking for him. No reason to discover what you were protecting.

But time was running out.

Not just for you, but for Hoseok.

Kim Seokjin knew what you were hiding, and the longer you stayed here, the closer Suga would get to the truth. If he ever found out about your son…

Your breath hitched, panic clawing at your throat. You couldn't let that happen. You couldn't let him find Hoseok. "It doesn’t matter," you said quickly, your voice cracking as you tried to mask your fear, but you knew it was too late. His eyes narrowed, sensing the shift in you.

"It does matter," Suga said, his voice growing harder, his patience wearing thin. "Tell me who’s been feeding you these lies, Angel. Who made you believe I wanted to hurt you?"

You swallowed, feeling the weight of his words press against your chest. His eyes were locked onto yours, searching for any sign of weakness, any crack where you might let the truth slip. But you couldn't. If you did, everything would fall apart. You would endanger your son.

"You’re not going to tell me? Fine," he said after a moment of tense silence, his voice dropping to a dangerous calm. "We have the rest of our lives to figure this out. But make this clear: you will not make me live without you again. I’m not letting you leave me."

“You can’t make me stay here!”

Suga’s lips curled into a slight, unsettling smile. "Oh, Angel," he murmured, taking a slow step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "I can."

Your pulse quickened as you backed away, but there was nowhere left to go. The walls, the room, his presence—everything felt too close, too suffocating.

"You said you loved me once," he continued, his voice soft but chilling. "I told you then... you can never take that back."

Your heart pounded violently in your chest, the words hanging over you like a sentence. You had once loved him, but that love was gone, buried under fear, pain, and the desperate need to protect your son. Yet to him, that love still tethered you to him—unbreakable, inescapable.

"Things have changed," you whispered, fighting to keep your voice steady.

Suga shook his head slowly, stepping closer until the space between you was almost nonexistent. "No," he said quietly, almost tenderly, "the only thing that's changed is that now, I know what it feels like to live without you. And I'm not going through that again."

He reached out, his hand ghosting near your arm, but you flinched away, causing a flicker of something darker to flash across his eyes.

"You don’t get to leave, Angel. Not this time."

“Welcome home, little one,” he greeted lowly, pulling your reluctant form in. If he felt the way you dug your heels on the ground, he didn’t mention. He was just elated that you were here now. He couldn’t explain the excruciating pain that went through his body almost more than an hour after he dropped you off. He was only able to manage it when Hoseok messaged him, letting him know that you would be coming home with him, and only then did he feel the pain subsided.

For the second time, you stepped foot in the grandiose place of theirs. It was a strange juxtaposition, your cautious movements against Namjoon's determined pull. Funnily, you thought it was similar to the depiction of Lucifer dragging Persephone down to hell. Walking behind you was the intimidating man, Jung Hoseok. He was carrying your bags in his hand in a relaxed manner, opposite to how he was before. The amount of clothes he personally packed were staggeringly ridiculous. It was like he packed your whole belongings with the intention for you to never set foot in your own apartment again. In his other hand was your traitor of a cat that was purring as the man carried him in his arms. It was like your cat left you for a better life.

"You must have been exhausted," Namjoon's voice broke through the quiet, drawing your attention to his warm smile. His concern softened the edges of your weariness. “The day is too long for any of us. You should get your rest.”

You eyed Hoseok, unsure of how to act when he offered you a reassuring smile. “We readied your room, little one," Hoseok's voice was surprisingly gentle, a stark contrast to his prior demeanor. Namjoon bade you good night, his large hand cupping your cheek tenderly before letting you go. With a beckoning gesture, Hoseok motioned for you to follow him, and you fell into step beside him, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on your shoulders.

He opened the room to the far end of the right wing. Similar to the aesthetic of the house, the room was equally grandiose. The bed, positioned prominently in the center of the room, commanded attention with its regal presence. It was fit for a princess, you thought, with its lavish canopy and layers of plush bedding inviting you to sink into its embrace. Every detail spoke of luxury and refinement, from the gilded accents to the soft, muted colors that suffused the room with an air of tranquility.

Any other time you would have gushed over the beauty of this room, but not this time. And not with the stress that that love potion brought you! On top of that, you were in a strange place with your CEOs who were practically strangers up at this moment! It was more than understandable that you were acting wary of these two men. They were only two of the seven, and you were already displaced by them! What more if the remaining five were to face you now?

You looked over your lashes at the man who was putting your bags down in front of what looked like a huge walk-in closet, his face void of any negative emotions but the people pleaser and the anxious child in you made you voiced out what you were thinking.

“Are you mad at me?”

Your cat, on the other hand, was now roaming freely and inspecting his new home with a purr, uncaring of the stress that you were feeling. You knew that traitor had such an expensive taste that your cat would literally sell you for a piece of chicken. You couldn’t help but notice the amount of cat toys that were kept in the corner of the room, prompting you to think that this wasn’t a spur of the moment kind of thing.

Hoseok blinked owlishly as though you asked an utterly absurd question, one that would never happen. His brows furrowed before he offered you a reassuring smile. “What brought this on?”

You sighed dramatically before plopping down on a surprisingly soft and comfortable mattress. You were even unknowingly pouting, making him want to squish your adorable cheeks in between his hands and cooed down at you. “Well, because I may or may not have ruined your lives because of that drink. But in my defense, which I think is a very good and plausible one and it may actually stand in court, it was never my intention to make you ‘fall in love’ with me and that drink was only gifted to me! Don’t you think I should be given a less harsh punishment?”

“Punishment?” Hoseok repeated to himself, his head tilted to the side as he pondered the notion. Was living with them meant to be some sort of a punishment when this was a big house and you had seven men to cater to your every whim? They would literally give you the world should you asked. “No, honey. Listen, I’m not mad at you. In fact, it’s the opposite.”

“I’m mad at you?” you asked with a hint of humor in your voice before flashing him a grin of your own. You were too adorable and funny, he gushed as he kneeled in front of you. Slowly as though gauging your reaction, he held your hands in between his, running his thumb in a soothing manner when you didn’t pull away. Hoseok couldn’t help but smile widely when he held you. It was such an exhilarating rush, he observed, one that he had never felt before.

In fact, it was an addicting feeling…one that he could not bear to lose.

“We’re not mad,” he began, his voice earnest as he looked up at you from his kneeled form on the carpeted floor. He never knelt for anyone, but for you, he would without any questions asked. “None of us are mad. This is merely a…unique conundrum. But we’ll figure it out. We always do. So don’t worry, okay?

We will take care of it.”

It was well after midnight when the five equally annoyed men strutted inside the mansion. Their faces were painted with discontent, their eyes carrying a certain weight of physical exhaustion and their movements that of strain from being physically away from you.

They were, in fact, practically gritting their teeth from the discomfort and pain.

Kim Seokjin was the first to stride into the room, the heavy oak double-doors slamming against their hinges so forcefully that even Namjoon grew concerned. He meant, for heaven’s sake, he had it custom-ordered from his favorite artist that specialized in wood carving! Anyway, it was a rare sight to see him display any negative emotion as he was always the brother that brought lightness to whatever tense situation he found them in. He was known for his penchant to be kidding around, cracking dad jokes left and right and his laughter was contagious. But those traits were nowhere to be found.

His voice was surprisingly deep as he directed his equally captivating eyes to their lead CEO with darkness even Jimin who was walking behind him found startling. “Don't forget, I'm the one who prepares your food, Kim Namjoon."

Namjoon blinked at that, his hold on his laptop loosening at his hyung’s words. “All is fair in love and war?” he supplemented sheepishly, his fingers lifting to flash him a peace sign to which his hyung merely rolled his eyes to before plopping down the huge sofa and closing his eyes, his long leg stretched out in front of him.

Next to display his displeasure was Park Jimin, the one that was the scariest when mad. “You should have just shipped us to Japan then I’d be able to at least buy my skincare products,” Jimin sassed as he rolled his eyes at the lead CEO. His nose was turned up high as he strutted in the room. Despite the long hours spent travelling, Namjoon could not see any evidence that any single blonde hair was out of place on Jimin’s. “I think I finally know what hatred feels like.”

Last to enter was Taehyung and Jungkook. In his own peculiar way, Taehyung was fake sobbing in Jungkook’s arms while the latter was pouting at Namjoon as he patted the back of the former. “I never thought I’d be betrayed by the person I look up the most!”

“Yah!” Seokjin suddenly opened his eyes in disbelief “You trust him the most when I spend all my money on your food from when you were 13 to now?!”

Jungkook merely nodded, his doe eyes seeing nothing wrong with what he said. Taehyung, on the other hand, suddenly stopped acting and stood up straight to face the occupants of the room. “How are we reduced to this: betraying each other?” his deep voice resounded over the room, holding a tone of certain seriousness. His dark eyes met theirs. “Aren’t we better than this? We are brothers. We are better than animals that kill each other in the wild to survive. We are civilized men who are in the top performers of the society, who are featured in every reputable magazine. We are men that are leaders of-”

“Weren’t you the first to betray us, hyung?” Jungkook suddenly asked, effectively cutting off his speech. His head was tilted to the side as he sat beside Seokjin who was actively pushing him away to no avail, grumbling about how he should sit beside the brother he trusted the most.

“That’s neither here nor there!” Taehyung’s volume increased from guilt, his eyes comically widening.

“How?! It’s literally here! And it’s still here!” Jimin shouted, further antagonizing his agemate to which Taehyung gladly took on. The screaming match went on, with Jin joining, whereas Jungkook chimed in every once in a while, clearly enjoying the ensuing chaos. Every now and then, though, he voiced out how much he missed you. Namjoon was massaging his forehead and quietly telling them to stop and to keep quiet because someone was sleeping. It was only Hoseok who was silently watching his brothers and doing a quiet headcount only to come up short.

“Guys? Aren’t we seven?” He broke his silence for the first time, effectively stopping the loud bickering of the brothers. “Where’s Yoongi?”

The loud bickering of his brothers faded as he slipped inside the mansion without them noticing. To be honest, he did not have the required energy to deal with them, much so when he could barely keep himself upright. He didn’t want to see that traitorous bastard, Kim Namjoon, for more than a second. They all had a piece to say but they were all morons, Yoongi thought. As he trudged up the last step of the stairs, he looked up and there was you.

Min Yoongi couldn’t believe his own eyes. He thought that it was his sanity breaking down from the physical pain he had been feeling since he parted from you, and decided to play cruel games with him in the form of you. But there was no way that you were actually here, right? There was no way you were standing in the hallway in your sleepwear…right?

On the other hand, you blinked and looked at Yoongi’s pale face. He looked like he was straining to hold himself upright, evidenced by his grip on the stair’s handrail. His hands were shaking and you were worried that any moment now, he would fall.

You were proven correct not even a second later.

You watched as his body swayed, his eyes closed and you were moving before you could even think of the repercussion. Without heeding to any of your friend’s warning about touching them, you stepped in just in time to steady his body. The momentum from his combined weight and the gravity made you stepped back as his head found its place on your shoulder. Your arms instinctively wrapped around his broad back to anchor him to you.

“Daepyonim Min,” you called for his attention, gauging his alertness while tapping your hand on his back with a sense of urgency. “Daepyonim Min, you need help. Let me call-”

“Little one,” you heard him breathed you in before speaking so slowly, a tone of disbelief in his voice. “You’re real, aren’t you?” His hand slowly cupped your cheek, needing to feel you, needing to know if the object of his love was truly here. “How?”

“I’m here…but it’s a long story. First, we need help. You’re not okay!”

“You’re here,” he repeated to himself, his voice that of wonder. “I-I’m okay now,” he replied with so much warmth as he struggled to lift himself up to look at you. “I just need to sleep. It’s been a long ass day,” he groaned, the ache from his head was slowly dissipating from the proximity to you, yet its intensity since they landed was at its highest. He knew it would take him the whole night to recuperate. But somehow, he knew he could do it easily with you by his side. He didn’t even care why you were here, or even how you got here. What was important was you were now here where you belong- with them.

Against your better judgement and completely unaware of the thoughts running in his head, you nodded as you followed his directions to his room. Just like his personality that you knew him of, his room was no non-sense in a way that all things were functional. It was apparent that the man favored minimalism and comfort over luxury. It was clean and uncluttered, with just the essentials neatly arranged. The bed, large and inviting, dominated the room, adorned with crisp white sheets and a fluffy comforter. A single nightstand stood beside it, holding a small lamp and a few books.

You helped him settle onto the bed, arranging the pillows behind him to support his weary body. He let out a contented sigh as he sank into the softness, his eyes closing momentarily in relief as the weariness slightly subdued.

"Thank you," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, yet filled with gratitude. His eyes held sincerity and warmth. The way he was looking at you, the way he was holding on to your wrist because he didn’t want to let you go only served as reminders of your guilt. He wouldn’t be acting this way if this was normal circumstances.

Your negligence that day brought you here. And those emotions he was showing you were not real, you reminded yourself.

"You're welcome," you replied softly with utmost sincerity, a gentle yet sad smile playing on your lips. "Do you need anything else before I go?"

He had you now, why would he let you go?

It was his rationale as he pulled you to lie beside him, the surprisingly comfortable bed and his enescapable hold were enough to tire you out, you pushing him away did nothing. Despite your inner turmoil, you found yourself yielding to his pull, sinking onto the bed beside him. The warmth of his body radiated against yours, a stark contrast to the chill of your guilt-ridden thoughts.

And when he whispered for you to stay, you did.

It was barely an hour later when Yoongi was awakened by the annoying buzzing of his phone. He looked at you, a smile tugging on his lips at how your mouth was agape as you slumbered off in his arms. You were just so adorable that he wanted to put you in his pocket. He grinned at that thought. He already felt better.

You were the cure, he was sure.

However, the headache seemed to be returning from the persistent phone calls he was getting. He sighed, picking up his phone carefully to not wake you up only to find out it was a videocall from Taehyung.

“Hyung! Where are you?” his deep voice resounded over the quietness of the room. Yoongi, on the other hand, had to lower the volume immediately.

“Shut up,” he admonished him quietly, careful to not arose you from your sleep.

“Are you…sleeping?! When we’re all worried about you?!” the camera spanned out to Seokjin who was eating calmly, lacking any evidence of worry that Taehyung was claiming while Jungkook was running in the background, looking for Yoongi in every corner and even under the furniture. Meanwhile, Jimin was on his phone trying to rank up on his games.

“Yes, you’re right. It’s clear that you’re all worried about me,” he noted in a deadpanned voice, not believing any bullshit coming from Taehyung’s mouth.

Namjoon entered the frame casually, his eyes taking in his hyung’s rested form. He had an inkling of suspicion as to why. “You look well-rested, hyung,” he stated his observation, his complexion looked healthy in comparison to Taehyung’s. Yoongi raised his brow at that. His initial theory that the span of time spent without you was making them sick only got stronger because of Namjoon’s healthier look.

“Did you find our gift?” Hoseok asked from behind the two men, casually hanging his arms on their shoulders. He was smiling. But his eyes held a certain darkness they usually didn’t have.

“I did. We’ll talk tomorrow, yeah?”

Wednesday, Day 2

“No one told me that we have an adorable new housemate.”

The six sleepy men sitting around the dining table looked up as soon as Park Jimin entered the room, in his arms was a fluffy cat that was actively hissing at him. He cooed down at it, softly stroking the thick fur with his hand that was now sporting claw marks.

“We’re already so close!” he announced with softness in his voice despite the repetitive kicks brought by the furry creature in his arm.

“I don’t think you are liked very much…” Jungkook quietly commented, his doe eyes went even larger at the bleeding scratches on his skin. As if sensing an opportunity to escape, the cat suddenly wriggled free from Jimin's arms and darted across the room, landing squarely in Hoseok's lap.

“Hi, my son! Did you have a good night’s sleep?” he asked affectionately, reaching down to stroke the cat's fur.

“Hyung has a secret son!” Jungkook whispered to Taehyung in a scandalous manner, clutching his nonexistent pearls. Taehyung, who looked like he lived and fought through three wars from his exhausted form and his sluggish movement only nodded at Jungkook.

“Whose cat is that? Is that yours, J-hope?” Jin asked, pointing at the cat with his mug. He didn’t know that they now had a furry housemate. Additionally, he didn’t know that he was a cat person.

Namjoon just smirked at his brothers, “That’s not his.”

“My God, I am so tired,” Jimin sat next to Taehyung, his muscles aching with exhaustion. With a heavy sigh, he leaned his whole weight on his friend, seeking some semblance of comfort in their shared weariness.

"Everything hurts," Taehyung moaned, mirroring Jimin's sentiment. He glanced over at Namjoon, pleading silently for a solution. "We need her. Hyung, please. Do something," he implored, his voice tinged with desperation.

Jungkook finally put down his spoon with a loud thud, standing up to look at them one by one. “Okay, I cannot be the only one curious about whose cat that is!” he pointed at the cat who only meowed back at him before shifting his finger to his hyung who was silently eating with a smile on his face. “And you, why do you look so good this morning, hyung, while the four of us look like we are 3 hours away from passing away?” he asked Yoongi, his doe eyes demanding answers from the chaotic bunch that only turned more chaotic as the morning wore on.

Yoongi, taking a leisurely sip of his coffee, raised an eyebrow at Jungkook's question. His lips curled into a smirk, revealing a hint of amusement. "Well, Kookie, some of us are just naturally blessed with good genes," he quipped, his tone teasing.

“Excuse me?! Are you saying that I am not blessed with good genes?! Me?! The world wide handsome?! Now, you’re just outright lying!”

“Hyuuuuung, do something! I think I’m dying!” Taehyung shouted amidst the noise.

“Stop screaming you’re scaring my son!” Hoseok shot back all while covering the cat’s little ears.

“Whose cat is that even?!” Jungkook asked again in disbelief, the vein in his throat protruding from annoyance and curiosity.

“Oh my God, Taehyung! I already did something, okay?!” Namjoon finally raised his voice for him to hear.

“Ahhhhhhh, my head hurts and she’s the only cure! I have to go to her!” Jimin whined sadly, attempting to leave his chair slowly.

“In that state?!” Jin shouted at Jimin and Taehyung, already feeling the stress causing havoc on his otherwise beautiful face.

But Taehyung and Jimin were already halfway out of their chair, clutching their heads dramatically. "I can't take this anymore! I need her!" he wailed, his eyes darting around the room with desperation only to find you by some miracle.

“Little one…” he called, his voice small as though he couldn’t believe that you were truly there. It was like their pain manifested you, and heavens, it was worth it. He’d willingly go through this pain if it meant seeing you and having you here where you belonged.

With them.

“Good morning, has anyone seen my cat?”

Your voice, despite it being low, was sufficient to effectively stop the bickering among the CEOs. How they heard you amidst their own noise, you didn’t know. One thing was for certain, though. They were attuned to you like lovesick men did. Their eyes were on you with varying emotions. Jungkook was surprised, to say the least. Taehyung and Jimin, on the other hand, were relieved. Yoongi's smirk widened into a grin, his eyes sparkling with delight at the sight of you. Seokjin stared at you in disbelief, as if trying to comprehend how you managed to appear amidst the chaos. Namjoon and Hoseok exchanged a knowing glance, their expressions reflecting a sense of contentment and joy. The pair looked like they secured an extremely important deal and even won the lottery at the same day.

You didn’t see Taehyung moved but you certainly felt how his heavy body fell against yours. You certainly heard his sigh of relief even as he swayed on his feet.

And when you touched his hand to support him, that was when he fell.

Suffice to say, no one made it to the office today.

You were seated beside Taehyung on the sofa, his thighs plastered to yours as though any space was considered a sin. He had your hand tenderly imprisoned in his. On your other side was Jimin who had his head in the vee of your shoulders. You were their medicine, they were sure.

Meanwhile, you were anything but comfortable. You were never really a fan of skinship, always the one who was reserved and preferred physical distance when surrounded by people. And yes, you were aware that thousands, if not millions, would kill to be in your spot right now but that didn’t make you any more receptive to their proximity. You couldn’t move even if you wanted to, not with the way they were watching you.

Especially not with the way Hoseok’s eyebrow raised whenever you even so much as attempted to move. His pointed gaze held you in place, a silent warning against any attempt to flee.

You were stiff. But you knew, and quite frankly you were starting to believe the effectivity and potency of that wretched potion. You already witnessed five of the seven men almost crumbled to the ground from the unbearable pain. There was no way that that was not connected to that potion.

 “When did the pain start, Taehyung-ah?” Seokjin asked as he flustered over the younger CEO. He was pouring hot tea for the two agemate, his innate mother instinct surfacing. Despite that, he couldn’t help but look at you with small smile on his lips. He was happy that you were here, truly happy for the first time in ages. It was like his heart calmed down, the darkness slowly vanishing from his mind now that you were in their vicinity. Now, he could just focus on taking care of you

“At around 6 pm…less than 12 hours after little one ran from me,” he finished with his signature pout, turning to you as though he was a puppy you kicked aside and was begging you to take it back. “I was so sad when you ran from me, little one.”

“You also ran from me,” Jimin added, his pouty lips protruding even more as he glared at you. “It deeply wounded me. I am still hurt over that, you know? I woke up so early just to see you.”  

“She also ran from me…” Jungkook's voice joined the chorus from his place on the floor with his back leaning on your knees, adding his own layer of disappointment.

“Then why didn’t you say anything?” Namjoon asked the peculiar man in concern, his worry lessening as Taehyung started to gain back his colors.

“Because! Hyung looked sicker than me!” Taehyung response was quick while pointing at Yoongi who was looking at them stoically. He looked bored, except when he turned to look at you and then all of a sudden, he was shooting sweet smile at your direction, his fingers forming heart sign. You blinked owlishly at his sudden display of affection.

“You idiot, he’s just naturally pale!” Seokjin admonished him even as he continued to feed him light snacks.

“Next time, say something when you’re not feeling well,” Hoseok broke his silence, a smile forming on his lips and you just knew it was fake. “Our little one is with us now. We no longer have to suffer, right, sunshine?”

The weight of Hoseok's words hung in the air, wrapped in the softness and faux innocence of his tone. It almost seemed like an innocent question, but you couldn't shake the feeling of caution that settled in the pit of your stomach. After all, it was Hoseok who ensnared you in his web and brought you into this situation.

Seokjin, sensing the tension between the two of you, directed your focus on him. His body was now turned to you, his form relaxed as he offered you a gentle and encouraging smile. “How did you get here, little one?”

“Daepyeonims Kim and Jung-“

“I take back what I said last night. I love you and you’re the best leader anyone could ever have!” Jimin suddenly said, jumping from his seat to cling to the aforementioned CEO. After which, the five of them listened to your retelling of how you got here.

“It’s true that we had an inkling of why we are acting…well, the way we are,” Seokjin noted after a lapse of silence, looking down at his hands as he did so. “It was the only plausible explanation, regardless of how illogical it was.”

“We weren’t- aren’t behaving normally. We thought back to everything that transpired during that day and the only deviation was our interaction with you.,” Namjoon took charge of the explanation, his voice steady and authoritative, as befitting a leader. “At first, the symptoms were bearable to say the least. I even managed to hold off for the whole day until I saw you in the elevator. And even then, I was already suffering. The pain was nothing I ever experienced before. All I could think about was you. All I craved was your presence. All I wanted that whole day was to go to you.”

Yoongi nodded, experiencing firsthand the excoriating pain last night. “Everything was a struggle. It’s like our organs were not functioning properly, like oxygen struggled to enter our lungs no matter how hard we breathed.”

“And you are the cure.”

You lifted your eyes to Park Jimin who sounded serious for the first time this morning. His smile was even missing from his face, but his eyes held genuineness. “You’re the only one we need, little one.”

But instead of feeling relieved, you felt suffocated, overwhelmed by the weight of their dependence on you. The realization that you held the key to their well-being filled you with a sense of panic, the walls closing in around you. You wanted to help them, to ease their suffering, but the burden felt too heavy to bear. With all seven of them relying on you, the pressure threatened to crush you under its weight.

As you struggled to find your voice amidst the chaos, a sense of dread settled in the pit of your stomach. The repercussions of that potion were far greater than you could have ever imagined, and now, you were left to grapple with the consequences. “Until when?”

You untangled Taehyung’s arms from you and moved away despite the whine that left Jimin. You stood up, your back almost to the wall as you regarded them with your eyes. “Until when will you need me?”

“We don’t know, yet, my love,” Namjoon answered truthfully at the same time Taehyung.

“Forever,” his deep voice resounded over the room, the weight of his words heavy in the air.

Silence descended, thick and palpable, as the gravity of the situation settled upon each of you like a suffocating blanket. The only sound was the faint hum of the ventilation system, a stark contrast to the turmoil raging within your mind.

Forever. The word echoed in your ears, reverberating with both promise and dread. The thought of being tethered to them indefinitely sent shivers down your spine, a chilling reminder of the magnitude of their reliance on you.

Jimin shifted uncomfortably, his eyes pleading as he reached out a hand towards you. "Please, don't leave us," he implored, his voice tinged with desperation.

Your shoulders dropped down at his plea. You knew yourself all too well. You had to help them. You had to go at the bottom of this. You were going to be patient.

But patience was never your best suit.

You finally had it at exactly five in the afternoon. See you didn’t even last for 10 hours and you already felt suffocated. Anywhere you went, there would be at least two of them tailing you. Every time you turned to ask for space, they would be flashing you the sweetest smiles you were ever given. Every time you ran into Yoongi, he would blatantly offer you all his stocks; Jin was always seen to be carrying snacks around for you and trying to feed you; Namjoon would always try to herd you in his display room of paintings and sculptures; while Hoseok would always look at you then his phone and order you clothes that you wouldn’t even dream of buying from the price alone.

Meanwhile, the maknae line was always around you, beaming with energy and trying their very best to rizz you up. It was safe to say that they were doing their absolute best to make you lose your composure.

Which is why you abruptly stopped walking, turned around, and glared at the men behind you that almost crashed into each other, including your cat that was following you around the house.

“May I help you?” you asked, your brow raised as you waited for their answer as they looked at each other.

“Yes, little one. You definitely can help us. Let’s go over there and cuddle!” Jimin smiled angelically at you as he pointed upstairs to what you assumed was his room. See, this man looked so harmless. In fact, you thought he looked the sweetest among the seven, but his eyes could never fool you. You physically saw someone blushed so hard when he smiled at them, his eyes crinkling into crescents as he brushed his hair up like he was fond of doing.

On the other hand, Taehyung, ever the agreeable companion to Jimin, nodded vigorously, his boxy smile widening as he looked at you expectantly. Jungkook was bouncing on his feet, excited with the prospect that he got to have you in his arms despite his inability to meet your eyes at the moment.

Wednesday Evening, Day 2

“We need to talk,” you huffed as you pushed the three men inside what you assumed was the common room of this huge mansion.

Seokjin, who was already inside the room and enthusiastically playing his game, rapidly turned it off despite obviously winning to give you all his attention. His back was straightened after kicking his gaming console away. The way he was looking at you made you blushed, but you were deathly determined to not show it. You were terrified that if you gave in even an inch, then these men would gladly take a mile. You couldn’t let yourself drown in this scenario, and most of all, you shouldn’t let yourself fall for them.

These were just effects of that wretched potion. None of these were real.

“Yes, little one? What’s on your mind?” Namjoon’s voice suddenly disrupted your thoughts as he walked in the room, his posture relaxed. He intentionally brushed against your side, his hard muscles softly swaying your soft one, satisfying the call inside him to have you near him. He leaned against the table where Hoseok and Yoongi were working. They both gave you their attention as soon as you declared that conversation needed to be had.

“Speak your mind, sunshine,” Hoseok urged you gently with a smile on his face as though he didn’t terrify you the night before. Your eyes lingered on him, still unable to read his true personality. Or which among the versions he showed you were his realest?

Yoongi nodded when he saw you hesitated, giving you assurance you obviously needed to continue.

“I need space.”

Cue the tears from Jungkook, chaos from Taehyung and Jimin, rapid reasoning from Seokjin, dramatic clutching of heart from Yoongi partnered with a deathly glare to the who he assumed made you say those wretched word; maknae line, clenched of jaw from Namjoon and deafening silence from Hoseok. Despite the expected mixed reaction, one emotion rose above them all.

Panic.

As though they had one mind, the six CEOs turned to look at Namjoon, a plead for him to make sense of what was happening and to fix this for them. It was obvious that they needed you like air, if not more. Their survival hinged on you, and that was not even an overstatement.

Seokjin, ever perceptive, sensed the uncharacteristic struggle within the lead CEO. Namjoon’s jaw was, a sure sign of his struggle to maintain composure in the face of the unexpected. In a move only Seokjin could execute with dramatic flair, he jumped away from you, creating a symbolic distance that echoed your plea. He pointedly looking at the expanse of space between of the two of you as though this was what you meant when you knew he understood what you truly meant by space.

“There, little one,” Seokjin spoke softly, his voice carrying a weight that resonated through the room. His eyes were dark that held a mix of understanding and yet, a stubborn determination. “Space.”

You sighed, looking up at the peculiar-looking chandelier you just knew was Taehyung’s idea. “That’s not what I meant-”

“Then what do you mean?” Taehyung cut you off, his earlier tirade and childlike rebellion with his agemate were nowhere to be found and instead, who stood before you was an entirely different man. Had you looked closer, then perhaps you would have seen the swirling darkness in his eyes.

“You know we’d die without you. Why are you doing this?” Yoongi, who was still clutching his heart, spoke lowly. His eyes that you thought to be always emotionless were brimming with sadness. His words tugged at your heart.

But if they just let you speak, then they’d understood-

“Is that what you want?” Hoseok asked monotonously, and this time he didn’t look like the lively and full of sunshine CEO. This time, he looked like a dangerous man who was about to go off. He lifted his dark brow before standing up and circling to where you were. He was close, too close and yet, none of him was touching you. The height difference between the two of you made him seemed more intimidating as he leaned down to meet your eyes. “You want us to die, is that it? Hmm?”

“No-“

“Then what?”

“I just need space for myself-“

“But noona! I need you. We need yo-“

You turned to glare at Jungkook who actively gulped when he saw the daggers in your eyes. “Can you let me speak? Can you all let me finish?”

“Yes, noona. Sorry, noona. You’re so beautiful, noona,” he rapidly said as he formed hearts with his fingers, his smile was lovely as though he didn’t just annoy you.

“All of you,” Namjoon’s commanding voice echoed in the room, his draconic eyes set on you even as he addressed his brothers. “Sit down and let little one talk.”

Once they were all settled in with the five men sitting on the sofa, Yoongi not moving from his seat, and Namjoon standing tall- a deliberate choice, you thought, to let you know that you might have the floor but he still held the reins, you started explaining to them how you could not do this if it meant that you wouldn’t have any time for yourself. In order to leave this house once this was all over with your sanity intact, then you had to have rules and regulations like civil men did.

Yoongi's eyes narrowed slightly, as if assessing your resolve. Jin shifted in his seat, his expression unreadable. Hoseok glanced between you and Namjoon, silently absorbing the tension. Taehyung and Jungkook remained quiet, their eyes fixed on you, waiting for your conditions. Jimin scoffed lightly.

“What do you propose?” Jimin asked, his velvet smooth voice seemed to be innocent had you not known that he identified as a Slytherin.

“2 hours each. I think that since there are seven of you, that would be 14 hours of my day-“

“Dibs to the remaining 10 hours!” Yoongi suddenly said, his hand shooting up and his face held determination and a hint of mischief. The room fell silent, all eyes turning to Yoongi as he leaned back comfortably in his chair, a sly grin playing on his lips.

Jimin raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable for a moment before a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Bold move, Yoongi," he remarked, his tone light but edged with amusement. "I, myself, am also vying for those ten hours, little one."

Yoongi shrugged nonchalantly, uncaring of what Jimin was saying. "I know what I want," he stated simply, crossing his arms as he leaned back further in his seat, looking supremely confident. “And anyway, now that I had her in my arms last night, I really don’t think I can sleep alone, anymore.”

“Excuse me?!” Taehyung stood up, facing Yoongi with disbelief in his face. “How did that happen-”

“Does being the oldest not mean anything anymore?!”

“You might as well step on me, hyung! You might as well kick me where it hurts the most- oh wait! You did!”

 You shook your head as maknae line plus Seokjin screamed at each other. Meanwhile, Hoseok was trying to keep the peace. Namjoon was the only one who kept on watching you, his mind going over an overdrive as to how to resolve this all while maintaining their leverage over you and keeping you happy.               

“Fine, we accept.”

They all turned to Namjoon, their eyes comically large at how easy their leader agreed. “We do?” Hoseok asked.

“Either that or lose her. Or die. So yes, we agree. In return, within those two hours of your undivided attention, you’ll cater to our every need.”

You blinked owlishly at what he said. And also, did he have to say that like that?!

“F-fine! But those ten hours will truly be mine, okay?”

“What will you even do within those ten hours, noona?” Jungkook asked innocently, his doe eyes brimming with curiosity.

“Shower, sleep, eat, meditate so as to not lose my mind-“

“But why can’t we do all those things together?” Jimin whined, swaying his body in emphasis of his desire to be included.

“Because! That’s private-“

“But we’re close!” Jungkook added, his eyes wide and earnest.

“Oh my God, you idiot,” you heard Seokjin murmured under his breath, disappointed and quite frankly, embarrassed by the youngest’s stubbornness.

“Two hours start when?” Hoseok finally asked something that could be answered logically.

“7 in the morning and ends at 9 in the evening.”

Thursday morning, Day 3

“Rise and shine, my one and only!”

Your room was gently engulfed by light as Kim Seokjin opened the door at exactly 7 in the morning. He was still wearing his blue pajamas and in his hands was a tray with what looked to be a delectable mug of coffee. You blinked your sleepiness away as he stepped in the room. He carefully placed the tray on your bedside table, before cupping your cheeks in between his hands and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

Okay.

That woke you up.

His gesture was unexpected, and it most probably showed on your face from the way he chuckled as he booped your nose.

“Ah, you’re so beautiful even in the morning, little one!” He exclaimed before stepping back and flicking the curtains open further, letting even more sunlight stream into the room. How was this fair, you wondered. How could he look so perfect and put-together even when he was still in his sleepwear? You glanced at the mirror on the wall and was horrified to see how opposite you looked to the man who just declared that you were so beautiful in the morning.

If you didn’t believe in the effectivity of the potion before, then you definitely did now. Your hair was all over the place and you had sleep in your eyes.

And oh my God, was that a dried drool on the side of your lips?!

You immediately made yourself presentable the best you could before Seokjin sat on your bed, lifting his own mug to his lips…his very plump lips. He was unfazed by your awkward demeanor.

“I am so glad I have this schedule. Nothing beats spending the morning with you,” he murmured warmly, his eyes shining with sincerity and love(?) “I made breakfast, little one. Get ready and come down, okay?”

It was quarter to eight when you finally joined him in the patio where he set up the breakfast. He was already dressed for work like you, his hair now sleeked up. Also, how could a forehead look that good? Did that even make any sense?!

He turned to you and smiled. His eyes traced your form before standing. He gently tugged you in his arms, completely engulfing you within him. You could hear his heart and hoped that he couldn’t hear yours; it was definitely embarrassing how fast yours was beating in comparison to his. You weren’t really used to being physically close to anyone, let alone your CEOs that you never had personal interactions with before this.

“I didn’t put on at tie yet because I wanted us to match,” he easily shared in your ear before guiding you to your seat as though what he did was not meant to make your heart beat faster.

You looked at all the mouthwatering dishes he prepared and wondered just how long he had been awake for. “Where are the others?” you hadn’t seen nor heard any of them in the house and you wondered if they had already eaten.

Seokjin merely smiled at you before artfully cutting pieces of the croissant he made for you and putting them on your plate. “Little one, it’s my time. You’re mine.”

“For two hours…” you added, suddenly feeling ominous by the way he worded his schedule and his dark eyes despite the sweet and seemingly harmless smile he was sporting.

“Sure.”

After he dropped you off in your office wherein he held your hand all the way from the car until he delivered you to your office chair, he planted a kiss on the back of your hand despite your reluctance. You couldn’t help but noticed the grip he had on you, nor the way he looked around the office and glared at any men glancing your way.

And of course, everyone in the office saw.

At exactly 9:01 am, a bouquet of flower was sent to your office. The sender? None other than Jung Hoseok himself.

He was sure to be punctual, not wasting any second off his scheduled time. He thought that time was gold, and he wanted nothing more since he woke up to be with you.

Sufficed to say, Jung Hoseok craved you so bad.

Your eyes widened from the sunflowers to him as he flashed you his sunny smile as though he didn’t scare you the past days with his warnings. “For the most beautiful part of my day.”

You could hear the murmurs of your officemates, and you were already dreading the gossips that would surely come. You wondered how they would look at you once this was all over. For sure, you’d be the laughing stock of the ton.

You most probably have to resign…

“Darling?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Hoseok tilted his head as he leaned in you, his hand on your armrest. This close and you could smell him. And heavens. He smelled heavenly. He smelled clean and crisp, like the subtle touch of ocean breeze. This close and you could see how perfect his features were, how harmoniously proportionate they were. This close and you could see the darkness he always kept in bay.

“What are you thinking?”

“N-nothing-“

“Tell me,” he demanded gently, his eyes trained on your lips like no one was looking, like you and him were existing in your own world where no one could touch you and take you away from him.

Where no one could take you away from them.

“I-“

“Good morning! I have great, great news!”

Your friend breezed into the office, fashionably late as usual, her face lit up with excitement. The room buzzed with curious glances as she made her way to her desk, her eyes searching until they landed on yours. The grin she was sporting faltered off as the CEO turned to her with an expression she didn’t like before it all went away and Hoseok flashed her a smile.

“G-good morning, Daepyeonim Jung.”

“Good morning,” he answered cheerfully, fully straightening up and granting you the much-needed space to catch your breath. “What’s your good news?”

She looked at you, and only when you nodded did she whisper the news that her grandmother knew someone from the mountains that had the answer and solution. Her voice was hushed enough that your coworkers couldn’t hear her, yet clear enough to give you hope. Your grin was so wide as you stood up and hugged her.

It was only when you turned to Hoseok to share your happiness did you notice something unsettling. His expression had darkened briefly, a shadow passing over his features before he hastily composed himself with a bright smile.

What was that?

Before you could dwell on that, he declared it good news and pulled you out of the office.

You found yourself standing in the middle of his office as he plopped down on his chair, stack of paper on his table that grew in size from missing yesterday’s work. He seemed busy, yet he was looking expectedly at you. His eyes were serious as he gestured for you to come closer.

It was apparent he wasn’t happy with the distance when you decided to stop three feet away from him. His eyes remained impassive as he sighed and without any warning, pulled you to him. You landed on his surprisingly muscular lap, your hands automatically going to his shoulders in an effort to steady you.

Your eyes widened at his actions and any attempt to stand up was squashed by his ironlike grip around you.

“Didn’t you promise you’d cater to our every need when we agreed on that ridiculous two-hour schedule?”

“And having me on your lap is a need?!”

“It is. I want- no. I need you close,” and only when he confessed did you see the miniscule tremors in his hands. He was nuzzling his face on your neck, breathing in the scent he missed so much. Your soft skin against his touch somehow calmed the demons. If he was already like this despite you seeing him last night, then it meant that their symptoms were worsening like what your friend warned you of. The more time you spent with them and the more that your skins touched meant that their lovesickness would only worsen in time.

You were dreading to think what would happen to the remaining CEOs and how they would act, more so when Jimin and Namjoon were in the last two.

Or rather, as he watched him willingly got beaten up by the younger man. This was a rather peculiar event as their oldest hyung was rarely seen to be in this state. He always thought he was above petty brawls even when the maknaes begged the mafia prince to spar with them. They knew how good he was, if not the best among them. He had rigorous trainings since he learned how to walk. In fact, they witnessed how good he was, but Kim Seokjin was never one to brag about his skills. On the other hand, he always took pride on how he looked, never one to be seen with even a strand of hair out of place. His clothes were never seen with any crease at all that one would think he didn’t move throughout the day. It was so ridiculous that his pairs of sleepwear were of the highest quality. You’d never catch this man slipping.

See, one would think that he was truly a prince because of the standard he held himself in.

But now, he was not even pretending to put up a fight even as Taehyung landed blows after blows until the younger man hesitated. Even someone as emotionless as him knew something was wrong which proved just how peculiar their hyung was acting. Had he been in his right mind, he wouldn’t even let Taehyung’s fist near his ‘glorious’ and ‘worldwide handsome’ face. Well, his words and not theirs.

Hoseok and Namjoon, on the other hand, knew for certain that should Seokjin wanted to fight, he could do so. After all, they witnessed firsthand the unhinged and dangerous version of their hyung before he decided that he would rather pamper his skin with expensive creams and serums than the stark blood of his enemies, and well sometimes, even friends.

“Hyuuuung!” Taehyung finally snapped, pouting at Seokjin who had blood dripping from the open gash on his forehead. “You agreed!”

Seokjin rolled his eyes as he wiped the blood on his plump lips. “Did I? Because I vividly remember that you asked me to spar and I didn’t say anything.”

“You stood up and went in the ring with me!” Taehyung snapped back, his eyes wide before looking at his brothers as though to point out how ridiculous Seokjin was being.

Namjoon quietly chuckled at the scene in front of him. They were gathered somewhere in an unnamed basement building and two of his brothers were sparring as the four other brothers keenly watched as though this was the most interesting thing in their life. If anyone saw these six distinguished men in their respective fields acting like this, Namjoon thought that they wouldn’t even believe their own eyes. Heck, this dark basement had two distinguished police officers, the top doctor in the country, actor who won the most prestigious awards, a tech genius with numerous connections with the world leaders, and yours truly, the best attorney in the country that had a stellar case win rate and was constantly being asked by political groups to join them. They were just missing the chief of police, Min Yoongi. They still couldn’t reach him since last week.

They were used to him vanishing like that, but Namjoon’s senses told him that this time it was different. His eyes shifted to the smiling man next to him, his phone capturing the scene like he was always fond of doing. He couldn’t help but noticed the slight limp he was sporting when he walked in. His draconic eyes shifted to the faint bruises in his knuckles which he claimed were all from training.

“Right, Joonie?” Hoseok suddenly turned to him, his pleasant smile ever present on his face.

“What?” he blinked, suddenly dawning on him that everyone’s attention was on him.

“Where are you? Is Namjoon in the room with us?” Hoseok kidded before playfully bumping his shoulder. “I said, hyung didn’t explicitly give his consent to the sparring. Taehyung was wrong-“

“Hyuuuung!” Taehyung stomped his foot in indignation, acting like the baby they knew he was.

Jungkook chuckled as Tae’s statement, thoroughly enjoying the scene. “You hit Jin hyung without his consent. Tsk tsk.”

“But he went in the ring and stood there! Taetae is not wrong,” Jimin defended his agemate before letting his Slytherin ways that had always thrived in chaos won. “But then again, Taehyung, how can you hit that face? Come on, man, that’s just wrong.”

And chaos ensued as all five of them spoke over one another while the subject of the chaos was emotionlessly wiping the blood on his face with his towel he probably imported from Japan. He didn’t care of the chaos brought by his nonchalance in the violence, taking his sweet time to gulp water from his bottle as though nothing bothered him, as though the wounds and forming bruises on his body didn’t hurt.

“Fine, fine!” Taehyung relented, raising both his hands to stop the verbal assaults being thrown from both sides. “But why did he let me hit him so many times?! He could have stopped me! Hell, he could take all of us if he wanted to!”

“That makes sense,” Jungkook agreed, nodding his head before turning his doe eyes to his hyung who was now silently looking at his phone. “If noona sees you like this, she won’t like you anymore.”

“She already doesn’t like me.”

That was the first time he opened his mouth that night after brooding in the basement for so long and spreading his dark energy. Even Jungkook who was always found to be sitting next to him in any occasion opted to sit on the other side of the room.

“Who’s she?” Namjoon asked, his brows pinched together from confusion and curiosity. Girl? Hyung was with a girl when he didn’t even look at them before because, as he quoted, ‘why bother when his visual was better that theirs?’

“You know? The girl I posted in my Instagram story with hyung?”

At Namjoon’s blank stare, Jungkook exploded. “You still hadn’t followed me back?! The audacity, Attorney Kim! Until now, I’m still stuck as a liker and commenter on all your posts! All you follow is your secretary and all you post is her son and her! And plants! It’s like I don’t matter to you-”

“Okay, so who’s she?”

Jungkook blinked, “She’s a doctor in hyung’s hospital. She’s kind and pretty, and she likes Taylor Swift, and she bought me samgyupsal. And you!”

He pointed at his Jin hyung with accusation in his eyes. He squinted his doe eyes at him before sauntering near to him. “What did you do?”

Seokjin lifted his dark eyes on him before putting down his phone. “Why do automatically think it’s something I did?”

“Noona literally had heart in her eyes when she looked at you! And am I wrong? Was it not your fault?”

His silence was enough to confirm Jungkook’s accusation. He scoffed as he straightened up and thought to himself that somehow, in a room full of intelligent and capable men, he was surrounded by idiots.

“Fix it or else I’ll give the engineer in my office her name. He’s been pestering me to introduce noona to him ever since he saw her on my Instagram and I might just give it to him-“

“What’s his name?!” Seokjin cut him off, suddenly standing to his full height and with so much force that the chair he was sitting on fell back to the ground.

“No!”

“Get back here and give me his name!”

“I’m leaving!”

“Jeon Jungkook, you get back here right now! Where does he live?!”

-

Had you been an outsider to all this fiasco, then you would surely feel sorry for he-who-shall-not-be-named aka Voldemort aka Kim Seokjin. Had you been an outsider to this situation, then you would surely find this all funny.

But you weren’t. You were, in fact, in the middle of it all.

You decided the moment you went home after he slandered your name, belittled you, and short-of shouted at everyone that he would never fall for you because you didn’t pass his taste. In fact, and you quoted, you were ‘so below him’ and you weren’t the same stature as him that he was embarrassed for someone to even think that he felt something for you.

What a dramatic person, you thought. Why would you be hurt over a crush? Why would you even cry over it?

You sat with your feelings that weekend. You thought and thought hard enough to know that the reason why you bawled your eyes out the moment you exited that coffee shop and why you lost your appetite and stayed in bed was because all he said was the truth.

Were you beneath him in stature? Check.

Was his taste in women beyond you? Check.

Were you below him? Check.

Did he only entertain you because you were funny? Damn right you were. You were hilarious as fuck.

But still, you called in sick for work after weekend passed. You were still hurt and quite frankly, too embarrassed to even see him or any people from the hospital that knew how hard you were chasing him. You sat with your feelings long enough to realize that just because some guy, no matter how perfect he was in the outside, didn’t like you back did not mean that it was the end of the world. Your mother did not raise a weak woman. Well, she really didn’t raise you, but anyway!

You decided to do exactly what you did best.

Avoidance.

According to an article written by Lebow in 2022, somatic avoidance refers to steering clear from situation that elicit a physical response similar to anxiety or stress response. Right now, you were actively avoiding your greatest stress in life. So when you met his eyes as you walked to the entrance of the hospital, you pretended to not see him. You continued as though nothing was amiss, as though seeing him after hiding and housing your pain for days did not affect you in any way. You weren’t blind, though. You couldn’t help but notice how exhausted he looked. You couldn’t help but notice a faint bruise on his otherwise perfect face. You felt the gnawing curiosity forming in your mind as to how he got that when you thought that he was someone who would never get into a fight. Foolishly, you thought that he was someone who would rather resolve issues in a calm and civil manner than inflict pain on other people.

“Y/N, wait-”

You continued walking and like the asshole that he was, he didn’t take the hint that you didn’t wish to speak to him, nor hear whatever he had to say. He had embarrassed you enough to last a lifetime. The distance you placed between the two of you were rapidly closed by his long legs. If he noticed how you were almost running to the elevator to escape him, he didn’t say anything. By some miracle, you lost him as the lobby was now bustling with patients, visitors, and employees alike. You greeted your colleague as you entered the elevator. She was making small talk about what happened during your absence, yet you were too distracted to engage. Instead. you repeatedly pushed the close button, which she frowned at.

“Hey, what’s the rush?” she asked as she watched you act peculiarly.

“Just…you know. Running late.”

“Honey, it’s 6 in the morning.”

The doors were finally starting to close, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. You knew it was too soon to celebrate when the door barely closed because just as the gap was about to disappear completely, a hand shot through, triggering the sensor and causing the doors to slide back open. Your stomach dropped as he stepped into the elevator, his eyes locking onto yours. The small, enclosed space suddenly felt suffocating.

Kim Seokjin stared into your eyes as he entered. His dark eyes held yours hostage even as you scooched to the left side of the lift. He sighed, merely nodding at the greeting of your coworker. His broad shoulders made the lift seemed small when it was anything but.

It was three floors later, and yes, you counted. You’d honestly rather watched the elevator screen than turned to him as he blatantly looked at you.

“Doctor Y/N–“ He started, almost making you jump when he broke the silence.

“Oh my God, what’s that?” you turned to your colleague, and now, a victim of your pettiness.

“What?” she frowned, sensing the tension between the two of you and wanting nothing but to get off the lift.

“I just felt chills in my right side,” you answered, rubbing your arms because fuck it, you were going to show him how good you could act. You didn’t join the theatre when you were in high school for the fun of it! Nope, it was just that you had always been dramatic and you thought it would be a waste of God-given talents, really.

She lifted her eyes sheepishly at the doctor that held the highest position in the hospital who only had eyes on you. “Y/N, that’s Doctor Ki-“

“Like a disturbed ghost. Very scary,” you shuddered exaggeratedly before clasping your hands and murmuring a short prayer. “I hope he finds peace. Or not.”

Seokjin’s lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes narrowing slightly. Your colleague glanced between the two of you, clearly uncomfortable and unsure of what to say.

The elevator dinged again, the doors sliding open, and you took the opportunity to escape the ghost of your past aka Voldemort. Fuck it, you thought. You’d rather walked five flights of stairs than stay another second with that man. Honestly.

You thought that was the end of it. You wished it was the end of it and you couldn’t be more wrong.

It was late at night when you finally finished your work. Your back was killing you, and you felt like another cup of coffee wouldn’t wake you up but rather send you to an early death. You were definitely not looking forward to your commute back to your apartment. Regardless of the weariness you felt, you couldn’t help but feel satisfied with the work you did today. You thought that you lucked out on the career path you chose because you were able to help people heal where it was the hardest to heal in.

But heavens, you just wished this job paid better.

You sighed as you exited the hospital, and you sighed even deeper when someone stepped in front of you. You knew before you even lifted your eyes who it was. The polished shoes and the obviously expensive suit were enough telltale signs that you were once again in front of him and that he was once again going to bother you.

“Are you going home?”

You looked directly at him for the first time since that day. And damn it! He looked good, you hated it. You tilted your head to the side when he smiled at you. “Come on. It’s late. I’ll drive you home.” He pointed at his expensive white car that was conveniently parked in front of the entrance, a clear violation of the hospital premises rules. But who were you to talk, anyway. He was the damned owner, and he could do whatever he wanted, apparently.

You scoffed as you walked away from him, spotting a taxi that just dropped off a passenger in front of the hospital. You’d rather commute than go with him, you thought. Just as you opened the door, a particularly large hand pushed it close. You looked up to see him leaning down and handing the taxi driver crisp bills.

“Leave.”

Never had you witnessed a taxi drove as fast as he did away from you, the tires screeching dramatically as he sped away from the building.

You turned to him, anger and irritation coursing through your veins. You were physically, mentally and emotionally tired. This was the last thing you needed tonight.

“That was rude.”

He lifted his dark brows at that. He looked down at you and only then did you notice that the hair he usually kept neat seemed slightly disheveled.

“Actively avoiding me, calling me a ghost, and walking away from me when I’m talking to you is what’s rude,” he shot back, his voice just as dark as his eyes.

“Calling me beneath you is ruder, don’t you think? Acting like you were my friend when you were merely toying with me is more improper, don’t you think?”

He flinched at every shot you took. His blunders were by no means light, but he wanted-. No. He needed to make this better. He couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t eat and his face lost the glow he had always bragged about! This was a disaster, and this was him putting it on a lighter note.

“I’m-“

“Look, buddy,” you breathed, easing the irritation you were feeling. “What will make you stop?”

“I want to apologize-“

“K. Do it,” you cut him off with a wave of your hand, wanting this to be done so that you can at least get a roughly five hours of sleep once you get home.

He frowned, blinking rapidly at your sudden change of heart. “I’m sorry. I’m terribly sorry-“

“Forgiven. Bye.”

It had been more than three days now and he still hadn’t done anything except following you wherever you went. He turned into your very own version of a shadow, never straying more than a foot away. Despite your diminishing sight, you could see how people went out of their way to avoid your path. You surmised that it was because of the man following you closely. You didn’t have to turn to see the glare he was freely giving anyone as though he was your guard dog, or the dark energy he was emitting like a disturbed cat you used to frequently liken him to.

You were close to your breaking point. Your future laid uncertain, more so about your survival and likelihood that you would see your beautiful son once again just because his father was confusing you.

His motives confused you. If he was here to end you, why hadn’t he done so, yet? If he wanted to talk to you and ensure that you wouldn’t blab to anyone about who he truly was, about his other identity, why hadn’t he done so yet?

Why hadn’t he done anything except to follow you?

You were never a good actress, and you knew sooner rather than later that he would inadvertently notice. Honestly, you were already sick with anxiety and you didn’t know what you would do should you take this one more day. This had to stop and you needed to know why he was doing this.

And what exactly was he doing you asked?

Take for example, right now as you were trying to enjoy your meal in a small diner. His presence was unsettling and his eyes, like dark pools, seemed to follow your every move with a mix of intensity and longing that sent shivers down your spine. Not only was he eating on a booth in front of yours, but he also paid for your meal. He even went as far as threatening the waiter with his eyes to make it appear that the meal was free due to some made up celebration.

You couldn't help but scoff at the absurdity of it all. Unicorn Day? What kind of excuse was that? What even was a unicorn day?! That did not even exist! But even as you stopped yourself from rolling your eyes, a nagging question lingered in the back of your mind. Why was he going to such lengths to keep you close?

More so… why was he pitifully eating his meal alone, his gaze held a certain softness and daresay yearning in them? Why did he look so…lonely?

Confusion and frustration warred within you as you struggled to make sense of his intentions.

However, it was becoming less likely now that he wanted you gone when you came home and finally found solitude. You were going through the motion for the night. Your hands were running across the table as a guide, a thing that you had learned to do when you hit yourself too many times from the edge of the table, when you felt what seemed to be a protective gear used in the corner of tables. And then all at once, you noticed all the little things that had changed without you fully noticing.

The bathroom tiles had more friction to what you were used to, the kitchen utensils lost their heaviness, and the doorknobs were now noticeably noisier than before.

And now that you were alone without his overbearing presence clouding your judgement, without him breathing down your neck that caused you to immensely fear for your life, that you started to look on the other side of your horror: did he do all of these for you?

Perhaps, you were able to tolerate it all because of the anticipation of pain you thought you’d get from him. But this softness and tenderness displaced you. Somehow, this was worse. This was something you couldn’t bear, not when you now knew who he truly was. You couldn’t take this, you couldn’t let all of this change anything – especially when you now had someone to protect. You struggled to think of what could happen should he find out that his clever deception brought someone in this world.

Sleep had greatly eluded you that night regardless of how weary you felt. Your thoughts were all over the place, consumed by worry for your son right now. You couldn’t even step out to find solace and watch the stars like you used to do when your thoughts were just too loud. What was the use, you thought, when you could no longer see their beauty?

You had your eyes closed, now accustomed to darkness and your body was even when you heard it– a miniscule creaking of the floorboard, followed by the gentle opening of the door. He was here, you surmised.

Agustd was here.

Was he here to finally do the deed? Was he here to finally end all of this chaos? Did he wait until the dead of the night so that there wouldn’t be any witness? So that the job would be easy? So that he wouldn’t have to look into your eyes as he delivered the final blow to your heart?

Despite the terrifying thoughts racing through your mind, you were still as a board. You were greatly anticipating the pain as he drew near, his familiar scent, once beloved by you so much, was now making you acutely aware of his proximity more than ever before.

You could feel the heat from his body. You could hear the gentle rustling of his coat as he moved. This was it, you thought. This was your end, and maybe it was for the best. Hoseok would take care of your son. He was evidently fond of him. You knew that multifaceted man loved your child despite who his father was. You knew it the moment you woke up when your child was only a month old and found him gone from your side only to discover Hoseok gently comforting your crying son with his ridiculous stories, his voice painting a story. You knew it the moment he patiently stood by your son’s side when he was sick. You knew it when he cried when your child took his first step. Despite what transpired that fateful night, Hoseok was good to you and your son.

You trusted him.

You felt the side of your bed dipped from Agustd’s weight, yet it was his hand that you first felt. His calloused hand tenderly caressed your face, his touch so faint that you almost wondered if this was real. His thumb softly touched your lips and it lingered there for a moment that you wondered how you were able to control your breathing. You had gone years without him, his existence merely both a nightmare and a wonderful dream only in your memories. You had put him behind, hadn’t you? You had fully squashed any hopes that you and him would be anything other than a disaster, hadn’t you? You had repeatedly told yourself that you would never again let yourself feel anything for him, hadn’t you?

So why then was your heart shattering? Why then now that he was near, now that he was touching you, did your beliefs and your resolute heart wavered?

You could take him following you around. Honestly, you would rather take him being your shadow instead of this because then you could play pretend that he was not here.

You were about to open your eyes when you felt a drop on your cheek. Then, it was as though a dam overflowed as you felt teardrops cascading down your skin and the hand touching you trembling with both grief and relief.

Perhaps, if you could see him now, you'd understand how deeply you were intertwined in each and every part of him. If only you could witness how your absence and your inability to see now broke him, then all your hesitations about him would vanish because no man whose heart was not owned by you would cry as much as he was right now. No man who loved you as hard as he did could withstand this.

“Thank you for not leaving me alone in this world, my angel. Thank you for being alive,” he whispered in the silence of the night.

Min Yoongi’s POV

You were alive and it should be enough for him.

But Min Yoongi had always been a greedy man. He was a despicable man who always craved for more and blamed it all on from his terrible childhood to his twisted parents. He knew he was greedy when he took the organization that had been in his Jin hyung’s family for decades and ventured into darker places no one dared to go. He knew he was greedy when he didn’t stop there and even took hold of the police force for himself. More so, he knew he was greedy when he found you alive and instead of being contented that you were here, that you made good on your promise and didn’t go where he couldn’t follow, he still wanted…no. He craved the warmth brought by your proximity. He wanted you so near to him that you couldn’t breathe without him knowing, that you couldn’t think without him hearing your own thoughts.

He wanted you by his side that you couldn’t leave again. He wanted you so close that no one would dare to hurt you anymore.

However, there was this part of him that was good regardless of how minuscule it was. It was the same part that you were able to reach, the one that made you believed that he was incapable of inflicting pain to others, the one that made the betrayal so much more painful to you. And now, that part was warring with the dark side of him to let you be. It was the same part that whispered that he was somehow to blame for all of this, that had he left you alone, you wouldn’t be in this mess. It was the same part that whispered that he should be happy that you were alive, and that alone should be enough. It was your second chance in life but this time, it shouldn’t be with him.

His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, fingers curling into fists as he wrestled with the conflicting desires raging within him. He wanted to reach out to you, to pull you into his embrace and never let you go, but he knew he had already hurt you enough. And so, he stood there, silently battling the demons that threatened to consume him whole.

Perhaps, this was why he did nothing but to follow you and to watch you from a distance, only letting himself near you when you couldn’t know, only letting him touch you when you wouldn’t be able to push him away in disgust.

His train of thoughts and self-hatred were interrupted by his phone. Yoongi looked down at his ringing phone before bringing it to his ear, turning away from you as he answered. The street was busy but he had clear vision of you from behind, and the crosswalk hadn’t signaled yet for pedestrians to proceed.

“Yoongi-ah, where’s my niece and nephew?”

Here he goes again, Yoongi thought. He chuckled at his ridiculous question, his Jin hyung still hadn’t given up on his agenda of them having families of their own. His hyung's unwavering determination to see all of them settle down and start a family was both endearing and exasperating at times. “You won’t even ask how I am?”

Jin's response was swift and filled with characteristic enthusiasm.  “You found her. I’d say your more than okay. That is exactly why I’m expecting a nephew, preferably, within 9 to 10 months, okay? I’m buying Louis Vuitton onesies as we speak.”

Yoongi listened to his Jin hyung’s plans of buying his supposed nephew the most expensive and ridiculous clothes a newborn could have with a heavy heart. Listening to him made the situation so much heavier. Listening to him made him realize how further he was to realizing that dream…and how impossible it would be now.

“Are you really just going to let me buy him his first custom made toy gun? Really? Because your silence seems like you are agreeing-“

“She’s blind now, hyung.”

That statement alone finally made the mafia prince to cease from speaking, the weight of Yoongi’s new reality was slowly settling in. “She cannot see me. She still doesn’t know that I’m here-“

But Jin's response was unexpected, cutting through the air with a coldness that sent a shiver down Yoongi's spine. "Bring her home, Yoongi."

Yoongi's brows furrowed in disbelief, his mind reeling at Jin's insistence. "What? Didn’t you hear what I just said? I said—"

“I heard you, Yoongi-ah,” he stated with his cold voice he seldom used. “She’s blind now,” he repeated tonelessly. “But I’m telling you to bring her home. We might be able to do something. It’s not over until I, the greatest doctor to ever exist, tell that it is.”

“Hyung,” he sighed, looking down as he processed what Jin said and his poor attempt at making light of the situation. There was a possibility that he could fix you. But did you want anything to do with him now? What if you looked at him with hatred and disgust in your eyes? What if you saw him and decidedly left him again? Was he being selfish for considering the alternative? Could he even survive after that?

And for the first time in his life, he admitted that he was beside himself for terror that you might want nothing to do with him, that you would rather forever lose your sight than see him.

But before he could dwell on his fears any longer, Jin's voice cut through the turmoil, filled with frustration and exasperation. “Then make her fall in love again with you. You did it once, Yoongi. I cannot believe after all the education I all gave you, after sending all of you to the best universities and ensuring that you all would be the top of your chosen profession, you are all still idiots! This is such a simple problem that requires simple solution. For the love all of all that’s-“

Yoongi’s turned to where you were, only to find you crossing the road behind other people. He was a good foot away from you when he heard the screeching sound of tires that seemed to have spiraled out of control and horrifyingly, in its path was you.

His angel.

He moved before he could even think, his legs powered through, pushing people out of his way just to get to you. He remembered thinking to himself at that moment that he this time, he would harshly refuse losing you. This time, he would fight harder against destiny that was so hellbent on taking you from him.

And that time he swore that the universe was on his side as he reached for your arm and firmly pulled you to his chest. The screeching tires and the shocked sounds of the city faded into the background as he felt the force of the fall. With a deep grunt, he absorbed the impact, his body tensing with the weight of both of you as you collided with the ground. Despite the pain shooting through his body, his only concern was for your safety.

His arms remained a steadfast barrier, shielding you from harm as he felt the ground beneath him. The world seemed to slow down, time stretching out in that moment of crisis. The sound of your shock was drowned out by his pounding heart and the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins. For a split second, time seemed to freeze as he held you close, shielding you from the impending danger.

As the screeching tires came to a halt, Yoongi's focus remained solely on you. He felt a surge of relief wash over him as he realized you were unharmed, safe in his arms. His heart was beating so fast brought by the sickening worry that he wouldn’t make it in time that he failed to notice the consequences of his actions.

“Are you okay, Angel? You’re not hurt…right?”

“Suga…”

It had been more than three days now and he still hadn’t done anything except following you wherever you went. He turned into your very own version of a shadow, never straying more than a foot away. Despite your diminishing sight, you could see how people went out of their way to avoid your path. You surmised that it was because of the man following you closely. You didn’t have to turn to see the glare he was freely giving anyone as though he was your guard dog, or the dark energy he was emitting like a disturbed cat you used to frequently liken him to.

You were close to your breaking point. Your future laid uncertain, more so about your survival and likelihood that you would see your beautiful son once again just because his father was confusing you.

His motives confused you. If he was here to end you, why hadn’t he done so, yet? If he wanted to talk to you and ensure that you wouldn’t blab to anyone about who he truly was, about his other identity, why hadn’t he done so yet?

Why hadn’t he done anything except to follow you?

You were never a good actress, and you knew sooner rather than later that he would inadvertently notice. Honestly, you were already sick with anxiety and you didn’t know what you would do should you take this one more day. This had to stop and you needed to know why he was doing this.

And what exactly was he doing you asked?

Take for example, right now as you were trying to enjoy your meal in a small diner. His presence was unsettling and his eyes, like dark pools, seemed to follow your every move with a mix of intensity and longing that sent shivers down your spine. Not only was he eating on a booth in front of yours, but he also paid for your meal. He even went as far as threatening the waiter with his eyes to make it appear that the meal was free due to some made up celebration.

You couldn't help but scoff at the absurdity of it all. Unicorn Day? What kind of excuse was that? What even was a unicorn day?! That did not even exist! But even as you stopped yourself from rolling your eyes, a nagging question lingered in the back of your mind. Why was he going to such lengths to keep you close?

More so… why was he pitifully eating his meal alone, his gaze held a certain softness and daresay yearning in them? Why did he look so…lonely?

Confusion and frustration warred within you as you struggled to make sense of his intentions.

However, it was becoming less likely now that he wanted you gone when you came home and finally found solitude. You were going through the motion for the night. Your hands were running across the table as a guide, a thing that you had learned to do when you hit yourself too many times from the edge of the table, when you felt what seemed to be a protective gear used in the corner of tables. And then all at once, you noticed all the little things that had changed without you fully noticing.

The bathroom tiles had more friction to what you were used to, the kitchen utensils lost their heaviness, and the doorknobs were now noticeably noisier than before.

And now that you were alone without his overbearing presence clouding your judgement, without him breathing down your neck that caused you to immensely fear for your life, that you started to look on the other side of your horror: did he do all of these for you?

Perhaps, you were able to tolerate it all because of the anticipation of pain you thought you’d get from him. But this softness and tenderness displaced you. Somehow, this was worse. This was something you couldn’t bear, not when you now knew who he truly was. You couldn’t take this, you couldn’t let all of this change anything – especially when you now had someone to protect. You struggled to think of what could happen should he find out that his clever deception brought someone in this world.

Sleep had greatly eluded you that night regardless of how weary you felt. Your thoughts were all over the place, consumed by worry for your son right now. You couldn’t even step out to find solace and watch the stars like you used to do when your thoughts were just too loud. What was the use, you thought, when you could no longer see their beauty?

You had your eyes closed, now accustomed to darkness and your body was even when you heard it– a miniscule creaking of the floorboard, followed by the gentle opening of the door. He was here, you surmised.

Agustd was here.

Was he here to finally do the deed? Was he here to finally end all of this chaos? Did he wait until the dead of the night so that there wouldn’t be any witness? So that the job would be easy? So that he wouldn’t have to look into your eyes as he delivered the final blow to your heart?

Despite the terrifying thoughts racing through your mind, you were still as a board. You were greatly anticipating the pain as he drew near, his familiar scent, once beloved by you so much, was now making you acutely aware of his proximity more than ever before.

You could feel the heat from his body. You could hear the gentle rustling of his coat as he moved. This was it, you thought. This was your end, and maybe it was for the best. Hoseok would take care of your son. He was evidently fond of him. You knew that multifaceted man loved your child despite who his father was. You knew it the moment you woke up when your child was only a month old and found him gone from your side only to discover Hoseok gently comforting your crying son with his ridiculous stories, his voice painting a story. You knew it the moment he patiently stood by your son’s side when he was sick. You knew it when he cried when your child took his first step. Despite what transpired that fateful night, Hoseok was good to you and your son.

You trusted him.

You felt the side of your bed dipped from Agustd’s weight, yet it was his hand that you first felt. His calloused hand tenderly caressed your face, his touch so faint that you almost wondered if this was real. His thumb softly touched your lips and it lingered there for a moment that you wondered how you were able to control your breathing. You had gone years without him, his existence merely both a nightmare and a wonderful dream only in your memories. You had put him behind, hadn’t you? You had fully squashed any hopes that you and him would be anything other than a disaster, hadn’t you? You had repeatedly told yourself that you would never again let yourself feel anything for him, hadn’t you?

So why then was your heart shattering? Why then now that he was near, now that he was touching you, did your beliefs and your resolute heart wavered?

You could take him following you around. Honestly, you would rather take him being your shadow instead of this because then you could play pretend that he was not here.

You were about to open your eyes when you felt a drop on your cheek. Then, it was as though a dam overflowed as you felt teardrops cascading down your skin and the hand touching you trembling with both grief and relief.

Perhaps, if you could see him now, you'd understand how deeply you were intertwined in each and every part of him. If only you could witness how your absence and your inability to see now broke him, then all your hesitations about him would vanish because no man whose heart was not owned by you would cry as much as he was right now. No man who loved you as hard as he did could withstand this.

“Thank you for not leaving me alone in this world, my angel. Thank you for being alive,” he whispered in the silence of the night.

Min Yoongi’s POV

You were alive and it should be enough for him.

But Min Yoongi had always been a greedy man. He was a despicable man who always craved for more and blamed it all on from his terrible childhood to his twisted parents. He knew he was greedy when he took the organization that had been in his Jin hyung’s family for decades and ventured into darker places no one dared to go. He knew he was greedy when he didn’t stop there and even took hold of the police force for himself. More so, he knew he was greedy when he found you alive and instead of being contented that you were here, that you made good on your promise and didn’t go where he couldn’t follow, he still wanted…no. He craved the warmth brought by your proximity. He wanted you so near to him that you couldn’t breathe without him knowing, that you couldn’t think without him hearing your own thoughts.

He wanted you by his side that you couldn’t leave again. He wanted you so close that no one would dare to hurt you anymore.

However, there was this part of him that was good regardless of how minuscule it was. It was the same part that you were able to reach, the one that made you believed that he was incapable of inflicting pain to others, the one that made the betrayal so much more painful to you. And now, that part was warring with the dark side of him to let you be. It was the same part that whispered that he was somehow to blame for all of this, that had he left you alone, you wouldn’t be in this mess. It was the same part that whispered that he should be happy that you were alive, and that alone should be enough. It was your second chance in life but this time, it shouldn’t be with him.

His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, fingers curling into fists as he wrestled with the conflicting desires raging within him. He wanted to reach out to you, to pull you into his embrace and never let you go, but he knew he had already hurt you enough. And so, he stood there, silently battling the demons that threatened to consume him whole.

Perhaps, this was why he did nothing but to follow you and to watch you from a distance, only letting himself near you when you couldn’t know, only letting him touch you when you wouldn’t be able to push him away in disgust.

His train of thoughts and self-hatred were interrupted by his phone. Yoongi looked down at his ringing phone before bringing it to his ear, turning away from you as he answered. The street was busy but he had clear vision of you from behind, and the crosswalk hadn’t signaled yet for pedestrians to proceed.

“Yoongi-ah, where’s my niece and nephew?”

Here he goes again, Yoongi thought. He chuckled at his ridiculous question, his Jin hyung still hadn’t given up on his agenda of them having families of their own. His hyung's unwavering determination to see all of them settle down and start a family was both endearing and exasperating at times. “You won’t even ask how I am?”

Jin's response was swift and filled with characteristic enthusiasm.  “You found her. I’d say your more than okay. That is exactly why I’m expecting a nephew, preferably, within 9 to 10 months, okay? I’m buying Louis Vuitton onesies as we speak.”

Yoongi listened to his Jin hyung’s plans of buying his supposed nephew the most expensive and ridiculous clothes a newborn could have with a heavy heart. Listening to him made the situation so much heavier. Listening to him made him realize how further he was to realizing that dream…and how impossible it would be now.

“Are you really just going to let me buy him his first custom made toy gun? Really? Because your silence seems like you are agreeing-“

“She’s blind now, hyung.”

That statement alone finally made the mafia prince to cease from speaking, the weight of Yoongi’s new reality was slowly settling in. “She cannot see me. She still doesn’t know that I’m here-“

But Jin's response was unexpected, cutting through the air with a coldness that sent a shiver down Yoongi's spine. "Bring her home, Yoongi."

Yoongi's brows furrowed in disbelief, his mind reeling at Jin's insistence. "What? Didn’t you hear what I just said? I said—"

“I heard you, Yoongi-ah,” he stated with his cold voice he seldom used. “She’s blind now,” he repeated tonelessly. “But I’m telling you to bring her home. We might be able to do something. It’s not over until I, the greatest doctor to ever exist, tell that it is.”

“Hyung,” he sighed, looking down as he processed what Jin said and his poor attempt at making light of the situation. There was a possibility that he could fix you. But did you want anything to do with him now? What if you looked at him with hatred and disgust in your eyes? What if you saw him and decidedly left him again? Was he being selfish for considering the alternative? Could he even survive after that?

And for the first time in his life, he admitted that he was beside himself for terror that you might want nothing to do with him, that you would rather forever lose your sight than see him.

But before he could dwell on his fears any longer, Jin's voice cut through the turmoil, filled with frustration and exasperation. “Then make her fall in love again with you. You did it once, Yoongi. I cannot believe after all the education I all gave you, after sending all of you to the best universities and ensuring that you all would be the top of your chosen profession, you are all still idiots! This is such a simple problem that requires simple solution. For the love all of all that’s-“

Yoongi’s turned to where you were, only to find you crossing the road behind other people. He was a good foot away from you when he heard the screeching sound of tires that seemed to have spiraled out of control and horrifyingly, in its path was you.

His angel.

He moved before he could even think, his legs powered through, pushing people out of his way just to get to you. He remembered thinking to himself at that moment that he this time, he would harshly refuse losing you. This time, he would fight harder against destiny that was so hellbent on taking you from him.

And that time he swore that the universe was on his side as he reached for your arm and firmly pulled you to his chest. The screeching tires and the shocked sounds of the city faded into the background as he felt the force of the fall. With a deep grunt, he absorbed the impact, his body tensing with the weight of both of you as you collided with the ground. Despite the pain shooting through his body, his only concern was for your safety.

His arms remained a steadfast barrier, shielding you from harm as he felt the ground beneath him. The world seemed to slow down, time stretching out in that moment of crisis. The sound of your shock was drowned out by his pounding heart and the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins. For a split second, time seemed to freeze as he held you close, shielding you from the impending danger.

As the screeching tires came to a halt, Yoongi's focus remained solely on you. He felt a surge of relief wash over him as he realized you were unharmed, safe in his arms. His heart was beating so fast brought by the sickening worry that he wouldn’t make it in time that he failed to notice the consequences of his actions.

“Are you okay, Angel? You’re not hurt…right?”

“Suga…”

“Hmm? Like what, Tae?” he asked while chopping diligently the vegetables the renowned doctor was preparing for a certain psychologist and his brothers that insisted they were hungry as well.

“When it ends…does it always hurt like that?”

Seokjin blinked at Taehyung’s unprompted question. He paused before he finally brought his eyes to the actor. He knew that the younger man had always been eccentric. His clinical condition definitely explained his behavior, but not this. He was never curious about the emotions he couldn’t feel, nor did he ever show any interest on understanding emotions. As the years passed by, Kim Taehyung got better at masking and pretending by learning the root causes of the emotions he could see. The brothers had always thought that this was precisely why he chose to be an actor. Everytime they watched him cried, laughed, or acted furious for his movies and dramas, they thought he was a different person.

Jin thought it was just understandable why he dropped the knife he was holding.

“What brought this on?”

“He-“ he lifted his mobile phone to show Jin the picture Jimin snapped of their Yoongi hyung looking like he had lost all his will to live. Taehyung found it so ridiculous that Jimin even made a collage of him and a cat that depicted their hyung. “-looks like breathing is a chore and is only fighting to live so he can end his enemies.”

Jin would have laughed had this happened before he met his sunshine. But now, the mere thought of her leaving set him on edge, and he knew he would be similar to Yoongi if not worse. Slowly, he picked up his knife as he carefully chose his words. He was always like this with Taehyung ever since he knew that something was not quite right in his mind, well…more than any of them, to be honest. The younger man took things at face value, and all the brothers knew to talk in a straightforward manner so there wouldn’t be any confusion on Taehyung’s part.

He kidded you not, once when they were still teenagers, they asked him to go ahead and get them a table in a restaurant. He left without any qualms only to return not an hour later carrying a big ass table from a restaurant. That was a horrifying memory, Jin thought, and that was when they all decided to change the way they talked. It was Namjoon that took it too far and enrolled the man in a body language class to better cope with society. However, it was Jungkook that forced him to take psychology classes with him for fun.

“I think it’s different,” Jin started, busying himself once again with cooking. “Yoongi never has love like that, I guess. It’s understandable that he acts like a sad lonely cat.”

Seokjin could still clearly remember how Yoongi looked at you. It was like you were all he ever wanted and more, like you were his reprieve from the darkness in his life. You were, as he called you, an angel to him. And then he lost you.

“Why?”

“Well…she’s his personal slice of heaven,” he answered, his voice contemplative and understanding of what Yoongi was going through. Jin paused in his chopping, a thoughtful expression crossing his features as he carefully considered his words. “And he’s been living in hell the very moment he was born. What do you think would happen if he was given a taste of heaven and then lost it?”

“Just like Hoseok hyung,” Taehyung nodded, slightly understanding the downfall of these strong men.

“Seriously, you are all worse than the ahjummas who love to talk about other people’s lives. Be better than that, guys,” Kim Namjoon observed with his deadpanned voice as soon as he walked in the kitchen. He took in the scene of the two men conversing and the other man quietly eating the snack Jin prepared him.

Jin scoffed as he rolled his eyes at Namjoon. “As if you wouldn’t react like that when your secretary finally resigns.”

To which, Namjoon only smirked. “Who says she can leave?”

“How will you stop her and her son if the father finally shows up?”

Namjoon, with his hand in his pocket, calmly uttered words that no normal people would believe to have any other meaning. “Well, as you said, the dead don’t exactly come back to life, do they?”

 Jin chuckled at Namjoon. Of course, he did something about that man. It was apparent, he thought. He could still vividly remember the look in Namjoon’s eyes when he told him that his secretary was pregnant and that the asshole of a father even put his hands on her. Suffice to say, it was the most unhinged Namjoon ever was.

“I think Namjoon will be the worst among us if he ever loses the love of his life,” Jin noted with lightness in his voice.

“Nah,” Jungkook finally lifted his head from his bowl. “I sincerely think it’ll be Taehyung.”

The conversation never left Jeon Jungkook’s mind. Anyway, he didn’t need anyone to tell him to do this. He did this out of the bond he shared with his brothers. Had this happened to any among them, he would have done the same.

He thought that it was cruel to let them experience the same hell he had been living every single day.

And so, he worked tirelessly and utilized every available technology and connection he had just to look for Yoongi’s angel. When he said she was alive, when he said he felt in his heart that you could have not gone where he couldn’t follow, then he’d believed him. He wouldn’t lose anything by looking for you, Jungkook rationalized. But he didn’t want to unnecessarily get his brother’s hopes up until he had evidence that you were indeed alive.

One morning, it finally happened. There you were.

Jungkook’s eyes could not have gone any bigger as he watched the CCTV of a far province in his office.

That was you, he was sure.

Without a moment's hesitation, he reached for his phone and dialed the person he knew he could trust. "Hyung, can you come to my office?" he requested urgently, the excitement and disbelief evident in his voice.

“That’s her,” Kim Namjoon validated after a moment. He was standing beside Jungkook’s seated form as he leaned in the monitor. He was ever the image of calmness with his hand in his pocket, his suit immaculate and not a crease in sight.

Seokjin raised his brows as he sat in a relaxed manner on the couch. Jungkook didn’t even call him, yet he was here because he was, per his words, bored and that a certain sunshine was not where she should be. “So the dead can indeed come back to life,” he noted with a tone the two men couldn’t understand. “Pray tell, Namjoon-ah. Should we tell Yoongi?”

Jungkook blinked at the rising tension between the two men. Whereas Jin merely looked curious, Namjoon looked like he was looking at the end of the sword with the way his jaw was clenched. He stood up straight and took a second to answer Seokjin.

“Of course, hyung. This is a great news, after all.”

“Hmm,” Seokjin smirked, his legs crossed as though nothing could have fazed him. It was moment like this when Jungkook could see the mafia prince in his usually playful hyung. Everybody knew not to cross this man despite him appearing goofy and motherlike to them.

Jungkook thought that it would only take one momentous catastrophe for him to return to his dark persona. He didn’t want to see that, though.

“He’s suffered enough, right?” Jin asked the room with a light tone, yet his eyes pierced through Namjoon’s. “Right, Namjoon-ah?”

Seven Mississippis passed before he answered. Jungkook knew because he counted, and he hated the tension he didn’t know why was present.

“Jungkook, tell Yoongi hyung,” Namjoon ordered.

—-

Min Yoongi’s brows were pulled together as he walked in a bustling street of a faraway province. He had to drive almost four hours just because their maknae told him to be here at this exact hour, claiming that he desperately needed him to be there. However, Jungkook was not answering his phone despite numerous calls from him.

Where was even that little shit, Yoongi asked himself as he surveyed the whole place.  

Despite barely getting any sleep, he found himself in a situation where he might have to scold his youngest brother for the first time. He should have been in Seoul right now, but he couldn’t exactly say no to him. He had shit ton of things to do and yet he was indulging the youngest brother.

Maybe this was exactly why he was spoiled? Ah, but anyway, he was a good kid.

So where was he?!

He walked further into the thick of the plaza, his phone plastered in his ear as he listened to the annoying and incessant ringback tone of Jungkook. Seriously, at this day and age? His eyes roamed the area of happy locals, at which he rolled his eyes.

He was on the verge of deciding whether he should just go ahead and kill Jungkook when he finally answered.

“Where the fuck are you?” he growled over the other line, his patience running thin when the man just answered innocently.

“At Seoul, hyung-“

“Then why am I here?! I swear to heavens, if you made me drive here just to buy you a weird snack then I’ll really kill you!”

“Seokjin hyung will be mad!”

Right. The eldest was protective of the youngest. What a nuisance, he thought. “Then I’ll do it in secret.”

Jungkook chuckled nervously. He couldn’t place whether he was joking or not. His money was that if his hyung could get away with it, he’d be floating in the river at this very moment. “I asked you to go there because I have a surprise for you, hyung.”

“I don’t particularly enjoy surprises-” he began, but was swiftly interrupted.

“I know, I know. But this one, I’m sure you’ll like. This is the most beautiful, most precious, most amazing surprise ever. You’ll stop sulking and looking like a sad cat and Jimin hyung will finally stop taking badly captured and cropped photos of you and make it into a collage. Taehyung hyung will stop observing your miserable demeanor for his next movie. You’ll finally stop living like it’s such a chore and-“

His back was bumped by a force. Turning around, he prepared to glare at the perpetrator only to stop because there it was.

There was you.

It was as if the universe finally said that he had enough and stopped punishing him because he saw you when he was not even looking for you. Your mouth hanged agape, your hand going to your forehead as you murmured apologies to him.

He was stunted. No, he was bewildered.

Was this real? Or was this one of his cruel dreams again, a figment of his mind playing tricks on him?

But no.

He had been living in hell, yet moment he heard your voice, all the sufferings disappeared. This was really you. You were truly alive. He was frozen as his wildest dream was brought into life. His whole body went into a state of shock, something that he never thought could ever happen.

It didn’t really matter the years he spent without you because one touch, one word- these were all it took for him to forget the bitterness your separation brought him.

With a trembling voice, Yoongi dared to call for you. “Ange-”

But before he could say another word, you interrupted, your voice light and apologetic.

“I’m really sorry, mister. I didn’t see you,” you chuckled, slightly lifting your walking stick to explain the small accident. You bowed down at the man before going your way.

And he stood there, watching as the love of his life walked away from him, unseeing. He thought he could no longer hurt. He thought that nothing could have fazed him any longer. But he was wrong. Watching you walked, unseeing as you traversed the plaza with only your walking stick pained him.

How did this happen to you?

Was it because of the incident?

Was that why you couldn’t return to him? Because you weren’t able to?

Or did he miss all the glaring signs?

Slowly, he lifted the old phone you gifted him years ago to his ear. “You didn’t stop looking for her?”

Jungkook was quiet for a moment. “Well…I would never wish this hell on anyone, much less my brother,” he stated, his voice carrying a certain tone of sadness they often heard from him. “Go get her, hyung.”

The bustling city streets faded into a blur around you as you walked, your steps slow and deliberate despite the cacophony of noise that surrounded you. Your sight may have been almost gone, but your other senses seemed to have sharpened in response, each sound and scent painting a vivid picture in his mind.

You remembered that when you were younger, you read a passage from a book entitled, ‘The Song of Achilles’. You thought it was a well-written book, a love that transcended even death. There was a line your college friends always thought to be a masterpiece. But you never understood it. The line so many people loved never really touched you.

Until it did.

Until you understood each word written in that book.

“I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world.”

Because right now, the words made sense. You could recognize him despite your deteriorating eyesight. You knew him. He was here. And he was following you…to what exactly? Was he here to end you? Was he here to make sure that you wouldn’t tell the world of his secret identity?

Regardless of the reason, you tried to remain calm as Hoseok always ordered you to. You had no choice but to lead him back home, otherwise you were sure that he would be suspicious. The man that you used to love was perceptive, and any suspicious movements could alert him. From the moment you opened the front door to the time you closed it, you knew you only had a couple of seconds.

You fished the phone Hoseok gave you, one with tactile buttons and controls that made it easier for you to use it. You knew you couldn’t use the speech-to-text feature, otherwise he’d hear. And so, with a tense movement, you sent a message to him.

He’s here. Don’t come home. Leave with my son.