siqklove

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messy ass chapter but life is like that we know. i might forgotten to add some people im sorry guys. 💔💔

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messy ass chapter but life is like that we know. i might forgotten to add some people im sorry guys. 💔💔

No classes. No deadlines. No professors reminding you that your “creative vision” wasn’t translating well on screen. Just a full week of nothing, which sounded amazing until you actually had it and realized you didn’t really know what to do with that much free time.

You had spent the first two days sleeping like your life depended on it, which was fair because it was actually weekend and not the start of the break. The third day was a mix of scrolling, half-watching movies, and telling yourself you should probably be doing something productive— like editing that short film you’d been avoiding or even preparing that fundraiser event you were throwing in less than two months— but not actually doing it.

And now, the fourth day, you were exactly where you started. On the sofa with your phone in hand. Absolutely doing nothing.

The TV was on, mostly for background noise. You weren’t paying attention to it, not really. Your eyes were glued to your screen, thumb moving lazily as you scrolled through videos you weren’t even interested in. It was slightly embarrassing how little you actually felt like engaging with anything remotely artistic during your break since you were in film studies.

Still, every now and then, your brain would kick in automatically. You’d notice the lighting in a clip. The framing. A weird cut that didn’t quite work. It was annoying, honestly. You couldn’t just watch things anymore, you had to think about them, analyze them. Sometimes it was annoying… but you still loved it.

You shifted slightly on the sofa, pulling one leg under you, adjusting your position without looking up. That’s when the volume on the TV went up, not a lot but enough for you to notice.

“Hana, the volume.” You frowned a little, still not looking up. “Hana,” you said again, already knowing. No response. You sighed, finally lifting your eyes. There she was, your older sister, sitting on the floor, way too close to the TV, completely focused like she was watching something life-changing. You followed her gaze. And immediately wished you hadn’t. “Hana— ugh, not again,” you muttered under your breath.

Of course. It had to be them.

The video showed a bright set. Clean camera angles, very readable subtitles and that overly polished interview vibe that always felt the same no matter who was in it. It was a big group. And right in the middle of it— Jeon Jungkook.

You didn’t even mean to pay attention. Really, you didn’t. But Hana leaned forward slightly, like she didn’t want to miss a single word, and that alone was enough to drag your attention along with hers.

“…And Jungkook, what does that mean to you?” the interviewer asked.

You rolled your eyes before he even answered. Still, you heard it.

“It means everything. They’re everything to us,” Jungkook said, smiling. “They’ve supported us from the beginning, so… I think we owe them a lot. That’s why we will do our best and work hard to show them gratitude.”

You stared at the screen for half a second and then scoffed when your sister murmured: “He’s such an amazing person.”

“Please.” Hana didn’t turn around right away, but you could feel she was already getting annoyed

“What?” she said.

“That’s so fake,” you added, already looking back down at your phone.

“You didn’t even watch the whole thing.”

“I didn’t need to.”

Hana finally turned, twisting around so she could look at you properly. “He is amazing. And if you knew him like I know him you wouldn’t say that—”

You let out a small laugh. “We live in different continents. You don’t know him.”

“I do know him.”

You sat up a little, resting your arm against the back of the sofa. “How exactly do you know him, Hana?”

She rolled her eyes like the answer was obvious.

“I know everything about him.”

You snorted. “Everything?”

“Yes,” she insisted, counting on her fingers now like she was presenting actual evidence. “I know where he works. I know where he likes to shop. The clubs he goes to, the people he works with, the restaurants he likes—”

“That’s not knowing someone,” you cut in. “That’s having google.”

“It’s not just that,” she said, annoyed. “You wouldn’t get it.”

“No, I get it,” you said. “You’re a delusional obsessed stalker.”

“I’m not obsessed.”

“Hana, you literally know what he eats.”

“That’s public information!”

You raised your eyebrows. “Exactly my point.”

She huffed, turning back to the TV for a second before looking at you again, clearly not done. “At least I appreciate him.”

“Appreciate what? His scripted answers?”

“They’re not scripted!”

“Right. Because ‘you mean everything to us’ has never been said before.”

Hana groaned, throwing her head back dramatically. “You don’t get it.”

“No, I do. You’re mentally ill.”

“You just wait and see—” she paused, sitting up straighter, then grinned suddenly, like she’d remembered something. “Once we’re in Korea you’ll met him.”

Right. South Korea.

The trip had been planned for weeks. Your parents were excited in that calm, nostalgic way adults got when they were going back somewhere that meant something to them. Your great-grandparents were still alive— which, apparently, was a miracle according to everyone who talked about it— and your mom had decided that this was the perfect time to visit. Which meant you were all going. Together. For a full week.

You didn’t mind it, not really. You liked traveling. You liked seeing new places— even if, technically, this wasn’t entirely new for you. You’d been to Korea before, just not recently enough to remember it clearly.

Hana, on the other hand, was treating it like the most important trip of her life. She had lists, actual lists. Places she wanted to go, things she wanted to eat, neighborhoods she needed to see. And, of course— Locations. Specific ones. Ones that, somehow, always seemed to be connected to them. Him, specially.

You frowned. “…met him?”

“Yeah.”

“Hana.”

“What?”

“We’re not going to just run into him.”

“You don’t know that.”

You stared at her. “Yes,” you said slowly, “I do.”

She ignored that completely. “We’re literally going to Korea,” she continued, like that proved everything. “Do you know how many places he goes to? We could go to one of them. Not, not just one, to all!”

“We’re going to visit great-grandma and great-grandpa,” you reminded her. “Not go on a BTS Jungkook tour.”

“Look if you want you can stay and play dolls with great-grandma. I’ll go meet the guys,” she rolled her eyes. “And his name is not BTS Jungkook, just Jungkook. I’ve told you this a thousand times.”

“You said we were going to hangout more there,” you pointed at her.

“Well, of course. Dad is not gonna let me go alone to places. I need you for that.”

“You’re using me to meet these losers?.”

“They’re not losers!”

“I don’t want to met them. So fuck them and you.”

She pointed at you. “We’re literally going when they’re having their free concert. We’re meant to run into them.”

You stared at her for a second, then leaned back into the sofa again, picking your phone back up. “I’ll schedule a therapist appointment for you once we’re back.”

Hana rolled her eyes again, some way still too pleased with herself. “You’ll see. I’ll do everything on my list. First stop: Soju & Soul.”

You were going to commit murder before arriving to Korea.

‘Soju & Soul’

Somewhere across the world, in that crowded restaurant filled with low conversation and warm light, Jungkook sat at a table surrounded by people he actually knew. Which, lately, felt important.

The place wasn’t empty, it never really was those days. But it wasn’t chaotic either. Just busy enough to blend in, just quiet enough to pretend things were normal. He liked places like that. He liked places where he could sit down, eat, talk— without everything turning into something else. He used to liked it more when it wasn’t filled with people waiting for him. But he had learned to accept he couldn’t control those things. He still kept coming back time to time, he loved the food there.

Still, he noticed it. He always did.

The occasional glance from another table. Aphone lifted just a little too casually. Someone whispering and then looking away too fast.

He didn’t react, he’d learned not to.

“Are you even listening?” someone across from him asked.

Jungkook blinked, refocusing. “Yeah,” he said automatically.

“You’re not.”

He smiled a little. “I am. You were saying something about tomorrow.”

His friend narrowed his eyes, unconvinced, but continued anyway. The conversation moved on. His friends were familiar with his zone-out moments. They knew him that much already. He appreciated that. That bond, that part was real. And he held onto that. Because everything outside of it wasn’t always.

He loved what he did. He really did. The music, the stage, the connection, it meant something to him. It always had… But the rest of it? The guessing, the assumptions, the rumours, the lies… The way people thought they knew him because they knew of him. That part was harder. Not impossible. Just… tiring. And sometimes it even felt like people loved the idea of him more than anything else.

And there wasn’t much he could do about that.

After a while, he pushed his chair back slightly, glancing toward the door. “I’m heading out.”

“Already?”

“Yeah. Have to wake up early tomorrow.”

A few teasing comments followed, nothing serious. His friends were use to his busy schedule, specially those days.

He grabbed his jacket, slipping it on as he made his way toward the exit. He felt it, that shift in the room, subtle but there. He stepped outside, the night air cooler than he expected, and exhaled slowly.

Almost free…

“Excuse me—!”

He stopped before slowly turning. A girl stood a few steps away, phone already in her hand, eyes wide with that mix of excitement and disbelief he recognized instantly.

“Can I— Can I take a picture with you?”

There it was.

He smiled, soft and easy. “Of course.”

She lit up. It took less than ten seconds. A quick photo. A thank you, a gratitude for his music. Another cute smile. And then he was already walking away.

“Thank you,” she said, breathless.

“No problem.”

The next morning, it was everywhere.

A blurry picture. A headline that didn’t make sense. Speculation that spread faster than it should. Him and her standing close and smiling before the picture. It didn’t matter that it was a fan. It didn’t matter that it lasted ten seconds. It didn’t matter that it meant nothing. Because to everyone else it meant everything.

And just like that, somewhere out there, a girl who had only asked for a picture became a target. Comments flooded in. Speculation, hate, jealously dressed up as concern. Jungkook stared at his phone longer than he should have.

BTS JEON JUNGKOOK SPOTTED WITH MYSTERY GIRL

The comments were worse, they always were. It didn’t matter what actually happened, what mattered was what people thought happened. And that— That was something he couldn’t control. And something he hated.

——————————

The first thing you noticed about Seoul wasn’t the noise. It was how alive everything felt. Like the city never really paused, just shifted pace depending on the time of day. Even from the car window, as you leaned your head against the glass and watched everything pass by, there was always something happening. People walking fast like they had somewhere important to be. Small shops squeezed between bigger buildings. Neon signs still faintly visible even in daylight.

It felt… full. You didn’t hate it. You actually kind of liked it.

Still, by the time you pulled up in front of your great-grandparents’ house, you were more than ready to just stop for a second. Specially after the long hours flight. The house itself made you blink.

“Damn,” you said, sitting up straighter. “I didn’t remember being this big.”

Hana, who had been glued to her phone the entire ride, barely glanced up. “Yeah.”

You looked at it again. It wasn’t just a house. It was big, not in a flashy, modern way but in that quiet, old, this has been here for a long time kind of way. The gate, the small garden, the structure itself— it all felt solid. Lived in.

“Why does it look like we’re visiting royalty?” you muttered.

Hana snorted. “Relax. It’s just old money vibes.”

“That’s not better.”

Your parents were already getting out of the car, greeting your great-grandparents like no time had passed at all. There was a lot of hugging. A lot of talking at once. That warm, slightly chaotic energy that came with family reunions.

You followed a little slower, taking everything in. The air smelled different there. Cleaner, somehow. Or maybe you were just imagining it. Inside, it was even more noticeable— the mix of old and new. Traditional details blended with modern touches, like time had just adjusted instead of moving on.

You slipped your shoes off near the entrance, stepping inside carefully.

“Wow,” you said under your breath.

“Right?” Hana replied, already walking ahead like she owned the place.

You glanced around, fingers brushing lightly against the wall as you moved further in. There was something comforting about it, even if it wasn’t entirely familiar.

Your great-grandmother smiled at you, giving you another big hug it almost made you out of breath before she took your hand to the kitchen. She already had the table full of food ready to feed you and your sister.

Amazing. What a great start of the week.

The rest of the afternoon passed in that slow, slightly overwhelming way family visits always did. More food appeared out of nowhere. Conversations overlapped. You sat, listened, nodded, smiled when your great grandparents gave you compliment after compliment. It was nice reuniting with family. But still exhausting.

Hana, surprisingly, behaved… for about an hour. After that, she was back on her phone.

By the time you finally escaped to your room, which you were glad you had one for you, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. You dropped onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

“Okay,” you said. “I need a break.”

“From what?” Hana asked, entering your room and falling into your bed like it was hers.

“From existing.”

She hummed, clearly not paying attention. You turned your head to look at her. She was now sitting cross-legged on the bed, phone in one hand, laptop open in front of her, tabs everywhere.

“Can we do something tomorrow?” you asked. No response. “Hana.”

“What?”

“Can we do something tomorrow?” you repeated. “Like— together.”

She glanced at you for half a second. “Yeah, sure.”

You narrowed your eyes slightly. “That sounded fake.”

“It wasn’t.”

“It sounded fake.”

“I said yes,” she replied, already looking back at her screen. “What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know,” you said. “Walk around, explore, get food… normal things.”

“Okay.”

Another pause. You waited but nothing. “Hana.”

“What?”

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Yes.”

“What did I just say?”

She sighed dramatically, finally closing her laptop halfway. “You want to ‘hangout’ or whatever.”

You stared at her. “Wow. You make it sound so fun spending time with me.”

“It’s not that,” she said quickly. “It’s just— Tonight it’s the free concert. I’m trying to see how I can get in.”

You sat up, already annoyed. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

“Hana. You just got here.”

“And?”

“And you want to run off to a shitty concert to see some boys?”

“It’s not a shitty concert!”

You rubbed your face with your hands. “I can’t believe this.”

“They don’t do this all the time,” she continued, already grabbing her phone again. “This is like— once in a lifetime.”

“You say that about everything they do.”

“Because everything is once in a lifetime!”

“That’s not how that works.”

She ignored you. “I think I can get there—”

You rolled your eyes, thinking how irritating she was. “Hana, shut up. You’re stupid.”

She sighed, clearly over the conversation. “Look, we can hang out tomorrow, okay? I promise.”

“You said that five minutes ago.”

“And I meant it.”

You watched her for a second. Then shook your head, getting up from the bed. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Where are you going?”

“To talk to people who actually hear me when I speak.”

“That’s dramatic.”

You didn’t answer but just walked out. Your sister was a bitch sometimes. Only interested in those damn boys.

On the other side of the city, things were moving a little faster.

The room wasn’t huge, but it was filled. Managers, staff, screens displaying schedules, notes, last-minute adjustments. The kind of chaos that came before any performance, even one that was supposed to feel casual but it was in reality a big one. It was the finally damn comeback.

Jungkook leaned back slightly in his chair, listening as someone went over the setlist again.

“…and we’ll keep the transitions quick. No long breaks,” one of the staff members said. “We want to keep the energy up.”

“Got it,” someone else replied.

Jungkook nodded along, eyes scanning the paper in front of him even though he already knew most of it.

Free concerts were always different, less pressure in some ways but more in others. There were no tickets, no barriers in the same way— just people showing up because they wanted to be there. He liked that, it felt closer and more real.

“Anything else?” the tour manager asked, looking around the room. A few heads shook. “Alright. Let’s keep it clean tonight. No issues.”

Jungkook almost smiled at that. No issues, that was easier said than done.

The meeting wrapped up quickly after that, people standing, gathering their things, moving on to whatever came next. Jungkook stayed seated for a second longer, stretching his arms slightly before standing up.

“Hey,” his manager said, nodding toward the hallway. “A second?”

Jungkook followed without questioning it. They stepped into a quieter space, the noise from the main room fading just enough to make the shift noticeable.

“What’s up?” Jungkook asked.

His manager glanced at him, then leaned slightly against the wall. “That brand you mentioned a while ago,” he said. “Se-seil.”

Jungkook’s expression shifted, just slightly. “Yeah?”

“They’re interested.”

He blinked, his heart beating a little faster. “Wait— seriously?”

“Yeah. Not signed yet,” his manager clarified. “But they want to start talks. Ambassador deal.”

Jungkook let out a small breath, something between relief and excitement. “That’s—” he shook his head a little. “That’s amazing.”

“It is,” his manager agreed. “It’s big.”

Se-seil wasn’t just any Korean brand. It was selective. Clean image, high expectations, specially in the country. Not the kind of deal you got easily. Didn’t even matter if you were a big star, they were dedicated with their marketing and their reputation. Jungkook had wanted that deal for a long time, it felt like a big thing for him and his image. Specially now that he was in his lates twenties.

“Okay,” he said. “So what’s the catch?” His manager didn’t answer immediately which was answer enough. Jungkook’s smile faded slightly. “What?”

“They want you to keep a low profile for a while.”

Jungkook frowned confused. “I already do.”

“You know what I mean,” his manager said. “No rumors. No headlines. Nothing that can turn into something.”

Jungkook exhaled quietly. “…Right.”

His manager watched him for a second before continuing. “There’s been talk.”

“About?”

“You.”

Jungkook let out a small, humorless laugh. “There’s always talk.”

“Yeah,” his manager said. “But this one’s sticking, specially to the marketing team of the brand.”

Jungkook looked at him. “What are they saying?”

There was a brief pause. “That you’re getting… comfortable.”

He frowned. “What does that even mean?”

“That you’re going out more. That you’re being seen with different girls,” his manager said, keeping his tone even. “That you’re starting to act like you don’t have to follow the same rules anymore.”

Jungkook stared at him. “That’s not—”

“I know,” his manager cut in. “But that’s not the point.” Silence stretched between them. “They see a big ego,” he continued. “A wanna be playboy. Someone who thinks he’s too big now to fit the idol picture.”

Jungkook didn’t say anything. He froze for a second. “…That’s ridiculous,” he said finally, quieter.

“Maybe,” his manager said. “But it’s what’s being said.” There was another pause. “So,” he added, “we keep it simple for now. Stay low, at least for the next two weeks. Stick with the group. No good headlines, no bad headlines. Just music and how much you love each other.”

Jungkook nodded slowly, understanding immediately. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Just for a while,” his manager said. “Until they convinced the owner of the brand. He’s an old man, needs time.” He shrugged. “You want the deal, right?”

“Yeah, yeah. I can play low. Got it.”

His manager gave him a small nod before heading back toward the main room. Jungkook stayed where he was. Just for a second. The words lingered longer than he expected. Wanna be playboy. Big ego. Too big for the idol image. He let out a quiet breath, running a hand through his hair. That was funny. How people could decide who you were without ever actually knowing you. It bothered him. But he already knew the game by now so he didn’t let it get under his skin.

He pushed himself off the wall, expression settling back into something neutral.

“No headlines for the next weeks,” he muttered to himself

He could easily do that… yeah. Of course.

——————————

You were lying face down on the bed, fully dressed in what could only be described as giving up for the day. An oversized hoodie, worn-out sweatpants, and socks that didn’t match.

You were trying to get some needed rest when Hana walked in like she was about to attend the most important event of her life. You didn’t even look up at first. You just felt it. That shift in energy. That unnecessary confidence. That very specific kind of presence that meant she had spent way too long getting ready for something that absolutely did not require that level of effort.

“…No,” you said into your pillow.

There was a silence and then... “You didn’t even look.”

“I don’t need to,” you replied, voice muffled. “I can hear the outfit.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

You rolled onto your back with a sigh, finally looking at her and immediately rolled your eyes. “Hana.”

“What?”

“Why do you look like you’re about to get proposed to?”

She scoffed, adjusting something invisible on her dress. “It’s called dressing nicely.”

“It’s called overdressing,” you corrected. “You’re going to a free concert, not the Met Gala. And is not even summer, you’re gonna freeze.”

She ignored that completely, turning slightly to check herself in the mirror again. “You could at least try,” she added, glancing at you. “You look like you just survived something.”

“I am right now,” you said. “You.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re so dramatic.”

“And you’re dressed like an arab wedding guest.”

That made her pause, narrowing her eyes at you. “You need to come with me.”

You blinked. “…No, I don’t.”

“You need to.”

“No.”

She turned fully now, hands on her hips. “Dad won’t let me go alone.”

You sat up a little, unimpressed. “That sounds like a you problem.”

“It’s an us problem now.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Hear me out,” she said quickly, walking closer. “Please. Just this once.”

You stared at her. “I thought you said this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

“It is.”

“So go live your life. Sneak by the window or something.”

“Dad will notice and you know how it is when he gets paranoid!”

You let out a small laugh. “So your plan is to drag me into it?”

“Yes.”

“Wow. Great plan.”

She dropped onto the edge of your bed, grabbing your arm lightly. “Come on. I won’t ask you for anything else this trip.”

“You are already asking me too much,” you muttered.

“I’m serious,” she insisted. “Just come with me, stay for a bit, and then I do whatever you want afterwards. I swear.”

Now that was a better deal.

You narrowed your eyes slightly. “…Whatever I want?”

“Yes.”

You tilted your head. “You’ll shut up about BTS and Jungkook?”

She hesitated. “…Yes. For the rest of the trip.”

“What about for the rest of your life?.”

She groaned, flopping back dramatically. She covered her face for a second, annoyed with you. “Fine.”

You smiled. “…That was fast.”

“I said fine,” she repeated, pointing at you. “But you actually have to help me get in.”

“I’m coming with you and lying to our parents. I think that’s enough.”

She sat up again, suddenly determined. “Okay, change fast. We need to go now.”

You stared at each other for a second. Then you sighed.

“I’m not changing. I’ll stay in the car while you do your thing,” you muttered, standing up. She look at you unbelievably. “Let’s just go before I change my mind.”

She groaned again. “Fine, let’s go.”

The lie came surprisingly easy when you confronted your parents downstairs. It wasn’t exactly that you needed permission to go out since you were grow ups but it was mostly your dad being worried that something could happen to any of you since you didn’t know the city that well and clearly weren’t locals.

“We’re just going for a walk downtown,” Hana said casually, leaning against the door like she hadn’t just spent three hours getting ready.

“And maybe get something to drink,” you added, trying to sound normal.

Your parents barely questioned it. Which, honestly, felt suspicious.

“Don’t stay out too late,” your mom said.

“Let the girls have fun,” your grand grandmother smiled at you both before throwing her key cars to your sister.

It was like she knew you were planning something else. You nodded with a fake excited smile, already stepping outside before anything else could be added. The second the door closed behind you both run to the car your granny had give you the keys to use.

The car was… something. You stared at it for a second before getting in.

“Why is it so purple?”

“It’s vintage.”

“It’s purple.”

“Still vintage.”

“Ugly vintage.”

Hana ignored you, already starting the engine and started driving with way too much confidence for someone who definitely shouldn’t be driving that fast. You gripped the door slightly.

“I’ll drive fast. Can’t lose more time.” She warned you.

“God, I should’ve gotten my license years ago.”

You were regretting a lot of your life choices already.

By the time you reached Gwanghwamun, it was chaos. Not violent chaos just a shit ton of people. Everywhere. Lights, noise, movement, energy. The kind of crowd that made you immediately reconsider every life choice that led you there. You were a little anxious. Hana, on the other hand, looked like she had just found heaven.

“This is insane,” she breathed.

“Yeah,” you said. “That’s one word for it.”

And somehow, somehow, she found a parking spot. A good one. Close enough to see the crowd, far enough to not get stuck in it. You stared at her as she parked.

“…That was suspiciously easy.”

“It’s fate,” she said.

“I don’t think it’s legal to park here.”

She turned the engine off, already unbuckling her seatbelt and taking the keys with her. “I’ll be fast.”

“That’s not true!,” you clocked her. “And why are you taking the keys?.”

“Just in case. So you don’t leave me.”

You rolled your eyes. “If an officer comes and I can’t move the car I’m giving your ID.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just text me anything.” She rolled her eyes, opening the door. “Just don’t fall asleep or something.”

“No promises.”

You watched her step out, adjusting her outfit like she was about to step onto a stage herself. Then she walked toward the big ass crowd of people trying to get inside too. And within seconds— You saw her arguing with a security guard, probably giving her fake argument that she was a big fansite who needed to get inside to do her job.

Of course. She was so annoyingly persistent.

You immediately leaned your head back against the seat. “Great,” you muttered. “I’ll be here forever.”

You lost sight of her not long after that.

Poof! She was just… gone. Swallowed by people. Amazing.

Thirty minutes later, you were still in the car. Doing absolutely nothing.

You checked your phone. scrolled for over three hundred different videos, a lot of them being korean adds you were already done watching by the second one. You locked it. Checked it again a minute later. And repeated that a thousand times. Nothing, absolutely nothing. Your friends back home were sleeping, you didn’t have enough data anymore to put some youtube or a netflix show and you couldn’t even put music because the car was turn off.

Fuck it.

You sighed, pushing the door open and stepping out.

The air was louder out here. The music reached you immediately— distant, but clear enough to recognize the rhythm, the beat carrying through the crowd like something alive.

You stood there for a second, listening. And then, the voices felt closer. It felt familiar… even if you didn’t want them to be.

“We can go all night

Don't you close your eyes

Don't you fear the light

All night…”

You tilted your head slightly, arms crossing over your chest as you listened. You knew they weren’t bad. They were even more than okay, they were great. You could admit that. But that wasn’t the point, it wasn’t. You didn’t hate their music. You didn’t even hate him. You just hated what it did. How every time you tried to talk to Hana, your sister, she was somewhere else. How every plan somehow turned into something about them. How you always felt like you were competing with something you couldn’t even see.

It was like you were fighting for a place in her life that didn’t even have time for you.

You kicked lightly at the ground. Your phone buzzed. You glanced at it.

Hana: IM INSIDE

You: how

Hana: don’t ask

Hana: IM TRYING TO GET CLOSER

You: of course you are

Hana: watch me get front stage bitch

You stared at the screen. Then laughed quietly to yourself.

Yeah. Of course she will do that.

You looked around. Most of the nearby places were empty, everyone either at the concert or trying to get in. That meant every store was either empty or had a little to few people. Which was amazing because you were hungry as hell. And you deserved some good food after doing all that for your sister.

You decided to ignore google maps and just walk around, the view was beautiful. All the city was painted in purple— which you knew exactly why— but it was decorated so beautiful it made your irritation disappear. There was a lot of people walking around and singing or dancing or recording. The place was packed on the streets but the stores and restaurants were mostly empty. You walked a lot until you find a good spot in an alley that didn’t seemed too full.

The restaurant you found wasn’t anything special. Small, quiet, a little hidden from the main street like it didn’t really care about being noticed. It was perfect.

You stepped inside, the sudden calm almost shocking after the noise outside. An older woman stood behind the counter, looking up as you entered. You smiled, a little awkward.

“Hi.” you said, walking to her while looking at the little menu in the counter. “Do you recommend me something?.”

She smiled at you before nodding. “Sit, sit,” she said, gesturing to a table. “I’ll choose for you.”

“Well, okay. Thank you.” You sat down, glancing around. It felt… nice, simple and warm. You were hungry.

After some minutes she brought you a bowl of ramen not long after, placing it in front of you with a small smile. You looked at it. “…Wow.”

“It’s my secret recipe,” she clearly proud.

You nodded quickly. “It looks amazing.” You took the hot steam soup to your mouth, tasting the food, immediately groaning of satisfaction. “Okay— that’s really good.”

She smiled wider this time before started talking about her recipe. And you knew you were going to be there for long, long time.

You two talked about some recipes and the different things and spices you had back home and how the food felt completely different even with the same condiments. It was a long conversation. By the time you finished eating and paid, you felt lighter. Like maybe the night wasn’t a complete waste… Until you checked your phone.

Three hours. You stared at the screen. “…You’ve got to be kidding me.”

No new messages. Of course. Your sister was probably still trapped in that place doing Lord knows what. Specially with how many people were there it was going to take a lot of time for her to get back.

You stepped outside, saying goodbye to the old woman whose name you learned was Gaon. The distant sound of the concert still echoing through the city. The walk to the car wasn’t close but it wasn’t exactly far either. You took a shortcut, because of course you did. An alley, narrow but lit enough to feel safe.

At least at first.

You adjusted your hoodie slightly, hands tucked into the pocket as you walked, your mind already somewhere else. And then—

Boom!

The door flew open. You didn’t even have time to react. It hit you hard— right on the side of your head. “—shit—!”

And suddenly the ground was rushing up to meet you. Everything tilted. Your vision blurred for a second as you stumbled, then fell, the impact knocking the air out of your lungs as you hit the pavement. Pain spread almost immediately, sharp and disorienting.

Ouch.

——————————

By the time Jungkook finally sat down to eat, the adrenaline from the performance hadn’t fully left his system yet.

It never did, not right away. There was always that leftover energy buzzing under his skin, like his body hadn’t gotten the message that it was over. His ears still rang faintly, not painfully, just enough to remind him of the crowd, the music, the way thousands of voices could somehow feel both overwhelming and grounding at the same time.

The restaurant had been rented out for the night, one of those places that felt exclusive without trying too hard, low lighting, warm tones, tucked away just enough to avoid unnecessary attention. A good choice, considering who he was with.

The 97 line didn’t do subtle… or quiet. Or anything remotely calm when they were all in the same room.

“You missed a line of that song,” Mingyu pointed out, leaning back in his chair with a grin. “What happened? Got distracted?”

Jungkook snorted, grabbing his glass. “Yeah, because I’ve never done a concert before.”

“Just saying,” he added, nudging him slightly. “You looked like you were in your own world out there.”

“That’s literally my job.”

“Your job is to sing, not dissociate.”

“I wasn’t—” Jungkook started, then paused, shaking his head with a small smile. He knew they were just trying to bother him. “You guys are annoying.”

“We are making you a better idol.”

“You all should learn from me, fuckers.”

They laughed, the conversation flowing easily after that, random topics, teasing, inside jokes that didn’t need explaining. It was comfortable, familiar. The kind of environment where he didn’t have to think too much about anything outside of the moment.

Which was exactly why it ended too fast.

Jungkook checked the time on his phone, his expression shifting slightly. “…Okay, I have to go.”

Groans immediately followed. “You just got here.”

“I’ve been here for an hour.”

“That’s not enough.”

“It has to be,” he said, already standing up and reaching for his jacket. “I’m late.”

“Hybe party?” Eunwoo asked.

“Yeah.”

“Tell them we said hi.”

“You’re not going later?.”

“Not really feeling in the mood. But you know we’re proud of you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jungkook replied, pulling his jacket on. “See you guys.”

A few more comments followed him as he made his way toward the exit, shaking his head lightly but smiling anyway. He pushed the door open without really thinking about it— his mind already halfway out, already shifting to what came next.. and then something hit. Or really… someone.

There was a thud. A sharp, immediate sound that didn’t match anything around him.

Jungkook froze. And then looked down.

“Oh— oh my God!” he stepped forward quickly, eyes widening as he saw you on the ground. “Did I just hit you?!”

You blinked up at him, clearly disoriented, one hand already moving instinctively toward your head. “No,” you said flatly, wincing. “The door hit me by itself.”

He stared at you for half a second. “…Right. Yeah. No, no. I’m sorry.” He frowned, looking at the alley where a song he knew perfectly started getting louder. “Oh, no. That— this is not good.”

You groaned slightly, pushing yourself up just enough to sit, your expression tightening as the pain settled in properly.

“Yeah, no shit.”

Jungkook crouched down immediately, hovering like he wasn’t entirely sure where to help or what to touch. “Are you okay? That looked really bad.”

“I’m amazing,” you muttered. “I love getting hit by doors.”

He let out a breath, somewhere between concern and disbelief. “Okay, sarcasm. That’s a good sign, right?”

You opened your eyes properly now, finally focusing on him—

“…Oh.”

Holy shit.

Jungkook blinked. “What?”

You stared at him for a second longer, your brain clearly trying to catch up with your eyes. “Oh, wait. Holy shit. You’re—”

He reacted immediately, one hand coming up to gently— but quickly— cover your mouth.

“I’ll give you free tickets to the first concert of the tour if you don’t scream my name right now.”

You froze for a second at his touch before frowning, annoyed. Who the hell did he think he was? You shoved his hand away, a little harsh.

“I don’t want tickets for your stupid concert,” you snapped, your voice coming out sharper than you intended as your head throbbed again.

Jungkook blinked. “…Wow.” He leaned back slightly, studying you. “You really hit your head.”

Before you could respond, the door behind him opened again; this time slower, and a couple of his friends stepped out, immediately taking in the scene.

“What happened?”

“She got hit by the door,” Jungkook said quickly.

“You hit her with the door,” Mingyu corrected, stepping closer.

“I didn’t mean to!”

“Who does?.”

You let out a small, pained sound, pressing your hand more firmly against your forehead. “…Why is everything spinning?”

All three of them looked at you, then at each other.

“…Is she bleeding?” Eunwoo asked.

Jungkook leaned in slightly, eyes focusing on your forehead and immediately tensing. “…Yeah.”

You blinked. “What do you mean ‘yeah’?”

“Like— just a little,” he added quickly. “It’s not— like, a lot.”

“That’s not reassuring.”

“Okay, it’s a little more than a little.”

“Great.”

“You should probably sit still.”

“I am sitting still!”

There was a brief pause.

“Oh, shit,” Mingyu muttered, glancing toward the street.

Jungkook followed his gaze. And immediately understood. The music was still echoing through the area, but closer now. People moving around, voices getting louder, fans walking, wandering, noticing. And noticing them.

“Okay,” Eunwoo said quickly. “We need to move.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook agreed, already helping you up carefully. “Can you stand?”

“Define stand,” you muttered, but you let him pull you up anyway, swaying slightly once you were on your feet.

“…Okay, maybe not.”

“Take my car. They probably know yours already,” Eunwoo said, already backing away. “We’ll distract them.”

“But—”

“I’ll bring it for you,” he insisted. “We got it.”

Jungkook hesitated for half a second. Then nodded. “Okay. Thanks.” He turned back to you, steadying you as the noise around you grew just slightly louder. “Come on.”

You squinted at him. “I don’t like this.”

“Yeah, I can tell.”

“No, I mean— I really don’t like this.”

“You’ll like the hospital more,” he said.

“I doubt it.”

You took one step. Then another. And then suddenly— you stopped, your stomach making a weird noise before you turned slightly and promptly threw up… right onto someone’s shoes.

There was a very loud, very offended: “—ARE YOU SERIOUS?!”

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, eyes watering slightly. “…Sorry.”

Mingyu looked down at his shoes like his entire life had just ended. “These were new!”

Jungkook winced. “…Dude, I’m so sorry.”

“She threw up on me!”

“I know, I saw.”

“Do you know how expensive these were!?”

“Not the time!”

You groaned, holding your head again. “My sister’s still at the concert,” you mumbled, words slightly slurred together. “She’s gonna kill me.”

Jungkook glanced at you. “…We’ll deal with your sister later.”

“My sister’s gonna kill me.”

“Okay, yeah, that’s fair,” he admitted.

The car pulled up quickly after that, Eunwoo opened the door for him. “Go, go,”

Mingyu still looking personally betrayed by his friend opened the door for you, helping you get in. “Get in before this gets worse.”

“You have a nice hair,” you muttered to him, trying to be nice.

“Shut the fuck up,” he pushed you inside. What a weird guy, you thought. He looked at his friend. “Text me.”

“I will!”

“You owe me new shoes!”

“I know!”

He shut the door.

Finally. Silence. Well, not silence. The city was still there. The distant noise, the leftover energy from the concert, but inside the car, it felt… contained.

Jungkook exhaled, starting the engine. “Okay, here. Drink this.” He gave you a bottle of water. Or at least what is seemed it was. When you didn’t complained he assumed he was right. He glanced at you. “We’re going to—” His phone rang. He froze for half a second before answering. “Yeah?”

His manager’s voice came through immediately. “Where are you?”

“In the car. Why?”

“You need to get to the after party now.”

Jungkook frowned. “I’m on my way, I just—”

“The Se-seli director is here. With his daughters. They’re asking for you.”

He went still. “…Now?”

“Yes. Now.”

Jungkook glanced at you again. You were leaning back against the seat, eyes half-closed, clearly bothered by what had happened.

“…Okay, yes,” he said, lowering his voice slightly. “I’ll be there in as fast as I can go.”

“Hurry.”

The line went dead. Jungkook stared at his phone for a second then sighed.

“…Okay.” He looked at you again then made a decision. “I really need to go to Hybe’s building,” he said, starting the car properly this time. “It’s really close. They’ve got doctors there.”

You opened one eye. “…Real doctors?”

“…Very real,” he said, a little too quickly. An obvious lie.

You stared at him for a second, then closed your eyes again. “Okay. Just hurry up.”

He nodded, even though you weren’t really looking anymore. “Yeah, yeah.” he muttered. “I will.”

You fumbled for your phone, squinting at the screen as you typed.

You: getting food, will meet u later

You hit send. And let your head fall back again. Neither of you said anything after that. The car moved through the city, fast but controlled, both of you sitting in the same space for the first time.

——————————

The building was… a lot.

You didn’t even fully process it at first because your head still hurt in that deep, annoying way that made everything feel slightly delayed, like your brain was buffering in real time. But even through that, even through the dizziness and the lingering nausea, you could tell this wasn’t just any place.

It was big. Not just physically— though, yes, it was that too— but in presence. Glass, lights, people moving with purpose like they actually knew what they were doing, security that looked like they didn’t joke around, and just enough activity to make it obvious something important was happening somewhere inside.

You squinted slightly as Jungkook parked.

“…Where are we?”

He didn’t even hesitate. “Work.”

“…You brought me to work.” You turned your head slowly to look at him.

“I told you I had doctors.”

“In your dance studio?”

“They’re good,” he insisted, already getting out of the car and rushing around to your side.

“That’s not how that works,” you muttered, but you let him help you out anyway, your balance still slightly off as your feet hit the ground. The second you were fully upright, he didn’t give you time to question anything else, just grabbed your hand and guided you inside the elevator. You took it out of his grip harshly. “I know how to walk.”

“I was just helping,” he frowned a little offended. “Let’s go.”

The lobby was even worse, people everywhere. Not chaotic, but in that busy, efficient way that somehow made you feel more out of place than actual chaos would’ve.

You instinctively pulled your hood up a little more. “Why are there so many people?” you whispered.

“There’s an event,” he replied quickly, steering you toward a hallway before anyone could look too closely. “Just— don’t look at anyone.”

“That’s easy,” you muttered. “I already don’t want to be here.”

“Great. Perfect attitude.”

He moved fast. Too fast for you, honestly. At one point you almost tripped over your own feet and had to grab onto the back of his shirt just to steady yourself. You didn’t let go. Jungkook cleared his throat before continue walking, a little flustered by the act without you noticing.

“Slow down,” you complained.

“We can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because if we stop, people will notice you with me and will start asking questions.”

“About what?”

“About you.”

You frowned. “…Why?”

He stopped walking for half a second. Then turned to you like that was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Because you’re with me, because you have a little blood on your head. And becuase you’re… a girl.”

You blinked. “A girl?.”

“Yeah. A girl.”

Before you could say anything else, he opened a door with a code and gently, but quickly, pushed you inside. The room was quiet. Dimmer than the hallway, filled with equipment you didn’t have the energy to properly register yet. Speakers, instruments, cables, things that screamed music even if your brain was too slow to process details.

“Stay here,” he said.

You turned to him, immediately suspicious. “…Why?”

“Because—” he ran a hand through his hair quickly, glancing back at the hallway like someone might walk in any second, “—because I don’t need people asking questions right now.” He stared at you. “‘Who’s she?’ ‘How do you know her?’ ‘Why is she bleeding?’ ‘Are you two dating?’”

“Dating?” You made a face. “Ugh.”

He paused. “…Ugh?”

“I mean… Yikes.”

“You’re offended?”

“I’m concerned,” you corrected. “That anyone would think that.”

He blinked at you. Then let out a short fake laugh, shaking his head slightly. “Wow. Okay. That’s— good for my ego.”

“Bet you need your ego to get bigger, huh.” you said sarcastically. “And you’re the one hiding me,” you pointed out. “What does that say? Embarrassed of people seeing you with a non-famous person?”

“I’m not embarrassed of that,” he said quickly. “I just don’t want a scandal. I don’t want this—” he gestured vaguely at your forehead, “—turning into something else.”

You squinted at him. “…You mean like a dating scandal?”

He froze. “Well… yes.”

“Just because you’re a man and I’m a woman doesn’t mean we’re dating.”

“I know that but the media—” He groaned quietly, rubbing his face with irritation. “You wouldn’t understand. Just please stay here.”

You leaned slightly against the wall, still unimpressed. “Relax. I don’t want to be associated with you either.”

He titled his head, feeling offended. “Okay…That makes two of us.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

A pause. Then he pointed at the couch. “Sit.” You looked at it then back at him. There was a silence . His eye started twitching. “… Please.”

You rolled your eyes but sat down anyway. “Fine.”

“I’ll be back,” he said, already stepping toward the door again.

“Where are you going?”

“I have to show my face,” he replied. “Just for a bit.”

“And then?”

“And then I’ll come back and I promise I’ll take you to the doctor.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You better. I’m not planning on spending thousand of dollars in the ER if this is like America.”

“The health system—” He stopped himself. he was losing time. “I’ll obviously cover that. Just don’t move. I’ll be back quickly.”

“Yeah, you better make it quick because if you don’t I will bleed dramatically on your expensive floor.

“That’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

He shook his head, already opening the door. “Don’t touch anything.”

“Now I’m definitely touching everything.”

“I— God, why is this happening to me?”. He groaned, giving you a last serious look. “Stay.” he ordered like you were a dog.

And then he was gone.

“Woof?”

For a while, you actually stayed where you were. Mostly because your head still hurt and moving felt like a bad idea. But also because the room itself was… interesting.

Once the dizziness settled just a little, your eyes started adjusting, taking in the details properly this time. The instruments, the equipment, the setup, it wasn’t just random. It was really organized. Organized in that messy way that meant people actually used it.

You stood up slowly, curiosity kicking in despite everything, walking a little further into the room. Yeah, the place was definitely cool as hell. You ran your fingers lightly over the edge of a table, glancing at a guitar resting nearby, then at a keyboard, then at a set of headphones that probably cost more than your entire house.

“Don’t touch anything,” you repeated under your breath. “Yeah, okay.”

You touched everything… Just a little, carefully.

You were about to grab a guitar when the door suddenly opened. You froze, completely. Two guys walked in mid-conversation, not even looking at you at first.

“…I’m telling you, that’s not how it works—”

“Then explain it to me again—”

They stopped, both of them. At the exact same time, like they were doing a choreography. And then slowly turned to look at you. There was a pause. A really long one where the three of you just stayed in silence, watching each other. It was easy to recognize them, specially when your sister couldn’t stopped talking about the blond haired guy and the one that had the face of a model.

You opened your mouth first.

“…Hi,” you said.

They blinked. Then one of them, Jimin, stepped forward slightly, squinting at you.

“…Who are you?… Why are you here?”

You opened your mouth and closed it. Then pointed vaguely behind you.

“I think I’m… not supposed to be here.”

“That’s not reassuring,” Taehyung said.

“And why are you bleeding?” Jimin added, eyes widening slightly as he got a better look at your forehead.

“Oh,” you said, touching it instinctively. “Yeah. That.”

“Yeah, that,” he repeated.

You hesitated for half a second. “Well— this guy named Jungkook hit me.”

There was a dead silence.

They both stared at you, then at each other again and then back at you.

“…JUNGKOOK HIT YOU?!” Jimin screamed aggravated.

Okay maybe your word choice wasn’t the best.

“With a door!,” you explained. “Accidentally... I think.”

“Oh my God,” Taehyung whispered, like he discovered why you were there. “We’re getting sued.”

“I’m not going to sue you,” you said.

“That’s exactly what someone who’s about to sue the shit out of us would say,” he replied immediately.

“I literally don’t even want to be here.”

“That’s worse,” Jimin said. “Did he kidnap you?.”

You stared at them. “…Are you serious right now?”

“No,” they both said at the same time. Then immediately— “Yes,” they added.

You blinked, they were so in sync it looked like they were acting. “…Wow.”

“Okay, okay— sit down,” Taehyung said quickly, grabbing a chair and pulling it toward you. “We need to check if you have a concussion.”

“You’re not doctors.”

“We have phones.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“It’s basically the same thing,” he insisted, already pulling out his phone. “Wait— how do you check for concussion—”

He opened YouTube. You stared at him unbelievably. “You’re using YouTube.”

“It’s reliable.”

“It’s not reliable.”

“Would you want us to check tiktok?” Jimin asked, he was seriously intrigued. “Do you think it’s a more trustful source?”

“Shh,” his friend called. “This guy looks like he knows what he’s doing.”

The other one leaned over his shoulder. “…He’s a fitness coach.”

“He’s close enough.”

You pressed your fingers to your temple. “I can’t believe my sister is obsessed with you people.”

They both looked at you again.

“…Your sister?” Taehyung repeated.

“Yeah.”

“She’s got good taste,” Jimin added, laughing.

“She has questionable judgment,” you corrected.

“Okay, follow my finger,” Taehyung said suddenly, holding his hand up in front of your face.

You stared at it. “…Why?”

“To see if your eyes track movement.” You sighed but followed it anyway. “There. See? She’s fine.”

“That doesn’t mean she’s fine, man”

“She’s talking.”

“So?”

“So people with concussions can talk!”

“That’s not helping!”

You stood up slowly. “…You know what? I’m good.”

They both looked at you. “You don’t look good,” Taehyung said.

“I feel… okay enough.”

“That’s not a medical term,” Jimin pointed out.

“Neither is whatever you’re doing.”

They hesitated. “…Fair.”

Jimin pulled out his phone. “Look, I actually have a great medical video that we can check—”

He started looking for his Youtube history. Taehyung leaned to look at it and started making fun of the videos he watched. You pressed your lips together and looked at the door.

Okay, whatever was outside couldn’t be worse than those two idiots.

You started moving slowly to the door while they kept fighting louder. You couldn’t tell if it was a bit or they were really bickering that harsh but you honestly didn’t care enough. You just wanted to leave that place as soon as possible. It was actually angering you the fact that you probably were having a concussion and superstar Jeon Jungkook decided his work was more important than taking you to an actual hospital.

What an asshole!

“Wait— where is she?!”

You started walking faster down the hallway when you heard the scream.

You didn’t really have a plan. You just… walked around, trying to find the elevator that could take you to the reception and you could get the fuck out of that place. You walked a lot for a building space. Through hallways, past doors, following whatever felt like an exit, your head still a little off but manageable now.

Okay… maybe you didn’t have a great sense of direction.

Mmmhmmm

You frowned a little intrigued. There was music, not loud like before in the city. Not overwhelming either. Just… there, clear and close. You slowed down slightly, curiosity creeping in again despite everything.

“…What now,” you muttered.

You followed the sound down another hallway. Up a short set of stairs. Until you reached an open space— The rooftop.

You stopped just before stepping fully into view, instinctively staying hidden near the entrance. And then you saw him. Jungkook. Standing under soft lights, a mic in his hand, the city stretching out behind him like it was part of the stage. There were a lot of people around, some sitting, some standing, watching quietly while drinking. It wasn’t too loud. It wasn’t a loud song either. It was… calm. And then he continued singing, not like before. Not like the concert.

This was different. Softer, clearer. His voice carried easily through the space, smooth and controlled in a way that didn’t feel forced, didn’t feel like it was trying to impress anyone. It just… was.

You stayed where you were, not moving, not interrupting. Just watching and listening. Jungkook was an asshole. And a enormous idiot. But God, he had the voice of an angel. You understood why people listened.

Something about you

Do you feel the way I do?

There's magic in the room

Tell me, do you feel it too?…

Okay that was enough. You needed to get the fuck out of there.

People started clapping, you consciously and weirdly put a hand in your forehead and started walking again. Walking down the stairs and following some people that were clearly leaving. You moved with them to the elevator, moving your hoodie slightly uncomfortable when you noticed you were clearly not dressed for the event. It was painfully obvious you were not part of these people.

Your phone buzzed in your pants. Your sister was texting you. Already two missing calls.

Hana: HELLO???

Hana: where the fuck are you???

Hana: i swear if u got lost i will leave you here

Hana: it can’t take you so long to eat something

Shit, she was going to kill you. What the hell were you supposed to tell?

‘Hey, sis. So remember the guy you’re obsessed with? Well he hit me in the forehead with a door, lie to me about taking me to the hospital and now i’m in the HYBE building where I met Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung— they’re really stupid, by the way— And I heard Jungkook performed but I feel like I’m about to pass out so now I’m trying to get the fuck out of here. What about you?’

You: i hit my head with a pole so i just went home

You: good luck with the traffic lol

Okay, just a little white lie. She was definitely gonna kill you anyway.

By the time you made it down to the parking garage where the elevator took you, your patience was officially gone.

Not low, not running out but gone. Completely. The kind of gone where everything started to feel ten times more irritating than it actually was. The lights too bright, the echo of your own footsteps too loud, your head still throbbing in that dull, persistent way that refused to let you forget what had happened.

You pressed your fingers lightly against your forehead as you walked, wincing. “…This is actually insane,” you muttered to yourself Because it was. You had come out for a walk. That was the lie. A simple, harmless lie…

And somehow, in the span of a few hours, you had:

• gone to a concert you didn’t care about 

• eaten ramen with a stranger who was objectively the highlight of your night 

• gotten hit in the head by a door

• been kidnapped— yes, kidnapped— to a big ass famous building 

• and accidentally met people your sister would probably sell her soul to even breathe near

You stopped for a second, staring ahead. “…I’m never leaving the house again.”

“Good plan.”

You froze. And then slowly turned around. And there he was. Leaning casually against one of the walls like he hadn’t just completely derailed your entire night, hands in his pockets, looking far too relaxed for someone who had, once again, found you bleeding.

You stared at him. “What the hell?.”

He pushed himself off the wall slightly, shaking his head. “I told you to stay in the studio.”

“Yeah,” you said flatly. “Well, fuck that.”

There was a brief pause. He tilted his head slightly, studying you. “I saw you upstairs.”

You frowned. “…Upstairs where?”

“The rooftop.” Oh. You blinked once. “You were standing by the door watching me sing.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You were.”

“I wasn’t.”

He let out a small breath, clearly choosing not to argue that point further. “Where are you going?”

You stared at him like the answer should’ve been obvious. “Home.”

“Just like that?”

“Yes, just like that.”

“You’re still bleeding.”

“I’ll survive.”

“That’s not very convincing.”

You rolled your eyes, turning slightly toward the exit again. “I’m not staying one more minute here.”

“I didn’t say you had to.”

“You literally left me in a room to go perform,” you snapped, turning back to him. “That’s exactly what you did.”

His expression shifted slightly. “I didn’t perform—”

“You were singing in front of people.”

“It wasn’t— Hah! You saw me!.”

“You told me we were going to see a doctor,” you continued, voice rising just a little despite yourself, ignoring his comment, “Theres are not any fucking doctors in here. I ended up in a studio with two guys watching a YouTube tutorial about concussions.”

He blinked. “…You what?”

“Your stupid friends found me in the studio and almost diagnosed me through a fitness coach. So yes, of course I want to leave!” He pressed his lips together, clearly trying not to laugh. “That’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

“It’s not funny,” you insisted, your head throbbing again as if to prove your point. “I just want to go home.”

There was a pause.

“I’m sorry.” You stopped for a second, because that… you weren’t expecting. You looked at him properly for the first time since you got down there. He didn’t look defensive or annoyed, just… genuine. “You’re right. I should’ve taken you straight to the hospital,” he added, running a hand through his hair. “That’s on me.”

You hesitated for half a second before looking away again. “…Yeah. It is.”

He nodded slightly. “Okay. So let me fix it. I’ll take you now.”

You let out a short, humorless laugh. “No.”

“No?”

“No,” you repeated. “I’m going home.”

“You need to get checked.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.”

“I’m walking, talking, and not unconscious. That’s fine.”

“That’s the bare minimum.”

“That’s all I’m aiming for.”

He stared at you for a second before stepping closer, clearly trying to stand his ground. “Look,” he said, voice calmer now but firmer too, “you hit your head hard enough to bleed and throw up. That’s not something you just ignore.”

You crossed your arms tighter. “Now you care? You should’ve taken me to the hospital an hour ago. Now I just wanna go home. I’ll deal with it later.”

“I know! But now I’ll do it. And that’s not dealing with it.”

“It is for me.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying you again in that annoyingly observant way. “You’re stubborn.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Okay, maybe I am. But you’re still injured.”

“You’re the reason I’m injured.”

“Fair,” he admitted. “But that still doesn’t change the fact that you should get checked.”

You huffed, turning away again. “I should’ve been checked an hour ago. If I have a concussion now it doesn’t even matter. I’ll probably die soon anyway.”

“That’s not comforting!” he exclaimed, panicking a little.

“It’s reality.” You let out a long breath, pressing your fingers to your temple again. “I just want this night to be over and go home.”

His expression softened slightly at that. “Then let me help you end it properly.”

You glanced at him. “…By taking me to a hospital you should’ve taken me to hours ago?”

“Yes. And then I’ll take you home. And then,” he said, holding your gaze this time, “you never have to see me again.”

You nodded fast. That actually convinced more than anything he said before. Because that was exactly what you wanted. No more chaos, no more weird situations, no more… him… and his weird dumb friends.

You looked at him for a second longer. “…Promise?”

He nodded. “Promise.”

You sighed, shoulders dropping slightly as your resistance finally started to wear down. “…Fine. Let’s go.” You pointed at him. “I swear to God If I end up back in another studio—”

“You won’t.”

“If someone tries to diagnose me with a YouTube video again—”

“They won’t.”

“If I die—”

“You’re not going to die!”

“You don’t know that.”

“I’m pretty sure.”

You exhaled sharply. “Okay. Can we just go now?” He smiled then. That stupid, soft, slightly crooked smile that didn’t match the situation at all and somehow made it worse. You knew that smiled. That bunny smile your sister couldn’t stop talking about. “…What?” you said immediately.

“Nothing.”

“Why are you smiling like that?”

“Like what?.”

“Like an idiot.”

“I’m not!”

“You are.”

“It’s just my face.”

You squinted at him. “…That’s unfortunate.”

He rolled his eyes, opening the car door for you. “Get in.”

You rolled your eyes too but got in anyway. “Drive fast.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

——————————

The hospital was huge.

In a dramatic, clean and expensive way. Bright lights, quiet hallways, people moving with purpose like they’d done the same routine a hundred times before and would do it a hundred more without thinking twice about it. The place was beautiful in a way a castle would be. You wondered how many the doctors would be getting yearly because it was insane.

You sat on the edge of the bed in one of the examination rooms, arms loosely crossed, trying not to look as tired as you felt while a doctor gently cleaned the dried blood from your forehead. It stung a little, enough to make you flinch once or twice, but nothing unbearable. Compared to the rest of the night, this was almost peaceful.

Across the room, Jungkook stood near the wall, hands in his pockets, watching in that way people did when they didn’t know where to stand or what to do with themselves. He hadn’t said much since you got there, just answered the receptionist, handled paperwork, paid without hesitation, and stayed out of the way while still very much there.

From his side, the whole situation felt like something he absolutely did not need right now.

He didn’t need his manager finding out he’d disappeared mid-event to take a girl— a random girl— to the hospital. He didn’t need questions. He definitely didn’t need this somehow turning into a headline. And, if he was being honest, he didn’t need to get sued either, because the way you kept reminding him that he had, in fact, hit you with a door made that possibility feel a little too real.

Still, he stayed. Because leaving you there alone would’ve been worse.

The doctor stepped back slightly after finishing, giving you a quick once-over. “No signs of concussion,” he said, slow and clear. “You may feel dizzy or have a headache, but that’s normal. Rest tonight. If anything gets worse, come back.”

You nodded.

“Okay.”

“No heavy activity,” he added, then paused, glancing between you and Jungkook like he was trying to figure something out but ultimately deciding not to ask. “You’re good.”

“Thank you,” Jungkook said quickly.

The doctor nodded once and left to fill some papers.

You exhaled, shoulders relaxing slightly now that it was officially over.

“…See?” you said, glancing at Jungkook. “I’m fine.”

He didn’t look convinced. “You threw up.”

“I was overwhelmed.”

“You got hit in the head.”

“By you,” you uttered .

“By a door,” he corrected.

You shrugged lightly. “Same thing.”

He let out a breath through his nose, somewhere between a sigh and a quiet laugh. “Let’s just go.”

The drive to your house was quieter at first.

You leaned your head back against the seat, eyes half-closed, finally starting to feel the weight of the night settle in now that the adrenaline had worn off. Your forehead throbbed less, but enough to remind you it was still there.

The silence started becoming a little uncomfortable after some minutes. Jungkook glanced over once at you before turning on the music. It was soft at first. Low enough to not be intrusive. You didn’t pay attention to it immediately, your focus somewhere between resting and staying awake just enough to not accidentally fall asleep in a stranger’s car.

But then you recognized it. And then Jungkook started singing.

If you wanna, if you wanna, I'll do a thing for you

If you wanna, if you wanna, I'll do the thing for you

If you wanna, if you wanna…

You opened one eye slowly. “…Really?”

He glanced at you briefly. “What?”

“You’re playing your own song.”

“And it’s good, huh?”

“Huh?” you repeated, sitting up slightly.

He shrugged one shoulder, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “I thought you’d liked it.”

You stared at him. “Lemme guess…You thought this was everyone’s dream, didn’t you?”

“What?”

“Being stuck in a car with the biggest pop star in the world while he sings his own hit songs. You thought I will be dying for this. Oh, my god. A fan’s dream come true.” He actually smiled at that, clearly not noticing you were being sarcastic and mean. You let out a small, tired laugh, shaking your head. “Well, there’s just one problem.”

“And that is?”

“I’m not your fan.”

The words landed a little heavier than he expected them to. Jungkook blinked, the smile fading just slightly, not offended, just… processing.

“What do you mean— you don’t… You don’t like BTS?” He frowned, a little hurt. “I mean, I thought you didn’t like me because I hit you with a door.”

“I don’t like you because you hit me with a door,” you confirmed. You glanced out the window, watching the city pass by. “I’m not a hater. I’m just not a fan.”

“You don’t like my music?”

“I didn’t say that,” you replied. “I like your music.”

“Okay,” he said slowly. “Then what—”

“I’m just not crazy over you. I don’t like you.”

He stared at the road for a second, then back at you. “But you don’t even know me.”

You nodded. “Precisely.”

That confused him, you could see it. “Wouldn’t that mean you should give me a chance?”

“To what?”

“To… like me.”

You raised an eyebrow. “That’s a bold assumption.”

“I think it’s accurate,” he said, a little more confident now. “If you knew me, you’d like me.”

You snorted. “Wow.”

“What?”

“That’s… very convincing,” you said sarcastically.

“It is.”

“It’s not.”

“It is.”

“It’s really not.”

He glanced at you again. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re full of yourself.”

“I’m not full of myself.”

“You just said I’d like you if I knew you,” you repeated.

“Because you would. If you knew me you would like me.”

“For the little time that I know you— not only have you lie to me but, you hit me with a door and treat me like a dog that has to obey you. So clearly I don’t like you.” You said, annoyed.

“That makes sense, but that was because I was in a hard situation!” He tried to explain. “You have to know me more. That way you would like—”

You shook your head, looking back out the window. “Turn right.”

He frowned slightly, the fact that you cut him off— ignoring him— and just gave him instructions like he was your driver threw him off a little. You were clearly not trying to be his friend or even nice to him.

Whatever.

He looked down at his GPS. “I could go straight.”

“Turn right.”

“It’s faster if I go straight.”

“It’s faster if you listen to me.”

He hesitated for a second. “…Fine.”

He turned. You leaned back again, satisfied. “See? Not so hard.”

“I still think my way was faster.”

“Your way is wrong.”

“My way is not wrong.”

“It is when I live here.”

“You don’t live here.”

“I’m staying here.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“It’s enough.”

He exhaled quietly, shaking his head. “You argue about everything.”

“You started it.”

“I did not start it.”

“You did.”

God, you were annoying.

By the time you pulled up in front of your great-grandparents’ house, the tension had settled into something… quieter. The music was still playing and luckily for Jungkook, it was all his new album songs— which now he knew irritated you— and that made him satisfied.

You unbuckled your seatbelt, already reaching for the door.

Jungkook spoke first. “…Hey.”

You paused, glancing at him. “What?”

He moved his head a little uncomfortable. “I just want to say I’m sorry and—”

“Noted. Are we done now?” You held his gaze for a moment, looking at him like he was an idiot.

He blinked, a little offended. “Yeah… I guess. Yeah—”

“Good.”

You opened the door, stepping out without looking back, already walking toward the house like you couldn’t get away from the him fast enough.

Jungkook watched you go for a second too long.

“Nice to meet you too,” he whispered sarcastically into the silence of the car. Then leaned back in his seat, letting out a long breath. “…What the hell was that,” he muttered to himself.

He reached for the ignition and immediately froze, something caught his eye. A van passing behind him slowly. The logo was subtle in the dark… but not subtle enough for him. It was some gossip new channel there in Korea.

His expression changed immediately, he leaned down, trying to hide.

Fucking shit.

“…You’ve got to be kidding me.” He looked again, they were turning around the zone probably looking for him. Probably had watched him leave the HYBE building or even the hospital. Fuck, maybe was the fucking doctor. “Shit, shit…”

He still had his friend’s car so they couldn’t really recognize him yet.

He sat there for half a second, thinking.

Then quickly got out of the car, moving toward your house before he could second-guess himself, knocking lightly on the window when he saw you over the curtains like a creep. You were drinking something. He knocked a little harder just as you were about to disappear inside.

You turned slowly to the window, confused before you opened it. “…What now? Go away.”

He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice and looking a little too anxious for your liking. “Look— I’ll give you a thousand dollars if you do me a favor.”

You stared at him. “…It’s not a favor if you pay for it.”

“…So is that a yes?”

You were so done with Jeon Jungkook.

A few minutes later, you were outside again, dragging the old car cover from your great-grandparents’ garage while Jungkook stood awkwardly nearby to your door entrance, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds like he expected someone to jump out at any moment.

“Hurry up,” he screamed in a whisper.

“I’m hurrying,” you shot back. “This thing weighs more than me.”

“Why is it so heavy?”

“It’s old.”

“That’s not an explanation.”

“It’s fabric from the past,” you said, throwing it over the car. “It’s built different.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Maybe not for idiots.”

He bit his tongue, holding back an insult becuase you were saving his ass. You adjusted it quickly, making sure it covered enough to be convincing. From a distance… well, it worked. You both looked at it.

“…Okay,” he said. “That’s actually good.”

“I know.” You turned back to him. “Now what?”

He hesitated. Then glanced at the house and then back at you. “…I need somewhere to wait.”

You stared at him. “…No.”

“Just for a bit.”

“No.”

“Until they stop doing circles around the neighborhood.”

“No.”

“I can’t stay out here.”

“Not my problem. Call an uber.”

“They’ll probably know who I am with!”

“I already did too much for you.”

He sighed, rubbing his face with frustration. “If I ask for an uber, even a cab— They’ll see this house. They’ll make stories about how I’m dating you or someone they see me with. You know how crazy this can get? I—” He stopped himself again, knowing you weren’t going to understand. “Just tonight. Please.”

You threw your head back, groaning frustrated and already regretting even coming to Korea.

“…I can’t believe I’m doing this.” You turned toward the house, not even looking at him. “Come on. Hurry up.”

He blinked a little surprised. “…Oh my god. Thank you, thank you so—”

“Just shut the hell up.”

He obeyed, following you immediately before you could regret it.

And just like that, you let him into your house, into your room. Which, honestly, might’ve been the worst decision you made all night. You were letting Jeon Jungkook, the global superstar, spend the night in your house— Oh, you were fucked.

lowkey insane amount of chats. anyway the secret is out heheheh what do u think??

lowkey insane amount of chats. anyway the secret is out heheheh what do u think??

No classes. No deadlines. No professors reminding you that your “creative vision” wasn’t translating well on screen. Just a full week of nothing, which sounded amazing until you actually had it and realized you didn’t really know what to do with that much free time.

You had spent the first two days sleeping like your life depended on it, which was fair because it was actually weekend and not the start of the break. The third day was a mix of scrolling, half-watching movies, and telling yourself you should probably be doing something productive— like editing that short film you’d been avoiding or even preparing that fundraiser event you were throwing in less than two months— but not actually doing it.

And now, the fourth day, you were exactly where you started. On the sofa with your phone in hand. Absolutely doing nothing.

The TV was on, mostly for background noise. You weren’t paying attention to it, not really. Your eyes were glued to your screen, thumb moving lazily as you scrolled through videos you weren’t even interested in. It was slightly embarrassing how little you actually felt like engaging with anything remotely artistic during your break since you were in film studies.

Still, every now and then, your brain would kick in automatically. You’d notice the lighting in a clip. The framing. A weird cut that didn’t quite work. It was annoying, honestly. You couldn’t just watch things anymore, you had to think about them, analyze them. Sometimes it was annoying… but you still loved it.

You shifted slightly on the sofa, pulling one leg under you, adjusting your position without looking up. That’s when the volume on the TV went up, not a lot but enough for you to notice.

“Hana, the volume.” You frowned a little, still not looking up. “Hana,” you said again, already knowing. No response. You sighed, finally lifting your eyes. There she was, your older sister, sitting on the floor, way too close to the TV, completely focused like she was watching something life-changing. You followed her gaze. And immediately wished you hadn’t. “Hana— ugh, not again,” you muttered under your breath.

Of course. It had to be them.

The video showed a bright set. Clean camera angles, very readable subtitles and that overly polished interview vibe that always felt the same no matter who was in it. It was a big group. And right in the middle of it— Jeon Jungkook.

You didn’t even mean to pay attention. Really, you didn’t. But Hana leaned forward slightly, like she didn’t want to miss a single word, and that alone was enough to drag your attention along with hers.

“…And Jungkook, what does that mean to you?” the interviewer asked.

You rolled your eyes before he even answered. Still, you heard it.

“It means everything. They’re everything to us,” Jungkook said, smiling. “They’ve supported us from the beginning, so… I think we owe them a lot. That’s why we will do our best and work hard to show them gratitude.”

You stared at the screen for half a second and then scoffed when your sister murmured: “He’s such an amazing person.”

“Please.” Hana didn’t turn around right away, but you could feel she was already getting annoyed

“What?” she said.

“That’s so fake,” you added, already looking back down at your phone.

“You didn’t even watch the whole thing.”

“I didn’t need to.”

Hana finally turned, twisting around so she could look at you properly. “He is amazing. And if you knew him like I know him you wouldn’t say that—”

You let out a small laugh. “We live in different continents. You don’t know him.”

“I do know him.”

You sat up a little, resting your arm against the back of the sofa. “How exactly do you know him, Hana?”

She rolled her eyes like the answer was obvious.

“I know everything about him.”

You snorted. “Everything?”

“Yes,” she insisted, counting on her fingers now like she was presenting actual evidence. “I know where he works. I know where he likes to shop. The clubs he goes to, the people he works with, the restaurants he likes—”

“That’s not knowing someone,” you cut in. “That’s having google.”

“It’s not just that,” she said, annoyed. “You wouldn’t get it.”

“No, I get it,” you said. “You’re a delusional obsessed stalker.”

“I’m not obsessed.”

“Hana, you literally know what he eats.”

“That’s public information!”

You raised your eyebrows. “Exactly my point.”

She huffed, turning back to the TV for a second before looking at you again, clearly not done. “At least I appreciate him.”

“Appreciate what? His scripted answers?”

“They’re not scripted!”

“Right. Because ‘you mean everything to us’ has never been said before.”

Hana groaned, throwing her head back dramatically. “You don’t get it.”

“No, I do. You’re mentally ill.”

“You just wait and see—” she paused, sitting up straighter, then grinned suddenly, like she’d remembered something. “Once we’re in Korea you’ll met him.”

Right. South Korea.

The trip had been planned for weeks. Your parents were excited in that calm, nostalgic way adults got when they were going back somewhere that meant something to them. Your great-grandparents were still alive— which, apparently, was a miracle according to everyone who talked about it— and your mom had decided that this was the perfect time to visit. Which meant you were all going. Together. For a full week.

You didn’t mind it, not really. You liked traveling. You liked seeing new places— even if, technically, this wasn’t entirely new for you. You’d been to Korea before, just not recently enough to remember it clearly.

Hana, on the other hand, was treating it like the most important trip of her life. She had lists, actual lists. Places she wanted to go, things she wanted to eat, neighborhoods she needed to see. And, of course— Locations. Specific ones. Ones that, somehow, always seemed to be connected to them. Him, specially.

You frowned. “…met him?”

“Yeah.”

“Hana.”

“What?”

“We’re not going to just run into him.”

“You don’t know that.”

You stared at her. “Yes,” you said slowly, “I do.”

She ignored that completely. “We’re literally going to Korea,” she continued, like that proved everything. “Do you know how many places he goes to? We could go to one of them. Not, not just one, to all!”

“We’re going to visit great-grandma and great-grandpa,” you reminded her. “Not go on a BTS Jungkook tour.”

“Look if you want you can stay and play dolls with great-grandma. I’ll go meet the guys,” she rolled her eyes. “And his name is not BTS Jungkook, just Jungkook. I’ve told you this a thousand times.”

“You said we were going to hangout more there,” you pointed at her.

“Well, of course. Dad is not gonna let me go alone to places. I need you for that.”

“You’re using me to meet these losers?.”

“They’re not losers!”

“I don’t want to met them. So fuck them and you.”

She pointed at you. “We’re literally going when they’re having their free concert. We’re meant to run into them.”

You stared at her for a second, then leaned back into the sofa again, picking your phone back up. “I’ll schedule a therapist appointment for you once we’re back.”

Hana rolled her eyes again, some way still too pleased with herself. “You’ll see. I’ll do everything on my list. First stop: Soju & Soul.”

You were going to commit murder before arriving to Korea.

‘Soju & Soul’

Somewhere across the world, in that crowded restaurant filled with low conversation and warm light, Jungkook sat at a table surrounded by people he actually knew. Which, lately, felt important.

The place wasn’t empty, it never really was those days. But it wasn’t chaotic either. Just busy enough to blend in, just quiet enough to pretend things were normal. He liked places like that. He liked places where he could sit down, eat, talk— without everything turning into something else. He used to liked it more when it wasn’t filled with people waiting for him. But he had learned to accept he couldn’t control those things. He still kept coming back time to time, he loved the food there.

Still, he noticed it. He always did.

The occasional glance from another table. Aphone lifted just a little too casually. Someone whispering and then looking away too fast.

He didn’t react, he’d learned not to.

“Are you even listening?” someone across from him asked.

Jungkook blinked, refocusing. “Yeah,” he said automatically.

“You’re not.”

He smiled a little. “I am. You were saying something about tomorrow.”

His friend narrowed his eyes, unconvinced, but continued anyway. The conversation moved on. His friends were familiar with his zone-out moments. They knew him that much already. He appreciated that. That bond, that part was real. And he held onto that. Because everything outside of it wasn’t always.

He loved what he did. He really did. The music, the stage, the connection, it meant something to him. It always had… But the rest of it? The guessing, the assumptions, the rumours, the lies… The way people thought they knew him because they knew of him. That part was harder. Not impossible. Just… tiring. And sometimes it even felt like people loved the idea of him more than anything else.

And there wasn’t much he could do about that.

After a while, he pushed his chair back slightly, glancing toward the door. “I’m heading out.”

“Already?”

“Yeah. Have to wake up early tomorrow.”

A few teasing comments followed, nothing serious. His friends were use to his busy schedule, specially those days.

He grabbed his jacket, slipping it on as he made his way toward the exit. He felt it, that shift in the room, subtle but there. He stepped outside, the night air cooler than he expected, and exhaled slowly.

Almost free…

“Excuse me—!”

He stopped before slowly turning. A girl stood a few steps away, phone already in her hand, eyes wide with that mix of excitement and disbelief he recognized instantly.

“Can I— Can I take a picture with you?”

There it was.

He smiled, soft and easy. “Of course.”

She lit up. It took less than ten seconds. A quick photo. A thank you, a gratitude for his music. Another cute smile. And then he was already walking away.

“Thank you,” she said, breathless.

“No problem.”

The next morning, it was everywhere.

A blurry picture. A headline that didn’t make sense. Speculation that spread faster than it should. Him and her standing close and smiling before the picture. It didn’t matter that it was a fan. It didn’t matter that it lasted ten seconds. It didn’t matter that it meant nothing. Because to everyone else it meant everything.

And just like that, somewhere out there, a girl who had only asked for a picture became a target. Comments flooded in. Speculation, hate, jealously dressed up as concern. Jungkook stared at his phone longer than he should have.

BTS JEON JUNGKOOK SPOTTED WITH MYSTERY GIRL

The comments were worse, they always were. It didn’t matter what actually happened, what mattered was what people thought happened. And that— That was something he couldn’t control. And something he hated.

——————————

The first thing you noticed about Seoul wasn’t the noise. It was how alive everything felt. Like the city never really paused, just shifted pace depending on the time of day. Even from the car window, as you leaned your head against the glass and watched everything pass by, there was always something happening. People walking fast like they had somewhere important to be. Small shops squeezed between bigger buildings. Neon signs still faintly visible even in daylight.

It felt… full. You didn’t hate it. You actually kind of liked it.

Still, by the time you pulled up in front of your great-grandparents’ house, you were more than ready to just stop for a second. Specially after the long hours flight. The house itself made you blink.

“Damn,” you said, sitting up straighter. “I didn’t remember being this big.”

Hana, who had been glued to her phone the entire ride, barely glanced up. “Yeah.”

You looked at it again. It wasn’t just a house. It was big, not in a flashy, modern way but in that quiet, old, this has been here for a long time kind of way. The gate, the small garden, the structure itself— it all felt solid. Lived in.

“Why does it look like we’re visiting royalty?” you muttered.

Hana snorted. “Relax. It’s just old money vibes.”

“That’s not better.”

Your parents were already getting out of the car, greeting your great-grandparents like no time had passed at all. There was a lot of hugging. A lot of talking at once. That warm, slightly chaotic energy that came with family reunions.

You followed a little slower, taking everything in. The air smelled different there. Cleaner, somehow. Or maybe you were just imagining it. Inside, it was even more noticeable— the mix of old and new. Traditional details blended with modern touches, like time had just adjusted instead of moving on.

You slipped your shoes off near the entrance, stepping inside carefully.

“Wow,” you said under your breath.

“Right?” Hana replied, already walking ahead like she owned the place.

You glanced around, fingers brushing lightly against the wall as you moved further in. There was something comforting about it, even if it wasn’t entirely familiar.

Your great-grandmother smiled at you, giving you another big hug it almost made you out of breath before she took your hand to the kitchen. She already had the table full of food ready to feed you and your sister.

Amazing. What a great start of the week.

The rest of the afternoon passed in that slow, slightly overwhelming way family visits always did. More food appeared out of nowhere. Conversations overlapped. You sat, listened, nodded, smiled when your great grandparents gave you compliment after compliment. It was nice reuniting with family. But still exhausting.

Hana, surprisingly, behaved… for about an hour. After that, she was back on her phone.

By the time you finally escaped to your room, which you were glad you had one for you, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. You dropped onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

“Okay,” you said. “I need a break.”

“From what?” Hana asked, entering your room and falling into your bed like it was hers.

“From existing.”

She hummed, clearly not paying attention. You turned your head to look at her. She was now sitting cross-legged on the bed, phone in one hand, laptop open in front of her, tabs everywhere.

“Can we do something tomorrow?” you asked. No response. “Hana.”

“What?”

“Can we do something tomorrow?” you repeated. “Like— together.”

She glanced at you for half a second. “Yeah, sure.”

You narrowed your eyes slightly. “That sounded fake.”

“It wasn’t.”

“It sounded fake.”

“I said yes,” she replied, already looking back at her screen. “What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know,” you said. “Walk around, explore, get food… normal things.”

“Okay.”

Another pause. You waited but nothing. “Hana.”

“What?”

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Yes.”

“What did I just say?”

She sighed dramatically, finally closing her laptop halfway. “You want to ‘hangout’ or whatever.”

You stared at her. “Wow. You make it sound so fun spending time with me.”

“It’s not that,” she said quickly. “It’s just— Tonight it’s the free concert. I’m trying to see how I can get in.”

You sat up, already annoyed. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

“Hana. You just got here.”

“And?”

“And you want to run off to a shitty concert to see some boys?”

“It’s not a shitty concert!”

You rubbed your face with your hands. “I can’t believe this.”

“They don’t do this all the time,” she continued, already grabbing her phone again. “This is like— once in a lifetime.”

“You say that about everything they do.”

“Because everything is once in a lifetime!”

“That’s not how that works.”

She ignored you. “I think I can get there—”

You rolled your eyes, thinking how irritating she was. “Hana, shut up. You’re stupid.”

She sighed, clearly over the conversation. “Look, we can hang out tomorrow, okay? I promise.”

“You said that five minutes ago.”

“And I meant it.”

You watched her for a second. Then shook your head, getting up from the bed. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Where are you going?”

“To talk to people who actually hear me when I speak.”

“That’s dramatic.”

You didn’t answer but just walked out. Your sister was a bitch sometimes. Only interested in those damn boys.

On the other side of the city, things were moving a little faster.

The room wasn’t huge, but it was filled. Managers, staff, screens displaying schedules, notes, last-minute adjustments. The kind of chaos that came before any performance, even one that was supposed to feel casual but it was in reality a big one. It was the finally damn comeback.

Jungkook leaned back slightly in his chair, listening as someone went over the setlist again.

“…and we’ll keep the transitions quick. No long breaks,” one of the staff members said. “We want to keep the energy up.”

“Got it,” someone else replied.

Jungkook nodded along, eyes scanning the paper in front of him even though he already knew most of it.

Free concerts were always different, less pressure in some ways but more in others. There were no tickets, no barriers in the same way— just people showing up because they wanted to be there. He liked that, it felt closer and more real.

“Anything else?” the tour manager asked, looking around the room. A few heads shook. “Alright. Let’s keep it clean tonight. No issues.”

Jungkook almost smiled at that. No issues, that was easier said than done.

The meeting wrapped up quickly after that, people standing, gathering their things, moving on to whatever came next. Jungkook stayed seated for a second longer, stretching his arms slightly before standing up.

“Hey,” his manager said, nodding toward the hallway. “A second?”

Jungkook followed without questioning it. They stepped into a quieter space, the noise from the main room fading just enough to make the shift noticeable.

“What’s up?” Jungkook asked.

His manager glanced at him, then leaned slightly against the wall. “That brand you mentioned a while ago,” he said. “Se-seil.”

Jungkook’s expression shifted, just slightly. “Yeah?”

“They’re interested.”

He blinked, his heart beating a little faster. “Wait— seriously?”

“Yeah. Not signed yet,” his manager clarified. “But they want to start talks. Ambassador deal.”

Jungkook let out a small breath, something between relief and excitement. “That’s—” he shook his head a little. “That’s amazing.”

“It is,” his manager agreed. “It’s big.”

Se-seil wasn’t just any Korean brand. It was selective. Clean image, high expectations, specially in the country. Not the kind of deal you got easily. Didn’t even matter if you were a big star, they were dedicated with their marketing and their reputation. Jungkook had wanted that deal for a long time, it felt like a big thing for him and his image. Specially now that he was in his lates twenties.

“Okay,” he said. “So what’s the catch?” His manager didn’t answer immediately which was answer enough. Jungkook’s smile faded slightly. “What?”

“They want you to keep a low profile for a while.”

Jungkook frowned confused. “I already do.”

“You know what I mean,” his manager said. “No rumors. No headlines. Nothing that can turn into something.”

Jungkook exhaled quietly. “…Right.”

His manager watched him for a second before continuing. “There’s been talk.”

“About?”

“You.”

Jungkook let out a small, humorless laugh. “There’s always talk.”

“Yeah,” his manager said. “But this one’s sticking, specially to the marketing team of the brand.”

Jungkook looked at him. “What are they saying?”

There was a brief pause. “That you’re getting… comfortable.”

He frowned. “What does that even mean?”

“That you’re going out more. That you’re being seen with different girls,” his manager said, keeping his tone even. “That you’re starting to act like you don’t have to follow the same rules anymore.”

Jungkook stared at him. “That’s not—”

“I know,” his manager cut in. “But that’s not the point.” Silence stretched between them. “They see a big ego,” he continued. “A wanna be playboy. Someone who thinks he’s too big now to fit the idol picture.”

Jungkook didn’t say anything. He froze for a second. “…That’s ridiculous,” he said finally, quieter.

“Maybe,” his manager said. “But it’s what’s being said.” There was another pause. “So,” he added, “we keep it simple for now. Stay low, at least for the next two weeks. Stick with the group. No good headlines, no bad headlines. Just music and how much you love each other.”

Jungkook nodded slowly, understanding immediately. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Just for a while,” his manager said. “Until they convinced the owner of the brand. He’s an old man, needs time.” He shrugged. “You want the deal, right?”

“Yeah, yeah. I can play low. Got it.”

His manager gave him a small nod before heading back toward the main room. Jungkook stayed where he was. Just for a second. The words lingered longer than he expected. Wanna be playboy. Big ego. Too big for the idol image. He let out a quiet breath, running a hand through his hair. That was funny. How people could decide who you were without ever actually knowing you. It bothered him. But he already knew the game by now so he didn’t let it get under his skin.

He pushed himself off the wall, expression settling back into something neutral.

“No headlines for the next weeks,” he muttered to himself

He could easily do that… yeah. Of course.

——————————

You were lying face down on the bed, fully dressed in what could only be described as giving up for the day. An oversized hoodie, worn-out sweatpants, and socks that didn’t match.

You were trying to get some needed rest when Hana walked in like she was about to attend the most important event of her life. You didn’t even look up at first. You just felt it. That shift in energy. That unnecessary confidence. That very specific kind of presence that meant she had spent way too long getting ready for something that absolutely did not require that level of effort.

“…No,” you said into your pillow.

There was a silence and then... “You didn’t even look.”

“I don’t need to,” you replied, voice muffled. “I can hear the outfit.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

You rolled onto your back with a sigh, finally looking at her and immediately rolled your eyes. “Hana.”

“What?”

“Why do you look like you’re about to get proposed to?”

She scoffed, adjusting something invisible on her dress. “It’s called dressing nicely.”

“It’s called overdressing,” you corrected. “You’re going to a free concert, not the Met Gala. And is not even summer, you’re gonna freeze.”

She ignored that completely, turning slightly to check herself in the mirror again. “You could at least try,” she added, glancing at you. “You look like you just survived something.”

“I am right now,” you said. “You.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re so dramatic.”

“And you’re dressed like an arab wedding guest.”

That made her pause, narrowing her eyes at you. “You need to come with me.”

You blinked. “…No, I don’t.”

“You need to.”

“No.”

She turned fully now, hands on her hips. “Dad won’t let me go alone.”

You sat up a little, unimpressed. “That sounds like a you problem.”

“It’s an us problem now.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Hear me out,” she said quickly, walking closer. “Please. Just this once.”

You stared at her. “I thought you said this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

“It is.”

“So go live your life. Sneak by the window or something.”

“Dad will notice and you know how it is when he gets paranoid!”

You let out a small laugh. “So your plan is to drag me into it?”

“Yes.”

“Wow. Great plan.”

She dropped onto the edge of your bed, grabbing your arm lightly. “Come on. I won’t ask you for anything else this trip.”

“You are already asking me too much,” you muttered.

“I’m serious,” she insisted. “Just come with me, stay for a bit, and then I do whatever you want afterwards. I swear.”

Now that was a better deal.

You narrowed your eyes slightly. “…Whatever I want?”

“Yes.”

You tilted your head. “You’ll shut up about BTS and Jungkook?”

She hesitated. “…Yes. For the rest of the trip.”

“What about for the rest of your life?.”

She groaned, flopping back dramatically. She covered her face for a second, annoyed with you. “Fine.”

You smiled. “…That was fast.”

“I said fine,” she repeated, pointing at you. “But you actually have to help me get in.”

“I’m coming with you and lying to our parents. I think that’s enough.”

She sat up again, suddenly determined. “Okay, change fast. We need to go now.”

You stared at each other for a second. Then you sighed.

“I’m not changing. I’ll stay in the car while you do your thing,” you muttered, standing up. She look at you unbelievably. “Let’s just go before I change my mind.”

She groaned again. “Fine, let’s go.”

The lie came surprisingly easy when you confronted your parents downstairs. It wasn’t exactly that you needed permission to go out since you were grow ups but it was mostly your dad being worried that something could happen to any of you since you didn’t know the city that well and clearly weren’t locals.

“We’re just going for a walk downtown,” Hana said casually, leaning against the door like she hadn’t just spent three hours getting ready.

“And maybe get something to drink,” you added, trying to sound normal.

Your parents barely questioned it. Which, honestly, felt suspicious.

“Don’t stay out too late,” your mom said.

“Let the girls have fun,” your grand grandmother smiled at you both before throwing her key cars to your sister.

It was like she knew you were planning something else. You nodded with a fake excited smile, already stepping outside before anything else could be added. The second the door closed behind you both run to the car your granny had give you the keys to use.

The car was… something. You stared at it for a second before getting in.

“Why is it so purple?”

“It’s vintage.”

“It’s purple.”

“Still vintage.”

“Ugly vintage.”

Hana ignored you, already starting the engine and started driving with way too much confidence for someone who definitely shouldn’t be driving that fast. You gripped the door slightly.

“I’ll drive fast. Can’t lose more time.” She warned you.

“God, I should’ve gotten my license years ago.”

You were regretting a lot of your life choices already.

By the time you reached Gwanghwamun, it was chaos. Not violent chaos just a shit ton of people. Everywhere. Lights, noise, movement, energy. The kind of crowd that made you immediately reconsider every life choice that led you there. You were a little anxious. Hana, on the other hand, looked like she had just found heaven.

“This is insane,” she breathed.

“Yeah,” you said. “That’s one word for it.”

And somehow, somehow, she found a parking spot. A good one. Close enough to see the crowd, far enough to not get stuck in it. You stared at her as she parked.

“…That was suspiciously easy.”

“It’s fate,” she said.

“I don’t think it’s legal to park here.”

She turned the engine off, already unbuckling her seatbelt and taking the keys with her. “I’ll be fast.”

“That’s not true!,” you clocked her. “And why are you taking the keys?.”

“Just in case. So you don’t leave me.”

You rolled your eyes. “If an officer comes and I can’t move the car I’m giving your ID.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just text me anything.” She rolled her eyes, opening the door. “Just don’t fall asleep or something.”

“No promises.”

You watched her step out, adjusting her outfit like she was about to step onto a stage herself. Then she walked toward the big ass crowd of people trying to get inside too. And within seconds— You saw her arguing with a security guard, probably giving her fake argument that she was a big fansite who needed to get inside to do her job.

Of course. She was so annoyingly persistent.

You immediately leaned your head back against the seat. “Great,” you muttered. “I’ll be here forever.”

You lost sight of her not long after that.

Poof! She was just… gone. Swallowed by people. Amazing.

Thirty minutes later, you were still in the car. Doing absolutely nothing.

You checked your phone. scrolled for over three hundred different videos, a lot of them being korean adds you were already done watching by the second one. You locked it. Checked it again a minute later. And repeated that a thousand times. Nothing, absolutely nothing. Your friends back home were sleeping, you didn’t have enough data anymore to put some youtube or a netflix show and you couldn’t even put music because the car was turn off.

Fuck it.

You sighed, pushing the door open and stepping out.

The air was louder out here. The music reached you immediately— distant, but clear enough to recognize the rhythm, the beat carrying through the crowd like something alive.

You stood there for a second, listening. And then, the voices felt closer. It felt familiar… even if you didn’t want them to be.

“We can go all night

Don't you close your eyes

Don't you fear the light

All night…”

You tilted your head slightly, arms crossing over your chest as you listened. You knew they weren’t bad. They were even more than okay, they were great. You could admit that. But that wasn’t the point, it wasn’t. You didn’t hate their music. You didn’t even hate him. You just hated what it did. How every time you tried to talk to Hana, your sister, she was somewhere else. How every plan somehow turned into something about them. How you always felt like you were competing with something you couldn’t even see.

It was like you were fighting for a place in her life that didn’t even have time for you.

You kicked lightly at the ground. Your phone buzzed. You glanced at it.

Hana: IM INSIDE

You: how

Hana: don’t ask

Hana: IM TRYING TO GET CLOSER

You: of course you are

Hana: watch me get front stage bitch

You stared at the screen. Then laughed quietly to yourself.

Yeah. Of course she will do that.

You looked around. Most of the nearby places were empty, everyone either at the concert or trying to get in. That meant every store was either empty or had a little to few people. Which was amazing because you were hungry as hell. And you deserved some good food after doing all that for your sister.

You decided to ignore google maps and just walk around, the view was beautiful. All the city was painted in purple— which you knew exactly why— but it was decorated so beautiful it made your irritation disappear. There was a lot of people walking around and singing or dancing or recording. The place was packed on the streets but the stores and restaurants were mostly empty. You walked a lot until you find a good spot in an alley that didn’t seemed too full.

The restaurant you found wasn’t anything special. Small, quiet, a little hidden from the main street like it didn’t really care about being noticed. It was perfect.

You stepped inside, the sudden calm almost shocking after the noise outside. An older woman stood behind the counter, looking up as you entered. You smiled, a little awkward.

“Hi.” you said, walking to her while looking at the little menu in the counter. “Do you recommend me something?.”

She smiled at you before nodding. “Sit, sit,” she said, gesturing to a table. “I’ll choose for you.”

“Well, okay. Thank you.” You sat down, glancing around. It felt… nice, simple and warm. You were hungry.

After some minutes she brought you a bowl of ramen not long after, placing it in front of you with a small smile. You looked at it. “…Wow.”

“It’s my secret recipe,” she clearly proud.

You nodded quickly. “It looks amazing.” You took the hot steam soup to your mouth, tasting the food, immediately groaning of satisfaction. “Okay— that’s really good.”

She smiled wider this time before started talking about her recipe. And you knew you were going to be there for long, long time.

You two talked about some recipes and the different things and spices you had back home and how the food felt completely different even with the same condiments. It was a long conversation. By the time you finished eating and paid, you felt lighter. Like maybe the night wasn’t a complete waste… Until you checked your phone.

Three hours. You stared at the screen. “…You’ve got to be kidding me.”

No new messages. Of course. Your sister was probably still trapped in that place doing Lord knows what. Specially with how many people were there it was going to take a lot of time for her to get back.

You stepped outside, saying goodbye to the old woman whose name you learned was Gaon. The distant sound of the concert still echoing through the city. The walk to the car wasn’t close but it wasn’t exactly far either. You took a shortcut, because of course you did. An alley, narrow but lit enough to feel safe.

At least at first.

You adjusted your hoodie slightly, hands tucked into the pocket as you walked, your mind already somewhere else. And then—

Boom!

The door flew open. You didn’t even have time to react. It hit you hard— right on the side of your head. “—shit—!”

And suddenly the ground was rushing up to meet you. Everything tilted. Your vision blurred for a second as you stumbled, then fell, the impact knocking the air out of your lungs as you hit the pavement. Pain spread almost immediately, sharp and disorienting.

Ouch.

——————————

By the time Jungkook finally sat down to eat, the adrenaline from the performance hadn’t fully left his system yet.

It never did, not right away. There was always that leftover energy buzzing under his skin, like his body hadn’t gotten the message that it was over. His ears still rang faintly, not painfully, just enough to remind him of the crowd, the music, the way thousands of voices could somehow feel both overwhelming and grounding at the same time.

The restaurant had been rented out for the night, one of those places that felt exclusive without trying too hard, low lighting, warm tones, tucked away just enough to avoid unnecessary attention. A good choice, considering who he was with.

The 97 line didn’t do subtle… or quiet. Or anything remotely calm when they were all in the same room.

“You missed a line of that song,” Mingyu pointed out, leaning back in his chair with a grin. “What happened? Got distracted?”

Jungkook snorted, grabbing his glass. “Yeah, because I’ve never done a concert before.”

“Just saying,” he added, nudging him slightly. “You looked like you were in your own world out there.”

“That’s literally my job.”

“Your job is to sing, not dissociate.”

“I wasn’t—” Jungkook started, then paused, shaking his head with a small smile. He knew they were just trying to bother him. “You guys are annoying.”

“We are making you a better idol.”

“You all should learn from me, fuckers.”

They laughed, the conversation flowing easily after that, random topics, teasing, inside jokes that didn’t need explaining. It was comfortable, familiar. The kind of environment where he didn’t have to think too much about anything outside of the moment.

Which was exactly why it ended too fast.

Jungkook checked the time on his phone, his expression shifting slightly. “…Okay, I have to go.”

Groans immediately followed. “You just got here.”

“I’ve been here for an hour.”

“That’s not enough.”

“It has to be,” he said, already standing up and reaching for his jacket. “I’m late.”

“Hybe party?” Eunwoo asked.

“Yeah.”

“Tell them we said hi.”

“You’re not going later?.”

“Not really feeling in the mood. But you know we’re proud of you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jungkook replied, pulling his jacket on. “See you guys.”

A few more comments followed him as he made his way toward the exit, shaking his head lightly but smiling anyway. He pushed the door open without really thinking about it— his mind already halfway out, already shifting to what came next.. and then something hit. Or really… someone.

There was a thud. A sharp, immediate sound that didn’t match anything around him.

Jungkook froze. And then looked down.

“Oh— oh my God!” he stepped forward quickly, eyes widening as he saw you on the ground. “Did I just hit you?!”

You blinked up at him, clearly disoriented, one hand already moving instinctively toward your head. “No,” you said flatly, wincing. “The door hit me by itself.”

He stared at you for half a second. “…Right. Yeah. No, no. I’m sorry.” He frowned, looking at the alley where a song he knew perfectly started getting louder. “Oh, no. That— this is not good.”

You groaned slightly, pushing yourself up just enough to sit, your expression tightening as the pain settled in properly.

“Yeah, no shit.”

Jungkook crouched down immediately, hovering like he wasn’t entirely sure where to help or what to touch. “Are you okay? That looked really bad.”

“I’m amazing,” you muttered. “I love getting hit by doors.”

He let out a breath, somewhere between concern and disbelief. “Okay, sarcasm. That’s a good sign, right?”

You opened your eyes properly now, finally focusing on him—

“…Oh.”

Holy shit.

Jungkook blinked. “What?”

You stared at him for a second longer, your brain clearly trying to catch up with your eyes. “Oh, wait. Holy shit. You’re—”

He reacted immediately, one hand coming up to gently— but quickly— cover your mouth.

“I’ll give you free tickets to the first concert of the tour if you don’t scream my name right now.”

You froze for a second at his touch before frowning, annoyed. Who the hell did he think he was? You shoved his hand away, a little harsh.

“I don’t want tickets for your stupid concert,” you snapped, your voice coming out sharper than you intended as your head throbbed again.

Jungkook blinked. “…Wow.” He leaned back slightly, studying you. “You really hit your head.”

Before you could respond, the door behind him opened again; this time slower, and a couple of his friends stepped out, immediately taking in the scene.

“What happened?”

“She got hit by the door,” Jungkook said quickly.

“You hit her with the door,” Mingyu corrected, stepping closer.

“I didn’t mean to!”

“Who does?.”

You let out a small, pained sound, pressing your hand more firmly against your forehead. “…Why is everything spinning?”

All three of them looked at you, then at each other.

“…Is she bleeding?” Eunwoo asked.

Jungkook leaned in slightly, eyes focusing on your forehead and immediately tensing. “…Yeah.”

You blinked. “What do you mean ‘yeah’?”

“Like— just a little,” he added quickly. “It’s not— like, a lot.”

“That’s not reassuring.”

“Okay, it’s a little more than a little.”

“Great.”

“You should probably sit still.”

“I am sitting still!”

There was a brief pause.

“Oh, shit,” Mingyu muttered, glancing toward the street.

Jungkook followed his gaze. And immediately understood. The music was still echoing through the area, but closer now. People moving around, voices getting louder, fans walking, wandering, noticing. And noticing them.

“Okay,” Eunwoo said quickly. “We need to move.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook agreed, already helping you up carefully. “Can you stand?”

“Define stand,” you muttered, but you let him pull you up anyway, swaying slightly once you were on your feet.

“…Okay, maybe not.”

“Take my car. They probably know yours already,” Eunwoo said, already backing away. “We’ll distract them.”

“But—”

“I’ll bring it for you,” he insisted. “We got it.”

Jungkook hesitated for half a second. Then nodded. “Okay. Thanks.” He turned back to you, steadying you as the noise around you grew just slightly louder. “Come on.”

You squinted at him. “I don’t like this.”

“Yeah, I can tell.”

“No, I mean— I really don’t like this.”

“You’ll like the hospital more,” he said.

“I doubt it.”

You took one step. Then another. And then suddenly— you stopped, your stomach making a weird noise before you turned slightly and promptly threw up… right onto someone’s shoes.

There was a very loud, very offended: “—ARE YOU SERIOUS?!”

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, eyes watering slightly. “…Sorry.”

Mingyu looked down at his shoes like his entire life had just ended. “These were new!”

Jungkook winced. “…Dude, I’m so sorry.”

“She threw up on me!”

“I know, I saw.”

“Do you know how expensive these were!?”

“Not the time!”

You groaned, holding your head again. “My sister’s still at the concert,” you mumbled, words slightly slurred together. “She’s gonna kill me.”

Jungkook glanced at you. “…We’ll deal with your sister later.”

“My sister’s gonna kill me.”

“Okay, yeah, that’s fair,” he admitted.

The car pulled up quickly after that, Eunwoo opened the door for him. “Go, go,”

Mingyu still looking personally betrayed by his friend opened the door for you, helping you get in. “Get in before this gets worse.”

“You have a nice hair,” you muttered to him, trying to be nice.

“Shut the fuck up,” he pushed you inside. What a weird guy, you thought. He looked at his friend. “Text me.”

“I will!”

“You owe me new shoes!”

“I know!”

He shut the door.

Finally. Silence. Well, not silence. The city was still there. The distant noise, the leftover energy from the concert, but inside the car, it felt… contained.

Jungkook exhaled, starting the engine. “Okay, here. Drink this.” He gave you a bottle of water. Or at least what is seemed it was. When you didn’t complained he assumed he was right. He glanced at you. “We’re going to—” His phone rang. He froze for half a second before answering. “Yeah?”

His manager’s voice came through immediately. “Where are you?”

“In the car. Why?”

“You need to get to the after party now.”

Jungkook frowned. “I’m on my way, I just—”

“The Se-seli director is here. With his daughters. They’re asking for you.”

He went still. “…Now?”

“Yes. Now.”

Jungkook glanced at you again. You were leaning back against the seat, eyes half-closed, clearly bothered by what had happened.

“…Okay, yes,” he said, lowering his voice slightly. “I’ll be there in as fast as I can go.”

“Hurry.”

The line went dead. Jungkook stared at his phone for a second then sighed.

“…Okay.” He looked at you again then made a decision. “I really need to go to Hybe’s building,” he said, starting the car properly this time. “It’s really close. They’ve got doctors there.”

You opened one eye. “…Real doctors?”

“…Very real,” he said, a little too quickly. An obvious lie.

You stared at him for a second, then closed your eyes again. “Okay. Just hurry up.”

He nodded, even though you weren’t really looking anymore. “Yeah, yeah.” he muttered. “I will.”

You fumbled for your phone, squinting at the screen as you typed.

You: getting food, will meet u later

You hit send. And let your head fall back again. Neither of you said anything after that. The car moved through the city, fast but controlled, both of you sitting in the same space for the first time.

——————————

The building was… a lot.

You didn’t even fully process it at first because your head still hurt in that deep, annoying way that made everything feel slightly delayed, like your brain was buffering in real time. But even through that, even through the dizziness and the lingering nausea, you could tell this wasn’t just any place.

It was big. Not just physically— though, yes, it was that too— but in presence. Glass, lights, people moving with purpose like they actually knew what they were doing, security that looked like they didn’t joke around, and just enough activity to make it obvious something important was happening somewhere inside.

You squinted slightly as Jungkook parked.

“…Where are we?”

He didn’t even hesitate. “Work.”

“…You brought me to work.” You turned your head slowly to look at him.

“I told you I had doctors.”

“In your dance studio?”

“They’re good,” he insisted, already getting out of the car and rushing around to your side.

“That’s not how that works,” you muttered, but you let him help you out anyway, your balance still slightly off as your feet hit the ground. The second you were fully upright, he didn’t give you time to question anything else, just grabbed your hand and guided you inside the elevator. You took it out of his grip harshly. “I know how to walk.”

“I was just helping,” he frowned a little offended. “Let’s go.”

The lobby was even worse, people everywhere. Not chaotic, but in that busy, efficient way that somehow made you feel more out of place than actual chaos would’ve.

You instinctively pulled your hood up a little more. “Why are there so many people?” you whispered.

“There’s an event,” he replied quickly, steering you toward a hallway before anyone could look too closely. “Just— don’t look at anyone.”

“That’s easy,” you muttered. “I already don’t want to be here.”

“Great. Perfect attitude.”

He moved fast. Too fast for you, honestly. At one point you almost tripped over your own feet and had to grab onto the back of his shirt just to steady yourself. You didn’t let go. Jungkook cleared his throat before continue walking, a little flustered by the act without you noticing.

“Slow down,” you complained.

“We can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because if we stop, people will notice you with me and will start asking questions.”

“About what?”

“About you.”

You frowned. “…Why?”

He stopped walking for half a second. Then turned to you like that was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Because you’re with me, because you have a little blood on your head. And becuase you’re… a girl.”

You blinked. “A girl?.”

“Yeah. A girl.”

Before you could say anything else, he opened a door with a code and gently, but quickly, pushed you inside. The room was quiet. Dimmer than the hallway, filled with equipment you didn’t have the energy to properly register yet. Speakers, instruments, cables, things that screamed music even if your brain was too slow to process details.

“Stay here,” he said.

You turned to him, immediately suspicious. “…Why?”

“Because—” he ran a hand through his hair quickly, glancing back at the hallway like someone might walk in any second, “—because I don’t need people asking questions right now.” He stared at you. “‘Who’s she?’ ‘How do you know her?’ ‘Why is she bleeding?’ ‘Are you two dating?’”

“Dating?” You made a face. “Ugh.”

He paused. “…Ugh?”

“I mean… Yikes.”

“You’re offended?”

“I’m concerned,” you corrected. “That anyone would think that.”

He blinked at you. Then let out a short fake laugh, shaking his head slightly. “Wow. Okay. That’s— good for my ego.”

“Bet you need your ego to get bigger, huh.” you said sarcastically. “And you’re the one hiding me,” you pointed out. “What does that say? Embarrassed of people seeing you with a non-famous person?”

“I’m not embarrassed of that,” he said quickly. “I just don’t want a scandal. I don’t want this—” he gestured vaguely at your forehead, “—turning into something else.”

You squinted at him. “…You mean like a dating scandal?”

He froze. “Well… yes.”

“Just because you’re a man and I’m a woman doesn’t mean we’re dating.”

“I know that but the media—” He groaned quietly, rubbing his face with irritation. “You wouldn’t understand. Just please stay here.”

You leaned slightly against the wall, still unimpressed. “Relax. I don’t want to be associated with you either.”

He titled his head, feeling offended. “Okay…That makes two of us.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

A pause. Then he pointed at the couch. “Sit.” You looked at it then back at him. There was a silence . His eye started twitching. “… Please.”

You rolled your eyes but sat down anyway. “Fine.”

“I’ll be back,” he said, already stepping toward the door again.

“Where are you going?”

“I have to show my face,” he replied. “Just for a bit.”

“And then?”

“And then I’ll come back and I promise I’ll take you to the doctor.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You better. I’m not planning on spending thousand of dollars in the ER if this is like America.”

“The health system—” He stopped himself. he was losing time. “I’ll obviously cover that. Just don’t move. I’ll be back quickly.”

“Yeah, you better make it quick because if you don’t I will bleed dramatically on your expensive floor.

“That’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

He shook his head, already opening the door. “Don’t touch anything.”

“Now I’m definitely touching everything.”

“I— God, why is this happening to me?”. He groaned, giving you a last serious look. “Stay.” he ordered like you were a dog.

And then he was gone.

“Woof?”

For a while, you actually stayed where you were. Mostly because your head still hurt and moving felt like a bad idea. But also because the room itself was… interesting.

Once the dizziness settled just a little, your eyes started adjusting, taking in the details properly this time. The instruments, the equipment, the setup, it wasn’t just random. It was really organized. Organized in that messy way that meant people actually used it.

You stood up slowly, curiosity kicking in despite everything, walking a little further into the room. Yeah, the place was definitely cool as hell. You ran your fingers lightly over the edge of a table, glancing at a guitar resting nearby, then at a keyboard, then at a set of headphones that probably cost more than your entire house.

“Don’t touch anything,” you repeated under your breath. “Yeah, okay.”

You touched everything… Just a little, carefully.

You were about to grab a guitar when the door suddenly opened. You froze, completely. Two guys walked in mid-conversation, not even looking at you at first.

“…I’m telling you, that’s not how it works—”

“Then explain it to me again—”

They stopped, both of them. At the exact same time, like they were doing a choreography. And then slowly turned to look at you. There was a pause. A really long one where the three of you just stayed in silence, watching each other. It was easy to recognize them, specially when your sister couldn’t stopped talking about the blond haired guy and the one that had the face of a model.

You opened your mouth first.

“…Hi,” you said.

They blinked. Then one of them, Jimin, stepped forward slightly, squinting at you.

“…Who are you?… Why are you here?”

You opened your mouth and closed it. Then pointed vaguely behind you.

“I think I’m… not supposed to be here.”

“That’s not reassuring,” Taehyung said.

“And why are you bleeding?” Jimin added, eyes widening slightly as he got a better look at your forehead.

“Oh,” you said, touching it instinctively. “Yeah. That.”

“Yeah, that,” he repeated.

You hesitated for half a second. “Well— this guy named Jungkook hit me.”

There was a dead silence.

They both stared at you, then at each other again and then back at you.

“…JUNGKOOK HIT YOU?!” Jimin screamed aggravated.

Okay maybe your word choice wasn’t the best.

“With a door!,” you explained. “Accidentally... I think.”

“Oh my God,” Taehyung whispered, like he discovered why you were there. “We’re getting sued.”

“I’m not going to sue you,” you said.

“That’s exactly what someone who’s about to sue the shit out of us would say,” he replied immediately.

“I literally don’t even want to be here.”

“That’s worse,” Jimin said. “Did he kidnap you?.”

You stared at them. “…Are you serious right now?”

“No,” they both said at the same time. Then immediately— “Yes,” they added.

You blinked, they were so in sync it looked like they were acting. “…Wow.”

“Okay, okay— sit down,” Taehyung said quickly, grabbing a chair and pulling it toward you. “We need to check if you have a concussion.”

“You’re not doctors.”

“We have phones.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“It’s basically the same thing,” he insisted, already pulling out his phone. “Wait— how do you check for concussion—”

He opened YouTube. You stared at him unbelievably. “You’re using YouTube.”

“It’s reliable.”

“It’s not reliable.”

“Would you want us to check tiktok?” Jimin asked, he was seriously intrigued. “Do you think it’s a more trustful source?”

“Shh,” his friend called. “This guy looks like he knows what he’s doing.”

The other one leaned over his shoulder. “…He’s a fitness coach.”

“He’s close enough.”

You pressed your fingers to your temple. “I can’t believe my sister is obsessed with you people.”

They both looked at you again.

“…Your sister?” Taehyung repeated.

“Yeah.”

“She’s got good taste,” Jimin added, laughing.

“She has questionable judgment,” you corrected.

“Okay, follow my finger,” Taehyung said suddenly, holding his hand up in front of your face.

You stared at it. “…Why?”

“To see if your eyes track movement.” You sighed but followed it anyway. “There. See? She’s fine.”

“That doesn’t mean she’s fine, man”

“She’s talking.”

“So?”

“So people with concussions can talk!”

“That’s not helping!”

You stood up slowly. “…You know what? I’m good.”

They both looked at you. “You don’t look good,” Taehyung said.

“I feel… okay enough.”

“That’s not a medical term,” Jimin pointed out.

“Neither is whatever you’re doing.”

They hesitated. “…Fair.”

Jimin pulled out his phone. “Look, I actually have a great medical video that we can check—”

He started looking for his Youtube history. Taehyung leaned to look at it and started making fun of the videos he watched. You pressed your lips together and looked at the door.

Okay, whatever was outside couldn’t be worse than those two idiots.

You started moving slowly to the door while they kept fighting louder. You couldn’t tell if it was a bit or they were really bickering that harsh but you honestly didn’t care enough. You just wanted to leave that place as soon as possible. It was actually angering you the fact that you probably were having a concussion and superstar Jeon Jungkook decided his work was more important than taking you to an actual hospital.

What an asshole!

“Wait— where is she?!”

You started walking faster down the hallway when you heard the scream.

You didn’t really have a plan. You just… walked around, trying to find the elevator that could take you to the reception and you could get the fuck out of that place. You walked a lot for a building space. Through hallways, past doors, following whatever felt like an exit, your head still a little off but manageable now.

Okay… maybe you didn’t have a great sense of direction.

Mmmhmmm

You frowned a little intrigued. There was music, not loud like before in the city. Not overwhelming either. Just… there, clear and close. You slowed down slightly, curiosity creeping in again despite everything.

“…What now,” you muttered.

You followed the sound down another hallway. Up a short set of stairs. Until you reached an open space— The rooftop.

You stopped just before stepping fully into view, instinctively staying hidden near the entrance. And then you saw him. Jungkook. Standing under soft lights, a mic in his hand, the city stretching out behind him like it was part of the stage. There were a lot of people around, some sitting, some standing, watching quietly while drinking. It wasn’t too loud. It wasn’t a loud song either. It was… calm. And then he continued singing, not like before. Not like the concert.

This was different. Softer, clearer. His voice carried easily through the space, smooth and controlled in a way that didn’t feel forced, didn’t feel like it was trying to impress anyone. It just… was.

You stayed where you were, not moving, not interrupting. Just watching and listening. Jungkook was an asshole. And a enormous idiot. But God, he had the voice of an angel. You understood why people listened.

Something about you

Do you feel the way I do?

There's magic in the room

Tell me, do you feel it too?…

Okay that was enough. You needed to get the fuck out of there.

People started clapping, you consciously and weirdly put a hand in your forehead and started walking again. Walking down the stairs and following some people that were clearly leaving. You moved with them to the elevator, moving your hoodie slightly uncomfortable when you noticed you were clearly not dressed for the event. It was painfully obvious you were not part of these people.

Your phone buzzed in your pants. Your sister was texting you. Already two missing calls.

Hana: HELLO???

Hana: where the fuck are you???

Hana: i swear if u got lost i will leave you here

Hana: it can’t take you so long to eat something

Shit, she was going to kill you. What the hell were you supposed to tell?

‘Hey, sis. So remember the guy you’re obsessed with? Well he hit me in the forehead with a door, lie to me about taking me to the hospital and now i’m in the HYBE building where I met Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung— they’re really stupid, by the way— And I heard Jungkook performed but I feel like I’m about to pass out so now I’m trying to get the fuck out of here. What about you?’

You: i hit my head with a pole so i just went home

You: good luck with the traffic lol

Okay, just a little white lie. She was definitely gonna kill you anyway.

By the time you made it down to the parking garage where the elevator took you, your patience was officially gone.

Not low, not running out but gone. Completely. The kind of gone where everything started to feel ten times more irritating than it actually was. The lights too bright, the echo of your own footsteps too loud, your head still throbbing in that dull, persistent way that refused to let you forget what had happened.

You pressed your fingers lightly against your forehead as you walked, wincing. “…This is actually insane,” you muttered to yourself Because it was. You had come out for a walk. That was the lie. A simple, harmless lie…

And somehow, in the span of a few hours, you had:

• gone to a concert you didn’t care about 

• eaten ramen with a stranger who was objectively the highlight of your night 

• gotten hit in the head by a door

• been kidnapped— yes, kidnapped— to a big ass famous building 

• and accidentally met people your sister would probably sell her soul to even breathe near

You stopped for a second, staring ahead. “…I’m never leaving the house again.”

“Good plan.”

You froze. And then slowly turned around. And there he was. Leaning casually against one of the walls like he hadn’t just completely derailed your entire night, hands in his pockets, looking far too relaxed for someone who had, once again, found you bleeding.

You stared at him. “What the hell?.”

He pushed himself off the wall slightly, shaking his head. “I told you to stay in the studio.”

“Yeah,” you said flatly. “Well, fuck that.”

There was a brief pause. He tilted his head slightly, studying you. “I saw you upstairs.”

You frowned. “…Upstairs where?”

“The rooftop.” Oh. You blinked once. “You were standing by the door watching me sing.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You were.”

“I wasn’t.”

He let out a small breath, clearly choosing not to argue that point further. “Where are you going?”

You stared at him like the answer should’ve been obvious. “Home.”

“Just like that?”

“Yes, just like that.”

“You’re still bleeding.”

“I’ll survive.”

“That’s not very convincing.”

You rolled your eyes, turning slightly toward the exit again. “I’m not staying one more minute here.”

“I didn’t say you had to.”

“You literally left me in a room to go perform,” you snapped, turning back to him. “That’s exactly what you did.”

His expression shifted slightly. “I didn’t perform—”

“You were singing in front of people.”

“It wasn’t— Hah! You saw me!.”

“You told me we were going to see a doctor,” you continued, voice rising just a little despite yourself, ignoring his comment, “Theres are not any fucking doctors in here. I ended up in a studio with two guys watching a YouTube tutorial about concussions.”

He blinked. “…You what?”

“Your stupid friends found me in the studio and almost diagnosed me through a fitness coach. So yes, of course I want to leave!” He pressed his lips together, clearly trying not to laugh. “That’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

“It’s not funny,” you insisted, your head throbbing again as if to prove your point. “I just want to go home.”

There was a pause.

“I’m sorry.” You stopped for a second, because that… you weren’t expecting. You looked at him properly for the first time since you got down there. He didn’t look defensive or annoyed, just… genuine. “You’re right. I should’ve taken you straight to the hospital,” he added, running a hand through his hair. “That’s on me.”

You hesitated for half a second before looking away again. “…Yeah. It is.”

He nodded slightly. “Okay. So let me fix it. I’ll take you now.”

You let out a short, humorless laugh. “No.”

“No?”

“No,” you repeated. “I’m going home.”

“You need to get checked.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.”

“I’m walking, talking, and not unconscious. That’s fine.”

“That’s the bare minimum.”

“That’s all I’m aiming for.”

He stared at you for a second before stepping closer, clearly trying to stand his ground. “Look,” he said, voice calmer now but firmer too, “you hit your head hard enough to bleed and throw up. That’s not something you just ignore.”

You crossed your arms tighter. “Now you care? You should’ve taken me to the hospital an hour ago. Now I just wanna go home. I’ll deal with it later.”

“I know! But now I’ll do it. And that’s not dealing with it.”

“It is for me.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying you again in that annoyingly observant way. “You’re stubborn.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Okay, maybe I am. But you’re still injured.”

“You’re the reason I’m injured.”

“Fair,” he admitted. “But that still doesn’t change the fact that you should get checked.”

You huffed, turning away again. “I should’ve been checked an hour ago. If I have a concussion now it doesn’t even matter. I’ll probably die soon anyway.”

“That’s not comforting!” he exclaimed, panicking a little.

“It’s reality.” You let out a long breath, pressing your fingers to your temple again. “I just want this night to be over and go home.”

His expression softened slightly at that. “Then let me help you end it properly.”

You glanced at him. “…By taking me to a hospital you should’ve taken me to hours ago?”

“Yes. And then I’ll take you home. And then,” he said, holding your gaze this time, “you never have to see me again.”

You nodded fast. That actually convinced more than anything he said before. Because that was exactly what you wanted. No more chaos, no more weird situations, no more… him… and his weird dumb friends.

You looked at him for a second longer. “…Promise?”

He nodded. “Promise.”

You sighed, shoulders dropping slightly as your resistance finally started to wear down. “…Fine. Let’s go.” You pointed at him. “I swear to God If I end up back in another studio—”

“You won’t.”

“If someone tries to diagnose me with a YouTube video again—”

“They won’t.”

“If I die—”

“You’re not going to die!”

“You don’t know that.”

“I’m pretty sure.”

You exhaled sharply. “Okay. Can we just go now?” He smiled then. That stupid, soft, slightly crooked smile that didn’t match the situation at all and somehow made it worse. You knew that smiled. That bunny smile your sister couldn’t stop talking about. “…What?” you said immediately.

“Nothing.”

“Why are you smiling like that?”

“Like what?.”

“Like an idiot.”

“I’m not!”

“You are.”

“It’s just my face.”

You squinted at him. “…That’s unfortunate.”

He rolled his eyes, opening the car door for you. “Get in.”

You rolled your eyes too but got in anyway. “Drive fast.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

——————————

The hospital was huge.

In a dramatic, clean and expensive way. Bright lights, quiet hallways, people moving with purpose like they’d done the same routine a hundred times before and would do it a hundred more without thinking twice about it. The place was beautiful in a way a castle would be. You wondered how many the doctors would be getting yearly because it was insane.

You sat on the edge of the bed in one of the examination rooms, arms loosely crossed, trying not to look as tired as you felt while a doctor gently cleaned the dried blood from your forehead. It stung a little, enough to make you flinch once or twice, but nothing unbearable. Compared to the rest of the night, this was almost peaceful.

Across the room, Jungkook stood near the wall, hands in his pockets, watching in that way people did when they didn’t know where to stand or what to do with themselves. He hadn’t said much since you got there, just answered the receptionist, handled paperwork, paid without hesitation, and stayed out of the way while still very much there.

From his side, the whole situation felt like something he absolutely did not need right now.

He didn’t need his manager finding out he’d disappeared mid-event to take a girl— a random girl— to the hospital. He didn’t need questions. He definitely didn’t need this somehow turning into a headline. And, if he was being honest, he didn’t need to get sued either, because the way you kept reminding him that he had, in fact, hit you with a door made that possibility feel a little too real.

Still, he stayed. Because leaving you there alone would’ve been worse.

The doctor stepped back slightly after finishing, giving you a quick once-over. “No signs of concussion,” he said, slow and clear. “You may feel dizzy or have a headache, but that’s normal. Rest tonight. If anything gets worse, come back.”

You nodded.

“Okay.”

“No heavy activity,” he added, then paused, glancing between you and Jungkook like he was trying to figure something out but ultimately deciding not to ask. “You’re good.”

“Thank you,” Jungkook said quickly.

The doctor nodded once and left to fill some papers.

You exhaled, shoulders relaxing slightly now that it was officially over.

“…See?” you said, glancing at Jungkook. “I’m fine.”

He didn’t look convinced. “You threw up.”

“I was overwhelmed.”

“You got hit in the head.”

“By you,” you uttered .

“By a door,” he corrected.

You shrugged lightly. “Same thing.”

He let out a breath through his nose, somewhere between a sigh and a quiet laugh. “Let’s just go.”

The drive to your house was quieter at first.

You leaned your head back against the seat, eyes half-closed, finally starting to feel the weight of the night settle in now that the adrenaline had worn off. Your forehead throbbed less, but enough to remind you it was still there.

The silence started becoming a little uncomfortable after some minutes. Jungkook glanced over once at you before turning on the music. It was soft at first. Low enough to not be intrusive. You didn’t pay attention to it immediately, your focus somewhere between resting and staying awake just enough to not accidentally fall asleep in a stranger’s car.

But then you recognized it. And then Jungkook started singing.

If you wanna, if you wanna, I'll do a thing for you

If you wanna, if you wanna, I'll do the thing for you

If you wanna, if you wanna…

You opened one eye slowly. “…Really?”

He glanced at you briefly. “What?”

“You’re playing your own song.”

“And it’s good, huh?”

“Huh?” you repeated, sitting up slightly.

He shrugged one shoulder, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “I thought you’d liked it.”

You stared at him. “Lemme guess…You thought this was everyone’s dream, didn’t you?”

“What?”

“Being stuck in a car with the biggest pop star in the world while he sings his own hit songs. You thought I will be dying for this. Oh, my god. A fan’s dream come true.” He actually smiled at that, clearly not noticing you were being sarcastic and mean. You let out a small, tired laugh, shaking your head. “Well, there’s just one problem.”

“And that is?”

“I’m not your fan.”

The words landed a little heavier than he expected them to. Jungkook blinked, the smile fading just slightly, not offended, just… processing.

“What do you mean— you don’t… You don’t like BTS?” He frowned, a little hurt. “I mean, I thought you didn’t like me because I hit you with a door.”

“I don’t like you because you hit me with a door,” you confirmed. You glanced out the window, watching the city pass by. “I’m not a hater. I’m just not a fan.”

“You don’t like my music?”

“I didn’t say that,” you replied. “I like your music.”

“Okay,” he said slowly. “Then what—”

“I’m just not crazy over you. I don’t like you.”

He stared at the road for a second, then back at you. “But you don’t even know me.”

You nodded. “Precisely.”

That confused him, you could see it. “Wouldn’t that mean you should give me a chance?”

“To what?”

“To… like me.”

You raised an eyebrow. “That’s a bold assumption.”

“I think it’s accurate,” he said, a little more confident now. “If you knew me, you’d like me.”

You snorted. “Wow.”

“What?”

“That’s… very convincing,” you said sarcastically.

“It is.”

“It’s not.”

“It is.”

“It’s really not.”

He glanced at you again. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re full of yourself.”

“I’m not full of myself.”

“You just said I’d like you if I knew you,” you repeated.

“Because you would. If you knew me you would like me.”

“For the little time that I know you— not only have you lie to me but, you hit me with a door and treat me like a dog that has to obey you. So clearly I don’t like you.” You said, annoyed.

“That makes sense, but that was because I was in a hard situation!” He tried to explain. “You have to know me more. That way you would like—”

You shook your head, looking back out the window. “Turn right.”

He frowned slightly, the fact that you cut him off— ignoring him— and just gave him instructions like he was your driver threw him off a little. You were clearly not trying to be his friend or even nice to him.

Whatever.

He looked down at his GPS. “I could go straight.”

“Turn right.”

“It’s faster if I go straight.”

“It’s faster if you listen to me.”

He hesitated for a second. “…Fine.”

He turned. You leaned back again, satisfied. “See? Not so hard.”

“I still think my way was faster.”

“Your way is wrong.”

“My way is not wrong.”

“It is when I live here.”

“You don’t live here.”

“I’m staying here.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“It’s enough.”

He exhaled quietly, shaking his head. “You argue about everything.”

“You started it.”

“I did not start it.”

“You did.”

God, you were annoying.

By the time you pulled up in front of your great-grandparents’ house, the tension had settled into something… quieter. The music was still playing and luckily for Jungkook, it was all his new album songs— which now he knew irritated you— and that made him satisfied.

You unbuckled your seatbelt, already reaching for the door.

Jungkook spoke first. “…Hey.”

You paused, glancing at him. “What?”

He moved his head a little uncomfortable. “I just want to say I’m sorry and—”

“Noted. Are we done now?” You held his gaze for a moment, looking at him like he was an idiot.

He blinked, a little offended. “Yeah… I guess. Yeah—”

“Good.”

You opened the door, stepping out without looking back, already walking toward the house like you couldn’t get away from the him fast enough.

Jungkook watched you go for a second too long.

“Nice to meet you too,” he whispered sarcastically into the silence of the car. Then leaned back in his seat, letting out a long breath. “…What the hell was that,” he muttered to himself.

He reached for the ignition and immediately froze, something caught his eye. A van passing behind him slowly. The logo was subtle in the dark… but not subtle enough for him. It was some gossip new channel there in Korea.

His expression changed immediately, he leaned down, trying to hide.

Fucking shit.

“…You’ve got to be kidding me.” He looked again, they were turning around the zone probably looking for him. Probably had watched him leave the HYBE building or even the hospital. Fuck, maybe was the fucking doctor. “Shit, shit…”

He still had his friend’s car so they couldn’t really recognize him yet.

He sat there for half a second, thinking.

Then quickly got out of the car, moving toward your house before he could second-guess himself, knocking lightly on the window when he saw you over the curtains like a creep. You were drinking something. He knocked a little harder just as you were about to disappear inside.

You turned slowly to the window, confused before you opened it. “…What now? Go away.”

He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice and looking a little too anxious for your liking. “Look— I’ll give you a thousand dollars if you do me a favor.”

You stared at him. “…It’s not a favor if you pay for it.”

“…So is that a yes?”

You were so done with Jeon Jungkook.

A few minutes later, you were outside again, dragging the old car cover from your great-grandparents’ garage while Jungkook stood awkwardly nearby to your door entrance, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds like he expected someone to jump out at any moment.

“Hurry up,” he screamed in a whisper.

“I’m hurrying,” you shot back. “This thing weighs more than me.”

“Why is it so heavy?”

“It’s old.”

“That’s not an explanation.”

“It’s fabric from the past,” you said, throwing it over the car. “It’s built different.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Maybe not for idiots.”

He bit his tongue, holding back an insult becuase you were saving his ass. You adjusted it quickly, making sure it covered enough to be convincing. From a distance… well, it worked. You both looked at it.

“…Okay,” he said. “That’s actually good.”

“I know.” You turned back to him. “Now what?”

He hesitated. Then glanced at the house and then back at you. “…I need somewhere to wait.”

You stared at him. “…No.”

“Just for a bit.”

“No.”

“Until they stop doing circles around the neighborhood.”

“No.”

“I can’t stay out here.”

“Not my problem. Call an uber.”

“They’ll probably know who I am with!”

“I already did too much for you.”

He sighed, rubbing his face with frustration. “If I ask for an uber, even a cab— They’ll see this house. They’ll make stories about how I’m dating you or someone they see me with. You know how crazy this can get? I—” He stopped himself again, knowing you weren’t going to understand. “Just tonight. Please.”

You threw your head back, groaning frustrated and already regretting even coming to Korea.

“…I can’t believe I’m doing this.” You turned toward the house, not even looking at him. “Come on. Hurry up.”

He blinked a little surprised. “…Oh my god. Thank you, thank you so—”

“Just shut the hell up.”

He obeyed, following you immediately before you could regret it.

And just like that, you let him into your house, into your room. Which, honestly, might’ve been the worst decision you made all night. You were letting Jeon Jungkook, the global superstar, spend the night in your house— Oh, you were fucked.

The campus center was crowded as always between classes.

Students moved in and out of the building carrying coffee cups and laptops, dragging backpacks behind them as they searched for empty tables. Conversations blended together into a constant background noise that had become so familiar Jungkook barely noticed it anymore. He had claimed a table near one of the windows almost twenty minutes ago and had spent most of that time pretending to look at his phone while waiting for his friends to arrive.

He had an untouched iced coffee and his headphones around his neck. He wasn’t really doing anything. At least, nothing productive. Technically he was waiting for Namjoon and Taehyung. Realistically, he was staring at the entrance every few seconds like a dog waiting for its owner to come home… Not that he would ever admit that.

Then you walked in.

Jungkook immediately forgot whatever he’d been looking at and immediately every coherent thought left his body.

You looked exactly the same as you always did. A tote bag hanging from one shoulder. Laptop tucked under your arm, hair slightly messy, tired eyes. You paused near the entrance to check something on your phone before making your way toward an empty table.

Jungkook looked away immediately, then looked back. Then looked away again— then looked back… Apparently self-respect was optional for him.

The worst part was that none of this should have been happening. He was a grown man. He was a college student in his final year but he paid taxes, he had responsibilities… Yet somehow the sight of one girl walking into a building still managed to reduce him to the emotional stability of a Victorian woman staring dramatically out a window.

The whole thing had started two years ago over one project. One stupid semester-long project.

The university had paired students from different departments together for a collaborative production assignment. You had been studying production design and set construction while Jungkook was focusing on music production.At the time he hadn’t thought much of it. Then he’d actually met you.

That had been the thing. Because you weren’t just pretty. Pretty would’ve been manageable. Pretty would’ve allowed him to move on with his life. Instead you’d been funny and talented and annoyingly easy to talk to. You had opinions about everything. You got excited when discussing projects. You always seemed to have six different ideas at the same time. You could spend an hour talking about set design and somehow make it interesting.

The project ended and his crush didn’t. And now, two years later, he was still stuck.

Not because he didn’t want to talk to you but because he was terrified. The problem with rejection was that it required asking first. As long as he never actually did anything, he could continue existing in a state of delusion. The fantasy remained alive, the possibility remained alive. His dignity remained technically intact.

It was a system. A terrible system… but a system nonetheless.

You set your laptop on the table and opened it, Jungkook immediately looked away again. Three seconds later he looked back.

Then three guys appeared. One dropped into the seat across from you, another stole the chair beside you. The third sat directly on top of the table. You smacked him without hesitation. Jungkook frowned confused and a little bothered. The guy looked deeply irritating. The second guy reached for your coffee and you smacked him too. The first guy said something that made you roll your eyes. Then all four of you started laughing.

Jungkook stared. The rational part of his brain knew those were probably your friends. The irrational part had already written three breakup poems and made a bad music video.

Before he could spiral any further, two familiar voices interrupted him.

“Please tell me you’re not pouting like that because you didn’t get banana milk.”

Jungkook looked up. Namjoon and Taehyung stood over his table.

“Welcome back,” Taehyung said as he sat down. “It’s always nice seeing a man physically present while mentally somewhere else.”

“I’m totally fine.”

“That sounded like a lie.”

“It was.”

“I don’t really care enough to ask follow questions.”

Namjoon dropped into the seat beside him. “You’ve been here long?”

“Like twenty minutes.”

“Doing what?”

Jungkook shrugged. “Nothing.”

Taehyung laughed. “That’s impressive because you somehow look exhausted.”

Jungkook took a sip of his coffee. “Where’s Yoongi?”

“He said he can’t make it,” Namjoon replied. “Some project deadline.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“Why?”

“Because now I’m here alone with you two.”

“Wow.”

“Rude.”

The conversation drifted naturally after that. They talked about their classes, some due projects, professors they hated. Taehyung last girl, Namjoon’s last party. The usual stuff they joked and talked about. Eventually, however, the topic returned exactly where it always returned with Jungkook when he was asked about his last girl.

You.

Taehyung leaned back in his chair. “Can I ask something?”

“No.”

“I’m asking anyway.”

Jungkook sighed. “Go ahead.”

“Are we absolutely sure she exists?”

Jungkook stared at him. “What?”

“We’ve known about this girl for two years.”

“Yes.”

“We know her name.”

“Uhm.”

“We know her major.”

“Uhm.”

“We know she’s apparently the love of your life.”

Jungkook groaned. “She is.”

“You never stop talking about her every time we try to introduce you to someone new—”

“I’m not a cheater.”

Taehyung ignored his comment. “—But none of us have ever actually met her.”

Namjoon nodded thoughtfully. “He’s got a point.”

“Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank him.”

“I appreciated the support.”

Jungkook rubbed his face. “She’s real.”

“Prove it.”

“She’s a person, not Bigfoot.”

“Same amount of evidence.”

“You’re both idiots.”

Namjoon shrugged. “At least show us a picture, In really curious about her.

Jungkook looked at them for a second before pouting toward your table. “There.” He sighed, a little nervous. “She’s there.”

Both men turned quickly, almost too shocked to actually believed the girl his friends had been talking for two years was finally in the same room as them— even though they had been in the same university.

A moment passed..

“Oh.” Taehyung blinked. “Oh, she’s pretty.”

“Very pretty,” Namjoon agreed.

Jungkook hated how validated that made him feel. “Thank you.”

“I’m not complimenting you.”

“She’s my future wife so you kinda are.”

The three guys around you were still talking over one another. One of them nearly knocked over your drink. You looked ready to commit a felony.

Taehyung watched for a moment. “Those have to be her friends.”

“Obviously.”

“No guy trying to impress a girl acts like that. They’re probably gay,” Taehyung nodded.

“Why would they be gay?” Namjoon frowned confused. “Can’t a straight man and a straight girl be friends?.”

“She’s too hot and they look like idiots.”

“That’s so—”

“Are we sure any of them are actually gay?” Jungkook grimaced.

Taehyung put a hand over his friend’s shoulder to give him security. “One of them is blond by choice. That’s basically the same thing.”

“Yeah you’re right.”

The immediate relief on Jungkook’s face was embarrassing. Namjoon noticed. “You’re pathetic”

“I’m not!”

“You absolutely are. Just talk to her, she seems nice.”

“She is!.”

“Then why don’t you just go and talk to her like a normal person?”

Jungkook ignored him. Then Taehyung suddenly sat up straighter, his expression changed. A strange look crossing his face.

“Wait.”

Namjoon looked over. “What?”

“I know her.”

Jungkook frowned. “What do you mean you know her?”

Taehyung continued staring across the room. “No, I definitely know her.”

“From where?”

“I’ve seen her before.”

Namjoon followed his gaze again. For a second he looked confused… then realization hit him. “Oh.”

Jungkook didn’t like that oh. Not even a little.

“What?”

Namjoon pointed. “She’s Yoongi’s friend.”

The words landed like a truck.

Jungkook blinked confused. “What do you mean she’s Yoongi’s friend?”

“The fundraiser.”

“What fundraiser?”

“The charity event from a few weeks ago.” Jungkook stared at him. “We saw them together.”

Taehyung nodded. “Ah, yes. That’s where I know her from.”

Jungkook looked between both of them. “You mean…”

“Yeah.”

“They know each other?”

“Pretty sure.”

“They’re friends?”

“I think so.”

“He said so. She’s the one he was flirting with.”

Jungkook sat completely still.

Because suddenly a lot of things made sense. Yoongi had known who you were whenever your name came up. Jungkook had assumed he recognized your face. Maybe from campus, maybe from some classes. He had never once considered that you actually knew each other. That you talked. That you were friends.

That Yoongi had access to information. Valuable information. Life-changing information.

Jungkook continued staring at them without blinking. Like he was trying to process information that his brain had rejected on principle.

He knew Yoongi knew who you were. The university wasn’t that big, people recognized people. That was normal. What he had not known was that you were actually friends. Friends. As in spending time together voluntarily, as in knowing each other, as in having conversations. As in everything Jungkook had failed to accomplish during the last two years.

For the first time since arriving at the student center, he looked away from you and picked up his phone.

“What are you doing?” Namjoon asked.

Jungkook opened his messages. “I’m going to kill him.”

Taehyung immediately leaned over his shoulder.

“He’s crashing out again.”

“Dis he ever stop?”

printing this for my junk journal 😍

lowkey i missed a lot of people who asked me to be on the taglist sorry guys i cant keep up

That day the class felt like it ended way all late afternoon, slowly, reluctantly, like no one quite wanted to be the first to admit it was finally over. Chairs scraped against the floor in uneven rhythms, bags zipped and unzipped, voices rose in small clusters as people stretched, complained, laughed. The professor was still talking— something about next week’s assignment, something no one was really listening to anymore— but the room had already begun to dissolve into movement.

You didn’t move.

You stayed in your seat longer than necessary, your notebook still open in front of you, pen resting against the margin where you had stopped writing ten minutes ago. You could feel it, that nervous, buzzing pressure under your skin, like your body knew before your brain did what you were about to do.

Today, today, today…

You had said it enough times that it had lost meaning, turned into something almost sarcastic. Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow. But now there was no tomorrow left to hide behind. He was right there. Two rows ahead, slightly to the left. Packing his bag calmly, like he always did. Like a normal person, like someone whose life wasn’t about to change because of a single conversation.

You felt like such a loser it was almost too painful.

Oh, you were so that pervert freak you had as an online friend.

Just stand up.

That was step one. Nothing dramatic, no romantic speeches yet. You didn’t need to overthinking that much.

Just stand up.

You did.

Your chair made a louder noise than you intended, a sharp scrape that made your wince internally. No one really looked, but it felt like everyone did. You slipped your notebook into your bag too quickly, almost dropping it, then zipped it halfway, then all the way, then reopened it just to check something you hadn’t actually forgotten.

Stop.

People were already leaving. If you waited any longer, he’d be gone.

Chan slung his bag over his shoulder and turned slightly, saying something to the guy next to him— one of his friends, smiling, easy, relaxed. Your chest tightened.

Now.

You stepped forward.

It felt ridiculous how normal the distance was. Three steps. That was it. Three steps between doing nothing and doing something.

“Hey,” your voice came out steadier than you expected.

Chan turned. There was a split second, barely anything, but you felt it anyway. That flicker of recognition, the soft shift in his expression before it settled into something warmer.

“Hey,” he said, smiling. “Hi.”

And just like that, you didn’t die. The world didn’t end. He didn’t look confused or distant or like he had no idea who you were or the way your imagination had give you ideas of how he was probably going to spit on you and call you a stupid girl.

Great. Nice standard you had.

He looked like… Chan. The same as always. Nice. Easy. Normal, hot, cute, smart… Focus.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. “Hi.”

There was a small pause, not awkward exactly, but open. Waiting. You forced yourself to keep going before you could overthink it.

“So, um— this is kind of random,” you started, a quick, almost self-conscious smile, “but I think I saved your number wrong.”

Chan blinked. “My number?”

“Yeah,” you said, nodding quickly, like saying it faster would make it less embarrassing. “From the fundraiser. I texted you and… it was the wrong person. So I was like— either I imagined that entire conversation or I typed something wrong.”

For a second, he just looked at you. Then his expression shifted to surprise, then realization, and then a soft laugh.

“Oh shit— wait.” He ran a hand through his hair, thinking. “I might’ve given you the wrong one.”

You paused. “You did?”

“Yeah— yeah, actually.” He let out another small laugh, a little apologetic this time. “I changed my number like… literally two weeks ago. Me and my friend both did because we got our phones stolen in a party. I think I mixed them up because we just have one different number.” He shook his head, like he couldn’t believe it himself. “That’s on me, sorry.”

You stared at him for half a second, processing.

So he hadn’t ignored you. He hadn’t given you a fake number. He hadn’t…

“Oh,” you said, and then you laughed too, softer, lighter. “Okay. That makes me feel a lot better.”

“Yeah?” he smiled. “You thought I just ghosted you immediately?”

“I mean—” you shrugged, trying to play it off, “it wouldn’t have been my best moment.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “No, yeah, that would’ve been kind of rude.”

“Just a little.”

There was another small pause, but this one felt different, asier and more comfortable, like something had settled into place.

Chan adjusted the strap of his bag, then nodded toward you. “You know what? I think it’s better if I save your number.”

You blinked. “Yeah, yeah, of course.”

He was asking for your number. Your number.

Holy shit.

He pulled out his phone and handed it to you. You typed a little too fast, your fingers suddenly clumsy again. Chan stepped a bit closer, not too close, but enough that you could see the details you always noticed from a distance. The way his hair fell slightly into his eyes, the faint crease at the corner when he smiled.

“There you go,” you said, handing him the phone gently to his hand. “My number.”

You watched as he typed your name, your heart beating louder again for no reason you could explain. It was such a small thing. Stupid, even. But it felt important to you.

He put his phone back to his pocket. “Saved.”.

“Thanks,” you said, weirdly. You didn’t what you were thanking him for but the word had jut left your lips like something you needed to say.

“No, thank you for actually saying something,” he replied, a small grin tugging at his lips. “Otherwise I would’ve just been waiting.”

You looked a little confused. “Waiting?”

“For your text,” he said simply, like it was obvious. Then, with a quick shrug, “But I guess now I don’t have to, so that’s good.”

It was said lightly, very casual, but it landed somewhere deeper than that for you. You felt it hit your chest before you could stop it. “Oh,” you said, softer this time.

Chan tilted his head slightly, like he was studying your reaction, but not in a way that felt uncomfortable just attentive.

“Yeah,” he added, almost teasing, “I was starting to think you changed your mind.”

“I didn’t,” you said immediately, a little too fast, then caught yourself. “I mean— I just, yeah, you know... The number thing.”

“Right,” he nodded, amused. “Blame the number.”

“Exactly.”

You two smiled.

Someone behind Chan called his name, one of his friends waving him over toward the door. He glanced back briefly, then returned his attention to you. “I should go, but—” he lifted his phone slightly, “I’ll text you.”

You nodded, trying to keep your expression normal, neutral, not insane. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he echoed, like it meant something more.

And then he was gone, pulled back into the flow of people leaving the classroom, his voice blending into the noise again, his presence dissolving into movement and distance.

You stood there for a second.

Just a second.

Then—

“Oh my god!”

It came out under your breath, barely audible, but it was there. You did it. You pressed your lips together, trying not to smile like an idiot in the middle of the classroom.

He was waiting.

What did that even mean? Nothing. It could mean nothing. It probably meant nothing. But also… He was waiting.

You grabbed your bag and practically walked out of the room on autopilot, your steps quicker than usual, lighter. Everything felt slightly off, like the world had shifted just enough to notice.

Oh, you had game.

Well… kind of…

The hallway was crowded, voices overlapping, footsteps echoing, the usual chaos of people leaving class. You barely registered any of it. Your hand was already halfway to your phone, thumb hovering over the screen to text your friend about the news. You needed to tell them. Immediately.

You turned the corner too quickly. And walked straight into someone.

“Holy shit—”

The impact wasn’t hard, just enough to knock you off balance for a second. You stumbled slightly, catching yourself as your bag slipped off your shoulder. The guy in front of you steadied you instinctively, his hand brushing your arm for a brief moment before letting go immediately like your skin had burned him.

“Sorry, I—” he stopped himself suddenly.

His voice was low, quick. Not annoyed, not particularly warm either just… flat.

You looked up. For a split second, your eyes met.

He was sharp-looking, in a way that wasn’t soft or inviting. He had piercing all over his faces, sharp jaw. Dark eyes, unreadable expression, like he had already moved on from the interaction before it finished happening. There was something about him that felt… distant. Closed off.

And then, just as quickly, he looked away. No smile, no second glance. Nothing. He stepped past you and kept walking.

You turned slightly, watching him go for half a second, your brows pulling together.

“Okay,” you muttered under your breath, adjusting your bag. “Rude.”

You shook your head and kept walking.

Whatever.

Your phone buzzed in your hand. And you froze when you saw the message.

A new message from Chan.

Your heart did something stupid. And just like that, the hallway, the guy, everything else faded out completely.

You definitely had some game.

—