Eli’s Library

he nods, eyes softening. “same here. third night in a row.”

you grab a basket and start wandering the aisles, grabbing ramen, strawberry milk, and those chocolate-covered pretzels you’ve become addicted to. when you return to the counter, he’s already bagging someone else’s items—a drunk businessman who nearly trips on his way out.

“that’s it for tonight,” jungkook says, locking the door behind the last customer and flipping the open sign to closed. “just us now.”

your heart does this little fluttery thing it’s been doing every time you talk to him. you’ve learned bits and pieces about him over your nightly visits. he’s 23, studying graphic design, works the graveyard shift to pay tuition, has a pet dog named bam.

“big night for pretzels?” he asks, scanning your items with practiced efficiency.

“they help me sleep,” you lie. they just help you pass the time until dawn.

“right,” he says, but his smile tells you he knows you’re full of shit. “hey, i’m about to take my break. want to join me in the back? i make a mean instant ramen.”

you shouldn’t. you barely know him beyond these brief interactions, but there’s something about the way he looks at you, like you’re the most interesting person in this sleepy town at 3 am.

“sure,” you hear yourself say before you can overthink it.

the storage room is surprisingly cozy, with a small table, mini fridge, and a hot pot. he moves efficiently, boiling water and adding the ramen packets, his tattoos shifting with his movements.

“so what keeps you up at night?” he asks, sliding a steaming bowl toward you.

“just... thoughts,” you say vaguely. “you?”

“deadlines,” he says, stirring his own ramen. “and maybe too much caffeine during the day.”

you eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, the slurping of noodles the only sound. it’s nice—this unexpected intimacy in the fluorescent-lit back room of a convenience store.

“can i ask you something?” he says suddenly, putting down his chopsticks.

you nod, mouth full of noodles.

“why do you keep coming here every night? there’s a 24-hour store closer to your apartment, i’ve seen it.”

you swallow hard. how do you admit that it’s because of him? that seeing his smile has become the highlight of your sleepless nights?

“i like the selection here,” you say weakly.

he leans forward, elbows on the table, and you notice how his eyes crinkle when he smiles. “right. and it has nothing to do with my charming personality?”

heat floods your cheeks. “maybe a little.”

“good,” he says, looking pleased. “because i’ve been hoping that’s why.”

the air shifts between you, thick with unspoken words. his gaze drops to your lips, and you find yourself leaning closer without meaning to.

“i should—” you start, but he cuts you off by closing the distance.

his lips are soft, tasting of artificial chicken flavor and something uniquely him. it’s gentle at first, questioning, but when you respond, it deepens into something more confident. his hand finds your waist, pulling you closer, and you’re suddenly aware of every point of contact between your bodies.

“i’ve wanted to do that since your third visit,” he says when you break apart, breathless.

“why didn’t you?”

“didn’t want to scare you off,” he admits, thumb stroking your side. "you seem like the type to run."

“maybe,” you say, but you’re not running. in fact, you’re pressing closer, wanting more.

the second kiss is different—hungrier and more urgent. his tongue slides against yours, and you make this embarrassing little sound that seems to encourage him. his other hand comes up to cup your face, thumb stroking your jaw as he tilts your head to deepen the kiss.

when his hand slips under your hoodie, you gasp into his mouth. his fingers are warm against your skin, tracing patterns on your back. you’ve never been so turned on so quickly, your body responding to his touch like it’s been waiting for this.

“we shouldn’t,” you say even as you’re pulling him closer.

“no one’s coming in until 6,” he murmurs against your neck, lips trailing down to your collarbone. “plenty of time.”

his words are like gasoline on a fire. you’ve never done anything like this—spontaneous, reckless, in the back room of a convenience store with someone you barely know. but it feels right, somehow, in this sleepless bubble you’ve been living in.

he lifts you onto the table, and your legs wrap around his waist automatically. the position is awkward, your ass pressing against the hard surface, but you don’t care. all that matters is the way he’s looking at you, like you’re something precious and edible at the same time.

“you’re so fucking hot,” he says, and it’s so direct it makes your chest ache.

no one’s called you hot in months, not since you broke up with your ex. you’ve been feeling frumpy and undesirable, your insomnia only making things worse. but jungkook looks at you like you’re the most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen.

his hands slide up your thighs, pushing your sleep shorts aside. you’re not wearing underwear—too lazy to bother when you’re just stumbling around your apartment at night, and his eyes darken when he realizes it.

“fuck,” he breathes, fingers tracing your folds. “you’re already so wet.”

you can only nod, embarrassed by how quickly he’s affected you. his thumb finds your clit, and you jolt, a whimper escaping your lips.

“shhh,” he says with a grin. “don’t want the security cameras to hear.”

you laugh, but it turns into a moan as he slides a finger inside you. his movements are practiced, confident, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. you’re so sensitive from weeks without touch that it doesn’t take long before you’re squirming on his hand.

“please,” you gasp, not even sure what you’re asking for.

he gets it anyway, dropping to his knees in front of you. the sight of him between your legs, tattoos on full display, is almost enough to make you come right then. his first lick is tentative, but when you respond with a choked moan, he grows bolder.

his tongue is magic, swirling and flicking in just the right ways. he’s good at this—really good.

“jungkook,” you whimper, fingers tangling in his hair.

he hums against you, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure through your body. his fingers join his tongue, curling inside you as he sucks on your clit. it’s too much and not enough all at once, and you can feel yourself getting close embarrassingly fast.

“don’t stop,” you beg, hips grinding against his face.

he doesn’t, doubling his efforts until you’re seeing stars behind your eyelids. your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, your back arching as you cry out his name. he doesn’t stop until you’re pushing him away, oversensitive.

“fuck,” you breathe, collapsing back against the table. “that was…”

“yeah?” he asks, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

you nod, unable to form words as he stands up, undoing his jeans. his cock springs free, and your mouth waters at the sight. he’s bigger than you expected, thick and curved, with a bead of precum at the tip.

“condom?” you ask, voice shaky.

“shit,” he says, freezing. “i don’t—i wasn’t expecting—”

“it’s okay,” you say quickly. “i’m on the pill. and i’m clean.”

he searches your face for a moment, then nods. “me too.”

that’s all the confirmation you need before you’re pulling him closer, guiding him to your entrance. he pushes in slowly, and you both groan at the stretch.

it’s been too long since you’ve been with anyone like this, and the feeling of him filling you is overwhelming in the best way. he pauses once he’s fully inside, giving you time to adjust, his forehead resting against yours.

“okay?” he asks, voice strained.

you nod, unable to speak. his hands grip your hips, and when he starts to move, you see stars. his thrusts are slow at first, deliberate, like he’s savoring every moment. the table creaks beneath you, a rhythmic protest to your activities.

“faster,” you manage to gasp out, and he obliges.

his pace quickens, hips snapping against yours. the storage room fills with the sounds of your breathing, the slap of skin on skin, and your increasingly desperate moans. you’ve never been this loud during sex before, but something about jungkook makes you lose all inhibitions.

“you feel so good,” he grits out, his rhythm faltering slightly. “so fucking tight.”

his words send another jolt of pleasure through you. you wrap your legs tighter around his waist, pulling him deeper. the angle changes, and he hits that spot inside you that makes your vision go white.

“right there,” you whimper. “don’t stop.”

and he listens, focusing his efforts on that sensitive area until you’re trembling beneath him. your second orgasm builds quickly, more intense than the first. when it hits, you dig your nails into his shoulders, crying out his name as your walls clench around him.

“fuck,” he groans, his movements becoming erratic. “i’m gonna—”

“inside,” you say before you can think better of it. “come inside me.”

his eyes widen at your words, and with a final thrust, he buries himself deep, spilling into you with a guttural moan. the feeling of him pulsing inside you prolongs your orgasm, leaving you both breathless and trembling.

for a moment, you just stay like that, him still inside you, your foreheads pressed together as you catch your breath. the fluorescent lights hum above, a reminder of where you are—having sex in the back room of a convenience store with a man you barely know.

he pulls out first, leaving you feeling suddenly empty. you watch as he uses a paper towel to clean himself up, then tosses it in the trash. you slide off the table, your legs shaky, and straighten your clothes.

“well,” he says, breaking the silence. “that was unexpected.”

you nod, grabbing your bag of snacks from the floor. “yeah.”

“i should get back to work,” he says, already moving toward the door. “my break’s almost over.”

“right,” you say, following him out.

he unlocks the door and flips the sign back to open. the first rays of dawn are starting to appear outside, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange. you pay for your items, the transaction feeling strangely normal after what just happened.

“see you around,” he says as you head for the door.

“maybe,” you reply, pushing open the door and stepping out into the early morning air.

as you walk home, the bag of snacks swinging at your side, you realize something. you’re not tired anymore. not even a little bit. and as you glance back at the convenience store, you wonder if you’ll be back tomorrow night. maybe you will, maybe you won’t. for now, that’s enough.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

part (1/2)

“Yoooo, Tae! Guess who’s on the news again!” Jimin’s voice calls out from the living room as Taehyung steps out of the kitchen, a dish towel slung over his shoulder, still drying his hands. His gaze instinctively shifts to the television where the news is going on.

“Masked Vigilante Foils Bank Robbery, Outpaces Authorities Yet Again!” the headline blazes in big bold letters at the bottom of the screen.

The low quality footage right above the headline is shaky, clearly recorded by a bystander’s phone. Amid the chaos, a red-and-blue masked figure moves with effortless agility, a blur of motion against the grainy backdrop.

He swings from lampposts and somersaults over obstacles, his web-like strands ensnaring weapons and disarming the robbers with precision that feels almost cinematic. The anchor’s voice overlays the footage, tinged with awe.

“This mysterious figure, operating outside the bounds of law enforcement, has once again saved the city. Witnesses say he intervened at the last moment, preventing a potentially catastrophic bank robbery. Who is he? And what drives this masked vigilante to risk his life, time and again for a city that doesn’t even know his name?”

Taehyung leans in, his brow knitting together as he studies the screen. He doesn’t need to guess who it is, he already knows who this "masked vigilante" is.

The fluid acrobatics, the flawless precision, and, above all, the iconic design of that red-and-blue suit leave no room for doubt. “Holy shit.” he mutters under his breath, eyes still glued to the screen. “Wasn’t he supposed to meet Y/n?”

Jimin chuckles from the couch, his posture relaxed as if this is just another Tuesday. “Yeah. But you know him, he probably saw the commotion on the way and couldn’t help himself.”

Taehyung’s gaze remains fixed on the television as the news anchor's voice fills the room again.

“Dubbed ‘The Amazing Spiderman’ by fans online, this masked hero has become an enigma. While officials remain silent, the public praises his ability to achieve what even trained authorities cannot. Love him or hate him, one thing is certain— Spiderman always saves the day.”

Just as Taehyung is about to say something, a faint yet distinct thud echoes against the window right behind the couch where Jimin's seated. Both of them snap their heads towards the sound and... there he is.

Perched on the narrow windowsill is the masked vigilante himself—The Amazing Spiderman a.k.a Jeon Jungkook.

The red-and-blue suit clings to his body, glistening with sweat from exertion. His chest heaves, each breath labored, as he presses his forehead against the window glass.

His mask is in his hand, revealing his sweaty disheveled hair and a face that speaks of exhaustion mixed with determination. With a weak knock of his head against the glass, he signals his roommates to let him in.

Taehyung gasps at the sight and instantly strides towards the window, sliding it open. “Kook, are you insane?” he exclaims and Jungkook practically tumbles inside, catching himself on the edge of the couch before collapsing into it beside Jimin.

“What... time is it?” Jungkook rasps, his voice hoarse, dragging a hand through his damp hair. “Seven.” Jimin replies nonchalantly, his attention still half on the news broadcast.

“Shit.” Jungkook mutters throwing his head back as he continues to pant, struggling to catch his breath. He rises from the couch after a few seconds, trying to balance himself. “Shit, shit, shit.” He repeats, hurrying towards his room.

Taehyung follows behind, leaning against the doorframe as he watches Jungkook throw his mask onto the bed and quickly yank off his gloves, tossing them haphazardly onto his desk.

“Weren’t you supposed to meet Y/n? For that art club thing?” Taehyung asks, raising an eyebrow. “Exactly!!” Jungkook whines, quickly undressing himself. As he pulls a hoodie over his frame, he glances at Taehyung.

“I was supposed to meet her at SIX, but then…” He pauses as he takes a seat on the bed and proceeds to slip on a new pair of socks along with his shoes.

Once he's done, Jungkook looks back at Taehyung, his frustration still palpable. “But there was this huge chaos at the bank, and I couldn’t… I couldn’t stop myself.” he admits as he stands up once more and heads towards his vanity.

Taehyung chuckles softly, watching his friend pace around the room, doing his best to salvage his disheveled appearance. That fight must’ve been exhausting.

Jungkook's one hell of a character... by day, just another regular college student... by night, the city’s elusive hero, Spiderman.

Taehyung often finds himself marveling at how his best friend, also his roommate, manages to juggle it all... his regular life and his double life... while keeping his true identity locked away tight, hidden from everyone.

"Knowing her, she won’t be too mad, I guess." Taehyung says with a casual shrug. “Let’s hope.” Jungkook mutters under his breath, clearly unconvinced.

After a few more moments of hurriedly fixing his hair into something more presentable, Jungkook strides towards the balcony door and opens it wide.

“Kook, you can literally use the front door.” Taehyung laughs, following him to the balcony, amusement in his voice. “This is faster.” Jungkook replies, already stepping onto the narrow ledge, looking down into the darkened street below.

Before Taehyung can protest any further, Jungkook leaps into the night, vanishing into the shadows with practiced ease.

Your gaze remains fixed on the canvas, eyes locked in concentration as your hand moves with fluidity, the paintbrush gliding across the surface.

The rhythm of your wrist matches the steady flow of the brush, leaving behind trails of vibrant color. You’ve been working on this piece for over two months now, meticulously crafting every detail for the upcoming college exhibition next month.

Jeon Jungkook, your partner, was supposed to be here today at six to help you with the finishing touches on the painting. But as you glance at the time, it's already 7:09 pm.

A soft sigh escapes your lips because he's still not here and frankly, this is so typical of him. Jeon Jungkook is always late.

But beyond his chronic tardiness, there’s something else about him.

He’s the campus heartthrob... the boy with the dreamiest set of eyes and the kind of smile that could make knees buckle.

Since your freshman year, he’s been the talk of the town, effortlessly climbing the social ladder. It’s baffling how, within just two weeks of college, he had managed to make himself one of the most popular guys on campus.

What surprised you more, though, was how, while girls seemed to swoon at his every move, desperately trying to catch his attention, this handsome, almost untouchable man was inexplicably fixated on none other than... you.

You don't exactly know how to explain the dynamic between you and Jungkook. You wouldn’t call yourselves friends... not when the way he acts with you goes far beyond what a friend would do.

For as long as you can remember, ever since the moment your paths first crossed, Jungkook has been nothing short of a flirt. But calling him just a flirt now feels like an understatement, a mere label that doesn't come close to capturing the way he actually makes you feel.

There’s something magnetic about him, something that draws you in against your will. His confidence, oozing from every word and glance, is impossible to ignore.

He doesn’t just flirt, he performs it as though he has an unspoken understanding that you’re his audience. And though his every word seems designed to get under your skin, there’s a strange kind of charm to it, one that makes it impossible to stay guarded, no matter how hard you try.

At first, you told yourself he was just another guy obsessed with his own reflection, someone who thought his good looks could win him anything, someone who believed he could have any girl he wanted.

But over time, it became harder to dismiss the undeniable pull this annoyingly handsome boy seemed to have on you.

He was everywhere. In almost every class you attended, always just a few steps behind you in the cafeteria, trailing you to the library when you tried to bury yourself in your studies, and somehow, no matter how hard you try to stay focused, his presence is impossible to ignore.

Hell, the guy even joined the art club just because you were in it and somehow managed to persuade you to be his partner, despite the countless other girls who were practically begging for the chance to take your place.

But it’s not just his presence that lingers.

It’s the way your heart beats louder in his presence, the way you find yourself gulping when he leans just a little too close, when his fingers graze your hair as he brushes it away from your face, his touch sending an electric jolt through you.

But that was nothing compared to the way he’d casually whisper provocative things in your ear... sometimes it was a simple compliment, like how stunning you looked in your new skirt, and other times, it was something much... bolder, like how he could... kiss you against the wall if you’d just let him.

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you feel weak, your knees trembling in a way that felt completely foreign to you. And every time he’s near, your heart seems to race in a silent war with the walls of your chest, as if fighting to escape and be nearer to him.

But deep down, you know too well that you can't give in. No matter how dreamy and ecstatic he makes you feel, guys like Jungkook were nothing but trouble.

Good-looking, charismatic, and fully aware of the effect they had on people and guys like him were a perfectly packaged recipe for heartbreak and chaos.

The way he makes you feel is electric, a sensation that clouds your mind and leaves you breathless, but there’s always that nagging thought in the back of your mind... that maybe, to him, it’s all just a game. A silly way to pass his time.

For all you knew, he was probably doing the same with countless other girls because though you hadn’t believed it at first, you were beginning to see the truth now.

Guys like Jungkook could truly have any girl they wanted.

And yet, you can’t seem to push him out of your life, no matter how much you tell yourself you should. You let him follow you around, you let him flirt, you let him talk to you... because, despite the outrageous teasing and the sneaky comments, Jungkook is undeniably a nice guy.

Sometimes, the two of you have real conversations, ones that leave you smiling without even realizing it. He’s fun to be around, with the kind of humor that could lighten anyone’s mood, and there’s no denying he’s a good person underneath it all.

There’s also no denying the tension between you. It’s thick, tangible, and sometimes too tempting to ignore. But somehow, over these past few months, you’ve become a pro at holding back... at resisting what feels inevitable, even when it’s so very hard to do.

As you continue to work on your canvas, the swirl of racing thoughts crowding your mind, you suddenly hear a faint zapping sound at the entrance of the campus art studio. Your gaze shifts instinctively towards the door, and there he is... Jungkook.

He’s leaning against the doorframe, clearly trying to catch his breath. The way his chest rises and falls with every pant makes it obvious that he ran here.

You can’t help but watch him as he slowly regains his composure. The moment his eyes lock with yours, that familiar grin of his spreads across his face. That damn smile, the one that makes everything inside you stir.

"Did I keep you waiting for too long, Ace?" His voice is playful, teasing, as he strides towards you with that effortless confidence.

Ace. The nickname he’s given you, because in his eyes, you excel at everything you touch. Or at least, that’s how he always puts it with that knowing grin, as if it’s the simplest truth in the universe.

You roll your eyes, pretending to focus on your work, though you can feel the unmistakable flutter in your chest. "You’re a whole hour late, Jeon." you mutter, deliberately turning your attention back to the canvas, doing your best to ignore the effect he has on you.

Jungkook pokes his tongue against the inside of his cheek, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he notices the way you tense under his gaze. It's a reaction he’s grown all too familiar with, yet every time, it still amuses him in the most endearing way.

The way you get flustered, desperately trying to mask it, your cheeks flushing just slightly as you feign annoyance, scrunching your nose as if it could hide the effect he has on you... he loves it.

To Jungkook, you're the center of his webbed thoughts, occupying full residence in his mind ever since the very first time he laid eyes on you.

Jungkook had always been used to attention from girls. It was almost second nature for him, the charming, effortlessly charismatic guy who could turn heads without even trying. But you? You were a different kind of challenge, one he couldn’t ignore, even if he tried.

When he first saw you, something shifted. You weren’t like the others. While the rest of the girls seemed to fit into a predictable pattern of admiration, you stood out.

You were a mystery he couldn’t unravel, a riddle he couldn’t stop thinking about. Your beauty wasn’t just skin-deep... it was in the way you moved, the way your laughter sounded like a melody that stayed with him long after you were gone.

It was in the kindness that poured out of you effortlessly, how you treated everyone with a warmth that felt like home.

From the moment your smile met his, Jungkook knew he had to make you his. It wasn’t a question of whether you’d be interested... it was a certainty in his mind that somehow, someway, you would be.

The intensity of his feelings was undeniable, and it made him feel alive in ways he hadn’t before. He was confident, almost to the point of arrogance, but there was something about you that made him feel more vulnerable than he'd ever let on.

For months now, Jungkook has been pining over you, showering you with flirtations, occasional date invitations, and endless compliments. Yet, no matter how hard he tries, you haven’t given in.

It doesn’t frustrate him, though... in fact, it only fuels his desire. To him, it’s a challenge, and if there’s one thing Jungkook loves more than anything, it’s a challenge.

He thrives in the chase, relishes the moments when he flusters you, sees the subtle changes in your demeanor when he's around. The effect he has on you is very obvious, and it only makes him more determined.

He knows you're not one to fall easily, that you probably need time, need to build some kind of trust in him, to feel that giving him a chance would truly be worth it. And that’s perfectly fine with him.

No matter how long it takes, how many games of flirtation and teasing he has to play, Jungkook is more than willing to keep pursuing you. Because to him, you’re worth every second.

"So, you missed me, huh?" Jungkook teases, leaning effortlessly against the table behind you. His voice is smooth, dripping with that familiar cocky charm that always manages to get under your skin.

You scoff, not daring to let yourself get distracted from your painting. "Not only do you come a full hour late, but now you're wasting time with your stupid flirting." you hiss, turning your head over your shoulder to glare at him, but even that doesn't seem to faze him.

"Oh, please, Ace. Flirting with you is never a waste of time." he replies, the mischievous wink he shoots your way causing your heart to stutter. You groan, frustration bubbling up inside you as your insides twist and turn at his words, the very ones you know are meant to get a rise out of you.

"Why were you late, anyway?" you ask, trying to refocus your attention on the painting. You dip the brush into the water, switching to another color, but your mind is nowhere near your work. There's a gnawing curiosity in the back of your mind... something that feels just a little bit off.

For a moment, there’s no answer. But then, Jungkook's voice breaks the silence, low and a bit too casual. "Just got a little busy... with something." His words hang in the air, and you can’t help but feel that tug of suspicion at your chest. Something? A woman, perhaps?

Jungkook watches you work, eyes tracing your movements with a soft, almost reverent gaze. There's something about the way you carry yourself, so effortlessly graceful as you focus on your art, that makes his heart leap in his chest.

He can’t help it... every angle, every direction you’re in makes you look like something out of a dream, and it drives him absolutely crazy.

"Hey, Ace." he calls out, his voice light, but you don’t look back, still intent on your canvas. You hum in response, not trusting yourself to say anything more.

"I’ve got two tickets to a concert this weekend. Wanna join me? Could be a cute date." The words hang between you like a dare, a challenge. You pause mid-stroke, the brush suddenly halting as if your body has betrayed you.

You’ve heard him ask you out like this before, casually, with that easygoing charm of his. But every time, it leaves you breathless... nervous, excited, and undeniably conflicted.

The idea of going on a date with Jungkook, of letting your guard down and seeing where it could go, is like a dream, but it’s one you can’t seem to step into without hesitation, without feeling scared.

You don’t respond right away, nibbling on your lower lip as your eyes remain fixed on the colorful canvas in front of you, your mind a flurry of emotions you can’t quite make sense of.

"It’s… getting late." you mutter, clearly trying to steer the conversation in another direction, anything to avoid acknowledging the warmth creeping into your cheeks.

Jungkook watches you carefully, his eyes never leaving your face as he observes your subtle shift, your attempt to hide the nerves you always try so hard to control. He can’t help but find it amusing, that cute little fluster of yours. It’s endearing. Hell, it’s the part of you he loves the most.

As you set the brush down and hastily begin to remove your apron, trying to make it seem like you’re just wrapping things up, Jungkook can't stop the grin that spreads across his face.

You're so cute when you’re flustered, so adorably oblivious to the effect you have on him. But that just makes him want to chase you more.

"Hey, I just got here. Leaving already?" Jungkook asks, falling into step with you as you grab your bag and head for the door. You don’t spare him a glance, keeping your eyes forward as you reply, "Well, blame yourself. You came late, and I want to go home now."

He chuckles, his footsteps quickening to catch up with you. "Well, let’s get dinner then." he suggests, his tone light, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world. "No." you respond flatly, not even bothering to look at him.

"Alright, what about ice cream?" His grin never falters, the mischievous gleam in his eyes making it clear that he’s not giving up that easily.

You can’t help but feel that warm flutter in your chest despite yourself. It’s something about his persistence, his charm, that always seems to melt away your resolve, even when you’re determined to stay unaffected.

You feel the corners of your lips twitch, a betraying smile threatening to break free, and you try to keep your expression serious. "Also, no." you manage to say, keeping your gaze fixed ahead as you both walk down the long hallway.

"Can I at least walk you to your apartment?" Jungkook asks, the hopeful tone in his voice undeniable. You narrow your eyes, glancing at him with a raised brow. "At this point, will saying "No" even make a difference?" you ask, the teasing edge to your voice not lost on him.

He just smiles wider, as if he knows he’s already won.

The moment you step into the open campus, the late evening breeze brushes against you, cool and refreshing, yet it does little to ease the heat bubbling inside.

As you walk, Jungkook casually falls into step beside you, his presence somehow making the air around you feel warmer.

"So, when are you gonna answer me?" he suddenly asks, his voice playful as you both pass by the soccer field, nearing the gates of the campus.

You know exactly what he's talking about, but you decide to act oblivious. "Answer?" you ask, not daring to glance at him, keeping your gaze ahead as if the question is of no consequence.

"Come on, Ace, you know what I’m talking about." His chuckle is unmistakable, and you feel a nudge on your arm as he inches closer to you.

You sigh, crossing your arms over your chest in an attempt to stay composed, yet your pace doesn’t falter. "Why me?" you ask, feigning nonchalance. "I’m sure tons of other girls would want to go instead of me."

He pauses, matching your stride as he looks at you with that same confident grin. "But none of those girls are you, so it quite literally doesn't matter." he says simply, and though the words should comfort you, your doubts still creep up.

It’s hard for you to believe him, to fully trust his intentions. Your trust issues keep you cautious, always questioning the sincerity behind every smile and every word.

"Whatever, Jeon. I’m not interested." you reply, trying to steer the conversation away. "Plus, I have a test on Monday."

"Oh, please." he retorts with a teasing glint in his eyes. "I’m pretty sure you’ve already finished studying the entire syllabus and revised at least a thousand times by now. You could use a break."

You can’t help but smile despite yourself. "That’s not true. In fact, I still have an entire chapter left." you answer honestly.

"Just a chapter? Ace, I have the whole syllabus left. You don’t see me stressing, do you?" he grins as the two of you step onto the familiar pavement, cars passing by on the street every now and then.

"You say that like you don’t manage to ace the tests even when you don’t study. You call me Ace, but honestly, I think it’s you." you joke, though there’s truth in your words. Jungkook is effortlessly good at so many things, and that includes academics.

Jungkook grins at the subtle compliment, warmth spreading through his chest. Suddenly, you pull out your phone, scrolling through your notifications. He walks quietly beside you, relishing the simplicity of this moment.

Somehow, just doing mundane things like this with you feels exhilarating... like a high he never wants to come down from. Being near you feels like heaven.

"Wow, Spiderman’s on the news again." you suddenly remark, stumbling upon an article as you scroll through your phone.

At this, Jungkook’s shoulders tense slightly. You’ve never mentioned Spiderman before, and now he doesn’t quite know how to react. He knows you have no idea about his double life, but hearing the name still makes him feel just a little paranoid.

"Oh... really?" he asks, leaning in slightly, trying to catch a glimpse of your screen. "Yeah." you reply, eyes still fixed on the article. "He apparently stopped a bank robbery."

Jungkook sneaks a glance at your face, noting the faint smile tugging at your lips. It tugs at his heart. Then, curiosity gets the better of him.

"What... are your thoughts on him?" he asks carefully. He knows exactly what he’s doing... he’s just a little greedy to know what you think about his alter ego, his other side. You glance up from your phone, eyebrows furrowed. "About Spiderman?"

He nods, his eyes searching yours as you look away, seemingly deep in thought. "Well, you know, a lot of people think he’s in the wrong," he begins, testing the waters.

"They say he’s reckless, breaking laws, making hasty decisions, taking justice into his own hands instead of letting the legal system do its job. So... I was curious... what do you think about that?"

You hum thoughtfully, your gaze distant. "Honestly speaking... I think he’s pretty cool."

Jungkook’s heart races slightly, but he doesn’t say anything, keeping his expression neutral. He assumes that’s all you have to say until you speak again, clearly not finished.

"I understand why people would think that..." you say, your voice softer now as you turn back to him. "But... I think what he does is extraordinary."

His heart skips a beat, though you don’t notice.

"I mean, think about it..." you continue, your voice gaining quiet strength. "He's someone who could use his powers to live an easy, selfish life. He could focus on himself and never worry about anyone else. But instead, he puts himself in danger every single day to protect people he doesn’t even know. He doesn’t have to do any of it, but he chooses to because he believes it’s the right thing to do. That kind of selflessness? It’s rare. And it’s brave."

Jungkook swallows hard, his throat tightening as your words sink in.

"Sure, maybe he doesn’t always follow the rules, but sometimes, doing the right thing means bending them. At the end of the day, he saves lives. And I think that’s what really matters." you finish, a soft smile gracing your lips.

Jungkook doesn’t respond immediately, his gaze locked on yours. For a moment, he forgets everything... his fears of being unmasked, his doubts, his double life. All he can think about is you and the way you see him, even without realizing it.

"Yeah..." he finally murmurs, his voice quieter than usual. "I think you’re right." he adds. You give him a curious glance, noticing how moved he seems, but before you can question it, he clears his throat, masking his emotions with a playful grin.

"So... are you saying Spiderman’s your type?" he teases. You narrow your eyes at him, a small laugh escaping your lips. "What kind of question is that?"

He shrugs, trying to look nonchalant. "I mean, you just gave this whole heartfelt speech about how selfless and brave he is. Sounds like your dream guy to me."

You roll your eyes, shaking your head in amusement. "Just because I admire what he does doesn’t mean he’s my type. For all we know, Spiderman could be... I don’t know, the kind of guy who puts pineapple on pizza."

Jungkook gasps, clutching his chest in mock horror. "Whoa, hold on. Pineapple on pizza is elite. Are you saying Spiderman’s taste might actually disqualify him?"

"Exactly." you reply with a teasing grin. "Hero or not, some things are just dealbreakers." you shrug, giggling. Jungkook raises an eyebrow, feigning offense. "Seriously what's wrong with pineapple on pizza?"

"Everything." you reply with a smirk. "But anyways... he might not even be my age or someone I could actually hold a conversation with. Just because someone’s a hero doesn’t mean we’d click, you know?" you add, returning back to the conversation.

"Fair point." Jungkook concedes, though his smirk doesn’t falter. "But let’s just say, hypothetically, Spiderman showed up right now, unmasked, and he was your age, charming, and funny. Would you give him a chance?"

You bite your lip and narrow your eyes, pretending to think about it. "Hypothetically?" you ask. He nods, leaning in slightly, as if your answer means more to him than he’s letting on.

"Maybe." you admit with a small smile. "But only if he’s not cocky about it." you say. Jungkook chuckles, looking ahead as you both continue walking. "Noted." he says softly, the faintest hint of relief in his tone.

The walk towards your apartment continues, his playful flirtations refusing to take a pause. At one point, he casually takes your hand while crossing the road, and somehow, you don’t pull away.

Jungkook’s heart feels like it’s hosting a full-on festival in his chest, but he works super hard to play it cool, hoping you don’t suddenly get self-conscious and snatch your hand back.

As your apartment building comes into view, he feels an ache in his chest. He doesn’t want this to end. These little moments, these stolen evenings when he manages to walk you home, are everything to him. He treasures them more than you’ll ever know.

When you finally stop outside your building, you turn to him, flashing him a soft smile. "Thanks for walking me home, Jeon." you say, your voice warm but casual. That’s when you realize your hands are still intertwined... so naturally, so deeply.

You can feel his thumb lightly brushing against yours, and though you’re hyperaware of it, you don’t pull away. It feels too… right. Hopefully, he doesn’t hold this against you later and claim you're like... madly in love with him or something.

Jungkook looks at you, and there’s a flicker of reluctance in his eyes. He clearly doesn’t want to let go. "Well then... I’ll see you tomorrow?" he asks, his voice almost hopeful. You nod, smiling back at him.

You think he'll let go of your hand first but somehow, neither of you move. The world around seems to blur, leaving just the two of you standing there in the golden glow of the streetlights. Seconds tick by in silence before he speaks again.

"Ace, think about that concert date, okay? I really... really want to go with you." His voice is soft, but the weight of his sincerity makes your heart feel unsteady, as if it might tip over any second.

You let out a quiet sigh, your gaze dropping to the pavement. You want to say yes. You really want to say yes. But that familiar paranoia, that nagging voice in the back of your mind, refuses to loosen its grip. It holds you back, whispering doubts you can’t quite silence.

Jungkook doesn’t miss the way your brows knit together, the subtle hesitation in your posture. He notices how your fingers unconsciously tighten against his, as if reflecting the weight of the thoughts racing through your mind.

But then, like an unwelcome intruder, a sound cuts through the quiet night... the faint, distant wail of a siren. His focus shifts instantly, and he knows what it means. Somewhere in the city, someone needs him.

The conflict in his chest is palpable. He doesn’t want this moment to end, this fleeting bubble of time where it’s just the two of you, but the sense of duty outweighs his desires.

Reluctantly, he lets go of your hand, his fingers brushing yours one last time, lingering just long enough to make your skin tingle. He offers you a small, almost apologetic smile. "Sleep on it and let me know tomorrow, okay?" he says, stepping back.

You open your mouth to respond, but he’s already grinning, that playful, heart-melting grin that always leaves you breathless. "Goodnight, Ace. I’ll miss you until tomorrow."

And just like that, before you can even think of what to say, he’s jogging off, the rhythm of his steps fading into the night. You stand there, rooted in place, staring after him as he turns the corner near your apartment.

The words you wanted to say hang in your throat, unspoken. Something inside you stirs... a flicker of impulse, and you instantly feel the undying need to call out to him, to stop him, to at least reassure him that this time… you would truly think about it.

You find yourself taking a step forward towards the corner of your building, your feet carrying you towards the direction he ran. You peer into the dimly lit alley that stretches endlessly ahead, the streetlights casting long, faint shadows. But to your surprise, Jungkook is nowhere in sight.

You blink, your brows furrowing. The stretch of road is empty, eerily quiet except for the distant hum of the city. It’s as if he’s vanished into thin air. You linger there for a moment, the cool night air brushing against your skin, and you wonder with a small, bemused smile...

Just how fast can Jungkook run?

Your pen moves swiftly across the page, the sound of it scratching against paper blending with the hum of the classroom around you. You’re fully immersed in Mr. Choi's lecture, absorbing every word with precision.

While everyone else around you is still shaking off the fog of sleep, struggling to find their rhythm, you’re deep in the flow, your thoughts sharp and disciplined. The lecture hall, with its rows of slumped, half-conscious students, seems like a distant world to you, as if you’re the only one who’s truly awake.

Suddenly, the smooth cadence of Mr. Choi’s voice falters, interrupted by the abrupt sound of a door creaking open. “Late again, Mr. Jeon?” Mr. Choi’s voice is laced with the usual mix of amusement and annoyance as his eyes narrow in mock disapproval at the figure standing at the doorway.

Of course, he's late. Jeon Jungkook is always late.

You lift your gaze, your focus momentarily broken, and you catch the playful, almost apologetic bow he gives Mr. Choi before he makes his way through the aisles.

With practiced ease, he navigates his way through the rows, his presence so familiar, so effortless, that it feels almost like the room adjusts itself to accommodate his presence.

And just as always, his eyes find yours, as if drawn by some invisible thread, and a mischievous smirk tugs at the corners of his lips. He gives you a wink, subtle but unmistakable, before he settles into the seat right behind you.

“Good morning, Ace.” he whispers, the soft murmur of his voice cutting through the ambient noise of the lecture hall. You hear the faint shuffle of his bag as he slides into his seat and despite yourself, a smile tugs at the corner of your lips.

You fight it, focusing back down at your notebook, your fingers still gripped tightly around the pen.

Soon enough, the lecture wraps up, and Mr. Choi gathers his things, his footsteps echoing through the quiet room as he exits. As you stand to pack your bag, your eyes naturally drift towards Jungkook, who is already in the process of putting his belongings together.

You don’t say anything at first, the familiar rhythm of his presence next to you doesn’t need words. But just as you turn to head down the steep stairs of the lecture hall, you feel his arm slip around your waist with that effortless familiarity.

“Hi.” he greets, his voice low, the sound of it so casual yet intimate. It’s not the first time he’s done this. In fact, it’s something he’s done countless times before, despite the many times you’ve asked him to stop.

Not because you dislike it... even though you tell yourself to, you just can't, not when his touch feels so natural, so right... but because of the unwanted attention it draws. The way all eyes seem to latch onto the simple act of him holding you close.

“Heading to the cafeteria ??” he asks, turning his head to meet your eyes, his expression full of that unshakable playfulness that always makes your heart beat a little faster.

You carefully reach for his wrist, gently peeling it away from your waist, the skin beneath your fingers suddenly tingling with warmth. You step a little further from him, trying to steady the swirl of emotions coursing through you.

God, why does the touch of his skin against yours make your insides feel like jelly? The warmth of his hand lingers, even though he's already let go, and it makes your chest tighten with something you can’t quite place.

“Yes.” you manage to answer, keeping your tone steady despite the storm brewing within you. You turn back towards the stairs, forcing yourself to walk at a pace that’s somehow slower than usual.

But, as always, Jungkook follows. He trails behind you like a puppy, each of his footsteps matching yours, and you can feel the weight of his attention even without looking at him.

He just can’t help it. His devotion to you is palpable, an invisible thread that binds him to you in the quietest, most powerful of ways.

There’s something so deeply affectionate in the way he always tries to be around you, so undeniably tender in the way he never lets you go, even when you don’t always ask for it.

Once you step into the bustling cafeteria, the scent of freshly made food fills the air, making your stomach grumble despite just having a light breakfast. Jungkook, ever observant, glances around before turning to you with that signature playful smile of his.

"Why don’t you go ahead and sit over there?" he suggests, pointing at an empty table tucked in the corner near the windows. "I’ll grab your strawberry milk and—" He pauses, eyes scanning the cafeteria for something. "Maybe that pastry you like too."

You smile softly at his attentiveness, nodding in agreement as you part ways and walk towards the table. As soon as you sit down, the familiar warmth of the cafeteria wraps around you, and just as quickly, two figures approach your table.

"Hey, Y/n !!" Soomin’s voice cuts through the air, bright and infectious. Yeji follows closely behind her, her smile just as warm. They’re two of your closest friends from university, and you share quite a few classes with them, making their presence all the more comforting.

You smile and wave them over, the three of you exchanging greetings as they take their seats across from you.

"God, I have a test at two, and I’m so unprepared." Soomin groans, flopping her head onto the table. Yeji chuckles beside her, clearly used to Soomin’s antics. You let out a soft laugh, reaching across the table to pat Soomin’s hand reassuringly. "You’ll do fine, don’t worry. You always do."

Soomin groans even louder, but it’s clear she appreciates the reassurance. "Did you have a morning class?" Yeji asks, taking a bite of her sandwich as she looks at you with curiosity. You nod. "Yeah, Mr. Choi’s lecture." you reply.

"Ah, Mr. Choi..." Soomin says, nodding knowingly and soon enough she's slipping into casual conversation with Yeji as you listen, comfortably sinking into the rhythm of the discussion.

Amidst their chatter, your attention shifts to the far side of the cafeteria behind Soomin and Yeji. You spot Jungkook, navigating through the crowd with ease, a tray of food balanced carefully in his hands.

On the tray, you can already see the familiar strawberry milk and your favorite snack from the cafeteria... things he’s memorized with startling precision. It makes you smile without thinking.

He’s always so thoughtful, remembering even the smallest details about what you like to eat. And though you’ve always tried to resist letting him fetch your food, his determination, combined with how cute he looks doing it... eventually won you over. Now, you just sit back and let him.

Soomin, ever the observant one, notices your gaze and follows the path your eyes are tracing. She turns her head to look over her shoulder and spots Jungkook making his way towards you, a grin spreading across her face as she leans closer.

"Oh, so you're here waiting for 'loverboy' as usual." she teases. You roll your eyes, fighting a smile. "Oh, come on. He’s not my loverboy." you say, trying to dismiss her comment, though there’s a warmth that creeps into your voice that betrays your calm demeanor.

"Here she goes again." Yeji laughs, shaking her head knowingly. "You always say that, and yet he’s never not by your side." she adds, her voice full of amusement.

You look down at your lap, suddenly shy under the weight of their teasing. "He’s just… a good friend." you mumble, though deep down, you know the truth... Jungkook is just so much more than that.

"Hey, guys." Jungkook says, his voice easy and casual as he approaches the table, unaware of the playful conversation that had just taken place.

He flashes a grin at Yeji and Soomin before placing the tray of food in front of you, his movements natural and fluid as he takes a seat right beside you. They greet him cheerfully, and once you begin eating, the topic shifts seamlessly.

"Guys, oh my god, did you see the news yesterday? Spiderman stopped a bank robbery!! He looked so cool doing it." Yeji exclaims, eyes wide with excitemen.

Jungkook hides a grin behind his hand, amused by their enthusiasm, while Soomin jumps in, agreeing wholeheartedly. "He's sooo hot, oh my god." she says, her tone filled with admiration.

You chuckle at their exaggerated reactions, and Jungkook's gaze flickers to you. There's a warmth in his eyes, something deeper than before.

Ever since last night, when he discovered how you truly feel about his alter ego, his feelings for you have intensified. It’s as though a switch has been flipped, and what he feels now is so much more than before... more profound, more intense.

"I so badly want to see his face." Yeji continues, her voice dripping with longing as she playfully covers her mouth with her hands. "Like, think about the amount of handsomeness he's gatekeeping from the world under that mask." She giggles, the thought clearly thrilling her.

Jungkook can't help but smirk at the conversation, his heart thumping a little faster as his eyes linger on you. He wonders, with a hint of curiosity and something more, how you would react if you ever found out who he truly is.

Once you're ready to head to your next class, you bid your goodbyes to Soomin and Yeji, making your way out of the cafeteria. Unfortunately, this is one of those rare moments when you don’t share a class with Jungkook, but, as always, he insists on walking you all the way there.

The walk towards the classroom is filled with silence, the only sound being the soft shuffle of your steps and the occasional hum of distant conversations. Jungkook walks beside you, that familiar, easy smile still on his face, while you're trapped within your own mind, battling the conflicting emotions swirling inside you.

Each day, it becomes harder to ignore the growing pull towards him. You’ve always been able to keep your feelings at bay, but lately, every moment with him feels like a thread tightening around your heart.

Maybe, just maybe, it’s time to stop pushing him away. You’ve been fooling yourself, trying to deny what’s so obvious now. There’s something real here, something deeper than you ever let yourself admit.

The small things he does for you... the way he remembers the smallest preferences, the subtle gestures that show how much he cares... these are not signs of a passing flirtation.

Probably Jungkook isn’t playing games. His kindness, his attentiveness, it all feels genuine, too sincere to be anything else. Could it be possible that he’s been this dedicated all this time because what he feels for you is actually something real?

“I’ll catch you after class, Ace?” his voice breaks through the storm of your thoughts, and you suddenly realize that you've reached your classroom. You look at him, meeting his gaze, and see that same, unshakable smile. You nod, offering him a small smile in return.

“Okay then...” he trails off before playfully saluting you with a grin and turning on his heels, ready to head to his own class. But as he starts walking away, something shifts in you.

You feel the weight of everything you've been holding back for so long... the hesitation, the reluctance, the fear and suddenly, it becomes too much to bear. In that moment, you realize you can’t do it anymore. You can’t keep holding back.

“Wait !!” you call out before you even realize what you’re doing. Jungkook stops in his tracks, turning around to face you with wide eyes. He’s standing a few feet away now, the hallway suddenly feeling too quiet, too still, save for the distant murmurs from the nearby classrooms.

“What’s up, Ace? All good?” he asks, stepping closer. You swallow hard, locking eyes with him, your gaze steady, conveying an unspoken determination to finally unpack everything you’ve been feeling.

There's no going back from this. No more hiding, no more second-guessing. You’ve wrestled with your doubts long enough, and now, it’s time to be honest with yourself... honest with him.

“What time are we meeting at the concert venue?”

You gaze at your reflection, a soft smile tugging at your lips. You’re about to do the unimaginable... finally giving Jungkook a chance. A chance to take you out, to show you a good time.

Your mind drifts back to his reaction when you finally gave in.

He had been so shocked, his happiness so genuine that he couldn’t contain himself. He had practically swept you off your feet, spinning you around in excitement, his cheers echoing so loudly that even the professors in neighboring classrooms had peeked out to see what the commotion was all about.

Smiling at the memory, you grab your bag, running your eyes over your reflection one last time. Everything feels perfect... just the way you imagined it would be.

It's about 6, and the concert is set to start at 6:30pm. Jungkook had suggested that he'd meet you outside the venue at 6:15pm and after the concert, he’d take you out for dinner and then walk you back home.

It’s simple, but honestly, it’s perfect for you. Though giving in to him was a difficult choice, the excitement building within you now makes it all worth it. You can’t wait to see where this night takes you, to finally spend time with him in a way you’ve always wanted.

You take a cab, and before you know it, you arrive at the concert venue. The place is alive with energy, bustling with fans, people roaming around holding posters and chatting excitedly. You wait near the entrance, a smile fixed on your face, your heart racing with anticipation.

He should be here any minute now, and the mere thought of him sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach. You glance at your phone, the time flashing in front of you— 6:21 p.m.

He’ll probably be here soon, and since Jungkook has a reputation for always showing up late, you decide to give him some extra time... after all, you're nice like that.

You remain in the same spot, eyes fixed on the entrance, watching the crowd shuffle by as people get their tickets verified and enter the venue. Each person who passes by only adds to the knot in your stomach. You try to stay calm, hoping that any second now, you’ll see Jungkook running towards you with that bright smile of his.

But somehow, that moment never comes. You keep glancing at your phone, the seconds creeping by. 6:25... 6:27... 6:32...

And then, before you realize it, you're standing alone near the entrance. The crowd has long since filtered inside, and you’re left in the growing emptiness.

The guards, noticing your solitude, kindly inform you that the concert is about to start. You force a smile, awkwardly explaining that you’re waiting for a friend who’s bringing the tickets.

You cross your arms, a sense of vulnerability washing over you as you realize how small you feel in this vast sea of people who have already moved on with their evening. Another glance at your phone—6:45pm.

He’s still not here. Maybe it’s time to call him.

But of course, as if the universe itself has conspired against you, the call goes straight to voicemail. You try again. Same result. A wave of frustration builds in your chest, mixing with a strange sense of abandonment.

By the time it hits 7:00, impatience starts to bleed into worry. You expected him to be late, but not... this late. The music from inside the venue filters through the walls, a distant reminder of what you should be experiencing right now, with him.

Instead, you're left standing outside, alone, while the night continues without you. The excitement that had once bubbled within you now feels hollow, replaced by an uncomfortable sense of being left behind. You were supposed to be inside, enjoying the concert with him, not stranded here like some forgotten afterthought.

You find a nearby bench and sink onto it, feeling the weight of your own exhaustion pulling you down. The night has already taken a turn you never imagined, and yet, you can’t bring yourself to leave.

Something inside you clings to the hope that he might show up, even though deep down, you know the truth. Still, you force yourself to stay, to wait, just in case.

But time drags on. 8:00 p.m. passes in a blur, and then 8:45 p.m. follows soon after. He's still not here. The longer you sit there, the more the crushing weight of your emotions presses down on you. It’s like something inside you is slowly breaking apart, unraveling piece by piece.

Your chest tightens, and you feel nauseous... not from the food you didn’t get to eat, but from the overwhelming wave of hurt that seems to take over every inch of your body.

You've lost count of how many times you've called him. At first, it was in the hope that maybe something came up, maybe he just needed a minute. But after the countless unanswered calls, the realization hits you like a freight train... Jungkook had stood you up.

And it stings more than you ever imagined it could.

By the time it’s 9:36 p.m., you finally notice the crowd emerging from the concert venue. They all look so happy, so full of life, with bright smiles and hazy eyes, as if the night was everything they hoped it would be.

But for you? It’s like everything had shattered. The sharp contrast between their joy and your deep, empty ache is enough to make your heart feel hollow.

You feel like a fool. All this time, you were waiting for someone who never showed up, for someone who clearly didn’t value your time or your feelings.

With your head down, you begin to follow the crowd out of the venue. You don’t make eye contact with anyone... you don’t want them to see the quiet hurt written all over your face. All you can do is walk, every step heavier than the last, as you try to hold yourself together.

As you walk further and further from the concert venue, the quiet of the night wraps around you like a cold, suffocating blanket. The hum of the city feels distant, the bustling crowd now far behind you.

And with that silence, a single tear escapes your eye, trickling down your cheek. You quickly sniffle, wiping it away, furious at yourself for letting it fall. This... this is exactly why you were so paranoid, so hesitant in the first place. You were scared of this. Scared of letting someone in, only to be left standing alone.

Your vision blurs with the mix of emotions swirling inside, but you force yourself to look up at the sky, willing your tears to stop, praying they won’t fall anymore.

With a shaky breath, you pull out your phone, desperate to distract yourself. Your thumb scrolls aimlessly through the screen, trying to avoid the thoughts that threaten to consume you. But then, the latest news catches your eye.

"Spiderman Rescues Family from Burning Building"

The headline stands out among the others, and for a moment, you're frozen. You scroll further, reading more articles, hoping the news will help you forget the mess of your own emotions.

"Spiderman Dashes into Fiery Inferno to Save Trapped Children" "Masked Vigilante in Action: Spiderman Saves Dozens from the unexpected fire."

But as you read the headlines, a deep sense of irony gnaws at you.

Well, at least this Spiderman guy was showing up on time to save people’s lives, you think bitterly to yourself. Here’s someone who doesn’t make excuses, someone who actually follows through with what he promises.

And then there's Jungkook. The one who had practically begged you for a chance to take you out, only to leave you waiting, completely abandoned and alone.

You're so engrossed in the article you're reading that the world around you begins to blur. The flashing images of Spiderman saving lives seem to temporarily distract you from the sinking pit in your stomach.

But as you continue to scroll, an unsettling shift in the atmosphere pulls you from your thoughts. You suddenly realize the alley you're walking through has grown eerily quiet. The bustling sounds of the city seem to fade into nothingness, replaced by an unnerving stillness that sends a chill down your spine.

Just as you register the ominous change in your surroundings, an unfamiliar voice cuts through the silence. "Well, well, well... What do we have here?" The words drip with malice, each syllable sending a shiver down your spine. You snap your head around, your heart immediately leaping into your throat.

There, standing in the shadows, is a group of four men. Their eyes are fixed on you, their smiles twisted into something dark and predatory.

A sharp intake of breath escapes your lips as your pulse quickens, and instinctively, you step back, your feet heavy and uncooperative. Your mind screams at you to run, but your legs feel weak, as though they’re unwilling to obey.

The cold air around you seems to freeze, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. You curse yourself silently, realizing too late how foolish it was to carelessly venture into this alley... one that looks too shady, too quiet, too dangerous.

"Don’t be scared, sweetheart." one of the men says, his grin widening, his teeth glinting under the bright moonlight. His voice drips with cruel amusement, and the other three step forward, the sound of their footsteps sending a tremor through your already fragile composure.

Your body instinctively takes another step back, but the weight of their gaze pins you in place. Every instinct in your body screams at you to run, to escape, to get away... but the terror coursing through you is paralyzing.

You can't think. You can't move. The fear is suffocating, and you're trapped under their gaze, unable to do anything but stand there, frozen.

"We just wanna have fun, beautiful." the same man calls out again, his voice a twisted mockery of sweetness. The words slither in the air, sending a rush of panic through your chest.

Your breathing grows erratic, shallow, as the weight of their intentions becomes painfully clear. You can feel the blood in your veins turning cold as your fight-or-flight instincts surge to life.

In an instant, it's as if a fog has cleared, and your body reacts before your mind even registers. You whirl around and start running, your feet pounding against the rough ground.

Your heart races, the beat hammering in your ears, the only sound louder than your frantic footsteps is the deafening laughter of the men right behind you as they mercilessly chase after you.

It’s as if they thrive on your fear. The sound of their boots slapping the ground echoes in the alley, relentless and close, sending a fresh wave of terror surging through you.

This alley is like a maze to you, completely unfamiliar, and the more you run, the more hopeless it feels. You don’t know where you’re going... just hoping for some miracle, some escape.

Every turn you take feels like you’re running deeper into the trap, their laughter reverberating around you, a sickening reminder of how far out of your control this has gone.

Tears spill down your face now, hot and stinging, mixing with the fear clawing at your chest. You just wanted a normal night, a fun time, a simple date. Instead, you're running for your life, your every breath coming out in ragged gasps.

This was the worst possible turn of events, and you absolutely hate it.

In the chaos, your foot catches on something, your ankle twisting painfully as you lose your balance. You don’t have time to react, your body toppling forward as the ground comes up to meet you.

A sickening scrape sounds as your knee crashes against the rough, jagged concrete, the sharp sting of pain shooting through your leg.

For a split second, everything is frozen... your breath caught in your throat, your body sprawled on the ground, knees scraped and bloody. The echoes of the familiar laughter seem to grow louder, nearer, filling the space around you like a nightmare you can't wake from.

And just like that, the men close the distance, their boots stopping mere inches from you as they loom over your crumpled form. Their smirks are triumphant, twisted with a sense of sick satisfaction, as though they've already won whatever vile game they’re playing.

"You shouldn't have ran like that, princess." the leader sneers, his voice dripping with mockery. He tilts his head, staring down at you as if you’re a pathetic little thing he’s cornered.

"Look at you... all scraped up and trembling. Such a shame." His words slither through the air, making your skin crawl.

You’re shaking uncontrollably now, your hands bracing against the cold, rough ground as you instinctively push yourself back, desperate to create even a shred of distance. But they move forward with you, step by step, their shadows stretching over you like a suffocating shroud.

"Please..." The word falls from your lips, broken and barely audible, a breathless whisper of desperation. Your tears blur your vision as they keep streaming, unchecked and unending. "Please leave me alone..." you plead, your voice cracking under the weight of your fear.

One of them chuckles darkly as he strides closer. "Oh, we will, darling." he says, his grin widening with something cruel and sinister. He crouches down, his knees cracking slightly as he brings himself eye-level with you.

The proximity makes your breath hitch. "But not so soon." he says, his smile is razor-sharp, the kind that makes your stomach churn.

"Look at you..." he murmurs, his voice low and taunting. Slowly, he raises a hand, the movement making you flinch violently. But it doesn’t stop him. He drags the back of his knuckles down your cheek, his touch slow and burning, like he’s savoring your helplessness.

You gasp, the air caught in your lungs as you jerk your head back, straining to pull away. "Don’t be shy..." he coos, leaning closer, his breath fanning your face.

The metallic tang of your scraped knee mixes with the acrid stench of sweat and smoke clinging to him, making you feel even more nauseous.

You try to glance over his shoulder, frantically scanning for someone... anyone, to come to your rescue. Your heart pounds as your eyes dart around, searching for an escape route that doesn’t exist.

The moon shines bright tonight, illuminating the men’s devilish smirks, making their expressions even more menacing. As the man’s hand inches closer to your face, the air behind the gang seems to shift, a subtle disturbance that pulls your focus.

Your breath hitches, and your tear-filled eyes widen as you catch a clear sight of a figure descending through the air... a silhouette both strikingly familiar and entirely surreal.

Before you can fully process what’s happening, a sharp, wet squelching sound cuts through the tense air.

The man crouched in front of you lets out a muffled yell, his voice quickly stifled as sticky, glistening webbing splatters against the back of his head and encases his entire face.

He stumbles back, clawing at his face, but the more he struggles, the tighter the strands seem to stick.

You gasp, frozen in place, your heart pounding against your ribs. The sudden movement has drawn the attention of the other three men, and they whirl around, their shock evident as they come face-to-face with the figure that has just landed, only a few feet away.

Their expressions twist into disbelief, and one of them stammers. “Is... is... th-that... is that...S-Spi... Spiderman?”

The name reverberates in your mind, almost surreal. You blink, still trying to make sense of the situation. Was this really happening right now?

The man at your feet continues writhing, desperate to peel the webbing from his face, but your focus shifts. Spiderman doesn’t give the others a chance to react.

With a swift, effortless motion, he launches himself into the air, his body moving with a fluidity and precision that you’ve only ever seen in the numerous viral clips circulating on social media.

Before the nearest thug can draw his weapon, Spiderman swings low, his legs extended, catching the man square in the chest. The force sends him sprawling backward, crashing into a stack of crates that splinter on impact.

The remaining two men shout in alarm, their bravado crumbling as they scramble for some semblance of control. Spiderman doesn’t stop. Launching himself onto the wall of the alley, he runs along its surface, the soles of his boots clinging effortlessly.

He shoots another web, snagging a metal trash can, and hurls it with precision. It connects with the second thug’s hand, sending a knife skittering across the pavement. The man yelps, clutching his wrist, but before he can retreat, Spiderman flips through the air, landing right in front of him.

A quick jab followed by a sweep of his leg sends the man crumpling to the ground.

The final thug, now trembling, looks between his fallen companions and Spiderman. “I... I don’t want any trouble!” he shouts, raising his hands.

“Oh, you’ve got plenty of trouble.” Spiderman retorts, his voice calm but laced with authority. With a flick of his wrist, another web shoots out, pinning the man’s arms to his sides. He stumbles back, stuck against the brick wall, writhing futilely.

You sit frozen on the cold ground, unable to look away as Spiderman surveys the scene. His movements are controlled, efficient, as if this is just another routine patrol.

Finally, he turns towards you, his masked gaze locking onto yours. Though his eyes are hidden behind the opaque lenses of his mask, the slight tilt of his head exudes concern. He doesn’t say a word, just quietly observes you, or at least that’s what you assume he’s doing.

With slow steps, he moves closer, crouching down in front of you. Yet, unlike the men who had terrified you moments ago, his presence doesn’t evoke fear. Strangely, you feel a sense of safety. Your breathing remains uneven as you stare at him, catching a fragmented reflection of yourself in the glossy eyes of his mask.

“Thank… thank you.” you manage to whisper, your voice trembling.

He doesn’t reply. Instead, his hand moves hesitantly, almost unsure, before brushing a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. The gesture is gentle, and for a fleeting moment, it feels oddly familiar... like a memory or a déjà vu you can’t quite place.

But your mind is too frazzled, too overwhelmed to make sense of it.

Still silent, he rises to his full height and extends his hand towards you. The gesture is simple yet reassuring, his gloved palm outstretched as if to say, Trust me.

You hesitate for a second, searching his masked face for answers you know you won’t get, but eventually, you place your trembling hand in his.

With a careful tug, he helps you to your feet. The moment you shift your weight, however, a sharp pain shoots through your leg, and you let out a small yelp, nearly losing your balance.

Instinctively, his other hand settles around your waist, steady and reassuring, as if he anticipated your faltering step. The contact is firm yet gentle, grounding you in a way you didn’t realize you needed.

He pulls you closer, his presence commanding yet calming, and guides your arms around his shoulder.

“Hold on tight.” he murmurs, his voice low, a quiet reassurance that leaves no room for doubt. You blink, startled, still trying to piece together what he’s about to do.

Before you can even question him, he raises his free hand, aiming it with precision. A sharp thwip cuts through the air as a strand of web shoots out, latching onto the edge of a distant building.

And then, with a sudden jolt, you’re airborne.

A gasp escapes your lips as the ground disappears beneath you. Instinctively, your grip tightens around him, your fingers clutching at his suit as if your life depends on it. Well in this case, it does actually.

The rush of wind tears through your hair, and your heart pounds in your chest as he swings effortlessly between the towering buildings.

Despite your initial panic, his hold around your waist is unwavering and firm like he's silently assuring you that he won't let you go, won't let you fall.

It’s surreal... the way he moves with such fluidity, his motions precise and calculated, almost as if he’s done this a thousand times before. Each swing feels like a dance between gravity and defiance, the world blurring around you as he carries you through the cityscape.

Before you can fully process the ride, he lands with practiced precision on the pavement outside your apartment building.

The abrupt shift from soaring through the air to solid ground leaves you momentarily disoriented. You exhale shakily, your heart pounding relentlessly from the adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

His hands release their steady grip on your waist, but he doesn’t immediately step back. Instead, he lingers, watching you closely, as though ensuring you won’t falter.

Your fingers are still clutching at his suit, a reflexive hold from the chaotic blur of moments before. It takes a few seconds before you register that you’re safe, your mind catching up to the fact that you were literally flying just moments ago.

That was, without a doubt, the most insane thing you’ve ever experienced in your life.

Finally, your gaze drifts away from him, focusing instead on the familiar outline of your apartment building. The normalcy of it feels almost jarring after the surreal turn your evening has taken.

You take a cautious step forward, putting some distance between you and the masked hero as you try to untangle the whirlwind of thoughts swirling in your mind.

How did Spiderman know where you lived? Did superheroes have some kind of uncanny ability to figure out people’s addresses? Or was it just a lucky guess? The absurdity of the question makes you pause mid-step, your mind scrambling for some kind of explanation.

You turn around to face him again, your thoughts still a jumble. "How... how did you know where I—"

But before you can even finish, the familiar thwip slices through the quiet night. Your words falter as you watch him propel into the sky, his silhouette a fleeting shadow against the dim glow of the city.

He’s gone. Just like that. Swinging effortlessly through the labyrinth of buildings, leaving you rooted to the spot, your unfinished question dissolving into the stillness around you.

Maybe he was in a rush... he’s a superhero, after all. People probably needed him more than you did now. But the thought doesn’t soothe the ache of unfinished gratitude sitting in your chest.

You didn’t even get to thank him properly... for saving your life, for pulling you out of the nightmare of that alley, and for bringing you home safely.

The faint echo of his departure lingers, merging with the soft hum of the night, as does the strange medley of emotions swirling within you.

Gratitude and confusion take the forefront, but there’s something else, something deeper and unnameable, tugging at the edges of your thoughts.

You glance up at the sky where he disappeared, your heart heavier than it was just moments ago. A superhero had saved you, yet all you can think about is how familiar something about him felt... and how impossibly far away he seemed now.

part 2 ->

check out-> drabble 1; the one with the damn suit

my masterlist <3

You’re exiting the kitchen with a large tray of scones balancing on your palm which you gracefully slide into the display case to replace the empty one. After rising to your full height again, you spot him in the doorway and your eyes light up like fireworks. 

“Honey? What are you doing here?” 

Before he can even open his mouth, you scurry across the room to him. He naturally extends his arms out and pulls you in close once you barrel straight into his chest. 

“Thought I’d surprise my beautiful wife at work,” he explains. 

His lips find your temple before you unravel yourself from his embrace. 

“Aren’t you too busy for that?” 

“Eh, maybe. I’m never too busy for you, though.”

Your responding smile is just as radiant as always, and the lovesick gleam in your eye is something he’ll never tire of witnessing. 

“But how do you know I’m not too busy for you?” You retort with a smirk. 

Jungkook playfully clicks his tongue a couple times like he’s scolding you.

“That's something I never wanna hear.”

“Well, I’m a business woman now. So you don’t have much say in the matter.” 

With your hands placed proudly on your hips as they are now, you look like a sweeter-than-candy version of Wonder Woman, and the corners of his lips twitch upwards. 

“Fair enough, business woman. Are you too busy for me?”

After momentarily pursing your lips in thought, you smile and shake your head.

“Nope.”

He tsks at you.

“Put me through all that heartache for nothin’.” 

Jungkook steals your hand so he can lace your fingers together while you holler at Jennie about leaving for a bit. He follows suit by waving at her with his free hand where she’s standing behind the counter, to which she enthusiastically returns the greeting. 

It lifts his spirits to see such a massive smile on Jennie’s face. He feared she would never wear such a bright expression again, but it seems she’s found new fulfillment by helping you manage the bakery. 

“So, where are we going?”

The two of you are strolling hand in hand down the street adjacent to the building, your arms lazily swinging between you. 

“Thought we could just walk around together, maybe grab some coffee,” he proposes.

His answer causes you to stop short in the middle of the sidewalk. 

“Did you do something bad?”

“Huh?”

“Jae, the only time you’d ever leave the office for lunch was to meet with Kookie once a month. Let alone just to go on some afternoon stroll with me,” you declare. 

He debates over his reply while beginning to tug you along with him again. 

“You’re right, but I think it’s about time I change that.” His hand squeezes your own. “We’re both working now and that means less time to spend together at home.” 

“You gonna make this a little routine, then?”

“I’d like to,” he firmly states. “Anything I can do to see your gorgeous smile more often, I will.”

The blush creeping onto your cheeks and up your neck is precisely why he canceled all his early afternoon meetings to spend time with you. Moments like these are priceless and he understands now more than ever how fleeting they are. 

“Speaking of routines, there’s one you stopped doing after we lost Kookie that I’ve been really missing lately,” you announce. 

“Hm? What’s that?”

You’re gnawing on your bottom lip as though you’re embarrassed, which is both adorable and heartbreaking, considering you shouldn’t ever find it hard to tell him how you feel. 

“Well, you know how you used to bring me home a new bouquet every Friday? I didn’t mention it sooner because everything’s been such a whirlwind the last eight months, but I seriously miss smelling flowers every morning when I come downstairs.” 

Jungkook mentally smacks himself in the forehead. Of course, he vividly recalls your kitchen table always having a fresh flower arrangement in the center. Not to mention Jaehyun spoke about it plenty over the years. 

He even remembers how his twin would waltz into the house on Friday evenings with a massive bouquet in his hands and shout, “Happy Friday, beautiful!”

“Fuck, baby, I’m so sorry.” He pauses and turns to face you. “I never thought of it once this entire time.”

“I know. It’s alright.”

“But it isn’t. My grief shouldn’t prevent me from treating my wife how she deserves.”

His comment causes your eyes to roll.

“Honey, you treat me better than I could ever hope for. The flowers? They’re far above and beyond your duties as a husband. That’s why I didn’t bring it up before.”

“Above and beyond or not, it’s something I’ve done for you for years and it shouldn’t just stop because I have a lot on my mind.” Jungkook sighs while encasing your hands between his own. “I promise to do better and you’ll start regularly receiving your flowers again this week.”

You smile and acknowledge his vow with a nod before giving him a quick peck. 

The stroll lasts another half hour or so, including a brief stop for drinks to sip on during your trek back to the bakery. Jungkook kisses you goodbye outside the entrance, out of view from any customers, but waits for you to safely step inside before returning to his own workplace. 

Upon arriving at the office, he immediately begins digging around old files and notebooks for the name of the florist Jaehyun used. He imagines his brother had a weekly service set up with them and Jungkook wants to reestablish it if possible. 

In the end, he finds absolutely nothing, and has to ask Jimin for assistance. Unsurprisingly, his twin’s longtime employee already has the name on hand and scribbles the information on a sticky note for Jungkook. 

After work, he heads straight to the florist shop that’s thankfully about equal distance away from both the office and house. 

Just like the bakery, a bell dings overhead when he enters the building and the sound causes an older lady behind the counter to glance up.

“Ah! Jaehyun, dearie, I wondered when we’d be seeing you again!” 

It only makes sense she recognizes him, Jaehyun probably saw her once a week for the last three or four years whenever he picked up the bouquets. 

“I know, I’m so sorry,” he remarks while weaving through the shop towards her. “We had a death in the family and suddenly all my usual routines got thrown out the window.” 

“Oh, I know, dearie. I saw the news in the paper after it happened. I’m so sorry about your brother,” she tells him as her hand comfortingly covers his own where it’s resting on the counter. 

Jungkook offers her a small, warm grin.

“Thank you.”

“You know, I’m a twin myself.”

His eyes widen in pleasant surprise. He doesn’t think he’s come across another twin since losing his own.

“Really?”

“Mmhm. Identical, too, just like you. She passed away a couple years ago.”

It’s hard to hide how his breath catches in his throat. For eight months he’s felt so unbearably alone it’s been like carrying around a physical weight. But here’s someone who knows exactly how he feels, even if the circumstances differ.

“I’m sorry,” he quietly offers.

She merely waves him off.

“It was old age, nothing like what you went through.” Her expression shifts from professional to caring; almost motherly. “It’s weird, isn’t it? Going from two to one.” He nods, in complete awe of her speaking his own emotions aloud. “No one else understands, do they? I mean, they try, but it’s impossible. You’re with this person from conception and then all of the sudden… nothing.”

A stray tear sneaks out from the corner of Jungkook’s eye which he quickly wipes away, but she still notices and sends him a sympathetic, understanding look in return. 

“It’s indescrible,” he replies. 

“It is.”

“Other people can’t even begin to comprehend what it’s like walking around as just a half. Sometimes it feels like I’ve been cut right down the middle and I’m bleeding out.”

Her head curiously tilts while she surveys him for a moment.

“Is that how you view yourself, dearie? As half a person?” Another nod. “Well, that’s not true. You and your brother were two separate, distinct individuals. Although I’m sure your bond was much stronger than most siblings, you didn’t complete one another, you complimented each other.”

It takes a second for her words to sink beneath his skin and flow through his veins. He rolls the notion around in his mind a few times and when it finally solidifies, Jungkook feels like he’s been hit over the head with a metaphorical brick. 

His entire life, he’s always viewed him and Jaehyun as two halves of a whole. It never even occurred to him there could be other schools of thought. Rather than two magnets stuck together by a natural force, from her perspective, they’re closer to parallel lines moving at the same pace. 

Jungkook doesn’t realize he’s crying until he feels a tissue being pushed into his hand. The kind gesture brings a smile to his face as he thanks her with a curt bow before drying his eyes. 

“I’ve never thought about it like that,” he confesses.

She smiles as well.

“It appears so. I hope the fresh perspective helps, dearie, I really do.”

“It does. Thank you.” 

When his grin broadens, she reaches out to pinch his cheek, causing him to giggle and scrunch his nose. 

“So, what brings you in after so long?” 

Jungkook sighs. 

“Well, my lovely wife misses her weekly flowers and if I’d remembered sooner myself, I would’ve been here ages ago.” 

“Ah, I see. Do you want to return to the old schedule? I use whatever seasonal flowers we have and you pick them up Friday before closing time?” 

He enthusiastically nods while clasping his hands together in a prayer position.

“You’re a lifesaver. Yes, please.”

She chuckles and types on her computer for a couple minutes before meeting his gaze again.

“Done. We’ll see you on Friday,” she announces.

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you!”

If it weren’t totally inappropriate, he would leap across the counter to hug her. Not only did she solve his problem with you, but her words of wisdom were some of the best he’s ever heard. 

The interaction leaves Jungkook with a genuine pep in his step as he strolls towards the front door after returning home. His good mood lingers beyond the threshold as well, especially when he finds you at the stove cooking dinner for two. 

“Hi, honey!” 

Rather than greeting you, he snatches your waist from behind to yank you into his chest. You squeal and kick your legs in mock protest, but he ignores you in favor of aggressively kissing your cheek. 

“I missed you so much,” he proclaims into your skin. 

“We saw each other a couple hours ago.”

“Still too long.” 

You giggle and smack his forearm so he’ll let you go. But once your feet are back on earth, you spin around in his arms for a slow, lingering lip lock. 

“If it makes you feel any better, I missed you, too,” you confess. 

Jungkook smiles into the kiss before breaking it to tuck some hair behind your ear.

“It always does.”

This is the typical affection that occurs between you two and after eight months, it’s as easy as breathing for Jungkook. 

Ever since you had sex for the first time two months ago, you’ve both been clingier. You were already a handsy couple before, but the deeper bond forged through intimacy amplified the urge to always be near each other. 

Following that night, neither of you have been able to resist one another. In the last eight weeks, Jungkook can count on one hand how many days you haven’t had sex. It doesn’t just happen in the evenings, either. Sometimes he wakes you up in the morning by kissing his way down your torso until he reaches your center. On weekends, you often pause whatever afternoon activity you’re doing to force him onto the couch while sinking to your knees. 

You’re making up for lost time. Although, for you it’s about six months and for him it’s been almost sixteen years. 

Despite having a full blown mental breakdown after making love to you for the first time, Jungkook hasn’t had any issues since. He simply lives alongside his guilt like it’s a roommate inside his head, just as he does with the grief and loneliness of being without Jaehyun.

It’s a good thing because you’re fairly insatiable, and if his emotions were still giving him pause, it would be impossible to please you.  

Like right now, when you begin guiding him out of the kitchen and towards the living room with a mischievous glimmer in your eye.

“Sweetheart…”

“What?” You nonchalantly shrug, but your smirk reveals your true intentions. “Dinner takes over an hour to cook in the oven.” 

“You know, at one point you might just milk me dry,” he warns.

“Says the one who always asks for another round,” you counter after reaching the couch and shoving him down. 

He plops onto the cushions with a low grunt, but he’s grown accustomed to this song and dance, and his eyes follow your every move as you straddle his lap. 

His hands immediately start to crawl up your spine while you focus on kissing and biting his neck. Your hips are already rolling into his, causing his dick to strain against his slacks. Regardless, he doesn’t hesitate to mirror your movements so you can feel how hard he’s become just for you.

“Not my fault your pussy’s so damn addicting.” 

You giggle and lift your head.

“You’re right, baby. I’m so sorry for having such a tight, wet cunt.”

Jungkook loudly groans while his eyes roll into his skull.

“Fuck! You just love driving me insane. Don’t you?”

“It’s only, like, my favorite pastime,” you quip.

Your lips meet before the banter can continue as your bodies work in tandem to provide friction to your most sensitive areas and nerve endings. After a little while, Jungkook sneaks his hands beneath your shirt to pull it over your head, but you sever the kiss and stop him. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks you, concern evident in his features. 

“Nothing. I’m just on my period at the moment and for whatever reason it’s really, really heavy.”

His head tilts in confusion.

“Like abnormally heavy?”

“Yeah. The cramps are killing me, too.” 

“Well, don’t orgasms help with cramps? Let’s kill two birds with one stone.”

He goes to kiss you again, but you maintain the distance between you by leaning away from him. 

“What?”

There’s a sharp edge to your tone like you suspect he’s messing with you and you’re not in the mood.

“What?” 

His iteration comes out much more clueless. 

“Jae, you’re the most squeamish person I know. You can’t handle the sight of blood at all. Let alone touch it.”

Shit.

Jaehyun did get pretty queasy around blood. Which is a shame because period sex feels fucking fantastic and his twin should’ve gotten to experience it at least once while he was alive. 

“Right, right.” Jungkook nibbles on his lower lip while his mind scores through different explanations he can use. “I guess once you wake up in the hospital next to your dead brother, that stuff just doesn’t really bother you anymore.” 

You grimace and reach up to card your fingers through his hair. 

“Are you sure? I’m more than happy just to help you out.”

He nods.

“I’m positive, baby. But I’m a little concerned about your period being so bad.”

“I mean, it happens to the best of us,” you claim.

Perhaps he simply doesn’t have enough knowledge on the matter, but he hates the idea of you being in pain or discomfort. 

“Alright. Just promise me you’ll go to the doctor if it doesn’t let up.”

You reassuringly smile.

“I promise.”

Jungkook’s hand rises to cradle your head so he can guide you closer for a kiss. You two quickly pick up where you left off, starting with him removing your top and tossing it aside on the couch. His shirt’s the next victim and then your bra, soon leaving you both nude from the waist up.

Your soft, warm skin brushing against his own is one of his favorite feelings in the world and he presses on the small of your back until there isn’t any space left between you. The two of you proceed to lazily make out and dry hump for some time, but you both eventually grow too needy and start maneuvering so you can strip your pants and underwear off. 

Once the rest of your clothes are strewn across the furniture, Jungkook’s hand slips between your legs where he glides his fingertips through your folds.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he notes as his lips travel across your jaw and down your neck.

“I think that’s all the blood, honey.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Two of his fingers push into your hole and you naturally arch towards him when he begins curling them. “Still feels fucking amazing. And so damn tight.”

He continues to slowly fuck you while maiming your throat with his teeth and tongue. The airy whimpers he elicits are music to his ears and he’ll do anything to keep hearing them. Which is why he glances up for an explanation when you suddenly grab his wrist to stop him.

“I want your cock,” you answer the silent question.

As if Jungkook could ever deny you. 

“Yeah, baby? You gonna ride me exactly how I like?” 

Following a nod, you kneel and wrap your hand around his dick to pump him. He’s already rock hard, just like he always is as soon as you touch him, but the grip still helps lead him towards your cunt as you descend again. 

When his head passes through your tight circle of nerves, you both groan, and the pleasure only increases the farther you sink down his length. 

“God, you’re so fucking big.” 

Jungkook snickers.

“Don’t act like you forget. I was balls deep in you just last night,” he retorts.

“I know, but holy shit. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how full you make me feel.” 

The sentiment is certainly shared because having his cock buried deep inside you still frazzles his brain every time. It’s especially true at the moment, since your pussy’s extra swollen and sensitive due to your period. 

He would sit here with your bodies intertwined forever if you let him, even without any movement or friction. It’s heaven on earth and he’s positive he’ll never get enough.

“No? Not even after all this time?” 

Your responding chuckle is fractured by a moan when he rocks his hips forward to send his cock straight into your g-spot.

“Yes. I’ll be eighty and still babbling about how much I love your cock.”

Jungkook genuinely cackles, causing your chest to shake along with his due to the proximity.

“Ditto.”

You join in his laughter before the noise gets muffled by your lips meeting again. Since you’re both still smiling, your teeth scrape against each other until you manage to find your footing.

While your mouths partake in an amorous dance, you begin dragging your hips across his lap. The fluid motion allows your cunt to seamlessly move up and down his shaft and it isn’t long before his velvety skin is coated in arousal with a creamy, white ring at the base. 

You’re goddamn prolific at riding dick, and Jungkook doesn’t have to do much but sit there and watch you bounce. Even so, he still lets one hand roam your spine while the other tugs on your hair. He also takes control of the kiss by nipping at your bottom lip and conquering your mouth with his tongue. 

“Shit, baby, you’re doing so well,” he encourages you. “Taking this big cock like you were made for it.” 

His words make you keen as your body instinctively speeds up. The pace isn’t too fast, not like how he pounds into you after a particularly hard day, but it’s enough to leave you both panting between kisses. 

Whatever the tempo may lack, you ensure it’s made up for by consistently sheathing his entire cock inside you. His tip keeps hitting your cervix at the conclusion of each stroke and feeling your pussy swallow him whole over and over is beyond divine. 

“It’s s’good, baby. I won’t last,” you admit. 

“Already?” Jungkook teases before dipping down to kiss your neck and shoulder. “You used to be able to keep up with me.” 

He feels your muscles tense above him and giggles in accomplishment. You may be an expert at riling him up, but he knows precisely how to push your buttons, too. 

“I’m sorry, which one of us came barely a minute into the last blowjob they received?” 

With a gasp, Jungkook lifts his head again to stare at you in faux offense.

“How dare you use that against me! You had my balls in your mouth, what did you expect to happen?” 

You boisterously giggle while tossing your head back. 

“All I’m saying is don’t dish it if you can’t take it, Mr. Jeon.” 

“Ha! Let’s see about taking it, shall we?” 

Without warning, Jungkook flips you onto the couch before driving his dick right back inside your cunt. A sinful squelch accompanies the sudden action, but it’s nothing in comparison to how zealously you both moan. 

“No fair.” Your lips form an adorable pout he has to refrain from smooching. “I wanted to keep riding you.”

“If you can hold out a little longer, I’ll let you sit on my dick all night,” he offers. “Mrs. Jeon.” 

You wordlessly accept his challenge by wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist so you can force him closer. It leads your lips to naturally reconnect at the same time Jungkook begins rocking into you at a steady pace. 

Even though he’s the one who mentioned holding out, the new position is already propelling him towards the edge of ecstasy. Between your walls fluttering around him, your limbs clinging to him, and your tongue inside his mouth, he’s a goner. 

After just a couple more minutes, both of you are breathlessly whining and digging your nails into one another's skin. Jungkook’s strokes are as deep as ever despite not being that fast and it’s clear nothing can prevent either of you from crashing headfirst into an orgasm. 

“I’m close,” you warn him, to which he concurs with a mindless nod. 

As a final push, Jungkook trails his hand down so he can circle your clit. You’re already sensitive from all the friction so far and it only takes the slightest touch for you to wail and cream his cock. 

His own release follows with a series of animalistic grunts as his seed floods your cunt and he fucks the liquid deeper inside you. You two continue to grind throughout the climaxes, causing the wet sound of Jungkook thrusting into your drenched, swollen hole to echo around the room. 

“Jae… baby… it’s too much.” 

He stops as soon as he hears your quiet whimper, but remains nestled between your walls while he catches his breath. 

“Are you alright?” 

Jungkook rises to his elbows so he can see your face before pushing back the sweaty strands of hair stuck to your forehead. Rather than answering, you just nod and tug him down for another kiss. He smiles into the lip lock, leading you to do the same regardless of how tired you are.

After pulling out and finding a rag to wipe down you, him, and the couch, which is thankfully leather, you both get redressed in a comfortable silence. Then you return to the kitchen to check the oven while he heads upstairs to file away his work stuff. 

When he returns to the first floor, you’re busy setting the table since the food only has a few minutes left to cook. 

“You know, I had the strangest dream last night,” you announce after placing the final fork. 

“Hmm? What about?”

“So, you know the bench right across from Kookie’s headstone?” Of course, he does, it’s one of the reasons they chose the location. He, you, and his parents all agreed and the four of you usually visit the cemetery together about once a month. “I was sitting there with him just like I have in some of my other dreams. We were talking about the bakery, how Jennie’s doing, etc. But when I said, ‘I love and miss you, Jungkook,’ this confused expression crossed his face and he told me, ‘I’m not Jungkook.’” 

The actual Jungkook, the one standing a couple feet away from you, chokes on the grape he just nabbed from the fruit bowl in the kitchen. Never in a million years did he expect his twin to start sending you subliminal messages in your sleep. 

“That’s so weird,” he mumbles while attempting to chew properly. 

“Right? I mean, why would he say that? I get it’s a dream and all, but it’s just so bizarre.” 

He begins racking his brain for a reasonable explanation, even though he knows you won’t actually figure him out based on a dream alone. 

“Maybe he meant he isn’t Jungkook to you. Because you always call him Kookie,” he poses. 

A metaphorical lightbulb seems to flicker on above your head. 

“Oh, I didn’t think of that.” 

Jungkook shrugs as though it was obvious and he didn’t just pull it out of thin freaking air. 

The timer for the oven saves him from the conversation as he joins you in the kitchen to help plate everything. Following dinner, despite him promising you full access to his lap for the remainder of the evening, your period makes that impossible. 

So, you two cuddle in bed together and watch a couple movies before eventually falling asleep in each other’s arms. 

In the morning, Jungkook’s surprised to find you still asleep beside him. You usually wake up hours ahead of him to prepare the day’s bakery menu. 

“Sweetheart?” 

He rounds the mattress so he can sit on the edge near you, where he begins softly combing your hair back.

“Hi,” you croak. 

Your eyes gradually blink open as a weak smile appears. 

“What’s wrong?”

“My cramps came for blood this morning. Pun unintended.”

“Have you taken anything?” You nod while resting your hand atop the one still parsing through your hair. “Should I bring you to the hospital?”

“No, baby. I already called my doctor to book an appointment for Friday.”

“But it’s only Wednesday,” he argues. 

The small grin on your lips grows until he can see your teeth. 

“I’ll be fine. Maddie assured me her and Jennie have everything handled, so I can just rest until I’m feeling better.” 

Jungkook’s hesitant to let you wait two more days, but he’s also aware you’ve suffered through enough periods over the years to trust your own intuition. 

“Alright, but I’m staying, too.”

You shake your head.

“That's not necessary. My mom will come over if I get worse. She’s driving me on Friday, anyway.” 

“Y/N, I’m not leaving you like this.” 

“You are. You’re going to go to work and I’m going to lay here and do absolutely nothing. I assure you, you’ll be far more useful at the office.” 

His head tilts in determination, but your eyes burn with resilience just the same. It’s clear any form of persuasion will fail, so albeit reluctantly, he starts getting ready for work after placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. 

But he does make you promise to call him if you feel worse, even if your mom comes to keep you company. 

It takes an exuberant amount of effort to coerce him into finally walking out the door and leaving you home alone. Especially when all he wants is to dive back into bed and hold you close until the sun goes down. Alas, he still has other responsibilities to uphold. 

You’re feeling a little better by the time he arrives home that evening, with your symptoms continuing to lessen throughout the day on Thursday and again on Friday morning. 

Nevertheless, Jungkook asks you to call after your appointment and you assure him you will before kissing him goodbye. You wave him off as he strolls towards the car and even though you do it whenever you’re home during his departure, it never fails to make his heart skip a beat. 

“I love you, handsome!” 

An involuntary blush stains his neck, cheeks, and ears. 

“I love you more, beautiful!”

The simple exchange sets his entire day up for success, and he finds himself practically skipping around the office until it hits five. But rather than heading straight home, he stops at the florist to pick up your arrangement. 

He has another quick chat with the owner before paying for the bouquet and telling her he’ll see her next week. The sweet, floral aroma fills the car as he drives home and it feels fitting for the spectacular mood he’s in. 

You never called him after seeing your doctor earlier, but he’s choosing to assume no news is good news. 

Upon arriving home, he locks the front door and kicks off his shoes before strolling into the house with the large bouquet in his right hand. He finds you on the couch with a novel perched between your fingers, so instead of possibly disturbing you mid-sentence, Jungkook kisses the top of your head.

“Hi, baby,” he whispers. 

A second after he goes off to find a vase for your flowers, he hears you set the book on the coffee table and stand up. He’s busy placing the arrangement in water, but can tell you’re now a couple feet away on the edge of the dining room. 

“Jungkook,” you flatly call.

“What about him?” 

He moves the vase to the center of the table before smiling to himself for a job well done. It looks just as beautiful as he remembers it being when Jaehyun was alive. 

“Jungkook.”

His brow scrunches as he turns towards you. 

“Why are you just repeating my brother’s name?”

When he finally faces you, he notices your demeanor’s completely different from this morning. Your face is cold and blank with your arms defensively crossed over your chest. 

“I’m not.” A heavy silence stretches like elastic between you. “I’m talking to you.”

The rubber band cracks like a whip and damn near knocks Jungkook off his feet, but he hides the reaction by shaking his head. 

“I’m not sure what you mean,” he claims.

A dry laugh shatters the stillness in the air. 

“Of course, you don’t.” 

Your behavior’s making his head spin and his stomach curdle, so he naturally steps closer to you. 

“Baby, what —”

“Don’t fucking call me that,” you snap.

Jungkook immediately raises his hands in surrender. 

“Y/N, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Another eerily silence floods the room as he waits with his breath trapped inside his lungs. Then you clear your throat while standing taller in preparation to speak again.

“As you know, I went to the doctor earlier today.” He nods, but intense confusion is still etched into his features. “And it turns out I wasn’t on my period this week, I was having a miscarriage.” 

His heart sinks straight through the floor and buries itself in the earth below. He’s never once considered being a father; not when he was always resigned to loving you without ever being with you. But now you’re telling him you were pregnant, past tense, and the thought makes him ache done to his very bones.

“What?”

You completely ignore him. Your stern expression doesn’t even slightly waver despite the sadness in his voice.

“But see, that doesn't make any sense, because I have to be pregnant first in order to miscarry. And considering my husband can’t have kids, that should be impossible,” you calmly explain. “That only leaves two options.” In contrast to the unspeakable tension of the conversation, you wiggle two fingers in the air. “Either I cheated, which I know I didn’t, or…” You slowly inhale as a scalding fire blazes alive in your irises. “The person I had sex with isn’t my husband.”

The world feels like it’s crumbling into ash all around him. This can’t be happening; there can’t possibly be something so unavoidable in his path. Not when he’s spent the better part of a year successfully hiding the truth from you. 

Could Jaehyun really not have kids? His brother never mentioned fertility issues, either on his or your behalf. Jungkook always assumed you two were simply waiting to have kids. 

Even though this obstacle is astronomically larger than the previous ones, he knows he can overcome it. He has to, for you. 

“Those are not the only logical explanations,” he counters, keeping both his voice and body relaxed so you don’t suspect him any more than you already do.

“No? Please, enlighten me.” 

Jungkook feigns confidence on the outside while reaching into the very depths of his mind for an answer.

“Well, the doctors could’ve been wrong.” 

Your eyebrows rise.

“About what? Me having a miscarriage?”

“Or me not being able to have kids.”

“Oh, please, they were not wrong,” you retort. “If you were actually the person there during the diagnosis, you would know that.”

His head feels like it weighs two tons and it’s difficult to even think straight when his anxiety sounds like blaring sirens. 

“Miracles happen everyday, Y/N.”

“Miracles? That’s what you’re going with?” 

He groans and runs his fingers through his hair.

“What else do you want me to say, sweetheart? Because your theory sounds fucking insane!” 

“No, it doesn’t!” You shout. “And Jaehyun would never say something like that to me!”

“I am Jaehyun!” Jungkook yells right back.

“Like hell, you are!” You take two large strides towards him before recoiling, like you forgot you don’t want to be that close to him. Then all at once, the anger seeps from your face and your shoulders slump. Tears collect along your waterline as your lip begins to quiver. “Kookie, please… please don’t lie to me anymore. I don’t think my heart can take it.”

Hearing his nickname fall from your lips in such a somber, defeated tone yanks him into reality. The reason he did this in the first place is because of you. To keep you happy and save you from experiencing the same grief he had to endure. But now you’re standing ahead of him looking like a mere shell of yourself, and he can’t convince himself this is right anymore. 

So, he takes a deep breath and counts down from three in his head.

“You’re right,” he confesses. “I’m not your husband.”

Your eyes widen dramatically, and Jungkook realizes you never expected him to actually admit it. That despite your determination and adamance, you wanted him to prove you wrong; to conjure up a reasonable explanation that could quell your doubts. Because if he’s not your husband, then that means…

“No.” It starts as a quiet epiphany, but then Jungkook watches in horror as you crumble into a ball, your knees scraping against the floor while your forehead meets the wood. It almost looks like you’re praying, which you very well might be. “No, no, no, no!” Each repetition grows louder until you’re desperately sobbing the word. Your whole body shakes from the immense force of your cries and soon enough, the short syllable turns into a gut wrenching scream. “No, Jaehyun!” You choke on his name as though it physically hurts to say. “My baby!”

Your shrieks are brutal and ear piercing, throwing Jungkook completely off balance. He can’t think, can’t breathe, and certainly can’t move. Leaving him no choice but to stand there and witness the exact nightmare he was trying to prevent in the first place. 

It honestly sounds like your vocal chords are being torn from your throat as you alternate between screaming, weeping Jaehyun’s name, and more helpless denials. He’s never heard anything so horrible in his entire life and it’s utterly paralyzing. Everything he did was to avoid this moment, but now you’re on the ground wailing in front of him and he’s totally useless. 

Jungkook doesn’t know how much time passes, too crippled by his own mind numbing emotions and your cries of agony, but he eventually manages to kickstart his brain. 

“Y/N.”

On pure instinct, he tries to close the distance between you. Except when you register the movement, you instantly sit up and shuffle back before standing to further expand the gap. 

“Don’t you dare come near me,” you state with your arms out. 

The defensive stance makes his heart shatter and his lungs tear.

“Y/N,” he pleads. 

“You’re a fucking monster.”

Despite calling himself that in the past, it kills him hearing it come out of your mouth. 

“No.”

“How… how… how could you?” Your frame’s still rattling from all the raw emotions as silent tears cascade down your face. “How could you do this to me? Lie to me, manipulate me, betray me like this? You… you stole my grief from me!”

“Y/N, please —”

“All this time, I should’ve been grieving my husband. Eulogizing him, visiting his grave, remembering our time together. But instead you let me waste it all on you!” Jungkook’s never even seen you angry before, let alone like this. The fury in your eyes is borderline animalistic. “And for what? So you could take over his life? Were you so jealous of him you had to go this far? To steal his house, his car, his job, his fucking wife?” 

“No, that’s not why —”

“But it isn’t just his life. You stole his death, too,” you proclaim. “Jaehyun died protecting you and this is how you repay him? By claiming the act as your own?” Your rage seems to be simmering into a bleak calm, but that’s actually scarier, because it feels like the person he knows and loves is fading away. “He deserved to be mourned. He deserved to have a funeral, to be remembered and prayed for, to be buried under a headstone with his own goddamn name on it!” Jungkook opens his mouth to argue, but you don’t let him. “But you took all of that away from him and now I…” You gasp for air as fresh tears escape your eyes. “I’ll never get to say goodbye,” you declare in a fractured voice. “He’s been all alone in that cemetery for eight months while I was busy playing house with his fucking brother.”

Your monologue not only rips his soul in half, but causes you to break down all over again. That’s when Jungkook realizes his face looks the same as yours; swollen eyes and cheeks stained with tears. 

“And there were so many signs,” you note between sobs. “I knew you weren’t Jae the second I got done hugging you at the hospital, but I needed you to be him so badly I gaslit myself into believing you were. Besides, the idea you would ever do something this horrendous was just unfathomable to me. So whenever your behavior didn’t make sense or you couldn’t remember something you should’ve known, I ignored it.” 

He can’t even begin to digest your words, no matter how much he wishes he could. His only thought is that he needs to fix this. It’s his duty to heal your heart and save whatever may be left of your relationship. 

“I… I’m so sorry,” he whispers. 

The despair in your eyes flickers out to make room for more wrath. 

“You’re sorry? That’s all you have to say for yourself?”

“No, I…” Jungkook inhales to gather his thoughts. “I didn’t do it to steal Jae’s life. I did it for you.”

“For me?”

He nods.

“Yes. To protect you from the truth. I didn’t want you to ever have to feel what I was feeling at that moment. I couldn’t let you lose Jae.”

His explanation makes you scoff.

“Oh, no. You don’t get to stand there and pretend you’re some selfless hero. You did this for you and you alone, Jungkook.”

“But I didn’t, Y/N. All I could think about after finding out he died was how you would react and how much pain you would be in.”

“Ha! Well, look at me now!” 

“I know, okay?” He isn’t even cognizant of his body moving towards you until you take a matching step back. It creates an even deeper wound in his chest seeing you repeatedly inch away from him. “I know it wasn’t right, but I didn’t have any other choice. I never should’ve survived that crash. Jaehyun was supposed to be the one to walk away, not me. This was all I could do to fix it.”

You disagreeably shake your head.

“Your survivor’s guilt isn’t an excuse to play with everyone’s lives like this,” you argue. “I mean, did you even think about your parents? Or Jennie?”

“No,” he answers without hesitation. “The only person on my mind was you. Just like always. You’ve been my first thought in the morning and my last in the evening for fifteen years.” 

His confession doesn’t seem to register with you like he thought it would, given how your eyebrows kiss in confusion.

“What? Why?” 

“Why?” Jungkook gawks. 

“Yes!”

He laughs to himself, although there isn’t an ounce of humor present. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” When you shake your head again, he braces himself to finally admit the secret he once swore he’d take to the grave. “I’m in love with you, Y/N. I’ve loved you since the moment I stepped foot in that classroom all those years ago. And I tried to stop it, tried and tried to get over you, but it was fucking impossible.” 

Jungkook has no clue what to expect in terms of a reaction. Maybe shock, horror, or disgust. But he certainly doesn’t think it will be absolute, unadulterated anger.

“That’s what this is about?” You yell at the top of your lungs. “Your brother bites it and your first thought is to take what you’ve always wanted?” 

“What? No!” The possibility you believe he would ever stoop so low leaves his hands shaking at his sides. “My feelings had nothing to do with it!”

“Oh, so you getting to fuck me whenever you want was just an unintended consequence?” 

“That’s not…” He pauses to take a deep breath, although he’s finding it hard to keep his lungs inflated. “Yes, my feelings were obviously a factor, but they weren’t the reason for my actions.” 

It’s your turn for an empty, heartless chuckle. 

“You can lie to yourself all day, Jungkook. But you’re done lying to me.” 

When you turn to grab your coat and bag hanging near the door, he panics and rushes forward.

“Where are you going?”

You face him again with a look of total disbelief, as though you’re shocked he thinks he has any right to ask you such a question. 

“I don’t know. I just need it to be far, far away from you.”

There’s a burning sensation in his chest that’s spreading into his veins and he has to bite back the whimper clawing up his throat. 

“No, please. We can still fix this.” 

“This? There’s no ‘this’ to fix!” Jungkook can feel you metaphorically slipping out of his grasp when you place one hand on the doorknob. “We’re not a couple, Jungkook. This marriage doesn’t belong to you. My real husband’s lying six feet underground and I’ve been a widow for eight fucking months without even knowing it. All because of you.”

Before he can find another avenue to stop you, the door flies open and you disappear from his sight. The loud slam when it closes makes him jump as the first sob erupts from his lungs and he slowly drops to his knees. 

“Y/N,” he weeps, despite you no longer being there. “Wait.”

Jungkook buries his face in his palms as his emotions pummel into him like rampant, merciless tsunami waves. His oxygen is long gone, there’s an incessant ringing in his ears, and his vision is shrouded in tears. 

Your name slips in between his cries like an undertow, pulling him so deep he can’t see the surface anymore. 

He has no sense of how long he stays in the position, but his head is pounding by the time he finally glances up. Based on where the sun is outside, or lack thereof, he thinks at least an hour has passed. 

Of course, you’re his first thought once the dust clouding his mind settles. He immediately checks your location to ensure you’re somewhere safe and finds your contact photo at the cemetery. 

It only makes sense that’s where you went. Who else would you run to at your darkest hour besides the man you love? 

The real man you love. 

No matter how well Jungkook was able to fool himself into believing what you two had these last few months was authentic, you’re right. There’s nothing between you and him but a paper house.

His fingers begin typing you a message before he can think twice. It isn’t anything of note, just a couple sentences stating he’s going to pack and stay with his parents so you can return home without having to worry about crossing paths. 

Shortly after hitting send, a new thought dawns on him. His parents. You finding out the truth was one thing, but he can’t even imagine how hard it’ll be telling them. 

Once he throws some clothes and toiletries into a duffle bag, he trudges down the stairs to survey the first floor. 

Jungkook doesn’t know if he’ll ever stand here again, not after what he’s done. It isn’t just the home where you and he lived together, either, but where his beloved twin once resided. Most of his memories of the three of you from the last five years took place in this house. By now, it’s become more akin to a physical piece of his soul than a mere building. 

The ghosts of you and Jaehyun seem to dance around the various rooms; mirages of him helping you bake in the kitchen or covering your eyes for you during a scary movie. But they’re soon replaced by visions of you and Jungkook instead. 

He wishes he could claim he regrets his choices, and a piece of him does, but he can’t wholeheartedly say so. Not when you were content, comforted, and fulfilled while he was pretending to be your husband. No matter how decimated your relationship is now, he can’t bring himself to paint your time together in a negative light.

On the drive to his parents’ place, Jungkook pictures the worst case scenarios for their reactions in his mind, and he’s downright terrified of any one of them coming true. Because if he loses his parents as well, what would he have left in this life? 

Even after arriving, he waits in the car for a burst of courage to propel him towards the house. The problem is this confession’s inevitable no matter how long he lingers outside. There’s no unwinding this wheel; all he can do now is face the music. 

As the front door swings open, he hears his mother humming to herself in the kitchen at the end of the hall. It’s mundane and something he grew up listening to around the house. If it’s the last creature comfort he gets to experience at his childhood home, he supposes it’s a good one. 

“Jae? Is that you, sweetie?” 

Jungkook halts upon reaching the threshold of the room.

“No,” he quietly responds. 

She giggles, clearly assuming it’s a joke, but when she turns around to find him looking as though all the life’s been drained from him, her face falls.

“Darling, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

An anticipatory moment stretches for what feels like an entire eternity while Jungkook wills himself to open his mouth. 

“I’m…” His hands are shaking so violently he has to squeeze them into fists. “I’m not…”

“Jaehyun?” 

While she maneuvers through the kitchen to reach him, he fills his lungs with enough air for the weighted confession. 

“I’m not Jaehyun.” 

The world freezes just like pausing a film. At least, everything except his mother’s pupils which are trembling in shock and astonishment. 

“What did you just say?”

Fresh tears are already blinding him.

“I’m not Jaehyun,” he repeats as his voice breaks across his twin’s name. 

“You’re… Jungkook?” The very second he lifts his chin to nod, she gasps and throws her arms around him. His body involuntarily buckles once he’s inside her warm, familiar embrace while his hands cling to her like a life vest. “Oh, my baby.”

Jungkook doesn’t know if he’s ever cried this hard. It’s as if hugging his mom reverted him to a child who’s just fallen and scraped their knee. The overwhelming comfort of her presence unlocks all the emotional tension within him, freeing it for the first time since he woke up in that hospital room.

“I’m sorry,” he wails into her shirt. 

“Shh, shh.” She keeps kissing the side of his head and despite the affection healing something deep inside, it makes him cry even harder. “You have nothing to apologize for.” One of her hands moves to cradle the back of his head. “I’m just so happy you’re alive. I’ve missed you so, so much.”

“But Jae… Jae’s dead. He’s been dead all this time. He died saving me and then I fucking stole everything from him,” he explains. “I got Y/N pregnant. That’s how she found out the truth. Because she lost the baby, and since Jae couldn’t have kids…” 

“Oh, sweetie.”

“He never told me. Why wouldn’t he tell me?” He feels like he’s speaking utter nonsense, but the words are just pouring out of him after being trapped in his chest for so long. “I hurt her, mom. I’ve loved her since we were kids, but I still lied to her and betrayed her trust in the worst way imaginable. I kept her from grieving the man she’s loved since she was fifteen.” The longer he talks, the more his guilt bears down on him like a cage that’s one size too small. “I’m such a monster.”

His mom delicately separates the two of them and as soon as they come face to face again, her own eyes fill with tears. 

“No. You’re not even close to a monster.” 

“No one else would be able to stomach doing something so awful.”

“That’s not true,” she argues. “People have committed far worse crimes than trying to help the ones they love.” When his mouth opens, she lifts a finger to silence any retort. “Even if their methods were misguided.” 

“He must hate me, right?” 

She shakes her head. 

“Never. Jaehyun could never hate you.”

Jungkook sniffles before drying his face with his sleeve.

“I think this might be the exception,” he claims.

“No, my darling.” Her fingers caress his cheek, right where his scars are, and he automatically leans his head on her palm. “I’m sure he isn’t the happiest with you at the moment, but he also knows you better than anyone. So, I think he understands why you did it, even if he disagrees.” 

“Mom, I fucked his wife. Repeatedly.” 

She chokes on a dry chuckle. 

“I said he probably isn’t happy with you, didn’t I?” 

The sound of his mother’s laugh eases both his heart and mind, even if just a little. 

“What about you? Aren’t you mad at me?”

“Of course not,” she assures him. “How can I be when I thought you were dead, and now you’re standing here in front of me?” 

“Because there’s still only one of us.”

“Yes, and I’ll have to work through that on my own time. But for now I just want to cherish my baby being alive.” 

Jungkook can’t help but smile. 

They end up gravitating towards the couch, where he stretches across the cushions with his head in her lap like he would do as a kid. He and Jaehyun used to fight over the coveted position all the time. 

Her fingers gently comb through his hair as she listens to him explain everything from the moment he decided to pretend to be Jaehyun, to the second you walked out the door. She doesn’t give her opinion unless asked, but hums in acknowledgment every once in a while so Jungkook knows she’s paying attention. 

“I just don’t get why Jae never told me he couldn’t have kids. I mean, did he not trust me with something like that?” Jungkook muses.

“No, sweetie, it didn’t have anything to do with you,” she clarifies. “Your brother was just so ashamed when he found out. He felt like he was letting everyone down; Y/N, your dad and I, her parents. He thought it made him less of a man, no matter how much we all assured him that wasn’t the case.” Jungkook gazes up at his mom as she speaks. “He even begged Y/N to leave him so she could find someone who could give her children.”

“No, he didn’t,” he gawks.

His mom nods. 

“As you can imagine, she totally lost it on him. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so mad, especially at Jaehyun, of all people. Being a mother’s always been her dream, but only if Jaehyun was the father. She didn’t care whether it was natural or through adoption, but the only person she ever wanted to raise a child with was him.” 

“How come whatever condition prevented him from having kids doesn’t affect me, too?” 

“It’s environmental and develops after birth, so that’s why you’re in the clear.” He hums and turns his head back to the front so his mom can continue carding through his soft, black strands. “In fact, when the doctor found out Jaehyun was a twin, she suggested they ask you to donate for artificial insemination.” 

Jungkook nearly falls off the couch when he chokes and twists his entire body around so he can face his mom.

“You’re joking.”

She cackles.

“No, not even a little.” Her head shakes as she recalls the whole debacle. “The doctor told them it would be biologically the same as having their own child, since your DNA is ninety nine percent identical.”

“Oh, I bet Y/N loved hearing that,” he teases. 

“Jaehyun said she almost burned the doctor’s office to the ground.” The two of them share another laugh. “Your brother actually didn’t mind the idea, but like I said, biology didn’t mean anything to Y/N. Only he did.” 

It’s easy for anyone who knows you to understand your negative reaction. Nothing in the world mattered to you more than Jaehyun, and it only makes sense that if you couldn’t have kids with him, you wouldn’t want them at all. 

The thought causes Jungkook’s heart to start aching again because on one hand, your unconditional love for his twin is the very reason he took his place, but it’s also what makes the truth so much more devastating. 

“He knew, you know,” his mom professes. 

“Knew what?”

Her lips form a pout like she’s debating whether or not to elaborate.

“That you were in love with Y/N.”

Jungkook genuinely does flop right over the edge of the couch this time. His left side meets the ground with a thump as his mom gasps and leans forward to check on him.

“I’m okay,” he groans while sitting up. 

“God, you haven’t changed one bit. Have you?” 

He smiles before standing and sitting down beside her. 

“Apparently not.” 

“I don’t even know how you pulled it off. You two were such opposites,” she notes. “I mean, when I look back on the last eight months, it seems obvious. Even you and Y/N’s interactions were different.”

“How so?” 

She thoughtfully sways her head side to side.

“Y/N and Jaehyun moved like the earth and the moon. They orbited around each other, complimented each other, and relied on each other. But you and her were more like waves crashing against a shoreline. There was a push and pull as though you took turns guiding one another. High tide and low tide.” 

When people claim mothers know everything, his mom proves them right by a long shot. She somehow notices every little detail no matter how small and it genuinely amazes him. 

But he can’t focus on her words of wisdom with the massive elephant still in the room.

“Wait, we need to rewind,” he states.

Of course, she knows what he’s referring to, and clears her throat to explain.

“Darling, your brother knew you better than he knew himself. Just as you did with him. You really thought he couldn’t tell you had feelings for Y/N?”

“Yes! I mean, why didn’t he ever say anything? Or throw a damn punch?” 

She chuckles again. 

“Like I said, because he knew you. He was certain you would never try to steal her away regardless of your feelings. He was also sure Y/N would castrate you if you ever even attempted to.” 

Jungkook echoes her laughter. 

“That’s what you meant, then? When you said you think he understands?” 

“Absolutely. He knows where your heart lies, sweetie. That you wouldn’t do something like this out of malice, selfishness, or jealousy. It obviously doesn’t make it right, and he might cash in that punch once you join him upstairs, but I’m sure he doesn’t see you as the monster you claim to be.”

The words permeate his mind as he ponders whether or not he can agree. On the surface, he recognizes her point, but his guilt’s still too thick to wade through. 

“That’s what Y/N called me,” he tells her while fiddling with his fingers in his lap. “She’ll never want to see me again.” 

His mom reaches out to tuck some hair behind his ear, prompting him to meet her gaze. 

“Yes, she will.” 

“You didn’t see her face, mom. She looked afraid of me. Or repulsed, at the very least.” 

She sighs and drops her hand so she can cover his own. 

“Didn’t you hear all those wonderful things she said about you a couple months ago? She loves you, Jungkook. Maybe not how you wish she would, and it’ll definitely take time, but I have no doubt she’ll forgive you one day.” 

All Jungkook can do is hope she’s right. Because he truly doesn’t know what he’ll do if he loses you forever. Until then, he just has to focus on cleaning up the mess he made. 

Speaking of, the sound of the front door opening and his dad calling for them ends their conversation. Jungkook looks towards his mom with fear written all over his face, but she simply reassures him with a smile. 

His dad doesn’t take the news nearly as well as his mom did. There’s screaming, an abundance of questions, and even a door slam when his dad needs some fresh air. But once the initial shock wears off, he hugs Jungkook tighter than humanly possible while whispering how much he loves and missed him.

Now that his folks know, the next step is to tell the world. The three of them spend the evening contemplating all their options before settling on claiming it as a business move. 

The official story printed in the press the following morning is that after finding out Jaehyun died, his dad worried people in the industry would question whether Jungkook could fill his shoes without any prior experience. So, they decided to let Jungkook prove himself under the guise of being Jaehyun for a pseudo-transition period. 

Of course, the entire technology world goes crazy. His dad spends multiple days fighting with board members and shareholders alike over his poor decision making. But like all news, it simmers into just some strange family drama after a couple weeks. 

Jungkook doesn’t leave the house much during that time and according to his mom, who you still regularly contact, neither do you. Apparently Jennie and Maddie have been running the bakery together in your absence while you rest and grieve on your own terms. His mom also informs him you told Jennie the truth shortly after the article dropped, so she’s the only person outside of family who knows. 

A month goes by in the blink of an eye and unfortunately, he has to return to work next week. Despite all the rigmarole, the board eventually decided Jungkook’s leadership has been exemplary these past eight months, and he should remain in his position as CEO. 

Given that real life’s about to start up again, and very soon, Jungkook swallows his nerves and ventures outside to visit the bakery. Not to see you, but to finally face his best friend for the first time since the news broke. 

He arrives just before closing time so there won’t be any customers around. Jennie also isn’t anywhere to be found, but he decides to enter the building anyway by using his spare key.

His eyes map all the different desserts and adorable decor around the room as he waits for her. Everything’s still so you even though you probably haven’t stepped foot inside the building in a month. It makes his heart throb because he just misses you so damn much, but he knows it’s his own fault you aren’t here. 

A recognizable doodle on the chalk board behind the counter is currently holding his interest, so he doesn’t hear anyone approach until they clear their throat. 

“Scout’s honor, huh?” 

Jennie’s voice automatically causes his head to whip in her direction. She looks exactly the same as she always does; beautiful, radiant, and headstrong. 

Once her comment clicks in his mind, his shoulders slump forward and he sighs from deep within his chest. 

“Jen, I —” 

Before he can even begin his spiel, she interrupts by colliding with him in the center of the bakery. He grunts in surprise, but still naturally pulls her body closer by her waist. His other hand cups the back of her head while her arms wrap around him so tightly she almost chokes him. 

She buries her face in his neck, but it doesn’t muffle her quiet sniffles very much. The sound prompts Jungkook to return her affection by nuzzling the side of her throat. 

“I’m so fucking happy you’re alive,” she whispers. 

Jungkook starts beaming following a huge sigh of relief.

“Me, too.”

They simultaneously pull apart and without thinking, Jungkook wipes a stray tear away with his thumb once her face reappears in his view.

Her eyes grow wide when his finger grazes her cheek, but her expression soon relaxes into one of content. And armed with the newfound awareness of her feelings, he also realizes it’s full of love. 

It’s strange being here with her. Even though he’s seen her numerous times throughout the last few months, it doesn’t feel like he did because he wasn’t technically himself. 

“I’m so sorry, Jen,” he tells her. “I never… I never meant to hurt you. That’s the last thing I ever want to do, but I just… got lost, I guess.”

“I know.” She’s wearing her signature smirk and Jungkook can’t resist mirroring it. “You don’t have to explain yourself. I already understand.” 

“You do?”

“Kook, you were going through the worst possible moment of your life. You made a mistake. I mean, it was a huge one, but I can’t claim I wouldn’t have done the same in your position.” 

Although he feels an enormous amount of relief because she isn’t furious with him, a part of him wishes she was.

“Sure, but I still lied to your face and let you believe I was dead. Not to mention when I sat here and listened to you confess your feelings for me like it was nothing.”

She simply shrugs. 

“Yeah, that was pretty fucked up, but it wasn’t a secret or anything,” she states. 

“Huh?”

“I would’ve told you how I felt if you’d asked.” 

Jungkook shakes his head to prevent any more confusion from infiltrating his mind.

“What are you talking about?”

Her eyes roll like it’s the most obvious answer in the world. 

“It wasn’t a secret, Kook. Me having feelings for you changed absolutely nothing between us. The only reason I never told you is because it would’ve been pointless.”

“Why would it have been pointless?” 

“Uh, because you’ve been head over heels in love with Y/N since forever?”

That response nearly knocks the air out of his lungs. 

“But you said you didn’t know who I had feelings for when I asked you that night!”

She laughs while crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Of course, I did. I wasn’t going to out you to who I believed was your brother and her husband.” Jungkook’s mouth forms a little O and it causes her to laugh again. “I’m fairly certain everyone but Y/N was well aware.”

“No shit. Mom told me even Jae knew,” he replies.

Jennie gasps.

“Are you serious?” He nods with a disbelieving chuckle. It still doesn’t really compute in his brain, either. “Damn, your brother was a saint. I would’ve kicked your fucking ass.”

“That’s what I said!” 

They share in more giggles and suddenly it’s as if no time passed at all. Being around Jennie always feels like coming home, and he sincerely hopes she knows that and agrees with the sentiment.

Then again, there’s still so much left to apologize for even baring the current situation. He honestly doesn’t know where to start, but he promised himself he would try. 

“Jennie?” She raises her eyebrows to show she’s listening. “About your feelings… I’m sorry. I should’ve considered how certain things might affect you, even if I didn’t know you were in love with me at the time. All those late night hook ups and trauma dumps. I can’t imagine what those must’ve been like for you. I used you and your body to make myself feel better and best friends should never treat each other like that.” 

“Kook, that’s not —”

He stops the interruption by throwing his hand up. 

“I know you’re going to say it’s fine, but it isn’t.” Once she concedes with a short nod, he continues. “The truth is, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make myself love you back. You’re fucking perfect, Jen. But even if I could force myself to reciprocate, it wouldn’t be fair to you. My feelings for Y/N are unalterable and no matter what, you would always come in second place. And you don’t deserve anything even close to that. You deserve someone who’ll cherish you and worship the very ground you walk on.” He sighs. “I wish it could be me. God, you have no idea how badly I want to love you. And I’m so fucking sorry I can’t.” 

His best friend looks shell shocked by the time he’s done talking, but she immediately returns the favor when in lieu of a verbal response, she clutches his head with both hands. Before Jungkook can register the sudden movement, she’s already yanking him down to her level for a kiss. 

It’s gentle and chaste. Neither of them even move their lips or attempt to deepen the connection. Although Jungkook does lightly cup her face and caress her cheekbones with his thumbs. 

She pulls back first, but they both keep their eyes closed for a second longer than the kiss itself. It doesn’t feel romantic, even though in any other circumstance it should. Jungkook also understands why she did it without her explaining herself. 

It was a thank you, an I forgive you, an I missed you, an I love you, and a “you’re my best friend” all wrapped into one. Maybe even a farewell to the possibility of ever being more. 

“You’ve never hurt me, Kook,” she assures him. “Every moment we’ve spent together, platonic or otherwise, I’ve utterly adored. My feelings for you are like an underwater current. They aren’t something I agonize over or think about often. They just… exist; a part of me in the same way my love for my other friends and family is.”

He smiles after her proclamation fully sinks in. 

“I love you, Jen. I truly don’t know where I’d be without you.” 

A matching grin appears on her lips. 

“Dead in a ditch. Easily.”

They both laugh again as the seriousness of the moment passes to make room for a new chapter in their friendship. One without any misunderstandings or secrets weighing either of them down. 

Jungkook assumes those are the only amends he’ll make this week, but shortly after leaving the bakery, he checks his phone and finds a text from you on his screen. 

You want to meet at the cemetery this Saturday to talk. 

Honestly, he can hardly believe what he’s seeing, and he even blinks a few times to check if the message will disappear. When it never does, he swiftly types an affirmative reply and hits send. 

Visiting Jaehyun has been on his list for the last couple weeks now. He hasn’t been to his brother’s grave since everything fell apart and more importantly, he wants to see the new headstone you had installed with the proper name on it. 

Besides redesigning the small monument, you’re also planning a very belated celebration of life on the first anniversary of his death in a couple months. It won’t ever replace losing your chance to give him a proper funeral, but it’s at least something that’ll be dedicated solely to him. 

On the morning of your first meeting in just over a month, Jungkook’s so nervous it feels like his entire body is resting on pins and needles. 

He’s bracing himself for this to be goodbye. In fact, he’s half expecting you to hand him a restraining order and make him sign a visitation schedule for the cemetery so you never run into one another while spending time with the person you both loved most. 

Except when he arrives at his twin’s grave and slowly approaches the bench you’re sitting on, he notices you appear totally relaxed. It could very well be the calm before the storm, but after you glance up and pat the empty space beside you, he stops believing it is. 

Jungkook follows the silent instruction, but neither of you speak at first. You both simply admire the headstone across from you as the birds chirp overhead and the leaves rustle beneath your feet. 

You quietly chuckle to yourself after a while and Jungkook finally gathers enough courage to look your way. 

“I won’t bite, you know,” you tease.

He checks his spot on the bench and realizes he’s cartoonishly far away from you. His ass is actually only half on the seat because he felt it was necessary to leave a comfortable distance. 

“Right,” he sighs before sliding closer.  

“How have you been?” 

The question feels so foreign compared to how you two normally communicate, but small talk is where you have to begin again if your relationship is ever going to be mended. 

“Alright, all things considered.” You hum. “What about you?” 

It’s a stupid thing to ask given the circumstances, but manners are manners. 

“Uh, not the best. Not the worst, either. At least, not anymore.” 

Jungkook nods to acknowledge your response, but every second the air is becoming thicker with tension.

“So —” 

“I —” 

You both awkwardly chuckle while avoiding each other’s gaze.

“You first,” Jungkook offers. 

“No, I insist.” 

It’s difficult deciding where to start, but then Jungkook remembers who he’s talking to. No matter what’s happened between you two, you’re still you. He knows he can ramble or stutter for hours and you’ll still understand him somehow. 

“First of all, the headstone looks beautiful.” 

Following the compliment, you both look towards the monument just a few feet away. It’s relatively the same as before in terms of design, except it now reads “Jeon Jaehyun” and rather than “beloved brother, son, and friend,” it lists “beloved husband, brother, and son.” 

You initially only wanted to change the final word, but his parents insisted what Jaehyun was most proud of was being married to you. 

“Thanks.” In a surprise twist, you giggle for a second and Jungkook can’t help but feel his spirits lift. “They asked if I wanted to keep the old one. And I almost said yes so I could, like, smash it with a mallet or something. But I realized that might not be very conducive to my healing.”

Jungkook genuinely cackles at your admission and as if it’s second nature, you parrot the laughter. The moment is so mundane it’s almost like nothing’s changed between you at all. 

“Damn, I wish you’d said yes. I would’ve loved to see that.” 

“Of course, you would. You’re the only person I know who’d find enjoyment in watching their own headstone get demolished.” 

“I mean, duh. That’s metal as fuck, Y/N.” 

You snicker with a familiar shake of your head.

“Next time you die, I’ll be sure to grant your wish.”

The smile on his face simply refuses to disappear. Not when you two are chatting like old times and the negative energy surrounding you is gradually fading away. 

“Will you?” He asks, bringing the conversation back to a more serious tone. “I mean, next time I die, will you be there?”

His question makes your eyebrows pinch together.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” 

Jungkook shrugs. 

“I honestly thought we were coming here to say goodbye. That you’d never want to see me again, but were at least willing to give me some closure before you leave my life for good,” he explains. 

The words have barely left his mouth when you begin vehemently shaking your head.

“Jungkook, no,” you clarify. “No matter what, you’re still my best friend. There’s no reality where I wouldn't want you in my life. Even if I still need time to forgive you and move on, I’ll never say goodbye.” 

He doesn’t register himself crying until you shock him by reaching out to swipe at the lone tear on his cheek. Your touch causes his entire body to tense, but it has the complete opposite effect on his soul, which relaxes for the first time in a month. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he cries. “I know it isn’t enough, and that it’ll never be enough, but I am. Hurting you was the last thing I ever wanted. Everything I did was supposed to prevent that from happening. It may be hard to believe, and I understand if you don’t, but my feelings for you had no bearing on my decision. I’m sure it sounds confusing, but I never wanted you for myself. Yes, I’m in love with you, and I have been for more than half of my life. But the one person I love more than you is Jaehyun, and I would’ve never dared to take something so precious away from him. Especially when you made one another so fucking happy.” He pauses in case you want to interject, but you just gesture for him to continue. “If I had wanted that, I wouldn’t have taken his place after he died. I would’ve just comforted you in your grief in order to get closer to you. Me pretending to be Jae was so you two could stay together, not so I could have you. And I know that doesn’t make any sense and it’s so fucking twisted, but it’s the truth.” You encourage him with a nod when he checks in with you again, prompting Jungkook to take a deep breath. “When the nurse told me Jae was dead, all I could think about was how wrong that was. Not only was he always my better half, but he had so many people who needed him. Then I thought about you, and how I was feeling at that moment. And Y/N, I couldn’t let that happen to you. The idea of you experiencing the same devastating loss I was going through made me sick to my stomach. All I wanted, my only goal, was to shield you from that pain. In my mind, I had to keep Jae alive because he’s the one who deserved to live.” He sighs. “I’ve done a lot of reflecting this past month and I’ve come to realize that, although you were on the forefront of my mind, there were also other factors involved in my decision. The truth is, I’ve always hated myself for being in love with you. I saw myself as this leech constantly feeding off you and Jae’s relationship. I know that isn’t the case, but I felt so much shame about not being able to get over you. And I loved Jaehyun so fucking much, but the problem is, I think I might’ve hated myself more than I loved him. Which led me to believe I was making the right choice in keeping him alive and letting myself die.” Finally, he twists his upper body so he’s facing you head on. “I know none of this makes it right, and that you don’t owe me any forgiveness, but I needed to tell you. Again, I’m so, so sorry. There’s no amount of apologies that can ever make up for what I’ve done.” 

Once he concludes his speech, you blow air out of your mouth and thoughtfully nod. 

“I know,” you nonchalantly respond. 

Jungkook’s eyebrows rise and he looks around like someone will appear out of thin air to explain. 

“You… do?”

You ever-so-slightly smile at him.

“Yeah. The day I found out the truth, that the love of my life was dead, it felt like being sucked into a cyclone of vicious, excruciating emotions. I could hardly think straight. But after mulling it over these last few weeks, I understand your reasoning. I certainly don’t agree, and wish more than anything that you’d never done it, but I can see why you did.” 

“Oh.”

“And I’m actually just as angry at you for a different reason than lying to me,” you confess. His eyes go wide and you know him well enough to understand it means you should explain. “I am so, so mad at you for choosing to deal with Jaehyun’s death alone. Grief is meant to be shared. The only way someone can get through something so horrible is by leaning on their community. But you decided to hold it all on your shoulders without letting anyone else help carry the weight for you. Do you know how much that breaks my fucking heart, Jungkook?” He shakes his head. “You lost the most important person in your life and yet you stomached everything on your own so none of us had to lose him. It isn’t fair. And even more than that, you gave up everything that made you special; chose to live as someone else for the rest of your life if I hadn’t found out. That isn’t okay. Yes, Jae had people who loved him, who relied on him, but so did you.” You rest your hand over his own and Jungkook’s eyes flicker down to ensure he isn’t imagining it. “If I’d known you were the one who survived that day, I would’ve run to you just the same. And I would’ve been okay because I still had you. Minus any romance, we would’ve gotten through it together exactly like we did when I believed you were him.” When you squeeze his hand, he flips his palm up to reciprocate. “I’ve never once compared you and Jae. Obviously, losing my husband is an entirely different level of grief, but it isn’t necessarily worse. You both held the same weight in the world and left a hole in my heart when I believed you were gone. Just like how platonic and romantic love are two versions of one emotion, but despite being so different, can share the same intensity.” 

It takes him a second to process your monologue and he knows it’ll be even longer before he can internalize it. His self-loathing runs deep, and it’s only gotten worse after all this, so any positive feelings directed towards him are met with a hard line of defense. 

“It was an easy choice to make when I thought it would make you happy,” he counters. 

“There can’t be real happiness without truth.” 

Jungkook nods.

“You’re right.” 

You release his hand and turn back towards the headstone with an almost peaceful expression, and Jungkook finally understands. Knowing where the person you love actually is, even if it’s far away from you, is better than blind ignorance. Any happiness you might’ve felt while he was pretending to be Jaehyun is hollow in comparison.  

“Jae’s death wasn’t wrong, either.” 

His eyebrows instantly meet in the middle of his forehead. Of everything he claimed, he didn’t expect that to be what you disagree with. 

“Huh?”

“He died saving your life, Jungkook. How can that be wrong?” He’s never considered viewing it in that light before. “In a split second decision, his gut instinct was to protect you. And I know if your car had been traveling in the opposite direction, you would’ve done the same.” Jungkook fervently nods. “No matter how unfair it is or how much I wish it never happened, you shouldn’t take that away from him by belittling yourself. His death meant something and I know without a shadow of doubt that he doesn’t regret it. Not even a little bit.”

“Eh,” he objects. “Considering I proceeded to sleep with his wife countless times, he might regret not using me as a shield instead.” 

His familiar humor elicits another giggle out of you. 

“Okay. Fair.” 

Once a comfortable silence begins to stretch across the cemetery, Jungkook clears his throat so he can change the subject.

“So, where do we go from here?” 

The question makes you purse your lips, but it also seems like you might already know the answer. 

“This is the hard part,” you state. 

“What do you mean?” 

You start stamping your toes on the ground and rhythmically tapping your thighs. Any sign of nervousness is out of character for you, but Jungkook just waits for your explanation rather than probing. 

“Alright. After ‘you’ died, I automatically expected Jaehyun to be different. Grief that insurmountable is bound to change someone. Which is why I never questioned all the discrepancies I kept noticing while you were pretending to be him. I simply came to terms with the fact that my marriage was never going to be the same.” Jungkook has no idea where your train of thought is going, but he still listens intently. “Because of that, throughout our time together, I felt like I was falling in love with Jae all over again. And even though ‘he’ was different, I welcomed it with open arms. I’ve loved every version of him since we were teenagers, and this was just another iteration.” As you talk, the wheels inside his brain twist and turn until the purpose of your speech finally clicks into place. “But since you weren’t actually Jae, that means the newfound love I feel doesn’t belong to him. It belongs to you.”

If his heart could physically leap out of his chest and start doing cartwheels, it would. Jungkook genuinely can’t believe what he’s hearing. Here he thought this would be the end of your relationship forever, but you’re speaking as if it might be the opposite. 

“You… I mean, you…”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “The problem is, this love is shrouded in well over a decade of feelings for Jae, so they’re too intertwined and convoluted to properly distinguish what I feel for him and what I feel for you.” He isn’t even breathing while he listens to you, but rather holding in his air supply until you allow him to exhale by clarifying. “But I’d like to try. Not now or even soon, because I still have to forgive you and we still need to rebuild what we lost, but eventually, I think we should give it a shot.” 

It’s as though the heavens have opened up overhead and the angels themselves are singing a song of celebration. He actually worries he didn’t hear you correctly because his head’s so high up in the clouds.

“You’re serious?”

“I have one condition, though.”

“Name it,” he blurts out. 

You side-eye the instantaneous response before chuckling under your breath.

“We have to start from scratch. There’s too much history and baggage between us that’ll only weigh us down. When the time comes, I want to go on a first date like we’re total strangers. Ask one another stupid questions about our favorite colors and what we do for a living. Back to square one.”

Jungkook wouldn’t be able to stop himself from beaming if he tried. Because you’re posing the idea as if it’s a bad thing, but he can’t think of anything better than relearning everything he already adores about you. 

“Deal. I’ll even repeatedly pronounce your name wrong so it feels authentic.” Your bright laugh echoes through the air and fills his heart with song. “Y/N, I’ve loved you for so long. I’ll be happy with whatever you give me, even if it’s just an annual call on my birthday and a Christmas card.”

“I want more than that, Jungkook. Even if a romantic relationship between us fails, I never want to lose you.” Like it’s muscle memory at this point, you lift your hand to comb back his hair. “I love you. I’m not entirely sure to what degree just yet, but I do know that’ll never change.”

He cups your hand and presses them both to his cheek.

“Ditto.”

A massive smile might honestly be a permanent feature of his after this and it’s still present when he turns his head to kiss your palm. 

“So, I have this theory,” you proclaim.

“Oh, yeah?” 

You reclaim your hand before fiddling with your fingers in your lap.

“It’s kinda bizarre, but it’s helped me make sense of all my emotions.” Jungkook nods for you to continue. “Okay. It starts with the multiverse. You with me?” He nods again, albeit more tentatively. “Now, let’s assume in all the other universes, you and I, or Jae and I, are soulmates. As in, we’re always meant to find one another and be together. But what if there’s usually only one of you, but here you happened to be split into two as twins. It would explain why you both fell for me and I ended up developing feelings for each of you. Because everywhere else your personalities and traits are combined in one person.”

Well, you’re definitely right about it being bizarre. But in some strange sense, it’s comforting to imagine. Jungkook likes the idea that you, him, and Jaehyun are fated by the universe to always intertwine in one way or another. Or that he and his twin really were one soul in two bodies as he so often described. 

“I think it’s got some legs,” he confidently concludes.

You laugh again before another natural lull in the conversation occurs. It allows for Jungkook to finally admire you up close, which is when his eyes land on something shimmering around your neck.

A gasp escapes his lips upon realizing you're still wearing the pendant he gave you. He was positive you would rip the jewelry clean off after your last interaction. Yet here it is looking just as beautiful as the day he gifted it to you. 

“Why didn’t you take the necklace off?” He asks in awe. 

Your fingers rise to map the familiar outline.

“I tried, believe me. Except whenever I went to undo the clasp, something inside just wouldn’t let me,” you explain. “I’m obviously still very angry with you. There are even nights when I wish I’d never met you. The sense of betrayal and violation I feel because of what you did isn’t going away anytime soon. But sometimes when I remember certain moments from the last eight months, I can’t help but smile.”

His heart soars all over again.

“Really?” 

You smirk and shrug your shoulders like it’s no big deal, but Jungkook’s still far above cloud nine. After a moment, your hand falls from your clavicle and you affectionately gaze at your wedding rings.

“You know, I’m thinking about wearing my wedding band on my right hand and getting the diamond from my engagement ring made into a pendant. Maybe something with a ‘J’ and a sapphire for your guys’ birthstone.” 

Jungkook can already picture it in his head. Everything looks beautiful on you, but something like that would be icing on the cake. 

“I think that’s a wonderful idea.”

“Me, too.” 

Suddenly, he remembers his own memento he got earlier this month.

“Actually, I have something to show you,” he exclaims. 

Your attention shifts to him as he rolls up his right sleeve and presents his forearm to you. You gasp at the colorful artwork on his skin while instinctively reaching out for a closer look.

“You finally got a tattoo?” 

He’s always wanted one, but when Jaehyun was alive it somehow felt wrong. For whatever reason, he hated the idea of having something that would permanently differentiate them. As though the tattoo would make them less identical or weaken their bond. 

“Figured it was about time.” Your fingers delicately trace along the curves and sharp lines of the ink. But while you’re busy admiring his tattoo, he’s doing the same to you. “It’s a tiger lily. Jae and I’s birth flower.”

“I remember,” you tell him. “You drew this yourself. Didn’t you?”

His eyebrows rise.

“How did you know that?”

You shrug again after one last look at the tattoo. 

“I’d recognize your artwork anywhere.”

Jungkook drew all the time when he was younger until he eventually opened the bar and became too busy for the hobby. Whether a hand-drawn birthday card or personalized painting, he often gifted his art to friends and family alike. He’s always been known for his creative mind in comparison to his twin, but he had no clue you could distinguish his style from other artists.

The notion of you remembering what his brush strokes and shading looks like, even after all these years, causes his heart to beat like a jackrabbit in his chest. In fact, it’s so touching that tears begin to crowd his waterline. 

“You know, you make it really fucking hard not to be in love with you,” he notes. 

That not only pulls more giggles out of you, but a pink blush stains your cheeks and neck. 

“Sorry.” Jungkook smiles while waving your apology off with one hand. “Now I want one,” you pout.

He’s never taken you for a tattoo person, especially since you’re a self proclaimed hater of needles. Although, the devious side of his brain can’t deny how alluring the thought is. Not to mention how amazing one would look on your skin. 

“My tattoo artist was great, I can take you to her if you’re really interested.” 

“Yes, please,” you confirm. “But will you draw it for me?” 

His hand automatically flies to his chest to point to himself.

“Me?”

“Well, duh.”

“You want me to… to draw a tattoo for you?” 

You seem totally endeared by his surprised expression, evident by your eyes crinkling in the corners when you smile.

“Of course!”

Every time Jungkook believes he can’t possibly fall for you more than he already has, you come in swinging with a steel bat straight to his heart. 

“This is where I came after I found out the truth,” you state, changing the subject.

“Yeah…” Jungkook awkwardly chuckles. “I know. I checked your location.” He put his hands out in surrender when he realizes how that might come off. “Just to make sure you were safe.”

Once he hears you softly chuckle in return, he lets his arms fall.

“I probably shouldn’t have been driving, to be honest, because I could hardly see through my tears. Then I got here and immediately fell to my knees in front of the headstone,” you narrate. “I just sobbed, screamed, and apologized until I was too lightheaded to keep going.”

“Apologized?”

You nod while making eye contact with him again.

“Yes, because I should’ve known. Or at the very least, been slower to accept what you were telling me.”

Jungkook isn’t able to see your irises anymore when you glance down at the ground.

“Don’t do that. Don’t victim blame yourself,” he replies. “I lied to you for months.”

“I know. But he was my husband, Jungkook.” A heavy sigh makes your chest rise as you shake your head, seemingly at yourself. “You didn’t kiss or touch me the same. You didn’t smell like him or laugh how he did. I mean, you even tasted different. But I just kept chalking everything up to grief, despite that making no fucking sense.”

“Y/N, the world itself stopped making sense as soon as Jae wasn’t in it.” He nudges your shoulder so you look up. “Besides, I don’t think many rational people jump to someone actually being their dead twin brother when they start acting different.”

The gentle smile that appears makes him hopeful you’ll stop being so hard on yourself about what he did to you.

“You make a good point,” you concede.

Even though he would love to just talk about everything and nothing with you, there’s one more topic he wants to cover.

“Um, do you think it’s a good idea for us to talk about the miscarriage?” He poses. “We don’t have to, I just thought I’d offer.”

“Hmm.” You momentarily mull it over. “Honestly, with so much on my mind lately I haven’t had time to even think about it.” 

“Me, either.”

“Are you alright?” 

Jungkook tilts his head in confusion.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Becuase you lost something, too.”

A hum serves as his initial response.  

“I never really saw it like that. I mean, logically I know that’s true, but I was so distraught about what I’d done it almost felt like penance.” 

“Makes sense,” you conclude. “Truth is, my dream of having kids naturally ended as soon as we got the diagnosis. I was perfectly fine with adoption and Jae and I were actually planning on beginning the process later this year.” You shrug your shoulders and meet his eyes. “So when I found out I was pregnant and miscarrying, it didn’t really register with me.”

“You and Jae would’ve been amazing parents,” Jungkook wholeheartedly declares.

A huge smile forms on your lips. 

“Hopefully in another lifetime.” He agrees with a nod. “I’m actually getting my tubes tied this spring.”

“What?” 

Just last month there was a bun cooking in your oven and now you’re burning down the kitchen. He worries you’re only doing so because of him, and that’s the last thing he wants. 

“Jae and I couldn’t have kids together, so even if I do ever fall in love again, it wouldn’t feel right having them with someone else.”

“And your doctor’s willing to do the procedure when you’re still so young?” 

You scoff. 

“No. I had to go to three different practices until one of them was touched enough by my sob story about tragically losing my husband.” You click your tongue with evident indignation. “It’s such bullshit.”

That’s an understatement. Jungkook’s proud of you for standing up for yourself and choosing to do what you feel is right. It’s what you deserve after he took away all your agency.

“It is. I’m sorry you have to deal with that,” he tells you. “My mom actually told me about your fertility doctor’s suggestion to ask me to donate.” 

The memory must still irk you because you theatrically roll your eyes.

“Let me tell you, Jungkook, I almost started throwing the clipboards in that damn office.” He laughs while a vision of you chucking office supplies around plays inside his head. “Then Jae had the audacity to ask why it was such a terrible idea!”

The mention of his twin acting so clueless brings a smile to his face.

“He may have been the perfect husband, but he was still just a man.” You chuckle and concur with a short nod. “I’m surprised he didn’t react the same way you did. I can’t imagine him being comfortable with someone shooting my sperm into you given the circumstances.” 

A wave of confusion contorts your features.

“What circumstances?” 

“Oh, my mom also told me Jae knew about my feelings for you.”

It takes a moment for his words to register, but once they do, your jaw drops open.

“Are you kidding?”

“Nope! Trust me, I was just as shocked.”

You click your tongue a couple times before glancing at the headstone again. 

“What the fuck, Jae,” you mutter. “And he never confronted you about it?”

He shakes his head.

“Mom said it’s because he knew I’d never actually try anything and even if I did, you’d kick my ass.”

His mother’s explanation produces a tandem, warm laugh from the two of you.

“He sure was right about that.” 

Jungkook joins you in turning to face his twin’s grave again as you two allow the wind and rustling of leaves to fill the air instead of your voices. 

After a little while, you lean over to rest your head on his shoulder and Jungkook naturally follows suit by mirroring the position. You both stay like that for some time and although he doesn’t know exactly what you’re feeling, he believes it’s a shared emotion.

For the first time since the night of Jaehyun’s work event, the three of you are finally together again. It’s how things should be, even if you both wish Jaehyun was physically here beside you.

“I miss him so much,” you whisper.

“Yeah.”

It’s difficult for Jungkook to respond with anything else when no words exist to truly capture what it’s like living without him. 

“Everyday I find something new to miss about him. Like yesterday, I remembered how he would always squish my cheeks and shout ‘kawaii’ whenever I did something cute.” A deep, solemn sigh makes your chest rise and fall. “I always pretended it was irritating, but I would give anything to hear him do it again. Even just one more time.”

Jungkook hums in response before an idea flickers inside his head and he sits up to face you. 

“Close your eyes,” he instructs.

“Why?”

You look skeptical, so he flashes an encouraging grin in your direction. 

“Just trust me.”

Although you’re hesitant, you soon straighten your spine and shut your eyes. 

Jungkook takes a second to survey your features without you seeing him do so. Being around you brings him more peace than anything else in the world and he’s just grateful to be sitting here in front of you. 

He recalls almost nine months ago on the morning of the funeral when he spoke to you as himself to cheer you up. It made you feel better back then and he hopes it’ll do the same today. 

His twin used to do this to you all the time, so Jungkook remembers his exact tone of voice and mannerisms.

Following the short reverie, he inhales and gently clutches your cheeks with one hand. He ignores the questioning glance you shoot him. Although, he can’t deny how cute you look with your face all scrunched up. 

After another deep breath, he focuses on his memories of Jaehyun before wiggling your head back and forth. 

“Kawaii!” He mockingly cheers to imitate his brother.  

You immediately beam brighter than the sun as your eyes fly open and a laugh rises from deep in your belly. Jungkook shares in your giddiness, but he also notices fresh tears falling down just above his fingertips. 

“That was spot on,” you assure him. 

Before letting your face go, he wipes away the droplets on your cheeks. 

“It helps when you have the same voice.” Jungkook feels a sense of accomplishment when you chuckle and your smile persists. “I’ll do that for you anytime you want, Y/N. Other stuff, too, if you think of it.” He lays his hand over your own where it’s resting on your thigh. “Just because I’m not pretending to be him anymore doesn’t mean I can’t help keep his spirit alive.”

The grin on your lips broadens.

“I think I’d like that.” 

A silent calm moves through the air and settles over the scene. Even with all the grief and pain between you, it’s clear you both agree about wanting to fix what’s been broken. 

Jungkook still can’t really believe it. He also doesn’t feel like it’s what he deserves, but he isn’t going to question you. His actions already ripped away your independence and free will, whether initially good intentioned or not. So he’s ready to simply stand by your side and follow your lead.

“I’m really happy to have you back. I missed you so much when I thought you were dead.” You rest your free hand on the growing pile of appendages and squeeze, leading him to complete the stack. “My Kookie.”

Your familiar, effervescent smile could heal even his deepest wounds all on its own. Not to mention hearing his nickname pass through your lips again after so long. 

“I missed you, too.” He lets go of your hand so he can tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. “My sweet Cupcake.”

By now you’re both grinning like little kids as you rest your head in his open palm. 

You two stay in the cemetery for a little while longer; sharing memories of Jaehyun, catching up some more, and reminiscing about your lives together so far. Jungkook further explains his feelings for you by detailing how contradictory they are at times. In return, you open up about your experience while he was pretending to be your husband and how you’ve been coping with the truth since.

For instance, how it would give you pause whenever he’d slip up, but you could always think of more logical reasons for his actions than him not being Jaehyun. And it was only once you were faced with the indisputable fact of a miscarriage that you couldn’t deny it any longer. 

As you said the night you found out, you needed Jaehyun to be alive, so as long as your brain could rationalize his behavior, you weren’t going to question him. 

You elaborate about how your doubts were subconscious, rather than something running through your head all the time. Jungkook’s someone you trusted, and you also had no idea he had feelings for you, so accusing him of taking your husband’s place was the last thought on your mind. 

In terms of afterwards, you tell him every day’s a different story. Most are full of despair, others are confusing, but sometimes you feel at peace. 

Jungkook actually chooses to remain even after you head home for the evening. Since the daunting conversation with you is behind him now, there’s only one person left to apologize to. 

A few minutes after you leave him alone on the bench, he stands to walk towards the headstone bearing his brother’s name. He hates the sight of it, if he’s being totally honest, because it still doesn’t feel right for Jaehyun to have a grave at all. But he can still admit it’s a gorgeous testament to who his twin was. 

“Hey, Jae,” he greets him while sitting cross legged on the ground in front of the monument. “Is this alright? I mean, I’m not sitting on you. Am I? I figured this is more like when I’d throw myself on your bed while you were studying or something.” Of course, there’s no response, but then again he never needed one even when Jaehyun was alive. They could always communicate without words. “I, uh, don’t really know how to start. Apologizing to our folks, Jennie, and even Y/N seemed fairly simply even though I was nervous as hell. But you? I think you’re the person I hurt most of all. I know that sounds terrible considering they’re here and you’re not, but none of them died so I could live.” A couple tears roll down his cheeks, but he doesn’t bother swiping them away. “Y/N’s right. You fucking gave up your life for me and just like always, I was too damn stubborn to accept it. I lost count of how many times you offered to help me over the years, in a million different ways, and I rejected you every time because of my own insecurities. I should’ve been shouting from the rooftops about what you did for me. Telling everyone I came across how my brother chose to leave everything behind; his accomplishments, his family, the love of his life, just so I’d survive. But instead I threw your sacrifice away like it meant nothing.” He’s crying much harder now, leaving him no choice but to use his sleeve so he can still see. “I’m so sorry, Jaehyun. I messed up. I betrayed you. Before your wedding you made me promise to take care of Y/N if something ever happened, and I fucking failed you.” It takes Jungkook a moment to catch his breath, but then he places his hand on the tombstone, right over where the word “brother” is engraved. “I swear to you I’ll uphold that promise from now on and forevermore. I’ll do it right this time; watch over her as myself instead of pretending to be something I’m not. And we can… we can talk about the feelings stuff another time. I’m actually a little peeved you kept that shit to yourself. But anyway, I know you might not be able to forgive me yet and I understand. I just hope by the time we meet again, you’ll welcome me with open arms.” Jungkook stares at the lettering while blinking back more tears before his emotions propel him forward until his forehead meets the stone. “I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.” He sighs and forces his eyes shut, trying to picture his twin sitting across from him. “I’m gonna live the best life possible, Jae. As me. For you. For both of us.” 

Maybe he’s crazy, or sleep deprived, but he swears he hears a faint echo of his twin’s laughter, almost like his response to Jungkook’s apology is: “Of course, I forgive you, you loveable idiot.”

He misses Jaehyun more than any words in the multitude of human languages that exist can describe. His life will always feel like something's missing, but he’s also certain there isn’t a single step he’ll take where his brother won’t be right beside him. 

After that night, you and Jungkook begin to rebuild your relationship brick by brick through visits to each other’s homes or the bakery, running errands together, and going on adventures you never have before. Including you finally teaching him how to figure skate and him taking you on your first ever motorcycle ride. You also try deep sea fishing off Jeju Island, hiking Dobongsan Mountain, and even a weekend trip to Japan. 

It’s all strictly platonic, but just like the last decade and a half, Jungkook doesn’t mind. He’ll wait forever if that’s what it takes, and he won’t complain even if you end up never wanting more. Simply being in your life is all he needs and without his better half, your friendship means more to him than ever before. 

About eighteen months later, three months after the second anniversary of Jaehyun’s death, you finally ask Jungkook if he’s interested in testing more romantic waters with you. To no one’s surprise, he enthusiastically accepts without hesitation. 

You both agree on upholding the deal you made in the cemetery to start from scratch. Jungkook even goes the extra mile by deleting your contact from his phone. His antics send your eyes rolling back, but there’s also an endeared grin on your lips while you re-input your number. 

The day of your first date goes by way too fast. Jungkook swears he just woke up and yet when he checks the clock, it’s already time to get ready. Perhaps it’s because he’s more anxious about tonight than he’s ever been in his entire life. 

There’s honestly no reason to be. You’re his oldest, dearest friend and you always have fun together no matter what you choose to do. Although even that knowledge doesn’t stop his fingers from shaking as he buttons up his shirt and throws on a coat. 

His new apartment is close enough to the restaurant to walk, so he decides to let the fresh air calm his nervous system.

He arrives ten minutes before the agreed upon time, but he’s thankful because even after the brief stroll, he needs a second to slow his racing heartbeat and quiet his mind. 

Jungkook dives face first into the menu as a distraction while he waits. Except it’s hardly any use because he ends up deciding on all his courses within the first five minutes.

His leg incessantly bounces beneath the table before he holds his knee down to stop the movement. That’s when he decides to pray to whoever might be listening to save him from sweating through his clothes.  

If anyone, he believes Jaehyun’s watching over him. Sometimes he’s positive he can sense his twin beside him or hear his voice in his ear. It’s comforting, even if it might very well be all in his head. 

He hopes Jaehyun isn’t upset with him. If he’s still pissed about what Jungkook did immediately following his death, that’s reasonable. What he doesn’t want is for his brother to be angry at him for moving on with you. 

Jungkook’s fully aware he’ll never be able to replace Jaehyun, nor would he want to. His twin wasn’t just your first love, but the love of your life.

Now, that doesn't mean you and Jungkook can’t live a long, happy life together full of devotion. Because if he learned anything from his mistakes, it's that love can manifest in multiple different forms, none of which are any less than another. 

He’s too deep in his reverie to hear the footsteps approaching his table. It takes someone rapping their knuckles against the wood and speaking to grab his attention. 

“You must be Jungkook.”

The familiar, yet distant phrase forces his gaze away from the menu as his head slowly lifts to reveal the person standing across from him. 

You’re smiling, but as soon as your eyes meet, it becomes a smirk while you playfully tilt your head to one side. 

Perhaps it won’t make sense to anyone else, but you somehow look identical to when you two first met and entirely different. Your brilliance, charisma, and beautiful features are all the same, but it’s also clear you’re older, wiser, and more refined.

All Jungkook can think about is how lucky he is to be able to witness so many versions of you. He wishes Jaehyun had the same opportunity, but he’s certain his twin is always admiring you from above. Just as he did every day of his life here on earth.

The memory your words trigger in his brain instantly paints a huge smile on his face and elicits a warm, nostalgic chuckle as he maintains your eye contact.

Despite it feeling like almost a whole other lifetime, Jungkook knows precisely how to reply. 

“You must be Y/N, then.” 

“Need help?” he asks, the amusement in his voice unmistakable.

“I’ve got it,” you say, jabbing the key with exaggerated precision. The door finally clicks open, and you push it in with a triumphant, “Ha!”

“You’re so competent,” he deadpans, clapping a mock applause as he follows you in. His shoulder bumps yours as he passes. “It’s honestly inspiring.”

You kick off your shoes, tossing your keys into the bowl by the door. “And you’re so annoying,” you mutter, but there’s no heat in it.

Jungkook drops onto your couch like it’s his own, sprawling out like he owns the place. Which, in some ways, he kind of does.

A hoodie of his is already slung over the back of a kitchen chair, from some night two weeks ago when he stayed too late and decided not to drive home. There’s an energy drink in your fridge with his name written on the lid in Sharpie. The blanket he’s tugging over his lap? That’s the one he gifted you for Christmas, mostly so he could use it whenever he came over.

It’s always been like this.

He tosses his denim jacket on the couch as you grab two bottles of water from the fridge, chucking one to him without warning. He catches it with the ease.

“You were definitely flirting with that bartender,” he says, unscrewing the cap and looking at you with that maddeningly smug smile.

You scoff. “He had a mullet and called me ‘miss.’ It wasn’t flirting— it was survival.”

“Sure,” he says, nodding like he totally believes you. “That’s why you laughed at everything he said, even when he asked if you liked your tequila neat.”

“It was neat!” you say, defensive and laughing at the same time. “And besides, you flirted with the girl in the fishnets for, like, an hour.”

He shrugs. “Guilty. She had good taste in music. And thighs.”

You groan and flop down beside him on the couch, letting your head fall back against the cushion. Your thigh brushes his, but you don’t move. Neither does he. The buzz from the party is still warm in your blood, and the apartment feels too quiet now — too intimate without the noise and lights and other bodies.

“You ever think we’re just... really bad at dating?” you ask, staring at the ceiling.

“Constantly,” Jungkook says, without hesitation.

You glance at him. “Like, maybe we peaked in college.”

He makes a face. “Don’t say that. I refuse to believe my best years happened while I was still eating instant ramen and failing comp sci.”

You laugh, and he turns his head toward you, watching you with that soft-eyed expression you know too well. There’s something about Jungkook when he’s like this — no bravado, no teasing smirk, just... present. His hair is a mess from the wind, and a dark tank top hugs his figure.

He’s too comfortable here. Too familiar.

“I genuinely think I’ve forgotten what a good kiss feels like,” you say, mostly to the ceiling, like it’s a throwaway thought.

Jungkook hums. “That bad, huh?”

“It’s not even bad, it’s just...” You trail off, searching for the word. “Empty. Mechanical. Like everyone’s going through the motions, but nobody’s actually there.”

He shifts slightly, angling his body more toward you. “So no decent kissers at all lately?”

You shake your head. “No decent anything, if I’m honest.”

He raises an eyebrow, curious.

You hesitate, but the alcohol in your system makes it easier to say what you probably wouldn’t sober. “I haven’t slept with anyone in like... almost a year.”

Jungkook blinks, not in judgment, just surprised. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.” You rub at your temple with a laugh. “I didn’t plan it or anything. It just kind of... kept not happening. And then it became this weird streak, and now here we are.”

He’s quiet for a moment.

“Well,” he says eventually, “maybe your standards are just too high.”

“Or maybe men are just mid,” you shoot back.

That gets a laugh out of him, loud and bright. He tips his head back, and you watch his throat move as he laughs. Too long. Too hard. When he calms down, he gives you a look — something mischievous that you've grown to know too well over the years.

"What?" you ask, narrowing your eyes at him with a smile.

He shrugs. “I mean... I could help."

“With my standards?”

“With the streak.”

You snort. “What, you offering?”

“Maybe.”

You tilt your head. “So what? You wanna bang it out?”

It’s meant to be funny. You’re grinning when you say it. But when you look at him — really look — he’s not laughing.

His gaze lingers on your mouth for a beat too long. Then his eyes flick up to yours.

“Just this once?” he asks, voice low. Careful. Like he’s giving you an out.

You don’t answer right away. The room goes still. The hum of the fridge feels too loud. His eyes are still on you, and it’s not a look you’ve ever seen from him before.

Your heart stutters in your chest.

You swallow. “Wouldn't it be weird?”

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t look away.

“Only if we let it be.”

You sit there for a second, the weight of it all hitting a little too fast. Your brain’s still catching up to your mouth, to the way your body’s buzzing — not from the alcohol anymore, but from him. From the heat in his eyes, the way he said it — almost like a dare.

And then his expression shifts.

His eyes flick away, and his tongue runs over the silver ring on his bottom lip, like he’s pulling it back, reeling it in.

“Only if you want to, obviously,” he says, quieter this time. “We don’t have to.”

He starts to lean back like he's resetting the mood — like this moment can still be folded back into the safety of your usual teasing — but you stop him.

You move first.

You grab the front of his tank top — not hard, not dramatic, just enough — and you pull him in.

You kiss him.

It’s abrupt. Heat over hesitation. A split-second decision that tastes like tequila and impulse, like comfort and fuck it all wrapped up in the same breath.

At first, he doesn’t move, frozen in surprise. But then he kisses you back — really kisses you back — and suddenly you're not thinking anymore.

His hand slides to your thigh, just enough pressure to ground you, and you shift toward him instinctively, knees brushing his. His mouth moves against yours with a kind of focused laziness, like he’s savouring it. Like he’s trying to figure out exactly how you taste.

You pull back half a second, just to breathe, lips brushing his as you mutter, “Took you long enough.”

He laughs into your mouth, low and smug. “You kissed me.”

“Yeah, well. You looked like you were gonna bail.”

“I was being respectful,” he says, voice muffled against your jaw as he starts kissing along it. “But sure, let’s call it bailing.”

You gasp a little when he nips at your neck, just enough pressure to make you arch toward him. Your hands slide under his top, fingers skimming the warm skin of his back, and he shivers under your touch.

“Jesus,” you murmur. “How are you this built? You eat, like, gas station snacks and leftover noodles.”

“I work out,” he mutters between kisses, grinning as he drags his mouth back to yours. “Also, you’ve seen me shirtless.”

“Yeah, but not like this.”

“Like what?”

You tug him closer until your chest presses to his. “Like I get to touch.”

That shuts him up real quick.

He kisses you again, this time more urgently, and you feel the change in the air — less teasing, more want. Your legs shift to straddle his lap without thinking, your hands sliding up into his hair, tugging just a little.

He groans, deep and rough, biting down on your bottom lip before kissing it better. You rock your hips forward slightly and he bucks up into you with a hiss.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he mutters, hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise.

You smirk against his mouth. “You offered, remember?”

“Yeah, and I’m rapidly realising that was a dangerous choice.”

You laugh, breathless, before kissing him again. He tastes like beer and something sweeter — probably the gum he always chews. You bite his lip and feel him groan into your mouth, hips jerking beneath you.

His fingers slip under your shirt, warm on your skin. Not rushed, just exploring — like he’s been curious for a while and is finally allowed to look.

You roll your hips again, slower this time, and his head drops back against the cushion with a low fuck that makes your stomach flip.

“You still sure about this?” you ask, teasing, as your hands drag down his chest, fingers playing with the hem of his shirt.

His eyes open — dark, focused, amused.

“You gonna stop me if I say no?”

You shake your head. “Nope.”

“Then yeah,” he says, breath hitching as your fingers reach his abdomen. “I’m very sure.”

He catches your fingers before you can finish unbuttoning his jeans.

You raise a brow, breath still uneven. “Seriously?”

He nods, steady, calm in a way that only makes your pulse pound harder. “I said I was helping you, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but I thought that was like... a mutual helping situation.”

His mouth twitches. “You always gotta argue when I’m trying to do something nice?”

You open your mouth to throw something back — something biting, something stupid — but he leans in and kisses you before you can get the words out. One hand still wrapped around your wrist, the other cupping your jaw.

He pulls back just enough to speak.

“Let me take care of you.”

You stare at him for a beat, heart kicking hard in your chest.

“Fine,” you mutter, trying to sound unbothered. “But don't expect any thank yous or shit.”

“I’ll survive,” he says, already smirking as his fingers work at your jeans. “Though, for the record, I think you’re gonna want to.”

You snort — right before he pops the button of your jeans and drags the zipper down, knuckles brushing your skin. You shiver.

“God, you’re cocky.”

He glances up, eyes flicking to yours. “You saying I haven’t earned it?”

You don’t answer. Your breath stutters when his hand slips beneath the waistband of your panties, palm flush against you.

He stills.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, voice dropping. “You’re wet already?”

“Shut up.”

He smiles cockily.

You roll your eyes — try to, anyway — but your thighs are already parting, your body moving without conscious thought. His fingers slide into you, testing the waters, and your head tips back with a soft sigh.

He watches your face like he’s waiting for something. When your mouth parts, when your hips twitch toward his hand, that’s when he moves.

His thumb finds your bud and he's gentle at first. Circling, then rubbing just a little firmer. You bite your lip hard, trying not to give him the satisfaction of the noises building in your throat.

“Still not thanking you,” you say through clenched teeth.

“Oh, you will,” he says, low. “Eventually.”

You glare at him. He grins back, fingers dragging lower, slipping in without resistance. You suck in a breath, and he laughs softly under it.

“Okay?” he asks, suddenly serious again.

You nod, maybe too quickly. “Yeah. More than okay.”

He starts moving his fingers — slow at first, too slow. Like he’s enjoying making you wait. You squirm, trying to rock your hips into his hand, but he tightens his grip on your thigh.

“Nuh-uh,” he says, eyes gleaming. “You’re letting me do the work, remember?”

“I hate you.”

“You’re literally grinding on my hand right now.”

You reach out blindly and smack his chest. He doesn’t even flinch — just slips another finger in, and your breath catches so hard it punches the air from your lungs.

“There it is,” he murmurs.

His thumb picks up a rhythm again, and the pressure starts to build fast. He knows it, too. His free hand slides around your waist, steadying you as your body starts to shake. Your fist curls into the soft fabric of his top, needing something to hold onto.

“Still hate me?” he asks, voice rougher now, his breath tickling the shell of your ear.

“Don’t flatter yourself— fuck—”

“Yeah?” His fingers curl just right, and your whole body tenses. “Right there?”

You nod, desperate, eyes squeezed shut. Your thighs are shaking. You’re so close you can’t even keep up the bit.

“Say it,” he says.

“Say what?”

“Tell me how good I make you feel.”

You groan. “Jesus, Jungkook—”

He slows down suddenly, barely moving his hand.

You whine. Actually whine.

“That’s not what I asked for.”

“God, you’re annoying,” you say, breathless.

He grins. “You're the one being the brat here.”

You drag your eyes open and glare at him, but it’s all heat now. All want. You lean in close, lips pressing against his.

"Fuck— fine. You feel so fucking good, Kook. Please, just don't stop."

He doesn’t.

He kisses you hard and fast, and his fingers start again, slick and firm and relentless. Your body clenches around him and this time, you don’t even try to hold the sounds back. His name leaves your mouth like muscle memory, and he groans into your kiss, like he’s the one coming undone.

When you break the kiss to suck in air, he presses his forehead to yours, voice rough in your ear.

“That’s it. Let go for me.”

You do.

Your body arches, thighs trembling as the orgasm washes over you sharp and fast. Your fingers dig into his back, into his top, into anything that keeps you tethered.

He doesn’t stop until you’re gasping, twitching, pushing his hand away because you’re too sensitive now.

He pulls back finally, breath warm against your skin, his fingers wet. He looks at you, gaze heavy, lips parted.

Then, without a word, he brings his fingers to your mouth.

“Open,” he says, low and steady.

You blink at him, your body still humming, brain half-melted. “What—?”

He brushes two slick fingers against your bottom lip, and your mouth parts on instinct.

“You said no thank yous,” he says, smirking. “So this’ll do.”

You glare at him, but your lips close around his fingers anyway. He watches every second — the way your mouth wraps around them, the way your tongue slides against the pads. His expression flickers from cocky to wrecked.

“Shit,” he mutters, voice rough now, the smugness cracking around the edges.

You suck once, slow and purposeful, eyes locked on his, and he jerks slightly under you — hips twitching like your mouth is on him instead. When you pull off with a soft pop, your lips are swollen and wet.

“You said mutual help,” you murmur, breath still catching on the end of every word. “It’s your turn.”

He blinks, like he’s short-circuiting.

You slide off his lap slowly, hands dragging down his chest, and his breath catches when you settle between his legs on your knees. You palm him over his jeans, and he hisses, already hard under your touch.

“Fuck,” he mutters, head tipping back.

“You okay there?” you ask, voice sweet, taunting. “Or do you need me to go slower?”

He looks down at you, pupils blown, jaw clenched. “Don’t be a brat.”

You unbutton his jeans, real slow, enjoying the way he twitches under your hands. “No promises.”

You drag the zipper down, tugging his jeans and boxers low enough to free him. He’s flushed and heavy, tip already glistening, and you swear you see his hips flex at just the sight of your mouth this close.

“Holy shit,” he breathes. “You look way too good down there.”

You wrap your hand around his cock, giving one slow stroke, and he groans like it surprises him.

You start slow. Just your hand. Thumb brushing over the sensitive ridge under the head, watching his thighs tense beneath your touch. His head drops back against the couch cushion, and you feel the way his hips subtly shift toward you, like his body’s trying to chase more without him even realising it.

You lean in and lick a slow stripe from base to tip, tongue flat, deliberate. His breath catches — then shudders out of him like you’ve knocked the air from his lungs.

“Shit,” he mutters again, voice strained.

You hum like you agree, and wrap your lips around the head, just barely. You suck, not hard — just enough to make him twitch. Your hand works in tandem, slow, steady strokes, and your mouth follows, inching lower until the tip presses against the back of your throat.

He moans, raw and wrecked. “Fuck, baby—”

The pet name is barely more than a gasp, almost like it slipped out without permission. Your stomach flips at the sound it.

His voice borders on the line of sounding pathetic, and it makes you want to press your thighs together.

You fall into rhythm — your lips sliding over him, tongue pressed firm underneath, hand twisting where your mouth leaves off. Every now and then, you let yourself get sloppy. Let the sound of it echo between you, let him hear what he’s doing to you.

He’s falling apart above you. You can tell by the way his hand flexes and releases in your hair, the way his thighs tremble every time you sink a little deeper. He’s breathing hard now, jaw slack, eyes barely open. Watching you. Like he still can’t believe this is real.

“God, your mouth—” His voice cuts off into a moan when you swallow around him, deep and slow. "You're gonna be the death of me."

You pull off just long enough to breathe, lips slick, chin wet. “You deserve it.”

He laughs, but it breaks halfway through. Your hand doesn’t stop moving.

“You like watching me fall apart, huh?”

You look up through your lashes, tongue flicking over the head. “More than a little.”

You go back down — deeper this time — and he chokes on a groan. His hips jerk up too sharply and he curses, hands fisting hard in your hair.

“Shit— I’m—” He’s panting now, thighs shaking. “I’m not gonna last if you keep— fuck, don’t—”

You suck harder, then moan around him just to hear the sound he makes. It’s almost a whimper.

“Baby, stop— wait— fuck— please—”

You pull off with a wet pop just before he tips over the edge, lips red and swollen, saliva clinging to your chin. He’s barely keeping it together. Chest heaving, flushed to the neck, cock twitching where it rests against his stomach.

“You were right there,” you say, feigning innocence, voice soft and ruined.

“Exactly," he says, sitting up. "I'm not done with you yet."

He drags the fabric of his top over his head, tossing it aside without a second thought. The moment it’s off, your breath catches.

Fuck.

He’s all golden skin and sharp lines, chest heaving, abs flexing with every breath. His tattoos curl over his shoulder and down his arm, black ink stark against flushed skin. His cock’s still hard, flushed dark, resting against his stomach, twitching when he sees the way you’re looking at him.

And you — still kneeling between his legs — can’t look away.

Then you rise, shaky but determined, and pull your top over your head, letting it fall. His eyes snap to your chest, lips parting like he’s just been punched in the gut. You're movements are purposefully slow as you pull down your jeans, then your panties.

“Jesus,” he mutters, eyes dragging down your body. “You’re a fucking dream.”

You crawl back into his lap, your bare skin meeting his, and the contact makes both of you gasp. You straddle him, knees on either side of his thighs, and he groans the moment your heat presses against his cock.

He fumbles for a condom, pulling it out from an inner pocket in the jacket he’d draped onto the couch earlier.

You watch as he tears it open and rolls it on, fingers practiced but tense. You reach between your bodies, guiding him to your entrance, and the second his tip slides against your soaked folds, his grip tightens on your hips.

“Fuck,” he mutters, voice shaking.

You sink down slowly, inch by thick inch, and your nails bite into his shoulders as you stretch around him. He’s big — your pussy gripping him tight, wet and pulsing as he fills you up. Every nerve lights up, every breath gets harder to catch.

“Holy fuck—” His head drops to your chest, groaning against your skin. “You’re so tight. So fucking warm. Gonna make me lose it.”

You whimper as you bottom out, walls fluttering around him. You can feel every vein, every twitch. It’s almost too much. Almost.

But not enough.

You start to move — slow, dragging lifts of your hips, circling them on the way back down. He watches, hands clamped on your ass, guiding the grind of your body like he already knows how to make you fall apart again.

You ride him, pace picking up fast, desperate. Every time your hips drop, the base of his cock grinds against your clit, slick sounds filling the room with every slap of skin against skin. His cock hits deep, stretching you wide, and a moan passes your lips.

He groans are low and guttural, eyes locked to where your bodies meet. “Goddamn, baby. Watching you fuck yourself on my cock— shit— never gonna forget this.”

You’re panting now, thighs burning, rhythm faltering. You try to keep going, but your legs are shaking.

He notices.

Without a word, he shifts under you, plants his feet flat on the floor, and grabs your hips tight.

“Let me help you, yeah?”

You nod. “Please.”

He starts thrusting up into you.

You cry out, spine arching, hands flying to his shoulders to hold on as he fucks you from underneath, sharp and deep. His hips snap up into you, cock pressing into your sweet spot over and over again.

The new angle is obscene. Filthy.

“Fuck, Jungkook— holy shit—”

He smirks up at you, sweaty hair sticking to his forehead. “That’s it. Take it, baby. Look at you— so cockdrunk already.”

Your pussy clenches around him, soaked and messy, and the sound of it is downright pornographic. His balls slap against your ass with every brutal thrust, and you can’t even think anymore. Just feel.

Your head falls back, hips rocking with his. “W-we’re still best friends, right, Kook?”

His rhythm stutters, hips slamming up too hard, too deep, and his jaw drops slightly like he’s not sure if he actually heard you right. His pupils are blown, face flushed, and he stares at you like you just kicked the last brain cell out of his skull.

“What the fuck,” he pants. “You can’t say that. Not when I’m— fuck— inside you.”

You whimper, walls clenching around him like your body’s reacting to how wrecked he sounds.

“That’s so fucked up,” he mutters, almost to himself. “Say it again and I might actually come on the spot.”

You huff out a weak laugh at that, hands tangling in his hair, and he groans, fucking you harder, deeper — like he needs to wipe the thought of friendship off your brain with every snap of his hips.

“Y-Yeah,” you gasp. “So close, fuck— don’t stop—”

He doesn’t. One hand slips between your bodies, fingers rubbing tight, fast circles over your clit while he pounds into you. You sob his name, hips stuttering, body locking up.

“Come on,” he grits out. “Wanna feel you squeeze me.”

That’s all it takes.

You break with a cry, body clamping down around him as your orgasm hits like a fucking freight train. Your pussy pulses around his cock, milking him, soaking him, your whole body shuddering with the force of it.

He slows just a little — just enough to let you ride it out — but he doesn’t pull out. He’s still hard inside you, jaw tight, eyes blown wide.

You collapse forward, panting into his neck, spent.

His hands slide down your spine, warm and possessive. “You good?”

You nod, still breathless. “Yeah. Jesus.”

"Good." He swiftly lifts you off him just enough to slip out, and you whimper at the sudden emptiness. But he doesn’t give you time to think.

He shifts, guiding you onto your back, his body following yours down to the couch. His hands frame your face as he settles between your legs, and when he presses back into you — thick and hard.

His eyes roam over you like he’s never seen anything more obscene or more beautiful. Your lips are swollen, parted in a messy moan. There’s a faint smudge of mascara under one eye from when you’d cried out his name, and your skin’s glowing — sweaty, flushed, wrecked.

“You’re so pretty like this,” he says, voice gone rough. “All fucked out for me.”

You pull him down into a kiss before you can think. It’s open-mouthed, greedy, teeth clashing a little. His hips start to move again, slow at first — long, deep thrusts that make your breath catch every time he bottoms out.

You wrap your legs around his waist, heels digging into his back to pull him deeper. His chest brushes yours, sticky skin against sticky skin, and your nails rake down his back.

He gasps into your mouth. “Fuck—”

“More,” you breathe, nails dragging again, leaving angry red lines down the muscle of his back. “Please.”

His hips snap harder, pace picking up again. He braces one hand beside your head and the other slides up your thigh, gripping tight enough to bruise. Your body rocks with every thrust, his cock slamming into you, the slap of his hips against yours louder now.

“You feel that?” he grits out, forehead pressed to yours, sweat dripping down his temple. “How tight you are around me? Fuck— I’m so deep, baby, you’re taking me so fucking good.”

You moan loud at his words, head falling back against the cushions.

He kisses down your neck, your collarbone, the swell of your breast — open-mouthed, wet kisses that make your skin burn. Then he’s back at your mouth, kissing you like it’s the only way he knows how to breathe.

He watches you with the kind of hunger that makes your stomach flip, watching how your brows pinch, how your mouth trembles, how you twitch around him with every stroke like you’re on the edge all over again.

And fuck, you are.

“Touch me,” you gasp, voice raw. “Kook, please—”

His fingers snake down your stomach, rubbing tight, perfect circles against your clit, synced with the rhythm of his thrusts. You cry out, thighs shaking around his waist, and he just watches — eyes dark and wild, like he can’t believe what he’s doing to you.

You clench hard around him, and he curses, slamming into you deeper, grinding at the end of each stroke.

“Gonna come again?” he pants. “Wanna come on my cock like that, baby? Let me feel you soak me?”

You’re nodding before he finishes, tears prickling in your eyes from how fucking intense it is. “Yes— yes, fuck, don’t stop—”

He kisses you as you fall apart — moaning into your mouth, swallowing every sound. You come again, whole body seizing around him. Your nails dig in, and he hisses at the pain, thrusting through it, fucking you right through the high.

When it ebbs, your body goes limp under him, chest heaving, lips swollen, slick dripping between your thighs.

Jungkook fucks into you again — slow, deep, like he’s trying to memorise the feel of you pulsing around him. His breath stutters, muscles drawn tight, every thrust rougher than the last.

“I’m not gonna last,” he pants, voice wrecked.

You bring your hands up to his hair, lightly tugging at his locks as you whisper, “Wanna feel you.”

He chokes on a moan, slamming into you one final time as he comes hard, cock twitching deep inside as he fills the condom.

His arms shake, muscles locked tight, and his face is buried in your neck as he rides it out, breath ragged, skin flushed and burning. You feel every pulse of it, every tremble in his frame, and all you can do is hold him there — legs wrapped tight around his waist, arms tangled around his shoulders, your nails still leaving stinging trails across his skin.

He presses kisses against your neck and jaw, eventually trailing up to your lips before pulling back to just look at you.

"I— you're perfect."

You smile, a familiar warmth enveloping your cheeks. "Yeah, yeah, you can stop with the flattery."

But he doesn’t smile back right away. He just watches you, quiet. Like he’s still catching up to the weight of what just happened. What’s still happening.

His hand drifts to your waist, thumb brushing lazily over your damp skin. “Let me run you a bath.”

You blink. “A bath?”

He nods, lips brushing your temple. “Yeah. You’re shaky. And I kinda wrecked you.”

You snort, catching the smugness in his voice. “What happened to, ‘Shit, baby, if you don’t stop I’m gonna come down your throat’?”

He groans, laughing. “Okay, first of all— rude. Second, I don’t sound like that.”

“Mm, you definitely do.”

He pinches your side lightly. “Keep talking, I’ll re-enact it right now.”

You shut up. But you’re smiling.

He stands a moment later, disappearing into the bathroom. You hear the water running, the soft clatter of bottles, his voice humming something low and familiar.

When he comes back, he tosses you a towel and holds out a hand, that same easy smile on his face. The one you’ve known forever. The one that makes everything feel… normal.

Even now.

You lace your fingers with his, let him pull you up.

Your legs are jelly. His hand doesn’t let go.

And as you follow him into the bathroom, skin still marked by his touch, lips still swollen from his kiss, a quiet thought flickers at the edge of your mind.

You guys were still best friends.

Right?

→ read part two here